How To Get A Popular Girlfriend
Seo Juntae x Popular!Fem! Reader
Cw: slut! Reader, a dash of humiliation kink, switch! Juntae, switch! Reader, implied female oral, sprinkle of dirty talk, unprotected sex, juntae lwk a freak, reader is super rude. juntae cries, smut.
Synopsis: After you embarras juntae in front of the cheer team, your friend dares you to embarras him even more at a party. Instead, you end up having him between your legs. You try to go back to your normal ways, but in comparison to juntae, you cant find anyone else to make you feel that way again. One frustrating night where you cant make yourself finish, you call over the only help you know.
Note: Ignore the HORRIBLE presentation. Reader fucking hates juntae's guts in the beginning. I tried to write the first smut scene but it was actually so butt omgosh.
The first time Juntae spoke to you was on a Thursday during cheer practice.
It had been a surprisingly good day for him, the kind that didn’t stand out in any obvious way but still left him quietly hopeful. Two days earlier, during math class, you had turned around in your seat and asked to borrow a pencil. It wasn’t a moment anyone else would have thought twice about, and you certainly hadn’t lingered on it afterward—you’d used it, returned it at the end of class, and moved on without a second thought. But for Juntae, it had been different. The fact that you had even acknowledged him, spoken to him directly, and looked at him without the usual indifference he was used to had lodged itself in his mind and refused to leave. He had replayed it over and over, searching for meaning where there probably wasn’t any, convincing himself that maybe it was the start of something small.
By Thursday, that small hope had grown into something fragile but persistent. All morning, and again during lunch, he had talked to Baku and Gotak about what he planned to do. Inside his backpack was a thin plastic folder that felt heavier than anything else he carried, containing a drawing he had spent nearly two weeks working on. He had drawn you carefully from memory, building your face piece by piece in pencil strokes so light they were almost afraid to exist. He had shaded your features until they looked soft and real, surrounded you with flowers because he had once overheard someone say you liked spring, and added microscopic details he hoped you would notice. It wasn’t perfect, but to him it was something honest, something he had made with genuine effort.
Baku had been enthusiastic from the start, practically cheering him on during lunch as Juntae nervously explained his plan again and again. Gotak had been just as encouraging, insisting that you would definitely like it and calling it ‘romantic’ in a way that made Juntae blush and look away. Across from them, however, Sieun had been far less impressed. He watched the entire conversation with an emotionless expression before finally speaking up, blunt as ever, telling Juntae that he was going to embarrass himself. According to Sieun, walking up to you in front of everyone with a drawing was less of a romantic gesture and more like public execution.
The comment had silenced the table for a moment. Juntae had looked down at his tray, suddenly unsure again, the confidence he had been building all day thinning out under the weight of doubt. But Baku quickly cut in, brushing Sieun off and telling him he was being dramatic, while Gotak nudged Juntae’s shoulder and told him not to overthink it. In the end, Sieun left at the final bell, shaking his head like he didn’t want to be around for whatever disaster he was predicting. That left Juntae alone with his nerves and whatever hope the other two had managed to rebuild before shooting off to the gym for their own practice.
The gym was already loud with overlapping sounds of basketballs hitting the court, sneakers squeaking against polished wood, and coaches calling out instructions from different directions. The air smelled faintly of sweat and rubber flooring, the familiar atmosphere of after-school practice settling over everything. On one side of the gym, the basketball team was already running drills, while on the other, the cheer team had just finished a routine and was breaking apart into smaller groups. Music still echoed faintly from a speaker before cutting off, leaving behind the natural noise of movement and conversation.
Juntae stood near the door of the gym for a moment longer than he should have, gripping the straps of his backpack as he scanned the room. His eyes eventually found you among your group, laughing with the other cheerleaders as you adjusted your hair and caught your breath from practice. To him, you looked effortless in a way that made his chest tighten, like you belonged completely in the center of attention without even trying. Behind him, Baku and Gotak had noticed his hesitation and were watching closely while pretending to stretch and continue practice.
It didn’t take long for someone on your team to notice him.
Your friend Sana leaned closer to you with a grin and pointed subtly in his direction. “Hey, isn't that the huge nerd that has a crush on you?” The comment carried easily across your group, and several of the girls turned to look at him. Juntae, realizing he was being watched, immediately faced anywhere but your direction, his ears turning red as he adjusted his glasses and tried to pretend he hadn’t heard anything. You glanced over too, your expression tightening slightly as you took him in standing awkwardly near the court.
“It is. I don’t know why he’s here, not like he can play basketball,” you confirmed it with a small scoff. Your response was immediate and dismissive, and the girls around you laughed. Juntae, still too far away to hear the words clearly, only registered the sound of it—laughter that felt directed at him even if he couldn’t confirm it. Before the moment could linger, your coach called a bathroom break for herself, and the cheer team moved toward the bleachers for water and rest.
Juntae saw his opening and, despite the pounding in his chest, forced himself to walk forward. Each step felt heavier than the last, his grip tightening on the folder hidden inside his backpack before he finally pulled it out as he reached you. When he stopped in front of the group, he gave a small, nervous bow, greeting everyone at once before his attention settled on you.
“Hi. I was–um–I was wondering if I could give you something?” His voice came out softer than he intended as he struggled to maintain eye contact, his gaze drifting anywhere but directly into your eyes.
You exchanged a quick look with your teammates, a silent conversation passing between you. Whatever was said didn’t need words. You stood up from the bleachers and stepped closer to him, placing a hand against his chest and gently pushing him back as you stepped down, just enough pressure to make him falter. The contact made his entire body tense, his breath catching as he instinctively looked down at the curve of your skirt before quickly forcing his eyes away again, swallowing saliva deep in his throat.
“Sure,” you dragged out, voice high in pitch and fake all at one. Sana and the other girls held back giggles at the tone, not wanting to ruin the perfect moment.
There was a faint, nervous smile on his face that he couldn’t control as he handed over the folder with slightly shaking hands. When you opened it, the drawing inside revealed itself slowly. Even if you didn’t say it out loud, it was clear that it had been made with care. The proportions were accurate, the details thoughtful, and the surrounding flowers delicate and intentional. For a brief moment, there was something almost neutral in your expression, like you were considering it. But that moment passed quickly, replaced by something sharper, more calculated and messy.
“Aww, girls, look,” You lifted the drawing higher so the others could see it, calling their attention to it with a dramatic sweetness that didn’t match your tone. The reaction was immediate—laughter spreading through the group as the girls leaned in, some covering their mouths, others openly amused. Juntae, however, mistook it for something positive at first, his nervous smile returning as his cheeks flushed with relief, as if he had somehow succeeded.
Very slowly, your hands gripped each side of the sheet and you began to tear the paper in half. The girls behind you giggled, shoulders shaking and hands covering mouths as they leaned into one another.
The sound was quiet but final, and it hit him harder than anything dramatic would have. His smile faltered immediately, confusion replacing it as he let out a small, uncertain laugh, as if waiting for the joke to resolve itself. But you continued tearing until the drawing was split completely, holding the pieces up for everyone to see.
“Seriously, Juntae?” Your voice shifted as you spoke, no longer playful or sweet. “I’m one of the most known girls in school. I’m captain of the cheer team. I get with hot guys—popular guys—guys who have status and reputation. The only reputation you have is getting beat up on the daily. Stop trying to impress me. You’re only making yourself look stupider than you already are.” Each word landed heavier than the last, stripping away whatever fragile confidence he had walked in with.
Juntae stood frozen as it happened, his mouth slightly open as if he might respond, though no sound came out. His face tightened, his eyes beginning to blur almost before he realized it, and when he finally spoke, it came out broken and barely audible. “Sorry—I’m so sorry,” he turned quickly, almost stumbling as he walked away, then finally ran.
Behind him, Baku and Gotak immediately went after him, calling his name as they pushed through the gym doors. The sound of their footsteps faded quickly, leaving behind a heavy silence that the laughter slowly filled again as if nothing important had happened at all.
You watched them go, then looked down at the torn paper still in your hands before crumpling it and stuffing it into your bag without much thought. The moment already felt distant, unimportant, something to forget about before practice resumed. When your coach called everyone back, you returned to formation without hesitation, falling into place as if nothing had interrupted the rhythm of the day.
But for a brief second, your focus slipped. The image of Juntae running out of the gym lingered at the edge of your thoughts, his face red and eyes wet, though you pushed it away quickly. There was no reason to dwell on it. He was just another boy who had misread things.
“Focus,” your coach called sharply when you missed the next cue.
And the music started again.
The walk to your car after practice felt longer than usual, the kind of distance that gave people too much time to talk. The gym noise faded behind you as the group drifted across the parking lot, sneakers scuffing against pavement still warm from the day. What started as casual chatter slowly circled back to the same topic again, like it had been waiting there the entire time.
Sana was the one who brought it up first, as she usually did. She leaned in closer beside you while walking, her voice carrying that casual tone that made everything she said sound harmless at first. According to her, she had seen Juntae staring at you more times than she could count—during lunch, between classes, even in the hallways when he probably thought no one was noticing. The other girls chimed in quickly after that, laughing and adding their own observations, each one reinforcing the idea like it was some shared joke they all understood.
“I mean,” Sana said eventually, shrugging like the answer was obvious, “why don’t you just give him what he wants?”
You glanced at her immediately, your expression tightening in confusion.
“Him?” you repeated. “Are you serious?”
The idea alone sounded ridiculous to you. There was no version of your life where Juntae fit into it in any meaningful way. He wasn’t popular, he didn’t have status, and in your world those things weren’t optional—they were the baseline. Even considering him in that kind of way made something in you feel off, like it didn’t belong in the same category as the people you normally dealt with.
Sana, however, didn’t seem bothered by your reaction at all. She just laughed under her breath and waved a hand like you were missing the point entirely.
“No, not like that,” she clarified. “I mean mess with him. You know, make him think he actually has a chance, then embarrass him again later. Bigger this time. Better.”
She said it so easily, like she was describing something fun rather than something cruel. Her hands moved as she spoke, building the idea out in the air as if she could already see it happening. Around you, the other girls perked up at the suggestion, their reactions immediate and encouraging. A few of them started adding their own ideas, overlapping each other in excitement, the conversation turning sharper, louder, more animated as it went on.
“Sleep with him!” One of them laughed and shouted, something crude and careless enough that you immediately recoiled. The words cut through the group for a second before the girls burst into laughter again, clearly entertained by their own boldness.
“Ew—no way,” you said quickly, physically jerking back as if the thought itself had pushed you. Your reaction only made them laugh harder, like your disgust was part of the joke. As you reached your van, you opened the trunk for the girls to sit their bags in.
Sana didn’t drop the idea, though. If anything, she leaned into it more as everyone passed their bags to her, as if building a plan she was proud of.
“Okay, listen,” she said, raising her hands as if organizing a strategy only she could see. “Your parents are still out of town for two weeks, right?”
You hesitated slightly but nodded.
“Perfect. Throw a party this weekend. Invite Juntae. Invite his friends too, so it looks normal.” Her voice grew more animated as she spoke, the plan forming faster with every sentence. “Then take him to your room. Do some foreplay, make him think you’re actually going to sleep with him or something—just enough to get him worked up.”
You didn’t respond right away. You just listened, your expression unreadable as she continued.
“And then,” she went on, smiling now like she’d reached the best part, “when he’s there, go to the bathroom and call me. I’ll wait like two minutes, then walk in recording.” She laughed, clearly pleased with herself. “Make sure he’s not wearing pants or something stupid like that. It’ll be even funnier. He’ll look like a total creep and a loser.”
The other girls immediately reacted with excitement, laughing and adding their approval, feeding into the energy until it felt less like a suggestion and more like a shared plan they were already committed to.
“Yeah, whatever.” You dismissed, letting the girls pile in while you stood there for a moment, taking in the weight of what had been said.
Lunch on Friday felt louder than usual, like the entire cafeteria had decided to amplify itself just enough to make conversation harder to ignore. Trays clattered, chairs scraped, and clusters of students leaned into each other with the kind of casual intimacy that only came from repetition. For you, it was normal. For Juntae, it still felt like something he had to navigate carefully, like every glance in his direction carried weight.
You had to apologize to him first, well, make him think you were. Sana thought he wouldn't come to the party after what happened yesterday, so she insisted you had to ‘make things right’ so the plan would go smoothly.
He sat a little apart from everyone else, as he usually did, shoulders slightly hunched over his tray. He wasn’t really eating—just moving food around absently, his attention drifting in and out of whatever Baku and Gotak were saying. The bruise of what happened in the gym hadn’t fully left him yet. It still lingered in the way he avoided eye contact with his friends for too long, or the way his fingers tightened around his fork when Sieun pointed it out.
When you appeared beside the table, he didn't notice you at first.
You didn’t make yourself known immediately. Instead, you paused there like you were deciding whether you even belonged in that space, then softened your expression in a way that felt almost unfamiliar compared to earlier. There was something carefully constructed about it—gentler, quieter, more controlled. When you finally spoke, your voice carried a tone that didn’t match the sharpness he had heard in the gym.
Juntae looked up quickly, almost startled. “Oh—hi.”
There was a brief hesitation where neither of you spoke, just the noise of the cafeteria filling the gap. Then you exhaled softly, sitting down and lightly grabbing his forearm in fake sympathy. You looked down as if choosing your words carefully.
“About what happened yesterday,” you started, then paused again, letting the sentence hang just long enough to feel intentional. “I think I was kind of harsh.”
His expression changed immediately. Confusion first, then something closer to amazement or disbelief. He sat up a little straighter without meaning to, like he wasn’t sure he was hearing you correctly.
You nodded slowly with a hum, as if conceding something difficult. “I didn’t really think about how it might’ve come across.” It wasn’t an apology, not exactly, but it was close enough that it made something in him loosen. Juntae blinked a few times, searching your face for anything that might suggest sarcasm or a hidden joke. He didn’t find it. “I just…felt bad after. You didn’t deserve all of that in front of everyone.” You continued before he could start to overthink it.
Behind you, one of the girls at your table watched quietly, but didn’t interrupt. Your tone stayed steady, sympathetic in a way that sounded believable if someone didn’t know you well enough.
Juntae lightly shrugged, eyes flipping between you and his group. “I mean… I guess I shouldn’t have just walked up like that.”
You shook your head once, lightly dismissing that idea. “No, it’s not that.” A small pause. “It’s fine. Really.” That was the moment his guard started to lower. Not completely, but enough that his posture relaxed just a little, enough that he looked less like he was bracing for impact. Then you added, almost casually, “You know, I actually felt kind of bad about how it ended.”
His eyes flickered to you again.
“So I was thinking,” you continued, letting your voice soften even more, “you could come to my house tomorrow."
That got his attention fully. Even his friends looked shocked, Baku shoulder bumped Gotak who returned an excited smile.
“A party,” you clarified. “My place. I have a pool and my parents are out of town, it’s just going to be people from school.”
The words landed slowly, like he was trying to process each one separately. Juntae’s expression tightened with uncertainty.
You nodded like it was obvious. “Yeah. You and your friends too, if you want. It’s not a big deal.”
Juntae hesitated. “I don’t know… I mean, I wouldn’t really fit in.” That answer was predictable, almost rehearsed. You tilted your head slightly, as if considering it, then gave him a small, reassuring smile. The simplicity of it seemed to affect him more than anything else. He looked down for a moment, then back up again, still unsure but visibly wavering.
“Just come. I’ll be with you even if no one else is.” You offer a smile. There was a pause where he seemed to weigh every possible outcome at once. Then, slowly, he nodded.
The agreement settled into the space between you, quiet but final. You smiled again, a little brighter this time, and stood up as if the conversation had naturally ended there.
Saturday came faster than it should have.
The house was louder than usual, filled with the controlled chaos of a party trying to look effortless. The music was a dull hum that only acted as a backtrack to the atmosphere. Laughter echoed through rooms, and clusters of students filled every available space like they had earned to be there. From where Juntae stood on the sidewalk, it looked like exactly what you had promised: normal, social, harmless—just students from school and the promise of a good time.
You noticed him from your bedroom window the moment he stepped inside, lingering near the entrance for a second too long as he took everything in. He looked overwhelmed, but not unwelcome—just unsure where he was supposed to exist in a place like this. Baku and Gotak were nearby, immediately pulling him in with familiar energy, guiding him further inside before he could overthink leaving.
You didn’t go to approach him right away.
You watched as he disappeared from your sightline, making sure he was somewhere downstairs.
By the time you finally did descend downstairs, he was standing near the edge of the living room, slightly more relaxed than before but still out of place. When he saw you standing casually at the bottom of the steps in the pink tank top and matching skirt that you always wore every Wednesday, he straightened up subconsciously.
“Hey,” you said leaning on the wall beside him, like nothing unusual had ever happened between you.
“Hi,” he answered, a little quieter than you.
“Can you come with me for a second?” You tilted your head toward the stairway
He looked at the two boys with him, and that hesitation returned briefly. They nodded at him excitedly, Baku even throwing a fist in the air. He nodded his head once, following as you led him towards the steps.
The noise of the party faded. Each step made the house feel further away, until the music was nothing more than an afterthought behind the beating of his heart. His footsteps were careful behind you, like he was afraid of making noise in a space he didn’t fully feel welcome in.
When you reached your room, you opened the door and stepped inside first, letting him follow.The room was quieter than everything downstairs. You had your walls decorated with fairy lights, pictures of you with your friends and your team, and album covers. Everything felt dimmer, more intimate and domestic. The door clicked shut behind him.
Juntae stood on the carpet, unsure whether he was supposed to sit or stay standing. His hands hung awkwardly at his sides.
You turned slightly toward him, still calm, still composed. “Just relax,” you said lightly.
He nodded once, though it didn’t really settle him. A pause followed—long enough for the atmosphere to shift, for the reality of being alone in a closed room to register more clearly. Juntae looked around briefly, then back at you, waiting for something to happen next.
“Sit.” You instructed, watching as he nervously made his way over to your bed. Your covers were fluffy, and it left the material sticking to his sweaty palms. You smiled from where you still stood at the door. He looked so innocent, you wondered if he really thought you liked him.
You slowly made your way to him, each step crossing a line that you had honestly forgotten all about. Your friends were by the pool where you had left when you originally made your way to your room. Sana was certain she would be beside her phone when you called, but suddenly you didn't want to call. You finally had a guy in your bedroom that looked at you like you hung the moon, and that wasn't easy to come by. Even if you didn’t feel that way about Juntae, what's wrong with letting him think you did for the night?
“Do you really like me, Juntae? Why?” you stood in front of him, legs slipping in between him. He looked up at you, and your hands snaked into his hair as if by instinct, pushing it back and feeling it in between your fingers. You notice the bob of his throat as he swallows, mouth opening but no sound coming out.
“I like you because…because you’re you. Even if you act mean sometimes. Even when you fake being nice to me and I know that you are but I fall for it anyway. I like the way you laugh with your friends, and the way you lead your team, the way you’re so effortlessly pretty. I like how, even when you want to be mean to me, a part of you questions it; like you’re putting on a show you don’t really believe. I like—”
You cut him off with a press of your lips to his. His eyes go wide, and he doesn't get to kiss back before you pull away. He swallows hard and heavy in the back of his throat, eyes chasing yours like he didn’t want it to end. His hands lay flat against his thighs now, and you smile down at him with practiced ease.
“You can touch me, ya’know?” You stroke his hair once more. He nods once in acknowledgement, right hand shakily coming up to your hip. You let him revel in the moment before speaking again, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Why do you like me even after I make fun of you?”
This time, he doesn't answer right away, or even after a moment. He just looks up at you, those same eyes that laugh with his friends, or those same eyes that tear up after you’ve made him feel small again.
“I’m a fool, I guess. I wait for the moment you’ll change your mind. The moment you realize that any other guy is a waste of time. Because I’m human, too. Because my emotions won't let me let you go that easily.”
You smile, letting yourself lean down again to connect your lips. This time you don't pull away fast, and he gets to move his lips against yours. He moves strategically, as if he’s never kissed before but thought about doing it a million times, which is likely. You sigh against his mouth, moving your body to straddle him on the edge of your bed. His hands move up to the small of your back, a respectful yet intimate place to hold you.
You take control of the kiss, slipping your tongue into his mouth and letting him clumsily explore yours. It's not new to you—making out—yet it feels different with Juntae, like it was a natural thing to do. You let your hips move against his lap, sliding over him with a kind of slow intimacy that you usually didn’t allow yourself to feel when sleeping around with guys
He shockingly breaks the kiss first, letting his lips dance around your neck as he lets out little noises, getting worked up from the friction against him. Your arms rest on his shoulders, both hands tugging on his hair. The feeling of him pushing against you through his jeans makes your stomach flip, and you lean your head back and your breathing gets heavier.
“Fuck,” You pant out, hips grinding harder into his, leaning your head back more as you let his lips kiss your neck and his hand slowly trail down under your skirt. He didn’t squeeze, just laid his hands on you as if to feel what it was like.
You stood abruptly, making your way around him onto the bed. He turned to look at you, and you smiled back at him. He swallowed nervously before he turned his body onto the bed. You leaned back and let him climb onto you until you were face to face again and breathing uneven. You grabbed his hand, guiding him to trace your frame. He let himself be moved, because honestly he couldn't even think straight anymore, and the feeling of you in his hands was surreal.
You laid back, keeping your eyes on him as you let your legs drop open. You looked at him with a certain kind of face, and he swallowed deep in his throat. He slid down to your stomach, kissing the small amount of skin he could reach. You sighed, arching up into his touch as he moved lower. He settled between your thighs, breathing in your heat as the noise from downstairs played like a backtrack to your pleasure.
After the party, things were supposed to go back to normal. And they were, from the outside at least.
Monday had arrived like nothing had changed. The hallways were the same, crowded with familiar voices and routines that reset themselves without effort. You slipped back into your usual place among your friends as if the weekend had been nothing more than another passing distraction, a failed attempt that would be relieved. Juntae was there too, just like always, moving through the edges of the school like he belonged slightly outside of it.
At first, it really did feel the same.
The first time Sana noticed him staring at you again in the hallway, you called him out the way you used to—sharp, casual, loud enough for people to hear. You had a comment meant to sting, meant to remind him where he stood. But something faltered halfway through. The insult didn’t land, instead it caught.
Juntae turned toward you like he always did. But instead of shrinking immediately or looking away fast, he just looked at you. Like he was waiting. Like he knew you didn't mean whatever you were going to say, and for a split second too long, you didn’t continue.
The pause stretched—long enough that Sana’s hand came up to your shoulder as if to shake you back to reality.
You recovered quickly, of course. You always did. The sentence came out sharp, clean, harsh to anyone but you two. But something had already shifted in that brief gap.
Juntae didn’t react the way he used to. He didn’t flinch, laugh awkwardly, or scramble to bow in apology. He just gave a small nod, like he’d heard you, like it mattered less than it should have, and walked away, unaffected in a way that didn’t fit him.
And that was the part that stayed with you longer than it should have.
Over the next few days, it happened again in little moments.
You’d say something designed to cut him down in front of others, expecting the usual reaction—the silence, the embarrassment, the visible collapse inward.
But it didn’t come the same way anymore.
Sometimes he just looked at you briefly and said nothing, sometimes he gave a quiet response and moved on. And sometimes—worse than anything—you could swear he was holding back something like amusement, like he understood a joke no one else had been told. Not enough for anyone else to notice, but enough that if you were paying attention, really paying attention, it started to feel like you weren’t the one setting the tone anymore.
It made you more irritated than you expected.
At the same time, you found yourself drifting back into your usual patterns. The boys who actually fit your world—the ones with status, confidence, easy smiles that didn’t require effort or sincerity. The ones who talked to you like everything was already decided, like they knew they could have you just by being in a certain standard.
It should have felt normal. It did, at first.
But something kept slipping. Conversations felt flatter, attention felt temporary. Even when they looked at you the way they were supposed to, it didn’t settle the same way it used to. And every so often, without meaning to, your eyes would catch Juntae at the edge of a room or across the courtyard.
And he would already be looking away before you could tell what expression he had been wearing.
That should have made things easier, but they didn’t.
One night, long after practice had ended and the school had emptied out of noise, you found yourself sitting in your room with frustration plastered all over your face.
Usually after games, you found a hot player, someone from the other team who had usually just lost and was in the mood to let some anger out. Today, though, was the one time your team had lost, and happy basketball players aren't as good and angry ones.
It started when you dropped your bag on the floor. You had immediately gone into your drawer, seeking your wand vibrator that you used for nights where you just needed to loosen up without a boy around. It started okay, but it didn’t feel right. You couldn’t get the angle right, and it felt less like pleasure and more like pressure.
The second toy wasn't any better, a purple one that went inside. You slipped it in with high hopes, but only ended even more frustrated. You groaned into your hand, mindlessly reaching for your phone on the nightstand.
You didn’t really think before you called him.
It felt less like a decision and more like something that had been building for too long to ignore.
When he answered, there was a pause before he spoke.
Your voice came out steadier than you expected.
You didn’t explain. You didn’t need to.
He showed up not long after.
The night air clung to him when he stepped inside, quiet and cautious in a way that didn’t match the boy people at school talked about anymore. He stood near the entrance for a second like he was assessing whether this was still the same version of you he had become used to dealing with, or the version that treated him right.
You shut the door behind him.
The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. It was charged in a way neither of you acknowledged directly.
“You’ve been acting weird,” you said finally, crossing your arms as if that would make the statement less significant.
Juntae tilted his head slightly.
That answer affected you differently than it would have if Saturday never happened. He wasn’t scared, or talking in the nerdy tone that he did when he used to think of you as higher than him. You stared at him for a second too long, annoyed at how easily he said it.
“That’s not what I meant,” you replied quickly.
He didn’t move closer, or acknowledge the way you had corrected yourself so he didn't think something different. He just stood there, calm in a way that didn’t match the version of him everyone else still believed in. He looked at you with a certain look, one that told you what you had been trying to avoid for the longest time last weekend: the power you used to have over him wasn't as strong as it used to be.
Saturday had changed his perspective on things. Neither of you was pretending it hadn’t happened, and neither of you was reacting to it the same way anymore. You had started seeing him less as a nerd, and in turn, he started seeing you less as something to be scared of. He saw the way you acted around guys now, how you played a routine you didn't really think was worth it anymore. He even saw the way you left tonight's game, saw the need bubbling off your body as you strutted off the sidelines after the final cheer. When you called him, it had surprised him honestly, because he wasn't expecting you to reach out again so soon. But his plan was already thought out, and he never intended on showing you a side of him that you could have as weak again.
“I know why you called tonight,” He stated, eyes reaching yours for a brief moment before looking back away.
You didn't answer him with words. Instead, you stepped closer, the frustration from the game and the way he’d been acting these past weeks boiling over into a desperate need. You reached out, grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him into a kiss.
You stayed like that, messy and controlled as you led him clumsily upstairs into your room. The shift in power was almost excruciating. You were the one initiating, pulling him harshly with hunger, but the way he let you pull him—without the stuttering or the nervous shaking—told you he was in complete control of his own reactions.
As soon as your backs hit the mattress, you scrambled to get his clothes off, your fingers clumsy and hurried. Juntae didn't rush though. He let you strip him, his eyes locked on yours with a heavy, knowing intensity. When you finally pulled his boxers and pants off, his cock sprang free, already hard, pulsing with a need that mirrored your own.
You sucked in a breath, legs parting to welcome him. You didn't want the foreplay, you wanted the friction, the release. You laid your head back, allowing him to take initiative. He reached down, gripping himself and guiding the head of his cock against your soaking heat. You were dripping, left aching with need and frustration from the earlier stress.
"Do it," you breathed, your voice cracking into a desperate plea.
Juntae didn't hesitate anymore. He gripped your hips, his sweaty fingers digging into your skin. He took his time sinking into you, each slow grind pulling a whine from your throat. You moaned into your hand as he buried himself deep inside you, filling you completely. The sensation was overwhelming—far better than any toy, or even the guys who promised you a good time. Maybe it was because he took time, or because he cared enough to wait for you to get used to him. He leaned down, whispering in your ear checking on you for about a minute. You nodded when you wanted him to move, when you felt frustrated and needy. He was hot, solid, and stretching you wide.
The first thrust had you both whimpering. He started slow, controlled drags of his cock in and out of your cunt. He didn't stay slow for long, he began to thrust into you with a rhythmic, punishing intensity. Every thrust slammed his pelvis against yours, the sound of wet flesh slapping together filling the quiet, dimly lit room. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, feeling every inch of him.
"Is this what you wanted?" Juntae groaned, his voice strained and devoid of the old hesitation. He leaned down, kissing in the crook of your neck as he hammered into you. "You wanted me, right?"
You couldn't even form a sentence, only letting out broken moans and whimpers. The power dynamic had flipped entirely. You were pinned beneath him, your body reacting to every command his muscles gave. He shifted his angle, hitting the spongey spot inside you with every deep plunge, sending electric shocks of pleasure through your spine.
“You used to hate me, didn't you? Look at you taking my cock now,” one of his hands came up to squeeze at your nipple. Your walls clamped tight around him, pulsing in rhythmic waves. Juntae felt it, his pace faltering for a moment, his breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps.
"Gonna cum." he grunted, his muscles tensing. “Where can I cum?”
You arched your back, eyes rolling back as your orgasm hit first, a violent explosion of pleasure that left you shaking. Seconds later, Juntae let out a low growl and thrust one last time, burying himself as deep as possible as he came. You felt the hot, thick jets of his cum filling you, pulsing inside you in heavy bursts.
He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving, the weight of his body a comforting pressure. For a long time, neither of you spoke. The only sound was the synchronized rhythm of your breathing.
Slowly, the adrenaline faded, replaced by a heavy, warm exhaustion. Juntae didn't pull away immediately, he stayed curled against you, his skin damp with sweat. He shifted, pulling the duvet over both of your naked bodies.
You felt a strange sense of peace. The frustration was gone, replaced by a quiet intimacy that felt more honest than anything you'd experienced in a long time. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat slow as he caught his breath.
Juntae wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer into his side. There was no more pretending, no more roles to play. You weren't just a cheerleader he had a crush on anymore , and he was no longer the nerd who you made fun of. As the moonlight filtered through the curtains, you both drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep, tangled together in the quiet of the night.
This is actually so buns omgosh.
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