#jock reader

The natatorium was filled with loud, sweaty college students from different departments cheering for their respective representatives; not a place you’d find someone like Louis in. The bright lights made his head throb, and the constant forced contact with strangers made him want to scratch at his own skin.

But he endured all of that for now. For you.

It was always worth it if it meant being present in all of your competitions.

Still, it was never enough. He found himself craving more than having to watch you from the sidelines, tucked behind rows of bodies.

He needed to be closer.

That night, Louis sat at his desk and opened his student portal, the screen casting a pale light across his hands. His schedule was clean and practical, already arranged to his liking.

Louis stared at it until his eyes burned, unblinking.

Then, as if his hands suddenly moved on their own, he changed it. One elective class, shifted.

He woke up early the next day, arriving at the class you two now shared before anyone else. 

It wasn’t hard to tell where your seat was. It was practically collecting dust with how frequent its owner’s absence was. Since you were one of your team’s star players, you were almost always excused from your classes.

The chair beside it creaked softly under his weight. Now all he needed to do was wait.

Louis waited.

One day became two. Two days became weeks.

And still, the seat stayed empty.

“Swim star ditching class again for practice?” He’d hear some of your classmates crack jokes about your absence.

“Nothing new.”

It should have disappointed him—should have frustrated him that the main reason for his transfer wasn’t around. Instead, Louis felt relieved.

At least you weren’t around to see him staring at the empty seat with hearts in his eyes. Knowing that it was something that somewhat belonged to you, he couldn’t help but feel closer to you even with the lack of your actual  presence.

It soothed him in a way.

When class was over and no one was around to bear witness, he would switch to your seat, running his fingers through the dusty surface. Leaving his mark.

The thought of you having sat in this same exact spot had him aching between his legs.

After making sure that the door was securely locked, he’d pull a piece of fabric out of his bag. It was one of your swim briefs that had recently gone missing. He went to hell and back obtaining it and now it was his most prized possession.

His fingers worked clumsily on his own waistband as he pulled them down enough to pool by his knees. His cock sprung free from the confines of his undergarments which was soon replaced with your own.

The hand holding the nylon fabric of your swim brief wraps around his shaft, rubbing his glistening tip to smear the fabric with his pre-cum. A strangled groan escaped him as he began to snap his hips forward, the friction of the fabric against the ridges of his cock making him croak out your name with need.

His hand trembled, thighs clenching, as he pumped and twisted the fabric down his shaft. “Fuuuck..” He draws out with a shaky breath, eyes glossy with lust. 

He could only imagine how good the real deal would be. Could imagine how tightly your hole would flutter and clench around his size.

Louis tightened his grip and bucked his hips at a quicker pace as his imagination ran wild, imagining you bent over this chair with his cock buried deep inside of you and his hands leaving bruises in the shape of his fingers on your waist.

He shuddered as he reached his climax, spurts of cum connecting the tip of his dick with the fabric in his hand. His chest rose and fell frantically as he panted heavily, cheeks flushed red and a look of pure bliss.

He brought the cum-stained swim brief against his nose, catching a whiff of the faint scent of chlorine that stuck to the cloth. A scent that smelled uniquely you.

A ghost of a smile haunted his lips as he felt a familiar throb in between his legs. He could get used to this.

But you were still a student which meant you’ll still have to attend the class; to be in the same room as him.

Heads turned the moment you walked in the next day; hair damp, bag slung over one shoulder. There was a faint scent of chlorine trailing after you.

Louis felt his pulse quicken, fast and hard against his ribcage. He had to put in extra effort not to show his excitement at the sight of you greeting your classmates like you naturally belonged there. He forced his attention away from your form, but still couldn’t help stealing glances in your direction.

After your small conversation, you finally drop onto your seat beside him, the empty chair finally filled after weeks of its owner’s absence.

Louis had to swallow the stupid, reflexive relief that rose in his throat, making his Adam's apple subtly bob.

He didn’t know what to do. Should he greet you? Would you find that weird?

Then you turned as he was in the middle of his panicked thoughts, looking directly at the new unfamiliar face.

“Hey,” you whispered, voice light and friendly as you decide to do the first move of introducing yourself. “I’m–”

“I know,” he said rather quickly, unconsciously cutting you off which made him flinch slightly. He didn’t mean to.

Shit. That was rude of him. Were you angry?

Instead you blinked then smiled which instantly filled him with relief.

“I’m not surprised,” you say, brimming with confidence but not in a way that came off narcissistic. It was still kind. Polite. “So what’s your name?”

“Louis,” he answered.

You asked if he was new. He nodded.

You joked about your seat collecting dust, and Louis silently watched your mouth move around the words, watched the way you smiled like humor was the easiest bridge you knew to building a connection.

He wanted to step onto that bridge. Yet he didn’t. Couldn’t.

Louis looked back down at his notebook before his eyes could betray him. He couldn’t look at you, not after the shameless acts he committed in that very seat of yours.

You began talking to him anyway.

It wasn’t strategic at first, just a natural instinct of yours to never shut up. You treated people like they were already your friends, like connection was something you tossed out with both hands and trusted the world to catch.

Louis hated it, yet also loved it.

You told him about your practices, your coach’s threats, the misery of being forced back into class. You complained about homework like it was personally offensive. You joked and smiled and leaned a little too close when you spoke.

Louis always responded briefly yet still polite.

He kept his words minimal, because if he gave you too much, he was afraid he’d get too comfortable and reveal the ugly truth of his obsession.

Louis had watched you compete more times than he’d watched his own reflection. He had learned your routines, your habits, the places you’d hang out in after practice, and the people you surrounded yourself with.

He had rooted for you in silence, never loud enough to be part of the crowd. He told himself that seeing and watching you from afar was enough.

Now you were right beside him, alive and breathing and real, and Louis had to sit very still each time so his body didn’t do something humiliating in your presence.

You were surprisingly quick to notice his guardedness.

People were normally drawn to you. Louis refusing to lean in made you curious in a way that bordered on irritation.

Like a fish refusing to take bait, so you decided to try harder.

Louis watched you drift behind him, failing horribly to stay undetected with how your larger figure towered over most students. Not like a creep, more like.. a curious cat. At least that’s what you told yourself.

You slid into the seat across from him at lunch, uninvited and smiling, like the spot had always been yours.

Louis’s eyes lifted. His expression didn’t change, but something in his posture tightened. He watched you shine your smile at him like a weapon.

A very effective one it seems.

The timid male eventually (was forced to) accept your lingering presence, allowing you to talk about your day and ask about his. You could sense that he was still tense every time you were near, but you learned to dance around it.

You’d been adored in loud, easy ways your whole life. Compared to the rest, Louis’s attention felt.. sharpened. Like it had edges that could cut through you easily.

It thrilled you in a way you couldn’t name.

So you started showing up more.

Sitting with him. Walking with him. Asking questions just to watch him answer. Laughing even when he didn’t laugh, because it made him look briefly confused, like he was trying to read through your intentions.

You followed him like a lost puppy. And the more Louis tried to keep his distance, the more your curiosity curled into something stickier.

If Louis could look at you and not reach, then you’d reach for him until he had no choice but to notice.

But the closer you got, the more anxious Louis became.

His thoughts spiralled.

Were you onto him? Were you getting close to him so you could beat him up later?

Things were going way too smoothly that he couldn’t help but think you had your suspicions on him.

But no, it was just you genuinely wanting to befriend him. To get him to finally look at you without that wary look of his.

At first, you told yourself that you simply took interest in him because of his guarded nature. But over time, you weren’t so sure anymore.

Your little collection started as a joke.

“You’re so photogenic,” you teased, snapping a picture of him with your phone.

Louis’s hand rose instinctively, palm angled to block the camera, but you caught his eyes in the frame anyway, sharp and startled.

“Delete that,” he said.

“No,” you grinned. 

Then you dragged him into selfies, hooking an arm around his shoulder, ignoring the way his body went rigid in your arm, and snapped pictures with your grin and his restrained expression.

You printed them at home, gaslit yourself that you were simply keeping it as a memory of your newly acquired friend.

Then it escalated. Always subtle, never obvious.

You volunteered to throw away his trash like you were just being the typical helpful friend you were.

“Hey,” you’d say, collecting Louis’s empty drink bottle, his used napkin. “I got it.”

He’d blink, hesitant. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you’d insist, flashing a smile that made him stop questioning you.

At home, you rinsed the bottle carefully, smoothed the napkin flat, and tucked them away to the safety of your room.

It stopped being a joke.

You gave the pieces of him a place in your room. It started as a small box, then a drawer, and currently a shelf.

You find yourself questioning your new formed habit as you stare at the makeshift altar in your room. It was ridiculous. But It was… yours.

You told yourself you were just trying to understand him and that this was one of the ways you could get closer to him.

But in reality, you wanted to own the mystery that was Louis.

And that certain mystery watched you with knowing eyes.

Louis knew he should have questioned your intentions, should have asked you to stop before he ended up giving in to all the attention you were giving him.

Instead, he kept silent. A part of him wanted to see how far you’d go. He basked in your attention.

Then he was asked to be your tutor. Louis said yes without hesitation while you looked less pleased, but agreed nonetheless, because you had a coach to appease and a spot in your university's swim team to maintain.

Louis arrived right on time after you’ve both scheduled the session at your house. He placed his shoes neatly by the door and allowed himself to be led to your room where your desk was already set up with notebooks, highlighters, and a few snacks.

For a while, you two studied; actually studied. It was almost comically domestic to watch you two converse casually through the body mirror in your room.

You had placed a cloth over your altar of him, foolishly thinking that it would automatically make him back off. But then again, you were unaware of how Louis’s thoughts worked.

“I’ll get us drinks,” you said, and left the room. The door clicked shut and silence settled, leaving him alone in your room.

Louis’s body moved before he could stop it. He was just looking around. It was normal to be curious in a new environment.

His gaze slid to your covered shelf. It had been bothering him ever since he entered your room. What was so important that you had to cover it up?

He wanted to know, to see if there was a piece of you worth hoarding on that shelf.

Louis stood, steps quiet as he walked through the room. He carefully slid the cloth aside.

And there it was.

Printed photos of him arranged like an exhibition in a museum, a rinsed bottle he recognized, a flattened napkin, and crumpled wrappers that were smoothed out.

An altar. Of him.

Louis stared down at it, and the world around him narrowed, heat flooding in his chest. Not out of embarrassment nor anger.

It was something darker and sweeter.

The sound of glass breaking pierced through the silence which made Louis suddenly turn to see you frozen by the doorway of your bedroom, pieces of glass and a spilled drink by your feet.

All the color on your face was nowhere to be seen, pale and panicked.

“I can explain,” you said rather quickly, clearly horrified at the male’s discovery of your makeshift altar.

Louis quickly caught the tremble on your lower lip. You were embarrassed.. scared that he’d run away if you move even a single inch towards him.

“I..” You forced yourself to start, finally snapping out of your startled trance to crouch down and start picking up the broken pieces of glass by your feet. Anything to distract yourself from the male’s sharp gaze. “I didn’t mean to. It was supposed to be a joke.”

Your fingers picked at the glass, trembling, your eyes unfocused as you tried to chuckle, but it came out as a small whimper instead. Like a dog that had been kicked by its owner.

Louis watched your messy state, not used to seeing you so.. unravelled. You usually handled situations with ease using your charm; you’d grin, you’d laugh, anything to lighten the mood. But this was different, you were showing another side of vulnerability that you’d never shown before.

It was.. exhilarating.

The silence was thick.

Louis softly brushed the cloth back to its proper place, careful, respectful, like he was handling something sacred. He stepped in front of your crouched form and kneeled to your level, a hand darting out to stop you from picking up another piece of glass.

Every restraint he had forced upon himself snapped like a rope on its final straw.

Louis pulled your wrist with a strength you didn’t expect to come from someone like him. With feverish hunger, he crashed his lips against yours and wasted no time shoving himself past your lips. 

You didn’t pull away, instead you quickly dropped the pieces of broken glass in your hand onto the space beside you and wrapped your arms around his waist, tilting your head slightly to the side to further deepen the kiss you two shared.

And for the first time, the feeling of being close to you wasn’t something he had to carefully plan or feel through material objects you owned.

he's a pushover. he gets pushed over! he always takes everything like a good boy !!!

— but this .. fucking stranger is bugging him. and it's not even him theyre talking to!!! he just can't believe you'd let someone interrupt your time together like this,,, at this point, it has to be a set up. s-something about workout machinery... of course that's what stops you. ~ blame you for being interested in getting stronger to keep your darling safer :(

your boys a good boy. he came disciplined! never makes any fuss. especially quiet about you holding him captive and forcing him to play the role of your boyfriend... in your heart, you know he's always wanted this — in fact! he's been alot more needier lately...

so one could definitely understand his inner turmoil here... but you're completely unaware.

a stranger —interrupting the allotted time he's allowed outside your home?!!! and you're just letting them!!!

your nerd is a good boy, though. disciplined. doesn't interrupt while you talk... he fidgets restlessly,,, pouting. can't you feel his agitation?

— it's weird. he has a right to feel this way... no one ever comes up to you like this. is this a trick?! it doesnt make sense ur talking to someone else when he's all you need as you've claimed it many, many times. witnessing you humor this stranger.... is he,,,, he's not enough for you now? his tummy twists, and his fistful of your shirt tightens. with you,,, not paying any mind. apparently, youre still a fuckin meathead jock who can't even understand why his boyfriend was being so clingy because it's just who he is;; tis natural.

,,, h,,he's never thought about it before,,, but what if you were to leave him for someone new? were all your crushes so violently loved by you o-or is he the only one? he's never asked... would you dispose of him? he- he's never gonna know love as true as yours! panicking,,, sweet boy paranoid for nothing...!

practically sees red when they laugh and touch your bicep - ( you jerked away before they could actually touch,,, but still, they grazed you. ) who the fuck do they think theyre touching? someone that's not theirs!! you're not theirs!!!

ugh., ,, "don't-" he hisses,,, deeply offended, with a disgusted snarl gracing his pretty features as he pulls you back, with you hardly moving because he's weak as fuck. "don't touch him." finally. and because he has manners; "please... - who even are you?" the last part, whispered incredulous under his breath,,,, huh.

gulps. "w,,woah,,, babe?" you can't help yourself. whoops. guess you were a lil too distracted, in over your head... they were surprisingly good conversation! "aww... babe..."

but... how could you? guilty. and instantaneously throbbing,,... from the very real reality of your darling being possessive over you. of course this behavior must be rewarded. immediately. fucking stat.

— "you heard him. don't touch ♡ see ya!" steering him away, shooting a half-smile to the stupefied stranger - quickly disappearing down the street and down an alleyway - gotta show him how sorry you are for ignoring him for so long. i'm so sorry, baby, i didn't mean to, i love you~...

a reward for such upfront behavior... such as, your tongue in his mouth and your big hands wandering all over his delicate, ,, squishy body...

where anyone could turn down the alleyway and see him being defiled by his big, muscleheaded captor who's actually quite the sweetheart. he used to care about being seen. but now - all thats on his mind is your warmth and your tongue and how you're his - and his dick hurtsss... please kiss it better.

your darling sobs. it breaks your heart a little. ;; "i-i jus' .,, y-you're mine... you say so yourself! wh-why were they touching you like that...!" hysterical, even so erect,,, ermm. good thing you are such a gentle giant, trained in handling such sensitive dorks. "y-you didn't even say anything to stop them until i did! it's not ... fair...!"

— disgusted with himself,, despite being so hard against ur lips,,,, for feeling adoration at your excitement blatant show of posession,,, "baby~ please..." he knows he shouldnt be feeling this way. but it feels so good to just give in. "i'm so fucking sorry...!"

desperate to make it up to him,,,, slowly inching down between his legs to pay his adorable little prick some attention. "m' sorry, it wont happen again, i'm sorryyy..." mumbling apologies, while you're jizzing your pants from your darling scolding you, even whilst sobbing,,,!!

;; "you.. y'don't gotta worry bout me looking at others..." mouthing at his exposed prick,,,, "i'm all yours," you nearly cry. sniffling, as you take his cock in your mouth - allowing him the pleasure of moving freely. muffled;; "i'm all yours..." groping his ass, swirling ur tongue around the tip of his dick - lining the underside with the tip of your tongue , ,,, your darling whines, his pretty lips trembling and he bucks needily into your mouth,,, gripping onto the wall supporting him.

his hips give a jerk. his hand finds its way to the back of your head - "you like it when i call myself yours?" the cutest little thing ever ,, nodding shamefully, sniffling as he keeps his eyes averted. no matter. taking his cute prick down your throat. skillful... so much tinier than yours, pressed tight and tented ,, real cute.

;; weeping between your legs from tasting him like this,,, thrusting deeper into your mouth as he cums down your throat. it's enough to tide you over til you get back home so you can really express your appreciation.

“I just don’t get it,” Nayun says as she straps her pads on. Jisoo doesn’t react and Rose looks like she might actually kick your asses if you aren’t on the court in ten seconds. “What do you not get? Like what about this situation is confusing?” You ask. “I’m whipped for Jungkook, we been knew, and he’s apparently through some great act of mercy also whipped for me, and he’s bringing every single one of his nerd friends to the match today. Which isn’t at all nerve-wracking. Whatsoever.”

Jisoo rolls her eyes and tugs harder at your laces. She always does your laces, she’s the only one with the upper body strength to tie the things well. You think she might actually be moonlighting as a secret BDSM dominatrix just based on the way she handles them. 

“No, I don’t get why you’re nervous. He’s seen you play before, didn’t he tell you that he tries to come to as many home games as possible? And his friends know nothing about the sport, they won’t know if you fuck it up.”

“Which you won’t,” Rose says from the door. "Because you’re good at this.”

“And because you’ll kill me if I fuck it up.” She doesn’t respond verbally, but the look she sends you radiates ‘yeah and what about it’ energy. “Look, I’m just...scared of disappointing his friends. He talks me up all the time apparently, and if they get bored or are unimpressed then...”

“What, you think he’s gonna break up with you?” Jisoo’s tone is teasing, but when she looks up to see the insecuirty on your face, she softens. “You put on a cosplay for him, and he’s liked you for almost as long as you’ve liked him. I don’t think he’s going anywhere.”  

You just nod, tugging at the laces as she finishes tying them. Realistically, you know she’s right. It’s been a couple months since that night in your apartment, and things have only gotten better. He still comes to the coffee-shop to hang out with his dweeb friends, even if he does spend the time waiting for them talking to you now. He still watches his dumbass anime, thoroughly enjoying your flat-screen to do so, even if he gets consistently distracted by the way you lay in his lap. You talk about your practices that he knows a fair bit about because of some anime, he tells you about his nerd shit that you don’t understand but enjoy hearing about anyway, you help him with his essays and he helps you with Organic Chem, and you even buy him little cupcakes every time he gets a new comment on his fanfic. Things between you are good.

You have no reason to worry, you decide as you push out of the locker rooms and head to the court to get warmups started. You spot him, sitting with his group of friends beside where Jimin and Taehyung sit with the rest of the guys’ team to watch your game. Your boyfriend - your whole chest gets warms as you think it, and you let yourself bask in it for a minute because it took three fucking years to get - looks adorable today; big, round glasses, with that soft beanie and a softer looking shirt. It’s got some kind of weird pumpkin(?) on it, with a point and sharp teeth and the back has a scythe and you vaguely recognize it. You’re pretty sure he watched it at your apartment a few days ago, but you also had his dick in your mouth, so you weren’t paying much attention to anything else. 

You wave back when he waves at you, big and excited and cute, and you’re once again hit with the urge to cover him in kisses while also maybe dangling him off a fifty-story building. His nose scrunches in that way you love and you ignore the way it has your stomach flipping. 

Rose pelts a ball at you and you catch it on sheer instinct. 

“Are you actually going to warm up or are you gonna be entirely useless today?” She asks. You glare at her and throw the ball back in response. If you didn’t have firsthand experience with how good she is, you’d wish she was your opponent so you could wipe the smirk off her face. 

Warmups go well. The team you’re supposed to be playing is good, supposedly pretty well-matched to your own, and you’re excited to see if it holds true. They don’t look especially intimidating. The biggest threat seems to be their captain - which is true for your team as well, Rose is terrifying - and there are a couple girls milling around in jackets and over-shirts. One in particular catches your notice; as you look, you realize it’s because Jungkook has the same jacket. Black, with a big-ass Old-English-styled L on the back of it, and some kind of writing you can’t see on the front and can’t remember from Jungkook’s, small and in the corner where logos usually go. 

You make a note to ask which anime that’s from, just to know in the future, and return to your warmups. 

The game itself is...well, it’s challenging. The other teams is as well-practiced as yours, they’re balanced against you pretty well, and all of you are enjoying the competition almost as much as you’re frustrated that you aren’t getting anywhere. Their captain - a shorter girl with pretty eyes and dimples - is an absolute beast and Rose looks simultaneously enraged and turned on, and Weeb Girl has been blocking you at every turn. She volleys every serve you give, manages to block every spike without fail, and you can respect that she’s good at this, but you’re also really fucking frustrated. 

It’s the end of the second set and both teams are ready for the ten minute break. You’re in the process of trying to drown yourself in your Gatorade bottle and really considering using the stuff to summon some kind of demon just so you can win the game, go home, stuff yourself with cheap burgers, and then fuck your boyfriend because you could tell from his face at one point that he was getting worked up watching you play, but before you can you catch sight of your friends whispering quietly to themselves. 

It screams ‘hey we’re doing something really shady and don’t want you to know, maybe you should immediately storm over and find out what’s going on’ so you do exactly that. 

“What the fuck do you mean ‘should we tell her?’“ You demand, keeping your voice as hushed as theirs. Nayun looks repentant and sorry, Jisoo actually literally makes the emoji face with the teeth, and Rose just purses her lips and gestures over her shoulder. 

You really don’t know what you expect to see, but Jungkook hanging over the side of the bleachers to talk to Weeb Girl isn’t it. His eyes are crinkled at the corners like they do when he’s excited, his glasses are half-down his nose and in danger of falling off because you aren’t there to push them back up like he enjoys, and he’s gesturing happily to Weeb Girl. And she....she looks just as excited, twirling a piece of hair between her fingers and batting her lashes up at him as she says something else that makes him laugh. You can’t realistically hear it, it’s too crowded and noisy, but you feel it when he laughs, every time. 

“We should call the police, she’s gonna kill her,” Jisoo says morbidly from behind you. 

“No,” You respond, scoffing. Your eyes don’t draw away from where your boyfriend is talking to Weeb Girl. “No, I’m not. She can flirt all she wants, it’s fine. Yeah, she’s blocked me at every turn this game, yeah she’s kinda really pretty, and she definitely has the ass for those shorts, and she’s wearing weeb stuff that she’s probably interested in and can talk to him about, but it’s fine. I know Jungkook, he’s not gonna do anything. He’s a good guy.” And you mean it when you say it. If there’s one thing that you’re sure of in your relationship that isn’t Jungkook knowing random weeb stats, it’s that he’s loyal. You know it, deep in your bones. 

You watch as Weeb Girl steps forward, cutting off whatever Jungkook’s saying to push his glasses up his nose, giggling as she does. Your fingers twitch because yes, that is your job, not hers, but it’s fine. It’s absolutely fine. Until her captain calls her back and she giggles again and waves, and Jungkook turns to sit and you see it. He’s got that pretty blush on his face, the one that tints his cheeks and makes him duck his head, the one you love so much but especially when you’re riding him and can get him to break out of the dominant persona he loves and turn pink with your words. 

And you know that your boyfriend is loyal and sweet and wonderful, can tell by the way he searches for you and melts into a smile like the ice cream you’re pretty sure you forgot to put back in your freezer before you had to rush out to get to this game. But pushing his glasses up is your job and that is your blush and you aren’t about to let some weeb queen take it from you. 

Rose looks pleased as you all take the court again. Jisoo looks convinced you’re gonna kill Weeb Girl, and you won’t lie; you’re definitely trying to see if you can will someone to set fire with only the power of your brain as you stare her down across the net. She looks entirely too pleased with herself and even dares to send a quick glance and a shy smile off at where you know Jungkook sits behind you, and you wish - not for the first time in your life - that you had Harry Potter powers and could just Crucio this fucker right now. 

Alas, you’re gonna have to settle for slamming a volleyball into her face. 

Nayun looks horrified at the sight, but you can tell Rose is holding back a smile even as the ref gives you a penalty that you willingly take. Weeb Girl looks pissed and also a little confused. Logically it’s not her fault that she chose to flirt with your weeb; and you can’t even fault her for it, because he’s gorgeous and sweet and perfect, but god damn what a day to do it. 

Throughout the rest of the third set, you’re basically unstoppable. You score three times on her, and you take a sick pleasure in the bruise that’s already forming under her eye. Her entire team looks confused, and you are too, because none of you are sure of where this sudden burst of skill and fury is coming from, but you’re determined to ride it out for as long as it lasts. 

When the game’s over, your entire team crowds you to celebrate. You’re a good player, you don’t have any allusions to that, but you’re also pretty much just reliably good. You’ve never played like that, not in your entire life, and you’re thriving with the knowledge that you even can. 

When they finally back up, you bolt before they can throw Gatorade on you, already climbing the stands. Jimin laughs as you shove him to the side, and you decide to feel guilty about the way he almost falls later, because right now you’re on a mission. You straddle the stand and fist one hand in Jungkook’s shirt, pulling him into a heated kiss that he doesn’t hesitate to return. In seconds you’re almost on his lap, one of his hands gripping your jaw so he lick into your mouth the way he likes while your free hand tangles in his hair. When you eventually pull back, he settles soft kisses along your jaw and you take great pride in looking straight at Weeb Girl. She doesn’t look mad, exactly; more resigned and slightly impressed, and you send her a wink that makes her roll her eyes. 

“Hey,” You whisper to Jungkook. He detaches himself from the mark he was determined to make behind your ear, and you revel in the blush on his face. It spreads across his face and along to the tips of his ears, and you want nothing more to than to make is spread further. “You wanna go put on some Haikyuu and break in your new mattress?” 

Bastard. Darling doesn't even try to hide it anymore. There's lipstick stains on the corner of his mouth from the last time they snuck off together. Can't even argue that it's his since it doesn't match the shade he wore that morning or one he keeps on his person. The Jock already checked. They have to know that he knows at this point, right? Darling has to see the pain and suffering they're causing the man. Why did they choose her? Was it because she's easy? Accepted rather than deny her desires- A good lay? Jock has heard stories of Darling's escapades. He could take their cock better than she ever could if Darling just picked him...

Wait - That's not what he-... He didn't mean it like that.

Fuck.

Darling is a thought he can't escape. He'd recognize them anywhere. Their laugh. Their scent. The panties he sees them wear in the locker-room, strapped to his girlfriend's waist after a small mix up in the Janitor's closet. He begged her to let him keep them. Claimed he missed her so much when she's gone he just needed a piece of her to keep him sane. He isn't entirely lying when he says it. Just directed at the wrong person.

Jock Yan who calls his girlfriend back to back, praying she picks up by accident so he can hear Darling over the phone like the last time she butt-dialed them. Cheer practice was the excuse Darling gave for the strain in their voice when they snatched her phone to say hi. If Jock wasn't enthralled by how Darling's voice sounds post physical activity, he might have a thing or two to say about them being at his girl's house after 10 o'clock at night.

If there's one thing Jock won't allow Darling to do in his presence it's kissing her. Darling gets bolder over time, but kissing is where he draws the line. In another world, Darling's lips are his. In a perfect one all of Reader belongs to him. Even kisses on the cheek are enough to tick him off. That should be him - not her.

"What are they like?"

"Hm? Who, babe?"

"Y/n. The captain of your team?"

"Oh!....oh... They're great! We've actually been hanging out a lot recently. We've got a competition coming up pretty soon - why do you ask?"

Not good enough. That isn't what he wants to know. He wants to know what Darling is like - what they taste and feel like. What it's like to have their arms around him. To have them inside him. He wants everything from Darling and more.

dude... you just couldnt help yourself. youre serious! you had no control of your thoughts. it was so awful at first... forming a little crush on some guy you have no business having a crush on-? as a jock type, youre automatically to fall for some girlㅡsome cheerleader, or even some loser - but not some loser ass introvert... yet there you were... jerking off to polaroids of him in the comfort of your huge bed - moaning n groaning out his name and imagining his smaller hands wrapped around your dick instead of your ownㅡhe's so cute, so pretty, so lovely -

you cant wait to see him tomorrow... following from afar from his home that was so conveniently close to yours... you wonder why you havent made your move yet - but it takes time, alright ?!!! you want him to be comfortable around you first... brushing against him in the halls and offering small apologies - grinning wildly as he squeaks n runs off blushing with an apology of his own... so cute. so fucking cute... you,,,youjust cant stop imagining those lips wrapped around your cock... hes soprettyy... soon, you'll be friends... then best friends... then l-loversㅡ

thinking about this fucking nerd in all sorts of disgusting ways - merely passing him in the halls and never communicating or anything! it hurt so bad... it was just so painful to be away from this little freak... this fucking outcast. one of those loser nerd types, fitting right into the teen movie archetype of a nerd with those fucking glasses ( of course ) and nose length hair tucked behind his ears - he was just so pretty... so dainty, almost. those lips - thick and full and just great makeout material... sucking on them til they were dark n bruised and even bloodied-!! fuck he'd look so good with blood dribbling down his chin... there you were, there you would be, lapping it up and peppering kisses around his mouth all teasingly - dont-! don't. get distracted. dont... fucking get hard... think... gross things...

b-but... your cock argues with your thought process, prick bulging from your jeans and you feel so embarrassed... this always happens ! you get distracted while observing your little freak in his equally little place of comfort - back of the campus, where a forest resided, you were watching him from afar; as always... observing is allㅡyou were his secret protector. shoving away the notorious little groups of friends known for fucking with those weaker - making sure to beat the piss out of them and tell them sternly to keep away from your little crush... you didnt want someone to harm him - but it was okay if that someone was you. fantasizing and jerking your cock to the thought of restraining him and verbally destroying his smart lil mind - but obviously, making sure to cheer him right up afterwards. you were big on aftercare in your daydreams...

oh, god... and finally having him in your grasp,,, making him vulnerable and him having to rely on you as you keep him in your huge place... it was out of no where and you clearly couldnt stick to the plan of friends, best friends, and lovers - that theres your boyfriend and you were sick of him not acknowledging that-! "hey, hey, it's okay..." you coo gently, snickering to yourself at the mess your boyfriend makes of himself - sobbing in your thick burly arms and squirming so much that you involuntarily get hard - "you're alright, silly... i have you."

ㅡbut yes, that was the problem... you had him. he couldnt think on whether or not to be actually scared out of his wits or nuzzle into the warmth your chest emanated, he did have a crush on you but he thinks youre taking this t-too farㅡ "it's huge, isn't it? you'll be okay, i promise..." nuzzling into the side of his head after guiding his hand to your weeping cock, the euphoric feeling of his hand shakily wrapping around the base - he was still sniffling... whispering to him, "you be okay, hnn? don't grab too hard, i'll have to do something to you..." not elaborating on your last sentence... the thought of having to hurt him just because he hurt you first made your heart clench,,,