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mydearzero · 7 months ago

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Bribes | Stiles Stilinski x Reader

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You get paired with Stiles to write a paper for Coach's class. But when had Stilinski grown into his awkward features? When had he grown out his buzzcut? Why was he suddenly so insanely fuckable?

Contents: NO Y/N, afab!Reader, smut, Stiles is a bit cocky lmao, fucking in the jeep, reader is related to Coach (wether adopted or not doesn't matter), vaginal fingering, p in v sex, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, clumsy sex, playful banter, oral sex (v receiving), casual sex, coming inside, mentions of birth control, making out if I missed any warnings please let me know!

3.5K words

Had to get Stiles out of (pls into plEASE) my system SOMEHOW, so here you go. This one is dedicated to @uglypastels for indulging my obsession and continuously sending me Dylan O'Brien thirst edits <3 <3

“Just so you’re aware, this paper is as high on my list of priorities as the Pope is in Amsterdam,” Stiles dropped his binder on the table, startling you out of your daydream. He was exactly 4 minutes late, not that you were counting. It was still impressive, seeing as he just came from practice.

“Believe me, I, too, would rather be hanging around with Isaac Lahey, yet we’re both here. Let’s just get it over with.” Stiles snorted a laugh, but didn’t comment.

You didn’t not get along with Stilinski. You weren’t sure if you could be called friends, exactly. You’d known each other pretty much all your lives, just like the majority of your school. Beacon Hills wasn’t exactly a metropolis.

You sighed and laid out your notes, Stiles following your example. You raised an eyebrow, giving him a pointed look. “Those are your notes?”

There were only doodles, random calculations and sporadic keywords scribbled on the loose piece of crumpled paper he straightened out next to your notebook.

“I’m surprised, too. There’s actual words. I don’t usually get that far.” The smirk on his face could only be described as smug. You groaned. This was going to take forever. You divided the topics for the paper amongst yourselves and silently got to work. The ‘silently’ part didn't last long, however. It never did with Stiles.

“Are you still living with your uncle?” He questioned suddenly. You frowned at the question, confused, but nodded either way.

“So can’t you just, I don’t know, cook him dinner and have him give us a good grade?” The gleam in his eyes nearly made you laugh. Nearly. Instead, you flicked him on the side of the head. He whined something about unnecessary violence, but it fell on deaf ears.

“I’m not bribing my uncle just so you can slack off, Stiles. Besides, I’m never really sure if he even likes me,” you wondered out loud.

“You and me, both…” Stiles grumbled.

You glanced at Stiles as he scribbled furiously, seeming to finally get some of his research done. His knees wiggled excessively as he wrote about the economic effects of pandemics. You wrote down a few key parts of the paragraphs in your book before turning to your laptop and beginning the outline of the paper. Stiles hummed quietly as he read the entry he’d just written, tapping his pen furiously against the table.

“Can you stop that?” You requested, his incessant movement distracting you more than his general being already did. He glanced up, an amused expression on his face.

“What,” he tapped his pencil faster. “This?” You contained the urge to roll your eyes and stared at him blankly. He stopped the movement for perhaps one whole minute before picking it back up again.

You only glanced up pointedly this time. He added a jiggle of his knees in challenge. You rose from your chair, leaned over and snatched the pen out of his hand, throwing it across the library. “Fetch.”

Stiles gaped up at you in surprise. The timing of it was very unfortunate, but you’d never really noticed how Stilinski had grown into his awkward features. Something must’ve shown on your face, because Stiles now looked just as confused, perhaps intrigued, as you felt. While you’d been confident in throwing his pen across the room in annoyance, having him look up at you like that made it so you weren’t sure if you wanted him to get up. You cleared your throat and sat back in your chair.

“Unbelievable…” Stiles muttered under his breath as he got up to get the pen. It gave you time to recompose. You didn’t look at him as he sat back down, but felt his eyes burn a hole through the side of your head.

An unfamiliar tension hung in the air while you worked in silence. You snuck glances at Stiles, who was finally focussed on his writing once more. His hair was longer, still messy and unstyled from practice. The grey workout gear perfectly accentuated his broadened shoulders. He bit his lip after reading a complex entry, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they’d feel like on your own, or on your neck while your hands tugged on his now perfectly tuggable locks.

A few times his eyes met yours. You’d quickly dart them back to your notebook, pretending you hadn’t been looking, knowing damn well he’d seen.

Oh my god. Get. it. together.

“Did you finish?” You dared ask after a while, having completed your own part. All you had to do was put your parts together, wrap it up and finish.

“I’ll give it to you, but you have to give something to me first,” Stiles spoke in a challenging tone. For a split second back there you’d wondered how he was still single after all this time, but now you were reminded. He was insufferable.

“What could you possibly want from me, Stiles? Just give me your damn part.”

“A kiss.”

“What? No!” You sputtered. Stiles’ tongue poked the inside of his cheek cockily as he raised an eyebrow, pointing to his lips.

“Guess you’ll have some explaining to do to your uncle why you’re only handing in half an assignment, then.”

“This is coercion, Stilinski! Should I call your dad?” You crossed your arms, refusing to look him in the eye. The librarian shushed you loudly. You could feel heat rush to your face, but didn’t relent. Asshole.

Stiles leaned closer, running a finger over the side of your face. Your heartbeat increased what seemed about tenfold.

“It’s not coercion if you want me to.” His breath hit your neck as he spoke, sending goosebumps down your arms. “And I’m getting the feeling you really want me to.”

You jerked away from his reach, coming to your senses. You gathered your things into your bag, mumbling something about your GPA being fine, anyway. You stomped away from the table, heart racing. You were mad, not because he was suggesting something you didn’t want, rather that he’d clocked exactly what you wanted so easily.

Concerned Stiles would follow you out of the library, you hid behind a few bookshelves in a section nobody usually visited. You caught your breath, placing your palm on your chest. You dropped your bag on the floor, turning to peek around the bookshelf to see if Stiles was still stationed at the table. Relieved, you saw he’d indeed decided to follow you out of the library.

You turned back to grab your bag and head out, but were met with Stiles’ face mere inches from your own. You were startled, but he grabbed your waist before you could fall over. His hold was strong. Your hands instinctively went up to his chest, steadying yourself. Had he always been this tall?

One of his hands wandered slightly lower, rubbing small circles on your lower back. Your eyes met his, which were just shining with mischief and an underlying sense of self-satisfaction. His tongue darted out, licking his lower lip.

“Can I be frank? You’re incredibly annoying,” you stated, slinging your arms around his neck, finally giving in.

“You can be whoever you want as long as I get to kiss you, Frank,” Stiles laughed. You groaned but pulled him close either way.

“Shut up.”

Stiles obliged and put his mouth to yours aggressively, tugging your body against his. One of his hands wandered up, cupping the back of your head to bring it closer. You tugged at the small locks at the back of his neck, eliciting a sighed moan from Stiles.

“You’re so hot,” he confessed when you broke apart for a second. He turned you so you were pushed with your back against the bookcase, a few books falling to the floor. Neither of you cared as your kiss continued, deepening by the second. His hands held your hips as he started grinding against you, sweats low on his hips. His mouth made its way down your jaw, moving to suck hasty kisses on your neck.

“Stiles…” you sighed blissfully. Heat gathered in your stomach at the soft, breathy noises coming from his lips combined with the sound of them against your skin. He put his knee between your thighs.

“Knew you wanted this as much as I did, fuck,” Stiles groaned. The pressure from his knee was delicious, but not enough. It was almost as if he could read your mind as he slid his hand into your bottoms, working your underwear out of the way somewhat clumsily.

“God… so wet for me,” he moaned. You could only reply with breathy whimpers, trying to make as little noise as possible. Stiles shushed you, placing his unoccupied hand over your mouth as the other started rubbing small circles over your clit. You closed your eyes and let your head fall against the bookcase. Your knees went weak at the sensation, not much holding you up besides Stiles.

He slipped his hand out of your underwear, bringing a finger up to his mouth. He casually licked it clean. He hooked his thumbs into your bottoms, seeking eye contact and asking for non-verbal permission to tug them down. You bit your lip and nodded enthusiastically. When your underwear hit the floor, so did Stiles’ knees. Your eyes darted around your environment, but the school was nearly empty at this time, especially the library.

You had to slap your hand over your mouth when Stiles made contact with your clit, his tongue tentatively licking between your folds. Your breathing was laboured, chest heaving as Stiles took his time exploring. Your bottom lip found itself between your teeth, holding in your moans. Your hands shot to Stiles’ hair. Perfectly tuggable, indeed.

He groaned when you gave an exceptionally sharp tug, taking the time to look you in the eyes. The vibrations of his lowered voice felt good. You had seemingly no control over your hands, fingers tightening their grip the closer you got to the edge.

“Shit, baby… So good for me. Gotta stay quiet…” Stiles mumbled. A small, high pitched keen left your lips. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to keep the silence up. You looked down once more and saw Stiles palming himself over his sweats as he continued eating you out, rhythmically grinding his hips in time with his mouth.

The sound of a bag zipper closing got your attention. You smacked Stiles’ shoulder to stop, wanting to whine in frustration at just how close you’d been. Stiles paid you no mind, lost in giving you pleasure. You put both your hands on his shoulders and pushed him away, careful not to tip him over. It was only then Stiles noticed the noise of someone packing up to leave. He scrambled to stand up, trying to help you get redressed.

“I got it, I got it,” you hissed quietly.

“Who’s there? You can’t be here anymore! Library’s about to close!” It was the librarian who’d shushed you earlier. You grabbed your bag in a hurry.

“Would you still rather be hanging out with Isaac?” Stiles asked jokingly, wiping his chin. You whacked his arm, storming past him to the doors. He followed quickly, arm wandering over your shoulders as you walked out of the now deserted school. You didn’t speak as Stiles led you over to the Jeep, insisting on driving you home, at least.

You sat in the passenger seat as Stiles ran around to the drivers’ side. You wiped your hands on your thighs, huffing a frustrated breath. You hadn’t even finished the paper, and now you got cock-blocked on top of it. So not worth it. You turned to Stiles as he put the keys in the ignition. He’d never looked hotter than that very second, lips bruised, hair tousled and still pent up, besides maybe when he looked up at you with his face buried between your legs. Okay so maybe a little worth it.

“If you keep looking at me like that I’m gonna pull over and we’re gonna have sex in the back seat like right now,” Stiles joked. Or at least, you assumed it was a joke.

You raised an eyebrow. “Is that a challenge, threat or invitation?”

“Option D? All of the above? I mean, D is definitely an option.”

“Pull over and we’ll see how much of an option it is.”

Stiles didn’t need to be told twice, pulling over in a small clearing as soon as he saw the opportunity. He took off his seatbelt, scrambling to get out of the car. He opened the door for you, closing it and letting you in the back seat. You laid back across the seats and manoeuvred your top off, throwing it at Stiles. He caught it, quickly discarding it somewhere in the car. He shimmied his pants down his legs, not bothering to take off his shoes. You did the same, leaving you in your underwear. Stiles stopped to take a proper look.

“You’re gonna kill me. You’ve already killed me and this is my pre-hell Heaven trailer of what could’ve been. God iwantyousobad.” You pulled him on top of you as you laughed.

“Less talking, more fucking, yes?”

“Yes, I agree. Wholeheartedly,” Stiles nodded furiously, tugging his shirt over his head with only one hand. Hot. He finally closed the car door behind him before he could forget.

“I’m going to assume you don’t just casually keep condoms in your car?” You questioned. Stiles closed his eyes and tightened his lips in frustration, mentally scolding himself. He finally had you in his Jeep, half-naked, ready to fuck, and he didn’t have a freaking condom??? He finally shook his head no, sighing and pulling away from you slowly.

You leaned up on your elbows and whispered in his ear. “Hmmm… Guess you’re just gonna have to come inside of me… Wouldn’t want to make a mess of the car…”

Stiles pounced at that, kissing you like his life depended on it. He tugged your underwear back down your legs, now very familiar with your pelvic region. He struggled to undo your bra, cursing under his breath. You laughed and lended a hand, undoing it and slipping it off your shoulders.

“Holy shit,” Stiles groaned. “Promise me to thank Coach for pairing us up.”

“You did not just mention my uncle as a reaction to seeing me naked,” you complained.

“I did. Not sorry. He did me a favour.”

You ignored the comment and decided to kiss him to shut him back up. Him and his mouth… God his mouth. You were still pent up from the library, and if he didn’t fuck you soon you were pretty sure you’d go crazy.

“Stiles, want you,” you whined impatiently. He was too busy paying attention to your nipples, taking one between his teeth as he made eye contact. “Shit,” you gasped.

Your hands wandered down his torso, stopping at the hem of his boxers. You tugged them down, setting his very hard cock free from its confinement. The tip was red, dribbling with pre-cum. He was obviously just as pent up as you felt. You gave him a few experimental tugs with your hand before lining him up with your entrance.

Stiles took over, taking his time to slowly push inside you. You put your hands on his shoulders, holding your breath at the stretch. He was so much bigger than you’d expected. You both moaned when he bottomed out. You felt so full, it was insane. You dug your nails into his shoulders and gave him a nod, indicating he could move.

He set a slow pace, testing the waters. He was enthralled by the jiggle of your tits with every movement. Typical. His hands moved up to hold them, almost as leverage, as he picked up his pace.

“Fuck, so good,” Stiles moaned. You were about to move a hand down to touch yourself, but Stiles stopped you.

“Let me make you feel good, let me make you come.” He put one hand on your shoulder to steady himself and brought the other down to where you were joined. He continued to thrust, putting his fingers on your clit. It took him a second, but he found a rhythm where he could thrust and stroke at the same time.

“Oh my god, Stiles!” You moaned, the added sensation feeling amazing. The sound of his hips slapping against yours was filthy to say the least. You moved to hold onto something above your head as Stiles sped up. Your hands soon found the little ledge, and you gripped it to the best of your ability.

Stiles bent down to kiss you, pace still unrelenting. The new angle of him bent forward sent his cock exactly where you needed it.

“Shit, oh my god.” It was all the confirmation Stiles needed to keep it up.

“So pretty, so tight around my cock. Such pretty tits. You feel so good,” he mumbled against your lips.

The pace of his hips became more erratic, both of you nearing the edge. Your knuckles turned white with how tight you were gripping the car door.

“Gonna come inside you,” Stiles moaned. “Fill you up so nice.”

“Yes, Stiles, please!”

“Fuck, so good, so good for me,” Stiles was becoming more talkative and less coherent as he lost himself in the pleasure. He was mouthing at your jawline, sucking another hickey where there were already plenty.

“Fuck, Stiles, gonna come,” you whined. You could feel his smile against your neck. Smug idiot. He then started rubbing your clit exactly the way you liked it. Combined with him hitting that spot inside you over and over and over again, you were seeing stars.

“Don’t stop, please,” another moan left your lips.

“Come for me. Come on my cock. So pretty, so good,” Stiles blabbered.

“Fuck! Stiles!” You keened, tightening around his dick as you came. He kissed you again as his hips stuttered, thrusting a few more times before painting your walls with his cum. His head fell on your chest as you both caught your breath.

When his breathing had slowed, he groaned before lifting himself off you, chuckling as he pecked both your nipples, then your lips before looking for something to clean you with. He settled on the shirt of his lacrosse uniform.

“Ugh, gross,” you mumbled as he wiped you clean. Stiles shrugged. “It was going into the wash, anyway.”

Stiles put his underwear and sweats back on, opening the door and getting out so you could have the space to redress yourself. When you reached under the seat for your bra, you pulled out a baseball bat. “Why do you have a baseball bat in your car?”

“No… Particular reason. Safety. Lots of dangerous animals… out there.”

“So you settled on a bat?” You wondered, holding the object. Stiles nodded, not meeting your eyes, his locked on your still naked chest. You threw the bat at him and laughed, reaching under the seat again and this time pulling out your bra.

When you were finally dressed, you got back in the passenger seat so Stiles could drive you home. It wasn’t a long drive, as you’d already been halfway there before pulling over. He drove up the driveway, and you cringed on the inside, hoping your uncle wouldn’t see who dropped you off. You took your bag and got out of the car, walking around to the drivers’ side where Stiles was already leaning out the window.

You looked at him and gave him a small smile. You leaned forward to give him a kiss goodbye. “You better email me your part of the paper tonight, Stilinski.”

“You bet, babe,” he winked and gave you a salute, watching as you laughed and turned to walk inside the house.

You closed the door and took off your shoes, hanging your coat and leaving your bag by the door. “I’m home!”

Coach took one look at your appearance and frowned. Right… maybe you should’ve straightened yourself out before walking into the living room. Disheveled hair, hickeys on your neck, it wasn’t exactly rocket science as to why you were home later than usual.

“If you’re gonna be having boys over, do it when I’m not around, please? I have enough of them to deal with at practice and in class. And at least have the decency to tell an uncle who he’s dealing with.”

You cringed as the Jeep’s headlights very obviously flashed through the window at that very second, Stiles driving home. It was anything but unrecognizable.

“Stilinski!? You’re sleeping with STILINSKI?! God, kill me now. If I’m now expected to have him over for Christmas dinner you better throw me off a bridge. And you BETTER use protection because I’m NOT gonna have Mini-linski’s running around.”

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anima89 · 8 months ago

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A Wayne family trip to Metropolis <3

Of course, they will wear their own merch ^^

Inspired by this! V

Heheheheh.

#fanart #dc universe #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim sometimes wears this hoodie for meetings #It's one of Bruce’s favourite shirts from the day Grayson gifted it to him #alfred convinced jason to come to the family trip #yes Damian’s ice cream is vegan #they went to a special store for that #funny shirts #metropolis #dc fanart #drawing #meme #batfam

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v-thinks-on · 1 year ago

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#DC Comics #Barbara Gordon #Oracle #Kara Zor El #Supergirl #Metropolis #Gotham City #Multifandom Doodle #and now for something completely different!#I saw a request for them on the pinch hit list and this tableau pretty much made itself #v arts

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unshatters-your-teacup · 2 years ago

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The entire beginning of Batman v Superman was really just the last 30 seconds of Superman fighting Zod huh

#lol YIKES #also I take it back obviously Metropolis got the worst of everything #man of steel #batman v superman

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moonlightwritingf1 · 5 months ago

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Back to You | LN4

💥 summary ━━━━━━━ Y/N, heartbroken after Lando vanished nine months ago, sees a tabloid photo of him with another woman. Determined for answers, she flies to Monaco. Their confrontation turns heated, months of tension igniting into passion. As anger and desire blur, they realize they still want each other

💥 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

💥 word count ━━━━━━━ 6.6k

💥 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, rough sex

Based on this request.

Y/N sat alone in her apartment, the twilight sky outside mirroring the quiet desolation inside. The low hum of the bustling city seeped through the large windows—a constant reminder that life was moving on outside, even if her own world had come to a standstill. Every familiar sound—the distant rumble of traffic, the soft murmur of pedestrians, even the clink of glasses from a nearby rooftop bar—seemed to mock the heavy silence of her phone. For nine long months, ever since the argument that had shattered what little connection they once shared, Lando had vanished without a trace.

Her heart ached with each morning that began the same way: with her eyes opening to a screen filled with unanswered messages and missed calls, a relentless echo of his absence. She found herself mechanically scrolling through old photos on her phone—captured moments of laughter, shared secrets, and the tender surprises he’d sent her. Each image was a bittersweet reminder of a time when his presence had been a balm to her insecurities, when his gestures of gifting exquisite perfumes and designer handbags made her feel seen. Now, every memory only deepened the question that tormented her:

Was I ever enough?

She recalled his words, once so full of promise: “You’re incredible, Y/N. There’s something about you I can’t explain.” That text, once a spark of hope, now felt like a relic from a life that had slipped irretrievably away—a promise broken by months of silence. The very thought made her eyes sting with unshed tears and her chest tighten with a mix of sorrow and anger.

Just as she was about to sink deeper into despair, her phone vibrated—a sharp, unexpected buzz that sliced through the stillness. The notification was from a mutual friend, and the message appeared with an almost aggressive urgency:

Friend: “Hey, have you seen the tabloids? Lando was snapped outside a club last night in Monaco with a girl. They’re saying she was with him as he left.”

The words hit her like a cold splash of water. Her stomach churned, and a bitter taste spread across her tongue. The image of Lando—whose eyes had always held a spark just for her, even amidst the glitter of glamorous company—transformed in her mind into something unrecognizable and distant. So this is how you treat me? she thought bitterly. Ghost me for months, and then let a rumor paint you as nothing more than an option.

Her mind reeled with memories of their past—the whispered promises during quiet evenings, the extravagant gifts that had arrived like tokens of an unspoken devotion, the way he had looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Yet here she was, feeling discarded and small—a solitary soul amidst a sprawling metropolis that had once held so much promise.

The room felt colder, the familiar surroundings now tinted with the sharp edge of betrayal. Every object in her apartment—the well-worn armchair by the window, the stack of books on her coffee table, even the gentle hum of the air conditioning—seemed to conspire with the silence of her phone, reminding her of the void Lando had left behind.

A surge of determination began to kindle within her, battling the despair that threatened to overwhelm her. I deserve better than this endless waiting, she resolved, her voice barely above a whisper. The sting of betrayal was too raw, too painful to let fester in isolation. She needed answers, a chance to reclaim her dignity, and perhaps—most of all—a way to understand why the man who had once made her feel like the center of the universe had chosen silence over solace.

Her thoughts churned as she considered her next move. Confrontation was daunting, yet the idea of sitting in perpetual uncertainty was unbearable. With a mix of trepidation and fierce resolve, she decided that the only way to mend the fractured pieces of her heart was to face him directly. Without a second thought, she booked a flight to Monaco—a place that now symbolized both his presence and her desperate need for closure.

As she closed the door behind her that evening, leaving the familiar comfort of her apartment, every step she took was laden with a heavy mix of sorrow, anger, and a spark of hope. The bustling city around her might have been indifferent to her inner turmoil, but within her burned a singular determination: to shatter the barrier of silence that had grown between them and to confront the man who had left her questioning her very worth.

—

The air in Lando’s apartment in Monaco was heavy with tension, the kind that could only come from weeks of silence and unanswered texts. Y/N stood in the middle of the living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her breathing shallow but steady. She had flown from London on a whim, driven by a mix of anger, hurt, and something she couldn’t quite name. That something had brought her here, to his doorstep, uninvited but unyielding.

Lando leaned against the kitchen counter, his expression unreadable. He wore a black hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, and his hair was a mess, like he hadn’t bothered to style it all week. His eyes, usually so full of mischief and warmth, were cold now, distant.

“You can’t just show up here, Y/N,” he said, his voice low and clipped.

She laughed, but it was hollow. “Oh, I’m sorry. Should I have sent you a text? Oh wait, you’ve been ignoring those for months.”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t respond.

The silence stretched between them, thick and suffocating. Y/N’s hands clenched into fists at her sides. She had replayed their last argument in her head a hundred times, each time feeling the sting of his words cutting deeper.

“You’re acting like a child,” she said finally, her voice shaking. “Ghosting me? Really? Is that how you handle things now?”

Lando’s eyes flicked up to hers, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of guilt. But it was gone as quickly as it appeared.

“I didn’t ghost you,” he said, his voice flat. “I just needed space.”

“Space?” she repeated, incredulous. “You mean you needed to go out clubbing with some random girl while I was left wondering if I’d done something wrong?”

His expression darkened. “That wasn’t what it looked like. I wasn’t with her. She just happened to be—”

“Don’t,” she interrupted, holding up a hand. “I don’t care about the details, Lando. I care about the fact that you couldn’t even be bothered to talk to me. You just disappeared.”

He pushed off the counter and took a step toward her, his voice rising. “You think this is easy for me? You think I wanted to walk away? You’re so damn stubborn, Y/N. You push people away, and then you act surprised when they leave.”

Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she couldn’t speak. His words hit her like a punch to the gut, and she felt the familiar ache of insecurity creeping in.

“I don’t push people away,” she said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, you do,” he shot back, his voice softening. “You keep everyone at arm’s length because you’re scared. Scared of getting hurt, scared of being vulnerable. But guess what? I’m scared too.”

She looked up at him, her eyes searching his face. “Scared of what?”

“Scared of losing you,” he admitted, his voice low and raw, his hands dropping from her face to hang at his sides. “But it’s more than that. That’s not what I meant, Y/N. I care about you—more than anyone else. But sometimes, I felt pressured to prove that I could have you. And I...I got scared.”

His words burned through her, their weight pressing against her chest. Her jaw tightened, her emotions twisting into something sharp and defensive. “You felt pressured? To prove what? That you’re worthy? Or that I’m just another conquest?”

He stepped back, his face hardening. “You know that’s not what I’m saying.” “Do I?” Her voice cracked, anger and hurt colliding in a storm that threatened to spill over. “Because that’s what it sounds like. That’s always what it sounds like with you. Like I’m just some prize you’re trying to win.”

“Stop twisting my words,” he shot back, his voice rising. “You’re not a prize. You’re not something to be won. But you keep pushing me away, acting like I’m some shallow, unfeeling idiot who doesn’t know what he wants. And it...it pisses me off.”

Her fists clenched at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. “I’m scared too, Lando. I’m scared that I’m not enough, that I’m just the girl no one truly wants. I see the echoes of your past—the women you once admired so freely—and I can’t help but wonder if I’m merely another fleeting distraction in your life.”

His eyes darkened, and he took a step forward, his tone simmering with frustration. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’re not a distraction. You’re not some temporary fling. God, Y/N, how many times do I have to say it before you believe me? Before you stop comparing yourself to people who don’t matter?”

“Don’t matter?” she snapped, her voice trembling with fury. “How can they not matter when they’re a part of you? When I see their faces every time I close my eyes, wondering if that’s what you really want? Wondering if you’re just settling for me because I’m the one who said no?”

He let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You’re unbelievable. You think I’m here, now, because you said no? That’s what you think? That I’m just some egomaniac who couldn’t stand the idea of a woman rejecting him?”

“I don’t know what to think!” she shouted, her hands flying up in frustration. “Because you’ve never made it clear! You’ve never given me a reason to trust that this is real!”

“I’ve tried!” he roared, stepping closer, his chest heaving. “I’ve tried everything to show you how I feel, and all you do is shut me out. You don’t let me in. You don’t let me love you!”

She stared at him, her breath coming in sharp, shallow bursts, her heart pounding so loudly it felt like it would break free from her chest. “Maybe I don’t deserve to be loved.”

“Shut up,” he growled, his voice rough and desperate. He closed the distance between them, his hands grabbing her face with a force that sent her head tilting back. And then his lips were on hers, hard and demanding, a storm of anger and longing tangled in one desperate gesture.

For a split second, she froze, her mind screaming at her to pull away, to push him back, to protect herself. But then something inside her snapped, and she kissed him back with a ferocity that matched his own. Her hands fisted in his hoodie, pulling him closer as the fight dissolved into something far more primal.

Their lips moved in a chaotic rhythm, anger and passion combusting into something undeniable. His hands slid from her face to her waist, gripping her so tightly she stumbled backward, her back hitting the wall with a soft thud. He pressed into her, his body pinning hers, the heat between them unbearable.

“You’re not a distraction,” he murmured against her lips, his voice fierce and unyielding. “You’re the only damn thing I’ve wanted in months.”

She didn’t answer. She couldn’t. All she could do was kiss him again, her hands clawing at the fabric of his hoodie as if she could tear it away. The anger, the fear, the doubt—it all melted into the heat of his body against hers, the truth they’d both been too scared to admit finally breaking free.

And in that moment, she stopped fighting. Against him. Against herself. Against whatever this was that had always terrified her. Because maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to be alone anymore.

Their lips crashed together again, hungry and desperate, a tangle of anger and need. His hands were everywhere—her hips, her waist, her back—pulling her closer, tighter, as if he could erase the distance that had grown between them. She clawed at his hoodie, her nails digging into the fabric, her voice breaking as she gasped against his mouth, “Take this off. Now.”

He didn’t hesitate. In one swift motion, he pulled the hoodie over his head and tossed it aside, his chest heaving as he stared down at her, his eyes dark with a mix of rage and desire. “Happy?” he growled, his voice rough.

“No,” she shot back, her hands immediately finding their way to his bare skin, her fingers tracing the muscles of his back as she pulled him back into the kiss. Her lips were demanding, bruising, her teeth nipping at his bottom lip in a way that made him groan.

He lifted her effortlessly, his hands gripping the backs of her thighs as he carried her to the sofa, their lips never parting. The moment her back hit the cushions, he was on her, his body pressing into hers, his hands roaming wildly as if he were trying to memorize every inch of her.

“I’ve missed you,” he muttered against her lips, his voice thick with emotion. “Every moment without you was torture.”

“Don’t,” she whispered, her hands clutching at his shoulders as she tried to push him away, but her body betrayed her, arching into his touch. “Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not?” he demanded, his fingers fumbling with the buttons of her top, his movements hurried and impatient. “Because you don’t want to hear it? Or because you don’t believe me?”

She didn’t answer, her breath hitching as he finally managed to get her top off, his hands moving to her bra. He undid the clasp with ease, tossing it aside before his mouth descended on her breasts, his tongue flicking over her nipple in a way that made her cry out.

“I’ve craved your kiss in my darkest moments,” he murmured against her skin, his teeth grazing her sensitive flesh. “I’ve been longing for your touch.”

Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as she tried to push him away, her body a contradiction of anger and need. “Lando,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “This doesn’t fix anything.”

“Maybe not,” he said, his lips trailing up her neck to capture hers once more. “But it’s a damn good start.”

His hands slid down her body, undoing the button of her jeans and sliding them off her hips along with her panties. She kicked them aside, her legs wrapping around his waist as he moved between them, his own jeans and boxers discarded in a heap on the floor.

When he finally entered her, it was with a deep, urgent thrust that made her moan, her nails digging into his back. He paused for a moment, his breath ragged as he looked down at her, his eyes searching hers. “I’ve missed feeling your pussy wrapped around my cock,” he said, his voice low and rough.

Her body tightened around him, a visceral reaction to the way his cock stretched her, filling her completely, dragging against every sensitive nerve she had. The friction was electric, his thickness pressing so deep it felt like he was stealing the air from her lungs. His thrusts were relentless, hard and furious, the kind that made her bones rattle and her mind go blank. Each time he pushed into her, his hips slammed against hers, the force of it sending shockwaves through her body. She could feel the anger in his movements, the pent-up frustration of weeks without her driving him to fuck her with a ferocity that bordered on savage.

Her walls clenched around him, slick and tight, her body betraying her mind as it welcomed the invasion. The pleasure was unbearable, every stroke of his cock inside her sending her closer to the edge. She hated how good it felt, how much her body craved him even as her mind screamed at her to resist. “I hate you for this,” she gasped, her voice trembling, her nails digging into his back hard enough to leave crescent-shaped marks. “You don’t get to just— fuck your way back into my life.”

“Yes, I do,” he growled against her ear, his breath hot and ragged. He hooked his hands under her thighs, lifting her hips higher, angling himself so he could plunge even deeper. The tip of his cock brushed against that spot inside her that made her vision blur, her breath hitching in her throat. “You’re mine, Y/N. No matter how much you want to deny it, your body knows it. I can feel it—how wet you are for me, how fucking perfect you are.”

She hated how right he was. She hated the way her pussy clung to him, pulsing around his cock as if it had been made for him. The stretch of him, the way he filled her so completely, it was maddening. She could feel every ridge, every vein of his cock as it slid in and out of her, the friction sending sparks of pleasure ricocheting through her body. Her hips lifted to meet his thrusts, the rhythm wild and unhinged, her body moving on instinct, chasing the release she so desperately needed.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. His hands tightened on her hips, keeping her in place as he drove into her again, the slap of their skin echoing in the room. She opened her eyes to meet his, and the intensity in his gaze made her stomach clench. “I’ve missed this. Missed you. Every goddamn second without you, I’ve wanted to be inside you, to feel you come around me.”

Her breath caught, her heart pounding as the tension coiled tighter and tighter in her belly. “I hate you,” she whispered again, but it was weak, half-hearted, her body betraying her words as she arched into him, her walls fluttering around his cock. “I hate that I need you.”

“Say it again,” he urged, his lips brushing against hers, his thrusts slowing slightly, becoming deeper, more deliberate. The tip of his cock pressed against that spot inside her again, and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Say you hate me.”

“I hate you,” she said, her voice breaking as the first wave of her orgasm crashed over her, her body clenching around him so hard it was almost painful. Her head fell back, her back arching as she came, her pussy pulsing around his cock, pulling him deeper.

“That’s it,” he groaned, his voice ragged with need. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re so beautiful when you fall apart for me. So fucking perfect.” His thrusts became erratic, harder, his hips slamming into hers as he chased his own release. “I’ve missed feeling you come around me. Missed the way you squeeze my cock like you never want to let go.”

She could feel it—the way his body tensed, the way his cock pulsed inside her, thick and heavy, as if it were demanding every drop of her attention. His rhythm faltered, his thrusts becoming shallow and uncoordinated, and then he was there, right on the edge. His hips jerked forward one last time, burying himself as deep as he could go, and she felt the first hot surge of his release flooding her, filling her in a way that made her toes curl.

“Fuck,” he rasped, his voice guttural, almost animalistic, as his cock twitched and spilled inside her. She could feel every pulse, every jet of his cum, hot and insistent, coating her walls. His forehead pressed against hers, his breath coming in ragged, uneven gasps. His hands, which had been gripping her hips so tightly she was sure she’d have bruises, now trembled against her skin as he rode out the last waves of his orgasm.

“Y/N,” he whispered, her name sounding broken on his lips, like a prayer and a plea all at once. His body shuddered against hers, his cock still throbbing inside her, the warmth of his release pooling deep within. She could feel the sweat dripping down his chest, the way his muscles trembled with the effort of holding himself up, and for a moment, there was nothing but the two of them, tangled together in the aftermath of something that felt as raw and unrelenting as the fight that had brought them here.

His breath was warm against her neck as he finally stilled, collapsing half on her, half beside her, his cock still buried inside her, softening but undeniably present. She could feel him there, a heavy, grounding weight, and for the first time in weeks, there was a strange, unexpected sense of completeness. But it was fleeting, and as her fingers traced the curve of his spine, she knew the fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

They stayed like that for a moment, their breathing ragged, sweat slicking their bodies. He didn’t pull out, his cock still buried deep inside her, as if even now he couldn’t bear to be apart from her. “I’m not letting you go,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “Not again.”

She closed her eyes, her body still trembling, her anger still simmering beneath the surface, but for now, it was muted by the sheer liquid heat of what had just happened between them.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin.

She didn’t respond, her eyes still closed as she tried to process everything that had just happened. The anger, the passion, the way he had touched her as if he never wanted to let her go—it was all too much.

He shifted slightly, pulling her closer as he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “We’ll figure this out,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “I’m not giving up on us.”

She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions—anger, fear, longing. “I don’t know if I can trust you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze intense as he looked at her. “Then let me earn it,” he said, his voice steady. “Let me prove to you that I’m not going anywhere.”

She didn’t answer, her heart torn between wanting to believe him and the fear that he would only hurt her again. But before she could say anything, he was kissing her again, his lips soft and gentle this time, a stark contrast to the earlier frenzy.

“You’re mine,” he murmured against her lips, his voice low but firm, laced with a quiet desperation that she hadn’t heard before. His forehead pressed against hers, their bodies still tangled together, his hand gripping her hip like it was the only thing keeping him anchored to reality.

She let out a bitter laugh, her chest rising and falling as she stared up at him through narrowed eyes. “You told me that before. And then you disappeared for months. Just vanished. Like I meant nothing.” Her voice cracked on the last word, the anger in her tone breaking open to reveal the raw hurt underneath.

His jaw tightened, his fingers flexing against her skin. “I didn’t vanish. You threw me out. You screamed at me to leave, Y/N. What was I supposed to do? Stay and beg?” His voice rose, frustration seeping into every word, but there was something else there too—something vulnerable, almost pleading.

Her nails dug into his shoulders, her body tensing beneath him. “You were supposed to fight for us! Not ignore my calls, not ghost me like some coward. Do you know how much that hurt? How many nights I laid awake wondering if you ever even cared?”

He flinched, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting hers again, his eyes dark and burning. “Do you know how much it killed me to stay away? To see your texts and not respond, to hear your voice and not answer? I hated myself for it, Y/N. Every single day. But you... you made it sound like you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to think?”

She swallowed hard, her throat tight, her heart pounding so loudly she could barely think. “You were supposed to come back,” she whispered, her voice trembling now, the fight draining out of her. “You were supposed to come back and tell me you weren’t done with me.”

His hand cupped her face, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone, his touch gentle despite the storm raging in his eyes. “Because I’m not,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I’m not done with you. I’ll never be done with you. You’re it for me, Y/N. You always have been. Even when I was being an idiot, even when I was fucking things up—it was always you.”

She shook her head, tears welling in her eyes as she tried to look away, but he didn’t let her. He tilted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze, his expression torn between anger and adoration. “Don’t do that,” he said softly. “Don’t shut me out. Not again.”

“I’m scared,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared you’ll do it again. Scared you’ll leave me.”

His lips crashed against hers then, fierce and desperate, his arms wrapping around her like he was trying to merge them into one. “I’m not leaving,” he said when he finally pulled away, his breath hot against her skin. “Not now, not ever. You’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”

She let out a shaky breath, her hands fisting in his hair as she pulled him closer. “I hate you,” she muttered, but there was no real venom behind it—just vulnerability, just fear, just the truth of how badly she wanted to believe him.

“Good,” he murmured, brushing his lips against her forehead, his tone soft but defiant. “Hate me all you want. But you’re still mine. And this time, I’m not letting go.”

Their breaths tangled in the air, heavy and uneven, the room humming with the echoes of their raw intensity. Lando’s body hovered over hers, their skin still fused together with the heat of what had just unfolded. Slowly, carefully, he pulled himself out of her, his cock slipping free with a wet, unmistakable sound. A trail of his cum followed, trickling down her thigh, marking her in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Don’t move.” His voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but it carried a weight that made her obey instantly.

She stayed still, her body limp against the cushions as he slid off the couch, his movements deliberate. He didn’t look away from her as he walked to the bathroom, his eyes lingering on her sprawled form, the way her chest rose and fell, the curve of her hips glowing in the dim light. The room felt smaller with him gone, the air heavier, as if it were waiting for him to return. She could hear the faint sound of water running, the rustle of a towel being pulled from the rack. Her skin tingled where he had touched her, where he had been inside her, and she fought the urge to reach down and feel the warmth he’d left behind.

He returned with a warm towel in hand, the soft fabric damp against his palms. Gently, he knelt between her legs, his touch reverent as he cleaned her, wiping away the evidence of their shared desperation. His fingers brushed against her skin with a tenderness that made her heart ache, his focus entirely on her, on the way her body responded to his care. She didn’t speak, didn’t move, her eyes fixed on him. His face was softer now, the edges of his earlier intensity smoothed by something deeper, something unspoken. His gaze traveled over her, savoring every inch, every curve, every imperfection she’d tried so hard to hide. He looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered, like he’d never seen anything more beautiful. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice breaking the quiet, his hand pausing over her hip as if he was memorizing the feel of her under his touch. “Not a single part of you that isn’t mine.” Her breath caught, her chest rising sharply as his words sank in. She wanted to argue, to push back, but the way he looked at her—so soft, so full of something she couldn’t quite name—left her paralyzed.

He sat down on the sofa, his body sinking into the cushions, his bare skin still glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. She shifted awkwardly, pushing herself up from the sprawled position she’d been in, her back leaning against the soft fabric of the sofa. He didn’t speak, didn’t move to help her, just watched as she settled into a seated position, her legs crossed loosely in front of her. The cool air of the room brushed against her naked skin, raising tiny bumps across her arms and thighs, but she barely noticed. Her face was flushed, her lips slightly parted, her eyes fixed on him. She still hadn’t uttered a word, her anger simmering just beneath the surface, a heated pulse that made her chest tighten every time he glanced at her.

He reached over, his fingers brushing against the underside of her thigh, a feather-light touch that made her breath catch in her throat. His eyes darted down, sweeping over her body once, twice, his gaze lingering long enough to send a shiver down her spine. She clenched her jaw, her arms instinctively crossing over her chest, her legs pressing tighter together. His calmness grated on her nerves. It was infuriating how gentle he could still be, even now. He kept his hand there, his fingertips lightly tracing patterns on her skin, like he was memorizing her, like he needed to touch her to believe she was real. She wanted to shove him away, to snap at him, but her own body betrayed her, leaning into his touch just enough that she cursed herself silently.

Something flickered in his eyes—something deep and unspeakable. It didn’t matter that she was angry, that she was conflicted, that she hadn’t said a word since it happened. He was still there, still touching her, still looking at her like she was the only thing that mattered in the world. Her heart pulsed in her chest, a heavy, uneven throb that made her stomach twist.

“Look at me,” he murmured, voice low. When she finally did, his eyes were earnest, a soft warmth chasing away the last vestiges of the cold distance she’d seen earlier.

“I swear to you,” he said, “the woman in those pictures is no one. She isn’t some new fling or anything like that. I didn’t even catch her name. We just happened to leave the club at the same time, and I guess the paparazzi decided to make it a story. I—I would never—” His voice tightened with an emotion she couldn’t quite name, and he shook his head, as if trying to fling away the mere thought of betrayal. “I’d never move on like that. Especially not after everything with us. You have to believe me.”

She heard the raw plea in his voice, and it squeezed her heart. She wanted to cling to her anger—it felt safer, in some warped way—but her body and soul knew the truth: she still loved him. Even after all the agony and heartbreak, even after the months of silence that nearly broke her, part of her wanted to trust him again.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” she whispered, her eyes drifting down to where his fingertips rubbed soft, comforting circles on her thigh. “Why let me think the worst, after I flew all this way?”

He exhaled, running a hand through his messy curls. “I panicked,” he admitted. “I thought... maybe you’d already decided I wasn’t worth it. Or that you’d never forgive me. When I got your messages about the tabloid story, I—I freaked out. I’ve handled everything so badly, Y/N. I know that.”

She studied his face, searching for any sign of deceit. But the exhaustion and remorse in his gaze looked painfully real. “You hurt me,” she said plainly, not as an accusation but as a truth that hung between them.

“I know.” He swallowed hard. “It kills me to know that. But I’m here now—and so are you. And if you’ll let me, I want to make it right.”

The anger in her chest wavered, replaced by a tender ache. She let out a shaky breath. “I’m tired of fighting you,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “Tired of feeling like I’m chasing ghosts in my own head. You shut me out for so long, Lando. I thought... maybe you’d moved on. Or you realized I wasn’t enough.”

His eyes flared with a sudden, fierce protectiveness. “Don’t you ever say that again,” he murmured, reaching to cup her chin and guide her gaze to his. “You’ve always been more than enough. You’re my reason. You think I spent those nine months partying or living it up? I was miserable without you. I was just too proud—too damn stupid—to admit it.”

She felt her defenses begin to crumble. The sincerity in his eyes made her chest tighten, and despite the chaos that still swirled inside her, a quiet warmth began to spread.

He dipped his head closer, voice husky with emotion. “I’m not here to give you excuses. I’m here to do better. If you’ll let me.”

Something in the way he said it made her pulse stutter. “I don’t know how to fix us,” she whispered.

His lips curved into the faintest of smiles—hopeful, trembling on the edge of uncertainty. “We can figure it out, one day at a time. I’ll give you all the space you need, but I won’t vanish again. That’s a promise.”

Y/N let her eyes slip shut for a moment, recalling the jarring stillness of her apartment, the sense of betrayal when she’d read that tabloid message, and the constant, relentless question of her own worth. Then she thought of his texts from long ago—the sweet promises he used to make, the way he’d spin her around his apartment in a spontaneous dance, the unexpected, thoughtful gifts that were more about making her smile than showing off.

She opened her eyes again, looking into his. “If you ever disappear on me again...”

He shook his head, already understanding the weight of her threat. “I won’t.”

A fragile moment of silence passed, and then, quietly, she slid closer. It wasn’t the desperate need from earlier, but a gentle, tentative reach for comfort. His arms enveloped her, and for once, she let herself sink into him—breathing in the faint scent of his cologne, feeling the steady beat of his heart against her cheek. Each thud was like a quiet pledge that he was still here, that he wasn’t running.

“You really don’t know her?” she asked after a moment, referencing the girl in the tabloid photos. There was no bitterness left in her tone—only a vulnerable request for the truth.

Lando snorted softly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I promise you—I have no idea who she is. The tabloids saw a chance to stir drama, and they took it. But if I could rewind time and see the flash of those cameras, I’d have run in the opposite direction just to spare you that pain.”

She let out a shaky laugh. “So dramatic, Norris.”

He grinned, a flash of his usual mischief finally returning. “You know me. I’m a sucker for the dramatic.”

Something about that smile, about the lightening of his mood, allowed her to hope. She lifted her head and traced a finger along his jaw. “You’re a fool,” she said softly.

“But you still love me anyway.” He caught her hand, pressing a tender kiss to her knuckles.

She swallowed around the sudden lump in her throat, remembering her self-doubts, her fears. “I do,” she admitted, voice hushed. “And I hate how much I do.”

His fingers interlocked with hers. “I’ll do my best to make you hate it less. Starting now.”

Slowly, he guided her to sit up, then reached for the blankets crumpled at the edge of the couch. Pulling one around her shoulders, he tucked her in gently, his gaze never leaving her face. There was a sweet, soothing quiet in the gesture, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged between them just moments before.

He cleared his throat, looking almost shy. “Look, I—I’m sorry if this is too soon, but... I can’t let you stay in a hotel tonight. Stay here.” When he registered her sudden tension, he shook his head. “I’m not asking for—any of that. I just want you close. Let me prove that I’m serious about fixing this, about us.”

Her mind flickered with a thousand possible retorts, but instead, she simply nodded. “Okay.”

A small, relieved smile touched his lips. He bent down, scooped her clothes from the floor, and handed them to her with uncharacteristic care. As they dressed in silence, the conversation that still needed to happen—about the past, about forgiveness—hovered unspoken, but for once, it didn’t feel insurmountable.

When they were both clothed again, Lando reached for her hand, leading her to the bedroom. The lights of Monaco glowed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the space in soft gold and silver. She hesitated at the threshold, her heart pounding. But he just guided her to the edge of the bed, turned down the blankets, and held them open for her.

The gesture was so gentle that fresh tears stung at her eyes. She slid beneath the covers, and he lay down beside her, maintaining a careful distance until she inched closer, bridging the gap. His arm went around her shoulders, and her head found its home against his chest.

They lay there, the tension of the night still throbbing in the background, but now there was something else—a quiet, cautious kind of peace. She closed her eyes, listening to his heartbeat.

“Lando,” she whispered, “I don’t know how we move past everything that’s happened. But for tonight... can we just be here together?”

He pressed his lips to her hairline, his breath warm against her skin. “Tonight, tomorrow, every day after if you’ll let me,” he answered softly. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.”

She felt a tear slip free, but it wasn’t one of sorrow. In the glow of the Monaco lights, pressed against the warmth of his body, she found the faintest flicker of hope flickering in her chest—a fragile promise that maybe, this time, they could find their way back to each other.

“I believe you,” she whispered, letting herself relax into the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. For the first time in what felt like forever, she allowed a small, hopeful smile to curve her lips. “And I’m tired of pushing you away.”

He tightened his hold on her, his thumb tracing idle circles on her arm. “Then don’t,” he murmured.

She sighed, contentment blooming slowly in her chest. “I won’t.”

In the quiet that followed, there were no more words—just the soft cadence of their breathing, the hush of the night sky outside, and the unspoken vow settling between them. No matter how broken things had seemed, they would try. And for now, that was enough.

630 notes · View notes

blackynsupremacy · 5 months ago

Text

DOUBLE TROUBLE

pairings: kal kent x black!fem!reader! x clark kent

summary: you get revenge on your cheating boyfriend by hooking up with his twin brother.

contains: 18+ content (mdni), smut, pwnp, redk!clark twin au, kal and clark are brothers, good twin/bad twin type of vibe, toxic relationship, cheating (both reader and kal), family betrayal, angst/anger, revenge sex, unprotected p in v, squirting, creampie, mention of birth control, riding, reader and clark basically use each other, manipulation, swearing, cursing, praise, degradation.

a/n: heyyy idk if anyone else came up with this au, but i think it would be cool to see redk!clark as a whole separate person alongside clark. requests are temporarily closed, so please be patient with me because my family and i are mentally preparing for an impending loss, so any thoughts and prayers would be appreciated. love you all sm 🫶🏾

want more? check out my masterlist!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @ellethespaceunicorn @afrogirl3005 @afrowrites @paisholotus @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @v3n1ce-bxtch @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @stargirl-mayaa @miguelspvssy @artyandink @horror-moviehoe

“ah, fuck, clark!”

you cry out as your hips steadily bounced on clark kent’s massive length, your nails dig into the toned, pale skin of his broad shoulders as his hands cups the plush skin of your ass while he releases his own string of groans and whimpers. with each movement of your hips, the pleasure only intensified between the two of you. clark’s baby blue eyes were hypnotized by the slight jiggle of your breasts, he didn’t miss how the necklace with the familiar red gem you were wearing moved back and forth against your brown glistening skin that was stained with perspiration. god, how he wanted to take it off, but he was so caught up by how good you were at riding him, he could really care less as he was relishing in this sinister moment. you were a sight to behold as your shimmering, dark eyes were half-lidded and your full glossed lips were agape before his name came out again.

“you fuck me so good, clark. ah—wish i chose you instead.”

you breathed out, you were so drunk at how skilled he moved his hips in perfect tandem with yours, you weren’t sure if what came out of your mouth was true or not. one thing for sure, clark knew exactly what he was doing and those words caused him to drill his cock within your pussy faster, resulting in you to whimper with each time his bulbous tip kissed your cervix.

“y’know it, pretty—t-told you i can treat you better than that asshole.”

you hated and loved the fact that he wasn’t lying.

you both never thought that this would happen due to the fact that you were dating, kal kent, clark’s twin brother. despite the two being identical, they couldn’t even be more different. clark was the goody-two shoe twin who was the quarterback that made the best grades, did his part with the chores on the farm, and tried his best to help others in need. although he was charming and popular, he was shy, humble, and a bit awkward. clark seemed like to be the perfect candidate as your boyfriend, but then there was kal, his brother. he didn’t really care much for school, but he was still intelligent like clark. he spent his time skipping classes to go on adventures to metropolis like he was born to be there, instead of driving around in a pick-up truck like clark, kal saved up to get a motorcycle, which had all of the girls wanting to ride with him— or better yet on him, you included. kal kent was a bit arrogant and short-tempered, but he was adventurous, charismatic, bold, and an all around smooth operator when he wanted to be up to no good, especially when it came to the opposite sex.

your relationship with kal was— tumultuous. with the exact right words and actions, you were basically putty in his hands. it amazed you that out of all the girls in the senior class of smallville high, he chose you. with him, you unlocked the courageous wild side that’s been hidden deep within you. you went from a homebody ti a hometown hottie. kal kent was indeed trouble, but he was good trouble as he wasn’t afraid to show you new things and take risks beyond the limits of smallville. every weekend, you get dolled up and sneak out with kal on his motorcycle to journey to metropolis where he would smooth talk his way into the hottest dance clubs for some thrilling night life action—until he gets into a fight, but you still stuck by him as he took you to all of those “bases” that your friends would be hyping about with their respective beaus, your face would heat at the steamy details. now, you don’t feel so shy anymore as kal had completely transformed you to someone more liberated, sexy, and confident.

you loved kal with all of what you got, but sometimes he would be so fickle with his wandering eyes towards other girls. you and kal would be in a heated argument because you would catch him subtly flirting with other women, shamelessly complimenting their looks, or catch a glimpse of their swaying hips beneath their skirts. you never forgot how one time at a nightclub, you caught him bumping and grinding with two randoms on the dance floor after you went to the bathroom for three fucking minutes, causing you to lash out and make a scene resulting in an argument between you. you two wouldn’t even talk to each other for a good week, so you would find solace with clark, who was kind enough to console you and tell you how you deserved better than his brother (i.e. himself, but he wasn’t going to do that now). clark was right, but kal was the fire in your loins. you couldn’t just get over him and you knew he couldn’t get over you. that’s how you and kal would “make-up” then return back to normal.

if by normal, you mean repeating the cycle of kal playing in your face, you break up, you cry to clark, and then ultimately forgive kal just because he got you a promise necklace to match the ring on his finger? then, yeah, that was your normal and you were getting fed the fuck up. after another explosive confrontation on his infidelity, you were at the kent farm with clark in his loft. kal was off on his motorcycle at god knows where with god knows whom, you didn’t care because you were really done with him. there was no way that all of this pain, anger and insecurity was in the name of true love. clark always was there to be a shoulder for you to cry on, willing to listen to your repetitive laments and offer that old-fashioned, kindhearted farm boy comfort.

“i’m so sick of this, clark. i’m so sick of him!” you exasperatedly sigh out as you wipe the final tear from your eyes, finally composing yourself. clark wrapped his arm around your shoulder, his hand gently caressing your arm.

“i’m so sorry, y/n. no one deserves what you’re going through. ever.”

and he meant that with every bone in his body. no matter how many times you’ve cried to him, clark would always reassure that you would find better for yourself, hopefully one day you’ll realize that you wouldn’t have to look far because he was literally right here. clark has always been fond of you, even before you started messing around with his brother. fortunately, his patience was a virtue and it worked out for him in the end as you uttered these words.

“thank you, clark. i never would say this out loud with him around, but i wish kal was more like you sometimes.”

“more like me? in what way?” he inquired, with that signature tilt of his head that you always found to be adorable. it resembled a golden retriever.

“y’know— like a gentleman.” you sigh in relief at clark’s gentle touch on your shoulder. the gears in your brain start to turn as a devilish, nasty idea crept in your mind. you knew this was wrong by any means, but your fiery anger and growing bitterness towards kal kent was the director of your moral compass. you leaned in closer to clark, smirking when his cheeks painted with red at the new close proximity.

“clark—i’ve been burnt by your brother way too many times before and i’ve never thought about stepping out once.” you confess in a light, soft voice, your hand reaching to trace along the warm skin of clark’s jawline.

“this time—i want to burn him back.” you leaned in forward, your thigh was brushing against his as your breaths mingled with each other. you glanced down at his pouty, rose lips that was so similar to your boyfriend’s.

“and i want you to help me.”

“b-but, i can’t. it wouldn’t be fair to kal.”

you smile widely, admiring clark’s angelic benevolence to his savage of a brother and his relationship—too bad that you were going to play devil’s advocate.

“you’re right, clark, but he hasn’t been fair to me.” you emphasize, pointing to your chest. “didn’t you always say that i deserve better? wouldn’t you think that i deserved you?” you press him further, placing your hands on his shoulders to push him up against the sofa you were occupying, finally cornering him. it didn’t help his case as he felt the blood rush straight to his cock when you pressed your heaving chest against his.

“c’mon, clark. we both know you can treat me better, love me better, and maybe even fuck me better. you can tell me all you want, but i’d like it if you show me, baby.”

clark was speechless because you were right. he did want you, so fucking bad. he admired your boldness, your realness, your intelligence, and of course, your beauty. it was common for the twins to bicker, but kal always made sure to rub it in his face and make him feel like such a loser that even a “mr. popular” couldn’t bag a chick as bad as you—well, now this was his chance to prove kal wrong. clark’s own morals started to blur between the lines of right and wrong as your lips drew closer to his. before you knew it, clark threw all cares out of the window as he finally closed the gap between your lips in a kiss that started out as gentle, but grew more fervent as you started to climb upon his lap, grinding your hips in a sweet rhythm to feel the erected arousal buried in his signature levi’s. with each kiss and touch exchanged, every article of clothing that you had was swiftly discarded to the floor leaving you both exposed.

“fuck, you’re so beautiful.”

you reveled in the amount of body worship that clark showered you in as his skilled hands roamed to every part of your body, from your chest down to your aching core, it all elicited the lewdest of sounds from you that had you ready to feel him— all of him. it wasn’t long before you got him sitting nice and pretty up on the couch, readily positioning yourself right above his swollen cock. although, he was ready, his sweet self still wanted to know one more thing before you proceeded,

“don’t you think we should use protection?”

you could only simper, he was such a softie that you could melt.

“it’s all good, babe. i’m on the pill—m’gonna start now, you ready?” you ask, caressing his heated face and placing a searing kiss on his lips. with his eager approval, you deliberately lowered yourself onto your boyfriend’s brother’s length. as he filled you up inch by inch, your grip on each other grew tighter as your walls did around him once he bottomed out. your hips began to get into a steady rhythm once you both adjusted to the new sensation. a string of strained moans erupted from your throat with each thrust, usually with kal it would be more about him, prioritizing his release over yours, but with clark, he was more attentive to your needs. from the way his lips would take the time to trail bites and kisses along your chest to how he would tease your clit with his thumb every now and then. to make sure you didn’t tire yourself out, his hips jolted up to meet you in the middle as they gained in speed, his name becoming the only thing on your lips. clark was enjoying every moment of this. he wished kal would walk in to see you completely going crazy as he fucked deeper within your walls.

“heh. look at you, getting fucked so good by your boyfriend’s brother. you’re so damn scandalous, but i love that about you.” he deeply chuckled, fully taking control by tightly clasping your hips and holding them in place to where you couldn’t move. your confusion was brief when clark began to drill himself at such a speed you weren’t even sure was human, but that’s what the fuck you’re talking about. if this was how revenge felt, you’d gladly do it again to teach kal a lesson.

you felt the familiar heat coil inside, burning more intense as you gaze down between you to watch each fluid motion of his cock rutting eagerly in and out your slickness with such precision.

“that’s it, clark. just like that. do it for me, baby, do it for me! y’gonna make me cum all over you if keep doing that.” you mewled out, your nails scratched on his skin as his movements started to be more erratic. the only sounds that filled the room was the slapping of your skin, the squelching of your sex, and the mix of your harmonic moaning in the air.

“that’s right, baby. let that pretty pussy cum all over me— give it all to me, pretty girl. i got you like always.” he mused, the pad of his thumb finding its rightful place on your sensitive bundle of nerves, swiping it rapidly on the wet, puffy surface to elicit the pleasure that you’ve been waiting for. that’s when you feel the final snap of the coil. without ceasing your movements, your lips collide with his in a needy kiss. your whole body trembles, every muscle spasms as your juices disperse all over his navel and cascade down your thighs. it doesn’t take long for clark’s orgasm to follow suit, his fluids rapidly shooting into your walls to paint them white as snow. after catching your breath, you get off of him for you both to retrieve your clothes.

“thanks, again, clark. you may feel crap about it now, but knowing your brother, this should be a humbling experience for him.” you reassure him as you adjusted your hair to break the awkward tension with some humor.

“it’s no worries, y/n, but the question still remains—did you mean what you said about how you should’ve chosen me instead of kal? i know we were caught up in the moment, but—” you cut him off by simply cupping his face in your hands to kiss him, he instinctively reciprocates. with the slight tug of his bottom lip between your teeth, you pull away, a tantalizing smile painted on your glowing features.

“between you and me, clark, you can believe what you want to believe, but know this—drunk actions speak sober thoughts. if you’re down, let’s keep this our little secret and do this again if kal decides to screw with both of us, ‘kay?” with a final quick peck to his lips, you take your exit from the loft before hopping into your vehicle to retire for the night, relishing in the fact that you got kal kent, your playboy boyfriend, back for all of the hurt he’s caused.

at around midnight, kal came stumbling through the door of kent farm. he was out in metropolis again hitting up the club with a couple of hotties, but they weren’t you. he’d make it up to you when you’ve cooled down enough and stopped talking to his cookie-cutter twin.

“i take it that you had a good time tonight. it’s not like your girlfriend was worried sick or anything.” clark snidely remarked with the roll of his blue eyes as he relaxed on the sofa before resuming to watching the cheesy horror movie on the tv.

“you’re damn right i did and let me guess, you did the same loser activities with the same loser friends like you always do on nights like these.” kal called out from the kitchen to retrieve a needed bottle of water before stepping closer to clark.

“instead of butting into my relationship with my girlfriend, you should stay in your fucked up lane of a love life.”

kal then sarcastically feigned a “eureka” type of expression, snapping his fingers.

“oh! i got it. maybe if you had what it takes to live a little, you wouldn’t be stuck doing the same old loser routine in boring old smallville, would you, mr. popular?” kal finished his speech with a chuckle, thinking he had the last laugh when clark was probably playing the bigger person by giving silence as a response. kal had no idea about the bombshell that his own twin brother was about drop on him.

“yeah, alright, kal. i’m such a loser doing the same loser activities, but in reality, i was fucking your girlfriend a couple hours ago, asshole. how’s that for living a little?”clark harshly retorted, the dirty little secret out in the open.

kal immediately stopped at that confession, everything had just—paused. if the harsh tension between the brothers was already damaging, it was now fucked beyond compare.

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