#wlwstories

I'll Make Sure You Don't

Epitome: It’s the pull between digital distraction and physical closeness—a modern ache where one lover’s body is near, but their focus is miles away, lost in pixels. Isabel turns that distance into a challenge, what begins as a soft plea for attention shifts into a playful act of control, a way to make herself impossible to ignore.

Caution: None really- teasing.

Title: I’ll Make Sure You Don’t Words: 505 ---------------------

Isabel kissed her the way she always did when she came home—but this time, today it was slower, lingering on the bitten bottom lip just a little longer. It was meant to state I’m here, but it tasted like don’t forget me.

“I missed you,” her girlfriend murmured, though her eyes had already drifted back to the screen. Her focus stayed on the glowing screen. The clicking buttons filled the room again, making Isabel bite her tongue.

Isabel tried kissing her again, grabbing her a attention for another second before pulling back, softer than she meant to. That hesitation surprised her girlfriend.

“I’ll shower,” she said, trying to sound casual. “If you’re still playing when I get back, I might actually kill you.” An annoying, but clear statement came out.

“This mission’s important,” came the half-laugh, half-apology. “I only have fifteen minutes.”

And minutes later, the steam from the warm shower still clung to Isabel’s skin as she stepped back into the dim light. Her hair dripped down her neck, her shirt caught at her shoulder, and her heartbeat thudded with something unspoken.

She sank down beside her, close enough that their thighs brushed. The room smelled like soap and heat.

“What are you doing?” Isabel asked, voice low, teasing.

“Finishing this mission.”

“Another? Didn't you say fifteen minutes?” No answer. Isabel leaned closer, her breath against her ear. “That sounds boring.”

“You wouldn’t get it.” She tilted her head, and a playful eyebrow lifted.

“Maybe not,” Isabel whispered, smiling as she let her fingers trace her girlfriend’s wrist—light enough to make her twitch. “But I’ll make sure you don’t finish it.”

The controller stilled. The game went silent. Buttons stopped being pressed.

And for a suspended moment, only their breaths moved.

“Look you're literally giving the enemy an opening!” Isabel now took the controller in hand, eyes glued to the screen. “One last mission, love.” She teased, as her girlfriend's mouth went agape from whatever just happened.

She sat up beside her, studying her, instead of saying anything. Watched. Asked questions she didn’t care about.

"We should lowkey hide, instead of this hit and run." Isabel suggested. “That sounds boring.” Her girlfriend half-heartedly rejected

“You don’t have to understand.”

Isabel smiled. Leaned closer. Close enough to be distracting.

“I’ll make sure you don’t,” she said.

“You’re terrible at paying attention,” Isabel whispered.

“You’re distracting me.”

“I’m not even trying.”

She shifted, just a little—leaning in, close enough for heat to gather between them. Her hair brushed against her girlfriend’s lap as she ducked out of sight, laughing under her breath.

The controller clattered against the floor.

“Isa—what are you—”

“Just helping you focus,” she said.

A beat of silence. Then, the faintest click of buttons.

“Oh- so now you're back to playing?” Isabel lifted her head, mock-shocked.

“You don’t have to understand,” her girlfriend repeated her earlier comment, though her breath hitched halfway through the sentence.

Hello, dear stranger.

Her velvet voice caresses your ears. She curls her hand in front of her heart in a gesture so graceful that it feels like it has been rehearsed countless times.

Welcome to the humble domain of psychic Lena.

A glimpse of a smile touches her words.

It will be my great pleasure to serve you.

A slight, sumptuous bow.

See, I think Isadora always wanted her.

Always.

That’s why she ended up with Sabrina.

Don’t get me wrong—Sabrina’s a dream. Tall, leather-clad, voice like velvet and razors.

But let’s be honest—Isadora didn’t fall for her.

She just needed someone who could make her feel something again.

So now she plays games in a penthouse dungeon, lets Sabrina whisper obedience into her ear, and pretends it’s about power.

But it’s not.

It’s about Davika.

Always has been.

Sabrina can make her kneel.