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humanjarvis · 4 months ago

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caught in a lie

synopsis: when you ignore caleb’s calls, he catches you trying to run from the consequences. you make a false promise to appease his anger, not expecting your lie to unravel. but almost immediately, it does.

tags: based loosely on caleb's "hidden waves" memory, porn with plot, manipulative!caleb x manipulative!reader, brat!reader, mean(ish) dom!caleb, caleb makes out with your cunt for an hour, reader cries, belly bulge, 3 brother mentions but they’re done ironically/out of spite, humiliation, semi-public sex (caleb makes you call and cancel plans with that friend while he fucks you), lines lifted directly from hidden waves in bold pairing: caleb x fem!reader word count: 3.9k

a/n: love the scene this is based on bc it reminds me of my favorite book from the wattpad era in 300 BC. also this is my first time writing full-on smut and omfg i don't know how people write like 10k of it u guys are wizards. but the response to this will determine how explicitly i write going forward, no pressure

As the Skyhaven nightscape twinkles around you, you can’t help but feel like you’re forgetting something.

You’d had a great night: Simone had invited you to a cute café, the owners had given you a free muffin, and the raging storm from this afternoon had dwindled into a drizzle. But still, a sense of foreboding loomed over you, threatening to taint the precious memories you’d made tonight.

“...And next week we can go to this new bar downtown! I heard they have the best drinks, and there’s even a puppy mascot they let walk around and play with guests. Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“Yeah, sure,” you agree absently, Simone’s words going in one ear and out the other. “I’ll be there.”

As you walk farther down the sidewalk, the vibrant city atmosphere melts away your worries. People of all ages were out splashing in leftover puddles, trying new food stalls, and window shopping in the strip of stores that lit your path. Gradually, you give up on trying to place your unease, surrendering fully to the comfort of the cool night air.

“Hey!” you exclaim, an idea popping into your head. “Do you want to find a photobooth and take some pictures? I want something to remember tonight by.”

“Oh my gosh, absolutely,” Simone responds. “There should be one not too far from here. I went with my brother a few months back! It was really fun.”

At her words, you stop in your tracks. Her enthusiasm is no match for the dread building in your chest.

Caleb.

Caleb who’d told you to text him when you got to the café, when you were about to leave, and when you were almost home.

Caleb was what—or who—you were forgetting.

Slowly, you reach your hand into your purse until you feel your phone, digging it out and staring as if it were a venomous animal. Taking a deep breath, you tap the screen awake and immediately lose the air you’d just inhaled.

7 Unread messages

4 Missed calls

3 New voicemails

Fuck.

“Uh, actually,” you start, chucking the device back into your bag, “I just realized I didn’t bring a brush! There’s no way I can take pictures without fixing my hair—it’s like a bird’s nest up there,” you ramble, giggling nervously. “Can we end the night here?”

“O…kay?” Simone says, clearly confused by the sudden shift in your mood. “Yeah, we can go back now. Your hair looks fine, though.”

Thanking the universe for giving you such an agreeable friend, you walk back to her car, the quickness of your usually unhurried steps betraying your agitation.

He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me, you think.

As the familiar outline of Simone’s car comes into view, she turns to face you. “Do you want a ride to the train station? I told my girlfriend I’d be home at 1:30—I have another hour.”

“Wait!” you cry, throwing your hands out in front of you. She looks at you as if the intensity in your voice is unnecessary. Which is true, because she’s standing a foot away. Quieter this time, you ask, “Would it be okay if I spent the night at your place? Just this once, I promise.”

“...If you really need to,” she agrees warily. “As long as you don’t mind cat hair.”

When you reach her car, Simone gestures for you to wait as she walks around to the passenger’s side. “I just need to clean up real quick. The granola bar wrappers build up when you’re constantly called in early for emergencies.”

But when Simone pulls on the door handle, it doesn’t open. “Weird,” she mutters, wiping raindrops onto her jeans. “I swear I unlocked it.”

She clicks a button on her keys and tries again. Inexplicably, the door still doesn’t budge. “It’s like some force is holding it shut or something,” she says. At that, an alarm sounds in the back of your mind. But before it can reach your consciousness, she continues. “Well, I have a locksmith on speed dial anyway—I’m always losing my keys. But before I call, seriously, are you ok? The way you asked me to stay over….Is there something scary waiting for you at home? Why do you look so worried?”

"It’s probably because I’m home,” the all-too-familiar voice rings out behind you.

In an instant, your entire body goes rigid. Your now-pounding heart screams at you to run, but you can’t obey without making a scene in front of your friend.

Plastering a smile on your face, you turn around slowly, as if the longer you took to face him, the more likely he’d be to disappear.

You had no such luck. Towering over you, umbrella in hand, was Caleb, his normally expressive face a wall of stone.

Despite his obvious anger, he steps forward to shield you from the downpour and you refrain from taking a step back—against your better judgment.

“Caleb!” you remark, your voice shrill with unease. “What a surprise!”

Ignoring your greeting, Caleb turns his attention to Simone. “Skyhaven isn’t very safe tonight,” he says coolly. “You’d better get home.”

The finality in his words makes it clear: you won’t be joining her.

“Um, sure,” Simone trails off, wary eyes searching yours. “Will you be alright?”

“...Yes, it’s okay.”

Though your words don’t seem to convince her, Caleb’s penetrating glare does. She quickly walks to the driver’s side and effortlessly pops the door open—surprise, surprise—before jumping in. Giving you one last look, your only chance at salvation drives into the night.

The ride back to Caleb’s house is silent. You scoot as close as you can to the window beside you, paying no mind to the intensifying patter of rain against the glass. All that you notice is how he grips the steering wheel tight enough for his knuckles to turn white.

When you pull into his driveway and exit the car, he walks closely behind you, preventing any more last-minute escape attempts. His imposing presence follows you inside and all the way to his bedroom.

When you both cross the threshold, the air thickens with tension as you stand in silence, unmoving.

“Well, goodnight!” you call when you can’t take it anymore. But before you can take one step, Caleb swings the door shut with his Evol. Huh, you think. Doors must be his speciality tonight.

“Where do you think you could possibly be going after the night you gave me?” he asks, steely voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Listen—” you start, but he cuts you off.

“You ordered coffee three times. Burst out into laughter I could hear from outside six times. And yet, you somehow managed to check your phone zero times.”

“If you’d just given me more time, I was going to—”

“You were going to what? Because here’s what I think would have happened: If I hadn’t picked you up, you would’ve gone to your friend’s place, right? Then, you’d message me with an apology. Oh, throw in a cute emoji as the cherry on top,” he snorts.

“With that done, you’d put your phone away and curl up into a ball to sleep. You wouldn’t even dare to check my response. You’d wait it out and believe I wouldn’t be upset. And once I’m away on a mission or somethin’...you would sneak back into the house and pretend nothing happened. Tell me,” he challenges you. “Am I wrong?”

He wasn’t wrong. He was never wrong—not about your habits, at least.

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you snap. “I thought you said you were ‘done playing games’? You don't have to act so big brother-y all the time.”

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say. Caleb’s head rears back, his eyes going wide in incredulity before he scoffs.

Alright, you sigh, time to turn on the waterworks.

Taking a deep breath, you force tears into your eyes. “Caleb,” you begin, “I really didn’t mean to ignore you. I was just having so much fun. S-someone brought their puppy to the café and I got distracted.” The café hadn’t allowed pets, but you needed all the sympathy you could get. You’d have to thank Simone for telling you about that new bar later. “I won’t do it again. I won’t even go out at night anymore—promise.”

As he takes in your pitiful expression, you see Caleb’s resolve start to crack, the twitch in his right eye giving away how much he wants to console you. Maintaining your pout, you internally grin like a Cheshire cat. He could never say no to you. He could never le—

Your phone rings.

You thought you’d turned it off in the car, but your fucking phone rings. Right when you have him where you want him.

The shrill tone sucks the air out of the room, and with it, any hope for your escape.

“Answer it. Speaker.” His voice leaves no room for argument.

Visibly shaken, you fish your phone out of your bag and accept the call. “H-hello?”

“Hey Y/N, it’s Simone. I’m calling to check on you—that guy who took you home was kinda scary. I just wanted to make sure he didn’t do anything. Are you okay?”

At the insinuation that he’d ever harm you, Caleb’s face turns thunderous, his jaw clenching so hard you’re afraid it’ll snap.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you reassure her. “Thanks for worrying though, that’s really sweet,” you add, your eyes darting up and immediately back down after meeting Caleb’s glower.

“That’s great, I really was worried,” she says, relief evident in her voice. “Well, before you hang up, are we still on for same time next week at the bar I mentio—”

You hang up as soon as she reveals your plans, throwing your phone so abruptly it bounces off the chair where your purse sits and onto the carpet. But it was too late. There was no sweet-talking the irate scowl off of Caleb’s face. You’d lied.

Like a deer in headlights, you stand frozen and helpless as Caleb stalks toward you.

“You almost had me,” he chuckles darkly, squishing your cheeks between one hand. “And I bet you knew it, too. Remind me to thank Simone for being such a good friend later.”

His grip tightens when you try to respond, and he pulls your face closer to his instead. “I think I’ve had enough of you talking for now. No point in hearing it if you’re just gonna lie to me again.”

With uncanny speed, he lifts you by your legs and tosses you onto the mattress. When you attempt to sit up, hoping to crawl away, he captures both of your wrists in his hand and claims your lips in a bruising kiss.

“Don’t talk.” A kiss. “Don’t move.” Another. “Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do, and I might not chain you to this bed.” You’re so distracted by his final kiss—the exclamation point—that you barely register when he yanks your loose pants down, baring your cotton panties to him.

When he spots the wet patch spreading through the middle, he moans, shifting to push his nose into your center. The deep inhales he takes seem to calm him down, and his voice loses some of its earlier edge when he murmurs, “Can’t believe you were keepin’ her from me tonight. Look at how much she missed me.”

He demonstrates by pressing an open-mouthed kiss to your panties, tasting you as you leak harder under his tongue. The whimper you let out falls on deaf ears as you remember his command: Don’t talk.

Licking a stripe up your clothed folds, Caleb sighs into you in contentment. “Gonna see her in a second,” he breathes. “Just can’t give her too much at once, or she’ll get greedy.”

He’s too far gone, you think, closing your eyes in preparation of what’s to come. But nothing prepares you for the way the seemingly sedated Caleb rips your panties open at the seam, exposing your hot skin to the cool air.

With no hesitation, he plants a long kiss onto your core, his lips smacking against the fat of your outer folds. Covering your skin with a flurry of pecks, he moans into you, his intermittent licks becoming sloppy, appreciative kisses.

Caleb was making out with your cunt like your brain wasn't in the room, kissing it like he hadn’t seen it in years. The sensations and lewd squelches make your arousal unbearable, but when you try to grind into his mouth—to get him to do something more—he pushes your hips into the mattress.

“Don’t interrupt us,” he mumbles, lips still latched onto your unspread cunt. Heat rushing to your cheeks, you flop your head back down, defeated as the man ignores you to have his heartfelt reunion with your core.

An agonizing few minutes later, you feel him press a last hard kiss against your skin before finally spreading your soaked folds. “Can’t believe you ever thought you could hide from me,” he growls, eyes sparkling. “I’ll show you you can’t. Make you never want to again.”

Slowly, he licks up and down your wetness, teasing his tongue around your entrance. You try to relax during his ministrations, knowing he won’t give you what you want this early, but he catches you off guard when he buries his tongue into your weeping, sputtering hole.

A strangled moan escapes you as he fucks you with his tongue, twisting, turning, and circling himself inside you.

One pulse has your walls flexing with desperation, and Caleb pulls back slightly when he feels you tighten around him. “Look at that, I think she’s kissin’ me back,” he coos, a string of his saliva refusing to part from your quivering cunt.

Spurred on by the whine you give him, he flashes you a wicked grin before diving back in, plunging his tongue in and out at a punishing pace.

All the while, he studiously avoids where you need him most, licking and kissing everywhere but your twitching clit—neglecting it like you did him earlier in the night.

Suddenly, he lifts his head up, flashing you a quick smirk. “You know,” he starts, licking his glistening lips. “When you were givin’ me all those crocodile tears and cryin’ about puppies earlier, you never did say sorry for trying to run. How about now, hmm?” he asks, pressing a wet kiss to your center. “You sorry?”

You pant out an incoherent moan, and he nips at your clit—the first time he’s touched it all night. Ignoring your squeal, he gives you another kiss. “I don’t know what that means. Try again.”

You go to speak again, but Caleb suddenly rubs his nose against your clit, your resulting gasp sending your back shooting off the bed. He swiftly slams you back down with his Evol, giving you another nip. “Just two words, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Two words, loud and clear. Want to know you mean it.”

You don’t know what it is—the last strands of your pride clinging on for dear life, your stupor after being toyed with for almost an hour, or pure stubbornness—but you can’t bring yourself to say it. With a whimper, you clamp your mouth shut, staring at the ceiling in rebellion.

“Hmmm,” he hums, looking up at you briefly. Before you can even process it, Caleb covers your clit with his mouth and sucks, simultaneously groaning into you. The combined sensations set your nerves on fire, and you come in his mouth with a prolonged cry.

“I’m sorry!” you wail, the tears in your eyes genuine this time. As Caleb laps up your release, chants of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m—oh—I’m sorry,” fall through your lips, your earlier defiance reduced to blubbering submission. “Should’ve checked my phone and called you back, I’m so sorry.”

You’ve apologized ten times over, it feels, but he won’t let up. He suckles you until it aches, and there’s nothing you can do but lie there and sob as his Evol keeps you pinned down. When he’s finally had his fill, he presses a reverent thank-you kiss to your cunt before crawling up your body, nestling in between your thighs.

“Aw, none of that, now,” he coos, wiping under your eyes. “I forgive you, alright? I forgive you for getting distracted, baby.” Still crying, you nod frantically, leaning into his gentle touch. “But if you ever run from me again, whoever you’re with won’t like what happens when I catch you,” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips and then your forehead before plunging into you.

Though his pace is relentless, your walls draw him in, his earlier date with your cunt letting you take his thick length with ease.

When the pressure builds and you shy away from his brutal thrusts, he turns your chin toward him, pressing an ironically chaste kiss to your mouth. “No running, remember?”

As you hurtle toward your release, he leans close, kissing you briefly before speaking into your lips. “The next time you wanna ignore me—next time you wanna hide from me and lie to me sayin’ you’ll be good from now on—I want you to think of this, to think of me right here,” he murmurs, palming his cock through your belly. You squeal at the foreign feeling, but he only adds more force, and you think you’re about to pass out.

“My baby,” he chides. “Loves to act out but she can’t handle the consequences.” While he speaks, he folds your left leg up, pushing it to your chest so he can penetrate you deeper.

“Please, Caleb!” you beg, the new angle making stars float across your vision. As your body rocks with the force of his strokes, you cry, “I said I was sorry!”

“Mm, you did,” he nods, absorbing a tear on your cheek with a kiss. “But I don’t think you really are. Not yet.”

Without warning, he pulls out of you and flips you onto your stomach before sliding back in. Resuming his thrusts, he uses his Evol to pick your forgotten phone up off the floor. “Call her back. Speaker,” he orders.

At first, you're flustered into hesitation, but as he holds the phone ahead of you and taps through your history to do it himself, you pull yourself together. “Wait,” you wail. “Wait. I’ll do it.”

You do it.

When Simone picks up, Caleb shows you mercy by decreasing his pace so the sound of slick skin colliding doesn’t travel through the phone.

“Hey Y/N, what’s up? Is it about earlier? …Did something happen?” she asks in concern.

Frantically, you twist your head to look up at Caleb, not knowing what to say.

Leisurely, he folds forward over you, his chest flush with your spine so he can whisper in your ear. Throughout his dramatics, your time to respond without raising suspicion wanes, and you grow more desperate by the second.

“Hi Simone,” Caleb finally whispers, pressing kisses to your ear in time with his languid strokes.

“H-hi Simone,” you repeat louder, a slight tremble in your voice.

“I just wanted to say thanks again for checking in. That guy, the one from earlier—he can be so mean sometimes,” Caleb murmurs, pouting his lips in ridicule.

“I just wanted…wanted to say thanks again for checking in. The guy from earlier—hah—can be so mean sometimes,” you echo, breathless from the impact of Caleb’s hips rocking into yours.

“Can we reschedule our plans for next week? My big brother’s,” he emphasizes, mocking your earlier jab with two deep thrusts, “coming home, and he really misses me.” As he feeds you lines, the taunts in his words break through the softness of his whispers.

As softly as you dare to, you whimper for him, hoping it’s enough for him to end his torture.

But as the phone screen goes black from inactivity, you see his smirking reflection looming over your humiliated one. The only way out is by appeasing him.

“C-can we reschedule our plans for next week? My…my friend—”

As soon as the word leaves your mouth, Caleb lifts off of you slightly, landing a harsh smack on your ass.

“Y/N? What was that noise? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” you all but moan as he bites your neck, reprimanding you further for breaking his script.

“My friend is visiting next week, and he really misses me,” you finish, waiting with bated breath for her—and Caleb’s—reactions.

“Oh…sure, Y/N. That’s fine with me. That’s a lot better than I was expecting, you sounded like you were in trouble for a second.” Caleb smirks against your ear. “Just let me know when you want to reschedule.”

“Sounds good,” you breathe as Caleb’s thrusts return to a faster pace. “I-I gotta go, I’ll see you later!” you rush, almost squealing as you end the call.

For the nth time that night, you want to burst into tears. “I can’t believe you just did that,” you whine, your voice mixing with the renewed slaps of skin on skin.

Chuckling, Caleb lifts off of you, his sudden absence from your cunt making you shudder. In an instant, he flips you over so you’re face-to-face before entering you again.

“Technically, you just did that,” he smirks, his thrusts now lazy and sporadic. “I don’t remember pressing ‘call.’” His matter-of-fact tone is teasing, but you knew that if you hadn’t canceled on Simone, he’d have made good on his earlier threat. He always does.

As you open your mouth to retort, Caleb’s face grows serious, and all your neurons responsible for making witty comebacks seem to atrophy at once.

Caleb leans down, light bites on your throat punctuating his confession. “I can’t stop at wanting you not to run from me anymore. I want you to stay with me. To choose to, for as long as we live, for the next hundred years.”

“But what if…” you trail off, but he understands what you’d been implying.

At that, his eyes darken. Rutting into you with renewed fervor, he grasps your chin tightly, holding you captive in his gaze. “You’ll be around for however many years I’m alive and kicking,” he growls. And you believe him.

Nerves alight, mind numb, and core throbbing from your impending climax, you nod as much as his iron grip allows you to. “I’ll stay,” you whisper, kissing his thumb near your lip. “Wanna stay—with you.”

Letting out a strangled huff, Caleb surges forward, his lips meeting yours in a searing kiss. He bites your bottom lip as he presses down on your stomach once again, and you careen over the edge, feeling the hot spurts of his release intensify the flood inside your cunt.

With a shuttering groan, Caleb collapses to your left, immediately closing the space between you with a hug. You stay like that for a while, your sore body curled into his arms as you face each other on the bed.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, rubbing circles into your hip. “I know it was a bit much.”

“Forgive you,” you mumble into his chest. “Felt good.”

He chuckles, tapping your nose twice. “You shouldn’t forgive me so easily. Or else I’ll want to keep testing your limits.”

When you fall asleep in his warm embrace, Caleb looks down at you intently, trying to brand the visual into any part of his commandeered mind that’d take it. Daring to disrupt the image, he gently untangles your bodies, lifting you before laying you back down on top of him.

At peace for the first time that night, Caleb looks out the window, smiling to himself. The rain has stopped.

#iris writes #love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #love and deepspace smut #caleb x reader #lads caleb #love and deepspace caleb #lads #lads x reader #caleb smut #lads smut

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meowdei · 9 months ago

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“Did you know—”

“I don’t care,” Sukuna interrupts, wholly disinterested. It’s half past three—(which is, of course, his fault, but that doesn’t mean he’s any less tired).

But you, wholly uncaring, promptly ignore him. “—That some female spiders eat the male ones after mating?”

“What do you want me to do with this information?” He looks at you irritably, glaring at you from the corner of his eyes. You flash him a grin—it’s a mischievous little thing, your lips curled in a cheeky, flirty way that warns him silently that he’s about to risk popping another vein. He seems to do that around you quite often, and it certainly feels like it’s underway once more.

(And, as it always is, his intuition would be right).

“It’s a warning,” you hum.

He snorts, raising a clearly disbelieving brow as he hums, “oh yeah? For what? Are you gonna—wha-hey!”

Not a lot catches Sukuna off guard. You giggle as he barks out a surprised yelp of your name, harshly shoving you away from his chest. There’s a nice, fresh, very crystal and very clear outline of your teeth marked right on the flesh surrounding his nipple.

He looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He asks incredulously.

You let out a soft, amused little giggle that sounds through the room before he feels your weight shift and fall onto him, making him grunt as his arms steady you and his eyes stare up at your hovering face with an agitated purse of his lips.

“I’m eating you,” you say cheekily, “see?” For emphasis, you leave an equally as shocking bite to his bicep, your head leaning down to get a mouthful of his bare arm. He lets out a low, startled grunt before one large and very firm hand grabs the back of your neck and yanks you off.

“Have you completely lost it?” He hisses.

“We just mated—”

“Who on Earth talks about sex like that? We are not animals who—”

“—And now I’m going to eat you after mating. Like a female spider.”

“If you’re going to be weird, just go the fuck to sleep,” he grumbles lowly.

Sukuna is tired.

(And yes, the reason is partly because he’s a bit inexhaustible once he’s felt the velvet heat of your walls, and yes, it’s technically his own greediness that’s worn him out so physically for the night. But that’s all been the cost for something of greater benefit to him. Something he doesn’t exactly mind draining his energy for.

Bur your odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird schemes are not a part of the list of things he’s willing to sacrifice his energy for. There isn’t much pleasure in entertaining your nonsense most of the time.

If anything, there’s pain—the stinging bite marks on his skin can attest to that.)

“I’m not tired,” you hum.

“Then let me make you tired,” he offers smugly, lips tugging into a cocky grin as he looks up at you.

“If you didn’t manage that the first time, what makes you think that’ll work the second?” You tease.

He doesn’t seem to like that very much, because with a growl, he pushes the back of your neck until your face falls into the crook of his neck, a strong, bulky arm wrapping around your waist and keeping you in place against his body.

It’d be awfully intimate, and awfully sweet if he didn’t mumble, “I love when you sleep because it’s the only few hours of the day I get to hear you shut the fuck up.”

“Maybe if you’d just appreciated my fun fact—”

“You bit my fucking nipple.”

“I could bite the other one, too, if you want,” you pipe up with an excited grin. He can feel it pressed against his skin as your face buries deeper into the space between his neck and shoulder.

Sukuna is tired. Most of the time, it’s because of you. All of the time, he chooses to allow it because he likes having you around for a good fuck.

(And, of course, there’s all that bullshit about love and affection, too. But that’s just that odd stuff you like to babble about—that odd, unsettling, abnormal and very plainly weird emotional part of you that somehow ropes him into being the same way every once in a while.

He doesn’t like it.)

“You need a lobotomy,” he mutters, wincing when you bite the skin of his neck in response. Not in a manner he likes, either—very much in a manner that makes sure he feels the sharpness of your incisors.

“Don’t be rude,” you scold, “I’m biologically meant to be your predator.”

“You biologically give me fuckin’ migraines.”

You grin—it’s a smile that’s easy. Smooth. Maybe a little giddy, too. It comes out only around Sukuna. Him and his gruff, rugged way of accepting your affection, and his double as rough and crude way of giving it back. His callused hands and toughened knuckles that brush along your cheeks carefully. His crass and undignified words that are carefully thought out enough to never cross the line. His downturned lips and narrowed eyes that only ever soften at the sharp corners around you.

“Next time, I’ll eat you for sure,” you murmur, settling against his chest and getting comfortable. He wraps both arms around you, warm and tight enough that you almost think you can forgo the blanket altogether. “Assert my dominance.”

“You can’t even open the pickle jar.”

“That’s different.”

“It’s only a matter of time until natural selection gets you,” he snickers quietly. You huff, biting back a smile as he yawns.

Gently, with a kiss over the bite mark you left against his neck, you say softly, “goodnight. Love you.”

“Night.”

“I love you.”

“For the love of—love you too, holy fuck. Go to sleep.”

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #sukuna ryomen fluff #meowdei.writing

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kitkatscabinet · 2 months ago

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TAKE ME TO YOUR BEST FRIEND'S HOUSE

Pairings: Dick Grayson, Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne x fem! reader.

Summary: So, he might be going against "bro code". He can't help it, though; his best friend's sibling is just too cute.

A/N: Reader can be imagined as biological/adopted/found family.

DICK GRAYSON & WALLY WEST

How Dick hadn't learnt to not leave his phone unattended was beyond Wally, especially when, for a vigilante, the man had such lax security for his personal phone. Nor should he have ever trusted Wally with the password.

Already drafting his absolute PR nightmare tweet on Dick's account, he's mentally rubbing his evil little hands together when his thumb hits the banner notification that pops up on the top of the screen.

My Heart: Thinking about you, come home soon xo

Alongside the text is a photo, a very suggestive photo of a woman dressed in nothing but one of Dick's hoodies. Wally knows because he bought Dick that hoodie, he's also very familiar with the woman in the photo on account of it being his baby sister.

He shrieks, the phone slipping from his slack with shock grip and landing on his big toe.

He doesn't hear the ringtone over his sudden stream of pained expletives, hopping on one foot, until he hears your voice from the speaker.

"Hey babe! You left your hoodie at - "

"YOU!" Wally screams, blubbering incoherently, pointing an accusing finger at the phone like you can see him.

"Jesus Christ," he can practically see you recoiling away from your phone, "Wally?" You've heard enough of your brother's meltdowns over the years that you can recognise him from just a single word.

"YOU, YOU - YOU HARLOT!" You snort at his words, staying silent until his stream of consciousness is finished.

"You done?" You hum, completely unphased at the tantrum Wally's just thrown for the past seven minutes.

"Am I, am I done? No, I'm not done." He squawks, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME!" There's a beat of incredulous silence on your end.

"Excuse me? What have I done to you?"

"DEFILED THE SACRED BOND OF BROTHERHOOD IS WHAT YOU'VE DONE, HE'S MY BEST FRIEND"

"The sacred bond of brotherhood? I'm your fucking sibling, you're supposed to attack him, not me!" Wally can't help but notice how you don't deny his words.

"Oh, believe me, Dickhead is gonna get what's coming to him."

"Yeah, whatever, I'm hanging up now, tell Dick I'm getting pizza for dinner."

"Don't you dare - " He doesn't even get to finish his sentence before you've followed through.

"Hey Wally, have you seen my ... phone?" Dick trails off as he spots the item he's looking for in his agitated friend's hand.

"You don’t fuck your best friends younger sibling. That’s like the number one rule of bro code!” Wally shrieked, not greeting him like a normal person, and not giving Dick even a second to realise what was happening before he was being grabbed and shaken by his shoulders.

"I love her." No explanation, no apologies, just pure earnestness and the softest look Wally had ever seen on his friend's face.

The declaration takes all the wind out of his sails, his shoulders slumping in defeat. He drags a hand down his face slowly,

Finally, he groaned and dragged both hands down his face. "Ugh. I hate that you’re so genuine. It ruins my ability to stay mad. Barry's not going to be happy you kept this from him though."

The mental image of the Flash going protective uncle giving him the slightest bit of sick satisfaction, until Dick shatters his dreams by casually saying, "he already knows."

"He what?! Am I the last to know?" Dick makes a show of thinking about it before shrugging with an unapologetic grin.

"Kinda, yeah."

"I'M SURROUNDED BY TRAITORS!" Wally yells, sinking to his knees in defeat.

JASON TODD & ROY HARPER

Nobody had ever accused Roy of being a detective. He might not be as smart as the bats (an impossible hurdle in Roy's opinion), but he wasn't completely fucking stupid.

An unfortunate reality for his sister, who he'd caught sneaking into the Titans Tower at the ripe time of 4:47 am, wearing a familiar leather jacket with a bullet hole in the sleeve. A jacket that could only mean one of two things.

You had joined a biker gang.

You were dating Jason Todd, AKA, his best friend, AKA dead fucking meat.

Because while option one terrified him, he'd still prefer it to the option he had a sinking suspicion about was actually correct.

The next afternoon, he finds Jason working out in the Tower's gym, and he grins wickedly. Bastard didn't even have to make Roy track him down.

"Hey, Roy." Jason greets, never once faltering in his reps, entirely unbothered, like he hadn’t committed emotional treason.

Roy thinks he could be forgiven for his following action, he could have done a lot worse than picking up the nearest kettlebell and throwing it at his unsuspecting friend.

"WHAT THE FUCK ROY?" Jason screeched as he dove for cover.

"YOU’RE DATING MY SISTER?!"

"Um, what?" He squeaks, before clearing his throat, "I mean... I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't try to gaslight me!" Roy jabbed a finger at him, seething. "You're supposed to be my best friend, and you went and... and started... canoodling my sister."

Jason’s brows shot up in amusement despite himself. "Canoodling?"

"Don't try and deflect either." Roy flushed as red as his hair.

"I’m not—well. Okay. I am. But in my defense, it wasn’t like I planned to fall for your sister."

"Have you kissed?"

Jason contemplates lying but bites the bullet and nods.

Roy gasped like an old lady hearing someone say cunt. "ON PURPOSE?!"

Jason gave him a flat look. "No, Roy, I tripped and fell. Of course, it was on purpose. More than once, too." He smirks, unable to stop himself from prodding the bear.

Roy spasms.

"Ok, let's not make this weird." Jason huffs.

"Make this weird? It's already weird, we're neck deep in it, NAY!, We're drowning in it!"

"Oh dear god," Jason sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and speaking before he can think better of it, "I love her."

Roy chokes, Jason startles, clearly surprising, even himself, "Oh my god, I love her."

There's a heavy, pained silence before Roy croaks "... Bro"

"I know." Jason tugged at the roots of his hair.

"…BRO." Roy was trying to prevent a panic attack, his panic fuelling Jason's.

"I know."

"You love me?" A slightly giddy voice breathes from the doorway.

Both men groan for different reasons as they spot you bouncing toward them.

"Babe, I -"

"I love you too," you beam, throwing your arms around Jason's neck and kissing him like your life depends on it.

Roy gags, forcing you to pull away. "God, this is gonna ruin every group hang for the rest of my life." He whined.

"Nah. You’ll get used to me kissing your sister in front of you."

"I SWEAR TO GOD —"

TIM DRAKE & CONNER KENT

Conner's knee is jiggling furiously. From across the room, Cassie raises a questioning brow, but Conner makes no effort to stop as he checks the time for the fourth time in less than three minutes.

You're late. So is Tim, but it's not him Conner's worried about. You're never late; you've always been a perpetually early person, and you always get so anxious if you aren't. Conner knows, having been on the receiving end of your time-anxious meltdowns more than once.

"Dude, calm down, they're not even five minutes late yet," Bart says, looking at him as if he's the weird one here, when clearly, something terrible has happened to you.

You've been in a car accident (you don't drive), you've been shot, (you're bulletproof), you've been taken hostage by Lex Luthor (plausible), you've -

"Hi guys, sorry I’m late, I slept through my alarm." You laugh bashfully, avoiding Conner's gaze, which narrows in suspicion.

"That never happens." He scowls, his enhanced hearing picking up the slight stutter in your heartbeat.

"Well, it did today." You rolled your eyes, crossing the room to sit next to Cassie.

Barely two minutes later, a harried-looking Tim scurries through the door, brushing his sweaty hair from his face, and in doing so, accidentally reveals a hickey just beneath the neckline of his shirt.

It's only for a second, but that one second is all he needs to connect the dots.

"No." He says, glaring at Tim as everyone else, including you, watches in confusion.

"No?" Tim repeats.

"NO!" Conner snarls, jumping up from his seat and pulling down the neckline of Tim's shirt to display not one, but three love bites.

"YOU’RE SLEEPING WITH MY SISTER?!"

"Technically, there wasn't much sleeping involved - " Tim mutters, with absolutely zero regard for his well-being.

"I trusted you with my life, and you go behind my back to DEFLOWER MY INNOCENT BABY SISTER?!"

"You're the same age?" Tim mumbles at the same time you scoff.

"Deflower? Innocent? Are we living in the Middle Ages? Are you my owner?"

"Stay out of this!" Conner whirls on you, his gaze dangerously red.

"Stay out of my own sex life?" You guffaw, ignoring the way Conner puffs up like an angry cat. "Besides, Tim's hardly my first."

Your words are enough to shock your brother enough that he drops Tim, reeling back with a hand on his chest like he's suffering a heart attack.

You take the opportunity to scoop your partner into your arms, flying away before Kon can recover, until you reach the safety of the bed you've both only just left.

"I think he's actually going to kill me." Tim mumbles, burying his face in your chest.

"Hmm, guess you''ll just have to keep me around forever, for protection."

"Sounds perfect." Tim dreamily says, clutching you even tighter in contentment.

BRUCE WAYNE & CLARK KENT

Once, there would have been a time when interviewing Gotham’s Bruce Wayne would have left him an anxious wreck, but now, Clark relished in the opportunity. Giddy that his best friend, no matter how much the man denied it, would turn to him (him! A Metropolis interloper), instead of someone like that tart Vicki Vale.

(That thought has him mentally apologising to his ma for his crudeness, but what she wouldn't know, couldn't hurt her.)

Needless to say, Clark was excited to have been given the chance, and he refused to squander it.

They were in Bruce's "office," a room they both knew he hardly ever even stepped foot inside, but had occupied to keep up the facade.

A brilliant facade it was, Clark thought in amusement, as he watched Brucie Wayne ramble on earnestly. Nobody would ever suspect the man, reaching for his wallet to pull out a picture of his kids in an interview on Wayne Enterprises' newest ventures, to be the fearsome Batman.

Clark, ever affable, just smiles, nodding along until a second picture flutters onto the desk. Bruce freezes, his perfected mask slipping just a fraction, but enough for Clark to notice as the unshakeable man's eyes widen in sheer panic.

Bruce was composed. He was always in control, a master of self-control. Bruce was unflappable, he had a plan for everything.

Bruce, evidently, did not have a plan, beyond freezing in horror, for when an intimate Polaroid of his girlfriend, Clark's sister, landed face up on the table between them.

You're wearing one of his button-up shirts, seated sideways across Bruce's lap, the man's large hand clasped over your thigh, as you stare up at him like he's your whole world.

Clark paused, staring at the photo on the desk like it was a live grenade.

Bruce, very carefully, snuck a hand out to retrieve it. Only to be thwarted by Clark's superspeed. He holds it between his thumb and his index finger like it might bite him, the blinding grin never once fading from his face.

Bruce thinks it's the most terrifying Clark has ever looked.

There's a long pause, with Bruce mentally calculating how long it will take before he has some Kryptonite on his hands and whetehr or not Clark will flatten him before then.

"Oh my god," Clark said.

Bruce grimaced. "It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you're dating my sister."

"Ok, it's exactly what it looks like, but—" He cuts off once more as Clark speaks with surprising giddiness.

"You carry her around in your wallet. Like a real boyfriend, it's sickeningly sweet."

Bruce opened his mouth, closing it and opening it again repeatedly like a stunned fish as he blushed a brilliant red.

Clark wasn’t finished; if anything, he looked like Christmas had come early.

"Is there more?" Bruce stiffens, "There is! Do you have a shrine? I bet you have a shrine!"

"Clark."

"Is it in the batcave?"

"Clark."

"What about a scrapbook? Is she on the manor walls yet?"

"Clark."

"Do your kids know? Wait, am I the last to know?!" He seemed genuinely hurt by that thought.

Bruce looked up at the ceiling like it could save him from the confrontation; he thinks he'd rather fight than... whatever the hell, it is Clark's doing.

#x reader #dc x reader #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader #bruce wayne x reader #clark kent #wally west #roy harper #conner kent #wally west x sister reader #roy harper x sister reader #conner kent x sister reader #clark kent x sister reader #female reader #dick grayson x female!reader #jason todd x fem reader #tim drake x fem!reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader

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ovaryacted · 2 months ago

Text

GREEDY

─ Dr. Jack Abbot x fem! reader || WC: 3k

SYNOPSIS: You crave to feel your lover differently, and Jack is happy to satisfy your needs.

CONTENT/WARNINGS: MDNI/18+. NSFW. SMUT. Age gap implied [Jack is late 40s, reader is late 20s/early 30s]. Power imbalance mention [Attending/Resident]. Established "secret" relationship. Creampie. Unprotected sex (p in v). Mentions of oral (f! receiving) & fingering. Multiple orgasms. Overstimulation. Dirty talk. Brief mentions of birth control & safe sex practices. They fuck nasty and are down bad for each other. Reader is described to have hair. Jack Abbot is a really good partner. Brief mentions of Jack’s scars & allusions to a vasectomy he had in the past.

A/N: This all came to me in a dream lmao. I just had a certain itch I needed to scratch and I wanted to talk about getting creampied by a fine ass old man, so this was the product of that thought. I hope you all enjoy this and join me in feening for this man. Proofread by moi. Reblogs, comments, and likes are always greatly appreciated! <3

NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST | AO3

You’d never really consider yourself a greedy or selfish person, but when it came to Jack Abbot, you just couldn’t help yourself.

On your first day of residency at the Pitt, your attention instantly gravitated to him. He carried himself so confidently at times, never crossing the line of stepping into arrogance like some of the surgeons he complained about. He kept his head high, back straight, and shoulders flared as he maneuvered around patients and rooms alike, commanding every space with a calm confidence you almost envied.

Coffee and light teasing exchanged in the emergency department turned into cold beers and tipsy laughter at the local bar everyone frequented after long shifts or on their off-days. One drink too many resulted in a not-so-accidental one-night stand with the enigma of a man that was Dr. Abbot. You wondered if he regretted it by the time you woke up in the morning, hair a mess over your head, going in different directions; doing your best to bury the disappointment tugging at your chest when the other side of the bed was found empty.

Much to your surprise, light clanking from your kitchen forced you back on your feet, spotting Jack working over the stove, the smell of eggs and fresh toast wafting through your apartment. His jeans hung low on his hips, unbuttoned, with his black briefs hiding the rest of him. He turns when he senses your presence, the corner of his lips tugging upwards in a small grin at the sight of you, slightly disheveled and wearing nothing but his shirt from the night before.

“Morning. Stole some of your coffee; hope you don’t mind.”

You were doomed from the start.

It never stopped after that; a one-night stand turned into several over the course of one month, and one month turned into two. You found yourself in the consistent presence of Dr. Abbot, who was always there to satisfy your needs, whatever they may be. He learned how to read you, your likes and dislikes, your quirks, and the things that made you happy and tick in agitation. The few weeks you spent with him in secret amounted to the moment Jack popped the question of exclusivity one night, and you were more than happy to say yes.

Now here you were, Dr. Abbot’s favorite night-shift resident at work and his girl when you two were alone. You already had him wrapped around your finger, hitting close to five months of being with him and selfishly enjoying his company in this bubble you’ve created for yourselves away from prying eyes.

And yet you still wanted more.

You couldn’t quite explain what happened along the way, why you simply couldn’t stop finding any little moment to touch him, to kiss him, to taste him. You just knew you wanted every part of him to yourself, and he was ready to give it.

All but one.

Your sex life with Jack was already more than satisfactory, and even using a word as simple as that was a disservice in describing your experiences with him. Hell, you’re pretty sure he’s ruined you for anyone else, and you don’t plan on finding another to take his place any time soon. But there was this one pesky thing that still kept you separated from him.

The damn rubber.

Jack was almost too good for you—a softie despite his take-no-shit attitude, always sweet and considerate when it came to you. Of course, that translated to when he fucked you, prioritizing your safety and pleasure above all else, including maintaining recommended sexual habits. You can’t blame him; he’s not an idiot, and neither are you, but at times it irks you to still have something getting in the way of feeling him the way you wanted.

It almost pissed you off how badly you craved him, desperately holding on to him and pulling him closer when he was too busy fucking you into the mattress. His face dug into the crook of your neck, grunting as your walls fluttered around his length, your arousal covering the thin non-latex material that separated your bodies. Just the thought of it made you whine, clawing at his shoulders and wrapping your legs tighter around his waist.

You knew he was getting close from the way his breathing rumbled deep within his chest, his grip on your hips tightening as his thrusts picked up in force. The words that had been swirling in your head for the past 30 minutes slipped out of your mouth and into his ear before you could stop them.

“Fill me up, baby.”

He groans when he hears you, slamming his hips hard against yours, a curse tumbling from his mouth as he fills up the condom. He draws a final sigh from you before pulling out to dispose of the wretched thing while you remain occupied with taking a peek at his ass as he heads to the bathroom.

Having sex without protection was something Jack didn’t think to bring up or mention. The last thing he wanted was to make you assume all you were to him was a toy to be used when it's convenient and discarded when he grew bored of you. He already had the displeasure of approaching sex that way when he was younger and reckless; he vowed to never do that again, especially with you. And of course, you didn’t want to potentially ruin the relationship you’ve worked so hard to build with your attending.

As much as he wanted to deny it, your words tormented him, playing in his mind on loop so frequently he started dreaming about feeling you with no barriers, claiming you properly. He knows once you hit that stage in your fairly new relationship, there’s no going back. From the way you struggled to hide the slightest tinge of disappointment whenever he ripped open the foil wrapper in front of you, he knew the conversation would happen eventually.

“What if next time, we just don’t use anything? Protection, I mean.” You blurt out to him in the kitchen, wringing your hands together as Jack busied himself washing the dishes after dinner. He finished up and dried his hands, pivoting to face where you leaned against the island.

“Is that what you want?” He asks carefully, his eyes boring into yours gently, the way he always did when speaking to those he cared about. “Surprises aren’t exactly what I’m worried about; we’re good on that end, but, it’s whatever you want to do, sweetheart.”

“Yes, I want to try it out.” You feel his hands coming towards your waist, a comforting gap of space between as you mess with the collar of his t-shirt. “It’s not that our sex life isn’t fun or anything; I very much enjoy sleeping with you.”

“I sure hope so considering how much I risk pulling my back doing all the work.” You playfully slap his chest, rolling your eyes at his teasing smirk.

“I just…I want to feel you, all of you. It’s like an itch I can’t scratch sort of thing, and it feels stupid explaining it, but it’s a thing, okay. Don’t fucking laugh at me.”

Jack couldn’t help but chuckle dryly at your mild panic, shaking his head as he stepped closer to you, planting a kiss on your cheek and squeezing your hips in reassurance.

“Not laughing at you, I just think it’s cute how flustered you’re getting when you’re begging me to fuck you raw.”

“Now why are you saying it like that? It sounds raunchy coming from you.” He only laughs harder.

“I think we’re way past the point of calling what we do raunchy in our relationship, don’t you think?” There’s a faint glint in his hazel eyes when he takes in your features again, his fingers pinch your chin, holding your gaze. “Besides, you aren’t the only one who’s been thinking about it. I was just waiting for you to crack first.”

That’s how you found yourself in this position now.

Your cunt pulsed from the lavish attention bestowed by the older man above, who already made you cum once using his mouth and again in combination with his thick fingers. Even with the two orgasms you gladly took, your body clenched around nothing as you watched Jack lazily jerk himself off, dark eyes raking over your bare body. By now, he’d be tearing open another one of those flimsy foil packets and slipping inside you. Instead, your legs subconsciously widened even more, beckoning him closer to you in an attempt to take you.

Notching the tip of his length at your entrance, he groaned at the feel of you, shifting his hips to grind against your heat as more of your wetness coated the underside of his cock.

“Last chance to take it back, sweetheart.” He quirked, meeting your hazy eyes—glossed over and feral as you admired his broad silhouette and tempting movements.

“Shut up and fuck me already.” You only seemed to be thinking with your downstairs brain, your thirst for more overriding common sense, not that he was complaining.

“Yes, ma’am.”

He angled himself over you, keeping his observant eyes on your face as he started pushing into you, slowly sinking deeper into your welcoming body. Jack didn’t expect you to feel so damn hot, your walls surrounding his cock like a vice, like you were made for it. Your hands flew to grasp his bicep, gasping at the bare feel of him for the first time. Eyes fluttering closed, a whimper lurched out of your mouth when he was down to the hilt, the trimmed hairs by his pubic bone rubbing against your sensitive nub, causing you to twitch around him on instinct.

As he sat inside you and let you adjust to him, you could feel everything—every ridge, every vein, every swell and throb his body gave you, even his damn pulse. It was bringing you closer to the deep end.

“Jack…” You mumbled his name, blinking slowly as his nostrils flared.

“Hold on, hold on, don’t move.” Large hands clutched your hips, keeping you pinned to the mattress with his strength. “You feel so good.”

“Yeah?” The compliment took the rest of the empty space in your head, your thighs taking their rightful place around his waist, knees bracketing over his sharp hips.

“So damn warm and wet…God.” It sounded like Jack wasn’t talking to you anymore but reiterating his own innermost thoughts, filter gone. His attention trailed down to where your bodies were joined together, shifting his hips back to watch your lower set of lips part for him, your slick covering his skin. You moved towards him, already missing the stretch of him inside you, and Jack was just as eager to give you what you needed.

“Look at her. Taking me so well, like she always does.” Thrusting forward, he didn’t spare you an inch, drawing back just to pound into you again and again.

The friction of his hips intensifies the more he gets to feel you, and soon enough the four walls of your shared bedroom are filled with the audible slapping of skin as you lose yourselves in each other. Jack’s hips pummeled into you with a force you weren’t completely unfamiliar with, but this carnal need to have more of him creeps onto the surface. Your nails raked down his freckled arms and the planes of his shoulders, encouraging Jack to buck into you harder with your sweet cries.

It all felt too fucking good, like a dream.

You didn’t want him to stop, your legs winding tighter around his torso, mewling when he hit that textured spot tucked inside you with practiced accuracy, head thrown back against the pillow as you focused on catching each one of his harsh lunges. A hand sneaked to the back of your head, grasping the nape of your neck and angling your face to look up at Jack, the smallest bit of sweat lining up on his forehead.

“Keep those eyes on me, baby. Want to see your pretty face when you come for me.” He practically snarled over you, leaning down to roughly plant a kiss, his tongue swirling around yours, swallowing all of the petulant sounds he brought out of you. “Perfect fucking pussy, and all mine.”

“All yours, Jack.” You parroted, nodding dumbly from the impact of his movements against you. “I’m all yours, sir.”

His grin turned predatory at your needy words, both hands curling around your thighs to angle them higher up, your knees now pinned to your chest, allowing him to dig just a bit deeper into you. You jolted from the change in position, one hand rushing to press against his lower stomach, fingertips skimming the raised scars along his side, long faded and meshed with the rest of him.

He was unfazed by your movements, holding you steady, and upped his efforts against you. Your arousal practically seeped out of you, pooling at the base of him and dripping down his balls. Another whimper echoed in the room, your clouded gaze glanced down to watch Jack fuck you, mesmerized at the shine you left over him. You didn’t need to warn him that another release was swirling in your gut; your body language did all the talking for you.

“Know you��re close, honey. Can feel you getting tighter around me, damn near choking me.” He grunts, adding a swivel to his precise advances into you. “C’mon, need you to drench me. Let me feel you.”

Three more drives into you, and your third orgasm hit you so ardently your whole body trembled, a silent cry flying out of your mouth. Jack observed your reaction with hungry eyes, cooing at your cock-drunk expression, drool starting to spill out the corner of your lip.

He knew it was only a matter of time before he hit his peak, the tension in his body building in his core, and with the way you haven’t stopped convulsing around him, it will catch him off guard sooner than later. Through the haze of ecstasy, you found your voice and mumbled at him, the lust-filled mania that started this whole ordeal possessing you.

“Jack,” his attention was drawn to your face, plump lips and warm cheeks mirroring his ravenous stare, “I need you to come inside me.”

“You want it that bad, huh?” He was struggling to keep it together, his mind already hyper-focused on finishing inside until you took every damn drop. “So desperate to have your old man fill up your greedy pussy, hm?”

“Yes! Yes!” Tears streaked down your face at the mere thought of getting to feel him like this; the promise of getting what you wanted after so long was enough to overwhelm you. “Please, Jack. I need it; need to feel it. Want to feel you tomorrow, baby.”

That fired him up; the sight of your watery eyes motivated him to flex his forearms and force you to take all of him as he chased his prolonged release. A few more jabs and he was done for, digging his face into the crook of your neck and biting your shoulder to suppress the loud growl that buzzed through him. His hips were flush with yours, giving you everything he had to give, his thighs trembling and stomach almost cramping from his violent climax.

His orgasm felt never-ending; he just couldn’t stop, your body melting from the inside out as you held him above you until he plopped on top of you, pelvis subconsciously grinding into you more, never wanting to leave your warmth.

“Jesus.” You heard Jack murmur against you, placing light kisses over the indents of his teeth on your shoulder. His mouth followed a path up to the column of your throat, your jaw, and to your lips, offering you sweet pecks. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” you hummed at his affections, the rest of your limbs becoming one with the mattress under you. “Didn’t break me yet, though I don’t think I can feel my legs.”

“Means I did my job well.” Both ends of his mouth curl upwards, mimicking his expression as he gently wipes your tears away.

Carefully, he took hold of your legs, bringing them back down to the bed, rubbing them with an apologetic smile as you quivered. With ease, Jack maneuvers himself to pull out of you, his eyes going to your pussy and the mess he made of you. He catches the way his spend drips out of your opening and stains the sheets below you, a sight he was committing to memory for the first time.

A carnal urge flares within him, his curiosity getting the best of him as he brings a hand to the most sensitive part of you, his thumb spreading you out to get a better look at you. More of his seed dribbled out of you, tainting the thick digit as he smeared more of himself over the rest of your cunt. You gasped at the sensation, his thumb circling over your slick pearl, squirming under his touch from the overstimulation.

“I get the appeal now,” he says to himself again, swiftly bringing two of his fingers to scoop the rest of him and sink them back into your hole, serving as a plug to keep his release inside you. You keened at him, clutching his thick wrist as he breached your body with his hand, your breath hitching in your throat.

“Jack…”

“So pretty when you’re so full of me.” You clench around him, the sensation sending a current of pleasure coursing through him, his cock twitching again at the thought of having you again. “You can take a little more, right?”

Who were you to say no to that? You couldn’t get enough of him, and when it came to Jack Abbot, you always made room for seconds and more.

©️ ovaryacted 2025. Please don’t repost, copy, translate, or feed into any AI. Support your fellow creators by reblogging, commenting, and liking!

#jack abbot smut #jack abbot x reader #jack abbot x you #dr jack abbot x reader #jack abbot imagine #dr abbot x reader #dr abbot #the pitt #the pitt fanfiction #the pitt x reader #the pitt hbo #the pitt 2025 #shawn hatosy #ovaryacted fics #⋆♱ nic works ♱⋆

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spearofheaven · 14 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ SYMBIOSIS — venom! geto suguru

SUM. absorbing curses was simple enough, right? until your boyfriend absorbs something that wasn’t quite a curse.

CONTAINS. 18+ content, MDNI. 6.2k words. x fem! journalist reader. non canon compliant/au. smut. blood. monsterfucking (?). tentacles. dead chickens (first venom movie ref lol). light bondage. unprotected p in v. consensual recording. oral (f & m receiving). riding. missionary. pet names (baby, princess, etc.) some aftercare.

A/N. another geto repost whoops. positive comments and reblogs are appreciated <33

You were going to strangle your boss.

Or, you would've entertained the idea had it not been for the hefty stack of ALMOST DUE bills cluttered around your kitchen table in bright red ink (and the very real possibility of ending up in jail, whoops).

Maybe you'd just stick with your original idea of writing a heavily worded word document. One that you'd never send, of course. But one that would explain the absurdity of this situation, nonetheless. Using your journalistic degree—and the many years of debt that it'd set you back, to come to an abandoned barn house in the middle of nowhere.

Unsolved mysteries and speculation led you to explore some complaints farmers had about missing chickens. On some hunch that Venom as the city dubbed him had been responsible.

Brown, dried out leaves crunched underneath your feet with each step as you slowly began to approach the abandoned barn. A coyote howled in the distance, the sound of cicadas buzzing around only adding to the animal symphony. You wouldn't be surprised if a chainsaw popped out from the back of the barn and began chasing you down.

"Can't be that bad, right?" You muttered to yourself, standing in front of the tightly shut doors. Trying (and failing) to convince yourself to go through with this investigation instead of tailgating it straight out of this horror scene. You managed to get the heavy door open, its hinges creaking obnoxiously. No chainsaw in sight—okay.

Holding the small candle in front of you, the area around you began to illuminate while you made your way further inside. Nothing out of the ordinary. A couple horses sleeping in their stables, buckets and rakes in almost every corner. Until you approached the chicken coops. Flies buzzed around a couple of the spaces, bunching up in the masses.

Shooing them away, you peered your head inside. And you almost immediately wished that you hadn't. Instead of getting an angry chicken looking back at you, you only got to see a chicken's body laying there. With no sight of the head anywhere. And while you were just a journalist for a mid tier newspaper.. even you could tell that it wasn't normal behavior.

SWISH.

A sudden burst of air hit your face, the hinges of the barn door creaking even further. The culprit had been just a couple meters away and you'd missed it. You jogged outside to try to see if you could catch a glimpse, looking up and down. Only to receive nothing but the buzzing cicadas from earlier.

In the short amount of time it'd taken you to come out, whatever—or whoever was out there, disappeared in the blink of an eye. You were left standing there with your mouth agape, camera weighing heavily in your hand. And now, a missed call from your boss.

"Hello?" You decided to answer the second call, pacing around the barn. Trying to think of just how you were supposed to begin to explain this. How every fiber in your being felt Venom's presence.. without actually facing him. Without actually having any proof that he was even here in the first place.

"I'd appreciate it if you answered my calls the first time around," her voice snapped out from the other line, an agitated groan leaving her lips. "I called to ask how the investigation was going. I'm assuming you have what you need to have the paper by tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow?" All the blood in your body ran cold, even more than the near death experience. The woman's working you into an early grave.

And all you received in response to your question was another groan. You could practically picture her pinching the bridge of her nose by now. "Yes, tomorrow. I plan on having it released a couple days from now, you know how the process is."

"Right, right, yeah. I'll get the paper to you by tomorrow," You assured her, your steps starting to get faster. It wouldn't be that hard, right? You just had to do what a couple journalists hadn't achieved in months by tomorrow morning. "Fuck, fuck, fuck, I'm screwed," you muttered to yourself, pushing your phone into the depths of your pocket.

The animals woke up from their nap, looking over at you with an unamused expression. "Don't look at me like that," you hissed out, catching a glimpse of them before letting out a groan, "And now I'm arguing with a bunch of animals." A slow breath left your lungs, forcing yourself to calm down. You'd just work with what you had in front of you.

Only drops of blood staining the tan floor in front of you served to prove that you weren't seeing things. You set the candle aside and pulled your camera out of your bag, starting to take pictures from whatever angle you could muster up. Whatever angle would look the most inconspicuous and mysterious to the newspaper editors.

You couldn't help but feel like something was staring at you—gauging every single one of your movements when you stepped out of the barn. The creature wouldn't have been stupid enough to stick around, would it? You looked up at the barn roof, almost expecting to see something ready to attack. But once again, a whole load bucket of absolutely nothing.

You truly didn't get paid enough to deal with this.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

An unquenchable thirst consumed Suguru's being inside and out, the urge completely taking over any last sense of rationale that he had remaining. Taking over every single last one of his thoughts. Even with the warm, iron taste of blood coating every single one of his tastebuds—the need wasn't satisfied. It wasn't nearly enough.

It almost felt like it would never be enough.

Dried crimson smudges smeared across elongated canines, pieces of raw flesh sticking to the ends. A mix of his own drool and blood dripped from the corners of his mouth, dripping down his chin and bare body. A body that wasn't really quite his own. Or more accurately, a body that wasn't just his anymore.

Suguru wasn't completely sure what the thing was, originally thinking of it as curse when he'd been sent out by Yaga to 'handle' the issue. Ironically enough, for the same thing that you were investigating just now. Except that he went to absorb it, the black glob in the ground didn't behave anything like a cursed spirit.

The taste of vomit and shit was one that Suguru was used to by now. The taste of every single one of humanity's evil doings—from lust to greed—sticking to the back of his throat while his body absorbed that very same evil. It was a taste that he couldn't get rid of no matter how hard

The little glob didn't taste like anything going down, which probably should've served as the first red flag. One of the other things was that the little thing didn't exactly appear on his command—much like the others in his repertoire, but rather when the thing wanted to make itself known. Like it had rational thinking.

It'd somehow bonded with Suguru's DNA, latching onto him for survival. Even with every method that he'd tried to take it off—prying it off with a metal bar, burning it off, freezing, it was all pointless. The little thing would just stick its gooey tongue out at him before retreating back to the safety of his own body. Going so far as to claim that they were the 'perfect match.'

Dead chicken heads cluttered around his feet, the sound of bones crunching against each other and the last desperate clucks in vain still echoed throughout his skull. Even a couple pieces of flesh remained on the tips of his teeth, the creature inside of him savoring each last bit of the pieces. Better than it being a human, at the very least.

He'd become too sloppy. That much was clear after you'd almost caught him in the barn earlier. If you'd been even just a second faster, you would've noticed him sticking to the side of the roof with no problem. Despite every sense in his body being enhanced, he'd almost gotten caught. All for his blood thirsty to have chickens before going back home for dinner.

How'd this even become a problem? Suguru had made it a point to take just a few chickens—just enough to satiate the thirst that seemed to run deep within his veins. Taking a few from a different farms scattered across the countryside shouldn't have been suspicious.. and yet here he was. Being investigated.

The smart thing to do would just to leave the chickens alone for now, right?

Just leave the whole thing alone. That would be easy...

Until he had the stupid idea to swing by your apartment. Just to make sure that you'd gotten home safe after driving in the snow. And maybe think of some lie of how he got stuck out with Gojo on a mission again, anything that would ease the suspicions you had.

After spending what seemed to be an eternity waiting for some kind of sign to show up, for the culprit to make themselves known—you decided to call it a night. With just a couple photographs and a new conversation topic for your therapist in the following days. And now you were stuck writing a multi page article with nothing but good vibes and a couple dead chickens.

Can after can of unfinished energy drinks cluttered the expanse of your desk, serving as a paperweight for the several papers that laid in front of you. The laptop screen in front of you illuminated your face, nearly blinding as every tab you could find in regard to Venom was opened up. Which was a complete grand total of three articles.

All built up on pure speculation. Exactly what the farmers had told you during their interview—rambling about it being a two headed monster, a soul snatcher, a demon. The eerie presence that hung around the farm was too strong to be ignored.. and yet, no one had actually found the source behind it. No source, no reliable clues, nothing. Just a whole load of absolutely nothing.

The simple fact remained that no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it. Or probably, no one had managed to catch a glimpse of it and live to tell the story. The photos didn't offer much either—they were all either blurred, heavily edited, or just outright AI generated. Each failed result just made the pounding headache thumping against your head all the much worse.

Just what were you supposed to tell your boss and the multitudes of readers?

A loud thump against your window distracted you from looking at your computer screen for different job offers. A thump too heavy to just be a result of the snowfall outside. To open it or not to open it? You stayed still in your spot, gulping down more of the battery acid to keep yourself for a couple more hours. Until another thump. And the third thump came.

You reluctantly got off the chair, padding over towards the window. Nothing. The night sky was completely empty, albeit for a couple snow flakes that were starting to coat the streets in a thin white sheet. Your gaze went down to the three pebbles lying on the floor, matching the number of thuds you'd heard earlier.

"What the fuck?" You muttered to yourself, looking up from the pebbles. The words died in your throat when you looked up to see big, white eyes boring into your own. Not exactly what you were expecting to see living in the second floor. You scrambled away from the window, your heart beating against your chest as you heard the creature scratching against the glass.

The same creature that you were trying to write an article about was scratching against your window, each one grating against your eardrums. Had it been tracking your movements down since you'd left the barn..? Before you had the chance to begin questioning it further, it slid through the crack in the window like slime. Reaching up and up until it reached the lock.

Slipping inside of your apartment in a span of seconds, Venom stood in front of you. Its head pressed against the ceiling, taking over the space it had available with ease. Chills ran down your back when the creature met your gaze—his stare unsettling. The way a predator would look at its prey. It didn't help that you could practically see it salivating as it took you in.

The chickens were the appetizer and you were about to be the full course meal.

"You're the one writing those articles," not a question, just a simple statement. Its voice came out like something out of an alien movie. You rubbed the back of your neck, awkwardly looking up at the goo-like creature. Trying to figure out what lie you could pull out of your ass.

"I mean, not exactly. There's a lot of people writing those articles, mine don't really get as much traction," you were babbling the first thing that came to mind, trying to buy yourself enough time. Enough time to figure out if jumping out of the second window in just your pajamas was too stupid of an idea. Except... that Venom wasn't even paying attention to you anymore.

It busied itself with picking up one of the various news articles, an indignant scoff leaving its mouth. Holding up the offensive piece of paper up to his face, its eyes narrowing down at you. "If you answer this wrong, I'll be eating your brains. If you answer it right, I'll be eating your arm. Do you think this is the most flattering picture of me?"

You looked over at the picture, trying to discern what was so wrong with it. Seeing Venom face to face, this was the closest thing that resembled it. "It's red but it still looks like you somewhat," you shrugged. Though your eyes quickly widened seeing Venom lick their lips, almost hungrily. Like it'd been waiting for you to say the wrong answer.

"But no, I don't think it's the most flattering. Doesn't look like you at all," you quickly backtracked with a nervous laugh, stepping back just the slightest bit. Just to where the creature wouldn't notice you were slowly slipping away. The creature seemed satisfied with that answer, slamming the photo down onto the wooden desk.

"So unfair that I'm still getting compared to that thing."

"That thing?"

"Carnage."

Venom picked up the camera that laid next to the disorganized stack of papers—holding it up to his face. "Not bad, could've done with some better lighting," he tsked, looking through the pictures you'd taken earlier at the farm. "There wasn't any better lighting," you grumbled, folding your arms across your chest. The subtle click of the camera filled up the room as the creature continued to look through the photographs.

Until even it got tired of multiple copies of the same photos. Venom held up the camera lens to face its slimy face, having the nerve to smile just as the flash came on. "There. A much better picture for your references," the creature spoke almost proudly.. holding up your camera to take another photo of itself. Taking on a more serious expression. "Replace those ugly ones on Google."

Venom moved across your room curiously, exploring it like something out a museum. Picking up the articles you had scattered throughout your desk, holding it up underneath his scrutinizing gaze. And then.. the first change started to happen. Its mask began to disintegrate, human flesh starting to show underneath its cover.

You were delirious. That was the only possible explanation. The fumes from the filthy manure finally infiltrated your brain. The sight of the dead chickens was starting to mess up your cognitive function. "Suguru?"

"Surprise," now he sounded nervous, looking everywhere in the room except at your face.

All the little signs that Suguru had been displaying throughout the past couple weeks slowly started to make sense. From being insistent to be the one to wash his uniform (not that you'd minded at the time) to coming back home at the ass crack of dawn. Claiming that a mission held him up. And still, you found yourself wanting to believe that maybe you were just hallucinating.

"I didn't scare you too badly, right?" he approached you slowly, like he was the one that had to be cautious. You stayed frozen in spot, your mouth agape even as he came to hold your hips.

"Wait, so you're the murderer? How long has it been going on for? A-And why'd you show up here as Venom?" The questions spilled out of you, struggling to even begin to wrap your head around this.

Choosing to ignore your other questions, he simply answered, "You wanted to write your article, didn't you? What better way to do that than to keep track of our exclusive interview." Your phone looked ridiculously tiny held in between two digits, one of his fingertips tapping at the screen. To get the camera app set up?

Suguru placed the camera against one of the perfume bottles on the desk, capturing your bed in the frame. "What's that for?" you questioned, looking over at him as he moved around your room. No longer with that curious gaze, but the usual comfortability instead. "It'll be easier for you to remember if you have it digitized."

Your bed squeaked underneath his weight as Suguru went to lie down, resting his hands behind his head. "Come on, princess. The interview's more comfortable this way," he patted down on the spot next to him, a couple of your stuffed animals flying to the floor from the sheer force of his hand.

"So, what do you want to know?" Suguru questioned, running one of his fingers down the sheer material of your sleep shirt. Bunching up the thin material underneath his hands before slowly raising it up to your stomach. Abnormally cold hands slid up your torso, goosebumps forming instinctively at the touch.

"Why'd you murder the chickens? Not like we're missing any food at home," You looked over at the camera, making sure it was recording. And trying to avoid looking at Suguru. Was he still the person that you fell in love with? Well, clearly not.. but maybe, just maybe, the symbiote hadn't changed him?

You weren't sure how to deal with the possibility that the thing inside him had changed him completely. But Suguru was still gentle, his fingertips lightly caressing your body while he let out a small hum. Considering his answer.

"The thing inside me craves blood. Morning, day, and night. It's like an urge. An itch that I can't really control," Suguru moved his hand up your shirt, letting out a small hum. "I know that doesn't answer your question. Give me a bit."

Suguru grasped one of your breasts in his hand, rubbing his thumb against your areola. Feeling your nipples getting harder and harder underneath his fingertip, both from the cold seeping in through the slightly ajar window and his actions. He did the same to your right breast, slowly taking his time to move down your body. Eliciting all the goosebumps he could muster within you.

Suguru's fingers rubbed slightly against your clothed cunt, tracing the outline of your folds through the flimsy material. "Or better yet. Why do you think I murdered the chickens?" the deflection was smooth, even you had to admit that much. His fingers were just as smooth, sliding your panties to the side to reveal your already glistening cunt.

The two digits began moving in a scissoring motion, slowly starting to spread you open. It was hard to focus on the damn chickens when all you wanted was for him to keep going. Your hips bucked up to meet his hand, getting the slightest bit of friction against his palm. Just as soon as that sense of relief came over you, it was quickly ripped away.

Suguru pulled his fingers out of your pussy, bringing them up to his lips. Wrapping his lips around them and sucking on them like a decadent dish, rolling his eyes back. "I'll be nice, even though you didn't answer. Want a little taste?" You simply nodded at his question, leaning up to meet his lips. Suguru closed the gap in between you two, pressing his lips against your own.

The first thing you could taste was yourself, the taste clinging onto his lips for dear life. Your tongue ran over his bottom lip, picking up the remnants.

“If I knew why'd you murdered the chickens, I wouldn't be asking," you pointed out, a small gasp leaving your lips. His thumb teased your clit yet again, teasing you to that crescendo before letting it drop again.

"But you're so smart, baby. I wanted to hear your thoughts on why chickens. Why not dogs? Why not cats?" Suguru spoke in puzzles, only serving to confuse you even further. "Come on, put that big brain to use and let me hear your thoughts."

"Because.. it's easier to overlook?" You blurted out the first thing that came to mind, trying to put your 'big brain' to use without blanking out completely.

Suguru clicked his tongue, nodding his head from his spot in between your legs. "Something like that, yeah. I thought no one would really notice if a couple chickens went missing," he looked up at you, amethyst eyes almost seeming to sparkle underneath the moon.

The only time where Suguru didn't feel like the hunger was all consuming was when he was in between your legs, eating you out to his heart's content (or until you had to pull him off you after the nth orgasm, either or). "Could smell you all the way outside the window. Such a good scent," he all but purred into your skin, completely removing your panties off.

Just how enhanced were his senses now? Maybe that should be your next question. If you remembered, that is.

Sharp canines grazed upon your inner thighs, the movement surprisingly gentle. For someone who'd just bit off a chicken's head with those same teeth, anyways. His long tongue licked a stripe up your inner thigh, sucking on the supple skin and savoring the taste all the while. Your hips bucked up in need of something more, only to quickly being pinned down by his hands.

"Let me take my time, princess. Savor this," He looked over at you, a firm grip on your thighs. "I'll give you what you want, I promise," Suguru hadn't even done anything—and he was already starting to get delirious. He could practically taste you from here, could feel the scent of you completely invading his senses. All he could think about was you, you, and you.

The stretch of the symbiote's long, pink tongue as he pushed it in deeper into your cunt had you gripping the sheets beneath you all that much tighter. The silken sheets bunching up underneath your vice grip. Just the tongue was enough to reach up where your boyfriend's cock normally did.

You writhed against the silk bedsheets, your eyes struggling to stay open as the tongue pushed further inside of you. Filling you up with so much ease. It slowly retracted, pushing back inside of you with one swift motion. "D-Don't stop," you let out a gasp, your back arched while the tongue reached deep within you.

"So tasty," a low gravelly voice that didn't quite belong to Suguru sounded from the back of his throat. The different entity living within his body. "Don't get used to it," Suguru's voice came out muffled, tongue-deep inside of your cunt. His tongue eagerly lapped up and every drop of your slick, coating his mouth and chin.

He pulled away for the slightest bit, letting his spit dribble down on to your pussy. Watching intently at the way your walls clenched at just that, the way you twitched with just the lightest of movements. "F-Fuck, Sugu!" A whine left your lips, feeling his fingers push into you again. Curling them just right, hitting that sweet spot inside of you with each thrust.

"So good," he babbled against your cunt, the tip of his tongue swirling against your clit. "T-Taste so fucking good, I love you," Suguru rutted his hips pathetically onto the edge of the bed, leaving his precum onto the sheets. The hand that wasn't essentially knuckle-deep inside you wrapped around his cock, thrusting himself in time with your own.

The symbiote's tongue was quick, precise in the way that it flicked around your clit. Suguru swirled it around the nub, letting out mindless groans and babbles as he leaked further into his hand. Your cunt gushed around his fingers—squelching with every thrust of his fingers he gave. You tightened up around them, your fingers digging in further into the bedsheets.

"G-Gonna cum, gonna cum," you babbled out, your toes curling. It was just so deep, so good, so much of everything. "Cum all over my fingers, pretty. Wanna taste you so bad," Suguru managed to get out through his own whines and babbles. You felt that pressure inside of you build up before finally releasing—covering his fingers in your release when you came.

Suguru took his fingers out, replacing them with his tongue to lap up every last drop that started to leak down your thighs. With one final kiss against your folds, he pulled away to clean away his fingers. You sat up, coming face to face with his cock now that he was standing up.

And to call it a beast was short of an understatement.

Your swollen lips wrapped around the tip of his cock, struggling to completely get him inside of your mouth. It was just so.. thick. You looked up at him, your eyes starting to water up from the way your jaw was starting to slack. "You don't have to, princess," Suguru cooed down at you, wiping away your tears with his thumb. Though, even he would be a fool to deny this sight was anything short of perfect.

You looked absolutely sinful on your knees, your cheeks hollowing out in some attempt to ease the way down. You ignored the warning, slowly starting to bob your head down his shaft. Becoming complacent with the fact you wouldn't dare to try to take all of him in—not unless you wanted a quick trip to the hospital and an awkward explanation to the ER doctors.

With the spit pooled up in your mouth, you blew bubbles on the tip of Suguru's cock before letting it dribble down his shaft. One of your hands wrapped around the base, slowly starting to twist your wrist and start to jerk off what you couldn't reach. "F-Fuck, that's it, princess. So good," Suguru moaned out, one of his own hands resting on the back of your head.

"If you want me to keep going—answer me this. Have you hurt any civilians?" You pulled your mouth away, a string of saliva connecting you to the tip of his leaking cock. Suguru let out an exasperated groan, "No. I haven't. I don't want to hurt any people."

Even from this awkward angle on the floor, you could tell that he was telling the truth. Finally. You continued to drool on his cock, the filthy sounds of you gagging on it when the tip hit the back of your throat echoing through the thin walls. Your tongue traced through the thick veins on the sides, feeling Suguru's thighs twitch beside you.

"O-Oh f-fuck," Suguru bit on his fist, his head lolling back the more you tried to push his cock inside your mouth. Your tongue licked down the underside of his cock, going all the way to his heavy balls. You looked up to see Suguru struggling to meet your gaze, his chest heaving and strangled breaths leaving his lips.

Your tongue drew small circles on the sac before you took it in your mouth, sucking on them. "Wait, wait," Suguru started off, gently pulling you off, "Need to come inside you." He grabbed your hand, helping you off the floor.

Though the camera was still running on the nightstand, you decided to make mental notes of everything he was saying. Just in case. You weren't even completely sure if you'd remember by the end of the night. Suguru made himself comfortable just like at the start of the night—and the pieces started to click together. No way the man wanted you to ride him now.

"S-Suguru, I can't," the words escaped your lips in a hiss, slowly impaling yourself onto the first two inches of the large cock underneath you. Not even enough to completely get the tip in. Each inch felt like it was splitting you apart all over again.

"Yes you can, you're taking it so well baby," Suguru cooed, watching as you slowly sunk yourself down on his cock. Squeezing the life out of him while you tried to find your momentum.

You could already imagine the words on your tombstone— death by monster dick.

Suguru placed his hands on your hips, gently squeezing the flesh to ease your movements. "There you go, that's it. That's it, take it for me," he encouraged your movements with each bounce you were giving on his—the symbiote's(?)—cock.

Suguru looked over to see his cock nudging a bulge in your tummy when he thrusted up into you, the sight nearly having him close to an orgasm again. He thrusted in deeper, watching how the tip protruded with each one. "S-Sugu, you're in too deep," you moaned out, practically feeling the man in your guts. And he wasn't even fully in. You wouldn't be surprised if he could reach your guts.

Your hips gyrated, trying to keep up some sense of rhythm. You pressed your hands firmly against their chest for some semblance of balance, feeling the goon underneath your fingertips sticking to your fingers. "Take it, take it," Suguru let out a moan of his own, his fingers digging into the soft skin of your hips. His feet pressed against the mattress, using you like a toy as he thrust himself in and out of your cunt.

"S-Sugu, too much, too much," you babbled out, struggling to keep up with the pace you'd set for yourself. That, and the absurdly big dick jackhammering you.

"You tired, baby?" His tone was sickly sweet as he spoke, pulling you off his cock and setting you down on the bed. "It's okay, I'll take care of you now. Just lay there and look pretty."

Suguru's body began to change back into its original form, the symbiote retreating back into his body. Thick, extensive tentacles protruded out of Suguru's back, each one wrapping around one of your limbs. Suguru slowly rubbed his cock across your folds, covering his length with your slick until it glistened against the moonlight peeking in through the windows.

Suguru slowly pushed the tip inside, feeling your walls tighten up against his shaft. "Is that better?" He looked down to watch for any signs of discomfort, and upon not finding any, he placed your legs up on his shoulders. Using the angle as leverage, hips snapping deeper inside of you.

"Taking everything I give you so well," his finger lightly caressed your cheek, the sharp thrust of his hips completely contradicting the gentleness he was trying to give. Your cunt covered his shaft with your slick, squelching as he slid it in and out of you. "Rub my clit, please, please," you let out a mewl, keeping your gaze directly on his own.

"Can't say no when you beg so pretty," His thumb slowly began to rub your clit, building up your orgasm for the second time tonight. Your walls clenched around him tightly, milking his cock in the process. Everything started to get too much, too little, you weren't really sure what you wanted. The only thing that you did know was, well, you wanted to cum.

“So. Fucking. Tight," each of his words was pronounced with a thrust, sweat dripping down from his forehead and covering his skin. Your orgasm hit you like a wave, a moan leaving your lips as you came. It was both a sight and a sound that Suguru couldn't find himself getting tired of even if he tried. His own hips began to grow sloppy, his thrusts losing all sense of rhythm while his balls continued to grow heavier.

A groan erupted from the back of Suguru's throat, his head thrown back while his eyes barely managed to stay open. "Take it baby, it's all yours," Suguru let out a groan, his hips growing more erratic. Your messy pussy was pushing him closer and closer to his own orgasm. You simply nodded your head against the pillow, your nails digging into his forearm.

"Y-Yeah, all mine," your moan came out so sweetly, being the last thing to push Suguru over the edge. Ropes of cum spurted deep inside of your cunt, filling you up almost immediately. He didn't bother to move just yet, remaining buried deep inside of your cunt. The only thing that he did do was start to press slow, sloppy kisses on your calves before setting your legs down on the bed.

A soft whine left your lips when Suguru pulled out his twitching cock, the tentacles retreating back inside of him. Globs of cum dripped down out of you, streaming down your thighs and ass. "I never harmed anyone in what I've been doing, by the way. I don't want to harm anyone, I promise. I'm still your Suguru," he whispered, low enough to where your phone wouldn't pick it up.

"Still your Suguru. Your Suguru," Entrusting those words to you and you only. His thick fingers pushed inside of your dripping cunt, pushing his cum back inside of you. Filling you completely yet again. Suguru pulled out of you once again, wiping his hand off with a rag on the bed stand.

"You okay?" Suguru whispered, using the rag to gently wipe away the sweat that dribbled down your forehead. One of his hands reached down, fingertips gently rubbing against your thighs in a bleak attempt to soothe the ache.

"No, think you and that cock earlier might've broken me," you mumbled, your voice coming out hoarse. At this rate, you'd have a noise complaint taped to your front door first thing in the morning. Suguru reached over for the nightstand next to you, opening up a water bottle. "Sit up for me just a little."

Your body ached even further, pushing yourself so at least your head would be straight. "I know, I know it hurts," Did he really? Suguru took a hold of your chin, lightly tipping it up before giving you slow gulps of water. Your throat cleared up with each sip, but you could practically feel your body crying out underneath you with each second you stayed up.

"You're okay, pretty girl. I'll take care of you, did so good for me," Suguru murmured praises against your back, wrapping his arms around your stomach and keeping you close. Keeping you far warmer than any blanket you've bought as of yet.

Silence clung onto the room, but it was a comfortable silence this time around. All of the previous tension had disappeared, leaving the two of you spent. "I know you're still my Suguru, but thank you for answering the questions. You scared the shit out of me when you popped up in the suit."

"I know. Wouldn't hurt you or another person, though. Please trust me," Suguru peppered a kiss onto your upper back, continuing with his gentle motions. After nearly splitting your body in half, he was being delicate. Keeping you safe and assured.

Suguru looked over at the drawer where your phone rested, remembering all about the 'interview' he'd signed up for. "I'm gonna go see how photogenic we were, I'll be right back," He spoke quietly, pressing a small kiss onto your forehead before getting up from the squeaky mattress. It'd been a miracle that the old thing hadn't given out just from tonight.

"Yeah, okay," you spoke through ragged breaths, watching him stand up and move through the shadows of your room. Suguru took his time in picking your phone up and looking through it, watching every second of the 'film.'

"Think we're gonna have to do re-do the interview," Suguru noted, watching through the footage recorded. The phone had toppled over around 1/3 into the video, completely coming to a stop shortly after with a 'storage full' pop-up. Your chest heaved, barely registering any of the words he was saying. Interview..?

Oh, right. The Venom article you still had to finish writing. By tomorrow. Very important.

"You don't mind that right, baby?"

1K notes · View notes

trashytracktales · 2 months ago

Note

teammate!lando x reader where they had a bet and she loses…so he makes her crawl to her, hump the pillow, rub her bare clit against his clothed crotch ALL WHILE HE RECORDS HER (with consent ofc)

Lights, Camera, Action! | LN⁴

🔹️ summary ──── It was supposed to be a joke, then it became everything.

🔹️ pairing ──── Lando Norris x fem teammate!reader

🔹️ rating ──── explicit

🔹️ warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, descriptive language, smut, nerdy!Lando, soft!dom Lando, recording (consensual), cushion humping, manhandling, orgasm from external stimulation, swearing, unprotected sex, mutual masturbation, overstimulation, playful teasing, camera kink??

🔹️ word count ──── 6.3k

🔹️ date ──── May 6, 2025

🔹️ a/n ──── How tf do I set my intention to go for PURE SMUT NO PLOT, yet still manage to write over 6k 😀 I don’t even know what’s this, nothing makes sense and we are living on a floating rock.

Hear me out, I usually only link the song, but then I remembered about this music video and I almost had an aneurysm because of how well it fits. I recommend watching it after reading though. Anyway, ENJOY!!

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THE LAST RACE before the break fucked them both. Pretty hard. What was supposed to end with another 1-2 finish for the team turned into a disaster of strategy, pace, and pure bad luck.

Since getting back to Monaco, the fallout hasn’t left them alone. It’s pretty hard when everyone is talking about it; it can get lonely, too. Luckily for them, they’ve been texting back and forth for days, laced with sarcasm, blame, and just enough flirtation to keep the tension at its peak. However, neither of them said what they really wanted to say. But it was always there, between the lines as usual, and in the way her name popped up on his screen, making his stomach flip.

Every single time.

The bar is loud enough to blur that tension and even Lando, with his no-alcohol rule, is loose and laughing. They dance and talk about anything but racing, and for a while it feels like neither of them are carrying the weight of disappointment.

Friends come and go through their circle, a few fans spot them and ask for pictures — which they take, grinning too wide and standing too close for their own good. Somewhere between the fourth round of mocktails, a familiar song starts pulsing through the speakers, and that’s when she brings up the bet, half-laughing, stepping in front of him like she did back in the garage when she dared him.

“If I finish behind you, I owe you a private dance,” she said, confidence dripping from every word. She’d qualified ahead of Lando, and was so confident she can finish ahead of him, too. But since every race is unpredictable and full of unknowns, she ended up taking the checkered flag after him.

It was a joke, anyway. But she can’t say with all her heart that she hasn’t thought about it at least a few couple of times. Besides, it’s Lando who’s been constantly reminding her throughout the past few days and, even if it was in jest, the curiosity made her spend hours staring at the ceiling of her room, imagining different scenarios.

Now, it’s late when the door to his apartment clicks shut behind them with a clean, satisfying noise. Lando tosses his keys into the ceramic bowl on the console with more force than necessary, and while the keys clatter, one nearly skids off the edge, forcing him to reach for it instinctively. She doesn’t say anything, although she can’t help but finding amusing that the inanimate objects always decide to act up only when her teammate’s patience seems so fragile.

The sudden movement makes Lando whine in exasperation as she watches him kick off his shoes and drag a hand through his curls.

The place is quiet, as if reflecting their inner agitation, silently burning within. He’s not bothering turning on more than a lamp, but it’s enough to bathe the whole living room in a pale silver glow, making everything seem even more intimate than it should be.

As they step further into the apartment, the same silence hits them both, because it’s not just the sudden absence of noise, but the weight of it. They’ve never been this quiet around each other before. Usually, they’re the chaos in the garage, either laughing too loud or teasing mid-debriefs, always bringing the kind of energy that makes their engineers roll their eyes but secretly love it. Now though, it’s the first time neither of them knows what to say. Or how to act.

“Cute place,” she says, partly to break the silence, but mostly because it really is. Spacious, stylish, not super tidy, but very Lando in that sense.

“You know you don’t have to make small talk, right?” he laughs. “It was a stupid bet to begin with, since I was always going to finish ahead of you anyway.”

Her jaw drops slightly at the cockiness in his tone. This is the Lando she knows and, in other circumstances, she would find his confidence hot, but right now it only makes her want to knock that look off his face. Or sit on it just to shut him up. Either works.

“Always eager to finish first? Got it,” the playful jab lands right where she intended without too much effort; it’s a split-second flicker in his expression, the twitch of his jaw, and the way his arms tense.

That’s the spot, she thinks. That’s where it bruises his ego, not because it’s crude, but because it’s enough to sting. Which only makes her want to push harder.

Lando’s grin flattens a bit. “Well, someone’s gotta lead the way,” he replies casually, even though he caught her double meaning phrase.

“Right. Leading the way because you can’t pace yourself,” she fires back.

He chuckles. “Sounds like an excuse from someone who couldn’t keep up.”

They’re toe-to-toe now, all bite and smirk and so much tension. She’s half a second from throwing a cushion at him just to knock that pretty smile off when she glances past his shoulder and, without another word, she steps forward, fingers brushing lightly against Lando’s arm as she urges him to move out of her way, wandering farther into his apartment like she owns the place.

“Interesting,” she mumbles. “I saw you with the camera before,” the girl continues as Lando turns to follow her silhouette. “How about you film me while I dance? Give you some new material for land0.mov?”

Lando’s expression twitches barely, but she’s still able to notice it. That small flash of disbelief, quickly masked by a half-laugh, like he’s not sure if she’s joking or just testing him.

“No way, mate,” says Lando, but it’s already too late.

She nods slowly, letting the weight of her intention settle in the air they share. His boyish smirk fades into curiosity in an instant. It’s like watching him put a helmet on: composed, dialed in, serious in a way most people rarely get to see.

To give him more space to process, she veers toward the low shelf by his TV, crouching slightly. “Let’s see. Which one’s your favorite?” she asks nonchalantly, running her fingers along the row of cameras lined up like little trophies; old film bodies, modern DSLRs, and a few point-and-shoots with scratched lenses.

Lando stares at her like she suddenly grew two more heads in the meantime. “You play too much, you know that?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Which one?” she repeats.

He blinks, opening his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out at first. After he rubs the bridge of his nose, Lando exhales slowly. “The, uh… the Leica. Second from the left. Black one,” he instructs. “I rarely use it, which makes it special, I guess.”

She lifts it delicately, turning it over in her hands. It’s heavier than she expected, sleek and cool against her skin. “Nice,” she grins. “Bet it makes everything look expensive.”

Lando hums in agreement, “Only shoots what’s directly in front of it. Look,” he says, getting so close to her that he’s now towering over her frame, while pointing at the camera. “Fixed lens, see? No lazy zooming, but the resolution is insane. The tricky part is that you have to move it yourself to get the shot you want,” he continues.

She looks up at him, noticing a slight shy grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. And, just when she thought Lando couldn’t get any nerdier, she hears his voice again.

“It’s a twenty-eight millimeter lens. That’s not crazy wide,” he informs her. “If you stay in the middle, the background’s gonna fall off all soft and blurry. Makes it feel…” he trails off, clearing his throat. “Personal. It’s not even about perfect framing or whatever,” he rushes to add. “It just catches whatever’s there, no hiding.”

“Did you use it before?” she asks, curiosity pulling the words out of her mouth without having the time to think them through.

“I did,” he replies with a grin, giving her enough time to come up with her own scenarios before adding, “On my cars.”

She smiles, her eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room. “So. If I move, you have to follow, hm?”

Lando nods.

She sets the camera down gently, then leans against the wall beside the shelf with her arms crossed. She’s aware that what she’s suggesting it’s pure insanity, especially after what’s been happening between them lately.

“Okay,” she finally says, holding her hand toward him, palm open. “Can I see your phone for a sec?”

Lando frowns, trying to hide a curious smile. “Why?” he asks, sliding the phone from his pocket and unlocks it, handing it over with suspicion in his voice.

She only flashes him a smile back, thumbing through his apps until she finds the little Spotify icon. A few seconds later, the speakers come alive with a sultry bassline that wraps the room in a charged ambiance.

The teasing in her voice is easy to catch next time she asks, “You seriously have a sex playlist called sex playlist? Men are so predictable.”

He chuckles, “Yeah? What’s yours called?”

“I’ll send you the link,” she winks at him jokingly, but that still has an unexpected effect on Lando. Maybe because he’s starting to understand that his teammate is hardly ever joking, actually.

For a second that feels like a week, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. Just watches her, every muscle in his body taut like he’s holding himself back from something that’s about to come out anyway. It has to. Because everything has a limit, and theirs was crossed from the moment she entered his apartment.

With a quiet exhale, she presses herself lightly against the wall, then pushes off and crosses the living room in steady, cat-like steps, taking his hand in hers, fingers threading through his. Her touch is warm and somehow reassuring, her palm so small and silky against his. She guides Lando toward the couch with intent as if this isn’t his own home, nudging him gently until he sits.

She breaks away then, walks back across the room, and returns with the Leica in hand. “Turn it on,” she says simply, with enough clarity behind her words.

Lando stares at her, dumbfounded for a beat, before the corner of his mouth twitches upward in disbelief. “You’re insane.”

“I trust you to capture the best in me,” she admits.

He lets out a heavy breath, something between a laugh and a groan, and flips the switch at her insistence. The familiar click of the camera waking up is giving Lando chills, but when he glances up again, his hands still adjusting the ISO, she’s already pulling the shirt over her head, revealing a black bra and her toned shoulders dusted in the dim light.

She tilts her head. “Just make sure I look good, Lando.”

With that, she starts moving as slow as possible, every inch of revealed skin feeling like it’s offered, not given.

Lando’s hands are steady on the camera, but for some reason, breathing doesn’t feel automatic anymore, and he’s currently aware of every shaky breath he takes. His fingers work on instinct, dialing the aperture wider, letting in the glow of the cool lighting. His pulse is racing, heavy in his throat, because he can see everything through the lens, but is still not ready to look at her in the flesh.

For her, it’s easy to notice how focused he is, so she glances straight into the camera on purpose, with a spark of mischief in her gaze, like she knows exactly what she’s doing. To him. As a result, Lando’s knee starts bouncing, restless, his breathing too shallow to be subtle. He can’t remember the last time he felt so tightly wound, but it doesn’t even matter because what happens now will stay with him for a long time, and this is all he needs to remember from now on.

And then, it gets worse.

He stares at her while she’s arching slightly as she undoes her bra clasp, letting it slide off her shoulders and onto the floor without breaking eye contact with the camera. At that, Lando looks away out of instinct — out of that last shred of decency clawing at him. But the camera stays trained on her, and when he lifts his gaze again, it’s like a dam breaks inside him. Violently. The hunger that flashes across his face is instant, and impossible to hide. He doesn’t even try, because what fool could ever take his eyes off her?

Lando adjusts himself without thinking, moving in sync with her teasing gestures as she peels her panties down her legs from under her skirt. He tells himself to stay focused and capture the sensuality of her body with the last fragment of professionalism that he possesses. But that’s a losing game when his own body is burning with need, and every subtle curve and line of her turns into a map that he’s desperate to explore as soon as possible.

His focus lingers on the swell of her breasts, her nipples tightening in the open air. It forces him to swallow hard, a deep ache growing both inside him and his pants, knowing how badly he wants to lean forward and suck them into his mouth, to feel the heat of her skin against his tongue.

The camera dips lower as she dances to the hypnotic rhythm of his music, and Lando keeps working with her, baring the elegant slope of her waist and the strong lines of her thighs. The way she stands there, so natural and confident, feels like a direct hit to his chest that he welcomes without hesitation or any intention of dodging. She’s pure femininity, and that throws him into a black hole made only of her, where the gravity is so strong that there’s no escape.

He’s so focused on her that he almost stops breathing in order to make sure he gets the perfect shot, every shot. That makes Lando’s hand tighten around the camera, his knuckles whitening from the pressure. But his body has a mind on its own, apparently, and his thighs flex like he’s one wrong move away from standing. From closing the distance between them. Against his will, though, he sits there, shivering with the effort to stay still.

“Come on, Norris,” she says, and her voice wakes him up from the trance her shapes put him in. “I’ve seen you take tighter corners at Spa with less hesitation.”

Even though he tries to, he can’t stop the throaty laugh that comes out of him. Only for a moment, Lando lowers the camera again, and lets himself, finally, finally, see her. And this time, he doesn’t look away. He watches her shamelessly, while reaching behind him to take a cushion that he ends up tossing onto the floor near his feet, nodding toward it.

“Go on, then. Show me how desperate you are.”

There is something about the way he says it that sends a thrill straight through her. She heard that Lando is direct when it comes to his wants and needs, but to feel it on her skin hits different. Her pulse suddenly stutters with excitement as she lowers herself in front of him, straddling the cushion, her body already anticipating the liberating feeling.

The moment her hips roll forward and her mouth falls open in surprise at the faint pleasure, Lando is right there, capturing every gasp, every twitch, and every sweet reaction like it’s the only thing that matters. His mind runs wild with all the places he aches to touch — his hand curled around her throat, palms squeezing her breasts, fingers digging into her hips to hold her still while he teases her until she begs.

The temptation claws at him, full throttle. But he forces himself to handle the camera like a pro, because more than anything, he wants her to see what he sees: how devastatingly beautiful she is like this, undone and bold. Through his own lens, she’s a vision, and giving her that full picture keeps him going.

From her perspective, noticing Lando’s determination sends a fresh wave of heat throughout her body, making her rock her hips a little harder, and that puts a tension in his shoulders. A type of need he didn’t feel before.

To stop herself from making more embarrassing sounds, she meets his gaze over the camera, mouth slightly open. “Is this good?” she asks, voice breathy and half-mocking, although there’s something real underneath. A dare. A plea.

Lando looks at her again, revealing a flushed face and his blown wide pupils. “Yeah, don’t stop,” he replies hoarsely.

Her thighs squeeze around the cushion from the moment she hears the first note in voice, the soft fabric teasing against her clit with every slow roll of her hips, pulling breathy sounds from her. Behind the camera, Lando tails closely as she grinds back and forth, his jaw clenching at the small sounds slipping past her lips.

“Shit, that’s hot. Are you always this needy?” he asks out of pure curiosity, but the question is mostly rhetorical; of course she is. Judging by the way her chest heaves and how she leans forward slightly to catch as much friction as possible, the answer is obvious.

She wants to push back against the power shift, but she’s too lost in the rhythmic movement of her body. And it’s not as if Lando’s wrong. Every gentle brush gets increasingly out of control, each desperate grind into the cushion sending small waves of pleasure straight to her nerves, making her fingers curl into the couch for balance. For the control she’s rapidly losing.

Her eyes flutter closed for a moment, mouth constantly parting as the pleasure spirals inside her like a coil wound too tight.

Lando’s fingers flex over the shutter release, but he’s barely present anymore. He’s completely absorbed by what is happening on the other side of his lens, and it’s her moan that pulls him out of it, just as the pressure builds. So he reaches out, his hand entering the frame like an unexpected guest. With ease, his fingers grab the edge of the cushion beneath her, and she pauses, blinking up at him, flushed and dazed, breathing heavily like she just stepped out of the car after a last-lap push. With one strong pull, he slides it out from under her, making her gasp in surprise, her body jolting at the sudden loss.

“Lando,” she exhales irritated.

She gets her hands onto his knees to steady herself, thighs still wobbly, but he’s not looking at her anymore. He’s too busy staring at the soaked fabric instead, darkened with heat and want and everything she didn’t say out loud.

“That good?” he asks, but the arrogance in his voice diminished, giving way to his sincere curiosity.

She shakes her head, looking up at him again. “Not faking it, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

The fact that she is as sincere in her statement, encourages Lando to take things to the next level, just to see how much he can push before it’s too much. He throws the cushion aside with a thud, his eyes lit up with need.

“Come here,” he orders in a gentle tone, patting his lap.

She’s stunned at his words initially, and the way they leave no room for teasing. But then she catches the way his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip, leaving it wet and shining, and something inside her pushes her to get up. She realizes that there’s nothing she wouldn’t do if he asked.

With calculated steps, she climbs him patiently, her thighs spreading over him. They’ve been in each other’s personal space in the past, when they had to do silly challenges for McLaren to entertain the fans. Still, even though there’s a camera between them just like before, the air feels different, charged with desire, unknown, and heavy lust. Because this time, it’s just them.

When her body sinks onto his, the scabrous fabric of his jeans meets the soaked warmth between her legs, the weight making Lando groan silently, his little sound hitting her low in her stomach. His reaction encourages her to continue, shifting on top of him in order to find the best position, enough to grind against his bulge. It’s thick and hard beneath her, and the simple contact is already maddening. Yet not nearly enough, and the realization that he’s just as affected by this makes the coil in her stomach tighten further.

“Keep going,” he speaks again as he lifts her skirt up to her waist, going back to the camera and angling it to capture the way she moves against him, right where her skin meets the fabric of his pants.

Her palm comes around his bicep for suport, letting the instincts guide her further. The pressure she chased a moment ago is still there, but it’s different this time around. More intense.

Lando grunts, his free hand gripping her hip to show her the pattern to follow. She whimpers while that sweet ache comes back, her body trembling with need. In no time, she can move on her own, and because she’s such a fast learner, Lando points the camera closer, eager to capture the wetness soaking through.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he says. “You’re making such a mess,” he exhales, bringing his hand between her legs to feel it before he could even process his own action. His thumb finds her clit, rubbing it gently, keeping his eyes on her face the whole time, craving to catch every reaction.

She moans, one hand squeezing his arm harder as her body rocks forward, chasing the release that she hopes it’s not that far into the future, especially if his hips continue to twitch beneath her the way they do, so impatient and reliant on her.

Unfortunately, the time almost stops the moment their faces get close enough to kiss. She can feel the heat of his breath and the pull between them, and she’s sure he can feel it too. Her eyes flick to his mouth, and Lando’s eyes stay on her, but no one dares to close the small gap. Because somehow, that would be more intimate than all of this. Kissing would mean acknowledging what’s been burning between them for a while now. It would mean admitting this is real, and admitting will complicate everything in both their personal and professional lives.

And neither of them are ready to take that chance yet.

With that in mind, she doesn’t lean in. She just closes her eyes and grinds harder, her hips rolling against his hand and the hard line of his cock beneath her. The sensation amplifies fast, and Lando never stops working her with his thumb. Soon enough, her breath comes out in spasms and her thighs start to shake. Her pace intensifies, chasing the high that’s been teasing at the edges of her patience, feeling the mess she’s made slick against Lando’s pants with every desperate press on it. Still, his hand stays steady, rubbing perfectly against her clit, matching the rhythm of her hips like he knows exactly all the ways she wants — and craves — to be touched.

With Lando’s help, it doesn’t take long until her body finally seizes, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as pleasure crashes over her. He moves with her, a silent apology for stopping her earlier written into every precise touch, making sure this time she falls apart completely. Because of him.

Luckily, the camera captures everything: his hand on her, the wet spot she’s left on his pants, the way her skin flushes and seems to crave more with each passing second, and the way her thighs shake when the aftershocks hit. It catches the way she starts trembling, too, body overwhelmed, aching for something deeper, something only he can give her right now.

Only he gives her time to ride it out instead, feeling all the ways her walls flutter, hungry and empty, and the sound that tears from his throat is nothing but a helpless moan. The sensation alone, even without him inside her, is enough to make his head spin. It wrecks him completely, makes him ache with the violent need to know how it would feel to be buried deep inside her, to have her tight, needy pussy squeezing around him while she comes undone all over again. Because of him.

The girl barely registers the camera being placed in her hands until Lando nudges her chin. “Here. See for yourself.”

Except, she doesn’t want it. Not yet. By her own choice, she takes it gently from his hand, presses RECORD again and turns it around, placing it on the padded arm of the couch. Facing them. Remembering Lando’s voice earlier, casual and offhand when he said that the camera only captures what’s in front of it.

Her fingers move impatiently, drifting to the hem of his shirt, bunching it in her hands. “Since you let me finish first,” she rushes to explain.

With that, she pulls the shirt up, and he lifts his arms to help her, muscles tightening under skin slick with the faintest sheen of sweat. Once it’s off, she tosses it to the side, her eyes drinking him in. Lando is warm under her palms, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, and she senses the same tension in him that’s barely holding him together.

She studies his face while her hand drifts lower, trailing down the center of his stomach, pausing at the waistband of his jeans. Carefully, she slips her hand inside, where she finds him hot and so painfully hard that it makes her mouth water. Without any instructions, her fingers curl around his soft skin, and the sight alone makes his stomach flip. She starts to stroke him teasing, but before she can go quicker, Lando grabs her wrist, groaning low in his throat.

“Just a sec,” he pants, voice cracking slightly. His hands are already moving, guiding her hips back over his lap with a need that borders on desperation.

This time, there’s no fabric between them, and her soaked heat presses directly against his length, making them both shuddering at the contact; skin on skin and no more barriers, just the unfiltered reality of what they both want. His hands find home on her hips, big and heavy, his control hanging by a thread.

Agonizingly slow, her clit slides along his hardness, slick and warm, sending sharp jolts of pleasure from one body to another. He can barely contain himself at the way she finds it so easy to rock against him, faster when she feels how thirsty Lando gets in a matter of seconds. He’s leaking already, the head of his cock glistening, smearing against her folds as she moves.

Completely flushed and utterly drunk with pleasure, he shifts beneath her, his arms wrapping tight around her waist, pulling her closer, even though there’s no physical space left between them. But it’s useless. No matter how close they are, there is only one way that would truly satisfy his urge.

“Please,” he whispers next to the shell of her ear, desperate and breathless. “Can I slide in?”

She’s a lost cause by now, and her reply is reduced to a broken hum, while she sits up just enough to guide the thick head of his cock to her entrance. Lando’s patience snaps at her quick response, and he thrusts his hips up in one motion, his hands holding her hips and pulling her down onto him at the same time. The stretch is overwhelming and takes her by surprise, knocking the wind out of her and making her vision blur at the edges as she tries to take all of him.

They moan together, helpless, her hands landing on his chest as she laughs shakily. “You trying to break me in half or?”

“Didn’t think you’d be so tight,” he groans in a strained voice.

Lando tries his best to take it slow, but the way she welcomes him, so warm and perfect, nearly undoes him the moment he’s all in. A shudder runs down his spine as he grips her hips with more force, thinking maybe if he doesn’t hold her right, the world will actually end.

And it may, based on how her hands are sliding up, clawing at his shoulders with her nails digging in to anchor herself. Her breath shudders out in short bursts as she does, her body struggling to adjust, to take everything he has to offer. All of him.

To test the waters, she starts circling her hips, hoping she’ll find the angle that makes her breath hitch, and when she does, it’s like lightning strikes between them. He’s impossibly deep, touching places inside her she didn’t even know could feel this good. Her pussy hugs him so tightly that Lando has to grit his teeth to shut himself up. Then she tilts her hips forward just slightly with every grind, rocking her clit perfectly against his pelvis while he’s buried inside her.

The effect she was looking for is instant, and she hears Lando choking on another moan, finally, “Fuck, yeah. Right there,” his fingers dig into her skin, hunger battling in his wide eyes. “Do that again, it feels so fucking good.”

“Shit, Lando,” she breaths out. “So deep, I can feel you everywhere.”

She pulls him in again and again, until he is practically whining beneath her. Seeing Lando so lost inside her makes her losing the rhythm, her breathing turning ragged, thighs ready to give up as exhaustion and pleasure blur into one. It’s messy and greedy on both sides, and when she finally collapses against his chest, she sobs out a cry, her voice cracking with it.

“Need you,” she exhales. “I can’t hold it anymore.”

Lando doesn’t waste a breath. One sharp, hungry movement and he’s planting his feet against the floor for leverage, thrusting up into her with everything he’s got. She gasps at the same time he groans deep in his chest, the sound vibrating between them as he finally takes her the way they’ve both needed.

Her mouth goes dry.

His jaw tightens.

Their breath grows heavier, shared in the tight, sweaty space. Her body tenses, then squeezes around him with such perfect pressure it leaves him breathless. A high-pitched moan spills from her, unexpected and honest, and she slaps a hand over her mouth, biting at it in order to shut herself up.

Gently, Lando catches her wrist, holding it firm. “If you’re gonna bite something,” he tilts his head, offering his shoulder, “Be a good girl and bite me instead.”

Her breathing is too fast and her mind runs at the speed of an F1 car. She can’t think straight and, for a moment, she just stays there, her forehead brushing the curve of his shoulder as she tries to catch herself from falling in too deep. Then slowly, like she’s giving in to something bigger than her, she places a kiss on his skin. Her lips press gently on it, trailing along the line of his neck to the dip of his collarbone. It’s the closest thing she’ll ever give him. The closest thing to letting herself feel for him.

He’s still warm, salty with sweat, and soft under her lips. And he smells so good, like skin and heat and something clean that clings to her nose and settles in her chest like smoke.

It drugs her.

The way his scent mixes with the feel of his breath against her temple, the way his pulse flutters beneath her lips — she has to stop. It’s too much, too close, too real.

“Think we should bet every race weekend, what do you say?” asks Lando, his pace quickening, hands guiding her up and down his cock like it’s the only thing that keeps him sane. “Would die to have you like this all the time, hm?”

“Mhm,” she grinds down until his name is all she can say. “Fuck. I’m so close.”

“Yeah, baby. I feel you.”

Her voice breaks off into a moan right when she’s about to speak again, to tell him not to go there and call her that. But Lando rolls his hips, pushing deeper, filling her inch by inch until there’s no space left, which shuts her up in an instant. They fuck in a rhythm that shouldn’t work, all sweat-slicked skin and shaky breaths. The air fills up with obscene sounds of them, their bodies colliding with enough force to make her whimper and moan his name all over again, each time he thrusts.

To help himself, he spreads her wider, holding her open for him, watching the way he disappears inside her, utterly wrecked by the sight. “Taking me so fucking well,” he says between thrusts, dragging his mouth over her jaw. “Look.”

She whines while looking down at where they’re joined. Lando moves his gaze on her expression with a grin on his face, so proud when he feels every spasm in her body; it’s a total mess. Her slick is all over him, coating his cock, his thighs, soaking through the waistband of his jeans that are still shoved only halfway down his hips. Each time they meet, there’s a wet sound echoing between them, sticky and warm, ricocheting against the walls in Lando’s living room like a drumbeat pulling them closer to the edge.

“You like how wrecked you’ve got me?”

She nods frantically, squeezing him so tight it makes Lando see stars. At that, he reaches up, brushing the strands of hair from her face, tucking them behind her ears with his long fingers. His hand stays there a moment, continuing to slide lower, fingertips skimming her jaw, then wrapping gently around her throat, enough to feel her pulse. To hold her in place.

In a matter of seconds, their eyes lock again. Her chest heaves and her eyes shine, but not just from pleasure. It’s because she wants to tell him that this isn’t what she expected. It’s much, much more, and it will leave a deep mark, no matter which path they’ll choose to take tomorrow morning.

His hands move hungrily, down from her neck to her chest, cupping her breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. He holds them carefully, wanting to memorize the shape, the weight, and the way they fill his palms, to make sure he won’t forget a single detail about her body.

“Lan,” she warns.

Lando hums, “Mhm. Right there with you, beautiful,” he assures her.

Her breathing is jagged, the rhythm of their hips desperate, chasing the edge that’s been teasing them since the moment she sank down onto him. Every motion drives him deeper, sends wave after wave crashing through her, because she’s right there for quite a while now.

“Hi there,” Lando’s voice brings her back. His hand comes up to cradle the back of her head, gently pulling her to see her face. “Look at me, I want to see you. Let me see you.”

Her body tenses, and just for a split second the frantic rhythm stutters, then finds its pace again as the orgasm rips through her with a blinding force. She keeps her eyes on his the whole time, riding it out with her hands burried in the curls at the back of his head. His hips jerk beneath her as he throbs inside her, overwhelmed by the way she fights to keep him in. It drives him crazy, and he moans loudly, trying to pull out, but her thighs close tighter around him.

“Inside,” she rushes to say, unable to form sentences longer than one word.

Lando’s jaw clenches so hard he feels like his teeth might snap from the force, every muscle in his body pulled tight and shivering. He holds on by a thread for half a second longer, but then her body flutters around him again, and with a loud, guttural gasp, he lets go, spilling inside her in thick pulses that only make her hold him tighter. His hands shake where they clutch at her hips, trying to pull her down even harder, like he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between them right in this moment.

None of them knows how much time passes like that, but neither of them moves again. She’s stays slumped against his chest, her face buried in the crook of his neck, while his arms stay locked around her waist, as if letting go might break whatever just happened between them.

Lando presses his cheek on the top of her head, his heart hammering so hard he’s sure she can feel it. But it’s fine, because he can feel hers, too.

His hands drift up and down her back in aimless strokes and, while she starts to come back to herself, she notices the music still playing softly around them, the same sultry beat from earlier floating through the air.

Her brows pinch together in confusion before realization hits. “How the fuck did you time your playlist so perfectly?”

Lando lets out a breathless laugh, “Talent.”

She snorts, dropping her head back onto his shoulder with a groan. “Goodness gracious, it is so hard tolerate you.”

“Liar,” he says, “You wanna kiss me so bad.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the way her cheeks heat up gives her away immediately. Lando laughs under his breath again, cocky and so annoyingly right. She opens her mouth to fire back, to tell him that no, she definitely doesn’t want to kiss his smug ass, but then her eyes catch the little red light blinking from across the couch.

The camera. Still recording.

She nudges him softly, grinning against the flush in her cheeks, and points at it. “Smile and wave, Norris,” she whispers, and Lando immediately flashes the most ridiculous smirk at the lens, making her laugh for real this time.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ MASTERLIST . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

Thank you for reading!

None of my works are available for reposting on other platforms. Reblogs, likes, and comments are deeply appreciated ♥︎

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dcxdpdabbles · 4 months ago

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Bruce: I'm here, Nightwing. What's the situation?

Dick: This one is a doozy, Batman. About thirty minutes ago, GCPD responded to a Killer Croc call. Croc was seen thrown out of a manhole by an agitated meta who claims the villain was trespassing in his side of the sewers.

Damian:....I beg your pardon, but what does that mean?

Dick: Honestly Robin, can't even blame you for that question. I'm confused, too.

Bruce: Where is the meta now? Is he dangerous?

Dick: Not that I saw. He seems mostly upset that people are interrupting his dinner. This is his manhole. *Knocks on Manhole cover*

Danny, who's been living in Gotham for three months and extremely homeless popping out:

Dick: As you can see, the suspect is going all out tonight. He's even wearing his dinner hat. He screamed that information at me for five solid minutes.

Danny: ITS MY FANCY DINNER HAT!

Dick: Yes, you said that already.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #from a fic i never wrote #Danny is mole person living in the sewers #hes slight crazy #But hed got a fancy hat so it balances out

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peavhyshy · 8 months ago

Text

⋆˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ - AFRAID

ᯓᡣ𐭩 paring ─ ୨୧ ─ dark!boyfriend!rafe cameron ⋆ reader

ᯓᡣ𐭩 summary ─ ୨୧ ─ in which Rafe hatches a plan to ensure you stay by his side, by making you dependent on him.

ᯓᡣ𐭩 warnings ─ ୨୧ ─ explicit language noncon/dubcon, smut, rafe drugs reader, substance abuse, toxic relationship, emotional abuse, baby trapping/forced pregnancy, possessiveness, controlling behaviors, threats of violence, loss of virginity, corruption, breeding kink, dirty talk (like a lot), abandonment issues, manipulation, rough sex, hairpulling, fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, powerplay, choking, semi public sex, car sex, creampie (please dni if your sensitive to these topics your mental health should come first)

ᯓᡣ𐭩 wc ─ ୨୧ ─ 8,960

⋆˚✿˖° a/n ─ ୨୧ ─ is there a plot not really, it may seem long but 80% of this is smut. this is unrelated but i think his season 1 & 2 rafe hair were elite to me but I just hate buzz cuts on everyone so my opinion doesn't matter here. The ‘Lila’ is now edited I use it as a placeholder (because for some reason I hate putting y/n while writing) before I replace it with y/n but of course my dumbass forgot to do that when I published this.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔.:･Afraid･:.ೃ࿔.⋆❀°

(༝༚༝༚ lana del rey)

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Outer Banks Masterlist ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── Navigation ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Rafe sits across from you at your usual table in the country club, his jaw clenching rhythmically as he watches you flip through the college applications. His fingers drum against the polished wooden table, creating a nervous pattern that matches his increasing anxiety. The sight of all those prestigious university names makes his stomach turn - Harvard, Yale, Princeton - each one threatening to take you further away from Outer Banks, from him. He barely touches his plate of steak, too preoccupied with the growing unease in his chest.

"Why the fuck are you even looking at schools that far?" He snaps suddenly, his voice carrying a sharp edge as he reaches across to snatch one of your fries, popping it into his mouth with more force than necessary. His blue eyes darken with barely contained irritation, especially when he catches Topper's wave from across the room. He returns it with a curt nod, his attention immediately returning to you. "You know there's perfectly good schools right here in North Carolina. UNC's got a decent program."

You glance up from your binder, your eyes meeting Rafe's intense blue ones. You set down your fork carefully on your half-eaten Caesar salad, a soft sigh escaping your lips. The sunlight streaming through the country club's windows catches on your hair, creating a halo effect around your skin. "Baby, we've talked about this," you say gently, "These schools have amazing programs for what I want to study. And it's not like I'm making any decisions yet - I'm just looking at options."

The afternoon sun streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows catches on his rings as he reaches up to run a hand through his disheveled hair, a telltale sign of his growing agitation. The country club bustles around them with the usual crowd of Kooks - women in tennis whites gossiping over martinis, men in polo shirts discussing their latest yacht purchases. But Rafe's focus remains fixed on those damned college applications, his jaw working overtime as he grinds his teeth.

The cocaine from earlier isn't helping his paranoia, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them. The idea of you leaving, of losing control over this one good thing in his life, sends a fresh wave of anxiety through his system. His free hand unconsciously reaches up to rub at his chest, a nervous tick he's developed. The country club suddenly feels too small, too confined, and he can feel his breathing getting slightly erratic. "Just... just put those away for now," he demands, trying to maintain his composure despite the rising panic in his chest. "We're supposed to be having lunch, not planning your fucking escape route."

You reach across the table with your free hand, your fingers brushing against his chest where he's rubbing anxiously. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with something sharper - probably remnants of whatever he'd been doing before lunch - fills your nostrils as you lean closer. "Rafe, you're spiraling again," you observe quietly, mindful of the other diners around them. Your eyes flick briefly to Topper and his mother as they pass, offering a polite smile before returning your attention to your increasingly agitated boyfriend. "And you know that's not fair. I'm not trying to escape anything, especially not you."

"Besides," he continues, his tone taking on that manipulative edge he's so good at, "You really want to leave all this behind? The island, the parties, me?" He leans forward, lowering his voice to that dangerous whisper he uses when he's trying to get his way. "You know I can't follow you out there. I've got responsibilities here, the family business..." His hand shoots out to grab your wrist, not painfully, but firmly enough to make his point. "And what about us? You're going to throw away what we have for some fancy degree you could get right here?"

The weight of his intense stare makes you shift in your seat, your sundress rustling against the plush cushions. You can see the telltale signs of his growing panic - the clenched jaw, the rapid breathing, the way his fingers keep twitching against the table. Part of you wants to close the binder, to give in like you usually do when he gets like this. But another part, the part that's been dreaming about life beyond the island since you were little, keeps your hand steady on the applications. "What about a compromise?" you suggest, your voice taking on that soothing tone you learned to use when he's on edge. "What if I apply to both - some schools here in North Carolina and some out of state? That way we have options to discuss later?"

Your free hand moves from his chest to his face, your thumb gently stroking along his clenched jaw. You can feel the tension there, the way he's grinding his teeth. The chatter of the country club fades into background noise as you focus solely on him, knowing how quickly his mood can shift when he feels cornered. "And hey," you add, your voice dropping to a whisper as you lean even closer, your lips quirking into a small smile, "No matter where I end up going, you know you're the only one I want, right? These other Kook boys could never compare to my Rafe Cameron."

The familiar weight of the promise ring he gave you three months ago sits heavy on your finger, catching the light as you move. You learned over your time together that sometimes Rafe needs this - needs to be reminded that he's your choice, that you're his. Even if the possessiveness sometimes scares you, even if his mood swings leave you walking on eggshells, you can't deny the way your heart still races when he looks at you like he is now - like you're something precious he's terrified of losing. "Can we at least look through them together? You might see something you like too."

Rafe lets go of your wrist his hand shooting out to slam your binder shut with enough force to make nearby diners jump. "Don't fucking patronize me," he growls, his voice low and threatening despite their public setting. The gentle stroke of your thumb against his jaw only heightens his agitation, like a match to gasoline. "You think I don't see what this is?" He leans forward, invading your space across the table, his blue eyes wild with a mixture of possessiveness and barely contained rage. "First it's just 'looking at options,' then suddenly you're gone, probably fucking some ivy league asshole who doesn't know you like I do." His breathing becomes more erratic, the hand on his chest pressing harder as anxiety mingles with his growing anger. The familiar scent of your perfume - usually calming - now seems to mock him with its potential absence.

"You're trying to leave me, just like everyone else. Just like my mom, just like Sarah..." His voice cracks slightly on his sister's name before hardening again. "Well, I won't fucking let you."

You tense at the sudden shift in Rafe's demeanor, your heart rate picking up as you watch him slam your binder shut. The warmth drains from your eyes, replaced by a flicker of fear you try desperately to hide. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as he invades your space, his paranoia rolling off him in waves. You’ve seen him like this before, but never quite this intense, never quite this threatening in such a public place.

"Rafe, please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as you glance around at the other diners who are now openly staring at them. Your sundress suddenly feels too thin, too exposed under his wild-eyed gaze. You can smell the mixture of his cologne and sweat, and see the way his pupils are dilated - clear signs he's high again. "You're making a scene. Can we please just discuss this somewhere private?"

A laugh escapes his throat at your suggestion of talking, the sound drawing more concerned glances from nearby tables. "Discuss? There's nothing to fucking discuss." His voice takes on that manipulative tone he knows works so well, mixing threat with vulnerability. "You belong here, with me. Do you think any of those places are gonna love you like I do? Understand you like I do?" His eyes flick to the promise ring on your finger, a visible reminder of his claim on you. "Or maybe that's what you want - to get away from the crazy boyfriend, right? Is that what this is about?"

The cocaine-fueled paranoia reaches a crescendo as he suddenly stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. He towers over you, his presence intimidating despite the public setting. "You're not going anywhere," he declares, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper as he leans down close to your ear. "And if you try, I'll make sure every single one of those fancy schools loses your application. Don't test me, baby." His lips brush against your ear as he speaks, a twisted mixture of threat and affection that's purely him. "Now get your shit. We're leaving." His hand moves to grip your upper arm, ready to pull you up from your chair, his entire body vibrating with barely contained violence and possessive need.

The promise ring feels like it's burning on your finger as tears start to well up in your eyes. "I'm not trying to leave you," you plead, your voice barely above a whisper. I'm not trying to leave you, I love you, Rafe. You know I do. But you're hurting me right now." You can feel your body starting to shake, whether from fear or adrenaline, you're not sure anymore.

You let him pull you to your feet, knowing resistance will only make things worse. Your college applications lay forgotten on the table as you stumble slightly, your legs weak from the sudden movement. "Okay," you concede, your voice small and defeated. "Okay, we can go. Just... please calm down. Please." Your free hand comes up to rest on his chest again, feeling his racing heartbeat under your palm. "Let's go to your family's place and talk about this properly. Just you and me, baby. Like we always do."

Rafe feels you trembling beneath his grip, and something in your tear-filled eyes pierces through his cocaine-addled rage. His breathing is still erratic, but the feel of your hand against his racing heart starts to ground him. The familiar scent of your perfume begins to cut through the paranoid haze, reminding him of lazy mornings in his bed, of your soft sighs against his neck. His grip on your arm loosens slightly, though he doesn't let go completely.

"Fuck," he mutters, running his free hand through his disheveled hair as reality starts seeping back in. The stares of the other country club patrons finally register, and he can feel his father's disapproval even in his absence. His jaw clenches and unclenches as he struggles to regain control. "Yeah... yeah, okay. Let's go home." His voice is still rough, but the dangerous edge has dulled somewhat. He reaches past you to grab your binder, shoving it under his arm - he's not leaving it here for you to come back to later.

The walk to his truck is tense, his hand moving from your arm to the small of your back - still possessive, but less aggressive. The cocaine is making him jittery, his thoughts racing between paranoia and guilt. Once you're inside his truck, he slams his palms against the steering wheel, making you jump. "I just..." he starts, his voice cracking slightly. "I can't lose you too, baby. I can't." His blue eyes, when they meet yours, are still wild but now tinged with desperation rather than rage. "Everyone leaves. Everyone always fucking leaves."

He reaches across the center console to pull you closer, burying his face in your neck. His breathing is still uneven, but slower now as he inhales your scent. "Stay," he whispers against your skin, his voice taking on that vulnerable quality that only you get to hear. "Just... stay with me. Please." His hand slides up to cup the back of your neck, his thumb stroking the soft skin there. It's the closest thing to an apology you’re likely to get from him, this moment of raw vulnerability between the storms of his temper.

Rafe paces anxiously across Topper's home gym, his footsteps echoing against the polished hardwood floors as sweat drips down his bare chest from their workout session. The late afternoon sun streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting long shadows across the expensive exercise equipment. His muscles are tense not just from lifting weights, but from the constant anxiety gnawing at his insides about your potential departure. The cocaine from earlier is still coursing through his system, making his thoughts race faster than he can process them.

"I'm telling you guys, she's fucking leaving me," he complains, running a hand through his sweat-dampened hair as he continues his relentless pacing. The familiar panic starts rising in his chest again, making him rub at it absently. "All these fucking college applications... Harvard, Yale, Princeton. She's planning her escape and I can't... I can't fucking let that happen." His blue eyes are wild as they dart between Kelce and Topper, sprawled across the leather bench press seats, watching their friend's mounting distress.

Kelce exchanges a knowing look with Topper before speaking up, his voice careful as he watches Rafe's increasingly agitated movements. "Man, you need to chill. Maybe if you weren't so fucking intense about it-" Rafe's sharp laugh cuts him off, the sound bouncing off the mirrored walls. "Intense? You think I'm being intense?" Rafe's voice rises as he spins to face them, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. "My girl's trying to leave the fucking state, and you're telling me to chill?"

"Well," Topper drawls, wiping his face with a monogrammed towel, "you could always do what my cousin did when his girlfriend tried to leave for college." He pauses for dramatic effect, a smirk playing on his lips. "Got her knocked up. Can't exactly go to Yale with a baby on the way, can you?" He's clearly joking, but something in Rafe's expression shifts, his eyes taking on that dangerous gleam that appears when he's formulating a plan.

"That's..." Rafe stops pacing, his mind racing with possibilities. His jaw clenches rhythmically as he processes the idea. "That's fucking perfect." He starts pacing again, but this time with purpose, his movements predatory rather than anxious. "She'd have to stay. She'd be tied to me forever." His voice takes on that obsessive quality that appears when he's fixating on something. "No more fucking college applications, no more threats of leaving. She'd be mine, completely mine."

"Dude," Kelce sits up straighter, realizing Rafe's actually considering it. "I don't think that's what Topper meant-" But Rafe's already lost in his world, his cocaine-fueled paranoia latching onto this new solution like a lifeline. "She's still a virgin too," he continues, more to himself than his friends, his rings catching the light as he gestures animatedly. "Waiting for the 'right moment' or some shit. Well, guess that moment's coming sooner than she thought."

"No, no, this could work," Rafe continues, his voice taking on that edge that suggests he's spiraling into one of his episodes. "Her parents are traditional as fuck, they'd make her keep it. And Ward's always going on about wanting grandkids to carry on the Cameron name..." He's fully pacing now, his movements jerky and aggressive as the plan solidifies in his mind. "She's been hinting about wanting to do it soon anyway. Valentine's Day is coming up..."

The gym falls silent except for the sound of Rafe's footsteps and heavy breathing. Neither Kelce nor Topper dare speak, knowing from experience that trying to talk Rafe down when he's like this - especially when he's high - is pointless and potentially dangerous. They watch as their friend works himself into a frenzy, plotting the permanent capture of his girlfriend with the same intense focus he applies to everything he wants to possess.

"It's perfect," Rafe finally declares, stopping his pacing to face his friends. His chest heaves with excited breaths, sweat making his skin shine in the fading sunlight. "She'll never leave me then. She'll have to stay here, raise our kid, be the perfect fucking family."

The thought of you, permanently his, unable to leave him, sends a rush of possessive pleasure through his system. "You guys didn't hear any of this," he suddenly stops, fixing both Kelce and Topper with a threatening stare. "Not a fucking word to anyone, got it?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that reminds them why people are scared of him, why even other Kooks think twice before crossing him.

"Jesus Christ, Rafe," Topper mutters, running a hand through his hair as he watches his friend's descent into this new obsession. "This is fucked up, even for you." But he knows that look in Rafe's eyes. Once Rafe sets his mind to something, especially when he's high, there's no talking him out of it. The gym feels smaller suddenly, charged with the energy of Rafe's newfound determination.

Rafe stands at the door of the l/n estate, his tall frame cutting an imposing figure in his tailored black suit. His blue eyes are slightly dilated from the line of cocaine he did in his truck to calm his nerves, but he's made sure to eye drop and cologne himself thoroughly. The velvet box containing the surprise he has planned for later weighs heavy in his pocket as he shifts anxiously, his rings catching the light as he reaches up to adjust his tie.

When Paul opens the door, Rafe immediately straightens his posture, forcing his most charming smile - the one he uses when he needs to impress. "Good evening, Mr. L/N," he greets, his voice steady despite the cocaine making his heart race. The older man's scrutinizing gaze reminds him uncomfortably of his own father's disapproving stares. The foyer behind Paul gleams with old money - crystal chandeliers, marble floors, and family portraits that speak of generations of Kook legacy.

"Rafe," Paul acknowledges with a slight nod, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the young man's appearance. There's something about Ward Cameron's son that has always set him on edge, though he can't quite put his finger on what. Maybe it's the occasional wild look in his eyes or the way his daughter seems to walk on eggshells around him sometimes. "Y/N is still getting ready. Come in." He steps aside, allowing Rafe into the pristine foyer.

The sound of Rafe's expensive dress shoes echoes against the marble as he enters, his hands sliding into his pockets to hide their slight tremor - partly from the drugs, partly from anticipation of what he has planned for tonight. The house smells of old money and fresh flowers, much like his own family's estate, but somehow more sterile, fitting for a plastic surgeon's home. His fingers brush against the small packet of powder in his pocket, next to the ring box - just enough to keep him steady through dinner.

"I trust you'll have her home at a reasonable hour," Paul's voice cuts through Rafe's thoughts, making him turn to face the older man. "Of course, sir," Rafe responds, that practiced smile still in place even as his jaw clenches slightly. "We just have reservations at Le Rivage, then maybe a walk on the beach." What he doesn't mention is the rest of his plans for the evening - the champagne waiting in his truck, the blankets he's laid out at his secret spot on the beach, the pills dissolved in one of the champagne glasses that will make sure everything goes according to plan.

The sound of heels on marble draws both men's attention to the grand staircase, and Rafe's breath catches in his throat. You descend like something out of a dream, your skin glowing against the deep red of your dress making his hands itch with the need to touch you. His blue eyes darken as they track your movement, his mind already racing ahead to later in the evening, to all the ways he plans to claim you completely.

"You look fucking perfect," he breathes out when you reach the bottom of the stairs, catching himself too late to censor his language in front of your father. But he can't help it - the cocaine making him more impulsive than usual, and the sight of you making his blood run hot. He steps forward to meet you, one hand reaching out to brush against your waist, proprietary and possessive even under your father's watchful gaze. The scent of your perfume mingles with the lingering chemical taste in the back of his throat, making him dizzy with want and anticipation.

Tonight's the night, he thinks, his grip on your waist tightening slightly as Paul insists on taking pictures. Tonight you become his completely, permanently. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. The thought makes him pull you closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "Ready for your Valentine's surprise, baby?" His voice carries that dangerous edge that anyone else would recognize as a warning, but he knows his sweet, innocent Y/N won't catch it. Not until it's too late.

Rafe helps you into his truck, his hand lingering possessively on your lower back as you climb in. The interior smells of expensive leather and his cologne, mixed with something chemical that makes you wrinkle your nose slightly. He slides into the driver's seat, his movements are precise despite the cocaine coursing through his system. The engine purrs to life, and he immediately reaches for your hand, intertwining your fingers as he pulls away from your family's estate.

"You really do look fucking incredible tonight," he murmurs, his blue eyes flickering between you and the road. His thumb traces circles on your palm, a gesture that would seem sweet if not for the slight tremor in his hand. "That dress is driving me crazy." His rings catch the streetlights as you drive through Figure 8, passing other massive estates and perfectly manicured lawns.

"Thank you, baby," You respond softly, your free hand smoothing down the red fabric of your dress. "You clean up pretty nice yourself." You glance at him, admiring how the streetlights cast shadows across his sharp jawline. "So, are you going to tell me where we're going for dinner? You've been so secretive about tonight."

Rafe's grip on your hand tightens almost imperceptibly. "It's a surprise, remember?" His voice carries that edge of control he can never quite hide. "But first..." He reaches behind your seat with his free hand, pulling out a small gift bag. "I got you something to wear at dinner." Inside is a delicate diamond necklace, the stones catching the light like tiny stars.

"Oh, Rafe," You breathe, reaching for the necklace. "It's beautiful. You didn't have to-" You are cut off by his laugh, that sharp sound that always makes your stomach flip. "Of course I did. Only the best for my girl." He pulls into a secluded spot overlooking the water, putting the truck in park. "Here, let me put it on you."

His hands are slightly unsteady as he fastens the necklace around your throat, his breath hot against your neck. "Perfect," he whispers, his fingers trailing down your spine. "Just like you'll be after tonight." There's something in his voice that makes you shiver, though you can't quite place why. "What do you mean?" you ask, turning to face him.

Rafe's eyes are darker now, pupils blown wide as he stares at you. "Just that I've got big plans for us, baby." His hand comes up to cup your face, thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "Tonight's gonna change everything." He leans in closer, his other hand sliding up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. "You trust me, right?"

"Of course I do," You whisper, even as something in your gut tells you something's off. You can feel his heart racing where your bodies are pressed together and you can smell something sharp and chemical on his breath beneath the mint. "Rafe, are you okay? You seem...different tonight."

"Never better," he responds, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. "Just excited to give you all your surprises." His hand moves higher up your thigh, possessive and demanding. "Now, how about we have a little drink before dinner? To celebrate Valentine's Day?" He reaches behind the seat again, pulling out an expensive bottle of champagne and two glasses.

Rafe pours the champagne with calculated precision, his hands steadier now as he hands you your specially prepared glass. The moonlight filtering through the truck's windows catches the diamond necklace at your throat, reminding him of how perfectly it marks you as his. His blue eyes track your every movement as you accept the glass, noting how the red fabric of your dress has ridden up slightly from your position.

"To us," he proposes, raising his glass with that dangerous smile playing at his lips. The cocaine makes everything feel more intense - the way your perfume fills the confined space of his truck, the soft sound of your breathing, the sight of your lips touching the rim of the glass. He watches intently as you take a sip, something predatory flickering in his eyes. "And to all the surprises tonight has in store."

"Mmm, this is really good," You comment, taking another sip. You don’t notice how Rafe barely touches his glass, too focused on watching your drink. "But shouldn't we head to dinner? We don't want to lose our reservation." You move to check the time on your phone, but Rafe's hand shoots out to stop you, his fingers wrapping around your wrist with practiced possessiveness.

"We've got time," he assures you, his voice dropping lower as he leans closer. His free hand comes up to trace the line of the necklace, fingers ghosting over your collarbone. "Besides, I want to enjoy this moment. Just you and me." He can feel your pulse racing under his fingers where they press against your wrist. "Finish your drink, baby. Then we can talk about dinner."

He watches as you obediently take another sip, then another. "You know what I love about you, Y/N?" His voice is rough now, heavy with want and something darker. "How fucking perfect you are. How innocent." His fingers trace patterns on your inner thigh, making you shiver. "How you trust me completely."

"Rafe," you breathe, and he notices your words are slightly slurred now. Your eyes are starting to look unfocused as you blink slowly at him. "I feel... strange." The champagne glass slips from your fingers, but he catches it smoothly, setting it aside. His heart is racing with a mixture of cocaine-fueled excitement and dark anticipation.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, pulling you closer as you start to sway slightly. "I've got you. Always got you." His lips brush against your neck, just above the diamond necklace. "And after tonight, you'll always be mine. No more college applications, no more threats of leaving." His voice takes on that possessive edge that would normally frighten you, but the drugs in your system are making everything feel distant and hazy.

"What did you..." you try to ask, your head falling back against the seat as your limbs grow heavy. Rafe's hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb stroking your cheek as he watches the drugs take effect. The moonlight casts shadows across his face, making his expression look almost demonic as he smiles down at you.

"Just making sure tonight goes exactly as planned," he whispers, his other hand already reaching for the blankets he has stashed behind the seats. "Don't fight it, baby. Just let go. Let me take care of everything." His lips crash against yours, swallowing any protest you might have made as the drugs pull you deeper under their influence.

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your movements become increasingly sluggish, your normally bright eyes growing heavy-lidded and unfocused. He shifts in his seat, reaching to recline both of your seats back to create more space in the truck's cabin. The moonlight streaming through the windows casts ethereal shadows across your skin as he positions your body how he wants.

"Rafe..." you mumble, your voice thick and confused as he spreads the blankets beneath you. "What's happening? I feel so..." Your word trails off as he captures your lips in another possessive kiss, his hands already working at the zipper of your red dress.

"Just relax, baby," he whispers against your mouth, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. "Let me take care of you." His fingers trace the newly exposed skin of your back, savoring how you shiver under his touch despite your drugged state. "You look so fucking perfect like this. So helpless. So mine."

Rafe's hands slide possessively over your body as he peels the red dress from your drugged form, revealing the black underwear underneath. His blue eyes darken with predatory hunger as he drinks in the sight of you laid out beneath him in his truck, the diamond necklace glinting at your throat like a collar. The softness of your skin, the way your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath, the little whimpers that escape your lips as you try to fight through the fog in your mind.

"Shh, baby," he soothes, his voice rough with desire as his hands roam over your exposed flesh. "Just let it happen. You know you want this." His fingers trace the edge of your lacy bra, teasing your hardened nipples through the delicate fabric. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment. To make you completely mine."

"Rafe, please," You slurred, weakly trying to push at his chest. "Something's wrong... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth crashing against yours, his tongue forcing its way past your lips as his hand slides between your thighs. He groans when he feels how wet you are through your panties, his cock straining against his suit pants.

"Look how ready you are for me," he rubs circles against your clit through the lace. "Your body knows what it wants, even if your mind's trying to fight it." He pulls back to admire his handiwork - your lips swollen from his kisses, your pupils blown wide from the drugs, your chest heaving as you struggle to focus. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Gonna put my baby in you tonight."

Rafe’s fingers hook into your panties, slowly dragging them down your legs as you weakly try to squeeze your thighs together. The moonlight catches on the wetness between your legs, making him groan. "Fuck, look at that pretty pussy," he breathes, his fingers spreading you open. "All perfect and untouched. Not for long though."

Rafe's fingers work methodically between your thighs, spreading your wetness as he watches your face contort with unwilling pleasure. His other hand pins your wrists above your head, his rings cold against your feverish skin. The truck's windows are starting to fog up from your heavy breathing, creating a private cocoon around you.

"That's it, baby," he growls, sliding two fingers into you, feeling how tight you are around them. "Gonna stretch you out nice and slow before I fuck a baby into you." His cock throbs painfully in his pants as he watches you arch beneath him, the drugs making you more responsive even as you try to resist.

"No... Rafe... please," You whimper, your head thrashing weakly against the leather seat. But your body betrays you, hips rocking against his skilled fingers as he finds that spot inside you that makes you see stars. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as you gasp, reminding him of his ownership.

"Look at you, taking my fingers so well," he praises darkly, adding a third finger to stretch you further. "Can't wait to feel this tight little cunt around my cock." His thumb finds your clit, rubbing circles that make your whole body tremble. "Gonna fill you up so good, baby. Make sure my cum stays deep inside you until it takes."

The way your walls clench around his fingers, the little sounds you make as he works your body, the perfect arch of your back as you fight between pleasure and resistance. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, biting down just hard enough to make you cry out.

"Please," you beg, though whether you're begging him to stop or continue, even you don’t know anymore. Your body is on fire, every nerve ending singing from his touch as the drugs make everything feel more intense. "Rafe... I can't..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, curling his fingers inside you as his thumb speeds up on your clit. "Come on my fingers like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cock." His blue eyes are wild with possession as he watches you fall apart beneath him, knowing that after tonight, you’ll never be able to leave him.

Rafe’s fingers work relentlessly between your thighs. His free hand moves from your wrists to grip your throat, right above the diamond necklace, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. "Let me feel that tight little pussy squeeze my fingers."

Your body betrays you even as your mind tries to resist, waves of unwilling pleasure building under his skilled touch. The drugs make everything feel heightened - the stretch of his fingers inside you, the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the heat of his breath against your neck. Your legs start to tremble as you approach your peak.

"That's it, baby," He watches your face contort with pleasure and confusion. His cock strains painfully against his suit pants, demanding attention. But he forces himself to wait, to savor this moment of taking your innocence piece by piece. "Give it to me. Show me how good I make you feel."

The sound of your heavy breathing fills the truck's cabin, mixing with the wet sounds of his fingers working between your legs. Rafe's eyes are dark with possession as he watches you fight against the inevitable, knowing that each moment brings him closer to his ultimate goal. The moonlight catches on the sweat beading on your skin, making you glow ethereally.

"I... I can't..." You whimper, your back arching off the seat as pleasure builds to an unbearable level. The drugs make everything feel like too much and not enough all at once. "Rafe, please..." Your fingers clutch desperately at his shoulders. "You can, and you will," he commands, his voice taking on that dangerous edge that brooks no argument. His fingers curl inside you, finding that spot that makes you see stars while his thumb circles your clit with practiced precision. "Come for me now. Let me feel it."

Rafe watches with dark satisfaction as your body trembles beneath him, your back arching off the leather seat as pleasure builds. His fingers work relentlessly inside your pussy, stretching and preparing you for what's to come. The way your walls clench around his digits, the little gasps and moans you can't hold back, the perfect arch of your spine as you fight between resistance and ecstasy.

"That's my good girl," his free hand moving from your throat to grip your hair, forcing you to look at him. "Watch me while you come. Want to see those pretty eyes when I make you fall apart." His thumb continues its relentless assault on your clit as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your whole body shake.

Your eyes flutter open, glazed with drugs and unwilling pleasure. The moonlight catches the tears gathering in your lashes as you stare up at him, unable to look away from his intense blue gaze. Your lips part in a silent scream as the pressure builds to an unbearable level, your body tightening around his fingers.

"Please," Her hands clutch desperately at his shoulders, leaving crescent marks through his expensive shirt. "Rafe, I can't... it's too much..."

"Yes, you can," he demands, his voice rough with desire and dominance. "Come for me now, baby. Show me how good I make you feel." His fingers speed up inside you, the wet sounds of your arousal filling the truck's cabin. "Let go. Let me see you fall apart before I fuck you properly."

The combination of his skilled fingers, the drugs in your system, and his commanding voice finally pushes you over the edge. Your whole body goes rigid as pleasure crashes through you, walls clenching rhythmically around his fingers as you come with a broken cry of his name.

"Beautiful," he breathes, working you through the aftershocks as you tremble beneath him. "But we're not done yet, baby. Not even close." His free hand moves to his belt, the sound of the buckle loud in the confined space. "Now it's time for the main event. Time to make you completely mine."

Rafe takes his time unbuckling his belt, the metallic sound echoing in the confined space of his truck. His blue eyes never leave your face as he watches you come down from your high, your body still trembling with aftershocks. Your chest heaves with each breath, the glisten of sweat on your skin, the slight quiver of your thighs as they remain spread for him.

"Look at you," he grunts, finally freeing his throbbing cock from his pants. "All fucked out from just my fingers, and we haven't even gotten to the best part yet." His hand wraps around his length, stroking slowly as he positions himself between your legs. The head of his cock brushes against your sensitive folds, making you whimper. "Been waiting so fucking long for this moment."

"Rafe," You slur, your drugged mind struggling to focus as you feel his size pressing against your entrance. "Wait... I'm not ready..." Your weak protests only serve to fuel his desire, his grip tightening on your hip as he holds you in place. The diamond necklace at your throat catches the moonlight as you try to shift away.

"You're more than ready, baby," he counters, using his free hand to spread your wetness along his length. "Your body's begging for it. Been begging for it all night." He leans down, capturing your lips in a possessive kiss as he starts to push inside your entrance. The stretch is intense, making you gasp against his mouth. "Gonna make you take every fucking inch."

His cock inches forward slowly, savoring the way your walls resist his invasion. The truck's windows are completely fogged now, creating a private world for just the two of you. Rafe's breathing grows heavier as he feels your tight heat enveloping him, his control starting to slip. "Fuck, you're so tight," he groans, his fingers digging into your hip hard enough to leave bruises. "Taking my cock so well, just like I knew you would."

Tears stream down your cheeks as he stretches you open, the mixture of pain and drugged pleasure making your head spin. Your hands clutch at his shoulders, nails digging into the expensive fabric of his suit jacket. "Almost there, baby," he pants against your neck, his hips still pushing forward relentlessly. "Just a little more and you'll have all of me." His free hand slides between them to rub your clit, knowing the added stimulation will help your body accept him. "Gonna fill this tight little pussy up with my cum, make sure it takes. Make sure you can never leave me."

Rafe's hips finally meet yours as he bottoms out inside you, a groan of satisfaction rumbling deep in his chest. Your walls flutter around his length as you adjust to being completely filled for the first time. The truck's cabin is thick with the scent of sex and sweat, the leather seats creaking beneath them with each subtle movement.

"There we go," he pants against your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. His hands grip your hips possessively as he holds himself still, savoring the moment. "Been dreaming about this for so fucking long, baby. About claiming you completely." You whimper beneath him, your mind is hazy from the drugs as your body struggles to accommodate his size. Tears continue to stream down your cheeks, your fingers clutch weakly at his shoulders as you feel him throb inside you.

"Please," you manage to gasp, though your drugged state makes it hard to form coherent thoughts. "It's too much... I can't..." Your protests are cut off by his mouth capturing yours in a demanding kiss, his tongue invading your mouth just as his cock has invaded your body.

"Yes, you can," his hips starting to move in shallow thrusts. "And you will. Gonna fuck a baby into you tonight, make sure you can never leave me." His movements gradually become deeper, and more purposeful, as he establishes a rhythm. "Watch me while I do it. Want to see those pretty eyes when I breed you." One hand slides from your hip to grip your jaw, forcing you to maintain eye contact as he fucks into you. "That's it," he praises darkly as your body starts to respond despite your protests. "Take it like a good girl. Let me feel that pussy squeeze my cock."

Rafe's movements become more intense, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force as he chases his release. The truck rocks with your movements, his hands grip your hips bruisingly tight as he pounds into you, watching with dark satisfaction as pleasure and pain war across your drugged features.

"Fuck, you feel perfect," he groans, one hand sliding up to wrap around your throat just above the diamond necklace. "So fucking tight around my cock. Like you were made for this." His thumb traces your bottom lip as he continues his relentless pace. "Made to take my cum, to carry my baby."

Your head thrashes weakly against the leather seat, your body overwhelmed by the mix of drugs and unwilling pleasure. Your walls clench around him involuntarily as another orgasm builds, making him grunt with satisfaction. "That's it, baby," he praises darkly. "Squeeze my cock just like that. Show me how much your body wants this." His free hand moves between them to rub your clit, determined to make you come around his cock. "Gonna fill you up so good," he pants, his rhythm becoming more erratic as he nears his release. "Gonna pump you full of my cum until it takes. Make sure everyone knows you belong to me." His fingers speed up on your clit as he feels your walls starting to flutter. "Come for me now, baby. Let me feel that tight little pussy milk my cock."

Rafe's grip tightens on your hips as he feels his release building, his thrusts becoming more desperate and erratic. "That's it, baby," feeling your walls clench around him as another orgasm builds in your drugged body. "Come on my cock like a good girl. Show me how much you want my cum." Your back arches off the seat as pleasure crashes through you against your will, your walls squeezing his length rhythmically. The sight of you coming undone beneath him finally pushes Rafe over the edge. With a guttural groan, he buries himself deep inside you, his cock pulsing as he empties himself into your pussy. "Fuck," he pants against your neck, grinding his hips to ensure his cum stays deep inside. "All mine now."

He collapses on top of you for a moment, both of you catching your breath in the steamy confines of his truck. The diamond necklace glints at your throat as he finally pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his release drips from your used pussy. "No more college applications, no more threats of leaving. You're stuck with me now, baby." Without a word, he starts fixing his clothes, already planning your next encounter in his mind.

"Let's get you home, baby," he says, his voice rough as he helps you dress on shaky legs. "Don't want your daddy getting suspicious." His hand rests possessively on your thigh as he starts the truck, knowing that after tonight, everything has changed. The drive back is silent except for your occasional whimpers, the drugs still making your head fuzzy as she processes what just happened.

A week later,

Rafe lounges against his truck at the Boneyard, The beach is relatively empty at this hour, just a few surfers catching the last waves of the day. His blue eyes track your movement, noting how pale you look, and how your usual confident stride seems shakier. A smirk plays at his lips, though he keeps his expression carefully neutral.

"Hey baby," he calls out, pushing off the truck to meet you. His hands immediately find your waist, pulling you close as he studies your face. "You sounded weird on the phone. Everything okay?" The concern in his voice is perfectly crafted, masking the satisfaction he feels as he takes in your distressed state.

Your hands tremble as you pull away from his embrace, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. "Rafe, I... I need to tell you something." Your voice cracks slightly as you speak, tears already gathering in your eyes. "I went to the doctor today..."

"What's wrong?" Rafe steps closer, his hand coming up to cup your face with practiced gentleness. Inside, his heart races with anticipation, but his expression remains one of innocent concern. "You've been sick all week. Did they figure out what's wrong?"

"I'm pregnant," you whisper, the words carried away by the ocean breeze. Your eyes search his face desperately for any sign of recognition, any hint that he remembers your Valentine's night. "But I don't... I can't remember... The last thing I clearly remember is having champagne in your truck..."

Rafe's eyes widen in perfectly feigned shock, his hand dropping from your face as he takes a step back. "You're... what?" He runs a hand through his hair, the picture of a young man receiving unexpected news. "But we've never... I mean, I thought you wanted to wait?" His voice carries just the right amount of confusion and disbelief.

"That's just it," Your voice rises slightly, panic evident in your tone. "I don't remember! Valentine's Day is just... fuzzy. But the doctor said I'm about a week along, and you're the only one I've been with..." you trail off, tears now flowing freely down your cheeks.

Rafe pulls you into his arms, hiding his triumphant smile in your hair. "Shh, it's okay," he soothes, one hand moving to rest possessively over your still-flat stomach. "We'll figure this out together. I'm here for you, baby. Always." His voice drops lower, taking on that dangerous edge you're too distraught to notice. "Guess those college applications won't be necessary anymore, huh?"

His hand tightens possessively around your waist as you tremble against him, his other hand still resting on your stomach where his child is growing. The setting sun casts long shadows across the beach, the sound of waves providing a backdrop to your quiet sobs. His blue eyes gleam with dark satisfaction as he feels you collapse further into his embrace, exactly where he wants you.

"What am I going to tell my parents?" You whisper against his chest, your voice breaking. "My dad... he's going to kill me. And all my college plans..." You pull back slightly to look up at him, mascara running down your cheeks. "Rafe, I can't remember anything from that night. How did this happen?"

Rafe's jaw clenches as he maintains his facade of confusion and concern. "Hey, look at me," he demands softly, tilting your chin up with his fingers. "Your parents love you. And my family... well, Ward's always talking about wanting grandkids." His thumb wipes away your tears as he studies your face. "Maybe this is a good thing, you know? You and me, starting our own family."

"But I had plans," you protest weakly, your hands clutching at his shirt. "Harvard, Yale... I was supposed to get out of Outer Banks..." You don’t even notice how his grip tightens painfully at your words or the flash of possessive anger in his eyes.

"Fuck those plans," he growls, before quickly softening his tone. "I mean, things change, right? Sometimes for the better." His hand slides up to cup your face, forcing you to maintain eye contact. "You've got me now. Got us. Isn't that better than some fancy college where you don't know anyone?" He’s super hyper-focused on every detail - the way you unconsciously lean into his touch, how your body fits perfectly against his, the slight swell of your breasts that's already becoming noticeable. His other hand remains possessively on your stomach, imagining how it will grow with his child.

"I'm scared," You admit, your voice small against the sound of crashing waves. "Everything's happening so fast, and I can't remember... that night is just blank, Rafe. Doesn't that bother you?" You search his face for any sign of recognition, any hint of guilt.

But Rafe's expression remains carefully crafted a mixture of concern and determination. "What bothers me is seeing you upset," he lies smoothly, pulling you closer. "We'll figure this out together, okay? You and me and our baby. "No more talk about leaving, though. You belong here, with me. Got it?"

"We should tell our parents soon," he says, his voice carrying that edge of control he can never quite hide. "Get everything out in the open. But first, promise me something, baby. Promise me you'll stop looking at those college applications."

Your eyes widen with fresh tears as you stare up at him. "But Rafe, I can't just give up everything I've worked for..." Your voice trails off as his grip tightens slightly on your chin, his blue eyes darkening with barely contained possession.

"Those dreams were for the old Y/N," he states firmly, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip. "The one who didn't have a family to think about. Things are different now." His other hand presses harder against your stomach, a reminder of what's growing inside of you. "You've got bigger responsibilities. To me. To our baby."

The waves crash against the shore behind them as silence stretches between them. Rafe can feel your pulse racing beneath his fingers where they rest against your throat and can see the moment you start to break under the weight of reality. His plan is working perfectly - soon you’ll be completely his, tied to him forever through your child.

"I... I need time to think," You finally whisper, trying to step back from his embrace. But Rafe's grip remains firm, keeping you close as the last rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon. His expression shifts into something darker, more possessive.

"No more thinking," One of his hands slid up to tangle in your hair. "No more plans that don't include me. You're mine now, Y/N. The sooner you accept that, the better." His voice carries a threat wrapped in velvet as he stares down at you. "Or should we talk about how convenient it is that you can't remember Valentine's Day?"

Rafe's threat hangs heavy in the air as your face drains of color. His fingers tighten in your hair, cocaine making his movements more aggressive than usual. The darkened beach feels suddenly oppressive as he towers over your trembling form.

"What... what do you mean?" You whisper, your voice is small and frightened as you search his face. The familiar warmth in his blue eyes has been replaced by something cold and calculating that makes your stomach turn.

"You really want to know what happened that night?" he asks, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. His hand slides from your stomach to your hip possessively. "Want me to tell you exactly how I made sure you'd never leave me? How I watched you drink that champagne, knowing what was in it?"

You try to pull away, but his grip is iron-tight as realization dawns on your face. "No," she breathes, shaking her head in denial. "You wouldn't... you couldn't..." But the predatory smile spreading across his face tells you everything you need to know.

"I did," he confirms, pulling you closer until your faces are inches apart. "And now you're carrying my baby. No more college applications. No more dreams of leaving. You're mine forever now, baby." His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek with mock tenderness. "And if you ever think about telling anyone... well, who's going to believe the girl who can't remember her own Valentine's Day?"

The waves crash behind them as your world crumbles around you. You can feel the weight of the promise ring on your finger - once a symbol of love, now feeling more like a shackle. Rafe watches you process everything with dark satisfaction, knowing he's won completely.

"Why?" you finally manage to ask through your tears, your voice breaking on the single word. The hand in your hair tightens as Rafe's expression turns almost tender, though his eyes remain cold.

"Because you're mine," he states simply as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. "And I take care of what's mine. You'll see, baby. This is better than any fancy college could ever be." His hand moves to rest on your stomach again, possessive and threatening all at once. "Our little family, together forever in Outer Banks. Just like it should be."

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pbaz7 · 1 month ago

Text

SOFT SPOT: CHAPTER 5

paige x azzi

word count: 9.3k

a/n: i’ve probably been slowly writing this chapter over the course of a few days because i randomly wrote here and there on vacation. may have also been a little drunk when writing some of it so bare with me ✨. i think people will like this chapter tho. as always leave any reactions/ thoughts or comments that you can!! thank you for reading.

—————————————————————————

It had been about two weeks since the fight, and Paige was finally starting to feel like herself again…Ish. The swelling and cuts were mostly gone and the bruises on her side faded into yellowish marks. The relentless throbbing in her temples had eased a few days and now that she wasn’t grimacing every two seconds or wincing just from opening her eyes, the quiet anger she’d been too sore to entertain was beginning to bubble back up.

With the physical pain not being able to dull her thoughts or distract her anymore the humiliation she seemed to feel was sharper and it pissed her off.

She tried to watch the fight back a few times on different devices. Once with her phone propped up in her room, another in the living room with her remote in hand. Each time her heart started to beat faster every second she watched it and ultimately each attempt ended the same: disgust curling in her gut by the second round, mumbling “What the fuck was that?” to herself before turning it off. She hadn’t made it through the whole thing once yet.

Trying to subside her agitation she spent the last few days in the gym. Even though her body still wasn’t at a hundred percent she couldn’t sit still. Couldn’t let herself marinate in her version of a loss or the thoughts swirling around in her head about the fight. So she kept herself moving. She shadowboxed, hit some of the lighter bags. But seeing herself in the mirror was less forgiving than the fight footage.

She just felt stuck. Agitated. Claustrophobic in her own skin. So she did what any semi-sane person with too much money and not enough distractions would do; made plans to get the hell out of town.

Her fingers hovered over her phone screen for a moment before she typed a text:

Paige [10:47 AM]:

about that date

A few minutes passed before Azzi replied.

Azzi [10:54 AM]:

What about it?

Paige looked at the screen for a second with her thumbs hovering over the screen.

Paige [10:55 AM]:

i wanna take you on one

Azzi’s reply came back faster this time.

Azzi [10:56AM]:

Oh?

Tell me more

Paige smirked at her phone a little, pulling one knee up as she thought through how to present what she wanted to ask.

Paige [10:56 AM]:

you have a few days off before playoffs start right?

Azzi [10:57 AM]:

Yeah. Why?

Paige [10:57 AM]:

how you feel about leaving the state for a first date?

There was a longer pause than before. Then Azzi responded in the way Paige figured she would.

Azzi [10:59 AM]:

Excuse me?

You sure you aren’t still concussed?

Paige [11:00 AM]:

i’m sure

There was a short pause, then another message popped up.

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Where are we going and for how long?

Paige [11:01 AM]:

pack a bag for two days

Azzi [11:01 AM]:

Okay…what am I packing?

Paige [11:03AM]:

something comfortable, swimsuits, clothes for an actual date

Azzi [11:03 AM]:

Ohh, so leaving the state isn’t the actual date?

Got it

Paige [11:04AM]:

i’m not a bum

Azzi [11:05AM]:

I don’t think a bum would take me to a different state under the guise of a first date so no worries

Paige [11:05AM]:

text me when you’re ready

The conversation ended after that.

…

The next thing Azzi knew she was back on a plane. It was the same private plane she’d taken to Paige’s fight a couple of weeks ago but this time, it was just the two of them on it.

The hum of the jet was steady and the cabin was dim. Paige was slouched comfortably in a Essentials sweatsuit with her hood up and her legs stretched out. Her hands were tucked in the pockets of the joggers.

“You got a deal with Essentials or you just hoard every color?”

Paige turned her head towards Azzi, chuckling a little. “Both.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, holding back a smile. “Gotta be cozy to keep secrets?”

Paige raised one of her eyebrows. “What secret?”

Azzi leaned forward putting her chin in her palm. “You know what secret. Where are we going, Narnia?”

Paige chuckled letting out a groan as she stretched, crossing her ankles when she was done. “Somewhere.”

“Oh wow,” Azzi said, completely deadpan. “Thanks, that really clears it up. You’re so generous.”

“I try.”

Azzi tilted her head. “Is it tropical?”

“Do we have tropical states?”

Azzi narrowed her eyes. “Paige.”

Paige grinned a little wider this time. “Bringin’ out the government name now?”

“I always do when I’m not getting what I want,” Azzi said. “And you’re keeping secrets.”

“I’m taking you on a date. Not smuggling you. Just relax.”

Azzi leaned back and Paige thought she finally gave up until she said, “So…is there a lot of sun?”

Paige didn’t answer.

“Water?”

Paige still didn’t answer so Azzi pouted. There was a short pause as Paige just looked at her. Then she sighed and said, “Maybe.”

“You suck.”

Paige shrugged. “You’ll like it.”

“I better. I packed a red bikini.”

Paige’s eyes flicked over to her hearing that. “You tryna threaten me or reward me? M’gettin mixed signals with that statement.”

Azzi grinned. “Depends on how fast you tell me where we’re going.”

Paige stared at her for a moment considering just telling her to end the interrogation but then she just let her head fall back against the seat. “You’re annoying.”

Azzi huffed and decided to leave it alone for now.

For the rest of the plane ride neither of them said much. There was just the sound of the engines. Eventually, Paige closed her eyes again and the tension from earlier slowly drained from her shoulders.

Azzi glanced over and watched her for some time before pulling out her phone and settling into her seat. While Paige slipped into sleep, Azzi worked on a few things she was planning to do before she was met with an impromptu trip. When she was done she sent a quick message to her group chat.

Azzi [4:13 PM]:

Don’t bother me unless someone dies

She glanced over again, catching Paige’s hoodie rising and falling and smiled to herself before turning her screen brightness down and putting her phone away deciding to get some sleep herself.

When the plane touched down, the sky was a muted gray that stretched over the open land. It wasn’t freezing, but it was colder than what Azzi expected after being told to bring a swimsuit. Cool enough to make her grateful when Paige pulled her hoodie over her head and handed it to her.

The drive from the airport had long stretches of trees and winding back roads that offered a silence and the kind of stillness you couldn’t find in the city. Eventually, the car rolled into a gravel driveway that opened to a wide clearing.

Azzi stepped out of the car first, her shoes crunching against the stones. “Okay…this is definitely not what I expected.”

Paige led her toward the entrance, carrying both of their bags like it was second nature. “That a good thing or a bad thing?”

“Definitely not bad.”

Just beyond the tree-lined driveway was a more modern cabin. It had floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over a glassy lake. The water stretched endlessly and was framed by trees that swayed gently in with the breeze; some starting to lose their leaves. The cabin itself had high wood-beamed ceilings, an open layout on the first floor, soft light coming from the large windows. When they stepped through the front door, it smelled like cedar and fresh linen, like someone was doing laundry earlier in the day and it was warm from pre-set heat.

Azzi’s eyes wandered past the living room, through the back windows. She saw a hot tub on the deck overlooking the lake and just below that, an infinity pool with a perfect view of the water beyond the cabin.

She blinked at Paige in confusion despite how impressed she was. “Where are we?”

“Minnesota,” Paige answered plainly, dropping the bags by the stairs.

Azzi gave her a look. “Yes, thank you captain obvious. I meant here.”

“Family cabin,” she said, laughing a little. “It was one of the first things I bought cause it helps me stay connected to home.”

Azzi looked around again, this time a little slower with the new information. Everything about the layout felt purposeful. It was warm, quiet, had touches of Paige’s personal life tucked into each corner. “So this is like a special place?”

Paige gave a small shrug, like it wasn’t a big deal. “Guess so.”

Azzi folded her arms, her eyes sweeping across the cabin one more time before looking back at Paige. “Kinda crazy for a first date.”

“Don’t get a big head,” Paige mumbled. “Just didn’t want you thinking I was a sore loser who couldn’t follow through on a bet before I left LA.”

Azzi scoffed, walking slowly toward the windows. “Righttt. So you text me on a Thursday morning, tell me to pack a bag, fly me halfway across the country…to your family’s cabin...just to settle a bet?”

Paige looked at her for a moment, Her expression giving nothing away. Then, without answering, she chuckled a little and moved toward the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” she said over her shoulder.

Azzi shook her head, smiling despite her best effort. “Unbelievable.”

Paige’s voice floated back. “I got wine. All the wine you could think of probably. Tequila, beer, some tea I think.”

Azzi trailed into the kitchen. “Wine is fine.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You got a preference?”

Azzi leaned her hip against the counter. “Surprise me like you’ve been doing all day.”

Paige shook her head, the corner of her mouth twitching up as she reached for a bottle of Chardonnay. “You’re annoying.”

“You’ll grow to love it.”

Paige didn’t respond, just pulled two glasses down from the cabinet. The soft clink of glass echoed slightly in the kitchen as she sat them on the counter. She uncorked the bottle and poured a generous amount into both glasses.

Azzi watched her do all of this, still half in disbelief that this was real. Paige handing her a glass of wine. In Minnesota. At her family’s cabin that she willingly .

“So…” Azzi said, raising her glass a little. “To first dates that start with mystery texts and end in the woods…?”

Paige tapped her glass lightly against Azzi’s. “Don’t make it weird.”

Azzi grinned saying, “Too late,” before taking a sip of the Chardonnay.

After a sip of her drink, Paige nodded toward the rest of the house. “Come on, I’ll show you around before it gets too dark.”

Azzi followed her through the cabin, their footsteps being heard against the wooden floors. The place was new but somehow gave off a rustic vibe with its vaulted ceilings and thick wooden beams. Paige moved through the house without thinking much, clearly familiar with the space.

They passed the open kitchen and a den before Paige led Azzi up the stairs and down a hallway. “Couple bedrooms down here. This one’s mine,” she said, tapping on the door. “You can pick whichever room…or you know, whatever.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, pausing with her wine glass mid-sip. “Whatever?”

Paige cleared her throat. “Just pick a room.”

Azzi smirked. “Mmm, okay.”

Paige didn’t take the bait, just turned and kept walking, opening another door and motioning lazily. “Bathroom’s here. There’s another one in one of the guest rooms and there’s one downstairs too. Shower sucks in that one for some reason though.”

They kept walking through the cabin, the comfort between them a little easier than any other time they’ve been together. Azzi brushed her hand along a wooden railing, admiring the space as they walked. “You’re definitely looking less wincey than last week when I saw you.”

Paige chuckled at the word. “I’m still sore in the mornings,” she admitted. “But my head doesn’t feel like shit anymore, so...progress.”

Azzi nodded. “That’s good.”

Paige glanced back at her. “You good?”

Azzi shrugged one shoulder. “Just trying to stay in game shape. First round’s in a few days. Should be easy though.”

Paige gave her a look. “Don’t jinx yourself.”

Azzi held up her free hand. “Alright, knock on wood.”

They stepped onto the back deck, the cool air wrapping around them. The lake was beautiful up close. String lights were wrapped around the wooden beams and they twinkled overhead, casting a hue across the deck.

Paige gestured with her glass. “Not bad, right?”

Azzi gave a small smile. “Not bad at all.”

Paige leaned on the railing next to her, the moment stretching just enough as Azzi looked out towards the lake before Paige said, “Come on. One more thing.”

She led Azzi down a set of steps and around the side of the cabin to a small building tucked against the tree line. She pushed open the door and flipped on the lights to reveal another fully-equipped home gym. Punching bags, racks, mirrors, everything Paige needed to get through a workout. It was simpler than her one back in LA, but it was clearly still made custom to what Paige needed.

Azzi smiled a little. “Okay, so this is probably where you’d disappear to if you decided to ghost for a few days.”

Paige grinned. “I had it added last year. I needed somewhere quiet to train without being bothered all the time.”

Azzi walked in fully, her eyes scanning the space. “It’s very you.”

Paige smirked. “Is that a compliment?”

Azzi looked over her shoulder. “Depends. You gonna train on our date?”

Paige tilted her head. “Mmm. Depends on if you’ll join me.”

Azzi laughed, walking back toward her. “I’ll think about it.”

By the time they made it back into the main cabin, the sun had dipped lower and it cast shadows through the trees and turned the lake a deep slate-blue color. Paige kicked off her shoes by the door and moved around the kitchen casually, topping off both their wine glasses before sliding one toward Azzi.

Azzi took hers with a quiet “thanks,” sipping as she leaned against the counter. Azzi didn’t even last five minutes before her eyes drifted toward the stairs that led back out to the gym. “I actually kinda wanna workout now.”

Paige raised an eyebrow as she sipped her wine. “Of course you do.”

Azzi smiled. “Only today though, tomorrow I won’t touch the gym if you don’t want me to.”

Paige gave a small grin, setting her glass down. “Alright. I’ll change.”

It didn’t take long for both of them to change and meet in the gym. Azzi had pulled her hair into a bun, already thinking about what she was going to do as she scrolled through her playlists and laid out some resistance bands. Paige was moving more slowly, stretching out her shoulder before wrapping her hands and putting on gloves before moving toward the heavy bag.

The space filled with the music from Azzi’s phone that she connected to the gym speaker. Azzi moved through a circuit. Some jump rope to start and warm herself up. She barely seemed to notice the time as she zoned into her workout.

Meanwhile, Paige worked the bag with a slower rhythm, testing her body, finding where the soreness still lingered and where it didn’t.

“Your form’s terrible today,” Azzi teased mid-lunge.

Paige laughed a little. “Thanks, coach.”

They shared a small grin before both of them returned to their workouts.

The whole workout passed like that. There was light conversation here and there, a comment tossed between sets, a playful insult when one of them slowed down. But mostly, they worked in tandem, both of them comfortable in the silence as they worked on their craft. It was the kind of peace only two athletes could understand as they both let the world fall away in a home gym in Minnesota.

Azzi slowed down eventually, her last round of the circuit tapering into stretches as her focus drifted across the gym. Paige was still at the bag, each of her hits landing cleaner than they were when she first started.

Azzi leaned back on her palms, letting her breathing settle as she watched.

There was something almost hypnotic about watching her. Paige’s shoulder blades were flexing underneath her sports bra and the controlled rotation of her core was visible as she pivoted through each punch. Her arms were glistening and every once in a while she exhaled just loud enough for Azzi to bring her attention back to her. Sweat slid down her neck and traced the lines of her back beneath the fabric of her bra.

Azzi found herself staring for who knows how long. Eventually she stepped back from the bag for a moment to shake out her arms, and her eyes drifted over and she caught Azzi watching and raised an eyebrow. “You wanna try?”

Azzi blinked out of her daze, a little caught off guard. “Me?”

Paige nodded, already walking toward the shelf where she kept extra gloves and wraps. “Unless you’re just gonna sit there drooling.”

Azzi scoffed. “I was not staring.”

Paige didn’t even turn around. “Right.”

Azzi stood up slowly, wiping her hands on her thighs. “I’ve never even thrown a punch.”

Paige glanced over her shoulder. “You probably couldn’t have a better teacher then princess.”

Azzi hesitated, rolling her lips together. “Promise you won’t laugh?”

Paige turned around holding wrap and gloves. “Scout’s honor.”

Azzi eyed her, skeptically. “I’m almost 100% sure you were never a scout.”

Paige shrugged. “Still counts.”

That earned a reluctant smile from Azzi as she walked over. “Alright. Let’s see what the hype’s about.”

Paige gestured for her to sit on the bench while she knelt in front of her. “Left hand first.”

Azzi held it out and watched silently as Paige began wrapping her hand. Her fingers were warm as she worked the wrap around Azzi’s hand and despite the teasing, Paige’s touch was careful, almost gentle, as she checked for tightness and comfort as she went.

“You nervous?” Paige said without looking up.

Azzi tilted her head. “Little bit.”

Paige glanced up with a faint grin. “Don’t be. I’ll go easy on you.”

Azzi just smiled at that as Paige continued to wrap Azzi’s hands. When she was done she slid the gloves on for her, tightening the straps just enough to be snug but comfortable. Once she was done, she sat back lifting her eyes.

“Good?”

Azzi nodded, holding her hands up awkwardly.

Paige smiled at her, rising to her feet. “Alright. Over here.”

She nodded toward one of the lighter bags, and Azzi followed her even though her movements were a bit hesitant. Paige motioned for her to square up when she got in front of the bag.

“Ight put your feet about shoulder-width apart,” she said, circling behind her. “Back foot slightly turned out. Yeah—like that.”

Azzi adjusted, and Paige stepped closer.

“Bring your hands up,” Paige said, tapping gently beneath Azzi’s elbows. “Higher. To protect your face.”

Azzi tried and her form was stiff. Paige chuckled under her breath before reaching out to nudge her arms into place.

“Here relax your shoulders,” she said, fingertips brushing over Azzi’s shoulder blades as she softened the tension there. “You’re not about to fight a bear. It’s just a bag, it won’t hit you back.”

Azzi huffed out a quiet laugh. “Feels like I’m bracing for war.”

Paige moved around to Azzi’s side, resting her palm lightly on her lower back. “You’re a hooper. You know how to move your body. Think of this as new muscle memory.”

Azzi gave her a sideways look. “Didn’t know you were gonna whisper sweet encouragements in my ear.”

Paige ignored Azzi trying to flirt but her mouth twitched. “You want to learn or not?”

Azzi smirked. “I’m listening, coach.”

Paige rolled her eyes but stayed close. “Throw a light jab with your dominant hand. Just test it out.”

Azzi did, and the glove landed against the bag with a gentle thud. Paige nodded. “Not bad. Do it again.”

Azzi reset her stance and this time it looked like she had a little more confidence as she threw another jab. The sound of her glove against the bag was harder, but Paige tilted her head slightly, trying to figure out the best advice to give her.

“You’re not bad,” Paige said, stepping in. “You’re throwing with just your arm though. You gotta turn into it. Use your hips, your shoulders. The power’s not going to be in the punch itself, it’s in the movement.”

Azzi gave her a confused look over her shoulder. “What does that even mean Paige?”

Paige sighed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “C’mere.”

Before Azzi could respond, Paige was behind her with one of her hands resting gently on Azzi’s hip, the other on her upper arm.

“Alright,” Paige mumbled, her voice suddenly much closer to Azzi’s ear. “When you go to jab, turn this,” she said, nudging Azzi’s hip lightly, “just a little, like this.” She moved with her, guiding her body through the motion. Her chest brushed against Azzi’s back, and the space between them all but disappeared as Paige tried to show her what to do. Azzi blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of the rhythm of Paige’s breath behind her, the weight of her hands, how still everything else felt.

Paige didn’t seem fazed in the slightest, her voice stayed even the entire time. “See? It’s not a huge movement. You just need enough rotation to transfer your weight. That’s where the power comes from.”

Azzi nodded, but it was distracted. “Uh-huh. Got it,” she mumbled, even though it clearly sounded a little dazed.

Paige paused just long enough to notice, her eyes moving towards Azzi’s face. “You good, or did I break you or something?”

Azzi let out a breathy laugh. “I’m good. It’s just the unsolicited back hugs. Kinda distracting.”

Paige grinned, stepping back slightly to give her space. “Focus.”

Azzi turned her head, her brown eyes meeting Paige’s over her shoulder. “I’m trying.”

There was a lingering look between them. Then Paige nodded toward the bag again.

“Show me.”

Azzi threw a few more punches with her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration. The impact on the bag wasn’t perfect, but it was getting cleaner. Paige stood a few feet away with her arms crossed, watching her the entire time.

“Better,” she said, nodding. “But drop your shoulder a little—yeah, right there. Keep your chin tucked too. You’re not tryin’ to get hit if this was a real person remember?”

Azzi exhaled, adjusting, then threw a few more punches. She pulled back, glancing at Paige, searching for her expression.

Paige raised an eyebrow, the corner of her mouth twitching. “I don’t know. I might need to get you in the cage soon.”

Azzi laughed, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet. “Relax. I just figured out how to throw a punch.”

Paige walked closer to her. “Mmhm. I can’t tell, definitely got me feeling some typa way.”

Azzi blinked. “Excuse me?”

Before she could say more, Paige was behind her again, her hand gently skimming down Azzi’s arm under the guise of adjusting the position of her glove.

“I’m just saying,” Paige said, her mouth unironically warm by Azzi’s ear. “Feels like you doing some of this on purpose. Like you know somebody watching or somethin.”

Azzi’s breath caught in her throat a little bit, from the words, how Paige’s fingers lingered and from the slight press of her body into Azzi's again.

Azzi turned her head toward Paige, her smirk returning once she gathered herself. “And are you?”

Paige’s lips quirked as she squinted her eyes at Azzi a little. “Always.” Then she stepped away again, nodding toward the bag like she hadn’t just said what she said. “Alright, again.”

Azzi shook her head, smiling as she squared up again. “You’re ridiculous.”

Paige just shrugged. “Little bit.”

Azzi threw a few more punches and the sound of the gloves hitting the bag echoed through the gym, more rhythmic and steady this time around. Paige leaned against the wall that was nearby watching her closely.

“You’re still kinda stiff. Relax your shoulders.” She stepped forward, her hand grazing Azzi’s bicep before sliding down to adjust her elbow. “And bend just a little more in your knees.”

Azzi glanced back over her shoulder. “You sure this isn’t just an excuse to touch me?”

Paige didn’t even blink. “Would that be a bad thing?”

Azzi faltered again for half a second before she looked away, resetting her stance with a soft laugh. Paige smiled to herself, stepping back behind her.

“Okay, try it again.”

Azzi did and this time she got more hits in before Paige spoke up.

“You wanna remember to keep this hand a little higher, protect your face, remember?” Paige said.

“Feels like I should be paying you for this lesson.”

Paige chuckled. “Nah, first one’s free.”

Azzi shifted into the motion, punching the bag again, this time with a little more power. The sound made Paige nod in approval.

“There she is,” Paige murmured.

Azzi turned her head, catching Paige’s eye over her shoulder. “Guess it just depends on the coach.”

Paige smiled. “Good answer.”

They held eye contact before Paige stepped back, giving Azzi her space again. “Alright, again. Let’s see if the muscle memory sticks.”

They stayed in the gym for maybe thirty more minutes, the time passing without either of them really noticing. Paige kept her word. No laughing the entire time, not even when Azzi’s punch slipped a little and sent her stumbling forward into the bag. She caught herself, mumbling something under her breath, but Paige just walked over, nodding like it was no big deal.

“Keep your weight a little more balanced,” she said, crouching slightly to tap at Azzi’s back foot with her own. “You’re leaning too far forward.”

Azzi reset, adjusted, and went again, and with the slight adjustment her movements were cleaner. Paige watched her with a glint of quiet pride in her eyes, offering occasional comments. “Better…Don’t forget your guard…There you go. That one felt good, huh?”

Of course, it wasn’t all business. Azzi couldn’t help but toss a few comments in, especially when Paige came behind her again to adjust something miniscule. “You sure this is standard coaching?” Paige just hid her smile and said, “Nah this for special clients.”

Azzi rolled her eyes at Paige’s tone, but kept swinging.

By the time they wrapped up, both of them were a little flushed, sweaty, and grinning slightly for completely different reasons. Paige pulled off Azzi’s gloves for her and unwrapped her hands while Azzi stretched out her arms, exhaling hard.

“Okay, I get why you’re so into this now,” Azzi said, redoing her bun that had fallen a little too much. “Kinda makes you feel like a badass.”

Paige gave her a quiet laugh. “Told you.”

“You were right.”

“I usually am.”

Azzi nudged her. “Don’t push it.”

Paige smirked but didn’t say anything back. They lingered in silence while Paige finished unwrapping Azzi’s hands.

When she was done Azzi asked, “Hot tub now?”

Paige wiped the sweat off of her face with a towel. “Thought you’d never ask. Lemme hop in the shower first tho.”

Azzi took her time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe her muscles after the impromptu workout. By the time she made her way back into the living room, her hair was damp on the ends and pulled into another loose bun. She walked barefoot toward the kitchen, where she saw Paige at the counter with her head bowed slightly.

Azzi tilted her head. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

Paige glanced up, the flicker of a grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “Occasionally.”

Azzi hummed, leaning on the counter with her elbows, watching her break the buds into the paper. “What’s occasionally? Like, once a week? After every workout? Only when you drag someone across the country?”

Paige chuckled under her breath, her eyes going back to her hands. “More like...when I feel like I earned it. So…rare.”

Azzi smirked, but her eyes were trained on Paige’s lips and the way they parted slightly as she rolled. Her tongue flicked to wet the paper and Azzi caught herself staring. Everything Paige was doing was slow and perfectly in place. Too slow, maybe, because Azzi’s brain had gone a little quiet as she watched.

“You smoke?” Paige asked without looking up.

Azzi didn’t answer right away. She was still watching, a little dazed as Paige’s mouth twisted and sealed the end.

“Azzi.”

The way Paige said her name snapped her out of it.

“Huh? Oh.” Azzi blinked quickly, standing up straighter. “What?”

Paige exhaled slowly, moving her eyes up to meet Azzi’s. “I said, do you smoke?”

Azzi cleared her throat, trying to act casual. “Not often, no. But...I mean, I could be convinced.”

Paige let out a laugh, moving her eyes back to the j. “We’ll see,” she said before flicking the lighter against the paper to finish sealing it. She held it up like a promise, then stood and nodded toward the patio doors. “Come on.”

Azzi grabbed the nearly-finished bottle of wine from the fridge and two more glasses from the cabinet, before she followed Paige outside. The sliding glass door opened with a soft creak, letting in the cool bite of a September night in Minnesota. It wasn’t frigid yet but the air was crisp enough to make the steam rising from the bubbling jacuzzi seem like a heavenly invitation.

Paige stepped in first, letting out a long exhale as the heat traced up her skin. She sank back against the edge, spread her arms to the side, and tilted her head just slightly to take it all in. Her hoodie and sweats were gone now, replaced by a black bikini top that contrasted against the paleness of her skin. Strands of her blonde hair curling slightly at the ends as they touched the water.

Azzi set the wine and glasses down with a clink on the edge of the jacuzzi, her fingers brushing her thigh as she stepped up onto the jacuzzi’s edge. She caught the way Paige’s blue eyes followed her unashamed. She didn’t look away once, even as Azzi sank into the water across from her, letting the heat settle over her skin.

For a moment, Paige watched her. Not saying much of anything. Once again like she was trying to figure Azzi out, or like she had already figured Azzi out and was trying to figure out what to do with the information.

Azzi raised her eyebrow after a while of Paige just staring and not saying anything, a soft smile on her lips as she said, “Good?”

Paige gave her a subtle nod, her jaw ticking slightly as the steam curled around her face. The warmth from the porch lights reflected in her blue eyes making them look even softer than usual, but her expression stayed unreadable.

Azzi tilted her head, still smiling out of shyness a little, “What’re you looking at?”

“You.”

Azzi let out a soft, “hm” at that, before she turned to pour the wine to distract herself from the light butterflies in her stomach. Her smile lingered as she reached for the bottle, but her eyes drifted back once, just quick enough to catch Paige lighting the blunt, her lips pulling from it effortlessly like she’d done it hundreds of times before. The faint glow from the cherry lit up the sharp lines of her face. She leaned back slightly, tipping her head to the stars as the smoke curled up from her lips.

It was honestly unfair how good she looked all the time. It was in the kind of way Azzi had no defense against. Like the brown haired girl wasn’t used to being this attracted to a person, let alone for such an extended period of time.

Paige took another pull then glanced back over, catching Azzi watching her again. “You just gonna stare or…?”

Azzi rolled her eyes, handing her a glass of wine before accepting the blunt Paige was oddering. She took it, her fingers brushing Paige’s just slightly in the process. “Getting me crossed on the first date?” she teased as she brought it to her lips.

Paige chuckled, her eyes already becoming a little low. “This isn’t the date.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, inhaling again before passing it back. “No?”

“Nah,” Paige said. “Promise I’mma take you on one tomorrow, though. Don’t trip.”

Azzi leaned back with her wine glass in hand. “Who said I’m tripping?”

Paige laughed again, taking a second pull before passing it back. “Just a phrase, princess.”

The whir of the jacuzzi filled the silence of the night air, bubbles breaking the surface in gentle bursts. A cool breeze swept in from the lake, but the warm water countered the chill, steam rising in tendrils into the air. The light blue glow of the jacuzzi lights gave everything a softer hue.

Paige leaned back, stretching her arms along the ledge behind her. Blue eyes were half-lidded as she watched the way Azzi brought the blunt to her lips.

“You roll good,” Azzi murmured as she exhaled before she passed it back.

Paige grinned. “What, you thought I was gonna be bad at this too?”

Azzi smiled, swirling her condensation wine glass. “Nah. I’m just surprised you’re not more of a control freak about how I’m pulling it.”

“I’m healing,” Paige said dryly, taking a hit. The smoke curled up around her face, catching in the blue light, softening her features.

Azzi watched her a second before reaching for the joint again to distract herself. “You ever bring anyone else here?”

Paige shook her head, eyes still on her. “Outside of my family? Nope. Just you.”

Azzi raised her eyebrow, lifting the glass to her lips to hide the involuntary smile that was growing. “Hm. Should I feel special or concerned at how easy it was to get you to invite me here?”

“Both,” Paige said with a crooked smile as she took a long pull. “Balance, right?”

They settled into a comfortable rhythm. Smoke, sip, tease, repeat. Their conversations drifted from music to movies to random memories, the kind of stuff that didn’t need full context to laugh at. The night stretched on intimately as the warm water wrapped around them in contrast to the sky above that was wide open.

When the blunt burned down to the end, the last of its embers dimmed as Azzi flicked it into the nearby ashtray Paige had set on the edge. She let her head fall back as her eyes scanned the dark silhouettes of trees surrounding the cabin, the sky above streaked with stars she could never see in the city. The moment was peaceful in a way she wasn’t used to. There was nothing urgent tonight, nothing loud. Just a simple calmness in a Minnesota cabin with a blonde girl who somehow made her mind calm and chaotic at the same time.

Across from her, Paige looked like she belonged in this kind of silence. Her head was tilted back too, her eyes closed, arms stretched casually over the ledge behind her, her expression looked relaxed and her skin glistened with the mix of steam, wine and whatever haze lingered between them.

Azzi's gaze lingered on her. She took in the slope of her jaw, the flutter of her long lashes, the relaxed set of her usually clenched mouth. She wasn’t sure how long she stared before she finally said, quietly, “Paige.”

Without opening her eyes, Paige replied, “Hm?”

Azzi hesitated, exhaling softly through her nose. She didn’t want a half-aware hum. She wanted her attention more than usual. So she pushed herself up and moved slowly through the water until she was in front of her.

The movement caused ripples that lapped at Paige’s skin. Azzi stood in front of her, directly in front of one of the lights that cast a glow across her curves. “Look at me,” she said.

Paige’s eyes slowly opened. They were rimmed in red from the wine and the weed, as she processed how close Azzi was. Her gaze swept over Azzi’s long curls, some of them damp as they framing her face. She looked at the water glistening on her collarbone, the way the wet red bikini clung to her skin, the quiet confidence in the way she stood directly in front of her. This was probably the longest Paige had ever looked at Azzi and she shamelessly let her eyes travel across every portion of the girl in front of her.

Azzi tilted her head, catching the weight of the look in Paige’s eye. “Why you looking at me like that?”

Paige’s lips twitched. “You told me to.”

That made Azzi smile as she moved forward again, now standing between Paige’s legs that naturally opened to make room for her.

“You always do what you’re told?” Azzi asked, lowering her voice on purpose as her eyes met Paige’s.

Paige looked her up and down again, not bothering to hide the way her gaze lingered on her chest, on the silver piece of jewelry resting near her belly button. Her voice was quiet when she answered. “Depends who’s telling me.”

Azzi quirked her head to the side at this. “If it’s me?”

Paige didn’t look away from her. “Then maybe.”

Azzi let a beat pass between them before taking a small step closer, her thighs brushing Paige’s. “Only maybe?”

Paige’s eyes dropped to her mouth for a second, then back up. Her voice dropped too, a little raspier now as she said, “You gotta earn the ‘always’ from me.”

Azzi huffed out a soft laugh, tilting her head as if she was considering that information. “That right?”

Paige nodded once. “Mhm.”

There was silence between them again. This version was thick, more intimate than their stretches of silence usually are. The water bubbled against them, steam curling upward making the moment seem...warmer. They were close enough to feel each other’s breath, their intoxication slowing everything down, making it heavier.

Azzi's hands moved beneath the water, her warm fingers gliding over Paige’s forearms before gently guiding her hands to her waist. Paige’s grip settled there naturally, her thumbs brushed over Azzi’s skin as she invited her closer with a soft pull.

Azzi let her legs drift, slotting herself against Paige until she was nearly straddling her in the water, knees brushing each side of Paige’s body. Her arms came up, looping around Paige’s neck, her wet fingertips tracing the damp edges of her hair. Neither of them still not offering any words.

The only sounds were the bubbling of the jacuzzi and the occasional noise of a grasshopper in the woods around the house.

Azzi leaned in slightly, keeping her eyes on Paige’s. All of her movements were slow, partly from the intoxication, partly from giving Paige time. Permission. An out if she didn’t want her in this way.

But Paige didn’t move away, contrarily Azzi noticed the way her gaze dropped to her lips, lingering there as she moved closer.

So Azzi closed the distance, her lips brushing Paige’s in a kiss that was slow, but not in a way that was hesitant. They just weren’t rushing, just the slowness of two people feeling out something new and inevitable. Paige’s hands held her waist while Azzi kissed her like she’d been waiting to, like she was learning the shape of her mouth, the rhythm of her breath.

The kiss deepened slightly, but stayed gentle, their lips moving in sync, intoxication softening the edges of everything around them, making them more attuned to the moment, to what they were feeling. Allowing the kiss to melt into something fuller, their mouths parting just enough for breaths to hitch and warmth to spill between them. Paige’s grip on Azzi’s waist tightened slightly, when Azzi tugged on her lip softly, but it wasn’t possessive. It was careful in a way that caught Azzi off guard.

For someone who fought for a living, Paige’s touch was unexpectedly soft. Her hands held Azzi like she might break her, her thumbs tracing gentle circles along her hips beneath the water. Azzi had expected heat and intensity the first time she got Paige like this. And it was there but it was wrapped in a kind of reverence that made her stomach flutter. The feeling had her in heaven but sick to her stomach at the same time from the feelings drifting from deep in her chest to her brain.

Azzi felt like Paige was kissing her like she was learning her mouth by heart. Each tilt of her head, each brush of her tongue was gradual but still somehow reflected the want she felt. Azzi responded in kind, one hand moving to tangle in the damp strands of Paige’s hair, the other still looped loosely behind her neck as she pressed a little closer, the water gently rocking around them at the movement.

They stayed like that for a while, tangled in each other, kissing like they had all the time in the world.

Azzi’s lips parted from Paige’s just barely, her breath ghosting over pale wet skin as she trailed soft kisses down the line of Paige’s jaw and to the curve of her neck. Paige’s eyes fluttered closed again, tipping her head back as her arms stretched out along the edge of the jacuzzi, giving Azzi full access to her exposed skin—silent permission to keep going.

Azzi smiled against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing the slope of her neck as she whispered, “You enjoying yourself?”

Paige let out a low hum. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi kept her lips moving slowly, before she pulled back just enough to look at her. “Good. But just so you know,” she added playfully, eyes flicking to Paige’s that had opened, “I don’t sleep with people on the first date. So don’t get any ideas.”

Paige couldn't help the smirk that formed, her eyes barely open as she looked up at Azzi. “That’s funny. I thought you wanted to sleep with me the first day we met.”

Azzi laughed against Paige’s skin, her lips brushing along her collarbone as she started to kiss her neck again. “That so?”

“Yup.”

Azzi pulled back again, just enough to glance at her with raised eyebrows, hands still loosely wrapped around Paige’s neck. “What gave you that impression?”

“Maybe all the eye-fucking you were doing from the bench before I was even introduced to you.”

Azzi scoffed, a disbelieving laugh coming out of her as she pressed her forehead to Paige’s shoulder thinking about it. “No I wasn’t.”

Paige tilted her head, smiling wider now. “Sure.”

Azzi smiled against her skin again, biting back her next laugh—because she kind of was now that she thought about it further.

Azzi lingered there for a beat, forehead resting against Paige’s shoulder, her breath warming her skin as she forced the warmth from the tips of her ears. Her fingers lightly traced over Paige’s collarbone, nails dragging just faintly against the skin. “You’re really full of yourself, huh?”

Paige’s hands slipped lower on Azzi’s waist beneath the water. “Just calling it how I saw it.”

Azzi tilted her head inwards, her mouth barely an inch from Paige’s jaw deciding to flip the script. “What are you seeing right now?” she whispered as her lips ghosted her skin but not quite kissing it.

Paige’s breath caught subtly, Azzi wouldn’t have noticed if Paige’s hands didn’t tighten slightly on her waist. “Feelin a lot more than I’m seeing.”

Azzi grinned, then kissed her again, deeper this time, a touch needier. There was still that slow intoxicated rhythm to it, but now it simmered with more tension. Azzi shifted in the water, straddling Paige properly, her body pressing in just enough to make them both feel it.

Paige’s hands slid up from her waist to the curve of her lower back, holding her in place. Her lips were soft. Patient in a way but leading them at the same time, coaxing Azzi to give more, as Azzi’s fingers threaded through the back of her damp hair, her hips instinctively rolling just once before she caught herself and pulled back slightly with a breathless laugh.

“Easy,” she whispered, resting her forehead against Paige’s again.

“I’m not doing anything,” Paige said, as she smiled a little, showing the amusement mixed in with her desire.

“Your hands are saying otherwise.”

Paige smirked, her fingers gliding back down to Azzi’s hips under the water. “Don’t matter. You didn’t sleep with people on the first date, remember.”

Azzi smiled at this. “This isn’t the date, remember? Makes things a little hazy”

Paige leaned in, brushing her lips along Azzi’s jaw, clearly distracted as she mumbleed. “Then what rules do I gotta follow?”

Azzi exhaled softly, her eyes fluttering shut as Paige’s lips hovered over the sensitive spot beneath her ear. “Shhh,” she whispered, one hand sliding into Paige’s hair as she guided her mouth lower, pressing Paige’s lips to the sensitive part of her neck.

Paige obliged, her lips finding Azzi’s pulse point as Azzi tilted her head to the side, giving her more to work with. She melted into it, her breath catching every so often as Paige’s mouth moved slowly, tracing Azzi’s pulse points with her tongue and teeth. When Paige bit down gently Azzi rocked further into her, a soft sound catching in her throat.

Each time Azzi rolled her hips closer, grinding against Paige she felt the perfect amount of pressure that was only heightened when Paige helped her press down further causing the water to lap around them.

They repeated this for nearly ten minutes. Azzi’s body straddled Paige’s, her fingers drawing patterns over her shoulders as she pushed herself into the blonde. Paige’s hands stayed low on Azzi’s back, then drifted lower when she sensed Azzi getting a little needier, her fingers playing idly with the string of her red bikini bottoms beneath the water. The way she toyed with the string was intentional. She was teasing Azzi but staying patient, waiting for the girl on her lap to make whatever decision she wanted.

Azzi felt the tension coiling in her stomach, breaking the kiss and hovering her lips near Paige’s ear. She was about to tell her breathily to take it off but then Paige’s phone buzzed against the ledge behind them.

Azzi stilled but Paige didn’t even lift her head from Azzi’s neck. “Ignore it.”

Azzi easily gave in, leaning back in to kiss her again, her mouth finding Paige’s. Paige slipped one hand up to cradle the back of Azzi’s neck and pulled her closer.

But then the phone rang again and for some reason in this moment it seemed louder…more insistent than usual.

Azzi laughed against Paige’s lips, pulling back to look at her as Paige chased her a little. “You sure I’m the one who was thirsty?” she teased.

Paige tilted her head back, closed her eyes and let out a frustrated sigh. “Unreal.”

Azzi smiled softly as she slid her hands down Paige’s chest and gave one last lingering kiss to the corner of her mouth before whispering, “Good night, Paige.”

Paige opened her eyes just as Azzi stepped out of the jacuzzi, steam curling around her silhouette in the cool air. Paige watched her go with her lips parted.

And the fucking phone was still ringing.

Paige let out a long sigh as she reluctantly snatched it off the ledge and swiped to answer when she saw the name Cam glowing across the screen. “What.”

“Hi to you too, grumpy.”

Paige leaned her head back again, the steam from the jacuzzi curling around her face as she exhaled, clearly annoyed. “What, Cam?”

“I was just checking on you. I hadn’t heard from you in a few days.”

Paige’s tone was dry. “I’m alive.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, then Cam asked, “What are you doing?”

Paige groaned at the pointless conversation, “You cockblocked me.”

There was a beat of silence before Cam burst into laughter. “What?!”

Paige pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience wearing thin. “Do you need something Cameron?”

Cam hummed dramatically. “I don’t know…maybe just to hear my annoying sister’s voice.”

That pulled a soft chuckle out of Paige as she ran a hand through her damp hair and shifted her weight in the water. “Hi, Cam.”

She could hear the grin on Cam’s face through the phone as she said, “There we go.”

There was a brief pause before Cam’s tone turned curious. “So...who ya with?”

Paige snorted. “Mind your business.”

Cam gasped. “I’m almost 100% sure it’s Azzi so you might as well tell me.”

“What makes you say that?”

“She texted the group chat and told us all to leave her alone unless somebody died. That was like...six hours ago.”

Paige couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips as she leaned her head back against the ledge again. “Hm.”

The two of them talked a bit more, Cam giving her updates on Ben and her mom’s latest antics, Paige tossed in a few dry comments here and there to entertain Cam.

Mid-conversation, Paige’s eyes drifted up toward the second floor of the cabin and she saw Azzi moving past the window before pausing when she saw Paige looking. Her hair was pulled over one shoulder as she looked down at Paige.

Paige smirked as she tilted her head, silently inviting Azzi back downstairs with a playful look in her eyes.

Azzi arched an eyebrow.

Paige gave her best version of a pout, mouthing please.

Azzi rolled her eyes, her lips twitching at the corners before she exaggeratedly mouthed, no and walked away.

Paige sighed, but the smirk never left her face as Cam kept talking in her ear.

…

Much later that night, Azzi was in bed, restlessly kicking at the sheets. The air in the room she picked felt too warm and no matter how many times she flipped her pillow or changed positions, she couldn’t get comfortable. Her body felt tense…unsettled in a way she couldn’t just ignore to fall asleep. She was uncomfortable and needy.

With a frustrated sigh, she pushed the covers off and sat up. The silence of the large cabin settled around her and it was broken by the creak of floorboards as she walked barefoot down the stairs. The dim lighting from the moon spilled in through the large windows lighting up the open space just enough for her to see. She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a glass, filling it with cold water from the fridge.

She stood there a moment, sipping slowly, trying to calm herself down. Her eyes drifted to the sky outside. It was clear and scattered with more stars than she could count. She ran a hand up her neck, exhaling through her nose before pulling her shirt over her head, revealing a thin tank top that clung to her skin. Her small pajama shorts rode high on her thighs, and she tugged at the waistband out of habit as she redid her messy bun, a few stubborn curls falling loose around her face.

For a few minutes, she tried to focus on the quietness, on her breathing, on the cool glass against her lips but it didn’t work. Eventually, she gave up.

Setting her glass down on the counter with a soft clink, she turned and moved through the hall. Her knuckles hovered over Paige’s door for just a second before she knocked.

Paige heard the knock and stirred, blinking slowly as she registered the sound. She groaned softly, pushing the covers off and rubbing at her face before swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. Her body moved on autopilot as she moved across the room and opened the door still half-asleep.

Azzi stood there, her silhouette illuminated by the moonlight spilling in from down the hall. Paige blinked, her sleepy eyes scanning down the thin tank top clinging to Azzi’s body and the pajama shorts that left little to the imagination.

Paige blinked again, slower this time. “…Wassup? You good?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

Azzi shifted her weight, her lips pressing together for a second. “I’m hot,” she said simply, then added, “and I can’t sleep.”

Paige raised her eyebrows, a slow smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she tilted her head at Azzi’s choice of words. But she didn’t say anything, just stepped aside, opening the door further. “Come in.”

Azzi hesitated for a moment at the threshold as Paige moved back into the room. The cool air from Paige’s room brushing over her skin and making her exhale softly. It was a relief from the stuffy heat of her own room so she stepped inside, quietly closing the door behind her.

Paige was already crawling back in bed, flopping onto her stomach with a tired groan as she buried half her face back into a pillow. The sheet dipped slightly as her weight settled, the muscles in her back flexing faintly as she got adjusted.

Azzi walked over and carefully slid under the covers next to her, lying on her side as she looked at Paige.

“You always sleep like that?” she asked quietly.

Paige hummed. “Mmhmm.”

Azzi smiled a little. “Looks uncomfortable.”

“It’s not,” Paige mumbled into the pillow.

They were quiet for a moment before Azzi spoke again. “You okay with me being in here?”

Paige’s eyes stayed closed, but she shifted, turning her head toward Azzi. “Yeah.”

Azzi let out a slow breath, her body starting to relax as melted into the bed. “It’s freezing in here,” she added playfully.

“Better than melting,” Paige mumbled. After a pause, she added, “C’mere then.”

Azzi didn’t respond; she just smiled to herself before drifting closer under the covers and turning the other way. Paige shifted to her side and wrapped her arms around Azzi, pulling her in. Azzi immediately felt the heat from Paige’s skin and it was comforting; seeping into Azzi’s own skin and soothing the restlessness she'd been fighting all night.

Azzi whispered, “Thank you.”

“Mhmm.”

For a few moments, it was quiet. Paige’s breath was steady against the back of Azzi’s neck as she started to easily slip back into sleep.

But Azzi’s mind hadn’t settled. She spoke again, almost like a thought of hers slipped out without permission. “You sleep like this often? Holding people?”

Paige hummed. “Nope.”

Azzi smiled a little, her fingers brushing Paige’s forearm. “So, what I’m special?”

Paige gave a lazy, “Yup.”

Azzi kept going. “You’re warm...like stupid warm. I feel like I’m melting now…in a good way though”

“You’re welcome.”

Azzi chuckled under her breath, but when she opened her mouth again, Paige interrupted with a tired, “Azzi…”

Azzi paused, then tried to turn a little to face her. “Hm?”

Paige’s arms tightened around her, pulling her back into place as she mumbled against Azzi’s shoulder, “Go to sleep for me.”

Azzi was about to protest, but Paige somehow managed to pull her closer, her head gently resting on top of Azzi’s. One of her hands slipped under Azzi’s tanktop and her fingers drew patterns on her waist.

Azzi let out a quiet breath, her protest completely forgotten as she whispered, “Okay.” Her eyes finally fluttering closed.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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