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benjinotes · 5 months ago

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𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 - cregan stark

cregan stark x fem reader

summary: to grab your attention, cregan keeps parking his car in your spot. as you deal with his frustrating habit, you both end up clashing and forming a connection you didn’t see coming.

warnings: smut. sub cregan. oral (f receiving). pnv (mentions). breaking celibacy. reader doesn’t have too much patience. cregan likes to test her. fluff. modern au.

wc: +6k (sorry lol), english is not my first language.

The morning sun spread across the horizon, casting a golden glow that gradually enveloped the parking lot where Cregan sat in his Jeep. The light crept across the dashboard and lazily kissed his chiseled features and stubbly beard as he took slow, steady drags from his morning cigarette, the smoke rising in spirals and mingling with the annoyingly warm air filtering through the half-open window.

It was the end of summer, and although the weather had cooled slightly from the peak in July, the heat still lingered, a constant reminder of how much he disapproved of high temperatures and everything they brought. He had a nearly visceral aversion to them—during the summer, clothes would cling uncomfortably to his body, and the constant sweat seemed to eat away at him from within, leaving him restless. Even so, he couldn’t complain too much; autumn was just around the corner, bringing the cold he longed for and the continuation of the new semester.

Truth be told, he wasn't looking forward to going back to college. Far from it, actually. While summer wasn't his favorite season, he appreciated the solitude it offered—the freedom of late-night adventures, the revelry of parties, and the blissful absence of anxiety from procrastination. Yet, as much as he valued these fleeting comforts, they paled in comparison to the almost biting chill of fall and the deep anticipation of seeing you again.

The intense heat of sun seemed to mirror the depth of his desire for you. Just as the relentless sun made each day increasingly stifling and uncomfortable, his longing for you burned with equal intensity. The oppressive warmth was almost a reminder of the consuming passion within him, reflecting his growing sense of desperation and need.

Cregan didn't know how long he had longed for you, for he barely noticed when the desire he felt for you turned into something so deep and intense that it seemed to consume his veins with infernal heat, heating his body to levels that even the incessant heat of the sun could not do. summer could explain. He felt almost suffocated even though he was trapped against his will, but without knowing whether he should give in to frustration or despair with the anxiety he felt.

The last three months without you had been difficult, if not unbearable, for him. It was as if you had vanished from the world, and that left him on the brink of despair. Each day that passed without any word from you widened the hole in his chest a little more, and the fact that you ignored all 20 friend requests he sent you on social media only made things worse.

Being near you, no matter how torturous it could be at times, was a confinement he chose willingly. But being away from you? That was a true prison for him, an unrelenting agony that nearly consumed him from within.

One thing was certain: if it hadn’t been for Jacaerys, his best friend, he probably would have done something reckless and gone after you just to make sure you were okay. It was Jacaerys who held him back and allowed him to see your social media through his account, and although he was upset that you wouldn’t let him follow you, there was a strange comfort in knowing that his best friend did. However, this only made things worse. He was becoming fully aware of just how down bad he was for you—and that was, at the very least, humiliating.

It was humiliating—everything Cregan was doing at this point, and he knew it. His friends knew, and everyone around him knew. After all, he had been on celibate for months simply because he couldn’t imagine being with any woman other than you, even though you seemed more inclined to kick him in the balls than anything else.

And now, he was resorting to the same tactic he used months ago: parking in your spot just to provoke you into getting angry with him before class. Sometimes, he honestly felt that his fixation had reached a point of no return.

Taking the last drag from his cigarette, Cregan leaned further into the front seat of his Jeep, turned on the air conditioning slightly, and closed his eyes, waiting for you to arrive and complain so he could finally escape the sun. Fortunately for Cregan, less than five minutes later, he was startled by a light but furious knock on the Jeep's window. He had to hold back a smile as he saw your irritated expression outside.You looked so hot and so damn pretty.

"Hello, dear," he began, placing both hands behind his head as he looked at you with a smirk, trying to mask the rapid beating of his heart. "Is something wrong?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What the hell are you doing in my car spot?!" You nearly shouted, your cheeks growing redder with anger at his persistence. Cregan, however, didn’t seem at all bothered; if anything, his smile widened with every increase in your voice.

"I thought you’d matured over the summer break," you said through gritted teeth, glancing around at the people who were starting to stare. Despite your frustration, Cregan appeared more amused, clearly enjoying the opportunity to tease you even further.

"First of all, this parking lot is public," he said with a teasing hum, his smirk growing as he slowly opened the window, clearly enjoying your irritated and impatient expression. "Secondly, did you really think I’d matured over these months?" His voice carried a hint of hidden amusement, though you didn’t seem to notice. You let out a deep sigh, trying to mask your frustration.

If you were being honest, no, you didn’t think he had matured. He had always been a bit much since the day you met him—constantly praising you almost directly or irritating you on purpose just to get a reaction. It didn’t help that he kept sending friend requests, which you declined every time, or that Jace was always one of the first to see your posts after Cregan made it clear you two were together.

The truth was, you didn’t think he’d changed at all. If anything, based on the look he was giving you, he was probably the same or even worse. And you weren't sure how much longer you could tolerate him irritating you like this.

"I literally paid for this spot, Cregan!" you hissed in a hushed whisper, trying not to attract even more attention. But you had to look away when you felt his intense gaze on you—the fact that he was so handsome didn’t help at all. "And besides, you don’t even have classes on this campus, so what’s your excuse for being here?" you demanded, already irritated, as you pressed your hand to your forehead a bit too aggressively.

Cregan’s smile widened as he noticed the frustration in your eyes and how you avoided his gaze. He knew you found him attractive—he had overheard you admitting it to a friend a few months ago, and the memory filled him with smug satisfaction. While he was used to attention from other girls, knowing that you, the one person who truly mattered to him, found him appealing was different. You were the only woman he cared about and the only one he wanted to touch.

You drove him insane. It wasn’t just an obsession anymore; it was a madness that consumed him completely. Every thought and every impulse he had was dominated by you, and the distance you kept between the two of you was unbearable. You were a constant in his mind, a presence that refused to let his sanity remain intact. But either way, he liked that, he loved that.

"I just wanted to say hello, dear," Cregan said after a few seconds, blinking with exaggerated fake innocence, his voice almost a teasing melody as he leaned closer to the car window, trying to get as close to you as possible. "I missed you." He continued to hum playfully, but there was something in the way he said it that made you almost certain there was a hint of truth behind the teasing.

Even though you tried to stay composed, you couldn’t stand how easily he got under your skin. A few words from him were enough to make your heart race, and his effortless charm was maddening. Despite your resistance, you couldn’t deny the strange attraction you felt toward him or how annoyingly handsome he was—even with his scruffy beard. And no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t escape his pull. You felt trapped.

"Well, you can say hello from anywhere but my parking spot," you retorted, striving for firmness even though your voice wavered slightly. "So move your Jeep, or I’ll call a tow truck." You took a few steps back, increasing the distance between you, which seemed to disappoint him slightly.

Despite that Cregan’s smile lingered, though now it was tempered with a hint of reluctance. He made no move to move his Jeep; his gaze fixed intently on you as he furrowed his brow, as if evaluating his next move.

"Are you really going to call a tow truck?" he finally asked, his voice carrying the same playful tone. He leaned slightly out of the open window, his heart racing, when he noticed you glancing at his lips for a fleeting moment. He had to work hard to suppress a more genuine smile that threatened to surface.

To you, it was evident that he was deliberately prolonging the situation. The tension between you was palpable, and it was clear that he was savoring the game he was playing with you. Plus the fact his smile widened slightly as he observed you struggling not to look at his lips, made you almost sick. "Come on," he continued, his tone taking on an almost earnest edge as he noticed your hesitation to respond. "Is all this stress really worth it? I’m just trying to say hello." And to stay close to you, he almost said.

"You really haven’t changed, have you?" you asked, frustration evident in your voice as you tightened your grip on your car keys. "I thought you might have matured this semester." Your sharp eyes locked with his playful ones, daring him to defy your words.

Cregan blinked, and his smile grew wider in a flash. "Does that mean you’ve been thinking about me, dear?" He purred, barely containing his amusement as he watched a blush creep up your neck. The idea seemed to delight him, adding an unexpected warmth to his expression.

You opened and closed your mouth, stunned by the audacity of his question. He wasn’t completely off the mark; you had, indeed, thought about him. But admitting that to Cregan was unthinkable. You knew he’d never let it go, relishing every moment of your discomfort. It was as if he shed all pretense of maturity around you, or perhaps he felt most himself when he was with you. Either way, one thing was clear: you weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of an admission.

Swallowing hard, you gave a dry cough, trying to ignore the heat rising in your cheeks as you tightened your grip on the keys in your hand, determined to resist the lazy, piercing gaze that seemed to follow your every move. "Don’t flatter yourself," you shot back, striving for indifference despite his penetrating stare. "I have better things to think about than you."

Cregan’s smile didn’t falter at your bold, if slightly unsteady, retort. If anything, it widened as he leaned further out of the window, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "Better things? Then why do you look so flustered? " he asked, feigning innocence, though his gaze was anything but that. Three months ago, he would have flirted and walked away, but your absence had only drawn him closer, and now, the idea of being with another woman, if it wasn’t you, repulsed him.

"I’m not flustered," you lied, clenching your jaw, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you. He had to fight the urge to glance at your neck, where the blush was deepening. "I’m just tired of these childish games." You rubbed your forehead in frustration, glaring at him with renewed irritation.

His expression softened slightly at your tone, but the lazy, teasing smirk on his lips remained. "Childish? Maybe. But you’re still giving me attention, aren’t you?" he teased.

If there was one thing he enjoyed, it was attempting your patience.

You opened your mouth to protest but found yourself at a loss for words. He wasn’t wrong��you were engaging with his provocations, letting him drag you into this ridiculous game and burrow even deeper under your skin. The fact that he was lingering in your parking spot longer than usual unsettled you, but what bothered you more was that part of you was enjoying it. You were furious at yourself for letting his teasing get to you.

There was something about Cregan that made it impossible for you to walk away, even though you knew you should for your own peace of mind.

"You’re impossible," you finally muttered after a few seconds, struggling to find the right words and shaking your head as if to clear it. "Just move your jeep, Cregan. I don’t have time for this," you insisted, loosening your grip on your car keys.

But he still didn’t move, and the intensity in his gaze made your heart skip a beat—though you didn’t realize his heart was racing just as fast. "You know," he said softly, his voice losing some of its teasing edge. "I’m not just here to annoy you. I actually wanted to see you" He admitted it quietly, as if he didn’t want anyone else in the parking lot to hear it.

The sincerity in his voice caught you off guard, leaving you momentarily at a loss for words. This was a side of him you weren’t used to—a vulnerability typically masked by layers of sarcasm and provocation. And now, that facade was replaced by softness and even a hint of submission, making you hesitate for just a moment.

But then you remembered the situation you were in and how he always seemed to know exactly how to provoke you in the most infuriating way. It steeled you against the pull he had over you. “Well, now you’ve seen me," you replied, your voice firmer than before, though a blush still lingered on your cheeks. "So either move the car, or I’ll have it moved." You threatened, causing Cregan to sigh dramatically as he finally started up his old Jeep, his gaze softer than it had been before.

Without further excuses, Cregan tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, stubbing out his cigarette in the small car ashtray before shifting the Jeep into gear. The engine roared to life as he began to back out of the spot slowly, each movement deliberate, as if he were savoring the final moments of this intense interaction. He kept his eyes on you nearly the entire time, watching for your reaction.

As the Jeep was coming out of the spot, Cregan, with the window already down, leaned out a bit further. "You know," he said, his voice now softer but still playful. "I really appreciate how you keep me on my toes. It makes life a bit more interesting." He teased with his smooth but soft voice, which carried a hint of truth in its tone.

You crossed your arms, attempting to maintain a stern expression, though your irritation waned as you caught sight of his clear eyes. The flush on your cheeks reminded you of how easily he could affect you. "I’m glad I can provide you with some entertainment,” you said sarcastically, your tone less sharp despite the rapid beating of your heart and the previous irritation. "But I have a class to get to."

Cregan nodded, his less playful smile giving way to a more sincere expression. "Alright, alright," he said, his heart racing as he noticed how your t-shirt hugged your waist. "I’ll be on my way. Try not to think too much about me." He offered another small smile, the playful tone now replaced with a softer one.

Raising an eyebrow, you kept your gaze fixed on him, trying to suppress a blush as you noticed how his arm muscles had grown over the summer. "I’ll keep that in mind," you said, before turning back to your car, feeling a touch of satisfaction as you sensed his eyes lingering on you, almost burning a hole through your back.

Cregan cast one last glance at you as he pulled away in his Jeep, his heart still pounding. He bit his lip, recalling your expression and the way he caught you looking at his lips. For a moment, he had forgotten the heat of the day, perhaps because being near you made him feel at ease. But as he drove toward his campus away from you, a feeling of unease began to creep in.

When he arrived at campus, he found the main parking lot completely full. Frustrated, he turned to park the Jeep in a more distant spot near the campus convenience store, muttering small curses under his breath as he maneuvered.

As Cregan stepped out of the car, he noticed Jace emerging from the small store with a carton of chocolate milk in hand. Catching Cregan’s gaze, the shorter guy waved and walked over with a smile. "Hey, Cregan." Jace said as he joined him. "Why’d you park so far away?" he asked lazily, taking a long sip of his drink.

Cregan forced a smile, trying to appear carefree as he hid his sweaty hands behind his back. It was clear, though, that he was still preoccupied with the conversation he’d just had with you. "You know," he replied vaguely, shrugging as he walked alongside his friend, attempting to mask his thoughts.

Jacaerys eyed his friend closely. "You went to bother that poor girl again, didn’t you?" He asked, his knowing expression making it obvious he already knew the answer.

That question prompted a wry smile from Cregan. "You always know everything, don’t you?" he remarked, attempting to keep his tone relaxed. But he couldn’t stop thinking about you and the way your lips had twisted in annoyance as you grumbled at him.

Shaking his head, Jace chuckled softly, briefly coughing when he nearly choked on his chocolate milk. "Well, it’s my job," he said sarcastically. When Cregan didn’t respond, he cleared his throat and continued, "Baela told me your girl is going to the house party on Friday."

Hearing this, Cregan’s interest was immediately piqued, and he looked sharply at his friend. Yet he couldn’t ignore the confusion stirred by Jace’s tone. "And what’s your point?" he asked, his curiosity showing as he pulled another cigarette from his pocket.

"Well," Jace began thoughtfully, though Cregan suspected he already knew the advice he was about to give. "If you really want a chance with her, maybe it’s better to give her some space until the party. That way, you can approach her in a more relaxed way and, you know…" Jace trailed off, letting his words hang. Cregan raised an eyebrow. "Be less… you," Jace finally said. The taller man shrugged, mulling over the advice as it began to make sense.

Jacaerys was almost certain he could see the gears turning in his friend’s head.

He was almost certain that meeting in that environment could help forge a connection between the two of you, and he was willing to take the risk. "I’ll take your advice and see how things go at the party," Cregan said, taking a long drag from his cigarette as he followed his best friend into the campus building.

─────── ─────── ───────

Friday had arrived, and the party was in full swing. The old, two-story house near campus was packed with students eager to unwind after the first week of college. Music boomed, vibrating through the walls, and the scent of cheap beer mixed with sweat and perfume. Laughter and shouts echoed through the crowded hallways, where people were so tightly packed it was a wonder anyone could move.

Cregan stood at the edge of the living room, scanning the crowd. His usual confident demeanor was subdued by a palpable tension, the kind that comes with anticipation. He hadn't seen or spoken to you since his conversation with Jace, and he was starting to regret it.

His mood had worsened over the past few days since he stopped parking in your spot. Even though he was so close to you, well, at the same college, he couldn’t see you, and it was starting to weigh on him on an extreme level. During the summer break, he had a legitimate reason not to see you—after all, you seemed to be avoiding him, or maybe it was just in his head—but now, having made the decision to stay away from you on his own, he was growing frustrated with himself. He felt stupid, to say the least.

Sometimes, he wanted to kick himself for listening to Jace.

Suddenly, he was pulled from his thoughts—thoughts that kept drifting to you, despite his best efforts—by a girl who approached with a sly smile on her lips. She was attractive—the kind of girl who would normally catch Cregan's attention without even trying. But tonight, he was distracted, and her presence only heightened the desire he felt for you and the satisfaction he took in choosing celibacy because of you.

"You’re Cregan, aren’t you?" the girl asked as she got close enough, and he nodded with little interest, trying to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose at her approach as the strong scent of her perfume filled the space between them. It wasn’t unpleasant, but he found himself longing for something lighter, sweeter—like the refreshing aroma he associated with you. "What are you doing just standing here?" she continued, her smile never fading.

Cregan turned his gaze from the girl to the door, shrugging slightly as he tried to maintain a polite demeanor. "I’m just taking a break," he said, his voice flat and distant. He cleared his throat, realizing his tone was more curt than he intended. If he was honest with himself, he didn’t care much; his mind was focused on finding you, and the girl’s presence was a minor distraction he could barely tolerate.

From the corner of his eye, Cregan noticed the girl’s surprise at his lack of enthusiasm, but he couldn’t have cared less. His mind was entirely consumed by thoughts of you, and the growing urgency to find you made every other interaction feel like an unwelcome distraction. The intensity of his desire for you made the presence of any other girl and their attempts at conversation seem utterly insignificant.

"You’re not really in the mood for company, are you?" she asked, her voice wavering slightly. Cregan gave her a brief, indifferent glance before nodding. With a resigned sigh, she took a step back, clearly uncertain about what to do next.

"Okay, I understand," she said once more, but he remained focused on the floor, ignoring her. "Look for me if you need company," she added, her voice trailing off as she noticed his disinterest. With a final, frustrated sigh, she turned and walked away, leaving him to continue his search for you, oblivious to her departure.

After a few minutes of waiting, growing increasingly restless, Cregan sighed and decided to search for you himself, diving into the dense crowd of sweaty and inebriated students. The music blared around him, mingling with the chaotic hum of conversations, making it difficult to focus. Despite the overwhelming noise and heat, he moved with determination, pushing through the crowd in pursuit of finding you.

He scanned every face and every group, hoping to catch a glimpse of you amid the chaos. The heat and noise of the party only heightened his anxiety, but he pressed on, driven by the urgent need to find you. He needed to see you, even if it was just for another exchange of barbs or the flirtatious remarks you used to make. He just wanted to be near you, and all his rational thoughts seemed to disappear when it came to you.

Cregan’s search felt endless, each moment blending into the next as he navigated the throng of bodies. His gaze flitted from face to face, his mind consumed by the one person who dominated his thoughts: you.

Then, through a gap in the crowd, he caught sight of you in a small room downstairs. You were laughing with Baela and Rhaena, a cup of beer in hand. Cregan's heart raced at the sight of you, his gaze lingering on the way your clothes accentuated your curves. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, feeling a surge of nervous anticipation.

Without waiting too long, he took a deep breath and moved toward you, once again carefully navigating through the sea of people, his heart racing as he approached. As he got closer, he couldn't help but let out a quiet laugh at your soft yet somehow scandalous laughter, which made him quicken his pace.

Summoning his courage, he stepped closer, his eyes locked on your face as he fought to keep his gaze steady. He cleared his throat, hoping to get your attention without startling you. "Hi," he said, his voice betraying only a hint of the nerves he felt. You looked up at him, surprised. "How’s it going, dear?" he asked, trying to sound casual as he used the tone that was uniquely his with you.

You blinked slowly, not noticing how the twins giggled and moved away to another part of the room, giving you privacy with Cregan. The truth was, you were surprised. Cregan hadn’t been occupying your parking spot for the past three days, which was unsettling since, for the last seven months—on the days you had classes—he was always there with his Jeep, waiting to exchange sarcastic remarks or even flirt with you.

And although you didn’t want to admit it, his absence made you more uncomfortable than you had anticipated.

"Oh, hi, Cregan," you replied, immediately regretting the brevity and dryness of your response when you saw his expression falter slightly. "I haven’t seen you the last few days. Are you okay?" you asked, trying to steady your breath as he moved closer. Despite your efforts to stay composed, he seemed entirely focused on you, his eyes locked onto yours.

He could smell your refreshing scent, and it was already making him a bit dizzy and thirsting for more.

"I am." Cregan replied in a softer voice, stopping in front of you, and you had to lift your head to look into his eyes. "Why do you want to know? Did you miss me?" He hummed lightly, not taking his gaze off your lips, which made you blush visibly.

You blinked at his question, momentarily caught off guard by the intensity of his gaze. You tried to maintain your composure, but the way he looked at you made it difficult. "Maybe," you said, your voice softer than you intended. For a moment, you saw his eyes widen before he quickly regained his composure.

To say he was surprised was an understatement. He was astonished, to say the least. You had always seemed indifferent to his advances and flirtations, so the softness in your voice now was unexpected. Despite his enjoyment of your acidic responses, he couldn't help but feel pleased. For a moment, he was grateful he had followed Jacaerys's advice, realizing that this moment might never have happened otherwise.

Cregan stepped closer, his breath hitching as he watched your expression. The air between you buzzed with a tension that sent his heart racing, and he was almost sure you felt it too when he saw the rise and fall of your chest. Maybe it was how your breaths seemed to sync or how you were both so engrossed in each other that the surrounding noise faded into the background. Either way, he was content, sensing that you were as well.

"Good," he murmured, his voice low as his face hovered just inches from yours."Because I missed you too." He sighed, his voice devoid of its usual playful tone, filled instead with genuine and almost desperate sincerity.

Then, before he could say anything else, you rose onto your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his in a way so possessive and sudden that his eyes widened in surprise, momentarily stunned by what was happening. But it didn’t take long for him to close his eyes and wrap a strong arm around your waist, returning the kiss with a desperation that made you briefly question if this was the same Cregan who used to tease you every morning.

The kiss was intense, and he let you take the lead, too lost in your lips to even think about taking control of the kiss. He nearly groaned when your tongue met his, massaging it in a rough yet gentle way. He was almost drunk, so lost in the kiss that when your hips brushed lightly against him, he pulled back, his gaze roaming over your hody, filled with desire.

"Please, let’s get out of here," he murmured, his voice almost desperate, arms still wrapped firmly around your waist as he gazed at you with intense, pleading eyes. "Please," he repeated, the word laced with urgency. Though his sudden vulnerability caught you off guard, you gave a slight nod, and without wasting another moment, he gently took your arm, eager to continue what had just begun.

─────── ─────── ───────

You weren’t sure exactly what made you pull him close or kiss him with such intensity and need. Maybe it was the fear of him leaving you and the uncertainty of how you would cope without him after becoming so accustomed to his presence. Perhaps it was the way he embodied chaos, or maybe it was the fact that he looked so captivating under the soft party lights, just a short distance from his place. Whatever the reason, you found yourself lost in the moment, and you didn’t regret your decision.

You didn’t regret letting go of your pride, because if you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to kiss him with such intensity the moment you reached his room. Nor would you have been able to ride his cock with such slow, deliberate movements that it brought tears to his eyes as he begged and cried for more.

It was an exhilarating thrill to have a man of his size pleading for your body and pleasure, and you embraced every moment. Each desperate cry he made and every whispered plea and praise as he lavished kisses and worshipped you heightened your satisfaction and inflated your ego.

You couldn’t deny that you enjoyed his devoted attention, especially as he eagerly explored every inch of you between your legs with the same tongue he used to provoke you.

Cregan's tongue worked your pussy with expert skill; his desperation was so intense that it was as if he were drunk on your taste. Each frantic suck on your clit had you murmuring incoherent words as you pressed your hips closer to his face. And grinned, moaning with each movement, holding your legs open firmly to keep devouring you.

"Cregan!" you tried to say between breaths, but he seemed to be lost between your legs, too focused on pleasing you. He just continued his relentless movements, his moans muffled against you as he rubbed his hips against his sheets, desperately seeking his own release while he devoured you.

"You have to stay still," he said against your pussy, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "Please?" he begged, and you nodded, glancing down to see his desperate eyes, glistening with tears at the corners.

You couldn't resist saying yes to him when he looked at you with those expectant eyes and spoke to you in a voice so soft and different from what you were used to, and you almost broke when he returned to licking your clit in a desperate and subtle way, almost as if he were desperate for more.

What you didn't know was how truly desperate Cregan was. This was the most intense thing he'd done in months, and his long period of celibacy only made him savor every moment more. He was so immersed in the pleasure of the moment that he felt if he were to die right there between your legs, he'd die utterly satisfied. And damn, he was on the brink of bliss, completely overwhelmed by you. Just you.

Your moans grew louder as Cregan continued to savour every inch of your clit. His movements became increasingly frantic and so desperate, as your pleasure mounted, you felt your body on the brink of climax. The pressure built up, making you shiver.

The way he licked and sucked at you with such urgency was overwhelming. Each touch of his tongue provided an intense stimulus that made you writhe. Despite your escalating pleasure, Cregan seemed even more satisfied. Your moans grew louder as Cregan continued to explore every inch of your clit. His movements became increasingly frantic and desperate, and as your pleasure mounted, you felt your body on the brink of climax. The pressure built up, making you shiver.

The way he licked and sucked at you with such urgency was overwhelming. Each touch of his tongue provided an intense stimulus that made you writhe. Despite your escalating pleasure, he seemed even more satisfied. His hips ground against the sheets, his restless movements intensifying the pleasure and causing him to moan against your pussy.

As the tension reached its peak, waves of intense pleasure overwhelmed you, your body writhing and trembling as you tried to hold on just a little longer, savoring the almost pathetic pleas of Cregan. But it was impossible to delay your orgasm, which hit you with a force that made your legs wrap around his head.

And, realizing that you had climaxed, Cregan lost control, letting out a moan as he licked up your release. His hips ground even harder against the sheets, desperately seeking his own orgasm. His moans grew louder and more intense, making you smile through your heavy breaths. Soon, he too reached his peak, his body trembling as he clutched at your waist.

Still holding your waist, Cregan managed to rise with effort, kicking the sheet aside and grabbing another to cover both of you. He lay down beside you and couldn’t resist planting one last soft kiss on your lips when he saw how beautiful you looked. Pulling you closer to his chest, he gently stroked your hair and placed tender kisses on your forehead, making you smile with contentment at this new side of him you had discovered.

After a few minutes, as the mood softened, he turned to you with a satisfied, playful grin, the same grin you were familiar with. "It’s time for you to accept my friend request," he said with a hint of sarcasm, tucking a few stray strands of your hair behind your ear.

You looked at him with a tired, lazy smile, raising an eyebrow playfully. "Shut up," you replied cheekily. He laughed one last time, clearly pleased with your response.

You might not be the sweetest person he knew, but it’s you who he wants.

2024 © do not repost or translate my work anywhere else.

— likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!

i deleted a really big part of this smut because it was 4 a.m., and I was kind of ‘😵‍💫😵‍💫’. i really disliked this smut and tried to save as much as i could.

cregan tag list (open): @jacaerysgf @hobis-hope95 @velaryonbastard @throughgoeshamilton @housetargaryenloyalist

#— 💭 lua works #cregan stark #cregan stark x reader #hotd x reader #cregan x reader #hotd smut #hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #cregan stark x you #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fic #stfu lua

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honeyhae-svt · 1 month ago

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🎮04 | Your Lips, My Lips, Apocalypse 🎭

Part-Time Lover | JxW - masterlist

⚠️ WARNINGS ⚠️: smut, explicit language, petty arguments, depictions of stress/anxiety related to online and work life, light suggestive jokes/humor, enemies-to-lovers dynamic, mature themes, light suggestive content, jealousy/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, mild profanity, oblivious reader (she needs proof over everything and anything), competitive tension, angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. proceed with caution if any of these are sensitive topics for you! angst, emotional manipulation, romantic rivalry, descriptive intimacy. reader is getting bullied by her co-workers ! smut warnings: kissing, oral sex (f & m receiving), unprotected sex (fictional context, not ideal IRL), rough sex (jeonghan pounding into you real hard), lots of kissing, degradation (light. reader is a slut. period.), overstimulation, desperate kisses, tension-filled build-up, power dynamics (m dom), creampie (bashful of that word), oh and lots of kissing. (i honestly dk what to even add in here - lol i added somthing unrelated to smut SORRY its already edited tho) wc: 12,180 ♪ playlist ♪ : boyfriend (ariana grande with social house), never be the same (camilla cabello), teeth (5 seconds of summer), treat you better (shawn mendes). "you aint my boyfriend, and i aint your girlfriend, but you dont want me to see nobody else"-reader "i lose my mind when it comes to you"-wonwoo "i cant have what i want but neither can you"-jeonghan

You woke up on a bed, blinking against the soft morning light filtering through the thick curtains. The surroundings were unfamiliar yet strangely recognizable. The high-ceilinged room, the marble tiles glistening faintly in the sun, and the faint scent of expensive cologne—there was no doubt. You were in Jeonghan's penthouse.

A sharp pang of confusion hit you as you sat up, brushing the stray strands of hair from your face. How the hell did you end up here? Memories from the night before crept in slowly, like fragments of a dream you weren't sure you'd actually had.

You'd barely had a sip of alcohol. In fact, you weren't drunk at all—just exhausted. The events of the party played back in pieces: you slumped over the kitchen counter, the cool granite pressing against your cheek as the distant thrum of music vibrated through the room. You remembered Seungcheol coming over to check on you, his hand resting gently on your shoulder as he muttered something about letting you rest. The memory blurred after that.

What you did remember was Wonwoo—quiet but present, seated across the room with a Nintendo Switch in his hands. He wasn't saying much, but you could feel his gaze flicker over to you every now and then, as if silently questioning why you'd passed out in such an uncomfortable spot. A small part of you wished he'd just told you to go home, but Seungcheol had intervened before anyone could. And that was when Jeonghan stepped in.

You could imagine his smooth, persuasive voice now: "I'll take her home. She's my responsibility." It was the kind of thing he'd say to justify anything, but you doubted it was really about responsibility. He didn't even know where you lived, and yet here you were, in his space, feeling even more out of place than you had at the party.

You sighed, rubbing your temples before standing up. The soft fabric of the oversized shirt you wore—clearly not your own—brushed against your legs as you padded across the room. It was early, but you still had time to get home, clean up, and make it to work. The thought of slipping out quietly tempted you, but you hesitated. It would feel rude not to at least thank him.

Steeling yourself, you opened the door and stepped out into the expansive hallway. Every detail of the penthouse screamed Jeonghan—elegant yet understated, expensive yet effortlessly casual. You followed the faint sound of movement, eventually stopping outside a door. Knocking lightly, you heard his voice from within.

"Come in."

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside to find Jeonghan seated at his usual spot—where you often worked on his makeup during long workdays. He wasn't looking at you, his gaze fixed on his phone as he leaned back in the chair with an air of ease that irritated you more than it should have.

"Jeonghan... thanks for last night," you started, your tone stiff. "You didn't have to. You could've just taken me home."

He glanced up, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "I would have, but I don't know where you live."

Your brow furrowed at the simple reply. "You could've woken me up and asked."

"And disturb your beauty sleep? That's cruel, even for me," he replied smoothly, the teasing lilt in his voice grating on your nerves.

"Seriously," you pressed, crossing your arms over your chest, "I didn't ask for you to do any of that. But... thanks. I appreciate it."

For a moment, he didn't respond, his gaze flickering over you with an unreadable expression. Then, as if dismissing the sincerity of your words entirely, he spoke again. "What are you standing there for? Do my makeup."

Your jaw dropped slightly at the abrupt shift. "Excuse me?"

"You're here. Might as well make yourself useful." He gestured lazily toward the vanity table. "Or do you need me to remind you how to do your job?"

"I don't have my tools with me," you shot back, irritation bubbling to the surface.

Jeonghan's lips curved into a sly smile. "I have my own."

"You've been making me lug that heavy-ass kit around every day when you already had your own stuff?!" you exclaimed, throwing your hands up in frustration.

He chuckled softly, clearly amused by your reaction. "You never asked. It's not my fault you're utterly stupid."

You glared at him, muttering under your breath, "Asshole."

"Careful," he warned lightly, his eyes glinting with amusement as you approached him. "You're in my house."

Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the nearest foundation and set to work. He tilted his face up toward you, a smug expression lingering on his features as you patted the product onto his skin. You couldn't resist pressing a little harder than necessary, earning a quiet grunt of annoyance from him.

"Is this your way of taking revenge?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"You wish," you muttered, focusing on blending the foundation smoothly across his skin. Despite your irritation, your fingers moved with practiced ease, the routine familiar and oddly grounding.

But as you worked, you couldn't ignore the closeness—the faint scent of his cologne, the warmth radiating from his skin. It was distracting, and you hated that it affected you at all.

He noticed, of course. He always did. "You're quiet today," he remarked, his voice softer now, almost curious. "Something on your mind?"

"Nothing," you replied quickly, avoiding his gaze. "Just tired."

"Hmm," he murmured, but his tone suggested he didn't believe you. "You should take better care of yourself. Passing out at parties isn't a good look."

"And ending up at your boss's house is?" you shot back, finally meeting his eyes.

He smiled—a slow, infuriating smile that made your stomach twist in ways you didn't want to acknowledge. "Touché."

The whole day at work dragged on like a slow, suffocating punishment. You had done absolutely nothing but sit in the studio, pretending to relax while doing the exact opposite. Jeonghan, in his infinite wisdom, had told you to "take a break" for the day. The catch? He didn't let you rest at home, where you might've actually managed to unwind. Instead, he insisted you stay here at work, throwing out some half-assed excuse about needing you nearby in case something came up.

If he really cared about your well-being, you thought bitterly, why didn't he just let you leave? Not that you were complaining—well, not out loud. But sitting back and watching models pose endlessly under bright studio lights was far from relaxing. You were bored to death, practically counting down the minutes as you perched on a spare chair in the corner of the room. Jeonghan, true to form, was nowhere to be seen—off handling something important, apparently.

It was disorienting, not being at his beck and call for once. Usually, he had you running across the city, juggling tasks that no other assistant would tolerate without raising hell. This strange lull felt wrong, as though he were deliberately giving you time to stew in your thoughts. And if Jeonghan had one talent, it was knowing exactly how to push your buttons.

Your coworkers, of course, had their own interpretations of the situation. You could feel their glances from across the studio, hear the faint whispers that stopped the moment you walked by.

"She's getting special treatment from Jeonghan, huh?" one of them muttered, not bothering to keep her voice low enough.

"Must be nice to sleep your way into perks," someone else added, followed by a chuckle that made your stomach twist.

You clenched your fists, nails biting into your palms, but you didn't say a word. Let them talk. It wasn't worth your energy to correct them. They didn't know what they were saying—didn't know the difference between what they assumed and what had actually happened.

Yes, you'd slept at Jeonghan's house. But that didn't mean what they thought it did. It wasn't like anything had happened. And as for "extra treatment"? If they thought this endless game of mental gymnastics Jeonghan put you through was some kind of reward, you'd happily trade places with them. Let them walk a mile in your shoes. Let them see how long they lasted before they begged for mercy.

Still, their words lingered, gnawing at the edges of your mind. You hated how easily they got under your skin, how much you cared about what people thought—even when you knew better. But what frustrated you even more was the fact that Jeonghan knew this would happen. He had to. And yet, here you were, sitting through this ridiculous excuse for "rest," waiting for him to pull another trick out of his sleeve.

By the time the lunch break rolled around, you were practically seething in your chair. You didn't even realize Jeonghan had walked into the studio until he was standing right in front of you, arms crossed and a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Enjoying your break?" he asked, his tone dripping with mock concern.

You glared up at him, too tired and too annoyed to play along. "If this is your idea of rest, you seriously need to reevaluate your understanding of the word."

Jeonghan chuckled, unbothered as always. "You're sitting down, aren't you? Looks like rest to me."

"Yeah, sitting down and listening to people talk shit about me. Real relaxing," you shot back, crossing your arms.

His smirk faltered for just a second, replaced by something more thoughtful. "What are they saying?"

"Nothing I haven't heard before," you muttered, looking away. "Doesn't matter."

Jeonghan crouched slightly so he was at eye level with you, his sharp gaze boring into yours. "If it doesn't matter, why do you look like you're about to rip someone's head off?"

You opened your mouth to reply, then closed it again, unsure of what to say. He always did this—pulled the words out of you before you even realized they were there.

Finally, you sighed. "Why didn't you just let me go home? I could've actually rested instead of sitting here like some kind of zoo exhibit."

Jeonghan tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "Because if you went home, you'd overthink everything until you gave yourself a headache."

You blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of his answer. "What?"

He straightened up, his usual smirk returning as if he hadn't just said something that completely threw you off balance. "You heard me. Now, come on. We're grabbing lunch."

"What?" you repeated, more sharply this time. "You're joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?" He turned on his heel, already heading toward the door. "Hurry up. I don't have all day."

You stared after him, half tempted to stay put out of sheer spite. But then, against your better judgment, you got up and followed.

Because as much as you hated to admit it, he was right.

As you trailed behind Jeonghan, the murmurs from your co-workers grew louder, their snide remarks almost taunting.

"See? Told you she has a special something." "She's shameless. I bet she got the job because she slept her way through connections."

The venom in their voices stung, but you swallowed your anger. It wasn't worth it—not now. Jeonghan was already a few paces ahead, his long strides creating an effortless distance, his posture calm as ever. You envied how he seemed untouched by the chaos he often left in his wake.

For a moment, you hesitated. Turning around to confront them burned like an itch you couldn't quite scratch. But as your fists clenched at your sides, someone else beat you to it.

"Back to work." The sharp voice of the head photographer cut through the chatter like a whip. All eyes snapped to her. "You guys are so shameless. I bet you two have never even slept with anyone, let alone earned your positions fairly."

The room went silent, save for the muffled clicks of a nearby camera shutter. You turned your head slightly, catching the woman's commanding glare as she stood tall, exuding the kind of confidence you wished you could summon in moments like these.

You'd always known her as strict and sharp, but fair—qualities that had earned her respect among the staff. She didn't spare the offenders another glance, her focus already back on the set. Her words, though brief, felt like a lifeline, pulling you from drowning in humiliation.

Relief spread through your chest, and before you turned to follow Jeonghan, you gave her a small, grateful smile. She didn't acknowledge it, but something about the tension in her shoulders seemed to relax.

Jeonghan was already a good distance ahead, his pace unrelenting. You had to half-jog to catch up. When you finally reached him, he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, his expression unreadable.

"You look like you ran a marathon," he remarked, his tone as light as always. "Are you that desperate to keep up with me?"

You huffed, falling into step beside him. "Maybe if you walked like a normal human being, I wouldn't have to."

He smirked, a faint glimmer of amusement flickering across his face. "Or maybe I just enjoy watching you struggle."

You rolled your eyes but didn't bother replying. Somehow, bantering with him felt like the only way to ground yourself after what just happened. As you exited the studio, the cool air hit your face, and for the first time that day, you felt like you could breathe again.

"Where are we even going?" you asked, breaking the silence as Jeonghan led you toward the building's private parking area.

"You'll see," he said cryptically, his smirk widening.

As you followed Jeonghan to the parking lot, your curiosity piqued. His cryptic response only made you more suspicious. You weren't exactly in the mood for more mystery, but you couldn't deny that something about his confident demeanor made you feel oddly intrigued.

He stopped at his sleek black car, unlocking it with a quick press of a button. The engine purred to life as he slid into the driver's seat. You hesitated for a moment, but then slid into the passenger side, watching him in silence as he adjusted the mirrors and started driving.

"So," you began, breaking the quiet tension. "Where exactly are we going?"

Jeonghan shot you a quick glance, that same smug look on his face. "It's a surprise."

You sighed, sinking back into the plush seat. "You're impossible, you know that?"

"Maybe," he said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. "But you'll find out soon enough."

The drive was smooth and relatively short, but you couldn't shake the feeling that you were heading somewhere neither of you had been before. The city slowly gave way to more secluded, quieter streets—definitely not a part of town you usually visited.

The car finally came to a stop in front of an upscale, modern building with glass windows reflecting the dimming sky. It had an air of exclusivity about it, something that felt... out of place.

You glanced at Jeonghan, your brow furrowing. "What is this place?"

"Trust me," he said as he turned off the engine and unbuckled his seatbelt. "You'll want to come inside."

The door clicked open, and Jeonghan got out without waiting for your response. You followed reluctantly, your footsteps echoing as you walked toward the entrance.

As you stepped inside, you were greeted by a warm, welcoming ambiance. It looked like a boutique hotel mixed with an art gallery—sleek furniture, artwork on the walls, and dim lights that set a mysterious yet cozy mood.

Jeonghan led you through the lobby and past a few velvet-curtained rooms. He didn't look back at you, and you followed in silence, your curiosity growing with each step.

Finally, he stopped in front of one of the rooms. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a luxurious suite, complete with a king-sized bed, a large soaking tub, and panoramic windows overlooking the city skyline.

"What is this?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Your head was spinning with questions, but something told you Jeonghan wasn't here to answer them just yet.

"Like I said," he started, turning to face you with that same enigmatic smirk, "a surprise."

Your heart rate picked up as you looked around the room. The last thing you wanted was more uncertainty, more drama, but you couldn't deny the pull. Jeonghan, for all his teasing and annoying habits, had a way of making everything feel... intense. You had no idea what was coming, but that only seemed to heighten the tension.

He stepped closer to you, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. "Are you going to ask more questions?" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

You hesitated, your mind racing. But with no clear way out and Jeonghan standing so close, his presence overwhelming, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

You hesitated, your mind racing. The atmosphere between the two of you had shifted, and there was no clear way out. Jeonghan stood close, his presence looming, his eyes unwavering as they searched yours for an answer. You could feel the heat radiating between you, almost like an unspoken tension that had been building up since last night.

With no way to turn back now, you took a deep breath and made your decision.

"I'll take my chances," you said, your voice soft but steady, betraying none of the nerves twisting inside you.

A slow, knowing smile spread across Jeonghan's face as he reached for your hand, fingers warm and confident against yours. Without a word, he led you further into the room, the door clicking shut behind you with a quiet finality.

The space seemed suddenly smaller, more intimate, as you felt his hand guide you toward the bed. Your heartbeat quickened, a mix of excitement and hesitation swirling in your chest. Jeonghan's eyes were fixed on you, his gaze heavy with unspoken promises.

Before you could think twice, you found yourself sitting on the bed, your hands resting on your lap. But Jeonghan didn't give you much time to process. He was already standing in front of you, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body, his presence intoxicating.

Without a word, you slid your hands to his chest, pulling him toward you. His lips met yours in an instant—urgent, hungry, like something had finally snapped between the two of you. Your breath caught as you melted into the kiss, the world outside fading away until it was just the two of you.

In a blur of movement, Jeonghan's hands were on your hips, pulling you onto his lap with a smooth, practiced motion. You straddled him, the heat between you both intensifying as your bodies aligned in a way that felt both familiar and completely new.

His hands roamed over your waist, fingertips grazing the skin beneath your shirt as his lips trailed down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. You gasped softly, unable to suppress the wave of desire that rushed through you.

The kiss deepened as you instinctively ground your hips against him, the friction between you both making your pulse race even faster. Jeonghan's grip tightened on your hips, pulling you closer, his body language giving away everything he'd been holding back.

It was getting hot, the more you pulled yourself closer to him, the more it felt like he was trying to lean away like he's teasing you for some reason. Until his head hit the soft mattress under him, you were on top of him and he found it so hot.

That was the plan after all. He was making you lean closer until he lays down completely on the bed.

Your cheeks was so red as you tongue-kissed him, eyes fluttered shut with your pretty lips soft all over his. Jeonghan's hand went to the back of your head, forcing the kiss to go deeper.

You were wearing tight jeans at the moment that you can practically feel his cock gracing your clothed cunt. Meanwhile, Jeonghan's hands wandered under your cute blue puffed sleaves flutter top, his hands moved with precision as if he's trying to memorize your curves.

And that's when his hands found your hips, pulling you flush against his hard clothed cock. You whimpered when you felt his cock rubbing against your clit. Pulling away, you took a breath, but it wasn't long until Jeonghan's hand grabbed your chin as he sat up again, kissing you deep in the same hungry way again.

For a moment, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes locked with yours. Your lips were swollen and he's proud to think how messed up you look right now with your cheeks red and body hot as if you have a fever or something.

You feel so embarrassed when you find yourself soaking wet.

"Undress for me," he broke the silence, and you stared at him, cheeks heating up more if that was possible.

You were stuttering, not what knowing what to do or say—not when he's looking at you with a grin that makes him look oh-so-handsome.

Jeonghan leaned back, hands resting on the bed watching what you would do. He wasn't doing anything at all, but why does it feel like the more he pulls away, the more you wanted to act all stupid and do as he says.

And just like that, you found yourself talking your clothes off, skin exposed right in front of him. His eyes roamed over your bare body, as if he's working on all his self control to not touch you just yet. To see how far you can get being bossed around by him.

You unclipped your bra, unbuttoned your pants and removed them all the way down. Jeonghan bit his lips, but he didn't do anything just yet. He was enjoying having you follow his order.

He leaned in close, his lips finding your jawline down to your neck, now nipping at the sensitive flesh there, making you flinch a little.

"A- are you giving me hickeys..?" You asked, but he didn't answer just yet. He guided your hands to the waistband of his pants, and you pulled it down, revealing Jeonghan's hard length. The bulge itself was enough to make you speechless. Doesn't matter, you were already speechless as it is.

Jeonghan unbuttoned his long-sleeved polo off, with him pulling you by the chin to look at him as he devours your lips yet again. His hands travelled back to your hips, pulling you to grind your soaked cunt to his hard cock. All you can do was moan in between kisses with him swallowing every sound coming from those pretty mouth of yours.

He tightened the grip on your hips before he pulled away for you to catch your breath.

You were panting, your pussy burning with the aching feeling of wanting his cock deep inside you. You feel so slutty that you didn't even notice Jeonghan's hand make it's way to your inner thighs.

"You're so fucking wet. You're incredibly turned on just with a few kisses?" Jeonghan mused, looking at your glistening cunt. "I'm putting a finger in."

Jeonghan rubbed your clit, making you whimper under his touch, skin shivering as you pulled your hips against his hand. He couldn't help but smirk how worked up you were right now. He's got a lot to say, but no words came out of his mouth. He was too focused at the sight before him.

When he inserted two fingers in, it slipped inside you so easily. "What the fuck? It's like I don't need to prep you."

He continued pulling his fingers in and out of you, earning a chorus of loud moans, your head falling on his shoulders when he reached that one good spot that almost made you pass out. His thumb was running circles on your clit while his fingers worked in you like he's done it a hundred of times before.

You were breathless, biting your lips to stop yourself from moaning his name. "J- Jeonghan...!! Fuck... S- so good." You said as you cum all over his hand, followed by a sweet squirt.

But that didn't stop Jeonghan, his fingers continued to work on you, trying to overstimulate you. And just like that, you cum again. He pulled his fingers out licking his fingers as his eyes met yours in a darkened gaze.

Panting, your cheeks flushed, Jeonghan gripped your hips, pulling you to his cock.

He was hard you can feel his precum on the tip of his cock. You grabbed it, stroking your hand over his cock, and Jeonghan grunted, head falling back.

"You're going to be the death of me," he managed to say.

You got on the floor, kneeling in between his thighs as you opened your mouth for his cock, licking the tip with your hand stroking the rest before bobbing your head all over him.

Jeonghan groaned, his hand grabbing your hair making you blow him deeper. "f- fuck, you're such a good fucking slut."

You whimpered, having his cock reaching your throat. He was too fucking long for your pretty mouth, you were gagging. He didn't let go until he reached his highs, cumming all over your mouth. he pulled your face away to see if you were fine, but the sight caught him off-guard.

You were panting prettily, mouth opened with his cum evident in between your lips, dripping like honey. But you didn't let it drip anywhere, you swallowed his hot load, wiping your lips.

Fuck. And he's fucking hard again.

Jeonghan doesn't usually have a high sex drive, but now that told a whole different story. He pulled you off the floor, his fingers brushing your cheeks.

You straddled on him. He kissed your cheeks before whispering, "Safe word?"

"Fox." You replied. But before he can shift you under him, you continued—"I want to ride your cock."

Jeonghan smirked, his thumb caressing your lips. "You're full of surprises, sly fox." You were too horny to reply. Screw it, he was gorgeous, and that made you want to dominate him. "Be my guest, sweetheart."

You guided your pussy to the tip of his already pre-cum cock. But just before you prepared yourself to make him fit—thinking of how it would probably hurt a little because of how big he was, Jeonghan held your hips before slamming it down his cock, your cunt swallowing him. The stretch was real and good you almost passed out, but you gathered yourself—you can't possibly back out now that you volunteered to do all the work. You knew Jeonghan would just tease you after this.

"Shit. Pussy's fuckin' made for me," he grunted, his chest falling in and out. You grinded yourself, his hot balls making you bounce on him.

"Such a pretty slut." He watched your body bounce, tits bouncing so prettily as your moans matched the squelch of your pussy was making.

You were bouncing on his cock fast, his cock buried deep in your pussy. It reached your g-spot and it made you stop there, pulling yourself deeper, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Jeonghan grunted, whimpering as he held your hips in place, lifting you up before slamming your cunt hard in him again, it made you moan loudly.

"I- I'm cumming, hannie!" You panted. Jeonghan felt your walls gripping his cock, he furrowed his brows before moving your hips up and down to reach his highs. And just like that, you cummed all over his cock, it didn't take him long before his hot load came. He took his cock out of you, cumming all over your stomach.

"Fuck, you feel so good," He says, carrying you under him, locking you in between his arms. "You're so fucking pretty I want my cock inside you forever."

You were processing things blinking a few times to him before his hardened cock—was inside you again, making you breath out a moan.

"You rode me so well." He panted out, fucking your pretty little pussy recklessly but deliberately. "But I want to fuck you mercilessly."

He slammed his cock in and out of you so hard you squirted for the second time. "A- anghh !!" You moaned, your eyes rolling. "F- fuck me hard, sir!" You moaned out.

Jeonghan was panting heavily, the sudden nickname caught him off guard. "Insatiable slut." He slammed his cock so hard you were on the verge of cumming. He continued rutting inside you, with a one hard thrust, he cummed. His hot semen coating your pretty hot walls. You cummed after.

But the man didn't stop there. He was down bad for you he didn't hold himself back. He rose your legs up, making it rest on his shoulders before entering your cunt again, balls slamming your fucked up pussy as you swallowed him well.

"Fuck.... So fucking good." He muttered, pounding on your cunt like there was no tomorrow. "S- Sir! I'm cumming!" You moaned, his hands holding your thighs down so you won't have to move much. "Cum all over my cock, sweetheart." He replied, raising one of your legs so he can get a better angle of fucking in you.

He slammed his cock hard in you, his hips pounding in and out of you, your pussy squelches over his cock.

Jeonghan made one last thrust, putting pressure between your hips until your walls tightened. He took his cock out cumming all over your stomach as you finally cummed.

You were breathing heavily, body trembling as Jeonghan's body fall beside you.

Weren't the two of you supposed to have lunch? Then why had you ended up on a bed, bare skin against sheets, your body aching after Jeonghan had worked you to exhaustion. It wasn't just the number of rounds—although those alone had left you trembling—it was the fact that you hadn't stopped him. No, you hadn't even wanted to. But why?

Why had things spiraled this way when just yesterday, it had been Wonwoo who'd left his marks on you? And now here you were, letting Jeonghan—your boss, of all people—drag you into a mess you weren't sure you could untangle.

You sat up gingerly, the soreness of your cunt pulling at your every movement, watching as Jeonghan knelt beside the bed. He was quiet as he ran a freshly dampened towel over your thighs, his touch softer than you expected.

"You don't have to clean me up. I can do it myself," you muttered, your cheeks burning.

Jeonghan smirked, though he didn't stop wiping at your skin. "Sure you can. But I'm the one who fucked you earlier, and I'm not about to leave you like this. Especially since you'll just go back smelling like me and let those vultures at work run wild with it."

You opened your mouth to argue but paused. He was right—he was infuriatingly always right—and lately, he'd been treading carefully as though protecting you from something. But why? What was he playing at?

Chuckling lightly, you ran your fingers through his soft, slightly tousled hair. "I don't get it. In the middle of the day, you pull me into some random, bougie place I've never even heard of, and then—this? What's up, Jeonghan?"

He tilted his head thoughtfully before replying, his gaze softening for a fraction of a second. "Honestly... I don't know either."

The words hung between you as he trailed the towel along your collarbone, his movements slow and deliberate. He finally met your eyes, his breath hot against your face, and you hated how effortlessly captivating he was.

Unable to resist, you leaned forward, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, testing, but when Jeonghan didn't pull back, it deepened into something that stole your breath and left your lips swollen all over again.

When he pulled away, his voice was low, teasing. "Let's prove your co-workers just how wrong they are." He put your clothes over your body again, handing the rest of your clothes.

You blinked, his words snapping you out of the daze as you covered yourself up. "Prove them wrong? How?"

Jeonghan smirked as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "They said you slept with me to get this job. Let's show them that if we did sleep together, it's only now—and it's because I wanted to ruin you in a completely different way."

By the time you arrived back at work, two hours had passed, and every pair of eyes in the office practically burned into you. You could hear the whispers again, loud enough that they were obviously meant for you.

"See? I told you." "She's shameless. Bet she skipped the interview process entirely and went straight to Jeonghan's bed." "I'd kill to know what tricks she used to get where she is."

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself as you followed Jeonghan into the building. He walked ahead of you like he always did, tall and unbothered, but you didn't miss the way his sharp gaze flicked briefly toward the gossipers. He could stop this. He probably wanted to. But you weren't going to let him. This was yours to handle.

You stopped in your tracks, giving Jeonghan's sleeve a subtle tug. He paused, glancing back at you. "I've got this," you murmured, a sly smile tugging at your lips.

Turning toward the group, you walked over with a calm, measured confidence that instantly silenced them. You raised an eyebrow, your tone dripping with mock curiosity. "Oh, please. Don't stop on my account. You were saying?"

One of the women—bold enough to meet your eyes—crossed her arms. "We were just... wondering how someone like you manages to stick around here. Must be nice to have such... connections."

You smiled sweetly, though your eyes glinted dangerously. "Connections, huh? Interesting take. But you're right—it's been an uphill battle. Not everyone can stay in the same position for years while letting the same tired poses get approved in photoshoots. What's that phrase? Oh, right—bare minimum energy."

The color drained from her face, but you didn't stop there.

"By the way," you added, your tone light but cutting, "if you have so much free time to monitor my life, maybe I should suggest Jeonghan cut your workload. He loves people who are efficient, after all."

The woman opened her mouth to retort, but you waved her off with a laugh. "Relax. I'm joking. Maybe."

Jeonghan reappeared behind you then, his voice smooth but carrying an edge. "Is there a problem here?"

You glanced over your shoulder, flashing him a knowing smile. "Not at all. Just clearing up some... misunderstandings. Right, ladies?"

The group muttered something incoherent before scrambling back to their desks.

As you turned to walk away, Jeonghan leaned close, his breath warm against your ear. "Remind me to let you handle all my PR scandals. You're ruthless."

You smirked, shooting him a playful glare. "I told you I've got this."

And just like that, you walked back to your desk, head high, leaving the entire office wondering just how they'd underestimated you for so long.

The rest of the day passed in a strange haze of triumph and simmering tension. The office was quieter now, the usual hum of whispers replaced by nervous glances and hurried footsteps whenever you walked by. You didn't need their approval—hell, you didn't even want it—but silencing the chatter, even momentarily, gave you a sense of satisfaction.

Jeonghan, of course, was Jeonghan. He had spent the remainder of the afternoon flitting between meetings and casually dropping by your workspace, leaning against your desk like he owned the entire building (which, to be fair, wasn't entirely wrong). Each time, his eyes lingered a little too long, his smirk a little too knowing.

By the time the clock struck six, you were more than ready to head home. But as you gathered your things, Jeonghan's voice cut through the silence of the nearly empty office.

"Leaving already?"

You glanced up, finding him standing in the doorway of his office, his jacket slung casually over one shoulder. He looked as put-together as ever, but there was something in his expression that gave you pause—something unreadable.

"It's late," you replied, forcing your voice to remain steady. "I figured you'd be the first to kick me out."

Jeonghan chuckled, stepping closer until he was standing just in front of your desk. He placed a hand on the surface, leaning in slightly. "And miss the chance to give you a ride home? That doesn't sound like me."

You narrowed your eyes, already sensing the trap. "I can manage, thanks."

"Don't be stubborn," he said smoothly. "You've had a long day. Consider it a peace offering for earlier."

Earlier. As if that entire thing hadn't left you questioning every decision you'd made in the past 48 hours.

Still, there was no winning against Jeonghan when he got like this, and you were too tired to argue. With a resigned sigh, you grabbed your bag and followed him to the elevator.

The ride down was silent, save for the soft hum of the elevator music. You kept your gaze fixed on the floor numbers as they ticked by, trying to ignore the way Jeonghan's presence filled the small space.

It wasn't until you were in his car, the city lights blurring past the windows, that he finally broke the silence.

"You know," he began, his tone almost conversational, "you handled those gossiping idiots pretty well today."

You glanced at him, arching an eyebrow. "Were you expecting me to cry in the bathroom instead?"

He smirked. "Not exactly. But I have to admit, watching you put them in their place was... entertaining."

"I'm glad my misery is amusing to you."

"Don't twist my words." He turned to you briefly, his expression softening. "I meant it. You were impressive. People like that—they don't deserve your energy."

For a moment, you didn't know what to say. Compliments from Jeonghan were rare, and hearing him say something so genuine left you oddly unsettled.

"Thanks," you muttered, turning to look out the window.

The car fell silent again, but this time, it wasn't uncomfortable. When he finally pulled up in front of your building, you hesitated before reaching for the door handle.

"Jeonghan," you began, glancing at him, "why... why are you doing all this?"

He tilted his head, his eyes locking with yours. "Doing what?"

"This." You gestured vaguely between the two of you. "Acting like you care. Protecting me. Dragging me into... whatever the hell this is."

For a long moment, he didn't answer. Then, with a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, running a hand through his hair.

"Honestly?" he said, his voice quieter now. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't. But here we are."

You stared at him, searching his expression for any hint of insincerity. But all you saw was exhaustion, vulnerability, and something else you couldn't quite name.

"Goodnight, Jeonghan," you said softly, opening the door.

"Night," he replied, watching as you stepped out of the car and disappeared into the building.

Entering your apartment, you lazily set your bag down the table before falling onto your bed. Your body was aching from earlier—no, probably not just from how Jeonghan fucked you bad, but Wonwoo too, last night. You had sex in two nights streak, of course your body would ache.

You opened your phone—though you wanted to sleep already, you still had to check on your schedule for streams tomorrow since it was sunday, you had really nothing much to do. Then you received a discord notification popped up. It was Hoshi spamming your username on one of the servers. You didn't want to open the app, you were too exhausted to even deal with Hoshi's godforsaken childishness, but you opened it anyways.

#general ho5hi_kwon: @/kitsunya ho5hi_kwon: Are you free tomorrow? We're gonna watch a LOL competition, Wonwoo, Jun, Minghao, and Vernon's playing. dk_is_dokyeom: Dude stop forcing her to come all the time dk_is_dokyeom: Do you like her or something 😏 ho5hi_kwon: NAH. YOU LIKED HER. pledis_boos: We all know, Seokmin. We all know

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. These idiots. Whenever the three were in the same room, it'd always end up being chaotic.

Then there was that. Your thoughts wandered back to those days—Seokmin's shy smile when he confessed under the cherry blossom trees, his constant efforts to make you laugh, his warm hugs when you were at your lowest. You'd loved him, in your own way, but breaking up had been your only option. Your life had been a mess back then, and dragging him down with you was something you refused to do.

You shook the memories away and glanced back at the chat. Seokmin was probably sulking already. He always did when the teasing went too far, you couldn't bear to see your high school sweetheart get involved in your mess.

But now, he isn't the type to be teased like this. You knew he'd sulk real hard and maybe not even talk to Hoshi or Seungkwan for a couple of days.

You chatted on the server once their fighting has cooled down.

#general kitsunya: yea, sure, ill go kitsunya: send me the details ho5hi_kwon: I already sent the link. Don't dare be late.

You locked your phone and let it drop onto your bed. Why had you agreed to go? You didn't even know. Maybe it was exhaustion clouding your judgment. Maybe you just didn't want to be alone with your thoughts of Jeonghan or Wonwoo.

The next morning, your alarm kept ringing. God knows how many times you already pressed the infamous snooze button. But then you remembered, The LoL competition was starting 12 pm. You checked the time on your phone—10:57 am. You groaned before dragging yourself from the comfort of your bed.

You took your sweet time in the shower, glancing at the clock it was 11:32 already. Who cares if you were late. It's not like anyone would care.

You took your time drying your hair and picking out your outfit—a simple gray cardigan layered over a black tank top, paired with baggy black cargo pants and sleek white Converse. To top it off, you slung pastel red headphones around your neck, adding a subtle pop of color. Afterward, you finished with your usual makeup routine, keeping it effortless yet polished.

One last check in front of the mirror, you grabbed your shoulder bag and your phone before Dm-ing Hoshi.

[DM] - hamster freak You: im going to be a little late Hoshi: Thanks for the information. You're already 37 minutes late by the way, did you forget to set an alarm or something? Hoshi: Youre mean. You: dw baby, miss me already? Hoshi: ... You know what, you don't need to come after all. Hoshi: I don't want to see you You: aw stop ure making me want to go You: ill be there to haunt you <3

You took out a small chuckle before you walked your way to the parking lot to enter your car.

You arrived at the venue. And guess who's waiting for you outside the place? Hoshi.

"The hell? How long have you been waiting here?" You asked as you approached him.

He shrugged. "I thought you'd arrive 5 minutes ago, and I was with Jihoon, he went to grab us a few snacks."

"Wow, Woozi would really do something for you?"

"No, he lost a game." He grinned. And you chuckled lightly.

As Woozi gets back, holding a bag of snacks with him, a frown on his face, Hoshi grabbed lollipops, handing one over to you.

You grabbed the lollipop, popping it into your mouth. "Hey Mr. tofu," you greeted with a smile.

"Please don't call me that ever again," Woozi replied with a sigh. Your grin widened. Teasing him always seemed to be your favorite thing to do. You remember teasing him so hard on a stream once that he left the voice chat.

"It suits you," Hoshi chimed in biting on the candies.

You offered to carry some of the bag, but Woozi didn't let you. He can't have a girl help him.

The three of you entered the venue and it didn't take long when you finally met up with the rest of the group. Jun and Minghao were so focused on their computers, playing an LoL 1v1 before the competition started. Vernon was sitting on one of the couches, talking to his girlfriend. And Wonwoo? He was nowhere to be found. Why were you even looking for him in the first place?

"If it isn't for Ms. Fox." You turned to see Seungkwan. A unamused smile crept through your lips. "Oh, it's just you." You replied, earning a chuckle from Hoshi.

"At least I'm not out looking for Wonwoo," Seungkwan replied. You scoffed—hell if that's even true (it is).

You rolled your eyes at Seungkwan's comment but didn't dignify it with a response. Instead, you plopped onto the nearest chair, leaning back as you popped the lollipop back into your mouth.

"You know," Seungkwan continued, sitting on the armrest beside you, "for someone who's 'not looking for Wonwoo,' you sure keep glancing around a lot."

"Get a hobby, Boo," you shot back, smirking at the way his face fell into mock offense.

Jun and Minghao, oblivious to the banter, were still locked in their intense 1v1, their focus unwavering. Hoshi, now sitting cross-legged on the floor, had already started opening a second lollipop, while Woozi muttered something under his breath about "children" as he sat beside him. Vernon, still on the couch, gave you a small wave before turning back to talk to his girlfriend.

You stayed there for a while, trying to relax, but the energy in the room was buzzing—both from the impending competition and your own thoughts. Wonwoo was still nowhere to be seen, and despite your best efforts to ignore it, you couldn't shake the feeling of wanting to find him.

"Be right back," you said, standing up and stretching.

"Where are you going?" Seungkwan called after you.

"To mind my business. You should try it," you quipped, earning a chorus of laughter from the others.

You wandered out of the room, letting the chatter and laughter fade behind you as you strolled through the venue. The place was massive—crowds of gamers and fans gathered around booths and screens, the excitement almost infectious. But you weren't here to browse or soak in the energy. Your feet seemed to move on their own, taking you toward a quieter hallway at the back of the venue.

That's when you saw him.

Wonwoo was leaning against a wall near an emergency exit, his face illuminated by the faint glow of his phone. He looked relaxed, but there was a tension in his posture that only you, someone who knew him well enough, could notice.

You hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. He didn't look up, but his voice reached you before you could say anything.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his tone calm but carrying that hint of amusement that always managed to throw you off.

You stopped in your tracks, crossing your arms as you leaned casually against the opposite wall. "And what if I was?" you replied, your voice dripping with nonchalance.

Wonwoo finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. There was something unreadable in his eyes, a mix of curiosity and something deeper you couldn't quite place. "Then I'd say you've found me," he said, slipping his phone into his pocket.

Silence stretched between you, not awkward but heavy enough to make your chest feel tight. You couldn't help but let your eyes roam over him—the way his black hoodie hung loosely on his frame, the faint scruff on his jaw that somehow made him look even more attractive. Damn him.

"You disappeared," you said finally, breaking the silence.

"Needed some air," he replied, his voice low. "Didn't think anyone would come looking."

"Well," you started, pushing off the wall and stepping closer, "I wasn't exactly looking for you. Just needed a break from Seungkwan's mouth."

Wonwoo smirked, the corner of his lips curling in that infuriatingly subtle way of his. "Sure," he said, his tone laced with doubt.

You rolled your eyes, stepping past him toward the door. "Don't flatter yourself, Jeon," you tossed over your shoulder, reaching for the door handle.

But before you could pull it open, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist gently but firmly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and you froze, turning to look at him.

"Stay," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze pinning you in place. His hand was warm against your wrist, and for a moment, the world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you and him, caught in a moment that felt far too intimate for two people who supposedly had nothing unresolved between them. Supposedly.

"Why?" you asked, your voice softer than you intended, almost a whisper.

Wonwoo's thumb brushed against your skin absentmindedly, and he looked away for a second, as if gathering his thoughts. "Because I don't want to be alone right now," he admitted, the honesty in his tone catching you off guard.

Your heart clenched, and for reasons you couldn't explain, you stayed. You let the door close and leaned back against it, crossing your arms as you tried to regain some semblance of control over the situation. "Fine," you said casually, though your pulse betrayed you by racing like you'd just run a marathon. "But you're buying me dinner after this."

He huffed out a quiet laugh, his usual stoicism cracking just a little. "Deal."

The two of you stood there for a while, the silence settling again but this time less suffocating, more like a fragile truce. Wonwoo leaned back against the wall, his hands shoved into the pockets of his hoodie, and you couldn't help but notice how the dim light softened his features, making him look almost vulnerable.

"You know," you said finally, breaking the quiet, "you're not exactly the easiest person to read."

"Good," he replied without missing a beat. "Keeps things interesting."

You let out a dry laugh. "For who? You? Because everyone else just ends up confused."

Wonwoo's lips twitched into another smirk, but his eyes stayed serious as they locked onto yours. "Not everyone. You're not as confused as you think."

Your breath hitched, and you hated how easily he got under your skin, how he always seemed to know just the right thing to say to leave you teetering on the edge of something you weren't ready to name.

"Maybe I'm just good at pretending," you shot back, narrowing your eyes slightly.

He pushed off the wall and took a step closer, closing the already small space between you. You had nowhere to go, your back pressed against the door, and the air felt heavier with each passing second. His presence was overwhelming, but you refused to back down.

"Maybe," he said quietly, his face just inches from yours now. "But I don't think you're pretending right now."

Before you could respond, his hand came up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture so unexpected and gentle it made your chest tighten all over again. His fingers lingered for a moment, grazing your cheek, and you hated the way your body reacted to his touch, how your resolve seemed to melt under his intense gaze.

"Wonwoo," you began, your voice wavering.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but no words came. Instead, you found yourself leaning into him, the tension snapping as his lips captured yours in a kiss that was equal parts soft and demanding.

It was nothing like the heated night you two shared before. There was no hurried desperation, no reckless abandon. This was slower, deeper, as if he was trying to say all the things he couldn't put into words. His hands found your waist, pulling you closer, and you didn't resist. Couldn't resist.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and slightly dazed, he rested his forehead against yours, his hands still holding you in place.

"Still pretending?" he asked, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability.

You didn't answer. Instead, you closed the gap between you again, kissing him like you were trying to drown out all the questions swirling in your mind. For now, answers could wait.

The kiss deepened, your arms wrapped around his neck, his hand gripping your waist while the other cradled the back of your head, pulling you closer as his tongue teased yours.

It was just yesterday when Jeonghan had you shivering under him. And now here you were, entangled with Wonwoo, kissing him like nothing had happened with Jeonghan. It felt wrong. But then again... was there anything to feel wrong about? Did you and Jeonghan even have a thing? Did this—whatever this was—mean anything?

Two men? Really? Neither of them knows you've been fucking with them alternatively like they're just some kind of toy for you. You didn't want that at all.

YYou pulled away, your breath hitching as your cheeks flushed hot. Wonwoo's dark gaze lingered on you, searching your face as though he could see the questions swirling in your mind.

"What exactly is this..?" you asked, your voice a little more unsteady than you'd hoped.

Wonwoo hesitated, leaning back slightly. His arms caged you against the door, the space between you just wide enough for the tension to thrum. "What do you want it to be?"

He didn't answer at all, it only made you even more confused. "I asked first."

"Then I won't answer. So tell me," he said, his voice steady but edged with something you couldn't quite place. "What exactly do you want this to be?"

The question made your breath catch. It was as though he already knew the answer but wanted you to say it first. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew," you murmured, more to yourself than him.

Wonwoo exhaled sharply through his nose, his lips curling into a faint smirk. "Then figure it out." He stepped back slightly, his posture relaxing as he leaned against the wall, pulling his phone from his pocket. "You're lying again." He added before turning away completely.

It felt like a dismissal, one that stung more than it should have.

"I'm leaving," you said, your tone sharper than intended as you moved toward the door.

But his voice stopped you in your tracks.

"You're not even gonna wish me good luck?" he called out, his tone light, teasing, almost mockingly casual.

You glanced back at him, narrowing your eyes. "I came to see you lose," you shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. "And for the record, I'm not your girlfriend."

You stuck your tongue out for good measure before turning on your heel and walking away quickly, leaving no room for him to reply.

Wonwoo watched you disappear, his expression unreadable. But as the door clicked shut behind you, he let out a low chuckle.

"... Yet," he murmured under his breath, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. You said what you said, and you knew it would trigger him to admitting first.

By the time you made it back to the group, Seungkwan was mid-rant, Hoshi laughing so hard he nearly dropped his soda. Jun and Minghao had moved on from their 1v1 and were watching the pre-match highlights on the screen. Vernon was still on the couch, this time half-listening to Seungkwan while scrolling on his phone.

"Oh, look who finally decided to show up," Seungkwan said the moment he spotted you, his voice dripping with mock sarcasm. "Where've you been, Ms. Fox? Lurking in the shadows, plotting our downfall?"

You rolled your eyes, plopping down onto the chair next to Hoshi. "I don't need to lurk in shadows to take you down, Seungkwan. Your mouth does that for me."

The group burst into laughter, Hoshi nearly choking on his drink. "She's got a point," Minghao quipped, smirking.

"Wow, so much for team spirit," Seungkwan shot back, clutching his chest dramatically. "What did I ever do to deserve such cruelty?"

"You existed," you replied with a smirk, earning a high-five from Hoshi.

The banter continued for a while, light and easy, until the sound of a door clicking open made everyone pause.

Wonwoo walked in.

He moved with his usual calm, unbothered demeanor, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. His gaze swept across the room, landing on you for just a moment longer than necessary.

"Ah, here he is, the man of the hour!" Hoshi cheered, throwing a potato chip in Wonwoo's direction. "Ready to crush some noobs?"

Wonwoo ignored him, his lips twitching in a small smile as he walked over to where you sat. Leaning down slightly, he murmured, just loud enough for you to hear, "Miss me already?"

Your breath hitched, but you quickly masked it with a scoff. "You wish."

His smirk deepened, and before you could say anything else, he pulled up a chair beside you, his knee brushing yours under the table.

The others, oblivious to the tension, resumed their chatter, but you couldn't shake the way his proximity sent your nerves into overdrive.

"You good?" Hoshi asked, tilting his head at you.

"Perfect," you said, forcing a smile.

But then Wonwoo spoke again, this time louder. "You know," he began, his tone casual but his eyes locked on yours, "she was pretty sweet earlier. Didn't think she'd have it in her."

The room went quiet, all eyes snapping to you.

"Sweet?" Seungkwan repeated, narrowing his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

You glared at Wonwoo, your face heating up. "He's delusional. Ignore him."

"Am I?" Wonwoo teased, leaning back in his chair with a smug expression.

Before you could retort, Hoshi interjected. "Hold on. Are we missing something here? Why does it feel like there's... something going on?"

"There's nothing going on," you said quickly, shooting a warning glare at Wonwoo.

Wonwoo raised his hands in mock surrender, but the glint in his eyes told you he wasn't done. For the rest of the conversation, he kept it subtle—fleeting glances, the occasional brush of his hand against yours, a smirk every time your eyes met. It was enough to drive you insane.

The others weren't blind. Seungkwan, especially, was watching the two of you like a hawk. "Something's definitely up," he muttered to Vernon, who just nodded, looking mildly amused.

And then the door opened again.

Jeonghan strolled in, effortlessly commanding the room as always. He greeted everyone with his usual charm, but when his eyes landed on you, something flickered in his expression.

"Ah, there's my favorite," Jeonghan said smoothly, his voice laced with a warmth that felt far too intimate for comfort.

You stiffened, your eyes darting to Wonwoo, whose jaw tightened ever so slightly.

"Late as usual," Jeonghan added, walking over and placing a hand on the back of your chair. His fingers brushed lightly against your shoulder, and you could feel the weight of his gaze.

"Traffic," you replied, your voice steady despite the way your heart was racing.

"Mm," Jeonghan hummed, his eyes lingering on you before shifting to Wonwoo. "Good luck today, Wonwoo. I'm sure she'll be cheering for you."

The tension was palpable. Wonwoo's eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't rise to the bait.

"Of course," Wonwoo said, his voice calm but edged with something sharper. "She's already wished me luck in her own... special way."

Jeonghan's smile didn't falter, but his gaze grew sharper as it flicked back to you. "Is that so?"

You wanted to crawl under the table.

"Alright, that's enough," you said, standing abruptly. "I'm going to grab some air before this testosterone overload suffocates me."

You left the room quickly, feeling both men's eyes on you as you went.

The cold air outside the venue did little to clear your spinning thoughts. Leaning against the wall, you tilted your head back and took a deep breath. What the hell is wrong with me? First Wonwoo, now Jeonghan. The back-and-forth between them felt like a game you couldn't keep up with, and it was messing with your head.

Your moment of peace didn't last long. The sound of a door swinging open made you flinch. You didn't even need to look to know who it was.

"Running away again?" Jeonghan's smooth voice cut through the silence.

You sighed, keeping your gaze fixed on the sky. "Didn't know I had to explain my every move to you."

He chuckled, stepping closer until he was leaning against the wall beside you. "You don't. But it's fun watching you squirm."

You turned to glare at him, but the amusement in his eyes made it impossible to stay mad. He had that effect on people—disarming them with a single glance, making them forget why they were upset in the first place.

"Seriously, what do you want, Jeonghan?" you asked, crossing your arms.

"Just checking on you," he said, his tone casual but his eyes searching yours. "You seemed... tense back there."

"I'm fine."

"Are you?" He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping. "Because from where I was standing, it looked like a certain someone was getting under your skin."

Your cheeks heated, and you immediately looked away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Jeonghan hummed thoughtfully, straightening up. "If you say so. Just remember..." He hesitated, a rare moment of seriousness flashing across his face. "Not everyone plays fair."

Before you could ask what he meant, the door opened again, and this time, it was Wonwoo.

His gaze flicked between the two of you, his expression unreadable. "We're starting soon," he said, his voice steady but his eyes locked on Jeonghan's hand resting casually on the wall near your shoulder.

Jeonghan smiled, stepping back with an exaggerated stretch. "Guess I'll see you both inside, then."

He walked off, leaving you alone with Wonwoo. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife.

"You good?" Wonwoo asked after a beat.

"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" you muttered, brushing past him to head back inside.

The room was buzzing with excitement as the matches began. You found a seat near the back with Hoshi and Seungkwan, who were both yelling their predictions over each other.

"10,000 won (seven bucks in USD) says Minghao takes the win," Seungkwan declared, stuffing popcorn into his mouth.

"Please, it's going to be Wonwoo," Hoshi shot back.

"Don't bet your snacks. You'll lose," you said dryly, earning a laugh from Hoshi.

The first round was a chaotic storm of champions clashing across the map. Jun, known for his unconventional picks, played an unexpectedly aggressive strategy, diving into enemy territory with bold moves that had the crowd roaring in surprise. Despite his daring plays, his occasional overextensions cost him valuable objectives.

Vernon, on the other hand, played a game of precision. He focused on controlling vision and sneaking objectives, his calculated decisions earning him steady ground. Every play felt like a chess move, deliberate and cerebral.

But it was Minghao who stole the spotlight early on. His champion of choice, a mechanically complex assassin, zipped across the map with unnerving efficiency. His precision in landing skills and uncanny sense of timing had even the commentators struggling to keep up.

"Unreal!" one of them exclaimed as Minghao pulled off a near-impossible triple kill under turret. "Minghao is playing like a pro today. That's a highlight reel moment right there!"

Then there was Wonwoo. His gameplay was as smooth and methodical as ever, every move calculated to perfection. His champion, a versatile mage, danced on the edge of danger, dishing out massive damage while dodging death by a hair's breadth. The way he controlled team fights, predicting his opponents' moves, was mesmerizing.

Yet, from your spot in the audience, something felt... off.

The tournament narrowed to the final rounds, the competition growing fiercer with each game. Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina (Vernon's girlfriend), the other contestant dominated her brackets, while Jun and Vernon made valiant efforts but fell behind.

In the semifinals, Minghao and Wonwoo clashed head-on. Every moment was charged, the room so quiet during team fights that you could hear the players' keyboards clicking like gunfire.

Minghao's assassin darted through the shadows, targeting Wonwoo's backline with surgical precision. But Wonwoo's mage held its ground, zoning Minghao out with well-placed spells. The two traded kills and counterplays, the audience bouncing between gasps and cheers as the scoreboard evened out.

At one point, Minghao narrowly escaped a death trap Wonwoo had meticulously set, slipping away with a sliver of health. The crowd erupted in disbelief, and even Minghao, usually composed, let a small grin slip as he glanced across the row of PCs toward Wonwoo.

"Nice try," Minghao teased, loud enough for Wonwoo to hear but quiet enough not to catch the commentators' attention.

Wonwoo didn't respond, his jaw clenched and eyes fixed on the screen.

The Final Match

The finals arrived. The match pitted Minghao, Wonwoo, and Hyeina against one another in a free-for-all deathmatch—a battle royale to crown the victor.

The atmosphere was electric. Spectators leaned forward in their seats, their excitement palpable.

As the game unfolded, it became clear this wasn't just about skill. It was about mental fortitude. Minghao's assassin thrived in the chaos, darting in and out of fights with deadly precision. The pro player focused on controlling the map, securing key objectives to maintain his lead.

Wonwoo, however, was visibly different. While his plays were sharp, there was a hesitation in his movements. It was subtle, but you noticed it.

And then it happened.

In the middle of a crucial team fight near Baron, Wonwoo's mage was in the perfect position to deal a devastating combo. His team was counting on him. The enemy champions grouped together, a rare opening for a game-changing attack.

But his eyes flickered—just for a second—to the audience. To you.

More specifically, to Jeonghan.

You hadn't noticed until now, but Jeonghan's arm rested casually on the back of your chair, his body angled just slightly toward yours. It wasn't overtly intimate, but it was enough to draw Wonwoo's attention.

His hand hesitated on the keyboard. That split-second pause was all it took.

Minghao, ever opportunistic, dove into the fight with precision. His assassin eliminated Wonwoo's mage in seconds, turning what could've been Wonwoo's moment of glory into a crushing defeat.

"Unbelievable! Minghao secures the ace!" the commentator shouted, the audience exploding into cheers.

As the game ended, the results flashed on the screen:

1st Place: Minghao

2nd Place: Wonwoo

3rd Place: Hyeina

4th Place: Vernon

5th Place: Jun

Minghao leaned back in his chair, arms raised in triumph as the crowd cheered his name. Jun clapped enthusiastically, shouting something about how "he taught Minghao everything he knows."

Wonwoo, meanwhile, sat frozen at his station, his fingers still hovering over the keys. His jaw tightened as he stared at the screen, the weight of his loss sinking in.

After the tournament, the group gathered near the exit, congratulating Minghao on his win.

"You were insane out there!" Hoshi exclaimed, clapping Minghao on the back.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Seungkwan said, waving him off. "The real story here is what happened to Wonwoo? You totally choked in that last fight."

"I didn't choke," Wonwoo said, his tone sharper than usual.

"Sure," Seungkwan teased. "It's not like you were distracted or anything." His eyes darted to you, a sly grin spreading across his face.

You glared at him. "Don't start."

"Don't start what? I didn't say anything!"

Wonwoo, who had been silent, finally spoke up. "Let it go, Seungkwan." His voice was calm, but there was an edge to it that made everyone shut up.

The awkward silence that followed was broken by Jeonghan's arrival. He walked in with his usual confidence, his eyes briefly meeting Wonwoo's before landing on you.

"Ready to head out?" Jeonghan asked, his tone light but pointed.

You hesitated, glancing at Wonwoo, whose expression was unreadable.

"Yeah," you said finally, grabbing your bag. "Let's go."

As you walked out with Jeonghan, you couldn't shake the feeling of Wonwoo's eyes on your back.

The walk back with Jeonghan is heavier than you anticipated. He doesn't outright tease you like he usually does—instead, his tone shifts to something uncharacteristically serious as he brings up Wonwoo's reaction during the match.

"You know," Jeonghan starts, his hands stuffed casually into his pockets, "he's never been that distracted before. I almost feel bad for him."

"Feel bad?" you scoff, trying to ignore the pang of guilt his words stir in you.

Jeonghan stops walking, turning to face you. "I get it, though. You're... hard to ignore." His gaze softens, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

"Jeonghan..."

He steps closer, closing the space between you. His voice lowers, intimate, almost a whisper. "I'm not like him. I don't get distracted. When I want something, I take it."

Before you can process his words, his phone buzzes. He glances at the screen and smirks. "Saved by the bell. Let's get back to the others before they start a search party."

The moment passes, leaving you reeling as you follow him back inside.

The group gathered after the tournament, energy high from the event. Seungkwan and Hoshi were relentless, teasing Wonwoo about his second-place finish.

"Come on, man," Seungkwan said, grinning. "Second place isn't that bad. It's just, you know... not first."

Hoshi chimed in, "And hey, at least you didn't lose to Vernon's girlfriend! Minghao's cool with it too. That's gotta count for something."

Wonwoo forced a smile, but his usual sharp comebacks were absent. His eyes flickered to you once, twice, before he finally stood and excused himself.

Minghao, ever observant, leaned toward you. "You okay?"

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. But as your gaze followed Wonwoo's retreating figure, you couldn't shake the sinking feeling in your chest.

"Minghao, the champion," Vernon announced dramatically, using his phone to film the moment. "First place for only the second-best LoL player in the room!"

Minghao rolled his eyes, pushing Vernon off. "Shut up, Vernon. You're just mad because you got fourth."

"Hey, fourth is still a medal," Vernon protested, holding up an imaginary gold medal and waving it in Minghao's face. "You know what they say, bronze is for champions too!"

"Fifth, Vernon. Fifth." Jun deadpanned, smacking Vernon on the back of the head. "Don't act like you didn't lose to your girlfriend."

"Not the point, Jun." Vernon sighed dramatically, turning to Woozi for backup, but Woozi, who'd been too busy sinking into his chair post-tournament, just shrugged. "Maybe next time, Vernon."

Meanwhile, Wonwoo, still nursing his second-place loss, had moved to the back of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. His eyes flickered from his phone to you and back again, each glance slightly more pained than the last.

Seungkwan, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, Wonwoo! Don't be too upset about second place. At least you didn't lose to a noob."

"I didn't lose to a noob," Wonwoo muttered, glancing up at Seungkwan. "Minghao's practically a legend in his own right. It's just..."

"Just what?" Seungkwan grinned mischievously, nudging him. "You distracted by someone else on the sidelines?"

Wonwoo froze, his eyes widening for a split second before he forced a grin. "What are you talking about?" he said, pushing away from the wall to join the others, a little too quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're not fooling anyone," Seungkwan shot back, arching an eyebrow. "I saw you practically zoned out when you were supposed to be taking down Minghao's assassin and then you just stared at someone—someone who happens to be sitting next to Jeonghan."

Cue the awkward silence that followed. Everyone immediately turned to look at you, then back at Wonwoo.

The heat rising to Wonwoo's cheeks was almost too funny, and you couldn't help but smirk. "I wasn't staring at anyone," he muttered, though it was obvious to everyone that he'd been thinking about something—or someone—during that match.

"Oh, please," Hoshi cut in, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "It's like watching a badly scripted K-drama. Wonwoo, bro, I think you might have feelings for our girl here." He wagged his eyebrows dramatically.

"Shut up, Hoshi," Wonwoo growled.

"Wow, are we really doing this now?" Minghao jumped in with an exaggerated gasp, clutching his chest. "The Love Triangle Drama: Episode 1. First place and already the star of the show!" He gave an exaggerated bow, clearly enjoying the chaos.

"You know, this tournament could've been more fun if someone didn't get all distracted by their feelings," Jun said with a wink, completely ignoring the fact that he was also in the bottom half of the rankings.

"Yeah, at least you could have gotten first if you weren't so distracted!" Vernon added helpfully. "Who needs to focus when you've got heart-eyes, right, Wonwoo?"

The entire room burst into laughter. Even Woozi, who had been trying to stay out of the conversation, snorted into his drink, making everyone laugh even harder.

Wonwoo's face turned a shade of crimson, but he could do nothing but grin sheepishly. "Okay, okay, enough. You guys are insufferable."

Just when the teasing reached its peak, the door to the room opened, and Jeonghan casually strolled in, a smug smile plastered on his face.

“Well, well, well,” he said in a voice laced with mischief, taking in the scene with a knowing look. “What have we here? A bunch of losers and an overly distracted second-place finisher?”

Wonwoo stiffened at the sound of Jeonghan’s voice, and you, suddenly aware of the charged atmosphere between the three of you, quickly stood up, trying to play it cool.

“I’m not distracted,” Wonwoo muttered under his breath, but Jeonghan was already looking at you with a knowing glint in his eye.

“Oh? You sure about that?” Jeonghan teased, eyes flicking between you and Wonwoo. “I mean, I was just sitting next to her, and someone over there couldn’t even finish a team fight without—” Jeonghan paused, throwing a glance at Wonwoo’s flushed face. “...well, we all saw it.”

Wonwoo’s face fell, the teasing from his friends now blending with the tension in the room. But before anyone could comment further, Jeonghan stepped toward you, wrapping a lazy arm around your shoulders in a move that was way too casual for the situation.

“I don’t know what all this fuss is about,” Jeonghan said, his voice smooth, his smirk never leaving his lips. “But if anyone should be distracted, it’s because I’m here now.”

Wonwoo’s gaze darkened, and you could feel the heat building in the air. The laughter from the others died down as everyone realized the shift in the mood.

“You’re really doing this, Jeonghan?” Wonwoo muttered, not bothering to mask the irritation in his tone.

Jeonghan just laughed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “What? Am I not allowed to stand next to my favorite teammate?”

The teasing in the room became suffocating, but the mix of humor and tension was what made it unbearable. Everyone knew what was happening. It was clear, and no one was pretending anymore.

a/n: i have nothing to say but to thank you to everyone who kept me going. want to be added to the permanent series (part-time lover) taglist? reblog or comment on the post and you'll be added to every next update of a chapter :]

(p.s. idk maybe i shouldnt have added too much angst? BTW POSTING A POLL (or shouldnt? doesnt matter)—majority wins. Jeonghan or Wonwoo? who do you much prefer to be the end game? lmk !)

taglist: @asyre @choppedballoondetective @kpoppiesofinternet @syluslittlecrow @minhui896

@october-saturn @kpop-will-kill-me @elegantdevill1 @shidily @angel-ishere

@lovrchl @codeinebelle @httpnamu-u @httpnamjoonie94 @6nadia9

@jjonghaniee @ateez-atiny380 @squishysquishjimin @jeonghaniya @thelost-soul

@foulcolorclodoaf-blog @133456789000000000000

(tysm for reblogging :3)

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monzabee · 11 months ago

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T.G.I.F – cl16

Summary: The one where writing your thesis is harder than you think, but Charles is here to help you through all of it.

Pairing: charles leclerc x reader

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: stress and anxiety, having to make big life decisions, alcohol consumption and a lot of it, cursing, fluff!!

Request: “Hey Bee, I hope you’re having a lush weekend🥰 I’m not sure if you’re taking requests but I can’t stop thinking about Charles Leclerc with a super down to earth gf everyone loves. But maybe she’s got some things going on and deals with it by getting really wild when she’s drunk 🤷🏼‍♀️ thank you x” + “Hi! Would you be into writing a request for Charles, where the reader is going through some difficult time in life (could be mental health struggles, something work or "big life decisions" related, up to you), and he's being very supportive and understanding, offering help as well? ❤️”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i thought these two requests went very well together and i wanted to give it a go! if you know me then you know i’m very slow at working through my requests, but rest assured i am working on them, thank you for bearing through my slow streak with me!! and of course i had to make it about academic validation/stress because i’m not gonna lie but this master’s thing is kicking my ass and i relate to the reader very much so, lol! i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

Charles would not describe you as a high-strung person, not at all. If anything, you are one of the most down to earth people he’s ever met. He can’t even count all the times you’ve talked him down from a mental spiral, and given the position of his team this season, you’ve calmed him down from his stress many many times. So, imagine his surprise when the first thing he hears from his brother when he gets off his plane is that you are in the middle of a club in Monte Carlo, refusing to leave because you want to continue having fun. While he wouldn’t call you a homebody, Charles can admit that the two of you have spent more time at home instead of going out with your friends simply because of your shared love for quiet evenings and cosy nights in. It's not that you dislike socializing; it's just that both of you find joy in the simplicity of being together at home.

But now, as Charles rushes through the lively streets of Monte Carlo, he can't help but wonder what on earth has happened to have caused you to get so drunk. The sound of pulsating music grows louder as he approaches the entrance of the club. The bouncer gives him a sceptical look as Charles flashes his VIP pass, rushing inside with determination. The scene that unfolds before him is something out of character for you. Neon lights flash, and the beat of the music reverberates through the crowded space. People dance energetically, and laughter echoes against the walls. Charles spots you in the middle of the dance floor, surrounded by a group of new friends, moving to the rhythm as if the world outside this club doesn't exist, and Arthur – who is trying to reason with you to get you to leave.

Charles pushes through the crowd, feeling a mix of confusion and amusement. He finally reaches you, gently tapping your shoulder to get your attention. When you turn around, the surprise on your face is evident.

“Charlie!" you exclaim, a wide grin on your face as you prolong the end of the nickname you’ve given him, “I thought you weren’t going to be back for another week!”

He raises an eyebrow, a bemused smile playing on his lips as you proceed to wrap your arms around his neck and continue jumping up and down at the same time. Placing his hands on your either side of your hips, he attempts to calm down your movements, “Well, I wanted to come home earlier to surprise you, but imagine my surprise when I realised my girlfriend is not home.” He can’t help himself as his eyes give you a worried look as he does his best to refrain from fussing over you, “Are you okay?”

“I'm more than okay, Charlie! I'm having the time of my life. Join us!” You giggle, swaying a little on your feet.

He sighs, shaking his head. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but Arthur looks like he's about to give up on trying to get you to leave. What's going on?"

You glance over at your brother and then back at Charles. “He's just being a worrywart. I'm perfectly fine. Besides, I made some new friends!”

Charles raises an eyebrow. "I can see that, mon ange, but shouldn’t we go back home since it’s so late?"

You nod excitedly, as you choose to ignore his question – as if you’re trying to evade talking about what’s bothering you, he realises. “They're great! We've been dancing and laughing. You should meet them!”

Charles takes a deep breath, realizing that trying to reason with you in your current state might be a bit challenging. “Alright, let me meet your new friends, and then we can talk about heading home, okay?”

You nod eagerly, dragging him into the circle of your newfound companions. Arthur shoots Charles a grateful look as if to say, good luck. And he can feel that he’ll need it in the situation. And as always, Charles is a perfect gentleman as he meets with the group of girls, who are as drunk as you. You try your best to convince him to stay for a few songs, but he gives you a pleading look, which you cannot deny, as he wraps an arm around you, guiding you toward the exit. You protest playfully, wanting the night to continue, but he manages to convince you with a promise of a cosy night in together.

The walk back home is filled with laughter and the occasional stumble from you, but Charles keeps a steady arm around you, ensuring you don't stray too far off course. He is careful with you, of course, as he tries to navigate through the dimmed streets of Monte Carlo. He takes a deep breath of relief once the two of you make it to your shared apartment, and you immediately let yourself fall onto the couch to lean against the cushions with a contented sigh, your playful demeanour still intact. Charles retrieves a glass of water for you, handing it over with a gentle smile.

“Thanks, Charlie,” you say, taking a sip and leaning back against the couch. Charles sits beside you, his gaze softening as he looks at you.

“You're welcome,” he replies, his fingers gently brushing through your hair. “Now, tell me what prompted this spontaneous night out. I thought you needed to submit the final draft for your thesis.”

The fact that your reaction is instantaneous makes Charles realise that he royally fucked up by mentioning your thesis. In hindsight, he should’ve known better to bring it up, because you have been stressing over the assignment for months. You pause mid-sip, a shadow crossing your face. Charles can almost see the weight of the unfinished thesis settling back on your shoulders. Your playful demeanor fades, replaced by a more serious expression.

“Yeah, the thesis,” you say, avoiding his gaze. “I just needed a break from it all, you know? It's been consuming me, and tonight was my way of escaping the stress for a little while.”

Charles feels a pang of guilt. He should've known better than to bring up the one thing that has been causing you so much pressure. He reaches out, gently cupping your cheek to guide your eyes back to his. “I'm sorry, mon ange. I didn't mean to remind you of that. Let's talk about it. What's been going on with the thesis? Why is it stressing you out so much?”

You sigh, leaning into his touch. “It's just... I thought I'd be further along by now. The deadline is looming, and I can't seem to get everything to come together. It's like the more I work on it, the more overwhelmed I feel.”

Charles nods in understanding, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “You don't have to go through this alone, you know. We can figure it out together. Maybe I can help, or we can find someone who can. You don't have to carry the weight of it all by yourself.”

You look up at him, leaning into his gentle touch as you close your eyes for a second to gather your thoughts, “It’s just–” You take a frustrated breath, thinking over your words once again. “I’m supposed be able to do this, how am I supposed to do a Ph.D when I can’t even write my master’s thesis properly?”

Charles listens quietly, his gaze never leaving yours. He can sense the frustration and self-doubt in your words. Leaning in, he places a tender kiss on your forehead before speaking with a reassuring tone. “You will finish it in time,” he assures you, “and you will pass with flying colours, don’t self-sabotage now when you’re almost done with it.”

“But it’s so hard,” dragging out the words as you basically throw yourself into his arms and groan against his sweater, “I just feel like I've hit a wall, and I just don’t want to disappoint anyone.”

Charles wraps his arms around you, holding you close as you bury your face in his sweater. He strokes your back soothingly, understanding the weight of your frustration. “I know it's hard, mon ange,” he says softly, his words a comforting melody. “But hitting a wall doesn't mean you can't break through it. And as for disappointing anyone, you're not a disappointment. You're human, and everyone faces challenges.” He takes a moment think, “And I say this as someone who has hit several walls-slash-barriers.”

An unexpected laughter comes from you, and to calm yourself you take a deep breath, inhaling the familiar scent of his sweater. “I just want to do well, to prove to myself and everyone else that I can handle this.”

Charles tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze. “And you will. You're capable, smart, and resilient. This is just a temporary hurdle, not the end of the road. We'll find a way through it together.”

“Thank you for believing in me, even when I doubt myself.” You whisper, managing a small smile.

“Always, mon amour,” he replies, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get you to bed, you’re going to have a killer headache tomorrow.”

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #imagine #fluff #angst #smut #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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belokhvostikova · 2 years ago

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𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐂𝐥𝐮𝐛 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Following Friday’s events, Eddie Munson was on a mission to apologize to you, though everything fell short when your life began to crumble in a matter of hours.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, yelling, crying, self-deprecating thoughts, violence, experienced anxiety and panic attack, mentions of childhood abuse and neglect, and brief mentions of blood, body shaming, and non consensual touching.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | For the sake of my sanity, I'm going to need all of you to ignore the blatantly unrealistic process of making a book in this story, lol. If there are any necessary warnings that were accidently left out, please feel free to let me know!

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 | One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐈𝐈. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐘𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡

Whatever mantra of the Munson Doctrine Eddie had been feeding himself to believe about the highest of the social hierarchy embedded within Hawkins High was really starting to fall short, specifically when your pretty face started monopolizing every one of his thoughts imaginable.

As much as he’d like to admit otherwise, Eddie Munson liked staring at your face, and it was really starting to piss him off just how much he really liked doing it. And the situation only became worse when he steadily watched your wonted bewitching smile fade into a disheartened look of dejection, because that following weekend after your impromptu photo shoot with Hellfire, became the worst week of your life.

And Eddie Munson watched it entirely unravel right in front of him.

It never really occurred to Eddie just how much he’d casually gawk at you prior to said photo shoot. I mean, you were the face of the school, of course, you were hard to miss when you practically lit up the halls with your smile. And that’s merely what Eddie had chalked it up to; your popularity involuntarily placed you at the forefront of his attention. It wasn’t the small strands of baby hairs that perfectly framed your face, whether you decided to keep your hair natural, or styled it for the fun of it; it wasn’t your enthralling eyes that seemed to almost squint close because your cheeks became so full of delight with your spellbinding laugh; and it definitely wasn’t your apologetic reassurance that everything was okay to the kid from the drama club who accidentally bumped into you, causing you to drop your books, and you gave Andy McAvoy a stern talking to when he tried to defend your honor with violence against the poor kid.

No, it was none of that that caught Eddie Munson’s attention to you (he forced himself to believe).

But now, things are different.

He’d actually gotten a chance to talk to you—yes, that cafeteria instance was the first time Eddie Munson had ever actually spoken to you, and he berated you with dehumanizing comments—and he blew it with his rash decision to automate you into a box of prissy cheerleaders that had nothing better to do than gossip with their friends- ah yes, that box, that was formulated by sexist losers who used it to justified their mean actions against innocent teenage girls. Oh, fuck, Eddie cringed to himself at the sudden self-realization.

He had to fix this. He didn’t even have to confess his feelings—which, he didn’t have *cough* *cough*—he just had to apologize for his mistakes. What he wanted to believe to be patronizing was actually sincere on your part, and you didn’t deserve any of his degrading tirade. And his conscience was letting it be known. Resuming the campaign had been a shit-show that Friday, when all he could focus on was your crying face. It became even worse when he realized that he’d never actually seen you drive—always painfully third-wheeling with Jason Carver and Chrissy Cunningham, or silently pleading to Patrick McKinney to control Andy McAvoy when he felt entitled to nonconsensually feel you up in his convertible when they drove you to school—meaning you were probably left crying alone at night waiting to be picked up, or worse, walking home. And you did it just for him. For his friends. To be included in some stupid fucking yearbook, because he made a big deal out of it in the first place.

Oh, shit, he was an awful fucking person, Eddie thought.

So, come Monday morning, he would apologize. He had all weekend to find the right words, rehearse his apology to perfection, and plan when to actually say it to you.

But Eddie Munson never got to correctly apologize to you on Monday.

Because aforementioned, Monday was the start of the worst week of your life, and he got scared and simply watched everything happen.

“No running in the halls, young lady.” Mr. Long sternly reminded, as you zoomed past him.

“Sorry, sir.” You weren’t sorry. The second he turned the corner, you picked up the pace and ran to the newspaper room, frantically attempting to shove the slender key into the slot with shaky hands.

Earlier on Saturday, the Yearbook Committee had worked to finish the final draft of the Hawkins High 1986 Yearbook, and with the team’s effort, you all concluded the first official copy that held the recognition of all staff and students intertwined with a school year’s worth of memorabilia, squished between the glossy green and orange cover that encapsulated Hawkins High.

And now, you were about to destroy it.

Sixty minutes. You had sixty minutes. You managed to wake up early that Monday morning, practically running to school, and situating yourself within the newspaper room—sweaty and exhausted—an hour early before the bell rang to commence the school day. In truth, you’d like to say you were a badass, and demolished the yearbook with no regrets, but reality had quite literally sucked, and you were panicking for a solid five minutes before you came to a consensus.

It had to be destroyed- well, not destroyed, just unbinded. God, you were such a dramatic coward.

See, that Saturday afternoon with the Yearbook Committee, you had done your part, you really did. You gathered photos, helped have them printed, assisted Nancy Wheeler with the placement of pages, and took over binding the book together when Fred Benson’s scrawny hands cramped into oblivion. You also may have—very discreetly—had Hellfire’s picture printed, created an entirely new page to fit them between the Glee and Math Club, and it was then you realized you didn’t even know half of their names. It had never occurred to you on Friday night that—with the exception of Eddie Munson, Lucas Sinclair, and Mike Wheeler—you never caught the names of the other four members, prompting you to lose precious time after having to locate their stupid names in the student registry for identification—they weren’t stupid, you were just really frustrated at that point.

And now, on this fine Monday morning, you persevered through blistering callouses, contracting muscles, and sore knuckles to unbind and bind back the yearbook with an additional page within the “Hawkins High’s Clubs” recognitional section.

Hellfire’s page.

And it was perfect.

The pages were still intact with their crisp stiffness of that of a newly unopened book, and you cleaned off any smudges that impaired the quality of work within the creation. You stood back. You couldn’t help the soft giggle that left your lips at the mere sight of Hellfire sticking out like a sore thumb against the formality of the other photos—in true Hellfire fashion. But there it was. Their title, their photo, and their names that gave them the minimal ask to simply be acknowledged in a school that consistently disregarded their beings, and you were happy they finally got it. They deserved it. Even if Friday’s event left you crying alone in your bed feeling awful. It was worth it. Your thumb gently caressed the smooth page of their photo—Eddie’s photo—and reminisced on that night.

Had you actually done something terrible? Was Eddie right to call you out on your actions? You certainly knew you hadn’t caused this entire commotion out of pitiness, though you understood where he may have interpreted it as such. I mean, even though you never did anything, your friends made his life a living hell, villainizing his differences, casting him as a danger to society, affecting his life beyond just a superficial high school social life. It was true torment.

You understood the facade which Eddie Munson had to put on to protect himself, but what you didn’t understand was the sudden shallowness that appeared when you thought you proved yourself to be more than just a ditzy cheerleader. Why were you even trying to prove yourself to some guy? Eddie Munson was an awful person. Right? He yelled at you, judged you, degraded you, and all for nothing- well, as far as you knew. So yeah, Eddie Munson was an awful person. You may have understood him, but he was still an asshole. You’d done your part, adding Hellfire to the yearbook, and that was that. That was all you needed to do. You no longer had to think about his stupid feelings, his stupid hair—which you totally didn’t want to run your hands through—his stupid brown eyes that made you shutter as they bore into yours, and his stupidly beautiful smile. You also kinda wondered how his hands might feel on your-

“What are you doing here?”

Jesus Christ, how long has Nancy Wheeler been standing there? You didn’t even hear the door open.

“Uh, um, j-just looking at the, uh, yearbook?” You mumbled. You wished you had better control over your facial expressions, because right now, Nancy Wheeler was eyeing the fuck out of your worried guise.

“You came to school early just to see the yearbook?” She questioned.

“W-well, yeah, I mean, isn’t that why you’re here early? …Right?” You prayed.

Nancy blinked. “Yeah, I guess, just had to make sure everything was correct before Fred takes it to make copies.”

“Oh, Fred’s here?” You piqued with interest.

Fred Benson didn’t actually pique your interest all too much—though, it was quite fascinating seeing how fast his slender fingers would cramp after just a couple minutes of working—but he did give the perfect escape from Nancy Wheeler’s captious glare.

“Uh, yeah, he’s out front waiting for the book-”

“I’ll hand it to him!” You interjected, watching her face scrunch with confusion. You could only awkwardly laugh, “You know me and Fred,” you zoomed right past her, “just always so, uh… tight.” And you left without further explanation.

Shoving Mr. Long’s word of chastisement right up his ass, you ran down the empty hall, yearbook held tightly in your tired hands, as you rejected any of Nancy’s calls for you to come back. Reaching the double glass doors, you spotted Fred mindlessly tweaking with his camera in the front seat of his car.

“Fred!” You could visibly make out the bewildered “huh” that fell from his gaping mouth from your sudden appearance. “Fred, here take this and go!” You shoved the yearbook past the small crack of his window.

“W-wait, didn’t Nancy want to che-”

“No, she sent me to give this to you!” You urged. “And she said go now, or else the copies won’t be done in time!” My god, the entirety of this situation had you lying more than you ever had in your life.

“But the distributors don’t close until six-”

“Fred, I don’t care!” You whined. “Do you really want to make Nancy upset?!” If your calculations were correct, Nancy Wheeler’s flats were currently speed walking—she was one to follow the rules—past Mrs. Durberry’s science classroom, meaning you had ten more seconds until she appeared.

“Well, n-no-”

“Then drive! Now, please!” He scrambled to turn his car on, and luckily, the old piece of junk managed to roar alive with a heavy blow of carbon dioxide, and you heaved watching Fred Benson skirt past the incoming wave of students on bikes and cars, leaving tire tracks on the cracked pavements. When he came back, you’d be sure to apologize for demanding him so aggressively.

Nancy Wheeler screamed your name.

Turning around, she came pummeling towards you with a might of pure irritation. “What the hell was that?! I didn’t even get to check the book!”

You huffed with exhaustion. It was only 8:18 a.m and it had already been a long day. “Nance, come on, I’ve been on the Yearbook Committee for the last three years, don’t you trust me by now?” Admittedly, guilting Nancy probably wasn’t the best option, but desperate times call for desperate measures.

“I don’t care how long you’ve been in the committee, I have the authority to make final calls, not you!” Gee, you really had an act for getting people to yell in your face. Were you actually the problem?

“Look, I understand, but I promise everything was perfect with the yearbook. I mean, come on, you saw the finished product on Saturday when we completed it.” You reasoned.

Nancy took a deep breath to regulate herself. “This is your only strike.” She pointed a finger at you like a child. “You pull something like this again, and you're off the committee. Understand?”

You swallowed thickly. The trouble you went through just for Eddie Munson- his friends. Just for his friends. “Yes, I understand.” You submitted quietly. “But I promise, the book was fine, everything is going to be perfectly okay.”

Everything was not perfectly okay.

Because unlike your little white lie of being “tight” with Fred Benson, he actually was with Nancy Wheeler, and, boy, did he rat you out when he paged through the printed copies of the yearbook and found the seven believed satanic cultists mischievously smiling right back at him, tainting the committee’s precious work.

It was in the midst of your A.P U.S History class when the staticy call of your name over the intercom interrupted Mr. Whitney’s lecture of the Gulf of Tonkin Resolution, and prompted you to the principal’s office at 10:57 a.m. Now, it wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Principal Higgins to often call you down as you were a valued student representative of Hawkins High, though you quickly knew your visitation had nothing in relation to an honor medal or scholarship award. No, it became quite evident that such subject matter was beyond any congratulations to you, because upon entering, you were faced with a choleric Nancy Wheeler, displeased Principal Higgins, and timid Fred Benson. You were fucking screwed, I mean, Principal Higgins quite literally had a yearbook in his hand. Crazy part of it all is that a good third of your being actually believed you may have gotten away with it, but they managed to find out in a matter of two fucking hours. Who were you kidding?

There was only so much nonchalant-ness you could mask, though your previous revelation of being unable to control your facial expressions was really biting you in the ass, and your insistent cracking under pressure was palpable.

Your wide eyes flashed between everyone as they stared you down. You didn’t speak. You couldn’t even manage to speak. And they didn’t speak. Why wasn’t anyone speaking?

“Aw, you miss me already, Higgy-”

Everyone’s attention snapped at Eddie’s sneering voice as he strutted his grand entrance, though he was quick to flinch back in surprise when he saw everyone looking at him. And you, shit you were here! You were here looking at him. He’d been searching for you all morning just to apologize, and now you were here… with everyone… why was everyone here?

“Now that I have everyone situated,” Principal Higgins cleared his throat, “I’d like to clear up a matter that has been brought to my attention. I’m sure as you all are well aware of, an unauthorized change has been made to our yearbook and I’m looking to get to the bottom of it.” Higgins turned to you, “Ms. Y/L/N,” he spoke with such care, “this is a safe place for honesty. Did Mr. Munson subject you into making these changes?” With a dramatic slam to his desk, the yearbook was turned open to showcase Hellfire’s designated spot on the page.

“What?!” Both you and Eddie questioned in unison.

“I didn’t “subject” her to shit!” He was quick to rightfully defend.

“Language!” Principal Higgins was even quicker to yell back.

The atmosphere was taut, and it felt like their judgmental stares were swallowing you into an endless blackhole of utter disappointment and failure. You couldn’t even muster up the courage to meet their gaze, simply staring at the old rug beneath your sneakers, wishing it’d come alive and consume you already.

“Ms. Y/L/N, is that true?” Principal Higgins lectured you.

A part of Eddie actually wished you would have lied and accused him of being the aggressor while you were the helpless victim, because that was the usual reality of Eddie Munson: to be denigrated. It would have justified his previous beratement against you from Friday, it would have supported his initial beliefs about you, it would have cleared him of being an asshole, and most of all, it would have changed the way he viewed you, from a genuinely beautiful person inside and out that took a sincere interest in bringing simple recognition to him and his friends to a cold-hearted superficial bitch that chalked up this elaborate plan as a vendetta with your jock friends.

But Eddie Munson knew you weren’t like that.

Which only made it hurt worse when he watched you pain through the sting of your manicured nails stabbing into your palms and your teeth sinking into your tender lip.

“Y-yes, that’s, uh, true, sir.” Your voice was so delicate, Eddie was ready to jump in and just take the blame. “He didn’t make me do anything, it was, uh, all me. I lied, and made him and his friends take the photo. And, well, I, uh, added the page and told Fred to print it.”

You shuddered at the sudden slap of the book, as Principal Higgins closed it with much despondency against you. “And is there valid reasoning as to why?!” Principal Higgins wasn’t one to be known for his placidness and he was quick to make that apparent. “You are the best student at this establishment, you should not be falling under influence of a hooligan like Mr. Munson! How have you fallen so naive all of a sudden?!”

You were really tugging on Eddie’s heart the way your eyes grew round with panic, completely helpless to the grown man scolding you, just as he did last Friday. And while he may have caused it the initial time, he’d be damned to watch it happen to you again.

“Hey, look, you can insult me all you want, but you don’t have to yell at her like she made some dire mistake!” Eddie lambasted Principal Higgins, far more harsh than any regular tone Eddie used when he was regularly being reprimanded.

Higgins could only scoff in disbelief. “Vandalizing school property isn’t a mistake to you, Mr. Munson?! Well, given your grotesque track record of uncivilized activities, it seems as though I’ve answered my own question!” He sneered back with intended offense.

“Please, ‘vandalizing school property?!’” Eddie mocked. “She fucking put our picture in the yearbook, and for good reason, too. You’re the one at fault here, excluding students from recognition!”

The thudding sound of your heartbeat was completely muting you from the onslaught of shouts that was suffocating you in the tight room. While Nancy Wheeler was beginning to contemplate if telling Principal Higgins was too far, Fred Benson was merely watching with joy that none of the blame was being casted on him, and you, well, your body was racking with stiffness, as it suddenly felt like your airway was tightening every breath out of you. Your hands began shaking by your side, unable to control the instantaneous wave of trepidation, as everything was beginning to blur around you.

And no one was noticing.

“I have rightful reasons to exclude your gang of misfits from my yearbook!” Principal Higgins walked from his desk, standing against Eddie with pure spite in his eyes. “You and your posse of cons and aberrations have done nothing but taint the reputation of our school and town, running around like imbeciles who have nothing better to do than waste their lives away! And I will not stand to have you be associated with the work I’ve done to correct this school from delinquents like yourself!”

Chest heaving and nostrils flared, the Eddie Munson from the cafeteria instance was back, though angrier, and he was two seconds from actually gaining an assault charge from hitting Principal Higgins square in the face. But the older man was quick to turn, and eject his dissonant castigate towards you.

“And you, missy!” Your eyes were blinking posthaste with fret to control the swell of tears that were burning your eyes, at the clashing outburst being directed against you. “How did you even gain the facilities to take such picture?!”

Your mouth was dry with consternation, unable to formulate words, and simply quivering your mouth open.

And unlucky for you, Fred Benson spoke for you.

“After our yearbook meeting on Friday,” heads snapped at his gravelly voice, “she said she was going to stay after to work, and that she would lock up herself. She must have taken the key, and stolen a camera.”

Higgins scoffed with great disgust as he judged you, before turning to Nancy. “Ms. Wheeler, as president of the Yearbook Committee, had you permitted her to do so?”

Nancy looked at you with guilt. She hadn’t anticipated the situation to blow up this much, though she spoke honestly to the authoritative eyes of Higgins. “Uh, no, I didn’t.” She meekly answered.

“And Mr. Munson,” Eddie rolled his eyes, trying to control his frustrations before doing something he wouldn’t be able to take back. “When did Ms. Y/L/N enforce these photos?”

“Why the hell does that even matter?” Eddie gritted with a clenched jaw of tension.

“Mr. Munson, you choose not to answer me, and I will not hesitate to place you as an accomplice, and you certainly cannot afford another detention or suspension if you’re planning on finally ending this school year as a graduate.” In a perfect world, Eddie Munson would have lied for you and lessened whatever punishment you were about to receive, but Hawkins, Indiana was far from perfect, the threat made him budge under the pressure of his potential future and your distraught eyes.

“It was, uh, after her cheer practice. After school.” He sheepishly murmured with regret.

“Ah,” Principal Higgins turned to your shaking stature. “So, not only did you make unauthorized changes to the school yearbook, but you stole school property, used our equipment prohibitively outside of school hours, and actively unsubordinated my authority. I have to say, I am awfully disappointed in the person you have become, Ms. Y/L/N, and I am ashamed to have valued you so highly when you simply choose to go down the path of delinquency.” Everything about Principal Higgins words were humiliating and slammed you into a vicious cycle of believing the worst about yourself. “Finish the rest of your day,” he sighed, “but you’ll be suspended for the rest of the week for your actions.” Your heart sank at his news, and Eddie stood dumbfounded that he contributed to it.

Your visions grew blurry under the swell of tears, and your breath was becoming sporadic with panic, and everyone just kept fucking staring at you. “N-no, sir, p-please!” You choked, “I-I have scholarships, a-and acceptances that I-I’m still waiting to hear back from, this could ruin that for me, p-please, sir!”

While your pleads were being disregarded, everyone stood stun watching your fate unfold in front of you. Eddie Munson didn’t know what to do. Nobody did. On top of being berated by him from Friday, you were now facing the worst possible consequence for something so trivial, and he watched it happen. Granted, there was quite literally nothing Eddie could do to fix the situation, but seeing you stand there, panicked about your future and trying to conceal your incoming sobs through the ache of heart palpitations, it was fucking excruciating for him to witness.

“You should have thought about that before you made your choices. Everything is on you.” His words were ringing in your ear like a loop confirming everything you’ve ever hated about yourself. “I’ll be sure to let your father know of the news, and as for your spot on the committee, it is up to Ms. Wheeler to determine where you stand. Now go, everyone back to class.”

Fred Benson was first to leave, giddy to have been cleared from any trouble. Eddie Munson should have left, but he couldn’t stand to leave, simply watching you turn to Nancy Wheeler in a flash. Your round eyes were pleading to her to let you stay, but her previous words of “This is your only strike,” was tormenting you. She sighed, “I’m sorry,” and the shake of her head answered everything before she could verbalize it.

You were off.

You stormed out of the room, bumping shoulders with Eddie, though with no malice intent, just simply needing to get out. The second you reached the clearing of the empty hall, your tears were drowning your cheeks, your sobs so unbearably hard your breathing staggered for release. Suddenly, your little cashmere sweater felt like it was sticking to your skin, giving you hot flashes that brought dizziness to your pounding head. The blood battering your ears cleared out any noise, including Eddie’s calls of your name. He reached out to hold your arm, causing you to severely flinch in hysteria, and he appeared devastatingly concerned for your state of being.

“Sorry! Ar-are you okay?” He winced at the loud sob you choked out, as he felt stupid for even asking you that question. “Look, everything, uh, everything’s gonna be fine.” He rushed to reassure. In truth, Eddie Munson was completely talking out of his ass, he didn’t know if everything was going to be fine, your panicking was just causing him to panic, and all he wanted was for you to be okay. “J-just, uh, breathe for me.” He offered.

“I-I c-can’t! I’m scared, Eddie, help me!” You pleaded with frightened eyes.

Your beg hit too close to home. Suddenly, Eddie was a little boy curled up in the corner of his trashed living room, as he watched his parents abuse one another with words and fists. He pleaded the same words to his parents, who merely ignored his shaking little body. Such horrific events disfigured Eddie Munson’s belief of healing. No one cared for his emotions, no one cared for his feelings, and no one cared to make sure he was okay. So, yes, Eddie Munson yelled at you Friday night because he was petrified. Petrified to be hurt, just as everyone else had done, because to Eddie Munson, that was his fate. To be hurt and to be forgotten. Maybe that’s why he cared so much about being excluded from the school yearbook. While anyone would have rightfully been upset, being excluded cemented the notion that Eddie Munson was disposable. His father spoke it, the townspeople spoke, his teachers spoke, and his peers spoke it. But you didn’t, and that fucking scared him. It’s why he yelled, it’s why he panicked, and it’s why he’d try anything to help you right now.

“I-I know, sweetheart, just listen to me, please.” He quietly spoke. “I’m not gonna touch you or anything, I just really need you to listen to me.”

You fervently nodded your head, and he sighed with relief, because though minor, it was progress, and progress was incredible.

“I, uh, I want you to focus on my voice, okay?” His wide eyes connected with your red ones. “I wouldn’t lie to you, and I mean it when I say everything will be okay. I-I’ll make sure of it.”

Could he physically do that? No. But would he try his damn hardest, putting his being through anything to make it happen? Yes. For you.

“Okay, I want you to-”

“What are you doing to her?!”

Eddie’s eyes screwed shut with disappointment.

Jessica fucking Lewis.

“Get away from her!” She charged past him to get to your hysterical figure. “Did you do something?!”

“No, no, I’m trying to fucking help her.” Eddie implored. “Stop yelling, she’s having a fucking panic attack.” He gritted through his teeth.

“Don’t fucking come near her ever again, you freak!” Eddie watched as you tried to get your words out, but your shrinking throat made it impossible to get your voice out, and he recoiled, watching the fear in your eyes as Jessica held a tight grip in your arms.

But before he could stop her, Jessica was dragging you into the girls bathroom, and he stood frozen doing everything in his power to not rip out his hair in frustration.

Aside from her fault-finding comments against Eddie, Jessica Lewis had actually been a fairly good friend to you through the years of cheer, connecting with the girls through the pact of lifelong sisterhood, as she insisted. Though such pact also came with unwarranted advice when she felt one of you was “falling out of line” with a pristine, perfect image. That being said, when she found you panicking at the hands of Eddie Munson, she was actually concerned, impetuous, yes, but concerned, nonetheless. She’d sat with you, decisively skipping the rest of Mrs. Otis’ home economics class, to console you, bitching out any innocent girl to leave as they attempted to alleviate themselves, while you sat heaving with the back of your thighs sticking to cold tiles of the bathroom. When you did finally manage to catch your breath and calm your heart rate to a healthy status, Jessica had petted your hair with care, constantly asking what was wrong and what Eddie had done. Through your tremored voice, you hoarsely clarified that “He didn’t do anything,” and “He was just trying to help.” That revelation had actually baffled Jessica Lewis, honestly, some part of her believing you to be lying, but she gave it a rest when you assiduously shook your head in response to her asking what was actually wrong. By then, the bell had rung to signal the start of third period.

And it was during said third period when your situation only worsened completely unbeknownst to you.

While you were in the middle of trying to focus on your quiz—which proved damn near impossible after today’s events—Fred Benson was seemingly trying to get back at you for nearly inducing him into a heart attack after your actions almost cost him his spot on the Newspaper and Yearbook Committee (In reality, Nancy Wheeler had only yelled at him for not previously checking the books).

See, once Fred had informed the rest of the Yearbook Committee of what you had done and how you were being punished, the news had spread like wildfire; nerds, geeks, punks, jocks, everyone knew one version or another. “Perfect Cheerleader Falls Under Satanic Cultist’s Influence and Vandalizes School Facilities,'' small town high school students sure had a talent to dramatize any given situation. You’d only taken a picture, that’s all it was, but the students of Hawkins High had conspired together to formulate you into a freak slut who allegedly got fucked by the Eddie Munson after cheer practice in exchange for putting his club in the yearbook.

As the students of your class hurtled to mitigate the dreaded boredom of the school day with the clashing laughter and stale food of lunch, you sighed in your seat, head pounded and anxiety still churning in your mind and stomach, slowly packing up your belongings before handing over the quiz—quite literally the worst you’ve ever performed on one. Lunch seemed like the worst possible thing to conquer, right now. Despite the horrid grumbling of your stomach, you felt no need to satiate that hunger, as your appetite was long gone for the afternoon. In addition, you’d known Jessica Lewis long enough to know that she had informed all your friends of your panic attack, and if you chose to call her out on it, you knew you would only be met with a “I’m only trying to help,” as if you needed an intervention. She’d done it to Paige Semore when the girl healthy gained a couple pounds over the summer and got ridiculed by Jess.

But when you entered the cafeteria, you quickly wished you were subjected to Jessica Lewis’ harmful “advice”, rather than the reality you got.

The sound of the heavy double doors announced your arrival, and suddenly all eyes were on you. No, like quite literally, all eyes were on you. No greeting smiles from acquaintances, no shying-away looks from crushing students, no bright wave hello from Chrissy Cunningham from across the cafeteria, in fact, she was heavily avoiding you, seemingly finding the table more interesting as Jason Carver glared at you. Everyone was staring at you as if, without notice, you had become the town pariah. Because you had. Your perturbation had bombarded you like a missile hit, as quiet whispers flooded your senses. Peering around you caught his eyeline. Eddie. His brows had severely been furrowed with much worry, because he knew. He knew how quickly it went around, and he knew just how bad the news got twisted. Now, he was no stranger to the onslaught of destructive rumors, but you weren’t, and with the day you had, his chest was pounding with dread for you.

Chalking it up to merely being in your head, you swallowed the lump in your throat, and with quick steps, you sped to your usual lunch table. But everyone kept staring- your friends were staring. “Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” You whispered, as they genuinely looked at you with disgust.

“Why don’t you tell us?” Jason scowled. “Seems like you’re the one who caused all of this, you desperate slut.”

Your mouth dropped incredulously. “What did you just call me?”

“You fucking heard me!” Jason stood from his chair, rejecting Chrissy’s quiet ask to not cause a scene. “It’s exactly what you are.” He laughed.

Eddie Munson’s residual anger was fueling. Hard. He stood from his chair all the way across the room, metal legs scraping the floor with a deafening screech. But his presence only caught the worst attention. “Oh, would you look at that? Your little freak coming to help you?”

Eddie faltered at your watery eyes, begging for everything to just stop. If he spoke, nothing would help you. “What are you talking about?” Your voice stung with pleads to just understand what was happening to you.

“Stop acting like you don’t fucking know!” Andy’s booming voice startled you. “You wanna choose some gross freak to fuck, then fine by us, go right ahead, but don’t think that you’ll be able to with us!” Andy McAvoy was taking it far more personal. He liked you. That was obvious. But hearing the rumors simply led him to believe you chose Eddie Munson over him.

“What?” Your voice cracked in distress.

Eddie had had enough.

“She didn’t fucking do anything!” He marched his way over. All the boys of the basketball team stood in preparation for a fight that Eddie Munson was known to love to finish. Finish, not start. “Your bland lives got that fucking boring you all have to go around making shit up to make things interesting?! She didn’t do anything!”

“Aw, defending your precious little fuck toy, isn’t that cu-”

Chrissy Cunningham's shrilling scream startled the entire cafeteria as Jason Carver’s blood stained her powdery skin. You flinched at the bone-crunching punch that busted Jason’s pretty face, and everything felt heavy in your chest. Your hands were beginning to shake beyond your control, as everything was horrifyingly disfiguring in front of you. It was happening again. Before your mind was about to shut off from the assault of today’s events, your instinct had elicited all rash decisions, and you had to leave. All you could comprehend was the diffusing sounds of students instigating the fight before everything fell silent and you trudged down the hall to escape.

Staff were quick to call Eddie’s name before another detrimental hit was casted upon Jason. It was only then, Eddie’s judgment was left unclouded, and he noticed you were gone. “Did she leave?” He hadn’t necessarily asked anyone in particular, moreso questioning himself, but Chrissy Cunningham had ardently answered him with a swift nod of her head and bulging eyes of fear.

Eddie broke through the doors with force, catching you near the end of the hall. “Y/N!” You didn’t turn, though. Every repeated call of your name fell with no response, and he chased you down, following you into the zephyr of the afternoon weather outside. “Y/N, c’mon, wait!” He’d grabbed your arm.

“What?!”

Eddie staggered at your biting tone. Not once, in the four years he’d known of you—freshman to senior year—had he ever heard your voice so malicious, yet drowning in urgence to make everything stop. Your inconsolable state devastating him helplessly.

“I-I’m sorry.” He sighed so softly.

“‘Sorry?’” You affronted. “Now you’re sorry?! After everything that’s happened! Why, is it out of fucking pity?!” Internally, Eddie was begging you to stop, because if you kept yelling at him like this, his defense mechanism was going to lash out, especially when he was already angry from everything that’s just happened. “I don’t want some stupid apology, not when every time you appear, my life gets worse! I just want you away!” You cried.

Eddie scoffed in disbelief. Were you actually blaming him for all this? No, you weren’t. But after the day you just had, you were not looking to be comforted by someone who partially hurt you. But Eddie Munson couldn’t understand. His judgment had a habit of being clouded; his cynicism about anything good happening to him had protected him from a lifetime of hurt, and now, unfortunately, your rightfully pent up polemic about him was believing his suspicions to be true.

“This isn’t my fucking fault, you’re the one who wanted to take our picture in the first place!” He shouted, shielding his vulnerability.

“Because you made a big deal out of it!” You screamed with frustration. “You yelled at me first, you said mean things to me first- why- why were you so mean to me?!” You blubbered through drowning tears.

“Because- be- ugh,” Eddie pained with vexation. “You fucking terrify me, okay?! You terrify the living shit out of me!” Guarding his tearing eyes from your shattered being, he groaned realizing you weren’t going to understand unless he opened up, but he couldn’t bear to, and maybe that was the best solution to move on, run away. “It’s just fucking hard when, you know, you look like that and you’re fucking you, and I’m just me, and you have a great life-”

“‘Great life?!’” You derided through tears. “You know nothing about my life!” You shoved him. “You know nothing about me!” You shoved him again. Eddie was quick to retrain your wrist in a tight grip, preventing you from touching him again, no matter how hard you tried. “Stop acting like you know everything about me when you know absolutely nothing! I’m not going to stand here, and let you say mean things to me, when you know nothing, do you understand?! I have never done anything to you, and I never will, because unlike you, I’m not some sulking asshole who can’t handle their fucking emotions, and uses their sorry life to lash out at people because they’re too pathetic to deal with their own problems!”

And maybe your rash psycho analysis of Eddie Munson was too much, or not harsh enough, but either way, your critical comments derailed him off the edge of sanity. He aggressively dropped your wrist, and got into your face with a full might of fury. “You are such a miserable bitch!” He shouted, invading your space with intent, causing you to wince and step away from him, but he wasn’t relenting. “For once, you got a fucking taste of what your bullshit friends have been doing to me, and now you can’t fucking handle it?! God, just love playing the fucking victim, don’t you?! Maybe they are right, maybe you are just some fucking desperate slut craving fucking attention?! Is that why you did all this shit in the first place?!”

The way your face flashed with sudden dejection had him biting his tongue. Oh, fuck. He regretted it. He fucking immediately regretted it.

Eddie began furiously shaking his head in denial to what he just uttered, he couldn’t believe it. “No,” he heaved out. “No, I-I didn’t mean it, I’m s-sorry.” He could only muster a whisper.

You didn’t even have the energy to fight back, merely accepting his words as truth with a silent sob that burned your being. “Yeah,” you shakily sighed with a sniffle of sobs. “I’m sorry, too, Eddie. I would have loved being your friend, and now I just want nothing to do with you.” His heart dropped at your calmness. When he first spoke those words to you, demanding you to stay away from him and his friends, he knew a deep part of him didn’t mean it. Why would he, you were fucking perfect? But you, the stillness and tranquility of your words cemented them to be the final verdict. You were done. “So please,” you wiped your drenched face from tears, “just leave me alone and stay away from me.”

No malice, no anger, no fury.

Just pure defeat.

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#stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #mean!eddie munson #the yearbook: club pictures

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obsessedelusional · 2 years ago

Text

What the f*** are you looking at?

parings ✦ Eddie Munson x You/Reader

summary ✦ As a fellow social reject you sat at the same lunch table as the Hell Fire club. You didn’t mind, forming a crush on their leader Munson. What happens when one day he catches you starting?

authors note ✦ Okay this is tmi but my freshman year of high school I had a fat ass crush on this boy he was the class clown always doing the most one day I turn around as he’s being loud and he says “What’re you looking at?” And then continues to tell his friends I’m always staring at him. Literally so traumatizing LMAO turned it a cute lil fluff piece about Eddie. Obviously my life didn’t end out like this lol

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

The first three years of high school were all the same. You spent everyday alone, your face tucked away in a book. Sometimes you’d wonder what it would be like to be a little reckless. Maybe even do something kind of stupid. Pretend for once that you didn’t give a fuck. Truth was you gave too many fucks. Constant state of worry and anxiety. It was much easier to be invisible. Doing everything in your power to be as unseen as possible.

Which is exactly why you admired Eddie Munson. He gave off the most I don’t give a fuck energy you had ever seen. You were insanely jealous that he is so effortlessly him self. Something you struggled with as long as you can remember.

Eddie was so attractive in your eyes. Most of the books you read were romance, the main man a stereotypical bad boy. You always imagined Eddie when reading the many stories. Forming a giant crush on him years ago.

One perk of being a social reject was having no choice but to sit at the same table as him. Getting a front row seat to his shenanigans. The Hell Fire Club took up half of the table while the rest of the school losers sat at the other end. Sometimes you would wonder why you few didn’t just befriend each other. No one ever brave enough to be the first person to introduce themselves.

Today was no different, you were sat the lunch table reading as a way to pass the time and hopefully stop anyone from talking to you. The large thud at the other end of the table has you looking up from the pages in front of you. You look to see Eddie putting on his usual theatrics.

“Fuck this school.” His voice spreading across the lunch room. Most people so used it they don’t bother looking his way. You on the other hand look for any excuse to stare at Eddie. Jason makes a snarky comment which only fuels Eddie’s fire.

“And fuck you too!” He flips Jason off before finally taking a seat. You can’t help but feel for him something must be truly bothering him. That quickly changes when his head snaps upwards his eyes move directly at you.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” He spits talking to you. Your eyes go wide, entirely in shock. Never once had you actually interacted with Eddie. Always wanting to, would even imagine how it would go down. Not like this.

“Dude what the fuck?” Jeff says to Eddie.

“What? She’s always fucking staring.” Eddie says, venom in his voice. Tears begin to brim your eyelids so you stand up, wasting no time to leave. You can hear the rest of the group telling him that was dick move.

You make your way to the nearly empty library. Where’d you spend the rest of lunch. After today you’d probably spend every lunch till you graduated in the library. Promising yourself you’ll never look at Eddie again.

—

It’s been over a week since the incident. You hadn’t seen Eddie since. Which was easy enough considering most of your classes were AP and he wasn’t in any of those. You ended up enjoying spending lunch in the library. It was quiet enough that there were little to no interruptions as you read.

The school day comes to an end. Your walking to your car, eyes on the floor. In an attempt to avoid all your classmates. That’s until you come to a screeching halt, someone’s blocking the door to your car. While you can only see their tattered white sneakers you recognize them immediately. It’s Eddie.

“I wanted to apologize.” His voice softer than his usual tone. You ignore him reaching for the door handle, he moves in the way blocking your hand.

“I’m so sorry.” He says while you continue to refuse to look at him.

“I was having a shitty day. Mrs. Davis was telling me off for falling behind in class. As I was leaving her classroom the principal calls me to the office, blaming me for the graffiti that appeared in the gym. Which wasn’t me by the way, if I was capable of that everyone would know it was me. Didn’t matter I got in trouble for it, two weeks of after school detention.” He keeps on rambling on and on about that events that happened before he snapped at you.

“Then Jason was being an asshole. I was so irritated and when I saw you looking at me I took it out on you. I became the asshole. I feel terrible.” He says, you can’t help but feel like he’s being genuine.

“It’s whatever. Can I get in my car now?” You say, your voice timid as usual.

“Please let me make it up to you.” He pleads. It takes all your will power to not look up at those big beautiful brown eyes.

“Don’t worry about it.” You say reaching around him but he blocks you yet again.

“Please I miss catching the pretty book worm staring at me.” As the words come out of his mouth you can’t help but internally freak the fuck out. Is what he’s saying true? You can’t bring yourself to respond, too entirely overwhelmed by the situation.

“Look at me please.” His hand reaches for your chin in attempt to raise your face. You push it away, Eddie retracts his hand surprised by your reaction.

“Why won’t you look at me?” You’re focused on his hands, his fingers playing with the tear in his jeans.

“Cause I’m always fucking staring.” You are surprised by the words that come out.

“I’m serious when I say I miss it. Let me make it up to you. I want to take you out on a date.” You can sense the smile on his face, still refusing to make eye contact with him. Wishing nothing more than to escape this situation.

“This feels like a trap.” You respond.

“What?”

“If I say yes it’s gonna be a prank or something. The second I say yes you’re gonna start laughing as if the idea of anyone going out with me is ridiculous.”

“Do you really think that of me?” He asks, his tone sounds upset now.

“A week ago, no. Today? Maybe.”

“I don’t think the idea of anyone going out with you is ridiculous. I noticed years ago your constant gaze. I never minded. If anything I started going out of my way to get your eyes on me. Always making a fool of myself so I can see your smile when you finally get your head out of whatever book your reading.”

“Then why did you say what you said?” You ask.

“Because this time the reason you were looking my way was because I was throwing a tantrum. Like a giant toddler. I was embarrassed. You looked concerned while ever looked disgusted by the freak lashing out.” He sighs, you so desperately wishing you could muster up the courage to look up at Eddie.

“So I lashed out on you. I regretted it immediately. I swear.” Eddie explains.

“I forgive you.”

“You do?” His voice perks up.

“Does that mean you’ll let me make it up to you?”

“Maybe.” You smile, still focusing on his hands.

“Look at me, please.” He’s basically begging at this point. When you hesitate, he reaches for your chin. Only this time you don’t stop him. You’re face to face with Eddie now. So close to him, closer than you ever been.

“Do you believe me yet that this isn’t some elaborate joke on you?” Your lost deep in his eyes, unable to to process what’s happening. When you don’t respond he closes his eyes, moving closer to you. He’s about to kiss you, your first kiss. Unsure of what to do you close your eyes too. He plants a sweet short kiss on your lips before pulling away. Your eyes still closed when he pulls away.

“Believe me now?” You nod yes unable to form any words, eyes closed. He slips a piece of paper in your back pocket, the pocket that rests on your butt.

“It’s my number. Call me tonight?” Eddie asks.

“Okay.” You smile opening your eyes, Eddie’s lets out a small laugh before leaving you alone to process what just happened.

“What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself. You reach in your pocket half expecting it to be blank or for it say that you’ve been pranked. Like this really was some elaborate joke on you.

It doesn’t say that. It is his number and his name with a little heart. It reads ‘sorry I was an asshole i promise to make it up to you’.

You smile thinking maybe it’s your turn to do something a lil reckless.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson pov #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie imagine #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie x you #eddie x fem!reader #munson #eddie the freak munson

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oliverr-gardenn · 5 months ago

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canon/default Durge headcanons because im bored out of my mind (and im definitely not projecting onto him):

- He definitely has some sort of an anxiety disorder.

I mean his father is literally the GOD of murder and you're telling me he WOULDN'T be on fight or flight mode 24/7???

- Migraines. He sometimes would have to go find a dark and quiet place to rest in the forest when he got migraines because the camp was just too noisy. However I do think his headaches got more bearable when he was cured of his urges.

- Yeah he's got high charisma, but that doesn't mean he doesn't avoid social interactions like the plague. He knows how to get people to do what he wants (thanks to him being a former cult leader lol) but he would much rather not have to talk to people, especially strangers. Some jokes go completely over his head and he didn't even understand when some of his companions were hitting on him.

- He has a sweet tooth. I dont have any way to explain this one other than the fact that i just think he would really enjoy a good cheesecake.

- Since he's a white dragonborn he probably really enjoys sunbathing. He loves hugging his warmblooded friends both because of the intimacy and how good warmth feels on his cold scales.

- He's a sucker for terrible jokes. This man is NOT funny at all. Back when he was Bhaal's chosen he'd say these really edgy and corny things as a way to "intimidate" people and if he wasn't already scary looking, no one would take him seriously.

Gortash certainly didn't find his empty threats intimidating at all. "Oh you're going to cut me open, spill out my insides and make me watch as you make spaghetti out of my intestines? Very cute"

- Resting grumpy face. He can never really express his emotions. He would be having the time of his life and all you'd ever see is a straight face. He sometimes has to remind himself to do facial expressions. He's also quite embarrassed about his goofy smile.

His lack of expressions lead to a lot of problems with his companions back in the day.

- Insomnia. He literally can't fall asleep on his own and needs to be put to sleep via magic. He also suffers from nightmares and often wakes up multiple times at night. His past haunts him even after escaping from Bhaal's grip.

#im so fucking obsessed with him and hes not even really a character #canon dark urge #durge #bg3 durge #durge bg3 #bg3 dark urge #durge headcanons #default durge #default dark urge

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sorrowsofsilence · 1 year ago

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Deeper • Ruffilo

Pairing: Nicholas Ruffilo x FemReader

Words: 3.5k

Warnings: Smut (18+, unprotected PnV pls wrap it before u tap it, slight breeding, inside orgasm), alcohol, swearing, jealousy, teasing. Legit just smut but with some plot lol

Prompt: you know what they say, bassist string it deeper.

Authors note: I’m so fucking tired but I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I am a literal puddle. Also this ended up being way longer than intended, oops :3

THIS IS A FANFIC USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THAT THIS PERSON WOULD DO THIS IRL OR ACT LIKE THIS! ITS FICTION!

Tags: @sammyjoeee @cookiesupplier @nyxthedestroyerofworlds @th4t-em0-k1d @lans-angels @dsireland86

Well, you know what they say, bassists do it deeper.

Ruffilo was never a fan of social situations, or people he didn’t know. If he could stay at home and away from the public’s eye, he would. He’d be happy just living with his best friends and some cats, as he was extremely shy; but he was also very needy.

Nick was always fighting for your attention; especially when you laughed a little too hard at one of Folio’s jokes, or a sarcastic comment of Jolly’s. He’d wrap your fingers through his, pulling at your arm so you would sit next to him, tugging you gently away from whoever else you were talking to. Sometimes he got jealous of all the attention you’d receive, especially when out in public; but if anything he despised when you talked to Noah. You were definitely waaay too flirty with him- in Nick’s opinion- but he’d never tell you he thought this because you and him were just friends. Noah played into the teasing you gave him; even though he knew Nick had a thing for you.

It was Halloween, Noah’s birthday; all the boys plus a bunch of friends were celebrating in their Los Angeles home. Nick’s leg bounced anxiously as he sat at the kitchen table with a drink in hand, waiting for you to show up. He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes staying fixed on the front door as he took a sip, nearly spitting out the vile red mixture. Vodka cran my ass tastes more like some sort of disgusting pink Whitney mix. He thought.

Nick’s mind began to race, thinking about you. You were an hour late, something that rarely occurred because you were always extremely punctual. He wondered where you were; his comfort person. His anxiety was rampant at the amount of people in their house. All he wanted was to see you, so you could tell him everything would be okay; but also because he was head over heels in fucking love with you.

Folio and Jolly were off playing a game of definitely rigged cup-pong, while Noah jumped through various conversations with each guest, thanking everyone for showing up to celebrate his birthday.

Nick took another sip, hand shaking in anticipation as he watched various couples dance through the kitchen, the music loud, echoing through the walls. He readjusted his Jedi- robes multiple times, tugging on the fabric nervously.

Finally, the front door opened, and Nick had to stop himself from standing up immediately at the sight of you, ready for you to hold him in your arms. You waltzed into the house, the thick-heeled boots you wore thumping against the ground, following the beat of his heart.

You smiled when your eyes met his, your dark burgundy lipstick parting, radiating against your skin; his heart pounded heavily. His eyes fought the urge to skim across your body, particularly across your exposed thighs, as the short black skirt you wore rode up dangerously high. He was practically melting in his chair, pants beginning to tighten at the thought of bending you over the counter, taking you from behind.

“What’s up Anakin,” you said, your own eyes glancing across his robes, grinning at his nerdy costume. Nick was always such a dork for Star Wars, but he was your dork.

Nick smiled, relief evident on his face that you were here; but the lingering lust he felt towards you crawled through his skin. His throat began to tighten, and words fumbled. He grabbed his cup, swallowing the remaining vodka-Whitney-cran or whatever the fuck it was, eyeing your every move as you made yourself at home, navigating through the kitchen with ease.

You placed your grocery bag of snacks and drinks you brought in the fridge, closing the door with your heel before cracking open a cooler, and taking a sip as you turned towards Nick. He loved how comfortable you were here, in his house, as if it was your own. Where you were meant to be.

“Hey,” Nick nodded, the corners of his mouth turned up. “Freddy Kruger.”

He maintained eye contact, your E/C eyes lingering in his, the glint in them playful, as if you knew what you were doing to him. The cut-up red and black striped sweater hung cropped across your body, leaving one shoulder exposed, a variety of fake slashes drawn into your skin. The faux-clawed glove was placed on your non-dominant hand, and a brimmed felt hat was placed on top of your head.

“Do you like it?” You asked, giving a slight twirl, and as you turned Nick swore he could see the bottom outline of your cheeks. His face flushed as he shifted in his seat, eyes turning to the floor, becoming very interested in the wood.

“You look fantastic,” Nick said.

You smiled as your face warmed at Nick’s words, even if prompted. Taking another sip of your cooler you hoisted yourself on the counter, sitting on top of the faux marble, the top cold against your thighs.

Nick’s silver eyes glanced up at you through his lashes, before he stood up, grabbing himself another drink.

“You drunk yet?” You asked him, and Nick shook his head in response.

“I was waiting for you, plus, I didn’t want to participate in folio’s rigged version of cup pong. Who plays it where if you miss the ball you drink?” Nick pressed his lips together, before going back to the punch bowl to fill his cup.

“The hell is that?” You nodded towards the bowl, curious about what sort of Halloween-themed drink was made.

“Some garbage Jolly mixed up.” Nick looked into the cup, shrugging before taking another sip. His eyebrows furrowed in disgust, squeezing his eyes shut.

A laugh escaped your lips, “Let me try.”

Nick walked towards you, your legs parting slightly as he stood between you, careful not to get too close, reaching the cup out for you to grab.

Instead of grabbing the cup you leaned forward, placing your lips against the plastic, prompting Nick to feed you the liquid. He tilted the cup, eyes watching your lips intensely as you followed his stare. You took a big sip, coughing after you pulled away. The alcohol flowed down your throat, burning at its strength.

“Jesus, that’s fucking gross,” you covered your mouth briefly before taking a chaser of your drink. You chugged the rest, letting your legs swing as they dangled off the counter, Nick still standing close to you, the heat radiating off of him.

You leaned to the side, tossing the can into the recycling as Noah turned the corner, his eyes brightening into a drunken smile as he swayed towards you, open arms.

“Y/N!” He yelled, the bass of the music pumping in the background.

“Noah!” You immediately jumped off of the counter, being engulfed in his embrace. Noah’s hands trailed down your back, dangerously close to the bottom of your skirt. “Happy birthday you nerd!”

Nick watched as you two hugged, his chest tightening as Noah’s hand rubbed up and down your body.

The two of you swayed, Noah, leaning all of his weight into you in a drunken state. You smiled into Noah’s hug, squeezing him. As you pulled away, you readjusted his Leaf Village headband, a sly smile playing on your lips.

“You’re such a dweeb,” you pushed Noah’s shoulder, and he smiled staring down at you, “and you’re so drunk already.”

“Nahh ” Noah wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him, “you’re just not drunk enough. Time for some shots!”

You laughed, agreeing as Noah reached into a cupboard for a bottle of tequila- something he knew was your favourite. Noah filled two shot glasses, before you wrapped your elbows around each other, taking two shots of alcohol together in a ritualistic fashion.

Nick averted his eyes as his breath hitched, refusing to watch as Noah held you to his side after the two glasses rested back on the counter.

Your head rested on Noah’s shoulder as you hiccuped from the alcohol, eyes looking up at him. Noah began to sway back and forth to the music, pulling you along with him, before swinging you around. You laughed with Noah, smiles beaming against each other. You followed Noah’s body but watched Nick the entire time.

Nick didn’t look at you, eyes fixated on his cup that he took another drink from, swallowing every drop of liquid. You sighed, shrugging Noah off of you before walking up to Nick, and wrapping your arms around him. He stiffened at your touch but put his arms around you.

“Aw Nicky, are you jealous?” You teased, reaching up to run your fingers through his long dark hair. Your chest rested against his own, and you could feel his heart vibrate against yours. You tried pulling his body to dance with the music, but he remained put, placing his arms across your back, hand holding you against his chest.

“Thanks for the drink No-wah,” you smiled cheekily at him.

Noah grabbed a beer from the counter, “anything for my baby girl.”

Nick was jealous. He was jealous at how easy you and Noah got along, and how you were ready to be in Noah’s arms at any second, but he didn’t know that you knew this got under his skin.

You knew flirting with Noah made Nick jealous, and you loved how possessive Nick always got once you went crawling back to him. You wanted Nick to be jealous, and you wanted him to want you.

Both of you desired each other, but neither was brave enough to make a move.

“C'mon,” you grabbed another cooler from the fridge for you and Nick, bending over slightly in his direction so your ass was barely exposed to him.

Standing up you sauntered towards him, hanging him the can before grabbing his hand. Feeling the warm feeling of the alcohol start to pulse through your veins, you tugged him along the house, walking past the crowd of people before you walked into the living room.

You wrapped your fingers in Nick’s inked ones, holding him close to you.

The living room was packed with people, the only spot available being on the couch; for one person.

You motioned for Nick to sit before inviting yourself to sit on his lap. Nick’s breath caught in his throat in surprise.

You wiggled to get comfortable, and Nick placed his arms across your torso, holding you still against him.

You knew he wouldn’t be able to contain his excitement if you kept moving.

Folio and Jolly’s cup pong game was going on in front of you, and as you brought the can of alcohol to your lips you couldn't help but let a sly smile play at your lips as you thought about teasing the man beneath you.

You pushed into his lap, wriggling your hips along to the music.

“Sorry Nicky, trying to get comfortable,” you said playfully, chugging the can of alcohol before placing it on the coffee table.

Nick’s fingers dug into your hips, attempting to hold you still against him; but he hardened beneath you, a quiet groan heaving from his throat as you shifted along his lap.

“Y/N,” Nick warned, letting a hand go as he grabbed his can, drinking the entire thing to give him the liquid courage.

Both of you felt the buzz of inebriation, allowing the warmth to consume you. Pretending to be invested in the game ahead you leaned back, placing your back against Nick’s chest, letting his hands roam the top of your thighs.

“What are you doing,” Nick asked through gritted teeth, but his heart raced in anticipation at your actions.

You dug your hips into him, feeling the music. No one would be paying attention to the two of you, everyone, including yourselves, would be too drunk to notice.

Sitting up you spun your body so you were straddling his waist, legs parted on either side of him. Your skirt was so short it rode up, exposing the underwear you wore beneath; but only for him to see.

Nick swallowed harshly, eyes glazing over in infatuation as he watched you, your lip finding its way between your teeth. Placing your arms around his neck you eyed every expression, glazing over every detail of his face as Nick flushed. As your body swung back and forth gently, you gained the courage to lean forward, placing a gentle kiss on Nick’s lips.

Nick stared at you, almost in shock. He wasn’t sure if this was a prank, or if he was already so far gone that he was lucid dreaming.

Nick's hands glided along your thighs as they gripped you from behind, squeezing gently. You had kissed him, and his entire body was on fire.

“Kiss me,” you said in a hoard whisper, almost desperate, waiting for Nick to respond to your first move.

Nick was hesitant and nervous as he pulled himself closer to your lips, brushing over them gently, before closing the gap between you.

You sighed into his mouth, relieved as Nick reciprocated feelings, allowing yourself to relax into his touch, body heating as his hands roamed behind you, squeezing gently at the skin.

You deepened the kiss, pushing your lips firmly into his, closed-mouth kisses opening with each wave, allowing your hands to roam into his hair, tugging softly on the strands.

Nicks's body convulsed below you, and he pulled away, staring up at you with awe.

“Want to go upstairs?” You asked, and he nodded eagerly as you crawled off of him. Nick grabbed your hand hastily as he pulled you behind him, the journey up the stairs feeling like it dragged on forever.

The music pumped below you as Nick closed his bedroom door, the sound dampening ever so slightly, the floor shaking with the bass.

Nick immediately shoved you into the wall, lips all over yours in desperation, devouring you, years of pent-up need coming out full throttle.

His hand roamed up your body underneath your torn long sleeve, granting himself access to all the curves he’d dreamed of touching. The number of times he touched himself, fantasizing about your taste, left his knees weak as he let his mouth explore yours, finally.

You moaned against Nick's lips as he fondled your chest, his hands searching very crevasse of your being through years of missed opportunity. You moulded into his touch, feeling excited as your abdomen vibrated in complete want for the man holding you against the wall.

Nick's fingers lingered underneath your skirt before pulling it up gently, grazing between your panties before roaming back up.

You moaned against the subtle tease, eyebrows furrowing as you pulled away from his kiss.

“Nick, please, don’t tease me,” you whined, pressing your forehead against his own.

Silver eyes bore into you as his lips tugged up into a sly smile, “if you don’t like my teasing, why are you moaning?”

Nick’s fingers roamed between your legs again, gently pressing where you needed him most and a feral sound escaped your lips, leaving you embarrassed. Nick stared at you with lust, almost in shock by how you were reacting to him. Nick allowed his fingers to glide between your body and underwear, feeling between your folds. His already hard body pulsing even deeper as he felt how soaked you were; all for him.

“Please,” you said as he touched you.

“Please don’t stop Nicky,” you whispered as his hand dipped between your layers. Nick planned to make her soar, but first, he loved hearing you beg for him, and only him.

“What do you want,” Nick's lips brushed across yours, this unknown confidence sending his hormones to the moon. The woman of his dreams was wriggling beneath him, desperate for anything he had to offer.

“I need you,” you said, pulling his face into yours again, allowing your tongue to explore his mouth, tasting all of him. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t even walk.”

Nick almost melted at your words, his heart beating so fast in disbelief. You want him to pleasure you.

He nodded eagerly, pulling you towards his bed, and tossing the Star Wars bed sheets aside. Nick pushed you into the bed, on top of you with all of his weight, allowing himself to dominate over your body.

Kissing down your neck your hands roamed across his back, and finally, he stared you down.

“Are you sure you want to do this Y/N? Because there is no way we are just fucking friends after this. You’re mine.”

You shuddered at Nick's possession, nodding, “I’ve always wanted to do a little more than kiss.”

Nick blushed, kissing you again before letting his lips trail down your neck, sucking on the delicate skin that lay between your neck and collarbone.

“You’re mine.” He said, marking what was his property before turning your body so you were above him.

“Ride me until your legs start shaking from the pleasure. Let me fuck you so deep you can’t even think about anybody else ever again; then I’ll flip you over and drill you to finish it off.” Nick growled, and your eyes widened at this needy side of Nick you’ve never seen before, but you were ready to give him anything he wanted.

Nick pulled off his robes, leaving his body exposed for you, you pulled off your sweater, showing off your chest and Nick's eyes devoured you, absorbing everything you showed him. He’d dreamed of this moment and what you looked like many times: but even his mind couldn’t come up with anything as beautiful as the real thing.

“Fuck you’re gorgeous,” he worshipped you allowing his hands to follow your curves once again. He pulled up your skirt, exposing your lower body as he moved your underwear to the side, positioning himself below you.

“I can’t believe you wore a skirt this small with no fucking shorts,” Nick mumbled, preparing himself.

“I wore it just for you,” you smiled, before closing the gap and pushing down onto Nick’s body, your arousal gliding you smoothly along him. Both of you groaned in disbelief, Nick relishing in how good you felt wrapped around him, his body finally reaching every part of you.

Your mouth opened widely as Nick filled you, a squeak of shock tugging at your throat as Nick squeezed your sides, pulling you up and down to get you to move.

You slid up and down his body with ease, hands on his chest for support as you road him, rolling and grinding deeper into his body, Nick hitting every point possible. Nick wrapped his arms around your back, pulling you into his chest as he began pounding into you from below, putting all of his effort into fucking you.

“Moan for me Y/N,” Nick begged, “show everyone who’s fucking mine.”

Nick's hands gripped the back of your head, fingers tangled in his hair. Every ounce of his body vibrated as he fucked you, his hips slapping against your thighs as you straddled his lap, taking everything he offered. He gave you his everything, never fucking anyone as hard as you, wanting to make you feel good.

Nick couldn’t believe how fucking beautiful you were as you cried out his name, the syllabus rolling off your tongue in complete satisfaction; and Nick knew that he would cum at any moment. He slowed his pace, wanting this to last forever.

Your nails dug into Nick’s shoulders as you clung to him, taking him well. Nick hoped you were loud enough against the music so Noah would hear; he wanted him to know that you finally got what was rightfully his.

You moaned Nick’s name as your stomach churned, nearing your release; Nick repeatedly hitting your spot over and over. You closed your eyes in ecstasy, your body turning limp as you screamed, shaking and convulsing against Nick through your orgasm.

Nick pushed into you, and you swear if he fucked any harder he’d be able to split you in half with how deep he penetrated.

“Where can I come?” Nick asked, on the brink of his climax. Y/N’s skin stuck against Nick’s chest.

“Fuck, inside of me,” you cried, pushing yourself against Nick’s hips, the only sounds filling the room were the sound of fast slaps and a string of moans fighting against the bass of the music below.

“Oh my god Y/N I’m going to I’m going-“ Nick’s fingers dug into your back, tearing your skin as he shook below you, twitching inside through his orgasm. You kissed him deeply, moaning against his lips in complete satisfaction as his release filled you, taking over your body.

“Fuck,” your head swung back, a wide smile parting your lips before you looked down at him, still sitting on top of his body.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you moan,” Nick smiled, satisfied as he rolled you over, pulling him into his chest, “it was fucking music to my ears.”

You chuckled, nuzzling against his chest, “So, friends off?”

Nick joined you, his throat vibrating as he laughed, “Oh yea, I’m ready to move to the stage where we can fuck whenever we want. Oh, and I can take you to dinner and we can hold hands.”

You smiled, holding yourself closer to him, “Deal, but only if I can suck you off next time.”

———

Who’s next, folio or jolly? ;)

#i’m going to hell #pls enjoy this I’m a mess #bad omens #bad omens band #bad omens cult #bad omens smut #nick ruffilo fluff #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo smut #nicholas ruffilo smut #smut #Halloween #Noah Sebastian

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