#she's quiet and just content to be around friends

[moonlightwritingf1]

18 Minutes | LN4

۶•ৎ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N is terrible at time management and is chronically late to every event or meetup. She tries to change this habit. Lando and she make a deal: for every minute she is late to an event, he gets to edge her. And he’s clearly enjoying it much more than she is.

۶•ৎ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

۶•ৎ word count ━━━━━━━ 5.7k

۶•ৎ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, accidental creampie, oral sex (f receiving), edging, orgasm denial

Based on this request.

Sitting on the edge of her bed in nothing but a robe, Y/N looked at the clock on her nightstand. She sighed. It was already 7:48 p.m., and they were supposed to leave by 7:30 to meet some of Lando’s friends at a new restaurant in Mayfair. He was in the living room, presumably checking his phone or messing around on social media to kill time. Maybe he was looking at track data or chatting with friends from Monaco—she wasn’t sure. What she did know was that she’d promised him she wouldn’t be late again.

And she’d failed.

Her phone buzzed: a message from Lando, ever the tease even though they were just rooms apart.

Lando: You’re 18 minutes behind schedule. That’s 18 minutes of fun for me, by the way.

She groaned, reading his text. A few weeks ago, in a joking attempt to correct her chronic lateness, Lando proposed a playful deal: for every minute she was late, he’d get to ‘edge’ her for exactly that length of time. When he first suggested it, she’d rolled her eyes. But she also couldn’t deny the spark of excitement that lit beneath her rib cage. She’d agreed, partly amused and partly intrigued.

It turned out the idea was far more torturous (and exhilarating) in practice. The last time she’d been late by ten minutes, she’d ended up with shaky knees and breathy pleas by the end of it. Edging, as Lando was so gleefully discovering, was something that he enjoyed dishing out far too much. She claimed she hated it. She secretly loved it. The anticipation, the pleas, the electricity in the air—it was all so heady.

And it was about to happen again, for a full eighteen minutes if she didn’t hurry.

She hopped around her bedroom, rummaging for a pair of earrings. She quickly threw on her dress—a fitted black one with a modest neckline, long sleeves, and a playful slit up the side. The kind of dress that made her feel both comfortable and alluring. She grabbed her purse, threw on some quick lip gloss, and dashed out of the room.

She found Lando in the living room, leaning back on her couch, legs lazily stretched out, wearing a crisp white button-down and dark jeans. He had that faint smirk that made her stomach flip.

“Finally,” he teased, looking her up and down. “You look stunning.”

Her cheeks warmed. “I know. Sorry. Ready?”

His smirk widened. “Eighteen minutes, love.”

Her eyes darted guiltily to the clock on the wall. “Couldn’t we just… skip it this time?”

He raised his brow. “Mm, absolutely not. A deal is a deal.”

—

Dinner was surprisingly smooth. Y/N smiled politely and answered as briefly as possible, reminding herself that at the end of the day, she was going home with Lando—and she knew how much he genuinely cared for her, far more than any shallow distractions.

A while later, dessert was served, and the conversation turned casual, filled with laughter and a few tipsy exchanges among the group. Y/N reached under the table to gently squeeze Lando’s thigh—a quiet thank-you for his constant support.

He met her eyes with a playful sparkle that seemed to say, “You’re welcome.” Then he nudged her knee with his, and she nudged back. This little silent exchange felt more intimate than anything else all night.

When dinner came to a close, they said their goodbyes, and Y/N felt a sense of relief heading out.

Once outside, Lando guided her back to the car. He started the engine and let it idle, turning to face her with a grin that made her cheeks burn.

She crossed her arms, pretending to be annoyed. “Stop looking at me like that. I know what you’re thinking.”

He laughed, low and warm. “Oh, I’m not sure you really know what I’m thinking. But I can guess you’re thinking about the arrangement.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes as she sank into the passenger seat. “It’s so unfair.”

“It’s completely fair. You agreed to it,” he countered, his tone playful yet firm.

Biting her lip, she turned her head to stare out the window. The city lights whirled around them. She felt the tension spark in the enclosed space, his presence so near. His hand settled on her thigh. She could almost feel the heat of his gaze on her cheek.

“You can’t back out now,” he said softly, his touch trailing a small circle on the thin fabric of her dress.

Her heart thudded. As much as she dreaded the torturous wait, her body lit up at the thought of his hands, his lips, his voice at her ear drawing out every sensation until she could barely stand it. A shiver raced through her.

She turned and met his gaze. “Let’s go home,” she whispered.

Back at her flat, the moment they stepped through the door, Lando wasted no time. He pressed her against the entryway, one hand braced against the wall near her head, the other tilting her chin toward him. His lips hovered over hers, teasing, not fully claiming her mouth.

“Eighteen minutes,” he recalled, voice husky.

She breathed out shakily, her hands sliding up his chest. “You actually timed me?”

He gave her a wry smile. “Of course. It’s a matter of principle now.”

His breath ghosted over her lips, and she parted hers, expecting a kiss—but he pulled back at the last second. That made her let out a small whine in protest, which only seemed to encourage him more.

Gently, he took her hand and led her down the hallway to her bedroom, which was dimly lit by a small lamp on the dresser. The familiar environment, the hush of the late hour, and the pounding of her own heart made everything feel heightened. She was acutely aware of how close he was, how every subtle shift of his body seemed to radiate warmth.

He guided her to sit on the edge of the bed. He stayed standing, looking down at her with that signature cocky tilt of his head. “I’m going to set a timer,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Eighteen minutes.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered, but her grin betrayed her excitement.

He bent down, brushing his lips just once, featherlight, over hers. “You love it,” he teased, then reached behind her to place his phone on the nightstand. She heard a soft chime as he presumably set an alarm to go off.

She swallowed hard. “And what if I try to… shorten it?”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent another wave of warmth through her. “Good luck, love. I’m pretty sure I’ve gotten better at making you wait.”

The bedroom seemed smaller than usual, the air thick with anticipation as Lando stood over her, his gaze sharp yet playful. Y/N’s heart raced as she sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers gripping the sheets nervously. She knew what was coming, and though she’d never admit it out loud, the thought of it sent a thrill through her body.

“Eighteen minutes,” Lando murmured, his voice low and smooth, like velvet brushing against her skin. He reached down, his fingers lightly tracing the curve of her jaw. “You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?”

She huffed, trying to sound annoyed, but the flush creeping up her neck betrayed her. “I’m not going to make it easy? You’re the one who came up with this… this torture.”

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear. “Torture, huh? Funny, because from where I’m standing, you seem to enjoy it just as much as I do.”

Her lips parted to argue, but he silenced her with a soft, lingering kiss. It wasn’t enough to satisfy her—it never was with him—but it was enough to make her toes curl and her breath hitch. When he pulled away, she instinctively leaned forward, chasing his lips, but he took a deliberate step back, his smirk widening.

“Oh no, love,” he teased, holding up a finger. “You’re not getting off that easy. Eighteen minutes. Every. Single. One.”

She groaned, letting her head fall back in mock exasperation. “You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“And yet, here you are, still with me.” He knelt down in front of her, his hands sliding up her thighs and pushing her dress higher. His touch was deliberate, slow, and Y/N couldn’t help the shiver that ran through her. “Now, let’s get started.”

His lips brushed the inside of her thigh, the contact featherlight but deliberate, the faintest pressure that sent a jolt of electricity straight to her core. She sucked in a sharp breath, her fingers tightening in the sheets as he lingered there, his breath warm against her sensitive skin. Slowly, as if savoring every millisecond, he pressed another kiss just slightly higher, his tongue darting out to graze the surface in a way that made her legs quiver. 

His hands moved to her hips, fingers digging in with enough force to keep her grounded but not enough to hurt. He held her still, his grip firm yet controlled, as he dragged his lips farther up her thigh, each kiss a slow, torturous progression. She could feel the dampness between her legs, the ache growing with every passing second, but he was methodical, unhurried, his every movement calculated to keep her on the edge. 

Just when she thought he might finally close the distance, he paused, his lips hovering just above where she wanted him most. He exhaled softly, the warmth of his breath sending another wave of need crashing through her. She arched her back, silently pleading, but he chuckled low, the sound reverberating against her skin. 

“Patience,” he murmured, his voice rough with restrained hunger, before he pressed a lingering kiss to the other thigh, starting the agonizing process all over again. 

Her breath hitched, a frustrated whine slipping past her lips as he pulled back, denying her once more. Heat pooled in her stomach, the fire building to a nearly unbearable level, yet he stayed just out of reach, leaving her trembling and desperate, the promise of release taunting her with every breath he took. His hands shifted, his thumbs brushing in slow circles against her hip bones, and she could feel the tension coiling tighter, tighter, threatened to snap with one more touch, one more kiss—but Lando wouldn’t crack. Not yet. Not while the timer still counted down.

The heat of his mouth pressed against the damp fabric of her underwear, and Y/N gasped, her hips instinctively lifting toward him. His hands held her firmly in place, his grip unyielding, as he kissed her through the thin barrier. 

“Lando,” she whispered, the word trembling on her lips. His name was a plea, a prayer. His lips moved deliberately, each kiss leaving behind a trail of fire, until her underwear was soaked, clinging to her skin, and still, he didn’t stop.

 “Mm, you’re dripping already,” he murmured, his voice rough. He paused to glance up at her, his smirk wicked. “What do you want, love?”

She shook her head, unable to voice it, but her body answered for her: her legs parted wider, her hips arching closer. He chuckled, low and knowing, before sinking his fingers into the sides of her underwear and pulling them down in one slow, torturous motion. The cool air kissed her heated skin, but it was his gaze that burned, his eyes raking over her as if memorizing every detail.

His lips pressed against the soft, sensitive skin of her inner thigh, and she gasped, her fingers twisting into the sheets. He lingered there, his breath hot, before moving higher, his mouth trailing a slow, deliberate path toward her center. Each kiss was a tease, a promise he wasn’t ready to fulfill just yet. His tongue flicked out, tracing the curve where her thigh met her hip, and she shuddered, her legs trembling beneath him.

He kissed lower, his lips brushing over the delicate crease of her pubic bone, and she let out a sharp, desperate sound, her hips lifting instinctively. But he didn’t stop there. His mouth moved with agonizing slowness, kissing every inch of her, his lips grazing the swollen, aching flesh of her pussy. She could feel the wetness of her arousal coating his lips now, slick and warm, and the sensation made her head spin.

His tongue darted out, teasing her clit with the lightest touch, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed. He chuckled, low and dark, before pulling back, leaving her trembling and desperate. “Not yet,” he murmured, his voice rough with restraint. His lips returned to her inner thighs, kissing and nipping at the tender skin, as if savoring every second of her torment. The heat between her legs was unbearable, her body begging for release, but he kept her on the edge, his every touch a cruel, delicious reminder of what she couldn’t have—yet.

His tongue finally made contact, a slow, deliberate drag through her slick folds that had her gasping, her body twitching involuntarily. He didn’t rush, didn’t give her the relief she craved. Instead, he let the flat of his tongue glide over her entrance, pressing just enough to make her hips jerk toward him, but not enough to satisfy the ache that had been building since he first knelt between her thighs.

Her breath hitched as he lingered there, his breath hot and wet, the faintest puff of air brushing against her sensitive skin. His tongue teased at her entrance, a soft, insistent dip that made her whimper, her fingers clawing at the sheets as if they could anchor her against the tidal wave of sensation crashing through her. He flicked his tongue against her clit, light and quick, and she cried out, her back arching off the bed, her insides coiling tighter.

He didn’t stop. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate circles around her clit, each swirl sending jolts of electricity straight to her core. She could feel the heat building, the pressure mounting, her body right on the edge of release. But just as she felt herself tipping over, he pulled back, his lips pressing a soft, torturous kiss to the swollen bundle of nerves instead.

Her hips lifted, desperate, pleading, but he held her down with one firm hand on her stomach, his other gripping her hip to keep her still. His mouth moved lower again, his tongue tracing the outline of her entrance, his lips kissing the slick skin as if savoring every drop of her arousal.

He was relentless, his tongue flicking against her clit in quick, teasing strokes one moment, then flattening against her in slow, languid laps the next. His breath hitched against her, warm and uneven, and she could feel the tension in his shoulders, the way he held himself back even as he pushed her closer and closer to the brink.

Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her chest rising and falling like she’d run a marathon. Her thighs trembled uncontrollably, her knees pressing together as if to trap the sensation, to hold onto the fleeting euphoria he denied her.

His tongue circled her clit again, the pressure just enough to make her cry out, her body tightening like a coiled spring. But he stopped, his lips hovering just above her, his breath hot and ragged, leaving her on the edge of release, suspended in a state of agonizing bliss.

“Lando,” she whimpered, her voice ragged, her nails digging into her own palms. “Please...”

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound vibrating against her skin. “Not yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing hers again, teasing her with the promise of what was to come.

But the timer wasn’t up, and neither was he.

“Please,” she whimpered again, her voice broken. “Please, I’m so close. Just—just let me—”

Lando leaned back, licking his lips as if savoring her taste, a glint in his eye that was pure mischief. “Not yet, love. Eleven minutes left.”

 “No,” she breathed, her voice unsteady, her body still coiled tight, wavering on the edge. “You can’t—you didn’t let me—“

 “Exactly,” he said, leaning in to brush his lips against her ear. “That’s the point, isn’t it?”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. Her hands reached for him, but he caught them easily, pinning them back against the bed. “You’re a menace,” she muttered, but the way she said it—breathless, charged—gave her away. 

He grinned. “And you’re mine. Now be patient. I’m not done with you yet.”

She didn’t respond, mostly because she knew he was right. There was something intoxicating about the way he controlled her pleasure, the way he could reduce her to a trembling, begging mess with just a few touches. She hated how much she loved it.

Lando’s lips found hers again, this time more demanding, and she melted into the kiss, her hands tangling in his hair. He deepened it, his tongue exploring her mouth as his hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire in their wake. She moaned into his mouth, her hips bucking involuntarily, but he pulled away again, leaving her breathless and desperate.

“Still ten minutes,” he whispered against her lips, his voice rough with desire. “Think you can last?”

She glared at him, but there was no real heat behind it. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

He grinned, his hand slipping between her legs and teasing her with featherlight touches. “Guilty. But can you blame me? Look at you—beautiful, writhing, completely at my mercy. How could I not enjoy it?”

Her breath hitched as his fingers found her clit, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. She arched into his touch, her hips moving of their own accord, but he pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping for more. She could see the amusement in his eyes, the way he reveled in her frustration, and it only made her want him more.

“What’s the matter, love?” he teased, his voice laced with mischief. “Can’t handle a little teasing?”

She grabbed the front of his shirt, pulling him down to her level. “You’re going to pay for this later.”

He laughed, a deep, throaty sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Promises, promises.”

Before she could retort, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming her body with a possessiveness that made her head spin. She let herself get lost in the kiss, in the way his body pressed against hers, but just as she was starting to lose herself, he pulled away again, leaving her panting and frustrated.

“Nine minutes,” he murmured, his lips trailing down her neck. “Think you can hold out?”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands gripping the sheets tightly. “I don’t think I have a choice.”

He chuckled, his breath hot against her skin. “Good girl.”

His lips left her neck, and she felt the shift in his weight as he stood. Her eyes fluttered open, watching as he unbuckled his belt with deliberate slowness, the sound of leather sliding through the loops sending a shiver down her spine. He pushed his trousers down just enough to free himself, and her breath hitched at the sight of him—hard, thick, and already glistening at the tip.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he knelt between her legs again, his hands gripping her hips as he positioned himself. The head of his cock brushed against her clit, slick with her arousal, and she gasped, her back arching off the bed.

He didn’t push in. Not yet. He dragged the tip of his cock back and forth over her swollen clit, the friction maddeningly light, teasing her until she was squirming beneath him. Her hands fisted the sheets, her breath coming in short, desperate gasps as he continued to torment her.

“Please,” she begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He chuckled, low and dark, his grip tightening on her hips. “You need what, love? Tell me.”

She whimpered, her body trembling with need. “You. Inside me. Now.”

He smirked, his eyes gleaming with mischief, and finally, finally, he pressed forward, the thick head of his cock stretching her open inch by agonizing inch. She moaned, loud and unrestrained, her nails digging into the mattress as he filled her completely. He paused there, buried deep, and she could feel every pulse of him inside her, the way her walls clenched around him, desperate for more.

“Lando,” she whined, her hips lifting instinctively, trying to coax him into moving. But he stayed still, his hands holding her firmly in place. “Move. Please, move.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “Patience, love. We’ve got time.”

She groaned, frustration and arousal warring inside her. “You’re killing me.”

He laughed softly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and finally, finally, he began to move. Slowly. Painfully slowly. He pulled out almost all the way, leaving just the tip inside her before pushing back in with that same torturous pace. Each thrust was deliberate, calculated, designed to drive her wild without giving her the release she craved.

Her breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with every slow, deep stroke. She could feel every ridge, every vein of him as he moved inside her, stretching her, filling her in ways that made her head spin. Her hands reached for him, clutching at his shoulders, his arms, anything to anchor herself against the overwhelming sensation.

“Faster,” she pleaded, her voice barely above a whisper. “Please, Lando, faster.”

He shook his head, his lips curving into that infuriating smirk. “Not yet. You’re doing so well, love. Just a little longer.”

She whimpered, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his pace unchanging. Every thrust was a tease, a promise of what was to come, but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Lando,” she cried, her voice breaking. “Please, I can’t—I need—”

He leaned down, capturing her lips in a searing kiss, swallowing her pleas as he continued to move inside her, slow and deep, driving her closer and closer to the brink. And when he finally picked up the pace, it was only to leave her hanging once more, right on the edge of ecstasy, completely at his mercy.

His thrusts deepened, quickened, the rhythm shifting from slow and deliberate to something harder, more urgent. The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, her moans rising with every snap of his hips. She was close—so close—her body tightening, her breath hitching as she wobbled on the edge. And then he stopped. Just like that. He froze, buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls as she clenched around him, desperate for release.

 “No,” she gasped, her voice breaking. “Lando, please—don’t stop. I’m so close. Please, just let me—” 

He leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice low and teasing. “Not yet, love. Five minutes left.” 

She whimpered, frustration bubbling up in her chest, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Forget the deal. Just fuck me. Please, I can’t take it anymore.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and amused, his hands gripping her hips to keep her still. “You know I can’t do that. A deal’s a deal. Besides...” His smirk widened as he stayed buried deep inside her, his cock throbbing against her walls, unmoving. “I love seeing you like this. Begging. Squirming. Completely at my mercy.”

Her eyes flashed with defiance, and before he could react, she squeezed her inner muscles, clenching around him with everything she had. The pressure was sharp, electric, and his cock twitched in response, throbbing hot and heavy within her. She watched his jaw tighten, the amusement in his eyes flickering for a split second.

But he caught himself, his hand darting between her legs, fingertips brushing her swollen clit to stop her. “Nice try,” he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement. He shifted back, kneeling up slightly but keeping himself inside her, his cock still stretching her wide. He gripped the base of himself, stroking slowly, slick with her arousal, as if taunting her with what she couldn’t have. His gaze bore into hers, unrelenting. “You think squeezing around me will make you come? Clever, but not clever enough.”

She glared at him, her body trembling with the effort it took not to buck her hips, but she didn’t respond. Her defiant silence only seemed to amuse him more.

Finally, he pulled out completely, leaving her empty and aching, his cock glistening with her wetness as he knelt between her thighs. “Four minutes,” he said, his voice low and teasing, as he began to stroke himself with agonizing slowness. “Think you can last?”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need as she closed her legs. "You're impossible."

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down but deliberately staying just out of reach. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “Now, spread your legs for me. You’re not allowed to cheat your way out of this.”

When she hesitated, his free hand slid to her thigh, pushing it open with firm, deliberate pressure. His cock twitched in his hand, the tip glistening as he stroked himself again, teasing her with the sight.

She glared at him, but her breath hitched—a telltale sign that she was hanging on his every movement.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his thumb flicking over her clit once more before he leaned even closer, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Now, let’s make those last four minutes count.”

She groaned, her head falling back against the pillows, her body trembling with need. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re mine,” he said, leaning down to capture her lips in a searing kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, hot and demanding, while his cock pressed against her clit, the friction maddeningly light. She arched into him, her hips lifting off the bed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding.

“Please,” she whispered against his lips, her voice ragged. “Please, Lando, I can’t—I need—”

He kissed her again, silencing her pleas, his lips trailing down her neck, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin. His cock rubbed against her clit in slow, deliberate circles, the pressure just enough to make her whimper but not enough to push her over the edge. She was a mess, her mind fogged with pleasure, her body aching for release, but he was relentless, drawing out every second of her torment.

“Three minutes,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. “Think you can last?”

She shook her head, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “No. I can’t. Please, just let me come.”

He chuckled, low and dark, his lips brushing hers again. “Almost there, love. Be patient.”

Her hands fisted the sheets, her body writhing beneath him, but he held her steady, his touch firm and controlled. Every brush of his cock against her clit sent jolts of electricity through her, the sensation building, coiling tighter and tighter until she thought she might explode. But he didn’t let her. Not yet. Not until the timer went off.

He pulled back, his lips leaving hers with a soft, teasing pop. Her eyes fluttered open, confused, as he shifted his weight off her and knelt between her legs. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her skin flushed and gleaming under the dim light.

Lando’s hand wrapped around his cock, slick and throbbing, and he began to stroke himself slowly, his gaze locked on hers. His eyes raked over her body—the curve of her hips, the swell of her breasts, the way her thighs trembled as they spread wider for him. But it was her pussy that held his attention, glistening and soaked, needy and waiting.

She whimpered, her fingers clawing at the sheets as she watched him. The sight of his cock in his hand, stroking steadily over her dripping core, sent another wave of arousal crashing through her. She could feel the heat building, the ache growing unbearable. “Please,” she begged, her voice shaky, almost hysterical with need.

“Almost there, love,” he murmured, his tone dark and teasing, his eyes dropping to where his cock nearly brushed her clit with every slow stroke. He tilted his head slightly as if studying her, his smirk widening at the flush spreading down her chest, the way her legs twitched with every agonizing pass of his hand.

She arched her back, her hips lifting instinctively toward him, desperate for contact. But he held himself just out of reach, his strokes deliberate now as if pushing her closer. “Look at you,” he said, his voice rough with restraint. “Soaked. Begging. Mine.”

Her breath hitched, her teeth sinking into her lower lip to stifle another whine. His thumb circled the swollen head of his cock once before dragging it down, the tip brushing against her clit so lightly it was torture. A small cry escaped her, her fingers gripping the sheets tighter. She couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t hold on much longer.

The timer’s chime shattered the heavy silence, loud and sharp. Y/N gasped, relief and anticipation flooding her system. Lando didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her hips firmly, positioning himself at her entrance, and plunged into her in one deep stroke.

She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her walls clenching around him as he filled her completely. He didn’t waste time. His thrusts were hard and merciless, each one driving her higher, sending sparks shooting through her veins. She clung to him, her nails digging into his shoulders as he fucked her with relentless abandon.

It didn’t take long. Three thrusts in, the pressure inside her snapped, and her orgasm crashed over her in blinding waves. She screamed his name, her body convulsing around him, her legs trembling uncontrollably as pleasure consumed her.

It didn’t take long. The moment he buried himself inside her, the tension that had been coiling in her core for what felt like an eternity snapped. On the third thrust, her body gave in completely, and her orgasm tore through her with a force that left her breathless. She screamed his name, her voice raw and unfiltered, as waves of pleasure crashed over her, one after another, relentless and all-consuming. Her back arched off the bed, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, her legs trembling uncontrollably as her walls clenched around him, milking every inch of his cock.

Lando groaned, deep and guttural, his grip on her hips tightening to the point of pain as he felt her convulse around him. His rhythm faltered for a moment, overwhelmed by the intensity of her release, but then he surged forward again, driving into her with renewed urgency. Four, five, six thrusts—each one deeper, harder, more desperate than the last—and he came with a growl that seemed to rumble from the very depths of his chest. His release spilled into her in hot, pulsing waves, filling her completely as his hips jerked against hers, prolonging the sensation for both of them.

He collapsed onto her chest, his breath coming in ragged gasps, his skin slick with sweat as it pressed against hers. Their heartbeats pounded in unison, a chaotic rhythm that slowly began to steady as the aftershocks of their shared climax ebbed away. The room was silent except for the sound of their breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling together in the aftermath of the cruel, delicious game they had just played.

Her breath was still ragged, her chest rising and falling like she’d just run a marathon. Lando’s weight pressed into her, his skin hot against hers, but the tension had melted into something softer, more intimate. Her fingers absently traced the curve of his shoulder, her body still trembling with the remnants of her release. He lifted his head slightly, his lips brushing her shoulder in a slow, lingering kiss that made her shiver.

“Holy shit,” she whispered, her voice uneven, throat raw. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard in my life.”

He chuckled, the sound low and self-satisfied, his breath warm against her skin. “Good to know I’m still capable of surprising you.”

She tilted her head to meet his gaze, her lips curving into a half-hearted glare. “Don’t get too cocky. I’m low-key annoyed at you for making me wait that long. Like, genuinely. Didn’t think you’d actually go full eighteen minutes. Torture much?”

He grinned, unapologetic, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, come on, love. You knew exactly what you were signing up for when you agreed to the deal. And let’s be honest—you loved every second of it.”

She groaned, swatting at his chest weakly. “I’m never admitting that out loud.”

His smirk widened as he shifted slightly, nudging her legs apart to rest more comfortably between them. “You don’t have to say it. I can feel it.” His hand trailed down her side, fingertips brushing over her ribs in a way that made her shiver. “Maybe this’ll be the motivation you need to stop being late to everything. Because, trust me, if you keep testing me like this, I’ll only get better at edging you.”

She rolled her eyes, but the flush creeping up her neck gave her away. “Oh, so now you’re threatening me? Classy.”

He leaned down, his lips brushing hers in a teasing kiss. “Not a threat, love. A promise. So, what’s it gonna be? On time from now on? Or... more of this?” He punctuated his words with a slow roll of his hips, his cock still buried deep inside her, and she gasped, her hands gripping his shoulders instinctively.

“You,” she said breathlessly, “are the worst.”

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips grazing her ear, “you’re not saying no.”

She let out a laugh, the sound warm and unrestrained, and he pressed his forehead to hers, their breaths mingling. “Fine,” she said finally, her tone mock-defeated. “I’ll try to be on time. But if I’m late again, you better be ready to deliver. That was... intense.”

He chuckled, the sound dark and warm. “Oh, I’m always ready, love. And next time, we’ll make it even better.”

She groaned, but her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss that was less teasing and more heated. He smiled into it, his body pressing into hers as he murmured, “Eighteen minutes very well spent.”

[gold-onthe-inside]

asylum

n. def. the protection granted by a state to someone who has left their home country as a political refugee

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: a few months into dating spencer, you become peeved by penelope's boyfriend's constant presence at the apartment, and spencer offers a quick and easy solution. content warnings: none word count: 0.9k a/n: this was a quick little 1am fic, please enjoy

You liked your dates with Spencer, quiet little affairs, huddled in the corner of a cafe as you both swapped stories from work. You’d do your best to make your work sound more interesting than it was, and he’d do his best to limit the gore you were exposed to.

Finding quaint bookstores and hunting rare books, or buying secondhand books for the other to read. You’d always fancied more contemporary books, he liked the older classics, so trading meant expanding horizons. He had been horrified at your habit of annotating books for about five minutes, then telling you all about how Mark Twain used to do the same thing, writing in the margins of his books.

Going to foreign film festivals, Spencer whisper-translating the trickier dialogues for you, his hand laced in yours, smiling to himself when you’d nestle your head against his shoulder. This was the new normal. You were his girlfriend. He was your boyfriend.

After an awful week trying to catch a sadistic killer, Spencer was eager to spend Saturday curled up on the couch. He changed into his ‘old-man pyjamas’ as you liked to tease him, half-asleep on the couch with one of your novels propped up on his lap, when he heard you come through the front door using his spare key.

"I've gotta move out," you complained, dropping your bag on his coat stand and toeing off your sneakers before walking over to the couch. "I mean, seriously, Penelope's been bringing Kevin to the apartment almost every day, it's so weird," you said, flopping onto one end of the couch as he sat up.

“Tell me they’re not being loud,” Spencer said, grimacing a little.

"I don't want to find out," you groaned, collapsing onto his shoulder. "I really didn't think Kevin would be such a permanent fixture." It had been two weeks into dating that Spencer had found out about your distaste for Penelope’s boyfriend — knowing your best friend and roommate deserved better than some unkempt, disheveled, unhygienic (and to you, very unattractive) analyst.

"He's not that bad, is he?" Spencer asked, gently maneuvering himself to pull you onto his lap, and you let him, more than okay with physical intimacy.

“I mean, he makes her happy, I guess,” you said, pursing your lips as Spencer’s hand trailed over your arm. “And he can keep up with her intellectually, but… I dunno, I just feel like she’s settling for him.”

Spencer’s hand drifted down your side, absentmindedly rubbing your hip. “Settle is a strong word, don’t you think? I mean, she obviously loves him.”

You chewed your bottom lip. "I suppose," you agreed, reluctantly. "Either way, being around him is just... uncomfortable. And Penelope keeps telling me it's fine if I stay, but like... I don't wanna walk into the living room and see them making out... or worse." You shivered slightly at the thought of it.

Spencer chuckled, and his hand wandered back up to your midsection, massaging lightly. "Well, you are more than welcome to stay here," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "I have plenty of room."

You peered at him. "Just so I'm clear... Are you asking me to move in?"

There was only the slightest hesitancy in Spencer's voice when he finally responded. "If you wanted to. No pressure or anything, of course. But, yeah, I thought it might be nice. Living here, I mean."

You wet your lips, thinking about it. "Are you sure? I mean... we've only been dating a few months."

"What, you get sick of me already?," he asked, feigning hurt. This was a big deal that he was offering, and he desperately wanted you to say yes, but he wouldn't push the subject if you resisted. He was terrified of moving too fast.

"No! No, of course not, it's just... It's a big step, I don't want to rush into it," you said quickly. "Have you thought about it?"

Spencer smiled at your immediate denial. You didn’t have to reassure him so vehemently, but it was always nice to hear it nonetheless. He relaxed into the couch cushions a bit more, his hand moving over to play with your hair. "I have," he admitted. "I'm not necessarily in a rush, either, I just figured... it was an option."

You hummed, thinking about it. You did like the vibe of his apartment, and it was a lot closer to the station than Penelope’s place, and you always ended dates wishing you had more time with him. And you liked the mundanity of your dates, even the simplicity of lacing your hand through his while you both traipsed around Quantico’s greenery on a lunch break. The potential of moving in flashes before you — lazy Saturday mornings, breakfasts together, going to the farmer’s market on Sundays, sleeping with him more often than you did now.

“Okay,” you agreed, looking at him with a soft smile. “I wanna move in with you.”

There was a moment of hesitation before Spencer realized that you had said yes, and his shoulders slumped with relief, a grin spreading across his face. "Yeah? You're sure?" His voice was hopeful.

"Positive," you murmured, kissing him gently. Spencer returned the gesture with fervor, pulling your body a little more on top of his, his hands moving from your sides to rest on your waist. He pulled away, breathless, and leaned his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes.

"I'm moving in," you repeated, breathlessly.

"You’re moving in," Spencer agreed, his eyes bright and excited.

[v6quewrlds]

can we get a blurb of dr reader being clingy

"Mmph," she groaned, her eyes still squeezed shut against the early morning light. A deep chuckle rumbled from Joe's chest. The warmth of her hand found him as he attempted to sneak out from under the covers.

It was early, the kind of morning that painted the room in soft, yellow tones, hinting at the promise of a new day but not yet committing to the full brightness of the sun. He paused, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand, hesitating between the comfort of her touch and the discipline of his routine. Her grip tightened as if sensing his indecision.

“No,” she mumbled, her voice thick with sleep and a hint of a pout. She tugged at his hand, trying to pull him back to her. “Just a few more minutes? Please?”

Joe sighed, his resolve weakening. He knew the importance of his training, but the gentle pull of her hand was like an anchor, keeping him tethered to the warmth and comfort of their shared bed. He could feel the tension in her fingers, the quiet desperation in her voice. It was rare for him to see her so vulnerable, so openly voicing her desire for closeness. She wasn’t typically this tender, her usual independence fading away with the early morning light.

Relenting, Joe returned to the bed. He lay on his chest, amused by the sight of her cracking an eye open to meet his gaze before lifting his knuckles to her lip for a gentle kiss. Her satisfied smile spread as she whispered, “Good boy."

She snuggled closer to him, pressing the lightest of kisses to the very tip of his nose before he rolled onto his back. Eagerly, she pounced, finding her way on top of him. Her chest pressed to his, her face finding the cozy crook of his neck. Joe felt a smile tug at his lips, despite his better judgment. “How’re you feeling, babe?” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin.

She sighed, the light throb of her hangover echoing through her skull. She didn’t answer; she just nuzzled deeper into Joe’s neck, her breathing soft and even. He chuckled as he rubbed her back in slow circles. He knew she wasn’t a morning person, not on the weekends, and especially not after a night out with her friends. Her body felt warm and languid against his, a lazy counterpart to the urgency of his need to get to the gym.

He gently kissed the side of her face, whispering, “You should get some water, maybe take an aspirin?”

She shook her head, the motion barely perceptible as she whispered, “Too much talking.”

Joe’s chuckle grew into a full laugh, his chest rumbling beneath her. She shifted her weight in an attempt to further press him into the bed. He could feel himself losing the battle, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He adjusted the covers to envelop her fully, leaving only her face peeking out.

“You know I can’t stay here all day, right?” Joe said, whispering this time so as not to disturb the delicate balance of their cuddling.

“Mm, don’t care. Just don’t leave me,” she mumbled, her legs tangling with his. “Kiss?” she asked sweetly, lifting her head just enough to peek at him with half-open eyes.

Joe couldn’t help but indulge her. He leaned in, capturing her lips in a gentle kiss that was part comfort, part affection, and all love. Her hand slid up his arm, fingers curling around his bicep. He felt her tension ease slightly, the headache no match for his warmth and care.

Her head settled back onto his chest with a contented sigh, and Joe felt the steady rise and fall of her breaths even out. She was on the cusp of falling back to sleep. So how could he possibly pull away now? He kissed the top of her head, her hair smelling faintly of the sweet coconut shampoo she favored. Her eyes remained closed, but Joe could see the corners of her mouth curve into a smile; content to get her way.

author's note⠀⁎⠀wrote this on my phone and edited it on my laptop so pls excuse the mismatching quotation marks.

[meinii]

Hi!! I'm not sure if you still take requests or if you don't, feel free to ignore this message, I just had an idea of Caleb calling MC and it's Xavier that picks up the phone, telling him she's busy, feel free to turn this into fluff or something else if you ever pick it up, thank you!!

hi anon! tysm for your request, I hope you like this ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

“she’s busy”

content: jealousy, fluff, suggestive

୨୧･｡｡･♡･∴･♡･｡｡･୨୧

the evening was quiet, the soft hum of the city outside muffled by the warmth of your apartment

you sat sprawled on the couch, legs stretched across Xavier’s lap as his fingers lazily traced patterns along your thighs

his gaze was half-lidded, focused on you with that familiar intensity that always made your breath hitch

"comfortable?" he murmured, his voice low and velvety

"mm-hmm" you hummed, tilting your head back against the cushions. his touch was warm, sending pleasant shivers up your spine.

it had been a long day, and spending it like this—wrapped in Xavier’s heat and presence—was all you needed

his thumb brushed a sensitive spot, and you shot him a look. he just smirked, as if he knew exactly what he was doing

and then—your phone buzzed on the coffee table, breaking the tranquility.

Xavier’s gaze flicked to it, his jaw tightening the moment he saw the name flashing on the screen: Caleb.

he didn’t speak. didn’t ask if you were going to answer. his hand slid from your leg, fingers curling around the device

"Xavier—" you started, but he was already bringing the phone to his ear, his posture shifting

"she’s busy" he said, voice dropping into that smooth, dangerously calm tone

your eyes widened "Xavier!"

he held up a hand, silencing you with a glance—possessive, unwavering

there was a pause on the other end, and you could practically hear Caleb’s confusion

Xavier’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile "yeah, I know you called her. doesn’t change the fact she’s with me right now."

his gaze flicked back to you, dark eyes heated "and trust me—she’s a little... occupied"

your face burned. "Xavier!" you hissed, reaching for the phone. he leaned back, effortlessly keeping it out of reach

"might wanna call back later," Xavier added smoothly "or don’t. I don’t really care."

you smacked his shoulder, and he finally relented, ending the call and tossing the phone aside

"seriously?!" you glared at him, half-exasperated, half-flustered "What was that?"

he shrugged, the picture of nonchalance—except for the gleam in his eyes "didn’t like how he always finds excuses to call you at night"

you crossed your arms "he’s a friend."

"sure," he drawled, fingers returning to your leg "but I’m the one you’re with. not him"

heat coiled in your stomach at the possessiveness lacing his words "still, that was—"

"necessary." His hand slid higher, grazing your thigh "unless... you wanted to talk to him?"

you opened your mouth—then closed it, caught in the weight of his gaze

"didn’t think so," Xavier murmured, leaning in

his lips brushed your jaw, breath warm "you should’ve seen his reaction. priceless."

"you’re unbelievable" you whispered, pulse quickening

"yeah?" his smile turned wicked "but you like that about me"

your heart pounded. "Xavier..."

he silenced you with a kiss—slow, consuming, claiming

every thought of Caleb, the phone call, the outside world melted away under the press of his mouth. his fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer until there was barely any space left between you

when he finally pulled back, your breathing was uneven—and his smirk was back in full force

"see?" he murmured, lips brushing yours "told you you were busy."

[maladaptivewritings]

Wicked Woman

Summary: Soap comes home, seeing that his little sister's best friend is staying during their spring break.

TW: General C.O.D activities, Catholicism, Cain instinct

Y/N: Early-mid twenties, College student, Maybe has siblings? not-catholic reader

word count 1.2k

"Do you ever shut up?" Theresa jeered at her brother, sapphire blue eyes darting across the small coffee-table.

" 'M fully convinced that Ma paid to get'cha to graduate." The oaf of a man scoffed as he slammed his last card on the table. Two hours of Uno led to this, as his laugh echoed off the walls. Theresa's back fell to the floor, her sigh following Soap's celebration.

"'Kay bubble boy." Her hand caressing her freckled temples, interrupting the man's lap around the table. He paused, and as you laid atop Theresa's bed.

Stone-Gray eyes meet your own, soon turning towards your best friend. Pulling yourself from where you were perched upon, you try to avoid the conflict about to occur. You didn't want to deal with being a human shield for either if things got nasty. By the time you had gotten to the door, you had realized how quiet the room became.

You wanted to turn around and see the stalemate that began, but self-preservation was stronger. Closing the door before you heard a thunk against the wall. Curses were muffled but Theresa's frustration was clear as she stormed out.

"You Good?" You inquired, her face red from loosing. This was the fifth loss today, no matter the game nor the player. Her huff was enough as you backed away. Johnny's laugh cueing you into what occurred.

"Dinnae worry about her lass, I just dropped ice on 'er." His voice holding back laughs."'Tch she's such'a baby."

You stifle your own laughs, that was your best friend, but she was a drama queen. His wry smile stirred at the pit of your stomach as the chuckles escaped your lips. Content with the fact he made you laugh, he ruffles your hair, disappearing into one of the many rooms as he left.

Theresa's return was now a 180, leftover's stolen from the fridge in her hands as she and you return to her room. The warm light of her lamp caressed your face as you sat with her. She ranted and raved about how annoying her brother was, and why did he have to come here of all places when on his break. Spring break was not going according to her plans. This rant was hours, mindlessly listening as you scrolled on your phone. The evening sun peeking through the window pulled you from this hypnosis, soon following the call that dinner was done.

The table stocked with family and friends as Joesph and James heps their mother set up. You had no clue who half of these people were, or what was for dinner as you sat between Theresa and a younger girl.

"Oh Tati, that's y/n" Theresa explained, the girl shared the striking blue eyes that all the boys shared. Wild curls pulled back as she nodded.

"Y/n dear, thats Tatiana." The matriarch of the McTavish's dotted. "Theresa, use her name, 've told ya this."

Rolling her eyes once more as they situated themselves, than Mama 'McTavish begins prayer.

FUCK

Everyone bows their head, you follow fidgeting with the tablecloth as you try to follow along. Most of the table's eyes closed as your own dart amongst the crowd, besides John's of course. A snort escapes him as he sees the shock on your face, eyes now squeezing shut to pretend you no-part of his mess. You could almost feel the hole being burned into his head by his mother.

Dinner was long, and grueling. Talking to strangers was not a strong-suit of yours, at all. Neither was deciphering accents as strong as these, you silently nodded along to the conversation. Head held low, both literally and figuratively as you hid from the crowd. You felt like a kid at the adult table, despite the fact teen you set beside doing better than yourself.

You counted; first the photos on the wall 19, than awards won 12 soon followed by the people at the table 15, finally crosses worn. You had made it to 9.

Eye contact, as you made it to Johnny. Eyes already focused in on you. You wanted to melt away in your seat, seemingly he did to,

"Um, Mrs. McTavish I can do the dishes while everyone catches up." Your offer posed, an escape attempt. As the woman smiles, you notice your counter want to drown in his jacket.

"Oh dear, your too kind. This is a lot though hinny." Thin lips disclose, as she wants to accept your subtle escape.

"I can help 'ma." John quipped along, soon getting a jab in the rib by Joesph. This whole dinner was for his return, and the twin's didn't want attention on either of them ofcourse.

"My sweet boy, you shouldn't runoff so quick." His mother retorted, her voice is cavity-causing as she tried to hold him longer.

"I insist," He said now making his way towards the woman. You stood in the doorway, unable to remove yourself from this mess. "Shouldn't make a lady do all' tha work." He lightly presses a kiss on his mother's forehead, shooting a glance at his brother. Always the favorite.

The both of you sat in that kitchen, loading and scraping plates. The only noise coming from the next room

"Should I make coffee?" Y/n's voice broke this.

Johnny raised an eyebrow at the thought, as if asking to elaborate.

"Feels right, y'know...Just wondering" The quiet was killing you, maybe you should have just stayed on campus for the break.

"I'd could have a cup." He nodded, grabbing the grounds from the top shelf, his shirt riding up as he reached. He set up the coffee-machine, yeah he was stealing your task once again.

"Seriously?" You contended,"I can't have one thing I can do alone." Tossing your hands in the air as you finish the last dish. He smiled simply waiting for you to crack.

"Y'know what nevermind asshole." Your hushed tone, only audible to him as you splashed the dish water onto him.

That was it.

Until he splashed you. Suds in your hair as you turn around, malice in your eyes.

"Nevermind what? 'eh bonnie?" He quoted, eyes narrowed in like a dog wanting to play. You, of all people up against him? The feral racoon of a man?

You slung a wet rag at him, tripping yourself from the water now spattered on the floor as you ran. Luckily he slipped too.

Everyone in the dining room clueless as you ran throughout the house, quietly cursing as you roamed this maze of a home. Tonight you would be Theseus, and beat this bull.

You reached the last room, no more to wind in and out of in a Scooby-Doo chase. Johnny stood at the exit, eyes watching your every move.

This was his job this is why he was called Soap. It was funny for you to think you could escape the cold thwap of the dishrag that he himself received. The one thing he didn't think of though was how long it'd take for y/n to fall behind the door, and the fact that he couldn't break it down.

The conspiratorial grin that crossed your face as your plan was put into place.

Steps on the stairs,

Soap turns, the door closes, and as his sister-in-law slips bby to use the restroom. You had vanished into one of the many rooms.

[fatalforesight]

am i dragging this forever?

shauna shipman x jackie taylor (shaunahat hinted): An alternate version of s3e1 where Shauna heads into the woods instead of Mari. She wakes up injured in the pit. And with no one coming to save her, it's time to start speaking to ghosts again. Jackie, as always, is vindictive in her deathly appearances.

content: 18+, minors dni, sexual tension, angst, dead!jackie, grief, toxic yuri behavior

word count: 2,688

“You’re not my mother, Natalie. You can’t ground me!”

There is a rage that has lived in Shauna Shipman her entire life. Only now, it takes front and center. Every moment of every day.

Natalie frowns. “I’m not grounding you. I’m–”

“Telling me to go back to my stick hut for a week sounds a whole lot like a fucking grounding,” Shauna spits. Mari is wide-eyed, saliva-stew dripping down half her face. “I made this dinner. I butchered the meat, I stirred the pot. You don’t get to ground me from the dinner I made!”

“You can’t spit in Mari’s food and then–”

Shauna almost screams. “Who cares if I spit in her goddamn stew!” She turns on a dime, stalking towards Mari. “If I did, you should be grateful. You want to have a ceremony in honor of my baby? That baby was me! He was me! Is my spit not holy enough for you, Mari?”

The entire team is silent as they watch the explosion happen. Mari is terrified. Shauna glances around her, locking eyes with each one of them. It’s impossible to know for certain what they’re thinking – do they pity her? Hate her?

“Fuck this. I don’t need any of you.”

She stomps away into the woods, away from the stupid ceremony and the stupid feast. The woods are quiet, but to Shauna, the quiet isn’t eerie. Having ceremonial dinners to honor dead best friends and babies is eerie, but the trees and crickets are static on a warm television. They’re safer than walls and a roof.

Gradually her pace slows. And as the anger cools, Shauna feels that she ought to turn back. But then she remembers the paper lanterns, the gravesite. If she goes back, Lottie may very well be in the middle of mumbling some incantation in French or Swedish over a pile of bones. And for everyone’s sake, Shauna decides it will be better for her to go back in the morning. So she takes another step away from camp, and screams when she realizes she’s falling.

~

Fucker. Fuck. Ow. Fuck.

Pain brings Shauna back to the world. It always does. Sunlight shoots through the canopy of trees, and she winces at the brightness. How long was she out?

And her knee. Her leg. Just a glance tells her that it’s bad. Dislocated? That’s probably the best case scenario. It burns like she’s been bit by a million ants. And she’s in… a hole. A massive hole. Someone dug this hole on purpose, like that kind of massive hole. Between the pain in her leg and the hopelessness of getting out of the ditch, Shauna can’t help it. She begins to cry, and that dumb face flush that happens every time something stupid happens to her is hot in her cheeks. The kind that comes from deep embarrassment, when you’re just embarrassed to be alive. Like when you get into your first car accident, or fall in front of the whole cafeteria, or the cops get called on the bonfire.

“Who digs a fucking hole in the middle of nowhere?” Shauna mutters. Her whole body is trembling now. From fear? Septic shock via dislocated knee?

“Who falls in a hole in the middle of nowhere?”

The words echo through the leaves. They come from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Shauna whips her head upwards at neck-breaking speed to find the voice coming from somewhere above her. But there’s no one. “Hello?” Shauna yells. No response. “... Jackie?” she whispers.

“Shauna,” the voice teases. A soft lilt, like Jackie was hiding just out of sight and beckoning Shauna to come find her. But still, Shauna can see nothing. No one is with her.

Shauna closes her eyes as tears continue to prick in the corners of them. From pain? Surely, but what kind? “Not real. She’s not real. It’s just me.”

“Not real?” Jackie scoffs. “Asshole. C’mon, Shipman. Open your eyes.”

She does. And there’s Jackie. Sitting on the far end of the hole, pressed against the wall, as far from Shauna as she can get. A blush in her cheeks. Her letterman jacket sitting perfectly on her frame, just like it did a year ago. She’s in the pose Shauna used to keep her in–

“Am I dying?”

Jackie just smiles. It’s one of those stupidly perfect smiles, the kind where people say it’s perfect because it’s imperfect. “You have a dislocated knee, Shauna, not a stab wound. Not happy to see me?”

The world seems to spin. One of the first things Shauna feared after Jackie’s death was that she would forget how she looked. She didn’t keep a picture of Jackie in her wallet, so all she had was memory. But the image she sees now is exact. The posture, the makeup, the skinny legs and the part of her hair. Styled, like how Jackie styled herself before the crash. “No, Jackie. I’m always happy to see you.”

The apparition nods. “Likewise.” But Shauna knows that wouldn’t be true. Then she looks around, taking in the hole. “This is strange. It’s like, perfectly rectangular. Dug, not natural for sure. Did one of you do this?”

“No,” Shauna responds. Her eyes are focused on the way Jackie’s lips move, and she’s barely listening to the conversation. Then the lull goes on too long, and ghost-Jackie raises an eyebrow in the silence. “I don’t think so. I guess Coach could’ve, but we’re pretty sure he’s dead.”

“No body, no proof,” Jackie counters. “That’s how all the best set up the plot twist, right? But I think it wasn’t him either. Looks older, if you ask me. Like I know anything!” She laughs, but Shauna doesn’t join in. “This tarp though… mighty suspicious if you ask me!” A painted fingernail taps the blue plastic. “Why are you here?”

Silence again. For a long time, Jackie says nothing, staring at the ground and plucking at the edge of the tarp Shauna had fallen through. When she looks up, she seems to have great concern in her eyes, but she smiles anyway. “Well, Shauna… you’re gonna have to set that knee.”

Shauna gulps. “I don’t need you to tell me that,” she snaps.

“Then why haven’t you done it already?” Jackie shifts onto all fours, crawling slowly to where Shauna sits. The heartbeat in Shauna’s chest accelerates at the image. Jackie comes forward just barely on every word she utters. “All you’ve got to do is… push it back into place. It’ll hurt, but it’ll be fast.”

The sun is right above them now. Seriously, how long had Shauna been knocked out for? Tears are falling fast down her cheeks. She isn’t panicking, but Jackie being this close is making her nervous. “I can’t. I can’t. I just have to wait, wait for one of the others–”“They’re not coming. You have to do this yourself. I can’t help you, they cannot help you. It’s just you. It’s only you.” Jackie is so close now, sitting on her knees just inches away from Shauna’s feet. Close enough to touch, to pull close, but Shauna won’t reach out. Something about this Jackie, this almost-ghost, always seems too fragile to touch. “You’re alone, Shipman.”

Shauna weeps. “I’m not. I’m not alone, shut up.”

“Okay, so you’re not. What you rather our teammates find, hm? Shauna Shipman, pathetic,” the word is like bile coming out of Jackie’s mouth, “begging for someone to take care of her. Or… Shauna Shipman, a leader, who set her own knee before anyone could get to her.” Her breath could be falling on Shauna’s knees if this was happening. If she was real. If it was just the two of them, all alone, in this stupid pit, in these stupid woods. There would be breath, and Shauna could just reach out to tuck the stray piece of blonde hair back behind Jackie’s ear. “Okay,” Shauna sighs.

“You need a stick to bite on?” Jackie murmurs. Shauna shakes her head.

“Put both of your hands on your knee, Shauna.”

Doing as she’s told, Shauna takes a deep breath and settles her fingertips on her left knee.

“On three, you’re going to push.”

Shauna’s chin quivers, tears still coming down against her will. “No, no.”

“Yes. I’ll be here the whole time. I’ll be here when it’s over.”

Hadn’t Jackie just said she was alone in this? Her hands are shaking. Her eyes are squeezed tight. All Jackie is now… is a voice.

“One.”

God, her knee hurts. Did Coach Ben feel it when his leg got crushed? When do you know the leg is past saving?

“Two…”

When do you know someone is past saving?

“Three! Push, Shauna! Push!”

The scream could be heard for miles, Shauna thinks, but she can’t hear it herself. Just feel her jaw ache from opening wide, just feel her body crumple like paper. And, with her eyes still closed, she swears she feels a hand on her face, a body wrapped around hers, an embrace from the most familiar body she knows that is not her own. 

“Bet you wish I was there to say that when the baby came,” Jackie quips. That’s how this falsehood always goes. Both entirely cruel and entirely kind, all at once and all the time. Volleying Shauna’s emotions and perceptions around until she’s dizzy and frustrated.

“Don’t talk about him.”

Jackie just hums into Shauna’s ear. A lullaby. “Don’t open your eyes yet, okay? Stay just like this,” Jackie shushes her. Small fingers glide through Shauna’s dirty, matted hair. Like magic, there’s no tangles in the wake of the finger combing. And the hand is warm, and the hug is warm, and for a small moment, Shauna is only seventeen years old, and nothing matters except for Jackie.

“Is this how Jeff held you?” A shocking question, running over Shauna like ice cold water. Kind. Then Cruel. And again. To balance it out, Jackie’s hand falls until it’s holding Shauna’s tear-stained cheek. “No, probably not. He’s not good at the sweet parts, not really. And nothing can substitute the way girls know how to hold each other. Right, Shipman?”

“Stop,” Shauna begs. “If you’re going to do that just leave me alone.”

“I’m always right here, even when you can’t feel me.” Her face is closer to Shauna’s now. The breath – the breath Shauna could not feel earlier – now lightly dances across her mouth, her nose, her chin. So close. So real. There are smaller fingers, then, tiny, tiny, tiny fingers touching Shauna’s hand. “Oh,” she whimpers, still with her eyes closed. She can’t look. She can’t bear to look.

“I’m taking care of him until you get here. But it isn’t time yet.”

Shauna does not feel peaceful. But for the first time in months, she doesn’t feel alone. “Why not? Why can’t it be time, Jackie? I don’t want to keep doing this.” The frustration pours out. Shauna Shipman does not belong with the other crazy girls and their ceremonies and their prayers and their storytelling. But she doesn’t belong at Brown, or Rutgers, or high school, or her home. She belonged to two people in the entire world, and they’re dead. “I can’t keep doing this,” she sobs.

“Shauna?”

The hands disappear. The warmth of bodies close to hers dissipate, and all that’s left is the heat of the sun. She feels empty again. Not whole, not complete. The world dims and loses its color. It had been brighter, she was certain, just a moment ago. Shauna looks up to where the new voice is, and finds someone standing at the lip of the hole.

“Melissa? How much did you hear?”

Melissa is alone, in her dumb, backwards hat. “I heard you scream. And… I just heard you say you can’t keep… doing something?” She seems to be taking stock as she looks Shauna up and down. Her eyes land on the leg. “Oh, God, Shauna, your knee–”A sigh of relief leaves Shauna before she can stop it. After what happened with Jackie’s body, she tries hard to not let anyone know about moments like that. She doesn’t even write about them in her journals. No input is necessary about whether or not Shauna Shipman is crazy, or connecting with a deity, or whatever.

“I set it. That’s why I was screaming.” Melissa doesn’t reply. “Can you help me out of here or not, Melissa?” Melissa smiles, and Shauna realizes that it’s kind of a nice smile. It’s gentle. Welcoming, even. Not perfect, not imperfect. Just kind. Maybe it’s just the timing, but Shauna considers the fact that Melissa may not be one of the eerie quiets, but one of the static quiets.

“I’m gonna get you out of there, okay? Let me get a stick, or something. Don’t move. Well, don’t try, at least.” Melissa stumbles over every sentence to some degree. Shauna only stares at her in contemplative wonder. One person from the entirety of camp hears her scream, and it’s the girl with the emotional support baseball cap. Strange.

Shauna glances around. No Jackie. No baby. Jackie had said no one was coming to help – but Melissa was up there, trying to help. Rustling through the brush, and looking for a solution. Did you send her? Shauna desperately wanted to ask. But it was pointless, and it’s not like she was going to talk to Jackie with Melissa around.

“So I couldn’t find anything to help, but I think I’m strong enough to pull you out. Can you get to one of the edges and stand?”

“You think you’re strong enough to pull me out without just falling in?”

Melissa frowns. “Carrying stuff is kind of all anyone will let me do around here. Summer conditioning couldn’t even get me this buff,” she jokes.

Shauna just shrugs. She pulls herself to her feet, wincing when she accidentally puts some weight on the injured leg. “Good job!” comes the encouragement from Melissa. She was waiting at the edge of the hole closest to Shauna. The earlier embarrassment returns as Shauna is forced to hop towards the corner Melissa is bending over. “You’re doing great! Now just take both my hands, and try to protect your leg as much as you can.”

Struggling at first, Shauna can only really try to push off with her one good leg to give Melissa any help. But the other girl was right – she is pretty strong. Melissa groans with effort, and Shauna feels her feet come off the ground. “Come on,” Melissa grunts.

And that makes Shauna feel… something. But she can’t put her finger on just what.

Finally, Melissa successfully pulls Shauna out of the pit and drags her onto even land. It isn’t without a price; Shauna’s knees drag near the edge of the hole and she moans in pain. Her hands drop from Melissa’s as soon as possible, immediately cradling her leg.

“Let me look at it,” Melissa offers, and crouches down next to Shauna.

“No!” Shauna yells.

The woods go quiet. Maybe too close to eerily quiet. But Melissa is so close to Shauna now. Just as close as Jackie was. This breath is different. More real. Not just a memory, but a current sensation. And Shauna doesn’t like that she can feel the difference. That she knows there is a difference between how physically real Melissa is and how physically gone Jackie is.

“I mean… I mean I just want to get back to camp. Right now. We’ll look at it there.”

Melissa nods, even though she looks like she may not understand. “Okay, Shipman. Sling an arm around my shoulder and we’ll get you there, um, lickity splat. Or something.”

This is not the kind of girl Shauna would have been caught hanging out with back home. Too awkward, too unsure. But out here, this is the most normal person in the world. Not a sycophant, not a psycho, not an action hero. And decidedly, not too boring either.

“Or something,” Shauna replies. And then she gives Melissa a tiny, tiny smile.

[maxdibert]

Idk if it's wrong to think that the way Severus always changed subject when Lily got mad at him is cute. Like he didn't want to get her angrier but he didn't know how to make her less angry either. It's the avoiding thing and is bad for their already lack of communication in their friendship

I think it makes it pretty clear to what extent that relationship wasn’t sustainable at all. Severus didn’t clearly express his ideas if he thought they might upset Lily too much, so he never established clear boundaries with her and probably didn’t share many of his problems either. On the other hand, Lily didn’t seem like the kind of person who handled being contradicted well or having her points challenged. She would always snap at the first sign of something she didn’t like or that forced her to reconsider her own moral inconsistencies. And while that’s a very typical teenage attitude, it’s also fairly narcissistic.

I think she was happy with the fact that Severus followed her around like a lapdog and didn’t bother her. Maybe she wasn’t consciously aware of this, but on some level, she probably knew he wouldn’t cause her more trouble than necessary. And Severus was content just to have her as a friend, staying quiet out of fear of rejection or abandonment, and because, to him, their friendship was worth more than his own self-esteem. And that’s how codependent and toxic relationships are born, which never end well. Sometimes I wonder if what really bothered Lily was the meaning of "mudblood," or the fact that, for the first time, Severus stood up to her—and, to top it all off, had the audacity to do so in public.

[kathlare]

sunkissed entanglement

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: In the aftermath of a disappointing race for Lando, Amelie steps in to comfort him, navigating the fragile space between them.

Wordcount: 1.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

August 1st, 2021 - Mogyoród, Hungary

liked by lanelieshippers, f1gossipgirl, and others

amelieupdates: Spotted: Amelie looking as stunning as ever at the paddock today in Hungary! Always a vibe when she’s around. 🌟

View all 1,382 comments

f1tea: Does this mean we’re about to get some Amelie & Lando content? 👀 → speedyboi44: @f1tea We can only dream! Hope they’re hanging out together this weekend... I miss the old vibes 💔 → f1tea: @speedyboi44 Same!! Honestly, they need to stop teasing us. If they’re gonna flirt, just let us see it lol

landoandamelie4ever: Amelie at the paddock?? Does this mean we’ll finally get to see some cute moments with Lando? 💕 → racequeen101: @landoandamelie4ever If they’re gonna act like friends, then can they at least be flirty friends? They have that chemistry 😭

gpaddict28: People still hate on Amelie when she’s literally just vibing with her friends?? Get a life! → checoperezfan: @gpaddict28 Tell me about it. She’s here supporting her fam and friends, and people still can’t let go of the past. 🤦‍♀️

racefan123: Amelie really knows how to bring the energy to the paddock! Always adds something to the atmosphere.

lndolover99: Amelie + Lando = best combo! They might be keeping it low-key, but we all know what’s up. 🔥 → f1fan_321: @lndolover99 Exactly, they’ve always had that “will they, won’t they” vibe. It’s honestly cute to watch.

-------------

The Hungarian Grand Prix weekend had been a disaster for Lando, and Amelie knew that. She had heard the whispers from the pit lane, seen the disappointment in Lando's eyes when he walked out of the garage after the race. A DNF in Hungary was not the result anyone had hoped for, especially not for him. But she didn’t care about the race outcome—she cared about him.

Amelie hadn’t planned on seeing him after the chaos of the race, but as soon as she walked out of the Red Bull garage, there was only one thing on her mind: finding Lando.

She quickened her pace, weaving through the crowds of mechanics, drivers, and staff. She had one goal—get to Lando, check on him, and hopefully get him to talk.

With determination, she reached her destination—the McLaren motorhome. The pass Lando had given her months ago to gain access was still on her, and she flashed it at the guard at the door. He nodded without question.

Once inside, the atmosphere was almost surreal—quiet compared to the buzz outside. She walked through the corridors quickly, her boots clicking on the floor, until she reached the driver’s room. The door was slightly ajar, and she pushed it open without hesitation.

The sound of running water greeted her—Lando was in the shower. Amelie sighed, leaning back against the doorframe as she pulled out her phone. Scrolling mindlessly through messages, she felt her thoughts wander. It had been a weird couple of weeks. Nothing had been straightforward between them since the breakup. The way they pretended not to be something they clearly were. They couldn’t seem to stay away from each other, but neither of them had the courage to talk about what it all meant.

Amelie absentmindedly tapped her phone, her thoughts drifting to how complicated things had gotten between them. The casual arrangement they’d slipped back into after the breakup in May was barely enough to keep the tension from strangling them both. They didn’t talk about it. They didn’t have to. But the constant game of pretending to be “just friends” was wearing thin on her.

She could hear the water cut off, and instinctively, her heart picked up speed. It was absurd. They’d been here before, in the same tangled mess, pretending they didn’t want more than what they were offering.

The door creaked open, and Lando stepped out, towel wrapped around his waist, droplets of water still clinging to his skin. His hair was damp and messy, a contrast to the usually perfect, clean-cut image he liked to maintain. But today, everything about him seemed off. His eyes, tired and frustrated, locked onto her for a moment, and then his expression shifted into one of annoyance.

—What are you doing here?— he snapped, pulling the towel tighter around his waist as he walked toward the small dresser.

Amelie raised an eyebrow, unfazed by his abruptness. —Nice to see you too, Lando.—

—Not in the mood for this right now, Amelie.—

She crossed her arms, watching him as he rummaged through his bag. The tension in the air thickened, the same old pattern starting to emerge. He had this horrible attitude whenever things didn’t go his way, and she knew it. But what else was new?

—Lando, come on— she stepped closer, keeping her voice calm. —You’re not fooling anyone with that act. I’m not here to cause a scene. I just want to check on you. You’re clearly pissed off about the race—

—It’s not just about the race.— His voice dropped a little, still edged with frustration. He spun around to face her, his hands finding the edge of the dresser. —It’s everything. This whole fucking thing.—

Amelie watched him closely, her expression softening. She’d seen him like this before—lost in his own head, frustrated with the world around him, trying to hold everything together when he couldn’t. She’d learned how to handle him when he was like this.

—Hey, it’s just a race. It happens.— She moved forward, not giving him any chance to pull away. She reached up, gently cupping his face with her hand. —You’ll get them next time. But right now, I’m here, alright? Just... let me in. Let me help you calm down for a second.—

Lando’s eyes softened, just a fraction, but enough for Amelie to see the vulnerability hidden beneath the layers of frustration and anger. He exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his wet hair, clearly torn.

—I don’t need anyone right now, Amelie— he muttered, though the heat in his voice was fading.

She didn’t back away, not this time. Instead, she took another step closer, closing the gap between them. Her hand trailed down his chest, and she watched the way his muscles tensed at her touch. She knew what he needed. She knew how to ease him.

Without a word, Amelie lifted her face to his, her lips brushing against his softly at first, testing, until he gave in and kissed her back. His hand slid to the back of her neck, pulling her in deeper, as his kiss grew hungry and desperate. The frustration, the disappointment—everything melted away between them, replaced by the intensity of what they shared.

She pulled away just slightly, her lips brushing his neck as she murmured, —You’re not alone, Lando. Never are, okay?—

Lando’s hands gripped her waist, and before she could respond, he was lifting her, spinning her around until she was sitting on the armrest of the small sofa in the room. His body followed hers, positioning her in his lap as he sat down, his hands firmly around her, keeping her close.

The tension between them wasn’t just physical. It was everything they had been skirting around for the past few months. But Amelie wasn’t about to make this more complicated than it already was. They weren’t talking about their feelings, not yet. Not when it still felt like there was too much unsaid between them.

Lando’s lips found hers again, harder this time, as if he couldn’t get enough. His hands roamed, pulling her in closer, as she melted into him, letting the world outside fade into nothing.

Just as things started to escalate, there was a knock at the door.

—Lando?— a voice came through the wood. —Interviews, man. You’re up next. You need to go.

Lando groaned, breaking the kiss reluctantly. —Fucking hell.— He looked over at Amelie, his expression filled with a mix of frustration and desire.

Amelie couldn't help but laugh, the sound escaping her before she could stop it. She leaned back slightly, raising an eyebrow. —Guess you’ve got to work, huh?—

—Yeah, yeah, I know— Lando muttered, running a hand through his damp hair in exasperation. He shot Amelie one last look, and she could see the mix of reluctance and amusement in his eyes.

She straightened up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her top and fixing her hair. —Better go, then, superstar. Can’t keep the media waiting. You know how it is. All those fans waiting for their Lando Norris fix.—

Lando rolled his eyes but reached out, grabbing her arm before she could fully turn away. —Amelie— he said quietly, his voice softer now, though still a bit hoarse from their earlier kiss. —Can I see you tonight?—

Her heart skipped a beat, and for a second, she hesitated. This was nothing new between them. They were in this weird, complicated space where nothing was defined, and yet, everything felt... undeniable. But there was a shift in his tone that made her second guess her usual carefree response.

She met his eyes, a slight smile tugging at her lips as she replied, —You know where to find me.—

Lando's grip tightened for just a moment, and he leaned in to kiss her again, a quick, lingering touch that made her pulse race. He then let her go, watching her leave with that familiar intensity in his eyes.

Amelie walked out of the driver’s room and back down the hallway, making her way toward the exit. Her thoughts were swirling. It had been a while since things had felt so intense between them. But she was determined not to let her mind go there, not yet.

As she stepped outside, the noise of the paddock hit her again, but it seemed muffled, distant. She had to focus—focus on getting back to the Red Bull garage, and not thinking too much about what had just happened with Lando. He was her friend, after all, even if everything else between them was far from simple.

But she couldn't help but feel a little something—a little flicker of excitement—that maybe, just maybe, they were inching closer to something neither of them could ignore anymore.

[ibviously]

Kryptonite

Summary: Kara returns to Gotham and finds the Red Hood in the likeliest of places. Kara addresses Gotham’s villains in the unlikeliest of ways.

Characters/Pairings: Kara Zor-El x Jason Todd, Kyle Rayner x Kara Zor-El, Rose Wilson x Jason Todd

Warnings: sexual content (18+), graphic depictions of violence, pretentious analysis of 19th century art (sorry not sorry)

Jason grinned when he saw the bouncer, leaning in languid calm against the Ice Berg Lounge’s front entrance.

Rose dropped her menthol from her open mouth and laughed. Her single blue eye shone from under the dim street lights, the other covered by a black patch. Alone, she looked like she might’ve been waiting for someone, a lover, or a best friend. This late into the night, when the void of sky tilted into sunrise and the early AM ticked into business hours, nobody waited to enter the club. The thick, red velvet ropes hung still.

“Well fuck me,” Rose spoke plumes of smoke between them, “Back from the dead again?”

A smirk quirked on Jason’s lips. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and looked at the greased-stained asphalt. “Something like that.”

“You look like shit. The suit’s nice though- on loan from Daddy Wayne?”

Jason shook his head and reached out his hand. Registering the request, Rose pushed off the wall and passed her cigarette. Jason took a drag, then another. He knew he’d return the suit to Bruce smelling of smoke, but he didn’t care. He hadn’t had a Marlboro or seen Rose Wilson in a very long time. Tonight was a night of reunion.

After Jason exhaled his third drag and let it swirl, eddying in the hot summer air like oil in the ocean, he handed the nub back to Rose. “First off,” Jason cleared his throat, “don’t call Bruce ‘Daddy Wayne’.” A wicked grin from Rose. God- he had missed her. “Second, I need you to let me in and tell me where 44 Below is.”

Rose’s grin dropped. She pulled the frayed edges of her dark jacket over her hands and sulked down into the fabric. Her pale skin stretched taunt over her cheekbones and she was smaller than Jason remembered. He felt a dull tug of worry in his chest.

“So you are on an errand for Bruce,” Rose sighed, resuming her position on the wall. “You’re here to bid on a painting or crack some skulls?”

Jason shifted on the balls of his feet. Dick’s dress shoes were a half size too small. “The former.. but you never can be sure,” Jason amended.

Rose chewed on her bottom lip, contemplating. “You know,” her words came out thin, “I was pretty pissed when I heard the Joker got to you again- that you might be dead.”

“Yeah?” Jason spoke dark and soft, trying to coax her gaze back up to meet his eyes. “How’s that?”

As if Jason’s gentle tone had spooked her from her pensive trance- Rose straighten her back, the blanket of grief quickly shrugged from around her small body. “I was just thinking, well- fuck, I never got to tap that.”

A bark of a laugh ripped from Jason’s throat. He stopped himself, bringing a hand to his mouth. The streets were so quiet his laughter echoed like gunfire. A self-satisfied smirk from Rose. “I’m serious, Mr. Todd, don’t be a stranger. You’re gonna wish you spent more time with me when you actually do die.”

Jason nodded, surrendering to her jest. “So, are you gonna help me or do I have to go use some directive violence?”

Rose shook her head and turned, pushing on the doors of the lounge. A slice of technocolor light cut into the night, flashing red, green, blue, white. The boom of music and layered conversations flooded over Jason. He felt it, shooting up his legs and rumbling in his chest.

“Stay with me,” Rose shouted over her shoulder, “we’re gonna move quick.”

Kara took another swig of wine and held it, let the heady liquid weight on her tongue. She swallowed, registering the burn that bloomed at the back of her throat. The woman who had poured her glass called it a “good red.” Humans said the strangest things.

Feigning interest in the clusterfuck of black and white splatters that hung lifeless in front of her, Kara contemplated the phrase. Had she ever encountered a “good red”? There was the stray speckling of blood that always made its way onto her face, her knuckles, under her fingernails-after every fight. There was the red of Kal’s cape as he turned his back on her. The red glare of stoplights on the perpetually wet Gotham pavement. It was always raining here. Then there was Jason.

Under the dim lights, the wine looked black. It clung in viscous streaks to the clear walls. Kara shivered under the thin silk of her dress. In two swallows, Kara drained her glass. She wished she could get drunk. Determined, she turned for another, grasping at the silver tray of the nearest attendant. Her Kryptonian tolerance wouldn’t stop her from trying. Kara strode to the next exhibit.

The black expanse of Kyle Rayner’s suit jacket swirled before Kara as she approached- a hungry void. “Got something to forget?” Kyle quipped, his gaze never wavering from the full-scale landscape before them. Kara could see his smirk from the corner of her eye. His brown hair curled at his forehead. His face was clean-shaven.

“Figured I’d let loose and let you take the lead on this one,” Kara murmured into the rim of her glass.

Kara had been irritated when the Metropolis Museum of Fine Art had requested Rayner accompany her to the Lounge’s annual auction. That hot anger had cooled over the course of the first few hours. Kyle was competent- amicable, even. Now, the only anger that lingered was Kara’s placement in Gotham’s most infamous club; a club routinely littered with Batpersons. Not even a month after Kara had sworn off working in Gotham, she was ordered into its beating heart.

Kyle’s eyes, a light-honey brown, lit with interest. He liked this one.

“This is the one?,” Kara asked, turning her gaze away from the way Rayner’s eyelashes kissed his skin when he blinked. She nearly lost her breath.

The painting filled the entirety of her vision. It was clearly a parody- a remake of Alma-Tadema’s The Roses of Heliogabalus. All of the original’s carnal opulence was intact- but the figures were changed. Instead of Roman diners, adorned in silks and laurels, drowning in a seal of rose petals, it was Commissioner Gordon. And The Powers’s, proprietors of the Powers Hotel. Three anonymous, male GCPD officers reached out from under the petals- their faces contorted in fear. Centered, sat at a table laden for feast, were Bruce Wayne and Lex Luthor. The tide of roses brushed the hems of their pristine pant legs. They looked down in distaste.

His eyes scanned in erratic strokes over the expanse. Finally, he turned to Kara. “This is the one.”

Before Kara could agree, a wave of nausea pulled itself over her body. The room spun. The edges of her vision blurred- stretching the lights of the dance floor below. Colors flowed into one another. A gauzy, warm glow emanated from Kyle’s concerned face.

Kara knew something was wrong when she began to hallucinate. Behind Kyle stood Jason- clad in a suit, striding straight for her.

The seconds began to contort and bleed as they passed. Kara was staggering backwards, cold fear shooting through her at the progression of Jason’s apparition. She heard Kyle’s voice and felt his hand, warm as it wrapped itself around her bicep.

“Kara- hey! Are you okay?” Kara heard Kyle as if from underwater. The room spun. A warm tingle spread across her skin. The room spun. Kara giggled. “Jesus, Danvers,” Kyle’s breath tickled her neck- he must’ve been behind her. “I didn’t know you were this much of a lightweight.”

“That’s not,” Kara huffed, her vision recentered and stabilized on Kyle’s face in front of her, “that’s not my last name.” Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. “Where did J-Jason go?” Kara slurred.

Her words seemed to stretch with the room- the sound and the space reaching in tandem into infinity. Bruce’s image, painted into immortality, seemed to grin down from the feast, wolfish and cold. Kara felt a sharp pain in her skull- and then nothing.

Jason looked down at Kara’s unconscious body, crammed in the basin of a bathtub, and thought better of taking a picture. The young man glaring at him from the corner of the bathroom would disapprove.

“So,” Jason prodded, “what’s your deal?”

The man, Kyle, was pacing. Or trying to. The three of them were crammed in one of the club’s few person restrooms- one Rose had located for them. Now, she stood outside the door, keeping watch until Kara decided to wake up.

“My deal?” Kyle gave another incredulous glare. “Are you gonna tell me what happened or am I gonna have to assume the worst?”

Jason grinned and widened the spread of his thighs- taking up as much space as possible from his position on the toilet. He knew what this looked like. Kara passed out, two strangers come and scoop her up. Jason knew enough of Gotham’s grimy places to know things like that happened. Often. But not to Kara. Supergirl didn’t get roofied.

A couple of glasses of wine or any man-made drug wouldn’t- couldn’t- put her on her ass. That worried Jason. He tried not to let his perplexity surface on his expression. They didn’t need two dudes freaking out over Kara’s limp body.

“And what exactly is ‘the worst’?” Jason tilted his head, eyeing the man who leaned against the wall across from him. Kyle fidgeted, but didn’t drop his gaze.

Kyle groaned, running a palm over his face.

When he as met either another groan, Jason continued his barrage of rhetorical questioning. “Do you know who I am?” Jason cast a curt nod towards Kara’s unconscious body. “Who she is?”

“Is that how all you fucking Waynes introduce yourselves?” Kyle pushed himself from the grimy tile of the wall, looking down upon Jason, who couldn’t slacken the shit-eating grin that split his face. “ ‘Do you know who I am’- how about you fuck right off and let me take Kara home.”

Jason leaned back, propping his hands to cradle his head. He ran his eyes up the length of Kyle’s body. He was young, probably around Dick’s age. The first creases of age shot out from the corners of his eyes, but the vitality of youth still lit his stare. He was broad-shouldered and tall. Jason guessed he used to be an athlete, maybe he even played in college. He was exactly the type that Kara should be spending her time with- and yet the sight of him irritated Jason. His skin felt hot and the need to move came over him. He stood up.

This room was too small. His shoes were too tight. Kara was pale and the strap of her dress was falling down her shoulder. The bass pounded like a fist against the door. The informant that Bruce asked him to meet tonight had to be waiting, or maybe he had been offended by Jason’s lack of punctuality and left.

Kara’s cough cut through Jason’s flurry of worry like a light-house’s beam in a dark harbor. No sooner had the sound left her mouth that Jason was crouched at the side of the tub, his hands steadying her shuddering shoulders. She convulsed in waves, dry heaving, the pale spill of her hair obstructing her face. Jason gathered it like corn silk in his hands and pulled it to the nape of her neck. Kyle’s presence was hot at his back- the tension in his body quivering like a taunt band.

When Kara’s fit stopped, and her tremors stilled, she cast her eyes to the men leaning towards her. Her eyes, Jason registered in terror, were aglow. Head radiated from them, warming Jason’s face. Her jaw was flexed, her eyebrows furrows. Fury became her.

“Hey,” Jason demanded, reaching to hold her jaw between his fingers. He forced her gaze on him, fronting the full force of the heat pouring from her eyes. “You’re okay, Kara, you’re okay.” He dropped his grip when the blue returned to her eyes.

Kara yanked her head back, fitting the palms of her hands into the sockets of her eyes. “Fuck,” she breathed. “Kyle- I… fuck.”

Kyle stood, ashen-faced and slack-jawed, behind Jason. Jason narrowed his eyes. How strange that fear did not register on his face- but awe.

Guilt pooled in Kara’s eyes as she look up at Kyle. “Do you think you can just be cool about this, while we get ourselves- well- while I get myself sorted.?” Kyle had regained his composure and now looked at Kara with a calculating curiosity. He nodded.

“Yeah,” his words came out in a whisper, “Yeah I can do that.”

The softness of guilt gave way to steeled contempt as Kara cast her eyes on Jason. Her lips parted, then came together again. She eyes his suit, his hair, the clean shaven expanse of his jaw. The smell of smoke and leather drifted off of him. Kara took a deep breath. “Kryptonite?” she asked, acutely aware of the goosebumps patterning her skin. The porcelain of the bathtub was ice through her dress.

Jason nodded. He balled his hands into fists to keep from pulling off his suit jacket. Kara was shivering.

“Unless you have any other allergies,” Jason drawled. Kara, despite herself, smirked at the quip.

Kara shook her head, using her arms to rise from the bathtub. She stepped out on wobbling feet as a wave of nausea poured onto her. An arm braced against her back and she didn’t need her vision to know it was Kyle. He smelled, consistently, of pine soap.

“Thanks,” Kara murmured, blinking away the spots in her vision.

“Don’t mention it,” Kyle huffed, tightening his grip to keep Kara upright. “You trust these guys?” he whispered into her neck, eyeing Jason.

“These guys?” Kara asked, meeting Kyle’s deep brown eyes- so heavy with worry.

In answer- a sharp nock on the bathroom door. A sinewy, silver-haired girl slipped from behind the door.

“Rose?” Jason prompted her.

The girl’s pale grey eyes matched her bloodless face. She was breathing heavily and slight sheen of sweat covered her skin. He words came out in gasps. “What did the blonde do to piss off Black Mask?”

Before the last syllable left Rose’s mouth, Kara whirled to face Kyle, bracing both hands on his shoulder. He frowned down at her, locks of dark, curling hair falling into his eyes. A question was poised on his lips, but he bit his tongue as Kara spoke. “I need you to go- call a car and go back to the hotel. Go back to Metropolis- immediately. I’ll tell the museum we bid on a couple pieces and are waiting to hear back.”

Kyle shook his head gently, incredulous objection lit his eyes. “Kara- you were poisoned. I’m not just gonna leave you, especially not with strangers.”

Jason, head bent over a cigarette, scoffed- exhaling smoke into the small space. “I’m not a stranger,” he took another drag, “and if shit goes south we don’t need another warm body to keep alive.”

A nod from Kyle. He might be suspicious, but he trusted Kara’s judgement. If she was comfortable with these people, then he could respect that. Kyle moved toward the door, thumbing in his pocket for the cool surface of his phone. The girl- Rose- smirked up at him as he angled his way past her. A hot draft ran through the hallway and the air felt sticky against his skin.

Kyle turned, his worried gaze trained on Kara. He just needed one last glance- one last look to make sure she was safe. Her hand was at her nose, wiping a trail of blood that had begun its descent down her face.

“Go,” she feigned a smile, a streak of red smeared to her cheek. “I’ll see you at work on Monday.”

Kyle nodded, pushing into the trashing masses and flashing light.

Kara knew she was going to throw up. Her stomach rolled as she steadied herself against the bathroom countertop, white-knuckle gripping the marble surface.

“Sweet guy,” Rose mused from the corner. Her voice was low and gravely. Kara guessed she was a smoker. Her suspicion was confirmed when, from the corner of her eye, she watched Jason pass her his cigarette. She took a drag and watched Kara reel.

Kara heaved. The world spun.

“Kryptonite poised my entire planet,” Kara met her reflection’s stare and did not recognize herself. “My parents…neighbors…strangers- all of them.” She whirled towards Jason and Rose. Rage- acidic, corrosive, a green rage- ate at her from the inside out. “And this ‘Black Mask’ thought he could kill me with it?” Her words cut through the smoke.

Jason’s green eyes met hers. He looked surprised- an amalgamation of interest and perplexity painted his features. Maybe he wasn’t used to seeing Kara bleeding. Maybe he had never seen her angry.

Kara hated this. She hated Gotham. She hated the reverberation of the music through the bathroom walls.. She hated her dress- how it plastered itself against her body and held to her skin like paint. She felt naked and weak, standing here, reeling in front of this pair of humans that clearly knew more than her. She reached out her hand- demanding a turn with a cigarette. The smoke was sour and burned the back of her throat, but she inhaled anyways- focusing on the discomfort.

Kara smiled against the paper- it was almost comical how delicate she felt. She wondered how long it would last.

“Easy,” Jason spoke low, “that was my last one.” Kara handed it back and straightened her back.

“Who’s Black Mask?” she demanded.

Rose answered as she moved for the door. “Roman Sionis. Crime lord. Comes from a big Gotham family- cosmetics manufacturing, I think. What’s more important is that’s he’s a real sick fuck- I once heard that he peeled a guy’s face off in front of a mirror and then left him there. Faceless.”

Kara walked after Rose, moving her into the hallway. The light footsteps of those trained by Batman sounded behind her. Jason followed.

“The smart move would be to leave,” Jason said, shutting the door behind them. “Go home- regroup.”

Kara’s back tensed into a rigid line. “It’s a good thing you’ve never been one to do the smart thing. Where’s this guy at?” Red lights danced over her face.

Rose, bathed in red light, grinned at Kara. “His men were roaming the 44- I threw a few of them off your trail.”

“Kara…” Jason warned. He reached for her shoulder. Kara jerked forward, avoiding his touch. Jason’s calluses scraped over her skin. “I can’t help you if you go in there- I’m Bruce Wayne’s Jason Todd tonight. You, especially can’t go in there.”

In tandem with the strobing light- Kara whirled toward Jason- her face inches from his. Her breath smelled of wine and mint. Locks of pale hair framed her face, haloed by the acid-green that glowed from behind her. Her eyes dipped to his parted lips. “Thanks for looking out, Jason- but I got it from here.”

Jason rolled his eyes, ignoring the heat that flushed through his body at the acute pressure of Kara’s attention. She was so close that he could feel the warmth rolling of her skin and smell the perfume she had applied; jasmine, vetiver, and cream. He wanted to bury his head in the bend of her neck and inhale.

“You’re fucked,” Jason stated, letting his eyes roam down the planes of her waist.

Kara smirked. “I’m bulletproof.”

‘Black Mask’, Kara realized, was not the proper title for the man that sat in the long stretches of shadows, lounging in the betting booth at the back of the club. Roman Sionis wasn’t wearing a mask. His face was real- a mess of angular planes- like black, waxy flesh spread over canvas. She could see the gleam on his dark gums under the lowlight as she approached his table.

His thin lips spread to reveal white teeth as he registered her presence. The horrible whites of his eyes tracked the shift of her legs.

“And so the lamb wanders into the jaw-“ His words were cut short by the crunch of his nose against the green velvet of the gambling table. Kara had trouble finding a grip on his bald head. She groped at the tight skin as she yanked him back and raked his skull in a wide arc across the chips.

Shouting erupted in the lounge. Kara felt the wolves descend and grinned. She was feeling better. The rage still simmered in his chest. She pictured her mother’s face, so similar to her own, as she held her for the last time.

Heat bloomed behind her eyes and Kara let it rip from her- all the rage- funneled in beams that shot through the table.

“Tell me Kara-“ Black Mask gritted from beneath her hand- “When you leave this place- will you look back?” He grinned- thin-lipped and toothy- up at her. Kara threw her elbow into the men who launched themselves at her and didn’t stop for a long time.

Jason lost his breath when he saw Kara. Head hung, she stood in his doorway. A slow ooze of blood trickled from her eyebrow, making its way down the angle of her cheekbone, and settling in the bowl of her collarbone. Her lip was split- and bruises blossomed over every expanse of exposed skin.

She drew a labored breath. “I wont be here long- I just- I came to apologize. I had no business telling you how to behave yourself- I was never in the position to do that. So I’m sorry.”

“You’re bleeding,” Jason stated.

“And I’m sorry I took the bracelet- it was a gift and wasn’t mine to take.” Kara was wringing her hands. Her knuckles were split and purple.

“Did you kill anyone?” His words were gruff and so low Kara barely registered them. She shook her head. The hum of the refrigerator filled the silence that widened between them. Kara exhaled. “What do you need, Kara?” Jason reached his hand out and took her chin in between his fingers. He tilted her gaze up- leading her toward his gaze for the second time tonight. “Is it really so hard to look at me?” His words were a smoke-thin whisper.

Tears spilled from Kara’s eyes and fell on Jason’s hand. A sharp, ragged inhale broke her silence. She was gasping for air. Choked sobs dragged themselves from her throat. Kara sobbed. “I could’ve killed him- all of them,” Another pained inhale. She looked like she was drowning. “And I wanted to, Jason. Their blood was all over my skin and all I could think about is how their next target is Kal- how I need to protect him- how badly I wanted to rip apart-“ A sob clipped her words.

Jason opened his arms and Kara stepped into him, melting into the fabric of his sweatshirt. He had changed from his suit and his hair was mussed in a dark halo around his head. He smelled like Kara remembered- the sweet musk of his skin mixed with gunpowder and menthols. She buried her head into his chest and tried to regain her breath.

“I’m supposed to be a hero-“ Kara breathed into Jason, “but I don’t even know what the right thing is anymore.” Sensing Kara’s exhaustion, Jason bent down, hooking his arm under her knees, and lifted her from her feet. When he was met with no protest, he carried her past the threshold of his apartment and walked to the couch.

The cushions gave under Kara’s weight. She wanted to sink deeper and stay there awhile. But she wanted Jason more. When his hands pulled back she reached for the collar of his hoodie- grasping at the fabric with shaking hands.

Jason, following her que, didn’t pull back. Instead he braced his hands on either side of her and studied the way the dim light from the kitchen caught on the navy gossamer of her gown. It was like the ocean’s surface in the dead of night. He flexed his hands and kept himself from leaning closer. It took every shred of his self control to keep from scooping her off the couch and nestling her in his bedsheets. She’d be more comfortable there. He’d be more comfortable with her beside him.

“You should sleep,” Jason spoke into their shared air. He drew up memories of the give of her bottom lip against his teeth and the tone of her moans as he drew them from her slackened mouth. Jason shifted and hoped she didn’t notice the erection pushing up against the fabric of his sweatpants.

“I don’t sleep,” Kara said, leaning up, as if drawn by magnets, towards Jason’s mouth. She shifted beneath his. A slight flush colored her cheeks.

Jason removed one hand from the couch, keeping himself upright with the other, and placed it on Kara’s hip. The lovely curve of bone and flesh met the hollow of his palm. With this thumb, he rubbed slow circles through the thin fabric of her dress.

“You will tonight,” Jason drawled, “I have a feeling you’ll have a nasty hangover.”

Kara’s lips parted. Her hips pressed up into Jason’s touch. She ached everywhere. “And where are you gonna sleep,” Kara mumbled, avoiding Jason’s eyes. She focused on the rotation of Jason’s thumb on her body- using the sensation to ground her.

Jason smirked, removing his hand and bracing it, ounce again, against the couch. “Where do you need me to sleep, Kara?”

Kara frowned, forcing her body to sink back into the cushions and away from Jason’s body. “I don’t need anything Jason- I was just…curious.”

Removing himself from his position above Kara, Jason stood up. He lowered himself between her splayed legs, resting his hands on her thighs. Slowly, he ran them up and down the silken fabric. “I missed you, Kara- but this isn’t the way to heal. As much as I’d love to finally fuck you, I think we should wait.”

Kara pushed herself from the couch and took Jason’s face in her hands. She ran one hand through his hair, gripping the locks and tilting his head backwards. “What if I told you I needed it,” Kara whispered, running her thumb over the pout of Jason’s bottom lip.

“I’d call you a liar,” Jason quipped, dipping his head to suck lightly, once, on Kara’s thumb. The wet heat of Jason’s mouth sent her reeling.

“You don’t want this?” Kara asked, breathless, as she gently pushed her thumb back, letting Jason’s lips take it in. His tongue played on the pad of the finger, flicking slow strokes. He bit playfully- teeth grazing the skin- and drew back. In one fluid movement, Jason cupped Kara’s jaw and pushed his own thumb into her mouth. Kara smirked around it- sucking languid strokes along its length. She opened her mouth, letting Jason see her tongue as she ran it along the underside.

“Kara…’ Jason breathed, moving his other hand to cup her breast, playing with the nipple that rose against the silk. Without warning, Jason dropped his hands and rose. A breathless whine escaped Kara. She stood up, tugging at his waistband in protest.

“Jay please….” Kara ran her hand along the v of his abdomen and Jason nearly came at the sensation, as her fingers nearly grazed him. Kara removed her hands and placed them on her hips.

Resolve crumbling, Jason took Kara’s face in both of his hands. Purple indents hung below her eyes. Mascara was smeared and darkened the bags. Her blue eyes- two pleading pools- searched his. Jason bent his head and grazed her lips with his- kissing her with feather-light contact. It was a whisper of a kiss- an ephemeral promise for more. It wasn’t enough. Kara ached. She wanted to pull him down and drown in him. She wanted Jason in her and on her- pushing her into his mattress and holding her body upright when she couldn’t.

“Sleep for me Kara,” Jason mumbled against her lips, “we’ll see what I can do for you once you’re healed.”

Kara, exhausted and sick of fighting, sighed her acceptance and let Jason lead her to his bedroom. She held his hand as he walked in front of her, not bothering to memorize the path. She felt the cool fabric of his sheets wash over her- and then the warm strength of Jason curl around her.

And just like the kryptonite- Kara let the warmth and the darkness drag her under.

[moltensmusings]

Durge that was a beast before they got abducted. Slaughtering enemies, endulging all their hedonistic desires, a whisper in the night whose mere name would horrify those that heard it. Who maybe found Gortash annoying in his prattling but ultimately valuing his wants aligning with their own and how he'd never once stop their actions.

Strolling back into baldurs gate post amnesia; wide eyed, helping the elderly, calling their dark urge "the family member no one likes at a reunion", eating food they found of the ground, introducing every friend they made by name and impulsively punching Gortash when Karlach almost cries.

[illyrianbitch]

Are We Still Friends?

Pairing: Reader x Azriel

Summary: Worried about how his new relationship seems to be changing him, you talk to Azriel about your concerns. Things take a turn when he refuses to listen.

Warnings: some wine sipping, gossiping, angst, miscommunication, friend fighting, jealousy (but no one realizes), az being defensive and blind

Word Count: 5k

(Completed) Series Masterlist | Part Two

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

“It’s not that I don’t like her.”

The words tasted as false as they were, and you grimaced the moment they slipped out, already bracing for the look Mor would throw your way. True to form, she didn’t disappoint, her expression halfway between amusement and exasperation.

A defeated sigh escaped as you accepted the glass of wine she offered, watching as she filled her own nearly to the brim.

“You’re better than me, then,” she hummed, settling back onto the couch across from you. “Because I don’t like her.”

You raised a brow. “You don’t like many people nowadays.”

She shrugged, casual as ever, though a smirk tugged at her lips. “True. I’m not exactly lining up for any peace medals, am I?”

You chuckled softly, leaning back in your chair. “I just… have this odd feeling about her, you know?”

Mor tilted her head, letting out a noncommittal hum. “Oh, I know. She drags Az around on a leash.”

You were tempted to say something about the irony in her words—remind her, in a loving manner, that she might've been guilty of that once upon a time, too. But you decided against it. She wasn't wrong.

You swirled the wine in your glass, watching the dark liquid move in slow, mesmerizing circles. The feeling wasn’t new; it had been there since the first time you’d met her. Azriel’s new girlfriend Selene was perfectly fine—charming, even. But there was something else, something you couldn’t quite name. Like a faint hum in the background of a quiet room, just irritating enough to notice but not enough to prove anything was wrong.

“Why don’t you talk to him?”

You glanced up, finding Mor’s bright brown eyes sharp and focused on you, the lazy humor of a moment ago gone.

“I doubt he’ll listen,” you admitted, resting the bottom of your glass on your thigh. “He didn’t listen to you.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s really not.”

Mor raised a brow like she wanted to argue, but she only sighed in response. “He’s been so weird about his love life. Gwyn didn’t work out. Elain’s probably the happiest out of all of us. Maybe he’s treading lightly.”

“Maybe,” you murmured, though you weren’t convinced.

Azriel had changed in small, almost imperceptible ways since everything had settled—since everyone had paired off and fallen in love. Everyone except you. And him.

You were fine with your situation, content in the quiet steadiness of your life. Azriel wasn’t. You knew it. He knew it, though he’d never admit it. So much of his self-worth was tangled up in whether he believed himself worthy of love. And the absence of it—of a solid, undeniable love in his life, of a partner, of a potential bond—seemed to weigh on him. To him, it wasn’t just an empty space; it was a failure.

You’d almost go as far as to say he’d become desperate, living in the shadows and watching his brothers experience loves so profound they might as well have been plucked from stories meant to inspire poets and dreamers.

Mating bonds were rare. You reminded yourself of that often. Your family was just an anomaly, their luck skewed impossibly high. But logic wasn’t enough to soothe Azriel, and it certainly wouldn’t stop him from chasing it. He was obsessive. Stubborn.

Nothing you said or did could change his perspective.

Mor’s voice pulled you out of your head again. “Speak of the devil,” she sang out. “Hi, Elain.”

Your gaze snapped up to the doorway, finding Elain standing just beyond the archway. She looked like a spooked deer, frozen in place with that polite smile you’d come to recognize as her default around company she hadn’t fully warmed up to yet.

“We were just talking about Azriel’s unfortunate romantic history,” Mor said smoothly. You glanced at Elain for her reaction.

It had taken time for that particular history to fade. Maybe it was appropriate to joke about now, but you personally would’ve waited a few more years before bringing it up so flippantly. Mor, however, had little patience for such niceties.

Elain’s expression didn’t shift beyond a faint flicker in her eyes, and you realized how much her composure had improved over the years. Then again, it had been a while since she and Lucien had found each other for good—long enough for their bond to solidify and for them to leave for the Day Court after their mating ceremony.

A twinge of jealousy sparked in you before you brushed it aside.

“We’re just gossiping in general. Want to join us?” you asked, gesturing to the chair beside you. Plush and inviting, it mirrored the one you sat on. “Unless Lucien is waiting for you upstairs?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed crimson. 

“Lucien’s still with Feyre, catching up,” she said, stepping further into the room. “What are you drinking?”

Mor reached for the bottle on the table, plucking it up and turning it in her hand to read the label.

“Something good and expensive,” she replied, with a half-hearted air of indulgence, before tilting her head at Elain with a faint grin.

“It’s from Rhys’s rather gluttonous collection,” you said, sensing Elain’s hesitation. “It won’t be missed at all.”

She smiled at that. “I’d love some.”

“There are a lot of glasses in that cabinet,” you said, pointing to the wood door with ornate carvings. “Grab whichever one you’d like.”

Mor sat up straighter, scooting herself back into the pillows behind her. You hummed, impressed, at her ability to hold both her full wine glass and the bottle without so much as a wobble.

You hadn’t spent much time with Elain one-on-one. Emissary duties had kept you busy during the years the Archeron sisters had adjusted to their new lives. But you liked Elain, from what you’d seen. She had a kind heart. She also had a sharp humor that surfaced at the oddest moments, usually when she and Lucien were whispering in corners, conspiratorial before seamlessly rejoining whatever social event they were at like they’d never left.

Elain returned and sat down with her chosen glass—a delicate crystal piece that gleamed in the soft light. Mor went to fill it instantly. 

“Can I ask why you were discussing Azriel’s romantic life?” Elain asked. Her voice was smooth, certain. No hesitation.

It didn’t faze her anymore, you realized—being such a strange, pivotal turning point in Azriel’s past experiences. She’d made peace with it, the way immortality seemed to demand. Time softened the edges of even the messiest situations, turning them into stories you could recount with startling detachment. Almost humorous, really.

Because how else could you explain being casual about the fact that your best friend had almost allowed his pride—and arrogance—and, somehow simultaneously, his insecurity—to lead him into a blood duel over Elain’s affections? A blood duel.

But now, it was just… something to write off. A distant memory, softened by the years and Lucien’s easy confidence. Lucien was better than you. You would’ve held that grudge against Azriel for many more years—long enough to make it a point of pride. But then again, Lucien had won everything he wanted in the end. He had the girl, the bond, the certainty that whatever lingering rivalry Azriel might feel was entirely one-sided.

It wasn’t important enough for Lucien to waste any more energy on.

You exchanged a glance with Mor, who arched a brow, clearly just as amused by Elain’s openness.

“Y/n doesn’t like his new girlfriend,” Mor said.

Your mouth fell open. “You don’t either.”

“True,” Mor agreed easily. She looked to Elain. “We don’t like her.”

“For clarification,” you said firmly, “I never said I didn’t like her.”

Mor laughed, sipping her wine with an amused grin.

Your face fell flat. “What?”

“Nothing,” she replied breezily. “But if you get a bad feeling about someone, that’s usually dislike.”

You resisted the urge to scowl, already turning over the guilt in your mind. You didn’t want to be that person—the kind who dismissed another female off the bat. Maybe your gut was wrong this time. Maybe her smile had reached her eyes, and you’d been too preoccupied to notice. Maybe her tone hadn’t been as assessing as you remembered, and you were projecting. You wanted to like her. You wanted to be happy for Azriel.

But he didn’t seem happy. He seemed distracted. Busy. Not himself.

And not the kind of busy you’d seen before—the methodical, obsessive focus he funneled into work or training. This was different, scattered in a way you couldn’t quite pin down. It had made sense in the beginning, when things were new and exciting, but now it was starting to feel uncomfortable. He’d started missing things—small things at first, like sparring sessions or those late-night conversations you, Mor, and him would have when you couldn’t sleep. Then came the bigger things. He’d stopped being able to review external court updates with you, even when those meetings were critical for your diplomatic roles.

Azriel had always been the one you could count on. Out of everyone, you considered him your closest friend—even more than Mor, though you’d never admit it out loud. But now it seemed like every time you made plans, Selene needed him more.

And then there was how fast it was all moving. Too fast. At a recent family dinner, she’d casually mentioned that she and Azriel could move in together—offhand, like it was the most obvious next step. Something about leaving the townhouse behind, creating a space with décor that matched her aesthetic. Azriel had just stayed quiet, looked at her like she’d just proposed the most brilliant idea in existence.

You noticed he did that. The way he looked at her. The way he’d looked at Elain and Gwyn back when they were seeing each other. It weirded you out—that tendency to put the people he saw as romantic interests on a pedestal, as though they were flawless. As though they were something he didn’t deserve.

You knew where it came from. That deep-rooted insecurity that even centuries hadn’t managed to erase. He didn’t see it, the way he wore himself down trying to prove his worth to people who, for the most part, had already accepted him. But you saw it. You always had.

And it made it harder to like Selene. To trust her intentions. Maybe that was unfair, but you couldn’t help but feel like she was just taking—taking all the parts of Azriel that used to be all of yours to share, and twisting them into something else. Something that didn’t include his family.

Still, you wanted to try. To let go of the gnawing irritation in your chest and convince yourself it didn’t matter. If she made him happy—truly happy—then none of it should matter. You were adamant on ensuring that you didn’t turn into the stereotypical overbearing female best friend.

Elain tapped her glass lightly. “Lucien doesn’t like her.”

You blinked back into reality. “Really?”

She nodded, a beat passing before she added, “To be honest, I’m not sure I do either.”

Mor leaned forward, grinning like she’d been handed a stack of gold. You almost wished Amren was here to bask in the moment. Amren didn’t like Azriel’s girlfriend, either. Maybe your family really was as unwelcoming as people claimed. Or maybe Selene simply brought out another level of scrutiny. The thought of either option made you feel bad— gross. 

“Why?” Mor asked.

“She was dismissive toward Lucien. And,” Elain hesitated, her brow furrowing slightly, “She seemed… entitled, I suppose. Especially with Azriel. Like she expected him to accommodate her every whim.”

You frowned, turning over her words. “I’m sure she was just nervous. We can be an intimidating group. Maybe she just needs time to settle in. We just want Az to be happy, right? So, if she makes him happy, then I’m absolutely fine with her.”

The silence that followed was thick. For a moment, you wondered if you’d said something wrong. Something weird.

“Are you?” Elain asked, her tone sincere.

“Are you?” Mor echoed at the same time, voice dripping with sarcasm.

You shot Mor a glare, but she only raised her brows and sipped her wine again, infuriatingly unbothered. Exhaling, you willed yourself to meet Elain’s gaze.

“I am,” you said, trying for conviction. “Really.”

Elain pursed her lips. Her gaze shifted to Mor, lingering longer than you liked, and then back to you.

“Alright,” she hummed. “I guess I was wrong.”

You stilled. Elain reclined deeper into her seat, accepting a refill from Mor. Her wine glass remained only half-full compared to yours and Mor’s.

Curiosity burned. You leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Elain furrowed her brows. “What do I mean about what?”

“You said you guess you were wrong. What does that mean?”

Mor’s gaze bored into the side of your face. Any second now, you were sure she’d make some quip about how bothered you were. But you weren’t bothered. Just curious.

Elain swirled her wine, watching the light catch the liquid. “I’m not sure. Things feel off. Like something’s coming. Az needs help with it, I think.”

You froze. “Off? Like—how?”

She hesitated, thoughtful. “It’s hard to explain,” she murmured, her voice quieter now. “But I feel it. In my chest. My visions sometimes do that. That’s why I asked.”

Well, that unsettled you. You glanced at Mor, whose amused grin had fallen into something more contemplative.

It seemed you might need to have a conversation with Azriel after all.

“I don’t like that,” you admitted, your nose crinkling. 

“I think I heard him get back earlier. Go talk to him,” Mor said, her tone gentler now, though a hint of mischief lingered in her eyes. You didn’t read too much into that. Mor’s eyes tended to be expressive. She also tended to be mischievous when her blood was primarily red wine. 

“Okay,” you said. “Maybe just to check in.”

Elain nodded. “Just to check in,” she echoed, almost reassuring.

“Have fun,” Mor added, her grin returning just enough to be annoying, but not enough to distract you from the unease curling in your chest.

You didn’t respond, instead taking another slow sip of your drink. The glass clinked softly as you set it down on the table before you made your way upstairs.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Mor turned to Elain. “Did you really feel something that unsettling?”

Elain let out a laugh. “No,” she said lightly. “I completely made that up. But she doesn’t need to know that.”

Mor’s lips curled into a slow, wicked smile. Seconds later, her head tilted back in a laugh just as vibrant as it was unapologetic.

“Genius,” she declared, raising her glass in mock salute.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

The walk upstairs was quiet.

The townhome, in general, was quieter nowadays. Aside from the times others came to visit—like Lucien and Elain—only you and Azriel lived here full time.

When you reached Azriel’s bedroom door, your steps faltered for a moment. There was a hesitation in you that hadn't existed before. You raised your hand to knock, but the action felt more awkward than usual. It made you sad, momentarily, that you hesitated. You never second-guessed yourself with Azriel. You wanted to tread carefully in this new era of his life, though. You didn’t want to overstep, to become a nuisance. But whatever this was—whatever had unsettled Elain enough to mention it—you needed to know. Azriel had always been a constant for you, and if something felt “off,” you wanted to understand why.

Your knuckles rapped lightly on the door. “Az?” 

Inside, you heard the shuffle of movement, followed by his low, familiar voice. “Come in.”

You didn’t see Azriel immediately, but the smell of soap and the damp air told you that he recently showered. Shadows slithered across the floor, comfortable and excited, exploring the familiar confines of his room.

You greeted the tendrils as you usually did, letting them brush against your legs as you flopped onto his bed. The bed, like everything else in his room, was simple: plain black sheets, no extravagant pillows, just the bare necessities. It used to drive you mad, the emptiness of it all.  But what was in his room spoke volumes—— bare walls except for a dagger mount on one side, a small uncluttered desk with a well-worn sharpening stone. 

Azriel exiting the bathroom pulled your attention, your eyes settling on him as he rubbed his wet hair thoroughly with a towel. He shook his head slightly, wet curls bouncing onto his forehead, and met your gaze. His eyes flicked to where you lay, scanning your body. He nodded toward your feet.

“C’mon,” he almost whined. “No shoes on the bed.”

You looked down at yourself, grimacing as you realized that your shoes were, indeed, on his clean comforter. A simple set of house slippers, so nothing entirely too dirty, but it had completely slipped your mind. Very comfortable shoes, you noted, maybe you’d get Feyre a pair as a solstice gift.

“Oh whoops,” you said with an apologetic smile. “My bad, clean freak.”

He rolled his eyes, but you caught the quirk of his lips anyways.

For a moment, the old sense of comfort settled over you. But then, a thought crept in—the thought that maybe you shouldn’t lie on his bed like this anymore. It had been fine before, but now… now it felt different. He had someone else in his life. It wasn’t weird, exactly, but it was a little inappropriate.

You sat up straighter.

“Did you and Mor grow tired of rehashing the same centuries old gossip?” He teased.

You snorted, watching as his shadows flitted above his shoulders. They were amused, laughing in their own way. “Never,” you responded, pushing yourself off his bed. You were drawn to the otherside of his room, to the simple dresser against the wall. “Elain joined us this time.”

Your back was to him, but you had a feeling that the momentary silence, the stillness that you felt, was a knee-jerk reaction from Azriel—something reminiscent of embarrassment, shame, or guilt at her name. But all he responded was, “Oh?”

“I like her,” you said, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “I kinda wish I spent more time with her…”

You paused, your words trailing off quietly as you took in the small details before you. 

Azriel’s dresser had always been the one surface he decorated, not because he cared for decoration, but because it was the only surface large enough to hold anything. Over the years, it had become a quiet testament to the things that mattered to him: a mix of Solstice and birthday gifts, trinkets you’d both collected on missions and trips. You liked seeing what had changed, what had been added. It gave you a glimpse into where Azriel had been, who had been with him. 

Lately, there had been more—more trinkets, more oddities that stood in stark contrast to the weapons displayed elsewhere, the ones mostly hidden away in his closet. A macaroni necklace from Nyx. A horribly made clay version of him you’d created during a drunken pottery night with Feyre, Mor, and Amren.

But now, the dresser was foreign. The once familiar surface had been wiped clean, replaced by delicate perfume bottles, jewelry that looked too fine to be his, and a candle that smelled—oddly—like the puke of a flower faerie. Some of it was new. Most of it was hers.

Azriel’s presence had vanished from his own furniture entirely.

“Huh.”

“What?” Azriel asked.

You glanced over your shoulder. “I see you’ve decorated more.”

Azriel tilted his head, and a few of his shadows slithered down his body, crossing the room to pool around your ankles. “I guess,” he said. “Selene said my room needed more life.”

You leaned forward, brushing your fingers along the ceramic jewelry dish, the cool surface sending a strange chill through your skin. The shadows flickered over your hand, almost as if they were inspecting it too. They moved with purpose, then slowly obscured it, hiding it from view.

You frowned, confused.

Azriel, still silent, was rifling through his closet. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you as he moved, but he said nothing. The shadows returned to his side as you turned to look at him.

"Are you going somewhere?" you asked, trying to break the silence.

Now, Azriel barely spared you a glance.

“Yeah. Meeting Selene,” he replied simply.

After a few seconds of silence, Azriel turned his head and properly held your gaze. “Why? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” you responded with a casual wave of your hand, but Elain’s words echoed in your mind. You cleared your throat. “Well, actually, no. I was hoping I could talk to you.”

He frowned, standing up straighter, his wings flexing with the motion. “Is it something serious?”

You paused, carefully filtering through your words. “No, just something that’s been on my mind.”

Azriel studied you, doubt flickering in his hazel eyes. It was the kind of look that always made you feel like he was reading you too easily. He probably didn’t believe you, not entirely—but he nodded anyway. His lips curved into a small, apologetic smile. “Raincheck then?”

You mirrored his smile, though it felt thin. “Yeah, sure. We can talk tomorrow, once we’re back from the Hewn City.”

Azriel stilled. The way his gaze dropped to the floor and lingered felt like a guilty dog, an animal caught in an act forbidden. “Shit,” he said, his tone cautious. “I can’t go.”

You blinked, the words taking a moment to settle. “Seriously? Az, Rhys is expecting an update.”

“I’m sorry.” He sounded sincere enough. It didn’t matter. “But you can handle it on your own, you know this.” 

“Are you serious?” you said, the hurt slipping out before you could stop it. “I don’t want to deal with Keir alone.”

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll talk to Rhys, but Selene’s been wanting to—”

“Never mind,” you cut him off, shaking your head. You forced a smile. “Have fun tonight. And tomorrow.”

Azriel scanned your face. After another moment of silence, he sighed.

“Okay, what is it?” He asked, crossing his arms over his chest. “You clearly have something on your mind. Tell me.”

You hesitated, holding his gaze. “I actually wanted to talk to you about Selene.”

Azriel’s jaw tightened instantly. He looked away, his tongue running across his teeth as he shook his head. “Not you too. Don’t be like this.”

Your frown deepened, offended by the immediate shift in tone. “Be like what? I haven’t even said anything yet.”

He met your eyes again, his stare almost challenging. “We both know what you’re going to say.”

“Do we?”

“First Mor, then Nesta, and now you.” His voice was sharp, but not loud. “Should I be concerned that the females in my life are so quick to rally against my girlfriend?”

You scoffed, crossing your arms to mirror his pose. “Well, yeah, Az. Maybe you should be.”

He rolled his eyes, the shadows at his feet flickering with the motion. “Fine. What do you want to tell me, then?”

For a moment, you hesitated, the words lingering on the edge of your tongue. Azriel had always been good at looking through you, unraveling thoughts you hadn’t fully formed yet. And now, under the weight of his sharp gaze, you felt exposed.

“I just want to make sure you’re happy.”

Something flickered in his expression, quick and fleeting—too fast for you to decipher. For the first time in a long while, Azriel felt unreadable, like he’d drawn a curtain between himself and you. “Really?” he asked, his tone tight, almost incredulous.

You faltered, a small thread of doubt weaving its way through your resolve. Was he happy? Would he even tell you if he wasn’t?

“Yes, really,” you replied, a defensive edge creeping into your voice. “You’ve been distant lately. Running around at her beck and call. None of us know her. I want to understand what’s going on with you. I want to understand her.”

Azriel’s wings shifted again, his gaze hardening.

“I want to make sure this is the kind of relationship you want,” you finished, quieter now.

The room fell into silence, heavy and still. Azriel watched you as if he was turning your words over and over in his mind. You waited, unsure of what to expect—if anything at all.

“I wouldn’t be in a relationship I didn’t want. Can we drop it, please.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. What a strange, dismissive answer. It bothered you— bothered you more than anything he’d ever told you before. 

“Az, I just don’t want you to change who you are for someone. You don’t need to cater to her every whim.”

His expression darkened, shadows curling tighter around his boots. “I’m her boyfriend. I do what she asks.”

You raised an eyebrow, unable to stop the scoff that slipped out. Azriel had never been so clipped with you. “That’s not the definition of a boyfriend. That’s the definition of a bitch.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched, his wings flaring in irritation. “Excuse me?”  His voice cut through the room. “Do you really think I’m some incompetent love-sick loser?”

“I think you stop seeing flaws in the people you love.”

The words hung between you, heavier than you’d anticipated. A small part of you wondered if “love” was the word Azriel would use to describe his feelings for her. Another part worried that he didn’t correct you.

“That’s not true.”

“It’s not?”

“No,” he snapped. “I can clearly see that you’re being unfair. Quick to judge, much like Mor. That’s a flaw.”

“Oh, please,” you shot back, “You know what I meant. The people you’re infatuated with—”

“Where is this sudden concern coming from?” he interrupted, his shadows now beginning to curl between you like restless mediators, unsure where to settle. “Are you trying to cause issues?”

Something ran hot through your body.

“Seriously? I’m talking to you about this because I care. Because Elain had some cryptic feeling about you—”

“Elain is involved in this conversation, too?” His voice dripped with frustration now. “Gods, Y/n, should I send word for Gwyn while we’re at it? Get her opinion?”

“What the hell has gotten into you?” You took an authoritative step forward.  “I’ve never judged you. I’ve always tried to support you and your messy love life, no matter how complicated. Don’t you trust me, Azriel? As a friend?”

Azriel didn’t respond immediately, his shadows flickering uncertainly, still deciding whether to retreat or rise.

You gestured around the room. “Look at this place. You’ve erased all traces of your family—of you, of us. Where did you even put—”

“Oh, gods.” Azriel’s voice broke through, and for a moment, you thought he might crumble. His wings folded, and his hand dragged across his face, the weight of his exhaustion sinking in. “She was right.”

You froze. “What?”

Azriel met your gaze, his eyes hesitant for a heartbeat before turning sharp. “About you. Selene said you were jealous. That you had feelings for me.”

The words hit like a slap, and your world tilted on its axis. “What?” you asked again, your voice breaking on the word. Maybe you had misheard him. Maybe he had misspoken.

“I told her she was wrong. But now…” He let the sentence hang in the air, searching your face for something that maybe wasn’t even there.

“Now, what?” Your voice rose, tinged with anger. “You think I’m here because I’m jealous? Because I have some… crush on you?”

His wings flared slightly at your tone, but he didn’t back down. “I don’t know. It’s just—why else would you care so much about this?”

Your stomach twisted, a deep, cold ache settling there. “Why else?” you repeated, the words bitter on your tongue. “Because I care about you, Azriel. Because you’ve been my friend for centuries. Are you seriously confused about this?” 

For a moment, Azriel’s expression faltered, but he didn’t apologize. Instead, he said, “I didn’t ask you to care about my love life.”

“You didn’t have to,” you snapped, stepping closer. “That’s what friends do. But you’re standing there, letting her perception of me—someone who doesn’t even know me—warp your judgment. You’ve known me longer than that. Or at least, I thought you did. And the fact that you’d entertain this—” You stopped, shaking your head. “It’s insulting.”

Azriel said nothing. He just stood there, shadows now curling tighter around him. 

You had no idea how this conversation had gotten away from you, no idea how it turned into this—where this defensiveness, this anger, had come from. This wasn’t Azriel. Loyal, overly so. Impulsive. Protective. 

Or maybe it was. Maybe that loyalty was directed at someone else now—someone who clearly saw you as something threatening. You’d never been on the other side of Azriel before. Never thought you’d see the day. The realization hit like a slap to the face, leaving you shocked, stunned, a pit opening in your stomach that felt too deep to climb out of.

“You know what? Forget it.” You stepped back, the fight draining out of you all at once.

Azriel’s brows furrowed. “Really? That’s it?”

You glanced at him over your shoulder, your lips curving into something that might have been a smile if it weren’t so bitter. “Yeah,” you said, your voice flat. “That’s it.”

You turned for the door, hand on the handle, but paused. The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them, sharp and pointed, a petty jab that felt equal parts satisfying and hollow. “Make sure to lock this door when you leave—I’d hate to accidentally stumble back in and throw myself at you.”

Azriel stiffened, his wings snapping taut behind him. For a brief second, you thought he might say something, anything. But he didn’t.

You closed the door behind you with a heavy thud.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

authors note: no one tell them they probs have feelings for each other bc they’ll probably fight you (also elains moment is so self indulgent bc i would totally be making shit up based off my powers. like yeah actually you can’t be mean to be :/ powers are saying you’ll die if you are)

Part Two

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[sukunasweetheart]

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna...

warnings!!! dark content, noncon breeding, dubcon, sukuna ties your hands together, baby trapping, toxic, possessive and jealous sukuna, manipulative tendencies and mentions of violence (not towards reader), oral (f!receiving)

divider by @/saradika-graphics

3.8k words

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who'd always coax you into fucking him bareback without a condom because he swears it feels better...

being so sweet, seducing you into letting him hit it raw, doing whatever it takes to put you in a good mood, get you hot and bothered so you can't deny him for long, swearing that he'd pull out, and that you'd have nothing to worry about...

but scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who never kept his word. he'd fuck you silly and cum deep into your womb, even though he promised he wouldn't. you wanted to stop him, but you were feeling too good in the moment to fight him off. when you confront him about it afterwards, he simply tells you "my bad, sweetheart. i didn't mean to, but you just felt too good..."

he gets high off the feeling of cumming inside you.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who secretly wished he could fuck you pregnant with his seed. but you told him you didn't want a baby, which he disappoints him, though he may not show it. he wants to see your belly swell up with his child, and to suck on your sweet milk when your tits start leaking. fuck, just the thought of it had made him get hard.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't take you seriously when you broke it off with him. you could see it in his eyes sometimes, the way he seemed eerily quiet when your pregnancy tests turned out with only one line. you felt glad you'd taken those birth control pills behind his back. but you decided enough was enough. you loved him, but you just didn't want to have a child with him.

scummy ex-boyfriend sukuna who didn't even seem phased by the break up. he believed he could coax you back to him again, given with some time. you are his, and nothing will change that. when he sees you around, he shamelessly flirts with you and tries to convince you to come back to him, telling you that he misses you dearly. there are times when he almost succeeds, only because you do miss him sometimes too.

a few weeks into the break up, you truthfully, begin to feel a little sexually frustrated. you don't recall having such a high sex drive before getting with sukuna, but he seems to have permanently altered your body, the way he used to pleasure you so good...

you gather some friends and head into a club, and try to forget about him.

at the club, you re-familiarise yourself with the smell of alcohol in the air, the music that hurts your eardrums, and the crowd of people all around you, wherever you went. it's been a while since you've been here, because you had been with sukuna for over two years now.

an hour or two passes, and you've gotten yourself fairly tipsy at the bar now.

you sync yourself up with the music, but a familiar figure catches your attention from the second floor of the club, afar. it's sukuna. but he's not looking at you.

he's standing with his ex-girlfriend - the one that had gotten hysterical with you after she'd found out about your relationship with him. your mood plummets, for some reason.

you're the one that broke up with him. it shouldn't matter what he's up to after that. liar. you told me you missed me. you try to ignore him, and continue drinking yourself drunk, the edges of your vision already swimming.

sukuna's at the club, only because a friend of his snitched on you and told him that you were out here somewhere. he didn't think he'd meet yorozu, out of everyone it could've been.

"hi, ryo. i heard you'd finally broken up with that girl?" she asks sweetly, standing as close to him as possible.

sukuna gives her a deadpan stare.

"broken up? says who?"

"well, everyone. don't tell me you're pathetically clinging onto her now? that's not like you."

"i'm not you. now get lost, i'm busy."

yorozu grabs his hand, stopping him from walking away.

"wait! i just wanna tell you..."

she continues talking, but his attention has already drifted elsewhere, as his eyes pan toward the crowd downstairs. now...where are you? when he does manage to find you in the crowd downstairs, he doesn't like what he sees. that's an understatement. he hates it.

you're swaying your hips with some other bastard, making out with him on the dance floor.

"damn- you're so fuckin' hot," the stranger chuckles against the shell of your ear, your arms around his neck.

"am i really?" you respond giggling, clearly intoxicated.

"yeah, you are... why don't you come home with me?"

"hmmm? sure, why not? 'm single now, anyway," you mumble, your feet now beginning to stumble. you're starting to miss him again.

"broke up with your boyfriend, did you? poor thing."

"i'll help you feel better." the man grins and helps you walk outside of the club.

on his way out however, he bumps into someone of a large frame. he's all tatted up, and his gaze is holding a mean glare as he stares down at him. he holds out his hand to him, like he's asking for something.

"hand her over, and i won't beat you to death."

oh. he must be the ex. that was enough for the man to quietly place your body into sukuna's arms and exit the club.

tch, he's as spineless as he looks.

sukuna handles your limp body with care, your breath pungent with the smell of alcohol. he's irritated to no end right now, and a vein is bulging from his forehead, but he safely carries you to his car.

outside, the man thinks he's clear of danger, and decides he's had enough for the night. but, someone's heavy arm comes down around his shoulders suddenly.

"hey. you're the one that played it too close with sukuna's girl? how unlucky of you," a man with a scar on his lip talks nonchalantly.

he gets dragged into a nearby alleyway.

"don't take it personally. i got paid to do this."

the man shrieks as he gets beaten to a pulp, just enough so it hurts like hell, but not enough to kill him. sukuna likes to keep his word.

meanwhile... you're taken to your own home. he found the keys to your house in your purse. sukuna tucks you into your own bed, and even dresses you into your own pajamas. and then...

he just leaves.

-

the next morning - you don't remember a thing. you're left feeling confused, wondering how you managed to get home and how you were even sober enough to get yourself dressed. the only thing you can recall is seeing sukuna with his ex, and then making out with some random guy on the dance floor. everything else is blacked out.

you ask your friends, but they were also too busy getting wasted to know what happened to you. but you feel fine physically, so you brush the incident off.

now the only thing bothering you... sukuna hasn't contacted you again ever since you witnessed him and yorozu talking. so he must've gone back to her. that makes you feel... irritated. upset. sad, even. even though you wanted to break things off first.

you slowly start getting back to your normal daily life again, although with a heavy heart. only change is, that you can't seem to find your birth control pills, wherever you last put them. you contemplate for a moment, wondering whether you should buy a new pack, but you end up shrugging it off, knowing that you won't really need them in the meantime anyway...

you're trying to get back into what life was like before you met sukuna. falling back into bad diet habits, staring at your phone, going back and forth between unblocking and blocking sukuna's number - wondering if he's texted you again in the meantime - but of course, there is nothing new.

he may have had his toxic traits, but you knew he loved you a lot... he cooked you wonderful meals and spoiled you with gifts and knew how to make you orgasm until you couldn't speak. and he was tender with you, even though he teased you a lot.

and now, you're back to using toys to satisfy yourself... it's always like this! you start thinking about him and your hand begins to wander down - you can only hope that you'll eventually lose these feelings soon.

you decide to head out and go on a shopping spree alone, to distract yourself from your thoughts and maybe lift your spirits up.

spending a lot of money for yourself always feels nice. you're buying a lot of cute clothes, accessories and food, jumping between shop to shop. the sun sets rather quickly, and by now, you're at your final stop, mulling over whether this expensive, but beautiful bracelet and necklace set is worth buying. your impulse gets the better of you and you ask for it to be packaged for you.

you reach for your wallet to pay with your card, but someone's familiar voice rings out beside you as he approaches.

"i'll pay for the set." sukuna already has his credit card out, and is handing it to the store clerk, using a tone that makes him difficult to question.

"...sukuna?" you say quizzically, his name slipping from your lips without thinking.

the clerk scans his card, and your items are already paid for.

"what are you doing here..." you ask him, with mixed feelings running around in the pit of your stomach.

"missed me?" he asks with a smirk, very naturally taking your multiple shopping bags from your hand. "i just happened to be in the area."

you're not sure if you believe him. just when you're about to ask him something again, he guides you out of the store with his hand on your shoulder.

"i thought you got back with your ex," you say, taking your bags back from his hand. "i'm sure she'll be upset if she sees you here with me."

"what? where did you get that nonsense from?" he seems genuinely confused.

"i saw you at the club, by coincidence. you were talking with her."

oh... he didn't realise you'd noticed him back there.

"oh, sweetheart... that was a coincidence. i wasn't planning on meeting her. did you really believe that i'd get back with that woman?"

you shouldn't be feeling relieved to such an extent... but your shoulders loosen up after hearing that.

"well... you stopped contacting me after i last saw you with her. of course i'd start believing it."

"oh? i thought you had my number blocked. were you anticipating my texts? you missed me, after all." sukuna leans in closer to you, smiling cockily.

you should have just kept your mouth shut...

"i'll take you home. you have a lot of luggage, no?" sukuna offers, taking your bags back from your hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek. you know you're supposed to decline here. but you let your feelings get the best of you... and end up letting him lead you to his car.

he was supposed to just quickly drop you off home.

"you have a lot of stuff. i'll help you carry it home," sukuna gave his excuse, with something more sly hiding in his eyes. you know exactly what he wants. but when he insists so strongly, you can't deny him. like the fool you are.

you unlock your door and he comes inside to put your bags down on the floor at the entrance. and as you had expected, he doesn't leave right away. instead, he looks down at you with a coy smile, while you return the gaze with a more standoffish one. the tension feels thick and heavy as neither of you speak for a moment.

"well? i'm sure you didn't let me in without knowing my intentions..." sukuna moves forward and closer to you, hands very naturally finding their way to your waist.

he leans down slowly and offers you a brief kiss, a very light and short one, like he's testing the waters. he scans your face for your response. your lips feel all tingly. and all he sees is that you're not pushing him away.

"we shouldn't..." you whisper, but your resolve is too weak. you can't tell him to go away, much less kick him out of your home.

"i know."

in truth, he doesn't really. why should he be separate from you? you belong to him. he pulls you in for a deeper kiss. and you just let it happen.

and, lord, he smells and tastes divine. there's a reason why you always forgave him despite his scummy behaviour when it came to using protection. though you ended up breaking him off, you wonder if it'll be different if you give him another chance.

he wastes no time in lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing, and heads off to your bedroom, before you can change your mind. you comply, holding onto his strong embrace weakly, having missed this kind of treatment.

when you're laid onto your own bed, sukuna smirks again as he cages you between his arms.

"you're being so obedient. must've regretted breaking up with me-?"

pulling him in with a hand to the back of his neck, you shut him up with another demanding kiss, not letting him speak for long. sukuna groans as you slip your tongue into him, initiating something messier than what the both of you were doing before.

he's quick to unzip your skirt and side it off, along with your panties. in desperation, he doesn't take the time to fully get you naked and instead, pushes your shirt and bra up to fondle your jutting breasts. sukuna then peels his own jacket and shirt off.

"spread your legs for me, sweetheart. i'll spoil you tonight."

you part your legs slowly - and he sees that you're already glistening with slick. bringing his face down, he aims straight for your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around it entirely. your back arches as you gasp, the warm and wet feeling being so arousing like nothing else in this world.

you feel the tip of his tongue flicker up and down your clitoris in a mesmerising rhythm - knowing exactly what you want, and need to reach your orgasm. and the way he sucks on you with the correct amount of pressure, while making the lewdest noises, forcing your hips to stutter uncontrollably against his mouth, with the way it feels so mind numbing, is just too much in its own way.

you let your erotic moans ring out, because you know he loves it when you show him how good you're feeling - and your hands can't help but hold onto his hair from the intense pleasure, which he never seem to flinch from.

the first orgasm hits you like a truck, with the way you're left breathless and gasping for air as your legs reflexively try to close up - sukuna has to hold them apart with his strong grip as he continues tonguing you even as you're cumming, your cunt thrumming against his lips.

"o-ooh- fuck-! sukuna!" you plead, your blank gaze meeting the ceiling with half-lidded eyes, hips jolting without restraint.

when he does eventually show mercy and remove his mouth from your poor aching clit, you're already on the brink of sobbing, your legs down to your toes feeling all prickly from the overstimulation. your mind is in a haze.

so much so, that you didn't realise that he had bound your wrists to the bed frame until he was already done with it.

"wha- sukuna...? why're you tying me up-?" you question, still a little out of it from your last orgasm.

"shh, love. it's not like this is the first time...relax," sukuna comforts you, caressing your face. you can't help the small uneasiness from growing in your stomach. he suddenly gives your clit a light slap. it startles you a bit, and you gasp.

"you're so pretty. do you know that?"

you see your own reflection in his ringed eyes. your heart races, and you don't know if it's because you're flustered or terrified.

"i just wanna..."

his cock aches in his pants.

he never finishes his sentence. instead, he just offers you a soft, yet sloppy kiss.

sukuna frees his erection, and sighs in relief. it's all messy and leaky with precum. he lines it up against your wet and puckering cunt. you won't deny that you want it...

"sukuna... condom..." you remind him gently, getting slightly nervous from the way he's rubbing his tip up and down your slit.

"... 'm sorry sweetheart. i don't think i can do that."

he pushes his hips in one go, and you're left gasping from the sudden intrusion. you're immediately pushed into a mating press.

sukuna groans from how he immediately feels your wet walls sucking him in, your slick making his cock glisten as he thrusts in and out. he's missed this so, so much.

"fuck- sukuna! you can't- oh my g-god..." your hands tug at your bindings as you try and resist your moans from coming out of your throat, but the way his dick satisfies your cunt is otherworldly, his tip kissing your cervix, over and over again.

"that's it, baby... just enjoy yourself," he urges you on, getting breathless from his own fast pace, cock pulsating inside of you in excitement. god, you always drive him crazy.

still, in the back of your mind you still have a sliver of trust in this man. foolishly so. surely he'll pull out at the last second. surely he won't cum inside you in this situation. it's been a while since you stopped being on the pill.

your bed creaks from how roughly sukuna pounds your pussy, all while groaning with such shamelessness, only caring about the pleasure that is found from the warmth and wetness of your puckering hole.

"fuuck... fuck! to think you were gonna let some other bastard do this to you..." he growls under his breath, brows furrowing. you don't hear him. he remembers his original motive for all of this. to remind you who you truly belonged to.

"ooh-! sukuna! you're being too rough..." you whine, feeling the pressure of an incoming orgasm already building in your abdomen.

he only grips your hips harder, looking down at you with a toothy smile. his dick aches so badly. he's endured through so much patience just for this moment.

your mind goes blank as you forget about the fact that he's not wearing a condom, drool spilling out the side of your mouth from the pleasure you feel as his girthy dick drills in and out of you, a squelching noise happening everytime he sinks himself in. there's the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass. and also the friction from his pants, that he hasn't bothered to fully take off. the juices from your cunt has dampened them, but sukuna couldn't care less right now.

"sweetheart... my love... take- taking me s-so well..." sukuna groans, panting and words slurred. despite the deeply affectionate words, his hips move like an animal. you can't do anything but moan and cry.

sukuna feels himself getting high again. there's just something about you... god, he's so pussydrunk he can't even think properly. only the thought of breeding you is on his mind. make you his, completely. to see your belly get bigger from his seed... a powerful thrum goes to his cock and he shudders again.

he has to make it take, this time.

"i'm gonna cum," he tells you breathlessly, knowing you won't be able to stop him, this time around.

"sukuna!... wait," you protest, weakly tugging at your binds again, but you can't say anything more than that, as his lips come down onto yours, silencing you effectively. he tongue kisses you roughly, desperate and messy as you can feel his laboured breaths on you.

and the final thrust that he gives, where he pushes his dick in so deeply, tip meeting your cervix, sends you into another trembling orgasm. sukuna groans deeply against your mouth as he cums, hips stuttering against yours, eyes shut tightly as he savours you completely. you take your lips off of his, and try to say, "stop...! no- pull out," but he stops you with another kiss.

you sob, because it's over. but you're also sobbing because it feels so good.

sukuna's deep kiss trails down to the crook of your neck.

"you can't tell me to pull out... when your cunt is... seducing my cock like this..." he shivers between phrases, mumbling against your neck, mind all hazy from the way you pulse around him from your orgasm, milking his dick as spurt after spurt of his seed shoots straight into your womb.

you can't even say anything back to him - you're coming off your high as he empties his balls into you, letting out more than usual. you're done for.

"i hate you," you sob.

"i know you don't really mean that. you can't live without me," sukuna tells you, pressing a gentle kiss against your forehead afterwards.

"and the same applies to me. i'll never let anyone else have you."

he begins to litter kisses down again, until he reaches your chest, while his cock is still inside you. his soft lips caress your tits, and then he begins to lather his tongue around your stiffened nipples, making you feel good again, even through the tears.

the night is far from over.

sukuna becomes much more gentle and soft after the first time, opting for slower but deeper thrusts this time around, adding plenty of little kisses in between as well, "loving" you with everything he has. you have no choice but to accept all of him, as he cums inside of you over and over again.

his cock is in its own haven, being trapped in your gummy walls without rest. and at some point, sukuna's even released your wrists, and now you're willingly making love to him with your arms around his neck, coping with the thought that resisting doesn't even matter anymore - it's already too late, and you're tired of trying to fight back.

you can't count how many times he's dumped his load into you, how many times he's said "i can't get enough of you," how many times you've kissed him back when he kisses you.

and when he finally does eventually pull out, his semen oozes out of you in a disgusting amount. you're spent, and completely exhausted. you can't help your heavy eyelids from closing up, and the last thing you hear is his soft voice.

"goodnight, sweetheart. i'll take care of everything, from now on. i promise."

he holds you so closely and lovingly that you believe him.

Masterlist

[lovemomhatepolice]

i'll make it fit - rafe cameron

navigation taglist requests

pairing: rafe cameron x fem!reader

warnings: sexual overtones, established relationship, fingering, teasing, unprotected sex (PROTECTED YOURSELF), this damn tiny polo!!, English is my second language!, NO SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER!

type: totally smut (this is the first time i've written something like this, which has practically no plot at all, just sex itself. keep my fingers crossed that it didn't turn out badly!!!), small plot but really small

word count: 1,8k

summary: rafe cameron likes things too small for him.

more content: obx masterlist, rafe cameron masterlist

Mornings in Tannyhill were mostly quiet. Since Ward Cameron was dead and his entire family had moved to a house in the Bahamas, it was quiet there. Hearing of Sarah had disappeared - she was probably somewhere with her friends, again putting her life at risk, nothing new. And the only one who lived there was Rafe, who had taken over the company from his father and decided to return to the “old garbage.” Well, and you lived there too, by the side of your beloved. You couldn't have dreamed of a better life.

You were awakened by the bright rays of the sun, which rudely crept through the slightly parted curtains into your shared bedroom. You dragged yourself lightly and glanced at the clock, which was on the bedside table and, as usual, was making that unbearable sound.

After muttered under your breath, you slipped out from under the warm quilt, which, to say the least, wasn't all that necessary - after all, it was summer. But by the fact that you were in just a lace petticoat, it definitely enveloped you with a warmth that was missing.

You didn't know what time it was, but by the fact that Rafe wasn't next to you, you knew it was probably after nine o'clock. You didn't have to look for him for long, because as soon as you stepped out into the hallway from your bedroom, you heard his voice. You looked out the balcony door, which was gently open, and smiled at the sight. Rafe, in a freshly stitched buzzcut, was sitting on the couch talking on the phone. In front of him on the coffee table he had papers spread out and a laptop in which he was busily tapping something. As soon as he noticed you he sent you a slight smile, but he was so engaged in the conversation that he did nothing more. And you couldn't be passive, after all, he was wearing a beautiful blue and damn tight polo that exposed his perfectly shaped biceps. You laughed quietly, seeing him nervously tweak them as they rolled up higher and higher each time, not covering as much of his arm as they should.

Despite his serious tone on the call, his eyes would flicker toward you every few moments, his smile softening just enough to let you know he was glad you were there.

Not one to resist temptation, you decided to have a little fun. You strolled over to him, moving slowly, letting your fingers trail along the back of the couch as you circled around to where he was sitting. Rafe’s eyes darted up, narrowing slightly in a silent warning.

You didn’t make it easy for him. With a mischievous smile, you leaned over and whispered into his ear, "That polo looks a little tight, don’t you think? You might need help taking it off later."

“Uh, yeah… sure,” he said to the person on the other end of the call, clearing his throat as if to regain his composure. “Send it to the office, they'll take care of it,” he muttered, hanging up.

You moved your hands over his shoulders, gently massaging them. Rafe put the phone down on the table, closed the laptop and leaned his head against the back of the couch, looking at you.

“You know what you're doing, huh?” he parroted under his breath.

“Maybe I do,” you whispered, letting your breath tickle his skin. “Just trying to make sure my man relaxes after handling all that business.”

“And what am I supposed to do with you?” he muttered, covering yours with his hands. “Whatever you want,” you muttered, going down with your palms on his chest. “Oh, but this polo is really too small for you.” Rafe laughed under his breath and gracefully helped you past the couch so that you were now standing in front of him, between his legs. You were in just a white lace slip that didn't cover much underneath, so Rafe could immediately see your hardening nipples.

You let out a soft laugh as Rafe’s strong hands gripped your thighs, pulling you effortlessly onto his lap. You straddled him, your knees sinking into the plush cushions of the couch on either side of his hips. The way he looked up at you—like you were the only thing in the world that could hold his attention—sent a warm rush through your veins.

"So needy" He muttered, stroking your hair and putting it behind your ears. “Who would have thought that you would beg for my attentions so much?”

“I'm not begging,” you muttered, swallowing your saliva loudly.

You could have sworn that in that moment Rafe heard your loud heartbeat. And even though you had been together for more than a year, he continued to trigger the same feelings in you. “No?” he asked ironically, his hand touching your pussy, which was covered only by a thong. “I would say something else.”

“Rafe,” you muttered, gently pushing your hips out to meet him as his nimble fingers pressed your clit harder. “So wet,” he mumbled, moving your panties aside and nimbly sliding his ring and middle finger into you.

You brought your face closer to his and grabbed his jaw, bringing your lips together in a sweet kiss. It was still quiet around you, the only things you could hear were the birds and your moans, drowned out by your boyfriend's mouth.

His thumb moved to your clit, the touch was light, teasing, his fingers tracing slow circles that sent tingles up your spine. And his fingers didn't stop moving up and down, each time hitting the exact same spot. Rafe knew what the fuck he was doing, he always knew how to make you in heaven in a moment by his precise movements. He knew your body like no one else, just like you knew his.

“Cum for me, baby,” he said, moving his lips to your naked neck. You felt you were close - Rafe did the same, following the feeling as you pulsed on his fingers. You didn't have to wait long until your body shook with pleasant and familiar reflexes, and you came on his fingers, burying your head in his neck.

Rafe took his fingers out of you and put them in his mouth, sucking on them. Oh this sight and Rafe in his damn tight blue polo, was something too strong for you to go through. You moved against his lap, letting him know that this was not what you wanted. “Still eager, huh?” he laughed throatily, but you didn't have to wait long. Rafe always knew what you needed and you got it right away. "You taste so good, baby"

“Rafe please,” you muttered, clasping your small hand over his large cock, which was getting harder and harder under you. “Anything for you,” he muttered, quickly getting rid of his pants.

Without much warning, he entered you. Slowly at first, because you knew very well that he was big. And even after so many times together, you continued to feel a slight discomfort at first. But Rafe always made it fit. He couldn't resist your tight pussy, which was even screaming for his attention. “Fuck, tight as ever,” he whispered, correcting himself on the couch so that you were more comfortable. “But don't worry, I'll make it fit.”

And as he said, so he did. With agility, he began to move inside you, making both of you nothing but moaning messes.

“Wait, I want,” you said, putting your hand on his chest. On that damn sexy polo. “Oh, a princess wants to take control?” he laughed under his breath, catching you under the thighs, but as if on cue he stopped moving inside you, making you feel again how big he was inside you. You groaned involuntarily, but didn't give in. You moved nimbly on top of him, practically taking him out of your pussy every now and then, and then lowering yourself all the way down again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Rafe groaned, his head falling back against the couch, exposing the strong line of his throat. His eyes were hooded, his lips parted as he watched you, completely entranced by the way you were moving, the way you were making him feel.

You could tell he was trying to hold back, trying to let you set the pace, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin told you just how badly he wanted to take control.

“Not yet, Rafey,” you muttered, moving even closer to him. “You deserve the best. Especially, when you're in that slutty polo"

You increased your pace, but Rafe couldn't stand it anymore either, and came against you, entering your pussy from below. At that moment your bodies were merging at the perfect moments and places, so you were already not far from orgasm. And with that, he captured your lips again, his kiss rougher this time, more urgent. There was no more teasing now-just the raw, unfiltered need that always simmered between you both, threatening to spill over the edges.

“I'm so close,” you whispered into his mouth, clamping your pussy against him every so often. “I know, baby, I can feel it,” he muttered into your mouth, gently biting your lip to reach inside again. "Mmm, so good for me"

Rafe grabbed your buttocks and with even more force began to pound his cock into you. Your tongues fought for dominance, and your hands couldn't find room on his body, clamping down on the collars of his shirt.

"Shit" he murmured into your lips, feeling as his cum shot into your pussy, making quite a mess.

Not much later you too reach climax, clenching around his dick. Exhausted, you leaned on his shoulder kissing his neck. Rafe stroked your back, still calming down after the orgasm that hit you surprisingly hard this time. You felt him smiling over your shoulder, so you shared his happiness, smiling too. You moved your head off his shoulder, looking him straight in the eyes now. He was still inside you, so every movement, made quiet sighs come out of your throats.

“What's so funny?” you asked, stroking his jaw and kissing the corner of his mouth gently.

“Maybe I should wear that tight polo more often, just to find yourself in your tight cunt again?” he laughed lightly, returning your kiss.

“Oh shut up, asshole,” you muttered, lowering yourself on top of him once more until he groaned and settled his head on the back of the couch, pulling you against him.

A/N: I know there's a lot of Rafe or Drew here lately, but I swear, when I see this man, I feel so ungodly that oh jesus, i hope you enjoyed this

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[aliyahwritings]

ARE YOU JEALOUS?

Summary: Sassy!Kook!Reader gets jealous when she sees Rafe Cameron close with another girl...

Content: neck sucking (?), childhood friends to lovers, kind of mean!rafe in one scene, bullying lol, suggestive towards the end but just a tiny bit.

Words Count: 5.5k ... i don't know what the fuck happened...

Aliyah's talking: IDK if i fw this or not but i hope yall will lolz <3 Thank you so much for the love on Protective Instincts btw!!!! I am so grateful and surprised that many of you all enjoyed it. Hope u'll enjoy this one too 🩷

Sunlight streamed into Sarah’s room, casting a soft, golden glow over the space as you lounged on her bed, idly flipping through a magazine. You both were sprawled across the plush, yellow covers, surrounded by half-empty bags of chips and scattered makeup palettes—evidence of an afternoon well spent. Sarah was perched by the vanity, trying on different lip glosses, all of which looked beautiful on her, but she insisted on which one was the best.

“So, tell me again,” she started, holding up a tube of shimmery pink gloss and squinting at it thoughtfully. “Why don’t you go for Jake? I mean, he’s cute, he’s smart—”

“And boring. He is boring,” you interjected, rolling your eyes with a laugh. “Come on, Sarah, you know how I am. I need someone with a little more… edge…? Someone that could handle me but also play the game, you know?”

Sarah smirked, setting the lip gloss down and turning to face you. “Edge… Handling your attitude… I’m afraid that weirdly sounds like someone we both know.”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you said, shooting her a mock glare.

She laughed, completely unbothered. "What? I’m just stating the facts!" She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "As much as I hate to admit it, my brother definitely fits both criteria, so…”

You were listening to her but stopped when your phone buzzed. Out of habit, you unlocked it and opened the notification from Instagram; Topper posted a new story and you watched it. The screen was filled with a shaky video of the beach, the late afternoon sun casting golden light over everything. You recognized some people, but your attention zeroed in on Rafe, right in the center of it all. He was grinning, his arm slung around a girl who was laughing and pulling him closer, like they were the only two people on the beach. 

You felt a quick, unwelcome pang in your chest.

“Hey, what’s got you so interested?” Sarah’s voice broke through your thoughts, and you glanced back at her, masking any hint of emotion with a casual smirk.

You locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. “Nothing. Just Topper’s beach parties and Instagram stories.”

She gave you a skeptical look, folding her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I know you better than yourself, what did you see in that story, Y/N?”

You hesitated, but then shrugged, trying to play it off. “Rafe was at the party with some girl. A new girl. It’s not a big deal.”

“Ah, I see,” she said with a raised eyebrow. “You know he’s always messing around with someone new. But… I thought you didn’t care about what he was up to.”

“I don’t,” you said, a bit too quickly, crossing your arms. “He can do whatever the hell he wants.”

“Right. So, you don’t care at all?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. “Look, I just don’t get what’s so special about him that girls keep falling over themselves to be around him. That’s all.”

She nodded with a giggle. “Yeah, no, I definitely—”

“And doesn’t it bother anyone that he’s got a new girl every week? I mean, if I were one of those girls who actually liked him, I’d be furious. Wouldn’t you, Sar?” You barely paused before continuing, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s honestly just sad because Rafe really isn’t even all that. Sure, he can be fun and nice sometimes, but he’s also a huge asshole with a big fucking ego. Is it just me, or is everyone blind to that?”

Sarah was quiet for a moment, studying you with a thoughtful expression before she finally spoke up. “You know what? I think we could both use a break from overthinking anything about the opposite sex. How about we get out of here and grab some smoothies? I heard there’s a new spot by the marina.”

You nodded, grateful that she didn’t talk about your little moment. “Yeah, let’s go.”

Sarah grabbed her bag, giving you one last teasing smile. “Smoothies and maybe some retail therapy afterward?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you replied, letting the idea of a carefree afternoon replace the lingering thoughts of Rafe. Whatever he was up to, it was his business. You weren’t about to let it ruin your day.

The soft hum of the fridge and the rhythmic clinking of silverware filled the kitchen as you, Sarah, and Rafe gathered around the island, your weekly routine as ingrained as the family photos lining the walls. The night was settling in, casting a cozy stillness over the room. You were only half-listening as Sarah rambled on about her weekend plans, your attention instead focused on pushing pasta around on your plate, not particularly hungry.

Rafe sat across the counter, leaning back in his chair with an ease that always seemed to irritate you. He had been quiet, too but you knew he wouldn’t last long. Sure enough, he broke the silence.

“Alright,” he began, raising an eyebrow at you, “what’s up with you tonight? You’re awfully quiet.”

You didn’t look up, keeping your tone purposefully casual. “Nothing’s up,” you replied, hoping he’d let it go. But you knew better.

“Come on,” he pressed, tilting his head in that infuriatingly smug way. “Where’s that feisty attitude you always have? Usually, by now, you’d have already made at least five smartass comments about my shirt or something.”

You let out a short, unimpressed laugh, finally meeting his gaze with a raised eyebrow. “Maybe I just ran out of things to say about you, Rafael. Ever think of that?”

He grinned, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Nah. You’ve got an endless supply of attitude, Y/N. I’d be shocked if you were ever actually out of material.” He took a sip from his glass, watching you over the rim with that familiar, infuriating smirk.

Sarah shot you a look, her mouth twisted in a tired smile as she mouthed, here we go. She had seen this routine a thousand times before.

“You really think I spend that much time thinking about you?” you fired back, folding your arms over your chest and fixing him with an unimpressed stare.

“Oh, I don’t think,” he replied smoothly, leaning in a little closer, “I know. Admit it. I’m in your head, aren’t I?”

You let out an exaggerated sigh, leaning back in your chair as you tossed him an indifferent look. “Right. You’re the center of my world, Rafe. Can’t you tell?”

He chuckled, clearly enjoying this. “You know, when you’re this quiet, it’s like a fucking flashing neon sign saying, ‘Something’s up’. Might as well tell me now.”

You rolled your eyes. You knew that engaging with him like this was a slippery slope—once you started, he never let up. But for some reason, tonight, you couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, I don’t have the energy for your little mind games tonight,” you said, trying to sound as bored as possible. “So, if you’re expecting me to entertain you, you’re gonna be disappointed.”

“Oh, come on. I don’t believe that for a second,” he shot back, leaning back casually in his chair as if he had all the time in the world to wear you down. “You love this. Sparring with me? It’s basically your favorite hobby.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. "Didn’t realize my silence was such a tragedy for you.”

“Oh, it is. I mean, where else am I supposed to get my daily dose of attitude?” He leaned back, feigning a pout. “Come on, you’re no fun like this. Did something happen?”

You rolled your eyes, twirling your fork in the pasta as if it held your entire focus. “Why would you care? I’m sure you have more important things to worry about. Maybe more girl—”

Sarah let out a sigh, interrupting before Rafe could respond. “Honestly, do you two ever get tired of this? We’re supposed to be having dinner, and it feels like I’m watching some sort of weird rom-com.”

You shot Sarah an exasperated look. “There’s nothing romantic about this, Sar. It’s called surviving.”

“Right,” Sarah said, clearly unconvinced. “But could you maybe survive without the constant bickering? Just once?”

Rafe smirked, clearly unfazed by Sarah’s comment as he turned back to you. “I don’t know. I think she secretly enjoys it. You should see how she lights up when she gets going.”

“Fuck off,” you muttered, taking a long sip from your glass and hoping it would mask the heat you could feel rising in your cheeks.

He watched you with an amused glint in his eye, clearly picking up on your discomfort. “A little defensive, aren’t we? I mean, I’m just stating the obvious here. You’ve been on edge all night. Care to share with the class what’s really bothering you?”

You set your glass down with a little more force than necessary, fixing him with a glare. “You really think everything’s about you, don’t you?”

“Not everything,” he replied, shrugging casually. “Just the things that involve you. Because, for some reason, every time you’re in a mood, it usually has something to do with me.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but then closed it again, unsure of how to respond without giving anything away. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d hit a nerve, even if he had.

“What’s the matter, princess?” he continued, pushing his plate aside as he leaned forward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Did something happen between you and Jake, huh? I thought you two were casually talk—”

You groaned, frustrated that he’d brought Jake into it. “There’s nothing to say about Jake. I’m just tired, okay? Not everything has to be about some guy.”

“Oh, I’m aware,” Rafe replied, his tone laced with a hint of smugness. “But I’d say you’re a little more…on edge than usual. So, it has to be about that guy, right…”

“Jake’s got nothing to do with this,” you said, your tone steady. “Unlike you, he actually knows how to mind his own business.”

Well, you’re just lying because you’ve never taken the time to actually learn about Jake and what type of person he was. As bitchy as it sounded, you were using him as a distraction.

You stared at him, hoping your silence would be enough to make him drop it. But, of course, he didn’t.

Rafe crossed his arms as he studied you, his gaze never wavering. “So, you’re saying you prefer a guy who lets you get away with whatever you want, then?”

You scoffed. “No, Rafe. I am saying I prefer a guy who doesn’t feel the need to stick his nose into everything I do. You know, a guy who’s secure enough to let me be without constantly needing to provoke me.”

“Yeah, I see,” he replied, nodding softly. “So, basically, you’re looking for someone boring. Someone who doesn’t challenge you, who just lets you coast by. Am I right?”

You let out a dry laugh, shaking your head. “You think you know me so well, don’t you? Don’t flatter yourself, Cameron. I can find someone else to annoy me if I really wanted to.”

Rafe’s eyes darkened, but that infuriating smirk stayed in place, like he thrived on every bit of tension between you. He cocked an eyebrow, leaning forward, his voice a low, taunting whisper. “Oh yeah? Who, exactly? Jake? He’s perfect for you—goody-two-shoes, never steps out of the fucking line. Because, let’s be honest, you’d crush him. He’d never call you out, never push you.” He paused, and there was a bitterness beneath his words, hidden but unmistakable. “He’d be safe.”

A bitter smile twisted your lips, the pain creeping into your voice despite your best efforts. “At least Jake knows how to be respectful. He wouldn’t stoop to tearing me down just to get a rise. He wouldn’t need to.”

Rafe scoffed, his amusement tinged with a hint of anger. “Respectful? Fuck that. You want someone to play nice and tell you what you want to hear, go right ahead. But I think we both know that’s not what you really want.” He took a step closer, his gaze fierce, challenging. “You think I’m the bad guy because I’m not afraid to tell you the truth. I don’t play pretend. I’m not here to tell you sweet lies—I’d rather see who you really are, even if that means pissing you off.”

You narrowed your eyes, fury blazing in your chest. He was looking right at you, like he could see through every layer you tried so hard to put up. But there was something deeper in his gaze, a flicker of something that made your heart race even as anger burned within you. And you hated that he could do that—make you feel so exposed, so raw, yet so alive all at once.

But to him, this was just another game. He thrived on your frustration, on the way he could get under your skin with just a few well-placed words. It was a twisted power play, a battle neither of you were willing to lose. And for a moment, the air between you was charged, almost electrifying, the tension so thick it was nearly suffocating. 

You wanted to hate him, but a part of you couldn’t help but wonder if he was right—if he really did see through to the parts of you that no one else dared to touch.

But that only made you angrier, and you felt a surge of resentment rise within you, pushing you over the edge. With a sudden flash of fury, you slammed your fists onto the table, the sound echoing through the room, your voice sharp and cutting. “You know what? Fuck you, Rafe Cameron.”

Without another word, you turned and stormed out.

The sound reverberated through the Cameron household, leaving a heavy silence. Rafe stood there, fists clenched, trying to swallow down the mix of anger and something else—something that felt dangerously close to longing.

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her brother. “You’re a fucking asshole, you know that?”

Rafe shot her a look, irritation simmering just beneath the surface. “You don’t get it, Sarah. She’s… She’s infuriating.”

But then he hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the door you had just stormed out of. The edge of his lips twitched in a way that was all too vulnerable, too honest. “But there’s something about her,” he admitted, his voice softening. “She’s fierce and passionate. When she’s angry, it’s like she’s alive in a way I can’t help but be drawn to. It’s frustrating, but… but she’s not afraid to challenge me, to call me out.” He paused, searching for the right words, his heart racing.

“And so that makes it right for you to annoy her to that point?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t help it. I want her to see the real me, too. It’s like I can’t breathe when she’s around and then—when she leaves? It’s like the air just… disappears.” He ran a hand through his hair, a mix of confusion and desire etched across his features. “She challenges me in ways I never expected, and it drives me insane, but I can’t help but want more of her.”

“Wow,” Sarah said softly, her voice full of surprise. “I didn’t think I’d see the day Rafe Cameron talked about someone like this—but mess around with her like that one more time, and I’ll hurt you.”

The sun spilled into your bedroom, casting a warm glow that felt inviting. But you stirred, still brimming with the tumult of emotions from last night. Rafe’s words echoed in your mind—his teasing, the way he pushed your buttons, and the way your heart raced despite your annoyance. You groaned and rolled over, pulling the blanket over your head, hoping to drown out the memories.

But then laughter broke through the haze of your thoughts. It was bright and carefree, drifting in through the open window. Intrigued, you tossed off the blanket and slid out of bed, your curiosity piqued. A quick glance outside revealed the source of the joyful sounds: Sarah, Wheezie, and Rafe were out by the pool, splashing water and playfully throwing each other around.

Rafe, wearing nothing but swim trunks that hung low on his hips, was the centerpiece of the scene, effortlessly drawing your gaze. His tanned skin glimmered, accentuating the muscles that rippled as he dove and surfaced in the water, laughter spilling from his lips, infectious and buoyant.

You caught yourself ogling him, eyes roaming over the way the water dripped from his hair, the way his body moved with ease and confidence. It wasn’t fair, really—how could someone be so effortlessly captivating? The sun caught the edges of his grin as he tossed Wheezie playfully into the pool, the sound of her laughter ringing out like music.

You were lost in the moment, so caught up in the heat of his gaze that you didn’t even notice the way your thighs clenched together, craving the contact that felt just out of reach. All you could think about was the overwhelming desire to touch him—everywhere. You imagined your hands gliding over his toned chest, feeling the hard flex of his biceps beneath your fingertips, tracing the lines of his powerful arms as they wrapped around your body, waist, and ass pulling you closer.

You wanted him. God, did you want him.

Why did he have this effect on you? Why was he constantly invading your thoughts, even now?

A sudden buzz from your phone pulled you from your reverie. You grabbed it from the bedside table and saw a message from Sarah: “Get your ass out here! We’re in the pool, it’s fun! You’ll want to join us!”

A smile tugged at your lips at Sarah's enthusiasm, but a moment of hesitation passed as you remembered the tension of last night. Still, you didn’t want to be the odd one out. With a determined sigh, you pulled yourself away from the window and began to get ready.

You rummaged through your drawers, searching for that one bikini that made you look stunning and earned you a handful of compliments every time you wore it. Finally, you found it: a deep emerald green that contrasted perfectly against your skin tone. It was cut high, accentuating your legs, the top was daring, showing just enough to leave to the imagination. You paired it with a pair of denim shorts.

You headed towards the back door, nerves swirling in your stomach. As you stepped outside, the head of the sun hit you like a wave, and the sounds of laughter grew louder.

“You’re awake!” Sarah exclaimed, her voice bright and cheerful. “I thought we’d have to drag you out here!”

You laughed lightly, feeling a playful energy surge within you. “I’m here, aren’t I?” You shot back, trying to keep your tone light as you made your way toward the pool.

Wheezie exclaimed, eyes wide of admiration. “Wow, Y/N! Look at you!”

“Thanks!” you replied, trying to play it cool but secretly loving the attention. You glanced at Rafe, who had turned to face you, and your heart raced at the sight of him leaning against the pool’s edge, water cascading down his toned body.

His gaze lingered on you, a mix of surprise and appreciation playing across his features. “Well, well, if it isn’t the queen herself,” he teased, that infuriating smirk stretching across his face. “Nice of you to join us.”

You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, feigning indifference as you busied yourself with anything but him. The events of last night were still fresh in your mind, a heated clash that left you reeling and more than a little irritated. You were determined not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.

“Oh, so I get the silent treatment?” he drawled, his voice dripping with playful disbelief. “I’m devastated,” he added, the corner of his mouth quirking up in that infuriatingly irresistible smirk that always made your heart flutter.

Instead, you focused on Sarah and Wheezie, who were gleefully splashing water at each other. You couldn’t help but feel the pull of their energy. 

Hours rolled by and you settled onto a lounge chair, you could feel Rafe’s eyes on you, the heat of his gaze igniting your skin in a way that both thrilled and annoyed you. He was still in the pool, looking at you like he wanted to eat you alive. You didn’t know but you were driving him crazy with that attitude of yours, this whole ignoring thing and your fucking bikini. 

Sarah and Wheezie went inside the house to prepare some snacks and drinks for us because we were getting hungry and thirsty, leaving only Rafe and you. 

You pulled your phone, pretending to scroll through social media, anything to distract yourself from the way your heart raced at his presence. A notification lit up your phone, and your heart skipped a beat when you saw Jake’s name flash across the screen. The excitement surged through you as you opened the message:

"Hey, gorgeous. I really like you, and I’d love to take you out sometime. You in?"

He was cute—way too cute.

A grin crept onto your lips, and for once, you allowed yourself to enjoy the attention from someone who wasn’t toying with your emotions. Someone who actually seemed genuine. No games, no mixed signals. Just interest. The kind that felt refreshing after dealing with someone who never seemed to know what he wanted.

You barely had time to revel in it before Rafe’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and demanding. “What’s got you smiling like that?”

Your grip tightened on your phone instinctively, and you flicked your gaze up to him, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, nothing. Just a friend,” you said, slipping your phone screen down against your thigh.

Rafe wasn’t buying it. His eyes narrowed, skepticism written all over his face. “Just a friend, huh?” His voice had that dangerous edge to it, the one you knew too well. “Funny, you don’t usually smile like that over friends.”

You felt his eyes burning into you, but you refused to give him the satisfaction. “Really? Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think,” you teased, biting back the smirk threatening to break free.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. “Who was it?”

“Like I said, just a friend,” you repeated, your voice smooth, but now you were teasing on purpose. You could feel his irritation rising, and part of you enjoyed it. “What, are you jealous or something?”

He scoffed, though you didn’t miss the way his eyes darkened. “Why the hell would I be jealous?” he snapped, though it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than you. “I’m just asking a question.”

“Uh-huh.” You raised an eyebrow, leaning back and tilting your head, watching him closely. “Right. Just a casual question, huh? Totally doesn’t sound like someone’s jealous.”

His hands were now resting on the edge of the pool, gripping it just a little too tightly. “I’m not jealous,” he repeated, but the way his gaze darted to your phone said otherwise. “But if it’s someone trying to get at you, then yeah, I wanna know. Who is it?”

“Someone,” you said vaguely, enjoying the fact that Rafe was teetering on the edge of losing it. “Someone who’s interested, clearly.”

Rafe’s eyes flared, and the jealousy in his voice became impossible to miss. “Interested in what? You?” His lips curled into a scowl, his muscles tense. “What, you think some random guy’s gonna—”

“Maybe,” you cut in, your smile growing. “Maybe he’s actually straightforward, you know? No mind games, no drama. Just a guy who knows what he wants.”

His brows shot up, the implication stinging. “And you think I don’t know what I want?”

You shrugged, not backing down an inch. “Well, you never seem to make it that clear. Maybe someone else is going to take your place as my—”

The possessiveness in his eyes flared. He pushed himself up out of the pool, water dripping from his shoulders as he moved closer, his presence looming over you. “No one’s stepping up, got it? No one’s taking my place.”

You met his gaze, unflinching, even as your heart raced a little faster. “Oh? And what exactly is your place, Rafe?”

He leaned in, the heat between you practically crackling. “You know damn well where my place is,” he murmured, his voice low, daring, yet with a hint of uncertainty creeping in. “And I’m not about to let some bitch ass slide in because you think I don’t care.”

You smiled, tilting your head, savoring the tension. “Seems like you do care. Maybe more than you want to admit.”

“Because I do care, Y/N,” he murmured softly, swiping his wet thumb across your cheek. “I told you already that I cared way too damn much.”

Rafe’s thumb lingered on your cheek, the warmth of his touch sending shivers through your body despite the heat of the day. His eyes held yours, dark and intense, as if he were trying to convey all the words he couldn’t quite say aloud. The air between you was thick, charged with a tension that had been building for far too long.

You swallowed hard, trying to hold onto some semblance of control, but it was a losing battle. “Your way of showing it is fucked, Rafe.”

Your words were meant to cut, but they came out softer than you intended, almost like a challenge. His jaw tightened, but instead of snapping back with some cocky retort, he stepped even closer. The scent of chlorine and his skin invaded your senses, and you couldn’t help but notice how his muscles tensed as he towered over you, dripping with water, his presence commanding.

“I care,” he repeated, his voice lower now, almost a growl. His eyes flicked down to your lips and back to your eyes, like he was making a decision in real time. “I care more than you know.”

Before you could muster a reply, his hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, pulling you just a little closer, your breath hitching as his lips hovered near your ear. “I think you know exactly what my place is,” he murmured, his voice rough with unspoken desire. “And you’re not running from it.”

His breath was hot against your skin, sending a wave of heat cascading down your spine. He didn’t move right away, as if savoring the tension that crackled between you, the nearness, the inevitability of it all. Your heart pounded in your chest, your pulse quickening as his lips brushed, ever so lightly, against the sensitive spot just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands instinctively gripping the fabric of your shorts as your body reacted to him, heat pooling low in your belly. “Rafe…” you whispered, not quite a protest, but not quite giving in either.

But he wasn’t about to back down now. He shifted closer, his mouth grazing the curve of your neck, soft at first, then firmer, the scrape of his teeth making your pulse race. Your skin ignited under his touch, and a low moan escaped your lips before you could stop it.

“You feel that?” he whispered, his lips trailing lower, his voice husky and thick with need. “That’s not some game. That’s real.”

Your body arched toward him of its own accord, your resistance melting as his hands slid down to your waist, fingers pressing firmly into your skin, pulling you closer. You could feel the heat of his breath on your neck, his lips teasing, torturing, as they brushed along your collarbone. Every touch, every whisper was setting your nerves alight, and you were dizzy with the intensity of it.

“You’re such an ass,” you muttered, trying to keep a shred of control, but your voice lacked conviction.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin. “Maybe,” he agreed, his lips brushing the spot just beneath your ear again, sending a fresh wave of shivers down your spine. “But you can’t stop thinking about me, can you?”

You hated how right he was. You hated how easily he could unravel you, how even now, you were leaning into his touch, craving more of it. But there was no way you were giving him the satisfaction of hearing it.

“Stop being so cocky,” you managed to whisper, though your voice wavered with the desire that coursed through you.

But Rafe wasn’t in the mood to stop. His hand slid to your lower back, pulling your body flush against his, the coolness of his skin mingling with your own heat. You could feel the hard lines of his body pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling as his lips grazed your shoulder, his teeth scraping lightly against your skin, just enough to make you shudder.

“Admit it,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a deep, rough command. “You want this.”

You closed your eyes, fighting to hold onto your last thread of self-control, but the tension between you was overwhelming, suffocating. His lips moved lower, placing slow, deliberate kisses along your collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Your breath came in ragged gasps as your body betrayed you, leaning into him, craving the heat of his touch, the weight of his gaze, the way he made you feel like the only person in the world.

“Rafe…” you breathed, your voice barely audible, as his hand slid down to your hip, his fingers digging into your skin possessively. You could feel his breath on your neck, his lips hovering just above the place where your pulse raced beneath the surface.

“I want you, Y/N,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw, filled with the desire that had been simmering between you for what felt like forever. “And I’m not letting anyone else have you.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, your hands were in his hair, pulling him closer, your body aching for the contact you’d been denying yourself for so long.

Your lips collided with his in a heated rush, all the pent-up tension and desire finally unraveling between you. Rafe’s hands immediately gripped your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he kissed you like he’d been waiting for this moment forever. His lips were demanding, rough and hungry, but there was a softness to the way he held you, like he wanted to savor every second. You melted into him, fingers tangling in his wet hair, feeling the slickness of the pool water on his skin as his body pressed against yours.

The taste of him, mixed with the faint tang of chlorine, was intoxicating. It was all-consuming, drowning out every rational thought. He kissed you like he was staking his claim, like he wanted to erase any trace of doubt from your mind, and for a moment, you let him. Your body responded instinctively, arching against his as his hands roamed down your back, gripping you tighter.

When you finally broke apart, both of you gasping for air, Rafe’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper—something more vulnerable. His chest heaved as he looked at you, his breath coming in ragged bursts. “I like you, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “I like you so much it drives me crazy. No more pretending.”

You stared into his eyes, searching for any hint of the cocky facade he usually wore, but it was gone. This was Rafe stripped bare, no teasing, no arrogance—just raw honesty. It made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with the kiss.

Your breath caught in your throat as you considered what he was saying. Could you trust him? Could you really let your guard down and give in to this, knowing how easily he could hurt you?

But before you could overthink it, he kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache, and all your doubts melted away. At that moment, it didn’t matter what had happened before, or what might happen after. All that mattered was how he made you feel right now—wanted, desired, seen.

Rafe pulled back, his thumb brushing gently against your bottom lip, his eyes flicking between yours. “Tell me you feel it too,” he whispered, his voice rough, almost pleading. “Tell me I’m not the only one. Tell me, princess.”

You swallowed hard, your heart hammering in your chest. There was no point in pretending anymore. “You’re not,” you admitted, your voice barely a whisper. “You drive me crazy, Rafe, too—I don’t want to feel this way, but I do.”

His lips curved into a small, triumphant smile, but there was relief in his eyes too, like he’d been holding his breath, waiting for you to say it. “Good,” he murmured, his hand cupping your face as his thumb stroked your cheek. “Because I don’t think I can let you go.”

[misaerabl]

Uncharted Territory

Older Sevika (you meet her at a club) CONTENT: wc...2k ✦ older sevika (she's twice your age), you meet at a club, drinking/slightly intoxicated, strap riding, degrading nicknames, one night stand (?), modern setting, smut with plot SUMMARY: After a night out at a club, you find yourself alone, drinking, when a confident, older woman approaches. She’s intriguing, magnetic, and before you know it, you’re at her penthouse. What started as a simple encounter soon leaves you questioning how you ended up here—and why you’re not ready to leave.

The music thumps through the floor, bass vibrating up through your legs as you sit alone at the bar, a drink in hand. You’ve lost track of your friends—though, to be fair, it didn’t take long in a place this packed. A part of you thought about leaving, but the idea of going home to the same quiet routine felt unbearable. So here you are, sipping something bitter and fizzy, just trying to let go of the stress that's been clinging to you for weeks.

"Mind if I join you?"

The voice cuts through the haze of the music, low and smooth, laced with confidence. You glance over your shoulder and do a double take. She’s stunning—tall and broad-shouldered, with a sharp jawline that could probably cut glass. Her dark hair is cropped close, her suit tailored to perfection, and when she shifts, you catch a glimpse of a sleek prosthetic arm, gleaming under the club's neon lights.

You smirk despite yourself. “Depends. Are you buying?”

She lets out a soft laugh, the sound deep and warm. "Of course. What’s your poison?”

You glance at your nearly-empty glass, then shrug. “Surprise me.”

She signals the bartender, who nods like they know her, and you realize immediately that she’s a regular. Not just that, but someone important. It’s not just her appearance that screams money; it’s the way she carries herself, the ease with which she owns the space around her. The bartender sets down two crystal tumblers, something amber and expensive-looking swirling inside.

“Here,” she says, sliding one toward you. “Cheers to... being alone in a crowd.”

You clink glasses and take a sip. It’s smooth, smoky, and undeniably the best thing you’ve tasted all night. “Not bad,” you say, licking your lips. “I could get used to this.”

Her gaze lingers on you, an amused smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. “I like your style. You’ve got guts.”

“You don’t even know me,” you tease, leaning in slightly.

“Not yet.” Her eyes glint, and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol or her sheer presence that’s making your head spin. “How old are you, anyway?”

The question catches you off guard, but you answer honestly. Her eyebrows lift slightly, and she lets out a low chuckle. “Well, this just got interesting. I’m old enough to be your... well, let’s just say twice your age.”

You shrug, smirking. “So? I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Her laughter rumbles over the music, and she shakes her head. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”

You lean closer, your confidence bolstered by the drink and her attention. “Maybe. You like trouble?”

She raises her glass, tilting her head to study you. “You have no idea.”

Her words hang in the air, a challenge you’re more than willing to meet. The drink is warming you from the inside, but it’s her gaze, steady and unflinching, that’s really setting you on fire. You swirl the amber liquid in your glass, leaning in closer so she can hear you over the music.

“Maybe I’d like to find out,” you say, letting the words linger, daring her to respond.

She arches an eyebrow, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Careful,” she murmurs, her voice low and intimate. “You might bite off more than you can chew.”

You laugh softly, leaning your elbow on the bar, angling yourself toward her. “Maybe I’m hungry.”

Her gaze drops to your mouth for a split second, but you catch it, and the heat in your cheeks spreads through the rest of your body. She leans closer, the space between you shrinking, her scent—something smoky and clean—pulling you in.

“You don’t scare easily, do you?” she asks, her tone teasing but her eyes searching yours.

“Should I be scared?” you counter, matching her energy, holding her gaze like it’s a game you’re determined to win.

She chuckles, and it’s the kind of laugh that makes you shiver—deep, rich, and full of something dangerous. “Depends. I don’t exactly come with a warning label, but maybe I should.”

You tilt your head, narrowing your eyes at her playfully. “Sounds like you’ve got a story or two.”

“More than a few,” she admits, leaning back slightly, her prosthetic arm resting on the bar. The metal catches the light, sharp and sleek, like her. “But I’d rather hear yours.”

You take another sip of your drink, letting it bolster your courage. “You first. You look like someone who could write a novel just from the way you walked in here.”

She smirks, her tongue darting out to wet her bottom lip. “Flattery won’t get you far,” she teases, but the sparkle in her eye tells you it already has. “But for you, I might make an exception.”

You grin, emboldened by her reaction. “Is that so? Guess I’d better make it worth your while, then.”

Her expression shifts slightly, her smile deepening, her eyes darker now. She leans in, her voice dropping to just above a whisper. “You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone so young. What makes you think you can keep up?”

Your breath catches, but you don’t falter. You meet her gaze head-on, the challenge sparking something reckless inside you. “Why don’t we find out?”

For a moment, she just watches you, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she sets her glass down, her hand brushing yours as she does. The touch is deliberate, lingering, and it sends a jolt through you.

“You’re bold,” she says softly, her voice a mix of amusement and something heavier, something that makes your pulse race. “I like that.”

“Good,” you reply, barely above a whisper, leaning closer still. “Because I’m not done yet.”

Her smile widens, and the look she gives you is nothing short of predatory. “Neither am I.”

The apartment is immaculate, all sleek lines and modern finishes, with a view that stretches for miles, the city glowing beneath you like a bed of stars. The air here is different—cool, but heavy with something you can’t quite place. You take a deep breath, feeling a bit out of place. This isn’t you. You don’t usually go to clubs, let alone lose your friends in the crowd. And you definitely don’t end up in some stranger’s penthouse, especially not someone who’s twice your age.

But here you are, sitting on a plush couch. She’s standing near the bar now, looking at you with that same confident, almost teasing smile, as if this is exactly how the night was supposed to go.

“Water,” she says casually, her voice smooth and almost too calm, like she’s read you perfectly. "You need it more than I do."

You chuckle, your fingers gripping the glass tighter than necessary as you take a sip, the cool liquid easing the dryness in your throat. You’re still processing—still trying to make sense of the fact that you’re here, with her. The older woman who seems to have effortlessly drawn you into her orbit. You’ve never been this spontaneous, never allowed yourself to follow a stranger back to their place.

"Not sure why I'm here, actually," you admit, meeting her gaze. "This isn't exactly my usual scene." The words come out sounding more uncertain than you intend, but the sharp, quiet energy she exudes makes it hard to feel anything other than... intrigued.

She steps closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “Then why’d you come?” Her voice drops just a fraction, like she’s trying to peel back whatever resistance you’re holding on to.

You hesitate, leaning back into the couch, your thoughts tangled. "I guess I just... wanted to see where this would go." You can’t exactly explain why you decided to leave your friends behind and come here with her, but there’s something magnetic about her, something that pulls you in even as you’re questioning your own decisions.

Her lips curl up into a knowing smile, the kind that suggests she already has all the answers. “Bold,” she murmurs, taking a seat beside you. Her proximity is warm, comfortable—too comfortable, and yet, you don’t move away. “I like that. You usually make decisions like this?”

You meet her gaze, the weight of her presence pressing down on you, and your chest tightens. “Not really. Guess I’m a little out of my element.”

She tilts her head, her eyes tracing over your face. “Maybe that’s a good thing.” There’s a hint of amusement in her voice, but it’s more than that—there’s something in the way she looks at you, like she’s waiting for you to make the next move.

And suddenly, you’re not sure what comes next, but you’re not backing down either. Something about this feels too... captivating.

She gripped your hips firmly, guiding your movements as you rocked together. Your head tilted back, eyes closed in pleasure, letting out loud breathless moans.

"So fucking gorgeous" She whispered, her eyes drinking in the sight of you, savoring every inch of you in it's full glory.

The coldness of her metal arm pressing you down felt oddly intoxicating. You couldn’t explain why, but it was like the perfect balance — the chill against the heat, like liquor to the drug that was Sevika.

Her other hand reached up, cupping your face with a firm yet tender grip, guiding your gaze to meet hers as you moved. "That's it," she murmured, her voice thick with desire. "Keep showing me that pretty face."

Her grip on your waist tightened, urging you to move faster. Your mind was a haze, emptied of everything except the overwhelming sensation and the way she consumed you entirely.

"You're my pretty whore aren't you, baby?" She purred, her voice dripping with dominance. The sound made a shiver run through you, all you could do was cry out a breathless, trembling "YES!"

You’d lost count of how many times you’d unraveled beneath her touch. Now, your face was buried in the pillow, breaths coming in shallow gasps as you surrendered completely.

She spread your folds with her fingers, licking them before they made contact on hour cunt. That shit sent waves through your body.

How could she make you feel this good? How could one night of indulgence shatter everything you thought you knew about yourself? You were supposed to be disciplined, grounded — yet here you were, in the bed of a woman whose age was closer to your mother’s than your own, surrendering to desires you didn’t even know you had.

She inserts two digits inside you, pumping her fingers fast inside your walls. As you gripped hard on the sheets, and screamed into the pillow, sevika took it as a chance to kiss your still dripping cunt.

The older woman pumped inside you as her tongue pampered your throbbing cunt. You were an absolute fucking mess for her — moaning, trembling, and falling apart completely. Whimpers spilled from your lips as your back arched, your ass higher on the air, every inch of you succumbing to her control.

If it were anyone else, the names she called you would’ve made your skin crawl. The degrading words—slut, whore, plaything—would have sent you running out the door without a second thought. But with Sevika? Somehow, they only made you melt further, igniting a fire within that left you craving more.

Everytime she spoke it's like your pussy got wetter, if that was even physically possible.

"God... harder, please." you pleaded, with desperation. The sound drew a low satisfied chuckle from her. You were so needy for her snd she absolutely loved every second of it.

Of course she obliged — how could she resist? She loved seeing you like this, completely undone beneath her touch, reveling in a way she made you feel so utterly and undeniably good.

A few more slow, deliberate thrusts and flicks of her tongue and fingers, you came again for what felt like the hundredth time that night, your body trembling with each wave of pleasure.

Safe to say, you had the best night of your life.

[nayeoniiz]

WEBCAM PERV! (1)

pairings ❥ heeseung x fem!reader

point of view ❥ third person, omniscient

warnings ❥ mutual masturbation, cyberstalking, noncon recording

synopsis ❥ you meet heeseung on omegle and quickly hit it off until you accidentally disconnect. feeling at a loss from not being able to find him again, you give up and live life as if it never happened. unbeknownst to you, however, he turns out to be a hacker who hacked into your camera, resorting to watching your secretly from behind the screen… until he didn’t.

genre ❥ smut

word count ❥ 4.4k

taglist: @rayofsunshineeee

Webcam Perv! (2)

author’s note: sorry it took me a bit longer to release, i ended up rewriting over the whole draft. i was gonna write the full story in one go, but if there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that i love making series. anyway i hope yall enjoy! & a reminder that my requests are open (send as an ask or submission pls do not dm me lol). go check out my other stories while you’re at it bc i have much more cooking! not proofread so don’t come for me!

y/n lay blank faced on her bed with her phone in hand. it had been hours since she’d gotten home from her classes, and now she was just scrolling mindlessly on tiktok out of boredom. her room was quiet except for the occasional hum of her heater and the everchanging audios blasting from her phone’s speakers.

she sighed, tossing her phone to the side resorting to staring at the ceiling. as the days were growing colder, y/n couldn’t help but to feel this growing sense of loneliness creeping in, like there was something missing that she couldn’t quite put her finger onㅡexcitement was the closest word she think of. she didn’t have many friends to talk to, or text, or hang out with—just her best friend natty, but the girl was currently unreachable as she had already fallen asleep after their brief phone call.

midterms were always the dryest times for y/n. after spending hours in the library, forcing far too many categories of knowledge down her throat for her own goodㅡ just to end up with barely above average scores, she was too drained to do much of anything else when she got home. but, it was hard to just sleep. she was intransigent when it came to resting after studying because she wanted to give herself the free time she’d lost instead. usually being on her phone, and rotting her brain away with the useless curated content that she handpicked for herself would suffice. but on days like thisㅡ where her studying ended close to (or in this case, after) midnight, it wasn’t nearly enough to satisfy the dopamine she was longing for.

after a few moments of lying in a frozen state of staring off into nothing, she reached for her laptop, opening it on impulse. omegle. it had been a while since she’d used it, and honestly, it wasn’t the best idea, but she figured it might help pass the time. and maybe it’d even give her some form of human interaction, though her hopes weren’t too high given the website’s reputation. she typed “k-pop” into the category field, hoping it’d narrow down the pool to people around her age who might share at least one interest with her.

the first few chats weren’t anything special. she ran through the typical brief hellos, the awkward pauses, and of course the familiar “stranger has disconnected.” a few times, however, she was met with the sight of creepy old men who took pleasure in flashing, reacting at lightning speed to skip the chats before things could get worse. some people seemed normal at first, friendly even, but as soon as they’d start saying weird thingsㅡor worse, making noises that gave away their intentions, it’d soil her mood once again as she refreshed her tab.

after getting skipped again for the umpteenth time, y/n found herself hovering her mouse over the “new chat” button, debating. she looked at the clock in the corner of her screen, she had already wasted 30 minutes trying to find a normal human being to talk to. she was beginning to wonder if this was really a good idea to begin with. was it even worth possibly getting harassed for another half hour, in the name of being social? she weighed her options: she could either waste another 2 hours on tiktok, or go to bed. neither seemed appetizing for the hunger of connection she craved. with a sigh, she decided to try one more. and if it didn’t work out, it just meant that it was time to call it a night. she clicked to start a new chat.

stranger is typing…

stranger: hii

you: hello

stranger: m23

you: f22

stranger: cam?

you: earn it?

this one didn’t seem too bad so far, but she wasn’t going to make an early judgement. the man seemed to respect her decision as he quickly changed the conversation. they kept things light, alternating on asking each other random questions back and forth about hobbies, favorite foods, movies, shows, and music. the conversation was easy, fun even, and y/n found herself smiling a little despite the earlier frustration. it was like she was finally getting what she was looking for. with the conversation being tame, he took it as a green light to ask again.

stranger: can i see you now?

you: fine lol

y/n hesitated before turning her camera on and adjusted her hair quickly before looking at the screen. the male in her vision had a sharp, almost angelic face, with delicate features that seemed to be personally sculpted by the man above. his hair was dark and tousled, the slight messiness giving him a laid-back, calm vibe with his headset only adding character to his visual as they laid over his ears. his eyes were a captivating deep brown. they were soft and friendly, it made it hard to look away. even through the webcam, it was clear he had this undeniable charm, his steady gaze hinting that he knew the effect he had on others. the two of them stayed still, ogling each other for a bit, the stare down only being interrupted when he abruptly started typing again.

stranger is typing…

stranger: damn ur fine lol

you: thx so are you

stranger: you in korea?

you: yeah

stranger: me too

stranger is typing…

stranger: audio?

you: yk what? yeah

heeseung and y/n both go to turn on their audio. while her room was silent, disregarding the small noise coming from her room’s heater, heeseung had r&b music softly playing in the background. it only added to this boy next door vibe she was getting from him. the two of them were silent for a second before heeseung decided to break the ice by speaking first.

“hello? let me know if you can hear me.” his voice came through clearly, deep and smooth, carrying a natural warmth that drew her in without him even trying. a part of her was convinced he had to secretly be a weirdo. what was someone as attractive as him even doing on this site, yet alone at this hour? she took a breath before answering.

“hi, yeah i can hear you,” she replied, her tone a little uncertain, unsure of how to match his cool energy. she wasn’t exactly the extroverted type of person to begin with, you can only imagine how much harder it was to speak when such a captivating face was waiting for her response in real time.

heeseung only chuckled softly, the sound seamlessly exuding natural confidence. “so… i guess we finally get to talk now.”

y/n smiled at his words, her need for approval rising as she juggled through all the responses she could make to keep him engaged, “yeah, seems like it,” she responded, her voice was steady now as she tried to shake off the nervousness creeping in. 

heeseung chuckled, shifting closer to his keyboard as his fingers danced over the keys. the music in the background shifted, the beat changing just as he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. his voice lowered a notch as he spoke, a hint of amusement in his tone. ”i’m, heeseung, by the way.”

“y/n,” she responded.

“i gotta admit,” he said, “i wasn’t sure if you’d actually turn on your mic.”

“why’s that?” she asked, an almost muted giggle escaping her lips as she twirled a strand of her hair, her fingers displaying how nervous she felt. heeseung watched her with a quiet intensity, noticing every little movement she made. the way her fingers fidgeted and how she avoided meeting his gaze through the screen.

“i don’t know,” he said, his tone lazy and nonchalant, but holding a teasing undertoneㅡ a subtle shift she didn’t quite catch onto. “guess i’m just lucky you did.” he didn’t say anything about her fidgeting, though. he didn’t need to. she seemed like the type to change her behavior once it was called out, and he was more captivated by it than he let on. there was something about her shyness, moreso the way she couldn’t quite hide it, that intrigued him. “so, what do you usually do when you’re not chatting with strangers on the internet?”

his question had caught y/n off guard for a brief moment, another nervous laugh slipping past her lips as she tugged on her shirt’s collar, adjusting it to make sure nothing was out of place though she didn’t actually need to. she didn’t know why, but something about talking to him felt different from the others. “uh, not much… if i’m not studying, i just watch tiktoks or call my friend if she’s not tired.” she replied hoping the answer sounded casual enough.

“hm, sounds like you’ve got some time to kill,” heeseung smirked, inching his chair closer to the screen. he opened a second tab, the soft clatter of his typing blending effortlessly with the mellow r&b drifting through the background.

“yeah, guess i do. life’s… kinda mundane, you know?” y/n replied sheepishly. her gaze followed his, noting the slight movement of his hands just out of view, but chucking it up to him searching for another song to play as the music shifted again. he didn’t back away from the screen this time, though. instead, he kept his eyes locked on hers, unwavering.

“i get it,” heeseung replied, his voice lowering slightly, but still keeping its laidback manner, like they were just two people having an ordinary conversation. “i’m the same, but i'm more of a youtube guy, i found out about this site through a video on there.” as he spoke, his finger subtly danced across the keyboard, the screen flickering with the quiet download of her IP address. his eyes stayed on the camera, his expression open and unreadable, like he was genuinely listening to her.

“that’s interesting, this app usually has a bad rep. like, there’s only creeps on here,” y/n said, though her words seemed to be misunderstood as heeseung furrowed his brows.

“are you trying to insinuate that i’m a creep?”

her eyes widened in shock, and she quickly slapped a hand over her mouth. a stutter broke through her words. “what?! no! i’m just saying—i’ve run into a lot of them tonight before i landed on you. so i was just… i don’t know. forget i said anything.” she sulked, her face reddening with embarrassment at her failed attempt to relate. heeseung watched in awe, his lips curving into a small, knowing smile, at her mannerisms, finding every one of her reactions so cute. sensing her discomfort, he smoothly shifted the topic.

“i’m kidding, y/n.” he grinned, showcasing his pearly whites. “so… what’s one thing you’ve always wanted to do but never got around to?” he asked, his tone light, but there was an underlying intensity to his gaze. he wasn’t just asking out of curiosity; he was studying her, absorbing every word she said, as if her answers would tell him everything he needed to know.

y/n paused, thinking for a moment before she answered. “probably traveling more. i feel like i’m always stuck in the same routine.”

“yeah, routines can be… limiting. but they’re also comforting, right?” he paused, his eyes flickering to a different part of his screen for just a moment before he continued. “you know, sometimes it’s those little moments, when everything feels a little too safe, that you need to shake things up.” he spoke so casually, like he was giving advice, but it sounded a bit odd to y/n. she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to his words, though she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. regardless, she found herself wanting to stay, wanting to know more. and she was always too paranoid for her own good anyway. it was probably nothing.

“i guess.”

“oh. yeah, but is that the only reason you’re on here?” heeseung’s fingers were still moving on his keyboard, the quiet clicking of the keys going unnoticed now. he wasn’t just talking anymore—he was already pulling the strings, weaving a subtle web around her, all while his words remained smooth and harmless. y/n’s lips pursed in thought, the sudden change in the atmosphere making her feel more curious than she was letting on.

“what do you mean?” she asked, confusion creeping into her tone as she leaned forward, trying to get a better look at him. heeseung’s system, working silently in the background, had breached the security of her wifi by now, scanning through the connected devices, its main goal being to gain access to her phone.

“i mean… it’s almost 4am, saturday night. you’re a cute girl, seem kind of introverted, but you give off this vibe... like you’re looking for some fun.”

whatever dimwitted perception y/n formed of him had shattered. he was no different from any of the other men she’d encountered prior. “oh. i don’t really do… that,” she replied, a slight pout playing on her lips. she moved her mouse to hover over the skip button, but she didn’t click it. something was keeping her here. maybe it was the way he looked at her—too attractive, too confident. she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t move.

heeseung noticed her hesitation, his grin widening. “oh, neither do i,” he said in a humoring manner, brushing her reaction off as if his earlier comment didn’t mean anything. “i just had to test the waters. can you blame me though? it’s not every day you meet an attractive girl on here. you said it yourself, there’s usually only creeps on here, right?”

“yeah,” she laughed, the sound effortlessly drawn out as she got caught in the pull of his charm. any cautions she had before seemed to dissipate as she got lost in his eyes. she debated whether she should just give in—it wasn’t like they’d see each other again, right? but then, the stories about girls who made impulsive choices, and got extorted, crept into her mind. the fear of becoming just another statistic arose.

“what do you have in mind?” she asked, her words slipping out before she could think them through. her people-pleasing tendencies had kicked in, but the smile that spread across his face made her heart race. somehow, it felt good, like she was doing something right. and that made it feel worth it. rewarding, even.

“whatever you’re offering, baby,” heeseung replied smoothly, his voice dipping into an unfamiliar, alluring tone that made her body tingle. as he spoke, his hand moved subtly off-screen, clicking to start recording. the faintest smirk curled on his lips as he leaned closer to the camera, his eyes burning into hers with a suggestiveness that made her feel seen in a way she hadn’t before. desired. wanted.

“i don’t know,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. a nervous smile played on her lips as her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her shirt. her eyes darting away from the camera before flicking back to his. “i’ve never done anything like this before.”

heeseung tilted his head slightly, his smirk widening as he studied her. there was something about her naivety, the way she danced on the edge of her own boundaries, that made his pulse quicken. he decided then and there that if he wasn’t already obsessed before, he definitely was now. utterly and completely.

“well, i’m honored to be the first,” his voice dripped with seduction, but his eyes glinted with something far more sinister.

her cheeks flushed as she hesitated again, her fingers picking at the fabric of her shirt before she finally blurted, “could you maybe…” she paused, laughing softly at how ridiculous she felt to ask. “show me something, too? just to keep it fair.” her words made heeseung pause for a moment before a low chuckle escaped him, growing into full, unrestrained laughter. he leaned back in his chair, shaking his head in amusement, his eyes never leaving her face.

she was truly a character—everything about her was so… adorable. her openness, her immediate trust in a complete stranger, and the impulsivity that seemed to pour out of her without a second thought. it was intoxicating. she was everything he’d been looking for, everything someone like him—a man with desires he dared not say aloud—would dream of finding. and yet, beneath his amusement, there was a darker realization. if she wasn’t careful and kept giving away pieces of herself so easily, someone would take advantage of her. someone crueler, more reckless, more dangerous than him. he couldn’t let that happen. not with anyone else at least. she was his now. and if she was going to be ruined, it would only be by him.

“would you like it better if i go first?” heeseung inquired, his voice smooth as the corners of his lips nearly curled into a restrained smirk. he watched her reaction closely, catching the way her quick, almost desperate nod betrayed her displayed excitement. it was endearing, almost painfully so. it drove him crazy. he pursed his lips, feigning contemplation, before his smile grew wider, softer. “thought so,” he murmured, his tone carrying just enough teasing warmth to make her feel both at ease. she was completely under his spell. 

he reached for his webcam, the movement slow as he decided to savor the moment. tilting it slightly, he aimed it downward, the lens capturing his relaxed posture, legs spread comfortably wide. the soft fabric of his sweatpants clung to him in just the right way, emphasizing his figure without him needing to do much at all. the unthought of confidence in his movements was enough to hold her gaze, her breath catching as the tension in the air thickened. his hands grazed over the fabric covering his length, a small hiss of relief leaving his lips as he did so. she had already gotten him painfully hard without even trying.

lifting his hips, he slides his sweats down. just enough for him to pull his cock out, an unintentional gasp falling from y/n’s lips at the sight of it. he couldn’t hide the rush of pride that surfaced at her reaction. it was a response he’d grown accustomed to from his long list of other victims on the site, but there was something about y/n that struck him differently. her wide-eyed gaze, the way her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words—it was enough to ignite a deeper need within him, a desire to draw her in further, to leave her completely captivated by him.

a quiet curse slipped past his lips as he stroked, his hand barely being able to wrap around its girth. his movements were meticulous, unhurried as he moved to spread his precum over the rest of his length. he leaned back slightly, his gaze never leaving her face. his dark eyes carried a silent command, the faintest nod of his head urging her to follow his lead. he didn’t have to say a word—his confidence, his control, it was all laid bare in the way he watched her, waiting to see how far she would go.

it was then that y/n realized she couldn't back out now. not that she wanted toㅡ her curiosity, mingled with the pull he had over her, kept her rooted in place. but it was starting to feel too real, the weight of the moment sinking in as she hesitated, unsure of what he was expecting. the fact that he left it up to her made it even more difficult. her mind raced as she nervously tugged at the bottom of her shirt, praying her choice would be enough to satisfy him.

heeseung's gaze didn't waver, his expression unreadable but intent, as though he were savoring every second of her hesitation. when she finally moved, lifting her shirt to display her breasts. her cheeks burned as she moved her hands over one, massaging and pinching her nipples. his lips twitched into the faintest smile. to her, his reaction was subtle, leaving her questioning if she'd done enough. 

but to heeseung, it was everything. to him, everything about her was intoxicating, from the nervous way she moved, to the unsure glances she gave him. he would have been satisfied just seeing her collarbone. his heart raced at the thought of how easily she gave in, how willingly vulnerable she was in front of him. it inflated his ego even more, knowing he was the first to witness this side of her.

he forced himself to keep his expression composed, though his excitement was nearly impossible to contain. the speed of his fingers absentmindedly sped up, thinking of how he’d be able to relive it again later tonight. and he’d make sure to replay every moment, over and over, obsessing over the way she unwittingly gave herself to him.“ah~ fuck, y/n,” he whimpered, unable to contain the heat growing over him. his eyes snapped shut, immediately imagining his hand to be hers. his hips bucked, as he began thrusting into his fist chasing the feeling of a body he knew now that he just had to get his hands on. tonight wasn’t going to be enough, he needed more. 

y/n didn’t know where her confidence was coming from when her free hand snaked its way down to the hem of her shorts as she pushed past them straight into her panties. she scooted into a slouch allowing herself easier access as she began rubbing on her clit, the pressure soothing its throbbing ache and sending a sweet, shocking sensation throughout her body. she couldn’t bite back the moan that slipped outㅡ the noise sounding like music to heeseung’s ears. oh how jealous he was of her hands now. being able to touch her because he couldn’t. it wasn’t enough, nowhere near it.

”look at me,” he murmured, his voice rough, making her cheeks flush as she slowly opened her eyes to meet his. his gaze was full of desire, making her feel small in a way that was strangely exhilarating. she found herself wanting nothing more than to impress him. she bit her lip as she quickly moved to lower the camera, aiming it to display more of her chest and downward before returning to her prior position on the chair. it didn’t even matter to him that her shorts kept her beautiful cunt a mystery to himㅡ the whole picture was so fucking sexy. the way she was playing with her nipples, pinching and rolling them, the speed of her circular motions increasing as she chased her orgasm, the way her tongue rested on her bottom lip before she bit it, the way sheㅡ

“heeseung~ oh my god.”

fuck. if he was wasn’t already stroking fast enough, he was moving at godspeed now. he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold back. he rubbed his thumb along his tip’s slit as he kept his pace, the action leaving his hips stuttering. he was so close, and y/n was too. she couldn’t control the volume of her moans, gripping her breast like her life depended on it. “i’m gonna cum, oh my god, oh my god,” the desperation in her voice made him come undone as he bit back a loud, throaty moan. but she kept going, still chasing her climax as her moans got choked out the harder she went on herself.

just as she was about to cum, when she was almost there, her computer suddenly shut down. the screen went black without warning, leaving only an empty, lifeless void. heeseung watched as her screen flickered and then turned dark, his heart sinking in frustration. “fuck!” he swore, shooting forward in his chair, eyes fixed on the blank screen. he slammed a fist on the desk in irritation before quickly ending the recording. his hands moved frantically over the keyboard, reopening his hacking program, desperately trying to figure out what went wrong.

y/n didn’t even notice, her orgasm crashed over her as she felt like every nerve, and cell in her body had come undone. she kept her eyes closed as she let out a breathless sigh, regaining her composure. after a few seconds, y/n opened her eyes to see that her laptop was blank. she frantically clicked on buttons trying to turn it on, clicking the power button which only displayed a red drained battery as if to mock her further. of all times it could have decided to die, why now? the frustration and panic settled in as she realized she may never get to see him again. she didn’t have any ways to contact him, but would he even want to hear from her again? doubt clouded her mind. now there was no way of knowing. she wanted to keep talking to him, but the odds seemed slim. with a heavy sigh, she jumped up, scrambling to plug her laptop into the charger.

meanwhile, heeseung was still navigating through her information. he had closed out of omegle and now his focus was entirely on troubleshooting. he noticed her computer no longer showed up on the network, the last activity was two minutes ago. “that piece of shit must’ve died,” he grumbled under his breath. he figured now would be the time to access her phone’s camera as it would be useless trying to find her again on the website. switching servers on the program, he downloaded the data to his phone and went to lay down. he watched through the front camera on her phone, but it remained in the same spot unmoving. he was getting frustrated.

y/n had wasted almost 45 minutes skipping through hundreds of people in search of his face on omegle. but to no avail, his face never came up again. it was 6am, and she had plans with natty to go through with in the evening. as much as she didn’t want to right now, she had to sleep. oth of them, in their own way, ended up resigned to their separate fates. y/n reluctantly accepted her defeat, bitterly acknowledging that the night had slipped away. but at least for heeseung, there was a sense of satisfaction in knowing he would have another chance to see her again. this wouldn’t be the last time they crossed paths. he’d make sure of that.

Webcam Perv! (2)