Show & Tell
The Stonewall Inn
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“Sensação estranha a de que um atestado de óbito seja um alívio” [“A strange feeling that a death certificate is a relief”]
Fernanda Torres as Eunice Paiva in Ainda Estou Aqui (2024) [I'm Still Here] dir. Walter Salles
aqui, Brasil se escreve com s 😎
Eve Best behind the scenes of ‘WILD CHERRY’, the series has wrapped filming and will be coming soon.
No premiere date has been set.
🚗 Passenger Princess 🚗
Lilia Calderu x fem!reader
tags: slow burn, fluff & smut, passenger princess lilia calderu, car sex
summary: Lilia doesn’t drive, why would she, when you always pick her up? What starts as a one time favour turns into routine. She adjusts the temperature, hijacks the radio, and makes herself at home in your passenger seat. You complain, but you never say no. And she knows it.
wc: ~ 16k
a/n: thank you so much to @refreshingly-original for the idea, i hope you like it. and a huge shoutout to @ahsfan05 for reading it first and pulling me out of my self-criticism spiral, love you forever 💕
also on ao3
taglist: @ahsfan05, @emilynissangtr
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The first time Lilia asks for a lift, it’s casual, offhand, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. She leans against the doorframe of the café where you both frequent, one hand tucked into the pocket of her long coat, the other holding a paper cup of something undoubtedly expensive. “I need to pop to the shops,” she says matter of factly. “You’re heading that way, aren’t you?”
You weren’t , but she says it with such certainty that you almost question your own plans. There’s something about the way she tilts her head, waiting, that makes you sigh in amused resignation. “Yeah, alright,” you say. “But you owe me a coffee next time.”
Her lips curve as she pushes off the doorframe. “Oh, cara, I’ll make it worth your while.” You don’t question what that means, probably best not to. She slides into the passenger seat as if it’s a throne, immediately settling in like she belongs there, adjusting her coat, shifting in her seat, and sighing dramatically like she’s been through so much just to get here.
“Comfortable?” you ask dryly, starting the car.
Lilia hums, stretching out like a cat. “Mm. I could do with a bit more legroom, but I suppose one must make do.”
“You’re five foot,” you remind her, unimpressed.
“Five two,” she corrects primly. “And a half.”
You snort as the engine purrs to life, expecting her to sit quietly, maybe scroll through her phone or hum along to the radio, but within seconds, she’s fiddling with the air conditioning. “Do you always have it this cold?” she asks, shivering theatrically.
“Yes,” you say flatly.
Lilia tuts, turning the dial up two notches. “I see. A woman of extreme discomfort.”
You flick it back down without looking. She flicks it up. You flick it down. The standoff lasts longer than it should before she lets out an exaggerated sigh, flopping back against the seat in defeat. “Fine,” she relents. “Freeze me out, if you must.”
“Thank you for your sacrifice.”
She lifts her chin, expression haughty. “You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
Something light and unspoken settles in the space between you as the city rolls past. It’s nothing, really. Just a quick drive, just a favour.
Lilia doesn’t bother giving you directions. Instead, she gestures vaguely with one hand, sipping her coffee with the other. “You know the place.”
You arch a brow. “Do I?”
She waves a dismissive hand. “Of course you do.”
You don’t, but you drive anyway, waiting for her to actually say where you’re going. When it becomes clear that she has no intention of doing so, you sigh.
“The market, cara. Obviously,” she says, long-suffering.
Right. Obviously.
You turn onto the right street, weaving through late afternoon traffic. Despite insisting on coming here, Lilia doesn’t seem in any particular rush. She’s lounging, one leg tucked up on the seat, fingers toying with the radio dial.
“I wouldn’t touch that if I were you,” you warn.
She scoffs, flicking through stations like she owns the car. “Honestly, you should thank me. Your music selection is dismal.”
“It’s my car.”
“Yes, and I’m your passenger,” she says as if that explains everything. “You have a duty of care.”
“Oh, do I?”
“Absolutely. Your driving experience should be a pleasure, not a punishment.”
The station settles on something old, something jazzy. Lilia hums, satisfied.
You shake your head, amused. “Unbelievable.”
She simply smiles, leaning back as the music fills the space between you. The easy comfort of it is almost strange. Before this, Lilia had been a familiar presence, nothing more, someone you shared a café table with when the shop was too busy, someone you exchanged the occasional quip with in passing. But now, as she makes herself at home in the passenger seat, something feels like it’s shifted. Not in a grand, earth-shattering way, but in a quiet, inevitable one.
You’re still thinking about it when you pull up outside the market. Lilia, who had been contently gazing out the window, turns to you with a satisfied smile. “Perfect timing.”
You gesture toward the door. “Go on, then.”
She doesn’t move.
You blink.
She blinks back.
“…Lilia?”
“Oh,” she says, waving a hand. “I assumed you’d park and come in with me.”
You stare at her. “Why?”
She looks genuinely puzzled, as if the idea of you not accompanying her is absurd. “Because I need someone to hold the bags.”
You let out a short laugh. “You’re joking.”
She’s not. And yet, somehow, ten minutes later, you’re standing in the middle of a crowded market, two bags in hand, watching as Lilia inspects a basket of overpriced figs with the air of a woman choosing fine jewellery.
How did you get here?
Just a favour, you remind yourself. Just a one-time thing.
Lilia turns to you, eyes alight with something playful. “Oh, cara,” she muses, “I think I could get used to this.”
You don’t realise it yet, but so could you.
Because really, how did this happen? One moment, you were giving her a quick lift; the next, you were carrying her shopping bags while she leisurely wandered from stall to stall, utterly unbothered by the fact that you had other things to do today.
“Lilia,” you say, shifting the weight of the bags in your arms, “I’m not a pack mule.”
She hums, considering. “No, no, of course not. A mule would be far too ungraceful.” Turning to you with a delighted smile, she adds, “You’re more like my own personal chauffeur with excellent biceps. Really, I’m getting the better deal here.”
You let out a sharp laugh, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”
She simply grins, utterly unrepentant, before moving on to the next stall. At some point, you give up arguing. She’s clearly in her element, and there’s something about the way she moves through the market, half charming, half inspecting her surroundings like a queen surveying her kingdom, that is almost entertaining to watch.
Just when you think she’s going to drag you into another debate over whether a particular wedge of cheese is really worth the price, she turns back to you with a thoughtful expression.
“You should pick something,” she says.
You blink, caught off guard. “What?”
Lilia gestures at the stalls. “A treat. Something for yourself.”
You scoff. “I’m just here to—”
“Indulge me,” she interrupts smoothly, tilting her head.
Narrowing your eyes at her, you cross your arms. “Why?”
She leans in slightly, eyes glinting with something unreadable. “Because, cara, I insist.”
The way she says it, like it’s an invitation to a game you don’t yet understand, makes your pulse do something ridiculous. You try not to dwell on it. With a sigh, you scan the nearby stalls, settling on a small bakery stand tucked in the corner. “Fine,” you mutter, “but if I’m choosing, you’re paying.”
Lilia places a hand over her heart, mock-offended. “Oh, the audacity! You think me the kind of woman who wouldn’t treat her most devoted driver?”
“You’re calling me devoted now?”
She smirks. “Well, you did bring me all this way.”
She has far too much confidence in the idea that this is something you’d willingly do again. You tell yourself it’s not. But when she buys you a pastry without hesitation, pressing the warm paper bag into your hand with a pleased little smile, you don’t complain.
“See?” she says as you take a bite, utterly self-satisfied. “You should let me spoil you more often.”
You roll your eyes. “Don’t push it.”
Yet as you leave the market, her shopping bags still in your hands, her beside you, humming a tune under her breath, you wonder why you don’t mind as much as you probably should.
The drive back is quieter, not awkward, just settled, the kind of comfortable silence that doesn’t need filling. Lilia is reclined in her seat, the shopping tucked neatly in the back, her hand idly toying with the paper bag that once held your pastry. She looks completely at ease, as if she’s done this a hundred times before, which is ridiculous.
You grip the steering wheel a little tighter. “You know this isn’t going to be a regular thing, right?”
Lilia turns her head, blinking at you like she’s just woken from a pleasant daydream. “Oh?”
“I mean it,” you say. “I’m not your personal driver.”
She makes a thoughtful sound, fingers tapping against the dashboard. “No, I suppose not.”
You glance at her, suspicious. She’s agreeing far too easily.
Then, as if sensing your doubt, she gives you a slow, knowing smile. “But you’ll still pick me up next time, won’t you?”
You scoff, shaking your head. “You are unbelievable.”
She hums. “Mmm. But I’m right.”
And the worst part? She is.
Because as you pull up outside her flat, watching as she gathers her things with no real sense of urgency, you know this isn’t the last time. Lilia knows it too. She pauses with one foot out the door, turning back to you with an amused glint in her eye.
“Thank you for your service, cara.”
Before you can reply, she reaches out, so quick you almost don’t register it, and lightly pats your thigh. A fleeting touch, casual, but enough to leave a warmth behind as she steps out, disappearing up the path without a second glance.
You exhale, leaning back against the seat. Just a favour. Just a one-time thing.
Right.
The second time it happens, there’s even less preamble. A text.
You're free tomorrow, yes.
That’s it. No context, no pleasantries, not even a question mark.
You stare at your phone, unimpressed. You are free tomorrow, yes. What kind of message is that? You consider ignoring it. You don’t.
Free for what?
The reply comes almost instantly.
Oh, you’ll see.
You sigh, already resigned. Lilia Calderu, for all her theatrics, is oddly direct when she wants something.
So it’s no surprise when, the next afternoon, you find yourself pulling up outside her flat once again. And, of course, she’s waiting. Not rushing, not scrambling, just standing there at the top of the steps, effortlessly put together in her coat and boots, a pair of sunglasses perched on her head. As if she knew you’d come.
She slides into the passenger seat with a pleased sigh, setting a coffee cup in your cupholder like it’s a gift. “You’re a saint, truly.”
You glance at her, unimpressed. “I haven’t even agreed to take you anywhere.”
Lilia just smiles, reclining into her seat like a woman who has no doubt about how this will play out.
You exhale, already defeated. “Where are we going?”
She gestures vaguely. “Town. I have errands.”
“Errands,” you echo, watching her adjust the sleeves of her coat. “And you couldn’t take the bus?”
She wrinkles her nose. “Please. Do I look like a woman who takes the bus?”
You can’t argue with that.
With a sigh that is far too indulgent for your own good, you shift into gear and pull onto the road. This time, she doesn’t even ask before adjusting the temperature. You let her.
At some point, you start to wonder how this happened. Not the driving, that much is obvious. Lilia asked, and you, despite your better judgement, agreed. But what baffles you is how she’s already acting like this is normal, as though this is routine. She’s sitting back in the passenger seat, adjusting the vents again, as if she’s been doing it for years. One ankle is propped over the other, her coat draped over her lap, sunglasses now pushed into her hair. Every now and then, she lets out a small, pleased hum, as if the mere act of being chauffeured is a luxury she fully intends to enjoy.
You narrow your eyes at the road. “You know, most people don’t treat their mates like personal drivers.”
Lilia lets out a breathy laugh, utterly unbothered. “Most people don’t have a mate as accommodating as you.”
“I’m not accommodating.”
“Oh, but you are.” She turns to look at you properly, head tilting just slightly. “You complain, cara , but you never say no.”
Your grip tightens on the wheel. Because she’s not wrong.
She must sense it, because she leans in slightly, an amused glint in her eye. “Why is that?”
You flick your gaze towards her, wary. “Why is what?”
Her smile is slow, measured, knowing. “Why did you pick me up?”
The words settle between you. The engine hums beneath your fingers, the road stretching ahead. Outside, the city moves in quiet, steady motion, pedestrians on corners, shops with doors propped open, a bus pulling away from a stop.
You swallow. “Because you asked.”
It’s a weak answer. A deflection. But you refuse to analyse it too much.
Lilia doesn’t press. Instead, she lets out a soft hum, as if considering something. Then she shifts, adjusting her seatbelt slightly before turning back to the window. Whatever she was thinking, she keeps it to herself.
For now.
The first stop is a bookshop. You don’t plan to go inside. This is her errand, not yours. You figure you’ll wait in the car, scroll through your phone, and make peace with the fact that this will never be the last time she asks for a lift.
But, of course, Lilia has other plans. She barely makes it three steps before pausing, turning back to look at you expectantly.
You blink. “What?”
She gestures at the shop. “Come in with me.”
You stare at her, unimpressed. “Why?”
Lilia sighs, long suffering, as if you’re the unreasonable one here. “Because it would be rude to leave my driver unattended.”
You let out a sharp laugh. “You do realise you’re not a duchess, right?”
She simply smirks. “Not officially, no.”
You open your mouth to argue, because honestly, what does that even mean? But before you can get the words out, she’s already turning towards the door, clearly expecting you to follow. And, much to your own dismay, you do.
Just for a moment, you tell yourself. Just to humour her. It’s definitely not because you like watching the way she carefully browses the shelves, fingers trailing over spines, head tilting slightly when she finds something interesting. And it’s certainly not because you enjoy the way she smiles to herself when she stumbles across something particularly ridiculous.
Just for a moment. Just a favour. Right?
You don’t mean to enjoy yourself. But somehow, between following Lilia into the bookshop and watching her pick through the shelves like she’s inspecting fine art, you realise you’re not annoyed. She moves with purpose, but not urgency, fingers skimming over the spines as she pauses every now and then to pluck out a book and inspect the cover.
You hover near the entrance, arms crossed. “Are you actually here to buy something, or did you just drag me in for fun?”
Lilia, without looking up, waves a hand dismissively. “Oh, I have a list.”
You arch a brow. “A list?”
“Mm.” She shifts slightly, angling a book in the light before slipping it back into place. “Mental, of course. But very specific.”
Of course it is.
You exhale, shaking your head as your gaze drifts over the shop. It’s quiet, the kind of independent place tucked between bigger, flashier storefronts, filled with the scent of old paper and warm coffee. There’s something oddly soothing about it, the soft shuffle of pages turning, the muted sound of a kettle boiling in the small café section at the back. Lilia fits here, somehow. Not just because of the books, but because of the quiet charm of the place, the way it invites curiosity, encourages lingering.
The thought unsettles you. You don’t quite know why.
“Here.”
Before you can overanalyse it, Lilia suddenly appears in front of you, holding out a book.
You blink. “What’s this?”
She tilts her head, amused. “A book, cara .”
You shoot her a flat look. “Yes, I gathered. Why are you giving it to me?”
Lilia hums, eyes flicking over you in quiet assessment before she finally says, “It suits you.”
You glance down at the cover. The title is unfamiliar, the kind of thing you’d skim past in a shop without a second thought. You frown. “I don’t think I’d—”
“Oh, you would,” she interrupts, confident. “Humour me.”
You sigh, but there’s no real exasperation behind it. “If I buy this and hate it, I’m blaming you.”
She smirks. “I’ll take that risk.”
Before you can argue further, she turns on her heel and makes her way to the till, leaving you standing there, book in hand, feeling suspiciously like you’ve been played. Again.
At first, you don’t think much of it, the book, the drive, the fact that you’ve somehow spent the better part of your afternoon trailing after Lilia on her errands like you’ve got nothing better to do. But as you step back outside, the late afternoon sun casting a hazy glow over the pavement, you realise something.
You’re enjoying this.
Not just tolerating it. Not just doing a favour. You actually don’t mind.
Lilia slips her sunglasses back onto her face, her movements easy, unhurried. “Hungry?”
You hesitate. “I—”
She turns to you, lips curving slightly. “You do eat, don’t you?”
You roll your eyes. “Obviously.”
“Then come with me.”
It’s not a request. She’s already moving, crossing the street without looking back, as if she knows you’ll follow.
And the worst part?
You do.
At some point, you stop questioning it. It’s not officially a routine, not something you’ve ever sat down and agreed upon, but that doesn’t seem to matter. Because Lilia expects it now. And, despite everything, you keep showing up.
The third time she texts, there’s no preamble, just a statement that makes you scowl at your phone.
You’re outside, aren’t you?
You aren’t. You’re at home, minding your own business, doing something completely unrelated to Lilia Calderu and her increasingly blatant refusal to take public transport. For a brief moment, you consider ignoring her, but before you can even put your phone down, another message arrives.
I can practically hear you sighing. Don’t fight it.
Your lips twitch despite yourself. She’s insufferable. Absolutely unbearable. And yet, you grab your keys without thinking.
By the time you arrive, she’s already outside, waiting as if she had no doubt you’d turn up. You barely have time to put the car in park before she’s slipping into the passenger seat, settling in with a pleased sigh, as though she’s just secured the best seat in the house. She adjusts the lapel of her coat as she buckles herself in, her movements easy and unhurried, as if this is something she’s done a hundred times before.
“Good timing, cara ,” she says smoothly, reaching up to push her hair back.
You glance at her, unimpressed. “You didn’t even know if I was coming.”
She hums, shifting comfortably in her seat, giving you a look that makes it clear she had no doubt about the outcome. “Oh, I knew.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around the wheel, but you don’t give her the satisfaction of a reaction. “You are so smug.”
She smirks, entirely unbothered, and before you can stop her, she reaches for the temperature controls. Without thinking, you slap her hand away, earning an exaggerated gasp of mock outrage.
“Unbelievable,” she says, pulling her hand back as if you’ve personally wounded her.
“You have got to stop touching my settings.”
She pouts in a way that is far too calculated to be genuine, crossing her arms as if she’s truly suffering. “You have a deeply unpleasant attitude for someone so accommodating.”
You roll your eyes, already exasperated. “I am not accommodating.”
She sighs as though this is a long-established fact and you are simply refusing to accept it. “Oh, cara , you so are.”
The worst part is that you don’t even argue anymore. At some point, you stopped pretending this was a reluctant favour. Because if you were truly put out by all of this, her expectation, her refusal to ever drive herself, the way she settles into your car like it belongs to her, you wouldn’t keep showing up.
But here you are. Again.
Lilia, as if sensing the shift, makes herself even more comfortable. She’s fiddling with the mirror now, tilting it slightly before checking her reflection, entirely unbothered by your presence.
“You do realise you don’t need to adjust that, right?” you ask, watching her through the corner of your eye, already suspicious of whatever she’s doing.
She hums, barely acknowledging your question. “Oh, I know.”
You narrow your eyes, waiting for an explanation that doesn’t come. “Then why—”
Turning towards you, she meets your gaze with a slow, knowing smirk, her head tilting just slightly. “I like to see how I’m looking before we go anywhere.”
You scoff, shaking your head as you grip the wheel. “Unbelievable.”
“You keep saying that,” she muses, shifting her attention away from the mirror. Just as you relax, she reaches for the radio, fingers brushing over the dial like she hasn’t already pushed her luck enough for one day.
Your eyes flick to her hand, warning clear. “Touch that, and I’m kicking you out.”
She pauses, fingers hovering just above the dial, before pressing a hand to her chest in mock offence. “You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
For a moment, neither of you move, the air between you thick with challenge. Then, with exaggerated reluctance, she lowers her hand back to her lap, surrendering with a small, put upon sigh.
You raise a brow, victorious. “Good girl.”
Lilia exhales a quiet laugh, something warm and amused flickering behind her eyes. “Oh, cara ,” she murmurs, voice dipping just enough to make your pulse stutter, “careful saying things like that.”
Your grip on the wheel tightens slightly, but you refuse to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. Clearing your throat, you shift into gear and pull onto the road, ignoring the way she watches you, clearly entertained by your lack of response. She’s enjoying herself far too much, drawing out every small moment to test you, to see if you’ll rise to the bait.
The worst part? So are you.
You don’t know when you stopped pretending this was just a favour. Maybe it was the second time she called you, fully expecting you to show up without question. Maybe it was the way she always brought you coffee now, setting it in the cupholder like an unspoken exchange. Maybe it was the casual ease with which she adjusted your car settings, knowing you would huff and complain but ultimately let her get away with it. Or maybe it was the fact that none of it actually bothered you anymore.
Somehow, despite all her dramatics, Lilia Calderu had settled into the passenger seat of your life, and you hadn’t even thought to stop her.
The drive is quiet for a while, the steady hum of the engine filling the space between you. Eventually, she shifts slightly, crossing one leg over the other before turning to look at you with an expression that immediately puts you on edge.
“Do you know what your problem is?” she asks, voice light but deliberate, as if she’s been waiting for the right moment to bring this up.
You glance at her briefly before turning back to the road. “I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
She considers you for a moment, then sighs, adjusting the sleeves of her coat. “You resist too much.”
You arch a brow, casting her a dry look. “Resist what, exactly?”
Lilia doesn’t answer immediately, tilting her head slightly as though she’s weighing her response. “The inevitable.”
Scoffing, you grip the wheel a little tighter. “Oh, and what’s inevitable?”
She doesn’t respond right away, just holds your gaze for a beat longer than necessary before finally moving. Without hesitation, she reaches for the dial and turns the temperature up two notches, the action so casual it takes you a second to react.
Your gaze flicks to the dashboard, then back to her. She meets your stare without hesitation, challenging, waiting, daring you to say something.
Exhaling slowly, you shake your head and let it go.
Lilia smirks, settling back in her seat with an air of satisfaction. “See?”
You glance at her out of the corner of your eye, unimpressed but not particularly surprised. “You’re ridiculous.”
“I prefer to think of myself as persistent.”
Rolling your eyes, you focus on the road ahead, but the fight is long over. She’s won, and you both know it.
The car slows as you pull up outside her flat, the engine idling beneath your fingers, waiting. Lilia doesn’t move to unbuckle her seatbelt or reach for the door handle. Instead, she sits there, entirely at ease, making no effort to leave as if this is just another stop before you keep driving.
You side-eye her, waiting for her to get out. “You’re home.”
She exhales, tilting her head slightly, not making a move. “Mmm.”
You wait.
Nothing.
“…Lilia.”
She turns to you, lips curving in that slow, knowing way that makes your stomach stupidly unsettled.
She does this , always does this , pushes at the edges of something unspoken between you, as if she knows exactly what it is but won’t be the first to name it.
She leans slightly, just enough that you’re painfully aware of how close she is.
“Admit it,” she muses, voice light, teasing. “You like driving me around.”
You scoff, looking away. “You’re insufferable.”
“That’s not a no.”
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You never say thank you, you do realise that?”
Lilia smiles, head tilting. “You’d find it less charming if I did.”
“You think you’re charming?”
She hums. “I know I am.”
You bite down on your smirk, gripping the wheel a little tighter.
She stays for another second, watching you, as if waiting for you to slip, just slightly , to give something away.
You don’t.
And, eventually, she relents.
With a satisfied sigh, she reaches for the door handle, stepping out with effortless grace.
Then, before closing the door, she leans down, peering back into the car.
“Same time next week?”
You roll your eyes. “You’re assuming I’ll say yes.”
She smirks. “I don’t assume , cara.”
Then she winks, shuts the door, and disappears inside, leaving you sitting there with far too many thoughts and absolutely no explanation for why you’re still smiling.
Lilia has no respect for personal space, and you’ve always known this. It’s never been a secret, never something she’s tried to hide, but somehow, you still aren’t prepared when, in the middle of one of your usual drives, she casually flips open your glovebox and starts rummaging through it like it’s her own.
You blink, barely processing what you’re seeing. “Excuse me?”
Lilia hums in vague acknowledgment, entirely unbothered as she sifts through receipts, an old parking ticket, and a half-melted lip balm with all the enthusiasm of someone searching for treasure.
“What are you doing?” you ask, incredulous.
“Tidying,” she replies simply, as if this is a perfectly reasonable explanation for invading your storage compartments.
You shoot her a look, unimpressed. “You don’t tidy. You make messes and then act surprised when they exist.”
She gasps, as if genuinely offended by the accusation. “I do not—”
“Remember the café incident?”
Lilia pauses, her lips pressing together in something that is definitely not guilt but looks suspiciously close to it. Then, in a move that is both impressive and infuriating, she swiftly changes the subject. “Oh, what’s this?”
Before you can react, she holds something up between her fingers, tilting her head as she studies it. It takes you a second to register what she’s found, but when you do, your stomach drops.
A necklace.
An old necklace. One you haven’t seen in years.
She lets the small pendant dangle between her fingers, examining it with an idle sort of curiosity, her expression thoughtful. “This looks significant,” she muses.
Your grip on the wheel tightens because it is significant. Or at least, it was .
Exhaling slowly, you force your voice into something neutral. “Just something I forgot about.”
Lilia glances at you, intrigued. “Oh?”
You keep your eyes firmly on the road, unwilling to let her see any reaction. “Yeah.”
For a moment, there’s silence. Then, ever so lightly, she asks, “Who gave it to you?”
You should have expected the question, should have been prepared for it, but somehow, you weren’t ready. Lilia Calderu has never once not pushed when something catches her interest. You clench your jaw slightly, focusing on the road ahead.
“It doesn’t matter.”
Lilia hums, turning the pendant between her fingers as if testing its weight. “Mmm. See, you say that, but your face tells me otherwise.”
You scoff, shaking your head. “You can’t even see my face properly.”
“I can, actually.” She shifts slightly, her tone laced with quiet amusement. “And if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying very hard not to look at me.”
Pressing your lips together, you refuse to engage. You are not having this conversation. Not now. Not with her.
Lilia, sensing your reluctance, does something entirely unexpected. She doesn’t push. She doesn’t pry, doesn’t tease, doesn’t demand an answer like she usually would. Instead, she just waits . Silent. Patient. Like she knows you’ll fill the space eventually.
And, god help you, you do.
“It was a gift,” you mutter after a long pause, still refusing to meet her gaze.
Lilia’s voice is softer now. “From someone important?”
You exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders as if that will somehow ease the weight in your chest. “Used to be.”
She doesn’t react right away. No sharp quip, no dramatic sigh, just a small, almost imperceptible pause before she asks, “Why don’t you wear it anymore?”
You swallow, grip tightening against the wheel. For a moment, you consider telling her, just saying the truth and getting it over with, but the words catch somewhere between your ribs, caught on something you don’t want to examine too closely. Instead, you sigh and settle for, “I just forgot about it.”
Lilia hums again, but this time, there’s something different in it, something unreadable. You risk a glance at her, just for a second, and catch the way she’s studying the necklace, brows slightly furrowed in thought. Then, just as quickly, the moment is gone. With an easy, practiced motion, she reaches forward and, without hesitation, tucks the necklace back into your glovebox. She doesn’t keep it, doesn’t press any further, just closes the compartment, leans back into her seat, and turns her gaze to the window.
It’s an unspoken message. Alright. You don’t have to tell me.
And somehow, that’s worse.
You’re not sure why it bothers you, the way she so easily dropped the subject, the way she just let it go . You should be relieved, grateful even, but you aren’t. Because Lilia Calderu never lets things go. She picks at them, teases and prods until she’s satisfied with the answer. And yet, this time, she didn’t. She just tucked the necklace away and turned her gaze to the window, like she hadn’t just stirred up something you weren’t ready to confront.
Clearing your throat, you shift in your seat, trying to shake the feeling settling over you. “That’s it?”
Lilia hums in acknowledgment, her tone absent. “Hmm?”
You drum your fingers against the wheel, restless. “You’re not going to keep pushing?”
Tilting her head slightly, she takes a moment to consider before offering a small, knowing smile. “Should I?”
You exhale, shaking your head. “You always do.”
Lilia smiles, something quiet and assured settling into her features. “Not always, cara .”
The words linger between you, light but weighted, something unspoken weaving its way into the silence. You glance at her, trying to read whatever it is she isn’t saying, but she’s already looking away, gaze fixed on the passing scenery, fingers idly toying with the hem of her sleeve.
And just like that, the moment shifts. Not gone, not forgotten, just set aside.
For now.
The rest of the drive is quieter, not awkward or tense, just… different. You can feel Lilia’s presence beside you, the soft scent of her perfume lingering in the air, the gentle rise and fall of her breath as she watches the road pass by. Even though she isn’t saying anything, even though she’s let the conversation drop, something lingers in the space between you, something unspoken, something new.
Eventually, you pull up outside her flat, the engine humming softly as the car slows to a stop. Lilia exhales and stretches slightly before unbuckling her seatbelt, her movements lazy and unhurried. “Well.”
You drum your fingers against the wheel, glancing at her. “You’re home.”
She turns to look at you, a small smirk tugging at her lips as if she’s already thought of some way to prolong this conversation. “So I am.”
Raising a brow, you shake your head. “Need me to carry you inside too?”
Lilia gasps, pressing a hand to her chest in exaggerated delight. “Oh, how generous of you to offer.”
Groaning, you lean your head back against the seat. “I was joking—”
She chuckles, already pushing the door open. “Next time, cara .”
Before you can reply, she’s gone, disappearing up the steps without another word, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and the lingering energy of a conversation that never quite finishes. You let out a slow breath, fingers tightening slightly around the wheel. Next time. Because, of course, there will be a next time.
The storm rolls in faster than expected. One minute, the sky is a moody grey, the kind that threatens rain but never quite delivers. The next, the heavens open up, unleashing a downpour that batters against your windscreen in thick, relentless sheets. The city shifts under the weight of the storm, neon lights reflecting against the wet pavement, headlights flickering through the haze of falling water.
Your phone buzzes from its place on the passenger seat.
Where are you?
You glance at the message, then at the name above it. Lilia.
With a sigh, you put the car into gear and pull away from the curb.
By the time you find her, she’s standing under the awning of a small, dimly lit shop, arms crossed, glaring at the rain as if it personally offended her. She looks miserable, hair damp from the mist, coat pulled tightly around her as she narrows her eyes at the storm like she’s trying to negotiate with it.
The moment she spots your car, her expression doesn’t change. No surprise. No overt gratitude. Just a quiet expectation, like she knew you would come.
Without hesitation, she pulls the door open and slides into the passenger seat in one smooth movement, sighing dramatically as she shoves her rain-speckled bag onto the floor. “Oh, cara ,” she breathes, her voice dripping with relief, “you are a saviour.”
You glance at her, unimpressed. “You didn’t even ask me to come.”
Turning to you with an amused glint in her eyes, she tilts her head slightly. “Did I need to?”
Dragging a hand down your face, you groan. “I am far too accommodating.”
Lilia hums, peeling off her damp gloves with slow, deliberate movements. “Yes, but I love that about you.”
Shaking your head, you bite back a smirk and shift the car into drive, the rain pounding against the roof as the city lights blur into streaks of hazy gold and red through the wet windscreen. The whole world feels smaller, quieter, cocooned in the dim glow of the dashboard, the steady hum of the heater filling the space between you.
Lilia lets out a soft sigh, sinking further into her seat. Her coat is still damp, her hair curling slightly at the ends from the mist. Despite her usual composure, something about her feels smaller in this moment, softer, as if the rain has stripped away some of her usual theatrics.
She catches you looking. “What?” she murmurs, voice quieter than usual.
Shaking your head, you turn your focus back to the road. “Nothing.”
Her gaze lingers for a moment longer, as if searching for something in your expression, but eventually, she exhales and looks back out at the rain-streaked window. The only sound between you is the rhythmic drum of water against the glass, the city beyond fading into nothing but shadows and scattered light.
The storm doesn’t ease. If anything, it gets worse, thick sheets of water turning the streets into shimmering rivers, the wipers struggling to keep up as they scrape across the windscreen. Lilia hasn’t spoken in a while, which is unsettling in its own way. She’s always talking, always teasing or filling the silence with something dry and amused, but right now, she’s just watching the rain, fingers tracing absent patterns on the fogged-up window.
Something about it makes your grip on the wheel tighten.
“You didn’t have to wait out there,” you say, keeping your voice casual. “You could’ve just gone inside.”
She huffs a soft, amused breath, her fingers pausing briefly against the glass. “And sit in a dingy shop for an hour? Please.”
Shaking your head, you sigh. “Or, and hear me out, you could’ve taken a taxi.”
Lilia finally turns to look at you, lips curving slightly. “Now, cara , where’s the fun in that?”
There it is, that teasing lilt, the sharp glint in her eye that always makes it seem like she’s one step ahead of you. And yet, something still feels off, something barely there but enough for you to notice.
You don’t push. Instead, you sigh, flicking the wipers up a notch. “You’re lucky I like driving in the rain.”
Lilia exhales a soft laugh, rolling her head back against the seat. “You’re lucky I like being driven in the rain.”
That makes you smile, just a little. The storm rages on outside, wind howling through the narrow streets, but inside the car, everything is warm. Steady.
Neither of you speak for a while. It’s not uncomfortable, not tense, just… quiet, the kind of silence that settles between two people who have long since stopped needing to fill it. Still, something lingers beneath the surface, unspoken and just out of reach.
Clearing your throat, you glance at her again. “Where were you, anyway?”
Lilia tilts her head slightly, still gazing out at the rain-smeared city. “Nowhere important.”
You frown. “Nowhere important, yet you stood in the rain for how long?”
She exhales a soft chuckle, rolling her head to the side to meet your gaze. “I wasn’t waiting for you, if that’s what you’re implying.”
You give her a flat look. She smirks.
“Alright,” she concedes, “perhaps I was waiting a little .”
Scoffing, you shake your head, focus shifting back to the road. “You could’ve just called me.”
Something flickers in her expression, unreadable, as she watches you. “And you would’ve come?”
Frowning slightly, you glance at her out of the corner of your eye. “Obviously.”
For a moment, neither of you say anything. She looks at you for a beat too long, something thoughtful in the way her gaze lingers, not teasing, not amused, just waiting .
Then, very softly, she murmurs, “Why do you always come?”
The words settle between you, heavy despite the quiet way she says them. Your grip on the wheel tightens as you search for an answer, but none of the ones that come to mind feel right.
Because she asks. Because you’re friends, or something close to it. Because you’d rather her be sitting here, warm and dry, than standing outside like an idiot.
But somehow, none of those answers feel like enough.
Lilia doesn’t look away. She doesn’t push, doesn’t repeat the question, just watches you, waiting, like she already knows the answer you don’t want to say.
You swallow, shifting slightly. “Because you always ask.”
She hums, a quiet sound, unreadable, before turning back to the window, fingers still tracing slow, absent patterns against the fogged glass.
Letting out a slow breath, you keep your focus on the road, but the car suddenly feels too small.
The storm doesn’t let up, but eventually, you pull onto her street, easing the car to a slow stop outside her flat. Lilia doesn’t move right away, lingering for a moment as she watches the rain streak down the window. Her fingers tighten slightly around the door handle before she exhales, a quiet, almost reluctant sigh, and reaches for the latch.
“Thank you,” she murmurs, barely above the sound of the rain.
You blink, caught off guard. She never says thank you. She just expects things, acts as if they were inevitable, as if they would have happened regardless of her asking. But now, as she lingers with one foot out the door, her usual ease feels different, a little more deliberate, a little more fragile, like something practiced rather than natural.
She glances back, something flickering in her eyes that you can’t quite place. And then, so quiet you almost don’t hear it, she says, “I like it.”
Frowning slightly, you tilt your head. “Like what?”
Her lips quirk, something softer than a smirk but not quite a smile. “Being here. With you.”
Before you can process that, before you can think of a single thing to say, she’s already stepping out, disappearing up the steps and into the rain without another word. You don’t move, don’t shift, don’t even reach for the gear shift, just sit there staring at the empty passenger seat with your pulse pounding far too loud in your ears.
You don’t know why her words linger the way they do. It wasn’t a confession, wasn’t some grand declaration, just a simple truth, spoken softly in the rain. But somehow, it sticks. Lilia Calderu, who has spent the past few weeks making herself at home in your car, in your routine, had looked at you, really looked at you, and said: I like it. Being here. With you.
And now you can’t stop thinking about it.
The next time she gets in the car, you don’t think twice about it. You turn on the radio, flipping through stations before settling on something from your own playlist. It’s a song you love, something familiar, something comforting. You just want to listen to your music, for once, without her reaching over to change it.
Lilia, as always, settles in like she owns the place, adjusting her coat and sighing as she buckles herself in. She barely seems to notice at first, too preoccupied with getting comfortable, but then, just for a second, she stills. It’s quick, just a flicker of recognition, but it’s there. Then, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world, she hums along, perfectly in tune, like she’s heard it a hundred times before.
You nearly miss a turn.
“You know this song?” You glance at her, incredulous.
Lilia blinks, her expression unreadable. “Of course I do.”
Gripping the wheel a little tighter, you shake your head. “How?”
She shrugs, gaze flicking towards the radio. “Because you listen to it.”
Inhaling sharply, you try to brush off the way your stomach twists at her words. It shouldn’t surprise you, shouldn’t mean anything. And yet, the idea that she’s been paying attention, that she’s been listening all this time, unsettles something in you. Not in a bad way. Just… dangerously close to something you aren’t ready to name.
“You listen to what I play?” The question comes out before you can stop it.
Lilia hums, unbothered, as if the answer should be obvious. “Obviously.”
Scoffing, you shake your head. “You don’t even like half the stuff I put on.”
She tilts her head slightly, considering the statement. “True.”
You wait for her to elaborate, but she doesn’t. Instead, she simply turns back to the window, tapping her fingers against her knee, humming along perfectly in tune with a song she shouldn’t know. Something about it does something to you, something quiet but persistent, something you can’t quite push away.
Because this is Lilia, dramatic, impossible, high-maintenance, and yet, somehow, she’s been sitting in your passenger seat, listening. Not just to the music, but to you . To the habits you don’t even notice yourself doing, to the things you wouldn’t expect her to remember.
Exhaling slowly, you flick your gaze back to the road, but your thoughts keep circling the same realisation. “So what, you’ve just been memorising my playlists this whole time?”
Lilia smirks, clearly pleased with herself. “Oh, cara , I memorised them weeks ago.”
You almost miss a light.
She’s enjoying this far too much, and you should be irritated, should call her out on how insufferable she is, but the words don’t come. Instead, you side-eye her, unimpressed. “You’re ridiculous.”
Lilia exhales a small, satisfied sigh, sinking back into her seat with the kind of ease only she can pull off. “And you’re still sticking around, I see.”
You open your mouth to argue, to tell her that’s not the point, but before you can, she does something unfair . Without hesitation, she reaches forward, casually, effortlessly, and turns up the volume.
And for the first time in weeks, she doesn’t change the song. She lets it play.
You don’t know why that makes your chest feel tight, but it does.
She has always taken over the car, always touching the controls, adjusting the mirrors, changing the temperature to suit her own very particular standards. But this—this is new. Instead of switching the song to something she prefers, instead of making a snide remark about your music taste, she simply turns up the volume and leaves it. Like she knows it matters. Like she knows you do.
You swallow, trying to focus on the road, but your grip on the wheel betrays you. Lilia, ever perceptive, notices. She doesn’t say anything, doesn’t tease or smirk, just watches you quietly, something unreadable in her gaze.
Refusing to look at her, you clear your throat and ask, far too casually, “So, what’s your verdict?”
Lilia tilts her head slightly. “On?”
You gesture vaguely towards the speakers. “The song. Since you’re apparently an expert now.”
Humming in thought, she considers for a moment before answering. “Not bad.”
You scoff, shooting her a look. “Not bad ?”
She smirks, eyes glinting with amusement. “I prefer the one you played last week.”
Your fingers tighten slightly around the wheel as you try not to react. “You remember what I played last week?”
She turns to face you fully now, her smirk deepening in a way that makes your stomach twist. “Oh, cara ,” she murmurs, voice slow, knowing, perfectly measured. “I remember everything .”
Your heart does something stupid.
You don’t react. You refuse to react. Instead, you exhale sharply, shaking your head as you focus on the road like your life depends on it.
Lilia chuckles, utterly pleased with herself, and leans back into her seat, settling in like she hasn’t just thrown your entire thought process into chaos. The song fades into the next track, something softer, something you hadn’t even realised was in the queue.
She hums along without hesitation.
And you?
You realise you’re already in too deep.
It happens unexpectedly, without errands, last minute texts, or assumed favours disguised as casual requests. Lilia slips into the passenger seat as effortlessly as breathing, settling in before saying, “Just drive.”
You blink, glancing at her. “What?”
She exhales, shifting slightly in her seat as she looks out the window. “Drive. Anywhere.”
Frowning, you watch her for a moment. “You don’t have anywhere to be?”
She shakes her head. “Not tonight.”
That alone makes your fingers twitch against the wheel. Lilia is always busy, always has something planned, even if that plan is just disrupting your day for her own amusement. But now, she’s sitting there, quiet, almost soft, asking you to drive with no destination in mind.
You could remind her that this isn’t normal, that you aren’t some on-demand service ready to whisk her away whenever she pleases. Instead, you shift into gear and drive.
The city rolls past in blurred streaks of gold and red, the rain from earlier still clinging to the streets, reflecting neon signs and street lamps. Lilia doesn’t speak for a while, resting her elbow against the door, fingers lightly touching her lips, lost in thought. You glance at her before turning your attention back to the road. “Everything alright?”
She hums, barely turning her head. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
Shrugging, you gesture vaguely. “You’re usually more… dramatic.”
Lilia lets out a soft laugh, tipping her head back against the seat. “Am I?”
Scoffing, you shake your head. “Don’t act like you don’t know.”
She smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. That’s when it hits you, something does feels off. Not wrong, exactly. Just different. Lilia Calderu is unpredictable, exasperating, and completely incapable of sitting quietly for more than five minutes. But now, she’s quiet in a way that doesn’t feel like her usual theatrics. It feels real.
Drumming your fingers against the wheel, you glance at her again. “So… what’s this about?”
She exhales slowly. “Nothing.”
You arch a brow, unconvinced. “That’s a lie.”
Lilia smirks faintly. “You’re far too perceptive for your own good.”
“And yet, you still get in my car every time.”
She finally turns fully to face you, eyes glinting in the dim light. “Yes, well,” she murmurs, tilting her head slightly. “You keep picking me up.”
Your grip on the wheel tightens slightly as the streetlights stretch past in golden lines, the city thinning into quieter roads. The hum of the tyres against the wet pavement is the only sound between you. Lilia doesn’t push, just watches, waiting for you to say something else. You don’t. Instead, you keep driving.
Time feels strange, measured not in minutes but in the way the city fades behind you, in the steady hum of the engine, in the occasional flicker of passing headlights illuminating Lilia’s profile in brief flashes of gold. She hasn’t spoken in a while, just sits there, watching the road, tracing absent minded patterns against her knee. You should ask again, press her for an answer, demand to know why she suddenly needed to be anywhere but home.
Instead, you turn the volume up, just enough for the soft hum of a familiar song to fill the space between you. Lilia exhales, not a sigh, not a laugh, just a slow, measured breath, like something inside her has settled.
She shifts slightly, rolling her head to the side. “You always drive like this?”
You arch a brow. “Like what?”
“Like you don’t mind where you end up.”
Scoffing, you shake your head. “You’re the one who told me to drive.”
“Yes, but you listened.”
Something about the way she says it makes your stomach twist in a way you don’t like. You should have questioned it more, should have reminded her that this isn’t normal. But you didn’t. You just drove, like it was inevitable, like it always is. Clearing your throat, you grip the wheel a little tighter. “You’re avoiding something.”
Lilia hums, her gaze still fixed on the road ahead. “Maybe.”
You glance at her, searching for something in her expression. “Are you going to tell me what?”
She exhales a soft laugh, rolling her head against the seat. “No.”
Shaking your head, you let out a sigh. “Unbelievable.”
She smiles, smaller than usual, but genuine. “Well, what did you expect?”
At some point, you find yourself on the outskirts of the city, where the lights are fewer and the roads are quieter. Lilia stretches her arms in front of her before sinking back into the seat. “You know, this is nice.”
Raising a brow, you scoff. “What, me chauffeuring you around with no destination?”
Smirking, she nods. “Yes, exactly that.”
“You’re the ultimate passenger princess,” you mutter, rolling your eyes.
Lilia lets out a soft, delighted laugh. “Oh, cara , I love that title.”
Shaking your head, you shoot her a look. “Don’t get used to it.”
She places a hand over her heart in mock offence. “But it suits me so well.”
Somewhere along the road, she slips off her shoes. You don’t notice at first, not until she stretches out her legs, propping her feet up on the dashboard like she owns the place.
Frowning, you glance at her. “Put your feet down.”
Lilia hums, unbothered. “Mmm, no, I’m quite comfortable.”
Gripping the wheel, you shake your head. “It’s dangerous.”
She tilts her head, amused. “Oh, now you’re worried about my well-being?”
You shoot her a dry look. “If we crash, that’s the worst position to be in. You’d break your legs, Lilia.”
That gets her attention. She exhales, dramatically put upon, before slowly, lazily, sliding her feet back down. Then, after a beat, she turns to you with a slow, knowing smile.
“You care?”
You don’t react. You refuse to react. Instead, you scoff, shaking your head. “I care about not scraping you off my windscreen.”
Lilia chuckles, but there’s something in her eyes, something quiet, something thoughtful, that lingers longer than it should. She doesn’t put her feet back up, and for some reason, you don’t think it’s because of the safety warning.
The next song starts, something slower, something softer. Lilia leans her head back against the seat, watching the lights blur past.
After a moment, she says, “This reminds me of something.”
You flick a glance at her. “What?”
She tilts her head, thoughtful. “I don’t know. It’s just… familiar.”
She doesn’t elaborate, doesn’t turn it into a joke or make a snide remark about your music taste. She just listens.
You grip the wheel. “You never said why you needed to get out tonight.”
Lilia hums. “No, I didn’t.”
You wait, but she doesn’t fill the silence. For a moment, you consider pressing her again, but then she shifts slightly, gaze flicking toward you.
And ever so softly, she says, “Do you ever get tired of sitting still?”
The question catches you off guard. You glance at her, at the way she’s watching you, quiet, steady, something unreadable in her expression.
You exhale. “Sometimes.”
She hums, turning her gaze back to the road. “Me too.”
And just like that, it makes sense. Why she asked you to drive, why she needed this, not a place, not an errand, just motion. Just the act of going .
Loosening your grip on the wheel, you let the quiet settle between you. “Where to next, then?”
Lilia tilts her head towards the window, a pleased sigh escaping her lips. “Anywhere,” she murmurs.
And for the first time, you realise, you don’t mind where you end up. As long as she’s in the passenger seat.
Another late evening, not planned or intentional, just another drive that lasts longer than expected. The city fades behind you, the dim glow of the dashboard casting soft light over the quiet interior. Lilia is relaxed, reclining slightly with one hand resting on her lap, the other playing absently with the edge of her sleeve. The window is cracked open just enough to let in the cool night air, and the music hums low beneath the steady rhythm of the tyres against the road.
The silence between you isn’t awkward or heavy, just quiet, settled, a pause in motion.
After a while, her voice breaks through. “Do you know what my favourite part of the day is?”
Glancing at her, you frown. “What?”
She doesn’t look at you, eyes still on the darkened streets rolling past. “This,” she murmurs. “Right now.”
The words are spoken softly, casually, as if they don’t carry any weight. But somehow, they do. Lilia is never careless with what she says, never throws words out without purpose. She means it, and the realisation catches you off guard.
Your hands tighten slightly on the wheel, just enough to notice, just enough to feel something shift. Lilia remains quiet, her expression unreadable as the streetlights cast flickering shadows across her face.
“You’re being sentimental,” you say, trying to shake the feeling settling in your chest.
She tilts her head slightly, considering. “Am I?”
“Yes.”
Lilia exhales a small, amused breath. “And what’s so wrong with that?”
There’s no real answer. Nothing wrong with the way she’s sitting there, completely at ease, speaking like it’s the easiest truth in the world. As if of course this is her favourite part of the day. As if of course you should already know that.
Ignoring the warmth creeping up your neck, you focus on the road. “You’re only saying that because I’m driving you around.”
She scoffs, turning to you with an amused smirk. “Oh, cara . If I only liked you for your driving skills, we’d be in serious trouble.”
It throws you off—not the words themselves, but the way she says them. Teasing, but with something else beneath the surface. Something real, something you don’t want to look at too closely.
Clearing your throat, you shake your head. “So you just like wasting petrol?”
Lilia chuckles, shaking her head. “No,” she murmurs.
Then, quieter, almost lost under the music, “I just like you .”
Your heart stumbles, caught between one beat and the next, before your brain fully registers what she just said. Before you can react, before you can even process it, Lilia stretches, sighing as if she hasn’t just sent your entire evening into chaos.
“Anyway,” she muses, shifting in her seat, “you should turn left up here.”
She says it like nothing happened, like she didn’t just throw a conversational grenade into the quiet and leave you to deal with the wreckage. Your grip tightens around the wheel as you force yourself to breathe.
She has to be playing with you.
Because if she’s not, if she actually meant that, then you’re in serious trouble.
Keeping your focus on the road, you ignore the way your pulse is hammering far too loud in your ears. Lilia, perfectly at ease, stretches again, shifting in her seat, looking entirely unbothered after casually dropping I just like you into the conversation.
“You can’t just say things like that,” you mutter, trying to regain control of your own thoughts.
She turns to you, feigning innocence. “Like what?”
Exhaling sharply, you shake your head. “You know what.”
Lilia hums, pretending to think. “Oh. That I like you?”
Your pulse jumps again.
She’s messing with you. She has to be. But the way she says it, so easily, so casually , makes you hesitate. She doesn’t sound like she’s joking.
Risking a glance at her, you search for something in her expression, anything to confirm that this is just another one of her games. But she only smirks, resting her chin on her hand, watching you like she’s waiting to see how you’ll react.
“You say things just to wind me up,” you accuse, grasping at the familiar, at the safest explanation.
Lilia exhales a soft laugh, eyes gleaming. “Oh, cara ,” she murmurs smoothly.
“But what if I don’t?”
Your stomach twists, because this time, for the first time, you can’t tell if she’s joking.
For the first time, you think maybe, maybe, she actually means it.
You don’t have a response. Since Lilia Calderu first invited herself into your car, your routine, your space, you’ve always had something to say. A sharp remark, a dry comment, something to push back against her impossible presence. But now, you have nothing.
Because this isn’t just a passing comment. It isn’t playful teasing.
It means something.
And the way she’s looking at you, smirking but watching , waiting for you to slip, to react, only makes it worse.
Gritting your teeth, you keep your eyes on the road. “I think you enjoy getting a reaction out of me.”
Lilia chuckles, low and knowing. “That is true.”
Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. “Of course it is.”
She leans back in her seat, gaze drifting lazily toward the road ahead. “But that’s not all of it.”
Your breath catches.
She doesn’t explain, doesn’t elaborate, just lets the words settle as if they don’t mean everything.
And maybe it’s better that way.
Because if she keeps going, if she says it outright, if she makes you acknowledge the thing that has been building between you with every drive, every glance, every almost, then you’re done for.
Rolling your shoulders, you inhale deeply, keeping your tone light. “You’re insufferable.”
Lilia sighs, entirely too amused. “But, cara , you keep picking me up.”
Your lips twitch, despite yourself.
Despite the weight of the moment, despite everything she’s just said, you let it pass. You let the tension settle back into something easier, something unspoken but understood, because you’re not ready.
Not yet.
But one day, you will be.
And from the way Lilia smiles, watching you out of the corner of her eye, you think she knows that, too.
It doesn’t happen the way you expect.
Not in some grand, dramatic moment. Not after a carefully timed confession or a lingering, loaded silence.
It happens in the car.
Of course it does.
The night is quiet as the city winds down, the distant hum of traffic fading as you pull onto Lilia’s street. Neither of you have spoken much since that conversation the other day. Not because the silence is uncomfortable, but because it isn’t, and somehow, that’s worse. It lingers, steady and unforced, neither of you rushing to fill it. Comfortable, familiar, dangerously close to something else.
You shift the car into park, fingers still curled around the wheel. “You’re home.”
Lilia hums, stretching slightly before unbuckling her seatbelt, but she doesn’t move to leave. She lingers, waiting. You don’t know for what, but something in the air changes. Slowly, deliberately, she turns to you.
This time, it’s different. There’s no teasing, no smug amusement, just quiet certainty as she studies you, her expression unreadable. She watches you in that way she does when she’s about to push, just far enough to see if you’ll break.
You exhale, trying to keep your voice even. “What?”
Lilia tilts her head slightly, considering you for a moment before speaking. “You want to kiss me, don’t you?”
Your heart stutters, your brain freezing mid thought. Lilia never hesitates to say things that leave you exasperated, but not like this. Not with this softness, this matter-of-fact certainty, as if she already knows the answer.
Your grip tightens on the wheel. “Excuse me?”
She hums, watching you carefully, as if you’re a puzzle she’s already solved. “You heard me.”
You shake your head, forcing a scoff, trying to push through the sudden heat creeping up your neck. “You are unbelievable.”
A smirk tugs at the corner of her lips. “That’s not a no.”
You should argue, should roll your eyes and brush it off, but she’s still looking at you, head tilted, gaze steady, completely unrushed. The air inside the car shifts, closing in around you, too warm, too charged, the space between you impossibly small.
Clearing your throat, you shake your head, trying to level yourself. “You can’t just say things like that.”
Lilia exhales slowly, something amused, something knowing. “I can,” she murmurs, voice low.
And then she leans in, just enough.
The movement is subtle, a quiet shift that sends your stomach flipping, your pulse kicking up as the weight of the moment settles over you. You should push it away, should find something clever to say, should laugh like this doesn’t mean anything. But it does. It always has.
Lilia is watching you, her gaze flickering over your face, soft and knowing, waiting. She knew. She’s always known.
You should say something, should throw up some final defence before it’s too late. But she’s still there, impossibly close, and for the first time, you don’t want to pretend.
Exhaling slowly, you glance between her and the space between you, small, so small. “Lilia,” you murmur.
She tilts her head slightly, voice soft. “Yes, cara ?”
Your fingers flex against the wheel. If she smirked, if she turned this into another game, maybe you could resist. But she doesn’t. She just looks at you, patient, sure, like she knows you’ll come to her. Like she’s been waiting.
And so, without thinking, without hesitating, without giving yourself the chance to stop—
You close the distance.
Kissing Lilia Calderu feels like pressing your lips to something dangerous. She lets you kiss her, doesn’t rush, doesn’t push, just stays perfectly still, waiting, letting you decide. But the second she knows you have, she takes.
Her fingers curl around your collar, pulling you in, her lips moving against yours with a slow, devastating kind of certainty. The breath you let out is shaky, and she smiles against your mouth. That’s what undoes you. You deepen it, just slightly, just enough to hear her exhale, to feel the way she melts against you.
Then, finally, she pulls back, just enough to murmur, breathless and utterly pleased, “I knew you wanted to kiss me.”
You groan, dropping your forehead against the steering wheel as heat creeps up your neck. Lilia laughs, delighted, entirely too satisfied with herself. Just to make it worse, she presses a slow, deliberate kiss to your cheek before slipping out of the car, moving with an ease that makes it clear she’s won.
Pausing at the door, she glances back, smirking. “See you tomorrow, cara .”
And just like that, she’s gone.
You sit there gripping the wheel, heart racing, breath uneven, completely finished. Because you know tomorrow will come, and when it does, you’ll pick her up again. This time, you won’t even pretend it’s just a favour.
The next time Lilia gets into your car, something has changed. She moves with quiet confidence, her gaze knowing as she fastens her seatbelt, entirely too composed for someone who kissed you and left like it meant nothing. The shift isn’t just in her, though. It’s in you. The air feels heavier, charged with something unspoken. Your pulse kicks up as she settles into the seat beside you, and despite the cool night air, your skin feels too warm.
She’s sitting there like nothing happened, acting as if the tension between you is the same as it’s always been. But it isn’t.
Gripping the wheel, you glance at her. “You’re quiet.”
She tilts her head slightly, her expression unreadable. “Am I?”
You scoff, barely holding back an eye-roll. “Don’t play innocent.”
She exhales a soft laugh, her voice amused but deliberate. “Oh, cara . I’d never.”
The teasing is familiar, but there’s something else beneath it, something intentional. The silence that follows stretches too long, making the car feel smaller. You clear your throat, focusing on the road. “Where are we going?”
She runs her fingers absently along her knee, her movements slow and unhurried. “Does it matter?”
It doesn’t, and that’s the problem. The destination was never the point. She could ask you to drive for hours, and you would, just to keep her in the passenger seat, just to hear her voice, just to let this thing between you linger a little longer before it finally snaps.
She shifts slightly, crossing one leg over the other, her dress sliding higher over her thigh. You notice. She notices you noticing. When your gaze flickers toward her, she’s already smirking.
“You’re staring.”
Tearing your eyes back to the road, you shake your head. “You’re imagining things.”
She hums, fingers brushing lightly against her collarbone. “Mmm. Am I?”
The warmth pressing against your skin has nothing to do with the temperature in the car. She’s watching you, knowing exactly what she’s doing, waiting for you to react. The way she leans back, the way her fingers skim lazily over her throat, the way she studies you from the corner of her eye, all of it is deliberate.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” you mutter, gripping the wheel tighter.
She barely suppresses a laugh. “Doing what?”
Scoffing, you shake your head. “You know what.”
She shifts in her seat, the movement slow, calculated, the fabric of her dress sliding a little higher. “You’re the one getting distracted, cara .”
Your pulse spikes, but you keep your attention on the road, trying to ignore the way she’s looking at you, the way she moves like she’s already won. Your grip on the wheel tightens. “You’re a menace.”
Lilia smiles, but she doesn’t say anything. The silence that follows stretches too long, weighted and expectant.
Then she shifts closer, just slightly, just enough to send a warning through your entire body. When she speaks again, her voice is lower, quieter, something softer at the edges.
“Pull over.”
Your stomach tightens as you glance at her, pulse pounding. “What?”
Her gaze flickers over you, catching on the way your hands grip the wheel, the way your breathing has changed, the way you’re barely keeping yourself together. She watches, studying every flicker of restraint before she repeats herself, so casually, so devastatingly sure of the outcome.
“Pull over.”
This is the moment where you lose.
There’s no hesitation, no argument, no second guessing. Without thinking, you ease the car off the road. The moment it’s in park, Lilia moves. She isn’t rushed, isn’t desperate, just sure. She shifts toward you, already too close when you turn to face her. Her fingers slide along your jaw, tilting your face slightly, her nails scratching faintly against your skin.
Your breath catches as she studies you, her gaze dark and pleased, her attention flickering over your parted lips, the tension in your posture, the way you grip the seat like it’s the only thing keeping you grounded. She leans in, breath warm against your lips, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Still distracted, cara ?”
You don’t answer because you can’t.
Without thinking, without hesitation, without giving yourself a chance to stop, you crash your mouth against hers like you’ve needed this for weeks.
Lilia gasps, and you swallow it, slipping your hands into her hair, tilting her head back as you kiss her deeper. She melts for a moment before recovering, smirking against your mouth, tugging at your collar as she pulls you closer, pressing against you like she’s wanted this just as badly. A growl escapes your throat as her nails scrape against the bare skin at the back of your neck, sending a sharp shiver down your spine.
Then, just to drive you insane, she bites your bottom lip.
That’s it.
That’s the moment you break.
You lose control too easily, the second her teeth graze your lip, the second she exhales, breathless and utterly pleased. Pressing her back against the seat, one hand curls around her thigh while the other tangles into her hair as you deepen the kiss.
She welcomes it, sighing against your mouth, fingers tightening around your collar, pulling you closer. She tastes like wine and something sweet, something unmistakably Lilia , and it’s intoxicating. You nip at her jaw, dragging your lips down the slope of her throat, and she laughs, low and delighted, like she knew this would happen, like she wanted to be proven right.
“Finally,” she breathes, smug and utterly satisfied.
Huffing against her skin, you press a slow kiss just below her ear. “You are so smug.”
She tilts her head, offering you more, fingers slipping beneath your jacket, nails scraping lightly against your spine. You shudder, and she feels it. She smiles, completely pleased with herself.
“What are you going to do about it?”
Her voice is sweet, taunting, eyes half-lidded as she watches you struggle to hold on to the last shred of control. She’s waiting for you to lose yourself completely, to give in, to let her win.
And god help you, you do.
You claim her mouth again, devouring the smirk off her lips as your hands slide beneath the hem of her dress, fingertips grazing heated skin. Her gasp stirs something dark and wanting in your chest, something that has been building for far too long.
Then—
A sharp knock against the window.
You freeze.
Lilia stills beneath you, her breath catching.
For a moment, neither of you move.
Then—
Her lips twitch.
She giggles.
Groaning, you drop your forehead onto her shoulder, trying not to kill whoever just ruined this. Lilia, of course, is absolutely delighted, her voice teasing as she exhales against your ear.
“Oh, cara ,” she whispers, breathless, wrecked, and entirely too pleased with herself. “You poor thing.”
Gripping the wheel, you inhale sharply, forcing yourself to breathe. But one thing is certain, you are not driving her home yet.
Not until you finish what she started.
You don’t look at whoever knocked, don’t acknowledge them, don’t even care. Without a word, you shift the car back into drive, gripping the wheel tightly as you pull away from the curb. The silence is thick and unrelenting, pressing down on you like a weight neither of you can ignore. Lilia doesn’t speak, doesn’t tease, doesn’t do anything except sit in the passenger seat, her presence palpable in the quiet tension that lingers between you.
The city lights fade behind you as you drive further out, leaving behind the busy streets and the watchful eyes of strangers. The road stretches ahead, long and empty, the world outside growing darker with every mile. You don’t stop, don’t ask where you’re going, don’t explain. She doesn’t ask. She already knows.
The air in the car is charged, thick with anticipation, every passing second winding the tension tighter. The only sound is the steady hum of the engine and the rhythmic beat of your pulse in your ears. The silence isn’t awkward, it’s weighted, filled with everything you were about to do before you were interrupted.
You don’t stop until you’re far from the city, where the roads are deserted and the only light comes from the dim glow of the dashboard. Pulling off onto a secluded stretch of road, you finally park, hands still gripping the wheel as you exhale slowly, rolling your shoulders in an attempt to release the tension coiled in your muscles.
“Get in the back,” you say, voice low and steady.
Lilia lifts a brow, amusement flickering across her face as she shifts slightly in her seat. “Oh? Are we in a hurry?”
Your patience is already razor thin, and she knows it. She’s playing with you, testing the limits of your control, pushing just far enough to see how much restraint you have left. Your hand moves before you can stop yourself, gripping her thigh firmly, fingers pressing into warm, soft skin as you drag her closer, your breath ghosting against her lips.
“Lilia,” you murmur, your voice a warning, not a request.
Something shifts in her expression, the smirk faltering just slightly as her breath catches. Her thighs press together beneath your hand, and in that moment, she understands. She knows you aren’t bluffing. She knows exactly how much you need this. She knows that if she doesn’t move now, you won’t hesitate to take her right here, seatbelt be damned.
She doesn’t rush, she never does, but she listens. With slow, deliberate movements, she slips into the backseat, her dress riding higher as she stretches out against the leather, watching you with quiet, knowing amusement. The heat in her gaze is unmistakable, her body language an invitation you don’t intend to ignore.
Your jaw tightens as you inhale sharply, steadying yourself for just a moment before you follow, knowing there’s no turning back now.
The moment you shut the door behind you, Lilia grins, tilting her head slightly, fingers curling against her knee. “Finally joining me?” she purrs, voice smooth and teasing.
You don’t answer. There’s no hesitation, no thought beyond the heat coiling between you. You grip her hips, dragging her against you, pressing her back against the seat as your mouth crashes against hers. She moans, breathless and eager, hands fisting into your jacket, nails scraping along the nape of your neck as she pulls you impossibly closer. The kiss is hungry, desperate, every sound she makes only spurring you on. Pressing your thigh between her legs, you feel the sharp hitch of her breath as she grinds against you.
Instinct takes over, sharp and electric, as you push her dress higher, sliding your palm up the smooth skin of her inner thigh. The moment your fingers barely graze the damp heat between her legs, she whimpers—soft, needy, utterly wrecked. The sound freezes you, stealing the breath from your lungs. That single, helpless noise will be the death of you.
Leaning in, your breath skims over her lips. “Again,” you murmur, voice thick with want. “Let me hear you.”
For weeks, she’s teased, played the game, stayed in control, always knowing just how far to push. But now, she obeys. Another whimper, quieter but just as devastating, escapes her lips, and it’s enough to ruin you completely.
Your grip tightens on her thigh, spreading her legs wider, fingers dragging along the heat of her skin, not quite where she needs you but close enough to make her squirm. Her head tilts back, lips parting as she exhales a shaky breath. Smirking, you press your lips against the curve of her throat, letting your teeth graze just enough to make her shudder.
“You look good like this,” you murmur against her skin.
Lilia lets out a breathy laugh. “Like what, cara ?”
Your lips brush her pulse as your fingers skim higher, teasing, making her tremble beneath your touch. “Needy.”
She gasps, a real, helpless little sound, and that is what finally shatters the last of your restraint. There’s no more teasing, no more patience. Sliding your fingers beneath the damp fabric between her legs, you groan at how wet she already is.
Lilia moans, her back arching as her hands clutch at your shoulders. You swallow the sound, pressing your fingers deeper, slow and deliberate, curling just right—
She shakes beneath you, breath catching, nails digging into your skin as she moves against your hand, chasing friction, chasing you. You watch her, the way her lashes flutter, the way her body reacts to every touch, the way she falls apart beneath your hands.
“You love this, don’t you?”
Lilia nods, voice barely more than a whisper. “Yes.”
You’re done for.
The second you give her what she wants, she whimpers again, thighs trembling as your fingers curl deeper, moving in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her open, coaxing her closer. Her head falls back against the seat, lips parted as she gasps, body shuddering as she grinds against your hand.
Your smirk is against her lips, teasing, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Say it.”
She tries to speak, but her breath hitches as your fingers pick up their rhythm, slow but relentless, pushing her higher, closer, until—
“I—” she chokes out, her nails digging into your shoulders, her body taut with tension.
Then you flick your thumb over her clit, pressing down just enough, and she breaks.
“Fuck, yes—”
A growl rumbles from your throat as she shudders beneath you, her hips jerking, legs shaking. Watching her come undone is intoxicating. “That’s my girl.”
Lilia moans, high and helpless, and something about the way she completely gives in, the way she lets you take her apart, makes your own restraint snap. You kiss her deeply, swallowing every gasp, every breathless plea as your fingers keep moving, fucking into her with purpose, dragging her higher, right to the edge.
She’s close, you can feel it, the way her body tightens, the way her breathing turns ragged. Then, in a voice so soft it’s almost pleading—
“Please—”
A groan tears from your throat as you press against her, curling your fingers one last time.
Lilia shatters.
Her body tenses, her back arching, head tipping back as she gasps, hands clenching around you as she comes apart completely. It’s beautiful.
You watch her, hold her through it, pressing soft kisses against her jaw as her body slowly, slowly comes down. Her breath is still uneven, fingers still gripping you like she’s afraid to let go.
Smirking, you run your nose along her cheek, murmuring, utterly pleased with yourself.
The moment you shut the door, Lilia smirks, breathless and utterly wrecked, but the glint in her eyes tells you she’s not done. She stretches out against the seat like she’s settling onto a throne, self-satisfied and pleased with herself, fingers trailing lazily up your chest as she tilts her head.
“Mmm. Just thinking,” she muses, voice smooth and teasing.
You narrow your eyes. “That’s never a good sign.”
She grins, wicked and knowing. “No, it really isn’t.”
Before you let her question it, you move.
You grab her by the waist, trying to shift her onto your lap, but the cramped space makes it awkward. She lets out a breathy laugh as she braces her hands against your shoulders, knees knocking against the seat as she tries to settle over you. It’s messy, uncoordinated, her dress riding up in the struggle, and by the time she finally straddles you properly, you’re both breathless for an entirely different reason.
Then, before she can say something smug about it, you grip her hips and press her down, forcing her to grind against your thigh. The laughter catches in her throat, replaced by a sharp gasp as the friction sends a shudder through her. Nails digging into your shoulders as she clings to you. She’s still soaking wet from earlier, still sensitive, still desperate, and now she’s grinding against you, rolling her hips as you force her to chase the pleasure.
Your breath is hot against her skin as you murmur, “What was that, princess? You wanted me to do something?”
Her thighs tighten around you, and she shudders. “Oh, fuck—”
You groan at the sound, gripping her hips tighter, guiding her, making her move exactly how you want. She whimpers, fisting your jacket, her body trembling as she grinds harder against your thigh.
“You talk too much,” you whisper, pressing your lips against the soft skin beneath her ear. The moan she lets out is high and breathless, her confidence wavering under your touch.
You slide your hands beneath her dress, fingers grazing along her bare waist, pulling her flush against you, making her feel every inch of your control. She exhales a shaky sigh, forehead pressing against yours, before her voice drops to barely a whisper.
“Touch me.”
Your blood boils. She’s already wrecked, already falling apart, and now she’s begging? You can’t make her wait, not when she’s pressing against you like she needs this, like she needs you again.
Your hand moves between her thighs, fingers teasing her, dragging along the heat of her skin before finally pushing against the soaked fabric between her legs. Lilia gasps, her hips rolling instinctively, chasing your touch. Her nails dig into your shoulders as she whimpers, desperate, wrecked, completely at your mercy.
“Fuck,” she whispers, voice broken, raw.
You smirk against her throat, dragging your lips along the delicate skin, teasing her, taunting her. “What was that, princess?”
She whimpers, body trembling as your fingers slip beneath the fabric and slide inside her. Her hips stutter, grinding down against your hand, her entire body reacting to you.
“You—” she chokes out, nails scraping down your back, “you bastard—”
You chuckle darkly, curling your fingers inside her, pressing against that spot that makes her shudder. “You don’t sound very convincing.”
Lilia’s breath catches, her hips jerking as she grinds against you, chasing every stroke of your fingers, chasing you. You love this, love how she’s already close, her thighs shaking, her breath coming in sharp, broken gasps.
“Oh, fuck—”
You don’t let up.
You kiss her hard, devouring her moans, swallowing every gasp as you fuck her open, your thumb pressing against her clit, relentless, pushing her right to the edge.
Until she breaks.
She cries out, her back arching, her body trembling, thighs clenching around you as pleasure rips through her. You hold her through it, dragging her through every wave, savoring the way she falls apart in your arms.
When she finally collapses against you, breathless and wrecked, forehead pressing against your shoulder, you smirk, dragging your fingers through the mess between her legs, your voice low and teasing.
“Oh, princess—”
Lilia shudders, still trembling against you, but the second she gathers herself, you know—
She isn’t done yet.
The second she recovers from the wreckage you left her in, she moves. The shift is clumsy in the cramped space, her knee knocking into the seat as she struggles to maneuver herself, but it doesn’t stop her. She barely gives herself room before she presses into you, hands slipping over your body with a deliberate slowness, feeling, teasing, learning exactly how to unravel you the way you just did her.
Her fingers trail down your stomach, pressing over the fabric of your jeans, feeling the heat beneath, smirking when she finds you already aching for her. She’s smug, insufferable, dragging her palm over you through the denim, watching the way your breath catches, the way your body tenses. The teasing touch is just enough to make you squirm, not nearly enough to give you what you need.
You growl, grabbing at her hips, trying to grind up into her touch, but she just chuckles, dragging her nails up your stomach in lazy, infuriating strokes. “So impatient,” she murmurs, leaning in, her breath hot against your lips. “Let me take my time.”
She moves carefully, hands working at your jeans, shimmying them down awkwardly, shifting back as she struggles to get them past your thighs in the tight space. It’s clumsy, far from the elegant seduction she’s probably envisioning, and she lets out a frustrated breath when the fabric catches on the seat. You snort, arching a brow. “Having trouble, princess?”
Lilia glares at you, jaw tight, before yanking them down with more force, successfully freeing you but nearly kneeing you in the process. “Shut up.”
You chuckle, but it dies in your throat when she settles between your thighs, her hands spreading over your bare skin, smoothing upward, her nails scraping just enough to make you shudder.
She exhales softly, her expression shifting, losing its teasing edge, darkening with something else entirely. Her fingers trail between your legs, brushing over you just once, featherlight, enough to make your breath catch.
“Oh, cara,” she purrs, voice smooth, slow, utterly pleased. “You’re already so wet for me.”
Your stomach tightens.
She slides her fingers lower, pressing down just slightly, teasing, not yet giving you what you need. She’s watching you closely, taking in every reaction, every flicker of anticipation, every tiny twitch of your body beneath her hands.
You exhale sharply, eyes fluttering shut for a moment before you force yourself to look at her, meeting her gaze head-on. “Stop teasing.”
Lilia smirks, dragging her fingers up again, slipping just barely beneath the fabric still covering you. “You want me to stop?”
Your jaw tightens. “You know what I meant.”
She hums, pretending to consider, before leaning in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss just above your hip, fingers slipping fully beneath your underwear now, dragging over the slick heat between your thighs.
You inhale sharply, hips jerking at the contact, and she grins against your skin.
“There’s my good girl,” she murmurs, tracing a slow circle over your clit, barely applying pressure, just enough to make you whimper.
Your hands fist into the seat, your body twitching at the deliberate pace she’s setting. She’s barely even started, but you already feel too sensitive, too on edge, the anticipation almost unbearable.
She watches you, eyes dark, utterly absorbed in every reaction, and then, finally, finally, she slides her fingers lower, sinking one inside you, slow, controlled, teasing you with every inch.
Your breath shudders.
Lilia exhales a pleased hum, tilting her head, watching the way your thighs tremble, the way your body clenches around her.
“Oh, cara,” she purrs, curling her finger just right, pressing against that spot that makes you gasp. “You take me so well.”
You whimper, head falling back, nails digging into the leather seat as she strokes inside you, slow, deliberate, coaxing every little sound from your lips.
She leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Do you want more?”
You nod, words failing you, breath ragged.
Lilia chuckles, sliding another finger inside you, stretching you just right, her palm pressing against your clit as she picks up the rhythm, stroking deep, slow, torturous.
Your hips roll instinctively, chasing the pressure, and she groans at the way you move for her, how responsive you are, how easily she has you unraveling in her hands.
“So eager,” she breathes, curling her fingers again, pressing harder, making your thighs shake. “I could make you come just like this.”
You moan, head spinning, everything narrowing to the slow, devastating drag of her fingers inside you, the way she’s murmuring against your skin, the way her lips brush over your jaw, her breath warm, teasing, unbearable.
“You’re so beautiful like this,” she murmurs, voice rough, admiring. “Falling apart for me.”
You whimper, grinding against her hand, chasing that edge she’s so carefully pulling you toward.
She speeds up, pressing her palm down, her fingers moving just right, just perfect, and it’s too much, too good, too overwhelming.
You cry out, your whole body tensing as pleasure crashes over you, your thighs trembling, your breath shattering, everything breaking apart beneath her touch.
Lilia groans, watching you fall apart, letting you ride it out, stroking you through every wave, pressing her lips to your temple as your body slowly relaxes, your pulse still pounding, your mind hazy.
She stays there, holding you, pressing slow kisses along your cheek, your jaw, whispering things too soft for you to catch, things meant only for you.
And when you finally come back to yourself, breath still uneven, Lilia pulls back just slightly, her lips brushing against your ear, voice still rough, still teasing.
“Oh, cara,” she whispers, trailing her fingers through the mess between your thighs, utterly satisfied.
“You look so pretty when you beg.”
You roll your eyes.
Lilia is sitting there, hair a beautiful mess, her lips definitely too red but not from her lipstick, her thighs still bare. She’s smirking, entirely too pleased with herself, radiating self-satisfaction as she stretches lazily against the seat. You groan, throwing your arm over your eyes, already dreading the inevitable smug remarks. “Don’t look at me like that.”
Lilia chuckles, tilting her head, fingers idly tracing patterns against your stomach. “Like what, cara?”
You lift your arm just enough to glare at her. “Like you won something.”
She hums, her nails skimming over your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that you absolutely refuse to acknowledge. “Oh, but I did.”
Your jaw tightens. Because she’s right, and she knows it.
You roll your head back against the seat, exhaling sharply, trying to reclaim some semblance of control. Big mistake. Lilia shifts, leaning in, her breath warm against your throat, her lips brushing against your skin, teasing, testing. Her voice is a soft, satisfied purr. “You were so sweet for me, cara.”
You shiver, and she notices.
She always notices.
Her lips graze your jaw, lingering just enough to make your stomach twist, and then, utterly pleased with herself, she whispers, “Would you like to do it again?”
Your stomach flips, heat pooling low in your gut, because you would. You absolutely would. And from the way Lilia watches you, lips curved, gaze half lidded and knowing, she already knows that.
You should feel sated, triumphant, satisfied, at peace. Instead, you’re lying in the backseat of your own car, exhausted, tangled up in Lilia, who looks entirely too smug. You groan, covering your face with your arm again. “I’m never driving you anywhere again.”
Lilia laughs, stretching beside you, unbothered, fingertips dancing absentmindedly over your skin. “Oh, cara,” she muses, voice like silk and satisfaction, “we both know that’s a lie.”
You tense, because she’s right. She always is. She knows you too well, knows exactly how to push you, how to unravel you, how to get what she wants.
You exhale, tilting your head and moving your arm just enough to glance at her, watching the way she smirks, the way she looks at you like you’re her favourite thing to toy with. You meet her gaze, let the silence stretch just long enough to make her think she’s won, then smirk right back.
“Oh, cara,” you murmur, voice low, teasing, throwing her own words right back at her.
Lilia stills for just a second, just long enough for her breath to hitch, for her eyes to flicker with something warm, something unguarded. But then she grins, shaking her head. “Stealing my lines now?” she muses, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.
You shrug, exhaling through your nose, settling deeper into the seat. “You make it too easy.”
She hums, fingers still tracing faint patterns against your ribs, amusement flickering in her gaze. “Oh, baby,” she says, and you know, you just know she’s about to say something infuriating.
And you’re right.
She tilts her head, watching you with quiet amusement. “You know you’re driving me home.”
You groan, dragging a hand down your face. “You are the worst.”
She hums, entirely too content. “Mmm. But—” She stretches, arching her back, looking entirely too smug. “You keep picking me up.”
You sigh, shaking your head.
Because she’s right.
Of course she’s right.
You were always going to pick her up.
It should have changed after that night. After everything. But somehow, it doesn’t.
Lilia still texts you at inconvenient hours, still waits outside with her arms crossed, expecting you to pull up, still slides into the passenger seat like she belongs there, draping herself over the chair with a dramatic sigh as she adjusts the temperature to her exact preference. And you? You still pick her up.
Because of course you do.
You’d like to pretend there’s some resistance left in you, some shred of dignity after what happened in the backseat of this very car, but there isn’t. There never was.
One evening, she gets in, stretching luxuriously as she settles into the seat, utterly unbothered. You glance at her, unimpressed. “You do have a driver’s licence, right?”
She scoffs, looking at you like the question alone is insulting. “Of course I do.”
You hum, drumming your fingers against the wheel. “Ever use it?”
Lilia shrugs, smirking. “Not when I have you.”
You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You are so spoiled.”
She leans in slightly, voice mockingly sweet, her lips grazing your jaw just to be obnoxious. “And yet, cara—”
You groan, already knowing what’s coming. You finish her sentence for her, “I keep picking you up.”
She grins, and with an exasperated sigh, you put the car into gear. Because, once again, she’s right.
No matter how many times you threaten to make Lilia take the bus, no matter how often you grumble about being at her beck and call, you always pick her up. And she always waits for you.
It’s almost embarrassing how easy it is, how natural. How seamlessly your life has shifted to accommodate her presence in your passenger seat. And the worst part? You like it.
One evening, you’re parked outside her flat, engine running, waiting for her to come down. The usual. Except tonight, she doesn’t rush. She stands in the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with a look you can’t quite place.
You frown, rolling down the window. “What?”
She hums, tilting her head. “Nothing.”
You narrow your eyes. “What?”
Lilia steps closer, bending slightly to rest her arms on the edge of the window, her gaze warm, knowing. “I’m just wondering something.”
You sigh, already tired. “Which is?”
Her lips quirk slightly, but there’s something softer in her expression. “If I stopped waiting for you,” she murmurs, “would you still show up?”
The question shouldn’t make your chest feel tight. You should roll your eyes, scoff, say something dismissive and move on. But you don’t.
Because you know the answer.
And so does she.
You inhale slowly, grip tightening on the wheel before exhaling, resigned. “Get in the car, Lilia.”
She smiles, pleased, like she’s just confirmed something for herself. Then, as always, she slides into the passenger seat like she belongs there.
Because, of course, she does.
And you? You were always going to pick her up. No matter what.
FUCKING MY HEAD
....her laugh😮💨😮💨
Kathryn Hahn at the 2025 Film Independent Spirit Awards
this week was a shit show BUT HEY one week until carnaval 😎
Heat of the Moment — lilia calderu
LILIA'S FINGERS didn’t stop, her pace quickening, working you open, curling her fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars. She watched you carefully, her smirk widening as your body responded to her touch. “Yeah? You want to cum all over my hand, princess?” she teased, her thumb pressing harder against your clit as she fucked you with her fingers.
SUMMARY: after a short but heated argument, lilia has you against the wall, reminding you who is in charge
PAIRING: lilia calderu & fem!reader
CAUTION: no plot because nah, the usual smut, too lazy to write warnings - SO - 18+
WORD COUNT: 4.6K
AUTHOR'S NOTE: *sighs*
The tension in the room was suffocating. “You just don’t fucking get it, do you?” Lilia snapped, her voice vibrating with frustration as she paced, her hands gripping her hair. She was coiled tight, all fire and raw emotion. You stood still, arms crossed over your chest, doing your best to maintain some semblance of control, but your breath was already uneven, your pulse racing, betraying the heat coursing through you. “Oh, I get it all right,” you shot back, your voice low, challenge clear. “You don’t like it when I won’t just sit back and follow your orders like some damn robot.”
Lilia’s eyes narrowed, and she stopped dead in her tracks, the air between you thick with unspoken tension. There was a dark flicker in her eyes, something dangerous, something she was barely holding back. “You’re such a fucking brat,” she muttered, lips curling into something between a smirk and a sneer. “You push me until you get exactly what you want. Do you even know what you’re doing to me?”
Before you could even think of a response, she was on you, so fast you didn’t have time to react. One hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head back, the other grabbed your waist and yanked you up against her body, your chest flush against hers.
The sudden force left you breathless, but the heat from her body, and the strength in her grip — it sent a sharp jolt straight to your core. You gasped, hands instinctively grabbing at her arms, but she didn’t give you a second to think before her lips were on yours.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was desperate — teeth clashing with her tongue pushing into your mouth as if she needed to claim every inch of you. You moaned into the kiss, but she swallowed the sound, dominating you with every thrust of her tongue. The taste of her lingered, intoxicating, and your body responded against your will, already craving more.
Her thigh pressed between your legs, the hard fabric of her pants rubbing against your cunt, and you couldn’t hold back the way your hips ground against her, searching for friction. A soft, needy moan escaped you as you felt the pressure building between your legs, but she pulled back just enough to smirk at you, her eyes dark with amusement. “You really are fucking needy, huh?”
You clenched your teeth, heat flooding your face, but before you could respond, her lips were back on your neck, kissing and biting, drawing another gasp from you. Her hands were everywhere —gripping your tits, her thumbs rolling over your nipples with just enough pressure to make your head spin. She knew exactly what she was doing, making you squirm, making you melt in her hands.
You tried to push her off, just for a second, but she wasn’t having it. She smirked, nipping at your collarbone as her fingers moved down, pulling your shorts and underwear down in one swift motion, leaving you exposed, your breath catching in your throat.
The cool air on your wet cunt made you shiver, but before you could think, her fingers were there, sliding through your folds, spreading your slickness, teasing.
“So fucking wet,” she murmured, pressing one finger into you, just enough to make you gasp, “and you were acting like you weren’t ready for this. Such a little liar.”
Her thumb brushed against your clit, slow and teasing, just enough to make you whimper. “Lilia, pleaseeee...” you begged, unable to control the desperation in your voice as your hips rocked forward, chasing the friction, needing more of the pressure that was slowly building between your legs.
She hummed, her thumb rubbing harder, teasing, before her other hand joined in, pushing two fingers deep inside you, stretching you open. You gasped, your back arching against the wall, your legs weak as the pleasure hit you like a wave, but she didn’t stop. She worked you open with ruthless precision, hitting that spot deep inside you that made your legs tremble, your body reacting against your will.
“Look at you,” she whispered, her voice husky with satisfaction. “So fucking desperate for me. I should’ve done this sooner.” Her fingers curled, hitting that spot inside you over and over, and every time, it was like a wave crashing over you, sending jolts of heat straight through your core.
You moaned loudly, your hands gripping her shoulders for leverage as you struggled to stay upright, the pressure building until it felt like you couldn’t take it anymore.
Lilia slowed her pace for a moment, making you writhe, desperate for more. Her lips were back on your neck, sucking at your skin, marking you as hers. “You want to cum, princess?” she teased, her fingers still working you in that perfect rhythm. “Beg me for it. Tell me how bad you want to cum for me.”
Your eyes squeezed shut, the pressure mounting, your chest heaving with each desperate breath. “Lilia, please, I need...” you gasped, cutting yourself off as her fingers dug deeper, quicker. The words were slipping past your lips, but you couldn’t hold back anymore.
She didn’t stop, not even when your body started to shake with the intensity of it. “That’s right,” she murmured. “You’re gonna come all over my hand, aren’t you?”
And then, without warning, the orgasm hit you like a fucking freight train. You cried out, your body jerking forward, your cunt clenching around her fingers as your vision blurred, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t breathe, hell, you couldn’t even think — just the raw, overwhelming pleasure crashing over you, drowning you in sensation.
Lilia didn’t let up. She fucked you through it, her fingers relentless, dragging out every last bit of pleasure as she watched you come apart in her hands. Your body was trembling, your head spinning, and you couldn’t even remember how to speak, the only thing that mattered was the way she was driving you wild with every motion.
When she finally pulled her fingers out, she brought them up to her lips, eyes never leaving yours as she licked them clean, a low hum of satisfaction escaping her. “Good girl,” she said, her voice rough with desire, as she leaned in to kiss you again, her lips soft against yours now, but still possessive.
Your body was limp, spent, your skin burning with the aftershocks of your orgasm, but your mind was still hazy, still craving more.
You were still trembling, breath uneven, fingers gripping the front of Lilia’s shirt like you needed to hold onto something solid to stay upright. Your body was still reeling from the way she’d just wrecked you against the wall, but even through the lingering haze of pleasure, you needed more — you needed to feel her come undone too.
“I wanna return the favor,” you murmured, your voice raw and needy, your lips brushing against her jaw.
Lilia let out a low, satisfied hum, her fingers tilting your chin up so she could look at you properly. The way she gazed down at you—half-lidded eyes, lips swollen from kissing, confidence radiating from every inch of her—made heat flare in your stomach again. She had you exactly where she wanted you, and you both knew it.
“Oh, baby,” she murmured, voice dripping with amusement, “I know you do.”
In an instant, her hands were on you again, tugging at your clothes with an urgency that sent a fresh pulse of arousal through you. You helped her strip away the last barriers between you, your hands moving just as fast, desperate to get her bare, to feel every inch of her.
Lilia didn’t waste time. She was still in control, guiding you down, pressing you to your knees in front of her. Her fingers tangled in your hair, giving it a firm tug as she hooked one knee over your shoulder, spreading herself open for you.
Your breath hitched at the sight of her — slick, needy, absolutely dripping for you.
“Pleasure me, baby,” she ordered, her voice low and commanding.
Your mouth watered, and you didn’t hesitate. You pressed a kiss to her inner thigh first, teasing, making her huff impatiently. But before she could reprimand you, you licked a slow, deliberate stripe up her folds, moaning softly at the taste of her.
Lilia groaned, fingers tightening in your hair. “Don’t fucking tease me.”
You obeyed, wrapping your lips around her clit, sucking just enough to make her shudder. She was so wet, so warm, and you wanted nothing more than to make her fall apart the way she had done to you. You flicked your tongue over her clit, circling it, before dipping lower, pushing your tongue inside her.
“Fuck,” Lilia cursed, her hips rocking forward, grinding against your mouth. “That’s it. Just like that.”
Her leg tightened over your shoulder, her fingers still gripping your hair, guiding you exactly where she wanted you. You let her use you, drinking in her moans, the way her body twitched every time you sucked on her clit, every time your tongue curled inside her.
You could feel her getting closer, her thighs trembling, her breathing turning ragged. She tugged your hair again, forcing you to look up at her. “Don’t stop,” she panted. “You’re gonna make me cum all over that pretty mouth.”
Her words only spurred you on, and you doubled your efforts, tongue working her clit with relentless precision, sucking and licking until her grip in your hair tightened painfully and her whole body tensed.
Then she shattered.
A loud, unrestrained moan left her lips as she came hard, her hips jerking against your mouth, her juices coating your lips and chin. You kept going, letting her ride out every last wave of pleasure until she was shuddering, her breathing uneven, her grip in your hair finally loosening.
You pulled back slightly, licking your lips, looking up at her with dazed satisfaction.
Lilia smirked, eyes still heavy with pleasure as she met your gaze. “You did so fucking good, baby,” she murmured, reaching down to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing your bottom lip. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
Her smirk widened, and the hunger in her eyes sent a fresh wave of anticipation through you. God, you could never get enough.
Your knees ached, a dull throb settling in from the hard floor, but you barely noticed. The taste of her was still on your tongue, her slick still warm on your lips, and the way she had unraveled above you had only made the ache between your own legs worse.
Lilia wasn’t finished.
She grabbed your wrist, rough and unrelenting, pulling you to your feet. Your legs trembled from how long you had been kneeling, but she didn’t slow down, didn’t give you a moment to steady yourself. She didn’t care if she was too rough, and you didn’t either.
“Get on the bed,” she ordered, voice low, thick with dominance.
You swallowed hard and obeyed, crawling onto the mattress, positioning yourself as she wanted — head hanging slightly over the edge, body laid out for her. The anticipation made you shiver. You didn’t know what she was planning, but the hunger in her gaze told you she wasn’t going to be gentle.
You bit your lip as she moved, eyes locked onto her as she grabbed the harness, fastening it around her waist with practiced ease. The deep red strap stood thick and firm against her hips, and your breath hitched at the sight. The way she adjusted it, tightening the straps, rolling her hips slightly to test the fit — it made your stomach clench with a fresh wave of arousal.
Lilia smirked, stepping closer, towering over you. Her fingers curled under your chin, tilting your face up toward her.
“Open,” she murmured, voice smooth, commanding.
You parted your lips immediately, your breath coming out in shallow little pants. Lilia spat into her hand, spreading the wetness along the length of the strap, her movements slow, deliberate — teasing.
Then she pressed the tip against your lips, not waiting for permission before pushing inside.
The thick silicone stretched your mouth open, making you whimper around it as she pressed in deeper, her grip tightening in your hair. She started slow at first, letting you adjust, but it didn’t take long before she picked up the pace, thrusting harder, the harness rubbing against her clit with every movement.
You moaned around her, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth as she fucked into you with steady, deliberate thrusts. Lilia groaned at the sensation, the strap grinding against her, sending waves of pleasure through her already sensitive body.
“Look at you,” she murmured, her voice laced with dark amusement. “So eager to take everything I give you.”
Tears welled in your eyes, your throat tightening as she pushed deeper, her rhythm relentless. You could barely breathe between thrusts, barely think past the heat pooling between your thighs. You slid a hand down, fingers brushing against your own soaked folds, finding your clit and rubbing tight, needy circles.
Lilia noticed immediately.
“You’re touching yourself?” she breathed, a wicked grin curling on her lips. “So desperate, so needy while I fuck your mouth?”
You moaned in response, your fingers working faster, your body trembling from how much you needed release. Your throat constricted around the strap-on as she thrust again, saliva dripping down your chin, your eyes glassy with arousal.
Lilia groaned, her grip in your hair tightening, using you exactly how she wanted, chasing her own pleasure as the harness pressed and rubbed against her clit. Her hips snapped forward, her rhythm stuttering, growing erratic.
“Fuck—” she gasped, her breath coming out in sharp pants. “I’m gonna cum — gonna cum all over this fucking thing.”
Her pace grew rougher, more desperate, her thighs shaking as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak. With a sharp cry, she came hard, her body trembling, her slick dripping down her inner thighs as the last waves of pleasure pulsed through her.
She didn’t stop thrusting immediately, her hips still moving in tiny, jerky motions, dragging out every last second of pleasure while you moaned beneath her, fingers still buried in your own soaked cunt.
When she finally stilled, panting, she looked down at you—your lips swollen, your cheeks streaked with tears, your thighs pressed together as you chased your own high.
Lilia smirked.
“Such a good little slut for me,” she murmured, wiping the wetness from your chin with her thumb before leaning in, her lips brushing against your ear.
Your body was still trembling, your skin burning with the aftershocks of pleasure, but Lilia wasn’t done with you. Not even close.
"Get in position," she commanded, her voice thick with dominance. "Face down, ass up."
You barely had time to catch your breath before obeying, shifting onto your stomach and lifting your hips, pressing your chest against the mattress while arching your back to present yourself to her. You could feel your slick dripping down your thighs, a sticky, needy mess, but Lilia just smirked at the sight.
"Look at you," she murmured, dragging her fingers down your spine, making you shiver. "So obedient, so fucking desperate to be used."
You whined, pushing back slightly, wordlessly begging for her to just give it to you already.
Lilia didn’t make you wait.
You gasped as she grabbed your hips, lining up the strap-on with your soaked cunt before thrusting in, filling you in one ruthless motion. The stretch was immediate, the thickness pushing deep inside you, forcing your walls to accommodate every inch. Your fingers curled into the sheets, a breathless moan spilling from your lips as she set a brutal pace, fucking into you with no hesitation, no restraint.
The wet sounds of your cunt taking her filled the room, mixing with the sharp slap of her hips against your ass. Lilia groaned above you, the harness grinding against her clit with every movement, sending waves of pleasure through her as well.
"Fuck, you're gripping me so tight," she breathed, punctuating her words with a sharp thrust that had you choking on a moan. "So fucking greedy for my cock."
Her hand came down hard against your ass, the stinging slap making you jolt, a gasp leaving your lips. The heat of it spread across your skin, making your walls flutter around the strap buried inside you. Lilia chuckled darkly.
"You like that, don’t you?" she mused, spanking you again, harder this time. "You love being treated like a filthy little slut, don’t you?"
"Yes," you whimpered, voice muffled against the mattress.
"Yeah?" Lilia grabbed a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back, forcing you to arch even deeper. "Then take it."
She fucked you even harder, hips slamming into you, the strap stretching your cunt with every relentless thrust. The pressure, the fullness, the way she completely controlled your body — it was too much, not enough, everything all at once. Your moans turned into desperate cries, your legs shaking, but Lilia didn’t slow down.
Her teeth found your shoulder, biting down, marking you as she fucked you into the mattress. One of her hands moved to your chest, fingers finding your sensitive nipples, rolling and twisting them between her fingers, making you whine at the sharp mix of pleasure and pain.
You barely had time to process it before she changed positions again.
Without warning, she shoved your face into the mattress, pressing your cheek down into the sheets, holding you there with a firm grip. Then, she lifted one leg, pressing her foot against the side of your face, pinning you down completely as she adjusted her angle.
"Stay down," she ordered, her voice dripping with authority.
You had no choice. You were completely at her mercy, your body helpless under her control as she fucked you even deeper, the new angle hitting a spot inside you that made your vision blur.
"Fuck, you're dripping all over me," Lilia groaned, her pace growing erratic as she chased her own high, the harness pressing perfectly against her swollen clit. "Gonna cum again, baby? Gonna soak my cock like the desperate little thing you are?"
You couldn’t even speak, couldn’t do anything except take it. Your walls clenched around the strap-on, the pressure coiling so tightly inside you that you thought you might break.
Lilia smirked, grinding her hips in slow, deep circles, making the strap drag against every sensitive spot inside you.
"Go on," she murmured, voice thick with satisfaction. "Cum for me again. Be a good little slut and fucking cum."
The command shattered you. Your body locked up, pleasure ripping through you in sharp, uncontrollable waves. Your cunt pulsed around the strap-on, your cries muffled against the sheets as the orgasm tore through you, leaving you trembling and wrecked beneath her.
Lilia groaned above you, her own body tensing as she reached her peak, the harness pressing perfectly against her clit. She moaned low and breathless, grinding against you as she came hard, her slick dripping down her thighs.
For a moment, the only sound in the room was your ragged breathing, the lingering wet, messy noises of your ruined body against hers. Then, Lilia leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she smirked.
"You did so well for me," she murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the side of your neck.
Lilia pressed slow, open-mouthed kisses against your neck, her breath hot against your damp skin. Your body was still twitching from the aftershocks, your limbs weak, your pussy aching from the relentless way she had just fucked you. You barely registered the moment she unstrapped the harness, tossing it aside before making herself comfortable beside you, her fingers lazily tracing patterns over your thigh.
For a few moments, the only sound was the ragged rise and fall of your breathing, the sheets sticking to your sweat-slicked skin. But Lilia wasn’t done.
"Come here," she murmured, her voice lower now, thick with satisfaction but still laced with hunger. "Sit across from me."
You blinked, still trying to gather yourself, but when Lilia gave an order, you obeyed. Slowly, you shifted, moving to sit opposite her, mirroring her position. Your legs spread instinctively as you adjusted, and the moment you settled, you realized exactly what she had in mind.
Lilia’s smirk was dark, knowing, as she let her own legs fall open, exposing her glistening, swollen cunt. She was just as wrecked as you, her skin flushed, her body still trembling slightly from her own release.
"Touch yourself," she instructed, her fingers already slipping between her slick folds. "I wanna watch you."
Your breath hitched, your body still overly sensitive, but the sight of Lilia playing with herself, the way her fingers slowly circled her clit, had fresh heat pooling in your belly. You swallowed hard, then let your own hand slide down, finding your drenched cunt, fingers parting your folds as you rubbed slow, teasing circles over your clit.
A shudder ran through you both at the same time.
"Fuck," Lilia exhaled, her eyes locked onto your soaked pussy, watching the way your fingers moved. "You’re still dripping. I really did a number on you, huh?"
You whimpered, nodding, your fingers pressing down harder as you matched her pace.
"Uh-uh," Lilia tutted, a smirk pulling at her lips. "Faster. I wanna see you fall apart again."
You obeyed, speeding up, pleasure sparking through your overstimulated nerves. Your walls clenched around nothing, desperate to be filled again, but the sight of Lilia losing herself across from you was enough to send another wave of heat rolling through your body.
Lilia’s head tipped back slightly, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip as she worked her fingers faster, rubbing tight circles over her swollen clit. Her breath came in short, sharp gasps, her free hand moving to cup her own breast, tweaking her nipple between her fingers with a breathy moan.
"God, you look so fucking good like this," she groaned, her dark eyes flickering back to you. "Fucking yourself, all messy and desperate. Wish it was my fingers inside you instead."
You whined, your thighs trembling, your stomach tensing as the pleasure built. "Lilia—"
"You close, baby?" she murmured, her voice dripping with satisfaction. "Yeah, I can see it. Your legs are shaking. You wanna cum for me again?"
"Yes," you gasped, barely able to get the word out.
"Then do it," she commanded, her own fingers moving faster, her hips rocking into her touch. "Cum with me. Make a fucking mess."
The sound of her wrecked moan was the final push you needed. Your body seized up, a strangled cry ripping from your throat as another orgasm crashed through you, more intense than the last. Your fingers stuttered, rubbing frantically over your clit as your cunt clenched around nothing, slick dripping down onto the sheets beneath you.
Lilia cursed, her own body shaking as she tipped over the edge, her head falling back against the pillows as she moaned deep and low, her slick coating her fingers as she rode out her orgasm.
For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you breathing hard, bodies still trembling from the pleasure that just wrecked you both.
Finally, Lilia let out a slow, satisfied sigh, smirking at you through half-lidded eyes. "Damn," she murmured, voice thick and lazy. "You’re fucking perfect."
You couldn’t even speak, could only let out a breathless, blissed-out laugh as you collapsed back against the bed.
Lilia chuckled, reaching for you, pulling you against her sweat-slicked body. "C’mere," she muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. "I think you’ve earned some rest."
I might have a thing for patti lupone with grey hair
The Chariot • Lilia x Reader [NSFW]
You ask Lilia a tarot related question at an-- inconvenient time.
MDNI!!!! did this for a lovely friend :3 (hi Margot)
tags: plot?? what plot?, shameless smut, strap on sex, squirting, praise, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, teasing, fluff !
A/N: I LOVE THIS GERIATRIC LOSER!!!! the ao3 link is here
The Chariot: The seventh major arcana in a tarot deck, The Chariot represents endurance, willpower, and determination.
–
“Come on, mama– give me one more.” You rasp, nosing at the tender flesh behind Lilia’s ear. You were coaxing little whimpers and pants from her, hilted in her cunt in a way that had the older woman’s eyes glazing over. Her brows pulled together, ecstasy coating her features as she pouted, moaning when you pulled your hips back, working the toy cock out of her aching core. “I won’t move again until you answer me, miele.” You croon, a deceptively gentle hand coming to clear a salt and pepper curl from her face, tucking it behind her ear.
Lilia only groaned, reddened cheeks and chest flushing a deeper shade of crimson as you pulled the toy from her, running its shaft through her folds, revelling in the filthy sounds her body produced. Your kiss swollen lips quirked as you considered her state, probing her face for any sign of give. She might fold now, or it may take another hour of coaxing. Regardless, you waited.
After a long beat of silence, Lilia piped up, huffing. “F–fuck y/n no more!” The witch was whining out of embarrassment– but mostly need. She still had half the brain to push at your sternum, pursing her lips and pathetically whining yet again. “Stop teasing me…”
“I know, I know…I’m so mean.” You chuckled, pressing a teasing kiss to her nose. Lilia’s face scrunched up, a surprisingly soft moment passing between the two of you. It soon passed when you reached down, gripping the base of your strap and pressing it firmly against Lilia’s dripping entrance. “Remember the card for today?” Your question was designed to catch her off guard, and by the looks of it– it worked.
Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, quickly furrowing as she tried to clear the haze of lust and desire clouding her thoughts.
“Wh-what?” She managed, using that tone that made her seem oh-so-innocent. Of course, you knew better– but her charms always had a way of getting to you, even if she wasn’t trying to seem cute.
You offer a gentle chuckle, thrusting your hips forward, the slap of skin on skin filling the small space of her living room. “The card for today, baby. What was it?” You grit out, tongue running along your teeth as you soak up the pornographic moan that tore from your wife. The divination witch curls around you, her legs locking around your hips, a frivolous attempt to hold you inside of her. She squeezed around you with fervor, big brown eyes full of promise and need.
Lilia choked, shaking her head as if trying to shake off the growing ache pulsing in her core. “The– the Chariot.” A shooting sense of pleasure rolled up her spine, body trembling as it responded to the plasticine cock buried deep inside of her. Her entire body felt like it was on fire, the pleasure so overwhelming the sensations bordered on painful.
You try again, leaning down to whisper low in her ear– the words worming their way into her mind, wrapping around her senses and making her dizzy. “Tell me, amore mio…what does it mean?”
“Please, my love–” Lilia whimpered, her fingers coming to tangle in your hair, lips parting in desperation as she panted out pleas and small whines. You almost break, hips canting slightly. You wanted to give Lilia everything she was asking for, but you wanted to watch her melt into a boneless puddle more. The witch beneath you let out a stilted breath, hand slipping to claw at your back. With a small hum, you lean down, dragging your tongue along the column of the older woman’s throat.
“Tell me, Lilia.” You grunt, wanting to pull every ounce of sanity you can from the witch. A rough hand comes to the back of her neck, squeezing firmly to remind her of her place. “Be a good girl and tell me what it stands for.” To emphasise your point, you rolled your hips, the hilt of the strap pressing insistently against Lilia’s clit.
The older witch keens, back arching into the mattress, her chest pressing against yours as she heaved, trying to push growing desperation down. It was not working. If she wasn’t in such a terribly compromising position, Lilia would grump at you more, but instead she acquiesced– her words coming out frantic and whiny. “The Chariot– en-endurance…willpower– fuck-! S-self-control-!”
“Good girl…” You purr, holding the side of her face as she preened under your hold– the praise making her glow. Her flushed features soften, gaze falling to your own as she nods frantically.
She is a good girl. The best.
“M-mmhm–!” Lilia cried, panting heavily as you gently pulled away from her face, causing the older woman to whine at the loss. She couldn’t stay angry for long, though. Your hips snapping forward after dragging out of her, beginning a brutal and steady pace.
Lilia was quickly reduced to a babbling mess, fully putty in your hands. You quickly move to grip her hips, half moon marks marring the soft skin beneath your fingers. With a low hum, you maneuver onto your knees, pushing Lilia’s legs further apart as a result, her ankles unhooking to allow you easier access to her pretty cunt.
“That’s my girl, good girl…mm–”
Her breath caught at the determination etched into your features, she always found it so damn sexy when you put exponential effort into pleasing her. You leaned down, head hung by her ear as you drove into your wife with reckless abandon, huffing out little praises with each explosive moan and whimper Lilia gave you.
“B-baby..-” Lilia’s hands scraped down your back, nails leaving deep red lines through the skin as you pistoned into her, lips parting in a silent cry. The older woman’s hold became frantic, pulling at and grasping whatever part of you she could. “M-mm’gonna– I’m–”
“Come on, mama…Come for me.”
Lilia needs no more permission, her body seizing as her orgasm crashes over her like a tidal wave, tears streaking down her cheeks at the overwhelming euphoric pleasure. Your hips increased their pace, pounding into her, unwavering in your enthusiasm. She cried out– a strangled, pathetic noise ripping from her as you worked her over the rolling tides of her climax.
Looking down at your lover, you took in her blissed out expression, watching her come down from her high. Her features were pinched, beginning to relax as your pace slowed. A little noise escaped her when you leaned in, pressing a loving kiss to her lips. She reciprocated instantly, nipping at your bottom lip and leaning up to lick a trickle of sweat off your temple with a chuckle.
“Wow, darling…” You breathe, looking down to where you and Lilia were connected, her slick painting both sets of thighs, a small wet patch seeping into the blanket set out beneath you. “That exciting, was it?” A teasing tone pulls at your voice, earning you a slap to the shoulder from your wife.
“I– hey! I didn’t– I didn’t think that would happen..” She admitted, cheeks flushing at the evidence of her own arousal coating the both of you.
“I, for one, think it’s beautiful.” You retort, leaning fully down to rest your chest against your lover’s, slowly and carefully removing the toy from Lilia. She groans at the loss, quickly pulling you back in for a hug. It was times like these when the two of you would lay together, unconcerned about the mess, unconcerned about the sweat. Laying body to body with the most beautiful woman in the world was seldom an opportunity you would pass up.
Your thumb comes to idly wipe away tears, kissing at her cheeks with a soft smile. Lilia studies you, then. Her lips parting as if she wanted to say something, before she ultimately decides against it.
“What?” A defensive look from you has Lilia giving in.
“I was just going to say that you were most definitely the chariot in this situation.”
You snorted, grinning down up at your wife from your position laid on her chest. “Mm, why? because you were riding me? In a very determined way, might I add.”
“Shut up! Good God...”
“You love it.”
“I married you, didn’t I?”
“Mmmm-hm.”
Undercover Love (Olivia Benson x f!Reader)
Synopsis: When you're needed to go undercover as Olivia's lover to bust a perp, you're in for more than you bargained for.
Words: 4.6k
Warnings: Discussion of sexual assault, begging, teasing, oral (R receiving), fingering (R receiving), praise kink
The thump of bass went through you as your hips moved in time with the beat. The hands on your hips, guiding you, were tight. Your arms were wound around the neck of your partner, your body pressed to hers.
Your eyes scanned the crowd over her shoulder, doing your best to ignore the feel of her breath puffing against your cheek. Your hand cradled the back of her head, burying in her hair. The crush of bodies around the two of you only forced you closer together. Her fingertips slipped under your shirt, finding your bare skin. You inhaled, hoping it would be covered under the loud music.
There was no reason to let Olivia Benson know that she was driving you insane on this case.
Strong hands spun you. You lent back against soft curves, one hand curling over hers, the other curling around the back of her neck. Soft lips brushed the shell of your ear.
“11 o’clock,” she murmured quiet enough to not be heard by anyone not pressed against her.
When this case had been brought in, you’d felt yourself go cold. A swath of lesbian couples being targeted by a serial rapist, each one brutalised. Going undercover had been a last ditch effort on your part, desperate to find the sicko who was doing this.
The obvious two to act as bait were you and Olivia. You’d wanted to fight against it, to rail against the entire thought of it. Pretending to be her girlfriend would be intolerable. But you couldn’t unless you wanted to lose face.
You’d been fighting off your crush on Olivia since almost the moment you’d met her. Dark eyes and pretty smile, she was everything dreams were made of. And she was completely uninterested in you.
So this case was going to ruin you.
“Naughty girl,” you said, loud enough that those around you could hear.
Your head rested against her shoulder, ass grinding against her hips, moving in time with the music. Your fingers threaded through hers, holding it against your body as your fingers toyed with the hair at the nape of her neck. Her other hand trailed up the skin of your leg, toying with the hem of your short skirt.
You turned your gaze towards where she’d indicated, lazy, as if you were uninterested in anyone else in the club. A man was sitting at one of the few tables, fingers tapping on the table to the beat of the music. But his eyes were watching the two of you.
Turning your face back to hers, your nose brushed against hers. Her breath ghosted over your lips, sending a shiver down your spine. The throbbing between your legs was in time with the music and you lent against her, letting her hold you up.
“Time for a drink?” she asked.
You nodded. Her fingers slipped from the skin of your thigh, taking your hand. Tugging, you let her lead you off the dance floor, passing by the table of your voyeur. She lent over the bar, shouting your order to the bartender as your eyes slid over her body, focusing on the curve of her ass. For your undercover identity. Not because it was looking particularly good in the pair of jeans she was wearing.
Your mouth was only dry because you needed a drink from dancing.
She turned, leaning back against the bar. Her fingers brushed yours as she passed you the drink, a virgin cocktail given you were on the clock. Her arm curled around your waist, holding you close, casual, taking a sip from her own glass.
“Incoming,” she murmured.
You curled your free arm around her neck, leaning in closer. Her chuckle was warm in your ear. Your tongue ran along the sugar rim on your glass, breathless as she watched.
“You’re quite lucky.”
Both of you turned to look at the man who had sidled up beside you at the bar.
“Me or her?” Olivia asked.
“Both, I suppose,” he said, “although I was aiming it at you. I think you’ve captured the attention of the most gorgeous girl in here.”
“I certainly think so,” she said, her eyes sliding over your face again, lips curling up in a knowing smirk, “but then, after three years together I’m hardly going to think otherwise.”
His eyes lit up. Bingo. This was definitely your guy.
“I’m surprised you can keep your hands off her,” he said.
“Who says I can?” She turned back to look at him, “we’re just not interested in giving everyone a show.”
“You ever give anyone a show?”
Her eyes scanned him. You giggled, pressing closer to her. Her own lips curled into a knowing smile.
“What do you think, baby?” she asked, “wanna show him what a woman really enjoying herself looks like?”
“Uh huh,” you said, sucking your bottom lip between your teeth, looking back to the man. His gaze darkened as he stared at you. You did your best to keep your disgust hidden from sight. His greedy gaze was like slime on your skin, nothing like when Olivia looked at you.
“Come on then,” she said to him, her hand landing on your ass, watching his eyes focus on it, “whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.”
He followed you out of the club, the thumping bass easing as you got onto the street. Your hand in Olivia’s was beginning to grow sweaty, your night only just beginning In the back of a cab, pressed between the two, Olivia buried her face in the crook of your neck, her hand on your thigh.
“Just like we talked about,” she murmured, quiet enough that only you could hear under the guise of foreplay, “you’re doing great.”
Hot breath played over the other side of your neck. Your head tilted back and soft lips made contact with your skin, Olivia continuing the cover. The small noise you made wasn’t calculated, unbidden from the feeling of her lips on you. The excited panting of the man beside you let you know he was watching closely.
The taxi came to an abrupt stop. Olivia helped you out of the car, the man hot on your heels. In the elevator up to the apartment that had been set up for you, Olivia wrapped her arms around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder as she looked at the man.
“Just so we’re clear. You don’t touch her. You don’t touch me. But you get to watch and then you leave,” she said.
“That’s all I want,” he replied.
But the way he was looking at you says he wanted much more than that.
You fumbled with the keys, head hazy with Olivia’s hands on your body. With her soft curves brushing against yours, body heat and scent invading your senses, it was a miracle you could get the door open.
Her hands on your hips guided you towards the bedroom, face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your skin. Your heart skipped a beat, thundering, easy to explain away as adrenaline due to the case rather than because you were weak kneed at the feeling of her. Your own body was betraying you.
She spun you, one hand cradling the base of your head, the other sliding to the small of your back.
“You ready for me, baby?” she asked, eyes smouldering as they looked at you.
“Please,” you whimpered, not sure if you were begging her to touch you or to end this.
“I’ve never been able to deny you anything,” she said, sounding softer than you were expecting, fingers massaging your scalp, “let’s play.”
She pushed the door open and a couple of bodies pushed past you. In your heels you were unsteady, using her body to keep you upright. Her hold on you was strong, steadying you the way she always did. You drew away.
Turning, you watched the man be put in cuffs. His shouts were hardly what you wanted to listen to. You crossed your arms, watching him, ignoring the way desire still licked like flames through your veins. In your peripheral vision, Olivia watched on too.
Later, once he’d been booked and a DNA swab sent off to the lab, you were back home, showering the evening off you. You weren’t sure you could scrub hard enough to forget the feeling of Olivia’s fingers on the skin of your inner thigh, flirting with the hem of your skirt, promising more than she would ever deliver on.
You groaned, fingers finding you still slick from the throbbing arousal she’d lit in you. Shaking your head, you flipped the faucet to cold, doing your best to calm the fire raging through you. Crossing that line right now would not help.
A knocking on your front door startled you. It was late, you weren’t expecting anyone, and all you wanted to do was crawl into bed and try to forget how it felt to be Olivia’s for a night. You shut the water off. The knocking came again.
You grumbled as you dried off, shoving clothes onto your body. Old gym shorts and an oversized shirt, your typical uniform for bed. Looking through the peephole, you froze.
Olivia’s fist pounded against your door.
You were slow to open it to her, not sure what was about to happen. If she was about to lay into you for how tonight went. If she’d seen through you. If you’d made her uncomfortable. Your heart seized.
“Hey,” she said, eyes sweeping over your body the way they always did, as if assessing you, her training in full effect. Still, it didn’t stop you from shivering under her gaze.
“What are you doing here?” you asked.
“Can I come in?”
You held the door open for her, almost groaning when she brushed past you. Shutting the door, you turned to find her assessing your place. A pokey little apartment, filled to the brim with things you’d collected over the years. It was hardly fancy but you liked it well enough. It was home, which was all you needed.
“You gonna explain yourself?” you asked when the silence had stretched so long it was making you antsy.
She turned away from your overstuffed bookcase, a paperback dangling from her fingers.
“You did well today,” she said.
“Thanks,” you said, more confused than ever, “but no offence, you could have told me that tomorrow.”
“Sorry, were you asleep?” she asked, but you knew she knew the answer to that.
“No,” you replied, “but that’s where I was headed.”
“You didn’t stay to see his interview,” she said.
“Cap told me to go home. That there was nothing more I could do tonight and he wanted me well rested for tomorrow,” you said with a shrug, “you had it handled.”
“He asked for you,” she said.
“The Captain?” Your brow furrowed.
“The perp,” she replied.
“Oh.”
You weren’t sure what to make of that.
“Said he had unfinished business with you and since clearly I wasn’t satisfying you he’d be more than happy to help you out,” she said.
“Ew.” Your nose wrinkled in disgust, “glad I wasn’t there to hear that.”
“That was the tame version,” she said.
“Did he at least confess?”
That was the only thing that mattered.
“He did,” she confirmed, “after telling us that he planned to rape you while I watched. That you’d enjoy it.”
“And now you’re here. Want me to come back in?” you asked.
“God no,” she said, tucking her hair behind her ear.
“So why are you here then?” You felt it was a reasonable question.
She sunk down onto your couch, resting her elbows on her thighs. Her hands pressed together, staring at them, her brow furrowed. You were careful as you settled beside her, giving her distance, not sure you could handle the feel of her warmth again.
“I didn’t know where else to go,” she eventually said.
“Home? To sleep?” you suggested.
Her scoff came with a disbelieving smile. You shook your head, your own smile curling up the corners of your lips. Your shoulder bumped hers, forgetting for a moment that just the feel of her sent your heart crazy.
“Why are you here?” you asked again, keeping you voice gentle.
“You should have heard what he was saying about you. I just…” Her fist clenched.
You reached over, your hands gently prying her fingers way, smoothing out her hand, letting it relax. You held it, peering up into her face.
“You got angry,” you said.
“I’m so good at listening to perps say shit about me. It doesn’t even phase me. But when it comes to you I crumble,” she said, eyes searching yours as if she could find answers there.
“He got to you,” you said, “it happens. It’s what he was trying to do.”
“But I let him. I shouldn’t have let him,” she said.
She turned towards you.
“How did he know to focus on you?” she asked, voice a whisper.
“You responded the first time so he kept prodding.” You shrugged, “it’s not your fault.”
“He knew.”
The hand that was still held in yours flipped, grasping onto yours almost too tightly. Her knee brushed against your thigh as she shifted closer. Your lips parted, teeth sinking into your lower lip. You watched as her gaze flicked down to it, darkening, before finding yours again.
“He knew,” she whispered.
“Knew what?” Your voice was just as quiet as hers.
“That I wasn’t pretending.”
Your heart stuttered in your chest. The way she was looking at you was only making you feel like you’d stepped into someone else’s story.
“Liv,” you breathed, “what are you saying?”
Her palm was warm as it cupped you cheek. The sound that came from between your parted lips was pathetic, almost a whine, but soft and desperate. Her thumb ran along your cheekbone.
“I’m saying that tonight it was easy to slip into our cover because I was already there. It’s easy to pretend to be into someone when you actually are,” she said.
“You’re into me?” you asked.
“I think at this point you must be the last person to know,” she said, lips curling up into a small smile.
“I guess I am,” you said.
“If I’ve made you uncomfortable…” She began to draw away.
“No!”
Your hand landed on her shoulder, fingers digging in. She froze before she relaxed under your touch.
“Do you know what I’ve been doing tonight? What I’ve been doing since I got home?” you asked her.
She shook her head.
“I’ve been thinking about you. About what it felt like to have your hands on my body. About your lips on my skin. About how I wanted more,” you said.
“You wanted more? From me?” she asked.
“I know I should have been focused on the case, but it was so hard when you were driving me crazy,” you said.
“I was driving you crazy?” She laughed, “baby, you have no idea what you do to me.”
“Then show me.”
Her eyes swept over you again, dark and smouldering and so full of hope. The hand on her shoulder slid up to curl around the back of her neck and then you were pulling her in. The first brush of lips was soft, a question more than a kiss. She sighed into your mouth and then she was pressing closer.
The hand on your cheek pulled you closer until you were climbing into her lap. Knees either side of her hips, your fingers slid into her hair, tilting her head back as you kissed her deeper. Her hands were back on your hips, the home you wanted them to have, gripping tight over the prints already burnt into your skin.
You moaned, hips shifting, tasting her. She was everywhere, hands sliding up your back, finding their way under your shirt. The feel of her skin against yours was driving you crazy, head spinning. She hummed, muffled in your mouth.
“Liv,” you murmured.
Her mouth returned to the place on your throat, the same place burnt by desire earlier in the night. Your head fell back, giving her more access. Her tongue flicked out, tasting your skin. You whined, her name another moan, fire licking through your veins. The throbbing was back between your legs, more insistent than ever.
“I wanted to kick his teeth in listening to him talk about you,” she whispered into your skin, fingers digging in to the skin on your back, nails biting.
“Soon enough he’ll be locked up and he won’t be able to get near anyone ever again,” you said, fingers tightening in her hair.
“He won’t be able to get near you,” she all but growled, looking up at you with dark eyes.
“Liv,” you sighed as she kissed your skin again, “it’s kinda hot when you get all protective.”
“You’re getting off on this,” she said, looking up at you again.
“Only because it’s you,” you said, lips quirking up into a small smirk.
“It’s not just about tonight, is it?” she asked.
“I’ve wanted you for so long I don’t even remember what it’s like to not want you,” you replied, “although tonight… tonight has been a specific form of torture.”
“Being undercover with me is torture?” she asked, hands sliding further up the bare skin of your back.
“Having you touch me when I thought you didn’t want me? That it was all an act? That to you it was all a job and I was the idiot getting turned on?” Your forehead fell against hers, “that was torture.”
“This feel like an act to you?” she asked, nails dragging back down your skin.
“I could do with some more convincing,” you murmured.
“Whatever my baby wants, my baby gets.”
She chuckled as she kissed you again, hands warm on your skin. Your fingers were still tangled in her hair, able to tug until her chuckle turned into a groan. Your teeth sunk into her lower lip, tugging on it as you drew back. Her eyes were blown wide, kiss stung lips parted, breathing ragged.
“Promise this is for real? That you actually want this? That you want me?” you asked, needing to hear it from her lips.
“I want you. I want this. I want us,” she said, her voice soft, as if she knew how important her words were to you.
You pushed her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering on her jaw. Leaning forward, your lips followed the line your fingers had traced. She sighed as her head tilted back, falling back against the cushions of your couch. Her hands slid back down, grasping your ass, hauling you closer. Your teeth scraped against her skin and the shaky moan was music to your ears.
You wanted to litter her body with your marks to find later. You wanted everyone to know you’d been there. You wanted her to remember this moment when she looked in the mirror the next day.
You yelped when she stood, your legs wrapping around her waist. She carried you, so strong, lips capturing yours again. Dropping you onto your mattress, unmade bed, she grinned down at you.
“That perv was right about one thing,” she murmured, eyes sweeping over your splayed form.
“He was?” you asked, curious what she was thinking, even as heat ran over your skin.
“I won’t be able to keep my hands off you now.”
Her hands ran up your legs, parting your thighs as she crawled between them. Smouldering eyes looked up your body, holding your gaze as her lips pressed to your inner thigh. Her name was a strangled moan on your lips. Her smirk was pleased, almost arrogant.
“You’re so beautiful,” she murmured.
Her hands slid up your body, pushing your shirt up, exposing your stomach to the cool air of your apartment. Her hips slotted between your thighs, leaning forward as her lips trailed up your skin. Her hands kept shoving the shirt higher until you grabbed it, tearing it off your body.
Her lips brushed along the underside of one breast. You whimpered when her lips wrapped around your nipple, tongue flicking over it. Arching up into her mouth, your fingers wound through her hair again, pressing her closer, holding her there as pleasure spread through your veins.
One hand was gently running along the waistband of your shorts, a teasing touch that only drove you crazy. Your hips shifted, pressing up, trying to find some friction from her but was left frustratingly disappointed. She hummed, the vibrations going through you, only setting the throbbing between your legs off harder.
It was maddening.
“Liv,” you begged, “Liv, please.”
“You make my name sound so pretty, baby,” she murmured, lips brushing your skin.
“Please,” you tried again.
“Let me just stay here a little longer. I’m not done yet.”
Her mouth moved to the other breast. Your hand slipped from her hair, pushing the jacket from her shoulders. She let you, flinging it aside as her mouth sucked. You whimpered, arching further into her mouth, hands seeking out her bare skin.
Her fingers hooked in the waistband of your shorts, snapping it back against your skin. You made such a desperate noise, one you hadn’t realised you were capable of. You felt her smile against your skin, tongue flicking over one nipple. You were about to combust.
Soft lips pressed to your skin, trailing down your stomach. She paused at the waistband of your shorts, sitting back to drag her eyes down your body. Your chest heaved, hands reaching to her. Arms crossed over the front of her body, she pulled her shirt over her head, shaking her hair back from her face. Your fingertips dragged down her sides, feeling her warmth, each inhale expanding beneath your fingers.
You couldn’t believe you were being offered the chance to see her like this.
With swift movements, she pulled her bra from her body. Your mouth grew dry from the sight of her, so beautiful, so perfect, and all for you. Your fingers brushed one breast before she was bending forward again, fingers hooking back into your shorts, tugging them down. You kicked them off, desperate for her.
“How did I go this long without this?” she murmured, lips ghosting along your hip bone.
Strong hands curled around your thighs, parting them to settle between them. You pushed up onto your elbows, staring down at you. Catching your eye she grinned before her lips pressed in a soft kiss to your inner thigh. You trembled.
“This all for me?” she asked, breath ghosting over your folds.
“Only for you,” you breathed.
Her tongue swept through your folds. You fell back on the mattress, fingers winding through her hair as your hips raised to meet her mouth. She hummed, the vibrations rocketing through you. Lifting one thigh over her shoulder, she pressed closer, gently suckling on your clit. Her name was sweet on your lips as you whimpered above her.
Her tongue was soft, exploring you with a patience you didn’t have. You wanted more, immediately, having spent enough time imagining this moment. You didn’t need more teasing, still dealing with the leftover arousal from your night in the club with her. That had been more than enough for you to be ready for her.
“Liv, please,” you begged, fingers tightening in her hair.
Dark eyes gazed up your body, smouldering as her tongue dipped into your entrance. You were breathless, caught in her gaze, unable to look away as she ignited a fire in your veins. Returning her attention to your clit, all you could do was moan her name.
Your hips bucked against her, trying to urge her for more. Ignoring it, she was still gentle, soft, coaxing you higher without giving you enough to tip over the edge. She took her time, watching you with every stroke of her tongue. Your mewls did nothing to convince her to do more, leaving you desperate.
She was such a tease.
She played with you until you were dripping. You were desperate, writhing on the bed, holding her against you. Her tongue dipped into you again before she drew back. You cried out, trying to pull her back against you.
“You make such pretty noises,” she murmured, finger ghosting over your clit as she watched you with darkened eyes.
“Please,” you begged.
She lent forward, kissing you until you were breathless. Her finger was slow to enter you, your moans muffled against her mouth. Her mouth trailed down your neck, lips closing around your earlobe. The noise you made only seemed to egg her on, a second finger joining the first.
Her thumb was slow to circle your clit as her fingers curled within you. Her soft words were coaxing you as her fingers drove you crazy. Your nails dragged down the skin of her back, hips meeting her thrust for thrust.
“You’re doing so well for me, baby,” she told you, lips brushing the shell of your ear, “you feel so good around my fingers.”
Your fingers wound into the hair at the nape of her neck, tugging on it, insistent, desperate. Your hips were writhing against her. Her thumb was coaxing you higher, her breath ghosting over your skin as her hand worked between your legs.
“You drive me crazy,” she murmured, “I could spend hours doing this with you.”
“Liv,” you whimpered.
“You’re so good for me. So beautiful. So lovely.”
Your head went hazy, the pressure building. You were beyond desperate for her. Clutching at her, your thighs hooked over her hips, you gave yourself over to the feeling of her hand. She kept murmuring in your ear, coaxing you through it, only making you needy for more.
When the wave broke, when it crashed into you, you cried out her name, nails digging in, fingers tightening. You clamped down on her fingers, pulse after pulse of pleasure going through your body. Her words were so soft as she eased you through it.
“That’s it. You did so well for me. You were such a good girl,” she said as you began to relax into the mattress.
The fingers that had tangled in her hair guided her back towards you, kissing her until she sighed into your mouth. Her hand slipped from between your legs. When she drew back, her tongue ran up her fingers before she sucked them into her mouth, cleaning herself. Warmth bloomed in you again.
“You’re incredible,” you sighed, watching her, needing her to know.
She chuckled, leaning forward to kiss you again, the taste of you still on her tongue. You wound your arms around her neck, legs still over her hips, wanting to feel her everywhere. Rolling, you straddled her, kissing her deeper, not able to stop yourself. You weren’t sure you would ever get enough of her.
Her hands stroked along your bare skin, from the top of your spine, all the way to the base. It was so soft, so gentle, nothing like the forceful cop out in the streets looking for justice. You whimpered, pressing closer.
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered against your lips.
“And all yours,” you said, “if you’ll have me.”
She gently tucked your hair behind your ear, fingers lingering on your jaw. You stared down at her, waiting for her answer with bated breath.
“Of course I’ll have you for as long as you let me,” she said.
“Forever,” you sighed, “you can have me forever.”
She kissed you again, sealing the deal.
thank you mini dress season 😇
noooooo i don't have a praise kink haha..... it's just a coincidence that my pupils turn into little pink hearts when you tell me i've done a good job 🥴🥴🥴
paget brewster, master chef
Guilty as sin 1/2
FarahDowlingxFemReader
Warnings: (a little) smut, fluff, just talking now
Summary: You've worked in Alfea for some time now and you were a good friend with Farah, Saul and Ben. However your feelings towards weren't so platonic.
Word count: 1605
Gif is not mine
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Your hand went above you to grasp the pillow and the other slipped into her hair, roughly tugging on it. Your soft gasps and whimpers began to fall into loud, long moans. Fingers drew patterns on your hip bones, firmly holding your hips down on the mattress. You lifted your head a little bit only to see waves of golden strands buried between your thighs.
Your breatch hitched in your throat. It couldn't be... Your gaze drove to hands on your hips. You would recognise those hands anywhere, at any time. That little tattoo on one finger.
Farah...
You suddenly became aware of every sensation, every touch. The feeling of her strong and warm hands on your skin, the feeling of her soft, long hair against your thigh. You arched in your back, a shaky moan elicited from your lips as her tongue hit the right spot. It felt like she knew her lover's body like her own, if not better. Like she had done it many times before, but not with a random person but with you. She knew your weak spots, right moves to make you moan and squirm. She knew where to put her hands, where to grab, where to trace her fingers against your skin. Where she should be gentle and where she could be less gentle.
You stirred in your sleep, moaning out loud her name, and that's when your own voice broke you from your dreamland. Your eyes shot open and you swiftly sat up, panting. You ran a hand through your damp hair. Slightly surprised, your fingers moved across your forehead, also damp with sweat. You looked around the room and everything looked exactly the same. Same room. Same bed. But there was one difference. The most heartbreaking one.
You were completely alone.
You had no idea if you should feel guilty or ashamed. And you also had no absolute idea why you dreamed about her... dreamed about something like this. Yes, you liked her. Really liked her. You fantasised about Farah. Many times. And yes... yes, you had dreams like that, a lot of them. But none of them was so intense, so real... so nice.
You shook your head, tryingto comeback to consciousness. No, you could not think about her like that. She was your boss. She was your friend. A good one.
But maybe you shouldn'tfeel like that at all. It's not a crime to have dreams like that. Not with your boss and friend, though. Well, maybe it would have passed with a boss, a friend, however, was a completely different story. You valued your friendship too much to act on your feelings. She was always so caring, so nice, you didn't want to lose her just because of some stupid crush.
Well, at first, you thought it was a crush. But it must have developed through time.
Fukcing feeling. Always so complicated and always complicating something.
You picked your phone up from the nightstand and looked at the screen. 3 a.m. You let out a sigh of relief, you could go back to sleep. And your lack of sleep could be a good excuse to explain your enthusiasm for sleep. Or just your love for it. But not this time. You mind started wandering into future, the beginning of classes to be more specific. You always met Farah before the door to your class. At first it was a total accident, then it happened again and again, and it became some sort of ritual for you two. Farah always asked how you slept, what your plans are for the lunch break and about your dreams. You could lie, of course. And that's where the problem appears.
You could not lie to her.
Not because you didn't want to, you just couldn't. If you had committed a crime and she asked you if you did it, you would have told her the truth without hesitation. And with that thought you fell asleep.
-----------------------------------
You walked through the halls of Alfea. You thought if you could even call it walking, more like running. You overslept and thank gods, no more dream came tonight. A dreamless sleep.
Did it help you? Of course, it didn't. You were nervous as fuck and also mad at yourself for being nervous. It was just a shameless dream, you couldn't really control it. Happened. Who knows, maybe Farah had a dream like this about you.
You stopped and raised your eyebrows at your own thoughts. Farah Dowling having dreams like this about you? How the fuck did you come up with this idea. Your head tilted to the right. It was possible. You needed to start doing something immediately or your mind will start coming up with other thoughts.
You started walking again, at normal pace now. Your routine was to come before students and there were times when you waited for half an hour for them. You pulled your papers out of your bag, looking through them and reading what you prepared for the lessons. You were almost at the door when a known voice welcomed your ears.
"Good morning."
You looked up from the papers and your eyes landed on Farah. She stood with crossed arms and a small smile on her face. A long black skirt covered up her long legs. She wore black heels that complimented her figure. The difference in your heights was visible even when she didn't wear heels.
"Hi" You answered with a smile of your own. The travels of your eyes did not go unnoticed by Farah. She arched a brow and uncrossed her arms, putting her hands on her hips. You blushed a little after you realized you didn't were as smug as you thought. "How are you?"
"Good, thank you." Farah nodded and her gaze moved to the papers in your hands. "Something interesting for our students today?"
"Same old crap about the same old topics that are taught for years." Farah looked at you in a surprise, but a smile never left her lips. You looked at her face and started laughing. "I'm sorry, I meant 'some really important and interesting topics that students are learning for years now.'"
"Better. However..." Farah's eyes drove back up to you. "I'm a little concern. You? Late? I don't mean late late, but much later than you always arrive. What happened? A squirrel crept into your room during night and messed around?"
You could see a smirk threatening to appear on her lips. You grinned back, acting completely nonchalant. "Not a squirrel, but a really good dre... dreamless sleep." You nodded your head, trying to convince yourself that it was the truth. You didn't lie. You just did not mention a little detail. Unimportant.
Farah moved to stand next to you and have a look on the words on the paper that you hold. A smell of her shampoo and perfumes was like a balsam for your nostrils. You could smell vanilla, a mix of flowers and honey. You were in love with this smell. You were in love with Farah.
"You looked like you could use some good sleep lately. I know that as your boss I should be glad that you're working like this, but as your friend, darling, you should relax." Her face was right next to you as she leaned closer, but her eyes weren't focused on the words anymore but on your face. You met her gaze and opened mouth to say something, but no words came out.
She was close. So close. You could just lean a little bit forward and your lips would meet-
Suddenly you became aware of the noise and movements around you. You weren't alone. You were at school with students and some teachers around you. A flick of realization coursed in her eyes. Farah took a step back, straightening her back. She looked around and then back at you. "Me, Saul and Ben are meeting after lessons in my office. Valentine's Day party, students begged for it. Do you want to join us?"
A proposition didn't really surprise you because you had good contact with the trio. Although you were younger than them, you loved spending time with them and it seemed like they liked your company too.
"Yes, I would love to. Right after the lessons?"
"No . I'll come for you." Farah smiled softly and her head turned around when a group of students passed by us, saying 'good morning'. "I won't keep you longer or students will get mad." Corner of her lips slightly moved up. "And paperwork won't do it itself."
"I think students wouldn't mind having more free time in the morning. Paperwork could be more uncooperative."
Farah chuckled at that. "See you later." Her hand, which was laying on your shoulder for some time now, brushed against your neck as Farah started walking away. You caught a glimpse of her hand. Her fingers. Her tattoo. The same hand that was holding you down in your dream.
You said yes to see them tonight. And you were sure there will be whiskey or something like this and it was Valentine's Day. Your thoughts drifted to Saul. He knew. He knew too much for his and your own good. And that was a secret you both kept from Farah for some time. Ben knew too, but he wouldn't say anything you didn't wish for Farah to know. Saul on the other hand was very keen on telling her from the beginning. Valentine's Day plus alcohol plus Saul and things he knew equal troubles.
For you at least.
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Happy Valentine's Day! Sorry for being so inactive but I had absolutely no ideas and no motivation. Sometimes I don't have time to think about it. But I'll try. ❤️
Fernanda, don’t you ever get tired of being this iconic?
