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onsunnyside · 2 years

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φ⌎ 𝟏. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐚

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | dark alpha!fratboy!Steve Rogers x omega sorority!reader (dark A/B/O college AU)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | DARK themes/elements, A/B/O dynamics, 6’6” Steve, mean!Steve, manipulation, (little bit of) soft!DARK, misogyny (within A/B/O designations), assault, sexual tension, scenting, SMUT - minors DNI, non-con to dub-con, coercion, fingering (f), dirty talk, daddy kink, size difference, degradation, dumbification, choking, spitting, p*ssy slapping, squirting, grinding (dry humping, bulge riding), spanking, (a hint of) dacryphilia (but not really, he does lick tears though), humiliation, major power imbalance, possessive behaviour

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It’s hell week at Howard College and Arcadia Phi has traded their pledges for the fresh faces of Kappa Phi, and you’re one of them. Based off this ask.

𝗪/𝗖 | 9.88K

𝗔/𝗡 | here we go ! and because this is me, the frat is full of familiar characters. I made up the frat/sorority names, steve gives me bully vibes (a bully to other people) but it’s just him acting all high and mighty bc he’s an alpha. pls don’t ask me about frat/sorority chapters, i’m making things up/changing things in this fic. all mistakes are my own. this is a dark fic, the warnings have been given—if you don’t like it, don’t read.

˗ˏˋ𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐋𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐜𝐲 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

A loud banging on the door makes you jump before you blindly scramble for your clothes. Squinting is useless in the darkness, but you make out the vague shadow looming from under the door as an unmistakable musk follows. It’s woody and smokey, and has been burnt into your brain the moment you walked into the frat house.

“What’s taking so long, legacy! Those floorboards aren’t going to scrub themselves.” A deep voice booms, followed by another round of knocks as the doorknob rattles. “You better come out before we come in.”

“Let her hide, Bucky.” Someone else laughs, “We’ll see how long until Steve breaks the door down.”

You swing open the door, “I wasn’t hiding.” You correct in irritation, holding your clothes to your chest.

“Awfully suspicious amount of time in there then. You know, some girls just got changed out in the open.” Another man quips, his cardigan hanging over his shoulders, “Why couldn’t you do the same, sweetheart? Are you shy?”

“Bryce, shut up.” The blond on your right speaks up, no longer a silent observer.

You meet those clear blue eyes that have been drawn to you like a moth to a flame. Almost subconsciously, you take a step backwards to put some distance between the two of you.

Steve is leaning on the wall, his thick arms crossed over his defined chest, the seams of his t-shirt nearly burst as he flexes. “Why did you take so long?”

You uncomfortably shift as dozens of leers fall on you, searing straight through the skimpy maid costume. “The lightbulb went out and I couldn’t see.” You tug on the back of the dress, hoping to save at least an ounce of your dignity.

The alpha stares at you a minute longer, analyzing your features before snapping his fingers. “One of you get on the counter and change the light.”

A girl your age surges forward, a bright and suave smile on her face as she passes the frat brothers. You keep your head up and slip out of the dark bathroom.

A warmth ghosts your arm, a slow Brooklyn drawl following suit, “Better get with the others, legacy.”

After tucking away your clothes, you sink back into the small crowd of girls, each of you is clad in your costumes. Varying in colour combinations, but all in the same style, right down to the little lace apron around your waists.

The volunteer from earlier returns, a skip in her step as she takes position front and centre, she’s one of the few girls completely comfortable in these circumstances.

Steve walks forward, exchanging a few words with a brunet alpha. You scan over his body, begrudgingly admiring the way his shirt clings to his biceps, well-built chest and tapering to his thin waist. Finally, you reach his long legs and thick thighs outlined by his dark jeans, but before your eyes can go rogue, you feel a nudge.

Wanda is smiling cheekily. “The pictures didn’t do him justice, right?”

You briefly recall the various photos plastered on the school’s website and social media—Steve Rogers, one of the most prominent figures at Howard College. Most known for being the captain of the football team and the vice president of his fraternity, which itself was exclusively for male alphas, leading to a rowdy bunch of men with egos the size of the moon.

You turn to Wanda and lie, “I don’t remember them.”

The beta looks unconvinced, as expected. Ever since you met her last year, she’s been able to read you like an open book, those inquisitive green eyes peeking through your brain to read the thoughts you haven’t organized yourself. Although, you’ve grown used to her poking and prodding, in an endearing way.

Glancing around at the other pledges, they’re all wearing the same hazy expression, utterly taken by the gods of campus a few feet away.

“You seem a little affected despite not remembering…” She trails off, wiggling her nose.

Your eyes widen and your arms wrap around you. “Really!”

“No, but now I know you were lying.” She replies smugly, flipping her long auburn hair over her shoulder. “As if I could pick you out amongst these ones.”

You deflate, thankful your body hadn’t proven that stereotype right—that omegas are sensual fiends and just easy toys—yet another conception that has haunted you for your whole life.

A loud clap echoes through the room, and everyone’s attention snaps to Steve. He’s taller and bigger than his frat brothers, naturally domineering every other person in the room as he slowly paces. “Welcome to Arcadia Phi, ladies, it’s a good thing you’re all easy on the eyes.” He pauses in front of one girl, frowning, “Almost all of you.”

The eruption of laughter makes you cower backwards, your chest aching for the poor girl. Steve was living up to his reputation as clear as day—the vain, cruelly praised star who couldn’t do any wrong, but on the off chance he did, no one would care. His high and mighty designation and status blind any accountability. You’ve only heard a handful of rumours where people disagreed with him, and only a few actually spoke up about it, but you don’t know what happened after the fact.

Who knows what these ruthless alphas are capable of?

The sons of other alphas who have had the world on a silver platter since their presentation. Taking over society with a snap of their fingers as everyone falls to their knees—in submission or fear.

You hated it, but it’s also all you’ve ever known. A little bit of hope sparks in your chest, a faint perhaps things will change. In your past year at this college, you’ve been blessed to avoid the inevitable consequences that come with being a young, unclaimed omega. The disrespect and objectification, and the horror stories of assault and things even worse.

It hurts even more because of your current predicament, dressed in the most scandalous outfit for the pleasure of these men.

It was unfair to be blessed to not face challenges that no one should ever come across. And, that perhaps burns brighter every time you daydream about a life without any struggles or hardships, where your thoughts and words matter, where your voice can be heard and not disregarded solely based on what you are.

Everyone else was given a chance to be something when they presented, for omegas, it was the opposite. The opportunities slip from your grasp before you can even consider them. Truly doomed by your predestined fate. A mere passenger to the life already written for you.

Howard College has stated multiple times that they’re all for omega rights, but their efforts and representation within the board and council are severely lacking. Their words are silenced by their actions, only confirming their true beliefs.

You weren’t surprised.

It was an awful reflection of society itself. The divide gets thicker every day, between alphas, betas and omegas. Alphas and betas were more common than omegas—but that didn’t halt any ill-treatment, it never did and you dread it never will. Growing up, you’ve heard stories about omega trafficking, and that in some places, breeding programs are still legalized and it’s mandatory for omegas to be claimed within five years of presenting.

At least you weren’t in any of those pieces of hell on earth.

Unfortunately, worldwide, omega rights are nothing but an afterthought. Something to consider after everything else has been handled and stabilized, only when there is care and consideration to spare.

Being at the bottom of the barrel, nothing you say or do could help—so you bite your tongue, tugging at your skirt. God, the more you thought about it, the angrier you got. The audacity and self-entitlement radiating from the men across the room were suffocating. But a voice in your head warns you to steer clear of the fratboys who are notorious for coining the term; omega slut walk.

The vice president stops in front of your side of the group, looming over a beta. When he flashes a charming smile, she sighs dreamily, “A few of you are quite pleasing to look at.”

Some of the girls giggle, flirtatiously fluttering their lashes.

Steve stops short, “I didn’t say I want to hear any of you.” He raises his hand as silence takes over, “That’s better. Just look pretty and do what we say, all right? Then, you’ll all be in our sister sorority.” He pauses, a short test for any rulebreakers, but there aren’t any and he nods in approval.

“Now, ladies, this house hasn’t been deep cleaned in a while.” He stands with his feet spread shoulder-width apart, “So, be thorough, be quiet unless you’re spoken to, and I’ll put in a good word with Maria. Got it?” Everyone silently nods. “You can speak.”

“Yes, Steve.” You all say at once.

The blond cockily grins at his friends. “Good girls, now, line up for your supplies.” He gestures to the kitchen.

The group of you move towards the doorway in a neat line, lips sealed tight as the fratboys talk amongst themselves. Some outrightly compliment the fit of the costumes, their muffled lewd comments make your cheeks heat up.

“Where’s Ari?” One of the betas asks, she’s at the end of the line with her arms crossed over her chest. “He’s the president, why isn’t he here?”

The tall blond quirks a brow, “Last time I checked, his whereabouts isn’t something you need to know.”

“You can’t give orders—I heard Maria made the deal with Ari, not you.”

Steve clears his throat, an unnerving gaze locked on her face. It drags on long enough that the line has completely stalled until someone pushes ahead. Now, you and Wanda stand by the kitchen doorway. You glance back again, and Steve hasn’t moved, neither has the girl—and it’s a flicker, barely noticeable from where you stand, but she slightly recoils. And, like that, Steve pounces.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how you get your pledge redacted.” His voice booms as he tilts his head, “Was it worth opening your mouth, beta?”

“I—”

“Curtis, open the door.” The brunet with a buzzcut clicks open the lock, welcoming the afternoon sun as a fresh breeze blows through, but it’s futile against the tension. “Go on, walk out. Leave because you’d rather speak than join Kappa Phi.”

The girl looks at everyone else, wordlessly begging for a saviour, a courageous person to stand up against the vice president but no one does. You’re all either too afraid or too infatuated to even dare and hopelessly, she leaves. Gathering her belongings and slowly walking out of the frat house.

“Maybe we should call this the stupid beta walk.” The man from earlier, Bryce scoffs.

It’s quite comedic watching the other alphas collectively sigh, as if they’re only aware of the doucheness when Bryce opens his mouth. It wouldn’t surprise you if that’s why they kept him around, to make them look better because even within their designations, alphas need to be the absolute best.

With an ego so vast it made room for a new one, blooming from right in the centre.

One of the other brothers pulls Steve aside, he’s the one who was banging on the bathroom door. Bucky is almost as tall as Steve but his hair is longer and darker. Their build is similar, packed with muscles straining against their clothes but Bucky’s skin is slightly more tanned.

Everyone takes turns gathering supplies; some grab a bottle of cleaner and a rag, others take a small bucket and a sponge. You’re one of the last ones and take a sponge and bucket, dipping your finger in the warm water as you retreat to the small group of girls. All of the different scents overwhelm your nose, ranging from antiseptic to bitter to intensely sweet, the betas surrounding you shake with anticipation.

Alphas give each of you tasks all around the house. Some are sent back to the kitchen, the living room or one of the bathrooms. You’re all dismissed with alphas to keep an eye on you, supervisors to bark out demands.

You’re following a few girls to the living room, then settling into a corner, dipping the sponge in the bucket before scrubbing the discolouration on the floorboards. It’s probably a spill from one of their legendary parties.

As you halfheartedly listen to the alphas talk to each other and the occasional vile comment, you remind yourself why you’re doing this.

Wanda’s gleaming face appears in your head, her eyes lighting up at the thought of belonging to the sorority, Kappa Phi, one of the best for betas and omegas—although there have only ever been a few omegas accepted. And unfortunately, you weren’t one of them last year and that’s how you met Wanda, bonding over being rejected from the sorority.

Wanda called Kappa Phi perfect, although not as known as Arcadia Phi. There wasn’t a fraternity like it, with the most celebrity alums and best leaders with successful lives. Sometimes you wonder how those self-serving souls were gifted with great lives, then you realize that’s how society treats alphas—feeding into their hunger, fueling their greed and egos.

Just like that, Wanda’s face transforms into your mother’s disappointed frown, the same one she wore when you told her the news last year.

“Legacy.” A voice singsongs, “Cap would like to speak to you.”

“I can speak for myself.” Steve pushes off the wall. Anxiety scatters your thoughts, because you didn’t know he was there.

Steve can make his presence known if he wants, which has become very clear since you entered Arcadia Phi. And when he doesn’t, he can seamlessly blend in. You bitterly think about him having a choice. To be seen, to be heard, to be feared—all while you are the unseen, ignored and disregarded, and one who is fearful of people like him.

The most terrifying monsters trick you into believing they aren’t monsters at all. Playing on your trust, only to clamp their fangs in your neck when you least expect it, and yank you into their depths.

There wasn’t a doubt in your mind that Steve was one of those monsters, and you were positive he knew he was too.

“Are you sure? All you’ve done is stare at her like a piece of meat.” A dark-haired man speaks up, his sweater sleeves rolled up while the ring and bracelet glimmer against his pale skin.

“Actually, you two stand up.” Steve’s lips are pressed in a firm line. The girl next to you stands, her blond hair in a low ponytail and her green eyes narrowed. “You go upstairs to the first door on the left, and you,” Steve cocks his head, his gaze unabashedly dragging over your body and lingering on your breasts, “You’ll clean my room.”

The girl walks away with confidence, ignoring the alphas who praise the fit of her costume. With a straightened posture, you follow after her, facing forward with the wet sponge in your hand. Steve stands by the bottom of the stairs, emanating a force that both lures and repels you.

“What’s your name?” His hand falls to your waist like it’s been there a million times before, the warmth sinking through your clothes.

You tell him your name as you stop at the last door on the right. It’s strikingly different from the rest, as if it were painted with a fresh coat of white, it stood out among the busted, stained or cracked doors. Your reflection shines in the doorknob, distorted with visible unease over your features.

His arm brushes yours as he unlocks the door, the key slipping out before he dangles it in front of your face.

“I like my privacy. My brothers tend to just do whatever they want.”

The door slowly swings open, as silent as a breath of air. The walls are a dark blue, almost a rich navy and contrasting against the blinding white bedspread, the sheets wrinkled and half off of the mattress. There’s a desk in the corner cluttered with a shiny laptop, pens and textbooks, as messy as yours back at your dorm. The nightstands are mostly clean, apart from a small stack of books and a lamp on each.

There is an arrangement of paddles on the wall. Some are a plain light wood tone and one, in particular, is a design of red, white and blue, all of them display the same thing; Greek letters, the fraternity crest, along with ‘Big Bro Steve’ above the other name.

The wide window is open, a soft wind flows through, lightly rustling the curtains and the various posters taped on the walls—ranging from school promotions, and fraternity and football related. Nothing beyond that, not even a movie or a band which leads you to believe Steve was as one-dimensional as a sheet of paper—his life revolved around school, his fraternity and football.

Bland, but you had no protests because then he’d be easy to forget. Except, those nerves come rushing back again when you spot something on his four-poster bed. On the metal frame by the fluffy pillows are two pairs of handcuffs, unlocked and glaring at you straight in the face.

“Oops, forgot I left those there.”

The way he speaks makes you think he’s lying. Behind you, Steve dips down and takes a deep breath inches away from your head and growls lowly in his chest. Your toes curl in your shoes as your mind tells you to run far away and never come back, but Wanda’s hopefulness and your mother’s dismay root you into the floor of the house.

You needed a spot in Kappa Phi. Even if that meant risking being scented by an ill-famed alpha.

“Have you ever been handcuffed? I can imagine you have a hard time keeping your hands to yourself, you like being touched, and touching someone else.” He rasps, “But I have a feeling that you’re better at following rules than others. Putting on this little dress without any complaints, just a polite request to change in the bathroom.”

You clench your jaw when he tugs at the bow of the apron, “Can I just clean?”

You gasp and the water splashes and gets on your dress—it was a costume, made of cheap flimsy material that wouldn’t survive a gust of wind, and it definitely wouldn’t survive a strong alpha like Steve. He has the tie wrapped in his fist, the fabric digs into your front and pulls you into his chest, keeping you firmly against him.

“Did you leave your manners downstairs?” He doesn’t shout, his words are quiet and low and that only makes them more unsettling.

“N-No.” You despise the rapid beating of your heart, your natural instincts kicking in and nearly forcing you under his submission. “I’m sorry, can I please clean?” Your ass brushes over the firm bulge in his pants.

“Pretty, sweet and smart? Makes me wonder how an omega like you is still unmated.” He releases you and he reaches for your scent gland, but you quickly shuffle into his bedroom. Steve just chuckles, “Eager to please too—sounds to me that you’re picture-perfect material.”

“What should I clean first?” You avoid his gaze, finding great interest in the gentle ripples of the water in the bucket. You can’t let him that close again, and you shouldn’t have let him that close in the first place. If he touches your spot, you’d be another notch on his belt and another omega on the slut walk list—because yes, there was a list and it’s plastered in the living room.

It didn’t help that he smells so good, earthy and borderline spell-inducing. He makes you sick to your stomach and then that nausea erupts into flames of rage because he’s an asshole standing on a pedestal with his name etched in gold.

Steve made you feel so many things when you didn’t even know him. When he was just Howard College’s star player, and that hasn’t changed since you’re feet away from him. Those overwhelming and inconsistent feelings have appeared again. You don’t want him to make you feel anything. Except maybe forgotten, because then he’d leave you alone.

“How about you just get on your knees, omega?”

He doesn’t move, taking up more than half of the entryway as he gestures to the moderate mess of his bedroom. You shiver and obey, turning around and spotting a hamper with clothes hanging over the edge, some on the floor. You drop to your knees, gathering each item as his smell encapsulates your mind. You’re briefly reminded of your boring and plain bedroom, and how much better it would look with a nest.

On the walls of your brain are images of a warm and comforting bundle, varying in pillows and blankets, but most notably, there’s a heaping of fabrics that look awful like Steve’s clothes in your hands.

You start to feel sick again, and if only you could scrub your brain instead of the floorboards.

“Ain’t that a pretty view.” Steve crosses his arms, admiring the view of your upper thighs, “Don’t get any ideas, legacy.”

“What?” You toss the clothes into the basket and cover it. Standing once again, you straighten the bottles of cologne and other belongings on his dresser. It’s a little dusty, so you take the sponge from the bucket and wipe it down.

“You might want to snatch something of mine. Wouldn’t be the first time an omega tried to steal from me. I’ve been told I have an irresistible scent, I mean, it’s nothing like yours but could be a runner up.”

You try to focus on your tasks. Going from his nightstands to his closet, hanging up a few clothes that have fallen and organizing the shoes on the rack. You’re kneeling in the closet when one of his fraternity brothers pops up, you ignore them as best you can, sorting the different sneakers, boots and dress shoes.

A loud laugh startles you, making you drop a pair of sneakers.

“Oh, she’s jumpy?” You vaguely remember that voice, you’ve heard him in a few of your lectures.

“She’s cute, right? Like a little bunny.”

Your head snaps back as you glare at Steve. Every moment you spend in his presence makes you want to do something, to be more than a mere bystander, but to an extent because you didn’t want to make him too angry. You still wanted to—needed to join Kappa Phi.

It turns out your heated glare was barely anything, and all you get is a coy wink from the tall blond.

“Honey, are you okay down there?” The older alpha, Andy asks, faint dimples under his thick beard, “You don’t look like the kind to spend a lot of time on your knees.”

You abruptly stand, narrowed gaze set on the two burly men by the door. They have you caged in with a mocking gleam on their faces, daring you to say whatever your little fiery heart desires. Say it, tell them what assholes they are, how they deserve nothing they have—how their self-righteousness is just them making up for their lack of knot.

Fucking say it.

You can feel the frustration buzzing in your chest, but your throat and lips refuse to cooperate, forcing the rest of you to just bubble in silent fury. Opening your mouth would be digging your own grave, but the cold and wet dirt is better than Steve’s and any other alpha’s poisoned presence.

If only you were immune to whatever toxicity was streaming through their veins and draped in their words.

Silently defeated by yourself and their taunting expressions, you turn away and dust your dress, belittling yourself for retreating so quickly.

“Good choice, legacy.” Andy quips, “what else are you willing to do for a spot in Kappa?”

“If I tell you, will it happen?” You busy yourself with Steve’s desk. Organizing the pens and pencils into the mason jar, before moving onto the sheets of paper.

“Depends what it is.”

“I’m willing to redo that law essay you flunked on.” You face them again, and Andy has a surprised, but pleased smile on his face. Steve is the opposite, his eyebrows are furrowed while his lips are pressed in a firm line.

“Yeah? Do you want to tutor me too?”

Steve steps forward, inserting himself between you and the other alpha like a brick wall. “You can’t do a thorough job if you’re distracted. Do you want him to leave?”

You hold the papers to your chest, “Pardon?”

“Tell him, show me that you’re Kappa Phi material.” He smirks. “Tell him to leave us alone, omega.”

The sheets crinkle in your hands as you tense. Speaking back to alphas was only a fantasy, sure you’ve dreamt of kicking their teeth in, but you have never crossed that line.

Omega—he was reminding you of your designation, as if you could forget it. But you knew he only wanted to rub it in, to summon that dread and watch it bleed onto your features because omegas could never tell an alpha what to do and have the same impact of an alpha demanding an omega.

Your words would be nothing but white noise, as forgetful as an advertisement on the radio and no one would listen because no one had to. Not like omegas who bowed down at the first syllable of an alpha using their alpha voice or being subject to a great deal of pain.

You couldn’t tell an alpha what to do, not without looking like a fool, even if it was one as casual and collected as Andy.

“C’mon, I know there’s a little spice in all that sweetness. You’ve wanted to open your mouth since you walked in here, and now I’m permitting you to.” Steve comes closer until he stands a few inches from you, his stature towers over you like a mountain.

“G-Go away.”

Andy chuckles from the door, “What was that?”

Steve grabs your chin, “That’s not what I told you to say, darling.”

You can’t tell if the aching you feel is your pride or your loneliness thriving in the attention—you haven’t been the object of one's attention, alpha or beta, in a very long time.

“Leave us alone, Andy.” You’re frozen in the pools of blue surrounded by thick lashes. As if it weren’t enough for his body to be your wet dream, his face was a work of art. Chiselled cheekbones, strong jaw and a prominent nose. Clear skin sprinkled with freckles and beauty marks, and pink plump lips that stretched into a prince-like smile.

You hated to find him so attractive, but the world has never been on your side anyway.

The brunet pushes off the doorframe, “I guess I’ll check on the other girl in the bathroom. Be gentle with this one, Steve, she seems more delicate than your last toy.”

And, just like that, you’re flung back into reality. Steve is also a player, known for his various relations that never last more than a few weeks. He’s probably been with more than most think. Some are too ashamed for everyone to know that Steve Rogers had them, then dumped them like trash on the side of the road.

Typical Arcadia alphas, plucking people left and right then ditching them when they get bored or when a new spark catches their attention.

You don’t want to be that for Steve. You refuse to be the new object of his affection—because that’s how he’d treat you, something to show off until he doesn’t want you anymore.

Not to mention you just hated everything he stood for.

The easy life, the self-entitlement, privilege and downright mean attitude, selfishness and arrogance rolled into one.

You just need to keep a distance, keep reminding yourself why you’re here and that he’s just a bad man. A terrible man who shouldn’t even be touching you right now. You take a step back and distract yourself with his desk. Filing through the textbooks and setting them on the small shelf.

“I’ve seen you around campus. Do you have a dorm here?”

“I do.” You answer short. You’ve seen him riding his bike and revving the engine. Zooming down the campus streets with a leather or denim jacket. The supposed legend in the making, but right now, he was just the shadow looming over your shoulder, chilling to the bone.

Steve pulls out his desk chair and sits down, relaxing on the cushions and spreading his thighs. His foot knocks yours. “I haven’t had a dorm room, just tried for Arcadia and got in so I’ve lived here for about two years now.”

You just nod, gathering the small bunches of sticky notes and scattered paper clips.

“Those go in the drawer.” He runs a hand through his hair, a twinkle in his eyes.

You open the drawer and are welcomed with strips of condoms and tubes of lube. Your cheeks go hot as you drop the items in and slam it shut. “Those should be in your nightstand.”

“Oh, I have them there too. These are just backups.” Steve’s gaze rakes over you as his tongue pokes out to lick his lips. “You tried to get into Kappa last year.”

You’re doing this for Wanda and your mother, and you need to try even harder than you did last year. Maybe after this, your mother will finally return your calls, you can only hope that one day, she’ll recognize the wrongness in her actions. Pushing you away only because you didn’t get into her old sorority. Whether Kappa Phi didn’t accept you because of your designation or other reasons, it’s not fair of her to treat you this way.

“Unlike Arcadia, Kappa is quite easy to get into. They’ll accept anyone like every other frat or sorority on campus.” Steve rolls his eyes, “So, it makes me curious as to why you were denied, legacy.”

“Can you not call me that?” And you quickly add, “Please?”

“That’s what you are. Your mother was in Kappa Phi, and now you’re going to be in it too—maybe, I can still redact your pledge but I wouldn’t want to make momma-legacy upset. Does she know you’re trying again?”

“She would if she answered my calls.”

Steve is quiet for a few seconds before he nods slowly. You grab the sponge and try to move away, but he grabs your wrist, pulling you to stand between his legs. “What’d you do to not get in? Sleep with another girl's partner? Hook up with a professor for some extra credit?”

You scowl. “None of that.”

“My brothers and I have a theory that every omega is a whore until proven innocent.”

You stiffen as his other hand fiddles with the lace hem of your dress, slipping between the first layer to the second and finally to your skin. His fingers trail higher, and you clamp your thighs together, glazing at the open door as his grip on your wrist tightens. You want him to let go and stop, so you say the one thing that has been in your head, “You’re an asshole.”

The second those words leave your mouth, a fresh wave of relief combs over you, but then it freezes like water. The realization is icy cold, stilling in your veins and halting your breath.

“What was that?” He moves fast and stands, crowding you against the desk. The water drips down your elbow as you raise your arms and try to keep him at bay, but it’s useless. He presses against you, the water seeping into his shirt.

“An asshole—am I mean? Like your mother who’s ignoring you because you didn’t get into a sorority?” Steve asks, “I can be much worse than that, and I think you know that.”

He grabs your chin between his thumb and forefinger, he’s close enough that you can see every shade of blue and tint of green in his eyes. His lips are so pink and pillowy soft, you can’t help but lean into his touch like a magnetic force. “You’re looking at me like I’m going to hurt you.”

It’s instinctual and completely out of your control. The warmth he radiates, the raw power and just alpha compelling you. You realize you’ve been fighting him since you met him, and as vigorously as you resisted, he could turn you to mush with a flutter of his eyes.

He hums softly, drinking down your smell like a man starved. When his gaze meets yours again, the iris is a thin ring around the pupil. “And, I just might.” His white teeth gleam maliciously behind a simper.

You snap out of whatever fleeting spell he had you under and inch backwards, willing yourself to stay silent. He steps forward, his thigh slipping between yours and pinning you against the desk.

“I won’t hurt a pretty omega like you unless you give me a reason to.” His Brooklyn twang rings in your ears, drilling the threat into your brain. “So, don’t give me one.”

You nod wordlessly, gripping the sponge so tightly that all the water was gone, and probably on Steve’s shirt and your dress. You can’t move to check because he keeps you in place, provoking you to make a wrong move.

And, unknowingly, you did and Steve sighs in disappointment, you find yourself searching your mind for the cause of it—before a round of cheers grab your attention. Your face slips from Steve’s hold before he grips you again, this time with your chin between his knuckles, lightly pinching you. “Speak, sweetheart.”

“Y-Yes, Steve.”

“Good girl.” His touch trails across your jaw, then down your neck. “This is cute.” He notes, touching the silver chain around your neck, all the way to the small circle with the stamped letter. He tuts when you don’t speak. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Thank you, Steve.” You gulp, practically sitting on his desk with his thigh snug between yours. The bottom of your dress is dangerously close to exposing your panties.

“Who’s H?”

“My friend.”

He flips the metal charm, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the engraving. “Your friend.”

“My best friend.” You squirm as his other hand lands on your hip, gently squeezing, “We grew up together but he goes to Harvard.”

“Childhood friends… Isn’t that adorable?” Steve beams, “You’re sentimental, then?” He twirls the necklace around his finger as the chain digs into your neck.

With every swirl of his digit, he brings you another inch closer as his breath fans over your cheeks. “I-I guess.”

He’s quiet for a few moments, his watchful gaze locked on your face, observing every minuscule twitch. “Would you wear my name?”

“What?”

“Would you wear my name right here,” he lightly pulls at the chain, “or would you rather wear my mark,” it almost happens in slow motion. With your arms uselessly sandwiched between your bodies, his touch trails to your scent gland, applying pressure, “right here. Where everyone can see.”

His smell increases tenfold, forming a cloud around you and soaking into your brain. The smoky and woody scent is calming and awakening at the same time. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen, but your defences are fluttering to the ground with every millisecond as he scents you—without your consent. It triggers some of your basic instincts, the innate desire to be claimed by another, to be submissive and at their beck and call.

With the chain in his grasp and a gentle touch of his fingers, he cracks the walls you’ve built to keep yourself safe and secure, to keep yourself separate from your designation and your predestined fate.

You attempt to collect yourself and through uneven breaths, you push him away. Steve doesn’t budge, he only grabs your thigh and hikes it on his waist, forcing you on the desk as your dress flips up. His dark gaze lands on your cotton panties and he growls appreciatively, nostrils flaring.

Your heart beats against your chest, loud enough to rattle your brain. “Please, don’t.” You whisper. “I can’t—I don’t...”

“You don’t?” He rubs your spot in slow circles, “If you don’t want me, then why are you getting wet?” He emphasizes his words by snapping the band of your panties against your skin, drawing closer to your warm centre.

“Because you’re—” You whine, resolve melting away with every delicate motion of his fingers, you slump under his touch.

Weak, you feel so weak yet desired. It’s a cruel curse of euphoria and you hate yourself for it, although it’s completely out of your control.

“You want me, sweetheart. I can see it on your face, I can smell you soaking your panties. I bet if I listen hard enough, I can hear your whiney thoughts begging for me.” Steve’s voice is smooth and deep, “But, all I can hear is your heart racing because you’re excited. Have you ever been touched like this?” His hand brushes over your panties and cups your mound.

“It’s not that.”

Steve’s hold tightens on your necklace as his long and thick fingers start rubbing over the cotton fabric, your wetness unmistakably seeping through. “Then what, omega?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer, not while all of your pent-up frustration comes rushing in. The look in his eyes is hard to pinpoint whether he’s remorseless, fully intrigued or downright enjoying toying with you.

Your lips quiver as tears pool in your eyes. You hate him, and you hate how good he’s making you feel with just a few fingers. You whimper as he tugs your panties to the side, sliding between your slick folds.

“Is it fear?” His tone is light and taunting, “Because that’s even better than excitement and, it looks especially lovely on you, legacy.”

As he releases your necklace, and his warmth on your scent gland leaves too. You’re flooded with ease and without his support, you sag into the shelf on the desk, the textbooks fall and the mason jar of pens tips over, clattering to the ground as the glass rolls away.

Steve tears the front of your dress, the cheap seams giving away under his strength. Your nipples meet the cool air, pebbled and immediately pinched by the alpha standing between your legs. He growls, massaging your tits as his other hand returns to your nub.

“You haven’t been touched in a while. I can tell.” His tone is so wickedly gentle, it’s a sharp contrast to his character. “Look at you, going dumb for me already, getting my desk wet.” He rasps, “C’mon, push me away.”

Your hands land on his forearms as your last line of defence falls.

His eyes lock on yours, his pink lips part in low breaths. “Do it. Tell me you don’t want me.”

Your fingertips press into his skin when he pulls away from your cunt, his big hands land on your inner thighs. A strained whine escapes your throat, a silent plea for more.

“Or, tell me you want me, baby. Cry for me—let me know how bad you want my touch, my fingers in your pretty pussy, my knot in your fuckhole.” Steve massages your flesh, inching closer to your core but never directly touching there, “I want to hear you say it, omega.”

His words are another blow to your pride. You surrender to his undeniable authority, giving in to him because Steve was right, you haven’t been touched in a long time, and everyone was a victim to his command—that didn’t exclude you.

Do you want him?

Do you even have a choice?

“Let me hear you, sweet girl. Give me what I want, don’t you want to make me proud?”

Maybe you did and that’s why he was asking.

You consider it, which might have been your first mistake. After all the rumours you’ve heard, most of them have been proven to be true, you shouldn’t trust him or want to make him proud. Why should his commendation matter when he’s nothing but another alpha with a sense of superiority?

Because he isn’t just another alpha—he’s Steve Rogers.

And he wants you.

You should have stayed far away from him and Arcadia Phi, regardless of your best friend’s and mother’s wishes. But you didn’t, and now look at you, sprawled on his desk with his bedroom door open, scantily clad in a torn maid costume with your most sensitive spot exposed. Your scent gland is still buzzing with his touch, craving more.

Despite your hateful feelings, you want more, you want him. There’s no denying that at this moment.

That’s when the first tear falls down your cheek, leaving a shiny trail in its wake.

“Please touch me, Steve. I-I want you.” You hiccup, reaching for his hands to bring one to your face, the other to your pussy. Your knees hook around his waist, “Want you so bad, alpha.”

His blue eyes twinkle, the corner of his lips quirk up, “That’s my omega.”

You would have never expected your day to end up like this. Willingly giving in to his advances, but maybe that was why you even considered it.

Steve knows the truth. You believed you had a choice when he was going to get what he wanted one way or another. He thrives off your sweet little heart having faith in yourself, it’s adorable. And, he can’t wait to corrupt you.

“Please, Steve.” Your legs fall open, neck craning to watch his skilled fingers trace your hole, barely dipping it before rubbing your clit again. You’re aching for him and anything he can give you.

Your slick drips out and Steve’s mouth waters, he’s seconds away from dropping to his knees and devouring you whole. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for this? I saw you at orientation—you seemed so lost but eager.” He cups your face, leaning down until his nose brushes yours and finally, one of his fingers pushes in, pressing to his knuckle before drawing out. “You didn’t even fucking look at me.”

You whine, scrambling for his broad shoulders and falling deeper into that blissful headspace.

“As if I wasn’t even there.” He slides in with two fingers, sissoring you open. He pumps in deep, curling his digits to reach your special spot as his thumb lands on your clit, “Now look at you, baby, dripping on my desk, your cunt sucking me in. Bet you’re hungry for a knot, huh?” There’s a softness in his eyes and his touch on your cheek. His warmth sinks to your bones, burning an imprint in the shape of him.

Steve speeds up and adds more power. His bicep flexes with every thrust, working you open as your juices drip down his hand, marking him with your scent. He looms over you, huge and intimidating, making you a compliant mess. His groan rumbles his chest as he pulls out to slap your pussy, the wet noises make your cheeks heat up. “Nearly forced Kappa Phi to take you in but my ex was the president at the time.”

He captures your lips in his, slipping his tongue in your mouth as his palm falls to the side of your neck. Your jaw falls slack as he rubs your gland and penetrates three thick fingers into your tight hole at the same time. Steve growls, biting on your bottom lip before kissing you sloppily. He tastes like mint and he’s demanding and rough, while you’re needy and docile, a perfect match.

You turn away as he picks up pace, spreading his long fingers along your inner walls. Moans flow out of your body and into the open air, shameless and absolute music to Steve’s ears. He stretches you open as the shelf digs into your back, his expert touch bringing you to the edge fast. Heat builds in your belly and even in the thin dress, you feel the sweat on your skin. He spanks your clit, feeding off your mewls along with the lewd sopping noises coming from your core. Your cream has formed a mess under your ass as it’s forced out of your poor hole, dripping down to your rosebud.

“That’s it, you going to come for me, sweet girl? This cunt was made for taking cock, for taking mine—you want my knot, omega? Since you’re this wet from my hand, I bet you’re a stupid mess when you’re in heat. You hear that?” He slaps your cunt in quick succession, “You’re dripping for me, you want me to stretch you open, fuck you until you can’t even think.” He grunts, teeth clenched as your thighs threaten to shut, he prys them apart and swats your clit harder, still pounding you with his fingers. “You’d take my cock if I just asked, huh? You’d let me fill your little cunt, breed you like a dumb slut. I bet you fucking love this.”

You cover your face as you squeal, the back of your head thumping against the wall as you convulse. Your slick pours out, soaking his skin and dripping down his wrist. His pumps don’t stutter or even slow down, he keeps up the intensity and you’ve officially lost your mind. You fist his t-shirt in your other hand, either trying to escape or pull him closer, you don’t even know.

“So fucking tight, you don’t even want me to stop, huh?” He yanks you close by the back of your neck, he spits into your open mouth. “That’s why you squirted all over me, fucking cock hungry whore.” He kisses you although you barely respond, too fucked out and dazed. When he pulls away, he messily traces through your folds, smearing your juices around as he releases your lips with a pop.

The blue in his eyes is hardly visible, but that could just be your watery vision. He brings his hand to your face, spreading his digits as your cream webs between them. “You want a taste, baby?”

You let him slip two fingers into your mouth, pressing to the knuckles and forcing you to clean him. He groans as you gag slightly, tears welling in your eyes as he fucks your mouth just like your cunt. When he deems you’ve had enough, he sucks his ring finger, eyes fluttering shut at your taste. He’s filthy with it, putting on a show, letting you know just how he’d treat your precious pussy with his tongue.

“Tastes even better than I thought.” Steve sighs, and runs his fingers along the bottom half of your face, your wetness mixed with both of your saliva dries on your skin. “Now, if you did that last year during pledge week, you would’ve gotten into Kappa without a doubt.”

You’ve barely managed to catch your breath, still riding on that wave that’s made you question your entire college career. “I-I don’t need your help.”

Steve laughs, easily picking you up and sitting in the chair. Even in his lap, he’s bigger than you. “You just need me. And with that, you’re going to get my help anyway.” He grips your hips as your tingling cunt meets his jeans.

“Wait—” You gasp, “It’s too much, I can’t—”

“You can,” He kisses down your cheek to your jaw, he sucks at the spot right by your scent gland. “And, you will. Make me even prouder, omega. Rub yourself on me, make a mess on my pants. Claim me just like I’ll claim you.” Then, his teeth drag over your spot, immediately making you pliant in his hold and to his voice. “Be a good girl for daddy.”

You tie your arms around his shoulders, wasting no time in grinding against the giant bulge. The denim is rough against your sensitive petals, but it feels so good, it feels better than your pillow at your dorm and with every swirl of your hips, Steve groans freely against your neck.

He tears the back of your skimpy dress and the fabric falls down your body. It hangs from your waist and the skirt flutters with every rock of your hips. Your cunt is tortured by his jeans, your clit rubbed raw and begging for a break, but you can’t give yourself one. Not until Steve wants you to because, despite your best efforts, you’ve fallen victim to his cruel charm and your darkest fantasies.

Steve sucks on your spot, teasing you with nips between his dirty words. You can’t even hear him anymore, your body hums with passion and want. An instinctual desire to obey his every command and be his good girl, you want to claim him—own him like he owns you.

Perhaps the stereotypes about omegas were always right, and you’ve been in denial. Or, Steve is just intoxicating with a magnetic force that draws you in. He’s awoken a longing inside you, one that you didn’t even know existed.

“They said you were one of the smartest omegas on campus, but it doesn’t seem like that now.” Steve grabs your throat with one hand, guiding you over his clothed cock with the other. “I turned you into my little omega, my dumb slut. I can feel your pussy throbbing for me, oh, my pussy—because this tight fuckhole was made for me.” He tightens his hold and licks from your jaw to your cheek. “Aw, are you crying for me? Giving daddy those pretty tears, it’s like you never want me to let you go.”

You struggle against him, hiccuping another pathetic moan as he thrusts upwards, meeting your grinds.

Steve knows you aren’t incapable, not like the rest of the dull and drab students of Howard College. You had a fight in you, albeit timid and frail, it was there and he can only imagine what other fire hides within your soul. He read the hatred and spite on your face like an open book, you weren’t as secretive as you thought and he assumed you’d be trouble. But no, you stayed quiet and obedient until he lured you out.

You had potential, you had shown that with your early resistance and how you treated Andy—fucking Andy, this morning he asked if you could clean his room, but Steve had already made his intentions clear. You were his for the day, and the next, until he was done with you. Which wasn’t anywhere in the near future.

Watching you now, teary eyes rolled in the back of your head and listening to your mewls echo through the room, he hopes Andy and the rest of his frat brothers were listening. Then, they’d know that Steve wasn’t letting you go, they could try, they could beg and fight, and he’d just tease you in front of their noses. Playing with people was fun, and with you in his corner, he’d never lose.

“Fuck, keep going.” Steve hisses, the veins in his neck tense as his head falls back. His fingertips dig into your ass, groping the flesh, “That’s it, you’re doing so good, baby.”

“Daddy, ah please, daddy.”

“What do you need, omega?” Steve pants, flipping up the stubborn skirt to watch your puffy cunt grind against his bulge. The denim is dark under you and he has the perfect view of your spread folds and swollen clit rubbing along his jeans, your sweet slick seeping through his jeans to his skin, he can feel you.

“F-Fuck me, please—I want it, want it.” You repeat, nails dragging down his shirt, your poor hole weeping for him.

He smirks, “My little girl wants my cock? Want me to stretch your tight pussy, fuck you until you don’t have any tears left, pump you full of my cum and fucking breed you?” He spanks you, making you jerk and squeak, “You want to be my omega?”

You nod shakily and reach down, weakly attempting to unbutton his pants but he swats you away. With his feet planted firmly on the ground, he takes control and moves you roughly over his dick. You let out a high-pitched squeal, knees pressing into the cushion of the seat as you try to right yourself, but it’s feeble against his strength.

“You want my cock so bad that you’ll just pull it out without my permission?” Steve’s stomach tightens as the tears trail down your cheeks, slipping into the corners of your parted mouth. “Thought you’d know better now.”

You grab onto his wrists, piercing his skin with your nails, “I-It’s too much!” Your cry.

“It’s not enough.” He grabs your throat, not tight enough to restrict airflow but firm enough to let you know he can, and it only makes you greedier. You try to meet his grinds but you’re just bouncing on his lap.

“D-Daddy, I can’t.”

“You can.” He insists, getting closer to the edge. He imagines your tight hole clenched around his cock as he stuffs his knot into you. “You can, and you will.”

You weep, “...can’t.”

Steve has always loved a little challenge and he knows you’re an omega who hoped for more, who craved for more—and it was ultimately intriguing. To tame the feisty attitude bubbling inside of you, the same flicker he sees when he speaks again. “You can’t come.”

Your eyes shoot open, a torn and angry expression on your face, “But—”

“Shush now, baby.” He groans, cheeks flushed red as his whole body tenses, and he never stops moving you over him. “I said make a mess, I didn’t say you could come. Tell me you want to be mine.”

“Daddy, please—” You whimper, the tightness in your belly becoming too much.

Steve swats your ass harshly, “fucking say it.”

Your cunt throbs between your thighs, the denim has rubbed you raw, “I-I want to be yours, daddy.”

Steve groans gutturally, his back arches as his eyes flutter shut. Throaty praises ring in your ears, his hold is so tight that they’ll be bruises tomorrow. His muscles flex, his abs, biceps and thick thighs under you, and you can feel his cock swell up under your core. His knot is going to waste and you whine.

Steve's hair falls against his forehead as he looks at you, blue eyes full of bliss and perhaps even devotion—he’s beautiful and evil.

You sniffle quietly, feeling his warm cum seeping through the denim. “You’re so mean…”

Steve’s chest heaves, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Thought we already established that, baby?”

The open air is exactly what you need as you limp down the path with your clothes in your arms, some girls can’t help but stare at you. In envy or pity, they watch your uneven steps. They’re all still wearing their costumes, the evening breeze isn’t kind to their exposed skin. You stand out like a sore thumb, clad in Steve’s t-shirt and his sweatpants. Your poor folds gaining a bit of much-needed relief.

Some of the other pledges are talking—you know it’s about you despite how quiet they try to be.

They know, everyone in the house knew what happened in Steve’s bedroom. And some of the other girls were either jealous or sorrowful. You were unsure about your own feelings too, since you’re still teetering on the edge of that omega headspace because Steve couldn’t stop touching your gland.

In particular, the Arcadia alphas were as shameless as ever. They clapped and cheered when you wobbled down the stairs with Steve on your tail.

“Legacy deserves a gold star for that performance.”

“I’m going to knock your teeth in if you don’t shut up, Bryce.” Steve spits as he pulls you to the kitchen, grabbing a cold water bottle from the fridge.

Bucky whistles lowly, “And thus, the innate need to be an asshole after getting with an omega. Don’t you all wish there were more omega pledges, fellas?”

Steve ignores him in favour of gathering snacks from the cabinets and shelves. And, for the rest of the day, you sit on his lap in his clothes, watching the other pledges sweat and scrub at the whole house.

He relaxes on the couch, one of his hands never leaving your body as he speaks to his brothers, petting and tending to you like a doll, “Perhaps little legacy is Kappa Phi material, huh, baby?”

You don’t look back once, forcing yourself to stare ahead as Wanda asks how you’re feeling, among other things. You’ll tell her when you’re at your dorm and far away from Arcadia Phi.

Steve watches from the front door of the frat house, his arms crossed as the breeze brushes his bare skin, the band of his sweatpants hanging dangerously low. Behind him, his frat brothers are discussing names of the pledges, yours pops up more than a few times and is followed by a lewd comment.

“Our sister sorority, too. You’re freakier than I thought, punk.” Bucky steps beside him, a little apron in his hands.

“I wonder if I should tell our parents about his risqué behaviour.” Another voice says as an arm swings around Steve’s shoulder, “What do you think, little brother? Will mom and dad return you?”

Steve shrugs off Ransom, glaring at him. “I’m older than you, dipshit, and that’s not how adoption works.”

“Blah, blah, blah. All I’m hearing is the sound of an overdue glorified housepet.” He teases while the blond just scoffs.

They’ve been this way since they met, their relationship was strong from the beginning but that didn’t lessen any of the bickering or fights that every other sibling has. The only difference was their resilience yet they had odd similarities in terms of behaviour and attitude. Both being headstrong and fearless alphas. It was a wonder how they had lasted this long while constantly sharing a circle of friends.

“Although, I must acknowledge your exquisite taste because that sweet girl,” Ransom points down the street, “is on every alpha and beta—probably some wild omegas too—radar.”

“Surprised she hasn’t been claimed yet.” Curtis speaks up, “actually, I’m shocked a lot of omegas here haven’t been mated.”

“Some of us have standards and most of those omegas have been strung through every bed on campus.” Ransom replies, grinning at his brother, “I admire our parallel preferences, Stevie, think I can take a go at legacy?”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh, it seems that testosterone is still sky-high. I’ll ask you when you’ve had time to wind down, try out the hot tub, huh?” The brunet leaves with a wink and a slap on Steve’s shoulder, waltzing into the house and joining the discussion with the rest of the brothers.

“Hate to be the bearer of bad news, Mr. fuck-em-and-leave-em, but she doesn’t even like us,” Bucky laughs, “Much less you.”

“Not yet.” He licks his lips as your group disappears around a corner. The empty air still carries a thread of your scent, or maybe that’s just your soaked panties crumbled in his pocket.

He was already one of the gods of Howard College and he's going to be yours too.

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: well here it is ! the first part of captain's legacy and the first dark fic I've ever posted. mean!Steve just does something to me, and I have a feeling he'll be like that for a while. this is a dark fic, so we'll see how much fluff is in the future. the ending was supposed to be longer but I think it fits better in the next part and like my other series, this has no update schedule.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

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moldisgoodforyou · 4 years

Text

the one with the list

warning: brief mention of a fight, misogyny, cursing, brief mention of sex

wordcount: 1.4k

charlie strolled in unannounced to the frat house - like normal. at first she tried to respect the boundaries of the house, only coming over when there was a party or sneaking up the back staircase to jj’s room. but after a few months of seeing random hookups go in and out of beta like it had a revolving door, she could care less. her casual attire of leggings and a worn, cropped tee proved her attitude.

girlfriends had to have some extra privileges, after all. (and let’s be honest - she was a shoo-in for the fraternity sweetheart vote, with the way she babied the pledges.)

she went into the kitchen, wrinkling her nose as she swept a few empty beer cans into the trash, then pulled a soda from the fridge. charlie heard some arguing from downstairs and headed down, dr. pepper can in hand. the den in the basement - lovingly referred to as “the pit” - was more crowded than normal for a wednesday afternoon, with half the pledge class sitting on the floor and the rest of the upperclassmen all lounging around on the random assorted furniture.

at least all of them had a beer (or two) in hand, and the commotion got louder as she came closer. she stood in the doorway in the back, taking in the scene in front of her - three pledges standing up at the giant whiteboard that had been stolen from an old lecture hall, all fighting over a couple expo markers. the top of the board had KAPPA scrawled across it, while the rest had about twenty different girls’ names written out in chicken scratch. (charlie’s name showed up twice, written out in two different handwritings.)

most of the boys didn’t notice her (a couple pledges gave her a shy wave), and she didn’t mind, her attention drawn to jj standing from the couch. “we all know she’s top three!” he argued, slapping away someone’s hand as they went to shove him. “look, maybank, just because you’re whipped..” one boy pointed out, smirking when jj sent him a glare.

she decided it was time to make her entrance, setting the soda aside. “what’s going on, boys?” she asked loudly, to catch their attention.

all eyes were on her in a second, the room falling silent. jj practically hurdled one of the couches to get to her. “charlie, you didn’t tell me you were coming over!” he placed both hands on her shoulders, to steer her out of the room, but she shrugged him off, amused. “what’s all this?” she asked again, walking closer to the whiteboard.

one of the pledges, brian johnson, swallowed. “uhh...so it’s this list...” immediately he was met with groans around the room, someone muttering “pussy” under his breath. “don’t, johnson.” jj warned, the tips of his ears turning red. charlie raised her eyebrows at brian, smirking. “fess up, baby.”

he cracked. “we were arguing over who was best looking in kappa so we decided to make a list.” a couple boys threw their empty cans at him as the room groaned again. charlie rolled her eyes but turned to face the board, surveying the list with crossed arms. “how come I’m on here twice?”

another pledge piped up. “because we already had you on there and jj didn’t notice and wanted to make sure you made top three.” jj ran his hand through his messy blond hair, grimacing. “look, charlie, it’s not what it looks like -” with that, the room erupting in jeers, arguing again. “it’s exactly what it looks like!” someone yelled, laughing.

resident asshole, luke wilson - who was currently three beers deep - piped up from his seat in the back by jj.

“hey babe, if you keeping wearing leggings around the house with that ass, we’ll even put you at number one.”

it took jj about two seconds before he was in luke’s face, hand fisting the front of his shirt. “what the fuck did you say?”

luke paused - then turned his head to charlie, puckering his lips toward her in an air kiss.

jj didn’t hesitate to slam him against the couch and it turned into a full-on brawl, the other brothers quickly scrambling to break up the fight.

normally, charlie would be pissed at jj - but luke had made several passes at her before, and she knew this was a long time coming. she bit her lip as she watched, worried, as the boys pulled the two off of each other. charlie made her way over to jj and he shrugged off the brother restraining him, looping his arm around her shoulders protectively. “let’s go,” he grumbled, escorting her out of the room.

she didn’t press the issue, staying quiet ‘til they made it to his room and he slammed the door shut behind them. “I know you hate that shit, charlie, I just -” jj started and charlie shook her head, more concerned with the cut across his cheekbone. “it’s fine, hon.” she ran her thumb over it, gentle, but he hissed in response. “jesus, did he scratch you or something?”

he shook his head. “no, it’s his stupid state ring. s’got sharp edges.” she frowned and kissed his forehead. “sit, I’ll get you cleaned up.” she left and came back from the bathroom with a couple q-tips soaked in rubbing alcohol (by some miracle, she had found some in the cabinet under the sink). jj sat on the bed, shirt off, checking over a couple sore spots across his chest. charlie sat next to him and kissed his cheek before running the q-tip across the small gash.

he grimaced, flinching away. “ouch, walker!” she rolled her eyes and held her other hand to the back of his head, keeping him in place. “if you’re gonna try and fight, you can handle a little sting.” she finished cleaning him up and stood, throwing the q-tips away. “only that asshole would still be wearing his high school state champ ring in college.” jj groaned as he flopped back onto the bed. “got in a fucking cheap shot, too.”

she sat next to him again, giggling when he wrapped his arms around her from behind to pull her down onto his chest. “look, I know you really hate fighting, but...he’s had that one coming.” jj reasoned. charlie nodded, turning to kiss his cheek. “I know, I know. it’s okay.” she grinned. “plus you might look kind of hot if that turns into a scar.” he laughed and winked at her. “yeah, is that what does it for you?”

she nudged her nose against his, then sat up. “whatever you want to think, maybank. but we’re putting vitamin e oil on that.”

“yeah, yeah, whatever. will you give me a back rub?” he flipped onto his stomach and she gasped, seeing red lines down his back. “oh my god, did he do that?” he laughed, glancing up at her. “that was you last night, pretty girl.” she put a hand to her lips, shaking her head. “no. I did that? does it hurt?” jj grinned. “nah, it was pretty hot. you left your mark, that’s for sure.”

charlie flicked his arm and jj swatted at her hand in response. “hey, watch it! I just got in a fight defending your honor!”

she rolled her eyes. “you were participating in a list judging girls on their looks! I should be more mad at you right now!”

he sighed and sat up, knowing the chance of a back rub was long gone now. “in my defense, I had you up top and didn’t say anything about the other girls.”

she poked her finger into his chest, then crossed her arms. “not cool, maybank. you see, this is exactly the problem with toxic masculinity -”

jj sighed again and leaned back on his forearms on the bed, waiting for the lecture. he smirked. “what if I told you we were judging based off of intelligence and...uh...cleverness?”

charlie scoffed. “yeah, okay. I’d say it’s still not your place to judge women.”

jj grinned, knowing that answer was coming. “see, you say all this, and I respect it - but we both know you’re going to be excited when you get voted as sweetheart this year.”

charlie wrinkled her nose. “right, because I’m the only one in this house that the pledges actually respect.” she squealed when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her back down against his chest again. “charlie, take it back. you can’t talk to a member of exec like that.” she giggled. “I can do whatever I want, fool, especially when you’re whipped.”

he nipped at her neck, not arguing. “yeah, yeah. keep your voice down.”

#not edited!#jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank obx #jj maybank fanfic #jj outer banks #jj maybank fanfiction #college jj #jj x charlie #mine

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sugaxjpg · 5 years

Text

02 | blank check; m

⤷ “Let me get this right, okay? You threw my name in as your fake girlfriend because you needed to prove yourself to your empty-headed friends, and now you need to fix it. Still,” you paused, raising your eyebrows, “your way of fixing is not to disclose it as a lie, but to cover it up with an even bigger and riskier one. Is that correct?”

⤷ PART 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 |Co-written with @pantaemonium

✓ Couple: Jungkook x Reader | Fuckboy!AU & FakeDating!AU

✓ Filed under: smut, tragic comebacks

✓ Words: 8,048

Author’s Note: Hello, everyone! Before anything else, Laura and I would like to thank you all for the overwhelming support we’ve received for part one. We are beyond thrilled that you guys are liking this series as much as we are!! Without further ado, let’s get down to business (to defend the huns).

“There is no way in hell I’m wearing this, you hear me?” you screamed against the phone for the third time in less than ten seconds. A high-pitched ding indicated the audio had been sent, and that was your signal to toss the device aside. Jungkook would not listen to it, like he had not listened to the other ten voice messages you had blessed his chatroom with.

The last message you had received from him had been short and dry, more of a user’s guide than a text. It exhibited his advanced SAT vocabulary and his outstanding talent to be concise. Lambda Kappa Pi. 11pm. Say you’re my girl and they’ll get you in. Good luck with the dress.

My girl, as if there was a dimension out of the multiverse you had been thrown into in which you would say such nonsense. My girl, your brain echoed, this time in his voice, that you imagined would be hoarse and whiny during sex. No, no, that was not an image you wanted in your mind.

“Hey, I’m Jungkook’s girl,” you spoke as you imagined yourself babbling at the entrance of the frat house, clad in that skin-tight little red dress. Imagination is a very powerful weapon to use against oneself, and it immediately transfigured you into a Legally Blonde character, one of the sweethearts from Delta Nu but with no rich daddy, no fake tanning, and no equilibrium to stand over the sky-challenging high-heels he had sent along with the dress.

You’d look far more like a clown that had just ran away from the circus, that’s for sure.

You clenched your jaw at the absurdity of that idea, ignoring the butterflies that begun dancing in your stomach. His girl. Stupid ass. You would never do something like th—

—Ding!

In a reflex, you practically threw yourself on your bed to reach for your phone, chest bubbling up with the ridiculous excuses that he could have sent back to you. Instead, however, what you were met with was a simple series of condescending texts:

Jungkook’s only neuron said: u’ll look great bby

Jungkook’s only neuron said: im getting heated just thinkin of u in that ;)

You said: You prick

You said: That dress doesn’t even cover my ass properly

Jungkook’s only neuron said: that was what i was hopin for

You groaned out loud as your eyes read his message, mind working faster than the quick progression of your thumbs against the screen — you better be ready for me to ruin you with the favor I have stored up, then, you texted back.

Jungkook’s response arrived all too soon. There was no physical time to toss the phone back onto the bed, to try the diminutive piece of clothing on and see if there was a way your boobs could survive without suffocating. As the notification blared through the speaker, you imagined him, expecting your reply by the phone, biting his nails. In your imagination, he was nervous, at least a bit; but Jungkook and his cohorts did not know nervousness, at least not when confronted to tests of women. They followed all those ludicrous bro-code-or-whatever-they-called-it rules; and making girls wait for their replies was in the book.

“Ruin or be ruined, that’s the world we live in,” you read out loud, trying to find in between the words Jungkook’s personal trademark. Unexpectedly, there was no baby. No typos. No superfluous exhibition of his very pompous personality. Had he asked for help? Perhaps Namjoon, the only one in the frat house with a functional brain. Maybe Yoongi, but it sounded way too contained to his taste.

“Quote your sources next time,” you typed rapidly, grinning all the way. “See you later, bby.”

Now Jungkook’s Only Neuron could type and ruminate over your odd response all he wanted. There would be no more texts until the party — except perhaps a picture or two of you in that dress, blurry and terribly illuminated. The ire of the gods would fall upon him when he tried to zoom in into your boobs only to find pixels. A taste of his own medicine, that was what you called this cruel stratagem.

Now, there were only a limited number of things which could count as social humiliation for you. As mentioned aforetime, failing a ridiculously easy class or exposing your underwear were near the top of the list, alongside some awfully personal experiences, but you never thought there would be something to top all your expectations. Turns out that 90’s movies make a so called “makeover” to be something great and empowering when, in reality, it had to be the spiritual equivalent of intestinal cramps in the middle of a road trip. And yes, you had been through that. No further comment.

Maybe the movie director of your life was sadistic. Maybe that experience was karma for ruining poor Jungkook’s mental health earlier that day. Whatever it was, it was the new number one on your list of social humiliation. You could not claim you hadn’t gotten anything out of that night — but experiences make you grow, right?

You knew you had fucked up the second you walked up to the fraternity house — that stupidly large, greek-like mansion that pulsated under the progression of the awfully loud music — and saw a pair of underwear on the grass, lost amidst a sea of bottles and beer cans. And then a bra. And then an used cond— Jesus Christ! Were those kids acting out Animal Planet? There were limits. There had to be. Goodbye to your long lost purity.

To top it all off, it was cold. Not nice, chilly cold, but winter-is-here kind of Game of Thrones bullshit. The wind was like cold daggers against your skin, piercing your naked legs as you moved closer to the entrance door, benumbing your senses to the fullest extent. Whatever it was that you had in store for Jungkook, it had to be equally torturous to that walk of shame — the night had not even started, and you were already constructing an escape plan.

“Hey,” you said as you stopped in front of two athletes, crossing your arms before your figure — thank God for your common sense, since the leather jacket you wore both covered your insanely tight boobs and gave you a bit of heat. You wouldn’t have started a conversation with them if not absolutely necessary and, in that case, they were blocking the passage. “Excuse me, please.”

One of them turned to you with arched eyebrows, looking you up and down, “You seem familiar,” he mumbled, infecting the atmosphere with a terrible scent of alcohol. To be fair, you thought you knew him too, but did not want to get into friendly terms with any of them. “Whatcha’ doing here?”

Hell, here goes nothing, “Jungkook called me here.”

“Jungkook, who?” The other one — the travel-sized counterpart — laughed, hitting his friend’s shoulder in his drunken haze. “We know no Jungkook.”

They were still blocking the entrance, and you were not in the mood to commence an arrogant dissertation on why they did know the Jungkook you were referring to, and why was their ruse so evident. Shivering inside the leather jacket, you tried to find a way around the words he wanted so desperately to hear. “I am his friend,” you said.

The smaller of the two scoffed. “Jungkook has no friends.”

“I thought you knew no Jungkook,” you smirked, devilishly, but the brainless pair would not subside in their efforts to rip a confession out of your — literal — cold body. “For fucks sake. I am his girl. Jungkook’s. The one that gets to fuck him every night while you two try to resist the homoerotic dynamics you have seen yourselves trapped into. Now let me in, Tweedledee.”

“A straight-up bitch. Hot.” They murmured as you made your way into the hall. Inside, a myriad of bodies crammed the room, pressed against one another. Girls in short dresses and stressed boys trying to get their attention roamed around, red cup in hand. Their scent was sweetly rancid, a mixture of alcohol, sweat and pheromones you would not be able to stand for long without a drink in your hand.

No. Wait. Probably wouldn’t be the wisest of ideas to be intoxicated while pretending to be someone else’s girlfriend for the night. You got awfully sincere when you had alcohol, and the last thing you needed was to ruin your saved favor, especially after going through all the trouble you did. Next step would not be to drink away your disgust, as compelling as that seemed to be, but to find out your pathetically inadequate fake boyfriend.

Taking a deep breath, you skirted the overabundance of bodies as you made your way past the main living room, finding solace in a somewhat calm corner of the ambient. You leaned your back against the asperous wall, taking your phone out of your purse. Numb, your thumbs cried under the effort of unlocking the device and moving to his contact — that arrogant smile on that nauseatingly perfect display picture — to type your impatient messages:

You said: Hey, loser

You said: I’m here already

You said: Where can I find you?

You waited for a few seconds to see if he would get online, but nothing appeared on your screen. For a moment your mind wandered towards the possibility of it all being a prank, after all: to get you, a serious and stuff girl, in that outrageously small piece of red fabric would be a huge joke on itself, even more if he managed to show it off to his friends. If that was the case, you would transfer colleges. Not to be overdramatic or anything.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think I told you to wear a jacket, baby girl.”

The second you raised your gaze, you came to regret your reckless decision — not in the cutesy, hesitant manner you were feeling aforetime, but in the this-was-a-horrible-idea-and-my-life-is-over type of shit. Not because you were in any sort of danger, but because you accepted the fact that you had absolutely no way to control yourself near the sheer sexual temptation that was Jeon Jungkook. Not like that.

In all his glory, the idiot looked the best he ever did. With his black hair slightly disheveled, parted almost in the middle, and eyes gleaming under the neon lights of the frat house, he looked like he had just stepped out of a photoshoot for Men’s Health. His team’s jacket — blue and white, with the symbol of your college — had its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the veins in his forearms; unbuttoned so it presented you with the v-cut shirt he wore underneath, grey. You could see the outlines of his fucking abs with that crap. Muscle pig. It was absurd. He should take it off.

And of course, there were those fucking thighs. But you would not allow your gaze to fall under his waistline just yet. Yet.

A hum from his part interrupted your momentaneous fall into inferno, making you realize how quickly your heart started to beat. “You’re lucky you’re hot as fuck,” Jungkook acknowledged, his own eyes falling to your form, eyebrows slightly arched. “I always knew I had good taste for girlfriends.”

The silence between you was bubbling with an unspoken tension. Sexual, Cosmopolitan would have defined it as purely sexual. "Ten Easy Tips to Know if your Crush Wants you Too," or something of the sort would had been plastered all over the cover, where a barely-legal model would have judged you with doe-like eyes.

Jungkook's roseate tongue came out to wet his lips, to fill the void words had left behind with a heavy sigh. You wondered what those lips tasted like. Had you been asked to guess, you would have said cherry, or strawberry — although you were certain he had been drinking beer or, worse, cheap tequila shots.

The faux courage that had been motioning your body forward ever since you abandoned the dorms was now slipping in between your fingers as you reached for the hem of his jacket. "You look—" you started, but your mind went blank in a maelstrom of adjectives, amongst which you found barely no insults.

"—smoking hot?" Jungkook ventured. He was not mistaken, but still you scoffed. It the quintessence of your being, the endless sarcasm; you could not just abandon the truth of your nature for a boyfriend. A fake one, to top it all.

"I was going to say stereotyped, but hot also fits. I guess," index pressed against his chest, you leaned forward reducing the space between your bodies to naught. Air escaped in between his teeth when your lips caressed his ear with your murmurations. "What now, baby?" you mumbled, oblivious to his fingers as they traveled up your arm in a tender caress.

"Honestly?" the impish gleam of his eyes was a bad omen or, at least, the indication that you were not prepared in the slightest for what was to come. "I want to kiss the hell out of you, but not here."

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget that it was all an act. Without a second thought, you found yourself biting your lower lip in sheer desire. Lucky you, the boy would most likely think that was part of the fake love, and not your raging hormones coming out to say hello. “I would very much like that, yes,” you purred out against his skin, pressing your chest against his own. His heart was beating fast, but yours was no different. “Where to?”

Jungkook seemed to take a second to calm his nerves, clearing his mind from the impulses that flashed within his needs — if he were to be sincere, you two could forget that plan and just have a private place for yourselves, but there was a protocol to follow, his reputation at stake. “Couch,” that word came out in a serpentine whisper, muffled as if had been verbalized miles underneath the sea. Against your waist, his palm held your skin in an almost protective manner — yet, both of you were holding back now.

You hummed in agreement. His scent was intoxicating you, the heat of his body was monopolizing your most logical of conceptualizations. “Take me whenever you need me,” you agreed as one of your hands slid down his chest — jesus, those fucking abs — and towards his own hand. You intertwined his fingers in his, loving that position a bit more than you probably should. “Should we?”

If he had said something in return, you did not hear it. Before you could control yourself any further, the boy was already guiding you past the chaotic ocean of exhilarated bodies, holding down to your hand as if it was his own version of salvation. Jungkook was lucky he was hot — very fucking hot, at that — otherwise you would have cracked another joke or two about how eager he appeared to be. Still, you were certain it would backfire.

“I see you want to put up a show,” was what you said instead, accompanying his harsh movements as the two of you arrived upon the center of the room — the heart of the party, if you could say that. From your peripheral vision, you could see splashes of blue and white moving around, signaling that more of his teammates were around. Classic show off. “Want everyone watching.”

“You have no clue, babe.” Jungkook turned around just in time so he could see the glimpses of lust coruscating inside your eyes. Bedroom eyes. Cute. “I want that jacket off.”

“No deal,” you told him promptly. With a groan, the boy threw himself on a beige couch nearby, sitting somewhat close to where another two jocks conversed vigorously, waving their red cups in the air like they were not half full. It was only a matter of seconds before they saw the two of you — more precisely you — and his pretty spectacle would finally begin. “Why do you want to expose your girlfriend like this?”

It was no problem. He could take it off himself.

As a response, Jungkook simply placed his hands on his thighs, signaling you that it would be your seat for the night — seems like you would be sitting in his lap, after all. “Come here, baby,” he requested. Okay, you would be lying through your teeth if you said that the place did not appear to be as inviting as possible. “Let me have a taste of you.”

To hell with it. If you were going to act it out, you might as well put up a show, and calm down your raging hormones as you did so.

And fuck, there were some things that 90s movies could never prepare you for. There was no scene, no soundtrack, no music video able to distract you from how firm his legs were as you sat down on top of them, dress slightly moving up your thighs. There was no director, no storyline that could guide your hands around his neck as you tilted your head and closed your eyes, falling to the absolute misery that was Jeon Jungkook. There was nothing in the entire world that could have made you pull away.

What a terrible fucking idea.

Jungkook groaned as soon as your lips met, quick to set the pace as a quick, needy, sloppy kiss. His hands, before so vacillating, now had traveled to your ass, where he squeezed your flesh, making you press down your hips against his, not letting it go for a second. You melted against his kiss, allowing yourself to sigh and moan against his mouth as his tongue encountered yours. Lacking places to hold onto, your hands moved to his cheeks, then to his hair, intertwining in his black locks and pulling on them.

Okay, there were things you regretted. You thought there was nothing capable of topping the preposterous plan of pretending to be Jungkook’s girlfriend, but that was because you had not reached that point of the night just yet. Because you had still not pulled away just enough so you could speak, caressing his lips with your own, speaking in a voice so filled with lust that you were surprised yourself. “Is that all you can do, kiddo?” you provoked him. “Come on, Jeon, is this how you treat your girl?”

He smirked. “Believe me, princess, there’s nothing I’d love more than treat you the way you deserve. Anything for you. But, you see, the audience is waiting and, as much as I would love to fuck you raw in this couch, I’d rather give the show I promised, and then renegotiate the initial clauses of our little contract,” then, a small pause, “if you are interested, of course.”

The boy was an idiot, or so you had thought: Jeon Jungkook, the dumbass that lets his dick make every essential decision, and doesn’t grasp even half of the references you throw at him. Apparently, that was not the case, and his intelligence was extensive only when he had to protect his pride and bring to term an important business. In other words, he wasn’t dumb, he wa just a selfish little prick.

Fingers sauntering up your thigh, Jungkook murmured in-between delicate kisses, and it made it impossible for you to deliver a witty remark. Every few words he would stop to taste your flesh with the tip of his tongue, and then nip it with his teeth. Lost in the feverish reverie of his tender caresses, you abandoned yourself to the feel of his kisses as his lips marked the path towards your jaw, your cheek. With a sigh falling from your swollen lips, you hoped to express the thirst he had incited, but he merely watched your reaction, diverted. Motherfucker. He knew what he was doing.

“For now,” he said against your ear, marking each word with a tap of his finger against your thigh. “This will have to do.” His thumb slid past the hem of your skirt and fuck, how you wished he were to continue his journey towards your underwear. There had been no specifications about that matter, but you had added your distinctive touch to the outfit. Jungkook did not know yet, but he would have loved to take that off you.

“I really think you can step up your game, Jungkook.” You looked around, biting your lips. None of the players around you were particularly interested in your little affair. Short skirts and exhibitionism were the daily bread of all those jocks. Luckily, that night no one had pulled out their dicks to measure them or start a peeing contest. Perhaps later in the night, when alcohol run freely through their bloodstream, eliminating their inhibition — or what was left of it, anyways. “This show of yours will impress no one.”

As if motioned by the fuel of a good challenge, Jungkook pounced over your lips. His touch was no longer delicate, contained, or meticulous, as it was before. Earlier, all he had wanted was to create a beautiful painting in which you, a girl that would have never had any interest for the jock in the class, was head over heels for him. He cared not about his audience, not anymore, as he could not bring himself to think of the friends he was supposed to impress. His only and most primal desire was to prove himself, to erase the disdainful sneer tainting those lips that were like nectar against his tongue.

You threw yourself off his lap and leaned your back against the arm of the sofa, being trapped between it and his large figure. In the impetus of his sudden adoration, you lost your hold on reality and allowed for him to overtake you, pressing his chest against your own. Jungkook’s hand in the small of your back cushioned your descents to the inferno of his hips pressed against yours, hands exploring your waist, and the curve of your breasts over the tight dress.

It was getting more and more difficult to come to your senses when all you could feel were his palms against your breasts, only to go down to your ass a second later. Your dress was being pulled upwards, your heart overtaken by the intoxicated by rhythm of the song as one of his legs moved in between yours, pressing down on your core — gradually at first, but then strong enough for you to moan loudly against his mouth. This kid was playing with fire. You loved it.

You were out of breath and out of mind when a voice called from the outside world, that universe of flashing comets and red asters circulating around your sweltering bodies. “Hey kid! Jungkook!” the unknown timbre insisted further and, before you could recognize it, Jungkook had pushed himself away from you to smile at a stranger. Whoever it was, you wanted him killed for interrupting your search for nirvana. “You know we have rooms for that kind of unholy shit. Leave all the exhibitionism for Jimin, he loves it.”

With a smirk, his victory became plastered across his douchebag face, “I got carried away, sorry,” Jungkook explained, lips shining with the remnants of your gloss. His hand was still against your waist, but he showed no shame when he winked in your direction, purposefully following your eyes as they grew darker — he was loving it. “Tastes like heaven, y’know?”

The other guy, whose name you could not quite recall, simply rolled his eyes at the out-of-character sentence, “Whatever you say, dude,” he mumbled underneath the music, unaffected by show you two had put up. Instead, his gaze seemed to be a bit lost in the remanent liquid that dwelled on the bottom of his red cup — poor kid was completely wasted. “Uh, by the way, before I forget. Namjoon has been looking for you for like two hours or whatever. He says, and I quote, that he wants to see it or he won’t believe it.”

Jungkook’s smile grew by a few millimeters, finding in that sentence the opportunity he needed. He didn’t need half of your GPA to understand what his friend was referring to, “Yeah, sure thing, man,” he answered. You were amazed how casually he was acting for someone who still had one hand holding tightly to your ass, but you could not claim you did not like it. In fact, he could strip you naked for all you cared, fake boyfriend or not. “Where is he, by the way?”

Chewing on his words for a second, the guy paused. His chocolate-colored eyes got lost in the horizon and, at last, you came to understand that he must have consumed something other than alcohol — hey, no judgement, you were not precisely the morally superior person in that conversation. “He was at the game room with the dudes. I don’t know if they’re still there.”

“Perfect,” Jungkook exclaimed, his palm squeezing your ass once again. Only then did you notice that, in the meantime, his shirt had rolled up a bit. Now you totally could see those abs you have always dreamt about and, good lord, they were even better than what you imagined. If you were not acting then, you would have cursed out his unnamed friend for interrupting that slack of paradise — but hell, the ghostly sensation of his lips on yours still got the best of you. Fucking prick. He was too powerful. “Thanks, Tae. You didn’t see anything.”

Tae… Taehyung. Oh, now you remembered. The kid who got high and ate pizza from the bottom of the pool in freshman year. Disgusting and slightly worrisome. You thought some memories could be left forgotten.

Taehyung suspired. “I did, though,” only then did his gaze navigate back to you, lingering on your face for a couple more seconds than necessary. You didn’t know if it were the drugs acting up, or if he was examining your artificially naive expression. “Hot choice of panties, by the way. Your ass looks great in lacy black. Cheers to that.”

“You have really good taste, buddy.” With a radiant smile, you agreed. Past the blur of weed and alcohol, Taehyung replicated the gesture, and raised his red cup in a giddy toast. Whether he was lauding the glorious roundness of your ass, or the intricate beauty of your one and only pair of expensive panties, you did not care. There was no use for shame within those walls, especially when your ass was indeed hot confined within the soft lace. “Imaginary cheers to that.”

It was a moment of amicable comradery, even though Taehyung was one shot away from becoming the buffon of the party. Around your waist, Jungkook’s fingers tightened but, before you could turn around to face his predictable displeasure, the moment ended, and you were presented with a luciferous smile.

“Noted. Thank you dude, see you around.” Jungkook screamed over the loud bass of a terrible remix of a very popular song you wished was shorter. The constant chit-chat developing around did not help communicate but, luckily, you were not required to hold a challenging conversation that night. With a peck in the lips and a light squeeze of your ass, Jungkook prompted you to move. It was strangely loving — for a jock, at least.

Once anew, he guided you through the crowd, a hand in your waist and the other buried deep in one of the pockets of his jacket. The picture was magazine-worthy. One of those blurry shots, taken with a Polaroid, that could had made it into the cover of an Indie album — even if Jungkook could have starred in an Abercrombie & Fitch ad, jacket and all.

“Where is that fucking game room?” The question felt extremely bitter against your tongue when you had to wipe someone else’s sweat off your arm. The party was heating up, and not in the good way. “Please tell me it isn’t some Fifty Shades of Grey shit.”

“Didn’t picture you as one of those.” Jungkook let go of your waist to interwine his fingers in yours. It was calming, the chilliness of his hand against your sweltering skin. “But no, here we never watched that. The dudes are, you know, more into anal compilations and shit like that— not me!” He rushed to say, hands up in a gesture of defeat. “Baby Jesus wouldn’t not approve.”

That was, by far, the weirdest conversation you’ve had in a long time.

“Pity, now that I thought we would make a great pair.” You sighed. “I guess I’ll have to find another hot dude to watch my kinky porn with.”

“I— sweet lord.” With shaky hands he massaged his cheeks. You were exhausting, even for him. Good. “We’ll discuss that later.” Jungkook opened one of the doors in the hallway, leading into a big space that was, precisely, only meant to game. “Now we have business to do.”

Biting down on your lower lip, you took a couple steps into the large area, absorbing its details. The first thing you noticed, as your company closed the door behind you two, was that it was soundproof — finally, a blessing for the night. As the excruciating buzzing in your ears still lingered, your hearing started to focus on the diverse conversations that dwelled beyond those closed doors. From what you could notice, there had to be around fifteen people in there — stereotypical jocks and cheerleaders, if you were to be quite honest — and they were mostly segregated into two smaller groups. One of which, you recognized, had the individual you two had been looking for.

Now, Kim Namjoon was a specimen of his own kind. You had no idea what kind of satanic pact had he resorted to, but it had been good enough to gift him the brain of a Harvard professor and the body of a professional athlete — all wrapped up in that team jacket, which suited him so dangerously well. You would be lying through clenched teeth if you were to say you had not checked him out at least once or twice during your shared Advanced Literature classes — but that was a secret that would be buried with you. Again, he was still one of those fraternity types, and blowing up their egos was as easy as blowing other, less christian areas.

Again, you would be lying if you said you had not considered that either.

Jungkook’s arm found the curvature of your waist once again, making you fall back into your usual acting state. Next to you, the boy was smiling freely — not in a sympathetic manner, but in a I’m-getting-good-sex-tonight kind of smile. He could keep dreaming, for all you cared. “What’s up, Kim?” he cheered, guiding you around the grey couch. Considerably large, it was surrounded by two armchairs, forming a square-like shape in the center of the room. On the wall next to it, a baseball game was silenced on the LED screen. “Thought I wouldn’t see you tonight.”

Namjoon had his elbows resting on a marble table, seating on one of the tall benches that surrounded it. You were surprised he had even found empty space in there, since all you could see was a pandemonium of empty bottles and pizza boxes. “I should be one one saying that, Jeon.” The other jock smiled just as freely, exposing those dimples you had always found unbearably cute. He did not look at you for a second. “You are not one to vanish during a party. Did you get laid or something?”

“See, Namjoon, your friend Jungkook is trying to get laid tonight, but let’s see how that goes, right honey?” You butted in, to Namjoon’s dismay. Very delicately, like the Disney princess you were not. You sat on the couch, paying no mind to the many diverse types of stains dotting it. Kim Namjoon was not going to ignore you, like you were a nothing but a pretty decoration Jungkook carried around to show off — especially not when you could beat his non-existent genius ass any day during a debate. “Hi, Namjoon. Didn’t see you in class last Wednesday.”

“Hangover.” He explained, taking a bite off a chewy slice of cheese pizza. “I have to confess I am surprised. I thought you were joking when you said you two were—”

“—dating, yes. I’m a married man now, Namjoon. No more getting laid with just anybody.” Jungkook flopped by your side. His hand went immediately towards your naked knee, and there it stayed. Very subtle.

“What do you guys talk about?” Namjoon pried, impertinently. In his timbre you could perceive a hint of disbelief, and it was understandable. He had seen you in action, going after your debate opponents like a shark in bloody waters. Jungkook was, compared to the you he had witnessed, a kindergartener in nappies, and he simply couldn’t comprehend how the two of you could work together — or even compliment each other, honestly.

“Volleyball.” Jungkook said, with an enthusiasm that made your wry smile pathetic. “She loves volleyball.”

Namjoon crackled at the unexpectedly joyful response. “Never seen her in a game.”

“I’m more of a theoretical fan of — of the sports.” Eyes disappearing into the fakest smile, you tried to escape the trap Jungkook had thrown you into. Namjoon was correct. You had not set foot in a court ever since high-school, and even back then you had only done so because it was mandatory. “I have watched Haikyuu at least thrice. I’m an expert.”

“She’ll come to the next one.” Jungkook kissed your cheek, interrupting your excused before it was too late. The touch of his petal-like lips was, at the very least, pleasant. “We made a deal. She wears my jacket and I use the shortest pants I own for the game.”

Namjoon chuckled at the idea, still skeptical. You knew he would be a hard one to convince, since he usually saw through your bullshit — both in debates and in real life. “Yeah, right,” was all that he managed to say, still dodging your gaze. Oh, you saw what he was doing. Sneaky motherfucker. Sly little snake. By avoiding you and focusing on your fake boyfriend, he was both pressing on the one easier to slip on the lie, and annoying you. He knew how you got when you were hot-headed and that was, once again, a recipe for disaster. “In all seriousness, weeaboo anime aside, what do you… theoretically like about volleyball?”

No eye contact still. Fair. Two could play that game.

“Physics,” you answered within a heartbeat, almost surprising yourself by how naturally that response came from in between your lips. Not necessarily a lie, too. But that was a long story. “I told you this already. Volleyball can be explained with high school-level of mechanics. Energy and work, force, projectile motion… You know the deal.”

Namjoon hummed, watching closely the line of cheese that dripped down his pizza. “Yeah, I know the deal,” he told you. He had not bought it. “And I know you know it too. My question is,” he paused, looking up to point at Jungkook. “Does he?”

Well, you just had to know it would backfire like that. Still, you barely had time to feel panic starting to germinate in your throat before Jungkook interrupted the conversation with flawless grace, “Not much, that is why she’s teaching me,” perfect. Simple. Fail proof. You could barely believe that the single neuron that inhabited his mind managed to make a synapsis with itself and come up with that. “Yo, man, why are you so defensive all of a sudden? You’re making my girl uncomfortable.”

My girl. You hated how much you liked that.

His friend hesitated for a second, chewing slowly on the piece of food. It didn’t seem like it was any good. In the very least, it was cold. “Yeah. My bad, dude. Bad week,” Namjoon was quick to apologize, which you did not believe for an instant. He was smarter than that, more arrogant than someone that would so fast admit to his own fault. “Guess I just can’t believe you managed to get a girl like Y/N. Life sucks sometimes.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you were the one who asked it, even if both of you were thinking it. It was your turn to try and not to get defensive, but it was getting harder and harder by the second. You crossed your legs, which induced for your red dress to slip up your legs. Namjoon followed the movement, and then his gaze was stuck. Oh. Maybe there was another reason for his lack of eye contact. “Don’t tell me that the great captain Kim Namjoon is suddenly jealous.”

He shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. But you do look hotter than ninety-five percent of the chicks I’ve seen all year,” and then, his next sentences were directed straight at Jungkook. “I don’t know if you had the chance to see it already, man, but she has a great taste for underwear.”

Ninety-five was a good percentile, but you were indeed hot in that dress. Namjoon trembled, almost imperceptibly, when you slid your legs over Jungkook’s lap, to cuddle against his chest. In all honesty, the posture was not comfortable, not in that dress. Had you been back in the dorm, in your PJ’s, the tale would have been completely different; but Namjoon’s expression was a poem — a terrible one, at that — and that was enough satisfaction for the moment.

When you sighed, Namjoon replicated it, in a long-drawled, cheese-scented exhalation. The sound he emitted was pitiful, but it helped you comprehend fully the frustration the poor boy was submitted to, and the ultimate reason behind his pizza binge. His was a severe case of blue balls, and you were the one and only cause it. Cute.

“Namjoon, if you really want to address my exquisite taste in underwear, you can tell me directly,” you said. A thread of cheese remained in precarious equilibrium in between his lower lip and his hand, as he struggled for once to follow your words. The genius had short-circuited over lacy panties and the grossest kind of PDA. Another achievement unlocked in the marvelous experience that was college. It would look beautiful in your curriculum, right beside your volunteer work. “Jungkook is more used to seeing me without it. He wouldn’t understand our fantastic taste.”

“Babe,” Jungkook whined, caressing your thigh to make you cognizant of his presence. “I do love your underwear—”

“—Scattered all over your bedroom.” You whispered in the most impish little voice. By the glance he returned, Jungkook had loved the image. Maybe it was just your imagination, maybe you were in character and your discerning was altered, but you could have sworn his dick had twitched at the thought. Interesting.

To drown his sorrow, Namjoon took yet another slice of pizza. The boy could eat. He was still munching his previous victim, and it was making you hungry. Jungkook was very hot and all, but he had not offered to get you a drink or something to eat. Chivalry was, indeed, dead. “Let me ask you a question, Y/N,” Namjoon murmured in-between greasy bites. “It’ll be easy. I promise.”

“I’m all ears.”

“What is it, exactly, what made you fall for our ace?” Namjoon inquired. It was an unexpected question. A cheerleader could have asked the same, waiting you to offer a bland response in the trite language all popular girls had long mastered like: his big, big eyes; his toothpaste commercial worthy smile, the humongous size of his — not his brain, that was for certain.

But it was not a cheerleader the one to make the question, but Namjoon. Out of all the athletes in the house, Namjoon was the only one you had ever exchanged more than a few words with. Interesting words. The kind that — put together in a coherent sentence — form conversation two functional adults can take pleasure in. “Does he read Whitman to make you sleep?” He pressed further.

Before you could think twice, the words were already departing from your lips. “He rants about your pep-talks, that’s enough to have me snoring in seconds.”

He scoffed. “Nice comeback, it’s a pity that you’ve been avoiding my question like the plague,” Namjoon said in what appeared to be a groan, patience starting to run thin. At last, he appeared to have finished eating his horniness away, for he dropped the last slice of pizza back in the box. “Let me rephrase that, then—”

Next to you, Jungkook fumbled on his seat. “—Namjoon, bro, that’s enough,” he said firmly, almost an order. From the way Namjoon’s eyebrows moved together into a frown, you could tell that such serious demeanor was also uncommon amongst his group of friends. Jungkook was only serious in two situations: during games, and when his white knight complex had been activated. You would guess that was the latter. “I know it’s hard to believe, all right? Even I don’t buy it sometimes. But this is exactly why we didn’t tell you guys earlier, I knew you’d have a blast interrogating my girlfriend. And this is not cool, alright? It’s not cool that you’re over here talking about her underwear and acting like you’d be a total catch compared to me. Fuck that shit, dude, don’t ruin the night for us just because you got some jealousy stuck up your ass.”

Silence. The other boy took a second, then two, to chew what was left on his mouth, closely analyzing his friend. You could see the wheels moving inside Namjoon’s brain and — unlike Jungkook — he had more than one synapsis to make. “Hey, fair enough,” he said. And then he started smiling. Actually smiling. Putting-the-Cheshire-Cat-To-Shame kind of smile. “What has gotten into you tonight, uh? Jesus. I’m just fucking with you, didn’t think you’d get this overprotective. That’s some serious shit you’ve gotten yourself into, Jeon.”

Jungkook seemed to take an instant to fully digest the unforeseen change of demeanor, then joined his friend in his laugh. “Bro, what the fuck? You were annoying as hell,” he was clearly puzzled, even if you could see sheer alleviation in that smile. Oh, honey. He was not acting over there, was he? Poor kid really took that to heart. “Get outta here with that interrogation bullshit, Sherlock Holmes.”

“Look at that, you already know one famous victorian character,” Namjoon sarcastically celebrated, turning back at you — still living in the apex of confusion. You should have stayed home and read a book, where men are predictable and fraternity athletes as just a ghost in your memory. “You’ve been a positive influence so far, Y/N, props to that. I’ve been trying to get him to at least watch the movies for ages.”

“He only agreed to watch it once I explained Iron Man featured in it.” Taking advantage of your fake-girlfriend privileges, you slid your hand under Jungkook’s shirt. Fingers dawdling over his warm skin, you delighted in the sensation of his muscles quivering under your touch. It would not be noticeable to Namjoon — although he was particularly sharp that night. Words encompassing your feathery caresses, you murmured into his ear. “I’m thirsty, babe.”

Namjoon looked away when you nuzzled Jungkook’s neck, to bury his jealousy under another pile of cheese.

“Do you want some beer?” Jungkook blinked twice, trying to decipher the sudden change in the inflections of your voice. It was no longer playful, teasing, but dripping something he could have only categorised as desire. Jungkook was dense, enough to miss the a very evident innuendo by a mile. “I can go get you something.”

“No, not that.” Your fingers treaded an undiscovered path towards the lines of his hips, and the hem of his pants. His brain had missed the memo, but his dick was extremely eager to catch up, and was now constricted against his belt. The moment he rose from the couch, the boner would be exposed, and it would give him the perfect opportunity to drag you away from the room and towards his bedroom. “Jungkook… Let’s go.”

“I need to go to the bathroom first.” He excused himself to Namjoon, who had decided to embrace his solitude by hugging the pizza box and returning his attention to the baseball game. His team was losing. Big night for Kim Namjoon.

Jungkook pecked your lips and scurried from below your body. The room was cold now that he had left, and Namjoon was not willing to talk.

“So… pizza, huh?” you said, fixing your clothes. The last thing our brave captain needed was to take another glimpse at your ass.

Namjoon stared into the screen, absorbed by the little figures moving around. It was hard to believe that someone like him could he find baseball so entrancing. “So…Jungkook, huh?”

There it was. Jealousy, in its rawest form. He would never be so explicit in front of Jungkook, they were friends after all, but with you Namjoon could say whatever thoughts crossed his mind. “You know Jungkook isn’t as stupid as he wants all of campus to believe. He might not be a genius like you, but he is smart. He’s just a little bit caught up in the popularity game,” you said. The words leaving your mouth surprised you. Kind words for Jeon Jungkook, what a night to be alive. “Don’t be so surprised, Namjoon.”

The baseball game was no longer as relevant, for Namjoon deigned to look at you. Browns knitted in incredulity, he dropped the last slice of pizza and cleaned his hands in the team jacket. Symbolically, it was not a good thing, but he was probably overdosing on cheese. “I’m not surprised. Maybe you like him, after all.”

“Maybe I do.” You confessed with a quick wink and a guilty smile. “He gives good head, too.”

“That’s too much information.” Namjoon was nauseated, but he would never say it aloud. There was also the possibility that it was not nausea the grimace transfiguring his cute face, but jealousy. “You should go get your boyfriend, though, I think he got lost in his own reflection or something.”

Just like Namjoon had suggested, you followed Jungkook’s trail towards the bathroom. Trail, as in asking the couples making out in the hallway where the bathroom was. The first pair had not responded you, they were too busy sucking each other’s tongues to even form a coherent sentence. Titty in hand, the man in the second pair of lovers, explained where to find the bathroom — that was also known as the knocking shop.

To be fair, you knocked, but the music was too loud and the sound too timid. When you received no indication from Jungkook, you opened the door. At first you could not see past the outrageously pink sink. It was horrifyingly ugly. Jungkook rested against it, his forehead was pressed against the mirror, his warm exhalations creating beautiful designs over the reflective surface. One of his hands gripped tightly the sink, the veins of his arms visible, like rivers you had loved to explore through your fingertips. His other hand was trapped within the confines of his jeans, pressed against his dick. With every sigh and every moan, he would roll his hips against his hand, fucking himself into oblivion. All signs of arrogance vanished from his features when he was about to cum. Vulnerability looked so pretty on him.

You wished there was a joke you could crack, even if to yourself, that could serve as a coping mechanism to whatever the fuck you were being presented with. Still, nothing came out of your lips besides a loud, slightly horrified:

“What the actual fuck, Jungkook?”

1K notes · View notes

jpgluke · 5 years

Text

Love Measured in Miles

Summary: you and Calum started dating in high school and carried the relationship into college. Calum is in a frat and you’re in a different state.

Word count: 3k

Beta: @mysticalhood (she also wrote quite a bit. I love u sm)

A.N: hi sorry it’s actually been ages since I’ve written something but this has been a work in progress for ever and ty really wanted me to finish it and I even let her help me a bunch. Anyways feedback is always appreciated!!! Hope you guys like it :^)

——————

“We can make this work.” Calum sat on the right side of your bed looking at you. “Distance has nothing on my love for you.” He had told you he got accepted to his dream school which happened to be three states away from your dream school. The thought scared you. You know the odds, kids who try to date after high school usually break up within the first month of being apart. You watched it happen to your brother and the girl he dated all throughout high school. She broke up with him three days after she moved into the dorms. He was heartbroken. You didn’t want that.

“You say that now Calum.” Your breath hitched a little “what happens when you see all the beautiful girls at your new school?” You pulled your knees up to your chest as you sat beside him.

“I love you Y/N. Do you not trust me?” He placed his hand on your back rubbing circles trying to calm your nerves.

“I trust you Cal. I’m just nervous.” Calum pulled your body into him and wrapped his arms around you.

“I’m nervous too. But I know I want you for the rest of my life.” He placed a soft kiss on your forehead

1.5 year later

“Cal. Cal. Cal.” The chants echoed through the large house as Calum was stood on a table chugging a forty taped to his hand. Once the last drop had dribbled down his throat he let out a celebratory cheer throwing both hands up in the air.

“You’re an absolute man Cal.” Brad helped him off the table. He wobbled a little due to all the alcohol he just consumed.

“Hell yeah!” He high fived a passing by fraternity brother as he spoke his phone vibrated in his pocket. “Oh hold up Y/N is calling”

“Oh yeah ‘Y/N’ when are we gonna meet this ‘girlfriend’ of yours” Cal shoved his hand in the boys face as a response.

“Hi baby! Wassup?” His words were starting to slur together. You could hear the party going on on the other side of the phone.

“Oh shoot are you at a party? I’ll call later.” You rushed out the sentence.

This has been the norm for you two lately. You’d call him and he’d be at a party or hanging out with his frat bros. When he’d call you you’d be studying or sleeping which is basically all you did. You haven’t had a decent conversation in weeks. You knew it was rush week and he’d be busy just didn’t expect him to be this busy. He loved the frat life. That made you nervous. You know how frat guys are. Actually it made you really nervous. Your mind typically wonders late at night. You’d lay in your small bed looking at the wall that was plastered with pictures of you and Calum. Mostly goofy pictures of him. Some old school dance pictures that his mom took. You’d stare at them and wonder what your boyfriend was up to.

Calum spent most of his time at the frat house. He got invited to live in the house this term which he gladly accepted. You could say he was living his best life. He was getting consistently good grades effortlessly while having the best college experience.

The only problem was that you weren’t there with him. He constantly thought about you no matter where he was or what he was doing.

Lately, it’d been harder to keep in touch with each other. You were in two different worlds, trying to be there for one another.

“No, no I can talk now!” He pushed away from the crowd, trying to make his way to the back patio. Once he got outside he faintly heard his name being called from the beer pong table across the lawn. He tried to drown it out and focus on what was happening on the other line.

“What’s going on?” He continued the conversation with his back turned to the rest of the people in the backyard.

“I’m just kinda stressed… about exams and everything.” You voice was quiet and uneasy. He could hear the emotion bubbling in your throat. Even miles apart, not being able to actually see your face he knew what was happening on the other side of this call.

“Dude! Calum! You have to play Brianna and Hannah from Kappa are playing and we gotta show them who’s boss around here.” Trevor was standing behind him waiting for a response

“Can you give me 5 minutes please and then I’ll play.” He dismissed Trevor’s comment indicating he needed some space. He walked further into the backyard towards the edge of the fence.

“Cal, if you wanna go and play. I don't wanna hold you back.”

“Y/N. I’m here for you. Tell me about your day. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too. I think I failed my bio exam today. I’ve been trying to get a ticket out to see you but nothing seems to be falling into place for me. Ugh i just miss you so much cal.”

He closed his eyes with a sigh and dropped his head, “It’s alright. Y/N, you’re one of the smartest people I know. You’ve been studying for that exam for a month. There’s no way that you could have failed it. Just calm down and take a deep breath because you are going to ace all of your exams.”

“I really needed to hear that. Thanks baby.” You pushed the phone closer to your ear as if that would bring him closer to you. You could hear the party still roaring in the background. “I’m gonna let you go now. I love you and have fun.” You laid across your bed, opening one of your textbooks, and preparing for another night of studying.

“I love you too. I’ll talk to you as soon as I can.” He hung up the phone and turned around to find Trevor. He noticed Trevor, Brianna, and Hannah chatting to one another as they waited on him so they could start the game. When Calum walked up to the table Trevor handed him a beer.

“How was the ‘girlfriend’?” He joked as he stood next to Cal. Calum retorted with a small shove as he rolled his eyes.

“Shut up Trev and just throw the ball.” He pointed to the cups on the other side of the table.

Trevor held his hands up defensively with a small smirk on his face, “Okay, I’ll back off. I’m just saying that we’ve never actually seen this girlfriend you talk about all the time. Right, Hannah?”

“Let’s just play the damn game alright?” He huffed and grabbed one of the balls from Trevor’s hand and launched it, landing it in the cup.

After Calum and Trevor demolished them in beer pong, Hannah walked over to Calum, batting her eyes with a small smile as she placed her hand on his bicep. “Maybe I could give you a prize for winning up in your room,” she flirted, shooting him a fast wink.

Calum took a step away from her reach as he responded, “No, Hannah. What the fuck is wrong with you? You know I have a girlfriend.”

She rolled her eyes, “Your girlfriend doesn’t have to know. It could be our little secret.” She tried to step closer to him, but he backed away again.

“I couldn’t do that to her. I love her too much.”

Hannah scoffed, “We don’t even know if she actually exists. Why don’t you loosen up? You’re easily the finest boy in this fraternity-- everyone knows it-- so why don’t you get any action?”

Calum clenched his jaw, “I don’t have to discuss this with you. I suggest you go find your sorority sisters and have a nice night.” He gave her a tight lipped smile, walking back inside with his hands in his pockets. Calum made his way through the crowded party and up the stairs to his room. Once his head hit the pillow he was out.

Calum woke up in the same clothes the next morning. He reached for his phone to call you. You answered on the third ring just like always.

“Hello? It’s early you should be asleep.” Your voice was soft as you tried not to wake your roommate.

He hummed in response, “I wanted to talk to you before your exam. You’re going to blow it out of the park, sweetheart.” You let out a small chuckle. Calum always believed in you, no matter what.

“Thanks baby. How was the rest of the party?” Calum let out a loud sigh into the speaker causing you to pull the phone away from your ear a little. “Geez what happened?”

“This dumb sorority girl said something like im not getting the action I deserve…” Your jaw fell open. You slipped out of your bed and put some slippers and headed into the hallway so you could talk above a whisper.

“Oh, is that so?” You tried to control your tone. “Then why don’t you go out there and get the ‘action you deserve’” You threw your arm up in the air in frustration.

“Y/N I totally shut her down and told her how much I love you.” Calums voice raised a little. He on the other hand didn't care who heard him. “I don’t want anyone else, you’re the one. I’ve been telling you this since junior year of high school.” He let out another deep sigh. “How many times do i have to tell you that before you finally understand that i’m not going anywhere.” You were silent on the other side. You slid down the wall in front of your dorm and sat with your knees tucked to you chest.

“I gotta go. I’ve got my big math exam.” Your voice was a little shaky as you said the next part. “Love you.” You heard the sound of the call disconnecting before he said those words back to you.

Calum made his way down the stairs to the kitchen where he found Chad, Trevor, and Brandon sitting at the kitchen island.

“Girlfriend troubles?” Brandon hit Calum on the shoulder as he walked by. “Been there man, it’ll be okay.” Brandon was the only one who was supportive about Y/N.

“Dude you guys fight a lot and never talk, why are you still with her?” Chad shoved a fork full of eggs into his mouth mid sentence making it a little difficult to understand what he said. Calum knew exactly what was said and he didn't like it.

“Chad, I’m fucking over you being this way. I have a girlfriend that I absolutely adore, yeah we fight sometimes and we rarely get to see each other but she's my girlfriend bro.” Calum didn’t know where this anger was coming from. But it was finally time to let out what he was feeling out into the world.

“Calm down, Cal. I’m just stating my fucking opinion. Don’t be mad at me that you get laid once every year,” he held his hands up in defense, smirking a bit at his slight jab at Calum.

Calum slammed his fist on the counter, turning to face Chad. “I didn’t ask for your opinion. I never asked for your opinion on anything pertaining to my relationship with Y/N. If I don’t get any action, then so be it. At least I have the balls to stay loyal to the girl I love,” he spat, gaining a few mutters from the others in the vicinity.

****

It had been two weeks since the argument with Chad broke out. Calum has spoken to you a few times about the fight and how everyone in the house had been acting.

You decided it was time you go visit. Since you just finished your last exam for the term you booked a plane ticket to see Calum at school. Finding the time to coordinate with Brandon was a little difficult. Brandon was the only one who believed Calum had a girlfriend and when you reached out to him to organize this surprise he was beyond excited.

“Okay I land at 2:30pm make sure you’re there and make sure cal doesn’t know” you fly out later today and you were extremely nervous

“Ah man I’m so excited to see the look on Chads face when you roll up” Brandon was laughing on the other end of the call.

“Me either. That guys a prick! Okay I gotta finish packing.” You held the phone up to your ear with your shoulder as you tried to zip you bag up “see you soon” he muttered a response and you hung up. Sliding your laptop in your backpack. You scanned your room one last time making sure you weren’t forgetting anything.

Calum woke up late and scrambled to grab his stuff and run to his last exam. He shot you a quick text before turning his phone off and putting it in his pocket.

“You didn’t call me this morning! I almost missed my exam. Anyways love u have a good day love”

Your plane landed on schedule. The thought of your flight being delayed and having to wait another day to see Calum made your stomach turn fortunately everything was going smoothly.

After you grabbed your bags you looked at the crowd trying to recognize Brandon from his pictures on Instagram and the ones that Calum has sent you.

“Y/N!” you heard a voice from behind you, turned around, and saw a tall boy making his way to you with a smile on his face.

“Ugh” he embraced you in a tight hug which you reciprocated. “It’s so nice to finally meet you!” He let go and nodded

“You too! Calum talks about you all the time.” He laughed as a rosy color rose to your cheeks. “Well what are we waiting for let’s go get your man!” He grabbed your duffel bag from you and headed towards the parking garage.

You arrived at the house before Calum. Brandon quickly introduced you to everyone that was downstairs when you arrived and then hurriedly rushed you upstairs. You threw your bag under Calum’s very messy room so he wouldn’t notice it when he first walks in. You heard the front door open and checked your watch.

“He’s right on time. That’s surprising” you laughed as Brandon stood pointing at the closet.

“Get in.” He moved his arm and pointed again indicating you needed to get in right away. Once you closed the door you could hear Brandon’s footsteps descend the stairs.

When Calum walked in the front door everyone was staring at him.

“What are you guys looking at?” He questioned when he threw his backpack on the couch. No one responded just stared a little bit harder.

“Brandon what is going on?” He questioned the boy who just ran down the stairs.

“Oh nothing really.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But there is a gift up in your room.”

“Guys if you’re trying to ice me right now. I’m not in the mood” Calum slowly made his way up to his room. “Seriously guys. I’m not gonna drink it.” He yelled from the top of the stairs. He threw the comforter off the bed as soon as he walked into his room expecting to see the bottle of alcohol precariously perched on his pillow but found nothing. Brandon stood in the doorway watching Calum look around.

“Hi baby.” You opened the door to the closet and slid out. Calum swing around at the familiar sound of your voice. He immediately grabs you and pulls you into a hug. You wrap your legs around his waist.

“Okay big guy put me down now” your laugh intensified in the small room almost bouncing off the walls and ringing into Calum’s ears. He loved that sound.

“What the heck are you doing here?” He shook your shoulders a little as he spoke. Which got another laugh out of you.

“Me and Brandon planned this surprise for you! I’ve missed your sweet face!” You cupped his smiling face as he looked down on you lovingly.

“FaceTime doesn’t even compare.” He leaned down and placed a sweet kiss on your lips. Neither of you wanted to pull apart.

“Sorry to break up the reunion but uh… Chad just got home and i'd really like to see his face when you both walk downstairs.” Brandon looked giddy as he spoke. Calum grabbed your hand and you both headed downstairs Brandon following behind.

You could hear all the boys muttering downstairs.

“Chad. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Calum pulled you in front of him you reached your hand out for chad to shake. “This is my girlfriend y/n”

“It’s so nice to meet you.” You tried to hold back all the jokes and malice comments you could say to this dickhead. He grabbed your hand and his jaw fell.

“I didn’t think you were real.” He stood there in shock. “I’m sorry man” he looked back at Calum.

“It’s whatever. You’re still an asshole though” Calum and the rest of the boys started laughing while Chad just stood there trying to understand the whole situation.

Calum looked down at you “are you hungry?” You smiled and replied. “Always.” He grabbed your hand and led you out the front door.

————

Taglist: @gigglyirwin @mysticalhood @cashton-queen @empathycth @calthesensation @you-of-ghost @norawashere @itjustkindahappenedreally @cold-coffee-clifford @softboycal @fremioneforalways @missingyoucth @addaams @suburbanaesthetics @exoticcal

#calum hood #calum hood x reader #frat boy calum #5sos #michael clifford #luke hemmings #ashton irwin #5 seconds of summer

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you-a-southpaw-doll · 5 years

Text

Graduation ~ A Negan!AU One-Shot

Summary: It’s graduation day for Negan...but the one person, Leigh, that he wants to be there. Or is she? He thinks she’s overseas, serving in the United States Navy, but little does he know, she has a surprise for him for graduation.

Warning(s): Fluff. Language. Angst. Explicit Smut - masturbation - male, oral - female receiving.

Word Count: 8,014.

Author’s Note(s): This is set from Negan’s point-of-view. It is also for the Reader too, but the Reader’s name in this story is Leigh. @mychemicalimagines and I tag-teamed this story over Christmas break.

Relationship(s): Negan x Leigh [Reader] (boyfriend/girlfriend)

Characters: Negan. Leigh (OFC). Reader.

Taglist: @negans-network @thamberlina @prettyboynegan @mychemicalimagines

Story Time:

Negan’s Point of View

“Class dismissed! It’s great to say that for the last time.” My college professor says, closing his book. “Have a great Graduation tomorrow!”

He’s still talking, but I ignore him as I jump out of my seat, and run out of the classroom. Today is Thursday which means I get to see you, my beautiful fuckin’ girl, Leigh. We’ve been dating for almost nine years. We met for the first time way back in fuckin’ sixth grade, and by time eighth grade came ‘round, I knew I was in love with you.

I finally got the fuckin’ courage to ask you out. When you said yes, I knew I was a fuckin’ goner. After high school. You encouraged me to go to college, and I did, on a baseball scholarship. You decided to join the United States Navy since you’d always dreamt ‘bout being a Navy SEAL, since you were five years old.

I encouraged you, kept you motivated throughout your basic training, and now, here we are. Nearly nine years of being together. You coming up for re-enlistment, and me ‘bout to graduate fuckin’ college with two degrees - one in history and another in business.

You've been deployed in another country overseas for the last seven months so I haven’t seen you in a hot minute. It fuckin’ hurts that I can’t see you every day. We used to see each other every damn day in middle school and high school, but since then it’s been a wee bit hard to see one another every day.

That’s why I love our one day a week where I can talk to you for a few hours. I’m pushing through all the other classmates, trying to get to my dorm so I can answer your first video message. If you miss the first call then there’s a chance you might not be able to call again.

I had to miss last week’s call because of the stupid, fuckin’ finals we had in the class beforehand. I make it to my dorm room and I push open the door. The door flings open so hard that it hits the wall. I slam it behind me. I run over to my laptop and start it up.

My legs start bouncing, waiting for the screen to start loading. When I finally get the laptop up and running, I quickly log in to Skype. I see the little green dot next to your military account. I notice that you didn’t call yet so I didn’t fuckin’ miss it.

Thank god!

Suddenly, my computer starts to ding and your military photo pops up. I quickly fix my appearance and push accept on the computer. Your beautiful face appears on the screen. You have the biggest smile on.

“Hey, doll.” I say, smiling at you.

“Hey, sweetie. I missed you so much.” You say, as your eyes start filling up with tears.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much too, baby.” My smile never falters.

“Today was your last day right? Graduation is next week?” You ask me, wiping the few tears.

“No, they fuckin’ changed it to tomorrow.” I answer, putting my head down a little.

“What?!? I got my leave approved for next week!” You say, as your eyes widen.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“So I can’t even see you graduate!” You say, putting your hand in your hair.

Your hair’s finally down. The only time you’re allowed to put your hair down is off hours but usually, you keep it up in the tight bun that the military requires. I love when your hair’s down and free. It’s always so soft.

“Don’t fuckin’ worry about it, doll, we can celebrate when you get home,” I smile through the computer at you.

You frown, “But, Negan-“

“No buts, Le. I’ll be fuckin’ fine as long as I get to see your sexy ass next week” I smirk at you. “I’m a big boy.”

“Yes. Yes you are,” You smirk right back.

We talk for another half hour until you have to get off. This is always my least favorite part. I fuckin’ hate saying goodbye.

“I’ll see you next week, doll. You’ll finally be able to see the house I got us.” I say, smiling, thinking about the house we saved up for three years to pay for.

You gave me specific things you wanted in a house and I wrote them down. I went to 4 houses before I found one that had everything you wanted in it. I can already tell this house will be one we stay in until we're old and grey. The beautiful house has 4 bedrooms, 2.5 baths, a huge space you can use as a studio for your photography.

I know how badly you want a space that you can use for your photos. In that studio, there’re some wooden shelves for books so we can also use it as alibrary, since we’re both always fuckin’ reading. I even made sure that in that room, there is the window seat you’ve been begging me to find.

It looks out over a huge bay window at this fuckin’ amazing view of the lake behind the house that has a willow tree resting at the top of a small hill. I can just picture the two of us out there, cuddling and reading under that tree. Or, us chasing little kids ‘round.

This was the kinda house I’d always dreamed ‘bout having one day, and I know you do too.

“I’m not gonna tell you much ‘bout the house, babe, but I will tell you ‘bout this amazin’ fuckin’ view. Outta this huge window, you can see the lake. It’s so fuckin’ pretty - not as beautiful as you, but still pretty. It even has a willow tree where we can sit under and cuddle.” As I tell you this, your eyes light up.

The smile on your face just makes my heart swell. I love seeing your beautiful fuckin’ smile, and I’d do anything and every-fuckin’-thing I could to make sure that you always smile at least three times a day. I wish you could have seen the house before I put down the down payment on it.

But, I know you’d love it. It’s what you’ve always wanted in a house. It really is fuckin’ perfect for us. After a few seconds of thinking ‘bout the house, I notice your smile gets smaller and smaller until it actually drops. My heart suddenly cracks at the sight of you frowning.

I have always, and will always, hated the sight of you being even the littlest bit sad.

“What’s wrong, baby?” I ask, looking confused into the laptop camera.

“I’ve gotta go...” You whisper back to me.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. As I’ve said you’ll be back here in a fuckin’ week, and I’ve already got a huge plan waitin’ here for you,” I say, winking at you.

“Bye, babe. Don’t forget what airport I’ll be at.” You say, smiling brightly at me, thinking about my plan.

“I would never forget that, babygirl. See you later,” I kiss the tips of my fingers and put them toward the camera on my laptop.

You wink and kiss your fingers doing the same thing. When the screen goes black I stare at my reflection, my smile fading quickly. I now have to wait another week before I get to see your face, but at least this time it will be in person. I hesitate, but finally close my laptop.

I lean back in my seat, bringing my hands up to cover my face. Letting out a deep sigh, I run my hand over my slight five o’clock shadow. I can’t believe I’m fuckin’ graduating tomorrow. I was planning on it being next week, which is what you were planning on too.

But, the college had to go and fuck everything up by moving the graduation date up a week earlier. Don’t get me wrong, I’m excited to finally get the hell outta here and get a start on my future. The future I see with you. But, at the same time, since the date’s been moved, it means you won’t be there at my graduation.

And, we were both looking forward to you being there. You’ve told me, countless times, how proud of me you are. For sticking with the whole fuckin’ schooling thing, and whatnot. But...since you won’t able to be there tomorrow, I ain’t got no one else who will be.

I ain’t got any family left.

Ma died when I was ten years old, from a drug overdose. Since my old man was never ‘round, and I had no other kin, I was put into the United States government’s care. I bounced ‘round from foster home to foster home until I finally aged out of the system.

I was a hellyun, growing up.

Until I met you.

You changed that ‘bout me. Made me see the good in life. Made me realize that maybe there was something to this whole living thing. That’s why last month I began to think about making you mine, officially. I was at the mall and passed by this really fuckin’ expensive ring store.

I just went inside to look around, get some kind of idea of a present to give you when you came home. Passing by this counter something caught my eye. After taking a look inside at the rings, I found this beautiful fuckin’ engagement ring, the diamond was huge.

It wasn’t flashy and gaudy like other rings in this store. It was just the right size for you. It was simple, yet stunning, perfect for a simple, but oh-so-fuckin’ beautiful girl. I could already picture this ring being on your small finger. I checked the price, and holy-fuckin’-shit was it super expensive, but it will be worth it, seeing the smile on your face.

I take another look at my closed laptop and sigh. The next week will kill me but I can do it. I stand up out of my computer chair and take a look around my room. It’s pretty much already packed up except for my computer stuff and some of my clothes.

My graduation gown and cap is hanging up on the backside of my door, with my Phi Theta Kappa cords hanging with them. I grab my last pair of pajama bottoms and walk toward the bathroom connected to my dorm room. I put my clothes down on the sink and turn the water on in the shower.

After testing for the right temperature, I quickly undress. I step into the shower and put my head under the water. The hot water feels amazing against my cold skin. I lean my head against the wall, just letting the water fall all around me. Tomorrow is going to be the best and worst day ever.

Best because I’m finally getting out of this fuckin’ hell hole, but worst because I don’t have you, my personal fuckin’ cheerleader, cheering me on as I get the diploma put into my hand. After letting the water fall around me for a few minutes, I finally bring my head up off the wall and grab a wash rag and my body wash.

I wash the more important parts of my body and grab my shampoo/conditioner combo and wash my hair. It’s getting too long for my liking but you always say you love when my hair gets longer. I rinse my hair and decide I’ve spent too much time in here.

I turn off the water and grab the towel I have hanging on the wall beside the shower. I wrap it around my waist and step out, looking into the mirror. I rub my stubbly chin, turning my head side to side. You’ve said before you love when I grow out my beard, but should I shave for graduation?

Fuck it. I’m leaving it to grow for when you come next week. I quickly dry off and put on my pjs, hanging up the towel again. I leave the bathroom, turning both the bathroom and bedroom lights off. I grab my phone from my side table as I just flop onto my bed.

I push the power button on the phone, a picture from Halloween last year popping up on my screen. Wanting to feel like kids again, you made me dress up as a fuckin’ vampire, while you were a witch. We have huge fuckin’ smiles on our faces as your mother took the photo.

I remember when she took that photo. I’d just put the vampire teeth in after they fell out for the hundredth time, when she said ‘Smile!’. We both looked up and saw her camera and couldn’t help but laugh. When we first started dating, you made me meet your parents since we were really young and couldn’t do much alone yet.

From that day on, they’ve treated me like one of the family. Always making sure I had something to eat before I went home. Got me Christmas presents our first Christmas together. Even let me sleep over a couple of times when it got super cold out. In separate rooms, of course.

I unlock my phone and go straight to my photo app. Before you left, you made an album of just pictures of us. Scrolling through I find a photo from our 7th anniversary. We went to the beach for the weekend and you wanted to go straight to the water as soon as we got there.

I didn’t mind. I just wanted to see the smile on your face. When we got to the beach, you ran straight to the water. Standing at the edge, you stared toward the never-ending water toward the setting sun. Water washing over your ankles, you glanced over your shoulder at me.

That just so happened to be the exact moment I decided to take the photo. It was breathtaking then, just as it is at this exact moment I’m lookin’ at it now. I keep scrolling through the photos, laughing at all the dumb ones you’ve taken over the years.

Smirking at all the sexy photos I’ve taken behind your back, but there is one photo that really caught my eye. Toward the end of the album, there’s a photo I have never seen before. It looks like it was taken the day you left for deployment.

I can see the airport in the background so that could have been the only day it was taken. I’m standing in front of you while you’re wearing your uniform, and since I’m so much taller than you, I’m looking right down at you. Your hair is up in its bun and my hands are on your cheeks.

I can tell I’m wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop falling that day. We’re looking directly into each others eyes. From the angle of the photo, I can see the love that was in your eyes that day. I remember whispering ‘I love you. I fuckin’ promise I’ll be right here waiting for you.

Nothing will fuckin’ stop me.’ I leaned down and softly kissed your lips. I never wanted to let you go but I knew that day I had to. I wrapped my arms around you and held you to my chest as your plane was called over the intercom. You looked up at me and whispered, ‘I’ll see you soon.’

You said that every time and it was never soon enough. I kissed you again and you had to walk away from me. I watched you go and I never left that spot until you were fully out of my sight. That’s when I walked out. I sigh to myself. Your mom must have taken that photo because I found my phone in my car after I dropped her off.

I look through the album once more before my eyes get too heavy for me to keep open. I stare at that photo once more as I fall into a deep sleep.

I wake up to the double vibration of my phone letting me know that I have a text message. With my eyes still shut, I reach ‘round for my phone. The moment my fingers curl ‘round the edges of the small device, I pull it towards me. I roll over onto my left side and crack one eye open.

The notification that I see first makes my heart beat ten times faster, and I quickly rub the sleep outta my eyes. I sit up on the small, twin-sized, college issued mattress and prop myself up against the wall. Letting my finger hover over the notification for a moment, I finally swipe to the right to open it.

It pauses for a moment, and I press my thumb against the home button, so that it can recognize my thumbprint and unlock my phone. The moment it does, the app opens, and I can’t help but smile when I see the message.

“Good mornin’, honey. I can’t talk long, but I just wanted to say that I’m super proud of you. Today’s gonna be great. Even though I’m not able to be there, I’m still there with you, babe. I’m always with you. I can’t wait to see you next week. Then! You can show me your degrees! Both of ‘em! Alright. I’ve got to go now. I love you, Negan. See you soon, honey.”

A tear or two falls down my face and catches in the scruff lining my chin. I reread your message to me. I had downloaded the Skype app on my phone during your last deployment. I realized that sometimes you’d be able to send me a text, and I didn’t want to miss it, in case I didn’t have my laptop on me, so I downloaded the app.

Seeing that you’re still active on Skype, I quickly type out a quick text to you.

“I love you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to fuckin’ see you. Please be careful and come home to me, safe and sound. I know you’re always with me. But, just know that as soon as I fuckin’ see you again, I’m pullin’ you into my arms and not lettin’ you fuckin’ go for a long time.”

My heart swells as I see the three little dots bounce on your side to show that you’re typing something. I wasn’t expecting you to reply to me.

“I’ll be counting on it, Negan. ;) And, I’ll always come home to you. Now, go get ready for graduation. And, send me a photo of you all dressed up in your cap and gown, yeah? I wanna see.”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am!”

I send a kissy face emoji to you before I hop outta bed. I strip down to nothing, as I walk over to my duffle bag that has a few clothes in it, since everything else is already packed up. I grab a clean pair of boxers, put ‘em on, and then walk over to where I have my outfit hanging up for today.

Before I get dressed through, I decide to go ahead and brush my teeth. While I’m doing that, I hear my phone start chiming with the signature Skype ringtone. I rush outta the bathroom, toothbrush still in my mouth, and paste on my lips. I scoop my phone up, and swipe the notification to the right, to open it, without really reading it.

A moment later, your face appears on my phone. My mouth drops, making my toothbrush wobble, which has you giggling. I hurry back into the bathroom to spit out the toothpaste in my mouth. I glance at my phone. You have your camera close to your face so I can’t see your background, but that’s ok.

“Baby?” I ask, quietly. “What are you doin’? I thought you had to go?”

You tilt your head to the side in a mini shrug. “I managed to snag a few minutes away from everythin’, and I really wanted to see you today.”

I smile. “Well, I’m glad you called. Although, I’m getting dressed. You mind fuckin’ watchin’ and talkin’ to me while I get ready?”

You giggle. “I don’t mind one bit. What do you have on already?”

I pull the phone away from the area of my face and tilt it down so you can see what I have on, which is just a pair of boxers.

“Damn. I’m really glad I called.” I hear you say.

I chuckle. “Me fuckin’ too, sweetheart.”

I place the phone on the bathroom counter, propping it up so that I can still see you and you can see me while I get dressed. I go to pick my toothbrush up to finish brushing my teeth when I hear you say something.

“Either you just woke up, and that’s just your mornin’ wood, honey. Or, you really are excited that I called.”

I laugh and glance at you. “I did just wake up, and that is my mornin’ wood. But, trust me, I’m really fuckin’ excited that you called.”

You blush. “You gonna be that excited when I see you?”

I nod. “Hell, I’ll probably be more excited and bust a nut. You know how to get me worked up. Speaking of which, I gotta fuckin’ take care of this, doll.”

“Can I watch?”

I take a deep breath in. “Well, shit, sweetheart. I ain’t one to deny you. You know that. You really wanna watch?”

You nod, biting your bottom lip in that way you know gets me all hot and fuckin’ bothered. I drop my toothbrush on the counter, and settle down on the edge of the tub. I got lucky, being an RA for my dorm, that I got hooked up with a good room that had an attached bathroom with a tub.

I get my phone propped up on the toilet seat and tug my boxers down to my ankles. I keep my eyes on you as I curl my fingers ‘round myself. With you watching, and me thinking ‘bout all the things we’re gonna do when you get back, I jerk myself off.

You can tell I’m getting close, ‘cause you make a little sound low in your throat that has me tugging harder.

“Cum, babe. Cum for me.” You whisper.

At your words, I do exactly as you ask. I shoot my load all over the bathroom floor, letting out a deep groan in the process. My body shakes as my orgasm tears through me. I have to grip the edge of the tub tightly so that I don’t fall. When my orgasm finally subsides, I glance at you, still on my phone, with my eyes drooping.

“Damn. I’ve missed seeing that.” You murmur. “That was hot as shit.”

I chuckle. “Yeah, well. You’re hot as shit.”

You blush. “You gonna do that again for me in person?”

I nod. “Mmhhmm. If you want.”

“Hell yes.”

I chuckle. “Alright. Let me clean up the mess you made me make real quick.”

You laugh. “Ok.”

I clean up the remnants of my orgasm. Once that’s done, I pull my boxers back up to my hips. I finish brushing my teeth and then grab my outfit for today. You stay on the phone with me as I get dressed. I put on a pair of nice blue jeans, and a black button up shirt.

I roll the sleeves up to my elbows. I roll ‘em in the same way you have to roll your sleeves for your military uniform. After you taught me the way to do that, I liked it, so I started rolling my sleeves in that same manner. Once the shirt’s buttoned, I tuck it into my pants.

I button those, zip ‘em up, and tighten my belt ‘round my waist. I loop my dark, heather grey tie, the one you got me a couple years ago, ‘round my neck and tie it properly. I fix the collar of my shirt before reaching for the light grey vest and putting it on.

After it’s buttoned, I fix my hair. Normally, I’d go with bed head, but I’ve got you watching me at the moment, and it is graduation, so I wanna look kinda good. I run my fingers through my hair, making it look a little messy, but it’s a neat messy.

I grab my chapstick and apply some to my lips. They’ve been really chapped here lately, and I don’t want ‘em to be all cracked and whatnot when I can finally kiss you again.

“Damn, honey. You sure do clean up nice!” You say.

I chuckle. “Thanks, sweetheart. I’m probably gonna wait and put my cap and gown on till I get over to the auditorium.”

“Oh. Well...you think you could put it on for me real quick? Just so I can see?”

I smile. “Anythin’ for you, doll. Any-fuckin’-thin’ for you.”

I do as you want, and once I’ve got the cap and gown on, you smile.

“There’s my man.” You say.

I pick the phone up, blushing slightly, and hold it so that you can see my face.

“Negan, I really am fuckin’ proud of you.” You say, your voice full of pride and love. “And, I know you said you didn’t want any gifts or anything for graduating, but I’ve got somethin’ for you. You’ll get it later. After the ceremony. Ok?”

“Yes, ma’am. But, all I want is you.” I mumble.

“I know, honey. And, you’ll have me soon ‘nough. I promise.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You give me a small smile. “I’ve got to go now, ok? But, you go out there, and you show ‘em who’s fuckin’ boss. Alright? Do that for me, yeah?”

I nod. “Yes, ma’am.”

“I love you, Negan Alexander Morgan.”

I blush at your use of my full name. “And I love you too, sweetheart. So fuckin’ much.”

You blow me a kiss and I repeat your actions. We say our goodbyes and I lock my phone, setting it on the counter. I place both my palms against the smooth surface, and try hard not to let the tears fall. I gotta be strong. I’ll be seeing you soon.

I just gotta make it a few more days.

“Negan Alexander Morgan. Bachelor of Arts in Business. Bachelor of Arts in History. Magna Cum Laude. Phi Thetta Kappa.”

As soon as the Dean of the college calls my name, I take a few steps across the stage towards him. Just as I thought, only a few people started clapping for me. Since no one was here to watch me graduate, no one was obligated to clap. The stupid fuckin’ college just had to change the graduation date.

He hands me my diplomas; I grab it using my left hand like I was taught at our graduation meeting last week. I put my right hand out for the handshake I have to do with the Dean but he doesn’t grab my hand. I give him a confused look when his right hand goes up and points in a different direction than he did for everyone in front of me.

I look over in that direction to see something I never thought was possible. In the back of the stadium, I see a familiar Dark Blue color standing out from the rest of the students, who are wearing black and orange. I take a quick glance at the Dean.

He’s smiling at me and nods toward the direction he pointed at. I slowly walk off the stage and towards that direction. Along with the dark blue Cracker Jacks, I see long beautiful brown hair that I would recognize anywhere.

“Le?” I whisper to myself trying to get a closer look at the figure.

The figure starts walking toward me and I knew in that moment, my love has come home.

“Leigh!” I yell, running in your direction.

We meet halfway down the aisle and I drop my diplomas, wrapping my arms around your waist lifting you in the air. In the background, I can hear everyone clapping but that is the last thing on my mind. I push my face into your neck as I feel a few tears escaping my eyes.

I feel your arms go around my neck, knocking my cap off my head so it hits the ground with a tiny thud. Your legs wrap around my waist and I use one of my hands to steady you, putting it under your ass. I feel my neck get a little wet. Probably from the tears coming from your eyes, like they’re still coming from mine.

“I missed you so fuckin’ much,” I whisper into your neck, using my other hand to put in your hair.

Your cover falls off as well and I run my fingers through your hair. You pull your head up from my neck and press your lips against mine in a hard kiss.

“Leigh Marie Summers, Chief Petty Officer for the United States Navy, surprising Mr. Negan Morgan after seven months overseas,” The Dean says into his microphone.

I gently put your feet onto the ground and pull you even closer than you were before, if that is even possible. I pull away from the kiss and look deeply into your eyes.

“Surprise,” You whisper, smiling widely.

“You already knew,” I whisper smirking down at you.

“Of course I did, I had a little help.” You say looking over my shoulder at the Dean.

I turn my head and glance at him. He’s just grinning from ear to ear. He nods his head at us, and I can’t help but smile. He helped bring you home to me, and on today of all days. I look back at you.

“When’d you get in?” I ask.

You smirk. “Last night.”

“Last night?! And you didn’t fuckin’ come see me?”

You giggle. “Nope. I wanted to surprise you. I promised you that I’d be here to see you walk across the stage. The Dean called me two days ago and told me that the date had been changed, and offered to help me in anyway he could to make sure I made it here to see you graduate.”

“You certainly surprised me.” I grin, as another thought crosses my mind. “Wait. That’s why you fuckin’ called me this morning, isn’t it? You were already stateside?”

You blush. “Mmhhmm.”

“Well, then, where the hell were you when I gave you that special fuckin’ show?”

You giggle. “I was in our bedroom in our apartment.”

I smile. “That’s why you kept the phone close to your face. You knew I’d recognize our own damn bedroom.”

You nod. “Yep!”

I chuckle. Yes, I live on campus since I’m an RA, but you and I also have our own apartment off campus. When you’re home from deployment, you stay there, and I stay there with you on the nights that I don’t have to be on duty as an RA.

“Please give a round of applause for Leigh Summers, who successfully got her squad safe from active fire and back home where they belong.” The Dean says over the intercom.

I step back a little and look around the room. Everyone is standing up, clapping their hands. I look down at the ground and pick up your Navy issued cap. I step back and put it on your head the way that you taught me to do it, stepping back once more, clapping along with everyone else.

You stand up straight, putting your hands to your sides. You bring your right hand up and salute everyone in the stadium, bring your hand back down to your side. I step closer and kiss your lips once again.

“I’ll see you in a second, doll.” I whisper to you.

You nod and turn around, going to a seat. One of the gentlemen sitting in the front row stops you and offers you his seat. You smile at him and shake his hand, sitting down in said seat. I lean down and pick up my diplomas and my graduation cap and go to the Dean.

He looks at me confused but I put my hand out to shake his hand. He smiles a little bit and shakes it. I walk back to my seat, putting my cap on my head. I smile to myself and look over my shoulder. You wink at me and I grin. I turn back toward the front.

I fuckin’ can’t believe you surprised me today. I never thought in a million years that you would come surprise me during graduation. My day has gotten even better, now that I know you’re home safe and with me. Since I was closer to the back of the line, there weren’t many more people behind me.

After about twenty minutes of sitting in these uncomfortable chairs, the last person sits down in their chair.

“Now everyone, please move your tassel to the left side of your cap,” Everyone does so, “Now I want to congratulate everyone who has graduated today. Please stand up and give a round of applause to the Class of 2005!”

Everyone starts clapping and everyone, including me, cheers and throws our caps into the air. When they all fall back down, I hurry and grab mine. I turn quickly and look for you. I see you standing up at the chair you were offered. I walk quickly over to you, wrapping my arms around you once again, pulling you close

“Come on, Graduate. Let’s go get your stuff so we can go home.” You say into my ear.

I nod and I grab your hand, walking out of the stadium toward my dorm room. Along the way, a man walks up to us.

“Excuse me, ma’am.” We both turn to the gentleman. “I just want to say thank you so much for your service to this country.” He puts out his hand.

You just smile and shake his hand, “No thank you is needed, sir. I’m happy to do it.”

Suddenly a group of people walk over to us and start shaking your hand. I notice out of the corner of my eye, a guy I had Algebra with in high school, Rick Grimes. He walks over to us.

“Hello, Negan.” He says.

“Rick,” I say nodding toward him.

“I see you and Le are still together,” He says nodding toward you.

I nod and smirk, “Almost nine years. Whatcha doing here?”

“I’m here to watch Shane graduate today too.”

“Oh, that’s right, Walsh? Right?”

“That’s right,” He says as a little boy runs up to him. A woman following right behind.

“Daddy, I said hi to that nice Navy lady.” The boy says making Rick smile. “She let me take a photo with her! I want to be just like her!”

“Carl, Lori this is Negan. Le and him went to school with me.”

“Hi, Mr. Negan,” ‘Carl’ puts his hand out to me. “My names Carl and I’m 4,” He says putting 4 fingers up on his other hand. Lori just nods.

“Hi, Carl. It’s nice to meet you,” I say shaking his tiny hand.

You walk up and smile, “Hi, Rick. Hi again, Carl.”

You completely look past Rick’s wife.

Rick nods to her and looks back at me, “Nice to see you again.”

“You too,” I say grabbing your hand and we walk back toward my dorm.

When we finally make it there without any interruptions, you glance around the room. You walk to the boxes I have in the room, taking a quick peek. I start packing up the very last of my stuff.

“Hey, baby?” You ask after a few seconds.

I look over. “Mmmhmm?”

“Can I change? This uniform gets really hot.”

I bite my bottom lip as I look you up and down. When my eyes meet yours, a smirk spreads ‘cross my face. You raise an eyebrow at me, lifting your cover off your head, and setting it on the bed.

“What?” You ask.

“Honey, of course your uniform gets really hot. That’s ‘cause you’re wearing it. And, you, sweetheart, you are fuckin’ smokin’ hot.” I say.

You blush. “Oh hush.”

I stop packing and make my way over to you. I place both my hands on your hips and lean down to kiss you.

“I’m only speakin’ the fuckin’ truth, doll.” I murmur against your lips.

“You’re a smooth talker, honey.” You tease.

“You know you love me.”

“Damn straight I do.”

I grin, and help you take your uniform shirt off. I remind myself that I can’t be too rough in taking it off of you. All I wanna do is take your clothes off you, and make sweet love to you. I wanna take my time with you for at least the first time since it’s been so long.

Once I have your uniform shirt off, I drape it over the edge of my bed. I turn back to you to see you lifting your white undershirt off. I go to say something, but the words get caught in my throat at the sight of you. You tug the shirt off and toss it on the bed.

I let my eyes rake over your torso, from your belly button up to your collarbone. My gaze stops right above your heart. I take a step closer to you, and gently shove your bra strap to the side, and tug down the cup of the bra. I run my fingers over the skin there, tracing the design of the hammerhead shark you have inked in there.

I lift my eyes up to look at you, keeping my fingers roaming over the ink.

“When’d you get this?” I ask, quietly.

You smile. “A couple months ago. We stopped off in Italy for a few days, and I decided to get it. I know it’s something we’ve talked ‘bout for a while.”

I grin. “It’s beautiful.”

I pull my hand away from your skin and loosen my tie a wee bit, unbutton the vest, and a few buttons of my shirt. I tug the left side of the fabric to the side. Your eyes drift down to my exposed skin, and you bring your hand up to trace over the ink I have just above my heart.

You lift your eyes up to mine.

“It’s a penguin.” You whisper.

I smile. “It is. I know it’s your favorite animal, sweetheart. ‘Sides, when we always talked ‘bout getting matching tattoos, we decided we’d get each other’s favorite animals.”

You grin. “When did you get it?”

I pause. “Uh….two months after you got deployed.”

“It’s pretty. I’m surprised I didn’t notice it this mornin’ when we videochatted.”

I chuckle. “Well, if I fuckin’ remember correctly, doll, your eyes were focused on another part of my body.”

You blush. “Hey. Not my fault you put on one hell of a show.”

I laugh. “You started it.”

“Nah uh.”

“Yes uh.”

“Nah uh.”

“Mmhhmm.”

You giggle. “Nope.”

I lean down to kiss you. “Yes. You did.”

“Hmmm...you keep kissing me like that, and I’ll admit to startin’ it.”

I chuckle. “Is that a promise?”

“Don’t start somethin’ you ain’t plannin’ on finishin’.”

I playfully growl. “Oh, honey. I promise you, you’ll be finishin’ ‘fore we leave this damn room.”

“Promises. Promises.” You taunt.

“Oh. I’ll fuckin’ show you promises, sweetheart.”

I take your lips in a passionate kiss, causing you to cling to my shoulders as you moan into the kiss. I curl one arm ‘round your waist, and tug you closer to me as I deepen the kiss. You moan again, which gives my tongue a change to dart in and dance with yours.

My free hand trails down between our bodies and shove your uniform pants down.

You pull back from the kiss, panting.

“Negan, honey. My boots.” You pant.

I chuckle before I scoop you up and plop you down on my bed. I drop to my knees and tug your boots off you feet. I set ‘em on the floor before I crawl over you on my bed. I place a hand on either side of your head. You shift your legs so that my lower body rests between ‘em.

You hook a leg over my calves. I do a mock pushup as I lean down to kiss you. You wrap your arms ‘round my neck, and I feel your fingers tangle in my hair. I break the kiss and rest my forehead against yours.

“Did you cum this mornin’?” I ask.

You shake your head. “No. I didn’t have ‘nough time ‘fore I had to head over to the ceremony.”

I nod. “Ok.”

Before you can say another word, I start trailing open-mouthed kisses down your jaw, neck, between your breasts, and down your tummy. I let my tongue dip into your belly button. You arch up against me, and I can’t help but smirk. I tilt my head back so that my eyes meet yours, but I keep my mouth on your skin.

You reach down and tangle your fingers in my hair again and tug roughly. I don’t mind the pain one bit. Not when it means I get to see you like this. I chuckle as you let out another moan and arch your hips towards me.

“Negan. Honey. Please.” You beg.

“Please what, baby girl? Tell daddy what you want.” I tease.

You moan. “Somethin’. Anythin’. YOU!”

I chuckle. “Yes, ma’am.”

I trail one of my hands down your body and hook my fingers in your panties. I give ‘em a gentle tug and pull off your legs. I glance up at you as I nestle myself between your legs, hooking ‘em over my shoulders.

“You sure you want this, sweetheart?” I ask, in a serious tone.

I would never do something that you didn’t want or consent to. I don’t believe in rape or anything similar to it. Your eyes meet mine. You know how I am, so you know that while it may sound like I’m teasing you, I’m actually being completely fuckin’ serious.

“Yes, Negan! I want this.” You say. “Please!”

“Yes, ma’am.” I say before diving in.

I make love to you with my mouth. I alternate between licking, sucking, and kissing your core. You buck your hips against my face, repeatedly, as you pant and tug on my hair. I place one palm against your lower tummy and push you back down against the bed.

I gently slide my index finger of my other hand inside you. I do so slowly ‘cause I know it’s been awhile for you, and the last thing I wanna do is hurt you. The moment you feel my finger in you, only to the first knuckle, you clench up. I pull my mouth from you and glance up at you.

“Relax, baby. Just relax. I got you.” I assure you.

You nod. “I forgot how big your fingers were, though.”

I chuckle. “I know it’s been a while. That’s why I gotta get you ready.”

You nod and moan as my finger slides in a little further. I latch back onto your clit and focus on making you feel good. Before too long, I’m able to add another finger. I move my fingers in a scissor like motion, and I feel my middle finger brush up against that special spot.

You buck yours hips against my face, and tighten your grip on my hair the moment it does.

“Oh fuck!” You pant.

I chuckle against your lower lips which has you moaning loudly. It doesn’t take much longer ‘fore I feel you tighten ‘round my fingers, almost painfully. I lift my eyes to look at you again. You’ve got your eyes squeezed shut and your chest’s heaving.

“Let go, baby. Just fuckin’ let go. I got you.” I murmur.

Just like I did earlier with your words, you come undone ‘round my fingers at my words. I smile and keep lapping up your juices. When you finally manage to come down from your high, I push myself up to my knees and gaze down at you. I bring a hand up and wipe your juices from my beard.

You flop back on the mattress with a content look on your face. I chuckle as I lean forward, covering your body with mine. I gently brush my lips against yours and you moan into the kiss. I pull back after a moment and just look at you.

“I forgot what it’s like to taste myself on you.” You mumble.

I laugh. “You taste fuckin’ amazin’, doll.”

You grin. “So do you.”

I groan at your words. I know how much you fuckin’ love going down on me, and every single time, you swallow every last drop. I kiss you once more before pulling away and standing up. If I don’t, I’m liable to take you, right here, on my college mattress, and that’s not what I want at the moment.

I want to take my time with you and enjoy our first time together again in months. You look up at me, pouting, as I start to button my shirt back up and fix my tie. You prop yourself up on your elbows.

“What ‘bout you?” You ask.

“What ‘bout me, baby?” I reply.

“Don’t you wanna cum too?”

I smile. “Of course I do, but I came earlier. Remember?”

“But...after what you just did to me?”

I chuckle. “Sweetheart. You know my two for one rule.”

You blush and nod. “I get to cum twice for every time you do.”

I nod. “Exactly. So, I’ve still got one more time to make you cum to make up for mine this fuckin’ mornin’.”

You blush. I finish buttoning up my vest ‘fore I lean back down over you. I kiss your forehead.

“Besides, doll. I wanna take my fuckin’ time with you later. I don’t wanna fuckin’ rush our first time in months.” I whisper.

You giggle. “Ok.”

I smile as I stand up straight. “You bring any extra clothes with you today?”

Shaking your head you answer my question. I dig through my duffle bag and pull out my baseball jersey and a pair of my sweatpants. I hand ‘em to you as you sit up completely. You slip my jersey on first. It hangs halfway down your thighs once you stand up.

I just take in the sight of you. My jersey looks damn good on you. All throughout high school, you always wore my jersey to my games; you refused to wear any other shirt to my games. You swore that in my jersey, you were my lucky charm. The one day you had to wear a shirt aside from my jersey, we ended up losing by six runs, and I got hit in the face with a wild pitch.

After that, you always made sure to wear my jersey, and I never argued with you when you said something ‘bout you in my shirt being my good luck charm. Plus, you always looked damned good in it. Lord have mercy. You thought I was sexy in my uniform, but honey, you put me to shame when it came to the sight of you in my baseball jersey.

I always had to pull you back into the bedroom right before we left, but somehow we were never late to any of the games. You made sure of that. I could make love to you before the game, but you made sure we were never late. You stand up and start pulling on the sweatpants.

They go to fall down but I help you tighten them.

“You ready to go?” You ask, grabbing your uniform folding it, and putting it in my duffle bag.

“Yes, doll.” I smile over at you, putting your cover on your head.

#Graduation #Negan One-Shot #Negan Fanfic #Negan Fluff #Negan Smut #Negan

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notcaycepollard · 6 years

Note

those screengrabs from dear white people w/ tessa thompson you just reblogged are sam & bucky in a college au

WOW YOU ARE NOT WRONG

It’s not that Bucky thinks Steve’s roommate is a dick, or anything. Hell, he seems like a good guy, especially given he’s helped Steve rescue Bucky from misguided decisions and poorly thought through situations at least three times. Four if you count the time Steve and Sam got into a fistfight with the president of Hydra Kappa Phi while Bucky was throwing up in the frat house bathroom in nothing but his underwear and some silver body paint. And yeah, Sam’s probably got more than enough reason to hate Bucky now, given that whole thing ended with Bucky puking on Wilson’s shoes while weakly insisting that it wasn’t hazing, the frat was totally cool, he was gonna keep pledging like it was his damn mission. Once you throw up on someone’s shoes, Bucky thinks, you’re probably not gonna be cool with each other.

It’s just. It’s just, if he’s being truthful, Sam Wilson is super fucking great, the kind of great that’d make you spit if he weren’t also such a nice fucking person. It’s not enough that he’d got the 4.0 GPA and double major in psych and polsci and fuckin’ track scholarship, he’s gotta go and be the kind of person who runs the LGBT students’ association and volunteers down at the VA for extra counselling experience, and on top of all that he’s really goddamn beautiful. Bucky’d already noticed him before the whole Hydra Kappa Phi debacle, had furtively checked him out across their mutual Eng 201 class, but he’d really noticed Sam was beautiful, had gotten up close with the curl of his lashes and his smooth brown skin, about the same time he was heaving the last quarter of a forty of grain alcohol all over Wilson’s nice white sneakers, and ever since then, well.

He’d woken up the next morning feeling like something unutterably terrible had happened to him, squinted at his surroundings—Steve’s suite bathroom floor, cool—and staggered into their room, wondering if maybe he was dying or maybe had in fact already died and was just a shambling corpse, and Sam fuckin’ Wilson had glanced over at him, scowled a little, said man, you owe me some new kicks, and Bucky had thought, bleakly: well, fuck me.

Ever since then they’ve kind of maintained an awkwardly distant relationship, Steve’s two best friends who don’t quite get along, and now it’s like six years later and Bucky knows Sam Wilson is a good guy, more than just a good guy but someone who Bucky’s accidentally kind of fallen way too deep for even as Sam politely but barely acknowledges his existence. Bucky wants to mend that bridge, smooth it all over, say hey how about we forget what a fuckin’ disaster I was in undergrad, we’re adults now, let’s start fresh, and then maybe, how about we get a drink sometime, but it all, when Bucky’s being bleakly honest with himself, seems more than a little like an entirely lost cause.

He’s sitting in Steve’s office one evening, waiting for him to finish grading; honestly the TA offices are more like depressingly tiny cubicles than actual offices but it’s a better spot than the grad lounge if only because the couch doesn’t feel too gross to sit on, so Bucky’s got his laptop out, is working on his Comparative Lit paper while he waits. He pulls up iTunes to switch albums, notices something odd in his Mac library.

FALCON, it says, and Bucky clicks on it, because Dostoevsky is fine but he’s been working on this paper for about three thousand hours, and someone clearly hasn’t turned off their Mac library sharing permissions.

It’s Sam Wilson’s music library. Bucky figures it out pretty quickly—Janelle Monáe, Vince Staples, Kendrick Lamar and Frank Ocean, Sam’s got as good taste in music as everything else. There’s a bunch of Belle and Sebastian and Camera Obscura which Bucky’s willing to bet is something Steve passed on and Sam politely listened to once before forgetting it exists, a bit of Marvin Gaye, and Bucky scrolls through, tries out Erykah Badu, a little Anderson .Paak. And then he spots it, right at the bottom, like Sam’s trying to hide it even from himself.

“Oh my god,” Bucky mutters to himself, gleeful. “Oh my god.”

“Hmm?” Steve asks, distracted from his class’s papers on fuckin’ mid-century American politics or whatever it is Steve’s tutoring this semester, and Bucky shakes his head, waves Steve off.

“Oh my god,” he whispers again. Pulls up a browser window, runs a search, looks at his bank account. Fuck, this is— it’s stupid, he doesn’t really have the money, his savings are low and his grad stipend’s gotta last for another month, but it’s too good an opportunity, and before Bucky really thinks about it, he’s clicked book now.

He goes back over to the TA offices the next day when he knows Steve’s got a three-hour lecture across campus. Knocks on the door of Sam’s cubicle, and Sam looks up from his trauma psych notes, squints at Bucky through his reading glasses.

“Steve’s not here, man, come back later.”

“No, I know. I, uh. I came to talk to you.”

“To talk to me,” Sam repeats, obviously perplexed, and Bucky shrugs, already regretting everything that’s led him here. Sam gestures at his own couch, slightly less ratty than Steve’s, and Bucky sits down, wipes his palms on his jeans.

“Yeah. Well, I mean. To give you these, actually.” He hands the envelope to Sam before he can make it any damper, clutching it in a sweaty hand, and Sam blinks at it for a minute. “Well, open it,” Bucky says, even more awkward now, and Sam blinks again, opens the envelope and pulls out the tickets.

“What,” he says, flat. Bucky grins.

“I figured, right, we could go.”

“What,” Sam repeats. Looks from the tickets to Bucky and back again. “Am I hallucinating? Is this a stress dream? Did Maria put her secret study formula in my coffee again to test it out on me?”

“You have a thing for Taylor Swift,” Bucky says, undeterred. Sam shakes his head. “You do. I know because my Mac picked up your music library.”

“No, man, that was from Steve,” Sam tries, “I never even listened to it, it just got added in the last compilation he gave me,” and it’s Bucky’s turn to shake his head.

“It ain’t. You think I don’t know Steve’s music? Besides, he won’t download her, you know he thinks she’s a succubus. And anyway, I checked your number of plays. You’ve listened to 1989 like four thousand times, sweetheart.”

“I cannot believe this,” Sam mutters. “Fuck, I was so careful.”

“You gotta change your privacy settings,” Bucky tells him, magnanimous now. “And you gotta go to Taylor Swift with me.”

“I am not going to Taylor Swift,” Sam says. “With you or otherwise, Barnes.”

“Come on, those cost me almost three hundred bucks,” Bucky says. “I’m gonna have to eat ramen and dining hall coffee for the next month. Besides, who’s gonna know? Nobody will see us. Your cred is safe. Just shake it off, baby.”

“No,” Sam says. “No, Barnes, we’re not doing this.”

“Look what you made me do,” Bucky offers. One corner of Sam’s mouth crooks upward, like he’s willing himself not to smile. “You’re so gorgeous, I can’t say anything to your face.”

“No,” Sam says again, “nuh uh, stop this,” and reaches out, tries to cover Bucky’s mouth with his hand. Bucky grins at him, shifts out of range.

“I’m so furious at you for making me feel this way,” he says, deadpan, and this time Sam flings himself at Bucky, wrestles him down against the couch to press his palm over Bucky’s mouth.

“You are the worst,” he says, glaring at Bucky. “I hate you.” And then he’s grinning outright, leaning in, hissing in Bucky’s ear. “I knew you were trouble when you walked in.”

“It’s a love story,” Bucky says, muffled against Sam’s palm. Grabs Sam’s wrist and pulls his hand away, strokes his thumb over Sam’s warm pulse point; Sam’s in his lap looking furious and aroused and right on the edge of laughter, and Bucky didn’t really think this was possible, but— “Baby,” he says, solemn, “just say yes.”

“Fuck you,” Sam says, with feeling, and slams his mouth against Bucky’s, kissing him hard. “Yes, fine, yes, I’ll go to fucking Taylor Swift with you, my entire life is an embarrassing lie.”

“Uh,” someone says fifteen minutes later, and they quit furiously making out to discover one of Sam’s students standing in his office doorway looking vaguely embarrassed. “I can come back later?”

“I,” Sam says. Clears his throat and visibly tries to pull himself together, which is absolutely fucking unacceptable given that thirty seconds ago Bucky had his mouth on Sam’s throat and Sam had both hands up Bucky’s shirt, and Bucky has been pining over this for like six fucking years.

“Yeah, no, this is a bad time. Come back during his office hours,” Bucky says firmly, getting up to close the door.

“This is my office hours,” Sam says, only a little reproachfully, and Bucky shrugs, locks the door.

#sambucky #college au #ficlet #Anonymous

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prettyxlittlexwriter · 6 years

Text

Vday Challenge Day 2 - Forgotten Pasts

Day 2 - Song by a male artist - Pour Some Sugar On Me - Def Leopard (Click the link for a PG-13 Pole Dance Class Routine that i used for inspiration!) Lyrics in Bold

Dean Winchester x Reader (With a dash of Sam!)

Confession - I had this story in my head and needed a song to match it to. I did it backwards. I’m sorry! BUT! Thank you for reading and thank you to all the amazing writers in all sorts of fandoms who are participating in our #2018 Vday Challenge! I love you all so much!

Smoothing down your shirt, you gaze at your reflection in the mirror and shift uncomfortably. Your plaid, pleated skirt barely covers your bottom, your thigh high stockings are itchy and your push-up bra is digging into you something fierce.

“Let’s get this over with,” you mutter, steeling yourself as you leave your room and knock on the motel room door next to yours. Dean Winchester opens the door and his jaw drops.

“Sweet Saint Cecilia… she’s a school girl,” he mutters lowly.

“Dean,” Sam hisses, appearing behind him and tossing you an apologetic smile.

“And what are you supposed to be?” you glare at Dean, dressed in his Fed suit and tie get up.

“FBI,” he replies, flashing you a badge.

“Female Body Inspector,” you read aloud before rolling your eyes. “Nice. You will fit right in at this frat party, along with Officer Naughty over here,” you say, flicking your head towards Sam, who was wearing a police uniform.

“Look, let’s just get in, get the spell book and get out,” Sam says. You nod and head for the Impala, thinking in spite of the ridiculous costumes, the Halloween party that the Fraternity was hosting was the perfect cover. You’d been able to trace all the strange happenings in this college town to a house on Fraternity Row and best you could tell, the brothers were using the spells as part of their pledge recruitment and initiation.

You can hear the music thumping as Dean parks Baby a block away. The late October air has a chill as you hurry across the lawn, your body barely covered. You shiver as with each passing second, you are growing more and more tired of this horrible slutty school girl ensemble.

Crossing the threshold of the huge, old Frat House, you are met with wall to wall people, in costumes of all kinds, all with beer cans or red solo cups in their hands.

“Looks like slutty school girl was a theme this year,” Dean yells over the loud music, glancing around at all the college co-eds. “Slutty cat, slutty witch, slutty pirate wench…”

“Shut up and find the book!” You shout, pushing away from him. You weave your way through the crowd, into a large room where a DJ was set up next to a stage, complete with stripper pole, where several drunk girls were doing their best sexy pole dances. You rolled your eyes, smiling wryly to yourself as you continued to search.

You met up with the guys at the other end of the house.

“Nothing down here,” Sam shouts. “We have to get upstairs.” You glance towards the large, grand staircase, which was currently being blocked by two big, burly Sigma Kappa Alpha brothers. Putting on your best drunk girl act, you stumble towards the staircase.

“Need a bathroom,” you hiccup, trying to push past.

“Upstairs is off limits,” one of the dudes says, gripping your arms tightly and spinning you around. “Bathrooms down the hall on the right off the kitchen.” Frowning, you stagger back to Sam and Dean

“We need a distraction,” Dean yells. “I’m gonna pull a fire alarm.” As he began to scan the room, the Def Leppard classic “Pour Some Sugar On Me” began to pump from the large speakers and you were struck with a better idea.

“Wait, no,” you say, placing a hand on his arm. “I got this. Just be ready to go as soon as their not watching.” With renewed determination you muscle your way through the crowd towards the stage. Untucking your white button down shirt, you knot the ends just below your bust and tug on the elastic holding your pony tail, shaking out your long hair. Placing both hand so the stage, you hoist yourself up and turn to face the crowd, your eyes landing on Dean and Sam, both with eyebrows raised, watching on with a slightly confused expression. You force yourself to look away, to shove down your nerves and humiliation as you cross the stage, wrapping your hand around the cold steel pole. Reaching out, you hook your right ankle around the base and push off with your left foot, sending yourself twirling around in a circle.

Razzle ‘n’ a dazzle 'n’ a flash a little light, Television lover, baby, go all night, Sometime, anytime, sugar me sweet, Little miss ah innocent sugar me, yeah

Listening to the music, you let yourself go and allow muscle memory to take over. The hair flips, the hip rolls, it all begins to come back to you. You stop, aligning the pole with your spine, shimmying down and back up, your body moving in time with the music. With another hair flip, you turn and kick your leg up high, hooking your knee around the pole, you spin again, this time, hooked onto the pole by only your leg, your skirt falling back, exposing your black panties and lacy stockings, eliciting more whoops and whistles from the college guys.

Listen! red light, yellow light, green-a-light go!, Crazy little woman in a one man show, Mirror queen, mannequine, rhythm of love, Sweet dream, saccharine, loosen up, Loosen up

“Son of a…” Dean breaths, his eye trained on the girl who, up until a few second ago, he was sure had never been a naughty anything. Even the other girls on stage had moved away and were watching on in awe, clearly realizing they were in the presence of a master.

“Wow,” Sam agrees. “Dean… it’s working, look!” Dean yanks his eyes away from the stage long enough to see that the two beefy guard dogs were also transfixed on your sexy display. Sam takes off towards the stairs while Dean watches on, jaw slack. The last time he saw a display this sexy, he’d had to pay a hefty door charge and burn through a stack of one dollar bills.

Some guys near the stage are starting to get rowdy, all jazzed up from the raw sex appeal on the stage and Dean is jarred from his stupor, shoving drunk bodies out of his path. You are filled with a strange mix of relief and mortification when you glance down and see him standing there. His eyes are dark and serious and you know that you will never, ever hear the end of this.

You got the peaches, I got the cream, Sweet to taste, saccharine, Cause I’m hot, say what, sticky sweet, From my head, my head, to my feet

Dropping down to your knees, you slap both palms on the ground and grind your body against the stage. As you glance up up through the hair that had fallen over your face, you see Sam at the back of the room signaling to you. You push yourself up and straightening your clothes, you crouch down at the edge of the stage, placing your hands on Dean’s broad shoulders as he grabs your waist, lifting you off the stage and setting you back down on the ground.

“Sam’s got it,” you tell him, but he’s looking at you like he’s forgotten every word in the English language. Feeling an embarrassed flush creep up your neck, you grab his hand and tow him towards the exit.

“Way to go, you lucky bastard,” an inebriated guy tells Dean as he passes, slapping him heartily on the back. You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek as you rejoin Sam, the three of you making a hasty exit.

You all but run for the car, the thin layer of sweat coating your body making you shiver in the cool night air. You slide into the backseat and no one speaks as Dean starts the engine. He pulls away from the curb, navigating back to the motel while Sam flips through the worn pages of the old book he’s just confiscated. Your ears are burning as you untie your shirt and try your best to tuck it back into your skirt. After several long, uncomfortable minutes, Dean clears his throat.

“Anyone need anything at the store before we get back?” he asks and you glare at the back of his head. “Cause I have a craving for something… sugary.”

“God damn it, Dean,” you shout. “You couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Sam said, twisting in his seat to face you. “But that was…”

“Stop, please,” you beg.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Dean coaxed. “You have to tell us where you learned to, uh, dance like that.”

“So you guys are the only ones who get to have pasts?” you huff. “You’ve got your secrets, this is one of mine. Can we just leave it at that?”

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen a lot of strippers in my day,” Dean pushes, “That was no amature night.”

“Sam, please tell me there is a spell in there to erase someone’s memory,” you whine.

“No way, this memory is mine,” Dean replies, tapping his head. “Forever and ever and ever…”

You cross your arms over your chest and sink down deep into your seat, glaring out the front windshield. As soon as Dean pulls back up to the motel, you’re out of the car and crossing the parking lot to your room. You want to get out of these clothes and wash away the memory of tonight’s display, along with all the other bad memories it brought back to the surface. As you shut and lock the door behind you, you realize that each of the times you’ve dragged your ass back to your room covered in guts, blood, and death, not one of those times did you feel as gross as you did tonight.

To be continued……………….

#2018 vday challenge #supernatural #SPN FANDOM #spn fan fic #Dean x Reader #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfiction #fan fiction

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kaepop-trash · 7 years

Text

Death of The Cat Ch-1

Rated: Angst

Pairing: JaehyunxReader

Summary: Jaehyun was pretty set in his ways, living up to his frat boy stereotypes with pride and a lot of pleasure. But his fatal flaw came in the form of two things; a girl and curiosity.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

She shoved her phone into her pocket with seventeenth time that night. After a good hour, it was obvious her friend probably wasn’t coming back till tomorrow morning. She really weighed her options, she could go back and go to sleep, have a normal Sunday in months. But then it would be a waste of a good day she could spend in bed regretting her existence so she went into the kitchen for a drink or two.

In the few months that had passed since she became a college student, this was her third frat party. They were all really the same; booze and deeds you would not do in the lack of the same. This was her first party at the infamous Alpha Kappa Pi house though. This place was shrouded with rumours long before she walked through the hallowed halls, and it would probably be long after. Needless to say, this was the most crowded party she’d been to so far.

“I don’t think we’ve met.” A voiced slurred beside her as she poured some vodka into a cup.

“We’re in the same intro to econ class Ten.” She deadpanned, not really in the mood for this. She just drank down the vodka and winced.

“Wow, I must have been really stupid to miss you.” He kept his best face up, considering his current circumstances. Ten was polite enough, always smiles but he was such klutz. She could see why some people fell for it, but she wasn’t going to join those people, at least not tonight.

“You sit beside me in class Ten. You borrowed three pens, four pencils and a notebook you never gave back.” He seemed to look very confused with the influx of information and she took a generous glass of something she didn’t bother checking and made her escape.

The frat house was huge, as all the frat houses are. But in University, a larger house just meant more people at the parties and finding a less crowded area that guests were allowed in was a hopeless cause from the start.

After rounding the third corner in aimless adventure, she took a step back in shock. There at a side stood the first guy she was drunk enough to blow at some party. It was petty, and it was childish, but she wanted to avoid him as much as possible in the next three years that awaited her in this place. Turning to walk the opposite way seemed a good idea with the sudden impact of nerves from a horrific memory and the surplus amount of alcohol in her system.

“What do we have here?” A deep voice in the dark caused her to yelp rather loudly.

“Johnny, Jesus Christ why are you creeping around in your own house.” The urge to throw something at him was incredible. Johnny along with most of his frat brothers were in your business relations class and he also took intro to psychology with her. He was mostly with his own group of friends, whether in class or in social situations. She thought maybe frat boys were specifically asked to be together at all times, other than the occasional escapade that no one was above.

“I was just looking for something. What are you doing here?” He asked with a playful smile ready to erupt on his face as he leaned on the wall.

“I was uh, looking for an empty bathroom. Nature calls Johnny.” She rushed through her words, wanted to get away as soon as possible. Even when she was at their party, she had absolutely no desire to get mixed up with any of the AKP boys. Even as a freshmen, she had been around long enough to know that these boys were best looked at from afar. New recruits like Johnny included.

“Come on, I’ll take you.” He stood up straight and waited for her to follow.

“I should go.” She tried.

“You’re trespassing sweetheart, you have to pay a price for that.” With the smile he gave, she realised why everyone was so bloody scared of these boys.

He led her to the washroom that was without a queue and waiting for her. After she came out, he was outside waiting.

“Come on.” He said and starting walking down the hall, deeper into the house.

“Where are we going?” She asked nervously.

“To the basement, we need another person.” He turned once before walking down the stairs.

“W-Where is this going?” He stopped in front of the door and looked at her with knit eyebrows, like he was trying to figure out where she thought this was going. He laughed ridiculously after a moment.

“Relax will you, we just needed one more person to make the players even and I happened to come across you first.” His smile was amused but soft and it helped her gather her nerves a little.

“Well why didn’t you say so? I love a good drinking game.” She hit his arm playfully and he gave her a cunning smile.

“This is a bit different.” He winked at her and opened the door.

She looked inside to see the room adorned like any boy’s dream. A large TV with a gaming console, a random arcade game, a pool table and so much more.

“You guys get way too much money.” She mumbled to herself.

“Who do we have here?” A voice diverted your attention to a corner of the room where an unsurprising bunch of first year AKP boys sat in a circle.

“I found her trespassing in the halls. Thought we could spice this up a bit.” Johnny wriggled his eyebrows.

“I wasn’t trespassing, that makes it sound like a offence, I was just lost.” She raised her arm and peeked out from behind Johnny.

“Semantics.” A single voice spoke amongst the boys, Jaehyun.

“Isn’t semantics why you call these booze fests ‘mixers’?” She raised her brow cynically. Everyone around seemed to nod in acknowledgment, Jaehyun only looked amused.

“When I have a say in it, I’ll keep your helpful suggestion in mind.” His smirk was annoying. She didn’t like how confident Jaehyun was. He was always nice to everyone, kind and giving but something in her told her there was a catch. He had also been around the place his fair share for someone who was still new. She had seen him on her dorm floor three times itself, walking out of a different room in the morning. Each time he gave her a bright smile and a polite good morning, even the last time when his clothes were being thrown out of her own room.

“How’s your roommate?” He asked feigning curiosity.

“She hates me now because she was suspicious of your friendliness towards me.” She sat down in the circle that made place for her and Johnny hastily.

“I’m offended, I’m always friendly.” He pouted.

“Maybe she thought she was special.” She offered a noncommittal shrug and picked up a plastic cup with a shot of liquor in it.

“That’s for the game.” Johnny pointed out but she smirked and downed it anyway.

“We decided to play gay chicken.” She turned to Johnny with a look that made him realise the problem.

“I guess now with you it could be different orientations, sexually inclusive chicken if you will.” She scoffed at his words but nodded at his explanation.

“But there’s a catch.” Jaehyun interrupted and both of them turned to him. The door pushing open behind her shifted their attention again.

Ten walked into the room, loud and clumsy as drunk people usually are, with two girls who were probably as drunk as he was.

“I bought company!” He announced.

“We were waiting for you,” Taeyong spoke up from the side. He was someone she didn’t really know very well, he looked all over too intimidating.

“It’s you.” Ten waved ecstatically at her like they were old friends and she scoffed incredulously at his persistence.

“Hi Ten.” She waved back and he sat down beside her satisfied.

“Right so Gay Chicken.” Taeyong spoke up, trying to get to the point.

“Sexually Inclusive Chicken.” Johnny corrected him and offered her a proud smile.

“Yes that, if you lose you drink but,” He turned to look at her once before turning to the others to continue, “You’ll be blindfolded.” He said producing two scarves from behind him.

“That sounds kinky.” She was suddenly nervous.

“That’s the point.” Jaehyun said deviously.

After a terribly easy round between Johnny and Ten where Ten just giggled because he was ticklish and shrugged away, Taeyong was sitting in front of her looking at her intensely.

“You look like you want to kill me,” Taeyong’s expression changed to shock at the sudden words. “But I’m very competitive. So I’m going to look past how intimidatingly good looking you are.” With that she put a hand on his thigh, Taeyong looked down at her hand and looked up at her looking like a deer caught in the headlights. When she tried to slide her hand up he gave up easily not even waiting for the blindfold part.

Next was Jaehyun, he sat opposite one of the girls who came with Ten and gave her a lopsided smile that already gave him an advantage. He offered to put the girl’s blindfold on for her and she had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes while the girl blushed heavily and refused.

She watched as Jaehyun sat back with a long sigh after he covered his eyes, hand extending to gently hold her cheek. Whether she gasped out of shock or something else was a mystery. After a gentle hesitation, she put a hand on his thigh and he chuckled lightly. After a while of this, what really made her give up was when he asked if she was sure about this.

The game went on for a while and she was determined to win, having realised these boys were a bunch of shy nervous wrecks. After a while the only people left were Jaehyun and Her. He pushed up in front of her, smiling at her like he did anytime he saw her and suddenly she really wanted to get under her skin.

She put on her blindfold and waited for him to make the first move. She felt him move close to her, a little too close. She could feel the heat radiate off his body and felt his breath on her face.

The low gasp that left her lips was from shock.

“Are you nervous?” His voice was gentle and he tucked her hair behind her ear and rested his hand on her neck.

“Are you?” She responded as her hand travelled up his chest slowly and landed on his shoulder, she didn’t miss his change in breathing.

“You should be at least a little anxious.” She could hear the grin he had. She felt his hand move while caressing her neck and a shiver ran down her spine as his thumb gently grazed her bottom lip, pulling it down gently and releasing.

“I don’t scare easy.” Was her bored response as she slipped her other hand under his shirt and placed it on his warm chest. Someone let out a juvenile ‘ooh’ at her words in the otherwise silent room.

“You should.” He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in so suddenly she yelped, “Haven’t you heard the rumours?” His lips were grazing against her jaw and seering it, instinctively her hands on his shoulder griped tighter. She felt him smile against her skin as he moved closer to her lips.

“I think you’re darker than the rumours have anyone believe.” She whispered not knowing why. When his lips were finally near hers she smirked.

“Really?” He taunted and she only hummed, catching his bottom lip between her teeth. The way he gasped let her know that he was caught off guard.

“But I still got under your skin, so I guess I’m worse.” She whispered so softly that only Jaehyun could hear. Then she let his lips go and sat back.

“I concede.” She said and pulled her blindfold off. Jaehyun looked confused for a second before pulling his own scarf off with disbelief on his face. She smirked with a sense of personal victory as she looked at how rattled he looked.

“You win Jaehyun.” She said and gulped down the drink placed in her hand as penalty. Jaehyun’s eyes grew darker and he just got up and left.

After that day, catching Jaehyun’s eye was different. He was fueled by a need to get his revenge on her but he never seemed to catch her in a situation where he could do so. She talked to them more now. One day Johnny offhandedly asked her to sit with them in Business Relations class, stating he sat with her in Psychology anyway so it was courtesy. Apparently she just sat with most of them if they shared a class. But in the literature class her and Jaehyun shared, she was in the other side of the room. Even Taeyong was friendly around her and he was someone who kept to himself most of the time.

One day she came to her dorm after a long day of packed classes to find her room locked. She sighed as the tiredness she felt from the long day turned to frustration and she banged on the door loudly. The noises coming from the room were somehow louder, the sound of her roommate panting and whining coupled with loud masculine groans made her consider just leaving. Maybe it was her imagination, but the sounds definitely seemed more prominent. Whatever they were doing, they seemed into it. Her mouth went dry at the cries of her roommate of what sounded like unadulterated bliss. She bit her lip but snapped out of it there after, banging once loudly to show her anger and decided to just come back later.

What she didn’t expect was Jaehyun to be the one to open the door.

“Hey.” He gave her a lopsided grin in nothing but his jeans. Chest exposed and hair disheveled and wet on the tips from what she assumed was sweat. She had to use her strongest sense of will to keep her eyes focused on his face.

“Jaehyun I haven’t put on my clothes yet.” Your roommate’s voice was what she heard next, breathless and forced.

“Don’t worry I’m not coming inside.” She answered her with a sickly sweet tone that had Jaehyun wincing with amusement, she then turned her attention to him, shoving her bag in his hand more forcefully than needed, “Keep this on my bed.” She told him then turned around and left.

Once she walked out of the building, it was clear that she had nowhere to go. But pride was a strong incentive and she shoved her hands into her pocket and started walking down the path. After a while, she heard footsteps approaching her urgently. She was already panicking so much that when a hand landed on her shoulder she screamed.

“Are you really that happy to see me?” The familiar voice made you turn around and hit Jaehyun’s chest.

“You scared the crap out of me. Why are you stalking me.” Her voice was still shrill from fear.

“Don’t be so full of yourself,” He was grinning brightly despite his words. “I wasn’t stalking you.” He shoved his hands into his pocket.

“Sure. Your house is in the opposite direction Jaehyun.” She pointed helpfully, somehow containing a smile at his silliness. He turned around and turned back to her, fumbling.

“I was uh, going to grab a bite to eat.” He nodded like he liked his excuse, “Yes, I need to eat I’m famished.” He smiled shyly, that was new.

“I’m sure you are, must have had quite the workout.” She said, frowning suddenly, “Since my room is now free of your presence. I’m going to go back and sleep.” She turned away and started walking away.

“Wait, why do yo-” He asked urgently but his curiosity was interrupted.

“Goodnight Jaehyun.” She turned around once with a coy smile and a tone that made it clear that she didn’t want to answer him, walking away after leaving Jaehyun as confused and allured as she always did.

Somehow the year passed and the now second year students sat together in the same spot they did a year back while the AKP party boomed in the floor above.

“I don’t understand what I did to deserve being teased be you constantly, I even bought you new stationery.” Ten pouted at her.

“After you lost all my stationery Ten! How do you not understand why I am reluctant to trust you with anything.” Her eyes were wide with disbelief but she had a smile on her face.

“I’m pretty sure you’ll find your things in his room if you can go through the mess.” Taeyong ended his sentence with a look of pure disgust making everyone but Ten laugh.

“Why are all of you after me?” He looked wounded but turned to her with pride, “You just hate me because I am prettier than you.” He crossed his arms in front of him.

“Oh no, that’s an established fact. I’m no one to question the truth, I’m just saying I wouldn’t trust you to be the one to take care of the freshman, which was the original point.” She shrugged and he sat back, knowing she was right.

“Taeyong should do it.” She pointed at him after a thought.

“M-me?” He looked caught off guard.

“Yeah, you’re easily the most responsible amongst all of them, just take more initiative.” He looked like he was considering her words.

“How’s joining a Sorority working out for you? Did you get tempted after seeing us?” Johnny asked playfully.

“I definitely enjoy the nice house and the elevated living conditions. That was definitely inspired by you guys. But more than that, I’m just glad to not have to share my room with a crazy person.” She scowled and most of them chuckled at the memory.

“Remember when she came here and saw you? She flipped out so bad it was beautiful. Even Jaehyun was rattled.” Ten said sounding scared.

“I don’t think I’ll ever forget her trying to pull me out of the house saying I don’t belong here.” She shook her head trying to get rid of the memory. The door opened and Jaehyun walked in with a bottle of smirnoff.

“Well if it isn’t everyone favourite party crasher.” He told her as he went to the corner to pick up glasses.

“I was invited by choice, you just come with the house like the faulty pipes.” She retorted with ease, used to his vocal disapproval of her presence.

“You’re just nervous because you’ll lose to me again.” His smirk had a ghost of bitterness in it. She just smiled and shrugged.

Jaehyun grew more restless as he sat and watched the game of spin the bottle transpire around him. Ten looked far too happy when he got to kiss her, grinning even while he dared to slip his tongue into the mix. Once she sat back, she made a gesture of wiping her lips that made Ten frown but Jaehyun seemed to smirk, she was quite the vixen. It seemed like she had no intention of passing up any chance, too proud to lose he guessed. Taeyong weaseled out and gently kissed kissed her cheek.

“I feel like you need a break.” He said smiling and she laughed and gave him a sweet thank you.

She wasn’t flustered, she didn’t back down, she didn’t even care that she was giving away such an intimate gesture to everyone around the circle. Suddenly Jaehyun was annoyed, at least he reserved his best for when he was behind closed doors.

“You’re quite the kisser.” Yuta commented with a cocky smile, somehow reluctant to back away.

“Hmm, too bad. Now you’ll just compare everyone else to the best you only got a taste of.” Her smile was indulgent.

“Maybe I should have another to remember better.” He smirked and bought his head back down.

“Next round.” Jaehyun spoke loudly, shocking Yuta enough to sit back. He sat back in his place with a pout and a glare towards Jaehyun’s direction that he pretended not to see.

When the turn came from him to kiss her, he was a little more eager than even he realised. Licking his lips he smiled and looked at her with confidence.

“You’re probably going to be ruined for anyone after this, so I apologise.” He warned and she turned to him with the ghost of a smirk.

“If you put it like that, I don’t want to risk it, I rather take the shot.” She enjoyed the look of betrayal on his face far too much. While everyone around laughed, there was an air of dubiosity in the room all of a sudden.

“Let’s play something else.” Ten cut through the sudden tension in the room.

“How about a drinking game?” Johnny chimed in helping his friend out.

“Never have I ever is the obvious choice.” Doyoung said, still looking between the two people trying to assess the situation.

“No.” Jaehyun’s voice brought everyone’s attention to him, “Let’s play seven minutes in heaven. Since I won the last game,” He turned to her with a raised brow, daring her to challenge it, “I’ll go first.” He got up and grabbed her hand, pulling her to a coat closet on the other side of the room. Everyone watched in awe as he moved with determination while she was too surprised to interject till the door clicked shut.

“Cliché.” She said, void of any emotion. He was already walked up to her, inches away from her face in no time.

“I’ve tried to think of all possible reasons why you did that the last time, and I had a year to think.” His hand travelled down her arm as she spoke. As she looked up to face him as he spoke, his height loomed over her, she decided to look back down.

“Maybe you just don’t like me, maybe you’re the shy kind. I could have lived with those, but you’re not, and you don’t seem to mind everyone else. So tell me, are you nervous? Or is this some wager you have going on with yourself?” His hand rested on her chin and he tilted her head up.

“You look too bothered by one girl Jaehyun, you have your pick of anyone you want. Do you just like the challenge? How typical.” She scoffed.

“Call it curiosity, aren’t you curious about how good I can make you feel?” He carefully bought his face closer to hers, his smirk growing, “You heard didn’t you? You naughty girl. Did you hear how good I can make someone feel. And I wasn’t even trying, till you showed up at the door of course.” She bit her lip, deciding it was better than the sound that would have slipped out of her lips had she not.

“I confess that I was thinking about you right then, listening in. Did you imagine it was you instead of her? Did it overwhelm you?” His other hand rested on her waist as he slipped his thumb underneath her top and drew circles on her skin that distracted her from his words.

“Are you scared you’ll come crawling back for more?” He chuckled lightly.

“I like to believe I have more self control than that.” Her voice was weaker than her words, but she tried to hold her ground. Her mind was fogged by his delicious cologne and his dimples were clouding her judgement. But if this was going to end in only one way, she wouldn’t give in first.

“I’d love to prove you wrong. Would you take me up on the challenge?” His lips left a gentle kiss on the edge of hers, “Hmm?” He reiterated.

“You can try.” She was baiting him now, praying he’d indulge first.

“Is that permission?” He stepped back, maybe a little taken aback, but you couldn’t tell from his pleased smirk.

“It’s a dare.” She said, her mind less foggy from the earned distance, but somehow her mind made up.

When he did press his lips to hers, it wasn’t extraordinary. There were no fireworks but there was boiling anticipation. Once he pulled her closer it was harder for him to control himself but he was still taking his time. But she realised he was waiting for her to respond. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, but he only chuckled into her lips and took his time, tasting her like fine wine while his fingers danced on her waist.

When a desperate whine slipped out of her lips he pushed back satisfied. She almost followed his movement but stopped after a gentle slip.

“Are you disappointed?” He laughed at how betrayed she looked.

“Maybe next time I’ll make it up to you.” His words held a strong promise.

“There isn’t going to be a next.” She said with finality, leaving the cupboard.

The next time was at the same house on a weekend when Taeyong invited her around for dinner. After a long night of quarreling and trying to undermine the other, Jaehyun and her somehow ended up on top of each other on the couch with a different kind of battle, also involving their mouths. After a while the others decided it was better to just leave the room than wait for them to be done with each other.

Everyone in the house was happy when Jaehyun finally took her to his room. Though it was mutually decided that it would be best to not go to the first floor for a while.

“I told you didn’t I? You wouldn’t be able to resist.” He lay back on his bed with a smile of victory. She sat up on the edge of the bed looking around for her hastily discarded clothes.

“I’d say I was inquisitive. Like a morbid curiosity.” She answered, he frowned at her words, sitting up and sliding closer to her.

“I don’t think I appreciate being compared to morbidity.” He spoke behind her and she laughed at his small voice.

“Do you prefer scientific curiosity?” She turned back and saw him assess her words.

“That makes it sound like a laboratory experiment.” He sounded offended. She shrugged.

“Can’t you just call it a great experience.” He asked, his tone serious.

“Don’t expect me to lie to stroke your ego Jaehyun.” She was about to get up when he sat her back down with a hand on her shoulder.

“You know,” He let his hand travel down her spine slowly as he spoke. “I thought I would hold back a little, since you’re a little lower on the experience scale.” He whispered into her ear.

“Funny, that’s exactly what I thought.” She gasped when he bit down on her ear lobe at her words.

“But since you’re so insistent.” His voice was getting lower.

“I don’t think that’s the right word here.” She interrupted and he just groaned and pulled at the sheet she was using as a guard, she didn’t stop him.

“I’ll just have to make you beg for more.” He brushed his lips on her shoulder and she had to close her eyes to enjoy the sensation.

“Is that a challenge?” She provoked him. He hummed in disapproval. Pushing her back into the bed, and towered on top of her in no time.

“Call it morbid curiosity.”

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