#and he just smiled at me and shook his head and said ‘you’re so sweet’
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Can you write one for Toni introducing long distance relationship reader to his family and friends when she comes to Spain for the first time?
Thank you 🙏

surprise
pairing: toni fernandez x reader
summary: in which you surprise your long distance boyfriend
warnings: none
a/n: idk anything about barca b so…
tagged: @barcapix, @universefcb, @nngkay, lmk if you want to be added to the taglist!
toni had been missing you more than ever. the long-distance relationship with you living in france and him in barcelona wasn’t getting any easier. he missed hearing your voice first thing in the morning, and how you’d steal his hoodie because it smelled like him. the little things. the moments together.
it had been months since he last saw you, and the idea of finally visiting you was keeping him going. he had been counting down the days until his next trip to france. but little did he know, you had different plans.
it was just another day at training for toni with barça b. the session had been intense, as usual, and after a long day on the pitch, he was looking forward to a quiet night. he grabbed his bag and headed for the locker room, his phone buzzing in his pocket.
it was a text from you. he smiled and pulled it out, as he always did.
“good luck today, mi amor! i miss you! ❤️”
it was the same sweet message you always sent before his training sessions. but then, his eyes caught a second text from you.
“p.s. see you soon ;)”
toni paused, brow furrowed. “see you soon?” he thought. he quickly typed back, feeling curious.
“¿qué significa eso? ;)”
he waited for a response but didn’t get one right away. he thought nothing of it, assuming it was just a playful message to make him smile.
as the training session wrapped up, toni was still thinking about that last text when he stepped out of the locker room. he was heading toward the parking lot when he heard a familiar voice in the distance. but it wasn’t his teammates—it was your voice.
toni froze, blinking as he tried to process what was happening. was he hearing things?
he turned around, and there you were—standing on the edge of the training field, smiling at him. your eyes were full of mischief, and you waved at him.
“toni!” you called, your voice bright and excited.
toni’s heart skipped a beat. he couldn’t believe his eyes. he rubbed them quickly, sure he was dreaming. but no, you were really there. standing right in front of him.
he dropped his bag without thinking and sprinted toward you, his mind racing. “you… you’re really here?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
you grinned and stepped forward, wrapping your arms around his neck. “surprise,” you whispered in his ear, your arms tightening around him.
toni was still in shock, his hands instinctively going around your waist, pulling you closer. “but… how? how did you get here?” he stammered, his heart racing with excitement. “you told me you were in france!”
“well,” you pulled back just enough to meet his eyes with a teasing grin, “i couldn’t wait any longer. i thought i’d surprise you. so, i hopped on a plane this morning and showed up at your training.”
toni shook his head in disbelief. “you are crazy,” he said with a laugh, his eyes bright with happiness. “you have no idea how much this means to me.”
you smiled up at him, your fingers lightly brushing his cheek. “i just needed to see you. the distance is too much. i had to come.”
toni kissed the top of your head, breathing you in as if to make sure this wasn’t some kind of dream. “i can’t believe you’re here. this is perfect.”
he pulled back a little to look at you, his hands still holding you close. “i’ve missed you so much.”
you smiled softly, your hands resting on his chest. “i missed you too, toni.”
at that moment, his teammates—guille, héctor, and noah—wandered over, grinning widely. they had been watching from the sidelines and couldn’t resist teasing him.
“so this is the mysterious girl we’ve been hearing so much about?” guille grinned, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow.
toni chuckled, rolling his eyes. “yeah, this is her. the one who’s been driving me crazy for months.”
you laughed, feeling a bit shy now as you turned to his friends. “hi, i’ve heard so much about you guys,” you said, your smile warm.
“finally, we get to meet the woman who stole toni’s heart,” héctor joked, nudging noah.
toni blushed slightly but grinned. “yeah, and now she’s here, so i’m not going anywhere for a while.”
noah smiled at him. “we’re just glad to see him happy. welcome to barcelona!”
toni pulled you a little closer, his arms wrapping around your waist again. “you have no idea how much i needed this,” he said, his voice filled with affection.
you leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder. “well, i’m here now. and i’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”
toni laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “good. because now that you’re here, i’m not letting you go.”
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Love in Every Bite
Sirius Black woke up to the smell of something absolutely heavenly. He groaned, stretching his arms above his head before rolling over in bed. His mouth was already watering before his brain fully caught up.
The scent was warm, rich—chocolate, cinnamon, something buttery and golden. It wasn’t just food; it was Remus’ food.
Sirius grinned to himself and threw back the covers, padding downstairs to the kitchen.
Sure enough, there he was Remus, standing at the counter in an oversized jumper and flour-dusted pajama bottoms, his hair a wild mess from sleep. He was rolling out dough with practiced ease, his lips twitching in concentration.
James and Peter were already at the table, waiting like children before a feast. James was nursing a cup of tea, eyes half-closed in bliss, while Peter tapped his fingers impatiently.
Sirius leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. "Should I be jealous that you’re cooking for them, too?"
Remus huffed a laugh but didn’t look up. "If I only cooked for you, they’d probably stage a coup."
"I would," James agreed. "Your baking is the only reason I haven’t kicked you all out of my house yet."
"James, this is our flat," Remus reminded him dryly, folding the dough over itself with careful precision.
James waved a dismissive hand. "Semantics."
Sirius sauntered over and slid onto the counter beside Remus. "So, what’s today’s masterpiece?"
"Cinnamon rolls," Remus said, sprinkling more flour over the dough. "My mum’s recipe." His voice softened slightly when he said it.
Sirius watched as Remus worked, kneading the dough with gentle but firm hands. It wasn’t just cooking to him—it was something deeper, something warm.
Hope Lupin had been an incredible baker. Remus had told him about it once, in that quiet, hesitant way he sometimes did when talking about his childhood. She had taught him everything she knew, filling their tiny kitchen with love and laughter and the scent of fresh bread.
And now, years later, every time Remus baked, it was like a part of her was still with him.
Sirius’ chest ached with something fond and unshakable.
"I’m helping," he announced.
James snorted. "You’re the worst at baking. You almost set fire to the kitchen last time."
"It was a minor fire," Sirius defended. "Besides, Remus likes when I help, don’t you, love?"
Remus hummed, glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "You can spread the filling. That’s mostly idiot-proof."
Sirius grinned. "See? He trusts me."
Remus just shook his head, but there was affection in his gaze.
They worked together, Sirius spreading a thick layer of cinnamon-sugar filling while Remus rolled the dough into a perfect spiral. James and Peter stole scraps when they thought no one was looking.
Soon, the rolls were in the oven, filling the flat with an even sweeter aroma.
Sirius leaned against the counter, watching Remus lick a bit of cinnamon off his thumb. His heart did that stupid flip it always did when Remus wasn’t paying attention.
"You know," Sirius said softly, so the others wouldn’t hear, "I think this is your love language."
Remus arched a brow. "Baking?"
"Yeah. You put all this effort into making things just right, making sure everyone has something warm and sweet and perfect. It’s like... I don’t know. You love people by feeding them."
Remus blinked at him, like he hadn’t quite considered it that way before.
Then, with a small smile, he reached for Sirius’ hand, squeezing it briefly before letting go. "Maybe."
Sirius’ heart did another flip.
When the cinnamon rolls came out, golden and dripping with icing, they all dug in immediately, groaning in delight.
And Sirius, with a mouth full of Remus’ love, decided that if Remus spoke in sugar and spice, he would spend the rest of his life listening.
#marauders#the marauders#marauders fandom#marauders era#marauders fic#marauders fanfiction#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter#peter pettigrew#hope lupin#marauders fluff#soft marauders#domestic#found family#cozy#love language#my fic#my fic writing#my writing
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lord help me.
#a friend of mine at my birthday party asked for a bandaid#and I was like “’’oh my gosh yeah of course!’#and he started laughing a little and so I looked at him and went ‘what?’#and he just smiled at me and shook his head and said ‘you’re so sweet’#and I haven’t stopped thinking about it for days#DAYS.#the way he… man…. end of days it made me feel like I was going to blow up#cal.personal
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talk baby ⋆。°✩



{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}
summary: it’s the season of the world series!— your little life with megumi absolutely warm and loving as you spent every waking moment together, the both of you never failing to hang out or speak to one another since the very moment you two made it official. but when the higher ups start demanding more of megumi to bring the world series home, tiring him out and causing him to lose sleep? a wedge is driven between you both as megumi tells you words he wished he’d never said.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFF, ANGSTYY, p in v sex, unprotected sex (wrap it yall), SMUT, baseball talk, megumi LOOVESS YOUU my goodness, DONINANT AF MEGUMI OBVIOUSLYYY, creampie, shower sex, DIRTY TALK megumi has a filthy mouth, megumi and reader get into a fight, it’s the world series, all characters are aged up.
word count: 12.5k (IM SORRY IM SORRY IM SORRY-)
authors note: THE WAIT IS FINALLY OVERRR FUCK i cannot thank you all enough for the support with these series. i saw all of your AMAZING suggestions and sprinkled them all over THANK YOU!! i POURED my heart into this and i really hope you all love itttttt :,( STAY TUNED FOR THE NEXT FIC OF THIS SERIES AAHHH!! I LOVE YOU MWAHHH <33
i highly highly advise you to read the first part of this fic or else you won’t be able to understand some of the storyline and references :( you can find it here!
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megumi fushiguro loved how much you talked.
“—and then i went to the bakery down the street from my campus to get that one coffee cake i always get? the one you brought me after my class?”
“mhm.”
“but they were freaking out of it it’s like they knew i was coming to take their stock man. it was seven in the morning how the fuck are you out of coffee cake?”
megumi laughed softly and pressed a slow sweet kiss to your cheek, readjusting his arms around your waist as he scooched your body closer to his on his lap, the both of you on his huge black bean bag that sat in his living room as he leaned the side of his head back on your shoulder, relaxed and a little sleepy.
“so then i had to go to the one on campus, even though i already know it doesn’t taste the same…” you sighed sadly. “what if they did that on purpose? what if they want me to stop coming?”
megumi huffed an amused breath through his nose and shook his head gently against your shoulder. “don’t think so baby. i feel like you keep them in business with how much you go.”
you huffed and crossed your arms, grumbling. “yet they treat me like this...”
tilting your head down then to get a better look at him, you peeked at his sleepy face and tired eyes as he tried his absolute hardest to stay awake for you, wanting to listen to everything you had to say and more, but his eyelids drooping every couple of seconds before opening back up again just not letting him.
you smiled softly and carded your fingers through his black hair, pushing the front strands back and giving him a cute peck on his forehead.
“take a nap gumi… you’re so tired i can see it.”
“uh uh.” megumi hummed.
he lifted his head groggily and propped his chin up on your shoulder, eyes closed.
“keep going.” he murmured, his words a little slurred. “did you end up getting your coffee cake from the other bakery..?”
“i did.” you responded softly, caressing your thumb over his warm cheek as your soothing voice lulled him. “it was nasty. the end. c’mon baby you have practice tomorrow—”
“no.”
“gumi it’s late i don’t want to keep you uuupp.” you whined, nudging him.
“if you sleep over.” he mumbled.
“but i have class tomorrow.”
“i’ll take you.”
“but you always do and i feel bad…” you pinched his cheek softly. “it’s okay i can—”
“don’t care.”
you giggled. “well i do. i want you to get more sleep gumi, your practices are crazy long now and you have them like everyday—”
he groaned loudly and ushered you up, you complying as you watched him lazily stand from the bean bag and grab you, baggy eyes half lidded as he picked you up from around your legs and threw you over his shoulder— something he always did ever since the day he confessed, and something you absolutely floored over whenever he did it.
your giggles rang through his quiet and spacious apartment that made him sleepily smile as he lazily carried you down the hall and to his room, setting you softly to sit on his plush bed as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head, though nearly almost missing, him leaning back up and grabbing the hem of his black shirt— pulling it over his head and carelessly tossing it somewhere in the room before climbing into bed.
you felt so so bad. the team’s schedule was released just two weeks prior, and seeing as the world series was coming up— the most important segment of competitive games they could possibly ever have, the coaches and managers were grinding and overworking their players to pure fucking filth, them wanting to keep their streak as the number one baseball team no matter what it took.
and because of that, megumi was always so tired and stressed— holding on day by day as the higher ups demanded so much of him because he was the most skilled on the team, him spending his days trying to stay awake and make time for you— picking you up from class and taking you out to lunch like he always did, but your worried gaze always on his dark under eyes as you insisted and told him already that you understood, that he didn’t need to right now if it was over the subject of his career.
and especially if it was for the world series.
“lay down.” he murmured, patting the pillow next to him as he peeked at you with one eye open.
you stood, pulled the covers back and hopped in, megumi’s arm immediately snaking around your waist and pulling your back to his bare chest, his face nuzzling in your hair as you noticed how quickly his breathing deepened, falling asleep almost the minute you got settled in his arms and fitting like a little puzzle piece.
it had been almost an entire year since you and megumi started dating, and you have never ever been happier in your life as you thanked your lucky stars over and over again for being such a dumbass— wholly believing that if one thing had changed, it wouldn’t have played out the way that it did.
and you adored the way that it played out.
megumi was so affectionate. everyday. his love language being physical touch as he literally never left you alone and always had to be touching you in any given situation— like his hand on your thigh whenever he drove, playing with your fingers from across the table while out at a restaurant… and like now, his toned body literally engulfing you into his that it made you feel so cared for and warm and loved, something you always wanted to feel for the rest of your life as long as it was with him.
the next morning he drove you to school like he said he would, and then went straight to practice after, you telling him that you would be there once your classes were over.
and when you did get to the stadium later that day, megumi was mad.
“what the fuck happened?” you quickly sat next to your best friend on the sidelines, her snickering as you both watched megumi tell off another player for fumbling a double play on the field.
“they’re making more errors today,” your girl friend sighed. “they’re all nervous since their division series game is tomorrow and they’re getting closer to the big thing… but megumi is not having it.”
“you bobbled the ball go to first fucking base and eat it what the hell are you doing trying to—”
you gnawed at your bottom lip.
it was common for megumi to bark out orders and take charge on the field, that wasn’t out of the ordinary, but it was only here and there where he was yelling and insulting the rest of his teammates like that (mostly rarely). a sign you knew was because he was stressing the fuck out.
“what you just did was a kiddie fucking error we won’t make it to the world series like this dingus the fuck are you—”
you covered your face and groaned. “i can’t watch… i don’t think i’ve seen him like this since that one day he asked me to come here.”
“you mean the day he ate you out in—”
“shuuushhh!” your hands shot out and slapped over her mouth as she let out a muffled laugh, your eyes wide and cheeks pink as you frantically looked around to see if anybody had heard her.
she took your wrists then and pulled them away. “have you guys even had sex yet? how many times am i gonna ask you until you say yes—”
you nudged her away. “no! we haven’t yet.”
you didn’t know why you hadn’t— the topic just one that was never brought up by either of you.
but you’ve definitely done other things though.
megumi was like a dog, not knowing the meaning of ‘keep your hands to yourself’ as he was always groping your ass in public out of no where just to hear you squeak in surprise, shoving his hands down your pants and making you cum repeatedly on his fingers when you’re both innocently just watching a movie on his couch, pressing his face into your tits and sucking hickeys whenever you wore a low cut shirt, and bullying his way in between your legs to lick and devour you up whenever he felt like it— all things he did with zero hesitation nor self control.
you weren’t complaining though, definitely not— you were just as freaky.
because every time megumi wore those gray sweatpants after practices that you loved oh so very much, no shirt on with his perfect toned body out only for your eyes— your mouth was on him, licking his chest all the way down to his pelvis, tugging the waistband of his sweatpants and boxers down until all that was left before you was his mlb dick, you taking him into your mouth and sucking the absolute life out of him until he was shaking and breathlessly chanting your pretty name like a prayer—
“break!”
you pulled yourself from your thoughts and stood, your eyes already watching the way megumi walked over from across the field with his head down, chest heaving and his face glistening with sweat against the setting sun, his baseball uniform covered in dirt.
both you and your girl friend walked down the steps and towards the bullpen, you quickly grabbing a clean white hand towel from the gatorade jug rack beforehand and catching up, spotting yuji and megumi already seated inside on a bench.
upon megumi noticing you coming up, he smiled softly, tiredly.
“you guys are sucking today.” your best friend deadpanned, and you elbowed her.
“no. you guys just look really nervous… is everything okay?”
you took a seat next to megumi and silently offered the clean towel, him gently bringing up your extended wrist and pecking it in gratitude before taking the towel and wiping down his face, your cheeks flushing in response.
yuji sighed deeply and shook his head, scratching the back of his neck. “everyone’s literally losing it. we win every year but each year that comes is extra added pressure to keep that up.”
megumi nodded wordlessly in agreement, his head hung.
“well this is your first bad practice isn’t it?” you softly mentioned.
“yeah… maybe it’s just today and you guys will be okay tomorrow.” your girl friend added, smiling comfortingly at yuji, him giving her the same smile back but with apprehension in his eyes.
“would’ve been fine if it was yesterday.” megumi cut in, voice monotone. “not today. not when it’s the last leg for the world series.”
he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms with closed eyes, yuji nodding next to him.
you pulled your lips into a thin line, heavy anxiety brewing in your chest at the thought of them possibly losing before even getting into the league championships, something their team has never done before as they’ve always just gone straight through.
in order to get through to the world series, their team has to win the division series and the league championships, then they earn their rightful shining spot of playing in the world series and winning— something megumi has been a part of for almost three years now, and something the team has dominated over for five consecutive years straight.
but what if this year was different?
“how are you feeling?” you gently asked megumi after a bit. “i saw you were a little mad today on the field…”
he slowly pried his eyes open and looked at you, sighing softly through his nose.
“m’fine pretty baby.” he murmured. “they’re just not playing like they should be.”
megumi took his cap off and scratched the side of his head, his eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. “and neither am i to be honest.”
your eyes softened.
“what do you mean?”
“m’just not meeting the standards i set for myself.”
“but you play well in every game gumi..” you mumbled. “don’t overwork yourself please. just keep doing what you’ve been doing… it’s been going great so far, hasn’t it?”
he gave you a little smile and lazily reached up to delicately caress and run the ends of your hair through his fingers. “i need to amp it up though. i need to try harder.”
“try harder when you’re already winning?” you quirked a confused brow.
he nodded.
“what’s the reason behind that?”
megumi gave you a sly smile. “because you’ll be watching me.”
you gawked, shaking your head at him. “gumi, you know anything that you do makes me freak out and it’s embarrassing...” you subconsciously tugged a bit at the sides of his jersey. “the way you tied my shoes for me the other day made me freak out. the way you pumped my gas last week made me freak out. the way you stuck your fingers inside my pu—”
his eyes bulged open as he shot forward and muffled you with a kiss, you kissing him back and laughing cutely once he pulled away.
“nasty mouth…” he mumbled, but the little grin on his face made you giggle as he put his cap back on over his head and nudged it down, trying to conceal his eyes and the blushing of his cheeks— but you catching on anyways.
“how was class?” he asked quietly, readjusting his cap. “did you get your coffee cake after i dropped you off?”
you shook your head. “no because i’d rather die than get the one on campus. they need to close that place down.”
megumi snorted, but his eyebrows pinched momentarily as he took your hand in his and started playing with your fingers. “you should’ve told me. i would’ve drove you to the one you like.”
“no gumi i wasn’t gonna make you do that... i wanted you to sleep in as much as possible.”
“i’ll take you after practice.”
“no! you need to nap after don’t waste time—”
“m’not wasting time.” he replied, but before you could get another word in, his coach called all players back on field.
“i’ll see you after.” he stood and pecked your forehead. “i love you pretty baby.”
you smiled shyly, your cheeks a cute pink.
“i love you too.”
thankfully, megumi didn’t seem as pissed off for the rest of practice, and you hoped it was because of the little chat you had with him in the bullpen prior and that it cheered him up in some way— the team playing a lot better and actually working together this time instead of being at each others throats over feeble mistakes.
and when they were all finally back at the locker rooms packed up and ready to go, you organized his clean uniform for tomorrow and hung his gloves neatly inside his locker, closing it once you were done.
“you don’t have to do that baby.” he murmured, gesturing to his locker as he swung his duffel bag over his shoulder and extended a hand. “organize. i can do that.”
“but i like doing it...” you took his offering hand and interlaced your fingers with his. “it helps you find things quicker.”
you both stepped out, quickly bidding your girl friend and yuji goodbye on the way as you walked down the echoey hallway together.
“—you also don’t have to drive me to school every morning but you do that anyways.”
he smiled. “touché.”
he led you out of the arena and over to the private parking area for players and crew— him opening the passenger side door for you to step inside and shutting it after, throwing his duffel bag to the back once he got in the drivers seat.
and like he always did, megumi buckled you up himself, grabbing the seat belt strap and pulling it over you to click on the other side with a kiss to your cheek— him never letting you do it yourself since the day you two properly met.
“do they sell food at the bakery?” he looked over at you as he pulled out. “they do don’t they.”
“they do!” you nodded sweetly. “but we’re not going.”
“why.”
“because you need to sleep—”
“no.”
“megumi—”
he shot you a glare and you squeaked.
“gumi! i-i meant gumi!”
he fixed his glare and broke out into a small smile instead, laughing lightly as he set his big hand over your thigh and squeezed lovingly.
you giggled softly.
“lunch first and then i’ll sleep.”
“oh my—”
you reached over for the door handle and pulled, brows furrowing once the lock wouldn’t budge after multiple frantic tries.
“you still have child lock on?!”
megumi shielded his mouth to hide his snicker, eyes to the road.
“uh huh.”
“why?!”
he gave you a deadpanned look and pointed to the door. “exhibit a, baby. the car is moving.”
“gumi if you hate me just say that.”
pulling into the bakery’s parking lot, he playfully rolled his eyes at your comment and pinched your cheek gently.
“be quiet.”
the bakery was a cute little place that was a frequent pit stop for the both of you to pick up breakfast on the way to the things you had to do in the mornings— always cozy and warm and filled with little trinkets and postcards of places from around the world, you always gushing when you or megumi would spot a new souvenir on the walls or on the shelves, and him sometimes having to stop you from snatching some for yourself…
“they have a million!” you whispered. “they won’t notice this one. please it’s from greece it’ll look cute on my fridge!”
megumi sipped his lemonade and gave you a half lidded look as you both sat in a booth.
“i don’t know if anyone has ever told you this but.” he gently slid the coffee cake closer to you, silently ushering you to eat. “that’s called stealing.”
“not if they don’t notice.”
megumi gave you an amused smile.
“i’ll take one for you too!”
“for me?”
“yeah!” you put your elbow on the table and propped your chin on your palm, tilting your head with the cutest expression megumi has ever seen in his fucking life.
“i’d do anything for you.”
his cheeks flooded pink, and he swallowed thickly.
megumi would do anything for you.
“i appreciate that pretty baby,” he murmured, tenderly tracing the pad of his index finger mindlessly around the back of your hand.
“great! so can i do it?”
“no.”
“maaannnn!” you slumped over the table and pouted. “you’re no fun.”
he chuckled and took a bite out of his ham and cheese deli, your mannerisms sometimes reminding him of his dad.
he swallowed.
“gojo wants to meet you.”
you froze. “really? he does?”
megumi nodded.
“okay! that’s okay— wait no! wait—” you groaned and leaned against the booth. “i don’t think he’s gonna like me very much…”
“huh?” his eyebrows furrowed. “why do you say that?”
you peered up at him sheepishly. “because i talk too much… i’m not gonna notice and end up telling him my lore, my school gpa, and my social security number.”
megumi laughed, and your heart fluttered at the sight of his crinkling eyes and gorgeous smile, the sound of it making you swoon.
he shook his head and rubbed his sleepy eyelids. “no baby... he’d love you. i know he would.”
“i don’t know gumi…” you sighed, looking down at your lap. “i want to meet him of course! that’s a given… but..”
megumi quirked a brow. “but?”
“i just don’t want to look stupid…” you laughed nervously. “it’s happened before where my friends parents say i’m a blabber mouth and i don’t want to embarrass you—”
his tired eyes narrowed. “blabber mouth? who’s saying you’re a blabber mouth?”
“my— my ex boyfriend in high school…” you cowered a little. “but it’s okay because i was over sharing!—”
“no.” he said firmly, his gaze looking directly into yours. “you’re not a blabbermouth. there’s a difference between being really open and friendly with people right off the bat and being a blabbermouth.”
megumi shook his head in annoyance. how could someone ever say you were a blabbermouth? he had never heard something that was so far from the truth.
you were too sweet for your own good, that was your only fault. you considered everyone you met a close friend of yours and weren’t afraid to tell them whatever came to your precious mind and made them feel welcome— something that megumi adored so much about you… so much, and something that made him borderline violent when people berated you for it.
“they just can’t handle it when someone is actually genuine. like you. and that’s not your fault.”
the shiniest smile grew on your face then, your eyes sparkling and feeling like a million fucking butterflies were fluttering all over your tummy— internally screaming at his words.
“thank you gumi…” you spoke softly. “i’m glad at least you don’t see an issue with it.”
“i don’t.” he shook his head. “i don’t at all.”
he loved it.
the rest of your lunch date was spent with megumi still not letting you steal the greece trinket magnet from the wall, you scolding him for the bags under his eyes, and him buying you two more slices of coffee cake to go no matter how many times you told him it was okay, the both of you gathering your things and going back to his car after a bit for him to drop you off back home.
“i’ll be here in the morning to take you to class.” he said gently, turning the corner and nearing your street.
“what? isn’t the division series game tomorrow?” you asked, taken aback. “gumi no just get as much sleep as you can it’s a big day. i can take myself.”
he looked at you boredly.
“no.”
“guumiii!”
he pulled into your driveway and shifted his gear into park, the corners of his mouth turned upward into a little goofy grin.
“i can take you baby it’s fine,” he pushed gently. “don’t worry.”
“you’ve been stressed though… and tired.”
you unbuckled your seatbelt and reached over, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him in as he immediately leaned in and tucked his face into your neck, breathing in your honeyed perfume and letting himself slump into your soft frame.
“please promise me that after the division series, you’ll rest up like crazy before the league championships.” he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes nearly closing as he sleepily blinked. “okay?”
“league championships? didn’t know we already won.” he murmured.
you giggled. “obviously. you’re my cool baseball man, are you not?”
he tiredly grinned and pressed a sweet sweet kiss to your cheek, him biting down on it after and making you yelp before snickering and pulling away.
“bye gumi,” you quickly grabbed a slice of coffee cake and placed it on his leg. “here eat this on the way home so you don’t fall asleep.”
he chuckled and watched as you grabbed your things, hopped out, and ran across the front of his car, leaning your head in through his open window once you reached him and pressing your soft lips to his, megumi fucking melting at the feeling.
you pulled apart and he pecked you one last time— a series of i love you’s iterated before you backed away and waved excitedly from your front door, him waiting until you were inside to reverse, his engine roaring and his black car shining against the moonlight as he sped down the street.
the next morning you got up around the time that you usually did, showered and did your hair and got ready for class, packed your school bag and made your bed—
but megumi hadn’t texted you. like at all.
he usually sent you a good morning text, followed by him letting you know when he was leaving the house, followed by when he was on his way, and followed by when he was just down the street and pulling up.
except you got nothing.
you figured maybe today was just one of those days where he maybe just simply forgot and was already on his way, but as you stood literally outside of your house, gnawing on your thumb and the time coming painfully close to the start of your morning class as you still got nothing from megumi (even when you had texted him multiple times at this point), you started shitting it.
just as you were about to run inside to get the keys to your car, your phone buzzed as a picture of you and megumi flashed across the screen.
megumi!
“hel—”
“baby!—” he breathed out, frantic. “baby i’m sorry i’m so sorry i’m coming okay im down the street—”
“what happened?” you breathed out worriedly, your heart hammering against your chest.
“i overslept!—” he explained quickly. “i’m late to the team’s call time and— and you’re late to class and i— fuck!”
you heard his horn blare and his tires screech as muffled curses flew from his mouth, you jumping at the noise.
“sorry sorry someone cut me off i’m almost there—”
“no gumi go straight to the stadium you’re late!” you spoke firmly. “i can take myself—”
“no but i wanted to see you before the game—”
“it’s fine we can see each other after the game okay? when you win—” you grabbed your keys from the coffee table by your door and ran out, unlocking your car and getting in. “you’re late baby so fucking late please turn back this isn’t good coach is gonna chew you out—”
“shit! i know i know—”
“go gumi hang up it’s okay!”
“okay.. fuck okay okay—”
you heard rustling on the other line before he spoke again.
“i love you i’m sorry ill see you after!”
and the line went dead.
you slugged through the rest of your classes as the day felt way fucking longer than it normally did, you desperately just wanting to see megumi and know that he was okay, that he wasn’t in trouble with his coach and the management team for being over an hour late to the division series call time, you on the verge of literal tears multiple times over him.
your best friend and you had planned to get ready for the game together and sport your men’s jerseys from the stands— a girl’s night you were agonizingly looking forward to all freaking month, and so so excited that the day was finally here to support and be present for the making of yet another year for the boys’ team.
“and then he hung up. i thought he was gonna get into a wreck man—”
you ran your fingers through your styled hair in your vanity mirror, your best friend readjusting her jersey behind you— ‘itadori’ in big capital letters on the back.
“megumi is the most hard headed mean stubborn man i have ever come across in my life.” she searched around in her makeup bag, pulling out her lip liner and reapplying next to you. “i don’t know how many times you told him to sleep and get some rest. and yuji too! he hasn’t stopped talking about him since the schedule change and now i’m starting to think he’s in love with him.”
you laughed loudly.
“i know…” you sighed anxiously through your nose, nervous clammy jitters in your chest. “his eye bags have gotten so bad this past week.”
“i think it’s because he’s been practicing over time.”
you stopped.
“what do you mean?”
she looked at you quizzically. “i thought you knew? yuji told me that the higher ups had a meeting with megumi and told him that they were expecting him to bring the world series home.”
she popped the lid back on her lip liner and threw it in her bag. “he practices all night on the field until like four am.”
“what the fuck?” your eyes narrowed. “he never told me that? he picks me up for my seven am class everyday… that means he’s only been getting what— like two and a half hours of sleep this past week?”
she stopped. “he didn’t tell you?”
“no!” you exclaimed. “when was this meeting?”
“at the start of last week.”
“oh my god.” you grumbled.
why didn’t he tell you?
“that’s fucked up.” she shook her head. “talk to him about that after babe… i don’t know why this man didn’t tell you something like that.”
“i would’ve never let him pick me up for class if i knew this was going on…” you gloomily fiddled with the buttons on your jersey. “or hang out with me after practice.”
and why the hell were the higher ups demanding so much from megumi? why were they burning him out with a responsibility so huge as to ensuring the success of the team for the world series? that wasn’t fair to him. that wasn’t fair at all.
your girl friend hugged you comfortingly.
“it’s fine don’t worry about it okay?… just talk to him after.”
once at the stadium, you and your best friend squeezed and pushed through the crowd to get to the v.i.p. section, the both of you sweating and panting over having run across the stadium’s parking lot and the main area, all because your best friend couldn’t decide which way to do her hair, and because you couldn’t decide if you should wear a skirt or jeans.
you ended up choosing for each other and calling it a day.
“hey! you guys!”
you both snapped your heads up and you recognized the source of the voice as one of the assistant crew members of the team, jogging up to you guys with two devices in his hands.
“you guys want these radios or are you good? they’re connected to the announcers and have earbuds!”
“oh i’ll take one! thank you!” you answered politely, smiling as he passed you and your best friend a radio.
you pushed the earbud into your left ear and sat.
the crowd was buzzing and cheering with excitement, flashes of light shimmering throughout the sold out stadium as many held up posters and signs or bobble heads, you smiling wide every time you spotted a few of megumi’s face and name.
the air was warm, and every kind of news reporter, publicist, and journalist was present on the sidelines as they filmed and interviewed several players from the opposing team.
“let’s play ball!”
the crowed roared, claps and whistles ringing through the air as yuji walked out from the dugout, the both of you screaming as the rest of the team followed suit, your shoulders evidently relaxing at the sight of megumi jogging out into position looking absolutely jaw dropping in his clean cut uniform and cap, serious and focused.
as the game ensued, it was no surprise that the boys’ team was absolutely demolishing the opposing players, megumi doing fucking stellar out on the field as he caught ball after ball with his glove, the announcers commentary certainly helping with explaining the context of the game due to your lack of knowledge, but you trying your hardest anyways to understand on your own.
and finally after a while of switching sides and megumi hitting like a greek god, the teams switched sides what seemed like the final time since it was almost the nine inning, his turn to hit.
“walking up to base now… number eighteen— megumi fushiguro!”
the crowd went fucking insane as he walked up, you immediately standing and screaming over the railing as he took his position up there— swinging soft faux hits before properly adjusting his footing on the loose dirt, fans waving around their fushiguro banners or his baseball cards as he settled.
the bags under his eyes…
you gnawed anxiously at your bottom lip. his team was so close to moving on to the league championships…
“and the pitcher throws….”
hit!
“strike one!”
megumi screwed his eyes shut and grimaced, shaking his head furiously as he shook the nerves from his body and wiped the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve.
“oh!” the announcers groaned. “looks like megumi fushiguro missed a hit for the first time in history!”
for the first time?
you whipped your head around to face your girl friend. “for the first time?”
she looked at you with the same terrorized expression.
“fuck i knew he always hit but i didn’t know he never missed…” you whined worriedly. “he’s exhausted man i can see it look—”
megumi’s footing slightly slipped from the dirt as he positioned himself, getting ready for the next swing.
“and the pitcher throws again…”
hit!
“strike two!”
“fuck!” megumi roared, walking off the home plate and chucking his bat to the wall— the wood flying and clattering as it hit the ground, your eyes widening in horror.
“woah looks like fushiguro got another strike and.. needs to take a breather off the field..?”
“if megumi doesn’t get this next hit, they’re done!” your girl friend shook her head, eyes wide and afraid. “the other team is gonna take it!”
you ran your fingers through your hair exasperatedly, frantically looking at the scoreboard and back at megumi who was pacing a little off the plate with his head down, his hands on his hips.
“fushiguro!” you spotted yuji yelling from the dugout. “get back on the plate! we could get flagged!”
megumi’s chest heaved as he picked up his bat and wiped off the dirt, walking back over to the home plate and repositioning himself.
cameras flashed and recorded as he tried to get back into focus, news reporters talking their asses off and journalists scribbling god knows what— as they just earned themselves their biggest headline of the season.
megumi fushiguro missed his first hit in playing history.
“and the pitcher throws…”
hit!
“oh there it goes! looks like a fair ball!”
the crowd rallies as megumi books it over the first two bases, everyone watching as the ball hits over the outfield fence as he fucking dashes across the remaining two bases like nothing, earning himself a home run—
and scoring a spot in the league championship games for his team.
you and your best friend jump for complete joy, throwing your arms around each other and swaying as fans all around you celebrated and cheered just like the both of you, you happily watching the players from the dugout run up and engulf megumi in a group hug, jumping and laughing.
as the crowd began to disperse and take leave, you both quickly ran down the steps and to the field, you immediately spotting megumi and running up to him with your arms out.
“gumi!”
he noticed you and extended his arms, but his face read nothing as you jumped into them.
“good job good job! you did so amazing!”
“nice fushiguro!” yuji nudged his shoulder. “you brought us through!”
“i missed the first two hits.”
he set you back down.
yuji shrugged. “so? it happens. i do it all the time! you made a home run and scored us the league.”
megumi only silently nodded, his face to the ground as you told yuji and your best friend that you would see them in the locker rooms with everybody else.
and once everyone had cleared out from the field, you turned to him.
“hey…” you started. “what’s wrong?”
his eyes remained glued to the dirt.
“i missed the first two hits.”
your shoulders deflated. “you heard what yuji said… it’s okay. it was bound to happen but it’s fine because you fixed it—”
“we were on thin fucking ice today.”
his snippy tone took you by surprise a bit.
“yes… but you made it...” you responded softly. “you all pulled through. especially you.”
he scoffed and shook his head, him finally raising his baggy eyes and looking to the side, pissed.
“i almost cost us the league. that’s what i did.”
“gumi—” you exhaled a frustrated breath. “you literally played like a machine the entire time and had other hits that were amazing? i don’t understand why two little strikes—”
his eyes snapped to yours. “two little strikes?” he shook his head again. “two strikes too fucking many.”
“what is your issue?—”
“my issue is that if i fucked up that third hit it would’ve been all over. we would’ve lost the division, lost the league, and lost the world series, all because i don’t know how to fucking play ball—”
“yes you do! you’re being way too hard on yourself baby you need to take a breather and rest—”
“how many times have you nagged me about that already.” he spat.
you froze.
“nagged?” you repeated softly.
“yes. you’ve told me enough times i get it i need rest, i need sleep, i need this i need that—”
“i’m saying that because look at you!” you motioned with your hands, feeling potential tears prickling at the back of your eyes at the way he was speaking to you. “your under eyes are dark and purple, your eyes are red you look exhausted!”
“and i told you i’m fine!” he raised his voice a bit. “you wouldn’t understand the shit that i have to do for this team the shit i have to pull and i gave them absolute garbage today—”
“oh my god megumi!” you snapped. “your team is a team effort! it’s not just you! you’re not the only one pulling the stops so enough with trying to take on this load and overwork yourself! please you played amazing today everyone was cheering so loud for you and—”
“stop talking.”
you paused.
“just—” he rubbed his tired eyes and turned to the side. “just please stop talking.”
stop… talking?
he struck a chord, and you felt your heart literally break at his words, an aching heavy pit in your chest as you recounted his yelling and snappiness when all you were trying to do was help him.
thats all you’ve ever tried to do for megumi really— help him, support him, and love him. but for him to throw it all back in your face and say you didn’t understand? for you to basically shut up?
tears were slipping past your eyes at this point, and when you felt like megumi finally bothered to look at you in the face, his eyes widened and his shoulders dropped.
“baby—”
“and what about you?”
he stopped. “about me—”
“yes about you. you’re saying i don’t understand anything you’re fucking going through, as if i haven’t followed you through your career since the moment we met and before that, like i haven’t supported you on the sidelines and asked you question after question about your games just so i can fucking understand—”
“no i—”
you cut him off. “and then you’re here— yelling at me, telling me off, and telling me to shut up when i’m the only one fucking standing here with you after the game trying to be there for you?!—”
“baby— fuck i’m sorry okay i didn’t mean—”
you laughed bitterly. “you didn’t mean it. didn’t mean what? to accidentally let it slip that you actually do think i’m a blabbermouth?”
he was taken aback as his eyebrows furrowed, shaking his head desperately. “no— no that’s not what i meant at all y/n i’m sorry. i’ve been so stressed and tired and i’m taking it all out on you right now and— and that’s not okay and not an excuse.”
megumi quickly stepped forward and placed his hands on your face, but you pushed him away, hurt flashing across his eyes as you did so.
“and why didn’t you tell me about the meeting huh? the one with the higher ups last week?”
surprise crossed his face. “how did you—”
“doesn’t matter how i heard it. why didn’t you tell me? do you understand how that makes me feel when i have to find out through someone else and not my own boyfriend?”
he ran a hand through his spiky black hair and sighed exhaustedly.
“i didn’t tell you because i knew you would be upset about it and i didn’t want you to worry—”
“so you just chose to keep it from me that’s real nice.” you spat. “of course i wouldn’t be happy with it they’re stripping you down and exploiting you! how could they say that it’s all on you to bring it home for the world series? do you understand how insane that sounds?”
“i know but i can’t tell them anything i just have to say yes!” he explained.
“you have every right to tell them something! and if you would’ve communicated this with me like you should’ve done, i wouldn’t have let you lose so much sleep over me and maybe you wouldn’t have played the way you think you played, and you wouldn’t be standing here shitting all over me!”
he really struck a chord.
“y/n—”
“bye megumi.”
his breath hitched.
“no— hey don’t do that—”
he scrambled after you as you made your way out of the field, him quickly catching up and tugging you into him with his long arms around your shoulders, bringing your back to his front as he ducked his face down.
“let’s fix it please we need to fix this—”
“i want to be alone right now, megumi.” you mumbled.
god he hated how many times you’ve called him that already tonight, feeling like the biggest asshole to ever grace your precious life.
“no i don’t want you to be upset with me please—”
“we can talk later on the phone.” your tone was lifeless. “i just need to be alone.”
he faltered, feeling gutting pain cascade all over his body as he hesitantly, slowly, slipped his arms away and released you.
“o—okay.”
he watched you walk up the stands and to the exit as you clutched yourself, his eyes catching the back of your jersey reading his last name that sent an immediate pang through his chest, your frame disappearing from his view and leaving him in his stupid thoughts as he snatched his cap off from his head and threw it to the side in frustration.
that night megumi tried to call you but you didn’t pick up, you barely even answering his texts as he wallowed in self pity alone in his apartment.
and you hadn’t stopped crying since the moment your tears hit on the field— hurt and exhausted and guilty as you settled into bed, unable to bring yourself to call him and go through with your word, deciding to text instead.
(you): i’m really tired i’m sorry. i’ll see if i can call you in the morning.
megumi took no time at all to respond.
(gumi <3): can i take you to class tomorrow?
(you): i don’t think that’s a good idea
he swallowed the lump in his throat and fought back the urge to fight it, wanting to respect you and your space.
but you only kept crying.
(gumi <3): okay
(you): goodnight
(gumi <3): goodnight pretty baby
just as you were about to place your phone back on your nightstand, it buzzed again.
(gumi <3): i love you i’m sorry
you sniffled and put your phone away officially, choosing not to respond.
the following week leading up to the league championship game, megumi spent every waking moment trying to make it up to you, trying to fix it, but you only seemed to stay away from him and distance yourself, something that hurt megumi like no other.
you felt like it was your fault he played the way he did that day. if you had been smarter, more mindful, you would’ve noticed that the intensity of his exhaustion was extremely abnormal, and perhaps you could’ve done something about it before it was too late and saved yourself the dreadful fight you had with him.
you hated the way you spoke to him, and you fully convinced yourself that you only served as a distraction for him, opting to keeping your distance as far away as possible so it allowed megumi to get his head focused again and ensure a promised route to the world series— something you had hoped to be there to witness, but deeming his success way more important than your needs at this point in time.
so you stopped going to all of his practices following that day, the fact tormenting megumi as you always went to each and every single one and was there for him without fault— rain or shine, always waiting for him in the locker rooms when he was finished.
but you weren’t there anymore. and each day you weren’t was another day megumi would spend angry and frustrated with himself that he did what he did. he knew your defense mechanism was pushing people away, and your current behavior gave him flashbacks to the time last year when he was falling for you and you kept running away from him, scared— those actions a carbon copy of what’s happening now, except far worse.
and he did that to you. he yelled at you and snapped at you, told you to stop talking for some fucking reason that he still couldn’t find the proper explanation for… and he made you cry. so much. your usual sweet honeyed voice you spoke to him with long gone since that day.
and he missed you. more than anything.
“you stupid—” throw “self absorbed—” throw “asshole—” throw “narcissistic—” throw—
“okay that’s enough that’s enough!”
yuji pulled your best friend back as she chucked towel after towel at megumi following one of their practices, her absolutely fuming.
he took every hit, not bothering to dodge. he deserved it.
“she told me what you did—” she shook herself away from yuji’s grip. “what the hell is the matter with you? how could you yell at her like that on the field? when all she’s ever done is love you—”
“i know.” megumi mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “i know i’m really sorry. i regret it.”
“fuck yeah you should,” she scoffed. “that woman’s been cooped up every day in her room bawling her eyes out over you!”
yuji nodded sadly, and megumi let out a pained breath as he closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands, propping his elbows on his knees, leaning forward.
“fuck me…”
“yeah fuck you—”
“okay! okay. he’s already down let him bleed out.” yuji muttered to her as he rubbed his hands over her arms soothingly, an attempt at calming her down.
he looked at him. “megumi, you and i both know that she understands you were frustrated that day. the both of you. if you just talk to her—”
“you think i haven’t tried?” megumi picked his head up, and the both of them froze at the way his eyes glossed over.
“i’ve— i’ve called her, i’ve texted her, i drove by her house but she’s never there, fuck i even went to her campus at seven in the morning but couldn’t find her.”
he took his cap off and roughly rubbed over his eyes again.
your best friend sighed then after a moment, slowly stepping forward and sitting down next to him on the bench.
“she’ll come around megumi.” she mumbled. “just give her some time. i know it’s hard, but she really really loves you.” she sighed deeply. “she’ll come around.”
megumi nodded solemnly, and yuji stepped forward, patting his shoulder.
“you okay man?”
he nodded again.
missed phone calls, lagging dry texts, and last minute cancellations from you all happened for a week straight.
and when the time finally came for the league championships, megumi wanted nothing more than for you to be there as he stared at his messy fucking locker when prepping for the game— another reminder that you hadn’t been around, and another reminder that you wouldn’t be here tonight to see him, something he completely did not blame you for.
luckily, the league championship game was at their home base once more, and as the crowd got settled to watch, energies heightened as the players all got settled over the field to play ball— megumi shook the nerves from his body as he focused with the game, and you, on his mind like a religion.
and as the game ran on with the team scoring run after run, another win was blatantly obvious for them— megumi entirely unaware of your presence that was watching him the entire time in the stands.
you couldn’t help yourself. you needed to be there to watch him, needed to see him take home another achievement like that, regardless of where you both stood as you watched from just above the v.i.p section, shivering like an idiot because you forgot to bring a jacket after deciding to wear a flowy tube top for the day, but excited for him nonetheless.
you didn’t tell a single soul you were coming, not even your best friend as you just wanted to see megumi again before running off into the shadows of your embarrassing despair, missing him like fucking crazy and nearly sobbing when you saw him walk out on the field at the start, but even more emotional to the fact that they were actually going to move on to the world series by the looks of it.
and the crowd hollered eventually as the speakers blasted megumi’s teams signature song—
finalizing their spot in the world series.
your eyes glowed as you watched his team run up on the field and tackle each other down, literally rolling in the dirt as you giggled to yourself— sighing contently and about to turn and walk out of the stadium to go home when a strong rough hand wrapped around your bare upper arm.
“you’re fushiguro’s girl! aren’t you?”
you snapped your head up and saw someone you recognized as one of megumi’s crew members for the team, and you relaxed, trusting him.
“oh! yeah i am!”
“sweet! i just got hired to be on the crew a couple of weeks ago.”
“that’s great!” you answered politely, smiling. “how is—”
“listen i was wondering if i could get any tickets to the world series from you?”
what.
“um—” your eyes darted around awkwardly. “for— for the world series?—”
“yeah! i took this job so i could get some but apparently i need to be working longer than three weeks. dumb.”
you gnawed at the inside of your cheek as your eyes drifted downward to your arm.
he still hadn’t let go.
“oh i’m sorry.” you mumbled. “i could— i could maybe get you one? one for sure!”
he shook his head. “shit sorry, i need like five.”
“five?!” you gawked. “i can’t get you five i’m really sorry… i can only maybe get you one.”
his eyes narrowed. “why not? you’re fushiguro’s girl are you not?”
“yes but what does that have to do with me getting you tickets to the world series?” you spoke nervously, trying to put on a brave front as his height literally towered over you.
“why don’t you ask him for tickets? he’s literally megumi fushiguro i’m sure he can cough up some—”
you scoffed.
“i’m not gonna ask him anything for you just because you want to use me to get tick—”
“so then what the fuck are you with him for?” his grip tightened around your arm as he pulled you a little, and you winced.
“let go of me!—”
megumi considered himself a relatively calm person throughout his life.
he knew he had his explosive rude moments here and there, him also accidentally offending people unknowingly with his words, but that behavior only stayed on the field as it pertained to the game at hand or with baseball itself, his life outside of that a treasured tranquil one as he spent his days with you and only you, something he looked forward to every waking moment since the day he met you.
but as he heard your little voice through the yelling of the crowd, instantly recognizing it and picking up on its distressed demeanor— his body did a full one-eighty as his eyes frantically searched for you through the mass of people.
and once he did spot you? your breathtaking little self being manhandled by some fucking moron who had his hand around your upper arm?
he didn’t consider himself a relatively calm person anymore.
megumi quickly snatched his cap off and passed it to a confused yuji and your best friend, sprinting at the speed of light across the field and to the fence of the v.i.p. section before hoisting himself up and climbing, jumping over once he reached the top and landing on the stands— him running up a few steps before finally reaching you and tearing the guy off.
“get the fuck off.”
he gently pushed you behind him, his chest heaving.
“the shit are you doing hurting her arm like that for huh?!” megumi stepped forward.
“hey! hey i’m sorry man i— i didn’t know i was hurting her—”
“sure you fucking did she was literally telling you to let go and you were throwing her around like—”
“megumi please—”
“are you part of the crew?”
“y—yeah?”
“you’re gone. you’re fired you’re—”
“wait i’m sorry! i was just trying to get tickets to the world series—”
megumi’s eyes blew open, wild and infuriated.
“that’s why you were grabbing her like that? you were harrassing her for some fucking ticke— you know what—”
megumi stepped forward before you could stop him as he reeled his fist back and knocked him straight in the jaw, the guy stumbling back a bit and the crowd gasping before megumi spun around and grabbed your legs, throwing you over his shoulder.
“get the fuck out of my way.”
the small crowd that stuck around for the altercation parted with no questions asked, his long legs striding over across the exit and to the teams now vacant locker room— kicking the door open before gently setting you down on your feet.
he ran his hands over your soft hair frantically as he grabbed your cheeks and checked you over, your teary doe eyes breaking him apart.
“hey are you okay? are you fine?”
megumi let go of your face and gently lifted your upper arm, his eyes hardening at the purple forming bruise from that dickwads hand.
“he’s gone he’s gone—”
you lunged and wrapped your arms around his waist tightly as he started to charge back out, pulling him back.
“no! stop it’s okay you already hit him i think he got the message.” you mumbled, letting him go.
megumi turned to you then, his eyes softening over your timid sad frame as you played with your fingers, gaze down.
“y/n.”
“hm?”
he frowned.
“can you please look at me.”
you listened reluctantly and peered up at him.
he exhaled. “baby i— i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry for everything that i said to you that night. i meant none of it. nothing. i was just angry at myself and stressed and stupid and i hate that i talked to you like that and took it out on you. you didn’t deserve that at all.”
you hurriedly wiped your silent tears— nodding, but saying nothing.
he leaned down to look at you at eye level.
“are you okay?”
you nodded again and sniffled.
“talk baby.” he pleaded with you gently, eyes sad. “tell me, please.”
you cowered a little as you finally broke into tiny sobs, your hands hovering over your face to hide your tears as he placed his big hands on your upper arms, megumi feeling like he just got run over by an entire military tank at the sight of you crying because of him.
“i—i’m sorry i yelled at you—” you hiccuped. “i was so mean and i f—feel really bad—”
“baby why are you apologizing?” he shook his head. “it’s me it’s all me i’m the one who was mean to you—”
“no but—” you sniffled. “you were just stressed from the game like you said and that’s fine i should’ve been more aware. i didn’t mean to upset you with me talking—”
“oh pretty baby..” he breathed out, agonizingly, megumi literally beating himself up. “remember when i said one time you were too nice for your own good?”
you nodded.
“this is one of those moments. you should be yelling at me and throwing things at me like your best friend did.”
your eyebrows furrowed as you sniffled. “she— she did?”
“she did.” he nodded. “rightfully so.”
you giggled a little, and he smiled softly.
“i’m sorry i distanced myself the way i did…” you mumbled, a waterfall of tears coming down again. “i just thought that i was a distraction and— and i wanted you to focus.”
“a distraction?” he murmured. “y/n you are never a distraction.”
“no but at the end of the day i was…” you sobbed. “you need to be there for your team you have—“ hic! “you have responsibilities and i don’t want you to put me above that and— and keep hanging out with me when you have so much to do—”
“something you need to understand is that i’m replaceable.” he cut you off, tone firm. “the minute they find some other dude that’s way better than me and quicker than me and they draft his ass over to the team? they are going to replace me faster than you will ever think. that’s just the way jobs are. i’m replaceable no matter how much you wanna think it’s not true.”
he shook his head, his face pained. “but you are not. you’re not fucking replaceable there is no other you. you are my life now baby. yes my career is a priority, but so are you, and i would rather them replace me than lose you entirely.”
he wiped the tears from your cheeks, your doe eyes wide.
“i appreciate that you care so much and you support me and that you want me to devote all of my time to only this— you’re an angel on earth for all of that… but as your man i’m telling you that all of my time is devoted to you now, not just baseball.”
you wrapped your arms around his neck and tugged him closer to you, tight, him immediately reciprocating and snaking his arms around your waist.
he could finally breathe.
“do you understand?” he murmured softly, rubbing his hands over your back soothingly.
you nodded.
“but you can’t— wear yourself out like you did okay?” you sniffled. “you can’t let them push you and tire you out… and please listen when we say for you to rest…”
“i know i’m sorry. i’ll listen next time baby i promise.”
“i get you trying to improve for yourself and push your limits… but— but there’s a difference between wanting to better your play and straight up wearing yourself down.”
you pulled back a little to look at him, wiping your tears and hiccuping. “and i worry man… i worry so much because i—“ hic! “i love you and i always think about if you’re eating right or— or getting enough sleep—”
his heart literally melted as he felt the remains of it ooze and spread all over his body and insides, your pure sweet concerns tugging at him and turning him into absolute putty before you.
he tightened his grip around your waist and lifted you, gently rocking your bodies as you sniffled and cried, his eyes screwed shut and feeling every possible emotion a human being could ever feel… but feeling love most of all.
love for you. love for who you are.
megumi kissed your wet cheek delicately and let his lips linger there as he spoke.
“i’m in love with you…” he murmured. “i hope you know that.”
your heart fluttered and you nodded, a little smile playing at your face.
“i’m in love with you too gumi.” you hummed, pressing a sweet kiss of your own to his cheek.
he set you back down and cupped your cheeks, slowly leaning in and pressing light tender kisses to your lips, his mouth completely savoring over the taste of yours as he had been deprived of them for a freaking week— feeling like his dried up soul had been rejuvenated and made anew.
and you felt the same way… because you deepened the kiss, picked up the pace, pulled him closer until his chest was flush against yours and your hot breaths were mixed together in a misty cloud, megumi breathing heavily through his nose as he ran his needy desperate hands over your delicious body.
he trailed wet open mouthed kisses on your cheek, jaw, and all the way down to the side of your exposed neck, his hand supporting the other side as he feverishly licked a slow long stripe of spit up your neck with his rough tongue, your fists gripping the sides of his jersey as he nibbled and bit, his lips finally coming to enclose and suck around a certain spot as your breath hitched at how frenzied and sloppy he was being, drool practically running down your neck as he ravished, bit, and sucked over multiple areas.
you shoved your hands down his pants suddenly, and he choked in surprise as his hips thrusted forward, your fingers pumping and palming his hardened cock slowly as his breath shuddered against your neck.
“baby...” he murmured.
“hm?”
“how would you feel if i turned on the shower and fucked my cock in your pretty little cunt for a bit in there huh?…”
a needy whimper slipped past your lips against his ear, and he grew weak.
“is that okay—”
“more than okay—”
you squealed as he wasted no time in picking you up again and walking over to the showers, the both of you clumsily tearing off your clothes as megumi fumbled with the shower switch until luke warm water spritzed from above— entrapping the both of you in a humid trance as megumi squeezed your bare thighs and ushered you to jump, you doing so immediately and wrapping your legs around his waist.
he stepped in and literally slammed the shower door shut, the two of you giggling a little as the soothing water washed over your panting bodies, the sight of his handsome bright face making your cheeks flush and bury your face in his neck in response.
he chuckled softly, gently setting your back against the wet tile wall before kissing you again and again, his mouth messy against your puffy lips as he tried to drink up all that you gave him, the tip of his cock slipping past your folds and brushing against your swollen clit— each time making you squeak and jump.
you didn’t care about anything, your mind reeling and just wanting megumi’s dick inside of you as soon as possible, knowing that you’d never really had sex before and literally not giving a single shit because it was him— someone you trusted the most out of anyone in your life, and someone you wanted to give your all to no matter the circumstance.
he lined his fat tip then against your drooling hole.
“wait! wait the door—“ you gripped his shoulders for support. “the door did you lock it?”
“nope.”
megumi pushed his cock in slowly and gently, your choked gasps and moans echoing inside the shower as his head fell to rest in the crook of your hickey covered neck, him groaning in ecstasy as your gummy warm pussy strangled his dick to the tightest degree, already previously so wet and gushy that it thankfully barely hurt you at all as he bottomed out.
“fuuuckk— you’re warm.” he murmured, gripping your hips like a vice and softly caressing his thumb against your slippery skin to soothe you— hoping (but not really), you’d maybe release the clutch your pussy had on his dick to stop him from already shooting his cum all over your insides like a loser.
he slowly drew his hips back and fucked into you again, you jolting at the force as you fumbled to keep your grip steady on his shoulders, his cock fucking thick and massive as his little curve poked deliciously at your cervix, him gradually increasing his pace as you shuddered over the quick pat pat pat’s echoing through the walls.
“g—gumiii..” you whined.
“what baby?” he mumbled breathlessly, his eyes glued to where his dick connected with your hole as it slipped in and out lewdly, your pussy literally squelching and screaming for him with your bouncing tits in his face that made him clench his jaw in self restraint— trying his hardest not to fucking ram into you like nothing and take you.
“y—you’re biigg!” you hiccuped, your little gasps of breath enticing droplets of cum to leak out of his tip and ooze out of your little wet folds, megumi moaning at your words.
“yeah?” pat pat pat— “s’too much for you baby?”
he picked up the pace, on purpose as he meanly bounced you on his cock and shot his hips up against your pussy, his big heavy balls slapping against your ass and making your eyes fucking cross at the feeling.
“tell me you love me.” he panted. “now.”
“i—“ hic! “i love you—”
megumi grabbed your cheeks with his fingers and mushed them together, grinning deviously at the way your pouty lips pushed out cutely.
“how much.”
“s—so- ah!— so much gumi—”
“more— shit!” he choked, a particular squeeze from your abused cunt almost making him finish. “m— more than anything?”
slap slap slap—
“y—yes!—” you could barely even speak due to the erotic hold he had on your face. “i love you i love you i love—”
you squealed as he let go of your face, gave into his desires and rammed into you, both hands on your bruised hips as he gave your pussy no room to breathe with how fast he was shoving his fat cock inside of you, pounding and pummeling into your guts as your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you felt your release build up in your tummy.
“why were you asking me about the door earlier huh?” he panted. “you don’t want anyone to see how much of a” thrust! “slut you are? your legs spread for me like this and your pretty pussy creaming on my dick?”
you whined and moaned so fucking loudly, it ringing through megumi’s ears like a wicked symphony.
he pinched your nipple when you didn’t respond.
“answer me.”
thrust thrust thrust—
“n—no i didn’t!”
“no?”
he gripped your neck and sloppily ran his mouth over yours, feeling his cum on the brink of shooting out.
“m’gonna cum inside.”
“in— mmphf!— inside?”
“you don’t want it?” he let go of your neck. “cause i won’t give it to you if you don’t want it—”
“i do i do!” you scrambled and cupped his cheeks, bringing his lips back in and kissing him messily.
“give it to me gumi please!—“ hic! “eeekkk!”
hot sticky cum pumped out of his tip and into your gushy walls, your high making your toes curl as you creamed around his heavy cock feverishly, megumi’s entire body fucking shivering at the way your pussy felt like it was entirely made and molded for him.
he softly pumped himself inside and out of you, his mouth hung open in a daze as he watched his white cum slide out of your pretty hole and over his still connected dick, gently easing out after a minute and carefully setting you back down— not completely though, as he knew you’d be sore as he leaned most if not all of your body weight against him.
you held each other in a tight embrace then, your heavy breaths trying to find its normal rhythm as the warm water continued to cascade down your bodies, comfortingly.
“why don’t we have sex more often...” you mumbled.
he laughed softly, pecking the side of your head. “i was waiting for you to tell me baby. i didn’t want to pressure you.”
“i was waiting for you to tell me.” you emphasized. “i didn’t want to jump on you and just violate you—”
megumi’s chest vibrated as he laughed again, a cute boyish one that made you bite your lip.
“violate me?” he murmured, an amused smile on his face. “i’d want you to.”
“yeah?” you tilted your head, and his cheeks grew hot.
“yeah.”
finally you and megumi were in sync again, going back into each other’s routines as if the week long hiccup never happened, the both of you officially unraveling the aching knots in your chests that you hauled for seven tormenting days straight— together and attached to the hip once again as he started picking you up for your seven am classes every morning like before, you going to his practices straight after, and spending your hours sleeping in his dark cozy room this time around, snoring your little life away so megumi could recover.
and eventually, the world series arrived.
“my camera! my camera! my digital one did i bring it?!”
you flipped your purse upside down and dumped all of your things on the floor— your lip combo, compact mirror, snacks, random receipts, and small perfume bottle rolling around on the ground until your digital camera was finally in view.
your best friend cackled as she crouched down and helped you pick up your things. “you were taking pictures up megumi’s nose on the two hour drive over here yes you brought it—”
“i know i forgot i’m so nervous what if they lose what if someone fumbles what if—”
you both stood as you rambled on and she placed both of her hands on your shoulders, shaking you. “calm down! they’ll be fine! win or lose they still made it to the world series!”
the crowd roared much like the past two games, except much heavier, louder, more drilling as the music drummed through your body, the air windy but refreshing, and high pitched whistles echoing from around the stadium as everyone anticipated for the biggest game of the season.
you had lost count how many different news stations were here broadcasting the game, how many reporters you saw scrambling across the field trying to interview certain players— you too busy taking pictures of every single little thing and the both of you reapplying your lip liners over a million fucking times— even flagging down a crew member so you could take a picture with just your best friend, your backs to the camera showcasing the last names of your boyfriend’s on your jersey’s.
and when the game officially commenced and the players all went out on the field— megumi and his team did what they always do best, taking control of the scoreboard and earning runs like chump change as they worked professionally to take the trophy home, you constantly snapping pictures of megumi that your digital camera ran out of fucking storage before you even got the shot that you wanted.
eventually after a while of playing, it was megumi’s turn to hit.
“fuck! record for me please record! my camera ran out of storage oh my god use my phone please i love you—”
your best friend laughed as she took your phone from you and did what you asked, your hands on the railing and leaning over it as you anxiously watched him walk up to home plate and take position.
but instead of doing his usual faux swings and repositioned footing, megumi stepped to the side and turned his bat downward, you unable to tell what he was doing as his frame was blocking, his arm moving in various directions before he stepped back again on the home plate and repositioned himself.
your eyes trailed to the ground.
megumi had carved your initials in the dirt.
your girl friend gasped and cooed. “y/nnn!”
as megumi now did his faux swings, your bottom lip only wobbled as your eyes stayed trained to the carvings in the dirt, your heart skipping a thousand beats per minute as the thought of megumi thinking about you out there during one of the most important nights of his life, made you question repeatedly how you ever landed a man like him when all you do is talk and cry.
hit!
your eyes snapped up and you quickly wiped the corners of your eyes, megumi already running across the first two bases as the crowd roared.
“bring it home fushiguro!”
several of his teammates were cheering him on from the dugout, megumi running four runs with just one fucking hit?—
a grand slam.
and suddenly you were taken back to the day you noticed megumi for the first time, just like now with your doe eyes wide and cheeks pink, recognizing the only piece of baseball terminology you knew besides a home run.
except then he was just a stranger you were hopelessly in love with that knew how to play ball like no other.
now though, he’s a man you couldn’t ever imagine your life without. and you didn’t want to.
so as the game reached nine innings, megumi’s team running on the field in a bundle of absolute tears and yells and hollers that they won the world fucking series, all clustering together as they hoisted several players up on their shoulders, including megumi—
you and your best friend instantly booked it down there in a fit of tears.
you had no time to get your personal belongings together as you sprinted across the field like your life fucking depended on it towards megumi— him being put down by his teammates and him frantically looking around after until he spotted you, the brightest smile spreading across his face as he chucked his cap to the side and opened his arms out wide for you.
you jumped in and he spun you around, holding you tight as the screaming crowd surrounding you drowned itself out as you cried into megumi’s neck.
he pulled back, panting.
“did you see how i did a grand slam?”
you nodded rapidly.
“i did it because i knew its the only thing you would recognize!” he yelled over the noise. “so you would feel included when we won!”
oh my god.
he still remembered when you told him that?
“guummiii! how did you even calculate that?!” you cried harder, and he laughed as he spread tiny kisses all over your teary face, his eyes glimmering with absolute unadulterated happiness and bliss, the reality of having the two things he wanted most in life settling into his mind.
megumi didn’t really have a stance on religion— whether the factor is real or not something he didn’t really care about nor mind as he simply just chose to live.
but as he held you on the field, you crying for him and embracing him the way that you were, kissing him the way that you were, megumi only wanted to be covered in your favor. megumi only wanted to devote his entire life to you.
megumi only wanted to believe in you.
••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••
want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!
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if husband! katsuki had a dream that you served him divorce papers, he would be SO mad at you.
katsuki woke up with a start, his chest heaving as the remnants of the vivid dream clung to his mind. in the dream, you had stood in front of him, utterly calm, as you handed him his worst nightmare: divorce papers.
“it's not you, its me,” you said, your expression indifferent as if breaking his heart meant nothing. "i'm just bored, katsuki."
it wasn’t real, he knew that. but the image of you walking away from him felt too real, too painful. the words echoed in his head as he sat on the edge of the bed, his fists clenched. bored? how could you say that after everything you've been through? even though it was just a dream, it shook him to near death.
and when katsuki saw you later that morning, smiling and greeting him like usual, he couldn’t help but scowl. normally, the sight would calm him, but instead, a strange sense of betrayal bubbled up inside him. how could dream-you say something like that? and why couldn’t he shake the feeling?
“morning, katsuki,” you said cheerfully, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek.
he turned his head slightly, causing your lips to brush his jaw instead. you blinked, confused. “uh… everything okay?”
“fine,” he muttered, getting up and leaving you all alone in the bed.
all day, katsuki avoided your texts, kept his responses curt, and barely looked your way when you crossed paths at home. you quickly realized something was off but couldn’t figure out what. by evening, you had enough.
"okay, whats your problem? you've been sulking all day,” you said firmly, standing in front of him while he sat on the couch. “you’ve been acting like i killed your damn dog. what did i do?”
katsuki glared at you, his emotions finally bubbling over. “you left me! that’s what you did!”
you stared at him, completely baffled. “what are you talking about? i didn’t leave you. i’ve been here all day!”
katsuki exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “fine. i had this stupid dream, alright? you—” he hesitated, the words catching in his throat. “you divorced me. you said you were bored and just... left me.”
for a moment, there was silence as you processed what he was saying. then, to katsuki’s annoyance, you started laughing.
“you’re mad at me... because of a dream?” you asked, your laughter bubbling out uncontrollably.
“it felt real!” he barked, his cheeks flushing slightly. “you don’t get to laugh! this isn't fuckin' funny! do you know how shitty that felt?!”
“i’m sorry!” you gasped between giggles, clutching your stomach. “it’s just… do you really think i’d ever do that?”
katsuki’s scowl deepened. “its not that. its just... you said it so casually in the dream. like i didn’t even matter.”
you tried to stifle your laughter, but your amusement was clear as day. “katsuki... you’re everything to me. i would never leave you. ever. especially not because i was bored. you’re the opposite of boring. you’re the most stubborn, infuriating, incredible man I’ve ever met.”
he grunted, looking away. “tch. doesn’t change the fact that it felt real.”
you bit your lip, guilt swirling in your chest. you could see how much the dream had affected katsuki, even if it wasn’t real. determined to make it up to him, you climbed onto his lap, straddling him, and cupped his face in your hands.
“i’m sorry your brain decided to torture you like that,” you said softly before leaning in to pepper his face with kisses. “but let me remind you of how much i love you.”
your lips pressed against his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, and finally, his lips. each kiss was light and playful, drawing a reluctant smirk from him.
“sweets,” katsuki muttered, trying to keep up the tough act, but you didn’t let up.
you continued your attack, kissing down his jaw and back to his lips, murmuring between kisses. “i'm so happy you're my husband.”
katsuki finally relented, his hands settling on your hips as he let out a low chuckle. “you’re fuckin' weird.”
“and you’re grumpy,” you teased. “but i love you anyway.”
“hmph. i love you too,” he admitted, his voice softer now as his arms wrap around you, brushing your nose against his. “sorry for being an idiot today.”
“you’re not an idiot. just... talk to me about it next time, okay?”
"fine. be my fuckin' wife for forever, 'kay?"
"i promise," you cut him off with a kiss.
and katsuki kissed you back, finally letting the tension melt away, drowning himself in the taste of your and your presence. you're here. you weren't gonna leave him because he was bored. you never would.
"tch. i’m still blaming you for my bad dreams though."
‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ 。゚•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• 。゚ ‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧
#bakugou x reader#bnha bakugou#bakugou katsuki x reader#bnha bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo mha#katsuki bakugou#mha bakugo katsuki#mha bakugou#bnha#mha#bakugo katsuki#katsuki bakugo#bakugou katsuki#bakugo fluff#bakugo katsuki x reader#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou imagine#katsuki bakugo x reader#bakugo#bakugou x y/n#bakugou x you#mha fluff#mha imagines#mha bakugo x reader#mha x reader#mha x you#bnha katsuki#bnha drabble
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see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader
pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jake x (f) reader
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader
summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that jake sim would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.
wc ↠ 14.9k
a/n ↠ jeno version of this fic posted on my nct blog revehae. yea, mine. i am her she is me. THERE WILL BE NO SEQUEL. feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky
it was supposed to be like everybody else.
short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that sunoo boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through.
you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.
hook, line, and sinker.
far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.
no one told you to expect something different from jake sim. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.
which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.
as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jake turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”
jake raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”
“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jake, right?”
jake nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”
“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”
jake hummed. “are you now?”
you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”
“you think so?” jake asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him.
“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”
jake stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”
your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.
jake spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”
“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”
jake snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.
your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”
jake smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”
switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”
“am i?” jake asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”
your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.
“there it is,” jake sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”
you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.
“i’ll help you,” jake said after a pause.
you forced a smile. “great, so…”
jake interjected, “on one condition.”
smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?
“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”
jake grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.
you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”
“sure, you’re not,” jake answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”
“that’s not my problem,” you spat.
“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jake retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”
something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.
but jake had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”
“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jake asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”
“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title.
“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jake told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”
you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”
“right. too busy,” jake echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”
with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”
jake arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.
then, you started typing away, all the while jake watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.
“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you. “pleasure doing business with you.”
with that, you walked away.
jake shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?
over the next few days or so, you met with jake to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.
you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.
it was okay. jake’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.
short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jake’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.
more like sacrifice.
▸ gilded age
“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.
roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”
jennie narrowed her eyes. ���hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”
you snickered. “god, what happened now?”
“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently sunghoon.”
your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.
roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but sunghoon? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.”
“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”
“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”
roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”
you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”
jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”
your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.
“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”
you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”
roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jake guy is staring you.”
your head whirled around, spotting jake in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising.
roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”
you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”
for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jake for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”
your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.
what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.
“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jake were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwon?”
jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwon isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.
roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”
“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”
“a lot can change in two months.”
“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”
▸ takes two to tango
jake: come over
you: no
jake: that wasn’t a request
you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around
jake: not even for an A?
you: that’s what your grabby hands are for
jake: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us
you: i’m otw, chill. jesus
the knock of your fist against jake’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.
jake threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you.
“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”
jake shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”
you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”
ignoring your snarky attitude, jake glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jake was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.
“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.
busy, my fucking ass, jake thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”
“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”
“sure, you can,” jake replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”
“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”
“your attention,” jake said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”
the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.
without warning, jake grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jake would handle you delicately.
but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of.
in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jake, what the hell?” you exclaimed.
“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jake said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”
for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jake’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.
your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.
unsatisfied, jake bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jake, that hurts,” you whined.
jake didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”
you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.
needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”
“stop complaining,” jake groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”
your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped.
jake heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”
you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit.
the last thing you expected jake to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.
and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.
to make matters worse, jake was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.
maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jake said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.
even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.
jake had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased.
you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”
jake had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”
you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.
“takes two to tango, baby,” jake called after you, simpering.
you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled jake sim.
▸ chess, not checkers
deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jake’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.
jake didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.
instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.
the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.
and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.
jake could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jake for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.
the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.
but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.
and yet, maybe jake was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.
hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.
jake winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”
“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.
jake exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.
seoa recoiled, pulling away. jake had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”
jake ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”
a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jay marched over to jake, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”
jake snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.
jay’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”
rolling his eyes, jake grabbed the back of jay’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jake knew it had when jay’s confusion melted into disgust.
“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.
jake chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”
jay couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwon like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”
that was news to jake. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from sunoo and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwon. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.
jay shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”
now that was funny as hell. jake had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”
jay made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwon. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”
jake shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”
jay gawked. that didn’t sound like jake. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”
“oh, dividends,” jake quipped.
“oh, and in what? pussy?”
“nope.”
jay looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”
it didn’t, not immediately, but jake had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.
jay shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”
“chess, not checkers, jay.” jake smirked, putting a hand on jay’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”
▸ things good guys do
“you’re lucky i was already out,” jake told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”
“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”
jake exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jay had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”
you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.
jake’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”
“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.
jake groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”
you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”
jake shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”
“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.
“you think that was assault?” jake asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”
scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”
“good guys have self-control,” jake replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”
you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”
“a blowjob.”
“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.
jake quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”
you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?
jake grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”
“that’s not the same!” you whined.
“of course, it’s not,” jake said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”
you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”
maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jake stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”
you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.
it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jake couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”
you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.
jake walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.
normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt.
“good girl,” jake praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”
you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jake, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.
jake hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”
your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.
not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.
at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”
your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.
that amused jake to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.
he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.
it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jake instructed.
widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.
jake was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.”
your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jake hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jake’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.
jake, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.
there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.
“lick,” jake said, chest undulating. “up and down.”
with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jake’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking.
jake’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”
you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.
if jake could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”
you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.
it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.
compared to when you first started, jake was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.
“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jake said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.
at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jake groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.
you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.
at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.
jake’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.
“open up,” jake said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.
not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.
when you tried to pull away, jake grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.
tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jake scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”
chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jake loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.
jake held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jake said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”
he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.
there was a fleeting second of relief when jake unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.
though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible.
you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.
“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jake taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.
it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own.
then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing.
with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed.
jake groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”
even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.
it got to a point where jake couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”
like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.
irritated, jake pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”
you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.
jake laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”
he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.
▸ hard feelings
something about today was different than usual.
when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.
but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.
it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.
you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about sunghoon’s clap rumor.
long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.
and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?
but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.
fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.
jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.
roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.
they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”
jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”
your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”
jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”
“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except… except jake. you tensed with anger.
roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jake reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.
your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jake didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.
“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”
jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”
then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.
you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see.
you: you and i need to talk. right now.
jake: about what?
you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!
jake: maybe u should have swallowed
you: you know what, i don���t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone
jake: [one attachment]
jake: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it
you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.
adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.
you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you
jake: this is bigger than just you and me
jake: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out
and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.
one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.
if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.
you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.
no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.
you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.
“i’ve been texting you,” jake said, sounding miffed.
you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”
“aw, poor thing,” jake crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”
you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.
stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open.
“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”
it was a wonder you managed to make it to jake’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.
on the other hand, jake seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did.
you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”
jake chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”
your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?
“i’m sad,” jake said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”
you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”
jake nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”
you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”
“so?” jake asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”
you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jake, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”
“take everything off,” jake repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”
defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jake shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.
what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.
when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.
you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.
after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your moan, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.
“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”
you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”
“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”
“i miss you,” you confessed.
“a lie don’t care who tell it.”
“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”
“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”
your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”
there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”
you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jake without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”
your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that.
taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”
your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”
in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”
“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”
“ma,” you groaned with a wince.
she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”
you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jake really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.
because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.
and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated jake sim.
▸ cheerleader? breed her!
standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.
you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jake and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.
there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jake’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.
you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.
jake came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”
you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”
jake chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”
you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.
jake’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”
you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.
“that’s not nearly enough,” jake insisted, squeezing your ass.
god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.
“you know what i want?” jake asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”
your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jake had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic.
grabbing your arm, jake started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”
you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jake, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.
jake scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.
panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to.
then, you locked eyes with jungwon. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jake was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwon saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.
your shoulders slumped in defeat.
jake started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.
just your luck, the bathroom jake hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jake, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”
jake didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”
you swallowed, not saying a word.
the silence was very loud, very telling. jake arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”
your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.
jake chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”
you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”
jake shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”
it went without saying that jake always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed.
hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”
your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jake was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”
jake could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”
it wasn’t lost on you that jake obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jake. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”
“what a privileged response,” jake hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jake, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.
two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jake. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”
you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”
“me and you, we’re not the same,” jake remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”
“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”
jake laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.
“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jake said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”
your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.
“take my dick out,” jake said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”
you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jake had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.
getting a hold of your throat, jake roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”
you gawked, shaking your head.
his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”
with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jake released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.
he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.
jake had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.
you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.
the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.
“i’m so nice to you,” jake said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”
your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.
but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.
sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.
jake grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”
your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.
jake watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”
no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul.
your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jake, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.
jake smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”
“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”
jake snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”
those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback.
hips beginning to move faster, jake continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”
“jake, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half.
but jake didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”
there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.
jake stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”
you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.
jake threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”
your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback.
“jake, don’t…”
before you could even finish your statement, jake clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”
you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jake’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.
with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jake emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.
you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point.
to your surprise, jake started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.
you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.
then, jake stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jake, stop! it’s sensitive.”
“that’s the point, dummy,” jake replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.
your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered.
jake smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”
you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.
that made jake chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”
you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.
“please, what?” jake asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”
god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.
and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.
and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.
“shit,” jake hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.
your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jake thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.
after a moment or two, jake pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”
you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth.
jake raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”
your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled.
“you’re learning,” jake commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”
“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.
keeping your dress bunched up, jake grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”
you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight.
“did you think i was kidding?” jake asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”
#jake sim smut#enhypen smut#sim jaeyun smut#jake smut#enhypen x reader#enha smut#enhypen x you#enhypen hard hours#enha x reader#jake sim x reader#sim jaeyun x reader
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see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader
pairing ↠ """nerd!"""jeno x (f) cheerleader!reader
genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, dubcon, oral (m receiving), male face sitting, face fucking, unprotected sex, blackmail, choking, hitting, virgin!reader
summary ↠ ever since forever, you have always gotten your way with people by whatever means necessary. a wink and a smile is all it takes to make a boy drop to your feet and worship you. no one told you to think that lee jeno would be any different. as it turns out, actions do have consequences.
wc ↠ 14.9k
a/n ↠ lowkey i think i subconsciously drew inspo from the fact that finals week made me consider both suicide and homicide. no jungwoo’s were hurt in the making of this fic. merry christmas! as always, feedback is appreciated!
don’t like it, don’t read.
▸ short, sweet, sometimes sticky
it was supposed to be like everybody else.
short, sweet, maybe sticky if you considered that one time you’d shaken that jisung boy’s sweat-coated hands and watched the pale of his face burn the same fierce rose as the lens he saw you through.
you’d laughed lightheartedly to spare him the embarrassment, telling him that everybody got a little sweaty every now and then, especially you. after all, cheerleading was more than skipping around and twirling. and at those words, you’d watched his eyes haze with the image of you damp with sweat, drenched head to toe.
hook, line, and sinker.
far too easy, exactly how you liked them. smart, easy, and utterly unable to resist you.
no one told you to expect something different from lee jeno. and why would you? he knew all the right answers, had some of the best marks, and practically lived in the library. he perfectly fit the bill of your standard victim.
which was why you had no qualms about approaching him in the library while he was typing away at his laptop, occasionally sipping from some kind of coffee.
as if he could sense he was in imminent danger and needed to evacuate immediately, jeno turned around before you could even make it completely to the table and saw you advancing on him with a pretty, practiced smile. “hi,” you greeted, waving at him. falling, your hands gripped the rear of the chair beside him. “is someone sitting here?”
jeno raised a brow at you, but shook his head. “no, no one’s sitting there.”
“perfect,” you replied, pulling out the chair and taking a seat. you turned so that you were facing him. “jeno, right?”
jeno nodded slowly, wondering where this was going. he got plenty girls, sure, but none ever approached him in the library. “that’s me,” he said, curious. “do i know you?”
“well, probably not,” you replied, giggling as if something was funny. “but, you know… i’m a cheerleader.”
jeno hummed. “are you now?”
you bobbed your head expectantly. “yeah, and i’ve heard about how smart you are. i’m impressed, to be honest. i mean, every time i’m in the library, i see you sitting here. i could never spend so much time here. you must have a lot of resolve to do something like that.”
“you think so?” jeno asked, pretending to be flattered just to see where you were leading him.
“i do. like, really do,” you replied, brushing your fingers against his forearm. “i just have so many other,” better, “things to do, you know. with cheer, i’m either practicing or resting so that i’ll have energy for practice. it’s really hard on me, you know?”
jeno stifled a chuckle and glanced back at his laptop screen. “you poor thing.”
your brows stitched. he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to you. it was almost like he was uninterested. “and that’s why i was wondering if you could help me. i mean, you’re such a genius. you could probably do it in half the time it would take me,” you continued, lowering your hand onto his denim-clad thigh, and becoming surprised by how sturdy it felt.
jeno spared a fleeting glance at your hand on his left thigh before his eyes flitted to your face, watching you wink at him and throw him a smile. “let me get this straight,” he started, slowly caressing the back of your hand with his thumb as it sat on his thigh. “you want me to… do your work for you?”
“hey, your hard work wouldn’t go unrewarded,” you insisted, ignoring the unexpected motions of his thumb. “you’d have my attention. i mean, like i said, i don’t have a lot of time to give away. but i’m willing to spend some of it on you.”
jeno snickered, unable to help himself anymore. “are you this patronizing to everyone you meet?” he asked.
your eyes flickered. “p-patronizing?”
jeno smiled, patting your hand before setting it on your own thigh. “sorry, was that a big word for you? you know, when you think you’re too good for something, but you don’t want to say it, so you play sweet and act like you’re helping me, when really, it’s the other way around.”
switching on a dime, you narrowed your eyes at him. for such a pretty boy, he had quite the attitude. “i know what patronizing means. and right now, i think you’re the one being patronizing.”
“am i?” jeno asked, feigning obliviousness. “how’s it taste, cheerleader? doesn’t feel good, does it?”
your face was set in a scowl. sometimes it hurt you to play nice with people, and now was one of those times. “are you gonna help me or not?” you snapped.
“there it is,” jeno sang, chuckling to himself. he put his hand on your thigh now, squeezing the flesh gently. for now. “there’s the real you.”
you swallowed, glaring over at him with a hint of defiance despite the disgusting, foreign feeling rotting in your chest. it had never gone like this before. every situation predating this one had been somewhat predictable, to the point where you’d come to expect certain reactions. this was not that.
“i’ll help you,” jeno said after a pause.
you forced a smile. “great, so…”
jeno interjected, “on one condition.”
smile faltering, you trailed off, processing his words. now he was making some kind of deal with you? who in the hell did this man think he was?
“on one condition?” you echoed, as if you’d somehow misheard him. your brows scrunched in suspicion. “what condition?”
jeno grinned, the look on his face sly as hell and a stark contrast from the disgruntled glower on yours. “give me something in return,” was all he said, the tightening hold on your thigh giving away more than his words had.
you gawked, as if you were offended, and quickly swat at his hand. “i’m not having sex with you, you pervert!”
“sure, you’re not,” jeno answered with a chuckle, eyes twinkling with amusement. everything about you was alluring to him for mostly all the reasons unintended. “but you said i’d have your attention. i guess you think it’s not often a poor, busy nerd like myself gets anyone’s attention, yeah? but nerds get tired too, don’t they? they need to de-stress…”
“that’s not my problem,” you spat.
“you getting an F isn’t my problem, either,” jeno retorted, shrugging his shoulders. “so what it’s gonna be, cheerleader?”
something about this situation isn’t right to you. maybe it’s the lack of power you currently wielded over him, despite the fact that you had gotten used to having your way with academically competent boys like himself. if he weren’t taller than you and stronger than you, you’d resort to other, more familiar methods.
but jeno had changed the entire trajectory of this interaction for the worse, and now you had to determine whether or not it was beneath you to let him treat you as if you were some kind of object. you sulkily mulled it over, arms folded, trying to think of a way to maintain some semblance of power. “fine,” you finally replied, relenting. “but i’m not doing anything that requires me taking my clothes off.”
“you never seen a good porno, cheerleader?” jeno asked, a stupid, taunting smile blemishing his lips. “that cute little uniform of yours is the whole appeal to some people.”
“my name is…,” you huffed irritably, tired of being referred to by your title.
“frankly, cheerleader, i don’t care what your name is,” jeno told you with brutal honesty. “you’re the one that introduced yourself as a cheerleader, like that’s your whole personality or something. thinking it would make me fold. you can’t be stupid and demanding.”
you gaped, affronted by the sheer audacity of him to even utter those words to you, like you were some dumb bimbo. “i’m not stupid! i’m just too busy.”
“right. too busy,” jeno echoed, obviously none too convinced. “sorry for assuming.”
with a roll of your eyes, you stood up from the table chair, feeling utterly disrespected. “yeah, you should be,” you said, despite knowing his apology was completely inauthentic. “where’s your phone?”
jeno arched a brow and glanced over to his phone, sitting face down against the table on the other side of him. before he could even respond, you reached over him to grab it and pointed it at his face, unlocking it as if you’d done it a million times before.
then, you started typing away, all the while jeno watched you with an amused expression on his face. he had to admit, you were surely something. and though he found you entertaining, he couldn’t shake the thought that you desperately needed someone to put you in your place.
“reach me here,” you said after a moment, handing him his phone back. the screen was on his messages, a fresh contact with you. “pleasure doing business with you.”
with that, you walked away.
jeno shook his head, scoffing. who the hell did you think you were?
over the next few days or so, you met with jeno to better construct exactly what your expectations were pertaining to your work. or at least, those were the words he’d used. most of those limited encounters had ended with his hands sealing around your breasts.
you let it slide, deciding that a little over-the-clothes stuff was relatively harmless. after all, this was the busiest you’d been all year long, and you were far too exhausted when you got home to be burdened with stupid assignments and pesky discussion posts. the next two months, if not the next two weeks, were going to kill you if you didn’t have someone to carry at least half the workload on your behalf.
it was okay. jeno’s inability to keep his hands to himself was fine. it wasn’t like anybody was going to know, or that this arrangement would last long enough for them to find out. you would get to keep your dignity and your grades, without saving one at the expense of the other.
short, sweet, and sticky, remember? maybe the latter was simply manifesting in the way jeno’s hands were stuck to you. not that anything about him was sweet.
more like sacrifice.
▸ gilded age
“guess who just made the list of this week’s top ten trending sluts,” jennie said as she walked up beside you and roseanne.
roseanne perked up that, though she couldn’t help but mischievously quip, “you?”
jennie narrowed her eyes. “hoe, as if,” she spat. “i know how to keep my legs closed.”
you snickered. “god, what happened now?”
“a sex tape got leaked. hyeri, and apparently johnny.”
your nose scrunched, as if disgusted. “always knew she was a slut. i mean, you should have been there to see the way she acted around the jocks in high school. her eyes were practically screaming, ‘pick me, choose me, fuck me,’” you mocked.
roseanne burst into giggles, downing the rest of what was left in her red cup. “i don’t think that’s how that goes,” she chimed. “but johnny? is she crazy? i hope they didn’t do it raw. i heard rumors that he’s got the clap.”
“he sure clapped something, alright,” jennie retorted, much to your amusement. “it was definitely raw. hope it was worth the itch. you guys wanna see?”
“absolutely not,” you said, shaking your head vigorously. “i bet her parents would love to see it, though. on second thought, send me it.”
roseanne gawked. “are you serious?”
you bobbed your head, grinning deviously. “yeah. you guys have no idea what that bitch was like in high school. i tried teaching her a lesson, but she just never learned. it’s like the bitch is addicted to pain or something.”
jennie shook her head, pretending to disapprove, though she was intrigued to see how far you would your obvious loathing. “just sent it.”
your phone vibrated in your hand a few seconds later. you opened your instagram burner account, scrolling through your main’s following to find hyeri’s mother’s page, and dropped the video in her inbox. your sly giggle alerted your friends to your success and you dropped your phone in your pocket, satisfied.
“oh, you’re sick,” jennie insulted playfully, nudging your arm. “i wonder if she’ll say anything.”
you shrugged your shoulders, feigning nonchalance as if you weren’t excited to see how her mother would respond. “don’t know, but i’m more curious about if she’ll talk to hyeri about it. i’d love to be a fly on the myung’s wall when that happens.”
roseanne tapped your shoulder. “hey, don’t look now, but that jeno guy is staring you.”
your head whirled around, spotting jeno in his own corner of the party, indeed watching your every move as if he wanted to consume you and was waiting for the perfect moment to attack. which, if he was, would not be surprising.
roseanne sighed in annoyance. “i literally just said don’t look now.”
you turned back to face them, shaking your head. “don’t worry about that creep,” you replied, brushing it off. “he’s just begging to get in my pants. didn’t even know he went to parties.”
for whatever reason, jennie laughed. something about what you said tickled her, apparently. “um, yeah. that’s jeno for you, alright. he’s either partying with his friends or grinding in the library, no in between. perfectly balanced lifestyle, i have to admit it.”
your brows furrowed. that was news to you. and probably an important piece of information that you’d conveniently missed when narrowing down your targets. maybe you should have asked around about him more. you just didn’t think that someone who studied as hard as he did could also be the life of the party.
what was he doing here, anyway? shouldn’t he have been off doing your homework? useless fucking nerdy-not.
“do you guys know each other or something?” roseanne pressed, noticing the strange tension in the air despite the fact that you and jeno were feet apart. which was honestly admirable. “do you think you could get him to put me on with jungwoo?”
jennie’s laughter rang out again, only this time, it was much louder, and much more mocking. “please. jungwoo isn’t gonna touch any of us after how she broke his heart. you’d have better luck with jaehyun,” she sneered.
roseanne glared, a snarl on her face. “fuck jaehyun.”
“yeah, i bet you want to. i bet you’re still dreaming of that big, thick, meaty dick you wouldn’t shut up about, like, two months ago.”
“a lot can change in two months.”
“oh, it sure can,” jennie replied, humming. “it sure can.”
▸ takes two to tango
jeno: come over
you: no
jeno: that wasn’t a request
you: no where in our agreement does it say you get to boss me around
jeno: not even for an A?
you: that’s what your grabby hands are for
jeno: i don’t have to do this, you know. i can let you be a grown up and fiend for yourself like the rest of us
you: i’m otw, chill. jesus
the knock of your fist against jeno’s door was incessant, more than likely enough to exasperate his neighbors, given that it was particularly late at night and a good number of them had to have been sleeping.
jeno threw the door open with a scowl, obviously irritated. “you are so fucking annoying,” he hissed, dragging you inside and shutting the door behind you.
“ow!” you cried out, snatching your arm away. “stop that, i’m sore.”
jeno shook his head, his discontent frown disappearing in favor of an entertained, idiotic smile. “sore, huh? from doing what?”
you rolled your eyes. “if it isn’t obvious, i’m a cheerleader,” you reminded, gesturing down to your uniform. “meaning, i cheer.”
ignoring your snarky attitude, jeno glanced you up in down, taking in the sight of you in that tight, short cheer uniform that clung to you rather snugly. sweat still beaded at your damp legs and likely gathered between your breasts and down your back, as jeno was imagining. “yeah, you cheer. you won’t let me forget,” he said, amused.
“well, i’m busy,” you said, crossing your arms.
busy, my fucking ass, jeno thought to himself. “yeah, you won’t let me forget that, either. and yet, i saw you giggling with your friends at a party two weeks ago, looking completely fine. your poor, exhausted legs seemed to be working perfectly.”
“what, so i can’t have hobbies now?”
“sure, you can,” jeno replied, shrugging his shoulders. “i just have to ask, do you ever do anything productive with your time?”
“of course, i do,” you hissed, before quickly deflecting, “but we both know that’s not why you made me come all the way over here. so, what do you want?”
“your attention,” jeno said without missing a beat. his hands plopped against your bare shoulders and began wandering down your arms, rubbing them back and forth. “i’m in desperate need of a cheerleader’s sweet, precious attention.”
the disgruntled grimace on your face was the most effort you made to express your discomfort, not that he was looking there anyway. to him, at the moment, the sight of your body was much more appetizing. you watched with a repugnant burn simmering in your gaze as his eyes met your long, slender legs.
without warning, jeno grabbed you by your waist and hoisted you into the air, making you cry out in surprise. arms dangling around his neck, you held on for dear life, not an inch of your body feeling safe in his arms. you had been hauled further away from the ground by your cheermates, but this was different; no one wanted to fail, meaning no one would drop you. you had no reason to assume that jeno would handle you delicately.
but his burly arms, however, were not lost on you. though you hadn’t yet seen them in full power, your interactions mostly taking form of him forcing your back flush against the chiseled muscle of his chest as he kneaded yours, you could only imagine what the hands that groped you were capable of.
in a matter of seconds, you landed on your back against his sheets, another shrill screech escaping your throat. “jeno, what the hell?” you exclaimed.
“i’m not getting on my knees for you,” jeno said, the slyest of smiles tugging at his lips. “not unless it’s to fuck you. and you’re just too good to give it up, aren’t you?”
for him, definitely. and you would have said so, but your lips parted in a gasp, surprised and startled. something wet pushed along your sore legs, which were abruptly yanked to pillars far above your head so that they’d be more conveniently within reach of jeno’s tongue as he licked long, hot lines at them.
your eyes were rooted on him, fixed in a shape unlike their natural narrowed, black blaze and it would instead be more apt likening them to the fear and fret of a deer in crossed paths. wide, waiting, almost innocent. too used to circumstance to understand its fabric and too unfamiliar to chance to understand its fate.
unsatisfied, jeno bent your knee and pushed your leg further as he stood over the edge of his bed, and, in turn, over you, a grip on your ankles that you could feel in your bones. “jeno, that hurts,” you whined.
jeno didn’t understand why you were bitching. “but you’re a cheerleader,” he echoed. “aren’t you flexible?”
you writhed uncomfortably as he continued shamelessly, tongue even daring to twist against the bone underneath the bend of your knee, a sensation that itched more than you expected. his lips sealed around your skin, sucking and nibbling.
needless to say, it was unlike anything you had experienced before. “stop, that’s weird!”
“stop complaining,” jeno groaned, pushing your leg even harder. “it’s like all you ever do is complain about how hard your life is.”
your eyes stung now not only with loathing, but the threat of hot tears. it was stupid; it sounded dramatic, but you felt it was warranted when he was the one actively making your life harder. “you’re a fucking weirdo,” you snapped.
jeno heard it. the slight tremble in your voice despite the courage you’d been feigning. that was the sole reason he even bothered to look up at your face, the tears in them stealing his attention away in a heartbeat. he didn’t know whether to be amused or annoyed, or maybe even both. “god, now you’re crying,” he pointed out. “i haven’t even done anything to you. do you need me to give you a reason to cry?”
you shook your head. all you needed was to go home and recharge. you were beginning to doubt whether or not he was worth the trouble he carried with him in exchange for a grade that would keep your parents off your back, especially if he was going to make pulling stunts like this a regular habit.
the last thing you expected jeno to do was tug the bottom of your top past the shadow of your breasts, slackening the taut grip on your ankles in favor of your wrists as if he knew you would dare resist him, and burying his face between your chest. you exhaled shakily, mortified by the hot, wet feel of his tongue licking a stripe between your breasts, gathering leftover sweat on its tip.
and you did thrash. but you were getting a taste of that power now; a power that wasn’t your own, a power that you couldn’t reap. a power that grabbed you with its calloused fist with a might so strong you couldn’t move. and it was for the first time that you felt utterly weak. there had to be a word for something as unfathomable as that, but it was so foreign to you that you couldn’t think of it.
to make matters worse, jeno was taking his time, sucking bruises onto the skin of your chest in between his licking, as if he wanted to ensure there was no spot left untouched, no drop of sweat left behind. your face strained with discomfort, wanting more than anything to get away from him and this awful feeling rotting inside of your heart.
maybe your cries for mercy were heard, because no sooner had you hoped for an end than it came. “you can go now,” jeno said, pulling away. he pulled your shirt back down and smoothed out any wrinkles, which was almost kind of him.
even though you were more than eager to be rid of him, you lay there, dumbfounded. it was one thing to be violated, and it was another to be dismissed, but to happen in rapid succession of each other quickly bred some ugly emotion that was only festering.
jeno had expected you to scurry out of his bed, and out of his apartment, so the fact that you were still there bemused him. “what, do you want more?” he teased.
you shook your head, sitting up a little too quickly. your head started to feel lightheaded. you barked, “that isn’t what i agreed to!”
jeno had the audacity to laugh. like you had told a joke of some kind. “isn’t it? your clothes are still technically on. that was what you agreed to. remember?”
you dropped to your feet, pushing past him. “you’re disgusting,” was all you said, making a beeline for the door.
“takes two to tango, baby,” jeno called after you, simpering.
you didn’t look back. you couldn’t. there was an unpleasant stir in your gut - not as easily distinguishable as the loathing - unlike anything you had ever felt and you desperately wanted it to go away, to rid of yourself of anything that even remotely resembled lee jeno.
▸ chess, not checkers
deep, low grunts smacked against the walls and bounced back with almost the same amount of vigor of jeno’s quick, unrelenting hips, the sound nearly as hard and heavy as he was. the only thing rivaling the tightness of the hole he was using was the wince of his closed eyes and the grip of his strong hands.
jeno didn’t want to see. it would be too blatantly obvious that she wasn’t you, and that it wasn’t your blemished hips he was holding. though she sounded nothing like you. he knew that you would have been so much whinier, and despite finding them painfully obnoxious, he found himself longing to hear all your worthless, melodramatic complaints.
instead, he heard soft moans mingling with his own labored sounds as his hips moved with a mind of their own, imagining it was you underneath him where you truly belonged.
the image stained the back of his eyelids, burned behind them every time he closed his eyes; the shortness of your pleated skirt scrunched around your hips, weak legs on his broad shoulders with nicks and bruises scattered here and there, arms swinging aimlessly.
and if he got tired of hearing you, he could simply press his palm squarely against your mouth, muting the sound of your incessant fussing. if he really wanted to put you in your place, he could clasp his hands around your throat and clamp down onto your windpipe till all that escaped you was a pitiful, featherlight squeak.
jeno could tell no one had ever properly put you in your place before, no one had ever stood up to you and reminded you of your level. you were in desperate need of a humbling and didn’t even know it yourself. no one better than jeno for the role, he figured. a little cheerleader parading around in a uniform to feel different from everybody else she met didn’t scare him whatsoever.
the only thing saving you was essentially the fact that you were undeniably pretty and not necessarily to blame for the school’s superficial culture, which elevated girls like you in terms of status despite it having no real meaning or manifestations outside of campus, and put you on top when you were within the bubble.
but outside the bubble, away from the boys who thought of you as this beautiful, unattainable poison and the girls who enabled you with a faux sense of togetherness, you had no real identity, no real power, and no real worth.
and yet, maybe jeno was contributing to the problem. maybe he had inadvertently become one of the people elevating you. because choking in the heat of the moment, he uttered your name, forgetting who he was with and where he was.
hands shoved at him, hard. at least, hard enough for him to be jolted out of his reverie, finally gazing into the eyes that seethed because of him. “did you just call me that evil witch’s name?” seoa barked.
jeno winced. that was a fair reaction, all things considered. he wouldn’t have wanted to have been called your name out of everyone’s, either. he rubbed his nape. “well…”
“unbelievable,” seoa replied, scoffing. she got out of the bed and hurriedly began picking her clothes up from the floor, redressing herself.
jeno exhaled a breath, mostly annoyed that his orgasm had been ruined, but still feeling a hint of sympathy. “seoa, wait,” he said, touching her shoulder.
seoa recoiled, pulling away. jeno had never seen anyone be so ready to put on their pants after being with him, not even with a hell of a schedule after. “never touch me again,” she spat, walking out with her shoes in tow. “fuck you.”
jeno ran a hand through his hair, watching her leave, and murmured under his breath, “god dammit.”
a few days later, while they were attending a festival, jaemin marched over to jeno, draping an arm over his shoulder, and asked, “wanna tell me why seoa blocked all of us and she’s been glaring at me and mark since she got here?”
jeno snickered, shaking his head in slight disbelief. he was over it by now, he figured she would be too. “i let a certain cheerleader’s name slip while i was balls deep inside her,” he confessed. which he wasn’t necessarily proud of, considering the only reason he even knew your name was because you’d saved your own contact on his phone.
jaemin’s brows furrowed, glancing around as if he was trying to spot you in the crowd like a heat-seeking missle. “who?”
rolling his eyes, jeno grabbed the back of jaemin’s head with one hand and turned it in your general direction, hoping it would help. and jeno knew it had when jaemin’s confusion melted into disgust.
“oh, that bitch?” he asked, nose wrinkled.
jeno chuckled, releasing his friend’s head. “she’s a bitch, but she’s pretty.”
jaemin couldn’t argue with that fact even if he’d wanted to. “yeah, i’ll give her that. cute in the face. she’s fake as hell, though. played jungwoo like a fiddle. he did six months worth of her homework because she promised they’d get together.”
that was news to jeno. he knew you were cruel, having had stories from jisung and the like, but he never knew of your history with jungwoo. if it could be called that. “did they fuck?” he couldn’t help but ask.
jaemin shook his head, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand before he answered, “he said she always turned him down. told him she was waiting for ‘the perfect moment.’”
now that was funny as hell. jeno had only known you for a few weeks and yet even he quickly pieced together that you weren’t the romantic type. “well, that’s fucked up,” he said, happily accepting yet another reason to dislike you. “but he’s dumb as fuck if he did her homework for six months without getting a crumb of pussy in return.”
jaemin made a face, nodding. “yeah,” he exhaled, giving the impression that he’d wanted to defend jungwoo. “but man, what possessed you to say her name while fucking the seoa? i need a good excuse. you just blew my shot with her.”
jeno shrugged. “don’t have one. she approached me maybe three weeks ago asking me to do her homework, and i agreed.”
jaemin gawked. that didn’t sound like jeno. like at all. “man, what? is she paying you?”
“oh, dividends,” jeno quipped.
“oh, and in what? pussy?”
“nope.”
jaemin looked horrified. he was so damn dramatic. “then, why the hell are you doing her bidding? that doesn’t sound like you.”
it didn’t, not immediately, but jeno had his reasons. “entertainment purposes,” he replied curtly.
jaemin shook his head, taking another swig of his drink. certainly, he was drinking, not smoking. “you’re becoming her pawn for entertainment purposes? unbelievable, bro.”
“chess, not checkers, jaem.” jeno smirked, putting a hand on jaemin’s shoulder. “you’ll see.”
▸ things good guys do
“you’re lucky i was already out,” jeno told you when you let him into your apartment. “it’s the middle of the night for fuck’s sake. what do you want?”
“oh, please,” you spat, damn near rolling your eyes. your arms were folded. “you get to call me over at the ungodly hour, but when i do it, it’s a problem?”
jeno exhaled through his nose and ran a hand through his hair, wondering why he bothered to come here when he had no obligation to do your bidding, as jaemin had put it. but something told him that he wouldn’t have any regrets. “yeah, it is. now, what do you want?”
you were silent for a few moments, somewhat ashamed of the request you would ultimately make. you sighed, surrendering. “i need help with calculus,” you finally said.
jeno’s shoulders drooped, eyes shrinking in a contemptuous disbelief. “seriously?”
“seriously,” you repeated, sitting down on your couch as your laptop screen glared back at you from the coffee table.
jeno groaned, “i seriously don’t know how you even got into this school. can’t you do anything by yourself?”
you gawked, affronted. he made you sound like some incompetent, immature dickhead. “contrary to a weirdly popular belief, i’m actually really smart,” you insisted, having the transcripts to prove it. “but my professor sucks and i need an eighty-nine on my final to keep my A. and it’s not like you can walk in and take it for me because it’s proctored.”
jeno shook his head and reminded, “you know this little agreement we have doesn’t include me tutoring you, right?”
“it didn’t include you assaulting me, either,” you retorted.
“you think that was assault?” jeno asked, scoffing. he dropped beside you on your couch, the proximity instinctively making you suck in a breath. “if i wasn’t a good guy, i’d show you assault.”
scooting over to ensure maximum distance between your bodies, you argued, “good guys don’t call themselves good guys.”
“good guys have self-control,” jeno replied matter-of-factly, resisting a chuckle. he didn’t make a move to touch you, but he noticed how tense you looked now that he was sitting beside you. “i’ll tutor you, but we’ll have to up the terms of our agreement.”
you swallowed sharply, throat bobbing. you had a feeling you weren’t going to enjoy these new terms. “what do you want?”
“a blowjob.”
“that’s disgusting,” you spat without a second thought, features contorting with repugnance.
jeno quipped, “and so is your inability to do your school work without using and depending on every intelligent boy you meet, but hey, i’m sure you can’t help that.”
you sighed, exasperated, and cradled your face in your hands. was this seriously what your life had come to? giving a boy a blowjob in exchange for a pretty transcript?
jeno grinned, appreciating the sight of you in distress. it was a sign, a good sign, and he intended to bring it out of you more and more, bleeding you absolutely dry. lowering a hand onto your thigh, he urged, “come on, bruise those little knees for me. don’t you bruise ‘em for cheer?”
“that’s not the same!” you whined.
“of course, it’s not,” jeno said, squeezing your thigh as his shoulders trembled with laughter. “cheer isn’t helping you graduate with flying colors.”
you desperately wanted him to be wrong, you were begging for him to be wrong, but you both knew that if he was, he wouldn’t have been here with you at the moment. not now, not three weeks ago, not ever. so you sucked it up, slamming down your laptop lid, and grumbled, “fine.”
maybe he didn’t come here for nothing, after all. grateful he’d trusted his gut, jeno stood up and clutched your arm to pull you along with him. “come on, let’s go to your room. i like my blowjobs a little messy and i’m sure you don’t want to mess up your nice carpet.”
you snatched your arm away from him, hating his insistence on touching you for every little reason whenever he possibly could, even if it was insignificant. your mouth was taut as you begrudgingly headed for your bedroom.
it was obvious that you were sour. walking behind you, jeno couldn’t help but chime, “glad to see that you can at least walk by yourself!”
you bristled in annoyance, wishing you could just get rid of him, but you knew it wouldn’t be wise to discard him so quickly. at least for now, he still held some kind of value.
jeno walked in behind you, looking particularly radiant, and you hated that you knew why. hell, you hated the reason itself. “get on your knees,” he commanded.
normally, you would complain about him giving you orders as if you were his lap dog or something, but you just wanted to get this over with. you were already so over this entire week. you slowly dropped to your knees, trying to ignore how demeaning it felt.
“good girl,” jeno praised at your compliance. “now, look up at me with those pretty eyes and ask me to help you with calc. ask me nicely.”
you met his eyes, noticing the expectant glimmer in his gaze that you so badly wanted to knock off. but you weren’t dumb enough to incite violence against a grown man that walked around with his bulging muscles on display for all the world to see, and you didn’t doubt that he would hit you back. “jeno, please help me with calculus,” you pleaded, choosing your battles.
jeno hummed, satisfied. “you sound so pretty and sweet when you ask nicely, instead of demanding things. didn’t know you were capable of that,” he told you, running his fingers through your hair. “take it out. get me hard.”
your hands moved to his sweatpants, tugging at them enough to bring them down just shy of his knees, and doing the same with his underwear. he wasn’t hard yet, but that would be an easy fix; witnessing your state of pure anguish, watching you speak and move as if you were totally dejected, always excited him.
not to mention that the sight of you on your knees for him, the more he took it in, was arousing him even more than he thought it would. he had pictured it in his mind before, you serving him, pleasuring him, existing solely for him, but nothing could compare to the sight he beheld now.
at least, nothing other than you actually doing something rather than sitting there like an idiot. he liked taking control, but he figured you would take matters into your own hands, literally, when he gave the order. “do you need me to tell you what to do or something?” he asked, huffing irritably. “put your tongue on it. tease the head.”
your face and ears burned in ways they rarely did, but you nodded wordlessly and did as told, bracing your hands on his thighs and reluctantly pressing your tongue onto his tip, looking anywhere but his eyes as the muscle swirled around.
that amused jeno to no end. at least for now, he would let it slide, not feeling the need to maintain eye contact with you at the moment. if he needed to, he would simply just grab a nice, thick fistful of your hair and yank it back to jolt your head up at him. he could still see your pretty, bare face, hair arranged messily at the top of your head with a few needless strands jutting out here and there.
he liked that. of course, he would have been more than enthusiastic to have you suck him off if you’d been all dolled up, making you ruin your makeup and undo at least an hour of careful, clean work, but he also just took pleasure in seeing this natural, undone part of you. he wanted to see you for what you really were.
it didn’t take long for him to get hard. with all his thoughts revolving around you and the feel of your tongue on the head of his dick, that was a no-brainer. “good, now put it in your mouth. take as much as you can and not an inch less,” jeno instructed.
widening your mouth, you accepted his stout, heavy cock into your mouth, lips forming a tight suction around the head and steadily advancing down his shaft. bit by bit, inch by nightmarishly thick inch. you had made it maybe halfway down his shaft when you quickly discovered your limit.
jeno was surprisingly content, despite the fact that you definitely still had a few more inches to go. “there you go,” he said, giving your head a soft pat of approval. “suck. go slow. and don’t you dare let me feel any teeth.”
your heart was thumping out of something you could only understand as fear, even though jeno hadn’t done anything to warrant it yet. inhaling through your nose, you tried to level your breathing, taking your time to draw in his cock lest you made a mistake. the hint of warning in jeno’s voice, in spite of the calmness, was clear.
jeno, on the other hand, was reaching elysian heights. faint grunts of, “fuck,” escaped his pink lips, large hands at his sides reflexively tensing into tightly clenched fists in need of something to grab, hips just barely stuttering. your mouth was hot and wet, with the added benefit of your torturous tongue pressed against his size.
there was a pinch of desperacy in your actions that overcame the resistance; a desperacy not necessarily to please him, but to appease him. accidents were the last thing you could afford and eliciting his frustration was the last thing you wanted.
“lick,” jeno said, chest undulating. “up and down.”
with a hum, you started drawing long, wet lines back and forth on his veiny shaft, almost as if you were tracing the bold veins with your tongue. jeno’s reaction was instantaneous, deep groans the only thing you could hear other than the wet sound of your mouth on his cock, sucking and licking.
jeno’s eyes fluttered closed. “fuck. yeah, like that.”
you pressed your tongue against the underside of his dick, lingering in each spot for a moment before you continued, mostly because he seemed to like it when you did. which was your north star in an empty, dead night, because you had not a clue what the hell you were doing and you were afraid of making it obvious somehow.
if jeno could tell, he didn’t make it known. he was in a world of his own, all too happily reaping the pleasure from your mouth as if it was a dream come true for him. “kiss my balls. lick it.”
you stifled the sigh you were half tempted to let loose, pulling off his cock with a wet sound and a string of saliva connecting from the sticky tip to your glossy lips. moving your head, you took a moment to steel yourself before peppering tiny, soft kisses along his balls, down to his scrotum.
it wasn’t the most dignifying thing you had ever done, it may have even been the least, but your aching, sore jaw appreciated the break from sucking. you dragged your tongue over his testicles, tasting nothing but rubbery flesh. you were too busy avoiding his eyes to notice, but his face was tensing with pleasure, lips parting in low murmurs.
compared to when you first started, jeno was drastically harder now, massive, monstrous cock nearly bursting at the veins with precum leaking out from the thick tip. had your goal been to take all of him entirely, the sheer size of him would have immediately overwhelmed you.
“switch to your hand and go back to sucking me off,” jeno said, firm yet quiet. it sounded like he was trying to restrain himself, barely holding it together.
at least you were a fast learner. teasing the head of his cock, you gave it a few slow, tentative licks before you began to take him into your mouth again, all the while gently fondling his balls with your fingers. jeno groaned, arching into your touch. he couldn’t help himself.
you could taste the vicious amount of precum staining your tongue and you didn’t know how to describe it, other than slightly tart. the flavor blended with that of your own saliva, lingering on the roof of your mouth and the warm flesh underneath the flap of your tongue, mild as could be.
at least it wasn’t downright awful. you had heard stories before, not that you’d ever known what to make of them, or even pictured yourself being inside of them. if a month ago, someone had told you that you’d be on your knees for a man - for anyone - you would have said they were delusional.
jeno’s patience had worn thin and when you least expected it, he hauled you into the air, making you cry out in surprise just as you had the first time he’d lifted you into his buff, meaty arms. he tossed you onto the bed, just shy of the headboard, and suddenly straddled your chest. you gasped out a breath.
“open up,” jeno said, cock positioned right in front of your mouth.
not that he gave you the time to obey him, because he pressed himself against your slightly parted lips and forced them wider, entering your mouth on his own. your face strained, perfectly threaded brows tugging down into a discontented arch.
when you tried to pull away, jeno grabbed the sides of your face and pushed you onto his shaft with trembling hands, making you take him and leaving no room for escape, not until he decided he was done with you. there was only one concern present in his mind and that was getting himself off.
tears stung your eyes, that same implacable feeling you had when he’d dragged his tongue over the expanse of your soft, shaved legs and bare, sweaty chest finding you again in the most of unwanted company. jeno scoffed, spitefully tugging at your hair. “you know what’s funny? you’re such a fucking crybaby. you can’t take even half of what you give to others.”
chin flush against his scrotum and your nose not even an inch away from his bush, you almost gagged. the slurping sounds were humiliating, loud, wet squelching with every other big gulp making you want to shrink. however, jeno loved it, obsessing over the idea of making a mess out of you. the sound went straight to his dick.
jeno held your face in that low position, deeper than you’d ever taken him so far. “i’m really not that bad of a guy, you know,” jeno said, sounding like he truly believed it. you could have scoffed, if not for obvious reasons. “you just bring it out of me. i’m really just treating you like how you treat everybody else.”
he made you sound like something straight out of hell and you couldn’t help but think it was an unfair justification for something that felt too close to punishment. he obviously thought he knew you better than he did and it made you aggravated. that, or he somehow thought he was better than you.
there was a fleeting second of relief when jeno unmounted your chest and let you breathe, only to be crushed again when he dragged you by your wrists to the edge of your mattress, leaving you in the deep end. your eyes struggled to grasp with the flipped image of him nearing you, cock back down your throat before you could even blink.
though his hips thankfully had been moving at a calmer, steady pace before, despite forcing himself deeper than you could handle, he began to thrust more urgently into your mouth with the new change, embedding himself even further into your throat than you knew was possible.
you cried harder, hating every second of it. the salty, bitter tang of your tears mingled with the tainted taste of spit and sharp bite of precum that had come to stain your chin and cupid’s bow. the vigor of his movements was overwhelming, overpowering.
“that’s it, cheerleader. cry harder,” jeno taunted, tracing his thumb over your face to swipe at the trail of tears. all the while his hips were moving faster, harder.
it felt like such a mockery, him doing that. a feigned act of sympathy while perpetuating the torment that was reducing you to tears as a selfish means of achieving pleasure of his own.
then, his hands wandered down to your breasts, slipping inside your night shirt and mauling your chest. running his hands in a circle, his thumb brushed the erect, colored nipples and he clasped his hands around your chest, squeezing your breasts. “fuck, i’m close,” he grunted, grip tightening, pace hastening, force increasing.
with how close he was, your nose was squarely against his the flesh of his balls, effectively cutting off your exhale. your heart thudded, racing and pounding. tensing with panic, your hands frantically moved, striking at his navel and thighs. even your legs were in alarm, unstill towards the other end of the bed.
jeno groaned, smacking your cheek. another slap followed the sizzle, straight against your chest. “calm the fuck down,” he hissed, raising his arm in preparation to hit you again. “i’ll let you breathe as soon as i come, so you better not get in the way, if you know what’s good for you.”
even if you wanted to, you couldn’t stay calm. your body physically couldn’t handle it, responding the only way it knew how, trying to protect you. somebody had to. you closed your eyes, face warm with tears and panic, and you tried to brace your hands on the sheets, anything to comfort and stabilize yourself.
it got to a point where jeno couldn’t hold back anymore and he climaxed with a prolonged, guttural groan, hips still brutally smacking into your mouth as he painted your tongue and the back of your throat with his cum. he went as far as to grab your head again, forcing himself onto you as deep as he could go, and demanding, “swallow it.”
like hell you would. you pushed him away, coughing and choking as soon as you did, drops of cum pooling from your mouth and some of it flying here and there in the midst of your coughing fit.
irritated, jeno pressed his tongue against the roof his mouth. “you’re so fucking useless,” he groaned, grabbing his phone from the pocket of his sweatpants and quickly turning on the camera. “look at you. sitting here choking on my cum. you want it again, don’t you?”
you sat up, nearly tumbling over the edge of your bed from the intense convulsing, and turned to face the other way as you hunched over, tightly clasping your sheets. “fuck off, you got what you wanted!” you rasped.
jeno laughed. you sounded so gravelly. “you’re right. i did,” he replied, putting back on his pants and pocketing his phone. “so, tutoring. i’ll see you tomorrow. nighty night, cheerleader.”
he gave you a pat on the head and turned, heading straight for the door.
▸ hard feelings
something about today was different than usual.
when you woke up, you had felt a shift in the air, but you’d chalked it up to being nervous about the final you had in three hours.
but when you finally went to go take it, however, you quickly realized that the unsettling feeling you had was not simply pre-exam jitters. it was something much more sinister than that. with the status you held on campus, you were used to being watched and gawked at, but this was different.
it felt like everybody and their mother was looking at you.
you were confused. you had been the subject of this much attention before, but only once; it was a couple years back when someone had spread a dirty, foul rumor about you. there was a social media page for your school called top ten, mostly used to shame women for their sexual exploits, but some men made their way on it too. that was how you heard about johnny’s clap rumor.
long story short, a rumor about you had originated there and it had taken you weeks to clear your name. but by that time, there was already another slut of the week. you were lucky to have your situation not only be false and debunked, but word of mouth. only the most unlucky of people, like hyeri, got images or videos of themselves posted.
and you were a community favorite. you would understand if you were new, but you had built a reputation around here. why would anybody believe floating rumors about you now?
but the abundance of stares didn’t end there. even in the cafe, you had caught someone watching you a little too hard to be a casual leer of admiration. and you were determined to find out why.
fortunately, you were able to find jennie and roseanne walking and talking in the courtyard, and you called out their names to stop them.
jennie turned first, and you watched her smile drop in real time. she glanced around, frantic, as if she was worried about someone watching her too.
roseanne smiled thinly, halfheartedly lifting her hand to wave. “hey,” she greeted quietly, matching jennie’s nerves.
they knew something you didn’t and it was glaringly obvious. “what’s going on?” you asked. “everyone’s looking at me and i know i’m not going crazy yet.”
jennie and roseanne glanced between each other, as if they both had bad news but neither of them wanted to be the one to tell you. after a few seconds, jennie groaned and said, “you might want to check top ten.”
your brows furrowed. you, on top ten? again? god, people could be so infuriating. “ugh, what rumor did they spread about me this time?”
jennie winced, which only made you more anxious. “it’s not just a rumor,” she whispered. “…it’s a video.”
“video?” you echoed in disbelief. that didn’t make sense. you hadn’t been with anyone except…except jeno. you tensed with anger.
roseanne opened her phone to show you the video that had been posted. it was an anonymous submission that claimed to be a recording of you. unfortunately, it was you, bits of your chest exposed from jeno reaching into your shirt and drops of cum landing there as you fought for breath. your face wasn’t visible, but there were some other distinguishing signs, like your hair and skin and sheets.
your heart thudded and your shoulders went cold, but your eyes were scalding. you were well aware that jeno didn’t like you, you didn’t exactly love him either, but you never thought he would stoop low enough to hurt you like this.
“i’m sorry,” roseanne apologized, dropping her phone in her purse when you were done. the video was only a few seconds long, but the damage was forever. “but don’t worry. it’s not like it’s top three worthy. everyone will move on next week.”
jennie nodded in agreement and briefly patted your back. “yeah. we’ll hang out again when this all blows over, i promise.”
then, they walked away. leaving you reeling with ache and betrayal. your friends didn’t want to be seen with you anymore. you were an embarrassment.
you swallowed the bitter feeling scorching up your throat and tapped your pockets for your phone, knowing there was one person you needed to see.
you: you and i need to talk. right now.
jeno: about what?
you: don’t play dumb, i know you sent that video in!
jeno: maybe u should have swallowed
you: you know what, i don’t need you. i never have. and i don’t want your help anymore. just leave me alone
jeno: [one attachment]
jeno: you sure about that? because i’m sure there’s plenty of people that would love to see the version with your face in it
you gawked, hiding your phone screen against your chest while glancing around to make sure no one could see.
adjusting your brightness, you unlocked your phone again and texted him back hurriedly.
you: why are you doing this?! i’ve never done anything to you
jeno: this is bigger than just you and me
jeno: now if you don’t want everyone to see that pretty face, come put those lips around me again and we can work something out
and that was how it started. though you hadn’t had the upper hand in weeks, this was the moment you completely lost it. what was once an arrangement for him to help you in exchange for your attention became a hole of misery that you couldn’t dig yourself out of.
one blowjob became two, and two became three until you started to immediately recognize what it meant when you saw his name appear on your screen, knowing what it was before he even asked. not that he ever technically asked. it was always a command, a claim to your body wherever and whenever he wanted.
if you tried to be strong, if you tried to break free of him, he always threatened to make sure that recordings of you on your knees for him went up for all the world to see and no one would ever think of you the same way again. he was more than willing to taint the pretty, perfect image of yourself that you presented to the world.
you felt stuck, trapped. isolated with nowhere to go, no way out. you tried to conjure up a way to escape this situation, but you couldn’t think of anything feasible. if you wanted to protect what was left of your social life and dignity, if you wanted to go outside without being ashamed, your only option was to be compliant.
no matter how many late nights and sore throats you had to go through.
you were in the middle of dozing off, your head leaning off to the side, when the sound of your phone ringing suddenly jolted you awake. you were tempted to ignore it until you saw the contact and begrudgingly pressed the phone to your ear. “hello?” you grumbled.
“i’ve been texting you,” jeno said, sounding miffed.
you sighed, glancing over at the clock on your nightstand. “it’s literally two in the morning,” you complained. “i just got home from cheer practice and i’m trying to study for my last final. i haven’t even showered yet.”
“aw, poor thing,” jeno crooned, pretending to care. “come over.”
you heartless, selfish bastard, you snapped in your head. of course, you were in no place to say that out loud, so you settled for a calm, “okay,” and hung up.
stifling a yawn, you grabbed your keys and lazily stepped into a nearby pair of shoes, stretching your arms above your head before willing yourself to get up from your desk chair. then, you accidentally scraped your leg against the bottom drawer of your desk, which you’d accidentally left open.
“ow!” you cried out, bending down a little. “god, why does this world hate me? what did i do wrong?”
it was a wonder you managed to make it to jeno’s apartment without getting into a wreck, although at this point, you wouldn’t care if you had as long as it killed you. or put you into an indefinite coma.
on the other hand, jeno seemed strangely enthusiastic to see you and looked full of life and energy. “there you are, cheerleader,” he said, pulling you in to hug you from behind. he led you over to his couch, much like he always did.
you covered your mouth with your elbow as you yawned. “can we get this over with? i’m sleepy.”
jeno chuckled. “i don’t want you to suck me off. not right now.”
your brows furrowed, wondering if you had heard him right. if not for that, then why were the hell were you here?
“i’m sad,” jeno said, not even attempting to keep the smug smile off his face. “i need you to cheer me up.”
you blinked at him like he was stupid. “cheer… you up?”
jeno nodded his head, glancing you over with a grin. you looked like hell. partly because you were so obviously exhausted, but he knew he’d been having an effect on you too. “yeah, cheer me up. you’re a cheerleader,” he reminded, sounding proud of himself. “i want you to do your routine for me.”
you gawked in disbelief and whined, “i’m not even in my uniform.”
“so?” jeno asked. “those bones might be tired, but they still work. matter of fact, take everything off.”
you were quick to exclaim, “what the hell? jeno, can i please just do it later? everything hurts.”
“take everything off,” jeno repeated, his voice more stern this time. “and move your ass.”
defeated, you reluctantly began to peel off your clothes, ignoring the way jeno shamelessly ogled you for the sake of your own comfort and tugging your shirt from above your head. you couldn’t even look at him as you abashedly stepped out of your shorts and panties.
what was even more mortifying was having to perform every stupid little routine for him with your entire body on display and your chest bouncing with every motion. putting on the sweet, forced smile and calling out the chants you’d memorized, all the while ignoring how your bones ached.
when you were done, he made you sit in his lap so he could touch you as he pleased, paying no mind to the way you squirmed uncomfortably.
you cried enough tears to occupy a sixth ocean the next day. you weren’t exactly sure why. you just remembered miraculously waking up in your bed, sitting up and staring into empty space, and the water crashing down after a few minutes. it took you even longer to notice you were sobbing.
after a couple of meaningless hours, you got the random urge to call your moan, yearning to hear her voice. “mommy?” you said when she picked up.
“she calls,” your mother chirped, pleasantly surprised. “hi, baby. i was starting to wonder if you’d forgotten about little ole’ me. you know, you never come see me anymore.”
you forced yourself to laugh, trying to strip your voice of the agony so that she wouldn’t notice. “i know. i’m sorry,” you apologized quietly. “i’ll come see you soon.”
“you better,” your mother snapped playfully, no real malice in her voice. “now, what’d you call me for? and don’t say just to check up on me, because that’s a damn lie.”
“i miss you,” you confessed.
“a lie don’t care who tell it.”
“ma,” you groaned, knowing she was just messing around. “i swear i do.”
“mm-hm,” your mother hummed. you could already picture her in your head, eyeing you with suspicion, arms folded over her chest. “let me guess why you really called. you’re having boy trouble.”
your eyes flickered in surprise. how did she know? you doubted it was exactly what she was thinking, but she was close enough. “yeah, something like that.”
there was no doubt that your mother sounded excited. you had always seem thoroughly uninterested in boys and dating, and while she was thankful when you were a teenager, it was a little worrying now. “it’s about time,” she said, clasping her hands together. “tell me all about it.”
you sighed, wondering how you could tell her about jeno without making her fret. she had gotten all pumped, you didn’t want to tear her down and ruin everything. “well, there’s this guy i met almost two months ago. at first, i didn’t feel anything for him. he was just another boy, you know. someone i could keep around for a good time, not a long one.”
your mother hummed again. you could hear metal pans clacking against her counter and assumed she was cooking. she always did that.
taking a deep breath, you continued, “but everything changed. he’s different from every other guy i’ve dealt with. he doesn’t just do what i say because i say so. and as the weeks passed, he’s started listening to me less and less than he already was.”
your mother chuckled. “and you didn’t like that, huh? got your mother’s stubborn heart and indomitable spirit.”
in truth, you didn’t think you had half of your mother’s strength, but you would never tell her that. as far as she knew, everything was going perfectly in the life you’d created here on campus. and it probably was the last time you’d spoken to her. “yeah,” you replied, wishing that were true. “i don’t like it. he makes me feel something i’ve never felt before.”
“he makes you feel powerless,” your mother told you. “he’s got you feeling weak because he’s the first man you’ve ever met willing to stand up to you. trust me, i was surprised the first time too. that’s how you got here.”
“ma,” you groaned with a wince.
she laughed. the sound made you happy, something you hadn’t been so certain you were capable of feeling anymore. “i’m just keeping it real.”
you thought about her words. she may have been way off in her perception of what this relationship between you and jeno really was, but she wasn’t wrong about how he made you feel. weak, powerless. suddenly, this consuming feeling you’d been having for weeks finally had a name, and yet that made it even harder to come to terms with.
because you didn’t want to be powerless. you wanted to be in charge, in control. you hated when things didn’t go your way, and more importantly, you hated when there was nothing you could do about it. it was supposed to be you wielding power over people’s head, not being crushed beneath the weight of tyranny.
and it was then you fully realized the scope of your feelings; you absolutely hated lee jeno.
▸ cheerleader? breed her!
standing there in a skimpy dress, face done and your feet clamped in heels that made you four inches taller, you didn’t feel like yourself.
you thought that you would. in truth, you hadn’t feel like yourself in months. today marked a little over two months since you made the mistake of beginning that agreement with jeno and you regretted it more than anything. he had completely ruined you, your life, and everything that made you feel whole.
there were pieces of yourself that you would never get back, thanks to him. it was true that everyone had forgotten about the ordeal regarding the recording of you, but not without cost. it was a price you were still paying everyday; even when you weren’t on your knees or otherwise commiting demeaning acts for the sake of jeno’s entertainment, you were hurting and mourning yourself.
you were starting to wonder if it was worth it. obviously, you liked being respected amongst your fellow students, but you were no longer certain if their respect was worth the price of your sanity. it was hard for you to even have basic interactions without giving away how incredibly lonely and isolated you felt, how trapped and doomed you were. helpless and powerless.
jeno came up behind you, startling you. he was like a wolf and you were a little lamb masquerading as a wolf. “there you are, baby,” he said, snaking his hands around your waist. he seemed to love doing that. “did you know our anniversary was a few days ago?”
you scoffed. the two-month anniversary of the worst decision of your life to date. there was nothing you would’ve give to undo it. doing your homework yourself would have spared you so much unnecessary pain. “stop doing that,” you whined, scanning the party. “someone will see.”
jeno chuckled, clearly not giving a damn. “unlike someone, i don’t really care what people think about me.”
you wished you didn’t care. there would always be a part of you that cared, that was so afraid of what people could say about her that she would do anything to tailor her image perfectly. matter of fact, it was all you had cared about in high school, and every year after that was spent maintaining the brand.
jeno’s hand went from your waist to your ass, making you tense in his grasp. “you know, i think i deserve some kind of compensation for putting up with you for two months.”
you deserved that too. freedom. being unshackled from his cruel, unrelenting orders was the one thing you wanted most and the one thing he refused to give you. “don’t you have your compensation almost every day?” you asked irritably.
“that’s not nearly enough,” jeno insisted, squeezing your ass.
god, how greedy could someone be? it was like he wanted to bleed you dry until there was nothing left.
“you know what i want?” jeno asked huskily, leaning into your ear. “i wanna fuck you.”
your eyes widened a little. you had hoped this day would never come, even though you weren’t oblivious to the fact that jeno had steadily gotten bolder in his interactions with you, the things he made you do for his satisfaction becoming entirely more erotic.
grabbing your arm, jeno started to lead you away. “come on, let’s go.”
you rooted in place, nearly stumbling. you didn’t want to go anywhere with him, especially if it meant putting up with his insatiable urges. “jeno, i don’t want to,” you said, trying to push at him.
jeno scoffed, wondering when you would realize that he didn’t care what you wanted and you had no way of winning. “if you want to make a scene in front of all these lovely people, be my guest,” he hissed in your ear.
panicked, you glanced around the crowd in search of someone that could save you. it was like everybody was looking at you until you actually needed them to.
then, you locked eyes with jungwoo. matter of fact, it seemed like he’d been looking at you much before you’d even glanced in his general direction. he saw you, saw the way jeno was holding you roughly, saw the obvious stiffness on your face, saw the pleading look in your eyes; but ultimately, jungwoo saw the image of you letting him down after bleeding him dry for half a year, and he turned away.
your shoulders slumped in defeat.
jeno started dragging you toward the stairs, pushing past a bunch of drunk people dancing on each other. your heart was thumping, and your whole body was rigid with nerves as you tried to think of a way out of this even though you knew there was no option without consequences.
just your luck, the bathroom jeno hauled you too was empty. he pushed you in and locked the door, pressing you against the counter. you gasped and glanced at your reflection in the mirror, hardly recognizing yourself. “jeno, please,” you whispered, trying to plead with him. “please, don’t do this.”
jeno didn’t seem moved by your begging, but he did, however, appear amused. “why are you acting so sensitive about this after all we’ve done together? it’s like you’ve never gotten fucked or something.”
you swallowed, not saying a word.
the silence was very loud, very telling. jeno arched a brow, a realization dawning on him. “you really have never been fucked,” he said, surprised. “damn, i should have figured that out when you were acting like you never sucked dick before.”
your face flushed with heat. it wasn’t like you were necessarily embarrassed about it, not until now. you had always taken it as something to pride yourself on, being fuckable but untouchable. “you say that like it’s a bad thing,” you replied, glancing down at the sink to avoid eye contact.
jeno chuckled. it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but he had been convinced that you were completely pretending to be a goody two-shoes. to know there was at least one percent of you that was still pure amazed him. he lifted the skirt of your dress with his hand and brought it between your legs, asking, “what, you just never find anyone worthy enough for your perfect, sacred pussy?”
you gasped out when he touched you there. his fingers circled your clothed cunt, thumb digging into your inner thigh. feeling scandalized, you grumbled, “maybe i’m just not interested.”
jeno shook his head, astonished by the amount of attitude you still had after all these months and determined to break it out of you. “and maybe i just don’t care if you’re interested or not.”
it went without saying that jeno always made you feel like some kind of object, but this was next level. “this is dehumanizing!” you exclaimed.
hearing you, of all people, talk about dehumanizing made for an interesting conversation. big, calloused hand pressing harder into you, he asked tauntingly, “doesn’t feel good, does it?”
your glossy, painted lips were parted, unable to breathe through your nose. your eyes burned with the threat of tears and it was becoming second nature for them to shed whenever jeno was nearby. “i don’t understand,” you whimpered, trying to free yourself, but to no avail. “why are you doing this to me? what have i ever done to deserve this?”
jeno could feel you struggling, trying to push him off you, but all it did was move your hips against his rapidly hardening cock. he groaned, grabbing hold of your ass and pushing you further back against him. “fuck, just like that,” he growled. “haven’t i told you this already? this is bigger than you and me.”
it wasn’t lost on you that jeno obviously had heard stories about you from other people, stories of happenings you probably couldn’t deny, but it had nothing to do with him. “look, if you’re doing all this to get back at me because i hurt one of your friends or something, i’m sorry, i really am. but i can’t do this anymore, jeno. i want to stop, please. please let me go on with my life.”
“what a privileged response,” jeno hissed without concealing his vitriol. at the same time, he kept palming you over your panties, noticing them beginning to cling to your cunt, and tore your underwear to the side to insert a pair of fingers inside. “what about all those girls whose lives you ruined? i’m sure they wanted you to stop. and you didn’t until they were too humiliated to show their faces around here again and you had no choice.”
you swallowed the lump in your throat. he knew about the girls? “jeno, i haven’t done that since freshman year,” you told him, desperately trying to reason with him.
two loud, harsh smacks echoed in the tiny, crowded space of the bathroom, followed by a gasp consequently. your pussy stung, your head jerking around to look at jeno. “do you really think that matters?” he asked, grabbing your hair to turn you back around just as quickly, as if you didn’t deserve to look at him. “you think that matters when the pain you’ve done to them is permanent? they don’t forget. and they damn sure don’t forgive you.”
you tensed, hating the way your walls were gripping and gushing around his fingers. “so what? you think you’re god or something? is this you punishing me for my sins? you’re not exactly what i would call a saint, either.”
“me and you, we’re not the same,” jeno remarked, a nip to his tone as if you needed the reminder of how much he disliked you. “you only pick on people that you think are below you somehow. people you think won’t fight back.”
“i know i’m not a good person,” you admitted in between gasps, thighs straining as his fingers pumped into your pussy harder, faster, reaching places you’d never touched on your own. “ i know i don’t deserve to be happy. maybe i don’t even deserve to be treated with respect, but please leave me this one thing. spare me just this once.”
jeno laughed cruelly, pulling his fingers out of your drenched hole and smearing your juices all over your folds and thighs. his finger unintentionally swiped over your sensitive clit, making your legs quiver and your stomach tighten, sucking in itself.
“damn, baby. you really know how to hurt my feelings,” jeno said, voice dripping with sarcasm. he withdrew his fingers, bringing them into his mouth for a taste. “you don’t want me to fuck you that bad?”
your heart was spiking with dread, thumping belligerently in your chest, your ears, and between your legs. no one had ever made you feel so vanquished.
“take my dick out,” jeno said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “hurry up.”
you sighed anguishedly, turning around to undo his pants and slip his aching dick out of its confinements. for months, jeno had been suppressing the urge to fuck you, wanting to wait for the moment where it would be most pivotal.
getting a hold of your throat, jeno roughly yanked you flush against him the second you whirled back around to face the tiny bathroom counter, making you stand tall against his chest. his voice was almost as rough as the hands that held you. “put it in.”
you gawked, shaking your head.
his fingers tightened dangerously around your windpipe, making your damp eyes widen and your jaw slack against his whitening knuckles, maybe half a wheeze making its way out your throat before he warned, “if i have to fucking tell you again, i’m gonna crush every bone in your goddamn neck.”
with no other option, you meekly reached behind you to grasp him in your quivering hand, aimlessly steering him to your hole and sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as the tip brushed past your dripping folds. jeno released a shaky breath, slapping your hand away and rutting his hips into you from behind, sheathing himself inside in one go.
he slackened his unforgiving grip on your throat, shoving you back against the counter none too gently, but you still felt like you couldn’t breathe when he entered you, a mangled whimper echoing out. your fingers desperately braced the edges of the counter for purchase as you tried to will yourself to inhale, but it was like you were choking.
jeno had a death grip on your thighs, forcibly pushing them apart a little more as he coated himself with the creamy, hot wetness of your unwanted arousal. “mm, hard to believe you don’t secretly want me when you’re sucking me in like this, baby,” he said, proud.
you shook your head in denial, face flushing with a heat that spread to your ears and neck. it didn’t help that there were beads of salty, hot tears pouring down your face and reducing your vision to one big, hazy blur. you didn’t want him, not even a little bit. but you couldn’t control the way your body was responding.
the lewd, wet smack of his cock thrusting deeply into your tight cunt rang out so loudly that you wanted nothing more than to hide into oblivion and never be seen again, mortified. it made things seem so much different than they were. his long, thick cock was stretching you beyond the cusp your limits and making you gape.
“i’m so nice to you,” jeno said, tipping his head back. you could see his chest rising and falling through his clothes, his body taut with pleasure and excitement. “i’ve been holding back for so long, trying not to fuck you. won’t keep me out this pussy now. i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out. have you at practice limping.”
your knees, wobbly as they already were, began knocking into the cabinets at the bottom of the sink. you winced your eyes closed as your fingers curled around the edge of the counter roughly enough to change the color around your knuckles, hoping to think of something, anything, to take you out of the moment.
but it was too hard. you couldn’t ignore the throb of your gushing walls as they kneaded his cock, making him grunt in your ear as he leaned over your backside. you couldn’t ignore the faint sting of his nails stabbing your hips and his heavy palm slapping repeatedly against your ass. and you definitely couldn’t ignore the dirtiness staining you from head to toe.
sure, it felt good, his body rocking against yours steadily, but it didn’t feel right. many nights you had pictured what losing your virginity would be like, both the way that it was supposed to look and the way that you were more inclined to, but this was neither; it was heartless, it was punishing, and it was brutal.
jeno grabbed you by your hair and forced you to look into the mirror, yanking your head up. “there it is,” he spat, words sounding painfully familiar. “there’s the real you.”
your hair was messy from him tugging it every which way, treating you like a doll to mishandle. your makeup was ruined from your sobbing, the path of your tears harsh against everything else. your eyes were red and your right lash looked like it was barely holding on, the effect of rubbing at your face.
jeno watched you take in the destroyed sight of yourself, practically hearing the critical thoughts hopping in your mind. “this is what you really are. this is what you’re sucking my dick to keep hidden from the world. is it worth it, baby? or do you just like the way i taste on your tongue?”
no, it wasn’t worth it. you were beginning to understand that now. he was taking too much from you, too much of your peace and too much of your sanity. maybe it would be better to be judged and lonely but free than to be loved by people whose opinion of you could change on a dime anyway at the expense of your soul.
your pride had been buried a long time ago, brutally murdered in her sleep. “jeno, please stop. i’m uncomfortable,” you complained, tearing your eyes away from your reflection in shame.
jeno smacked your ass again, making you cry out sharply. “you just love being the victim when it’s convenient for you, huh?”
“i’m sorry!” you whimpered. “i don’t know what you want me to do. what do you want? just tell me.”
jeno snickered, running his hands over your hips and waist to knead the flesh. then, he brushed your hair out of your face, nibbling at the skin behind your ear before growling, “you know what i want, cheerleader? i want to assassinate all there is that you love about yourself and leave everything else untouched, so that you understand not why everybody hates you, but why nobody loves you.”
those words hit you straight in the gut. for the first time, you had no retort, no comeback.
hips beginning to move faster, jeno continued, “the boys don’t love you, they just want to fuck you. they would kill to be as deep inside you as i am. the girls sure as hell don’t love you. they either want to be you, or they resent you for beating their asses. and don’t get me started on those girls you call friends.”
“jeno, stop,” you whispered, an agony vicious enough to rip through flesh tearing you straight in half.
but jeno didn’t listen. he wasn’t done, not until he made his point. “don’t think i didn’t notice how lonely you were for the whole week everybody was talking shit about you. they didn’t want to touch you with a six foot pole, did they? they don’t want to be seen with you unless it gives them a good rep.”
there was a pang in your chest. you didn’t want to admit it, but that cut deep. you had heard people say mean things about you before, it was to expected when you were an emblem of popularity on campus, but few things had reached you where it hurt.
jeno stroked your messy cheek, almost with affection. “but it’s okay. because you want to know something, baby? it was hard for me to admit it to myself, but you truly fascinate me. i can’t get you out of my head sometimes. you piss me off every time without fail, but i keep coming back to you. i like you, baby. if no one else does. you grew on me.”
you weren’t sure if that was supposed to make you feel better, but it didn’t. if anything, you only felt more heartbroken and wounded not only by his words, but by your inability to counter them. it truly dawned on you, right then, just how alone you were.
jeno threw his head back, grunting. his hips were moving with a mind of their own, eager to finish. “fuck, i’m gonna come.”
your eyes went wide in panic, remembering that he had gone in bareback.
“jeno, don’t…”
before you could even finish your statement, jeno clamped a hand over your mouth, muffling your protests into his pale palm. “you know what guys at my school used to say about cheerleaders?” he asked, obviously not expecting a response. “‘see a cheerleader, breed a cheerleader.’ ‘cheerleader? breed her.’”
you thrashed, but it was pointless. those thick, burly biceps of jeno’s were one of the first things you noticed about him and they weren’t just for display. he held you in place as he quickened his pace again, his thrusts unrelenting.
with a couple more quick yet shockingly rhythmic thrusts, jeno emptied his load deep, deep inside you. he moaned, moving his hands from your mouth to your hips to keep himself steady as he reeled from the pleasure of a mind-numbing orgasm. “goddamn,” he cursed, panting for breath.
you stifled a small noise as you felt his warmth flooding into you, unsure how to feel at this point.
to your surprise, jeno started fucking you again, never once daring to pull out as if he was determined to fuck every drop of his sticky cum as deep inside you as it could reach. his stringy, thick load gathered on his dick and inside your pussy, leaking down your thighs as he kept going.
you gasped out, moans involuntarily leaving you as you were stuffed full of him over and over. you didn’t mean to, but it was impossible to control.
then, jeno stuck a hand between your legs and rolled his thumb over your clit, which didn’t help. you cried out, tensing. “jeno, stop! it’s sensitive.”
“that’s the point, dummy,” jeno replied, stimulating your clit with his hand while simultaneously pumping himself into you from behind.
your core tightened, heat wafting over you as your chest heaved wildly. “what are you doing?” you stammered.
jeno smiled, watching in the mirror how your face tensed with a blend of confusion and ecstasy that you couldn’t rein. “you really think i’m an asshole, huh? i’m trying to make you come. relax and let me.”
you shook your head. you didn’t want to come, not for him, and most definitely not on his cock for him to feel every unintentional shudder of your pussy as it gushed and pulsed with hot, sweet release; that would be embarrassing.
that made jeno chuckle. “no? you don’t wanna come for me, baby?” he asked, furrowing his brows playfully as he tilted your face back up to the mirror with a push of your jaw. “come on, let go. you keep saying i’m not a good guy, but you shoot me down when i try to be nice.”
you moaned again, against your own reason and better judgment. “please,” you rasped with half a breath.
“please, what?” jeno asked, rubbing you with just a pinch more force. “do you even know?”
god, you hated him; you absolutely despised him. but damn, if it didn’t feel good to have someone touch you after you’d spent so long avoiding sex like it was something to be ashamed of.
and this? this was definitely something you were ashamed of.
and yet the most shameful moment, perhaps, was when you finally couldn’t resist the pleasure of his big, long fingers twirling around your sensitive nub and his brutal hips smacking into you with a vengeance, clamping around him as you orgasmed with a loud cry and the heat shot through every corner of your body.
“shit,” jeno hissed, the feel of you finishing around him draining the cum from his balls for a second time.
your jaw slacked, overwhelmed by how you felt completely and utterly stuffed, ropes of his cum filling you to the hilt. jeno thrusted into you a little more, sending a flare through your back and shoulders, until he stilled for good. you could hear him panting behind you.
after a moment or two, jeno pulled out. hand between your thighs, he gathered some of his stringy release on his finger and brought it up to your lips. “open up. don’t make me say it again.”
you opened your mouth wide enough for him to insert two of his cum-coated fingers inside. then, you sucked at them and swallowed it down, knowing those would be the next words to leave his mouth.
jeno raised a brow, pleasantly surprised. he took his time to withdraw his fingers, enjoying the sensation of you licking them clean. “see, i knew you loved eating my cum.”
your face burned, but you didn’t have the energy to deny it. not after that. it felt like there was a gaping hole in your chest, a void that would never be filled.
“you’re learning,” jeno commented, humming in satisfaction. “good girl. you know, maybe one day we can get along. don’t you think?”
“yeah,” you murmured weakly. at this point, you would just go along with whatever he said. and maybe that was why he figured you could experience some peace together now.
keeping your dress bunched up, jeno grabbed some tissues from his left and started to wipe at you. “let’s get you cleaned up before we leave, cheerleader. don’t want the entire student body to see you like this, right?”
you whipped your head around, eyes widening in surprise. leaving to go where? certainly you weren’t going home with him after tonight.
“did you think i was kidding?” jeno asked with a sly smile, slipping your panties backing in place and giving your shoulder a fleeting kiss. “i told you, i’m gonna fuck you till your legs give out.”
#lee jeno smut#jeno smut#nct dream smut#nct smut#nct#nct x reader#jeno scenarios#nct jeno#jeno x reader#jeno x you#jeno imagines#nct fanfic#nct dream x reader#revehae fics
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the thought of being fucked full-nelson style by sukuna while sitting on his throne won’t leave my mind

☆ ໋𓈒 tags. fem! reader, tf! sukuna, full nelson, size diff + size kinks, dirty talk, unprotected, brēeding, mentions of tummy bulge, ( little one, princess, brat . . ) mdni.
“hn. how pathetic,” the notorious demon snickers, baring a single fang as he watches the tip of his swollen angered cock disappear between your runny folds. your thighs shook instantaneously, and he’s lazily slouched back on his throne. a bawled up fist rests near his chin as he watches you with crimson eyes filled of nothing but pure amusement and a mocking head tilt. “don’t make me fall asleep, now. you said you could take me ‘n you’re not even halfway in, princess.”
you bite the inside of your cheek at his playful taunts — so annoying, he just wouldn’t shut up. “ ‘m trying, ‘kuna,” you moan, the stretch of his throbbing cockhead making the center of your mouth salivate. the sleeves of his kimono were slightly ruffled from you tugging on it. he’s got the smuggest grin as your legs part themselves just a bit further. seconds go by before you sigh, slumping into his chest. “help me, ‘kuna. please.”
“so easy to give up,” he mumbles in a gruff tone, bringing one of his big hands to pat the back of your head. you lean into his touch, and as you’re so close to him—you’re engulfed by his natural loud musk. “finee,” he sharply adds, and you gasp once he turns your body around, positioning you in such a way. you’re still placed on his lap but he grabs both of your legs, pulling them upward. “i’ll help you, little one. now now, lie back ‘n allow your king to give you a nice ‘lil stretch.”
your mouth slightly drops, dramatically going agape once he restrains you in a safe manner . .
sukuna’s got you taking his heavy cock again, but this time, you feel the stretch reach everywhere.
he’s got two pairs of arms locking behind your head with the other two clinging onto your thighs. a few sharp nails dig into the fat of your skin, leaving a plethora of marks he’d want to kiss over later. “fuck,” he grunts, hearing the squelching whimpers of your sweet cunt. everything’s slow, it’s as if time stood still as you’re trying to take him. you swallow a lump near the back of your throat that seemed to be growing every second.
the demon sat underneath you was big—he liked pounding you ruthlessly in full nelson because more than anything, he loved seeing you stretched.
the dumb sounds you make, it rings through his ears. speaking of, he gets up close to the lobe of your ear, flicking his forked tongue against it. “s- sukuna,” you whine, and with a ‘pop’, you felt your ass grind right into his lap. already, he’s molding a tiny tummy bulge near the center of your stomach. he’s so deep, once he starts, it’s practically over for your limps. “ngh, ‘s big, ‘kuna.”
“keh, obviously. the perfect size for you, princess.” he groans, tightening his grip just a tad bit against your legs. a hand of his feels the bulging spot near the center of your tummy before he hums. “ ‘kuna’s riiiight fuckin’ here, brat.”
he’s got you in a secure lock. his arms felt warm, and through your blurred peripherals, you glance at his ancient cursed markings that paint all across his bulky, burly arms.
so big, you’re already drooling as you’re bouncing on his cock. the crushing compressing weight of both bodies—mainly yours, causes his throne to be more rickety. it’s whining and groaning out creaks each time your speed against his lap increases, and he’s practically treating you like a doll.
a porcelain doll he didn’t want to ever break.
at least, not yet. .
“fuckin’ nasty girl,” he huffs, one of his hands going toward your face. he smears a palm over your mouth, your pouring drool that streams from the corners of your lips landing on his hand. he’s got a wolfish smile, hearing your babbled whimpers get louder as he’s stretching you silly. “i spoil you too much, spoil this sloppy pussy too much too, hmph.”
“mmph. suku— sukunaaa,” your sweet stammers of moans grew more bouncy as you bucked your swiveling hips further onto him. it didn’t take long before your raw vocal chords start to die out, growing strained and weak. you dramatically elongate each syllable of his name that streams from your lips as his cock plummets into you full. the sweltering hot crown of his shaft kisses all around your gummy walls, reaching so deep that you’re practically yanking roughly on the edges of his silky kimono sleeve. “fuck, fuck, ‘m gonna cum, ‘kuna.”
a throaty chortle from sukuna makes your cunt twitch as he holds you upright — so cute, he’s so much bigger than you, merely dislocating your limbs with a few sets of his arms. he barely had to do anything and yet you were easily overpowered by his body. your mouth hangs open as he’s shoving such thick inches in and out of your slobbering pussy, coating his entire base with your cascading slick. “are you asking or are you just sayin’ y’r gonna cum, little one?”
the insides of your thighs were so sticky, already sticking together and you’re a babbling mess as his dick continues to make you stupid. “lemme cum please, ‘kuna. please, pretty please. stuffin’ me so full, fuuuck.”
“there’s those sweet manners,” he purrs in a husky tone—the back of his lips meets near your ear, giving it a soft peck as you continue to move. you feel a swarm of fluttering butterflies circle inside the pits of your tummy, but you knew that could also be the bulge of his cock constantly rutting deep into your clingy insides. “ah,” he snarls, his tip thrashing vigorously against a certain spongey spot. right there, you let off a sweet squeal as his sloppy thrusts start to punctuate again and again until your candied coated moans reverberate throughout the walls of his regal royal chambers. “fuckin’ shit,” he hisses, and as your hips continue to slam onto him, he’s realizing he’s coming close too.
your eyes were droopy as he’s still got you in such a lewd position — he’s so strong, proudly holding you up to where you’re just a doll bouncing on his cock. his throne remains wailing out moans of its own from the heavy masses of weight jerking on top of the furniture. he’s balls deep into your core, feeling how sweetly your cunt’s being massaged.
“c’mon, messy girl. give it t’ me then. make a sloppy mess on your king, princess,” and his sable-darkened nails gently scrape against your skin. it’s almost soothing, he’s got you in a tight safe chokehold hold and you’re basically chasing your own breath.
you whimper as his warm breaths tickle such a carnal itch in your brain. sukuna allows for you to bounce on him quicker and harder until eventually, your release came. your sweet little cry of finishing rapture was adorable—he hears how even after you’ve creamed all down his cock from the salacious skin slapping, your irregular breaths never falter. “ugh,” he grumbles, feeling his own release eventually match up as if it was right on cue. he bellows out a rough animalistic growl before he’s cummimg, shooting blanks. satiny ropes shoot into you, its balmy hot temperature making you gasp. it’s thick and slimy, pumping you full to the brim so good that it even leaks out.
he loosens his taut grip on your numb legs that were positioned in the air before he sighs—it’s still coming out, his angered tip was tucked inside your pussy as you’re just defeated, collapsed back on his chest.
“good girl,” he pants, hearing the erotic sloshes of his own cum continuing to spurt and ooze deep inside you. now, you’re an entire puddled mess. he creeps a broad open hand between your thighs, dragging a thumb down your slobbering slick to gather up a drop of his filthy dribbling cum. “my, my, look at thaaat,” he coos lowly, and you moan once he resumes, dragging a plump thumb down your sloppy cunt. a bit of his own mess soaks onto his finger before he brings it up to his mouth, lapping at your fresh juices, getting a taste himself. “mhm, she’s as sweetest as she’s ever been,” and you let off a gasp once another one of his palms rudely spanks your wet cunt.
“messy baby.”
#★vegasbaby.#sukuna smut#sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna ryomen smut#sukuna ryomen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#female reader
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Will It Fit?

Roommate!AU | Roommate!Jungkook x Reader
genre: fluff, smut, comedy, lil angst, slight idiots to lovers
rating: explicit
description: So what if your roommate caught you masturbating? At least he forgot about it the next day. But he can’t exactly forget the big dildo you left in your shared bathroom…
word count: 6.7k
warnings: size kink, JK has a big dick (no, really), slight pain kink, light choking, dirty talk, Dom!JK, flustered/shy JK at first, unprotected sex (this is fiction, we all wanna be raw-dogged by JK okay), lube, JK loves OC’s panties a LOT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, OC gets embarrassed at first but JK is sweet about it, oral sex (male & female receiving), cursing, Soft Dom!JK, JK is overly concerned with how big your dildo is, embarrassing moments from both parties, spanking, prone bone, creampie, confession scenes,
a/n: As soon as I saw JK’s OJO face from that GCF, it kicked me into gear to write this. I’ve had this idea for SO long, but never had the motivation to finish it. I was supposed to release it last winter, so hope you’re all excited for it! Asks and reblogs are much appreciated (I read them all!). Also, much love to @jkeuphoriadreamland for bouncing ideas around with me.
“[Y/N], I can hear you in there.”
The muffled, disgruntled voice came from the other side of your door. Your eyes fluttered open and your hand stilled in your panties, your heart rate spiking. Maybe if you didn’t move a muscle, he’d go away.
“I know you’re up,” he added. You rose up from your bed.
“Um… exactly what did you hear?” you squealed, face burning up at your terrible acting skills.
“Unlock this door.”
You didn't know what compelled you to saunter over and open the door a mere crack, but oh the sight before you was almost worth the humiliation. Jungkook was in nothing but gray sweats that sat dangerously low on his hips. He had a bad case of bedhead, but his locks looked so soft that you wanted nothing more than to grab onto them and make out with his beautiful lips, which were captivating you just as much as that intense gaze of his.
“Hey… you…” you said with a meek smile, which he did not return.
“It’s 2 AM in the morning. I have work at 5. As hot as you sound, we either do something together so we both get satisfied or you let me get my rest because I am incredibly frustrated right now.”
Your eyes widened at his curt response. You’ve never seen him so tense, his tongue prodding the inside of his cheek as his glare bore into you. He leaned against your door frame with one arm, leaning in close enough to make you break eye contact. He tapped on the wooden frame with his index finger, awaiting your response.
“Sorry…”
God, you sounded absolutely pathetic .
“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?” Before you could respond, he let out a tsk sound and retreated back to his bedroom. You stood there in a trance until his door shut loudly, snapping you out of it. You wondered if he realized how much worse he left you than when he found you.
Fuck, was he always this hot when mad?
You went back to your room after closing the door. Climbing into bed, you got under the covers and laid flat on your back deep in thought. The only reason you were masturbating in the first place was because your room was freezing cold. You thought the heater was fixed, but your room was somehow still the coldest one in the apartment. You knew you’d never be able to go to sleep at this rate, so you decided to do something that would tire you out and hopefully lull you into the rest you craved.
It was supposed to be simple. You, your hand, your phone, and sweet, sweet release. Damn Jungkook for interrupting you. It’s bad enough his room was nice and toasty while you were suffering. Yeah, you heard his loudass snores. You assumed he was deep in the REM cycle so how the hell did he catch your moans? Ugh.
If he was so annoyed with you, then he should have warmed you up instead!
You shook your head and got under the covers, groaning at your lewd thoughts.
He’s my roommate. And he’s too good of a roommate for me to fuck things up.
“Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”
Those words echoed in your mind. The way he changed his tone to a lower register with his Busan dialect slipping through was incredibly sexy. It was the perfect mix of frustration and anger and made your thighs rub together in want. Leaning over your nightstand, you opened the drawer and grabbed a velvet drawstring bag. Slipping off your pajama shorts, you pulled out your trusty dildo. Impatient, you closed your eyes and imagined Jungkook taking you right then and there. However, the moment you allowed the tip of the dildo to touch your entrance, all pleasure was lost. It was cold!
“Damn it…” you muttered. “I gotta warm it up. Ugh!”
You left your room in frustration and entered the bathroom, turning the sink on to the hottest setting and running it over your toy.
This might’ve been the most desperate masturbation session you’ve ever had, but you didn’t care. This was all Jungkook’s fault!
The next morning was Saturday. You were eating your breakfast on the kitchen island while mindlessly scrolling on your phone when Jungkook came out of his room. As soon as you two locked eyes, you almost choked on your food and had to chug some water to calm down. The man, confused, ruffled his hair and watched you through drowsy eyes.
“Are you okay?” he said, followed by a yawn.
You nodded as you beat your chest with your fist to get everything down. “Yeah… I just… didn’t expect you to be home. I thought you had work.”
“Oh,” He sounded more awake now. “I read my schedule wrong. Turns out I’m off every other Saturday now.”
“... Oh. Cool.”
He circled around the kitchen island to get to the fridge and you recalled last night’s events, mortified he had heard you. Should you apologize again? After all, you’re both two grown adults; there’s nothing to be ashamed about. If you didn’t say something now, that icky feeling would only fester inside you.
“Hey Jungkook.”
“Yeah?” he said from behind the fridge door.
“About yesterday… I hope you can forget all about it.”
As the refrigerator door shut, you were greeted by the sight of the most adorable man sipping a carton of banana milk. His eyes were wide and brimming with curiosity from your words.
“Did something happen yesterday? I was knocked out.”
You blinked at him twice. “Do you… not remember talking to me last night?”
“Hmm? I did? I was fast asleep, don’t remember a thing.” He took the seat next to you. “Why? What did we talk about?”
Pure relief washed over you like a tidal wave as you shook your head. “Oh, nothing much. My room’s a bit too cold. It was hard for me to sleep.”
“I’m sorry. I’ll talk to the landlord. Do you want to sleep with me?” You shot him an incredulous look and he began to stutter. “I-I mean! Sleep in my bed! Not with me in it. Unless you wanted to—ah—fuck me!
There. That’s the Jungkook you knew. He’s never crossed the line and flirted with you, so you didn’t either out of respect. But… It was too hard to resist teasing him. This was too good of an opportunity to pass up.
“Unless I wanted to… fuck you?” you repeated innocently. This was new territory for you—teasing him. His flustered reactions were so damn adorable though. The way his nose scrunched and his eyes darted around everywhere except for your face. If anyone was watching you, they’d swore you had hearts in your eyes.
He set his drink down and proceeded to cover his face with both hands, panicking at his poor choice of words. “That didn’t come out right. Oh god… this is embarrassing.”
You covered your mouth to stifle your giggles. “It’s okay. I don’t want to peg you—I mean, take your bed.”
Jungkook dropped his hands, speaking the next sentence in pouts. “Hey, I don’t want to be peg—not the point. No, seriously. My room’s really warm.”
“I mean… if you really want me in your room, all you have to do is ask, you know,” you remarked. Jungkook’s cheeks were flushed with a tinge of pink, adding an extra charming element to his already cute self. Were you being too bold?
It didn’t matter because seeing how his lips trembled and how he could barely hold himself together was fun to watch.
“I didn’t realize it was that easy…” he mumbled, more to himself than you. You tilted your head at him and he noticed how you crossed one arm over another “Not that I’m calling you easy!”
“Uh huh. I’m watching you, Jeon Jungkook. Hmph.”
“No, wait. I’m sorry.”
You placed your index finger on his lips to shush him, even going so far as to tap his lip piercing teasingly. “Is that all your pretty lips are good for? Apologizing?”
You watched as his eyes widened once more and that caused you to realize what you were doing. My god. Using his own words against him was satisfying, but all this newfound confidence was going to get you in trouble. You cleared your throat and withdrew your hand, grabbing your breakfast plate and heading over to the sink before things could escalate.
“Uh… I’m gonna go to the gym. Run some errands or something,” Jungkook stammered as he got up, nearly toppling out of his stool. You bit your lip to hold in your laughter as he recomposed himself. Walking in the same direction, he flinched when you got near his proximity. “W-What are you doing?”
He’s so cute when nervous.
“Nothing. Grabbing my keys. I’m heading out too.”
“O-Okay.”
Your smile made his heart rate escalate. “Okay. I’ll see you later.”
You spent the day with your closest friends on a brunch date, followed by a trip to the mall, and then hot cocoa in the evening. It was much needed after the week you had and after bidding them farewell, you went back to your apartment. Upon entering, you took off your shoes and put them on the shoe rack.
“Jungkook? Are you home?” you called out.
“Yeah! I just finished showering!” he called back in the distance. You went further into the apartment and plopped down on the couch.
“Damn,” you muttered, rubbing your arms. “Wish I could have showered with him. It’s so cold outside…”
As if on cue, Jungkook called for you again. “[Y/N]? Could you come here?”
You took off your purse and slowly rose up from the couch, hesitant. This had to be a dream. Why would he need you to come to the bathroom? He must’ve forgotten a towel. Or a t-shirt. Or pants. The specifics didn’t really matter because your hormones were going berserk at the possibilities.
You walked through the narrow hallway and stood in front of the bathroom door, excited at the thought of teasing him again. “I’m here. What’s up? Did you forget your towel or something? Silly boy.”
The door swung open and the shit-eating grin you had on your face dropped to the floor in an instant.
“Why is there a dildo in the bathroom, silly girl?”
Shit. Quick, say something. Anything. Don’t just stand there like a gaping fish! Oh dear, how many seconds have passed? You must look like a total idiot.
Fuck! I forgot I left it here!!!
“Well…” you started to say, “I’m assuming it’s yours.”
Out of all the things your roommate could be calling you for, this was not on your radar. The awkwardness was more suffocating than the steam from his blazing hot shower minutes ago and you wished it lingered around long enough to make you disappear.
Jungkook made a puckered face at your accusation, picked up the object, and shook it side to side, the bendy silicone material flopping everywhere. His big doe eyes were the highlight of his classic OJO face, the blatant confusion so adorable if you weren’t absolutely mortified. For the second time this week.
God, and how could you even focus when he was dressed in nothing but a towel, his hair still slightly damp. The bulging muscles of his biceps were a feast for the eyes as well as his tattooed sleeve. You yearned for the day he’d use his arm as your necklace, but of course that shouldn’t be a priority at the moment. If anything, it was his fault you had to use a dildo anyway.
“[Y/N], you know damn well this isn’t mine.” He met your gaze and flashed you a soft smile, biting his lower lip. “I like mine bigger.”
You covered your face in shame, wishing the floor could open up and swallow you whole. “Good god, Jeon.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Why is it in the bathroom?”
You gulped, finding enough strength to not die of embarrassment. “It’s getting colder outside and the heater doesn’t reach my room as well as it reaches yours. So…”
“Yeah…? But I’m not following.”
“The… thing in your hand—”
“Dildo?”
You visibly cringed. “Yes, okay, THAT. It got cold and I don’t like cold objects... Inside me. So I took it to the bathroom to run hot water on it to warm it up.”
“Before you use it?”
“No, to melt it. Yes, to use it!” you snapped, feeling the humiliation burning through your body. “I wasn’t aware you weren’t working today, remember? I clean it after each use so please just give it back!”
You ran over to yank it out of his hands, but he lifted it up high out of your reach. While cackling. That motherfucker. “Hey, maybe I want a turn.”
You had to bite back. “I knew you liked being pegged.”
“I do not!”
“Then give it back!”
“This thing is huge though. It fits?”
“I’m not having this conversation with you right now.” You jumped up but failed to reach it due to his quick reflexes.
“Doesn’t it hurt? Because if something this big went up my—”
“Jungkook!”
“I’m just saying!” he said with his arms up in the air like you were about to tase him. “I find it hard to believe, that’s all. It’s really big. Like damn.”
Without thinking, you ripped his towel off his waist and he gasped, scrambling to shield his privates while you seized the opportunity to get your toy back.
You stormed out of the bathroom and ran to your room, locking the door afterwards. Falling to your knees, the embarrassment caught up to you, causing you to hang your head low in shame. You could hear the soft shuffling sounds of his footsteps approaching your door, followed by a gentle knock.
“[Y/N]? Are you okay?” He pressed his ear against the door to hear small sniffles. “Shit. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to make you upset. I was teasing, I thought you wanted to tease me back and—I guess I took it too far.”
“Go away, Jeon,” you said, throwing the dildo at the door. Jungkook nearly had a heart attack at the loud thump and jolted back, clutching his chest.
“Holy shit, that scared me,” he said, which earned a small chuckle from you despite the tears. “Hey… come on out. Please. I’m not judging you.”
“No. I’m humiliated. You heard me yesterday and now caught me today. I can’t face you ever again. It’s over!”
He placed a hand on your door, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I didn’t even know we started, so how could we be over? You’re cute.”
That made you snap your head up. You quickly wiped away your tears and rose from the floor. “This isn’t fair… I’ve been embarrassed twice now.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“You heard me masturbating yesterday!” you exclaimed, frustrated at his obliviousness. “You woke up and told me I had pretty lips or whatever and suggested we do something about it together!”
“I mean, you do have pretty lips. Yup. That sounds like me, yeah,” he said, nodding to himself. “But I really don’t remember. Come on out. I wanna see you.”
“No.”
“Would it help if I shared something embarrassing about me?”
You narrowed your eyes at the door, considering his offer. “... Go on…”
He sighed, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Well… you know how I’ve been doing your laundry for you?”
“Yeah…”
It was your most hated chore. Putting the clothes into the washer and dryer wasn’t your issue, but folding them was so tedious. So you and him made a deal. You were in charge of dishes and he would do the laundry. However, the one thing you refused to let Jungkook wash for you were your bras and panties. Those you handled yourself.
“You… left a pair of panties in my basket once by mistake.”
“I did?”
“Yeah. I washed them for you but um… before that, I might’ve… sort’ve… jerked off with them.”
Your doorknob jostled for a second as you unlocked it. Jungkook waited as the door swung open and was greeted by a displeased you, hands on your hips and all.
“What? They were really pretty…” he added. “They were pink and had lace—”
“You… PERVERT!” you shouted, hitting his chest repeatedly. Of course, you were aware your feeble punches did nothing to his insanely toned pecs. Jungkook stared at you fondly, catching the hint of a smile that threatened to spill from your lips.
“Oh, I’m a pervert? Says the girl who has an 8-inch dildo,” he countered, snatching both your wrists.
“At least I’m able to take 8-inches!” you retorted, laughing at the situation. He joined in your laughter and then said,
“Good! That means you’ll be able to handle me!”
Your brain fizzled out at this point as the laughter subsided. “... What?”
Jungkook’s Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he gulped. “... You heard me. Go ahead, take off my towel again. See for yourself.”
He guided your hands downward to the soft fabric, which was already on the verge of unraveling itself with his prior movements. You stared at his pelvic lines, excitement bubbling beneath the surface while you tried your best to maintain a calm expression.
“... Pervert,” you mumbled. Jungkook chuckled, taking one of your hands and placing it directly on his boner.
“Maybe. But only you can make me feel this way.”
You bit your lip, feeling the heat radiating from beneath the fabric and your curiosity peaked. Tucking a finger into the towel, you pulled it down and let it fall to the ground.
A loud squeal came from your lips as you covered your mouth. “Holy shit!”
Jungkook covered himself after seeing your reaction with both hands, embarrassment crawling up his spine. “Sorry, I’ll put it away.”
“No, no, no!” you said, putting your hands out in a stop motion. “Sorry, I just… you… you weren’t kidding.”
“Does it scare you?” His tone was sincere, his eyes genuinely showing concern. “Because… I don’t want to hurt you. And I know it can hurt. That’s why I was so curious about the dildo. Will it fit? Will I fit…?”
You couldn’t help but laugh at how he phrased it, but quickly stopped when you noticed the fear in his eyes. Your thoughts wandered to if he had slept with someone prior and if it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Truth be told, you’ve never been with anyone as big as him so it’s all new for you.
“Well… if I’m prepared well enough, I can take it. The dildo fits but sometimes not all of it goes in. Um… man, this is embarrassing to talk about, ahhh. I feel like I keep making a fool of myself in front of you.”
Jungkook’s gaze softened at your vulnerability, taking your hand and placing it on his chest. His heart was beating just as rapidly as yours if not more. Then he put his other hand on the small of your back, pulling you close.
“That makes two of us. But you make me crazy.”
He was so close that your senses were intoxicated with the fresh scent of eucalyptus and cotton wafting off him. His eyes shifted to your lips for a split second before meeting your gaze once more.
“I really want to kiss these pretty lips of yours… If you’ll let me,” he said, tracing your bottom lip with his thumb and whispering the last part.
You begged him to kiss you already, so he leaned in and finally pressed his warm lips against yours as you closed your eyes. It started off as a gentle smooch, like a little tease to test the waters. When he pulled back, you leaned forward and chased his lips urgently. You felt him smiling into the kiss as he moved in tandem with you, deepening the kiss while switching positions to press you against a wall. One of his hands pinned your wrists above your head while his free hand slithered down the side of your body until it rested on your hip, giving you a firm squeeze.
“Jung—mmph—Jungkook…” you moaned. He used that chance to ease his tongue into your mouth and the kiss went from passionate to messy. When you moved your wrists in the slightest, he asserted dominance and pinned them back down into place.
“You think I’m going to let you go so easily now that I have you?” he asked, the hunger in his voice evident. He carefully tugged your bottom lip in between his teeth and pulled it back in a seductive motion, which turned you on even more.
Once he broke the kiss, the only thing that remained was a string of saliva that broke seconds later.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for so long,” he said in between pants.
“Since you’ve jerked off to my panties?” you teased while catching your breath.
He rolled his eyes. “Like you’ve never rubbed one out to me before.”
You scrunched up your nose at his response, unable to counteract his statement right away. “Hey… I wouldn’t have had to rub one out if you warmed me up in this cold weather.”
He smirked. “All you had to do was ask, you know.”
Releasing your hands, Jungkook went into your room and grabbed the dildo off the floor. He left you for a short moment and you waited there, confused, until you heard the sound of running water. He came back a minute later and then grabbed your hand, leading you to his bedroom.
“Had to wash it. Don’t worry, I’ll warm you up properly for the real thing.”
He guided you to his bed and helped you remove your jacket, blouse, and leggings. His grin was extra toothy because the set you were wearing was the exact set he jerked off too before.
“What?” you asked, amused.
“N-Nothing.”
When your back was turned for a second, he mouthed the words ‘Oh my god’ and pressed his hands together as if thanking the universe for this very moment.
Now left in your bra and panties, you laid on his bed and he climbed on top of you, his lips latching onto the side of your neck. You mewled at the sizzling contact, pulling him close by his soft locks so that his hot skin was pressed against yours. He trailed his searing kisses down to your collarbone and then settled between the valley of your breasts.
“The bra is pretty… you’re so pretty,” he said, full of admiration. He pulled one of the cups down to gain access to your breasts, capturing your perky nipple between his lips. He sucked tenderly, swirling his tongue around before tugging on it hard enough to elicit a moan. His other hand was greedy, slithering into your already soaked panties. His middle finger dipped in between your folds and he rubbed in circular motions to coax some more slick out of you.
As you arched your back and moaned his name, he dipped one finger into you and began to pump it slowly. He added another one when you begged for it, sounding so desperate that he had to oblige.
“Please fuck me already. I can’t take it,” you breathed. Jungkook only curled his fingers deeper inside, grazing your sweet spot while shaking his head.
“Patience, beautiful. I need to make sure your sweet pussy can take it, remember? Gotta prep you well.”
“But I can take it, I can, oh god please.”
“If you’re a good girl for me. Can you take another finger?”
You nodded eagerly, so he added a third finger and you squeezed your eyes shut from the delicious burn.
“Are you okay?” Jungkook asked, observing your expressions carefully. You clutched onto the pillow and panted heavily.
“Y-Yeah, I—god—your fingers feel good…”
He began to finger you with all three digits, the tightness of your walls bringing some resistance to his actions. But with a few more neck kisses to relax you, it became easier and you became more undone.
“You’re doing so well,” he whispered into your ear, his heavy breath tickling it. He finally removed his fingers and grabbed the dildo at the end of the bed, bringing up to your lips.
“Show me what those pretty lips of yours can do.”
You stuck out your tongue and licked a long stripe on the toy in a tantalizing slow motion, causing Jungkook to grunt. That damn smile of yours was going to kill him. You were the perfect minx—sweet and naughty. He didn’t have to tell you to suck it because you already were.
“Such a good girl. You’re going to handle my cock so well.”
He removed the dildo out of your mouth and reached into his nightstand to pull out a bottle of lube. You stared at it like it was foreign to you and Jungkook was quick to notice.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I can take it. I know it.”
He chuckled, admiring your determination. “Still, I want to take my time. Besides… it’s not every day I get to fuck someone so beautiful.”
He popped open the cap and squeezed a decent amount of lube onto the toy. Then he got back in between your legs and slowly began to insert it into you. You squirmed from the slippery, cold contact but Jungkook captured your lips into a deep kiss, igniting your body with fervor.
He thrusted the dildo as deep as he could, stopping when there was resistance from your panties. Which you were more than thankful for because you already felt full. But then he began to pump it in and out of you at a steady pace, only accelerating when your moans became more constant.
“Shit, shit,that feels so—“ Your words were swallowed by his lips and that stirred something within you, allowing Jungkook to easily glide the toy back and forth. He soon increased his speed, the obscene sounds your pussy was making the only thing that could be heard in the room.
You broke away from the kiss and began tearing up from the intensity.
“J-Jungkook, I think—“
You couldn’t, actually. Your orgasm crept up on you and made your entire body convulse. You shut your eyes to only see white, your ears were ringing, and your pussy surrendered to the pleasure.
Jungkook removed the toy out of you gently and then kissed your sweaty forehead, giving you a bunny-tooth smile as you calmed down from your high.
“Did you cum?”
You smacked his arm playfully. “Did I cum… pfft. No, actually. I’m waiting for a real man to make me cum. With a fat cock.”
“Well not to toot my own horn but…” He grinded his swollen cock against your thigh. “I think I meet the requirements.”
Now that things slowed down, this was the first time you really got to look at his cock properly. He wasn’t kidding about needing to prep you. It was as big as your dildo but much more girthier. It was a mouth-watering sight.
Flipping the switch, you got on top of Jungkook this time. His eyes widened in surprise but then eased into a smile. You leaned down and kissed him on the cheek.
“Let me take care of you now.”
“But I want to fuck you so bad.”
“You can wait, darling. My pussy is yours.”
His dick twitched at that. You giggled as you got in between his thighs, stroking his member a few times to hear those cute, breathy moans of his.
Will it fit…? God, I hope so.
“Are you afraid you can’t take it?” Jungkook asked with concern. Shit. Did you say that out loud???
“I can. I will.”
“We don’t have to if you don’t—“
“Jungkook,” you said, squeezing his dick tightly, almost like a warning. “I can take it like a good girl. And if not, I’ll tell you. Okay?”
He closed his eyes and nodded as you began to suck him off. There was no way you could take all of him in your mouth but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try. You went as far as you could and stopped when your gag reflex kicked in. Using your hand to stroke the area you couldn’t reach, you swirled your tongue and bobbed your head up and down.
Jungkook’s abs clenched and unclenched at the action and he rested on his elbows to watch you. The way your bra cupped your breasts at this angle was enticing, your pretty lips working so hard to please him, and the view of your ass in those panties could make him cum right then and there.
“Fuck, you’re so good at this—don’t stop.”
You smiled at the praise and continued, loving how he took a sharp inhale of breath when you cupped his balls. He put his hand on your head and pushed you down gently, not wanting to overdo it with his size. You controlled the pace, but he just wanted to touch you and admire you.
“You’re too good to me…”
You released his dick with a satisfying pop sound, kissing the tip and smiling. “Teach me what you like.”
“I love everything you do,” he said, grunting when you began stroking him again from the base to the tip. “Your hands are so much softer than mine.”
You stopped momentarily to spit on your hand before resuming your lewd actions and he threw his head back.
“Fuck [Y/N]. That’s so hot.”
“Yeah? Have I been a good girl? Are you going to reward me?” He snatched your wrist, his eyes darkened and full of lust.
“Can you handle it?”
You turned around on all fours, shaking your ass side to side to tempt him. “Take me, baby. Raw.”
His OJO face returned from your bold suggestion and you flashed him a wink.
“I’m on the pill. Promise,” you informed.
A burst of energy surged within him as he grabbed the bottle of lube and hurriedly squeezed some onto his cock. You giggled when he squirted a bit too much, haphazardly trying to divide it between two hands and spreading it evenly. But things turned serious when he grabbed your hips, yanking you closer to him.
He pulled your panties to the side and ate you out from behind first, loving how delicious your backside looked with them on. You moaned in delight and he placed a hand on your upper back, forcing your face down into the mattress. His tongue dipped into your folds and he flicked it on your clit a few times, loving the whiny sounds you were making. Then he pressed his entire mouth onto your pussy and sucked hard.
You were overwhelmed with pleasure and were on the verge of cumming when he removed his mouth and replaced it with something else.
“Are you ready?” He teased his tip at your leaking entrance and you shuddered.
“Yes, please fuck me.”
“Breathe baby. Relax as much as you can.”
You obeyed, feeling him push himself into you smoothly, knowing he prepped you more than enough. At least, that’s what you thought until he got in halfway. From there on, it felt like he was invading your walls and stretching you to new limits.
There was a mild discomfort and Jungkook kissed your back lovingly to relax your tense muscles. You sighed and allowed him to bottom out, feeling the wind knock out of you when he did.
“God!” you shouted, fisting his bedsheets.
“F-Fuck… you feel amazing I—can I move? Does it hurt?”
“It doesn’t hurt… I just feel really full.”
“Okay,” he said in a restrained voice. “I’ll go slow.”
He gripped your hips tightly, like he needed something else to focus on or else he’d lose control and fuck the living daylights out of you. He eased himself out of you but only half way, wanting to savor your warmth a bit longer. Then he pushed himself back into you, making sure to go as slow as possible.
“Your ass looks amazing in these. You should wear them again.”
Your heart fluttered at the thought of doing this with him again. “Maybe if you spank me.”
He stilled his hips. “You really want me to?”
You began rocking your ass back and forth on his cock. “Yeah. I’m not that fragile… I can take it rough when I want to.” You swore you felt his cock twitch at this. “Hmm, looks like that excited you. You wanna fuck me rough, Jeon?”
He delivered a spank on your cheek, the sensation sending waves of pain and pleasure through your body. Your pussy tightened from this and it made Jungkook hiss. He spanked the other cheek and then both cheeks and you moaned, the slight pain distracting you from the girth of his big cock.
“You think you’re in a position to be a brat?” He wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you up so you were on all fours again. Laying on top of your back, he whispered in your ear, “Do you know how badly I want to fucking ruin you?”
He bit the shell of your ear and you let out a content sigh as he slowly thrusted in and out of you.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reminded you. “But god, you feel so good. So tight. So slippery and wet. I just wanna have my way with you.”
You couldn’t wait anymore. “Please do. Make my pussy remember the shape of your cock. It’s yours to wreck.”
Jungkook got off your back and grabbed a nice fistful of your hair into a makeshift ponytail, forcing your head up as he thrusted into you to the hilt. That feeling of being full hit you full force and you submitted, letting him rock his hips back and forth to the pace he deemed fit. He undid your bra with his free hand, letting the undergarment fall onto the bed as he cupped one breast.
Your moans came out unashamed and full of whiny desperation. The intensity was becoming too much, but it felt too good to stop. There was no more discomfort, only lust and the desire to be fucked so hard that it had your eyes rolling. And Jungkook was more than willing to deliver.
He then grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it under your stomach, pushing your back down until you laid flat.
“I’m not sure, but I read this makes things feel better on Reddit,” he explained quickly as he helped remove your panties. “But let me know if you want me to stop.”
You’re smitten by the fact he cared this much about you but also trying hard not to laugh at how he admitted to going to Reddit for sex advice. He was too precious.
“I will.”
With your ass propped up higher thanks to the elevation of the pillow, Jungkook eased into you once more and you bit into your pillow. He started to slam his hips into you, gripping onto the headboard to steady himself.
“Fuck!” you said through gritted teeth.
“Am I going too fast?” he breathed, slowing down his thrusts.
“No, it’s okay. I want it. I want you.”
Your words unleashed his primal urges to finally give it to you. He shoved his cock deep inside you, each thrust making your ass jiggle, the sight so unbelievably sexy that he had to spank you again.
“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck me harder!” you shouted. Jungkook laid on top of you, wrapping his bicep around your neck and planted a kiss on your cheek as he fucked you harder. You begged him to choke you and he obliged, squeezing your neck just enough to make you slightly dizzy.
It was euphoric having that slight danger while being used for his pleasure. Your pussy tightened so much that Jungkook felt he was going to cum.
He slowed the roll of his hips and then pulled out, quickly flipping you onto your back. Thanks to the pillow from earlier, your hips were propped up at the perfect height.
“Spread your legs for me. Wider. Hold them open.”
You were so drunk on lust that you did everything he asked. He held onto your thighs and inserted his cock into you again, the new angle making your moans come out strangulated. He was so huge, you swore his tip was brushing against your cervix. Picking up the pace gradually, you took the abuse of his fat cock and screamed at how good it felt.
“I can’t get enough of you,” Jungkook said through pants, wrapping a hand around the column of your neck. “I’m gonna cum.”
His hips began to stutter and you felt your pussy growing sore from the stretch. Anymore and you’d be in tears. You wanted to cum too, so you snuck your hand down to your clit and rubbed in circular motions. Jungkook used the last remaining bits of strength to fuck you for a few more minutes, which was more than enough for you to reach your climax.
Cumming a second time was more painful than the first time due to the over sensitivity. But somehow it was more enjoyable because you had never felt something so intense. Jungkook kept coaxing you with sweet words, promising he was almost finished.
He rutted into you for the last few seconds, counting 3, 2, 1 before spilling his seed inside you. His body laid on top of yours, the two of you sticky and sweaty but it was comforting just being in his embrace.
“Jungkook?”
“Yeah?”
“Get off. We gotta pee.”
He laughed at your serious tone. “I think I need another shower. Care to join me?”
Your roommate literally just fucked your brains out 5 minutes ago. Why were you feeling self-conscious in the shower with him? It didn’t make sense!
With the hot water on, you took a deep breath before feeling a pair of arms wrap around you from behind.
“Questions, comments, concerns?”
Oh my god, you had to marry this man. “Um… I think I’ll be sore for the next few days.”
“I’m sorry.
“Don’t be. I enjoyed it a lot.”
He turned you around, so that you were facing him. “Enough to do it again?”
You raised an eyebrow. “Tonight?”
“W-Well… I mean—“
Look at him fumbling over his words. Adorable. “You’re such a pervert.”
“I can’t help it. You turn me on.”
You covered your chest, feeling shy. “Is that all I’m good for…?”
He immediately understood what you meant. “Of course not. Look at me,” he said while tilting your chin up. “Don’t you know how I feel about you?”
Your lips curled into a smile. “Well I learned today that you jerked off to my panties and you count down before you cum.”
You couldn’t help but explode into laughter at his OJO face when he heard you say that.
“Hey! I do it to let you know when it’s coming!”
“Yes sir,” you teased with a salute. “I appreciate your punctuality, sir!”
“Oh my god, you’re so cheeky.” He hugged you again and booped his nose into yours. “I like you. You know, when a boy likes a girl and they go out on a date and then—oh shit, I did things backwards.”
You giggled. “I think I prefer it this way. I like you too. I’ve… liked you for a long time.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Because! I didn’t want to make things awkward. But I guess things ended up being awkward anyway…”
“Because you were masturbating to me?”
He had such a proud smile on his face.
“Whatever! Panty thief!”
“You left them there.”
“You should’ve told me!”
“I did!”
“After you had your fun! You are so—”
He gave you a surprise peck on the cheek to distract you.
“Awesome?” He smooched you again. And again. You couldn’t help but giggle.
“You’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Mmhmm. So… do you want to stay in my room tonight?”
“As long as you warm me up.”
“Oh, for sure. I’m great at that.”
“Because of experience or Reddit?”
There was his OJO face again. “Hey~!”
I truly hope you enjoyed the fic! Thank you for giving my writing a chance. :) Also I have an AO3 if you're more comfortable commenting there. Thanks!
#ggukienet#jungkook#jungkook smut#bts smut#bts x reader#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook x you#jeon jungkook#jungkook scenarios#my scenarios
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Rustyn goes through a phase where he is very clingy towards the reader and wants to hug and kiss his mother all the time and whenever Drew approaches or kisses the reader, Rustyn becomes irritable because his mother is only for him ,sorry if he gets too involved English is not my first language
𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐚, 𝐧𝐨
pairing: dad!drew starkey x fem!reader
summary: drew loves teasing his little buddy especially now that rustyn has entered a clingy phase. he insists on being the sole recipient of your affection, becoming hilariously territorial whenever drew so much as gives you a kiss.
warning(s): fluff, teasing banter, a possessive toddler, mild suggestive humor between parents, and lots of adorable family dynamics.
au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy @winniemoe
Rustyn just woke up from his nap as you sat comfortably on the couch, cradling Rustyn in your arms. At two years old, your son was growing fast, but right now, he seemed small and vulnerable as he snuggled against you, freshly awake from his nap. His tiny arms wrapped securely around your neck, and his head rested on your chest, soaking in your warmth.
“You have a good nap, sweetheart?” you murmured softly, running your fingers through his messy hair.
Rustyn nodded sleepily, his body still heavy with the haze of sleep. He hummed contentedly, nestling even closer.
From across the room, Drew’s familiar voice broke the peace.
“Baby,” he called, his tone laced with affection.
You looked up to find your husband leaning casually against the doorway, his blue eyes sparkling as they met yours. He wore his usual easy grin, the kind that made your heart flutter even after all these how many years.
“Hmm?” you replied, your lips curling into a smile.
Drew crossed the room in a few strides, leaning down to kiss you. His lips brushed yours softly.
Before you could reciprocate, however, a firm “No!” interrupted the moment.
You pulled back slightly, startled, and glanced down to see Rustyn glaring up at Drew. His tiny hand shot up, attempting to push Drew away from you.
“Excuse me?” Drew asked, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. He crouched down to Rustyn’s level, resting his forearms on his knees.
“Are you trying to tell me I can’t kiss Mommy?”
Rustyn nodded solemnly, his blue eyes narrowing in determination.
“Mommy’s mine,” he declared, his voice firm despite its high-pitched sweetness.
Drew chuckled, straightening up and crossing his arms over his chest.
“Oh, really? Well, fyi ‘for your information’, little man, Mommy was my woman first. Before you even existed.”
Rustyn’s face twisted into an exaggerated pout, his small arms tightening possessively around your neck.
“No. Mommy’s mine,” he repeated, his tone unwavering.
You stifled a laugh, brushing a hand over Rustyn’s curls.
“Drew, stop teasing him. He just woke up.”
“But it’s so easy,” Drew said with a grin, leaning down to kiss your temple.
Rustyn immediately reacted, a whiny “No!” escaping him as he pushed at Drew’s shoulder with all his might.
“Alright, alright,” Drew said, stepping back with his hands raised in surrender.
“I’ll back off for now.”
Rustyn gave him a triumphant look, his little chest puffed out as he settled back against you.
You shook your head, biting back a smile.
“You know you’re just making it worse, right?”
“Yeah,” Drew admitted, plopping down on the couch beside you.
“But come on, look at him. He’s like a tiny bodyguard.”
Rustyn’s eyes darted suspiciously toward Drew, as though ensuring he wouldn’t try anything again.
Drew leaned closer to you, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“You think he’s gonna start charging me a toll just to kiss my own wife?”
You laughed quietly, careful not to disturb Rustyn.
“Wouldn’t surprise me. He’s been attached to me like glue all week.”
“Bathroom glue?” Drew asked, raising an eyebrow.
You groaned.
“Yes, even bathroom glue.”
Drew whistled, shaking his head.
“Man, he’s really got me beat.”
The next morning, Drew woke up to the sound of giggles coming from the living room. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and padded down the hallway, stopping in his tracks when he saw you and Rustyn sitting on the floor.
You were still in your pjs, your hair loosely tied back, as Rustyn sat in your lap, clumsily stacking blocks. He was giggling uncontrollably.
Drew leaned against the doorway, with a fond smile across his face.
“Well, don’t I feel left out?”
Rustyn’s laughter ceased abruptly as he looked up, his expression instantly turning wary.
“Good morning, you two,” Drew said, stepping into the room.
He crouched down beside you and reached out to ruffle Rustyn’s hair.
“Morning,” you replied with a smile, tilting your head to kiss Drew on the cheek.
Rustyn, however, wasn’t having it. He quickly turned to block Drew’s path, wrapping his arms around you protectively.
“Mine!” he declared, his voice carrying the authority of someone much older than three.
Drew snorted. “Here we go… again.”
You tried to smooth things over, rubbing Rustyn’s back.
“Rustyn, sweetie, Dada’s just saying good morning.”
“No,” Rustyn said stubbornly, glaring at Drew.
“Wow, sassy” Drew said, sitting back on his heels.
“You really don’t want to share, huh?”
Rustyn shook his head firmly, burying his face in your shoulder.
You sighed, giving Drew an apologetic look.
“He’s in full cling mode right now. It’s a phase.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll remember this when he’s a teenager and wants nothing to do with either of us,” Drew said, though his tone was light.
Rustyn peeked out at Drew, his pout softening slightly.
“Mommy’s mine,” he whispered, as if reiterating his claim.
“Alright, alright, she’s all yours” Drew said, holding up his hands.
Rustyn grinned, clearly satisfied with his victory.
Drew shook his head, chuckling.
“You know, for someone so small, he’s got a lot of attitude.”
“Wonder where he gets it from,” you teased, raising an eyebrow at Drew.
Drew smirked. “Definitely you.”
You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. Moments like this were your favorite.
By the afternoon, Drew decided it was time to reclaim some territory. While Rustyn was busy playing with his toy cars, Drew sidled up to you in the kitchen.
You were chopping vegetables for lunch when he slipped his arms around your waist from behind.
“Hi,” he murmured against your ear.
“Hello,” you replied, smiling as you leaned into him.
“You know,” Drew began, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “I don’t think Rustyn’s watching right now.”
You turned your head to look at him.
“Drew,” you warned, though your tone lacked any real conviction.
“What? Can’t a husband show his wife some affection?” he asked innocently.
Before you could respond, the sound of tiny feet padding into the kitchen reached your ears.
Rustyn appeared in the doorway, his eyes narrowing when he saw Drew holding you.
“No!”
Drew sighed dramatically, releasing you and turning to face Rustyn. “Really? I can’t even hug Mommy now?”
Rustyn marched over, his little fists balled up at his sides.
“No, Dada! Mommy’s mine!”
Drew knelt down to his son’s level, shaking his head.
“You’ve got some nerve, kid.”
Rustyn crossed his arms, his pout deepening.
“Mommy loves me more.”
Drew gasped, clutching his chest as though Rustyn’s words had physically wounded him.
“Oh, that’s cold, buddy. Real cold.”
You laughed, leaning against the counter.
“You walked right into that one.”
Drew looked up at you, his expression mock-wounded.
“You’re supposed to have my back.”
“I’m just enjoying the show,” you teased.
Rustyn, now satisfied that Drew had been properly put in his place, turned back to you and raised his arms. “Mama up, pleaze.”
You obliged, scooping him up and resting him on your hip.
Drew shook his head as he stood. “You’re lucky you’re cute, Rusty.”
Rustyn stuck his tongue out at Drew, prompting you to scold him gently. “Rustyn, be nice to Dada.”
“Yeah, listen to Mommy,” Drew said, grinning.
Rustyn huffed but leaned his head against your shoulder, clearly unwilling to share you anytime soon.
Drew stepped closer, placing a hand on your back.
“One day, buddy, you’re gonna regret pushing me away. You’ll want my advice on girls, sports, life…and I might just remind you of this moment.”
Rustyn didn’t respond, already drifting off into another nap.
You smiled at Drew, your heart full. “You know he loves you, right?”
“Oh, I know,” Drew said, his grin softening into a tender smile.
“But right now, he’s a mommy’s boy so...”
“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” you added knowingly.
Drew nodded, wrapping an arm around you both.
“Not for a second.”
#drew starkey#drew starkey imagine#drew starkey imagines#drew starkey x y/n#drew starkey x you#drew starkey fanfiction#drew starkey fanfic#drew x reader#drew starkey x reader#drew starkey smut#drew#drew starkey fluff#drew starkey one shot
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♡ babydaddy!rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader go to her first prenatal appointment
warnings: super sweet fluff, pregnancy, descriptions of pregnancy symptoms, reader is emotional (she can’t help it, okay?!!), crying, reassurance, comfort, some brief medical terminology
a/n: creating an official au introduction for this little universe of mine <3 just a reminder that pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this pairing unless stated otherwise in the author’s note!
wc: 1.9k
“ray, i can’t hold it!” you shrieked, heavy tears rolling down your cheeks, “you’re going to make me pee, i’m not kidding!” rafe was currently tickling your sides, your once hysterical laughter soon turning into breathless pants as he continued ignoring your pleas for him to stop. “aw, come on..” it wasn’t until the smile dropped from your face that he took the hint and got off of you, quickly helping you up to your feet so you could run to the bathroom.
you found yourself doing that a lot more now, your ability to ‘hold it in’ was long gone by this point. that, along with crying over the smallest things like rafe rubbing your tummy despite you not really showing yet, his attentiveness and care never failing to make you sob in his arms. thankfully, your morning sickness wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. now that you were approximately eight weeks, sailing was becoming more smooth, both you and rafe finally catching a small break from the wrath of your raging hormones.
you never got angry in the first few weeks, but annoyed and irritated? definitely. a few times you had to flash rafe a warning smile before he could take the hint that you didn’t want any of the food he was trying to feed you— the smell of certain meats making you feel queasy. “do you want me to projectile vomit into your lap?” you’d ask sweetly, your eyes slightly wide as rafe frantically shook his head before taking the forkful of steak away from your lips.
he’d been a good sport about absolutely everything. even now as he helped you out of his truck, rafe was quick to sling your purse over his shoulder, his hands staying glued to your hips until your pretty pedicured feet softly landed on the ground. you wasted no time in scheduling your doctor’s appointment the same fated day you and rafe looked down at that positive pregnancy test. you couldn’t believe a whole month had already flown by that quick.
“i’m a little nervous..” your whispered, taking rafe’s arm with your own, the height difference easily making you feel comforted as he held your hand. “ah, don’t be, i read that they’re just gonna run a few tests and ask you some questions, that’s all, sweetheart.” oh, you could cry right now. scratch that, you were crying right now. “you looked up how my first appointment would go?” rafe’s head shot down as soon as he heard your crying voice, both of you stopping just right outside of the doctor’s office.
“hey..” he turned, cupping your cheeks, “baby, i didn’t mean to make you sad.” he stroked the side of your face, thumbing away any stray tears that managed to roll down your cheeks. “no, you didn’t make me sad, it’s just— you’ve been so good to me, even before all of this, i just feel so lucky to have you. you’re so sweet, and you’re so helpful, and you even put up with me when i have an attitude sometimes, and—” rafe stopped your rambling when another couple came walking up to the entrance.
flashing awkward smiles at each other, rafe scooted you over before pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “what did i tell you when you were panicking, flipping through that calendar book of yours?” you laughed at the memory. you were so scared that day. “you said you were going to take care of us.. of me.” rafe nodded, lifting your chin so you could look up at him. “i meant that, y/n. there’s nothing to be scared of, alright? everything that i’m doing for you isn’t even the tip of the iceberg for what you deserve, you understand that?” you blinked, wrapping your arms around his waist as you two stood there in silence for a few moments.
rafe held you until you were ready to go inside, your boyfriend holding the door open for you as you were hit with chilly air and the smell of antiseptic. “i’ll get the sign-in sheet, just go ahead and sit down, baby.” you listened, clasping your hands together in your lap as you took a look around the other women in the waiting room. everyone seemed so calm, like there really wasn’t anything to worry about. you figured you’d just been overthinking on your way over here, worrying yourself to death for no reason.
rafe came back with a clipboard, quickly filling out your information and handing it over to you when there was a section he didn’t know the information to. “hey, how about we get something to eat after this? we could get those subs you like down at the sandwich shop.” it was as if rafe read your mind, a small smile forming on your lips before you pecked his cheek. “with those spicy kettle cooked chips?” rafe hummed, taking the clipboard back from your hands. “yeah, whatever you want.”
you two waited for your name to be called out for no longer than fifteen minutes, your heart dropping to your stomach once a woman in pink scrubs smiled at you brightly. rafe could tell by the slight shake of your hands that you were back at square one. “look, everything is alright, let’s go check on this little one, yeah?” you swallowed nervously, allowing rafe to guide you inside the double doors, his large palm resting in the small of your back as you two followed the nurse to your room. the walls were painted with all kinds of animals, the woman who was going to do your ultrasound welcoming both of you in.
“hello! how are we feeling today?” she helped you up on top of the chair. “i’m on edge a little bit..” you told her truthfully, your eyes finding the probe for your ultrasound. “aw, that’s completely normal, i promise you you’re in great hands. is this dad?” she glanced over at rafe, the poor man turning red at the name. "yes, that's me.. dad.." the nurse laughed, grabbing a hospital gown from one of the cabinets. "still really new, huh? is this your first?" both you and rafe nodded. "oh, how exciting!" she squealed.
"are you aware of what we're going to do for this first visit?" rafe grabbed the chair from the corner of the room, moving it up to where he could sit next to you. "not really." you shook your head, letting rafe's hand envelope your own. "so even though the pregnancy tests you've taken are positive, we're still going to draw blood and run a few tests just to be sure," she started, "i'm going to be asking you a few medical history questions, checking your vitals to make sure everything with you is okay, and we should also be finding out your due date today!"
you took everything in, your tummy fluttering in excitement at the prospect of getting to find out when you were having your baby. "does that sound okay?" she began typing something on her computer as you hummed. "alrighty, first and foremost; when was the date of your last missed menstrual cycle?" you wracked your brain for an answer, trying your best to remember what your calendar book said. "uhm.. i don't know the exact day but i wanna say it's been five weeks since i found out i was pregnant, and before that i was late three weeks." she typed quickly as you spoke.
the questions continued as she took your vitals, along with recording your height and weight. “are you taking any prenatal vitamins?” you were about to say yes before rafe blurted out. “she’s taking the best ones on the market.” he smiled, both you and the nurse laughing as he took the bottle out of your purse. “yeah, those work wonders,” she agreed, “remember a healthy diet is also key to keep both you and the baby healthy. plenty of water, too.” rafe made a mental note to start bringing your stanley everywhere.
the nurse took your blood, instructing you to change into the hospital gown before she left with the viles to take them for testing. “i think she’s gonna put that thing inside of me.” you pointed at the probe on the side of the ultrasound machine, a shiver running down your spine as you sat back down on the chair. rafe couldn’t help but snap some pictures of you, his smile reaching ear to ear as you posed for him. “i hope she doesn’t take long, i’m hungry.” you pouted. just then, the nurse came back in with a some papers in her arms.
“so just as we expected already, your bloodwork came back positive, and everything else looks really good. all we have to do now is your pelvic exam and your ultrasound to get that due date!” you settled into your chair, stirring uncomfortably as she placed your feet onto the stirrups. rafe was watching everything intently, making sure you weren’t in pain or anything as she began your exam. thankfully, she was making small talk with both you and rafe, asking you two questions as well as giving you advice since you were first time parents.
“y’all are going to be just perfect, i promise you that. loving parents create happy households, and by the looks of you two, your home will be overflowing with happiness and love.” she smiled, finishing up your appointment with a satisfied hum. “everything looks good! although your blood pressure is a little bit up, that comes from the nerves you felt earlier, so we definitely want to be more careful with that, but everything else, baby included, looks healthy.” you sighed in relief, your shoulders relaxing as rafe nodded in understanding.
“when will we be able to actually see an ultrasound?” you asked, kind of sad that you didn’t get to see the little bean today. the nurse took her gloves off before checking something off on her clipboard. “i was actually hoping you’d be able to come in two weeks from now? we should be able to see the contraction of a heartbeat since you’ll be ten weeks by then.” you gasped softly. “oh, i would love that!” you nodded frantically, looking up at rafe just to confirm. “yeah, that sounds amazing.” he smiled, stroking your arm before the nurse adjusted the glasses on her nose.
you couldn’t help but feel antsy because of how excited you were, everything hitting you all at once. you were really going to have a baby. with rafe especially, you couldn’t imagine anyone else in his position. “well, i’m going to go set that up then and print out your overview for the appointment. you could go ahead and change back into your clothes and once your done the receptionist will have your paperwork to take home.” you and rafe thanked her and bid her goodbye before she stepped out.
you took everything in once it was just you and rafe, both of you sitting in silence as you gathered your thoughts. now that all you wanted to do was see that sonogram, you knew these next couple of weeks were going to get here agonizingly slow. “let’s get your clothes on.” you let rafe dress you back up, the two of you making your way up front and getting the papers. you were jumping excitedly on your way out once you saw the due date, rafe taking his camera out and getting what felt like the hundredth photo of you today.
“i can’t wait to find out the gender, we’re going to have the cutest nursery!” you squealed excitedly nearly tripping over your feet before rafe rushed over and got you in the truck. “so how about those sandwiches?”
#❤︎₊ ⊹ works#₊˚⊹♡ rafe#₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader#₊˚⊹♡ babydaddy!rafe x pogue!sweetheart!reader#outer banks#outer banks smut#outer banks imagine#outer banks fanfiction#rafe outer banks#obx#rafe obx#obx smut#obx imagine#obx fanfiction#obx x reader#rafe cameron#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron prompt#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fluff#rafe x you#rafe fanfiction#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe imagine#drew starkey
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Honor Among Thieves
Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Reader
Summary: Marrying Brooklyn’s most dangerous man was easy. Divorcing him proves to be a bit harder—particularly when you’re pregnant with his child.
Warnings: 18+. Unprotected p-in-v. Oral (f!receiving). Breeding kink. Hurt/Comfort/We-Almost-Just-Died-Sex. Morning sickness. Manslaughter. Brief coerced kissing. Beefy, mob boss Bucky is a possessive expectant father who just wants to make sure he knocked you up properly
Descriptions of violence throughout
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4
“You know exactly what you’re doing.”
Bucky’s words reverberated like a shotgun’s report, skimming across two dozen feet of marble, glass, and stainless steel before reaching your ears on the opposite end of the room. He was standing at the threshold of the kitchen, and your back was turned to him. Lucky thing, too, or else he would’ve seen the smile threatening to tug at both ends of your lips—effectively blowing your cover.
“Really, I don’t have the slightest idea, Barnes,” you told him, and it took everything in you not to laugh. Having just narrowly preserved your composure, you continued, “You keep me locked in this prison all day and expect me not to find ways to entertain myself? Well, this is all it is.”
Like hell it was, you could already hear in Bucky’s head. Feeling him eye you up and down from the archway, take his first steps into the room, loosen his tie, most likely.
“Prison?” You registered a low scoff, and his voice was already so much closer than it’d been five seconds ago.
Your husband was striding as quickly as his smooth, dark, tailored suit would allow, and he was undressing as he walked. You could hear the clothes coming off but pretended not to notice. Instead staring more intently at the crab bisque simmering on the stove before you, you licked the spoon you were holding and hummed a little.
“Yes,” you answered, simply, “Prison.”
Bucky was by your side in no time at all. Up close, he smelled like rosemary, oakmoss, and gunpowder.
“Well, this is news to me,” he said. He dragged out the middle syllables of his words longer than was necessary, likely to make his move sidling up closer to you. The last sound had scarcely died in his throat more than a second or two before you felt an arm loop around your back. A hand coming to rest on your hip, then his voice, again:
“See, I never knew they built ‘prisons’ up in first-class penthouse apartments in Brooklyn. Must be pretty nice.”
Bucky stepped behind you, and you were half-certain the black suit jacket he’d come home wearing was fully removed. Again, you pretended not to see, or care.
“It’s a metaphor, James.” But your voice wavered.
“A metaphor?” Bucky’s head sank into the soft groove between your neck and your shoulder, and he kissed it.
“Yes.”
Your mouth made a sound more akin to a breath than a real, enunciated word, and you knew Bucky felt it too. He sensed this headstrong, no-bullshit façade of yours was sure to come crumbling apart any second, and each new brush of his hands and lips would be making it happen. Knowing this, he wasn’t in a rush to get the rest of his clothes off. He did, however, start to toy with yours.
“Tell me more. Am I really holding you hostage, doll?”
You took a ladle and started to stir, trying to stay cool. Meanwhile, your husband tugged gently on your dress.
“Hostage, housewife, same thing,” you muttered, low.
For once, it was Bucky’s turn to break character, as he laughed. It was short-lived and sweet, and he pressed another kiss to the skin of your neck, as if in apology.
“Right, right. I forgot. You were forced to marry me.”
“Right,” you shook your head, just slightly emboldened by the way you’d made him crack, if only for a moment, “I’m forced to marry you, move into this horrific little shanty in Brooklyn”—gesturing to the multi-million dollar apartment surrounding you both—“and then you leave me here, all by myself, with nothing to do while you go play Godfather with your mobster friends. It’s not fair.”
By the tail end of that last sentence, you and Bucky both were already grinning a little, coming to terms with just how ridiculous it sounded when you phrased it like that. Still, your husband seemed game to keep the bit going.
“Now that’s just not true,” he said, tone all faux offense.
You felt the soft snap of a ribbon coming undone, and in a second realized it was the satin bow holding the back of your dress together. The fabric loosened, and Bucky’s hands slid down your sides, over your front—of course.
“I didn’t leave you ‘by yourself’ at all, doll,” he said, and suddenly, his palms were fanning out, over something, “Gave you this baby to keep you company, didn’t I?”
The ‘something’ he was touching now was your belly. All soft and smooth and protruding out in a perfect little globe beneath your dress, no bigger than when he’d left for work that morning. Bucky treated the bump like it was a novelty all the same—like he was seeing it for the first time and couldn’t believe he was actually the one responsible for making it get like that. It had gotten to be a hobby of his, nearly, just how much he loved watching it grow. He had his fingers splayed out across your tummy virtually every chance he could get, and that didn’t stop whether you were out in public or sharing a moment in the comfort of home; he couldn’t get enough.
Which was why Bucky was right when he’d said you knew exactly what you were doing when he came home that day. You knew just the kind of effect that wearing a tight, white dress while cooking dinner would have on him, and you hoped it would rile him up just like this: with his hands roaming over every inch of your body, making soft, sweet circles along the swell of your belly, and kissing your neck again and again. Biting some, too. Getting so worked up he was all but gnawing at the skin as he drank in your scent and got lost to pure instinct.
If it wasn’t clear that Bucky had had a breeding kink before, you saw it written plain as day across his face every morning and night since he’d first learned you were pregnant. Like all the life force within him was just a byproduct of the knowledge that you were his—and this baby, growing bigger each day, was a mix of you both.
You hated to say it, but fatherhood suited your assassin-trained, mob-heading, bloodlusting husband better than anyone could have predicted in a million years or more.
Presently, Bucky flipped you around and sank to his knees. He slid you over to the counterspace area, away from the stove, and made sure to flip each knob to ‘off’ to make sure there wasn’t a chance you’d get burned. You cast one last look at the crab bisque and knew at once your hard work would have to be put on the back burner for now, because Bucky wasn’t hungry for that.
Still, you kicked a foot in soft, muted protest when you felt him slide his hands up your legs, under your dress, and start to reach for your panties. You let out a breath.
“I spent two hours perfecting the seasoning on that, Barnes,” you chided him, gently and without much admonition in your voice as you pointed to the soup, “You say you want a good little housewife but won’t even leave me un-fucked long enough to try any food I make!”
“And I’m very sorry about that, Mrs. Barnes,” Bucky replied, head disappearing beneath your skirt so he could take your underwear off with his teeth instead.
But, much like your reproach, your husband’s strained apology held less than half of its professed sincerity. Your blue cotton panties were discarded in a second, your hips pushed back against the cool white marble behind it, and Bucky, almost too cheekily, brought his head back up from underneath your dress just to steal a quick look at your belly, then up at you. He was smiling.
“Anything you make tastes amazing, honey. Daddy just needs to eat a little something beforehand, that okay?”
He already knew what you’d say. The sweet, shit-eating grin hovering over your lower half knew all that and more. Bucky just loved to tease, taking the hem of your dress between his index and thumb, and rubbing all the more tenderly, murmuring again, ‘That alright with you, pretty girl?’ and ‘My wife likes getting tonguefucked in the kitchen, doesn’t she?’ while his breaths spread over you.
You nodded that you did. Momentarily forgetting the three-course meal you’d had planned for him since early that morning, you let your knees fall limply apart from one another, and Bucky’s broad form filled the space in between. The fabric of your dress was snug, especially so over your belly. Your husband pushed the material up your hips and let it rest just high enough to expose your warmth to him. Angling your hips back the slightest bit, trailing his fingers up your thighs and inside them, gently, Bucky let out a low groan against your body, and you could feel the vibrations of it travel up your spine.
“I really am mean for keeping you here all day, aren’t I?” he teased, sliding the tips of his fingers between your glistening folds and watching you jolt in response.
“So— so mean. Bucky, please.”
Your voice was far more hoarse than circumstances would seem to beget; your husband had just eaten you out that morning. Nevertheless, your hand was trembling as it reached for his head. Your pull was taut and dire. While your fingers threaded in through his hair and your body opened itself more and more for him, you could feel that kind smile, even if you couldn’t see it. Frankly, the swelling of eight-and-a-half months made it difficult to see much of anything below the waist, but Bucky made sure to let you know he was there. By holding your hand, skimming his lips against your skin, starting, just then, to sink his fingers in toward the heat of your body, and softly pulling his face away so he could look up at you.
“Baby?” he breathed.
Your eyes locked with his as he slid two fingers inside you. The stretch alone was enough to put your brain on the fritz, but, fighting the first shockwaves of pleasure:
“Y-Yeah?”
He withdrew. Pressed them back in and let out a grunt.
“I need you to do something for me.”
You couldn’t fathom what that might be, but you nodded anyway. ‘Anything’ was what you managed to choke out.
“And you might not like it, doll.”
Your eyes widened some.
“O— O-Okay, what?”
Bucky’s fingers curled inside you, and a short, sharp streak of dizzying pleasure pulsed through your body. Your knees felt weak, and your mind even worse, but with what little resolve you had left, you were able to keep your eyes entirely open and fastened to his. A look that struck you as almost bittersweet crossed your husband’s features, and you saw his gaze soften again.
“I need you to wake up,” he said, calmly.
“What?”
Your toes curled tight underneath you, and the warmth between your legs leapt up to over a thousand degrees.
“Melaya, I need you to wake up.”
At the same time, your blood ran cold in your veins. Surely, you couldn’t be hearing him right if the voice he used was so gruff and low—and laden with a Russian lilt.
“Bucky? What— What do you mean?”
But you knew. Or suspected something of it anyway.
Now the sound from your own throat was hardly one that you recognized as yours, so shrill and high and strange—what could he mean by that? Why was he watching you in that way? Your husband wasn’t smiling so brightly anymore, and the once-gratifying conflagration between your legs had grown to an almost scorching degree, no longer nice, generous, or pleasurable in the slightest.
“We need you to wake up now, honey. Right now.”
His tone, too, was distorted. Grating.
“Bucky, I-I don’t underst—”
“WAKE UP!”
“WAKE UP!”
Natasha shook you hard, and it hurt.
She didn’t mean for it to. She just needed you up and out of bed, and you’d been asleep for almost fourteen hours.
You started at the fifth or sixth shake, nearly punching yourself in the face when you tried yanking a set of covers up and over your head and discovered, shortly, that there was none. You were splayed out on a bed in an as-yet unfamiliar home—Steve’s new place—and, while you slept, you’d kicked all of the blankets you’d been given the night before off your body and onto the floor.
Your eyes were wide as saucers as they darted to Nat’s.
There was no need to say what had happened—she knew these dreams were getting worse by the day.
It’d been a week since you fled your Brooklyn apartment in an all-out terror. A week since a senseless, short-sighted idea on your part had led to the discovery that your husband was once part of a HYDRA sleeper cell whose activation phrase turned him into an agent of total destruction at will. A week since you’d seen a half dozen bodies litter your living room floor, more still being bludgeoned by the so-called ‘Winter Soldier,’ as Bucky had formerly been known. A week since you’d sobbed in Natasha’s arms and begged her not to let you go back. A week since you’d been obliged to hide out in Steve Rogers’ new bachelor pad upstate, because, frankly, there was nowhere else you could safely live until this whole ordeal with Bucky was settled—if it ever would be.
A full week since you’d learned you were pregnant, too.
As far as you knew, your husband was wholly unaware of this fact, and of Steve’s most recent real estate purchase up in Buffalo, and you’d been existing in a semi-serene and largely dissociated state for the past seven days.
Your gaze adjusted to the light, and you blinked up at Nat, feeling damp in just about every place on your body. You looked down and found yourself drenched in sweat.
“Hydrate. Please.”
It wasn’t so much a request as it was a standing order: Nat holding out a glass of water and instructing you to drink. Though your first instinct was to make a face and shake your head—you’d found that any new fluids in your body this early in the morning would only get thrown back up when you made your first frantic trip to the toilet—you accepted it anyway. You drank three big gulps to appease the woman standing next to the bed, then wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and smiled
“I’m gonna go puke now,” you said.
“Aim for inside the toilet bowl if you can,” Steve called out from the doorway. By the look on his face, you’d been doing a pretty shit job of aiming vomit lately.
“My bad, Rogers.”
You had a hand on your stomach, slowly easing back up into a seated position, when you heard something being flung across the room, followed by a ‘HEY!’ and a crash.
“Your aim sucks, too, Romanoff,” Steve griped, loudly, “And I was kidding. She can puke wherever she wants.”
By the door, a hefty hardcover book lay open on the floor. Apparently Nat’s options for projectiles had been limited.
“All good, Rogers,” you offered anyway. Fighting a smirk.
You were starting to stand, and your head felt as if you’d just taken your first steps off a rocking boat. Your other hand jumped to your mouth, and you muttered, ‘Fuck’ before brushing past Nat and her outstretched arms.
She held your hair while Steve retrieved the glass of water, as well as a towel. The unsightly first trimester ritual proceeded as it had for all of the last week, with Nat rubbing circles in your back and Steve making well-meaning but completely useless live commentary like, ‘Babies are a real pain in the ass, aren’t they?’ At the conclusion of each new stupid remark, Natasha would shoot a dirty look his way, but you never let her shoo him away. Through no conscious choice of your own, Steve had become something of a comfort blanket over the course of the past chaotic days. At the very least, you two were no longer at each other’s throats flinging accusations and exorbitantly-priced tumblers in the other’s direction, which was a marked improvement from where you were the day after you and Bucky’s wedding.
At length, you lifted your head from the toilet, and he daubed at your cheek with the towel—mostly just trying to wipe off spit and your own queasy-looking expression. He succeeded in clearing away just the former, but you forced a smile all the same, then shared it with Natasha.
Nat couldn’t smile back. In fact, the grimace on her face only etched even deeper, and her forehead creased.
“This is a horrible time to be asking you this, I know—”
“Nat, please.” Steve groaned.
Nat, what? There wasn’t a lot more that could catch you off guard after all the shit you’d come to see that week. Still, Nat’s breaths were both measured and slow, and you could see she was chewing on the inside of her cheek like she wasn’t quite sure how best to phrase her words. This, coming from one of the most astute legal minds this side of the Hudson River, gave you pause.
“Ask anything. I’m pretty numb, if you haven’t noticed.” You rapped on the side of your head for comedic effect, but neither Natasha nor Steve laughed or cracked a grin.
“How do you feel about filing for divorce tomorrow?”
At the sound of Nat’s words, you felt the bile jump back up your throat. You knew there wasn’t enough food or fluid to make much of anything now, but all the same, you craned your neck back over the toilet and retched. When nothing came out, as expected, you turned back.
“What?”
Natasha looked a little ill herself, but still, she continued.
“How do you feel about just…fast-tracking a divorce from him and taking off new? We’ll talk assets later.”
Assets? Fast-track? Divorce? What the fuck?
“What the fuck, Nat?” you repeated as much out loud.
It normally wasn’t your thing to be so blunt with her, but the inquiry certainly seemed to invite some extra candor. You swiped at your mouth for any excess spit that might’ve trickled out, crudely, and in a second, Steve was handing you the towel. Then helping you to your feet, holding your arm and lower back in a grip you could feel was secure. You were unsteady on your legs, so he and Natasha guided you over to the sink, where you could regain your bearings and freshen up a bit. Sneaking a look at your reflection in the mirror was a bad idea; your face was sallow, and the rest of your body had every appearance of being horribly weak, for lack of a better word. You caught a glimpse of a gash sitting just above your left temple and immediately looked away. Stupidly, you hoped Steve and Nat hadn’t seen it.
“He did that to you,” Nat said without missing a beat.
You winced, and you washed your hands, not looking up.
“I thought you said it wasn’t him. Soldat, you told me.” And for a second, your eyes flickered to Steve, whose expression was a touch more sympathetic, if not visibly discomfited now. Like he didn’t want to speak for once.
He did, anyway: “Doesn’t matter if it was Winter or him, really. Point is he hurt you while trying to protect y—”
“And yet, you asked me to forgive him just last week for killing my dad in the same type of rage,” you replied, and instantly regretted the accusatory tone you’d taken on.
Your anger was misdirected at Steve. It wasn’t his fault for sharing the truth about your husband’s—his best friend’s—past when you’d asked him. These were queries you’d made, helping to form justifications for your own decision to stay after what had happened in Madripoor. Obviously, Steve would be biased to help support his friend in a time of need. But now things were different; Bucky had never been activated as soldat and ended up hurting someone he’d loved before. Steve was free to change his mind after seeing that happen and urge you to leave, or at least reconsider, your marriage to Bucky.
The second look you gave him attempted to convey as much, a bit more apologetic as he and Natasha led the way out of the bathroom. Steve smiled and held your arm again, though you probably didn’t need it. You walked downstairs to the kitchen together. Over by the toaster, Sam was inspecting a charred bagel with a scowl
“Rogers, you really need to ditch this shit,” he said, gesturing to the rusted metal contraption that appeared to be from 1918, and had just burnt two bagels to a crisp.
“It was a gift from a friend, piss off,” Steve replied, grinning a little. Reaching for the blackened bread roll and even going so far as to take a bite, crunching loudly.
“Did your friend happen to fight in World War II?” Nat asked. She lent one look to the archaic machine but said nothing further, opting instead to take a seat at the kitchen table, where a sea of papers was strewn about.
Then, to you, “Come. Sit.”
Somewhere in your tentative stroll from where you stood to where she sat, and in the middle of the men’s toaster bickering, Sam called out that he’d have bacon and eggs ready in a second. Steve offered up his singed sesame bagel in the interim, and you told him no thanks. With a still slightly throbbing skull and a nauseous gait, you took the chair next to Nat’s and looked down at her papers.
Honestly, you thought your present condition might warrant some leeway when it came to holding off on the heavy-hitting topics first thing, but, to your surprise, Natasha slid a crisp white packet over almost instantly.
“Nat, what the fuck?” you groaned for the second time.
“Read it. Give it a second to digest, then we can—”
“No!” you cut in, pushing the packet back to her with a little more force than you’d meant, “I-I can’t. Not now.”
On the very first page, in bold and capitalized typeface, there was printed a brief string of words you’d never wanted—or thought you would ever need—to see:
‘VERIFIED COMPLAINT: ACTION FOR DIVORCE’
“It’s just the petition. No harm in taking a look,” Nat said.
You could hear a faintly gentler tone in her voice, even as you shook your head and looked away from the papers.
“I don’t want to. I can’t do this right now.” You kept shaking your head for a couple seconds after, turning your gaze instead to the bay window of Steve’s kitchen.
A nice, sprawling yard stretched as far as you could see. In the distance, a fuzzy white horizon was punctuated the slightest bit by the outline of a wood fence, but apart from that, the land was empty. The lot was secluded. Happy and effervescent in a nearly cloudless sky, the midmorning sun cast its rays without so much as the threat of a storm’s hinderance. You fixed your eyes on the clear expanse above and silently wished it would rain.
Before more than a minute or two had passed like that, Sam was approaching the table with two platters. Steve balanced four more by himself, watching the sway of one plate of scrambled eggs in his arms with a wary look before setting each one of the dishes on the table.
“Bon appétit,” Steve said, butchering his French just about as badly as Sam had the bagels. You and Nat thanked them both anyway and started clearing off the table, pushing papers away in favor of steaming plates. Sam and Steve sat down, and all of you began to eat.
While you dutifully piled on each scoop of eggs, bacon, sausage links, biscuits, gravy, and grits—far more than you knew you could feasibly consume—you wished again for a rainstorm, and maybe a quiet breakfast. One that wasn’t marred by talks of legal separation and lengthy battles in court, if you could help it at all. To this end, and perhaps against your body’s best interest, you shoveled two supersized spoonfuls of egg in your mouth, so that if Nat tried reviving those subjects again, you could put off the conversation by simply continuing to chew. You felt your stomach turn inside you but, stubbornly, ate more.
You had just swallowed it all, about to make way for a warm, flaky buttermilk biscuit, when a sound cut in, and your belly flipped again. Your teeth had barely sunk into the bread a second when Nat set her own food aside, then used two fingers to push something toward you.
“Just skim it. Let me explain what the process can be,” she said, tapping her index on the first line and meeting your eyes as if to plead. She had to have known she’d be met with resistance—from you, of course, but also Steve. She raised a defensive hand to him before he even cut in:
“Come the fuck on, Nat. Will you give her a break?”
“I’m saying this for her sake! I’m doing it for her.”
“And throwing divorce papers in her face over breakfast is really the best way of going about it? Is that for her?”
Sam swallowed whatever he’d been chewing on, glanced down at the top paper, and seemed to brace himself.
“Guys, is now really the right time—” he started.
“That’s what I’m saying!” Steve barked over him.
Natasha ignored the plainly disdainful look from the latter, lifted her hand off the paperwork and instead trained her gaze solely on you. Just like she had in Zurich. Focusing intently on your face, ignoring whatever Steve or Sam were saying in the moment, she turned to you and found your expression was stale. Unmoving. Frankly, half of what was running through your mind right then was how badly you wanted to puke again. As if the eggs had turned rotten in your gut the second they reached their destination in your GI tract, you felt a heavy, oppressive fog of nausea taking shape between your ears, and you just wanted everyone to stop talking.
Sam and Steve continued on without a hitch, agreeing vaguely but also appearing to bicker over other things, like when was the most appropriate time to have this conversation. Natasha was leaning in, reaching for your hand this time, and you knew she meant well. You would bet any large sum of money there wasn’t a malicious bone in her body, and she was doing this for your benefit. All the same, you were grateful when the front door swung back on its hinges, and a new person walked in. Nat, Sam, and Steve all suspended their conversations.
“Hey, wh—” the blissfully unaware, semi-stranger began.
“Sharon!” Steve cried, “Would you tell Romanoff she’s being a goddamn pest with no sense of boundaries?”
Sharon halted at the threshold of the house, skating a look between Nat and Steve at first, then Steve and Sam, then just at you. The look didn’t linger for long, and before you knew it, she was setting down a fistful of grocery bags and twisting her mouth into a frown.
“Will you shut up, Steve?” was her only response.
Sam rose from his chair and pointed as if to say, ‘Yeah, that’ before joining her in the foyer to help carry in the Wegmans bags. Natasha leaned back in her chair with a vaguely pleased look, and Steve just rolled his eyes. He slapped his palm overtop the stack of divorce papers still laying before you and, seemingly undeterred, continued,
“Do you think it’s fair for her to force divorce papers on this poor soul—” pointing to you, the poor soul, apparently, “—when it’s been a week since she left?”
Sharon started handing off the frozen stuff first, sliding a box of Stouffer’s across the counter to Sam, who then deposited it in the freezer. These exchanges took place in relatively quick succession, with Sharon only chancing a look toward the kitchen table once or twice as they did.
“I think she should do whatever the hell she wants,” she said, “And I think their divorce is none of our business.”
Fair enough take. One that you could respect, at the very least, even if you weren’t certain she particularly cared for you at all. You reckoned she had no reason to, and on the whole, appeared to be a pretty reserved person.
You wanted to add a word in her defense, reiterate to Steve that he didn’t have to go to bat for you, the poor, defenseless soul, right now. Instead of being able to speak, though, you felt an upsurge of something heavy in your throat. You clamped a hand to your mouth again, cheeks flushing with the heady sensation and also out of embarrassment, then pushed your chair back and stood.
“I— gotta—” you stammered, just audible to the table, through the wall your fingers had made over your lips.
You sprinted up the stairs without another word.
The first trimester ritual repeated, and ten minutes later, you re-emerged from the bathroom feeling two big spoonfuls of scrambled eggs lighter and still none the happier, healthier, or wiser. You took a peek in the full-length mirror at the other end of the room and discerned from a distance of ten feet that you looked like dogshit.
You flopped down on the bed face-first, heedless of the pool of sweat that still encompassed roughly half of it, and let out a weak, muffled breath into the sheets. Someone had been gracious enough to replace all the blankets and pillows you’d kicked off last night. When you heard a knock on the door, it sounded a lot like Nat’s.
You rolled to the side, eyes screwed shut in frustration.
“If you’ve come to tell me my marriage is a fucking dumpsterfire, I agree completely, Natasha. I’m dumb.”
A little huff of a half-laugh sounded from the doorway. You opened your eyes and saw Sharon standing there.
Up close, she looked a little paler than you’d remembered seeing her last in Switzerland. Soft beads of perspiration dotted her neckline from what had likely been a hot and arduous journey walking up the driveway with all the food, and presently, she seemed tired. She wore a simple gingham blouse that had her eyes shining with vibrance, though, and both hands, you noticed, were full—she had a mug in one and a spoon in the other. She smiled kindly.
“The mob tends to have that effect,” she said, strolling in. Setting the mug on the nightstand and easing the spoon into it, stirring, “Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
You had no idea what all she knew about your marriage. You weren’t so sure you could extricate yourself from all the blame of having the thing go up in flames in four short weeks. Nevertheless, you smiled back and offered up something good-humored in return, like, well, I’m not exactly winning wife of the fucking year anytime soon.
Again, Sharon chuckled. It was small. She leaned back against the nearest armchair and, pointing to the cup she’d left to rest on the nightstand, said in a soft voice,
“Give that a minute. It’s hot.”
You glanced over and saw a little string that you guessed was attached to a teabag sitting at the bottom of the mug. The drink smelled like chamomile, maybe. You sat up, readjusted your pyjama top, then slid your socked feet underneath you so you could scoot closer to the edge of the bed. On a deeper inhale, you decided the tea was definitely chamomile. And too hot, as Sharon said.
“Thank you,” you told her.
“It’s not poisoned, I promise,” she replied. Letting out that funny little chuckle of hers—one too low to be considered a full laugh, but very close—and then, seeming to realize what she said might’ve sounded off, “Like— I heard what happened with Schröder. Him trying to drug you after the wedding and all…that. I— I’m sorry.”
Bad time to be making jokes, she appeared to chastise herself, but you just nodded along with the faintest grin.
“It’s OK. I’d pay money to be knocked the fuck out now.”
You grinned bigger, and she smiled too.
“It should make you sleepier, if you wanted to nap.”
You replied that you would, in fact, love to be unconscious right now if it meant not having to put up with all this bullshit morning sickness, and you slowly reached for the mug. Sharon stood up, and while you took your first sips, she fluffed the pillows behind you.
She was right. The tea felt like a hug. You settled under the covers and brought the cup to your lips once more, taking two big draughts before setting the drink aside. Yeah, that shit’ll put you right out, no drugs needed. You sank even further under the sheets and watched Sharon hover between the bed and the doorway, looking around as if trying to find something to do—some way to make herself feel more useful, if you had to guess from the pensive look in her eyes. Finally, she settled closer to the door and gave you one, fairly sanguine look. The warmth of your drink had already begun to nestle inside your weary bones, and your eyelids felt heavier. Still, you tried to return the sunny look before getting fully settled.
“Thanks again, Sharon. I appreciate it.”
“Yeah, of course.”
She started to leave. In fact, she’d already made it three-fourths out of the room when something stopped her in her tracks. She turned back to you, and you looked up.
“This…probably doesn’t mean a whole lot coming from me, but—whatever you decide to do with Bucky…is okay. We’ll support you, whether you choose to raise this baby with him or do…whatever it is you want to do. Don’t let Nat or Steve or Sam or anybody tell you differently. It’s your choice, y’know, whether you wanna stay married…”
Sharon trailed off, and somewhere inside, you could tell she meant to finish with words like, ‘…even if you didn’t get to make the choice to get married in the first place.’ You appreciated it. You beamed with just your head poking out from over the covers and thanked her again.
And, before she left, for the second time, she stopped. She walked over to the nightstand and bent slightly at the waist, just enough to set something small down. You turned to the side and saw a vial—a minuscule tube—on the surface. Your eyes widened, realizing what it was.
“Sam picked it up in Madripoor. He said Steve had given this to you…to, uh, give to Schröder, and I thought you should have it back,” she said, pausing, “Just in case.”
You eyed the little vial of poison on the nightstand and nodded, still not completely understanding. Your head throbbed, your stomach was still turning, churning. Your brain was about ten blinks away from logging off entirely and drifting to sleep. All you could do, then, was repeat what Sharon had said as you exchanged one final look.
“Just in case.”
Your eyes closed, and you fell asleep very soon after.
You couldn’t have been out for more than an hour; you were sure of it. However, the next time you glanced over at the clock on the bedside table, you saw it read 11:04.
P.M.
Shit.
SHIT.
That chamomille tea was no fucking joke.
Just as your thoughts drifted back to Sharon, the conversation you’d shared, the drink she’d given you, the poison she’d left behind for you to keep, you heard her voice all over again—and now, not just in your own head.
Presently, she was standing over your bed again, though the room was much darker this time around. She pressed a finger to her lips, hey, please, please, be quiet, alright? At first you wanted to make a sharp and strangled sound. A cry for help? You weren’t sure. Didn’t know. Couldn’t see very much of the woman at all, except for the outline of her face from the moonlight streaming in through the window. She stared and ‘shh’ed’ some more.
And you were contemplating yelling out a loud obscenity in response to it when next she cut in, markedly gentler:
“Keep it quick. Nat and the guys will be back in thirty.”
You blinked hard into the darkness and waited for your vision, or else your still-missing voice, to return. It didn’t. You just stared back, eyelids going up and down and up and down like a goddamn idiot gone sluggish off one too many Quaaludes, and it was several seconds more before she gestured behind her, into the shadows.
You tensed under the covers, chock-full of terror. You squinted, and shrank, and might’ve nearly pissed yourself were it not for the intervening force of a face.
A familiar face.
Bucky’s face.
You leapt up from the bed, displacing each one of Sharon’s cool and careful warnings from your mind all at once. You didn’t mean to, and as soon as she’d shushed you again, you shut your mouth. Fell still. Sharon slipped out of the room, reminding you both, again, that you had to be quiet, and you had to be quick. Then it was just you and Bucky. Silence and slightly less than five feet of space between you two. Then, shortly, no space to spare at all, as you ran to meet each for a hug a second later.
Your head struck his chest, and it was hard. That, alongside the python’s squeeze he wrapped around your body, hugging you to him in the tightest embrace imaginable, had your mind reeling, skull pulsing just a bit. You pulled back and stood smiling up at Bucky, whose eyes were wide, drinking the sight of you in.
‘Are you hurt?’ were his first words.
You shook your head that you weren’t, still unable to talk.
“Why are you— Who— who brought you— I didn’t—”
It seemed Bucky was equally hard-pressed to form a sentence himself, while his eyes were roaming wildly, all over you. Looking for bumps or bruises or cuts, whatever the wound might have been. He stumbled to the lamp and flicked it on. You tilted your head left, reflexively.
“I’m fine, Bucky,” you said. Sudden and swift, “I’m good.”
But you didn’t move your head too far to the right, either, for fear he might see the cut above your temple—the one soldat had caused when he’d pushed you to the floor, trying to protect you from a threat he couldn’t see.
As it was, your husband seemed to be too much in shock to see anything else apart from what stood immediately in front of him. He hugged you again. He kissed the crown of your head. He constricted your body so tight in his arms you felt a pressure start to build behind your eyes, and suddenly you weren’t so much pulling away as you were wrenching your body from him. When you met Bucky’s gaze again, the sweet blue irises were glossy.
“Nat wouldn’t say where you were, just that you were safe and needed to be…be alone for a while, but I—” He stopped, and it was as if he couldn’t even finish with the words, because his breath was stuck in his throat and his eyes were stinging too much. He looked down, briefly.
You wanted to reach for his hand but hesitated. He took yours a second later, holding extra tight as he continued:
“I thought I’d— thought you might’ve…left. I don’t know. I hadn’t been able to sleep, and then she— Sharon, she called me tonight, said you were here, so— so—”
You felt a pang of guilt holding his gaze, seeing how all the hurt that had come to accumulate behind those eyes over the last week went spilling, at length, into emotions he was either too overcome or sleep-deprived to express. The weight of this suffocated him, made him extra quick to speak his mind but slow to make sense of just about anything that was coming out of his mouth. He stopped, sucked in a breath, then pinched your hand in his, and you didn’t know what to do. You had no idea what to say.
“I was scared, Bucky.”
It sounded pathetic coming out of your mouth. Your husband nodded as though you’d just said the most profound thing in the world. His knuckles went white from just how hard he was gripping your hand, his head bobbed along in agreement, and for a moment, you winced to think that he might hug you again. Instead, the fingers tangled between yours just made a tighter knot.
“I know. I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” he said.
“You scared me,” you added, voice wavering.
Your left hand was going numb. You didn’t want to give him pause—possibly hurt his feelings—by freeing your touch from his, but that grip was brutal. Deathly rigid and unforgiving. Thoughts of Brooklyn and Madripoor came flooding back; Bucky was so much stronger than he realized. His tone, in contrast, was dulcet and soft.
“I didn’t know I’d get like that. I should’ve told you, doll.”
“I shouldn’t have tried the activation in the first place.”
You shouldn’t have tried digging into Bucky’s past all. When all there seemed to be at every turn was a brand new way for him to hurt you, or the people you loved, maybe there came a time when you had to stop asking questions altogether. Maybe that was what his mother and all the women who’d gone before her had known to do, what you had been too stupid to see all along. There was no knowing these men at all, only taking them as they were and learning to cope with what they became.
Bucky shook his head.
“No, doll, it’s not on you,” he murmured low. Still forceful
Thankfully, he released your hand to cup your cheeks, and he kissed your forehead. You felt your pulse in your palm, throbbing from where he’d held it. When he let go the second time, his expression was considerably softer.
“Listen, I’ll take you home, we can talk things over. As long as I know you’re safe, it doesn’t have to— to—”
Hey. He was already halfway toward the door before he realized you weren’t following him. He turned and gestured forward. He beckoned you, brows drawing in.
“Baby? C’mon.”
You didn’t budge.
Your feet were rooted in place, as though cemented to the floor. No matter how much you wanted to appease him, go along with whatever he asked, you couldn’t. You shook your head, and Bucky tilted his own, confused.
“Baby?”
“I’m leaving, Bucky.”
You couldn’t hear your own words slipping out between your teeth, only the blood rushing through your ears. Bucky stopped and turned to face you completely.
“What?”
“I’m leaving.”
“What— what do you mean, ‘you’re leaving’?”
“I want a divorce.”
That part you did hear yourself. You wished you hadn’t.
You wished you hadn’t seen the light break off from Bucky’s eyes, expression going limp the instant your words registered with him. You nearly wished you hadn’t said them at all, seeing just how far his face fell and how hurt he looked by them—but quietly, from somewhere more rational-headed inside yourself, there was a voice reminding the rest of you that it needed to be done. You couldn’t keep pretending like this wasn’t what had had to come next. What you’d been skirting with Nat all day and hadn’t been able to bring yourself to admit before now.
Your husband still didn’t seem to be computing it fully. He walked closer to you, and his gait was unsteady.
“Divorce?”
Your vision was bleary; you hadn’t even realized tears had begun to brim at your waterline as you watched him.
“It’s what we need, Bucky,” you could barely get it out.
“I don’t,” he shot back, not missing a beat, “I don’t.”
“It’s what I need.”
“You don’t mean that.”
His voice was hoarse, face shifting from lax incredulity to one of a wince—screwed up in a way that said he felt ill. You shook your head but couldn’t look away from him.
“You don’t mean that,” he repeated.
“It’s what I want,” you pressed on, just as sick yourself.
“You said what you wanted was me.” Again, Bucky’s voice splintered, and you could feel the pain in it.
“You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.”
Gritting your teeth, unsure where else to fix your stare on his face but those eyes—while your own betrayed their feelings too easily, fraught with wet, rolling tears—you shouldn’t have been surprised when his went wider.
“What are you talking about?”
The question was short, sharp, and biting, spoken with such haste as might be mistaken for anger, but the eyes softened his look at once. The anguish painting them now as he stared back at you were a proof, beyond a doubt, that it was betrayal, not rage, which steered him. He turned, and it was as if he couldn’t see a thing but you; his elbow clipped the lamp and knocked it over, but still, he just stared. In turn, the ceramic appliance rolled onto its side, toppled the mug and the vial beside it, and all three went crashing to the floor. Bucky didn’t blink.
“Wh—” he started again, but you didn’t hear the rest.
You remembered Sharon. Heard a flash of her last admonition in your head—be quiet, be quick—and without thinking, you fell to your knees. You tried retrieving what pieces of chipped lamp and shattered mug you could, quickly. You spotted the small vial on the floor and shoved it in a pocket. Your hands swept over the broken pieces without any real idea of what you were doing—all except needing to clean Bucky’s mess—and then swiftly, stupidly, you tried picking it up by yourself.
Of course, a shard cut you. The little slit that was left in its wake could have been no wider than a fraction of an inch, but still, it bled. You looked down at the cut, just then starting to sprout red from left to right along the side of your palm, when a new sight crossed your vision. It was fast, too. All but thoughtless in the way it broke in, gripping your hand in his, and yanking you to your feet. Bucky hadn’t seen that you’d cut yourself, it seemed, and, out of instinct, had grabbed your hand to help you up. As before, his grasp was like a vice, and his thumb pressed right inside the lacerated flesh, sending a whole new maelstrom of pain shooting up your wrist and arm. Now, as then, he was heedless of his strength and his sheer, brute force, that he didn’t even see the effect of his grip. He just held on, held you, tighter, tighter, and—
“STOP!” you shrieked.
You shoved him off. Pried his touch off your palm and gripped your forearm in your other hand and pored over the sight, seeing the gash almost doubled in size from just where Bucky’s finger had sunk into the fresh wound. You let out a sharp, muffled cry through lips that tried to stay closed—remembering Sharon again. You shook your head, clenched your jaw, and tore off the other direction.
And when your husband reached out, eyes wide with their own shock and apologies, ‘Baby, fuck, I’m so sorr—’ you threw him off again. With your non-bleeding palm, you thrust your hand against his chest and pushed hard:
“Don’t touch me!”
When he reached for you again, as if by force of habit, you held up a defensive arm and sobbed out, ‘Stop!’
‘Don’t touch me, don’t—don’t—don’t fucking touch me.’
You screamed it. You didn’t mean to. Thinking only vaguely of the need to be quiet, and almost entirely on the stabbing pain in your hand, the imprint of Bucky’s touch on your body, and the blood trickling down your forearm, you darted into the bathroom and threw the door closed behind you. You locked it. You meant to.
Twenty minutes might as well have been twenty years in Bucky Barnes’ mind. In a moment like this, following yet another supreme fuck up on his part, he felt powerless. He had had to fight the instinct to barge into the next room over with every fiber of his being, and, making fists by his sides and pacing the floor and hating himself was all that seemed capable of occupying his mind just then.
He’d knocked on the bathroom door at least ten times. He’d been ignored each time, no matter the duration.
He still had your blood on his thumb, and it made him ill.
You said you wouldn’t hurt me, Bucky.
While he uncurled his hand from a fist just long enough to stare at the streaks of red stretched over his finger, he heard those words replay over and over again in his head. He’d said it—swore it—himself, and still your blood was turning a cool, dark, dry shade of crimson on his thumb.
This wasn’t how he’d meant for any of this to go. Still, notwithstanding his best intentions, none of it mattered. He’d seen a sincere look of fear in your eyes looking up at him, and nothing in the world would change what he’d done, or who he was. He’d caused you pain tonight, last week—though his memory of that was still so hazy and dark he hardly knew what else had happened, even now—and above all, he’d failed you as a husband, a protector.
You were likely curled up in a ball by the bathroom sink, cowering in fear because of him. The thought sent another tidal wave of nausea thrumming through his skull, a lump in his throat growing larger alongside it, and before he knew what he was doing, Bucky was striding back to the bathroom door. He banged his fist against it.
“Honey?”
No answer.
“Baby, please open the door.”
More silence.
The moment brought to mind a memory from the night you two had been married. How you’d fled to the en-suite bathroom and locked yourself in it; how Bucky had rattled the whole doorframe with the force of his knocks, demanding you come out. He’d hardly known you then. You hardly knew him now. The realization of this made the weight in his throat all the more excruciating as he stood, and, wincing with pain, Bucky kept knocking.
“I’m sorry, honey, I’m so sorry.”
Pleading now. His voice was hoarse all over again.
Had he been the slightest bit more desperate and reckless, he might’ve been tempted to muscle through, kick the door in with his boot. But Bucky knew better. He could already guess how much that action would terrify you now, while tending to an injury that he himself had inadvertently made worse. Barreling inside would be neither romantic nor sweet, just sinking what may then be a lethal dose of salt in the deeper, metaphorical wound. He refrained. Instead of continuing to knock, he dropped his forehead to the door and closed his eyes.
“Please believe me, baby,” he tried again.
He’d said it so quietly he feared you might not hear it. Then, a little bit louder, ‘Please, please believe me.’
No sound to be heard inside but running water.
“You mean everything to me, doll.”
By now, his voice was clogged with pain, teetering on the brink of agony as he rested his hands on the door, and willed you to open it. Say something to him. Anything.
“I’d never mean to hurt you. Not in a million years.”
For a moment, he heard nothing more. Just how desperately he needed to hear a voice in reply could not be overstated. Craving a new sound worse than oxygen in his lungs. At first, when he heard something other than himself nearby, it nearly knocked him back with joy.
A voice right next to his ear, “But you did, didn’t you?”
The joy lasted less than a second.
The voice beside him was low. And close. Not coming from the other side of the bathroom door, as he might’ve reasonably expected from you, and not even in the tone of a female’s voice, as he might’ve seen, were Sharon to have appeared by his side. This new voice was deep, and masculine, and in his ear now, chuckling some as a gloved hand pressed the barrel of a gun to his temple.
Bucky didn’t blink.
You stepped outside not wanting to see him.
The bleeding had long since stopped, thanks to the aid of a cool, damp washcloth and a few minutes’ pressure, but even once it ceased, your legs were reluctant to carry you back. You dreaded the thought of having to resume your conversation with Bucky—of having to look him in the eye and tell him all over again that it wasn’t safe for you to be married to him. But you didn’t have much of a choice now, either. This wasn’t your honeymoon, where you could stay locked in the bathroom, try climbing out a window, and hope for the best like you’d done before. You had the man’s child inside you, for fuck’s sake.
That uncomfortable subject and at least a dozen more were already swarming your brain as you made your way out of the bathroom. You’d taken a few extra squares of toilet paper to press into the cut, were looking down at it with a tense, uncertain gaze as you ventured out, when you were obliged to stop just a few steps into the room.
“Hi, honey.”
It wasn’t Bucky.
Your eyes snapped up to the source of the voice in an instant, and, on seeing you were right—that it wasn’t Bucky but a gaunt, grinning blond with a gun to your husband’s head—you almost screamed at the sight.
You’d wanted to scream, anyway. It would’ve been the sane thing to do, and one that nobody could’ve blamed you for in the moment, you reckoned, but strangely the sound never came. You just stared at the two, eyes wide and jaw slightly more lax as your lips made an ‘o’. Bile jumped up in your throat. You wished it would choke you.
‘Please. Don’t.’ was all you could get out.
Johann Schröder’s smile stretched wider.
“Don’t what?”
The question was clearly meant to be derisive, rhetorical. Still, with your fingers trembling, you tried answering:
“Don’t hurt h—”
“Why?”
You watched the gun sink deeper against your husband’s face, and he flinched. Your stomach clenched inside you.
“Why shouldn’t I hurt him, hon? Seems like he’s gotten pretty damn good at doing it to you,” Schröder sneered.
His words stung. The grin didn’t flinch. And, as if to punctuate his sentence, or else remind your husband that he was tied to a chair and entirely at his mercy now, Schröder struck Bucky in the face with the butt of his gun. If an onlooker hadn’t known better, they might’ve mistaken you for the one who’d been hit, though—at last, you unleashed that scream, and you reached out for Bucky, hands open and pathetic and desperate to help.
“Think it hurt as bad as your hand?” Schröder hummed.
Your feet were stumbling forward, “He didn’t mean—”
Another resounding thud against Bucky’s skull, this time hard enough to split his lip in half. If he’d grimaced in the slightest, you would’ve seen the teeth smeared with blood. But, true to form, James Barnes didn’t wince. He hadn’t even seemed to acknowledge the blow as it landed. Just stared at you and, with eyes as hollow and deadened and faintly pleading as you’d ever seen them before, manifested their silent apology to yours—again.
“Bet he didn’t mean to hurt anyone as the Winter Soldier, either. Still couldn’t have felt too good for all the folks he butchered, though.” At that, Schröder’s sick amusement morphed into a laugh, and he was taking Bucky’s collar in his other hand. Shaking him lightly while he spoke.
“Couldn’t have felt all that great for your dad, I bet.”
The diversion turned to you, all toothy smiles and mocking eyes. He didn’t care. He let you stagger another step toward the two of them, even try to get your hands close to Bucky. But when you’d drawn too close, he stopped you cold. Not thinking much else in the moment, you made a move to push Schröder’s arm away, hard, and were shortly rewarded with a shove of your own. He knocked you sideways onto the bed, and you landed on the hand you’d hurt. Before you could let out so much as a sound yourself, Bucky’s voice tore in:
“Schröder.”
Schröder turned. He raised his Ruger to your husband’s head again, as casually as if he’d asked him for the time.
“Yes?”
“Don’t touch her.”
Schröder turned to you. Though he didn’t move the Ruger again, he did point his finger at your form, haplessly curled into itself amidst the covers and pillows.
“Why? Saving all the rough stuff for later, are we?”
You cowered as his free hand reached for you, and just as your husband’s eyes went wide and a vein nearly tore through his skin from how hard it protruded, you cried,
“What do you want?!”
Schröder stopped. He brought his hand to a halt just south of your thigh—and then he dropped his weight on the bed beside you. He gestured indistinctly, almost disbelievingly, toward Bucky. The latter appeared near-apoplectic, nails raking down either arm of the chair.
“What do I want?” Schröder quipped, incredulous, “What do you want, doll? To stay married to him?”
And you knew he’d intended the question to be hurtful; you knew it by the glint in his eye, the goading tone of voice and the look he’d flitted to Bucky—nondescript and yet saying a world more than words could ever convey. He knew what had gone on between you, had likely heard your last conversation in its entirety, and was now using it against you. Mostly to taunt, then to injure your husband with truths he hadn’t yet uncovered himself.
Schröder’s eyes were shining with sadistic delight as he took your hand in his. He didn’t waste another second.
“No, no, that isn’t what you want at all, is it?”
Ignoring the screech of Bucky’s restraints as he tried to lunge out of his chair. Hearing him curse when he failed.
“—you said you’re leaving him, right?”
Schröder slid the thin, glistening ring off the hand he’d been holding before you could even think to stop him.
“—said you want a divorce, is that it?”
Then his grin got so big and conceited and enlivened by the sight of pain working its way onto Bucky’s face that any good sense you’d had left inside you was abandoned in a blink. You didn’t hesitate, or else try and make a pass to retrieve your ring—you just hit the man in the face.
Your fist was small, and his chin was hard. You knew before you ever threw the punch that it’d probably hurt you more than him, but you did it anyway. It succeeded, at the very least, in catching Schröder by surprise and swiftly pissing him off. Seeing this and feeling a bit bolder, you were somehow able to dodge his hands when he lurched for you again. Inside, your own anger flared.
“Why the fuck do you care?” you spat.
You found momentary respite in the corner of the bed, sliding back against a wall that would only protect you for so long. As soon as Schröder regained his bearings, he had you back in his sights and his grasp just as quick.
He dragged you back. He pulled you up. He dug the tips of his fingers so hard into your side that you thought the flesh might tear in two across your ribs. But it didn’t. Crescent-like indentations did leave their mark in a grisly set of five, though. You felt the sting of it as Schröder loosened his grip, then sucked his next breath through his teeth as if calming himself. Your gaze only hardened.
“I care,” he said, once he’d completed this slow inhale. He replaced his touch by pinching your face in one hand and bringing it up to his, expression more like a snarl. Then, raising the gun to your face in his other hand, “because I made a deal with your father. Remember?”
You did. Your head jerked back by force of instinct, but he held it. From every direction, then, you had nothing to hear but the sound of your own pulse thrumming a fast, panicked tempo in your skull. You tasted blood in your mouth without a drop on your tongue. And, had that deafening fear and revulsion been anything less, you likely would’ve heard something else beneath it all.
Would’ve felt it, if you weren’t already so numb: Schröder’s hand sliding its way down your body, diamond ring still stuck to the tip of his index finger. You sensed it as though seeing yourself from another perspective—watching his hand trail lower, lower, lower until something in Bucky split in two and he bellowed:
“SCHRÖDER—”
He said something more after that; you were sure of it. You just couldn’t hear him, or see him, or discern much of anything else but your own racing heart as the man who’d just beat your husband twice and lifted a gun to your head proceeded to press his touch to your belly. Almost conscientious and gentle as he lowered it.
“Was this part of the deal, too, doll?”
Your eyes widened. Realizing—then feeling fear seize you completely. Forgetting the metal at your temple and shaking your head with a force, but slow enough that your husband wouldn’t see it. Meanwhile, across from you both, Bucky seemed more than sufficiently occupied by his own blinding rage—he spit a glob of blood to the floor and, with his teeth bared again, swore he’d kill him.
Over and over and over again, oaths of taking Schröder’s life and making it gruesome and painful and slow filled your ears, but none of it stuck, for either you or Schröder. Instead, your maniacal captor just smiled, leaning in.
“I said, was this part of the deal, Mrs. Barnes?”
The heel of his palm sank into your stomach, and as the shock of his first words began to fade, a pain replaced it. His hand made an impressive demonstration of flattening and forcing itself so hard against the skin that a flurry of stars cropped up in your eyes, and you cried:
“Stop! I-It wasn’t�� just— just stop. Stop.”
“Stop? Was it part of the deal or not?”
Schröder bore down even harder.
“It just happened!” you keened. Unsure why you felt compelled to answer for what had gone on at all—addressing the baby in this awful, oblique way—though reckoning it had something to do with the pressure he was applying to your stomach. You tried to squirm back.
But your stuttering pulse and your pleading gaze and the ache in your stomach proved to be all too much for any real progress to be made. You’d scarcely moved off an inch before he drove his palm deeper, and with the agony of a body about to rupture beneath it, a shriek clawed out of your throat. Your mouth fell open, and for once, you couldn’t curtail the pain, or fear. Schröder’s hand had just forced the noise from your mouth, along with some mindless, broken pleas to stop pushing, it hurts, please, please, when the face above yours only brightened. Schröder’s cruel, snide mouth flashed a smile above you, and before you could whine again—
He kissed you.
It couldn’t have lasted for more than a second.
Still, the moment seemed to stretch indefinitely. And felt perverse. So deeply nauseating and unsettling to every last nerve, muscle, tendon, and bone in your body that the response it evoked could be nothing less than visceral. You didn’t need to think at all to shove him off. Whatever might’ve given you pause with a loaded gun to your head was forgotten in a second, and soon enough, you weren’t alone in letting your reproach be known.
It started off with a crack, then a harsh, crude splintering of wood. A violent rift, from what you could hear of it, and when you turned your head, your suspicions were confirmed: Bucky had snapped half the arm of his chair away from the seat, and his right hand was almost freed.
Whatever barrier he faced in being bound more than four times over with rope seemed immaterial to him now. He could strain as hard as he pleased—feel the coarse synthetic fibers dig into his flesh and leave streaks of red, if not break the skin itself—and any pain, as before, hardly appeared to register with your husband at all. He just muscled through it, thrusting his wrist even harder. The whole force of this movement rocked the chair on its legs, and just when you sensed it might collapse beneath his weight, you felt Schröder stand up. The man didn’t need to move too far or do much else other than drop his hold on you and flip his gun to point it at Bucky instead.
Even when he had, though, Bucky didn’t flinch. His hands were in fists and his drive was like a machine’s—he tried forcing his way out of the right hand’s restraints, and the second the wood gave way, he was shoving it off.
Blind to the firearm Schröder was holding, or his words:
“Stay where you are, Barnes.”
Bucky was just then shaking off the rope that had been loosened by the break in the wood, jaw still tight as ever.
“You’ve got three other limbs to free, my friend, just—”
Schröder was still speaking when you saw his finger slip to the trigger, and it seemed to you it was itching to pull.
“James, stop!”
That plea came from you. More of a strangled cry, really—no more pleasant for either man to hear than it was for your throat to shriek. It did, however, stop Bucky cold. Your husband paused just long enough to meet your gaze. And in it, you saw, at least, that he was all there, if not enraged. But not soldat, or anyone else but himself.
You sighed in relief, despite what seeing two red rivers seeping out of Bucky’s mouth might otherwise provoke.
It was him. You might’ve smiled if another hadn’t cut in.
Schröder seized Bucky’s wrist. With it, you saw his hand just as mangled and bloodied as his lips. Knuckles cracked, slit, and soon to be littered with bruises of every shade, he shocked you again by how calmly he took it. Even when Schröder sank a thumb inside a big, gaping crater of a flesh wound he’d found on the back of his hand, your husband didn’t blink; he just looked at you.
‘I’m sorry.’
When the barrel of the gun returned to his head—this time, at the rear, as Schröder had circled back around the half-broken chair and was leaning over him—you could see the apology lodged in his eyes on full display.
“For safekeeping.” The man wielding the gun seemed almost pleased as he dropped your ring inside the breast pocket of your husband’s shirt, before patting it gently:
“Now where were we?”
A beat. Bucky’s right hand twitched beside him, but evidently, he knew better than to move in that moment.
“Right, right—” Schröder pretended to be remembering, tapping steel to Bucky’s skull, “She’s leaving, isn’t she?”
More silence.
You wanted to speak, beg Schröder for mercy, anything.
“Do you know why that is, Bucky?”
But before you could utter even a word of protest, the voice pressed on. Schröder was leaning in his ear.
“—what you did to her?”
The baby. Brooklyn. All the bloodshed that had ensued last week, leaving your husband completely in the dark. Of course, he couldn’t remember. He hadn’t been himself, and was scarcely more able to control his actions as the Winter Soldier than he could in a dream.
To your horror, Schröder reached down for Bucky’s hand, and, still holding the gun to him with the other, lifted it.
Pointed it.
Pushed it closer to you.
“C’mon, Buck. You don’t want me touching her, right? Why don’t you feel for yourself what she’s been hiding?”
Your blood turned to ice. You’d never felt so immobile—paralyzed—in your life, but seeing the hands drift closer and closer and feeling defenseless to their course, your body went numb. Your limbs grew heavier than lead.
And when you felt the smug, smiling blond guide your husband’s touch toward your head, you understood it all.
You were perched at the edge of the bed a foot away. Schröder was nudging Bucky forward in his chair, urging him to reach out and tilt her chin a little, go on, that’s it. And neither one of you had a choice, so he touched you. His fingers, directed by someone else, were obliged to brush the skin of your chin, your jaw, your cheek, and your brow, before finally settling above your left temple.
Your husband felt the cut—touched the stitches.
You winced, but not from any physical pain. It was Bucky’s face as the tips of his fingers skimmed the wound. The look of chagrin that crossed his eyes. Then bewilderment. Fear, as plain as anyone could see it— was he the cause of that? Had the hurt been from him?
You couldn’t bear to answer him, so you looked away. It was Schröder, again, who had all the power to speak.
“Can’t remember pushing her down?” he said, tone dark, “Making her split her head open on the bedside table because soldat didn’t know his own strength—only that he had to keep her safe—and sensed a threat outside?”
Bucky shook his head. His face was grave.
Schröder kept making him prod the skin.
“It’s bruised here, too. You feel it?”
Your husband did, and you thought it might break him. So tender and forlorn were the eyes, raking over every spot where a touch, his touch, had left you hurt before.
If nothing else could bring you back to your senses, the wounded look in Bucky’s gaze was sure to get it done.
You hardly thought again, just croaked: ‘It’s not his fault.’
Schröder’s hand then descended your neck, your torso.
As if he hadn’t heard you at all—
“You already saw what happened to her hand.”
—and forcing Bucky’s touch lower still.
“But what about here?”
Your breath hitched in your throat when you felt your husband’s hand come to rest on your stomach.
It was like a fire had ignited in your lower half, and nothing close to the soft, pleasurable kind. Not the flutter felt in anticipation of a touch from your husband, not the desirous sort. In fact, you dreaded it now; seeing Schröder over his shoulder, urging him closer, making him flatten his big, broad, scorching palm over your belly.
What should’ve been the ecstatic scene you’d conjured in your mind at least a hundred times since marrying him—the picture of domestic bliss as you said it, smiling, I’m pregnant—was now nothing short of torture. Choice all but stripped from you here, forced to emerge inside this terrible place, you found yourself needing to shrink back, shake your head, look to Schröder’s stubborn, unyielding gaze and beg him not to make you do this now. Not now.
Not here, with Bucky’s skin a shade of glacial white and his eyes going wide, taking on a look you’d never seen.
“What do you—”
He stared hard at the hand on your belly, but it didn’t last for long. As if realization were trying to seep in, he couldn’t meet it. His eyes flitted back to your face.
“Baby, what’s—” he tried again, stammering.
“—right, that’s it, Mr. Barnes.” That was Schröder.
Satisfied in the suspense of the moment keeping your husband still, he lifted his hand from Bucky’s and snapped, that’s it, and clapped him over the shoulder.
Congratulating him before the truth had even sunk in.
“A baby, that’s right! You’re going to be a father, Buck.”
And how far was the look on Bucky’s face from the one you’d dreamed before. The lips you’d envisioned in a smile now twisting bleakly, parting slightly, and the eyes you’d once hoped to be bright and elated only staring back with rings of red enveloping the irises. Whatever tears formed at his waterline were decidedly not of joy.
Only guilt.
“You did it.”
Desperation.
More moisture in his eyes as his hand started to tremble across your stomach, voice hoarse and soft, “Is it true?”
You didn’t need to nod. You just watched him, let your own eyes fill with the worst, stinging tears you had felt in your life, and from the silence that followed, Bucky knew.
As if the life beneath his palm were something dear, but still too much for him to comprehend, he shook his head. He stroked his thumb over the cotton of your pyjamas and tried inching closer, as much as his restraints would allow him. Then, with words that were audibly strained, but always gentle, he lowered his voice—as if to keep the communication between you two, despite your position:
“I love you.”
His hand was still on your belly as he said it. He reached up to cup your face. Even lower than before, “I’m sorry.”
I’m sorry.
That much was evident from every look he’d given you tonight. Every move he made a de facto apology, all actions in the vein of atonement, it couldn’t possibly escape your mind or his that he knew he’d done wrong. It was only a matter of accepting this—maybe coming to terms with the fact that your life wasn’t safe in his hands—for the guilt plaguing Bucky to multiply. Paralyze him.
There was no better time for Schröder to strike. Just as the anguish had flooded Bucky’s face completely, and his hand had had to lower itself from want of strength, a sound split the air. Bucky was so lost in his thoughts that it didn’t even register at first, but the impact was real, and it was harsh: Schröder punched him squarely in the jaw. The next, swift snap was his nasal bone taking a blow, and breaking beneath it. Blood breezed down and into his mouth. Feeling warm, his lips and chin doused in a second, he sensed nothing else. He might’ve groaned.
He caught another swift right hook, and his mind went blank. Nothing of substance threatened to materialize between his ears, save for the rush of blood through and from his skull and the dim recognition of something ugly.
Something horrific.
He couldn’t protect you.
His body was as much an idle waste as it was a danger. Useless now, as he was tied to this chair, and a risk to your well-being even if he weren’t. The hazard was him.
Schröder hit him again, and Bucky realized that the ringing he’d heard in his ears was your screaming.
“I’m doing her a favor,” Schröder spat before shoving him back in the chair, almost knocking it sideways.
The blond advanced with ease. His knuckles were drenched in blood; none of it was his. When he reached for Bucky again, the resistance was slight, and a simple, firm grip on the collar was all that was needed to drag his frame to sit straight. Bucky was barely upright for a second before the next—and worst—blow struck his face. His whole head rang with it, reeling, but still, he could make out the words as they were spoken to him.
“She’ll never be safe with you, Barnes. Never—” and at the last, Schröder lowered his gun. Started to loosen the rope from Bucky’s left arm, “—I could free you now, and you still wouldn’t get within an inch of what you want.”
He nudged the rope away and let it fall to the floor. Bucky lifted his hand, but the effort was in vain. No sooner had a finger of his stirred than Schröder was delivering a kick to the chair and letting it splinter. Topple. Skitter a half-foot across the hardwood floor with Bucky’s ankles still bound to it, before finally, gracelessly, breaking apart.
Bucky was on the floor, blinking through a stream of blood and a sea of muddied thoughts when Schröder kicked the chair again. The rope slackened some more.
“Her own father knew as much, so he made me a deal to take her off of your hands. Settle his debts the way he should’ve done the first time around,” Schröder said, and now his tone was lower. Lethal as it ever was, and stern.
“I know how much you hate to lose your playthings, Buck, but this one’s better off with me, I promise.”
And, as if to emphasize his point, Schröder turned and reached for you. Bucky’s own hands were slow, fumbling in fits and bursts to get the rope unwound from his ankles, but they were determined. He just couldn’t get the bleeding to stop, the ringing to subside, or his brain, in its concussed state, to let him move with a little more agility. He’d been hit too many times. He could barely lift his head off his shoulders and hold it straight, so he was forced to stay where he was, keep at his task, and listen.
“You’re weak when you’re not soldat.”
Using his knuckles, Schröder brushed the blood that was evidently all Bucky’s across your cheek, and you flinched.
“When you make the switch, still…you’re inhuman.”
Then he tilted your head, making you show them both the mutilated, stitched-up flesh above your temple. Again, you tried to slink away, but his touch was firm.
“Don’t you think your bride deserves better than that? Your child? Forced to live in fear of that thing you are?”
Blood coursed down Bucky’s face, and his lips were curled apart in a grimace, mouth hanging slightly ajar. His eyes fixed their look on you. The rope was undone.
He’d just started to try and stand when the edge of his vision blurred. He felt the lacerations in his face pulse as one, and with it, half his sight went skewed to the left. Schröder couldn’t help but crack a smile seeing him stumble, pitch back, and barely catch himself on the bedside table. When he stood, he was mostly hunched.
“Look at you, Buck. You can’t try and save her like this,” Schröder taunted, drawing you closer, “So stop trying.”
The man’s hand was like ice holding your face. The grip grew tighter when he saw your husband limping your way, and before either one of you could move, the index of Schröder’s other hand had slid down to the trigger. He didn’t wait to give another warning before he did it—just pointed the gun and fired one shot over Bucky’s head.
His aim was good. The bullet missed your husband by less than an inch. The gun had gone off by your ear, and immediately, you seized the side of your head as a sharp, searing pain cropped up. Your skull was still ringing when you heard the thing discharge again, and you realized it had been aimed at Bucky’s neck. He’d ventured another step, and Schröder had fired a second round to graze the top of his shoulder. Crimson bloomed through his shirt.
Bucky should’ve stumbled again. He might’ve staggered back with a grunt of pain, lifted a quick, reflexive hand to feel the wound, but the sense of it all was slow to reach him. The moments that passed him were delayed just the same, as if the world around him were distorted—the fibers of time tugged and stretched before his eyes—and he could hardly keep himself straight. When he got another look down the barrel of the gun, he didn’t blink. Couldn’t see, really. It was all misshapen sights and sounds and a dim recognition that his mind was in a fog.
Somewhere from within that mist, he heard, faintly:
“I’ll go— I’ll go— I’ll go with you, I’ll go— just stop.”
Schröder turned to you, and the smile that he wore was cruel, but Bucky wasn’t able to make out the expression.
All he could see then, to the faintest extent, was you—your face, gripped hard in another man’s hand, eyes pleading and wet with tears, and a slightly slack jaw.
“Leave him for me?” Schröder repeated, sneering.
You nodded. Blinked. Rolled your tongue along the inside of your cheek before pulling it back and biting down once. There was a hint of a wince in your eyes, but, from what Bucky could tell, it vanished just as fast as it came.
Your lips parted again. Your eyes widened a little.
“So the girl has some fucking sense.” That was Schröder.
He’d had his weapon re-holstered and your face firmly seized in both of his hands in no more than a second.
What came next surprised no one, though the sensations of disgust and rage were as quick to turn a stomach as the shock would have done. Schröder bent down and, having pulled your face closer to his, kissed you again.
Schröder’s mouth was glistening with a grin and Bucky’s own blood—smeared all over your face from how hard he’d been holding you—when he looked up and turned.
“Sensible and sweet, isn’t she? Tastes like it, too.”
Bucky saw nothing but red. It wasn’t just blood crowding his vision now but violence and rancor and outright hatred, stirring his limbs to start moving again when the rest of his body was plainly too battered to venture an inch in that condition. He staggered again, watched you again, and had made it almost halfway across the room when another sight slowed him, if only for a moment.
Schröder’s lips were back on yours, as if to mock him, but what startled him, really, was the way you’d opened your mouth. You couldn’t mean it. Clearly. Schröder was gripping your jaw, forcing it open—it had to be—and he was coaxing your tongue out from inside and weaving it with his. Once more, time moved like molasses, and that was all your husband had had to see: you kissing him back, gripping his arm through the thick, black tactical gear, and still parting your lips more and more for him. Like you needed a touch, or something, worse than ever.
That stalled Bucky, though he was nowhere close to stopping now. Briefly preoccupied, and seemingly shocked as well that you’d accepted the kiss so eagerly this time, Schröder didn’t see the approach. If he had, he likely would’ve turned and made a move for his Ruger, but as it was, he had only to blink—and there was Bucky.
He hit him with a force that was blinding, directly to the side of his head so hard that he’d had no choice but to separate from you. Schröder was stunned one second and on the floor in the next. Bucky threw him there, kicked him down, and, wavering for only a moment to cock back the shoulder that’d been shot, he ignored the pain and punched the man again. And again. And again.
There was a callousness, an indolence, and an ease with which he was able to inflict the pain, that much was evident. What didn’t seem so natural, at least in Bucky’s mind, was the weight that was in his hands: Schröder’s body felt limp before he’d even landed the second blow.
The pressure grew heavier and heavier in his hands the harder, and more frequently, he delivered each hit, but for now, he didn’t care. Bucky kept on punching until the face beneath him was gnarled and bloody, and his own fist, too, slashed every which way with more cuts than he was able to count. He would’ve kept going—could’ve ignored the stabbing pain in his shoulder for as long as it would take to ensure the man was dead—but as it was, he refused to ignore the voice he heard. It was yours.
Muffled now, as your body was bent to the side and your head drooped lower still. Your voice was soft but clear:
“Bucky, please, stop.”
He did.
He dropped the man’s collar from his hands as soon as he’d heard you say it, and he turned away as if nothing had transpired behind him at all. His focus was on you.
“Baby—”
To his surprise, he watched you spit on the floor.
Your face was grim and almost sick, and you spit again.
The look grew even worse, and afterward, you didn’t waste a second more; you stood and left the room.
Bucky was stunned at first, and his instinct had been to follow. Then he heard a rattling sound beside him. He glanced down and paled, seeing Schröder there.
His face had turned blue much sooner than Bucky had expected—and not from any bruising but a lack of oxygen in his lungs. He was choking, foaming slightly at the mouth while he gasped for air. Surely, it hadn’t been the hits that caused it. The whites of Schröder’s eyes were as conspicuous as he’d ever seen them. Desperate.
Bucky swiftly got the sense that the life of his former captor was lost, and frankly, he didn’t care enough to watch him die. He left what remained of Schröder’s form to continue writhing on the floor, choking and sputtering for a breath that would never come, and went after you.
Downstairs, he found you hunched over the kitchen sink—spitting, retching, and trembling, too, but breathing.
You let the water from the faucet fill your mouth, and you rinsed again. You winced as something stuck your cheek.
Bucky drew closer, quickly, and when he was right by your side, he saw you spit a shard of glass into the sink. He looked over to the counter, and he spotted three more
They were minuscule, really. Nothing quite the size to leave a wound too deep, but sharp enough to cut your lips, your tongue, or the insides of your cheeks. When Bucky leaned in, he saw droplets of red joining the flow of the water beneath it. You coughed over and over again
“Don’t,” you croaked, seeing Bucky reach for the glass.
Before he could reply: “It’s the poison. From Madripoor.”
Your husband’s blood went cold in his veins. He didn’t touch the glass, but he did press closer to you, feeling his insides churn as the cogs started to turn in his head.
The vial of poison you’d been given to slip in Schröder’s drink at the Foxy Den—how the hell had you gotten it back? Why would you think you needed it, if he— but no, that couldn’t be the case. There wasn’t a shot you just—
“—put it in your mouth?” Bucky couldn’t curb the fear in his voice. He reached for you and spun you to face him.
“Did it kill him?”
Your eyes were wide for entirely different reasons. Bucky couldn’t believe what he was seeing; his mouth was dry.
“I didn’t want to kiss him,” you went on, voice shaking a little, “I didn’t— I just— I couldn’t get him the poison any other way. I knew he’d kiss me again, and when he did—”
“I know,” Bucky said. He smoothed the hair from your face, shaking his head. Feeling his stomach clench with fear and dread as he hurried to get a look in your mouth.
You’d snuck the vial inside your cheek, then crushed it between your teeth before Schröder had kissed you. You’d all but forced him to swallow the poison, shoving your tongue down his throat, but what of the stuff that remained? The rough, trembling fingers of Bucky’s hand were trying to pry your lips apart as gently as they could, ensure all the serum was out, but at present, you wouldn’t let him. You pushed back gently, though not too far to prevent your own touch from roaming his shoulder.
“The bullet—” you started.
“Barely nicked me,” Bucky cut in, “Baby, I need to see—”
That you’re safe. That you won’t be hurt in any way. He couldn’t finish the thought himself, having seen what the poison did to Schröder. Instead, he just held you closer and fought the lump that was starting to form in his throat. Adrenaline had worked well enough to clear his mind of the haze, but the rest of him was all high-strung.
Your clothes clung to you both, wet with blood and sweat. Your breaths were fast. Your expressions were feral, eyes no calmer as they scanned over the other’s form and soaked in every trace of what had happened. Bucky in his formalwear and you in something close to a chemise—like your honeymoon night all over again—you each got a glimpse of the gore ornamenting yourselves and let the room fall quiet, if only for a minute or two.
Your husband was the one to break the silence, at length, with cracked and grisly hands sliding down to your hips.
“You’re okay?”
His touch shifted you back in place to sit on the counter.
“I’m alright.”
You wanted to say more; assure him, in a voice as sedate as you could manage, that this wasn’t his fault. Whether he would believe a word of what you said was a separate question, but, at any rate, it didn’t matter. The next thing you knew, Bucky was slotting himself in the space between your legs and pulling you into his arms.
In spite of himself and all the wounds, he held you tight.
“You’re alright,” he repeated.
His face sank into the crook of your neck, and you felt his muscles contract again—pulling you closer—as he drew a shaky breath against your skin. You hugged him back.
“Are you?” Your voice was small.
In a blink, Bucky resurfaced. He lifted his head from your neck and, still holding you, hadn’t seemed to have heard.
“The baby,” he said quickly.
He stepped back. Lowered his gaze and his hands to trail over your hips and near your stomach, and he stared, as if trying to make sense of something dire. His blue eyes were wide, and they assumed such a look of panic that you feared a blood vessel might actually burst in one.
After all the great lengths he’d gone to, ensuring you were safe and taking extra precautions, on the off-chance you might be pregnant, here you were.
And there he went, sliding his touch lower and lower again until his hand was pressed into your belly, and the gaze you’d once thought soft before had all but melted into tenderness—delicacy. Complete, loving unreserve.
When his eyes met yours a second time, they were shiny.
Wet with the only kind of tears you’d want to see in them.
“You’re really…” he started, just to taper off, blinking.
And then his cheeks were dotted with the tiny, round droplets, and he’d finally ventured a smile for the first time in what seemed like ages and you couldn’t keep from reaching for him. The second you’d lifted your arms you were back in his, lips and nose smushed against the front of his stained white button-up and breathing deep.
Or trying to, anyway. Bucky had you squeezed so tight to his chest you had nothing but his shirt to inhale at first. You didn’t mind, and when he pulled away a moment later, you realized that your eyes, too, were filling up quick. You had to steel yourself against a maelstrom of emotions that threatened to emerge—the aftermath of a half-dozen traumas laid bare over the last hour—but the longer you were here, and the more your husband stared at you like that, the quicker your courage was depleted. In the span of five seconds, your senses were shot to hell. All you could think was what you could feel, and all you felt was Bucky: his arms and his hands and the raw, blistering heat between your bodies. The rest was noise.
It surprised you both when you kissed him. Physically, your mouth and his were hardly up to do it, injured as they were, but the impulse was strong, and it flowed between you. As soon as your lips latched onto his, Bucky was holding your face, molding his body to yours without so much as a second thought, and the mouth you met was sturdy. Hungry in the way it kissed back.
A string of words from Schröder flashed in your mind—‘Never be safe’—and you grit your teeth together, snagging the cusp of Bucky’s lower lip as you did it. He groaned. Before you could even try to apologize, though, he was gripping your face harder in his hands and coaxing your mouth open with his tongue. His front was still flush with yours, and your legs were starting to wind around his hips. Your husband nudged you back against the cabinets, and from the force of that push, you felt it.
Felt him.
Surely, it had had to take two very fucked up individuals to get all hot and bothered from a bloodbath that had just taken place; but, again, here you were—together.
And there you went, grinding your lower half with his.
“Doll?” Bucky broke out, word slurred just a little.
For a second, you thought he was going to stop you. Your eyes scanned his, and you were already planning to apologize for being so horny, it must just be the—
“You know I love you, right?” he breathed.
You blinked. You were about to nod, when you felt the bulge in his slacks start to rub against your barely-clothed heat, and something akin to a shockwave coursed through your frame. It couldn’t be helped. A monsoon of hyper-sensitized pleasure trembled over the skin in a way you’d never felt it before, and suddenly you were letting out a moan: a muffled cry of, ‘Yes, I-I know.’
Your husband swallowed and stared, slightly taken aback by the reaction his erection had produced. He’d never felt that either. At least from what he could remember.
The truth was that he’d never had a pregnant wife before—someone whose body was now extraordinarily responsive to his touch, nearly aching for him.
When you scooted your butt to the edge of the counter and dug your heels in the backs of his legs, humping him, almost, he got the idea. Bucky swallowed again.
“I love you too, I— I—” you started, already out of breath, “I just really need you to fuck me. Can you— please—”
Bucky didn’t need to be asked once, much less twice. He already had his belt, button, and zip undone before you could even look down, and then your own pyjama shorts were sliding off too. The counter was cool against your skin, but your husband’s warmth was more than enough to compensate for the loss. You smiled again, sheepish.
“It’s just…hormones,” you said, quieter toward the end.
You weren’t sure why you felt so ashamed to simply say, ‘James, I’ve been damn near insane with desire ever since you put a baby in me. Can you give me five more?’ But you did. You felt your cheeks start to heat as your lower half was left exposed to the air, and Bucky slipped his hand down between your legs, practically groaning:
“Honey, you’re soaked.”
There wasn’t one iota of shame in his tone.
He was more than happy to find you drenched beneath his touch. He had a smile on his face and a warmth bleeding from every fingertip as he caressed that soft, tender spot. You didn’t need to tell him what was on your mind, either. He sensed something was making you shy, and rather than have you say it aloud, he just touched you gentler, stroked the skin more affectionately, and tilted his head so only you could hear him, quiet as ever:
“That’s my girl. Feeling good for me?”
You felt your heartbeat between your thighs.
“My baby,” Bucky went on, voice dulcet and slow.
Your body was trembling at the edge, waiting. Impatient.
“My wife,” he said that with a smile, into your neck.
He lowered you onto his length, and you whined.
“Mother of my child.” The smile got bigger.
You couldn’t see it, but you could feel it. Feeling him slide inside the most precious, wet, pliable part of you, stretching you out, you couldn’t help the sounds you made. You felt full in a whole new way; the groan Bucky let out when you were impaled down to the base of his cock said he shared the feeling. He throbbed inside you.
“You’re—fuck.” Bucky’s words broke off at the sensation.
Your walls were as slick as ever, your body delicate, rolling your hips to the first gentle thrusts that his shaft carved inside. Neither one of you could last long like this.
Still, at the threat of sublime pleasure, you felt fear, briefly: Schröder’s implacable stare—and the thousands more like him in HYDRA. You couldn’t help but grip Bucky tighter, willing these thoughts away with the rhythm of your body over his. Feeling him fill you up, fuck you with quick, deliberate thrusts and hold you, ‘That’s it, take what you need, sweet girl, you’re okay.’
You wished you were. You wanted to be. With every stab of Bucky’s hips, you hoped this would be the last night you ever feared for you or your child’s life, but deep down, you knew that wasn’t true. This was everything your husband’s varied ‘enterprises’ entailed, and a life with him meant never knowing a day without it—fear.
The head of Bucky’s cock grazed an especially sensitive ridge in your walls, and you whimpered into his shoulder.
You smelled blood.
He pushed you back against the counter and pounded harder, breaths heavy and labored and gruff as he spoke:
“You’re okay, baby, it’s alright.”
Your mind tried clinging to that thought, nodding along as if to convince yourself. The pleasure grew stronger, and your body was hot. Everything was heightened. Bucky couldn’t keep his eyes or his lips or his rough, bloodied touch from roaming you wherever he could reach, and he kept rutting his hips, assuring you gently, again and again, that it was all okay. He was right here.
The pleasure from the depths of your body was beyond your control—you couldn’t help it when the band inside of you snapped. You held Bucky closer and you moaned, more desperate and needy and soaking for him, taking something from him, and knowing the bliss you felt would only steal the dark thoughts for a moment or two.
Bucky’s eyes said it just the same. He couldn’t keep stuffing you full, feeling his pleasure hit its peak, and finally painting your insides without sharing that look.
You were less than halfway down from your highs when you felt him go still, panting fast, then hold your face.
“I love you.”
It was desperate. Hoping for something.
“I love you, too,” you told him, and you meant it.
But there was more. Both of you knew there was more.
“I can’t be married to you, Bucky.”
You didn’t know why it had to come out now, but the emotions were there—his gaze had all but drawn it out.
Still sheathed inside you, your husband tensed. He looked as if he might try and shake his head, but the movement was stalled by his own momentary shock. He’d known the words were coming, but the sound of you saying them now wasn’t any less jarring to hear. Before he could reply, you found yourself cutting back in:
“Not now, at least. We need some…time. To think.”
You weren’t sure what you were saying, just that your lips were moving and every new word was hurting him more.
“Even with Schröder gone, there are so many…dangers for both—or, all—of us, and I don’t know…I just can’t—”
—imagine bringing a child into a world like this. Like his.
You didn’t need to say it.
The pain in Bucky’s eyes already communicated as much, and the conviction in your own only convinced him that you’d meant it—and what you said was the truth. You couldn’t stay in a marriage that wasn’t safe.
Just as you opened your mouth to say something more, the man surprised you when he squeezed your hand.
Nodding, almost imperceptibly, in front of you.
“I can wait,” he said, “Whenever you’re ready, doll.”
His voice was hoarse, words strained from the lump in his throat as he spoke, but the message was sincere.
“Whenever you feel safe,” he added, softly.
You wanted to hold him again. Like before, your eyes began to well with something stinging and harsh, but the look you’d fixed on him was filled with nothing but love. You would’ve reached for him then, if he hadn’t moved his hand to his pocket. He felt around inside it, briefly.
Then Bucky retrieved your wedding ring.
Holding you up against him, pressed snugly into the counter with your legs still wrapped around his lower half, he pinched the silver band between his forefinger and thumb and held it up to you. It glistened in the light.
“The next time you wear it, I want it to be because you chose to marry me. Not for anything, or anyone, else.”
Nothing arranged, no game, no being forced to stay.
You nodded and had to blink through a layer of tears.
Bucky’s thumb traced the moisture, cupping your cheek in one of his hands. He’d had to keep blinking himself, and before you could reach for him, he kissed you.
“I really hope you marry me again one day, Mrs. Barnes.”
You smiled, having parted but still holding on.
“I think I would like that, too. One day.”
The next thing you heard was a sound at the front door: what sounded like a crash. Half a dozen sets of feet stumbling inside, crowding the foyer, making a loud, frantic clamor that you and Bucky knew only too well. The two of you scrambled to get your clothes back on as Steve, Nat, Sam, and Sharon all seemed to yell at once.
You had one hell of a story to tell them.
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#bucky barnes smut#mob!bucky#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes x you#mob!bucky barnes#mafia bucky barnes#bucky barnes#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes fic#marvel#mcu#marvel smut#marvel x reader#james buchanan barnes#james bucky barnes#mafia!bucky
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NEED art and patrick to find out I'm a virgin and offer to teach me how to kiss and how to fuck and use eachother as examples and guide me and tell me I'm doing a good job and reward me for being such a good student and come back later and quiz me to see if I remember everything they taught me ugh obsessed with them individually and as a unit
This has lived rent free in my mind for literally forever. I can’t stop thinking about it, it haunts my every waking moment.
Rating: E (18+)
Warnings: Making out, Handjob lessons, guys being pervs, not a love triangle they just all want to fuck each other
A/N: unedited bc I wrote this while on the clock okay whatever. Enjoyyyy and if u want me to continue this lmk >:)
“I think it’s sweet,” Patrick said, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, practically dripping from every syllable. “The last American virgin. You belong in a museum.”
You rolled your eyes and tossed your empty Taco Bell cup at him— the ice rattled and it leaked a puddle of condensation onto the ground. “You could try not to be a dick about it.”
Art’s dorm room was hot and sticky thanks to a faulty AC, which meant the three of you lounging on the floor by his open window, sucking down soda watered down by melted ice cubes. You were down to a T-shirt and shorts, they were down to their boxers. It wasn’t lost on you that it was an intimate situation to be in— barely dressed, crammed into the shoebox of a dorm. And of course Patrick had dug his fingers in until you admitted your secret— you had made it all the way to college totally unfucked.
Patrick leaned forward, smiling the smarmy smile that tended to wear at your last nerve. “So you’re a virgin, but like,” he leaned in, so close you could feel body heat radiating from him. He dropped his voice, just above a whisper. “How much of a virgin, really? You’ve at least gone to third, right?” You glared, but shook your head.
“Second?” Art supplied, suddenly jumping in with an eager sort of curiosity.
“What? No, I don’t even know what that means,” you admitted. You sighed before you spoke up. “I’ve only ever kissed one guy and one girl, and it was during a game of spin the bottle, like, junior year.”
“How?” Patrick asked.
Your brows furrowed. “How? I spun the bottle, it landed on the person, I leaned in, put my lips against theirs, and that was it.”
Patrick sighed. “Just fucking show me how.” He looked at you expectantly, inching even closer.
With an annoyed sigh, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his— mouth closed, lips firm. When you sat back, Patrick and Art were both grinning.
“What?” You asked with a frown.
“That’s how you kiss on the playground in elementary school,” Art said, unable to contain his laughter. “C’mere.”
You crawled forward, stopping in front of the blond. His hand settled on your jaw, coaxing you forward.
His lips met yours softly, sweetly. It was easy to lose yourself in the feeling of Art’s mouth, in the gentle brushes of his lips against yours and the way he held your face so tenderly.
The feeling of his tongue pressing against the seam of your lips was strange, but you welcomed it, letting him lick into your mouth.
Each pass of his tongue against yours drew you deeper and deeper into it, into him. You moved into his lap without realizing it, kissing him with sweet, timid laps of your tongue.
Art pulled back first, his cheeks soft and pink and so pretty. “See? That’s how you’re supposed to kiss someone. That was really good.”
You laughed softly, and moved off of his lap sheepishly. Patrick leaned forward, brushing your hair back, holding your face in his hand.
“Okay, show me what Art showed you,” he instructed, then leaned in.
Kissing Patrick was different than kissing Art. He was hungrier, more insistent. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he wanted to chart every inch. You did your best to match what he offered, to kiss the way Art had just shown you, sweetly, like you really meant it.
And you did mean it. Patrick’s hands moved along your side, up until they cupped your tits through your shirt. You moaned softly into his mouth— the sound was muffled, met with a moan of his own. He gave an experimental squeeze of your tits and you whined softly. So he did it again, amused by the pretty, sweet noises you mewled out.
Patrick was getting hard, pressing against your thigh. It was a new sensation that you were hyper aware of as you unconsciously ground yourself against him.
You pulled back first, cheeks burning hot after you remembered Art was right beside you. You tucked unkempt hair behind your ear, smiled bashfully. “How was I?”
“Good,” Patrick said.
At the same time Art supplied, “So good.”
You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Okay. Cool.”
Art was squirming, fidgeting, holding a pillow over his lap. Patrick was less covert— opting to openly adjust himself, drawing more attention to the fact that he was hard. You rolled your eyes and stole the nearest cup you could find, sipping at watered down Mountain Dew.
“Do you want me to leave?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. Your teeth dug into the plastic straw as you looked between the two of them.
Art stammered, mortified, but Patrick just smiled dizzyingly over at you. “I can teach you something else. You got to first base, so why don’t you steal second?”
You rolled your eyes, but heat flared behind your cheeks. Jesus Christ, he was such a smug asshole. “I still don’t know what that means,” you said, feeling a little embarrassed.
He grinned and mimed jerking off. Your eyes widened, and you laughed softly. “That would be weird,” you said, half-believing it. “Like, if I did jerk one of you off, that leaves one of you just watching.”
You glanced at Art, who looked just as interested as Patrick did, and your heart stammered nervously. “What if I show you how you do it on Art? Look at him— he’s the perfect little practice dummy.” Patrick reached over, pinching at Art’s cheek until the blond kicked his shin.
“Show me?” You echoed. “Like… you’re going to do it to him, and I do it to you?”
Patrick nodded, leaning into Art’s side, his smarmy smile dissolved into something needier. Art swallowed hard, lips parted slightly as he looked over at Patrick.
Patrick’s lips met his slowly, hungrily. You watched wide eyed as Patrick deepened the kiss, as Art eagerly accepted the other boy’s tongue into his mouth.
Patrick threw the pillow out of Art’s lap and sent it careening into the desk on the opposite side of the room. Your eyes widened at the sight of Art, hard and tenting his boxers. Patrick palmed him in his large hands making the blonde whimper into his mouth and buck up, seeking friction.
You swallowed hard, biting down on the straw as you watched Patrick tug at the elastic of Art’s boxers. Art lifted his hips to allow Patrick to tug them down his thighs, just enough to expose his cock to both of you.
“See,” Patrick gasped, leaning back from their kiss. Art chased his lips fruitlessly, mouth ajar, waiting for more. “He’s so fucking easy. Come feel.”
You moved closer, looking at Art for permission. When he nodded, you reached out, letting your fingertips graze the soft skin of his shaft. He exhaled a shuddery breath, eyes fluttering shut. Patrick’s hand covered yours, guiding you to squeeze around his length.
He was warm under your touch, silky soft, pulsing in your grip. Your heart hammered just at that— at the feel of him in your hand. “Feels nice, huh? Knowing how much he wants you.” You nodded, then slid your fist up, testing the waters. Art moaned softly, throbbed in your grip, aching for more. Patrick smiled like the cat who got the cream. “Hands off, just watch me.”
Patrick spat into his hand and replaced your hand with his own. The second Patrick curled his fingers around Art and started stroking him slowly, the blond was mewling for more. “Fuck,” he moaned, his forehead knocking against Patrick’s, mouth open, panting. “That’s good, feels good.”
You watched Patrick rub his thumb over Art’s tip, eyes widening as Art really whimpered for it, hips thrusting up into Patrick’s fist, chasing more of the pleasure the brunet offered.
“You get it now?” Patrick asked. You nodded quickly, and he tugged down his own boxers. “Fuck, okay— fucking show me.”
Your heart hammered with nerves, but you nodded. You held your hand out and spit into it, mimicking what Patrick had done before you wrapped your hand around his cock.
He felt bigger in your hands, but you didn’t say that. One, you worried it might piss Art off, and two, he didn’t need the ego boost. And he was slick, beading precum at his tip so each pass of your hands felt slicker and slicker.
And you couldn’t help but want to be an asshole. “You’re wet like a girl,” you said with a smirk, gliding your thumb over his tip.
And he was shameless, nodding with a sly grin. “That means I like you.” He panted, moaning softly. “Besides, I bet your fucking panties aren’t dry right now.”
Well, fuck. You tried to ignore the rush of heat in your belly that those words caused, to focus only on the glide of your hand on Patrick’s cock— up and down, copying his pace on Art, copying the ways he’d squeeze and twist his hand.
Art was moaning, rutting up into the tight sheath of Patrick’s fist, the muscles of his abdomen tensing and relaxing in unsteady jerks beneath his soft skin.
“Fuck— switch, switch,” Patrick said quickly. Art whined when Patrick stopped touching him, but it was ignored. “Want you to feel it when he comes.”
He guided your hand back onto Art’s cock and nodded for you to move. “Fuck, your hand’s so soft,” Art groaned. “Faster, faster, fuck—“ He was practically begging. You swallowed, increased the pace, squeezed him a little tighter.
Art was touching Patrick— jerking him off while you brought him closer and closer to finishing. Patrick leaned in, kissed you deeply, pulled Art in too until the three of you were a mess of tongues and lips and spit and hands.
Art came first— coating your hand in warm, slick cum, throbbing in your grip. He was panting into your and Patrick’s mouths, moaning softly as you continued to slowly work him through it. Patrick came next, once Art redoubled his effort, focused on making Patrick add to the mess covering your hands.
Patrick was loud, pornographic, messy. Art brought a cum covered hand between his lips, cleaning it up. Your eyes widened.
“Art, c’mon, you’re scandalizing her,” Patrick said, like you weren’t even there.
“Shut up,” you said, shoving him. He laughed and pulled his boxers back up. Art followed suit, and the three of you were left gross and sweating in the heat. You wiped your hand off on one of their discarded shirts and gave a sheepish smile.
They sat there, expectantly. Waiting for you to make the next call. There was a level of want in you, need, but the thought of asking for them to take care of it was mortifying. “Do you want to watch a movie or something now?”
#and when they bring Tashi in to teach her to ask for what she wants then what????#if u want me to continue this……. please god please keep sending me reqs for this au#art donaldson x reader#patrick zweig x reader#my writing#art donaldson#patrick zweig#challengers fanfic#challengers x reader
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𝐒𝐇𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐘 ✦ 𝐎𝐏⁸¹

SUMMARY: You are Lando Norris’ twin sister and were completely obsessed with your brother’s teammate, but he was always avoiding you. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. PAIRING: Oscar Piastri x Reader! Lando Norris’ Sister. WARNING: Hot scenes, but not explicit; use of Y/N; Oscar is very shy. WC: 4.7k
MASTERLIST | THE (IM)PERFECT PLAN SERIE
“You need to go a little easier on him,” Lando said as soon as he entered the small room, throwing his backpack onto the chair with a tired sigh. “Oscar’s shy, and you’re scaring the poor guy to death.”
You, leaning against the desk with your legs crossed and your eyes glued to your phone, ignored the first part of the comment. But the last part caught your attention.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you replied, feigning disinterest.
“Oh, come on, don’t act dumb,” Lando shot back, crossing his arms with a smirk. “You’re cornering Oscar. I was going to let it slide because, honestly, it’s hilarious. But look, you’re going too far, and he clearly doesn’t know how to handle it.”
You realized denying it would be pointless. Lando knew exactly what you were doing, and probably the whole paddock did too. Maybe it was time to turn the tables in your favor.
“Did he complain about me?” you asked, now genuinely curious, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Because, seriously, I don’t get it. Sometimes it seems like he doesn’t care, but then, in the next minute, he acts like I’m the personification of chaos.”
Your voice carried a touch of frustration. Ever since you met Oscar last season, you had done everything to get his attention. Flirting, glances, little touches. But he always pulled away or acted like he didn’t notice. His shyness, which once seemed charming, was now starting to feel like an impenetrable barrier.
Lando laughed, clearly enjoying himself at your expense. “You know what’s funny? You think you can melt anyone with that smile and some games. But let me tell you, Oscar’s different. He’s more… reserved.”
“I know that,” you shot back, crossing your arms. “And that’s exactly why I’m trying harder. He’s not like the others. It just makes it more interesting.”
Lando shook his head, incredulous. “You’re impossible, you know that? But look, if you keep this up, he’s gonna start running away from you. Like, literally. One day, he’s gonna abandon the car in the middle of the track just to escape.”
You laughed. “He already runs, just in a way less obvious than that. But he’ll get used to it. It’s just a matter of time.”
“Or a restraining order.”
“Funny,” you replied, giving him a sharp look.
After a brief silence, you decided to change tactics. “You could help me out!” you asked, in an exaggeratedly sweet tone.
“No way. Stay out of this, Y/N,” Lando responded quickly, as if he already knew where this was going.
“You’re so heartless!” you retorted, with a theatrical touch. “I come every weekend to support you, and this is how I’m treated? You should, I don’t know, compensate me for always being by your side.”
“Support? You’re kidding, right?” Lando laughed. “The whole team already figured out why you’re always here. And the only person who might not have noticed is Oscar himself.”
“What slander!” you snapped, placing a hand on your chest as if deeply offended. “I come because I like my brother. And I thought he liked me too, but apparently, he doesn’t care enough to help me with something so simple.”
Lando just laughed and raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. What exactly do you want me to do?”
“Simple. Find out if he likes me or not. Easy, right?”
Before you could continue the discussion, someone knocked on the door, interrupting the conversation.
“Come in!” Lando replied casually.
The door opened to reveal Oscar. Your excitement was immediate. He, on the other hand… didn’t seem as thrilled to see you.
“I didn’t know your sister was here,” he said to Lando, hesitantly. “I didn’t want to interrupt. I’ll come back later.”
Before he could leave, you rushed to his side and lightly placed your hand on his arm, still covered by his racing suit.
“You don’t have to leave, Osc,” you said softly, your fingers purposely brushing against the fabric of his suit. “Lando and I weren’t talking about anything important. Feel free to stay.”
Oscar hesitated but eventually gave in. “Alright, if you say so…”
Oscar tried to pull away from your touch without being rude, and you, noticing his discomfort, decided to ease the tension and let him slip away.
“Well… I just wanted to ask about the car adjustments for tomorrow. But I guess I interrupted something…” He seemed genuinely uncomfortable, which only made you want to tease him even more.
“You didn’t interrupt anything,” you replied with a calm smile. “Actually, I’ll just sit here quietly while you two chat.”
With that, you sat down in a chair lost in the room, pretending to fiddle with your phone while you took the opportunity to observe Oscar. The way he spoke, gestured, or even furrowed his brow when something seemed confusing… it was fascinating.
The two of them spent a few minutes discussing technical adjustments for the car when they were interrupted again. This time, it was someone from the PR team, rushing in to inform Lando that they needed him for an urgent photo session.
“I’m on my way,” Lando said, standing up. But before leaving, he gave you a calculated look. “Oscar, can you stay here? Y/N was feeling a bit nauseous earlier, and I didn’t want her to be alone.”
Your heart skipped a beat. It was obvious he was making it up, but the feigned concern in his voice was flawless. You knew you owed Lando a big favor now, but it was worth it. For Oscar, everything was worth it.
“Seriously?” Oscar looked visibly surprised, casting a suspicious glance from you to Lando. “Alright, if she needs anything…”
“Thanks a lot, buddy,” Lando replied with a mischievous smile, giving Oscar’s arm a friendly squeeze before walking toward the door. “I’ll be back soon. Wait for me here.”
As soon as the door closed, you jumped up and practically ran to the couch, pulling Oscar down to sit next to you before he could even react.
“Thanks so much for staying, Osc,” you said softly, as if you were truly vulnerable. “I wasn’t feeling too great, you know?”
Oscar tensed next to you, clearly uncomfortable. He looked around, as if searching for an escape route. “Is everything okay now? Do you want me to get some water or something?”
“No, no, it’s fine, it’s passed,” you replied, placing your hand on his arm. “I just needed some company. I feel better this way.”
Oscar let out a nervous, short laugh and looked away, clearly trying not to acknowledge the closeness between you two.
“You look cute when you’re nervous, you know?” you remarked, a mischievous smile appearing on your face.
He opened his mouth to respond but seemed to lose his words. Finally, he muttered, “I’m… not nervous.”
“Oh, really?” you teased, leaning in a little closer, until there was almost no space left between you on the small couch. Oscar seemed even more restless, the blush on his face now impossible to hide.
“I think… we don’t need to be this close,” he managed to say, awkwardly trying to pull away. But, poor thing, there was nowhere left to escape.
“Osc,” you started, in a fake hurt tone, looking down at your hands. “I think you don’t like me very much.”
He seemed surprised, the tension in his shoulders easing for a moment. “Why would you think that?”
“Because every time I’m around, you try to get away.” Your voice sounded almost like a lament, and you took the opportunity to glance at him before looking down at your legs. “Did I do something to you?”
When you looked back at him, your face was perfectly molded into a sad expression, your eyes slightly glistening, as if you were truly upset. It was almost impossible not to believe it.
Oscar hesitated, looking genuinely puzzled. “No… of course not. It’s just that…” He stopped, clearly trying to find the right words.
“It’s just that…?” you encouraged, tilting your head.
“You’re… too intense, Y/N,” he finally confessed, his voice low. “I don’t know how to handle you, that’s all.”
A triumphant smile threatened to appear on your lips, but you held it back, keeping up the act. “Intense? I just… like being around you, you know? Is that really so hard?”
Oscar rubbed the back of his neck, visibly uncomfortable. “It’s not that. I’m just not used to… attention.”
“So, you’re saying I make you uncomfortable?” you asked, leaning slightly toward him, closing the space even more.
Oscar looked away, his ears turning even redder. “I didn’t say that.”
“Then what are you saying?”
Before he could answer, the door suddenly opened, and Lando walked into the room with that typical mischievous smile you knew so well. “Did I interrupt something?”
Oscar practically jumped off the couch, creating visible distance between you two. It was almost comical, but at that moment, you could only curse your brother. He had ruined the perfect moment. You were so close to getting what you wanted!
“No, no,” Oscar quickly denied, the words tumbling out almost in a rush. “Now that you’re here, I… I think I’ll head out. See you before the next practice.”
And without giving anyone a chance to react, he practically bolted out of the room, as if running away from a fire.
You let out a loud sigh, crossing your arms and shooting a deadly glare at Lando, who was still standing in the doorway, clearly enjoying your discomfort.
“You did that on purpose!” you accused, frustration clear in your voice.
“Me? No way,” Lando responded, feigning innocence as he closed the door behind him. “But you should’ve seen his face. Poor guy, he looked like he was going to pass out.”
“He wasn’t going to pass out!” you retorted, throwing a pillow toward your brother, who easily dodged it.
“Alright, alright. But seriously, Y/N, you’re being way too hard on the guy.” He threw himself onto the couch, taking the spot Oscar had just vacated. “Don’t you think he’s nervous enough already? Every time you get close, it’s like he forgets how to breathe.”
You huffed, sinking into the couch next to him. “Maybe he just needs to get used to me. It’s not that hard, right?”
Lando raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “For you, maybe. But for him? Oscar is… different. He’s not used to someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” you repeated, intrigued.
“You know,” Lando explained, gesturing vaguely. “Someone who’s not afraid to say what they want and go after it. Oscar’s more… reserved. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like you, he just doesn’t know how to react.”
You were silent for a moment, processing Lando’s words. Maybe he was right. Maybe Oscar just needed a little more time. But giving up wasn’t an option. Not now.
“Okay,” you finally said, a mischievous smile appearing on your lips. “I’ll go easy on him. For now.”
Lando laughed, clearly amused by your determination. “Good luck, sis. You’re going to need it.”
The next day, you positioned yourself strategically in the garage, waiting for the right moment to find Oscar. When he finally appeared, talking to one of the engineers, you calmly walked over with a relaxed smile, pretending you had no agenda in mind.
“Hey, Osc,” you greeted, your voice light and carefree. “How’s everything after yesterday? You seemed in a rush.”
Oscar turned to you, and it was almost funny how hard he tried to appear casual, even though he was clearly uncomfortable. “Oh, yeah… I was just running late for something.”
“Of course, of course,” you responded with a soft smile. “Well, I hope things are calmer now. Maybe we can chat after qualifying?”
He hesitated, shooting a near-pleading glance at the engineer beside him, as if he was hoping they could save him. But this time, something different sparkled in Oscar’s eyes. It wasn’t fear or discomfort. It was curiosity, though still shy.
“Yeah… maybe,” he finally replied, his voice softer than usual.
You smiled, already considering that a small victory.
Unfortunately, finding Oscar after qualifying turned out to be impossible. Lando secured pole position, and you stayed to congratulate him, while Oscar, with a disappointing P5, was swept into endless conversations with engineers and mechanics.
By the time it was late, almost time to head back to the hotel, you went to Lando’s room to grab your things while he wrapped up the last commitment of the day. That’s when fate decided to be kind.
The door next to your brother’s room opened, and who stepped out but the exact person you’d been hoping to see.
“Osc!” you called out cheerfully, a bright smile on your face.
“Hey.” His response was much less enthusiastic. The tone of defeat and frustrated expression clearly showed that he was still upset about the qualifying result.
“Bummed about P5?” you asked, trying to start a conversation.
“It wasn’t what I expected,” he admitted, crossing his arms. “But I’ll make up for it tomorrow.” There was a forced confidence in his voice that you didn’t miss.
“I’m sure you will! And look, I’m calling the podium: Lando in first, and you in second. What do you think?”
You stepped a little closer, almost unintentionally, trying to minimize the distance between you. But for Oscar, there was nothing subtle about your approach. He clearly noticed.
“You’re optimistic,” he commented, trying to ignore how you seemed to invade his space without hesitation.
“I’m not optimistic, I’m realistic,” you shot back, a mischievous smile playing on your lips.
Oscar looked away, clearly looking for an escape route, but you weren’t about to let him slip away so easily.
“Look, Osc,” you began, your tone softening as you leaned in slightly. “I really think you underestimate how good you are at what you do. You’ve got everything to be at the top. You just need to believe in yourself more.”
He blinked, clearly caught off guard by your change in tone. You saw the tension in his shoulders ease slightly, and that was enough for you to close the gap just a little more, your smile now sweeter than mischievous.
“You really think so?” he asked, his voice low, almost hesitant.
“I know it,” you replied, sincerity shining through.
Oscar still seemed hesitant, but he didn’t pull away when you placed a light hand on his arm, your fingers resting casually. “You just need to learn to relax more. Maybe I can help with that,” you said, your voice almost a whisper.
Oscar swallowed, his eyes finally meeting yours. For a moment, you thought he was going to give in. He seemed torn between wanting to escape and something he clearly didn’t want to admit. You leaned in a little closer, feeling you were on the edge of success.
“You’re really hard, you know?” he murmured, the words practically floating between you two.
Oscar opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. And just as you were about to close the distance even more, he took a step back, almost stumbling into the wall behind him.
“I… I need to go,” he said quickly, his voice shaky but firm. “Good night, Y/N.”
Before you could react, he was already halfway down the hallway, walking so fast it was almost a run.
You let out a frustrated sigh, but deep down, you couldn’t help but smile. Little by little, Oscar was starting to give in, even if he still resisted at the last second. It was only a matter of time.
And you knew very well that you had all the patience in the world to wait.
The paddock was a well-organized chaos, with mechanics, engineers, and drivers moving around frantically as the grandstands filled with enthusiastic fans. You, of course, were there, strategically positioned in Oscar’s team’s garage, pretending to be just casually walking around but with a very clear goal in mind.
He was there, adjusting his gloves while listening carefully to an engineer. He seemed so focused, he could have blended in with the rest of the team. Almost. You, however, always managed to spot him in the crowd.
“Hey, Osc!” you called, walking into the space without any hesitation.
Oscar quickly turned, his eyes widening slightly when he saw you there. “Y/N? What are you doing here?”
“I came to wish you good luck, of course,” you answered with a sweet but mischievous smile.
“Good luck?” He seemed suspicious, clearly aware that you rarely did something that simple.
“Of course!” You tilted your head slightly, looking at him as if his question was absurd. “You know I’ll be cheering for you too, right? First Lando, and then you!”
Oscar opened his mouth to respond but closed it again, a blush already creeping up his face. He looked around desperately, almost as if hoping someone would save him from the situation. But, as you’d already noticed, no one was paying attention to you two.
“You’re kind of tense, Osc. It won’t go well like this, you know?” You stepped a little closer, lowering your voice slightly, but still clearly teasing. “Are you nervous because of me?”
“No,” he quickly replied, although his tone and the blush on his face said otherwise.
“Hmm… funny,” you murmured, pretending to think. “Because it seems like every time I get close, you get a little… uneasy.”
“Y/N, we’re in the pit… in public,” he whispered, almost as if trying to make you stop.
“So what? No one’s listening, and we’re not doing anything wrong, are we?” you shot back, a smile mixing sweetness and mischief on your lips. “I’m here to support you, Osc. And, speaking of that, I have a proposition for you.”
He squinted his eyes, clearly suspicious. “What kind of proposition?”
“If you get on the podium today… I’ll give you a special gift,” you said, leaning slightly toward him, your voice low but filled with mystery.
“What gift?” He looked at you, nervousness clear on his face, but at the same time, unable to hide his curiosity.
“It’s a surprise,” you replied, winking conspiratorially.
“Y/N…” He sighed, clearly trying to keep his composure. “You know you didn’t have to come here for that, right?”
“I know,” you answered, your smile growing wider. “But what’s the fun in cheering from a distance? Besides, you might not know, but I’m great at picking out gifts.”
Oscar seemed like he was about to say something, but one of the engineers appeared out of nowhere, calling him for the final pre-race meeting. He sighed in visible relief, almost grabbing the opportunity to escape.
“I have to go,” he said quickly.
“Good luck, Osc,” you replied, not hiding your satisfaction. “I’ll be waiting on the podium. And after the race… the gift is all yours.”
He didn’t reply, just nodded quickly before disappearing toward the engineer. You watched as he walked away, even more flushed than before, and let out a soft laugh.
This time, he had no way of backing out of the promise. And, knowing Oscar, the thought of a “special gift” would be enough to keep him thinking about you the whole time—on or off the track.
The end of the race was electrifying. You, as usual, were glued to the screen, following the final minutes with the anticipation of someone on the track. The last lap was a mix of tension and excitement. Lando crossed the finish line in first, and you couldn’t hold back your shout of joy. But what really made you jump out of your seat was when Oscar secured third place, holding off a fierce battle until the final flag.
“Yes! I knew you could do it, Osc!” you murmured to yourself, smiling proudly as you watched the celebration on the screen.
Soon, you were following the team toward the podium. The paddock was a party, with team members rushing to celebrate their drivers. You blended in with Lando’s engineers and mechanics but kept your eyes fixed on Oscar as he got out of the car, exhausted but visibly satisfied.
The celebration on the podium was contagious. Champagne flew from side to side, and Lando’s smile was so wide it seemed to light up the entire circuit. But your gaze never left Oscar, who looked more shy than ever as he raised his trophy. Even amid the celebration, he shot furtive glances at you in the crowd, which only made your smile grow.
As soon as the ceremony was over, everyone went back to the garage. The team was euphoric, celebrating the incredible result of the race. You found Lando first, who came running toward you with his trophy in hand.
“So, what did you think?” he asked, still sweaty and covered in champagne.
“You were amazing! Doesn’t even seem like my brother,” you joked, laughing as he hugged you and got champagne on your clothes.
“And Oscar, huh?” Lando commented, winking at you. “Are you proud of your favorite driver?”
You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “Don’t start, Lando.”
After the initial excitement, you began preparing to leave. Lando had some team commitments to take care of before heading back to the hotel, so you walked through the paddock, waiting for him. You bumped into Oscar, who seemed more relaxed, still talking to a few engineers.
“Congrats, Osc!” you said, with a genuine smile.
He quickly turned his head, as if he hadn’t expected you to appear there. “Oh, thanks,” he replied, a shy smile forming on his lips.
“I told you’d make it to the podium. Now you know what that means, right?” you teased, leaning slightly forward.
Oscar turned bright red, looking away at anything that wasn’t you. “I… think so?”
“Great.” You winked and walked away before he could respond, knowing exactly the effect you were having.
After a while, Lando finally appeared. “Ready to go?”
“More than ready.” You smiled, following him to the car that would take you back to the hotel.
Back at the hotel, the exhaustion from the race still lingered, but the excitement pulsed even stronger. Lando was sprawled on the couch in his room, talking nonstop about the race and, of course, the party that was about to happen.
“I need to get ready. What, you’ve got about 30 minutes before I drag you to the party?” you teased, grabbing your bag.
“Thirty? You’re being way too optimistic,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t be able to get ready in 30 minutes even if Oscar asked you to.”
“Oh, Lando…” You smiled slyly as you walked toward the door. “For Oscar, I’d do it in fifteen.”
Lando’s expression was priceless, but you didn’t give him a chance to respond. You walked out laughing and went straight to your room, already imagining how you’d make the night unforgettable. After all, a P1 for Lando and a P3 for Oscar was more than enough reason to celebrate in style.
You chose a stunning black Versace dress, fitting just right, and paired it with high heels from the same brand. But the special touch was in the details that no one would see—or rather, that almost no one would see: a papaya-colored lingerie set, matching the team’s colors, chosen especially for the occasion.
The team had reserved a table in the VIP section of a luxurious club. The atmosphere was pure euphoria—champagne, loud music, and laughter filled the air. As soon as they arrived, you made sure to sit strategically next to Oscar, who seemed out of place, unsure of what to do with all the attention around him.
“Osc, relax,” you murmured in his ear, smiling as you noticed he seemed more nervous than he had been during the race.
“I’m relaxed,” he replied, but the hand holding his drink was trembling slightly.
The conversation flowed with the team, but you made sure to provoke Oscar in little moments. You brushed your leg against his, made comments about how well he did in the race, and, of course, mentioned the “special present.”
“If I knew a P3 would make you this happy, I would’ve tried harder earlier,” he joked, trying to appear more confident.
“Oh, Osc, you have no idea,” you replied, smiling with an enigmatic tone.
As time went by, more people started to drift away from the table to dance or talk in other corners. Before long, it was just the two of you. That was your cue.
“So, Osc…” You leaned in a little closer, the loud music muffling the conversation. “About my present… do you want to know what it is?”
Oscar blushed instantly, looking away as he always did when he felt uncomfortable. “I… I don’t think I should ask.”
“Oh, you definitely should.” Your voice dropped low, almost a whisper, as your eyes challenged his. “I did something special to celebrate your P3. And maybe to encourage you to get more podiums in the future.”
He swallowed nervously. “I need… to go to the bathroom,” he said quickly, standing up before you could react.
You smiled to yourself. “So predictable,” you murmured as you followed him with determined steps.
Oscar looked genuinely surprised when you appeared in the hallway, blocking his escape route. “Seriously, Y/N? I just wanted a minute of peace.”
“No chance.” You took a step forward, cornering him against the wall, a mischievous smile playing on your lips. “I followed you to show you my present.”
Oscar looked at you, clearly uncomfortable, but his curiosity won out. “I don’t know if I want to see that,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady, though the sparkle in his eyes betrayed his curiosity.
You laughed softly, almost amused, and slid the strap of your dress down, revealing a glimpse of the papaya lingerie, the color of the team. “See? Something special for my favorite driver.”
For a moment, Oscar was speechless, his face turning a deeper red than usual. But something seemed to have shifted in him, as if the provocation had awakened something. He took a step forward, closing the distance between you. The look he had now wasn’t shy, but challenging, almost provocative.
“You like to tease, don’t you?” His voice was low but filled with a newfound confidence that you didn’t expect. “But you know what, Y/N? You can’t last three minutes when the roles are reversed.”
The smile on his face made you hesitate for a second, and he immediately seized the opportunity. Without saying another word, he pulled you closer, his hands firmly gripping your waist. The warmth of his body against yours made your heart race, and before you could say anything, Oscar’s lips found yours.
It was an intense, heated kiss, as if he had been swept away by the wave of provocation you had started. Oscar's hands glided over your skin, as if memorizing every part of you, while you couldn't think clearly anymore.
When he pulled away slightly, his eyes glowing in a way you didn't recognize, you were speechless, your body still burning from his proximity and touch.
He leaned in again, whispering in your ear:
"Lost your voice, baby? Always knew you were just talk."
Your breathing was uneven, but you could only stare at him, completely lost.
He grinned to the side, satisfied with the effect he was having.
It didn't take long for him to attack you with even more intense kisses.
You were getting addicted to the taste, to the feeling of being touched by him.
One of his hands slid up your thigh, slowly rising inside your dress. He squeezed your butt firmly, and you couldn't contain a moan. He played with the waistband of your panties, starting to pull them down.
"What are you doing?" you asked, breathless. "Someone might see."
"Now you're afraid of being seen?" he continued, dragging the fabric down your leg. "You never cared before."
He knelt down, completely removing the piece of lingerie.
"But don't worry, baby!" He stood up, pressing his body against yours again.
"I'm not going to do anything here."
He kissed you quickly and pulled away, looking into your eyes while slipping the piece into his pocket.
"If you want it back, find me in my room later."
And just like that, he was gone, leaving you there, completely speechless and hungry for more.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 fanfic#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri x reader
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Secret Admirer
Pairing: slytherin boys x reader
Summary: you never get mail in the morning, not until one day you receive a letter from an anonymous sender, a secret admirer. From that day forward, you’ve been getting letters, poems, and cute little notes each morning at breakfast. His words were sweet, and as you began to fall for them, your quest of figuring out who sent them only grew.
Word Count: 4.1k+
Masterlist
note: trying something new! basically I dont wanna spoil who her secret admirer is, so I’m gonna call it slytherin boys x reader hehe guess you’ll have to read til the end to see who sent her the letters ;)
✰ ✰ ✰
“Theodore Nott, I’m gonna kick your sorry ass!” You shouted.
You reached across the table in the great hall where Theo sat directly in front of you. He had stolen all of the bacon off of your breakfast plate and refused to give it up. Mornings were always quite hectic at the slytherin table, but this was downright unacceptable.
“Nope,” he smirked as he popped a piece into his mouth, “they were all out when I went up for breakfast. This bacon is mine now, sweetheart.”
You huffed, and sat back down in your seat. “You’re ridiculous. If you weren’t so damn late all the time, maybe you would have had some bacon of your own.”
“Here (Y/N),” Enzo smiled from his seat right next to you. “You can have some of my bacon.” He picked the best looking pieces and put them on your plate.
“Aw, Enzo!” You grinned as you picked a piece up and ate it happily. “This is why you're my best friend.”
“Hey!” Pansy shouted from the other side of you. “Thought I was your best friend.”
“You didn’t give up a piece of bacon for her,” Draco smirked, “you’ve been demoted.”
Mattheo gruffed. “Enzo, you’re kind of mean, you know that? (Y/N) complains she’s all out of bacon and you jump to give her a piece, but when I say I need someone to do my charms homework for me, you don’t even try to lift a finger.”
“Mattheo, how many times do I have to tell you,” Enzo said, “I’m never gonna do your homework. And it’s not fair to compare that to giving up a piece of bacon! I don't even like bacon all that much!”
“Dude!” Blaise gasped from next to Draco, “if you don’t like bacon you should have passed that down this way a long time ago.”
Pansy scoffed and shook her head. “I’m surrounded by idiots.”
“Hey,” you whined as you ate another piece of bacon, “I’m the least idiot of the bunch, right Pans?”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, (Y/N/N).”
You grinned, about to rebuttal when the morning owl dropped an envelope in front of you.
“What’s this?” You questioned as you picked it up.
“Uh, I think it’s quite obviously a letter, (Y/N/N).” Mattheo said as he stuffed his mouth full of bacon. “And, to think, you were trying to say you’re the least idiot of us.” He laughed.
“Oi,” Theo knocked his shoulder against Mattheo’s. “Leave her be. I’ve never seen her get a letter before, I’m curious.”
Draco shifted slightly in his seat. “Who’s it from, (Y/N/N)?”
“Nevermind who it’s from,” Blaise chuckled, “I wanna know what it says.”
“Why would you wanna know what it says and not know who it’s from?” Enzo asked, “That's like half the fun.”
You shrugged as you tore open the envelope. Opening the folds of the letter, your cheeks started to warm as you read what was inside.
“What is it?” Pansy asked as she leaned closer, trying to catch a glimpse.
“It says, uh,” you cleared your throat, a little bit flustered. “It says ‘people love to stare up at the stars, glimmering as they might in the night sky, yet everyone is too scared to enjoy the beauty that is the sun. you are my sun, and I would willingly go blind to catch even just a glimpse of you each day.’”
You friends all stared at you in shock. Draco, Blaise and Mattheo had their mouths hung open in shock. Enzo blushed a little bit, Theo had his eyebrows raised like he appreciated the words written on the page, and Pansy all but squealed as you read the letter.
“Oh my god, I think I’m going to combust,” Pansy swooned.
“Who’s it from?” Theo asked.
You shrugged, “I don’t know.” You flipped the letter to the back to see if it was signed at all. “It’s only signed with a heart.”
“That is so romantic!” Pansy squealed as she clasped her hands around your arm. “Our sweet (Y/N) has a secret admirer!”
“Wonder who it could be,” Draco said as he flicked his fingers in motion to hand him the letter.
You complied, and passed the note to him.
“I don’t know,” he said as he flipped it all around. “The handwriting sort of looks familiar.”
“Maybe it’s someone you know?” Theo suggested as he grabbed the letter from Draco’s hands. He took it upon himself to check it out a time or two before passing it to Mattheo’s eager grasp.
“I think it’s kind of funny,” Mattheo chuckled. “What if it’s some first year trying to make their move on you?”
You shuttered. “Merlin, I sure hope not. I honestly don’t think a first year would be able to write something so beautiful.”
“Yeah, no way,” Pansy shook her head. “Mattheo, you’re just jealous you weren’t the one who sent (Y/N) this letter. Maybe she’d give you a chance if you did something romantic, or just not annoying for once.”
“First,” Mattheo said, “ouch. Second, who says I’m not the one who wrote (Y/N) this love letter?”
“Mattheo, you wouldn’t know romance if it hit you with a ten foot pole.” Pansy said.
“Hey!” Mattheo complained. “Someone tell her I’m romantic.”
“Hell no,” Draco scoffed. “You’re ‘bout as romantic as bloody boil, mate.”
You laughed as Mattheo scrunched his face up. The bells chimed signaling the end of breakfast and the start of first class.
“I’m not too worried about it,” you said as you stood and started packing your stuff up. “It’s just a little letter. No harm in it.”
“But you don’t want to know who sent it?” Pansy asked as she grabbed her belongings as well.
You shrugged, “I don’t know yet. I’m not silly enough to expect something to come from this; it’s just a note. It could be a prank for all we know.”
“No one who writes like that is doing it as a prank,” Theo remarked.
“Well, still, whatever the reason may be, I’m not gonna go out looking for this person. No matter how sweet the words are.” You smiled, “I’m gonna head to class, bye guys.”
On your way to class, you couldn’t help but recite the words written in the letter. They had made your heart flutter, as stupid as that sounds. You slightly resented the way it made you feel as it was only a few measly words on paper, but the romantic part of you couldn’t help but want to know who was behind them.
✰ ✰ ✰
In your last class of the day, you finally were able to see your good friend Luna Lovegood. You had been waiting all morning to have class with her so you can inform her of the letter you received that morning.
“And it was just so poetic, Luna. No one has ever said anything like that about me before.”
She smiled at you as you mindlessly drew on your assignment. “I think it sounds quite lovely. Do you have any idea who it may be from?”
You shook your head. “No idea. I don’t even think I know anyone who writes, well, anything.”
“What about that boy Enzo you always hang out with?” Luna suggested. “I’ve got him in my literature class, he’s very talented.”
You thought to yourself for a second. Could it be possible Enzo was your secret admirer? You’d been friends for so long, and he’d always be especially kind to you.
Well, he’s especially kind to everyone, now that you think about it.
“I don’t know,” you honestly replied. “I guess I just never would have expected it to be one of my friends, let alone Enzo.”
“I wouldn’t rule out your group of friends,” Luna said with a smile, “it could really be any one of them.”
“You think so?”
“Well, maybe not all of them, but I think it could be a good place to start if you were wanting to figure out who it is.”
As you pondered over Luna’s words, Slughorn made it a point to reiterate there was no talking allowed during the assignment.
You rolled your eyes and got back to work, waiting for this class to be over so you could finally figure out who wrote you the letter.
✰ ✰ ✰
Back in the common room you saw Pansy, Draco, and Enzo sitting on the couches.
“Hey, (Y/N/N)!” Pansy smiled as she scooted over and patted the spot next to her. “Find out anything new about your secret admirer?”
You smiled with a roll of your eyes as you sat with her. You kicked your shoes off and folded your legs under your body. “No, but I think I’ve got an idea brewing of how to find them.”
“Oh,” Draco smirked from the couch across from you. He folded his arms over his chest, “do tell, (Y/N), I’m very curious to see who it could be.”
You shook your head, teasingly, “not a chance, Malfoy. I’m not giving up my secrets til I get to the bottom of this thing.”
Draco raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, doll, if you wanna be secretive about your already secret admirer, I respect it.”
Enzo shifted in his seat a little uncomfortably. “It’s kind of strange though that they went out of their way to write something to you but kept it a secret. It just makes me a little apprehensive.”
“Oh, chill out, scaredy cat,” Pansy said. “(Y/N) will be fine, and if it’s someone weird at least she’s got us to look out for her.”
You grinned and wrapped your arms around Pansy’s neck. “Quit getting all sweet on me, Pans.”
She chuckled and playfully pushed you away. “Yeah, yeah. I’m not getting sweet, don’t get it twisted.”
You chuckled. “I think I’m gonna head up, got lots of scheming to get to,” you teased with a wiggle of your eyebrows.
You stood up from the couch and Pansy stood with you. “Farewell, boys, it’s been awful as usual.” She said with a smirk.
“Thank Salazar you’re leaving,” Draco said to her. “Your presence was such a nuisance.”
Pansy snarled at him and dramatically turned away to head up the stairs. You and Enzo shared a short laugh before you followed her up the stairs to your shared bedroom.
✰ ✰ ✰
The next morning, you were last to the dining hall for breakfast.
“Finally, she makes it,” Mattheo called out before taking a swig of his orange juice.
You huff and settle into your seat between Enzo and Pansy. “I know, I overslept something horrible this morning.”
Since you were so late, the kitchen staff had already stopped serving breakfast meaning you were going without this morning.
Theo glanced at you from across the table and pushed his plate towards you. “Here,” he said, “take anything you want.”
You looked down at saw scrambled eggs, french toast, and sausage links on his plate.
“Really?” You grinned as you grabbed a sausage link from his plate.
Theo nodded, “yeah, can’t have you go without eating. Lord only knows what a monster you can be without food.” He teased with a small smirk.
You crinkled your nose up at his and grabbed a piece of french toast as well. “I’m gonna let that slide since you were nice enough to give up your breakfast. Don’t make me regret my kindness.”
Theo chuckled and pulled his plate back to him, glancing up at you before delving back into his plate.
Mattheo tried to reach his hand over to Theo’s plate but was met with a slap on the wrist.
“Ow!” Mattheo said as he cradled his wrist in fake hurt. “Theo, how could you? I thought we had something special.”
Theo rolled his eyes. “You got more food on your plate then the rest of us combined. I think you’ll be alright.”
You chuckled, but a thought crept into your mind. “Hey, guys, uh, did the post come today?” You asked.
Draco raised his eyebrow with a smirk. “Waiting for another letter, are we?”
Your face burned as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know. I kinda wanna get to the bottom of who it is.”
“You’ll find ‘em, (Y/N/N),” Pansy said, “even if I have to interrogate everyone we know. We’ll get down to the bottom of it.”
Just as she said that, the morning owl came swooping down towards you and dropped a small slip of paper in front of you.
Draco smirked, “Looks like someone really wants your attention, (Y/N/N).”
You tried to hold back your smile as you unfolded the small post it note.
You couldn’t help the smile on your face as you read out to them, “'I love to see you smile, especially when you’re smiling at me.’ Aw, that’s kind of sweet, actually.”
“Don’t tell me you’re starting to get sweet for this mystery man,” Blaise interrupts.
You shrug as you fold the note back up. “I don’t know, it is pretty sweet, no? And this must mean it’s someone I know personally because they said I smile at them.”
“Oh Godric,” Mattheo grinned, “you’ve fallen for a mystery man.”
“No I haven’t!” You protest. “I just think it’s sweet and now I know it’s someone I’m friends with and not some creepy first year.”
“Wait,” Theo said, “how do you know it’s someone you’re friends with?”
“Because it says I smile at them,” you said obviously. “Who else do I smile at?”
“(Y/N), I hate to break it to you,” Pansy said as she placed a hand on your shoulder, “but you’re the most smiley slytherin I’ve ever met.”
You shrugged off her hand with a fake glare. “Hey! Give me some credit, I can be bad sometimes.”
Enzo chuckled, this is the first time he spoke all conversation. “You’re too sweet to be bad, (Y/N/N).”
You grinned and playfully bumped your shoulder against his. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I just know it’s someone I know. I can feel it. It’s not some random person, it can’t be.”
The bell rang, signaling the end of breakfast. You and your friends stood up to leave. You couldn’t help but think about the notes you received, pondering on who it could possibly be.
✰ ✰ ✰
“Post is running late this morning,” Draco noted as the clock struck 8:26 with no sight of the morning owl.
You were a tad disappointed. You had pondered all day yesterday about who it could be. You’ve narrowed it down quite a bit, and you think Luna may be on to something. While you don’t exactly think for sure that it’s Enzo, you do think you’ve narrowed it down to your group of close friends.
You really just can’t see anyone else knowing you well enough to be this fascinated with you. The only one out of your friend group that you completely had ruled out is Blaise.
Blaise was definitely out because out of the whole friend group, he was the least close with you. Frankly, you guys just don’t talk nearly as much as you talk to the rest of them.
“Great,” Mattheo gruffed, “how will I be entertained this morning without (Y/N)‘s secret stalker and his confession of love.”
Okay, maybe Mattheo was out too.
“Oi,” Theo piped up. “Don’t knock it too hard, (Y/N) seems to be enjoying herself with the letters.”
You blushed a little as you shrugged. “I don’t want to seem weird by how invested I am in it, but I just think it’s sweet. No one’s ever really expressed this kind of feeling for me, so… you know,” you shrugged awkwardly, your face definitely beet red by now.
“Well I for one am extremely invested in this,” Pansy said. “I’m lowkey jealous that I’m not the one with a secret admirer. What I wouldn’t give for someone to think of me that way.”
“Maybe someday someone will like you, Pansy,” Enzo said reassuringly.
“We might all be dead by the time that happens, but who knows, it might happen,” Mattheo said.
Pansy gasped with a glare. “Wow what crawled up your ass this morning?”
Mattheo shrugged and focused his attention back to his breakfast plate.
“Anyway,” Draco said, “I’m intrigued as well. I think I’ve got an idea who it could be, but I'm not quite positive.”
You parked up at that. “Really? Who’s your guess?”
Draco smirked, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” He teased.
You glared at him, “Malfoy, if you know who it is you better spill.”
“I’m not saying I know who it is, I’m just saying I have a hunch at who it may be.”
“Oh!” Enzo exclaims as he points up in the air, “here comes the owl.”
You grin in anticipation as the owl drops a little note down in front of you. It was a larger note than yesterday, but this time it didn’t have something sweet written on it.
It had a clue.
“It just says ‘being your friend is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, though I’d be lying if I said i didn’t want to be more.’” You read.
“So it is one of you!” Pansy shouted as she pointed her finger towards everyone at the table.
Draco smirked, “that was my hunch. ‘Had a feeling it was one of these blokes.”
“And who says it’s not you, Malfoy?” Mattheo questioned with a raise of his brow.
“Please,” Draco scoffed, “if I wanted to woo (Y/N) she’d be mine by now.”
“Oh big talk from down that end,” Pansy rolled her eyes.
“I could get anyone I want,” Draco puffed his chest. “I don’t need to be anonymous to do so.”
“Hey, don’t hate on my letters, Draco.” You complained. “Least they got the balls to say something.”
“Barely counts as having balls when they won’t even say who they are.” Mattheo countered.
You huffed as your table fell into somewhat of a silence. Conversations picked up without you as your thoughts trailed off.
Theo had been extremely quiet this entire time. While he was never the chatter bug, it was odd having gone almost the entire breakfast without hearing from him.
As everyone else was engaged in conversation, you stared at the boy sitting across from you. His head was down as he played with his breakfast, pushing it around with his fork.
You lightly kicked his leg under the table.
Theo’s head perked up. His eyes stared into yours, and for a moment, you couldn’t remember what you wanted to say to the boy.
His eyebrow raised in question as a small smirk glazed his lips.
You blushed a little. “I-uh just wanted to see if you were alright. You didn’t really say too much the whole time we’ve been here.”
Theo shrugged as his smile dropped. “yeah, just don’t got too much input.”
Your heart swelled. You really had turned each morning to revolve around you and your secret pen pal.
“Sorry, Theo. I didn't mean to annoy you with all my talk of the letters.”
He shook his head. “You could never annoy me, doll.”
Your heart beat like crazy.
“Still, though, I feel bad about how much I’ve put into this. Let’s talk about something else.” You offered, “how’s class going?”
Theo chuckled and ran a hand through his tousled hair. “Shit. I’m drowning in assignments and got two quizzes coming up that I’m just not ready for.”
The bell rang.
Theo groaned. “Got one next class. I think I might skip, though. Give myself some more time to prepare for it.”
As everyone started walking out of the dining hall, you grabbed Theo’s arm and pulled him back.
His eyes widened slightly, but quickly reverted back to normal.
“Maybe I‘ll skip with you,” you said, “if you’ll have me, that is. I can help you study. What class is it?”
Theo hesitated. “It’s, uh, herbology. ‘m not very good with plants and all that.”
You grinned, “I can help! I’m not too bad with flowers and plants.”
Theo nodded, “yeah, I could really use the help.”
“Okay, you wanna go to the library then?”
Theo shook his head. “I’ve got a good spot. Come on.” He grabbed your hand and pulled you with him.
You followed him all the way out to the courtyard towards the opposite end of the school. You walked until you reach a large bench with intricate designs on the backing and arm rests.
Theo took a seat. “Figured this would be good as any. Least now we can look at some plants up close, eh?”
You chuckled and took a seat next to him. “Yeah, sounds great, Theo. You got your textbook?”
He nodded and dug through his bag to pull it out. Once he handed it to you, you started flipping through the pages to get to the important material.
“I’ve got the herbology exam 4th period, so I can help you study and it’ll help me study too! Win, win.”
Theo grinned and ran a hand through his hair. “Sounds good, doll.”
Your cheeks blushed. You couldn’t help the smile that graced your face. “I like when you call me doll.”
Your smile dropped. “Oh, geez, I did not mean to say that out loud.”
Theo’s face remained blank. That just made you more nervous.
“Great, now I’ve weirded you out.” You exasperated. “I’m really sorry, Theo, I didn’t mean to-“
“I’m not weirded out, doll.” He cut you off. “Was just a little stunned is all. Didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
You thought your face couldn’t get any hotter than it already was, but somehow it did.
“Well, still,” you mumbled as you looked down at the textbook again, “sorry.”
Theo sat for a minute, watching as you flipped through the book. Your eyebrows furrowed a little in aggravation. You were annoyed at yourself for how stupid you were being. It was Theo for Salazar sake.
Though, you couldn’t help but admire the boy. He was gorgeous, for one, but he was also charming and witty. He was sweet and generous. You couldn’t deny you were attracted to him, but you had never thought he would see you in the same light.
“(Y/N)?” Theo called.
You looked up into his eyes.
Theo stared at you, taking in each one of your features. Your eyes, your lips, your nose. You shifted a little, way too aware of his gaze on you.
“Theo?” You called back. His gaze shifted back to your eyes.
Before you could say anything, he softly spoke, “I’m the one sending you those letters, (Y/N/N).”
You stared at him in shock.
No way.
“Y-you’re the one who wrote me the letters?”
He slowly nodded his head. Theo’s lip was drawn in between his teeth. “Is, uh, are you disappointed?”
“What?” you exclaimed.
He shrugged, “I mean, you just really seemed to like the letters, and I know you wanted to know who it was, so I just hope I haven’t disappointed you in the revelation.”
You shook your head. “Actually, it’s quite the opposite.”
Theo’s head shot up to look at you. “Really?”
You smiled and nodded. “Mhm, I like you Theo. I have for a while now, actually, I just thought you’d never give a chance.”
He laughed. “You thought I’d never give you a chance? I thought you’d never give me a chance.”
You laughed loudly together. When it finally subsided to quiet chuckles, you said, “I really like you, Theo.”
Theo’s smile grew. In a quick moment, he grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you in for a kiss.
You gasped against his lips, and wrapped your arms around his neck as you kissed him back. His textbook fell off your lap as he pulled you closer by the waist.
You kissed him until you couldn’t kiss anymore. Finally pulling back, Theo’s grin was the cutest thing you’ve ever seen, even with his lips a little puffy from your kiss.
“I really like you, Theodore.”
He grinned, “I really like you, more (Y/N).”
#AHHHHH#THIS TOOK ME SO LONG#PLS DONT LET IT FLOP#draco mafloy#theodore not#mattheo riddle#enzo berkshire#blaise zabini#harry potter#draco malfoy x reader#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#mattheo riddle x reader#enzo berkshire x reader#lorenzo berkshire#lorenzo berkshire x reader#slytherin x reader#slytherin boys x reader#slytherin boys#cedric diggory#george weasley#fred weasley#ron weasley
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total wipe out- l.norris



summary: lando has a chance encounter that changes his life
pairing: lando norris x fem! single mom! reader
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Lando had a habit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. This time, his skiing holiday had turned into a disaster when he fucking ran over a child. Impressive, I know. The second he did it he slowed down and started to book it back to the kid who was probably sobbing crying (he’d hit it at full force).
“Are you alright?!” he stressed, picking up the kid (who had been stuck in the snow).
And the fucker was giggling.
“That was fun!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “Do it again!”
Did he have brain damage? Did he just give a child fucking brain damage?
“Alex!” you shouted, stopping beside the two of them. “Are you alright?” you asked, taking him in your arms and checking him over.
“I’m fine mommy! I had so much fun!”
You stared at your son, unimpressed. The mini heart attack you’d just had was all for nothing. “You’re a weird fucking kid,” you mumbled under your breath, making Lando laugh. You turned to him. “I am so sorry about him, I always tell him to stay by me, but he doesn’t listen-”
Lando chuckled, holding a hand up to stop you. “I am almost sure it was my fault, so I am very sorry. I hope he’s alright and I didn’t give him brain damage or something.”
You laughed. “Let’s hope not,” you smiled. “Sorry again.”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry too.”
And with that, you and Alex skated off.
“What the fuck was that?!” Max shouted, coming up beside him with Pietra hot on his tail. “YOU JUST WIPED OUT A KID!”
Lando rolled his eyes. Max, ever the pessimist.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅
As he sat in his cabin, just finished winning a game of poker, he sighed, thinking of you and Alex. Obviously, Lando hadn’t seen anything other than your hair (which he thought was gorgeous), and your eyes when you’d lifted your sunglasses to look over Alex. You had hauntingly beautiful eyes, and he was slightly upset with himself that he hadn’t tried to chat with you longer. You were sweet, kind, funny, beautiful (he just knew you were gorgeous). He wanted to know more.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅
Hanging around the same slope as yesterday in hopes of seeing you there was probably not his best idea, but alas, his dumb plan worked. He saw the familiar dinosaur helmet on the 4 year olds head, and he smiled when he noticed Alex whizzing up to him.
“Alex!” he cheered, watching him come down the mountain, a bright smile on his face.
Alex walked over and wrapped his arms around Lando’s legs. “Did you see?” he questioned, looking up at him.
Lando’s heart ached, he adored children. Alex was definitely not helping his raging baby fever. “I did bud! That was awesome.”
“Are you a professional skier?” he asked.
“No,” Lando smiled, kneeling down to meet his eyes. Your eyes, just smaller. “But I am a professional athlete.”
“What sport?!” he asked, his eyes going wide. “My favourite sport is Formula One, but I like all sports anyway.”
“Who’s your favourite driver?” Lando asked, suppressing a smirk as he took his balaclava down.
“Lando Norris!” he cheered, jumping up and down.
Lando finally took off his goggles and Alex’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit!” he almost shouted, making Lando laugh.
“Alex!” you scolded, walking over to him. “What did we say about bad words?”
“Momma look, he’s Lando Norris!” Alex cheered, pulling on your jacket.
“Holy shit,” you mumbled, looking at him. “Hi, I’m Y/n, and this is Alex,” you introduced. “We meet again.”
He smiled. “It’s nice to see you again.”
“Do you mind if Alex gets a picture with you? You’re his favourite driver,” you asked, trying to sound less awkward than it felt.
“Of course, I’d love to,” Lando smiled, more than happy to get in a photo with him. Alex stood up beside him, hugging him, as Lando smiled wide and bright. You quickly snapped a picture and thanked him.
“Momma, can we go again?” Alex asked, pointing at the top of the mountain.
“We should probably head in for dinner darling,” you said. Alex frowned. “You’re hungry, I know you’re hungry.”
Alex huffed. “I want to go again though.”
“We’ll go again tomorrow,” you smiled, patting his back.
“Alright,” he smiled. “Bye bye Lando!”
“Thanks again,” you smiled at him.
“I’m heading in too now,” he said. “Mind if I join you guys?”
You stared at him for a second. “Um, yeah, sure,” you smiled. “Of course.”
Alex beamed and held Lando’s hand as you all walked back to the resort.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅
Dinner was just listening to Alex ask Lando questions about his life, about the cars, about everything. It was cute, and Lando was so willing to listen to every question, and adequately answer them. As dinner went on, you noticed the way he kept looking over at you, soft, sweet, staring that didn’t make you uncomfortable. And when he was the one carrying Alex back up to your hotel room, and wishing him sweet dreams, he didn’t mind it.
“Thanks for everything today, you’ve definitely made his year,” you chuckled.
“It was nice to meet you guys. Alex is a lovely kid,” he nodded, but there was still something unsaid. He wanted to ask for your number, but didn’t want to overstep, and he could feel the tension between you two. “I’m just going to say this, and you can totally say no and I’ll back off but could I get your number?”
You stared at him. “Is that a joke?” you asked, unsure.
“Oh shit, are you married? Fuck I didn’t know-”
“No, no! I’m not. It’s just… you’re… y’know, and I’m not. I’m a single mom and you’re a racecar driver.”
He shrugged. “And? I really like you, and Alex.”
“Be realistic Lando, what would people say?”
“That I’ve got a very hot and sweet girlfriend and a cute stepson?” he smirked and you playfully pushed him.
“You can have my number, but I’m not promising any of that,” you chuckled, grabbing your phone.
୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅
Australian GP. First race of the season.
And you were sitting in Lando’s hotel room before he had to go to the track. How your life had changed in the past few months. You were officially dating an F1 driver, you’d been to Monaco a lot, Lanod had visited London a lot, and you were happy. Alex adored Lando, they literally went on day trips together without you (Lando says it’s so you can have time with your friends, but you know it’s just because he wants to hang out with him).
“You ready to go, bud?” Lando knocked on the door of the hotel bathroom, trying to get Alex out of there.
“Almost, just need to wash my hands!” he answered.
“You ready?” he asked, turning to you and pressing a kiss to your cheek. He was excited. Extremely so, to have you in his garage and to show you off to the world. 4 months of dating hardly seemed enough, but he had convinced you anyway.
You nodded and took a deep breath, slightly terrified for this weekend.
“You’ll do great,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him. “Everything will be alright.”
You nodded and smiled, taking his hand instead as Alex came out of the bathroom. “All finished mom,” he smiled and took your hand.
Lando stopped you two and smiled. “Pre-race weekend selfie?” he smiled bashfully. You smiled back at him and lifted up Alex, all three of you posing for the photo. “Perfect,” he smiled, looking at the photo, then kissing your cheek.
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