#It would be such a good enemies to lovers | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ghstzzn · 3 days ago

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roommates for dummies!

pairings: lee heeseung x f!reader, jay park x f!reader, jake sim x f!reader, park sunghoon x f!reader synopsis: desperate to get off of your bestfriends couch, you decide to reply to an ad online in search of a roommate. sure, you were skeptical about living with four men—but if anything, just desperate. it wasn't long before you started to completely regret this decision. however, some things just might be worth the stress and anger.

part two! wc: 7.8k

tags/warnings (chapter specific): SMUT. theres no fivesome happening (sorry..), rough sloppy sex, oral (f.), overstim, squirting, lots and lots of gross vulgar talk, jake tries to be mean dom but he's just desperate, creampie, unprotected sex, degrading, usage of the word slut & whore, nothing makes sense, slightly unedited if there's mistakes then oopsies, chaewon bestie moment, arguing, jayhoon secret gay lovers, slight mxm but it's also nothing at all, jake cums untouched but it's barely mentioned, heeseungs always listening, and they talk about fucking her at the start. every one sucks in this btw. reader likes being a whore. jake has an imaginary bet going on with the other guys. if i missed anyth lmk!

🍊: sorry this is almost two months late. got busy teehee. also, yes this is a series, no it's not a strict timeline or anything. it's just porn with some plot that doesn't work in one part. i kind of hate the intro but enjoy!!! <3

masterlist / part one / part three

MINORS & AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT!

roommates were a strange concept. living in a house full of friends, or even your partner, was one thing. but moving in with strangers and entrusting your entire life with them seemed so normal.

although, living with four men was quite uncanny, and a bit scary at first. everyone thought so too. it was no surprise to you that word got around through a small crowd that you were the boys’ new roomie, and of course people thought you were no more than just their fuck toy.

was the wild accusation really that far from the truth?

you never had more than two roommates at a time in your life, but you always categorized them; the friend and the enemy. maybe it was bad luck, but you always ended up stuck living with someone you never quite got along with. the short-lived housing situation with your ex-boyfriend claimed both titles to himself though.

but now, you sit and wonder where your current roommates fall in these categories. you weren’t exactly friends with any of them. save for when you sit and rant to jake about your day or his best friends or the 2 a.m accidental kitchen meetings with heeseung because the both of you have a nonexistent sleep schedule (for totally opposite reasons.) but you would never consider those enjoyable because he can’t seem to keep things normal. ever.

your status with jay remained awkward. there was a weird tension between the two of you that you wouldn’t call sexual or was it because either of you were shy. maybe it was because he was sunghoons (the enemy) best friend, or the fact that he walked in on sunghoon balls deep inside of you in the shared kitchen and kept nonchalant about it.

the two of you bicker but it ends quickly because you both run out of things to say, and you suppose that's where the sexual tension comes in but you both walk away before it makes its grand appearance.

but oh boy, when sunghoon comes around, jay can’t keep his mouth shut about you. he could go on about how you’re such a bitch and all you do is nag. you wonder if the two get off next to each other as they talk about their supposed shared hatred for you.

heeseung is another good example of an odd relationship. you weren’t his friend, and he surely wasn’t yours but it’s also not like the two of you are constantly out for each other's heads. this could be because he’s high out of his mind half the week or because he locks himself in his room more than half the day.

when the sun disappears, heeseung makes his appearance.

it’s been a few weeks since your escapade in the kitchen with sunghoon and heeseung. for some sick reason, you thought some pussy would shape them into better roommates— better people. but unfortunately, men will always remain men.

also, to your surprise, nobody told jake.

and jay? he completely forgot it even happened.

“YOU FUCKED HER?” jake screeches loudly from the living room. “both of you?!”

heeseung giggles like a teenage girl, legs swinging as he sits on the counter across from jay, where he slaves away at the stove to make sure his best friends remain fed.

“yeah, yeah.” sunghoon rolls his eyes. “could you be any louder?”

“no?” jake holds a look of distress as he paces back and forth from the living room to the kitchen.

“wait- that was her? on the counter, sunghoon?” jay suddenly asks, holding a large knife in his hand as he recalls the day he walked in on sunghoon fucking you against the kitchen counter.

the taller male hums, returning his attention to his phone. jay smacks his lips and shrugs.

“against the counter?!”

“dude, shut up!”

jake slams his hands against the counter top, “i demand details. now.”

“you don’t need to know sh-“

“oh my god, she was so tight.” heeseung cuts his roommate off, “i made sunghoon hold h-“

“you fucked her at the same time?”

heeseung throws the entire roll of paper towels at the brunette haired boy, “stop fucking interrupting! anyways… yes. hoonies a fucking freak, you know.”

“says you,” sunghoon retorts. “day one gooner over here just couldn’t wait to get into her pants. he made me hold her while he got his dick wet.”

“i’m getting hard just thinking about it.”

jay shoots an appalled look at heeseung before turning off the stove. the boys gather around the kitchen island, grabbing portions of food for themselves. the conversation drifting away into something new— video games and sports. man talk.

“wait, so did she like it?” jake speaks up once more about the topic.

sunghoon and heeseung share a smirk before turning to jake, who honestly seemed a little afraid of the two men at the moment.

“oh, that girls a fucking slut.”

it was a surprisingly quiet morning.

you were able to sleep in thanks to the silence in the house, the sound of light rain pattering against your window lulled you back to sleep the first time you woke up.

exiting your attached bathroom, you peel off your shirt and throw on a cuter, more put together, top. you exhale and stretch your arms upwards, rolling out your neck, relieving any tension from the night before.

this is what you needed. a relaxing, tension free day to yourself.

“hey.”

forget that. of course the incels are still home.

“jesus fucking christ jake!” you jump back and curse at the man who just barged into your room. “i thought i locked that fucking door.”

jake glances at the door knob and shakes his head.

“okay, then knock next time!”

he shrugs his shoulders and steps further into your room, studying your walls and decorations. “cute room, baby.”

you roll your eyes and follow him with your eyes. “much cuter when there isn’t an obnoxious man inside.”

“heeseung? has he been in here too?”

“what?” you ask, dumbfounded. “no. what do you want?”

“you let heeseung fuck you?”

all you could do was stare at your roommate. “i can't even get a good morning? not a ‘hey! how’s your morning going!’”

“and sunghoon? you let them both fuck you in the kitchen?!”

you let out a long sigh, running your hands through your hair and sit at the edge of your bed. you couldn’t lie, jake bringing up the entire situation made you heat up a little but you had to keep up a nonchalant act in front of these men to keep their egos from exploding.

“yes, jake. i fucked them both.”

jake lets out a groan— or whine. and you only stare at him with confusion. “whyyy?” he throws his hands over his face dramatically.

“…why did i fuck them or-“

“yeah! why did you fuck them first?”

you blink at him, trying to wrap your head around his absurd curiosity. he’s like a child asking why his sibling got to go outside and play while he was told to stay inside. jake seemed genuinely upset and so curious about it all. it’d all be endearing if the conversation at hand wasn’t about your pussy and who you let use it first.

and here you are, at a loss for words. because why did you?

“well, i-i.. it’s not like i meant to..” jake listens intently to your answer. for the first time, he’s paying attention to you but for the wrong reasons. “it just happened. one minute we were arguing and the next i- well, you know…”

“no, i don’t.” he replies flatly.

you start to speak again but go quiet. what exactly did he want from you now? and why did this somehow feel serious?

“were they good?” jake asks. “did they eat you out? did they pull out? did you even cum?”

“jesus christ jake!” you cut off his rambling. “are you jealous? or like, upset?”

“so.. no?”

you groan and lean back on your arms. this entire conversation was actually starting to piss you off, and you didn’t even know what the point even was.

“why the fuck do you care? i’m not some thing you can just fuck and use when you please! i mean i have feelings and-“

jake nods, fingers on his chin as he “listens” to you rant to him. he lets out a few hums, faking his responses for you. to him, by doing this, he’s winning brownie points.

“-you all walk all over me and treat me like shit!”

“oh, baby…” jake sighs, stepping closer to you and kneeling down in front of you. your body tenses up as he puts his hands on the mattress, caging you between them. “it must be so difficult knowing no one here bothers hearing you out. i'm so.. sorry. you deserve better, yeah?”

you furrow your eyes at the man kneeling before you, torn between wanting to smack him in the face or thanking him for actually listening. “i… yeah. it’s just not fair.”

“yeah?” he hums. “it’s not, is it? it’s not like you have a choice either… so you just have to put up with it.”

“yea- what?”

“i wish i could take all your frustration away.” he continues, “i wanna make you feel better— can i make you feel better?”

you scoff at him, pushing him away by his forehead, sending him falling backwards.

“what was that for?”

“did you listen to a single word i fucking said?” you shout at him, blood boiling at his responses. “you are such a prick, jake. i was being vulnerable to you.”

“and i appreciate that you trust me enough to do so! now let me make you feel better in return.” he crawls back between your knees.

“you weren’t even listening— and i don’t trust you!”

jake feigns an offended expression, holding a hand over his chest. “i was!”

“then what did i say?” you ask him with crossed arms, awaiting his response as he deeply thinks about your question, but you already know his answer.

“you said.. you said sunghoon pisses you off! or something like that,” you scoff at his response. “please! you’re being difficult.”

“you’re annoying.”

“let me eat you out.”

“no.”

“come on, please.”

“jake.”

“let loose a little! i already know heeseung didn’t do that much for you, so let me!” he continues to plead. “look, i can make you feel really really good. i’m better than him when it comes to eating pussy— i can make you forget all about them.”

you roll your eyes and scoot further up the bed, it may seem like an attempt to get away from the man but he only persists and follows your movements. “come on, baby. i want you to cum on my face. you don’t have to like me for me to do this.”

“you are seriously an insufferable piece of shit, it’s no wonder you’re best friends with these idiots.” jake smirks at your response, ghosting his hands down your sides to your thighs. he’s absolutely eating up every reaction you give him. you do it all the time, and you’ve done it since you moved in. the way you shyly avoid his gaze and tell him to quit yet you never move away from him.

even when you argue with jake, you blush a deep red and he doesn’t think it’s all from anger. jake thinks it’s quite endearing, actually. all you need is a little love, and a few touches.

and it pisses him off that he wasn’t the first one to fuck you.

like seriously? you hate sunghoon. you hate sunghoon more than the other three boys. since the day you moved in, you and sunghoon would go at it like cats and dogs. he pissed you off to no end with his arrogant attitude and his narcissism. the man was another rich asshole who spoke with a mouthful of silver spoons that didn’t even belong to him.

you fucking hated nepotism.

and though the other three weren’t much better, at least jake could hold a conversation without flexing how many figures his daddy makes in a year. or that his mommy owns the neighborhood you all reside in.

or that his family owns the fucking university you go to and threatens to get you kicked everytime you piss him off.

maybe you do favor jake out of the four. it’s not like you adore the guy in any way, but he was more tolerable than the nepo-baby, the gooner and the… whatever the fuck jay has going on. he was a different breed of asshole.

and though the sentiment isn’t real, jake will gladly sit there and listen to you rant about his own friends. before he found out what happened between you, sunghoon and heeseung, he proudly sang with confidence that his time spent with you would land him a free ticket in your pants.

seriously, how many times does jake have to cover up his horniness as a genuine connection. how many times does he have to flash you his signature smile and playfully flirt with you until you fold?

was he the first to fuck you? no. but jake is sure he’s about to not only make you cum on his tongue, but also his cock and boy is he going to rub it in all of their faces.

but you aren’t stupid.

“get,” you grab his hands and push them off of you, “out.”

“what?”

you roll your eyes and climb out of bed, standing over jake, who was still on his hands and knees. “i said get out. i have plans today and i don’t need any of you foiling them.”

“what the hell?”

“why are you so on edge?”

you look over at chaewon from your position on the couch, previously focused on jay moving around in the kitchen and jake sitting at the island with his face shoved in his nintendo switch.

“it’s too calm here.” you mutter in response. truly, it felt like the calm before the storm. you were currently co-existing with your roommates at a near distance and not a single person was making a rude comment.

granted, chaewon was visiting and it’d be childish to act out in front of a guest. and both jay and jake are on the calmer side of the spectrum when it comes to pissing you off.

chaewon cocks an eyebrow at you, “do you want the opposite.”

“no. it’s just weird.”

your best friend hums and nods her head, suddenly scooting closer to you. “so, who was it?”

“what do you mean?”

“girl, who fucked you in the kitchen?” she shoves you playfully and your eyes widen. you glance around to see if the two males heard that and cringe deep down when jay makes eye contact with you.

you sigh and shoot her a glare, “you have such a loud mouth.”

“okay? is it either of them?”

you shake your head, looking around once more. sunghoon and heeseung were home, but either hidden away in their rooms or somewhere else in the house and your friends curiosity won't die down unless she sees them face to face.

“heeseungs probably in his room,” you start, pausing to think about the other male’s whereabouts. “i’m not sure where sunghoon is.” chaewon groans in response, causing you to roll your eyes and playfully swat at her.

“do either of you want some fruit?” a voice interrupts the two of you.

you slowly turn your head towards jay and blink at him. he doesn’t remove his gaze from you, not even for a second.

“oh, that’s really sweet of you…” chaewon trails off.

“jay.”

a nervous smile takes over her expression and she nods at his short reply, “jay.. yeah, i’ll have some.”

he continues to stare at you, waiting for your response.

“sure.”

every single time you have tried to reach for a piece of fruit, jakes hand is beating you there. the first few times could’ve been mistakes, but now he’s shooting you a smirk when his fingers graze against yours. in any other situation you would’ve found it to be an endearing mistake. but this is jake. it’s not endearing. it’s annoying.

with a roll of your eyes, you bring your hand back to your lap, earning a confused and quite offended look from jake.

chaewon sits silently next to you, nervously biting into a piece of watermelon. the poor girl was too scared to speak over the glares you were sharing with the two men.

you were sure this was apart of some elaborate plan from the two. they have never once offered sliced fruit in your few months of living here, nor have you ever just sat in the living room, bonding, as chaewon put it.

“so, chaewon..” the mentioned girl looks up rather quickly from the same watermelon piece she’s been chewing on for the past few minutes. jake is sprawled out on the lounge chair, playing with a few strands of his hair. “what do you do? like, what’s your major?”

chaewon straightens her posture, setting the slice of watermelon down. she shoots you a quick glance, as if asking for permission to speak. you give her a reassuring smile and she takes a deep breath.

“well…” she trails off, explaining her major and why she’s taking it. jake is staring at you the entire time with one hand running through his hair and the other resting on the crotch of his jeans.

you let out a scoff, slightly louder than intended, gaining everyone’s attention. chaewon raises an eyebrow and a cocky grin spreads across jake's face.

jay looks up from his phone, “that was a little rude, wasn’t it?” as if he were paying attention in the first place.

jake lets out a snicker as the other male keeps his gaze on you. you readjust your sitting position awkwardly and mutter a quick sorry to your best friend, urging her to continue.

“my plan is to be a nurse,” chaewon continues, “i feel as if people don't appreciate nurses as much as they do surgeons or doctors. i just want to help people in more ways than just a scalpel.”

she smiles and looks down at her lap. you’ve always found her so endearing, and you knew her soul was beautiful inside and out.

“wow, that’s really something,” jake responds, clapping his hands together as he leans forward. “you know, jays dad owns a few hospitals, i’m sure he could help you out there.”

“really?”

jay looks at jake before looking at chaewon, giving her a small nod. “hm, sure. we could get you in as soon as you’re ready. my dad is kind of strict on hiring but i can tweak some things.”

“what’s the catch?” you’re the center of attention once again, but you direct your focus on jay, who’s now sporting a cocky expression as he leans back against the couch.

he tilts his head and throws his arm around the back of the couch, “why would there be a couch? just helping a friend in need.”

“but she’s not your friend, nor is she in need.”

chaewon goes quiet again, looking everywhere except at the two of you. your other roommate is shaking his head as he holds back his own laughter.

“jeez, no need to get jealous. i’d be more than happy to pull some strings for you too.” jake butts in, “look, you made your friend feel bad.”

you turn your head towards chaewon, “hey, i didn’t mean it like that. i just— i mean, i don’t trust them.”

“they are your roommates.” she mutters.

“aw man,” jake cooes. “you should really learn to lighten up. not everyone is out to get you.”

you shoot a glare at him and he throws his hands up in a defensive posture. chaewon darts her eyes around the tense living room, deciding it would probably be best if she left right now.

“i’m gonna get going,” she announces as she stands up, “it’s late.”

“it’s not even seven.”

she ignores jay’s comment and grabs her bag, heading for the front door. you follow her and shoot her an apologetic look before letting the girl out.

“seriously?” you cross your arms as you walk back into the living room.

jake shrugs and leans over for another piece of fruit, popping it in his mouth, “we didn’t do anything except give her a really useful piece of information that could help her further down in life.”

“yeah, right.” you roll your eyes, “i’m not dumb and you guys can't operate without there being a catch.”

“that attitude is going to get you absolutely nowhere,” jay says, “your bitchy tone drove your own friend to leave— not my job offer.”

you scoff at his insult, it wasn’t your fault, what the hell? jays smug expression made you want to hop over the couch and wipe it off yourself.

“seriously though, we were just being nice. a friend of yours is a friend of ours.” jake spread his arms out, motioning between himself and the other male sitting across from him.

“we aren’t friends.”

“ouch, babe.”

you roll your eyes again. you’re sure that one day they’ll get stuck that way. “i’m going to my room.”

as you finish collecting your belongings from the living room, shoving them into your bag, jay speaks up once more.

“you know, i’ve never truly had a problem with you… but today, you really do prove that you’re just a bitch who can’t even tell when someone is truly being kind or not.”

you have two options; throw your entire bag at jay while screaming, or walk off cooly and not let it bother you.

“‘never had a problem with me?’” you quote in the air, “tell that to all the times you and your boyfriend shared snide comments about me to each other.”

“my boyfriend?”

“yeah,” you nod, pushing back your own smirk, “park sunghoon.”

he scoffs at you, looking up from his spot. you can’t even deny how good it feels to be above him, even if it is just your current position. “i know who you’re talking about.”

“oh, well. i’m glad that bit is settled.” you respond with a soft smile, tilting your head ever so slightly to portray the faux ignorance to the true reason he’s upset.

jays jaw clenches and he’s about to say something before jake springs up from his seat with a loud, dramatic sigh. “all you guys do is fight. it never ends.”

“we don’t fight.” you respond with a shake of your head. it was somewhat true– you and jay rarely spoke to each other and only half of your conversations included snarky remarks towards one another. the problem was that jay only spoke up about you when others were around.

jake looks back and forth at the two of you with a bored expression. jays attention is focused on the faux houseplant in the corner of the room, avoiding both of your gazes.

“jay just likes to talk shit about me when you and the other boys are around because he thinks it’ll impress you,” you continue, “like it’s gonna make you guys worship him and suck his dick.”

“you’re so fucking gross,” jay spits. you give him a sarcastic smile in exchange.

the shorter male cringes and scoffs, “you are very vulgar sometimes, you know that?”

if it weren’t for the situation, his comment would be funny considering he only let you move in because you were a woman with a seemingly hot voice. except, you refused to give it up for months after moving in, and that pissed jake off. and you wouldn’t be surprised if the others were just as mad you didn’t open your legs for them either.

but before you could respond, jay beat you to it.

“i really miss the days you would hide in your room.”

you chuckle, “ah, you’d like me in my room wouldn’t you, fucking freak.”

the male rolls his eyes, leaning back in his seat comfortably, “don’t be weird, not everyone wants to fuck you.”

jake shrugs at the response, mumbling a soft “wrong” earning a glare from the other.

“and what’s that supposed to mean?” you were pushing him. jake was getting antsy at the way you continued to egg jay on. he wishes you’d submit and run to your room so he had the chance to relieve you of your anger and stress.

but you were so god damn full of yourself. and so fucking stubborn.

“seriously?” jay lets out a dry laugh. you tilt your head, waiting for him to elaborate after a few moments of silence. “i don’t know what you did to get these three so pussy drunk– but it won’t work for me, especially if that’s how you plan to get your way around here.”

“i haven’t fucked her?”

the both of you ignore jakes comment, “pussy drunk? i haven’t done shit.” you respond. “you think you’re so wise using every word to call me a slut but it was your friends that came onto me first.”

“sure,” you squint your eyes at him, confused as fuck. “sunghoon doesn’t even make you pay rent. you walk around here like you fucking own this place– when you don’t and you’ll never come close to living a lifestyle like this.”

you were sure that jay was using this moment as a flex considering he genuinely had nothing to hold against you. bringing up money and work was not surprising at all to you, he’s just doing exactly what his best friend does to you.

“you love bringing up sunghoon and you try so hard to act just like him,” you respond, voice full of amusement. “you’re so obsessed with the man, is he your sugar daddy? is he fucking you hard and deep, jay? because i don’t understand the big deal about that man.”

jays face crinkles in disgust. “you’re fucking crazy.”

“i’m sorry you didn’t get first dibs on the pussy that has me living rent free here,” you sigh. “i’m sure another willing girl will waltz in here sooner or later. or maybe go take your dicks frustration out on hoon or one of your guitars he bought you.”

“hoon?”

“i’d come up with a nickname for you too but you missed the chance to fuck me,” you repeat. it’s not even like you wanted to have sex with the man, but he was the one who kept bringing it up. it pissed you off that he pretended to know everything– how he acted as if he were god and beyond superior all because he didn’t stick his dick in you.

jake stands there awkwardly yet very amused.

“i told you i’d rather die.” jay spits.

“then fucking die, jay, i don’t know what you want me to say.”

jake holds his hands out, “woah, hey guys. no need for death threats!” he waves his hands in front of you both. “we are all friends here!”

“sure, if that’s what you wanna call it.”

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

you laugh at jay’s quick response, “i’m talking about your relationship with sunghoon.”

“okay! guys, please,” jake pleads, standing between the two of you but only facing you, “let’s chill. ignore him, he’s just trying to piss you off and you know this.”

jay stands up from his chair, mumbling under his breath, “i didn’t even start this shit.” he growls as he walks off, disappearing further into the house. you both hear a door slam in the distance and it takes everything in you to not laugh.

“he’s such a child.”

the shorter male shakes his head, “and you love to fight, don’t you?”

“no? but he fishes for it.” you huff, finally grabbing your bag to travel to your own room, away from the testosterone in the house. jake follows you like a lost dog, and you know it’s because he has nothing better to do so you let him.

he pushes past you into your bedroom and plops down on your bed, spreading his legs and leaning back on his hands. jake watches as you organize your work on your desk, though his eyes are focused on the curve of your ass each time you bend over.

jake feels like he’s suffocating. he’s been sporting a half hard dick since your interaction this morning because he cannot stop thinking about eating you out. sure he can be a bit needy and gross when it comes to getting his dick wet, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this down bad for somebody knowing his friends got to them first.

it started out as a joke, that he’d be the first to fuck you when letting you move in. he honestly had no plans on making moves on you, nor did the others. but when you got comfortable enough to walk around in your skimpy pajamas and those thin, dainty tank tops you loved to wear, he started to lose his mind.

the amount of times jake has walked into the kitchen to see you sitting on the counter in an oversized shirt, leaving what's under it to his imagination, he’s had to walk out immediately.

when he would run into you at three in the morning, seeing your half asleep figure in nothing but a tank top and shorts, a strap falling down your shoulder, he’d run back to his room and watch loads of porn to distract himself from you.

“you feelin’ okay?” jake asks, clearing his throat to avoid a voice crack. he needs to do this smoothly.

you straighten your posture, turning to face him. “honestly, i’m pissed off and all i want to do is relax.”

“lay it on me, baby.”

“it’s just…” you sigh, stepping towards him. “chaewon was over so we could study for our exams next week and i feel like both jay and i ruined it for all of us.”

which is not what he meant whatsoever, but he sits and he listens, nodding as his eyes shut to mask his own frustration, “have you thought about moving out? i’m not asking because i want you to, but…”

jake’s eyes flutter open as he waits for your response. honestly, he’s over talking about all of this. he doesn’t care much for the beef that you have with him or his friends anymore, and he’s certainly over them shit talking about you all day.

“yeah, but i mean i don’t want to leave,” you start with a loud sigh, “i mean, it’s the middle of the year and i can’t get into a dorm, my parents live fifty miles away, and fuck even just a studio is way over my budget.”

“so, what?”

“i need to fucking meditate or something,” you respond, placing a hand on your forehead, “i’m not gonna lie and say i don’t start half of it. i need to be the bigger person here but i have no outlet for my anger.”

jake hums, then pauses. a lightbulb goes off in his head and if you could see inside his mind, you’d see him deviously rubbing his hands together. you let out another sigh and shake your head, “i’ll figure it ou-”

“hear me out.”

“i am not doing this, jake.”

you ought to hear jake out on his ideas more often. sure, it pissed you off that he had only one thing on his mind. but you could feel the anger and tension leaving your body as his tongue flicked against your clit again.

“f-fuck, right there.” you tug his hair upwards and he follows your needy command. his tongue diving through your wetness as if he wanted to drink it all up and his nose bumping against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you’ve always wondered what it’d feel like to have his thick lips attached to your pussy and you’re not at all disappointed by this turn of events.

jake was a god when it came to eating pussy.

suddenly, his words from that morning are flooding back into your mind. you haven’t even come yet and you’re already thinking about the next time you’ll have your roommate between your thighs.

as if on cue, his nose bumps against your clit again and you clench around his tongue, which was buried inside of you. your back arches, forcing your cunt into his mouth as an orgasm washes over your body. jake doesn’t stop either, nor does he slow down. his hands wrap around your thighs and pulls them apart as he nuzzles against your wetness with a grunt.

you have to yank his hair when it all starts to overwhelm you. jake lifts his head up, wearing a surprised look, half of his face drenched in your arousal. “what’s wrong?”

“‘t’s too fucking much, jake.” you breathe out, legs twitching in his hold.

“that’s kind of the point,” he grins widely at you. “feelin’ less frustrated though, right?”

you agree with a whiney hum, in which he responds with a chuckle. “you know how long i’ve had to wait to get you in this position?” you watch as he lifts himself and leans forward. “so long, babe. too long.” jake places a sloppy, wet kiss to your jawline. you can feel your own slick against your skin, he pulls back and places a kiss to your lips, biting softly. “even if the reason is jay, i’ll fucking take it because you taste so fucking good and i’ll sit between these thighs until you’re screaming for me to stop.”

oh. he’s insane about pussy and it makes you throb down below. jake lowers himself once again, placing soft kisses down your stomach before facing your cunt. his eyes flicker to yours before diving in.

you yelp out when he sucks your clit between his lips, legs shaking around his head.

“louder.”

it’s near impossible to be quiet as he makes out with your cunt, his words only egg you on. you aren’t the only noisy one in the room either. jakes groaning against you, or talking you through it, whether he’s telling you to be louder or asking how it feels.

his fingers prod against your entrance, pushing the tip of the two digits in before out again. he has no plans starting you off slowly, he wants you to feel his own frustration all while taking you out of yours.

“c’mon, baby, don’t you want him to hear?” he cooes, “want him to hear how good i can make you feel… you don’t need them, huh? never did.” he plunges his fingers inside of you, curling them while bringing his mouth back to your clit.

you don’t even know who he’s talking about, it could be jay or it could be sunghoon, but you don’t have time to think over it because the way the tips of his fingers push against the spot inside of you paired with his tongue flattening against the bundle of nerves has your mind completely blanking.

“mff- yes, god!” you cry out, throwing your head back against your mattress. you lift one of your hands from jakes head and bring it under your shirt to play with your own nipples, pinching and squeezing to add to the pleasure.

jake takes notice of this and lifts his head for a mere second so he could throw your shirt over your chest, wanting to see you mess with your own tits.

“does it feel that good?”

you nod your head, whining at the way his fingers pump in and out of you, curling and reaching that spot inside of you so well. he can't hide the smile growing on his face as he watches you arch your back into his touch and grope your tits with pleasure.

he leans down, voice low as he mouth plays with your clit, “tell me– tell me how good it feels. i wanna hear you.”

“t-they’re gonna hear,” you manage to respond in between moans.

“let them.”

jake circles his tongue around your clit before softly biting down. the action itself is painful but so good, paired with the fast pacing of his fingers, you’re biting back a scream but he does it again. he wants you loud and unapologetic. fuck, if he could, he’d get you screaming for sunghoon who resides secluded on the other side of the house to hear, better yet, they neighbors.

because ultimately, he won.

“‘m gonna fucking cum, jake.” you gasp loudly, “d-don’t stop, please don’t fucking stop.”

you don’t have to tell him twice. in fact, he speeds his fingers up and sucks loudly on your clit, sloppy, messy and loud– how he likes it. your body jolts and you grip his hair tighter as you feel your orgasm approach once more. a loud, choked sob escapes your throat as you cum, squeezing your eyes shut and chanting his name like a mantra.

jake slurps up your wetness, removing his fingers so he can shove his tongue in your dripping hole, wanting every last drop of your cum down his throat. he was a fucking mess and it was all because of you.

your thighs close around his head so tightly that he can’t even hear your loud moans and pleads for him to let off, just the ringing in his ears from the pressure. he nuzzles his face flush against your cunt, as if it were possible to get any closer.

“jesus, fuck!” you practically scream out. it was almost painful but if it weren’t for your estranged yelp, he would remain buried.

he looks at you in a daze, completely fucked out even though his cock remained untouched. but he can feel himself dripping in his own pants, his boxers clinging to his dick due to the dampness, he’s not even sure if he came untouched because he was so focused on your cunt.

“y-you’re fucking insane,” you pant, chest rising and falling dramatically.

jake shakes his head, a droplet of your arousal falling from the tip of his nose. he looked amazing like this, and it scared you how much it turned you on.

“please let me fuck you.”

it’s not like you want to say no, but he spent so much time abusing your cunt with his mouth that you’re on the verge of numbing out. “jake, i’m so sensi-”

he cuts you off, leaning forwards a pressing his bulge against your wetness, “i’ll be gentle– i can be gentle, just please, i think i need to fuck you before i actually lose my mind.”

jakes plan on fucking you dumb, to the point of forgetting where you are or why you were upset had completely backfired and now he felt like the stupid one. his head was dizzy and all he could think about was stuffing you full.

for all those times he’s had to restrain himself, to hold back because he didn’t want you running out the door–it’s paid off in a way. when his friends told him about their experience fucking you, he lost his moral compass on the way to your room the next morning. he’s begging you to let him lose himself in your cunt because it all he needs.

“‘t’s not fucking fair,” he groans, burying his head in your neck. “you only take cock from them now? can’t let me have this?”

you don’t know what he’s rambling about nor does he. he grinds against you again and you let out a whine.

“see? you want it so bad, don’t you? walking around here like you hate us, but let us fuck you just how you like because you’re so god damn full of shit, huh?”

“jake-”

“so fucking hungry for cock,” he continues, one hand doing all the work to free himself from the restraints of his jeans. “they’re right. such a slut but god it’s so sexy, you know that right?”

before you can blink, jake buries his cock deep inside of you. he has to pause to breathe and let his head clear before he lets himself loose and cums before even starting. for a second time. he lets out a deep sigh before rocking his hips slowly, warming himself up before speeding his pace up.

your cunt flutters around him and he chuckles, readjusting your position so that your legs are resting on his shoulders. his hair is damp and stuck to his forehead despite not even moving much.

“look at you,” he groans softly, “don’t like being called a whore but sure do like getting fucked like one.”

he tries to speak up but his own moan cuts himself off. he couldn’t degrade you more if he tried because holy fuck your pussy might have him convinced he won in life. jake pulls his hips back before roughly plunging his cock back into you. he drinks up every loud moan you give him, and he thrusts into your leaking hole as if trying to get you to be louder.

but at this point he’s chasing his own pleasure. no matter how hard he fucks into you, it doesn’t feel like its enough. jake leans forward, pushing your knees to your chest so he can hit it from another angle.

letting out a loud groan like whimper, jake presses his forehead against yours and continues his rough, sloppy pace. your moans mixed together plus the sweet sound of wet slapping fills the room like a song, and there was no denying that the entire house could hear it.

it was far too much, he said he’d be gentle but jake has fucked the both of you into stupidity. but you can’t bring yourself to be upset because the way the tip of his cock almost meets your cervix has you seeing the fucking stars. the entire scene was desperate and messy. jake couldn’t even get his pants fully off before fucking you and you could feel the material of his jeans rub against your ass almost painfully.

“god, fuck me,” jake roughly whines, “pussy ‘s so good.”

his voice is breaking and stuttering, attempting to hold himself back but he just can't. the male's lips are wet against yours, desperately biting and kissing yours with fervor. he can feel his stomach tense up but he holds back, edging himself to get the most of your pussy because jake knows once he cums, he’ll be fucking cooked.

“j-jake, please,” you cry out, gripping his shoulders tightly. you feel as if you’re about to explode, the pleasure is overwhelming and almost painful due to his sloppiness but nonetheless you feel another intense orgasm creeping. “please cum soon, i-i can’t-”

he groans loudly, lifting himself to thrust harder– he was about to have the best orgasm of his life. the man can’t even be embarrassed about the literal whimpers and sounds coming out of his mouth because he knows god damn well that any other man would be in the same position if given the chance to fuck you like this.

a sharp yelp rips from your throat and your legs wrap around his wait, almost restricting his moments. but when he looks down, he sees god.

clear liquid gushing from your cunt, soaking the bottom half of his shirt and covering the both of your thighs. his eyes roll back as he cums without a second thought to it, cock pulsing as thick, white ropes cover your walls.

it takes a few long moments for the both of you to recover from your orgasms. nothing but the sound of panting fills the air.

“p-please get up,” you smack jakes back softly. his body jolts, realizing he almost fell asleep in the position.

he whispers an apology before lifting himself up and off of you. the feeling of his cock dragging against your creamy walls almost makes him want to go another round, but he knows he has to resist.

though, if it were up to him, he’d be making up for every missed opportunity today. instead, he kneels in front of you, trying not to get lost in the way his cum drips out of your pulsing hole, and helps you sit up. this way, the two of you can see the wetness covering both bodies.

“you squirt,” jake comments, “that’s real fucking hot.”

before you can reply, the door slams open and shut within two seconds.

“what the fuck, heeseung?” the both of you spit at the same time.

the red haired male stands there with his hands up, “look, i was trying to be respectful and blow a load in my own room but sunghoon came in all pissed off mid jerk off and told me to shut you both up.”

“so?” jake answers before you, “what, is he like, jealous?”

“i don’t know, i gave up figuring that out because i heard you say she can squirt and i wanted to see.”

your tired eyes widen and you yank your shirt down, attempting to cover yourself, not that he hasn’t seen it all already.

“you missed it–should’ve been here earlier.” jake states with a smirk.

“hold the fuck on-”

“nah, i’ve fucked this girl standing up, she has more stamina than you think.”

you get hit with major deja vu. the two conversing as if you’re not there.

“what makes you think i’d squirt again for you?” the two men look at you, a predatory smirk growing on both of their faces.

but before anyone could make a move, a loud guitar riff cuts them off, barely muffled by the wall that separates yours and jay’s bedroom. you shift awkwardly in your position, suddenly aware that everyone in the house did in fact hear you.

“look at her acting all shy,” heeseung snickers, “three down, one more to go. you’re just lucky he’s distracted with his guitars right now, baby. that just means you can be as loud as you want.”

“leave the door open though, they love watching.” jake mumbles before leaning down, placing kisses against your knees and thighs. heeseung chuckles and pulls the door ajar before making his way to the both of you, gripping his shoulders and looking at you as he hovers from behind him.

you visibly gulp at the sight, watching as heeseung leans closer to jakes ear, pressing his body flush against his friends back. you can feel jake’s cock twitch against your thigh and you decide then and there that you’re content with this situation in its entirety–and that you have more ways than one of getting back at your angry roommate in the other room, strumming his guitar with frustration.

🍊taglist (bold couldn’t be tagged): @filmnings @deobitifull @leov3rse @hooniehon @roslayy @strxwbloody @cutiepatootiejungwon @jakeswifez @yuriknows @d-dilemma @kon-ss @sunooqvrlsx @ayablogsblog @miszes @jaeyungxrl @143won @jaylvrsworld @kaykay11sworld @wonnienyang @immelissaaa @fancypeacepersona @wonsohl @vixialuvs @demigodmahash @ribbioniki @enhamonsterghoul @nshmrarki @wonuziex @firstclassjaylee @isagistar @mothafawkingher @hee-yunie @denleave1088 @matchacake2 @ch4c0nnenh4 @planetmarlowe @binniesbabe @hoonjysn @drunkodazed @rapmonie2047 @yangjungwonisms @isa942572 @simj4k3 @doyotint @jiungscougar @btxtenha @lol6sposts @tinycatharsis @prkhaven @innocygnet

(taglist is closed. if i tagged the wrong account/made a mistake, mistakenly tagged you or you want me to remove you, please let me know.)

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artemisiasmuse · 3 days ago

Text

always known | CH.3

PAIRING: rafe cameron x fem! kook reader

CW: 18+ mdni, smut eventually, angst, mean rafe, jealousy, possessive rafe, kook typical classism (not from y/n tho), abusive family dynamics, not really canon/au, swearing, drinking, no coke tho, ward cameron

SUMMARY: rafe’s childhood best friend y/n returns to figure eight by herself and finds rafe hates her for some reason, their friendship has gone down the drain and they can hardly remain cordial, and there’s one thing causing all of it: why can’t rafe just move on?

TROPE: childhood best friends to enemies to lovers

WORD COUNT: 3k

MASTERLIST

< previous next >

rafe realizes he may have made a mistake when he overhears you and sarah arguing at a party. he’s walking past the room you two are in and the door is slightly open. it’s not entirely his fault your raised voice stuns him, you sound so hurt and his body goes into some sort of panic state from the sound alone. his feet feel heavy, unmovable, so he leans against the wall next to the door.

“sarah i can’t, the last time was so fucking awkward okay!” you can’t believe she’s actually suggesting you stay at tannyhill while your place gets fixed. your dishwasher, which you found out was from 1981, had broken and caused your place to flood. the repair company said it would take at least a couple of weeks, not to mention the headache of replacing your furniture. you even had to get ready in the car with plastic bags of your clothes. thankfully since your room was on the second floor your clothes and important belongings were unharmed but there was no way you could stay there with the ground floor being unusable. you planned to book a hotel or crash at one of your OBU friend’s dorms when sarah cameron swooped in to save you. at least she thought she was saving you, but here you were feeling nauseous from her suggestion.

“he doesn’t hate you, come on, that's crazy, and besides it's my house too he doesn’t decide who goes in and out. rose and dad adore you, they’d love to-“ he flinched at sarah’s words, so this was about him. that’s why you were so angry. he hadn’t heard you angry since the last party, it was still far better than your sadness. he hadn’t seen you much since the bar burger thing and it was for the best, you had seemed happy with your new friends and he didn’t want to ruin that. topper and kelce managed to keep him in the loop even if he didn’t ask about it, mentioning that you had arrived with your friends. rafe might not be talking to you but it was an impossible task to ignore you. the black mini skirt and plain grey crop top you were wearing might as well have been a wedding dress in his eyes. there was no other girl in the party, in all of outer banks, the whole world, he’d rather look at even for a few seconds. his absence in your life was a good thing right? then why did he feel like breaking down the door between you two from the sound of you in distress.

“please sarah i can’t-“ and he hears your voice crack and then the small sobs that follow it, the solo cup in his hand crunches. he wants to so badly go in and beg you to stop crying. he knows he doesn’t deserve to hear this but he still can’t move, his stomach twists at the sound of your broken breathing, it takes him back to when you would cry in his arms and he would hug you until you stopped. now he can’t even approach you and it’s all his fault. his eyes sting with unshed tears, he wills them away.

“i should beat rafe’s ass” rafe thinks that’s the best thing sarah has said in a while. you panic at the statement, wiping your tears. you couldn’t stand to break this illusion of ignorance between you two. you’d been stealing glances at him all night, even your college friends had deduced that the “hot blonde buzzcut” was off limits. you didn’t correct them, only saying that it was complicated and you hadn’t even spoken to him but he looked better for it.

“no, don’t say anything to him, i just need to get used to it s’all. we used to be best friends ya know, i loved him so much, i mean i still do but sometimes i don’t know if he even remembers me.” you can’t pretend in front of sarah, not when you see his face in hers. her brown eyes stare into yours, they’re not the shade that you’re used to. it’s always like this. you get a bit drunk and you start looking for the closest thing in the eyes of others. that’s how you ended up with your two exes, ultimately realizing the shade would never be close enough.

even now you wonder if rafe’s okay, if he’s doing better now that you’re out of his life again. he looked so uncomfortable with you around and seeing him now still makes you feel horrible but you can tell he’s happier. you can’t help the tears that keep streaming. rafe flinches at your words, hearing you say that you love him is breaking his heart and he clenches his hand by his side. it’s a privilege to be loved by you, even if it’s not the way he wants.

“you’re kinda impossible to forget.” rafe takes it back, that’s the best thing sarah said. how could he possibly forget you? you were itched into his bones, your initials tattooed on his heart, even in his dreams you haunted him. he goes to sleep looking at the framed photo of you two in kindergarten and wakes up to the one of you in middle school, looking shy and slightly goofy in your formal wear for the school dance. and he could’ve removed them, rose had even suggested it, but that just felt wrong. much like the distance between you two right now.

“thanks sare love you.” he could hear your voice muffled, sarah hugged you close.

“love you too, now stop messing up your makeup, you're too pretty to cry over him.” with that he took his drink back to the kitchen and replaced it with something harder.

rafe nearly faints when he sees you in his kitchen the next morning. he thinks he might have discovered some new level of drunk that makes you hallucinate. you’re clearly hungover too, your eyes barely open as you trudge around. clad in an oversized shirt and gym shorts that look like they might be from high school, you’re entirely too endearing to be real. when you see him you mumble something about sarah saying it was fine. he knows it’s fine, he actually thinks seeing you back in the house is the most fine he’s ever felt in years. you’re looking for something he notices, unsuccessful in your search. he curiously watches on, unbelieving that after this long you’d know where things are.

“hey uhm where’s the cereal bowls? i swear they were over here before-“ and you’re right they were where you were standing, rafe shuts his eyes for a few beats to find some semblance of self control. when he opens them he’s looking away from you and grabbing a glass of water for the painkiller he desperately needs.

“next to the fridge.” he motions towards the cabinet on the left and you nod.

“that makes more sense.” rafe doesn’t tell you that wheezie had said the same thing before insisting the bowls be moved there.

“oh-“ your hands reach for a bowl but your gaze is captivated by the explosion of colors stark against uniform white bowls. it’s the bowl you and rafe painted together after pottery class, your initials engraved into it and your eyes water at the sight. your heart aches at how different your friendship is now compared to the love and respect gone into making the bowl only years ago. looking at it now the bowl is pretty hideous, none of the colors complement one another but somehow it makes sense.

“hey why are you-“ his voice plants you firmly back into reality, it doesn’t have the soft lilt it used to have, the one he reserved for you. it sounds almost angry. once again hard and distant and it jolts you back into obedience, grabbing a regular one and wiping at your eyes. rafe feels like he might throw up when he watches you physically flinch from his words. the thought that he scared you of all people made what little resolve he had left crumble. you were the only one who understood him, the only one who insisted he wasn’t the monster rose thought he was, that ward was a terrible father for how he treated you. you couldn’t be scared of him, you were the only one. now you flinched from his voice alone.

“i’m sorry.” you’re apologizing for something you’re not entirely sure of and rafe begins to hate himself. why couldn’t he be normal? why did he have this insatiable urge to make you his? all the anger and frustration he felt when you left was nothing in the face of seeing you cry because of him. and it’s the second time it’s happening in the span of twenty-four hours.

“come here.” you look up shocked and find him with an arm outstretched to pull you into his side. his expression is cracking like yours, his brows drawn together and his head hung low, he looks almost apologetic. you’re so shocked you think you might be dreaming so you don’t hold back. you loop your arms around his waist and bury yourself into his chest breathing in his scent and relishing in the warmth while you can. you’re sure you’ll wake up soon but the scent of his detergent and something that’s just him is starting to seem real. rafe breathes out in relief as he hugs you back properly and he can feel tears against his chest. at least now he can comfort you, if he hugs you long enough you’ll stop right?

“i’m sorry.” you say it again, rafe clicks his tongue at your words, they’re muffled and said into his chest but he hears them still. you’re so small in his arms now, curves and soft skin make you feel fragile in his hold and he curls around you protectively, his chin resting on top of your shoulder as his arms hold your upper back.

“why are you apologizing?” his voice is softer now and murmured into your ear and you cry more, your heart breaking at the sound. the edge dulled, if he cuts you now it will be worse, you won’t survive it. he feels you shake in his arms and he tightens them instinctively, you might just hold your breath until the illusion shatters. until he leaves you.

“i don’t know, i feel like i must have done something wrong for you to be mad at me.” the admission breaks you in two, you’d been holding onto it for years, the guilt of wronging your best friend, the frustration of not knowing what you did. you clutch the worn cotton of his shirt, the fabric presses against your fingertips like it might just be real.

“you’re forgiven, you've always been forgiven, i'm just mad at myself.” the words are a relief and a burden, you hate that he blames himself, for what you’re not entirely sure but you don’t press him, you have him in your arms that is enough for now. rafe doesn’t miss the way your hands are still clenching around the material of his shirt, but you let go. you let it all go. in the face of losing him forever you let a lot of things go, you’ll be his friend forever if that’s what it takes.

“that makes zero sense, rafey.” there’s the nickname, the one you called him hundreds of times maybe even more. your voice devoid of sadness, he can hear the teasing in your tone and its familiar, welcome. he breathes out in relief when he hears it and it still lights a fire within him just like the first time you said it and he realized you might just be more than a friend. you feel the breath on the shell of your ear, this isn’t a dream but maybe you should keep pretending it is. you lean back to look at him, hands falling to your sides and he releases you, his own hands resting on your waist instead. you don’t move away, you let him and he nearly cries himself.

“yeah i know.” a small smile curls his lips and you return it tenfold, a grin taking over your face. rafe decides he’d do anything to keep you smiling instead of crying over him.

after that you and rafe slowly fall back into friendship, he helps you clean up your place and move out any damaged furniture. you get to know him again and he does the same, he hasn’t changed much. he still has this hard exterior for everyone else, one that he sheds for a select few but you know him. you know he’s still the little boy who would stop everyone’s game of tag to tie your shoelaces or sneak out and run to your place after you texted him that your parents were arguing again and you couldn’t stop crying just so he could hold you through it. ward still underestimates him and at the same time expects too much and rose still pretends he’ll leave soon enough so she can continue ignoring him.

there is a slight change to one thing though, your rafe is now absurdly, annoyingly hot. sure you’d had a crush on him in middle school, maybe even a bit more than that but you had never considered him hot. now he’s a man and when he acts like one it sends your system into shock. for instance, he carried your couch out by himself, arms straining and glistening with sweat, making you feel a bit dizzy, you blamed it on the heat and made him set it down for you to sit on, just so you didn’t have something to stare at. that didn’t work since he dragged the couch with you on it. or then when a waiter got your order wrong and proceeded to tell you that you must have misspoken, refusing to take the blame. rafe quickly shut it down asking him to remake the dish, in a way only he could without any room for arguing. you could have handled it yourself, maybe you would have been nicer about it, but knowing that you didn’t have to, that rafe would take care of it made something coil in your stomach. one time he even dropped you to class just as an excuse to get coffee with you. he’d told you to have a good day in a way that stunned you into silence. the image of him leaning over the console to open the door for you and watching you climb out had you zoned out for half of the class. you were starting to grow attached to him in a different way, something less pure and innocent than what you had always known. the fact that your place was still being restored and you were a few steps away from him every night didn’t help either.

staying at tannyhill had its pros and cons. the pros being obvious, 24/7 unfettered access to your best friend and your favorite siblings. the cons being the parents of said siblings. rose was as nice as she could be, she never fully understood your friendship with rafe and you didn’t need her to. ward, however, was unfortunately unchanged. he was out of the house most days working and when you finally did meet he made sure you knew that he was still an asshole.

“hey kiddo look at you, all grown up into a beautiful young lady! i am so happy you’re back, im sorry for not greeting you earlier. work has been keeping me out late” he gives you a warm side-hug that you accept graciously. he’d always been kind to you, rafe was the troublemaker of your duo anyways so he never had any reason to be otherwise. but you knew all the things he said to rafe, you knew how he treated him from the very beginning, so you could never really open up your heart to ward cameron. especially not when he was good at acting the perfect father in your face.

“it’s no problem ward, thank you for your hospitality.” you did mean that last part even if you didn’t particularly like him. your parents also seemed to get along with him so spoiling any kind of relationship wouldn’t help you.

“oh come on tannyhill is your home too you know that, rafe really needed you back here too. how are your folks doing?” you bristle at his words, it had been a while since you’d spoken to him. you’d forgotten how casually he disparaged your best friend.

“they’re doing well, they send their best wishes and love.” your words came out automatically, your mind on autopilot. you had to say something but the fear of disappointing your parents loomed over your head. ward knew you, he knew you would never fall out of line as long as he knew your parents.

“i’ll reach out to your father, it’s been a while since we caught up.” a silent threat, you nodded at his words turning to leave. there was a lump in your throat and your heart pounded in your chest, it screamed for you to stick up for rafe but your head relented. you were almost out of earshot of ward when you couldn’t hold back any longer.

“ward?” you called out, making sure he was still able to talk.

“yes sweetie?” his head turned toward you, warmth in his eyes. you supposed he must see the little girl who walked home with rafe hand-in-hand. you do hope he can take you seriously.

“rafe doesn’t need me, i think he just needs love and support. he’s been doing fine without me.” ward couldn’t tell you just how wrong you were. he could however parse the subtle jab sent his way.

“you were always wise beyond your years.” he says it with that smug smile you can’t read and leaves first. you’ll tell yourself you won this round but really there were no winners only one person who was losing.

rafe is none the wiser to your conversation which you take as a plus, you’d worried ward would reprimand him for what you said. you don’t talk about ward though it was never your favorite topic anyways. and you don’t talk about the five year gap, even though it keeps you up some nights.

a/n: war is over 🙏 i’m too much a softie to continue the angst + there’s only a few chaps left and we have to get freaky!

taglist: @clar2aa @ggraycelynn @rafestoothbrush @woweewoowa @mattyskies @always4tuesdayss @ashy-kit @chalahyung01 @rafeysslut @beabogsims @someoneisreading @rlalliehayes @artbymin @pogueprincesa @crvcified-kinx @ltristessedureratoujours @lilithblackkk

#artemisiasmuse #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe cameron headcanons #rafe cameron fluff #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine

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reiding-writing · 1 day ago

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Might be controversial but I like enemies to lovers more than cold reader x Reid. But kinda similar as they both could have slow burn. If that’s something you would wanna write I’d love it 🥹

PETTY & PETTIER. /spencer reid/

you knock over spencer’s favourite mug on your first day, big deal right? well, yes apparently.

s1!spencer enemy!reader 1.1k fluff? masterlist.

a/n | minor break from cold!reader in the form of something that’s almost similar, guess i have a type— (also new blog theme means new fic layout so yay)

Your first day at the BAU is going well—until it isn’t.

Gideon had been your mentor since your academy days, which is how you found yourself standing awkwardly in the bullpen of the Behavioural Analysis Unit, a cup of coffee in one hand and the weight of expectation on your shoulders. You were young, sure, but Gideon saw something in you. He was good at that.

What he wasn’t good at, apparently, was warning you about Dr. Spencer Reid.

It’s an accident—your elbow knocks the mug off the counter before you even realise it’s there. The ceramic shatters against the tile floor, coffee splattering everywhere. You freeze, mortified.

“Are you serious?”

You turn toward the voice, already apologising. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry—”

You’ve read about him in your files before starting—youngest FBI recruit, three PhDs, literal genius. You expected someone…awkward, maybe. Soft-spoken. A little nervous.

What you didn’t expect was the sheer level of contempt in his expression as he stares down at the broken pieces of his mug like you just ran over his childhood dog.

“That was my favourite mug,” he says, voice flat.

“I—I didn’t mean to—”

“It was a limited edition.”

Oh, God. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

He scoffs. “You can’t buy a new one. It was a vintage 1997 Star Trek Voyager mug featuring—”

“Okay, Jesus, I get it.” You raise your hands in surrender. “I screwed up. It was an accident.”

Reid makes a noise that is, without exaggeration, a huff. Like an actual hmph sound. It’s so ridiculously childish that you’d laugh if not for the intensity of his stare.

Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks away.

You watch him go, bemused, and then glance around. Elle and JJ exchange amused looks. Morgan grins. Gideon doesn’t seem to notice, which is so typical of him that it’s almost funny.

It’s fine, you think. He’ll get over it.

Except, Spencer does not get over it.

—

Over the next few weeks, you begin to notice it. The way Reid actively hates you.

At first, you assume it’s about the mug. But the way he glares at you when you so much as breathe near him? The way he sighs—loudly, dramatically—when Gideon assigns you both to work together? The way he outright avoids talking to you unless absolutely necessary?

No.

This isn’t about the mug.

This is a personal vendetta.

And honestly? If Reid wants to be petty, you can be pettier.

The war starts small.

Reid insists on taking the seat farthest from you in the briefing room? You get there earlier the next day and steal his spot.

He gives you pointed looks every time you mess up a minor detail in a case summary? You start correcting his grammar in reports.

He spends five minutes explaining a concept you already understand? You interrupt with, “Actually, I already knew that.”

The others notice.

Morgan looks between the two of you with pure amusement. “Okay. What’s going on with you two?”

“What?” you ask innocently.

Reid scowls. “Nothing.”

JJ and Elle exchange looks. Hotch sighs, rubbing his temple like he can already feel the migraine forming.

Morgan points between you. “No. No, there’s something going on. Because every time one of you speaks, the other looks like they’re plotting murder.”

“We’re fine,” you say, just to be petty.

“We’re not fine,” Reid snaps.

You smirk. “Wow, you sound upset.”

“You are infuriating.”

“You started it.”

Reid glares at you. “You started it.”

“You started it by hating me for no reason.”

The team watches this unfold like a ping-pong match.

“Okay, pause,” Elle interrupts. “Reid, why do you hate her?”

Reid crosses his arms. “Because she’s annoying.”

“That’s not a reason.”

“That’s enough of a reason.”

—

If the team was hoping that addressing it would fix things, they were wrong.

Now, it’s open warfare.

You start signing him up for unsolicited newsletters—scientific journals, conspiracy theory blogs, cat fact subscriptions.

He moves all your pens exactly one inch to the left every morning.

You convince Garcia to change his ringtone to the Barney & Friends theme song.

He leaves a 32-page thesis on the mathematical improbability of you ever besting him in psychological warfare on your desk.

The team is exhausted.

“They’re children,” Morgan says one day, watching as you and Reid glare at each other across the bullpen.

“No,” JJ says, “because children eventually grow out of it.”

Hotch looks like he’s considering transferring one of you just to get some peace.

—

The final straw is when you steal his coffee.

Which—okay. Maybe that’s fair.

But in your defence, you had no idea that Reid had some sort of special coffee blend that he kept in the breakroom. You’d run out of yours, saw an unmarked bag, and figured it was free game.

Apparently, it wasn’t.

Because the moment you walk around Reid’s desk with your coffee in hand, he scowls.

“You stole my coffee.”

“Yeah,” you say, blowing the steam from your mug pointedly in his direction. “What’s your point?”

His nostrils flare.

Reid doesn’t say anything. He just glares.

It’s a declaration of war.

Fine.

Bring it.

—

The rest of the team stops trying to intervene.

At some point, it just becomes a fact of life: the sky is blue, the BAU travels a lot, and you and Spencer Reid hate each other.

It’s not even professional rivalry at this point—it’s just petty.

You and Reid spend an entire plane ride passive-aggressively moving your seats to be as far from each other as possible.

When he lectures about a statistic, you purposefully contradict him—even when you know he’s right.

He takes your favorite pen? You take his entire stack of files and put them back out of order.

He switches the sugar in your coffee for salt? You swap his sugar for salt and take the last cookie from the breakroom.

It’s stupid.

It’s childish.

And it’s the principle of the thing.

If Reid is going to be petty, you refuse to be anything less than pettiest.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff

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imsofreakingtired · 3 days ago

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okay brain is broken havent slept in days but i've been seeing a lot of pirate!sevika on my tl n got reminded of some ideas of my own that have been cooking for a while

hcs: pirate!Sevika x reader

friends to enemies to lovers, angst, some suggestive content, period typical violence.

you are the captain of the feared pirate ship The Hound. she is your first mate. they call her the Hand, or the Brute of the seas, because she totes a cutlass as a left arm. the sight of her red cape alone is enough to send sailors running. she is your shadow, your right hand, your ride or die. if you told her to steer the ship straight into a maelstrom, she would.

but her loyalty to you only goes as far as how well you serve the crew. for the longest time, the two of you have been hellbent in a race against captain Silco and his crew, trying to find the Lane Isles - which, it is rumored, hold a treasure called Shimmer that has the power to rule the seas.

lately, you have been slackening your grip on the crew. why? because of your feelings for Sevika. you know she sees you as nothing but her captain (or so you think). you try not to let the mask slip, because you know Sevika holds her cards close to her chest, because you know as soon as you show signs of weakness she will stage a mutiny. for the good of the crew.

and she does.

you wake up one night to the sounds of banging on your cabin door. it bursts open and Sevika strides in, followed by the crew. she stands back as they grab you from your bed, rope you up, and haul you out onto the deck. the betrayal cuts deeper than you want it to. you look into her steel grey eyes and see no emotion, she betrays nothing in her expression. before you are thrown out of the ship with nothing but your sword and pistol you spit in her direction. "best of luck finding the damned isles. you're nothing without me and you know it."

Sevika just laughs. "you were useful...until you weren't."

the crew jeers as your longboat drifts away toward the deserted island.

fast forward several years. you've been drifting from shore to shore, searching for your ship, ceaselessly thirsty for revenge. when you think of Sevika, you see blood. you want to see her disarmed and begging at your feet. you want to see her helpless, completely at your mercy. you keep a sharp eye for rumors of her capture, for any news of The Hound.

one day you get a tip. Sevika's crew will be landing at a port near by you, and they'll be gathering more crew members at a tavern known as The Last Drop.

you make your way to the tavern that same night. you see her immediately. lounging on a worn cushioned couch, the most arrogant smirk on her face, arms slung around two beautiful women. she hasn't noticed you. she's slightly drunk, talking to the girls as her crew drink and fight around her, the cacophonous tavern music threading through the chaos.

you stride up to her, pushing people aside. her eyes widen when she sees you. she opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say anything you punch her straight in the face.

the tavern goes silent. Sevika's crew (who used to be your crew) jump to their feet, swords drawn. but Sevika raises her hand. she cocks an eyebrow at you, smiling through her cut lip.

"everyone out."

the room clears in a second. Sevika stands, unsheathes her sword. you draw your own.

"it's about damn time," Sevika says with a smirk. "thought you gave me up."

"you wish, you filthy traitor."

she laughs shortly. "you had your chance."

you curse and swing your sword. she blocks. the fight begins. you parry, thrust, dodge in a blind rage, and she meets you eye to eye. your blade catches her rib, hers nicks your cheek. sweat flicks off your face as the duel gathers heat.

she was the one who taught you to fight. she was the one who taught you all the moves you were desperately using against her now.

before long you're reduced to blocking. she backs you fiercely against the wall. her blade flashing without mercy. you're exhausted, your mind is barely in the fight anymore. in one swift blow, she knocks the blade from your hand. you fall to your knees.

she pauses, panting, waiting for you to get back up. when you do not, she saunters over. her hair soaked with sweat, blood running down her face, she looks down at you and raises your chin up with the tip of her sword.

"it's been a while," she says. "you've gotten rusty."

you laugh weakly. "think i still almost killed you once or twice back there."

"one can dream, poppet."

you wait for her to kill you. instead she draws the blade back into her prosthetic arm. with her human arm she lifts you to your feet, backs you against the wall, and kisses you roughly.

"welcome back, captain."

#I'M GOING TO FUCKING SLEEP NOW #save me pirate sevika #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika headcanon #pirate au!!#my old pirates of the caribbean obsession came back from the dead for this one

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kissylec · 3 days ago

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TO THE PLACES WE'VE BEEN AND THE NIGHTS WE'VE HAD.

directed by love you goodbye...

pairing . . . rafe cameon x pogue!reader in which . . . the bonfire always has surprises, but you never thought that one of those surprises would be ending up in tannyhill with the kook prince warning .ᐟ . . . (18+) smut, alcohol consumption, curse words, enemies to lovers, tension, dirty talk, praise kink, making out, oral (f), unprotected sex (wrap it up), p in v, first time writing smut and english is not my first language, so please, bear with me w count . . . 1.5k (NO PROOFREAD) kissylec says . . . write this in 3 days and i dont really know if i like it or not. my frist time writing smut! im tweaking! thanks to @rafesheaven for the tips you gave me, i hope this is okay i love u. and thanks to @rafeysbabydoll for the idea of this first extra! i also love u. hope you guys like this 😭

masterlist .ᐟ 𝜗𝜚 navigation .ᐟ

YOU WERE DOING THIS FOR JJ, and you repeated that to yourself over and over again. the bonfire was the last thing on your mind after the day you'd had, having to put on makeup and get dressed made your head hurt and your feet felt tired just walking to the vanity. but everything went to shit in a short time, which you expected, but at least you had that slight glimmer of hope that it won't happen.

it all started when topper – because of course it was topper – started bothering sarah. your and your friends' irritation was instantly aired, creating a tense atmosphere that was not lost on anyone. and between john b complaining, jj trying to fight, and kiara trying to calm down everyone who came near, you couldn't take it anymore.

the overstimulation ate away at you to the point that you left without warning, a habit that was ingrained in you. the sound of voices grew farther away with each step you took, and the cold and salty breeze became more and more present. that's when you thought about the beach, and that maybe it would be a good idea to stop by there.

the sand on your feet felt colder than usual and the wind was a caress on your exposed skin. you took long, deep breaths, making circles in the palm of your left hand as you tried to maintain a calm that you were afraid would slip away. the sound of the sea was in the background, and a relaxation alien to you had found you. until.

you okay?

the thick, familiar voice startles you, causing you to bring a hand to your chest and open your eyes, your gaze traveling to the direction the voice came from.

rafe cameron.

"you scared the shit outta me," you say, your gaze traveling all over rafe's body. a bottle of alcohol in his hand, his brow furrowed. His curtain bangs were gone, replaced by a neat buzz cut, which made him look more... mature, older.

rafe continues to scowl, looking away from you. "yeah well, it's creepier when a girl stands next to you and closes her eyes and all that shit you were doing just now." his lips take a sip from what appears to be a bottle of whiskey, his eyes fixed on the water.

you just rolled your eyes, mimicking his action of looking away. you never gave rafe much importance, but your annoyance for him was no small thing. he was nothing sacred among pogues, as if his name were a curse. "i may be creepy but you're sad" you started saying. "drinking by yourself on the beach? not really a very fun activity."

rafe takes another long sip from the bottle, his muscles flexing as he raises his arm. “shouldn’t you be there?” he asks, still not looking at you.

rafe knew about you, not much, but he knew enough. he always insisted that you stood out from any friend sarah might have had, you were not overlooked, you always left a mark. you had that something that takes a person a while to figure out. you were different, and it sounds corny and repetitive, but you were, and rafe liked that.

for a split second you considered telling him why you left the bonfire, but you didn't. "i got bored," you said simply, feeling rafe turn his head and his eyes burn into your cheek. "what's your excuse?"

rafe swore his heart stopped for a second when you turned your head to make your first eye contact of the night, his lips felt dry but he didn't have the balls to lick them in front of you.

he just shrugged. "i don't want to be there" he says.

you slowly nod your head, your eyes locked on rafe's blue ones, who didn't seem to want to take his eyes off you. the sound of clothes rustling and him handing you the bottle of whiskey caught your attention, raising your eyebrows.

parting your lips you take the bottle, the contact with rafe’s fingers leaving a rough feeling on your skin. still looking into his eyes, you took an unexpectedly long sip, your throat burning instantly, making you grimace in disgust and drop the bottle. he couldn’t help but laugh.

“what was that?” he asks, following with his gaze as you spit the amber liquid into the sand.

“that shit is disgusting” you say, wiping your chin, which had dropped drops of the drink.

you shake your head, your eyes falling on his face. you allow yourself to analyze the small details, how his eyes close when he smiles, the occasional mark on his skin, his hand wrapped around most of the bottle as soon as you handed it back to him.

rafe parts his lips, you could see his eyes drop to his lap, as if he was hesitant. “i have more bottles in tannyhill, of… other things,” he says, hesitantly. "if you want."

your eyes widened, letting out a laugh you couldn’t control. “are you serious?” you said, your smile taken as mockery by rafe.

rafe frowns, his gaze going to you, making you erase your smile. a tension began to be felt between you two, that tension which anyone who was there could feel, that tension that makes your stomach hurt and your heart race.

"did you really just ask me what you just ask me?" you asked, your eyebrows raising as you looked at him.

“what’s wrong with what i said?” rafe asks, his tone of voice harsher than he intended.

you frown, careful not to fumble with your words. “no, absolutely not.”

“why not?"

“because it’s you,” you simply reply, looking at him. “and i would never do anything with you.”

your words seemed to trigger something in rafe, who raised an eyebrow and tilted his head, as if he were studying you. you felt your pulse quicken, his jaw suddenly looked attractive, and his challenging eyes made your lower stomach feel warm.

"never, huh?"

those were the last words you could remember coming out of his mouth, because all you were focused right now, was him. on his tongue expertly moving between your wet folds, on how he flicked it against your clit. his fingers gripped your thighs to keep you from moving, the pressure was so strong that you knew there would be marks, but you didn't care.

you had tears starting to form at the corners of your eyes, your o-shaped lips letting out moan after moan, babbling every now and then as you felt his tongue fucking you as if it were the only thing he was useful for.

"prettiest cunt" he grunts against your center, placing open-mouthed kisses over your clit.

"fuck–rafe" was the only thing that could come out of your mouth.

you start to rub your pussy against him when you feel close, that delicious pressure in your pelvis growing as does the burning in your clit, your moans turning into soft cries, desperate to cum, and rafe notices it, but that wasn't going to happen.

his mouth leaving you, automatically going to the level of your face. his lips, chin and nose glistening with your arousal, his pupils dilated with pleasure, his breathing accelerated, all so sexy that you could have cum just from him.

before you could even protest he crashed your lips against his, moaning as you tasted yourself. your tongues danced deliciously, making everything more disgusting.

"wan' you to cum on my cock" rafe manages to say between kisses, and you never wondered when he took off his pants, but he did. "you're capable of doing that? huh?"

he wrapped his hand around his heavy cock, pumping it slowly, guiding his tip to your puffy and achy clit, teasing it, coating his length with your slick. "fuck–could you be any more fucking wet?"

the tip traveled to your center, gasping as it entered inch by inch to the brim, forcing you to take him all. your eyes rolled back in your head, feeling his cock caress your insides. you could swear you felt him kiss your cervix.

"so tight, all f'me, isn't that right?" rafe purrs against your ear, his hips moving almost instantly after filling you.

your brain blanked out, letting him handle you as he pleased, your legs on his shoulders as his pace quickened. “rafe,” you stammered, your eyes squeezing shut.

"grippin' me so tight, you gonna cum?" rafe murmurs condescendingly. "this sweet pussy gonna cum? huh?"

it was ridiculous, almost pathetic, but his words and the way your sweet spot was hit over and over again had you cumming on his cock, your back arching and a small cry came out. rafe groans, his face hiding in your neck, his cock twitching and painting your insides with his cum.

you felt kisses on your neck, the thrusts fading in rhythm, his hands caressing your sides. your eyes slowly opened, your lips dry as the light from the nightstand made its presence felt beside you.

then, and just then, it clicked.

"we can't do this again" was the first thing that left your lips.

but rafe had already taken you over. and there was no escape from that.

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sevsgiirl · 3 days ago

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— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 1

pt. 2, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words:

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: for clarification, reader is 20 years old while sevika is her canon age in this (38-40)

you can check out the fic playlist here.

sevika wasn’t the buddy-buddy type when it came to her neighbors.

as someone who mostly kept to herself, she preferred to be left to her own devices, granted she wasn’t necessarily unapproachable. if you’d knock on her door to borrow some tools, she’d likely lend you hers. have some problems with your plumbing? on a good day, she’d offer to fix it herself.

she’d even attend the annual neighborhood barbecue sometimes, but she wasn’t the type to knock on doors and welcome the new people who had just moved in with freshly baked cookies. that’s something she left vander to do.

so when the vacant house adjacent to hers finally got some new occupants after the previous tenant moved out 3 months ago (a friendly old woman named babette who she would never admit to missing, she and her homemade lasagna she’d offer sevika for dinner) she didn’t think much of it.

but she was curious, so she peeked through her blinds to get a good look at the new tenants, trying to assess what she had to deal with.

when she looked, she was simply greeted by a man who looked to be in his 50s hauling out boxes - slouched posture, flannel button-up, and leather boots. he had the tiredness in his eyes that indicated he was just an everyday samaritan. she was happy about that because she liked her peace.

but before she was about to close her blinds again, a new figure caught her eye. this one younger, miles younger, who sported beaten up doc martens, ripped black shorts that ridden up too high around the rear area that sevika was quick to avert her gaze when she stared too long, and a loose fitted top that was sliced around one shoulder, leaving it exposed.

with painted black nails and eyelids adorned with dark eye shadow, sevika watched as you got out of the front seat of the moving truck and inspected the house in front of you with an intense gaze. before a small smirk made its way to your face, the kind she knew only meant trouble.

“looks great, dad!”

sevika couldn’t believe this.

𐙚 ˙ ⋆ .˚

it’s not that sevika wasn’t fond of people younger than her.

she was just too old to handle any of their shit. not that being forty-one was geriatric by any means, but she liked her peace, and she couldn’t necessarily have that if she had someone twice younger than her living just down the block. the possibility of house parties being thrown already sending shivers down her spine.

she already had vander’s daughters out of her hair, and even then she heard from him they’re coming back home for their semester break this week so that’s another problem to deal with. you couldn’t be too far from their age range either, probably closer to vander’s eldest, violet. which relieved her in a way.

she hasn’t even spoken to you yet but she dreads the day she’ll ever need to. but it seems as though your father heard her prayers because it didn’t take long after the moving truck drove off when a sudden knock came from her front door, making her raise her eyebrow.

she opened it and just her luck she was greeted by your father, a soft smile on his face as he gave her a gentle wave “hi there, me and my daughter just moved in and I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

sevika gave him a curt nod “I noticed. welcome to the neighborhood.”

again, she wasn’t the type to knock on people’s doors and give them a formal introduction to the whole damn block. the only way she ever got to know people was when word got around about her being the town’s mechanic. she was mostly acquainted with the fathers and uncles, meanwhile the women her age she preferred to sleep with. occasional flings here and there, nothing serious.

the only people she’d consider her friends were vander and silco, and perhaps some of her co-workers back at the mechanic’s shop but they lived elsewhere.

it was hard for her to truly get along with someone, albeit she isn’t opposed to making friends, it’s just something that takes time. she’s a tough cookie.

your father, on the other hand, seemed civil enough. sevika didn’t even notice the container he carried with him until he lifted it “well, my daughter baked some brownies and I thought maybe I’d give you some. wouldn’t hurt to befriend a few folks on the first day, and well, you do live next door.”

she eyed the container while she debated whether to return the gesture or not, and as she thought long and hard about it, she didn’t want to appear like an asshole.

“care for a cup of coffee, then?”

and that’s how she found herself sitting across from your father at her kitchen table, with him sipping his coffee while she chugged her third can of beer of the day.

despite herself, your father was pretty pleasant. thirty minutes of mundane chatting and she’s already gotten to know quite a bit about him - widowed and left to take care of his only daughter, your mother dying while you were only eleven years old. breast cancer. she offered a bit of sympathy which he appreciated.

“never got remarried?” she couldn’t help but ask.

your father laughed softly, shaking his head “no, can’t. when she died a part of me died with her, and I don’t think anybody can truly fill that void. plus I don’t think my daughter would be on board. not that she wouldn’t let me, she never cared but I know she still thinks about her mom a lot.”

sevika let out a hum “I get it. my mom died when I was young too. it never got easier.”

“it doesn’t.” he replied “she’s twenty now. a sophomore in college but sometimes I do feel like she’s clinging onto that part of herself when her mom was still alive. she became a bit rebellious after that. threw herself to drinking at sixteen, I tried to stop her which worked when she finally became eighteen, but her habits still kick in.”

sevika would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for the old man. she didn’t have any kids and quite frankly, has no intention of having any in the near future, but she can only imagine how difficult it’d be to see your child spiral like that and have it be out of your control.

“she’s doing a lot better now?” she asked.

your father nodded, although it seemed a bit uncertain “I think so. she’s on her mid-semester break and will be back by the end of the month.”

sevika sighed internally at that, at least she won’t have to worry about you potentially becoming a problem for too long.

her and your dad conversed a bit more after that - about how he decided to move here because he a got new job in town, and how your college was located two hours away, making him think that your visits would be limited given how you don’t like traveling for long hours (again, another win for her) he also asked her about her prosthetic arm ‘bad car crash. got stuck and had to get it amputated’ she explained and he gave a sympathetic look in return.

soon, she led him up to her front door. it was nearing the evening anyway, but she surprisingly appreciated the company.

“sorry if I took up much of your time, sevika.” your father apologized and she smiled. a genuine one.

“it’s no bother. if you ever need help don’t be afraid to ask.” sevika said and she meant it.

your father offered a grateful nod, walking down her driveway and next door to his house. when sevika looked, there you were waiting for him.

you decided to change into something more comfortable since you arrived. a tight-fitted black tank top with thin straps and grey cotton shorts that exposed your legs to the cold air. you didn’t seem to be wearing a bra either and given the weather, she could notice your nipples poking through the fabric even from where she stood.

sevika shook her head. goddammit . she just made friends with your old man and here she was ogling at his daughter. she wasn’t even supposed to like you.

as your father walked up to your front door he sent her one last wave goodbye, which made you finally look at her.

for that brief moment, your eyes locked. she couldn’t decipher that look on your face when you studied her, arms crossed as you cocked your head to side while your father spoke “she’s our next door neighbor, sweetheart. sevika, meet my daughter!” she only smiled awkwardly while you continued staring at her.

suddenly, that same smirk made its way to your face again, opening your mouth to respond “hi sevika,” you said, your voice sultry and sickeningly sweet. sevika hated that it did something to her.

you didn’t give her time to acknowledge your greeting before you turned on your heel and went back inside, and she didn’t even realize her chest tightened the entire time you two made eye contact until you were finally out of sight, making her breathe normally again.

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane #wlw smut #lesbian #arcane smut #arcane fanfiction #sapphic #dividers by fairytopea

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toiletclown · 3 days ago

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reciprocation.

spencer agnew x f!reader, enemies to lovers for anon.

mostly fluff, but there is angst (in my opinion)

summary: it started innocuous. a well-meaning question from your best friend. it all spiraled from there.

there are some things in life that are universally true and agreed upon. the sky is blue. the grass is green. and you and spencer agnew hate each other. when your closest friends grow tired of this nonsense, they hatch a plan. it's unlikely, silly, even. but it works.

word count: 13.6k (yes i'm posting this as a one-shot, not multi-chaptered, sorry lol)

────୨ৎ────

"does the whole 'hating spencer' schtick ever get tired to you?" angela asked one day, while the two of you were out to lunch.

it was a sunny day, as usual, and you started sweating through your tank top just a little harder. perhaps the sun came out from behind a stray cloud.

"i'm sorry?" was your response, followed by a forkful of pasta.

"y'know, this weird bit you guys have going on." ang stared at you, analyzing your face, looking for a reaction.

all she saw was confusion. "i'm not... sure what you mean? we don't have 'a bit'. we aren't friends. kind of hard to have an inside joke when you only spend time together on camera. and half the time i drown him out anyway," you shrugged. neither of you liked each other, and that was fine. you were used to it, and the familiarity was nice. smosh was a very busy and ever-changing job. being able to rely on that was kind of nice. you were never a fan of change, anyway.

"wait, so you and spencer actually dislike each other? like, for real?" your best friend looked genuinely taken aback. you weren't sure why, you had thought it was fairly obvious that the two of you didn't get along.

"yes, we actually dislike each other 'like, for real', angela. i thought that was clear, you've seen the way we interact." you were gathering up another forkful of pasta, and angela started laughing. "why the fuck are you laughing?"

"because it's comical? i thought it was a bit! i thought you two were friends and it was just, like, a long, drawn-out joke, honestly."

"why on earth would you think that it was a bit, ang? i'm a good comedian but i'm not that great of a liar. i wouldn't be able to keep up a conspiracy like that. i fear that’s too much work for me." you ate your forkful finally. angela was still looking at you in disbelief, a few small cackles escaping her now and then.

"yeah, that's fair. crazy bit to commit so hard to, i guess. wait, so why don't you like him?" the brunette had abandoned her pasta at this point, bowl pushed slightly out of the way so she can gesticulate with freedom. "and why doesn't he like you? are you secretly middle school rivals? rivals in some niche video game scene? did he outbid you on a guitar on ebay and now you've vowed to ruin his life?"

you rolled your eyes, lovingly. your favorite thing about angela was how far she could take a joke. picked it up and ran with it. you leaned in, your voice barely audible. "you want to know a secret?"

her eyes widened, leaning in and matching your whisper, "yes, please spill!"

you shifted your eyes from left to right, as though looking for someone who could overhear and ruin your life. you took a deep breath in, preparing to spill… the truth.

"i don't actually know why we hate each other," you whispered, shrugging before sitting back in your chair with an air of finality.

"what?!"

"shh, oh my god, shut the fuck up--"

"what do you mean you don't know?" angela was moving her arms wildly at this point, "why do you still hate him then? does he know? what the fuck?"

"babe, i need you to calm down, we are still very much in a public restaurant--"

"and? spill, bitch, or you're paying the full bill."

"fine! god. i genuinely cannot tell you why we hate each other. yes, we do really hate each other. yes, he knows i hate him, and yes, i know he hates me. that has been the only thing we have ever agreed upon in our entire time at smosh. no, we aren't secretly hate fucking. no, i don't have his number, we only talk at and about work so we use slack. no, i don't know why the hate is mutual, i just know that it is. no, i don't plan on trying to change that any time soon. happy?"

before she could respond with what was likely another barrage of questions, your server came to the table and sat the bill down in front of angela.

"they always assume that i'm paying, what the hell?"

you were glad for the distraction.

✰ .ᐟ

"hello and welcome to you posted that? you posted that is a show where we embarrass our guests with their old, cringy, insane social media posts!" the room filled with cheers as ian intro'd the show, and you were so excited to finally be on it. but you also were nervous to see what they dug from the depths of your twitter.

"joining us today..." ian faked a drumroll on the podium, "our first guest is trevor evarts!"

"please don't bring up any of my rhett and link tweets," he said with a wave.

ian drumrolled again, "second up, we have shayne topp!"

"glad to be here, steve."

"and last but not least, y/n!"

"i am terrified." you said, being sure to stare down the camera, a look of anxiety on your face. you were playing it up, but it was definitely real to a degree. you had said a lot of cringy shit in your younger years. not to mention the not-so-uncommon complaints about a certain coworker. ian wouldn’t do that to you, though. right?

"terrified?” ian scanned the contestant's faces. “is anyone else feeling terrified?"

"not really, steve. i'm proud of what i've done and said and i'll stand by it no matter what. if i don't stand up for myself, who will, you know?" shayne said, clearly doing a character. a slightly intoxicated, far too excited game show contestant. you kind of loved it.

"my name is ian, and i think you know that, shayne. why are you terrified, y/n?" ian turned to you, egging you on.

"i was a shit head as a kid, i don't know how far back you dug!"

"alright then, let's get into the first round." ian explained the rules of the round, and each of you listened intently despite knowing them well.

"trevor. you tweeted, 'my two [blank] need to [blank] before i [blank blank blank].’ and i will give you a hint, this was a tweet from about a year ago."

"why does he get a hint right away!" you called out.

"he's not very bright, y/n, i'm sure you understand." ian replied, prompting trevor to make a few noises.

"be nice to me?"

ian turned back to trevor, mischievous glint in his eye. "y/n's not very bright, trev, i'm sure you understand."

"be nice to me?" you all started laughing, and once it died down trevor made his guess.

"okay, i'll take 'my two coworkers need to fuck before i explode them both' for five points, alex!"

"i remain ian, but let's reveal that tweet!"

"holy fuck," you said under your breath, realizing he got it right on the money. "how did you manage to remember the exact wording? i don't remember what i had for breakfast yesterday. oh my god, i'm gonna lose so hard at this!" you weren’t even playing it up now, you were actually getting worried. you were going to lose, and by a lot. hopefully you can attribute your lack of skill to the now-infamous gas leak.

"because these two coworkers still haven't fucked and i still want to explode them, honestly," trevor breathed out, seemingly annoyed at the two coworkers in question.

ian giggled behind the podium, a strangely worrisome sound, and you and shayne glanced at each other in shared horror. "trevor,” ian paused, multiplying the level of suspense you were already feeling. “for an extra fifty points, do you want to tell us who the coworkers are? we'll bleep it."

"fifty points?!" shayne yelled, playfully incensed by this rule breaking.

"just take me out back like ol yeller, i beg." you set you head on the podium, which wasn't exactly a comfortable angle, but this wasn't going to be as fun as you thought if ian was going to play dirty the whole game.

the room erupted in laughter as trevor pondered his choice. "no, i won't. i don't want to start anything, fifty points is nothin' compared to my pals at smosh!"

you all booed him, lovingly, and ian giggled again. "shayne, for an extra fifty points, can you guess the coworkers trevor's tweet is about?"

"do you know who it's about?" shayne asked, confused.

"oh, i think everyone in this room does," ian's grin was devilish, relishing in the chaos he was causing. he's been watching too much game changer.

"okay, i'll guess for fifty points. is it angela and amanda?" the room erupted once more, angela's laugh heard loud and clear on every mic.

"incorrect! okay, let's see your post, shayne!"

"wait, i don't get to guess?" you cut in, feeling a little bit excluded from the joke.

"would you like to?" ian asked, earnest, though that devilish smile was still fixed to his mug.

you thought about it for a second. "actually, i'm good. i think my choices are too controversial. y'all aren't ready for my vision."

everyone laughed, and the game moved on.

"shayne. your tweet says: '[blank] is overrated. [blank] is cooler.'"

shayne's silence dragged on, and ian asked if he had a guess. after a beat, shayne stood stock straight up, ready to answer.

"steve, my answer is. 'steak is overrated. chicken is cooler.' for five points."

"let's see..."

ian revealed the next slide, and a slide whistle sound effect played. “oh, that’s too bad shayne. the correct answer was ‘penis is overrated. dick is cooler.’ so close, so close. alright, y/n, it’s your turn!”

you were feeling a little better now that shayne had gotten his wrong. maybe trevor would win, but it didn’t have to be a huge blowout, right?

“y/n, your tweet says ‘i need [blank] to [blank blank] or i will [blank] in [blank blank].’ this seems evil, y/n, if i’m being honest.” ian’s wicked smirk was still firmly planted; he was playing dirtier than you ever thought him capable of.

“what’s genuinely crazy is i’ve been so worried that i would not remember anything i’ve ever tweeted, but i actually do remember this one!” you laughed hard and loud, but then you remembered you did in fact have to tell everyone what it said. you could lie, but they’d just reveal it after anyway, and you had made a big stink about knowing it now… all you could do was fill in the damn blanks. “okay, it says ‘i need noomf–”

“you need what?” shayne asked, incredulous.

“noomf, it means ‘not one of my followers’ instead of oomf, which is ‘one of my followers’. anyway, ‘i need noomf to fuck off or i will piss in his kickstart’.” you covered your face with your hands, genuinely embarrassed. this would all be a good laugh after shooting wrapped, but in the moment you just wanted to scream a bit.

ian decided to go full little shit mode and not even make a comment, just click to the next slide showing that you were correct. every word. “five points for y/n!”

“oh, fuck, i forgot i was getting points for that. i’ll stop moping now!” you laughed, pushing yourself back into your camera persona, bright and light and happy. you could feel spencer’s daggers in the back of your skull all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

everyone broke for lunch after the finishing the shoot, and angela and courtney were the first to harass you.

“bro, you tweeted that you would piss in his kickstart?” courtney started.

“you guys don’t follow each other on socials?” angela then asked.

court took another turn next, “do you guys not talk outside of work at all?”

“no! they only talk about work so they always talk through slack!” angela was kind enough to explain your point from lunch the other day.

you stood there, tapping your foot. a bit comical, but a flair for the dramatic never hurt anybody, especially not in this industry. “are we done here? can i go get my food now?” you asked, no venom. “here, let’s just eat together and you can ask all your silly little questions. can’t promise i’ll have an answer for everything, but i’ll do what i can.”

you all lined up at the catering tables and grabbed some food, then found your way to an empty table to start this awful discussion.

you decided some rules needed to be put in place, because as much as you loved angela and courtney, you really didn’t want this to blow up into some ‘big thing’. coworker feuds happen in every office setting, it’s inevitable. it doesn’t need to be a whole situation, in your opinion.

“okay, before we start i’m going to lay some ground rules. you can ask whatever questions you want, but i’m allowed to not answer certain ones. whatever is said at this table, remains at this table, forever. and finally, i beg y’all to speak at a normal volume and not freak out for no reason. i do not need the whole company knowing my business. i’m sure you understand.”

they both nodded, and you decided to get courtney up to speed in case they had a question angela had asked you at lunch the other day, which was likely. now that you thought about it, angela was the only person you had really talked about it with. no one else you worked with seemed to mind, or care, so you didn’t think you’d ever need to answer any questions about it.

“court, before we start, angela actually ambushed me about this the other day so i do already have a few frequently asked questions answered. no, it isn’t a bit. we don’t have any friendship at all. we do not speak outside of work. i’ve never seen him outside of work. we do not have each other’s numbers. we do not follow each other on social media. we aren’t secretly dating. yes, we do hate each other, and, yes, it’s mutual. but… no, i don’t have a reason why.” you were fairly out of breath by the end of your rant, and courtney gave you a moment to catch back up.

“you don’t have a reason why? how can you both hate each other for no reason?” their voice was soft, caring. it burned.

a sigh escaped you. “as far as i know, neither me nor spencer have a ‘reason’ for hating each other. but it’s just a truth at this point. we hate each other, so we don’t interact outside of work. we play nice for the camera, but only because it wouldn’t really be entertaining if we didn’t. some truths are just truths. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and me and spencer hate each other.” you took a few bites of the salad you grabbed from the line, surprised at how good the dressing was. “holy shit, this dressing is fantastic,” you mumbled, hoping, in vain, to prompt a conversation change.

“like i said, i thought the bickering you guys did on camera was an inside joke. i didn’t know there was real anger behind it,” angela said, seeming a bit sad at this revelation.

you realized once again that you hadn’t actually had an honest conversation about this with anyone. you had never taken the time to flesh out this charade you were playing. “i’m not even sure the anger is real.” you said solemnly, quiet as a mouse. “i think it started as a bit. i’m not sure when it turned real, but it is. i guess.”

angela put her arm around you, sensing your mood drop. “hey, hey. it’s alright. you going to be okay, babe?”

courtney put their hand on yours, which you held. you felt like you were naked on a stage – feeling too vulnerable all too suddenly. after a second longer, you pulled yourself away from both of them. “i’m okay, it’s okay. can we change the topic, though? i… guess i’m not ready to talk about it, or something.”

you zoned out for the rest of the conversation.

✰ .ᐟ

when the day had finally ended, you felt the most immense relief you’ve felt in all your damn life.

finally. time to go home and dick around on your guitar. today provided a lot of feelings for a hopeful writing session.

everyone at smosh knew you played guitar, but no one knew you wrote original music too. it was the easiest way to process what you were feeling. and if it sounded bad, then it sounded bad. at least you felt better afterwards. you never recorded anything you wrote, because it was a form of therapy for you. you let it all out, you cry, you scream, whatever. then you worked on healing. this was your process, and you loved it.

you were planning out some verses mentally when shayne caught up to you on the way to your car. “hey, y/n! i have a strange question.”

you turned, surprised by his appearance. “sure, shayne. what’s up?”

“are you seeing anyone right now?”

“why, are you and courtney looking for a third?” you raised an eyebrow, which had shayne giggling. you continued, “no, i’m single. why?”

“no reason!” shayne yelled, and promptly sprinted away.

“okay, see you tomorrow, i guess!” you shouted after him, knowing he probably couldn’t hear you. for such a small man he had a seemingly large stride. he was already halfway across the parking lot when you finished your sentence. “what the hell is this job, anyway?” you muttered, trying to find the melody you had thought of earlier in the day as you drove home in blissful silence.

✰ .ᐟ

alex: yoooo

spencer: what’s up?

alex: kiana’s friend is so your type it’s criminal

spencer: ok?

alex: i’m serious dude she’s like your dream girl!!

spencer: ok?

alex: hi spencer this is your best friend kiana, you have a date with my friend tomorrow at 7pm at our fav chili’s, ok love you!

spencer: i’d rather not

alex: she said shut up and be there or she’s dumping your kickstart stash

spencer: you are both evil.

alex: <3

✰ .ᐟ

you slept like shit last night. again. the past few nights were just not kind to you, and you could tell it was obvious.

“whoa, y/n… do you need to borrow some concealer?” courtney asked upon seeing you in the kitchen this morning. “i’m sure someone has a shade match in the building.”

“gee, thanks, court.” you laughed weakly to yourself, knowing she had nothing but good intentions. “i’ve been having trouble sleeping lately, not sure what’s going on.” you turned around and sighed into your coffee mug, exhausted. “maybe my body is trying to tell me something.”

courtney smiled, then came to lean against the counter next to you.

“you’re single, right?” they questioned, eyes bright.

you sighed again. “yes, just like i told your husband yesterday, i am single.”

“do you have plans tonight?”

“other than sitting on my couch with my guitar, probably not. perhaps i’ll watch a movie. who’s to say? the world is my oyster.”

they rolled their eyes at you, but leaned in closer to whisper. “our favorite chili’s, tonight, 7pm. you’re going on a blind date with someone i know very personally, who is perfect for you.”

she was out of the kitchen before you could pick your jaw up off the floor to protest.

✰ .ᐟ

you stood in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. what the hell was going on. courtney had sent you a text fifteen minutes ago, a reminder of why you were standing in your bathroom, staring at yourself in the mirror. you had a blind date at chili’s in 45 minutes. what the hell was going on.

if you were in an alternate universe, perhaps all the dots you were connecting in your brain would turn out to be correct. you felt like that bit in buzzfeed unsolved.

i’ve connected the dots.

you haven’t connected shit!

in an alternate universe, your friends beating the truth out of you about your feud with spencer, then turning around and orchestrating a blind date for you would mean something. and it would mean they were setting you up with spencer. just for a moment, just a sliver of a second, you imagined that universe.

you imagine it all working out.

but then you pull yourself out of it, and start actually getting ready for your date.

he was probably just another improv actor with a nose ring. and he was probably nice. cute, even. but you couldn’t stop thinking about brown curly hair, piercing eyes, a hydroflask full of kickstart.

a green smosh hat. a carhartt jacket. stubble. glasses. you loved his glasses, and secretly cursed him when he would wear his contacts. spencer.

your phone vibrated against the counter, painfully reuniting you with reality. “shit.”

you fumbled to answer the call, still feeling lost in the syrupy haze of that alternate universe of yours. “hey, court.”

“are you on your way? find my friends says you’re still at your place!” they rushed out, and you pulled your phone away from your face to see you had less than 15 minutes to be ready and out the door.

“shit! sorry, i didn’t realize how late it got. i’m finishing up now, i’ll be on my way before you know it.” the silence on the other end was deafening. “i promise! but i have to get off the phone to get ready, okay?”

“fine. please send me a photo of your outfit before you leave. i love you! bye!” courtney ended the call, and you sighed.

“let’s get this over with.” you mumbled to your empty bathroom.

✰ .ᐟ

spencer was pissed. if his friends didn’t suddenly decide to meddle in his love life, he wouldn’t be on a random side street, a mere three miles from chili’s, replacing his flat fire. at 7:08 pm. he didn’t even want to go on this date, but he also didn’t want to be a dick and show up late. alex and kiana didn’t share any info about this mystery girl so he couldn’t text her to let her know. he decided to call alex as he was getting ready to hoist the spare tire out of his trunk.

“aren’t you on a date right now?!” alex shouted down the phone, no greeting. spencer rolled his eyes.

“chill, i got a flat tire. i’m down the road, like eight minutes max if traffic is kind to me. can you please let my date know i’m not standing her up, i just have to throw the donut on my car really quick.” he was fiddling with the tire iron while he spoke, suddenly nervous and upset at the prospect of hurting this mystery girl’s feelings. he shoved the emotion down and nestled the phone between his ear and shoulder, a smidge tighter than before. “please just let her know.”

“okay, okay.” alex took a breath in, and spencer could tell they’re relieved that the date isn’t a disaster, but only getting there kind of is. “i’ll let her know.”

they said goodbye, and spencer got back to work on the tire.

elsewhere, alex texted courtney.

alex: hey spencer got a flat tire. should be there in like 10-15

courtney: ok i’ll let y/n know!

alex: he called me and i nearly shat my pants

courtney: understandable lol if she called me 10 mins in i’d also be panicking

alex then texted kiana.

alex: spencer is late bc he got a flat tire i’m gonna bomb him

kiana: now, now!! it will work out in the end, grasshopper

alex: dont be weird

kiana: says u

✰ .ᐟ

you looked at your phone again. 7:20. you were on your second glass of water, munching on your chips and salsa and sighing. people were starting to stare at you. look at that poor girl, sipping her water, waiting for someone who isn’t showing up. surely she knows, they thought, surely she knows he’s isn’t coming.

unfortunately, you were still holding out hope. for some reason. you didn’t even want this, your friends just dropped it on you. but now that you were here, you felt hopeful.

most people who know you wouldn’t exactly call you a romantic, but somewhere buried deep inside you, you longed for companionship. everyone did, to some degree – it was human nature. so you decided that at 7:30, you’d leave.

even if tearing yourself from the booth would burn like wildfire.

you looked at your phone once more. 7:22. you’d been brooding in silence, alone at this table, and alone in this world. a vibration startled you out of it.

courtney: hey he’s almost there!!! he got a flat tire he should be there in about five mins, ok?? i’m so sorry and so is he!!

your heart rate picked up, that hope reigniting and spreading a warm fire throughout your body. you weren’t being stood up. good.

y/n: ok! thank you for updating me <3

courtney: of course bb i love you sm! have fun! text me all the deets!

as you smiled and steadied your fingers to type a reply, an all too familiar voice rang out. “are you being stood up at chili’s?” it asks.

you involuntarily rolled your eyes, all too easily sliding into this role you play. no one could say you weren’t a good actor. because here you were, slipping under that mask that fit so comfortably. playing a character. because an hour ago, you were hoping it would be him. you wanted it to be him. but now, he was here. which meant you had a role to play, and you would play it well. you’d give him an oscar award-winning performance.

“please explain how my activities outside of the office are any of your business, spencer.” you deadpanned. it didn’t hit like you wanted it to. “he’s late.”

“scoot. i’m hungry.” he says, and you stare at him.

“i’m sorry?” you admonished.

“scootch over. have you ordered yet?” he asks, casual as all get out. like this was normal, or reasonable.

you both know your roles. you know your lines. you’ve been off-book for years. what was he doing? he was going so far off script, ad-libbing, completely disregarding the words written for you, the ones you’d both studied and memorized. you were an improv comedian, and yes and-ing was never something you struggled with. but this wasn’t supposed to be improv. this was scripted. heavily. this was not reality tv, this was not whose line, this was a 40-minute sitcom with strict character archetypes, and you both knew your roles.

while you waited in vain for the non-existent director to yell ‘cut!’, you found yourself moving over and letting him slide into the booth. it didn’t occur to you to just tell him to sit on the opposite side, which was empty.

despite the warmth of the evening and the restaurant, you felt a shiver up and down your spine.

your server, carissa, came back to the table, and she looked relieved that your ‘date’ had finally arrived. she was probably about 20 years old, and her whole vibe said, “if he doesn’t show up, i’ll kill him for you.”

“took you long enough, dude,” was her greeting of choice. spencer looked surprised, which caused a laugh to escape you. “what would you like to drink?”

spencer seemed a bit lost for words, but managed to say “just a water, please,” after a not-entirely inaudible swallow.

carissa turned her attention back to you, “did you want to order now? or does mister late as fuck need some more time?” she gestured at spencer with her pen, her voice full of humor. it was entirely opposite of the darker voice she used on spencer.

you loved this girl. “easy on him, carissa. i’m sure he has a good reason.”

spencer looked at you, and you realized you probably should have specified that he actually wasn’t the person you were waiting on. your mind drifts back to that slice of an alternate universe, the one you wanted to slot yourself into for longer than just a fleeting moment. your heart quickened its pace once more, and you silently willed it to calm down.

he doesn’t like you, you thought, solemnly. he likes chili’s. he’s probably here to meet kiana or something. the thought of kiana joining you at dinner was a happy one, usually. you loved her. she was bright and bubbly and she was incredibly smart. you loved listening to her talk. but right now, it almost felt like that little alternate universe and the universe you’re currently stuck in were overlapping for a moment. you wanted to keep this feeling. hold it close.

you zoned back in when spencer started talking, both of you unsure how long you had been looking at each other for. it might have been the first time you both really looked at each other. the glancing and the glaring around the office was short lived. never more than a few seconds. this look felt like it stretched on for years, unending. this wasn’t just the first time you both looked at each other, it might also be the first time you really saw each other.

and, if you were just a bit more unhinged, you’d have said that it felt like home.

“i had a flat tire. i was right down the road but i had to put the spare on, so i’m much later than i wanted to be. i try to be early to dates, but it seems like the world was betting against me tonight.” spencer looked at his lap, sheepish, all of the sudden. it was cute. a soft expression you had no clue he was even capable of. it suited him, emotion. or, emotions other than anger.

“see? that’s a perfectly reasonable excuse,” you replied, which prompted a gasp from spencer.

you find the roles shifting, no longer are you and spencer coworkers trapped in an office, glaring at each other and attempting niceties on camera. now, you were stepping into the roles of love interests in a rom-com with 80s flair. the quiet, misunderstood girl, and the edgy yet likeable boy. fake dating for some reason or another, only to fall in love for real in the end. the it was always you trope.

you could play this character just as easily as you could play the hateful coworker. maybe this role would win you a sag award. you set it next to your academy award on your imaginary awards shelf.

“it’s not an excuse! it’s a reason. an explanation, if you will.” spencer said, faux-horror in his voice.

“and i will.” you shot back, playing into it. you could fit so comfortably here.

carissa faked a yawn, and you ask her for a triple dipper – mozzarella sticks, big mouth bites, and chicken tenders. spencer had no comment on this, which made you quite happy, oddly enough.

once carissa had walked away, spencer turned his body to face you a little more, and you felt closed in in the best way possible. he was suffocating you with his presence, but it felt good. safe, even.

you settled into the booth, a little taken aback by his sudden attention. honestly, you paid more attention to him around the office than you would ever admit to anyone. you both had desks in the same pod so you were in proximity at all times, and you looked. a lot. and maybe you pined. maybe… just maybe, you had been pining this whole time.

“what’s goin’ on up there?” spencer asked, nodding toward you.

“i don’t know,” you replied. it was the truth. you weren’t sure what was going on in your brain, just that you had no urge to stop it. more like an urge to give in.

carissa reappeared with a glass of ice water for spencer. he whispered a soft “thank you” in her direction, but his eyes never left yours. she walked away without a response.

“y’know, i was actually supposed to meet someone here tonight. i should probably tell alex what’s going on.”

your ears perked up at the mention of alex. “why would you tell alex?”

“they’re my best friend?” spencer said, eyes now on his phone. “also, it was a blind date. i don’t have her number,” he explained, frowning. “or her name.” his thumbs were flying across the keyboard, and you watched in silence. you were suddenly enraptured by his hands.

then, it clicked. “oh my fucking god!” you groaned, which caused spencer to turn his focus back on you.

“what? what’s wrong?” there was genuine concern in his voice, something you had never heard from him. it stoked the fire inside you, pulling it back up to a dangerous roar. this chili’s would erupt in flames if this continued on for much longer.

in lieu of a response, you simply grabbed your phone off the table, calling courtney and putting the call on speaker.

“hey! how’s it going?” courtney asked, speech stilted with nerves.

“what’s my blind date’s name, courtney?”

you heard spencer mutter something under his breath.

“you’ll know him when you see him! like i said, he had a flat tire. wait, it’s been, like, forty minutes, why isn’t he there yet?” their sentence got quieter as they moved through it, processing in real time.

spencer leaned in, clearly only getting closer to the mic so courtney could hear him, but you’d like to think he wanted to be closer to you, too.

“i’m here, courtney.” was all he said.

“neither of you sound happy…” they moped.

you rolled your eyes affectionately. they meant well, and you said as much. “i know you meant well, honey, but me and spencer have absolutely no chemistry.” there it was again. you switched back to your original role, the one you had spent far too much time in, the one that was closer to home. “this wasn’t a good idea and i think you know that.”

you dared to peek at spencer, who was looking right at you, forlorn. “yeah, court. i appreciate the team effort, but unfortunately me and y/n are just not compatible.” his voice was tight. angry. and just like that, spencer was also back in his original role. perhaps it felt like home to him too, and he also didn’t care for change. some things are just true. the sky is blue, the grass is green, and you and spencer agnew hate each other.

for once, you found yourself wishing it wasn't true.

✰ .ᐟ

once you and courtney hung up, you asked carissa for the triple dipper to be to-go, and you and spencer went your separate ways. the whole drive home, the car was silent and so was your brain. normally you’d be crafting melodies and writing bridges, ever the artist. but tonight your brain was turned off. you had to keep it that way, purposefully silencing the thoughts that threatened to burst through. you couldn’t think about the looks spencer gave you. you couldn’t think about the smell of his cologne when he leaned close to talk to courtney. you couldn’t think about the way he apologized.

i’m sorry about this, y/n. i know that we don’t like each other but i wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

this?

the whole, blind-date-with-my-enemy thing.

spencer, why are we enemies?

i don’t know, y/n. but i think we both know it needs to stay that way.

it seemed like he had been mentally policing his word choice. careful, stoic. there was emotion in his voice, but not in his face. his jaw was tight. spencer felt bad. despite it all, he didn’t want to hurt you. this was a rejection, plain and simple, but he was being merciful. though, it also felt forced. like this isn’t what he really wants, but it’s how things have to be. a law of the universe, at this point. an intrinsic truth. we can’t be anything other than coworkers and enemies. anything else would be disastrous.

you felt silly, catastrophizing like this.

as you turned your key in the lock of your front door, your guitar called to you from the corner of the living room.

let it out, it seemed to say, feel your feelings, so you can move on.

and so you did. you changed into some sweatpants and an old crewneck, sat yourself on the floor of your apartment, and got to writing.

perhaps you would one day add a grammy to your little imaginary awards shelf. an academy award for your coworker enemy character, the breakout role. the sag award for your little lovesick puppy character you got to play tonight, at chili’s. and a grammy. for you. no character, no facade, just you.

but you’d have to record yourself to achieve that. and now wasn't the time for bravery, now was the time for processing and moving on.

✰ .ᐟ

the next morning, you woke up to a small barrage of messages. mostly courtney apologizing. an apology from shayne as well. a text from ang asking if you were okay. alex, kiana, and amanda also messaged you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to keep scrolling. until your eyes caught on something new. an unsaved number, who had texted you a mere minute before you woke up.

unsaved: hey. sorry again about last night.

your heart leapt into your throat, and that fire under your skin was back. you put your phone face down on your nightstand and promptly took a shower.

upon your arrival at work, you were reminded of how fucking gossipy this damn office was. people were throwing you apologetic looks all day, clearly informed on the situation. thirty minutes before your first shoot, ian pulled you to the side.

“hey, y/n. um, is there anything you wanted to talk about? or let me know about?” ian asked, clearly uncomfortable.

you looked at him in confusion, head tilted to the side. “i… don’t think so?” you said it like a question, because it kind of was one. surely one blind date arranged by other coworkers that didn’t even result in a relationship wasn’t cause for concern, right?

“okay, i’ll just ask then. are you and spencer in a relationship? it’s okay, if so, but there’s a lot of paper–”

you cut him off, astounded he even thought to ask such an insane question. “whoa, whoa, whoa. me and spencer are not dating. why on earth gave you that idea?”

ian blushed, and it was quite cute. he clearly felt a little out of his depth, which is silly considering the amount of coworker relationships at smosh. he’s done this at least three times, you think he’d be better at it.

“well i've heard whisperings around the office that you two went on a date last night,” he said.

“and you thought that a date between us would end well?” you asked, a bit astounded. “i'm not even sure why court and them even set it up, it's fairly well known that we don't like each other in the slightest.” internally, you were thinking about the low tone spencer had when he was next to you. boxing you in, commanding your attention. maybe you had been pining this whole time. but that was not anyone else’s business, so you would continue to keep those feelings behind a quadruple-padlocked door, far in the back corner of your brain.

“y/n, can i talk to you as a friend and not as a boss or coworker?” ian dropped his voice, a soft smile on his face.

“of course, ian.”

“i think you know damn well that you and spencer are made for each other.”

“i–”

he cuts you off. “you might have everyone else fooled, and you might even have yourself fooled. but to a degree, i think there’s a part of you that wants that. and it’s okay to want that. to want spencer. it’s okay to want. but if you ask me–”

“i didn’t–”

“but if you ask me,” he bulldozes, committing to saying his piece. “i think it’s also okay to have. it’s right in front of you for the taking, and as much as you can deny it, i think you also know that.”

you were quietly stunned by this emotional, introspective, hopeless romantic version of ian. “i know i can want, ian. i know more than well enough what wanting feels like.” a sigh escapes you, suddenly exhausted. “but i can’t have. not this time, not this one. i can have something else, later down the road. but i can’t have this. i’m not allowed to have this.”

“why not?”

you stayed silent. you hadn’t thought about the why not of it all. it was another one of those things. spencer was an enemy. spencer was off limits. he was forbidden. prohibited. a thing you could want, but never, ever have.

“i just can’t, ian.” you sighed, resigned. you were getting tired of fighting this battle, but it wasn’t like you had a choice.

“okay, y/n.” his voice is soft, and he puts a hand on your shoulder. “well, when you can, i’m sure he’ll be waiting for you.”

“i’d never ask that of him.”

“you don’t have to.” ian wrapped you in a hug, and then walked back to whichever office he came from, leaving you in a pile of emotions at the end of the hall.

“what the fuck is happening,” you whispered to yourself. the world was turning upside down, and you were starting to get quite motion sick.

you sat down on a nearby sofa, checking the time. you had to get your mic pack set up in about five minutes, so you tried to use that time to regulate your breathing. in, two, three, four. out, two, three, four. you knew you were shooting a pit video, but you couldn’t remember what it was or who was going to be in it with you. was it a reddit stories today? no, that was thursday…

“y/n?” erin dougal called. your head snapped up, your thoughts finally simmering to a normal volume. a distraction was welcome, and erin was always up to something.

“yeah, what’s up?” you replied, hoping for some sort of insane tiktok pitch that tommy dreamt up, or some gossip about the caterer she had a thing for.

“ready for the shoot?” right, your job. guess those five minutes passed faster than you thought. at least you had calmed down substantially.

“oh. yeah, sorry. what are we shooting again?” you hoped she wouldn't rag on you too much for forgetting your shoot schedule. surely she was aware of your current goings-on.

she gaped at you in response. “seriously? we've only been gearing up for this shoot for, like, two months.”

fuck. today was courtney’s hide and seek shoot. fuck. you had been so wrapped up in the bullshit of this week you had forgotten to even plan a place to hide.

“oh! right, sorry. not sure how i forgot that.” you stood up, trying to collect yourself, embarrassed.

you followed erin into the small parking lot right outside the office, where everyone was waiting to be let inside. she debriefed you on the general rules, which have been the same since the first hide and seek video. you nodded along, and tried to figure out where the hell you were going to hide.

before you knew it, everyone was rushing inside. you decided to go up into the weird little attic space duran usually hides in, knowing he wasn't set to be in the video. it was a guaranteed easy find, and you didn't really want to be alone with your thoughts for very long. you had a history of being found extremely early on, and you weren’t planning to break that streak. especially not when you had so many other things to deal with right now.

but the universe was never on your side. you climbed up the slightly unstable ladder, using your phone’s flashlight to look for a spot, when you saw him. spencer was already up here, because of course he was.

“no.” was all he said.

“c’mon, this week has been shitty enough. i don't have any other ideas.” you whispered, knowing there wasn't much time left. “i can't find another spot, there's only, like, 20 seconds left.”

“no, y/n.” he was firm in his answer, but you were just as stubborn.

you gathered a bit of courage, and made your way over to him, ducking in the tight space. you sat down right next to him, a fraction of a fraction of a centimeter between you. “yes.”

he rolled his eyes and rested his head on the painted cinder block wall behind him, lids fluttered closed, too tired to fight. you understood that feeling all too well. “fine.”

✰ .ᐟ

turns out, courtney miller is exceptionally terrible at hide and seek. you’d both been waiting in silence to be found for over thirty minutes. if you had known how long you’d have to sit in such close proximity to spencer, you’d have made several different choices. starting with calling out of work today.

“jesus, court.” you whispered. then, turning to spencer, you spoke just a tad louder. “we’re supposed be recording confessionals, you know.”

“i'm aware,” spencer said. no malice in his voice, though you could tell he tried. his mask was slipping.

you pulled out your phone and clipped your little selfie light onto it. “hey guys, y/n and spencer here. it’s been over thirty minutes at this point, and i don't think courtney’s even entered the kitchen, let alone this fuckass room.”

“fuckass is crazy,” spencer says, in that giggly, drawn out way he always does. you always liked when he did that. it made your stomach do somersaults, for a reason you could never pinpoint.

“are we allowed to hide together? i know lisa and jeremy technically did in shayne’s hide and seek video.” you ask, purely for the content of it all. you couldn’t care less about any of the rules right now. you were next to spencer, and it felt right. fuck the rules.

“i'm not sur–” a noise erupted from the kitchen, and spencer paused. “they’re hereeee,” he singsonged. he was disgustingly cute.

“gotta go!” you said, quickly ending the recording and putting your phone away.

spencer looked at you, and you looked at him. faces mere inches apart. you both heard the door to the kitchen closing, signifying courtney’s exit. you were both safe, for now. no need to stay quiet. but neither of you spoke.

the silence carried on, seconds to minutes. you started to really look at spencer, dissecting his beauty.

the shine in his eyes, even in this dim, unflattering light. the ghost of a smile on his face. he's the first to turn away.

“y/n,” spencer near begged. “please.”

“what?” you asked, genuine.

he looked back at you. then he leaned in, so close you could feel his breath when he spoke again. “you're killing me, y/n. you know what you're doing.”

you angled your face, just so, closer than you've been to anyone in a long time. closer than you've ever been to spencer agnew. “oh? what am i doing, spencer?” you batted your eyelashes at him.

he inched closer, prompting your noses to touch. it sent a shooting pulse of sparks through your blood. “tell me to stop, y/n.” he whispered, borderline tremulous.

“why?” you didn’t retreat, and you certainly didn’t oblige him.

“please, tell me to stop.” he was still staring into you, through your eyes and deep into that corner of your mind. the quadruple-padlocked door. he held every key, and you could see it all play out: him unlocking every single one with ease. blatant disregard for the consequences of his reckless actions.

you let him. no, you encouraged him. “why can't you stop yourself, spencer?”

you knew full well courtney could burst in at any moment. you're acutely aware that you're both at work right now, in the middle of a shoot. you couldn’t seem to find the strength to give a fuck.

“because you're in charge, y/n. you always have been. i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.”

you moved your eyes to his lips, finally tearing away from that gaze. “go,” you whispered.

that was all he needed to crash his lips into yours.

it’s not a great kiss. it never is when you're both this pent up. it's either too aggressive or too soft, never exactly what you're expecting, or wanting. but it enveloped you in that now familiar fire, and you didn’t even care. this could be the worst kiss of your life and you would still think of it fondly years down the line. because it's spencer. and you wanted spencer. and he, seemingly, wanted you too. so you want. and you have. just for a moment.

your brain finally rebooted and you immediately started kissing back, forceful. spencer’s hands found your body, and they wandered. he set them on your hips, then moved one to your neck. then one in your hair and the other on your face. you only pulled back from lack of oxygen. out of pure necessity.

as you both sat there, foreheads pressed against each other, chests heaving, you started to think about what you've done. he didn't just unlock that door, he blew it off the hinges. you weren’t sure you could ever deny yourself the feeling of kissing spencer agnew. not anymore, not now. you've become addicted on the very first hit, and you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

a loud bang on the opposite side of the wall had both of you separating. only an inch or so between the two of you, knowing you're about to be caught. you willed your heart rate down. trying to breathe slow, deep breaths. “time to be found i guess,” you whispered.

spencer’s head finds its place on the back wall again. he seemed defeated. tired. but happy. “yeah.”

✰ .ᐟ

two months passed and neither you nor spencer spoke about what happened during courtney’s hide and seek shoot. there's still animosity all around, and you expect that your oscar will be stripped away due to your performance. it’s exhausting, keeping this fucking thing going. you had the one thing you always denied yourself, for just a moment, and that’s all you’ll ever have. you’re well aware of this, and were doing what you could to fully come to terms with it.

but spencer. he seemed so unbothered. like it was nothing to him, like you were nothing to him, like this was all just an elaborate prank. cut the fucking cameras.

tell me to stop, y/n. please.

christ. your alarm had been turned off five minutes ago, but you remained in bed, under the covers. showing up at work was never a thing you dreaded. you fucking loved your job. and all your coworkers, who were now your friends and your family. you even loved the fans, deranged as they are.

but these days, it was weighing on you. getting up, going in and pretending you don’t know the taste and rhythm of spencer agnew’s sinful fucking mouth. it was hell. you wanted more, and he wanted nothing to do with you. and maybe you should have expected that. maybe this was all on you, for getting your hopes up for even a moment.

you’re in charge, y/n. you always have been.

you pulled yourself out of bed and into the shower. you turned the water as hot as it could go, grateful to experience a different kind of pain for even a few minutes.

i’ve been following your lead since day one. so tell me to stop.

once your skin had been sufficiently burned, and your actual shower duties were complete, you decided to dress a little nicer today. even though you knew the only plan you had was answering emails, editing scripts, and some social media stuff.

the shower really helped. the day seemed different, brighter. you felt a little less trepidation about work. you weren’t sure what magic was doled out by your rinky dink shower head, but you were thankful for it all the same.

✰ .ᐟ

pretty much every cast member greeted you at the door. suddenly, that trepidation was back. “what’s going on?”

“did you not check your phone?” shayne asked, a laugh tumbling out of him.

you thought about it. you hadn’t, actually. you turned your alarm off, showered in silence for the first time in a long time, then drove to work in silence as well. “i guess not. why? is everything okay?”

angela let out a gleeful scream. “you and spencer have the fandom in a tizzy!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands with joy.

your brain went all fuzzy. “me and… spencer?” your mind drifted back to the kiss, and you felt the heat rising on your face. that was embarrassing. everyone was here, and they were all looking at you, and you knew that your blush was violently visible.

“from the hide and seek video!” chanse added, as though there were any other point of reference.

you started to get a bit light-headed, and you sat down. “i’m confused.”

“why?” courtney asks, coming to sit next to you. it seemed everyone could sense your discomfort, so they dissipated, leaving courtney to work their magic.

“why would anyone care about me and spencer?” you asked. in your defense, you hadn’t watched the video. you couldn’t. you didn’t even watch back the single confessional you recorded, just sent it over to andre. you didn’t delete it though. it sat in your camera roll, heavy on your mind, and taunting you every time you opened your photos app.

they laughed, a soft sound, reassuring. “babe, i need you to watch the video.”

you groaned in response, feeling like a petulant child. like you were going to stomp your feet and cry if you didn’t get your way. “i don’t want to, courtney. i don’t need to see how fucking red was my face was. i don’t need to see how pathetic i look.”

you hadn’t told a single soul what happened in that little attic crawl space. you didn’t want to – it was a blissful secret. it was easier to hold it in, the truth that you kissed him and it felt like flying and dying and living and breathing and everything all at the same exact time. because if you ever admitted that out loud, you think you’d pass away from the sheer amount of love in your voice when you say it. he was turning you into a hopeless romantic, and you’d barely said seven words to the man since he completely ruined your life.

because that’s what he had done, wasn’t it? you were ruined for anyone else. how could you move on, how could you kiss someone else when spencer agnew made alpha centauri appear behind your eyes. a star system, exploding to life. and you knew, somewhere inside, that that was the only time in your life you’d ever be able to feel something like that. you weren’t even sure you’d want to feel it again. it’s been nothing short of agonizing.

“y/n, can i ask you something?” they questioned, ever patient.

“yes.”

“why do you keep denying yourself good things?” her hand was on your thigh, a soft comfort to offset the sting of her question. “please, i'll show you the clip right here, and i’ll be next to you the whole time. if you want me to turn it off, i will. but will you try for me? please?”

you had never struggled with watching the videos you were in. granted, you usually could just focus on someone else in the shot. this was just you, and spencer. courtney would be there in the background, maybe brennan. but mostly it was you and spencer. and if you didn’t look at yourself, you’d look at him. you weren’t sure which was worse, but you agreed.

“rip the fucking band-aid off already, i beg of you.”

she let out a small squeal of excitement, opening her phone. you were only mildly surprised to see the clip was already pulled up.

courtney pressed play on the video, and they handed you the phone. you watched, captivated. you decided to look at yourself. your blush was evident, and once you noticed that, you couldn’t bear to look any longer, so you looked at spencer. he was staring at you, while you stared ahead, giggling at whatever courtney said. his eyes were fixed on your profile, a smile bursting at the seams of his mouth, threatening a chelsea grin. he was smiling. he begged you to stop him, to stop this. spencer begged you not to feed the fire, but you had thrown gasoline right into it.

the thought… excited you.

“oh, hey,” courtney chirped happily, causing you to tear your eyes away from the screen of her phone. she paused the video and slipped her phone back into her pocket. “i’ll leave you to it,” they stood from their chair, pushing it in and giving you a look of hopefulness. you smiled back, halfheartedly.

“hi, spencer.” you murmured, finally meeting his eyes.

“hi, y/n.” he parroted, walking slowly toward you. he seemed hesitant, but… hopeful? maybe you felt the same way. “can i talk to you for a moment?” he gestured to the recently vacated chair on your left, and you nodded. you couldn’t trust yourself to talk at the moment.

he sat down next to you, entirely too casual. he’s slouched in the chair, hands in the pockets of his jacket. “seems like we did a number on a few people, huh?” he started. still too casual. you braced yourself for impact: we still can’t do this, though. we’re not friends. let alone lovers.

what he actually said, though, hit you harder than 400 asteroids. “you certainly did a fucking number on me.”

“uh, what?” is all you could muster, confused, adrenaline pumping through your veins.

he sat back up, then leaned into your space. again. he likes to do that. normally, you’d feel too caged, too claustrophobic. but for some reason, it felt like a blessing. a near-familiar comfort in this whirlwind you were caught up in. “y/n, do you remember our first date?”

your defense mechanism, sarcasm, clicked on in your brain. “if you call that a date, i’m embarrassed for you, spencer.”

“so you do remember it.”

“yes, spencer. i remember when you accosted me at chili’s.”

he laughed, and you know that it’s such a beautiful sound, but it still hurt. “and do you remember what i told you at the end of the night?”

“you said you didn’t know why we were enemies, but that we both knew it needed to stay that way.”

“exactly. y/n, do you know why i refuse to sit next to you in videos? or why i very frequently cut you off when you’re talking? or why we’ve never been the guests on reddit stories together?”

“no,” you breathe out, honest. “no, i don’t know why.”

“it’s because of what happened in that godforsaken hide and seek video. because i knew, given the proximity, i’d do that. i’d stare at you, zoned out of whatever conversation was happening around me. smiling like a fucking idiot.”

you didn’t speak, feeling overwhelmed at his sudden confession.

“i have a cool guy persona that i try quite hard to keep up, and i didn’t want millions of people seeing me, fucking, splayed out like that. all my feelings on display in 4k. since the day you walked in that fucking door, i’ve been forcing myself to hate you, forcing myself to be your ‘enemy’, playing along with this stupid fucking charade we both seemingly crafted out of nowhere. being that close to you, it makes that whole game a lot harder to play.”

“spencer,” you said, attempting to alleviate some pressure. “you don’t have to–”

“i’m serious, y/n. i’m not mad, i’m not even upset. frankly, i’m relieved. it’s out there, people have seen it, and i’m happy about it. i’m tired of this stupid cat and mouse game, y/n. this shit makes me feel like sisyphus. i’m tired of pushing the stupid fake hatred boulder up the mountain. and i think you are, too. i’ve seen it. i’ve felt it.” he whispered the last part, like it was meant just for him. he was thinking about the kiss. reliving it, the tension, the heat, the closeness. his lips on yours, his hands in your hair. he was thinking about it, and he wasn’t thinking it was embarrassing or gross. he didn’t regret it. he didn’t regret you.

you leaned into him, bringing your nose right up to his, face closer than need be for a conversation between two people who claim to hate each other. “tell me to stop, spencer,” you tried.

he looked at you, eyes wide and shining again. his gaze flickered down to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “fuck it,” he stated, and then his lips were on you.

you were once again kissing spencer agnew, and you were once again doing it at the fucking office. but you didn’t care about that, couldn’t care about that, because he was kissing you, and this time it was different. it wasn’t nearly as clumsy, or aggressive. the angle was perfect, and his hand was resting on the back of your neck, a soft cradle. your brain didn’t need to time to load, or reboot, and for once it didn’t even blue screen. you immediately kissed spencer back, with more fervor than you thought you had in you.

a small moan slipped out of your mouth, and you didn’t care about that either. you knew your coworkers were probably watching you both from around the corner, phones out to record the momentous occasion, hushes being thrown at others who dared to speak.

but right now, the only thing you cared about was making sure spencer knew you weren’t going to play this fucking godawful game anymore. you kissed him like you were serious about it, because you were. you were serious about spencer agnew. as serious as a heart attack, which you felt like you were on the verge of.

you attempted to pull back for a moment, but spencer wouldn’t let you go. he’s starving, and you are a delicacy he intends to gorge himself on, gluttonous. you gave in, and continued to kiss him back. it’s the most blissful feeling, reciprocation.

no more games. no more lies. no more feuds.

no more enemies, or hatred.

some things in life are universal truths. the grass is green, the sky is blue, and you and spencer agnew loved each other. you always had, and both of you were equally tired of pretending otherwise. pushing back against the universe was always a losing game.

so you both gave in.

and it was heavenly.

“please, y/n,” spencer pined, pulling back but still staying close. “don’t make me wait another two months to do that again.”

a laugh surged out of you, loud and honest. “have you been thinking about doing it again?”

“constantly. it’s a problem.”

you bit your bottom lip, unsure of how you got here. “oh my god,” you put your head in your hands, remembering your first tweet from you posted that. “i’m sorry i threatened to piss in your kickstart.”

this time, spencer was the one who laughed. hard and loud, honest, just like you, a moment ago. like you were still doing, because hearing spencer laugh made you laugh. a contagious happiness pouring from his lips, filling your very atoms.

“it’s okay, i understand. i wanted to piss in your lattes.” he set his forehead against yours, a form of intimacy he seemed to love. just like two months ago, he was invading your space and you couldn’t get enough of it.

“i’m sorry it took so long to get my head out of my ass,” he spilled, remorse heavy in his voice. “to think we could have been doing this so long ago…” his sentence faded away, and you couldn’t help but smile even harder.

“hey, my head was also up my ass. it’s okay. we have time.”

“yeah, we do.”

✰ .ᐟ

the remainder of the week went off without incident. you told ian you would fill out any and all paperwork, but not until you and spencer were ready. not until he formally asked you to be his girlfriend. it was still the very early days, and while you were beyond happy, you didn’t want to jinx it. watching this love grow was a privilege, not a right, and you intended to keep it.

you both graced the infamous white reddit stories couch, the episode themed around coworker drama. it was nice to be able to laugh with him openly, and it was nice to hear his thoughts on the stories. spencer was incredibly well articulated when he wanted to be, and it was incredibly sexy to watch him be so emotionally mature and vulnerable. he was more understanding than you would have ever expected, and it only made you want him more.

you hadn’t had a real, formal date yet. that was tonight, once shooting wrapped. he refused to tell you anything about it, just insisted you dress comfortably.

and you were comfortable, here on this couch, with spencer. you both had to be reminded not to sit so close together, several times now. shayne and courtney ragged on you a bit, but they promised to give you tips on hiding the relationship if that was what you chose to do. that was a conversation for another time, but it was nice to know everyone at smosh would always be in your corner.

you pulled yourself out of your head to concentrate on shayne’s voice, and you even threw in a few comments mid-narration. you didn’t like doing that often, it felt rude to interrupt. but hearing spencer break out in a fit of giggles at a shitty joke you made only pushed you to be more confident.

✰ .ᐟ

“where the fuck are going, spencer?” you questioned for approximately the fifteenth time. once shooting had wrapped, everyone bid you and spencer farewell and good luck on your first official date. you went to the bathroom to change into your favorite sweatpants and an old hoodie, and when you reappeared spencer was holding a blindfold in his hand.

without thinking, you had popped the first joke that came into your head. “oh, we’re already getting freaky?”

he had laughed, and insisted it wasn’t anything like that. “but it can be, eventually.” he raised an eyebrow, suggestive and suave.

well, fuck.

as spencer directed you through the office – presumably to take you to one of the stages? – you let the lack of sight relax you. he wanted to surprise you, which means that he planned something. or set something up. you were rapidly falling in love with this man, and you weren’t sure if that was scary or exciting. probably both. you were free falling out of a fucking airplane, the cords on your parachute stuck, but it felt good.

“okay, you can remove your blindfold,” you heard his voice from behind you, as he finally brought you to a stop.

you slowly reached up to pull the blindfold off, and you couldn’t stop the tears that started to form.

spencer had set up a place for you to record music. he had moved a bunch of props and furniture around on the games stage, and set up a tiny little nook with pillows and blankets and bean bags. somehow, your guitar was there, propped next to an amp. there were several pedals splayed out, a wide array of effects for you to choose from. it was all hooked up to your macbook, which had fl studio pulled up on it.

“spencer…” you whined. the tears were silent, but they fell in waves.

he moved to stand in front of you, and you knew you would never get tired of being able to be this close to him whenever you wanted. he was yours to hold.

you tried to stop the tears, tried to speak, tried to thank him and apologize. all you could do was let the small, silent sobs wrack your body.

“y/n, please please tell me that these are happy tears,” spencer pleaded with you. his hand wiping a tear away from your cheek.

you nodded furiously, and found your voice again. “y-yes. yes. they are happy tears.” you took a deep breath in, stinging in the best way. “thank you so fucking much, spencer. i don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

“i know that you write music, but i know you never record it. i didn’t know if that was because you were worried about it not being good enough, or if it was simply the inability to record. either way, i can keep all of this set up here for you. whenever you want, as long as the stage isn’t needed, of course. i was hoping we could have a little jam sesh.” spencer laughed, light and airy.

you surged forward, wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. “thank you,” you said again.

✰ .ᐟ

you and spencer spent three hours holed up on the games stage, playing around with different effects pedals and different fl studio presets. the time flew by, and you hadn’t even actually recorded anything, but you didn’t need to. you’d remember every second of this night for the rest of your life. you didn’t show spencer any of the songs you’d written these past few weeks, all of them about him. you would one day, when you were ready, but right now all you wanted was to be in this moment with him.

“it’s crazy how far we’ve come in such little time,” spencer said quietly, once the instruments had been retired and you were both stretched out on the extra large bean bag.

you smiled, agreeing. “yeah. it sucks that we lost out on so much time, but i’m grateful that i get to have you at all.” it was more vulnerable than you had meant to be, but spencer didn’t let it linger in the air too long.

“you have me for as long as you want, babe. i’m not leaving until you kick me out.”

a soft laugh, “i can’t imagine a world where i’d ever kick you out, spencer.”

“it’s like i told you. you’re the one in charge, y/n. i’ll follow your lead wherever it takes me.”

“even if it takes you off a cliff?” you japed, adding some levity to this conversation you weren’t quite ready for.

“yes,” spencer replied, no hesitation or thought. “wherever you go, i’d like to be with you. if you’d have me.”

you turned fully onto your side so you could look at him again. his hair had gotten so long, and you were hoping he wouldn’t cut it yet. you liked how wild and windswept it looked at this length. you also wanted to pull it.

“what are you saying, spencer?” you were egging him on.

“will you be my girlfriend, y/n? we can go as slow or as fast as you’d like, we can do it all at your pace. we have time,” he assured you. “i know this is only our first date, and normally this might seem like jumping the gun a little bit.” spencer sighed, but it was wistful, not sad. “but i’ve been sure about you for years now, and now that you’re finally giving me the chance, i don’t want to wait. i don’t want it to slip out of my hands.”

you let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding. this side of spencer – no, just spencer – you were so unaware of him and everything he had the capacity to be and do and feel just a few months ago. sure, you’d been pining for awhile, and you’d been watching him for a bit. not in a creepy way, just observing him when he wasn’t putting up the goddamn shield he always forced up around you. seeing spencer for who he was, as he was. you had no idea that he could be so eloquent, so romantic, so fucking perfect.

“christ, you’re going to kill me, charles spencer agnew.”

“is that a yes, y/n? don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind already!” spencer laughed again, and you realized just how often you made him laugh. almost like your specific brand of comedy was tailor made for him. maybe it was.

“yes, spencer, i will be your girlfriend.” you smiled at him, a toothy. unabashed grin. “thank you for this.” you gestured around the nook. “seriously, this is so fucking sweet of you. i really, truly appreciate it.” most people didn’t put so much effort into the first date. this would, normally, be a fifth date kind of thing, probably. not that you had much practice. but it was your first real date, and spencer did all this work just to spend a few hours making shitty hyperpop mixes out of the silliest guitar sounds you could manage.

“don’t get used to it, this was a lot of work.”

your smile dropped instantly, a cold rush hitting you. fuck, was he making fun of you? you felt tears well up again, this time decidedly unhappy tears.

spencer shot up in an instant. “hey, hey. it’s okay, love. can i touch you?”

you cried harder, realizing that not only was spencer not making fun of you, but that he was listening. he always was, he always had been. because he knew not to touch you when you were crying, he knew to ask. and you had never told him that.

you had said it in a reddit stories video once. the story had to do with panic attacks, and you felt like you had to give your two cents, daring to be vulnerable on beyoncé’s internet.

“i actually hate being touched when i’m upset. people always jump straight to hugging me or patting my head or some shit. bro, i’m fucking freaking out, please do not touch me!”

courtney laughed, agreeing with your sentiment. “no, exactly! like, i’m crying all over myself and i’m snotty and gross. please get your hands off me. you can clearly see i’m overwhelmed, why is your first thought to add to that?”

it was refreshing to be understood by someone.

“i have never once seen someone in emotional distress and thought, ‘hmm, i should hug them super tight! that’ll help!’ like, what the fuck are we doing, guys? however, i do remember one time i started having a panic attack, and my friend looked at me and held her hands up, then asked ‘can i touch you?’ which, like, just broke me out of it. i was so thankful that she asked to touch me instead of just doing it that i was immediately calmed down. she’s great.”

the emotions were a sudden flood, and you shook your head no. spencer sat still in his spot, respecting your decision. for some reason, this only prompted you to cry harder.

basic respect had you sobbing. this was fucking embarrassing.

“i’m so sorry,” you said through tears, trying to explain yourself.

spencer was patient, and you knew he would wait for you to collect yourself. it was a small gesture but it really did mean the world to you. this meant not only did he listen to you when you were talking on set, but also that he watches the videos that you’re in. he wasn’t on that shoot, he had a con to go to. he wasn’t even in the state of california when you had said that. you had said that nearly a year ago, and he had watched the video when it came out. then committed that piece of you to memory.

“spencer?” you let out softly. “i have a question.”

your voice was small, almost upsettingly so. you didn’t mean to sound so timid, but projecting your voice when you’re feeling this many emotions was something you could only do in front of a camera or a live audience.

“yes?”

“how long have you known that you didn't… y’know. hate me?” you sighed, glad to have the weight of the question off of your shoulders, but worried about how heavy the answer might weigh on you.

“i never hated you. i never even disliked you, y/n. i thought you were smart enough to figure that out.”

“are you negging me, babe?” you asked him, trying out the pet name. it felt nice, especially because you meant it. and because this time, you knew he wasn't being mean. he was just being spencer.

once again, spencer’s laugh graced your eardrums, and you knew you’d never tire of the way it made you feel. unstoppable. like if you could make spencer agnew laugh like this, you could do anything in the world. maybe even be brave.

“can i show you something that i've been working on?” you asked, your eyes trailing up to meet his, which were already fixated on you. as always.

“of course.”

you grabbed your guitar, turning ever so slightly to the side. you didn't want to hide, but you also didn't want to be on full display. spencer understood your movement immediately; he looked down at his hands for a moment, silently reassuring you that it was okay, that you were safe.

it was refreshing to be understood by someone.

you plucked the chords you had burned into your brain at this point. you had written this song the evening of the hide and seek incident (trademark pending).

you let your eyes fall shut, playing from memory, as easy as 1-2-3. as you began the first verse, you dared to glance at spencer. he was looking at you, but through his periphery. still trying to give you that space, but unable to deny himself. it made you burn bright with pure, radiant joy.

you glided into the chorus, your eyes fully open at this point. spencer had long since abandoned his resolve, and he was watching you intently. instead of being scared, or nervous, or overwhelmed, you just felt seen.

in every sense, you felt seen. he was looking at you, into you, and not through you. he was seeing your heart on your sleeve, stitched permanently on every cardigan you owned. he was seeing all of your emotions, all the anger, all the sadness. and he understood your emotions, because he had felt them, too. he had gone through it all, too.

how lucky you were, to be loved by someone so observant. and maybe it wasn't love yet, but you knew the potential was there. you knew, as you finished up the bridge and moved on to the outro, that the seed had been planted. you would be sure to water it diligently.

“can i kiss you?” spencer blurted out, as soon as the final note finished ringing out in the otherwise silent stage.

“always.” you met spencer halfway, another crashing, aching kiss. his hands immediately found your hair, as they always did. your arms fell around his shoulders, a loose hold.

after a moment the kiss was less crashing and danger and speed, slowing naturally to a sensual pace. lightly pulling and pushing, his hands now gripping your hips. not angry, not painful. it was a tight grip, but it wasn't mean. it felt scared, almost, like if spencer didn't hold on to you, you’d be gone.

you think you liked that feeling. the feeling that your partner wanted you all the time.

you spent another hour lazily kissing, and ended up falling into a blissful sleep.

✰ .ᐟ

you woke up about an hour after you had crashed. you hadn't meant to, you were just so fucking relaxed and happy. with the way your sleep had been, you weren’t going to turn down a nap.

spencer mumbled something, and you were suddenly hyperaware of the fact you were still in the office. you groaned, unintentionally.

“you okay, y/n?” your boyfriend – you loved that – asked, his voice soft and scratchy from the nap.

you smiled down at him. “yeah, sorry. i just realized we've only ever kissed at the office.”

you watched in amusement as the cogs turned in his head. “oh, jeez. well, that’s just unacceptable. hey, apropos of nothing, i'm out of kickstart. do you want to run to the corner store with me?”

spencer held out a hand, as if to say ‘join me on this adventure?’ and you weren’t sure how you could decline his offer.

♡

#richie txt #richie writes #spencer agnew x reader #smosh x reader

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isaadore · 3 days ago

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OFF THE RECORD JACK HUGHES

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎pairing jack hughes x pr manager!reader

SUMMARY being jack’s pr manager was supposed to be a stepping stone in your career, not a constant exercise in crisis management. jack was talented, charismatic, and an absolute menace when it came to following media protocol. every press conference felt like a battle, every interview a test of patience. and somehow, amidst the chaos, he had made it his personal mission to get under your skin. but the real problem? you weren’t sure you minded it as much as you should. word count 0.6k

warnings fluff, flirting, workplace romance, failed attempt at enemies to lovers

note requested by my #1 (@cyberhughes) for my 1k celebration, thanks for requesting bbg 🔥🔥 but idk why i put enemies to lovers as a trope, i can't even write it properly, so hope this meets ur expectations 😜

JH86 MASTERLIST EVENT MASTERLIST

JACK WAS A PR nightmare. Not because he was reckless or controversial, no, that would have been easy to handle. The problem was that he simply didn’t care. Media obligations were an inconvenience, interviews were a form of torture, and following a script? Not a chance. He made that abundantly clear the first time you tried prepping him before a post-game conference.

“Jack, just stick to the key points,” you said, pacing in front of him while he leaned back in his locker room stall. “Emphasize the team’s effort, don’t overpromise about injuries, and for the love of God, don’t chirp the reporter again.”

He smirked. “What? You don’t think they deserve it?”

“That’s not the point.” You exhaled, pressing your fingers to your temples. “The point is to keep things smooth and professional. Just, please try, okay?”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll be good.”

That promise lasted exactly two questions into the presser before he decided to call out a reporter for always betting against the Devils. You barely suppressed a groan as you worked on damage control, sending out an apologetic statement before Jack even finished his last answer. When he walked off, he gave you a smug little glance, and you swore he enjoyed making your life difficult.

“You love the attention, don’t you?” you muttered as you walked side by side back to the locker room.

Jack shrugged. “Nah, I just like seeing you all worked up.”

Your fingers tightened around your phone. “You’re insufferable.”

He grinned. “And you’re fun when you’re mad.”

It had been like this since the day you got hired. Every interaction was a push and pull, him testing your patience, you trying (and failing) to keep him in line. But somewhere between the bickering and the exasperation, there were moments that felt dangerously close to something else. The way his eyes lingered when you weren’t looking. The way your pulse jumped when he leaned in too close under the guise of making a joke. The way your stomach flipped every time his teasing turned just a little too soft.

It all came to a head after an especially heated argument over his latest social media post, a photo with a caption that was ambiguous enough to spark trade rumours. Your phone had been blowing up all morning with calls from reporters, and fans in a frenzy over the idea that he might be leaving New Jersey.

“Jack, what the hell were you thinking?” you snapped, storming into the locker room before the morning skate.

He turned from where he was taping his stick, completely unbothered. “Relax. People overreact to everything.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to steady your frustration. “That’s exactly why you have to be careful. You’re not just some kid on Instagram anymore. Every word, every post, it matters.”

Jack stood, stepping closer. “What if I just like getting a reaction out of you?”

Your breath caught. It was the way he said it, not with the usual cocky smirk, but with something quieter. More intent. You swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of how close he was. Of the heat rolling off him, the sharpness of his gaze.

“You really love making my job impossible, don’t you?” you said, voice softer than you meant.

Jack’s lips quirked, but there was something different in his expression now. Something serious. “I think you like it.”

You should have walked away. Should have reminded him that you were his PR manager and that this was strictly professional. But when he leaned in, when his voice dropped just enough to make your pulse stutter, you realized something horrible.

He might be right.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ JH86 MASTERLIST ✷ EVENT MASTERLIST

#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes #nhl x reader #nhl fanfic #nhl imagine #jack hughes x you #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fluff #jack hughes angst #nhl x you #nhl fic #nhl #hockey #✷ tastes like sugar #✷ isaadore

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buryhny · 3 days ago

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One Night Stand ; 45 ⋆.

➥ rundown ; as if the unexpected twist of a one-night stand turning out to be your CEO boss wasn't surreal enough, the situation takes a more challenging turn when both of you discover that you're expecting his child.

→ genre ; enemies to lovers | CEO au | pregnancy trope | slowburn

☆ jungkook x y/n ☆ contains smut, fluff and angst ☆ chapter forty five ; wc | 3k

primarily on Wattpad

index ⇢ next chapter

Morning arrives, and you find yourself in an unfamiliar part of the house—the kitchen. A space that has never truly belonged to you.

With zero cooking skills and even less survival instinct when it comes to food preparation, you still stand here, determined to make the first meal of the day for the man you love.

He's still asleep, which is surprising—he's usually up at the crack of dawn. But today, exhaustion has kept him in bed, skipping both the gym and work to rest.

The menu is entirely your creation, and so is the meal. You're not sure how well this will turn out, but you're giving it your best, hoping you won't disappoint yourself.

With careful steps, you carry the tray upstairs, breakfast and juice in hand, ready to surprise him with his special birthday breakfast. you place the tray on the bedside table and get on bed to wake him up.

"hey babe."you whisper, caressing his face and hair. Jungkook hums as he turns to your side, pushing himself to get any closer to you. he doesn't want to wake up yet, hes had the best sleep in years. you giggle at how he tries to feel a bit of your skin.

"I've made breakfast for you! wake up.." you murmur, tracing his face with your fingertips. Jungkook groans, pulling you closer, his raspy morning voice almost unreal. "You made breakfast?" he mumbles, still half-asleep, his face buried in the pillow. Though faint, you can hear the surprise in his tone.

"I did, and I want you to tell me if it's okay," you reply, tapping his bare arm in an attempt to wake him faster. "Come on, it's getting cold!" Your whining does the trick. He props himself against the headboard, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"I should brush my teeth first—" "Fuck it," you murmur, making him chuckle as you set the tray on his lap, carefully adjusting the glass and plate to look just right. Jungkook raises an eyebrow, taking in the presentation with mild amusement. "looks good."

He says nothing at first, his eyes scanning the French toast—generously dusted with way too much cinnamon sugar—and the strawberry on top, sliced unevenly at best. The glass of orange juice sits beside it, looking perfectly refreshing, and then there's the cake... pink as ever, with smooth white icing, standing out like a sweet little afterthought.

Jungkook hums, tilting his head. "wow-" "try it!!" you eagerly wait as he cuts through the soaked bread with the knife and fork. Jungkook does not want to say this but it has not been cooked enough, i by the color of the bread but he could never say anthing to you, you're an angel, he would drink poision from your hands if you give him. he bites into the bread and coughs.

the cinnamon...way too much. he chuckles when you tap on his chest to calm his cough. he's dying to tell you that this needs more vanilla and milk, but he refrains. "is it good..?" you ask, he turns to look at you and sees those wide curious eyes, waiting for a reaction and...his heart hurts.

it doesn't matter that this isn't the best french toast hes tasted, it doesn't matter that if youd ever made this in a cooking challenge they would eliminate you immediately, for him this has to be one of the best things hes eaten and he loves how it tastes because he tastes the love and determination you out into this.

you soaked your heart into this like you did with the bread and batter and he just loves you for that. "mmm-" he takes another bite and moans with his eyes closed. "this is fucking good, baby."

he mutters, which soon brings a long wide smile on your face. "reallyy!!!" you clap your hands in happiness and it melts his heart, youre the cutest woman ever even though youre in the cuntiest dress hes ever seen you wear, your neck line so deep that he sees your boobs fightint to see the sunshine,

your nipples peak through the silk cause the room is damn cold and your legs are...all open cause this dress is short as fuck and he cant blame your bump because that tummy is hot as shit too. "yes bear, i could eat this all right now!" he just eats and eats, its not bad, it just needs more flavour and the excitement and happiness you show, adds up all whats missing in the bread.

"let me try so-" "no-" he says...too fast, maingyou frown. "I mean... no, this is all mine, right?" Jungkook says, eyeing the food possessively. You nod. "Yeah, but I just want a bite—" "I can't share this with you. I need it all!" he insists, his tone a little too serious.

His suspicious behavior only makes you more determined to try it now. "Why do you sound so defensive? Is it that good?" You squint at him, already plotting how to steal a bite. he shrugs and gives you a nervous chuckle. You snatch the fork from his hand and take a bite of the bread.

The moment it touches your tongue, your reaction is instant—you scrunch your nose and pull a face, making him sigh. "This is terrible!" you whine, disappointed that your effort to make him a nice breakfast had failed. But what stings even more is realizing that Jungkook never once complained.

He ate everything without a word, even praising it just to spare your feelings, and that only makes you feel even worse. you pout at him, your eyes looking at him with sadness. "you shouldve told me its bad-" "but its not bad, its good-" "you dont have to lie-"

"I'm not, baby," he murmurs, gently cupping your face as he gazes at you. "I'm just grateful for this, okay?" Jungkook speaks, exaggerating your pout. He grabs the glass of juice and downs it in under a minute.

Cutting a piece of cake, he turns to you and mumbles, "Thanks for this, Y/N." You take his hand, guiding the fork back to him. "Happy birthday, Jungkook."

;

You and Jungkook spend the morning lazily, tangled up in each other. He can't seem to keep his hands off you—cuddling you, holding your hand, or resting his head on your lap, absentmindedly tracing patterns on your clothes and bump.

You're not sure if he's being extra clingy because of last night or if, after the gender reveal, he finally feels like he can connect with you completely. Right now, Jungkook is on a mission—to feel a kick or any movement from the little one inside.

He's been lying on your lap for quite some time, eyes locked on your belly with anticipation.

"Is she gonna move now?" he asks for the tenth time in the last hour.

"I don't know," you reply, scrolling through your phone, adding more essentials to your list as a first-time mom. You've already shopped plenty for the baby, mostly online. Clothes can wait—you need to focus on maternity items and your emergency hospital bag.

"Is she gonna move now—" "Jungkook, I don't know!" you cut in, exasperated. "How do you not know? She's literally inside you," he argues, sitting up from your lap, frustration clear on his face. He just can't wrap his head around the fact that you don't feel anything when she's in you.

"She moves when she wants to. How am I supposed to kn—" You stop mid-sentence, eyes widening. Without another word, you grab his hand and place it on your bump. Jungkook freezes the moment you grab his hand and press it against your belly. His eyes flick to yours, uncertain but hopeful.

Then, a tiny shift—a faint movement under his palm.

His brows furrow. "Wait... was that—?"

You nod slightly, still unsure yourself. "I think so." He stays completely still, waiting, eyes locked on your belly as if willing her to move again. But after a few seconds of nothing, he frowns. "Are you sure that wasn't just your stomach or something?"

You sigh, a little amused. "Jungkook, I don't know. I feel things all the time—I can't tell if it's her or just, like... digestion." Jungkook huffs, clearly unsatisfied with that answer. "This is my birthday, she should at least give me one kick." He leans in closer, resting his cheek lightly against your bump. "Come on, baby... just one?" His voice is soft, coaxing, full of expectation.

You roll your eyes, but before you can say anything, there's another small nudge against your skin—stronger this time. Jungkook jerks back, eyes wide. "That was her! That was actually her!" You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, pretty sure that one was real."

His face lights up, a mix of awe and excitement. "Do it again," he mutters, rubbing small circles over your belly as if he can summon another kick by sheer will.

But the baby, of course, does not cooperate.

After a long moment of silence, Jungkook sighs dramatically, slumping back against the couch. "She's just like you. Stubborn." you snort. "Or maybe she's like you—never sitting still for too long." Jungkook smirks but doesn't argue, his hand still resting on your bump, waiting—just in case.

He leans his head on your shoulder, finally taking a look at what's been keeping your attention when he's been right here. His eyes scan the screen—you're adding things to your cart, maternity essentials and baby items.

His gaze flickers to yours and then back to the screen. "I just realized... we haven't gone baby shopping together. Like, ever." You nod, still focused. "You're right. And the whole nursery stu—" "Oh, you don't have to worry about that," Jungkook cuts in, waving a hand dismissively. "Everything will be done in a day. I've got a whole team working on it fast."

You pause for a second, shaking your head in quiet disbelief. It still amazes you sometimes how easily Jungkook can make things happen. No matter how big the task, he has the money, the connections, and the means to get it done in hours—sometimes even minutes. And yet, here he is, in a loose t-shirt and sweatpants, curled up against you like a needy puppy, clinging to you as if you're the only thing in the world that matters.

Jungkook stays quiet for a moment, eyes still flicking between your face and the screen. His fingers toy with the hem of your shirt absentmindedly before he finally speaks.

"We should still go baby shopping. Together."

You pause your scrolling and glance at him. "ive already got the stuff ready, online shopping helps." "I know," he admits, tilting his head slightly. "But that's not the same. I wanna go with you. Walk through the stores, pick things out ourselves. See tiny socks in person instead of just clicking 'add to cart.'"

You blink at him, a little surprised. "You actually wanna do that?" Jungkook scoffs. "What kind of question is that? Of course, I do." His fingers drum lightly against your belly, his voice quieter now. "She's our baby and...even though ive not been the best dad to her before, i could atleast do it now, I don't wanna miss out on anything."

Something about the way he says it makes your heart squeeze.

You turn off your phone and throw it aside, you hum, pretending to think. "So you're saying you'd rather walk around a baby store than stay home and cuddle?" He groans, throwing his head back against the couch dramatically. "Okay, now you're making it hard."

You laugh, nudging him. "Alright, alright. We'll go." Jungkook perks up instantly. "Really?" You roll your eyes. "Yes, really." A satisfied grin spreads across his face. "Good. 'Cause I already looked up the best baby stores in the city." you stare at him, realization dawning. "Wait... You were planning this?"

Jungkook smirks, pulling you closer. "Maybe."

Jungkook had it all planned. Ever since the gender reveal last night, he couldn't stop thinking about tiny dresses and little hairbands. The thought of his baby girl was stuck in his head, and he knew exactly what he wanted—to find the prettiest clothes for her.

As the two of you walk into the mall, Jungkook heads straight for the baby clothing store, his eyes instantly drawn to the racks of tiny outfits. Dresses, t-shirts, jumpsuits, delicate little hairbands—everything is so small, so delicate. He stares in awe, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric of a newborn dress.

A part of him feels a pang of sadness that he hadn't done this sooner, that he hadn't been here picking out clothes the moment he found out about the baby. But as he holds up a tiny dress, the reality hits him all over again.

He's going to be a father.

And his daughter—his tiny, fragile, beautiful little girl—is going to be this small. Jungkook's fingers brush over the soft fabric of a tiny pastel dress, his eyes widening as he takes in the delicate details. It's the softest shade of pink, almost like a watercolor blush, with tiny white lace trimming the edge.

The dress has short, ruffled sleeves, and right in the center, a small embroidered bunny with a little crown smiles up at him. Scattered around the bunny are tiny clouds and hearts, stitched so delicately that they almost look like they were painted on.

His chest tightens. It's so small—so impossibly tiny. He carefully lifts it off the rack, holding it between his fingers as if it might disappear.

His daughter is going to wear this. His daughter, who is still growing inside you, who he hasn't even met yet but already loves more than anything.

Jungkook swallows hard, overwhelmed by the wave of emotions crashing over him. Excitement, disbelief, a hint of sadness that he couldn't have done this sooner—but most of all, a deep, aching love.

"I can't believe she's gonna be this small," he murmurs, almost to himself. His thumb runs over the embroidered bunny, his mind painting a picture—his baby girl in this very dress, her tiny hands grabbing at the fabric, her sleepy eyes blinking up at him.

His grip tightens slightly, like he's holding onto something precious. you look at him and sigh, youve always wanted this, this reaction from him, the love from his eyes and the excitement in his hands as he holds the little pieces of fabric. youve been shopping for months but thsi time it feels different, because youre finally here with the father of your child and nothing is more special than that, nothing can match upto that feeling of being here as a couple.

"I think I love these," Jungkook says, holding up six tiny dresses and four t-shirts in the softest pastel shades—lavender, buttery yellow, baby blue, and mint green. His eyes are practically sparkling as he admires his selections, and he looks so genuinely excited that you can't help but giggle.

"Okay, Dada," you tease, watching as he carefully examines each piece like he's making the most important decision of his life.

Jungkook grins at the nickname but is quickly distracted again, his gaze darting around the store as if something's missing. Then, without another word, he starts wandering off, scanning the racks with a new sense of determination.

You watch in amusement as he mutters under his breath, flipping through baby onesies and tiny shirts. "Jungkook... what are you looking for?" He barely glances at you, still focused. "Something that says 'Dada' on it." You laugh. "Really?"

"Yes," he says seriously, turning to you with an almost desperate look. "I need it. Imagine how cute she'd look in a tiny t-shirt that says 'I love my Dada.'" Your heart melts at his excitement, and you shake your head fondly. "Alright, let's find you one."

Jungkook grins, already diving back into his mission. Jungkook searches through every rack with an almost childlike determination, flipping through the tiny onesies and shirts like he's on a quest for treasure. His brows knit together in frustration when he doesn't immediately find what he's looking for.

"Why don't they have 'Dada' shirts?" he grumbles, shifting through another stack of baby clothes. You stifle a laugh. "Maybe they're just sold out."

He sighs dramatically, then turns to an employee. "Excuse me, do you have any baby shirts that say 'Dada' on them?" The worker, a young girl who looks slightly startled by his urgency, shakes her head apologetically. "Um, we have some with 'Daddy's Girl' and 'Mommy's Little Angel,' but I don't think we have one that specifically says 'Dada.'"

Jungkook's face falls for a split second before he straightens. "atleast papa? i mean they surely wont have any that says appa- Okay. New plan."

You raise an eyebrow. "Jungkook..."

"I'll get a custom one made," he says, as if it's the most obvious solution in the world. "Actually, I'll get a bunch." You laugh, shaking your head as he pulls out his phone, already searching for places that do custom baby clothes. "You're unreal."

Jungkook smirks, tossing an arm around your shoulders. "Our daughter is gonna know exactly who her Dada is." You roll your eyes playfully, but warmth fills your chest as you watch him—so eager, so involved, so in love with the little girl you haven't even met yet, guess all he needed was more exposure and just....time.

next chapter ⇢

hey guys, this was a tiny chap bz i was superrrr busy the past week but also the update on tumblr was 3 days late z i was again buys to post it here, but it was posted on wp bfr. i will try to update this weekend too so... enjoy!

want to be on my taglist - click this post !!

ִ ࣪𖤐 taglist ; @spreadmysushi . @jiminismine4ever . @jungshaking . @jkoooooooookie . @juikmon . @naurnonope . @melslear-blog . @rpwprpwprpwprw . @nemelkawar . @blueberriesm . @jennelle . @mintedagustd . @majesticjung-97 . @rinkud @superstarfishsandwich . @ibepidnit . @yikes-ukiyo . @someonegoood . @livjknj . @queenv1997 . @kimme1 . @lol0329 . @tata090807

#one night stand #bts #bts fanfic #btswritersclub #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook series #buryhny

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carnalcrows · 2 days ago

Text

YANDERE GANGSTER

☆ name: Felix Marino (Феликс М��рино | Félix Marino) → "Fortunate and Of the Sea"

☆ ethnicity : Italian-American

☆ age : 34

☆ gender : Male

☆ mbti : INTJ

☆ his story : [click to proceed]

Once just a regular blue-collar worker with a simple dream—build a good life for his wife and their unborn daughter. But fate had other plans. A tragic misunderstanding led to his wife's brutal murder at the hands of a gang seeking revenge for a crime he never committed. Grief turned into vengeance, and vengeance turned into power. One by one, he eliminated those responsible, leaving no stone unturned, no soul spared. But revenge wasn’t enough—it never is. By the time the dust settled, he had built an empire from the ashes of his pain. Now, he rules one of the most feared mafia syndicates in the world, his name whispered in both reverence and terror.

He’s a ghost of the man he used to be, his heart long buried with his wife. He tells himself love is no longer for him—his wife would have hated the monster he’s become. But in a world of blood and betrayal, the past has a way of creeping back in when least expected.

☆ appearance:

Dark brown hair, always neatly styled but never too perfect—like he doesn’t care, but somehow, it still looks effortless.

Dark green eyes with brown flecks, almost black in the shadows, but strikingly green in the sunlight—if he ever lets himself stand in it.

6'2" with a lean but powerful build—every move he makes is calculated, every step, deliberate.

A face that looks carved from stone—strong jawline, sharp cheekbones, an expression that rarely changes.

Wears expensive but understated suits, always in dark colors—nothing flashy, just powerful.

Tattoos: His wife's name on one wrist, their unborn daughter’s name on the other, the only softness left in him. He has various other tattoos of flowers and snakes running down his arms and his back.

☆ personality:

Cold, calculating, and terrifyingly efficient—he doesn’t waste words or emotions.

A master of control—of himself, of his enemies, of the entire underworld.

Speaks in a quiet, measured tone, but when he gives an order, it’s absolute.

Loyalty is sacred to him—betrayal is met with ruthless consequences.

His patience is legendary, but once it runs out, there’s no going back.

Haunted by his past but refuses to show it—his grief is a private wound, one that never truly heals.

Believes emotions are a liability, yet can't fully extinguish the ghost of the man he used to be.

☆ with a lover:

He doesn’t do casual—if he lets someone in, it’s serious, but that’s a rare occurrence.

Overprotective to a dangerous degree—if you’re his, no one touches you. Period.

Doesn’t believe he’s capable of love anymore, but if it happens, it’ll be deep, intense, and consuming.

Shows love in subtle ways—protecting, providing, making sure you’re safe before you even realize you’re in danger.

Will never say "I love you" easily, but his actions will speak louder than any words ever could.

Doesn't do jealousy—he does ownership. If you're his, he makes sure you know it.

☆ strengths:

Unmatched strategic mind—he sees five moves ahead at all times.

Ice-cold under pressure—he never panics, never loses control.

Deadly with both words and weapons—he can end someone with either.

Inspires fear and loyalty in equal measure—his presence alone is enough to command a room.

Never forgets a debt—whether he owes one or is collecting one.

☆ weaknesses:

His past—no matter how much he buries it, it never truly stays dead.

Love—he tells himself he’s incapable, but if he ever lets someone in, they’d become his greatest weakness.

His wife's memory—she is both his strength and his curse, the one thing that can still make him hesitate.

He doesn't know when to stop—revenge, power, control—he always wants more.

Has built his empire alone and trusts almost no one—loneliness is his own prison.

☆ relationships:

Wife (deceased): The only woman he ever loved, the only person who ever made him truly happy. Her memory haunts him, and he wonders if she’d still recognize him now.

Unborn Daughter (deceased): A life that never got to begin, but one he still mourns every single day.

Right-Hand Man: The only person he trusts, the only one who dares to speak freely in his presence.

Enemies: Too many to count, but they all share the same fear—crossing him means death.

Potential Love Interest: If someone ever manages to break through his walls, they’ll find a man who is both terrifying and deeply, painfully human.

☆ extra:

Speaks fluent Italian, English, Russian and a handful of other languages (for business reasons).

Has a soft spot for old jazz and classical music—not that anyone would dare comment on it.

Never lets anyone see his wrists uncovered—those tattoos are the only vulnerability he has left.

Keeps a single photograph of his wife tucked inside his wallet. No one has ever seen him look at it.

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biblical-chronicles · 1 day ago

Text

Locked out

____________________________________________

where you lock yourself out of your hotel room and end up in Noel's.

[18+ !!!] [enemies to lovers]

____________________________________________

The job had its perks. Traveling the world, working with some of the biggest gigs, free booze—Oasis had money to burn, after all. But there was one massive, massive downside.

Noel fucking Gallagher.

It wasn’t just that he was a sarcastic, self-important, grumpy bastard (which he absolutely was). It wasn’t even that he always had some smart-arse comment locked and loaded, ready to wind you up. It was the fact that he seemed to enjoy it, like taking the piss out of you was a personal hobby.

The lads had clocked it ages ago.

"How old are you two, seriously?" Guigs had said just the other night, shaking his head as you and Noel argued over god knows what. "You’re worse than me Nan and Grandad, swear down."

"Yeah, the sexual tension’s killin’ me," Bonehead had added, smirking as he took a drag from his cigarette.

Noel had scoffed, shaking his head. "Fucking hell, mate. I’d sooner shag the local nitty than deal with this one."

You flipped him off, unfazed. "Oh, yeah? I bet the nitty would be the one having to get tested after that, dickhead."

It was constant, this back-and-forth, from the moment you woke up to the second you clocked out. Noel loved to threaten to fire you at least once a day, always with the same lazy reasoning.

"Should’ve sacked you ages ago," he’d mutter, watching you tune his guitar before a gig. "Only reason you’re still ‘ere is ‘cause I can’t be arsed teachin’ some other muppet how I like it."

"Yeah, yeah," you’d reply, never looking up. "Don’t do me any favors, Gallagher."

And so it went.

Now, though, none of that mattered. Not the bickering, not the jabs. Because right now? You were stood in the dimly lit hotel lobby, staring at a handwritten sign that might as well have been a death sentence.

"LOBBY CLOSED. OPERATING HOURS: 6 AM - 12 PM."

"Fucking great," you muttered, running a hand down your face.

It had been a long day, and all you wanted was a shower, a bed, and maybe a few hours of peace before having to deal with Noel’s bullshit all over again tomorrow. But no, instead, you had to stand here like a mug because somehow, in your exhaustion, you’d managed to lock yourself out of your room.

Just as you were debating whether you could break into your own room with sheer willpower alone, the sound of footsteps echoed through the lobby.

And just like fucking clockwork—

"Eh?"

You knew that voice.

"Did you get lost, or what?"

You shut your eyes for a brief moment, praying for strength, then turned to see Noel strolling in through the revolving door.

He was still dressed from wherever the fuck he’d been; jeans, adidas trainers, a zip-up jacket with the collar popped just enough to make him look like he was about to sell you dodgy gear in a car park.

You gritted your teeth. "Fuck off, Noel."

His smirk widened, slow and knowing. "Ohh, someone’s touchy."

You turned back to the desk, hoping he’d get bored and leave. No such luck. He sauntered up beside you, eyes flicking to the sign before back to you.

Realization dawned, and then he just laughed.

"No." He pointed at you, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe his luck. "No fuckin’ way. You locked yourself out, didn’t you?"

You glared at him, crossing your arms. "No."

He raised an eyebrow, amused.

You exhaled sharply. "Okay, maybe, and no one is even here! How is a lobby not 24/7?"

"And you didn’t take your key, and you didn’t check the sign first," he said, as if reading from a list of your stupid decisions. "Jesus Christ, love. That’s incredible."

You scowled. "Piss off."

Noel, clearly enjoying himself, leaned against the counter, eyes twinkling with pure delight. "Me? Oh, nah. I think I’ll stick around, actually. This is too fuckin’ good."

You groaned. "Go to bed, Noel."

"Bed?" He feigned a yawn, stretching his arms dramatically. "Oh, yeah. That’s right. I can go to bed. Because I have access to me own fuckin’ room."

You clenched your fists. "I have a backstage pass. I’ll just sleep in the tour bus."

Noel snorted. "Yeah? Or on one of them couches over there?" He gestured vaguely to the dimly lit lobby seating area. "Might be comfy, if no one nicks your shite first."

You stilled.

He grinned. "Ohh, right. Didn’t think about that, did ya?"

You huffed. "Fuck."

Noel pressed a hand to his chest in mock sympathy. "Tragic, really." Then, after a beat, "... Guess you’re stuck here then."

You gave him a flat look. "Guess so."

He smirked, clearly waiting for you to crack.

Which is why it pained you—physically—when you exhaled and muttered, "Or… I could stay in yours. Just ‘til the desk opens."

Noel blinked. "Oh?"

You clenched your jaw. "So no one nicks me shite."

His smirk returned, slow and victorious. "Yeah, yeah. ‘Course. Wouldn’t want anyone robbin’ your precious little pass, would we?"

You resisted the urge to deck him.

"Alright then," he said, turning toward the lifts, his voice filled with pure satisfaction. "C’mon, roomie."

You glared at his back as you followed him down the corridors.

Noel shut the door behind him and turned to face you, arms crossed, an insufferable smirk plastered across his face.

"Well, well," he said, leaning back against the door. "Never thought I’d see the day you begged to stay in me room."

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you dropped your bag by the chair. "Begged? Fuck off, Noel. I suggested it ‘cause I had no choice."

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. "Ahh, see, that’s where you’re wrong, love. You had a choice." He gestured vaguely toward the lobby. "Could’ve stayed down there, kept them couches company."

"And let some knobhead nick me pass? Yeah, right." You crossed your arms. "This is just survival, mate. Has nothing to do with you."

His smirk widened. "Yeah? Then why’re you lookin’ at me like that?"

You blinked. "Like what?"

Noel tilted his head, eyes sweeping over you, unreadable. "Like you wanna throttle me."

You huffed, exasperated. "That’s just me natural state when you’re around, Gallagher."

"Ahh." He grinned. "See, I knew you liked me."

You let out a sharp laugh. "Like you? Jesus, Noel, I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire."

His grin didn’t falter. In fact, it only grew.

"Yeah? Funny," he mused, stepping closer, voice low, lazy. "‘Cause you’re still ‘ere, ain’t ya?"

You swallowed but held your ground. "I don’t have a room, Noel."

He hummed, nodding slowly. "Right, yeah. That’s why you’re ‘ere. Not ‘cause you wanna get me alone, see what all the fuss is about."

You scoffed, shaking your head. "You are so full of yourself."

He gave you a slow once-over, something dark and knowing flickering in his gaze. "Yeah?"

You inhaled sharply, blood running hot. "Fuck you."

Noel’s smirk twitched—almost like he’d been waiting for you to say that.

"Ohh, wouldn’t you like that?"

The air shifted.

You were on him before you could think, hands grabbing at his shirt, pulling him down, crashing your mouth against his.

Noel barely had a second to react before he was pushing back, hands gripping your waist, shoving you up against the nearest wall. The impact sent a lamp wobbling on the bedside table, the dull thud of your back against the wall swallowed by the sound of both your ragged breaths.

His lips were warm, rough, demanding. His fingers dug into your waist, like he needed to anchor himself.

You bit his bottom lip, hard, just to be a dickhead.

Noel groaned against your mouth, grip tightening. "Oh, you wanna play it like that, do ya?"

Before you could smirk, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them against the wall, pressing in, chest flush against yours.

You yanked a hand free, fingers tangling in his hair, tugging just to make him groan—and when he did, when his breath stuttered, you felt it everywhere.

"Jesus Christ," he muttered against your lips.

You smirked. "What’s wrong, Gallagher?" you breathed, voice teasing, drunk on the power shift. "Thought you could handle me?"

Noel laughed. "Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, "I could ruin you."

Your stomach dropped.

You clenched your jaw. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Your grip tightened in his hair again, yanking his head back just enough to make him hiss. His smirk didn’t falter, though—if anything, it widened, smug and infuriating.

"You arrogant twat," you breathed, dragging your nails down the back of his neck. "Think you’re some fuckin’ god, don’t ya?"

Noel chuckled—dark, low. "Please, love," he murmured, voice dripping with mockery. "You’ve been gaggin’ for this since the day we met. Don’t pretend otherwise."

Your teeth gritted. "You’re deluded."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer, the heat of him pressing against you, trapping you between his body and the wall. "Then why ain’t you pushin’ me away?"

Your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt before you even realized it, and that was all it took.

One second, you were glaring up at him, seething, and the next—you were airborne.

A breathless gasp tore from your throat as he threw you onto the bed, the mattress dipping beneath the sudden force of your body. Before you could even scramble upright, he was on you—knees bracketing your hips, hands gripping your wrists, pressing them into the sheets.

"You bastard—"

A sharp smack landed on your thigh, jolting you, heat blooming where his palm connected.

You froze.

Noel grinned. "What was that, sweetheart?"

Your breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him. You hated the way your body betrayed you—the way your back arched, the way your thighs instinctively clenched together at the sting of his hand.

He noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His smirk deepened. "Ohhh, that’s what you like, is it?" Another sharp slap—same spot, same deliberate pressure, just enough to make you jolt. "That why you’ve been windin’ me up all this time? Hopin’ I’d do this?"

You bit back a gasp as his teeth grazed your jaw, lips teasing over the heated skin just below your ear, fingers tightening where he held you down.

"You gonna let me go, or you just gonna sit here runnin’ your gob all night?" you shot back, arching up slightly beneath him, trying to gain some kind of control back.

Noel laughed, a little breathless. "Oh, you love this, don’t ya?" His hands shifted, releasing your wrists just to drag down your arms, over your waist, gripping your hips hard. "All that fight, all that fuckin’ attitude—"

"You love it," you shot back, daring.

Something snapped behind his eyes.

Before you could say another word, his mouth crashed against yours again.

It was all teeth, all tension, years of resentment and frustration and something else entirely spilling out between you.

You clawed at him in return, nails dragging up his back, yanking at his hair, swallowing the groan that tore from his throat.

"Still wanna tell me to fuck off, love?" Noel rasped against your lips, breath uneven.

Your fingers fisted in his shirt, pulling him back down. "Shut up." you muttered, crashing your mouth against his again.

He barely hesitated before paying you back, fisting a hand into your hair and pulling your head back, exposing the curve of your throat. His mouth was on you in an instant, hot and open, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

"Fuckin’ knew it," he muttered, voice thick with something triumphant. "Knew you’d be like this—mouthy little thing until you’re under me."

"And yet again, shut it." you snapped, even as your back arched, chasing the feel of him.

He laughed, breathless and sharp, his free hand sliding down to your thigh, gripping hard. Without warning, he flipped you onto your stomach, pressing you down against the mattress with the weight of him. You let out a sound somewhere between frustration and something else entirely, but any protest died in your throat when his hand slapped against your arse, the sting shooting straight through you.

"That shut you up quick, didn’t it?" he murmured, lips ghosting over the shell of your ear.

You tried to glare at him over your shoulder, but the effect was ruined by the way your breath hitched when he did it again, the sharp slap sending heat curling low in your stomach.

"Say it," he taunted, his grip tightening on your hip. "Say you want me."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

But Noel was nothing if not persistent. His hand slid lower, teasing, just enough to make you squirm beneath him. His teeth grazed your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. "C’mon, sweetheart. We both know you do."

Your pride was a stubborn thing, but your body was a traitor.

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, eyes dark with something heady and reckless. "Go on, then," you breathed. "Do your worst."

His fingers dug into your hips as he dragged you back against him, his grip bruising, possessive. You barely had a moment to catch your breath before his teeth found your shoulder again, biting down just enough to make you jolt beneath him. He groaned at the way you twitched, how your body betrayed that last shred of resistance you were so desperately clinging to.

"That’s more like it," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with amusement. "Knew you just needed someone to put you in your place."

You scoffed, even as your breath came quicker. "You think that’s you?"

He laughed. "Oh, love," he murmured, dragging his mouth up the side of your neck, "I know it is."

His hands slid lower, mapping the shape of you, fingers pressing into every curve like he wanted to commit it to memory. He moved with a slow, deliberate kind of cruelty, reveling in every shudder, every little sound you didn’t mean to make. You clenched your jaw, still stubborn, but it only made him smirk against your skin.

"Still holding out on me?" he whispered, lips brushing your ear. "Let’s see how long that lasts."

Then his hands gripped tighter, and he moved—a slow, devastating roll of his hips that had you sucking in a sharp breath. You felt the shape of him pressed firmly against you, the sheer heat of him burning through the layers between you both.

And then, just to be cruel, he stilled.

You let out an involuntary sound of frustration, which only made his grin widen. "Oh, what’s that?" he teased, rolling his hips just slightly, barely giving you anything. "Getting impatient, are we?"

You gritted your teeth, refusing to play into it.

His breath ghosted over your ear, smug and infuriating. "You wanna try that again, sweetheart?" His hand slid down, teasing at the edge of your waistband, making heat curl low in your stomach. "Or am I gonna have to make you say it?"

You swallowed hard, every nerve in your body alive, burning with the heat of him. Your pride screamed at you to hold out just a little longer, to refuse him one last time.

But then he rocked against you again, the friction sending sparks up your spine, and every ounce of stubbornness melted right out of you.

"Fuck," you muttered, barely more than a breath. "Please."

Noel chuckled, dragging his lips over your shoulder. "There she is."

The moment that single word fell from your lips, his control snapped. His fingers curled into the waistband of your clothes, yanking them down with a rough impatience that sent a shiver racing through you. His trousers quickly followed, ending up in a pile on the floor.

A sharp gasp tore from your throat as he pressed against you again, now with nothing between you. The heat of him, how hard he already was, it made your stomach twist in anticipation. But instead of giving you what you were desperate for, he dragged the moment out, hands roaming over your bare skin, taking his time.

"You feel that?" he murmured, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel the full length of him pressing against you, the slow friction making your breath catch. "That’s what you’ve been fighting, sweetheart. Tell me—was it worth it?"

You barely had time to shudder before he reached back, guiding himself against you, teasing, just barely pressing in before retreating again.

You shifted, pushing back against him, but his grip tightened immediately, holding you in place. "Ah, ah," he taunted, fingers still digging into your hips. "You finally beg for it, and now you think you’re in charge?"

You opened your mouth to snap something back—maybe something sharp, maybe something desperate, you weren’t even sure—but before you could, he thrust inside you in one smooth, deep motion.

The air left your lungs in a sharp, broken gasp.

"There you go." he muttered, his voice a little rougher now.

He barely gave you a moment to adjust before he set a brutal pace, dragging out only to slam back in, the force of it driving you further into the mattress. The sounds of skin against skin, breathless, ragged gasps, and the creak of the bed quickly were the only things filling the space between you.

You fisted the sheets, struggling to hold onto even a shred of composure, but Noel was relentless. His fingers curled around your jaw, tilting your head back slightly. "Listen to yourself" he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Tried so hard to act like you didn’t want this. And now you’re dripping for me."

The humiliation only made the heat in your belly coil tighter.

As if sensing it, Noel let out a low chuckle. "You like that, don’t you?" He drove into you harder, just to hear the little choked noise that escaped your throat. "Fuck, you’re taking me so well."

His other hand slid between your bodies, fingers finding that sensitive spot between your legs. The second he touched you, you clenched harder around him, and Noel groaned, sending a fresh wave of arousal crashing through you.

"Shit," Noel rasped, his pace stuttering for half a second before he caught himself. "Filthy fuckin’ thing, aren’t you?"

His grip on your hips was bruising, each snap of his hips knocking you further into the mattress, dragging another broken sound from your throat. You couldn’t even think, couldn’t do anything but take it, your body molded to his will, wrecked under the sheer force of him.

And he knew it.

"Where’s all that attitude now, huh?" His voice was tinged with mockery, as his hand smoothed up the curve of your spine, just for a moment, just long enough to make you think he might show some mercy.

Then he fisted his hand into your hair and yanked.

A sharp gasp ripped from your lips as your head was wrenched back, the burn at your scalp sending a jolt straight through you. Your back arched instinctively, pressing you closer against him, the new angle making you whimper.

"That’s more like it," Noel murmured, his grip in your hair tightening as he used it to pull you back against him, making you feel every inch of him sinking even deeper.

His other hand slid up your throat, fingers pressing just enough to make your pulse hammer under his touch.

"You like when I handle you like this, don’t you?" he muttered, voice a low rasp against your ear.

He loosened his grip on your throat just enough for you to speak, but your words failed you. All you could do was let out a broken, pleading sound.

Noel groaned, his fingers flexing around your throat like he felt the way you clenched around him. "Fuck, you’re gonna make me come just with these sweet desperate moans love."

He wrenched your head back a bit further, forcing your spine into a deeper arch, forcing you to take him exactly how he wanted. Every thrust was rough, deliberate, his hips slamming against you hard enough to bruise. Your body had no choice but to follow, every nerve ending alight, a coil of unbearable tension winding tighter and tighter in your core.

"No more remarks? No more telling me to fuck off?" he taunted, breath hot against your cheek.

Your fingers scrambled for purchase against the sheets, your mind a haze of pleasure and frustration. You wanted to say something, wanted to bite back just to spite him, but he was wrecking you, and you could barely form a single coherent thought.

So instead, you just whimpered his name.

"Fuck, that’s it," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You gonna come for me, sweetheart? You gonna fall apart just like this, with my cock buried inside you?"

His fingers dipped lower again, rubbing against your clit in tight, unrelenting circles, the pace of his thrusts turning ragged, desperate. The coil inside you twisted tighter, pleasure crashing over you in waves until you could barely breathe.

"You close?" he taunted, yanking your head back again, making sure you felt every single inch of him. "I can feel it, sweetheart, feel you gripping me so fuckin’ tight. Just let go. Come for me."

Your body locked up, pleasure blinding, white-hot and overwhelming as it crashed over you in wave after wave. You were dimly aware of your own broken cries, of the way your walls clenched around him like a vice, but nothing existed beyond the pure bliss of it.

Noel groaned, voice strangled, as he fucked you through it, dragging out every last shudder, his pace turning frantic. His grip on your hair tightened, his hips slamming against yours one last time before he buried himself deep with a low, wrecked curse.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the sharp, uneven rhythm of your breathing.

Noel was still draped over you, his weight grounding, his skin hot where it pressed against yours. Neither of you moved. Neither of you spoke. It was like neither of you wanted to be the first to break whatever fragile thing had settled between you.

Eventually, he exhaled, a deep, satisfied sound, before rolling onto his side, taking you with him. His arm hooked around your waist, pulling you flush against him, his chest rising and falling against your back.

"Well," he murmured, voice hoarse, teasing, but softer than before. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

You huffed a breath, still too dazed to formulate a proper response. He felt the way you relaxed against him, how you didn’t immediately shove him away.

A quiet beat passed before he spoke again, voice low but sincere.

"Didn’t think you’d actually let me touch you like that."

You hesitated, your fingers idly tracing over his forearm where it rested against your stomach. "Didn’t think I’d want you to," you admitted.

He made a sound—half amusement, half something thoughtful. "And now?"

You swallowed, feeling the weight of the question.

There was no point in denying it, not now.

"I do want you to now, but you’re still a mug." you muttered.

Noel chuckled, low and lazy, nuzzling his nose against the curve of your shoulder.

You turned slightly in his hold, just enough to meet his gaze. He was already watching you, eyes half-lidded.

"Maybe we should stop pretending we hate each other," you said, voice softer now, more thoughtful.

Noel’s lips twitched, amusement flickering in his gaze. "Oh, love," he murmured, brushing a strand of hair from your face, fingers lingering at your cheek. "I never hated you."

Your heart stumbled.

He let the words settle, his thumb grazing the curve of your jaw, before he smirked. "Just really, really wanted to shut you up."

You rolled your eyes, but the bite was gone, replaced by something warm. "And what do you want now?"

His expression turned serious—just for a second. Then, he tugged you closer, pressing his mouth against yours, slow and lingering.

"You," he murmured against your lips. "Think I always have."

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oh who doesn't love some slight enemies to lovers, thanks to whoever suggested this xx

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