#1) my friend did not do this on purpose in any way. it was not intended to distract me or to hit on me. im a lesbian hes a gay man. cmon now

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[icewindandboringhorror]

Various images from the past year or so... posting my evil little photo diary collections once again..

[hannieehaee]

CLOSER

18+ / mdi

summary: after making it all the way to your final year of uni still having not experienced a single orgasm, you decided to take matters into your hands. your solution? asking your best friend wonwoo to teach you all he knew.

content: f2l!wonwoo, softdom!wonwoo, virgin reader, unrequited crush (not really lol), pov starts with reader but moves on to wonwoo's, basically just smut and almost no plot lol, like three separate smut scenes oops, smut, afab reader, dry humping, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, handjob, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 12.9k

a/n: this was longer and way messier than anticipated but i hope u guys like it!!

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

"You're crazy,"

Those were Wonwoo's last words before scoffing and walking away, completely disregarding your presence.

"Wait!," you raised your voice, attempting to prevent his departure, "Just hear me out," you pleaded.

"'Hear you out'?", he scoffed, "You just asked me – out of nowhere – to 'teach you how to have sex.' The mere question was the end of the conversation," he deadpanned and continued walking away, you trailing behind.

Despite how cold and direct he was with his words, you knew him well enough to assess that he wasn't neither mad nor offended, just entirely uninterested in the proposition. He simply continued to walk away, far too indifferent about your admittedly strange request.

"Let me at least explain," you whined as you walked side by side with him.

He merely hummed, seemingly a bit annoyed at the fact you were still going on about such a silly prospect.

"Listen," you began, "You're the only person I can ask. You're the only one who knows I'm a virgin," you whispered the last words, as if any of the other students walking by would care enough to listen in on your conversation.

"Why do you need me to take it from you?", he grumbled, "Just wait til you meet some guy you like and lose it to him."

You let out a groan of annoyance, "Have you met a man before? They all suck! You're the only guy I trust," you added, "Plus, I'm 22. No guy is going to be patient enough with me not to traumatize me. They all assume I'm experienced already."

His speed did not diminish, but he turned to look at you after hearing that, a semi-serious look on his face, "Has anyone done anything-"

"No! It's just ... They kinda expect me to already know what I'm doing, and when I try to explain it they either get super horny or they just ghost me," you cringed at the sudden resurgence of failed attempts at dating through the past year.

"Okay, so, you want me to take your virginity just for research purposes?"

"Yes! Exactly that!"

"Just watch porn, then," he deadpanned once more with a scoff.

"Wonwoo!," you slapped his arm in annoyance, "Please, at least try to take me seriously."

"Fine," he grumbled, "I'll take you seriously if you actually make some sort of methodological plan for me to assess. Only then will I actually try to come to a decision."

Spoken like a true nerd.

Unbeknownst to Wonwoo, his nerdiness was kind of part of his charm.

"Okay, fine, fucking nerd," you retorted, "You. Me. My apartment. This weekend. Meet me at 10 and I'll have your dumb 'procedural documentation' awaiting your approval," you spoke the last few words with a nasally tone in order to mock him, getting a chuckle out of him.

"Great," he smiled, "See you then, virgin."

"God, you actually made a slideshow?"

"You literally asked me for this," you groaned, "Now, stop talking and pay attention."

"This slideshow looks like shit. How are you even graduating?", he couldn't help but add.

"Anyways," you hissed back at him, "This is a step by step of what the plan is, okay? We'll go slide by slide."

He nodded, amused but also having given up on arguing.

The first slide showcased simple text detailing the following:

Step 1 - Kissing

He immediately burst out laughing.

"Stop!", you swatted the pointer you'd been using to point at the screen at him, "Let me talk before you laugh!", you demanded.

"Is 'removing our clothes' going to be on the slides too?", he laughed, holding onto his stomach from what apparently seemed to be the funniest thing to him.

"Moving on," you ignored him, clearing your throat and beginning the short speech you had prepared, "I've kissed guys before, which you know. But kissing and kissing during sex are two very different things," you explained.

"How would you know?"

"That's exactly why I'm asking, you fucking-", you stopped yourself before you could insult him, knowing he was just riling you up.

"Okay, fine. I get it. You can move onto the next slide," he conceded, though you could still spot some amusement on his face.

Step 2 - Oral (both ways)

"How is me giving you oral going to help you learn to have sex if you're not doing anything?", he asked before you could even speak.

"Are you telling me you don't do oral? That's very Dj Khaled of you."

His eyes widened as he backtracked, "W-what? No! I love doing o- wait, no. I'm not talking about this," he stumbled over his words, "You know that's not what I meant."

"Plus, there's no need to teach you oral. Any guy would cum at you getting on your knees for them," he added without thinking, immediately shutting himself up upon realizing what he'd said.

Even from the place you were standing, and with the distance between you and the couch Wonwoo was sitting on, your reaction at his words could easily be noticed by him. You were both equally sheepish at his slipup, causing you to both look away in embarrassment.

"What I meant was-"

"No, uh, I get it, I-"

"Uh, maybe move onto the third slide?", he coughed out, clearing his throat.

"Yeah- yeah, sure."

Step 3 - Foreplay

"Okay, so you did add removing our clothes as a step."

"These are completely different things," you rebutted, having completely moved on from the previous awkwardness.

Suddenly, he stood up, taking your pointer from you and setting it down.

"Okay, you can stop with the slideshow," he said.

"Why? What's wrong with my slideshow?", you argued.

"Well, for one, it doesn't actually have any useful information in it. Two, these are all natural steps to sex that I don't need a recap on," he took a breath before continuing, "And three, I don't need any more convincing. I'll help you."

"What? Really?," you gaped at him.

He nodded, attempting to be nonchalant about it, "I mean, yeah. I was always going to help you, just needed to think it over a bit more. We're friends and I don't want you feeling lost on your first time, or getting taken advantage of by some asshole, so," he gave you a tight-lipped smile.

You wrapped your arms around him, far too enthusiastic for the subject at hand, but mostly just thankful for his agreement.

"Thank you, Wonwoo. God, I was so nervous I'd have to find some random guy on tinder," you mumbled against his chest.

Tenderly hugging you back, he hummed at your statement, slightly annoyed at the implication of some random guy taking your virginity, but not verbally expressing that annoyance.

"When do you want to do it?", he asked once you'd pulled away.

"Is, uh, is Wednesday okay? I know you only have Tuesday-Thursday classes this semester," you offered.

"Yeah, that's good. Do you want to do it all at once or-"

"What do you mean?"

He sighed, not wanting to say the words, as the thought of it was already getting to him. He gulped silently before continuing, "I mean the, uh, oral and the kissing, and whatever else you had on that slideshow."

"Oh! Uh, well, what do you think? Should we just do it all at once?" you asked with a newfound innocence in your eyes.

It occurred to Wonwoo that you might have been even far more inexperienced than he had first thought. This was something you'd never spoken about too in depth, but now that he really thought about it, maybe the reason why your slideshow was so simple and childish had been because of a genuine lack of knowledge in the matter. Now he wasn't sure whether he should simply sleep with you or actually show you every step necessary to ensure your pleasure and his own.

"We can take a day for oral and hand stuff," he huffed out, "and then we can use that new knowledge for foreplay before we, you know."

He felt like the virgin at his lack of ability to utter the word sex under this context.

"A-ah, okay. That sounds good," you blinked up at him, "What about ... Uh, what about kissing?", you added shyly.

"What about it?"

"Nothing. Never mind," you created some extra distance between you, timidly looking down in embarrassment at your question.

It made Wonwoo feel like shit that his simple question had made you ashamed at having asked one of your own. He needed to resolve this quickly. Sex was clearly a sore subject for you, he didn't want his teasing to actually make you feel badly.

"No, tell me. Please," he grabbed onto your arm so you'd look at him again.

"Well, I- Fuck, this is so embarrassing," you chuckled humorlessly at yourself before finally looking back at him, "I've never been kissed like that before. I was, uh, hoping that you could teach me? So I know what to do then we actually, you know."

Similarly to him, you were too shy to actually speak the word out loud, though you both knew exactly what you meant. The heavy air in the room only confirmed it.

"Oh," he breathed out, "I can ... teach you now, if you want."

The word 'teach' had him feeling lightheaded. Thinking about directing you, holding you close to him as he took his time showing you everything he liked – everything that would have him thinking of you every lonely night after the fact – as you obediently nodded under him, it all made an animalistic feeling arise within him.

"Yeah? Okay, how do we-", you began, nodding as you eyed the room to see where would be the best place to do it.

Wonwoo stopped you before you could actually wander off, holding onto your elbows and pulling you to him. They naturally slid down to your hips to position you against him.

"Here is fine."

Those were his last words before his lips descended onto your own, eyes so hooded they were almost fully closed. The kiss was very soft in nature, with it being almost just a simple peck before he pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

"You've been kissed like that before. Right?", he mumbled.

You nodded, head tilting upwards as you shyly attempted to incite him into reconnecting your lips.

"I'm going to show you how you should kiss a guy if you want him to ... you know," he explained, breathing heavily into your mouth at the mere thought.

Barely managing to nod again, your lips were encapsulated by his own once more, this time engaging in a wet kiss, mouth immediately invaded by his tongue.

In retrospect, Wonwoo made the kiss more sensual than he intended to. There was an extra layer of intimacy than he would usually allow when he kissed someone he considered a mere hookup. But how could he kiss you like he would a hookup when you were so soft and pliant and vulnerable as you stared up at him? Having to hold back a gruttal groan as he kissed you, his fingers tightened their hold on your hips to center himself a bit.

At some point your tongue shyly came out to play with his own, making a timid attempt of mirroring his movements. The kiss became slightly messy, but that's just how Wonwoo liked it, causing a few muted grunts to sound out into the otherwise quiet room.

Wonwoo's hands came up to your jaw, angling your face in a way that would allow him to explore your mouth with his tongue at the optimal angle, suckling into your own and drawing pretty whines out of you. It was easy for him to tell that you were becoming affected by the mere kisses, making his mind fuzzy in return.

He could only hold on so much before he began walking you back, eventually landing against a wall and pressing you up into it, hands going back down to your waist to press your body up against his own. The atmosphere of the room became heavier, just as his movements. Hands gripped your waist and your chests pressed together. Your back arched deliciously as one of his hands landed on the small of your back, making your breasts rub against his hard chest.

A groan involuntarily slipped out of Wonwoo's lips at the feeling of your pebbled nipples digging at his chest. Fuck, you weren't wearing a bra.

In the meantime, your hands pulled at Wonwoo's hair, becoming rasher in their movements by the minute. You fed off Wonwoo's reactions to the pulling of his hair, pulling extra hard any time he grumbled into your lips a little louder.

His hands remained in the same general area of your waist and lower back up until one of them braved their way down to your thigh, going as far down as the back of your knee to wrap your leg around his waist, causing your crotches to make the first contact of the night.

Gasping a shuddered breath, Wonwoo disconnected your lips and began kissing down your neck, occasionally stopping to suck at spots he had a feeling would have you gasping his name. This, accompanied by a hesitant grind of his hips into your own, awarded him the prettiest gasps landing against his ear.

"Wonwoo ..." you sighed, "Is this- Am I doing a good job?" you asked, tilting your head back to nudge his lips against your own again, landing some soft yet wet pecks on his lips.

"So good," he nodded with a kiss, "Such a quick learner," were his last words before starting another long series of languid kisses between you.

Hips became braver, – both yours and his – filling the room with the sounds of clothes ruffling and muffled sighs in between wet swipes of your tongues. His large hand angled your leg even higher, angling his cock right against your cunt in a way that had you breaking the kiss as you gasped his name. Wonwoo did not allow you to pull away, however, simply opting to lick into your open mouth and entice you into continuing the kiss.

"Wonwoo, I can't, I- Fuck, I need-"

"Shhh," he hushed you, "I know, baby. Just keep moving your hips, okay? Let me show you all my favorite things," he whispered against your skin, not daring to halt the friction that had him on the verge of cumming in his pants.

"Is this- Is this what you usually do when you kiss a girl?", you asked, tilting your head back to allow him to kiss at your neck to his heart's contentment.

"Yes," he lied through his teeth, knowing he never let passion take over him so quickly with any other girl. He let his lips trail back to your own in order to prevent himself from having to speak further, but also because he couldn't stray away from you for too long.

He was sure he'd never forget those soft breaths you left against his lips any time he'd reconnect them, wordlessly expressing how affected you were by what he considered to be such a small gesture – or at least what he previously thought it to be, up until he kissed his best friend on an arbitrary Saturday morning.

As badly as he wanted to keep your lips attached to his own, he was beginning to feel his self control slip through his fingers the more he humped against you. The more he did so, the less finesse his movements had, forcing him to bury his head on the crook of your neck and groan into your skin. His hands went down to your legs, starting to drag your hips against his own and freely grunting at the stimulation. His sweats and your shorts were both thin enough for him to feel the heat of your cunt, fully aware that if he looked down, he'd find a mixture of wetness on the cloth from his precum and your slickness.

"Fuck," he sighed, "You feel so fucking good ..."

"Am I, shit- am I making you feel good?", you managed to squeak out.

Wonwoo's mind melted at the way you sought out his approval, looking to see if you were making him feel as good as he did you. Were his pathetic moans not enough indicator of how godforsakenly affected by you he was?

Then he remembered you had no point of reference to understand how intimate and heated this moment was – how the dragging of his cock against your clothed folds could so easily become his undoing.

"You're doing so fucking good. Gonna make me cum, fuck," he breathed, making his way back to your lips, "Need you to cum for me first, though. Okay, pretty? Are you close for me?", he mumbled in between heated kisses.

"So close," you were barely able to respond due to Wonwoo's insistence on keeping his lips on yours.

"A guy should always make you cum first, understand? If- fucking shit," he grunted out when he felt you beginning to pulse against him, an entire separate heartbeat forming on your cunt, "If he doesn't, he's not worth it. You come first. Okay, baby? A-always you."

The mere thought of some other loser even hearing the cute, breathy gasps you were letting out made him fume, but he couldn't get into that while you were almost on the verge of breaking down for him. He needed you to at least know what type of guys to fend away from, but he also wanted to show you how he could give you exactly what a man should – that he would always prioritize you and your pleasure.

You nodded mindlessly, completely out of it yet absolutely absorbed by the pleasure, "I need- Fuck, Nonu ... I need to cum. Please, I-"

"Cum. Be good for me and cum, pretty. I'm right there ... Fuck, gonna make me cum in my pants," he wheezed out, eyebrows furrowing in concentration when your nails dug into his skin as your orgasm took over.

Wonwoo came the second he felt you come undone, having held back from far too long in order to prioritize you – something he would always do. A mixture of emotions took over as his body underwent the immense pleasure your clothed cunt had given him. A sense of pride undertook him at knowing he had made you cum undone completely untouched. Any shame he could've felt at cumming in his pants like a horny loser left him as he took in every gasp and cry of his name as you held against him for dear life.

Burying his head in your shoulder again, he whispered words of praise and encouragement into your ear all while his hips continued their canting against yours, damning any sensitivity he may have felt due to the overstimulation. His brain was fuzzy at the pleasure, but his instinctual need to make you feel as good as humanly possible overrode any other thought in his mind.

By the end of it all, all that could be heard were your heavy breaths. Holding onto each other, you forgot about anything surrounding the bubble you currently found yourselves in. Seeking your lips again, Wonwoo gave you one last languid kiss, humming into your lips in contentment at the thought of what had just happened.

"That's, uh, that's usually how kissing goes when you're going to have sex," he explained.

He suddenly felt very awkward, embarrassed at how easily he had lost control at a simple touch of your lips. — He was supposed to merely kiss you, not defile you through your clothes against the wall of your apartment!

"Oh- Okay, that's good to know," you murmured whilst looking down at your feet timidly.

At least he wasn't alone in the feeling.

Finally creating some distance between you, he chuckled humorlessly, clearing his throat.

"Sorry if that was too much," he rubbed at the back of his neck.

"No, that was perfect- I mean, thank you! No, wait, I mean, that's exactly what I needed- fuck," you groaned, hiding your face in your hands in embarrassment at being unable to find the right words.

It was mind-boggling how easy it was for you to provoke adoration out of Wonwoo when you had just been the primary source of his lust mere moments ago.

"It's okay, I understand," he went to remove your hands from your face, looking at you with a smile, "Do you still want to meet on Wednesday?", he asked sheepishly.

"For oral, you mean?", you asked so innocently, completely disregarding the implication behind those words.

Coughing out as air caught in his throat, he cleared his throat before being able to respond, "Y-yes, it's- it's whatever you want."

"Well ..." you started, "You don't have classes on Monday, right? Maybe we could do it then? You know, so we don't have to drag this out too long?"

Oh.

Was this just something you wanted to get over with?

That made sense, considering that this was all simply a favor you were asking from Wonwoo. That knowledge still didn't prevent Wonwoo from feeling let down by your words, however.

At the end of the day it didn't make that much of a difference when you did it, but he couldn't help but have this sick hope inside him to prolong this as much as possible; maybe even do repeat 'lessons' if necessary. Especially when he knew that the moment he actually slept with you, you'd go out into the world and find someone else to do the things he taught you with.

There was a reason he had originally been apprehensive about your proposal. He knew that the mere second he had your eyes staring up at his with anything more than platonic feelings in them, he'd fall even deeper for you–

Right, did he forget to mention he was in love with you?

It was a controllable crush. He knew how far his feelings could go, so he never tested his luck with you. He also had far too much love and respect for you as a friend to ever overstep any boundaries outside of the limits within your friendship. This was why he had been initially adamant about denying you. He knew that there was no way to keep his heart out of it, but he also knew that there was no way for him to resist such opportunity, which was why he ultimately said yes.

So for now he had to make the best of it.

Was it selfish? Maybe. But he would also be helping you out along the way, so maybe it was more of a selfless act in the end. He'd be the one getting his heart broken, after all.

"Yeah, sure. You can come over to my place on Monday," was his response.

"Might as well get this over with," had been what he added as an afterthought, not taking note of the emotion changing in your eyes.

"Hey."

Wonwoo attempted to adopt a casual demeanor as he welcomed you in, hoping you didn't take note of how much he had pampered himself in preparation for you (Maybe aftershave plus cologne had been a tad much).

"Hi, Nonu," you responded, clearly way more relaxed than he was.

It was almost as if he was the virgin about to get deflowered.

Walking in, you made yourself at home, walking past him and immediately sitting on his couch. It was common for you to be at his apartment, so this visit wasn't anything out of the ordinary thus far.

Up until you spoke up.

"I might've gone overboard with preparing myself for tonight," you suddenly said, grimacing at yourself in embarrassment.

"What do you mean?"

You were wearing a simple pair of leggings and an oversized top; very common outfit for you. Sure, you looked beautiful, but he wasn't sure exactly what you meant by overly preparing yourself.

"You'll see," was all you said, patting the empty spot next to you on the couch.

Closing the door of his apartment, he walked over to you, taking a seat and facing you on the couch. Although he had sat at a slight distance from you, you had scoot over to him immediately, facing him as your knees graced against his own.

You smiled shyly at him, eyes not fully meeting his own as you seemingly tried to think of what to say.

"How- how should we start?", you finally asked.

Wonwoo took a breath, "What do you want me to show you today? Was last time helpful to you?"

"Yes!", you immediately responded, cringing at your own enthusiastic answer, "Sorry, I don't mean to sound like such a loser," you chuckled awkwardly, "But it did help me. I feel way less nervous about it all now."

"What's making you nervous?," he shuffled closer to you.

"Just ... You?", you started, "You're already so experienced and I don't want to embarrass myself in front of you or ... not make you feel good," you mumbled the last few words.

That took Wonwoo for a loop. 'Not make him feel good'? Had you seen yourself? Had you seen him just two days ago? He was a mess of himself at the mere feeling of some amateur dry humping. He was the one who should be nervous at the thought of your finally seeing your open legs in front of his face.

He chuckled sheepishly at you, "There's no way you could ever make me not feel good. I don't know if you want to hear this from me, but, you're so fucking gorgeous. Any guy, and I mean any, would kill if you gave them the time of day. You don't even need any of this 'training,'" he said with air-quotes, "There would probably be a line full of guys itching to get a chance to be with you; to take your virginity," he ranted, knowing he was doing himself a disservice in vying for other guys, but needing you to know how impossible it'd be for you to embarrass yourself when you were so you; so seductive and mind-boggling without even realizing it.

"Oh," you breathed out at his praise, clearing your throat right after to recover, "But I only trust you," you said, putting your hands on his, "I only care what you think and how you ... how you teach me," your eyes looked into his, wide and innocent.

"I'll teach you. I'll teach you anything you want," he swallowed a deep breath, breathing through his nose, "Do you ... Do you want to start with what I taught you the other day?", he decided to get the ball rolling.

You nodded silently, surprising him when you suddenly went to straddle on his lap, hands on his shoulders as you leaned down slowly, placing your lips on his.

The two of you hadn't discussed yet what exactly you'd be doing today, but getting your lips on his seemed like a necessity for Wonwoo at this moment in time. It was the most important thing to him with the current fogginess in his mind.

The kiss became heated quickly. It seemed like you had some trouble building up the tension and instead gave the kiss your all right away. Either that, or you simply felt equally as affected as Wonwoo and needed to portray that through your kiss as soon as possible. That might've been wishful thinking, but Wonwoo kept his hopes up.

His large hands wrapped around you, holding onto your ass and gasping when he felt you begin to move, digging his nails into your plush hips to guide you. It was all happening too fast, but he had no complaints. Not when you were somehow grinding so expertly against him all while breathing the cutest sighs into his mouth.

"Like this? Is it like this, Wonwoo?", you asked into his mouth, whining when he decided to lick at your tongue as you spoke.

"Yes ... Such a fast learner. So fucking good," he breathed, dragging your hips against his own.

Leaning back against the couch, he pulled you closer, planting his feet on the ground and matching your movements. Your leggings and his basketball shorts were thin enough for him to pretend they weren't there, feeling all the heat you were forming between your bodies and groaning at the friction.

Wonwoo suddenly gasped into your mouth when he felt an intrusion between you, only taking him a moment to realize that your hand had snuck down and began feeling him up to find his cock, slowly halting your movements. He let you fully slow down, groaning when your hand enveloped him through his shorts.

"Will you teach me how to make you feel good? Want you to make you cum with my hands, Nonu," you murmured between wet kisses.

He went to heaven and came right back at your words. Your voice was so shy yet so sensual, making his brain override with lust. He had to take a few moments to answer, or else he would've only been able to offer you a pathetic whimper as an response.

Despite having slept with many girls before, having almost each of them put their hands on his cock just as you were doing, none ever made him feel so desperate and depraved. Neither did they cause the warmth in his chest the same way you did.

"Anything you want," he mumbled, head completely empty, "Let me- let me take off my pants, okay, pretty?"

You moved to the side for a moment, allowing him to remove his pants and boxers as you watched with your bottom lipped trapped between your teeth. He could've sworn he heard you sigh when his cock was finally out in the open, but there was no way to confirm it.

"Shirt too?", you requested, staring at him with eyes he just couldn't deny.

Throwing it off, he immediately pulled you closer to him, kissing your lips again and again. You kept whining into his lips, hands coming to his chest to feel him up, crying out into his lips any time you'd make contact with hard muscle.

Wonwoo knew you liked his physique, – you'd told him so many times before – but having you be so affected by his body had him on a high. This would only feed into him and cause him to go even harder at it next time he hit the gym. Bulking up out of his own volition suddenly went down on his list of priorities, being dethroned by a need to have you needily feel him up just as you currently were.

Next thing he knew, your hand went from his chest, down to his abs, landing on his aching dick.

"It's so big ... Is it supposed to be this big?", you asked against his lips, a petulant tone in your voice.

There was no way you didn't know what you were doing. Was there? Were you really so fucking inexperienced and pliant for him? Or were you simply trying to put his restraint to the test?

One look into your eyes responded those questions for him. Your eyebrows were furrowed and there was a look of wonder in your face. You seemed worried about his size, but also ditzy with desire for him – just like he was for you.

"It's okay ... Just, just wrap your hands around it, yeah? I'll take you from there," he instructed, pecking your lips once for reassurance, "Y-yeah, just like t-that, fuck ..." he huffed, "Now ... just twist- yeah, fuck, that's it ..."

"Like this?", you asked, wide eyed and pouty, jerking him off almost perfectly. You were shy in your movements, but you were still causing Wonwoo to lose track of how to breathe properly.

"Yes, that's so good, shit. You're doing so good ..."

Suddenly, your other hand went down to his balls, toying at them shyly, gasping when you took notice of Wonwoo's chocked-out breath.

"Sorry! Was that-"

"Do it again ... Fuck, do that again," he grumbled, attempting to keep his voice low.

Silently, you followed his instruction, continuing to use both hands to jerk him off and play with his balls. You bit your lip, giving him Wonwoo a look of unadulterated lust he had never seen from you. His best option at that moment was to close his eyes and lean his head back against the back of the couch. If not, he'd be forced to watch you and further lose his mind.

Only a few moments later, Wonwoo felt a sudden wetness against his nipple, making him hiss. You had brought your head down to his chest, lips kitten-licking at his nipple, teeth occasionally scraping it when you took notice of his shuddered breaths at the action. You were making Wonwoo a complete mess of himself, and he had no ability to stop you – you were taking over all his senses.

"Baby ... You're gonna m-make me cum. Being so fucking good for me," he sighed, "Such a good fucking girl," the thought was rotting his mind. You were being so fucking good for him; making him feel good. No one had ever felt your touch in such a way, only him.

"Nonu, please cum ... I'm so fucking wet, I need you so bad," you whined into his chest, "Need you to show me how you'd make me feel good," you added as an afterthought. Wonwoo knew lust was taking over you, and it exhilarated him.

"Cumming, f-fuck," he had completely blanked on getting something to cover himself with when he finally came, which was why it came to his surprise when you brought down your lips to the head of his cock, wrapping them around it and softly sucking as he emptied himself out.

"Fuck, so good- so fucking good. Pretty girl so fucking obedient and, and good for me, f-fuck. Don't even have to tell you to- to lick me clean. Making me lose my mind ..." he rambled, eyes rolling back at both the feeling and sight of you sucking his dick throughout the entirety of his orgasm.

Having emptied himself out, you took him out of your mouth, using your fingers to wipe at any leftover cum on the side of your lips and licking them clean. Wonwoo could not stand that image for too long, dragging you in for a sad excuse of a kiss that mostly consisted of his tongue sucking at your own, attempting to steal his taste from your mouth. Sighing into his lips, you somehow ended up on his lap again, hips immediately grinding against his sensitive cock.

He couldn't bring himself to care about how sensitive he felt when you were so visibly desperate for that friction, dragging your hips into his slowly-hardening cock, positioning yourself so you'd rub right against your walls.

Sadly, the feeling soon became too much, leading to Wonwoo pulling away despite your whines in defiance, "Need you to lay back on the couch, okay, pretty? Gonna take care of you now," he whispered into your lips.

You stopped whining and nodded, sitting back against the couch as he got up, now being the one to straddle you, though not putting any of his weight on you.

His hands ran up and down your body, trying to assess where to start. There were so many fantasies running through his mind, and not enough self control to enact every single one.

"Can I undress you?"

Nodding, you began doing it yourself, only to be stopped by him.

"The guy should be the one undressing you, okay, baby? He should take care of you in every way," he added, "I should've made you cum first today, but you insisted I teach you how to get me off," he tsk'd lightheartedly at you, almost as if scolding you for having caught him off guard, "But I'll make it up to you."

You giggled, "Okay, Nonu. I'll let you take care of me first next time," you agreed.

Next time. God, did he have plans for next time.

His hands made their way to your shirt, lifting it up as you raised your arms to assist him. His original plan was to move onto your pants immediately, leaving you in just your underwear all at once, but the sight under your shirt distracted him too much to even remember his name.

Seeing each other today for this reason had been a last minute plan, so Wonwoo was entirely unprepared for what was sitting right in front of him. He attempted to speak a few times, but just ended up closing his mouth right after, eventually leading you into a shy giggle at how dumb he must've appeared.

"Do you like it?," you bit your lip shyly, "I told you I might've over-prepared ..."

Sitting in front of him, you were currently donning the prettiest little sheer bra, accompanied by embroidered flowers on the cups, but still allowing him prime view of your nipples through the fabric. The color of the sheer piece suited you perfectly, making your nipples peak through in a way that had his eyes glued to your chest.

You had picked out some pretty lingerie ... just for him. Now he not only had to deal with the sight, but also the thought of you dolling yourself up just for him.

After a few moments of his silence, you called him out, making him snap out of his thirst.

"Fuck, is it too much? I thought- I thought you'd appreciate if I wore something pretty for you," you mumbled, shifting awkwardly at his lack of reaction, wrongly assuming that he was put off.

Fuck, did he have to be such an idiot? Why was he acting like he'd never seen breasts or lingerie before? You made him feel like he was an inexperienced virgin who was looking up tits online for the first time.

"No! Fuck, no, that's not it at all," his hands went to your cheeks, making your eye line match his, "You just surprised me, that's all," he took a breath, "You look insanely gorgeous, I promise."

"Are you sure?"

He closed the gap between you temporarily, gifting you a few pecks as he responded, "Please tell me it's a matching set," he pleaded into your mouth.

Your demeanor changed, giggling at him and shrugging with a bite of your lip, "Why don't you check?"

Determined, he helped you lift your hips as he dragged your leggings off, being rewarded with the sight of equally sheer panties, the almost transparent fabric giving him optimal view of your cunt, which was already glistening with your wetness.

"Do you want-"

Wonwoo would never know what you were going to ask, as he suddenly trapped you in a kiss, groaning into your mouth as he pushed you to lean against the back of the couch. Sighing into his lips, you followed his rhythm, letting out tiny moans when his hands went down to toy with your tits, rubbing and pinching at your nipples through your bra.

Whining and crying into his lips, you took over every single one of his senses. You were too perfect for him, making feel genuine distress at how badly he wanted you.

His hand slowly headed south, finding its way to your cunt, fingers beginning to rub at you through the fabric. Your desperate hips matched his movements, grinding into his hand as he continued to kiss you, swallowing every plea of his name.

"Ever touched yourself before, pretty?", he whispered.

Shaking your head, your cheeks warmed up, "N-never knew how. Never felt good," you murmured almost too low for him to hear.

This almost halted his movements, but he didn't want to risk your embarrassment growing over it, so he simply let his fingers go past the barrier of your panties, now rubbing you directly, though not penetrating your walls just yet. He wanted to hear more from you.

"No?", he coo'd, keeping his cool, "Have you- have you ever orgasmed?"

You took a short pause, kissing at his cheek and making a trail down to his neck to distract him. This only worked for a few moments (He might've gotten too distracted by your cunt), but after a few seconds he put a stop to his movements, only keeping pressure on your cunt as he made it so you'd look into his eyes.

"Baby? You can tell me," he encouraged.

"No ... My first orgasm was the one you gave me a few days ago, when we ..."

Oh.

Had it been-

Had your first orgasm been when he dry humped you against the wall?

Fuck.

A mixture of pride and embarrassment invaded Wonwoo's mind. On one side, he was incredibly mortified that he had taken your first orgasm by humping into you like an animal in heat. On the other, he felt like he was on top of the world knowing that no one, not even yourself, had ever drawn an orgasm out of you until he came along.

His body decided to go with the latter, immediately feeling his loins fire up with an immense desire to give you another orgasm. And then another, and another – up until you were sobbing under him.

He kissed you again before you could express any form of embarrassment, shoving his tongue in your mouth and finally digging his fingers into your cunt. The moans you let out against his lips were muffled by his insistence on kissing you. Your hands didn't know where to land, going from his thighs to his waist and finally halting at his biceps, nails digging into them at the pleasure.

Slowly, he angled his fingers in your cunt, pumping them with increasing speed while his thumb toyed around for your clit, staying stationed on the swollen bud upon finding it.

"Never touched your pussy like this, baby? Hmm? Never filled yourself up?", he practically taunted, reeling on the fact that he was making you discover all this brand new pleasure.

"N-no, Nonu. Never ... Feels so good, s-so full. Please don't stop," you whimpered, gasping when he began pistoning into that spongy spot that made your eyes roll back.

"This is only the beginning, pretty. Gonna get you on my tongue next. Fuck, pussy's so warm and tight. Bet it tastes so good," he rambled, picturing his cock suffocating between your walls.

"Keep talking to me, Nonu. L-love when you talk to me."

— You liked his horny ramblings about your cunt? This was a match made in heaven.

"Want me to tell you what I'm going to do to you?"

You nodded with wide eyes.

"Gonna drive you to the edge of orgasm with my fingers," his fingers slowed down to emphasize his point, "and then I'm gonna rip it away from you," he chuckled when you let out a tiny whimper at the threat, "But don't worry, baby, then I'm going to lick you up, gonna tease you with my tongue til you're crying ... and then I'm gonna make you cum. Won't waste a single drop of your orgasm, pretty. Gonna lick it all up and make you suck it out of my tongue," he finished, out of breath whilst his fingers continued their torturously slow pace.

"Please ... Want- wanna cum. Just- you can make me cum twice ... Right? Just make me cum again, fuck, please?", you were a complete mess by the end of his ramblings, making his hardening cock become even more rigid.

He'd been dealing with his cock pressing up against your stomach this whole time, knowing that it was probably digging into you as it continued to harden at every whimper that left your mouth. After you'd sucked him off through his own orgasm, he knew he'd have to end up seeking another one after you left, except that task was becoming harder by the minute.

Despite his inner turmoil at his delayed pleasure, you were clearly still his main priority. Chuckling darkly at your desperation, he coo'd at you patronizingly, nosing at your cheek up until his lips found your ears, whispering filth into them.

"Wanna cum? Wanna be a greedy girl and cum on my fingers and then on my mouth?" he nibbled at your lobe, chuckling again at the desperate way in which you nodded. He pretended to mull over it for a few seconds, meanly speeding up his fingers so you'd grow closer to your orgasm, "Okay, pretty. You can cum for me. Been such a good girl for me ... Cum? Make a mess, hmm?," he encouraged.

With a mantra of 'thank you's' whispered into his ear, you tightened around him as your orgasm washed over you, forcing Wonwoo to develop an entirely new sense of self control to prevent himself from cumming along with you, intensely affected by the sight. His fingers played with you through your orgasm, up until you silently squirmed at him to remove them.

Satisfied, he pulled out your fingers and dragged them up to his lips, sucking them in a manner so depraved, he was embarrassed by the way you became bashful at the sight. He shrugged off the embarrassment, gathering more honey from between your legs and lifting his fingers up to your own lips, groaning deep in his chest at how obediently you sucked at them, making eyes at him while you gagged on his fingers.

With an impossibly hard cock, he struggled to get on his knees in front of the couch, but managed to just out of the sheer need to bury his head between your legs. His mind couldn't even allow him to give you time to recover before pulling at your legs, dragging you closer to him. You wanted to experience sexual acts in preparation for the next guy that caught your eye? Well, then Wonwoo would have to make sure to lift your expectations as high as possible, hopefully rendering you unable to find anyone who could ever bring you as much pleasure as he would. And he would start by suckling into your sensitive cunt until you cried.

"N-Nonu! Fuck, oh, God, just like that!" you cried in desperation.

He couldn't blame you. The way in which he had immediately latched onto your cunt and gone to town between your legs had been far too intense, not bothering to ease you into it nor wait for you to recover from your previous orgasm.

You sobbed and cried above him, fingers tangled in his hair as you pushed him further into your cunt, clearly too lustful to have any decorum. But did Wonwoo care for decorum? Not when he also didn't have any. Not when he endlessly groaned into your pussy, grumbling praise and pleas for you to use him to your heart's contentment. Any thought of this being a way to teach you what oral was like had been buried deep in the back of his mind. For now, you were his to invade with pleasure and nothing else mattered.

After digging deep within you with his tongue, he pulled away (despite your whines in complaint), pointing his tongue to flick at your puffy clit. You responded by grinding into him, mumbling pleas for more. At some point you had taken off your bra, Wonwoo realized as he took a peak above him, finding one of your hands toying at a nipple. The sight made him want to be buried alive. His cock was surely hard as a rock by now, and the need to grab you and fuck you into a mumbling mess kept growing by the minute.

The couch began squeaking when Wonwoo's intensity in eating you out increased, your grinding also becoming faster and more erratic. His hips joined in on the commotion, rocking against the foot of the couch in a pathetic attempt to find some friction. You took notice of this after a while, crying out his name.

"Nonu ... Fuck ... Is it like this? Is this- is this how it's supposed to feel?", you sobbed, "I can't- It's too much- too good, fuck, Wonwoo ... Please ... Wanna cum."

He wanted so badly to tell you this was not the norm. That no man would ever be as thirsty for you as he was. That no one could ever bring you this amount of pleasure nor worship you as much as him. But he opted to make you cry even more instead, rubbing his nose into your clit while he licked into you with an unquenchable thirst.

"It's that good, baby? Making you feel good?," he instigated you into more nonsensical babbles.

You nodded frantically, "Wanna- wanna try it on you ... Y-your cock. Wanna suck your dick, Nonu, fuck. Please don't cum ... I need to be the one to make you cum. Teach me? P-please?", you suddenly threw him a curveball with your pleas, causing his hips to still with a gruttal groan.

"Fuck, baby ... Want my cock? I'll give it to you. I'll give you anything you want, just cum for me, okay, gorgeous? Hmm? Gonna cum for me?", he mumbled into your cunt, groaning at your increasingly high-pitched moans.

You sounded so gone and desperate for him, it was making it hard for him to not continue seeking tension on his cock by humping the couch. But the mere thought of your lips wrapped around his cock while you asked him to teach you how to make him cum had his mind focused on a single mission.

"C-cumming, Nonu! I'm gonna- fuck, please, please, please," you whimpered in between gasps.

Intensely thirsty for you, Wonwoo sucked at your cunt through the entirety of your orgasm, licking at any cum that managed to escape his mouth up until you had to physically drag his face away from between your legs, earning a sheepish chuckle out of him at his pussydrunkness.

He climbed the couch back up, kissing you once again, pushing in any leftover cum in his mouth for you to taste. Harshly, you pulled at his hair as you licked into his mouth. It was amusing to Wonwoo how easily you'd gotten used to kissing him just in the way he'd taught you. It sent shivers down his spine thinking of how perfect you were for him.

"Want your-"

"I know, baby. Want my cock, huh? I'll give it to you, just ... Let me kiss you," he mumbled against your lips while his hand went up to play with your tits, thumbs swiping at your nipples.

Kissing him back with just as much need, the two of you remained like this for a few minutes, breathing moans into the other's mouth until losing your breaths. Wonwoo took this as an opportunity to kiss his way down to your chest, sucking at your tits with greedy moans.

It was borderline pathetic how much he wanted you. He had already cum once, yet his cock was leaking precum once again, swollen and aching for your lips around it again. He had only felt you wrapped around his tip, suctioning enough to swallow his cum, but he was yet to show you how to truly take him.

Wonwoo's sexual frustration got to him faster than he expected, leading him to yet another trail to your lips before whispering into them, "Are you ready, baby?"

Nodding, you swallowed in anticipation. He proceeded to sit next to you on the couch, far enough that you'd be able to reach his cock if you knelt on top of the couch and leaned down to his side. Repositioning you, he shuddered when you finally began to lean down, lips quickly approaching his cock. But you stopped before you could make contact, staring up at him nervously.

"How ... I'm not sure how to do it ..." you murmured.

He coo'd at you, placing a hand on your cheek, "It's okay, pretty. You can change your mind, you don't have to-"

"I want to," you interrupted, "Just ... Guide me?"

You began leaning down again, keeping your eyes on Wonwoo (something he knew would come to break him), silently asking for instructions.

"Just lick it first, okay? Then- fuck ... Pretty, shit, slow down ... God, fuck, just like that ... Shit, are you sure you need me to teach you? So fucking good already ..." he groaned when you began taking him in your mouth, eyebrows furrowed in concentration and head bobbing up and down.

Your hands wrapped around what couldn't make it into your mouth while you pushed him in as far in as possible. Occasionally, you'd choke, pulling back enough to breathe properly through your nose, but you continued to suck him off to the best of your inexperienced ability. It was messy and filthy for you both, but Wonwoo enjoyed it all the more at seeing just how desperate you were to get him off.

"My pretty girl," he grunted, hands digging into your hair as he helped you bob up and down, aiding your rhythm, "My beautiful girl loves my cock, huh? So- so fucking thirsty for it. Making me lose my mind," he continued to ramble, too addicted to the moans you'd let out at his every word, vibrating around his dick.

He was far too pent up and sensitive to survive your mouth for too long. Having watched your orgasm twice whilst humping the couch had drawn him too far to his end before you'd even wrapped your lips around him.

"I'm gonna- gonna cum, okay, pretty? Need- need you to keep your mouth on me. Swallow it all for me? Hmm? Y-yes, shit, keep doing that," he encouraged, head dizzy at your moan of confirmation.

Sooner than anticipated, his high robbed him of any ability to think or breathe, too absorbed by the immense pleasure you were bringing him. His hips canted slowly into your mouth as he rode the wave of his orgasm, eyes rolling back at how willing you were to let him use his mouth for his undivided pleasure. Once more, you swallowed every drop, drawing embarrassingly loud groans from his lips as he threw his head back.

With a heavy breath, you took him out of your mouth, wiping your cum-stained lips with the back of your hand before being suddenly pulled into Wonwoo's lap with a yelp.

"Such a good girl," he groaned into your lips, trapping you in the nth kiss of the night. He licked at every inch of your mouth, seeking out his own cum from your tongue.

He still felt incredibly needy, but knew that another orgasm would render him useless for the rest of the day. You, however, were clearly too affected for him to stop. Deciding to provide you with another new form of pleasure, he positioned you so you'd straddle his lap, guiding your hips to grind on the length of it with your bare cunt, still soaked and begging for attention.

"N-nonu," you stammered with a breathy sigh, "Fuck, feels good ..."

"Yeah, pretty? Feels so good, huh? Keep grinding on it, okay, baby? Make yourself cum on my thigh," he murmured into your ear, nibbling at the lobe before kissing down your neck.

He silently enjoyed the feeling of your skin against him, while also eating up every single noise of unadulterated pleasure coming from your lips. Falling for you more by the second, he lost himself in the moment, entirely investing himself in your person.

"You're so fucking beautiful. Do you have any idea? Any guy would kill to be yours, fuck," he started, laying kisses from your neck to your ear, "Can't believe I'm the only guy to ever get you like this," he marbled.

"Nonu," you sighed at his soft touches, leaning into his kissed and moaning softly every so often.

"God, love this body so much ... Prettiest thing I've ever had," his hands explored your body, dragging your hips so they'd grind into his thigh with even more fervor, "Need you to cum again, pretty. Yeah? Gonna be a good girl for me and cum?"

"Y-yes. Nonu, please ..."

"Only for me, right, baby? Only I get to have you like this ..." he practically whined when you nodded, rewarding you with his lips finding your nipples, nibbling at the hard buds and humming any time your moans would vibrate against him.

"Tell me you're mine," he instigated. He knew your mind was half gone in the pleasure of the approach of your third orgasm, but he needed to hear you say it at least once. He needed the fantasy to continue.

"Yours, Nonu. A-always yours ... Make me feel so good, fuck," you gasped, desperately humping into his thigh. He buried his face in your chest with a groan, far too affected by your reciprocation.

Did you mean it? Were you his? He knew it was all done and said in the heat of the passion being shared between you, but he couldn't help but take those words to heart. To save them and treasure them as if they'd been heartfelt.

Fingers tightening into the plush of your hips, he dragged you back and forth on his thigh, reeling at every gasp you let out at the feeling. He continued to wax poetic at you, letting out his most intimate of feelings for you under the vice of the pleasure getting to him.

You dumbly nodded along to every word, reciprocating every so often with a look like Wonwoo hoped was genuine. Falling against his chest, you found your third high of the night, mumbling 'thankyou's' as you kissed at his chest tenderly.

The rest of the night was spent in each other's arms, somehow managing to fall into slumber on Wonwoo's couch, you lying above him while he held you in his arms.

Wonwoo woke up the next day to your absence and a lone sticky note on the coffee table in front of him, clearly a message from you before your departure.

thank u for last night <3 i'll see u on wednesday?

He chuckled at the message, unable to help the butterflies in his stomach at the memory of the night prior and the thought of what was to come. He knew that things would likely stop after Wednesday, – the day in which he'd finally take your virginity – but he decided he'd enjoy you as long as he had you all to himself. Even if there was an expiration date on it.

Surprisingly to Wonwoo, you never showed up on Wednesday, neither did you respond to his messages all through the day. It was common for the two of you to go one or two days without responding to the other, but usually not when you already had plans to meet.

Considering the nature of the plans you had that day, the situation had Wonwoo tremendously worried. It was even worse when he'd consulted other friends and found out you'd been in contact with them, only icing him out.

It was on Thursday that he grew frustrated. With his entire day being taken up by classes, he was unable to even go looking for you. His mind had been on you all day, rendering him unable to pay attention to any of his lectures or even touch any overdue homework that he had. Your silence had only lasted a few days so far, but he was already growing insane because of it.

It wasn't until the following week that he decided to go to you, with no prior warning informing you of his presence at your front door.

As he stood in front of your closed door, hand lifted and ready to knock, he felt absolutely terrified. Last time he had seen you, too many things had happened between you. From the handjob to the eating out to the oral, Wonwoo's mind wad fried with all the intimacy that taken place that day. Had he done too much? Or maybe he had been too obvious about how he felt about you. Regardless of the reason for your sudden silence, he knew it must've been bad.

"Wonwoo?"

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a voice coming from his left – your voice. You were arriving from some sort of errand it seemed, seeing as you were carrying a large tote bag on each hand as you walked towards your own door.

"Y/N," he somehow managed to stammer your name, gulping at your presence.

You walked past him, opening your door and standing to the side, silently welcoming him in. Apprehensively, he stepped in, hands awkwardly in his pockets and his eyes stagnant on the floor.

Your figure disappeared into the kitchen for a few moments after you'd stepped in, coming back out bagless and standing in front of him in the living room. Wonwoo hadn't bothered to take a seat on your couch, too distracted by the endless thoughts of what was about to come.

"I ... I don't think I want you to take my virginity anymore," you suddenly spoke up, apprehensive in your tone and unable to meet Wonwoo's eyes.

His heart dropped at your words. He felt embarrassed by the tinge of disappointment arising within him, but also scared of what this truly meant for your friendship.

He scrunched up his eyes painfully before responding, finally looking up to look at you, "W-what? Did something happen? Did I do something wrong?"

Wonwoo couldn't help but take it personally, heart breaking at just a single sentence.

"It's not that, just ... Fuck, we took this too far, Wonwoo. I thought about everything that happened last time and ... it's too much," you said with regret in your eyes, "I shouldn't have ever asked you for this. I just- I felt like such a loser graduating college and still being a virgin, but I never should've made you do this-"

"You didn't make me do anything," he stepped towards you, wincing when you stepped back, "I ... We don't have to keep going, just ... What changed? Why- why have you been avoiding me?" He needed to know.

You hesitated, looking away and biting your lip with a pained look in your eyes. For a few moments you remained quiet, sniffling occasionally, letting Wonwoo know that you were likely on the verge of crying.

"I can't tell you," you practically whispered.

He had to force himself not to react to your words. The frustration within him was fighting to be let out into the surface. He couldn't deny that his feelings were hurt and that his ego was bruised at how lightly you were taking this. How could he have been the only one to make the mistake of putting his heart in it?

"Do you- do you think it's okay to just-," he tried, swallowing the vile forming in his throat, "How can you ask me to sleep with you and then just ... just ghost me? If you didn't want to keep going, I would've understood, but ... a week? I don't hear from you for a week after- after everything we did?," he mumbled the last part, embarrassed by how quickly he'd gotten emotional.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this. You were going to teach me, and that was it," you started, a pained look in your eyes as they gradually became glassy, "But then, that second time, when we- when-" you cut yourself off, seemingly unable to continue. You looked to the side, avoiding his eyes, "It's better if we just stop here. I don't think we should talk about this," you sniffled.

"Why?", he pushed, "What does this mean for our friendship, then? Am I worth so little to you that you'd want me for sex and then just throw me away when you change your mind?", he took off his glasses momentarily to angrily wipe at the tears forming on his eyes. His anger and sadness were mixing together, creating a combination of emotions that resulted in the mess he felt himself to be.

"Wonwoo, you know it's not like that-"

"Do I? Do I know? Because what it seems to me is like you insisted I take your virginity, changed your mind – which is totally fine, but fuck – and then ghosted me. I thought we were friends- no, best friends. Was it that horrible that you had to ice me out? Are you just going to find some guy on tinder now? Was it- was it the things I said last time?", his tone shifted, unveiling his sadness, "Did I scare you away with everything I said? I- I was just caught in the moment, it didn't," he gulped, vile forming in his throat knowing he was about to deliver a painful lie, "it didn't mean anything."

You swallowed, looking down again and sniffling, "Yeah, I know," you whimpered. Your arms wrapped around yourself, making yourself as small as possible as you stood in front of Wonwoo. It then became evident to Wonwoo that you were attempting to self-soothe. Your eyes were now covered by a layer of tears, making them glassy, much like Wonwoo's.

"Y/N?", he asked.

You looked up, sniffing before connecting your eyes to Wonwoo's.

"Talk to me. Please," he pleaded with saddened eyes.

You mumbled something unintelligible to Wonwoo, making him take a few steps forward to encourage you into speaking.

Placing his hands on your cheeks, he made you look up to look at him, finding tear-stained cheeks and a defeated look on your face.

"I can't understand you, just- just please talk to me," he pleaded once more.

Your eyes continued to not meet his despite your current standing. Taking a deep breath, your hands went up to cup his own, which were still tenderly cupping at your cheeks.

"I like you ..." you started, quietly as you finally made eye contact with him, eyebrows furrowed and pained at your own words, "I like you and I couldn't keep going when- when it meant nothing to you. And- and you kept being so nice to me and kissing me and touching me in ways I know meant nothing to you. But I couldn't stop thinking about you and how much what we did has messed with me," you rambled, your voice getting more frantic by the second, "I couldn't even look at you by the end of it all because I was terrified I'd end up telling you how much I-," you swallowed, "how in love with you I am," you admitted, "I never wanted it to get in the way of our friendship, but it all-"

Wonwoo couldn't listen to any more of your rambles before losing his mind at both the pain and irony of your words. His lips invaded your own mid-speech as he swallowed any other words making their way out of your mouth. His hands tightened around your cheeks, only making their way down to your waist when he felt you begin to return his kiss. Moaning in relief into your mouth, he sighed when he felt your tongue use this opportunity to seek his own. Emotions took over him, causing him to lose himself in the kiss, molding himself into you and swallowing every single sigh you let out against his lips.

Feeling the dampness of your tears grace his cheeks made him pull away, remembering the mess of emotions you had been just before he kissed you. The way your lips attempted to follow his own broke his heart, forcing himself to hold back from kissing you until you both lost your breaths. He needed to empty his heart out to you first.

"I love you. I adore you. I'm so fucking obsessed with you, it's been eating me alive," he rasped, lips making their way down your neck, "Felt like shit kissing you and- and touching you when I knew you'd just move on to some dumbass who could never deserve you," he grunted, frustrated at the memory, "How could you ever think I wouldn't love you back when you're so ... so fucking perfect? So made for me," he trailed off. Your sighs were just too distracting for him to deliver the heartfelt speech that had been itching to leave his lips since the day you first kissed.

He pulled away, now staring down into your eyes, hoping his words made it through to you.

"But ... You said you didn't mean it. That it didn't mean anything?", you murmured as he shook his head adamantly in denial.

"I lied," he rasped, "I didn't want you to feel trapped," hands reaching down to your own, he placed them on his chest, "Of course it meant something. Everything I said, I meant. Everything I'm saying right now is true. I love you," he emphasized, "You have to know that I love you," your hand was brought up to his lips, receiving a kiss.

Your eyes somehow watered even more, hiccuping out a gasp before pulling him into you, lips meeting passionately in between. Without any hesitance, he kissed you back, expressing every unsaid word through your meeting of lips. What had started as an exchange of innocent passion soon became a desperate demonstration of love, evolving into moans and sighs swallowed by one another.

Wonwoo felt ashamed by how easy it was for him to fall for his lust for you, but his body craved your own in ways he didn't think possible. Luckily for him, it seemed like you had the same issue, or at least that's the impression he got from how pliant you became in his touch, moans of his name instigating him into kissing and touching more intimately. His lips explored your bare neck, sucking love bites every so often and humming at every sigh leaving your lips.

His purposeful touches became more obvious, reaching down to your ass and up to your mounds to his liking. Your hands ran through his hair, pulling at it any time his touches made you particularly lightheaded. Shockingly to him, you mirrored him, exploring his body with your hands and making your way under his shirt, gracing at his torso.

You had been the first to take things further, grabbing at the end of his shirt and pulling it up. Following your silent request, he threw it off before helping you out of your own. Realizing you had been fully nude under your shirt, he let out a shuddered groan. His lips immediately trailed down to your breasts, practically slobbering all over the sensitive skin while feeding off your cries of his name. Reaching down to the back of your thighs, his hands lifted you up, aided by a small jump from you as you wrapped your legs around him.

Next thing Wonwoo knew, he found himself in your room, laying you on your bed before climbing on top of you and getting back to kissing you.

It was merely impossible to disconnect his lips from you, as your kisses kept drawing him in. He knew you'd been kissed before, but he liked to think that he'd been the first man to ever kiss you in such a way; a way that had you as addicted to him as he was to you.

"Nonu ...," you breathed out in between kisses, "I want you, fuck, please ..."

Wonwoo felt like the world was crashing in on him (in a good way). The groan he roared against your lips couldn't be helped as your words had an instant effect on him.

"A-are you sure?", his frantic eyes searched yours, hands caressing any bit of skin in his reach.

Nodding numbly, you repeated yourself, "Please, Nonu. I want you to be my first. I didn't mean it, I- I want you. I need you, Nonu. Please," you rambled, eyes filled with unrecognizable lust.

He hushed you softly, "Shh, baby. It's okay. I know you didn't mean it," he pecked your lips, "I love you. I'll give it to you, yeah? Gonna fuck you ... Love you so much," he trailed off, attacking your neck with kisses before momentarily getting up to remove his shoes and pants, leaving himself fully nude before you.

You stared back at him, shyly looking him up and down and biting your lip. The look you were giving Wonwoo tested all his self control. He wondered how much longer he could resist you without losing his sanity. But he persisted, having an intimate desire to give you the softest and most mind-blowing first time he possibly could. As much as he wanted to fuck you, his desire to make love to you overrode that need.

Nimble fingers traced down from your breasts to your shorts, dragging them off with the help of a lift of your hips. Along with your shorts went your panties, leaving a slight trail of slick he managed to get sight of before closing any distance between you once more.

Slowly, his fingers made their way to your cunt, rubbing at it softly and drawing a few hiccuped gasps from your lips. Your eyes remained connected, wordless as you communicated your lust to one another. He nuzzled his nose along your cheek, enjoying the intimacy of it all as you breathed into his skin.

"Nonu, fuck me," you whined a few moments later, hands pulling at him to somehow get him closer.

"Baby, I need to get you ready," he coo'd at your desperation.

You shook your head adamantly, "No, just- please. I've wanted you since that first day ... Wanted to break off our deal and have you fuck me since you kissed me," you revealed, wrapping your legs around his waist and attempting to push his hips down to your own.

"Baby ..."

"Please," you pleaded again, "I know you want me too. Fuck me," you murmured into his lips, aware you were breaking his resolve.

And his resolve was completely gone. Unable to hold back further, he kissed you again, readjusting his hips so he could grind against you, wanting to at least get you used to the weight and size of his bare cock before pushing it in.

After kissing you for a minute or so, he pulled back, "Condoms?", he asked in between wet kisses.

You shook your head, insisting he keep kissing you, "I'm on birth control. Just- just fuck me," you insisted again.

Leaning back, Wonwoo grabbed onto the base of his cock, running the tip up and down your swollen cunt, swallowing every gasp you let out at the barely-there stimulation. This only lasted a few moments before beginning to push it in, immediately burying his head in the crook of your neck at the immense pleasure taking over him.

He knew you'd be tight and warm and just fucking perfect for him, but nothing could've predicted how tightly your cunt would engulf him and rob him of his sanity. Every night spent thinking of you and punishing himself for wanting you as badly as he did was finally worth the endless wait to have you. Never did he once imagine that he would actually get to feel you, to have you become his and love him as much as he did you. Yet here he was, cock suffocating between your puffy walls while you gasped out his name.

"Feel so fucking good, angel," he managed to let out, "My beautiful girl ... Cunt's so fucking perfect for me ... Can't even move, baby, it's so tight," he rambled, high off his mind in pleasure.

You fared no better, gasping out nonsensical babbles of his name and digging your nails on his back, dragging them down as you left your mark on him. Your lips attempted to match the movement of his own, giving up when he defeated you in his incessant need to fuck into you.

"Tell me it feels good, baby," he breathed, "T-tell me you love me."

"L-love you so much ... Feel so good, Nonu. Can't- can't think. It's so good," you cried, head thrown back in pleasure.

He grew even more lustful at the mere sound of your broken voice. The knowledge that he was making you feel good beyond comprehension took him to cloud-9, speeding up his hips once you seemed used to the penetration of his cock.

Lifting up your hips, he angled himself perfectly to cant into you, managing to hit that spongy spot inside you that had you shamelessly wailing his name. Your tits bounced with every slap of his hips against your ass, making Wonwoo's eyes roll back at the sight.

But your wails weren't enough for him, he needed you to lose yourself completely, to forget anything that wasn't a mantra of Wonwoo Wonwoo Wonwoo. His hand snuck down to your cunt, toying around until he made contact with your swollen clit, rubbing at it with no mercy. Your gasps and screams of his name were his immediate reward whilst Wonwoo drank in the sight of your eyes rolling back.

"N-Nonu ... F-fuck! Need to cum, Nonu, please. I need to cum. Make me cum, Nonu. Please? Need you to cum with me, fuck," you rambled, unaware that he was at the very edge of his orgasm.

Your horny ramblings were enough for him to head face first into his orgasm, pulling you right down with him as his hips lost complete control.

"Cum with me, pretty. Let me fill you up while you cum with me, okay? Let me feel that cunt squeeze me dry ..." he breathed out, eyebrows furrowed as he willed himself to not bust.

That's when your orgasm found you, stealing his sanity as his own followed yours. He let go of your legs and held onto your back, continuing to grind into you as he released inside you. With his face buried in your neck, he murmured love confessions against your skin, mind dizzy with love and lust.

By the end of it, your lips were meeting again, soft and languid kisses shared between you while words of affection were exchanged. After a few moments of this soft exchange, Wonwoo finally disconnected his lips from you, choosing to slip out and lay beside you as he nuzzled against you.

"Was that what you expected?", he asked with a bite of his lip.

"Maybe ..." you were shy in your response, "Might need to try again."

"Oh?," he giggled.

Giggled? Fuck, he was down horribly for you.

"C'mere, let me teach you some more."

to read short 2.3k word continuation (+ all other previously written bonus content) you can go join my svt monthly tier on kofi or patreon!

content: smut, afab reader, foreplay, mentions of handjob, face riding, oral (f receiving), mentions of 69'ing, etc.

wc: 727 (teaser); 2317 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Exactly how experienced are you?", you had asked out of the blue during one of your 'dates.'

Having been best friends prior to the whole friends with benefits — but not really — situation led to a very natural transition between friends to lovers. Your current dynamic with one another was exactly the same as before, except now you each shared the privilege of calling the other theirs — and all the extra perks that came with having a significant other.

Currently, you found yourselves in a situation you'd grown entirely too familiar with throughout the years of being best friends — in your apartment as you cuddled up with a movie playing in the background. The grand difference at the moment had been your sudden question, making Wonwoo's heart rate increase drastically at the recollection of all his sexual escapades prior to confessing to you.

It's not like Wonwoo knew you to be a jealous person, but the mere thought of any woman who wasn't you just felt wrong to him after finally making you his. Even as he went through every relationship and fling he ever had, he had never felt a connection with anyone as he did you. Sure, he had had some great sex back in his day, but having been in love with you throughout it all, he knew it would've been impossible for sex to ever be as good with anyone else as it had been with you — the contrast in emotional connection was just too different when it came to you.

And so now he found himself unsure as to how to respond. Would you get jealous? Annoyed? He knew damn well that he'd wanna beat down any loser you'd slept with, but he felt lucky he didn't have to deal with that, having been your one and only thus far — though he still felt an irrational hate towards whichever fucker had taken your first kiss from you. These thoughts were far too irrational, Wonwoo was aware. He knew he was a hypocrite to feel such a way when he was the one who had a past of being a bit liberal when it came to his sex life, which was why he would've preferred to avoid the subject of his past sexual partners in general. It's not like he had a new person warming up his bed on a daily basis, but he had his fair share of girlfriends and occasional one night stand throughout his college days. This was something he'd hate to hear about coming from you, and he wanted to offer the same courtesy to you.

However, looking to you as you uttered the problematic question, he found no trace of negative emotions in your eyes. The question appeared to be born out of mere curiosity, not fabricated to create a rift or any sort of argument.

"I, uh, are you sure you want me to answer that?", was all he could come up with, shuffling on the couch to turn to look at you.

You nodded with a look of wonder in your eyes, "Yeah. I'm just curious."

"Uh," he continued to stammer, "I'm just not sure how to answer the question."

"Well, how many sexual partners have you had? Or, like, is there anything you haven't tried yet?", you mirrored him in his position, still sitting on the couch but now facing him.

The follow up questions were worse than the original one. Wonwoo had no idea of the answer to neither, which appalled him in retrospect. It's not like he kept a tally of every girl he slept with, nor did he have much recollection of every sex position he'd tried in the past — was there anything he had not done at some point?

You must've caught onto the wheels turning in his head, laughing at his expression before elaborating with your questions.

"Okay, shit. Is it upwards of ten?"

"Y-yeah, maybe," — it was probably over twenty, but you didn't need to know that.

"How about my other question? Anything you haven't tried yet?", you showed no reaction to his answer, so he allowed himself to ponder on a response to your second question.

Was there anything he hadn't done? Maybe something he'd fantasized about doing with you? Something he might've saved for the day he finally got the balls to- oh. That's when it hit him.

...

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[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

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PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips. 

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head. 

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed. 

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you. 

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party. 

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered, 

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you. 

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

[chris-prank]

Villain sidekick yandere x GN hero reader

A good influence? Part 1

Warning: Manipulation, kidnapping, obsessive and creepy behavior

(This is a work of fiction for entertainment purposes only, I do not support yandere behaviors in real life)

🧪 You were a well known hero, going around saving the city from dangerous threats.

🧪 One of your enemies was a supervillain known as “Fatalité” who worked with the scientist “Dr. Seraph”. 

🧪 Even if you got to put a stop to their evil plans time and time again, they always seemed to get back on their feet and challenge you once more. 

🧪 Between the two, Dr. Seraph did seem a bit less evil. Once he even got slapped by Fatalité, because he hesitated to attack you while you were saving a child. So you always had a bit more of empathy for him, not hesitating to be less harsh during fights. 

🧪 He was not a good person by any means, but you always find it a bit ironic how he was pushed around by his boss or the other henchmans. He would get so easily startled and lose his composure.  

🧪 One day, you accidently fell into one of his traps, while on a mission with your teammates. 

🧪 You woke up in his lab, tied up to a metal board. Before he had noticed you were awake, the scientist was working on a giant computer, while excitedly muttering to himself.

🧪 You looked to your side to see a little table covered with torture devices. That’s when the short man noticed your conscious state. 

🧪 “Fatalié will be so proud of me! You’re done, hero.” He tried to give a confident smile, but you could still feel his nervousness seeping through it. 

🧪 Despite the deadly situation you were in, you couldn’t help but make joke to turn this situation into ridicule.

🧪 “Really ? Does that mean I won’t get to see your cute face anymore?” You made a fake pout. 

🧪 Wait…Was it just you or did he blushed? His sudden stuttering and his eyes darting away from yours, was a clear indicator that your comment had affected him. Just not in the way you had expected.

🧪 You needed to take advantage of this, since there was no way you could escape alone in this room filled with deadly weapons. You had to buy enough time for your colleague to come and find you. 

🧪 You decided to continue with the praise. Saying how smart he was and that his boss couldn’t do his evil deed without him. 

🧪 “R-Really? No one ever recognizes my genius and dedication!” 

🧪 This guy was the definition of being starved for attention, since he totally didn’t catch on that you were manipulating him. His face was getting more and more flustered as he forgot what his initials intentions were. You had to admit, it was kinda cute. 

🧪 “You’re actually… quite likable compared to the nuisances you call teammates. At least now I know that one hero appreciate the complexity of my inventions.”

🧪 Seeing that your tactic was working wonders, you added how unfair it was for him to be treated like trash by Fatalité. The scientist stopped at your words, which made you dread that you had gone too far. 

🧪 He was about to respond when an explosion shook the room. You smile to yourself, knowing who was responsible for that detonation. Dr. Seraph tried frantically to find your friends on the surveillance camera. He called for reinforcements in a panic, before taking a weapon and leaving the room.

🧪 You just had to wait 5 minutes for one of your friends to find you and get the restraint off. You decided to leave a message on a notepad saying “Been fun, see you next time Doc.” with a little winky face. 

🧪 If only you knew the effect that it had on him when he found it later, tired and bruised up. 

🧪 That night, Dr. Seraph, or should I say Vincent, found himself thinking of you while he was laying on his bed. He couldn’t stop his mind spiraling as he held the little note close to his lips. It’s like the interaction you had today had completely changed his opinions of you. 

🧪 This scientist had been without attention for so long, that the tiniest bit of compliments and “special treatment” from you was enough to make his heart skip a beat.  

🧪 It went all downhill from there. It’s like he was finally noticing little things about you that he never did before.

🧪 How he loves it when you defend him from the wrath of his boss and try to convince him to go to the good side. You’re so considerate! 

🧪 Please treat him like he did nothing wrong and he is just being forced by Fatalité (which he isn’t totally). He just wants to hear your gentle words of praise again. 

🧪 He may be more remorseful of his criminal activities then others villains, but he is totally not above manipulation.

🧪 He tries to appear more injured at times so you would take him in your arms, like you do with civilians, to take him away from collapsing infrastructure. 

🧪 “P-please help me…Fatalité will punish me when he sees that I failed him again…” He gives you the biggest puppy eyes, hoping it would be enough to spark your heroic instincts. 

🧪 All to say that he is not really subtle with his new found love for you. The goons easily noticed his change of behavior around you. 

🧪 So they start teasing him about it, making him stutter, trying to deny it. They don’t truly believe he does like you, they just like messing with him. 

🧪 He tries to convince his boss to attack parts of the city where you do your patrol more often, in the hope of seeing you intervene. 

🧪 To say that he is disappointed every time another superhero tries to stop him instead of you would be an understatement. Like why are they ruining his little date ?! Don’t they have cats to save from trees or something?

🧪 He doesn't think of himself as a masochist, but he doesn’t totally dislike when you give him a few slaps or punches.

🧪 He especially likes it when you apologize when you feel like you didn’t hold back enough of your super strength. 

🧪 Can’t you just take him in your arms and kiss it better already?

🧪 Soon he starts thinking of you outside of your hero persona. Meeting you for fights is not enough for him anymore. 

🧪 What are you like when you take off your suit? What do you do when you have free time? 

🧪 He wanted more. He needed more of you.

After months of rewriting and perfecting this story in my draft I’m finally posting it. Anxiety be damned! (I am totally not stressing right now about it) But in all seriousness this is the first real post I make on this account, I hope you guys will like it!

Here is a little doodle of my boy Vincent (it’s a little bit old since I wrote this story in like December)

[merakiui]

angel/angler.

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, nsfw, stalking, non-con, non-consensual photography, chikan/groping (train molestation), obsession, kidnapping/captivity, drugging, violence, blood, death (or is it??), azul's insecurities and low self-esteem, azul’s not-so-subtle breeding kink, implied disordered eating, reader's height isn't described, but it's written that azul is taller note - to obsess is to hunger like an angler from the deep sea. living his entire life in pitch-black solitude, entranced by an angel's halo; his only purpose is to find the body that will become his lifeline and, one day, his cemetery.

entry 1: 18 April, 20XX.

For anonymity’s sake, I’ve chosen to write using a vague pronoun. Additionally, this diary will be a record of my thoughts so that I can keep my mind and senses intact. In my youth, I was prone to terrible fits of self-destructive rage, and as a result they suggested I write my feelings down to prevent any outbursts. I’m not very physical towards others. Rather, it was the harm I posed to myself that fostered concern.

But this space isn’t for my own views on myself. It’s about someone else. 

I have a confession: I’ve fallen in love with you from the train, and I’ve been in love with you for the four months I’ve come to know you.

You wear perfectly pressed suits, heels of a modest height, tights, and pencil skirts that cut just at your knees. I want to touch you, but if I do you might stop wearing skirts altogether and then I’ll never see your legs again. I suppose trousers aren’t so unattractive. They’re appealing in their own right. Everything looks good on you, though. (Nothing would look even better.)

You work in an office building. I’m not sure which floor, but I’ll know soon enough. I wanted to follow you inside, but there’s a security guard in the lobby. He always greets you, and you always smile and chat with him. You’re a kind person, so I let this pass without incident. But I can’t lie to these pages and say it’s not troublesome when I watch his gaze linger longer than it needs to. 

I’d kill him, but then they’d employ a new guard and you’d make friends with him because you’re so kind. I don’t admire kind people. Rather, I find kindness to be a double-edged blade (Is that the correct phrasing? It’s different in my hometown. We say kindness is like pufferfish—harmless until it’s provoked and then it becomes poisonous). It’s not that I look down on kind people. I just think you shouldn’t be so quick to befriend the world in its entirety.

After plenty of observation, I’ve learned that you often leave your building to get lunch by yourself. This is what you’ve eaten in the week:

Monday - A salad at a popular café. Iced tea because it was a sunny day. A tiny cheesecake for dessert. It was blueberry.

Tuesday - A wrap of some kind. Chicken? Or was it vegetarian? Sweet potato fries. Water.

Wednesday - You didn’t leave your building. Were you at work today? 

Thursday - Another salad. Water. Same café. No tiny cheesecake.

Friday - You went to lunch with that guard. I only remember my irritation and so I’m afraid I can’t make note of your meal for today. He looks at you like an obsessed puppy waiting for its owner to give it attention. I want to pluck his eyes from his sockets so he’ll never look at you in that way again.

You lead a healthy lifestyle, but I can’t help wondering if you’re eating well. Did someone say something about your figure? I’ll eviscerate them for you and then they can see how much it hurts when unnecessary scrutiny is thrown around.

It’s quite late. I want to sleep, but thinking about you has my body wide-awake. I wonder if your mouth tastes like the moonlight shining in through my window. I wonder if your body is soft like mine… Of course it is. A silly, irrational thought. You’re much warmer than me. This is just a theory. I’ve yet to feel and confirm for myself. I will in the foreseeable future.

Before we part ways, I want you to know that I’m not very good at cooking. I’ve picked up a few books and hope to learn. I’m going to practice so that I can feed you better meals one day. Salads are the worst. Fried chicken is the true meal of heaven. I’m certain you would share this sentiment.

If I were to be condemned to a last meal like those serial killers on death row, I’d ask for fried chicken. Knowing you, you’re too good to kill anyone. In this hypothetical, supposing you’re a heinous criminal, your last meal would be something healthy. Do you even like those salads, or are you forcing yourself because you must? I understand calorie-counting well enough, but if there’s one thing to enjoy in life it should be food.

I suppose that makes me a hypocrite. I ought to take my own advice.

Oh. I’m starting to grip my pen with more force and the lines have become shaky. I usually break my writing utensils if my focus strays. I’ll stop here for today. Ink is a pain to clean.

AA.

The morning rush is your greatest enemy.

Jack Howl, the lobby’s security, has suggested giving you a ride on numerous occasions. “It’s part of the reason I got my license,” he explained once, “so that I can protect those who work in this building from the rush. Not like you have to accept my offer. It’s just…convenient for both of us. Again, I don’t care what you do.”

(He does. You see through his gruff surface.)

According to him, the morning and night rushes bring out the worst kinds of characters.

But isn’t that everywhere? you think as you peer out the window, watching the city come into clarity.

Like every morning, the train car is more crowded than a sardine tin. You’re used to being pressed up against other commuters, pinned to the window or between people. You’re flattered to know someone’s concerned, but nothing has happened yet. And why would it? It’s bright outside. No one would dare do something during the day. At least, not in a crowded area where anyone could see and hear.

I wonder what I should have for dinner. I still need to go shopping. My fridge is way too empty, you think, sighing. And I need to follow up with that one author. They’ve yet to get back to me about my edits. Perhaps we should meet in the office instead of through video call… And I also need to finalize that other style sheet after the last round of editing. And then another conference… There was something else. Was I scheduled to have lunch with an author? Or was that next week? I should check before—

The train shudders as it slides into the station. Someone brushes against you from behind. Their hand is pressed against the window just near your head. They steady themselves, their body so close to yours you can hear their staggered breathing.

“Ah. S-Sorry…”

It’s next week, right? I really should check once I get to my stop. This is going to eat me alive all day.

“Mhm,” you hum, waving dismissively.

The stranger standing behind you peels his hand away from the window. A sweaty palm print is left in its wake.

“We will be approaching the next stop shortly.”

Just one more and you’ll be getting off.

A pair of bright eyes blinks back at you in the reflection, watching the city just as you are.

entry 5: 22 April, 20XX.

I’m not a social person by any means. If I can avoid crowds, I usually do. An introvert’s paradise is best spent in the comfort of their own room, after all. But if you prefer outdoor dates I can become extroverted for your sake. There are lots of things I’m willing to do for your sake.

Which is why I’ve forced myself to tolerate the train. I loathe it. It’s cramped and uncomfortable. Most days I’m not even near you, and so all I can do is stare longingly from afar. I content myself with imaginary scenarios like in the books you edit. I’ve mentioned it sparsely in this diary, but you’re a brilliant editor. Most of the novels you work on aren’t exactly my taste, but there’s something to appreciate about them. Reading through them knowing your very eyes pored over these pages dozens of times before publication… I admire your work. Immense time and effort goes into all professions, especially ones that involve meticulous touches. 

With this discussion of careers, you might wonder what I do for a living. I manage my own restaurant chain off-site. It must be shocking news for you to realize: your secret admirer is actually quite successful.

If I’m not able to provide an adequate life—no, more than that. If I cannot drown you in all of life’s luxuries, I should sooner throw myself on the beach and let this soft, wriggling body of mine dry out than settle for the barest of minimums. You deserve only the finest.

In fact, I have a room in my home dedicated to you. A private office in which you can write and edit in peace. It’s furnished with everything you’d ever need. I hope to gift it to you one day.

Remote work is very relaxing. (You’ll know this once you try it here.) When you’re boss, you work your own schedule. That’s why I’m able to fit our secret meetings into my weekly itinerary.

Today’s meeting was quite fortuitous. I felt like I’d won the lottery. Mostly because I was finally given the opportunity to be close to you. So close, in fact, that you didn’t even notice when I slid my phone under your skirt to take a few photos. Your undergarments are unexpectedly plain. Truthfully, I’m somewhat disappointed. I was hoping to learn your lingerie preferences. At the very least, I know your tights are sheer enough to show me the color of your panties.

I consider myself a connoisseur of many things, and I’ve done enough interior decorating in my time to become well-accustomed to color palettes. A fool would say your panties are red, but they’re actually maroon.

That same fool wouldn’t take another breath after glimpsing such a private side of you.

If you must know, my dear, I am excessively avaricious when it comes to the things I like. I have always been this way. I am a collector. A hoarder of secrets. I refuse to let others touch or take the things that belong to me, especially when they are wholly undeserving…

I’ve broken another pen. Thankfully, the mess wasn’t so extreme. Not-so-thankfully, I’ve lost my train of thought.

Ah. Right. Trains.

Today I rode the train, and I was standing right behind you. You were looking out the window, lost in your thoughts, and so you didn’t notice me. You must have seen my reflection, but I wear a mask and a hooded sweatshirt when I go outside. Perhaps it’s a touch embarrassing to admit, but I am very self-conscious of the way I look. Firstly, my eyes are too tired. I’ve read that many people are not fond of eyes with dark circles under them. Secondly, my face is average—unworthy of your love by my lofty standards. My hair never cooperates. My smiles never fit properly. My skin is too pale. My eyes are too blue and my pupils are abnormal. My weight is just a few kilograms above the average. I will work hard to bring it back down for your sake and for my own so that it won’t show. I prefer a slim waist, so I must stomach all manner of healthy foods for the weekend. What a pity… Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you could eat whatever you wanted without having to worry about caloric intake and numbers on a scale?

That aside, there are times in which my glasses sit crooked on my face and it’s a horrifying thought to imagine I walk around looking like that! As if I’ve rolled right out of bed with no regard for my appearance whatsoever!

Perhaps the both of us share one similarity. We are vain creatures who care too much about how we present ourselves to others.

Thus, I conceal myself so that you won’t judge me harshly should you look upon me. Not like you’d do that. You were so immersed in your head that you hardly paid any attention to your surroundings. You should be more careful. What if something were to happen and I wasn’t there to protect you?

The train stuttered to a halt at the first stop, and some fool bumped into me. I should thank them because I got to brush against you. You gasped softly. I watched your breath fog the window. I placed my hand just above your head and apologized softly, and you weren’t bothered in the slightest. Oh, how I envy your carefree nature.

As a result of that stranger’s mishap, I’ve learned something new. You wear perfume. Even with my mask, I could smell it. Strong and flowery, overwhelmingly sweet. Maybe you prefer these scents? I’m more partial to mature scents, but I admit there’s a certain charm to the scents you wear. I wish I knew the exact brand. There are dozens of perfumes with the same notes as the ones I picked up, but none can compare to the one you use. I want to be able to hold the bottle knowing it’s your favorite.

I’ve prattled enough. With the length of my entries, you’d assume I was this chatty beyond the page. I’m not. I only say as much as I think is necessary.

Once again, I’m having trouble falling asleep. I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m looking through the photos I snapped and the outline of your lips against your panties is lovely. I’m sure you’re just as soft and sweet inside as you are on the outside. If only I could experience it right now. My hand can’t replicate the softness or the wetness or the way you’ll probably clamp down when we finally make love.

I can only fantasize for now. What a pain. 

AA.

“It’s going to rain today,” Jack tells you the minute you step through the lift doors into the lobby. He stands straight like a soldier, his shoulders squared and features set into something serious.

“Looks like it, huh?” You glance at the darkening sky outside, slinging your bag over your shoulder. “Hopefully it rains after I get home. I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“I’ll drive you.” He falls into step beside you. “It’s dark out and the station is—”

“It’s only five minutes away. I’ll be fine. I take this way all the time.”

Jack’s lip twitches into a grim frown. The beginnings of a sharp, pearly-white canine flashes at you as his mouth curls. “Fine,” he concedes with a huff. Awkwardly, he scratches the back of his neck and looks elsewhere. “Do what you want. I’m not forcing you or anything.”

You smile at him. “You’re very considerate, Jack. I appreciate the concern.”

He’s like a puppy. It’s really sweet.

“W-Wha—who said anything about concern?” His face is growing warmer by the second, thawing his external ice.

“I’ll be okay. It’s not even that dark out either.”

“Still…” He sighs and cards his hand through his hair. “You haven’t noticed anything weird lately, have you?”

“Anything weird?” You furrow your brows, suddenly confused.

“On your way home. Nothing out of the ordinary? It’s the same every day?”

“Mostly, yeah. Why? Did something happen?”

“No. Just wondering…” Jack looks past you then, searching for something you can’t seem to see. “You sure you don’t want a ride? I can walk you to the station. Protect you if anything or anyone—”

You force yourself to laugh. “Come on. You’re trying to scare me on purpose. This is because I told you I’m editing a horror novel, isn’t it?”

Jack doesn’t share in your humor. Instead, his frown tightens on his face.

“While I’m grateful you want to help, I really don’t want to put that on you. It’s not your job to chauffeur me around. I’d feel bad if I made you do that. So thank you, but I’ll have to decline.”

You turn swiftly on your heel before he can protest, striding out the door into the gloomy night.

When is it going to be summer? It’s way too chilly.

You burrow into your jacket as you beeline for the station. A brisk breeze blows through busy city streets. Even though there are still people out and about, it feels strangely desolate.

Jack’s heart was in the right place, but did he really have to phrase it like that? 

You wrap your arms around yourself and hurry along. Your steps are in time with your pounding heart. A cold sweat beads along your forehead. 

Relax. It’s nothing to get worked up over. I’m fine.

Crunch.

You whirl around, clutching your bag between your arms. There’s no one in sight. The city seems eerily quiet tonight.

Stop scaring yourself. Nothing’s there.

No, it’s not something that could make that sound—a noise akin to a footstep. That belongs to someone.

Is someone following you?

You aren’t going to wait around and find out. Now you’re jogging the rest of the way, your heels clicking against the pavement. Your breath comes in shaky heaves, and by the time you finally step into the station’s blinding fluorescents, adrenaline still vibrating through your veins, you notice the time.

My train—it’s already here! Thank you. Oh, thank you so much!

You rush through the station in a flurry, and the relief is tangible once you’re safe and sound inside the train car. You squirm through the throng of late-night commuters towards the window.

“Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me,” you murmur as you navigate the crowded space.

You make it to the window just as the doors slide shut. Moments later, the train squeaks into motion.

I worked up such a sweat. I can’t believe I got so frazzled over something as small as a snapped twig…or whatever that was. It wasn’t a footstep. And if it was, it was probably my own.

You shake your head at your reflection.

Look at me, losing my mind all because I let someone’s words get to my head. 

The stranger standing behind you sighs alongside you. You’re about to turn around, but it’s their hands on your waist that stop you. Your blood freezes. Your spine goes rigid.

“Excuse me? Um… C-Can I help you?”

You gasp, horrified, as the hands creep higher until they’re wrapped around your chest. The stranger squeezes almost curiously. Their breath catches on an eager hitch. You peer helplessly at the window. Two blue eyes blink back.

“Wait… Hold on—”

“It’s okay.” A man’s voice. Sweet and silky-smooth. A reassuring whisper. Only you can hear it with this invasively close proximity. It might as well be a drop in the ocean that is the rickety din of the train on the rails. You reach to grab his arms, hoping to pry him off. “I’m not going to hurt you. As long as you’re quiet…”

“No, you can’t. Please, sir. S-Stop… Don’t touch there.” Your fingers curl around his wrists. You squirm against him, your brain blanking.

This can’t be happening… There’s just no way…

Something stiff prods at your ass from behind. You yelp softly when he rubs himself against you. You try to catch sight of his features when you crane your neck, but all you get is a faceful of a dark hoodie. He’s tall enough to block you from the other passengers, his body caging yours against the window. One hand slides away from your chest to slip under your skirt. He gropes at your inner thigh; his fingers draw dangerously close to private territory.

“Sir—”

He inhales a dreamy breath. “Perfect,” he babbles, his words muffled by his mask. “So perfect. Warm… And soft. Just as I thought.”

There’s nowhere for you to run. Nowhere to hide. You’re trapped here with this fiend until you get off at your stop.

“We will be approaching the stop shortly,” the woman on the intercom says, but it doesn’t give you the relief you’re after.

Three more stops and then you’ll be at yours. Three more. Three. Your stop might as well be years away.

Two fingers trace the outline of your pussy through your panties. You’re grateful you’re wearing tights.

His breathing is heavy. He’s mumbling filth in your ear. You hardly register it over the static in your brain.

Gross. So gross. Stop it. Please stop. I don’t want this.

A whine bubbles low in your throat when he presses down against your clit. He caresses you through the fabric of your panties. You slump against the window with your palms on the glass. Your heart is in your throat. You feel sick and dizzy. It’s too hot in here. Everything is spinning. Your heart is picking up its pace. Your hands are starting to shake. 

And there’s nowhere to go. No amount of begging will stop him. He’s all over you, pressed impossibly close—so close you think he’s trying to fuse his body to yours, becoming one mutual unit.

You want to scream, but you can’t find your voice. You can’t do anything. You can’t even think.

“Don’t be scared,” he murmurs, twining his fingers around your trembling ones. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Mmh, no… No—stop. P-Please, sir, please stop.” You shudder against him, and a choked, broken sob rattles through your ribs. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand. His other circles your tender, sensitive clit, and the contact elicits a whimper from you. “Even though you’re making the cutest sounds? Aah, I wanna be inside you so badly… I’m sure it’s even softer there.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard that your teeth pierce the skin. A thin ribbon of blood dribbles down your chin. You refuse to give him that satisfaction. Even though your attempt to snuff your voice is successful, your body doesn’t seem to agree. It shakes in fear and arousal. When he presses against your panties next, he feels the growing damp spot. 

That’s just a natural reaction, right? I’m not actually aroused by this. There’s no way!

Just when you think he might pursue further, he pulls back. His hips are still flush to your ass. You can feel his cock straining against the fabric. It’s gross and demoralizing. You’re nothing but a doll for him to get off to. Less than a person.

The train glides to a halt and the doors open. People exit and enter in a busy fashion. You stare out the window at your blurred surroundings.

When the train eases back into motion, you realize tears are welling in your eyes. They don’t fall. Not yet.

It isn’t until you get off at your stop, sprint the rest of the way home, hurry up into your apartment, and lock the door that the horror of it all finally catches up to you. You collapse to your knees and wail like you’ve just lost something precious—something you’ll never be able to get back.

You’ve never felt more dirty before.

entry 36: 4 May, 20XX.

I did it. I finally did it.

My hand is shaking; I’m so happy. No, I’m more than happy. I’m absolutely overjoyed!

You don’t know this about me yet, but I’m terribly envious. I suppose that’s why I could muster the confidence to touch you and hold you… Your body is so soft against mine. Every inch of you is beautiful. I wish I could have felt beneath your shirt, lifted your bra to see your bare breasts in the window’s reflection. This is quite the shameless admission. Even I, despite admiring you for so long, am loath to admit it.

You mesmerize me. I’m already flustered just thinking about the way your hand fit in mine when I held it… And you were aroused! I was so close to such a precious area, and you were wet for me and only me. I feel so overwhelmed. It’s a dream come true. You’re such an angel. My angel.

My dear, darling angel, I’m sorry for startling you. That was the only way, you see, and certain circumstances led me to that point. You must understand.

To be unfiltered about it, it was annoying seeing that security guard pester you. I had the strongest urge to kill him, but that’s not something you can do on a whim. Murder is like running a business, in a way. One misstep, a bad investment or a sliver of evidence left behind, and it might spell the end.

That’s besides the point. It’s hardly worth the time. 

Regrettably, while on the train into the city, I noticed you were wearing trousers today. I was right. Last night was a once-in-a-lifetime event. A pity. Your legs in those sheer tights is a vision to behold. Luckily, I have enough pictures to satisfy the craving to see you in them. When you live with me, I’ll buy plenty of tights for you to wear around the house. That way you won’t have to worry if I rip them.

That aside, you’ve started looking over your shoulder more. You talked to that security guard longer than you normally do. It’s irritating. Quite frankly, it pisses me off.

I don’t want to be childish. I understand you’re stressed and nervous. Anyone would be. That’s normal. But I’m not going to hurt you. I even told you those exact words! I’m certain you would have calmed down if you could see my face. Unfortunately, I’m not very blessed in that department. I assure you my personality is far prettier…despite the ugly truths I’ve penned here.

But then those don’t matter when it comes to love. Even in love, couples are supposed to recognize and accept each other’s flaws. So it’s fine if I’m an ugly person. It’s fine if I’m a devil or something grotesque from the deepest trench in the sea. At least, in spite of such darkness, your halo will continue to light the way and I will always be lured in by your luminosity.

I can’t do much of anything right now and that has led me to feel increasingly itchy. I want to feel you again. Smell you. Touch you. I’d like to taste you next time. Part your legs or tear your skirt off and indulge in the space you keep hidden from me. I want to sink into your depths and know the shape of you just as you twist yourself to take the shape of me. 

It’s just not enough. I desire more of you. 

AA.

entry 40: 8 May, 20XX.

It’s been a few days. You haven’t taken the train since. Now you’re driven to and from work by that pest. I was overcome with such frustration yesterday that I slammed my hands down upon my desk and fractured my wrist. For the time being, until my wrist heals, I must wear this unsightly stabilizer-brace-thing and write carefully with my non-dominant hand. I like to consider myself ambidextrous, if only because it’s a talent I’m sure will impress you, as you seem to surround yourself with successful, talented people, but I must admit my lettering is rather…subpar.

It’s not as neat as I hoped it would be. Something to practice while my wrist heals, I suppose.

There’s only so much strain I can take, my angel. Are you really so afraid of me that you’ve chosen to rely on someone else to protect you? If it was funny, I’d laugh. But it’s not. It’s annoying. Must I chain you up by the throat so that you won’t run away? Must I cuff our wrists together so that neither of us can part ways? What must I do to ensure you’ll never leave me?

Every day I spend in solitude, you grow closer to everyone but me. It’s infuriating.

However, there are always silvers of hope to be found and exploited in misfortune. As a businessman, I know this well enough.

I can plan around this. I’ve taken a few photos of your house at every angle. It’s important to think ahead when making a calculated risk.

When you go to kidnap the love of your life, you must dress appropriately, no? Now should I wear a formal suit or something casual?

I have some time and plenty to look forward to.

AA.

Like always, early as usual, Jack is waiting for you below your apartment. You see his car from the window and light up at once.

It’s been two months since the incident on the train. Jack insisted you go to the police when you confided in him a week after the fact. But what could they do? A story isn’t evidence. Evidence is evidence. So to combat that, you’ve avoided public transport altogether. Jack drives you to and from work and anywhere else you need to go. You never knew him very well before this mess, and you regret not starting a friendship sooner. He’s everything you need right now: a friend, a listener, and someone you can trust and rely on.

Like always, he unlocks the door so you can put your things in the back. “It’s my turn to treat for lunch today, so let’s go somewhere you like.”

You shut the door and open the passenger side, sliding in seamlessly.

“There’s no need for that.”

Your heart skips. Your breath stumbles in your lungs. Your body tenses.

You finally look at the driver.

He’s wearing what appears to be an expensive collared shirt with a tie, but the top half is covered by the soft hoodie he’s thrown on over it. He has a mask like before, but there’s no denying his eyes. Bright and blue, deep and deceptive like the ocean, they blink back at you.

The door locks with a click.

You throw yourself at it in a useless effort to escape. The masked stranger seizes your wrist. You scream.

“There’s no need to be afraid. I-It’s only me! I won’t hurt you.” He tugs his mask down to his chin so that you can see the wobbly smile on his face. “Please don’t be scared…”

“Let go of me, you pervert!” You rip your arm free and reach for the door once more. “What the hell are you doing here?! W-Where’s Jack? Why are you—”

You choke around the rest of your words when he wraps his arms around you and yanks you over the seat towards him. You kick out like a deranged animal, breathing heavy and frantic, your eyes darting to and fro. The stranger manages to manhandle you into a chokehold despite the struggle. With his arm wrapped around your neck, he grabs a plastic water bottle with his free hand. Clumsily, he unscrews the cap and presses the lip of the bottle to your mouth.

“I’m sorry for being so rough, but I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me? Drink all of it.” As he says this, he tips the bottle and the strange liquid fills your mouth. You fight against his hold, doing everything you can to resist. He tightens his grip on you, dragging your body closer to his. “Swallow it, or I’ll slit your throat.”

Against your will, very shakily, you gulp down the solution. It tastes bitter and vile like medicine. A little salty.

“I didn’t want to frighten you, my angel, but this is the only way you’ll listen.” He swipes the tear threatening to spill from your eye. “You don’t have to cry. I’ll take you home and keep you safe. Just drink the rest of this and take a nap until we get there. That’s it. You’re almost done. I know it’s disgusting, but you have to drink it all, my love.”

“Why…” you sputter, coughing. “Why are you doing this?”

“Why?” He blinks at you as if the answer is obvious. “Because I love you.”

You can’t understand the logic there. You don’t want to.

Slumping against the seat, boneless and disturbed, you tremble when he leans over to buckle you in. And you continue to do so until you’re pulled into sleep. 

Two blue eyes follow you in your dreams, sticking to your body like old gum under a school desk. In sleep, you feel his hands on you—clinging and cloying like tentacles and the stench of brine, all-enveloping.

entry 179: 24 September, 20XX.

Summer is winding to a close. The last few vestiges of warmth are slipping away. Today’s weather was crisp. Autumn is approaching. 

It’s been a difficult few months. I’ve catalogued my process in the time you’ve spent with me, locked away in our bedroom. I must keep you chained to the bed for the time being. It’s long enough to lead into the bathroom. Until I can trust you, this is the arrangement at present.

They’re still searching for you, albeit not as frantically and frequently. I hope they assume you’ve met some grisly end so that I can finally shelve that anxiety and move on with my life. While I’m relieved it wasn’t as messy as I thought it’d be, I’m just a touch disheartened. I would have loved to watch the light fade from that guard’s eyes.

But that just wasn’t feasible or smart. Besides, what else am I to use my current fortune for, if not the props needed for that day? You call it kidnapping, and while that term is technically true I prefer something sweeter. A reunion of sorts. 

There’s nothing of note to discuss. You haven’t accepted your new home or me yet, so I will continue to wait. I can be patient. I must be if this relationship is going to work (and it will). 

I don’t particularly believe in soulmates. Rather, I find the concept to be foolish. Fate does not dictate an entire life. It is the decisions you make along the way that shape your paths. Just like in my favorite board game. I’d like to play it with you. Although I must admit I already know how our life goes. I have a few routes in mind.

You look at me with such scalding contempt when I imply we ought to start a family, and even though I’ve been victim to that look so many times it doesn’t burn any less. You just can’t see how good this is for you yet.

What else are we to do with our time if not use it to fill quiet halls with the pitter-patter of tiny feet? I have a few names in mind, but for now we’ll take it one day at a time. I’m a patient man despite my temper.

AA.

entry 257: 11 December, 20XX.

Exciting news! Though it may seem small, we’ve reached an understanding. Or so I suspect. You’re not so averse to me anymore. In fact, we take baths together, eat meals together, watch TV together, play board games together… There are so many things we do together as a couple and so, despite the encroaching winter frost, my days have become warmer! Just last night you allowed me to sleep beside you on our bed, and I held you close and you kissed me and I felt like the luckiest man alive.

Finally! Genuine progress!

I won’t delude myself and say that you may finally love me in the way I love you, but a start is a start. I admit I couldn’t help myself. I returned your kiss tenfold, all over your face, down the column of your throat to your collarbone. I was gentle and careful. I didn’t rush.

I like to play experienced in all fields, but even I can’t act perfectly. How should I describe our first time without all of the shameless vulgarity? Perhaps it doesn’t matter. Sex is sex no matter how you try to embellish it. Filthy and imperfect, sweaty and sticky, more effort and exercise than I realized.

You pulled me in close, pursued my mouth with the same want in mine, and it was more cathartic than anything I’ve ever known. Oh, to be kissed by the love of your life! I wasn’t aware such joy existed.

You palmed me through my pajamas and told me you wanted a family—that the idea of raising a little one was perfectly charming. I admit it’s an alluring thought I’ve had long before you lived with me. I’ve always thought you would look very enchanting while pregnant. I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands to myself. Even though it isn’t official yet, it doesn’t hurt to call myself your husband. In my mind and heart, we’re married. It may not seem so to you yet, but it will be.

Back to the matter at hand. Hearing that you wanted a child with me made me happy. I can’t remember if I cried. I must have because you pulled me in close and you, lying beneath me, wiped at my face and told me you wanted me to give you a child. And who am I if not the most doting, most benevolent husband? I’d do anything for you.

This must be what a predator feels when they tear into prey: a rapture so absolute and all-consuming that it covers their brain like a cotton shroud and renders every other action a hazy instinct.

It was a blur even though I was sure I moved slowly. Clothes weren’t exactly shucked. They were in the way and we had a singular goal, far too focused to remove them completely. Thus, they were pulled up, down, to the side, in whichever way provided easiest access. I closed my hands around your breasts and they feel so much softer without the obstruction of clothes.

Perhaps, rather than humans, we’re just anglerfish. Hungry for each other, using the other, a voracious relationship full of mutual benefits. If I could, I’d love to live inside you. I want nothing more than to press myself close enough to feel your heart beat alongside mine. To feel rushing blood. To turn myself inside-out just to satisfy you. Give you every little thing I can offer—brain and body—and we’d cleave through sunless waters as one, together forever.

The word ‘love’ is not large enough to truly encapsulate all that I feel for you.

My forehead pressed to yours. You kissed me once. I felt sloppy. I was sloppy. Inexperienced. We both are. Your hand wrapped around me. I told you it was okay, to do it at your own pace, to tell me if it hurts. But you kissed my every anxiety away, and in just a few strokes we were connected. Perhaps I died then and I’m still dead now.

Maybe I’m writing this from the moon or the deep, dark sea. Maybe all of this is just a long dream and I’m not even human. Maybe I’m the anglerfish stuck to your side, latched on with my sharp teeth, our lives forever intertwined. You taste of fruit and blood and every beautifully painful thing in this world.

For the first time in the many months we’ve lived together, you called me by my name. You gasped it as you curled your legs around my waist and clung to my chest, your arms draped over my neck, nails in my back. You chanted it like a song. I must have done the same with yours.

However, no amount of carnal euphoria can change the fact that I still have my reservations about unchaining you.

A deliberation for another day. It’s time to cook dinner. I’ve improved lots in the time we’ve known each other. You help around the kitchen as well. Harmless things like stirring batter or mixing a salad. I can’t trust you with actual food prep for reasons I’m sure are obvious and understandable. I try to create balanced meal plans. Now that I’m no longer eating alone and surviving off of misery, I want to show you that I’m both a great chef and a conscientious eater.

AA.

You watch the seasons shift outside the bedroom window and there’s nothing you can do.

You live life chained like a prisoner and there’s nothing you can do.

You eat off paper plates with the same utensils made for toddlers and there’s nothing you can do.

You let the same man whose touch was once so covetous pet you all over with his hands and mouth and there’s nothing you can do.

You’re stuck here forever and there’s nothing you can do.

There are highs higher than the clouds and then there are lows lower than the sea. You oscillate between these temperaments, a body thrown around on rocky waves. How you’ve yet to sink and drown for good, you’re not sure.

Today’s low has brought Azul to his knees. You stand over him, gripping the knife in a shaky hold. Chopped vegetables scatter in a rainbow on the floor. He had been chopping them so methodically, so wrapped up in pleasant conversation with you, that he hadn’t been expecting the retaliation. The blade is freshly sharpened. The perfect weapon. The perfect opportunity. Freedom just after this final hurdle.

Freedom that comes with its burdens—with a child and the law and the media and… And then what? A life of loneliness. A life spent working through mountains of trauma. A life in which you can never look at the train again.

Two blue eyes blink up at you. For the first time, Azul looks scared and weak—a small, pitiful thing. For the first time, you have him trapped beneath your thumb.

You want to bring the knife down and put an end to these cyclical days. You want to crush his spirits in the same way he crushed yours. You want him to know pain so brutal it rots him from the inside.

But you can’t. You want to and in an ideal scenario devoid of fear you would. But you can’t.

You dig your heel palms into your eyes and sob. “I can’t! I’m sorry. I… I can’t do it!”

Azul deflates with a deep sigh. “Oh… Oh, my angel, it’s all right. I forgive you. You’re just a little confused. A little emotional—I get it. We all have emotional moments. I’m not upset.”

“But I—I almost… I was going to—”

“You didn’t. You didn’t, my love, and that’s what matters.” 

He beckons you to his height; you lower to your knees. The knife is still clutched in your hands. He looks between it and you, as if weighing which is more dangerous. Volatile emotions or a blade. Maybe both.

Azul wraps his arms around you and rubs your back consolingly. “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

You sniffle, but the tears won’t stop flowing. “Still… I almost did such a horrible thing to you. I could’ve hurt you—k-killed you!”

“My dear, it’s okay.” He kisses the top of your head, tucking you beneath his chin. “I forgive you.”

Your fingers tighten around the handle. “You do?”

“I do. I always will.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“Angel—”

You turn the sharpened point inwards and slam it into his side, just below his rib. It pierces through soft flesh. You pull away just in time to see hurt and betrayal flash across his face, hot like the tears you’re now drying.

Shakily, his movements unsteady, he reaches for the handle. His fingers dance across it, assessing the reality of the situation. You stabbed him. You did it.

He hisses through his teeth when he tears it out. Blood spatters the kitchen floor in a brilliant, vermillion arc. Azul, knife in hand, staggers to his feet and lunges.

You stumble away in a blind panic. 

“How dare you…” He clutches his side with one hand while the other slashes through the air. You narrowly dodge before the knife can slice your arm. Blood seeps through Azul’s shirt, staining his palm red. His expression is twisted in a dark concoction of agony and anger. “I’ve shown you nothing but love and care… I’ve been nothing but patient. I’ve done everything! You were beginning to warm up to me—to this life—our life! I was wrong to trust you. Get back here—”

“You’re crazy! You assaulted me, kidnapped me, threatened me! Do you really think I’d love you after all of that?!” You yelp when his slick, blood-stained fingers wrap around your wrist to drag you down. “Stop! Let go of me!”

You elbow him in the ribs, which causes a shockwave of pain to travel through him, and it gives you enough time to wriggle free. Ripping your arm from his hold, you try to get away when he, aiming to subdue you, grabs hold of your ankle next. You feel the blade sink into your calf before you see it. A terrible cry frays your throat, torn from the depths of your chest like a flower pried from the soil.

“If I’m going to die…” He flops to his knees, wheezing. “If I’m going to die, you’ll die with me.”

“Like hell I will!” you hiss through your teeth, thrashing wildly.

Stupidly, you pull the knife from where it’s wedged in. Blood spurts from the wound, trickling down your leg in a thick, steady stream. You wince and limp towards the door. Closer… You’re almost there.

Azul reaches out with a bloodied hand, his expression utterly shattered. “Wait… Don’t go any further. Please… I need you. We need each other. My angel, my love, please don’t go!”

You tear your eyes away. He’s a monster. You’ll never sympathize with him.

Just before you can get to the front door, Azul picks himself up and wraps his arms around your waist. He pulls you down and your head hits the floor with a harsh smack. You see stars. The ceiling spins above you. You try to get up, crawl away, escape—whatever it takes to lose him—but he clings to your side, holding tight. His blood is warm and wet against your shirt. The pain in your calf is sparking up your leg, joining the ache at the back of your head in duet.

Pressed so closely, the flow of blood slows. Your shirt soaks up what the rest of his already drenched shirt can’t hold.

You watch the ceiling. The light looks like a halo; it shines brightly. Azul blinks up at you, hopelessly, sickly enthralled. The tip of the knife prods at your stomach. If it pierces, you don’t feel it. You’re sore all over. Bruises are already beginning to bloom.

At the bottom of the sea, clothed in frigid darkness, there is no sense of direction.

That’s the sweetest relief while you wade into unconsciousness with a parasitic angler.

[nicromancytarot]

LOSING YOUR VIRGINITY, HOW WILL IT BE? 18+

This is a general reading based on a collective of people. Take what resonates and leave what doesn’t. If you don’t feel the pile resonates with you, don’t be scared to try another, if it still doesn’t feel right, that’s ok! Maybe our energies aren’t as connected and my readings are not for you.

I do these strictly for fun and educational purposes. I do not charge for these readings, and I do not fake readings. I would tell you the cards I get for the readings, but I pull like 20-30 cards each reading and that is just slightly a strenuous task to write them all down lmao.

PICK A CARD READING

I asked my spirit guides what your first time ever having sex is going to be like, pick a picture and find out what they have to say!

PILE 1

THE SEX

You may find that your first time having sex with your person will be performed as you giving rather than them for the start, as like foreplay, you might begin with giving your person some light touches or possibly some head. The person that you sleep with for your first time is going to really enjoy your butt, they may like how it looks from behind, or they just enjoy being able to touch it. The sex itself will be steady and will take its time, you’ll be spending at least a few hours on this session, You may play the more masculine and responsible role for this time. You may feel as though you need a minute either between sessions or after you’re done entirely, you could want to spend some time alone to recalculate and think about the sex, or you could just be really tired afterwards.

If you’re with someone who has a penis, then I do feel like handy’s will be a common thing happening during your first time, that could be how you start the session, or even how you end it, they also might need a little more time to get it up, or perhaps you need some time to get aroused. You may find that this person is a tad selfish when it comes to sex, possibly not entertaining all of your needs, it is important that you tell them if you are not happy or ok with something.

You could be friends with the person that you are sleeping with, this situation could appear as a friendly hookup for the sake of losing it in time for college for example, or just getting with a crush, I don’t see much romantic commitment for this group.

You may feel as though this situation posed itself as random or spontaneous, it doesn’t seem that you at all planned for this to happen, and due to this you are feeling indecisive on how far you wish for the situation to go, however it does seem like it goes pretty far lol. A hookup doesn’t seem like something you’d have wanted, or intended to happen, but I think you’ll surprise yourself.

AFTERWARDS

You’ll feel very powerful in the fact that you took charge during this situation, maybe even free and reborn as it wasn’t a planned thing. You may feel as though you love your body more, and appreciate your physical abilities more than you did before having sex. Some of you could find yourself wanting to deepen the connection between you and this person, friend to crush, or crush to relationship. You could become more in tune with yourself sexually, and possibly even more willing to try different things, this random situation popping up and you going along with it will feel very freeing and comfortable, like you are discovering more about your wants and needs when it comes to sex and intimacy. This could also get rid of any commitment issues you had prior to this day/night.

PILE 2

THE SEX

The person that you have sex with may have been eyeing you up for a while, it could be someone that has had a crush on you, or possibly even someone that you have a crush on, either way there is an amount of pining, mutual or not. The sex itself could be very unexpected and maybe even a tad indecisive or rebellious, this could be with someone you shouldn’t have sex with. You may both know what you want sexually immediately after it begins, they could even possibly tell you, or you tell them exactly what you intend on happening during this session. If they have a penis, you may have to hold it with two hands rather than one, it could be quite large or even thick, honestly could hurt a fair amount when you guys sleep together.

There is a lack of stability in this connection during this time with each other, you may feel as though it’s random, quick, unexpected or even stupid, like it’s a bad idea but you just can’t help yourself. They could buy you something, like a necklace or some other jewellery to try and sweet talk you, this could be a connection that goes on before the sex rather than a meaningless hookup. The person that you sleep with thinks that you are very beautiful, specifically your chest area, they may like to see your breasts or touch them often, they could even put you into positions that will ensure your chest is exposed to them, like missionary for example.

You may know what you want before you sleep with this person, some of you could be hypersexual and know exactly what you desire when it comes to sex. They may offer you a relationship after the sex, or possibly even ask if you want to go on a date with them another time, I’m not too sure if you’ll feel much else for them besides sexual attraction. You could try out lots of things, whether that’s positions or even actions.

AFTERWARDS

Possible disappointment when it comes to afterwards, you may have not finished and they could’ve, which makes you feel as though your time was wasted. This time could make you feel less attraction towards this person once you’re done having sex with them. This person could even be an ex or someone you had prior feelings for but now you feel nothing, as if the sex was a tad too disappointing to entertain them for anymore after the sex. It may not even relate to the physical feeling of your sexual encounter, but rather the emotional aspect, perhaps you had a situation where there was nothing more than sexual attraction, so that intimacy was missing during your time together and it makes you feel like something is lacking.

PILE 3

THE SEX

Much like pile one, you guys are also starting off with some foreplay including head, you may spend a fair amount of time giving your person head, paying attention to their needs before focusing on your own. I got the word “puke” so you may need to work on your gag reflex to ensure you don’t throw up or end up feeling sick during this time, also try not to push yourself too hard and take your time.

I feel like you guys are in a relationship when having sexual contact with this person, your relationship is based around a healthy friendship, either you guy are like friends who date, or you may have started out as friends before beginning to date. Your person wants you to focus on your stability first, they may show you that they can look after you by doing something for you, you will feel as though they appreciate your body but don’t ONLY appreciate you for your body, this way they will ensure that you feel comfortable knowing that their attraction for you extends past sexual.

You may feel like this sex offers you everything you want, like it cements your relationship and commitment to each other. The sex could help you feel more in touch with your feminine energy, you may get to lay back and allow the other person to take charge after you’ve done your bit of foreplay.

You could be on top, but they will control the pace for you.

Like I said before, this connection is built off of stability, so you will feel very loved, safe and protected during this time together.

AFTERWARDS

You guys may have spent a while with each other having sex, so you could be very tired after, and may need a fair amount of time to recharge. You’ll feel very progressed and improved after having sex with your person, as if you know where you are going with your connection, and like your commitment has reached a new level of comfort, this may even help you a lot with some past, uncomfortable sexual experiences that you may have had. I feel like this will almost rewrite past events and help you heal from them, if you were slut-shamed for stuff in the past, you may feel a fair amount of guilt for having sex, however this experience could help you with this issue or possible insecurity.

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn it

Ch. 1: You Boys Really Like to Play Doubles

Note: Okayyy another one in the lineup. Now that I'm back in my account I think I am going to make an update schedule. I hope you all enjoy this new series along with the others and let me know what you think. This first chapter is mostly backstory building but this story is my chance to be messy lol. It will have spoilers for challengers, but also a lot of things are changed. Please feel free to interact and give feedback (constructively) it inspires me to hear from you all. This obsession came fast so I feel like I already have so many ideas for these characters. This one is short because I was dipping my toe in but they will get longer! The aesthetic board for this story will be on the masterlist in a couple hours! Thank you and enjoy!

Tashi Duncan is an athlete. Hell, she’s the athlete. Of their arena. Of their time. She’s good. Great. Passionate. Beautiful…in the words of Art.

Sexy as shit in the words of Patrick and just about every other man who managed to lay eyes on her. She’s something to marvel at. And they did. Marvel. Art and Patrick stand there, jaws slack, eyes locked on the girl as she moves about the dancefloor absently. It’s like the opposite of how she moves on the court. There she’s a predator. Moving quickly, calculated, with strength. Here she’s graceful, eyes closed and enjoying the motions.

It’s their chance. A chance to meet her. To flirt with her. Con her out of her number when she wanders away from the group of women she’s dancing with over to the couches to retrieve her drink. It’d be easier to talk to her alone. They do their best work in a double, and as far as they knew, she had no partner. As far as they knew. 

And they’re basking in her attention. Taking turns in a whole new match. When one gets the gift of her gaze the other’s smile drops like a puppy waiting for its turn to be played with, her easy smirk resting comfortably on her face the whole time. Until she comes.

“Made some friends?”

The two of them can’t help but have the same thought. Art was admittedly more ashamed to have it but they both had it. There’s two of them.

“These guys are in the tournament. They play tomorrow.” Tashi smiles, holding her hand out to the girl and helping her step over the table so she can sit down next to her. Both men offer her their own hand to help her the rest of the way but she simply squeezes Tashi’s harder. 

Patrick and Art don’t know where to look. Before the girl’s arrival Tashi was the only person worthy of admiration here. She’s stunning, abnormally beautiful. But so was her friend. She had a darker complexion, with full lips coupled with a pretty smile. She tosses her silky dark hair over her shoulder, exposing more shiny skin. Her pink, strapless dress compliments Tashi’s royal blue one so much that even two men with no knowledge of women’s fashion would guess the choice was purposeful. They exchange looks as the women cross their legs in sync, Tashi handing her half-drunk beverage to her friend who rolls her eyes with a small as the boys’ eyes drop to her mouth. “Are they any good?”

Tashi hums thoughtfully, tilting her head lightly as if she needed to observe them to determine that. “From what I hear? Sometimes.”

“Not good like you though.”

That takes them aback for a moment. I mean, Tashi just won a tournament, she’s proven herself enough to pass judgment, all this girl has proven to them is that she’s hot. Who’s she to decide that they weren’t in the same league as Tashi. They weren’t, but who was she?

“You, uh, know that just from looking at us?” Art asks, finding himself sitting straighter at the scrutiny, the unimpressed looks on the two girls' faces getting to him as he wonders what it would take to change them.

All the girl offers is a shrug and a small smile around the straw, earning her a giggle from Tashi. 

“You know, we didn’t get a chance to see your match. What’s your name again?” Partick’s brows furrow as he glances between his friend and the two women. 

The smile drops from her face and her lips curve into a frown, cheek dimpling in a way that almost has the men forgetting she’d insulted them. “Wow.” she scoffs.

“You’ve got balls. You came to my party to talk shit to my best friend?”

That has them scrambling, stuttered half apologies from Art and sarcastic denials from Patrick. Anything they could blurt out to convince Tashi and her mystery friend to stay. All of it interrupted by their burst of giggles. 

“We’re just fucking with you.” The girl leans her head back against the cushion, puffing out laughter that makes Art’s head feel like it’s swimming. He blinks at the feeling and takes his own deep breath. “I’m Heaven, I’m nobody, I don’t play tennis.”

“Nobody? You don’t seem like nobody.” He doesn’t even recognize his own voice when he says it. 

“Nobody is nobody.” Patrick cuts in.

Tashi gives the girl a disapproving look that would put ice in the mens’ veins, pursing her lips in agitation briefly before turning back to the guys in front of them. “She’s Heaven Whitlock, she’s my best friend, and the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.” 

Heaven lifts and drops her shoulder noncommittally, taking a deep sip of the drink. “Yeah. I’m the best fuckin’ ballerina in the world.”

The girls left soon after that so that Tashi could take pictures and once they were done, they were pleased to discover that the boys had waited to hang out with them more. The group made their way down to the beach and found themselves talking about all sorts of things. Life, Tashi’s earlier match, tennis as a spirituality. They were shocked to learn that Heaven knew a lot about the sport and could even play a little. But based on how they described it, she only knew enough to help Tashi train. 

Patrick felt aggravated and outnumbered by the fact that all three of the others were going to college. 

“Okay, so she doesn’t want her only skill to be hitting a ball with a racket. What the hell are you going to school for Miss Ballerina?”

“Train. I can get better.” Heaven shrugs. “Get my name out there too, before I join a company I mean.” 

“Can we see something?” Art blurts from his seat, shaking out the ash from his cigarette. “Like your favorite trick or-”

Heaven’s face lights up slightly. Her back has been straight up all night, her shoulders rolled back with poise, but she perks up in excitement at the thought of the opportunity to dance. “I like doing Fouette turns-”

“Heaven, in sand?” Tashi whips her head to look at her friend. “You don’t even have your shoes. You have your first audition for your school’s fall show when we get back don’t you?”

Heaven rolls her glossed lips inward, nodding, eyes dropping to the sand briefly before they return to the men in front of her. “Maybe another time.”

“Another time. There’s gonna be another time?” Patrick leans back in his seat, looking between the two women smugly. “Does that mean I’m gonna hear from you two again?”

“I’ll see Art at Stanford. Heaven will visit.” 

“He’s asking for your numbers.” Art offers. “So am I.”

Heaven’s brows furrow as she stands dusting sand off her hands before she helps pull Tashi to her feet. “Both of you?”

“Yep.”

“Want both of our numbers?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Oh, you boys really like to play doubles, huh?” She’s met with cheeky smiles and a shrug from Tashi. “Well, I have a boyfriend, so…” she grins, gesturing to Tashi. “May the best one win boys.”

The boys crane their necks briefly to follow Heaven’s walk up the hill, her sandals in hand, watching as she turns expectantly, holding out her other hand for Tashi to come up and take. They barely get out their offer for Tashi to come to their room later before she’s making her way up the hill. Her long legs carry her to her friend, whose hand she takes before swinging their arms back and forth, singing along together to whatever song is playing in the distance together.

As soon as they’re out of sight Patrick whips his head to face Art, a wild smirk on his face. 

“Which one do you want?”

“So…which one’s your favorite?” 

“Patrick’s got more natural talent, that’s for sure, but he’s stubborn, doesn’t wanna learn anything new. Art- what?” Tashi tilts her head at her friend’s scoff, moving to sit next to her at the small desk chair, watching as her friend rubs lotion into her face. “What?”

“Nothing, T, tell me about Art.” Heaven laughs, shaking her head. Tennis. Always about tennis. Poor boys. 

“Art wants it more right now. And he’s good. Could be great." She stands walking over to the closet and tugging on her jacket. “You set your alarm?”

“4:30, T. Gotta get our run in and practice for my audition before the tournaments start.” 

“Mm, good girl.” she smiles, dropping a kiss onto the top of Heaven’s head. “I’ll have my key.”

“You’re really going? You’re gonna go to their room?” Heaven turns in the seat and watches Tashi put on her shoes. The brunette pauses to look at her friend, walking over and crouching in front of her. Her hands rest on Heaven’s legs as she looks up at her.

“You jealous?”

“Want me to be?” Heaven asks, leaning her forehead against Tashi’s with a defiant look on her face. “I know you’re not gonna fuck them.”

“Really?” Tashi hums absently. “We’ll see. I’ll be back later. Why don’t you call Trevor while you have the room to yourself.”

With that she pats Heaven’s legs, pushing off of the floor and leaving her alone in the hotel room. 

Heaven takes her best friend’s advice. She calls her boyfriend. It was a mistake.

Trevor hates Tashi. He hates tennis. He hates dance. He hates everything. 

He didn’t use to. He used to think the girl’s dedication was cool. He used to love to come to showcases, recitals, even some of Tashi’s tournaments. But then he realized his place in everything. His place in Heaven’s life. Dance and Tashi, those two things would always come before him.

That’s the hard lesson everyone always had to learn. Tashi was always gonna win when it came to tennis and Heaven. Tashi was Heaven’s first…period. First best friend, first kiss, they’d taken each other’s virginities. They met in middle school. Heaven had been at the community center gym with her mother, running and doing weight training while her mom took a zumba class. Out on the court was Tashi. Beautiful and focused as ever. Heaven chose a treadmill that she could watch Tashi practice out the window from. She’d been startled when the taller girl came into the building and stood next to her machine and asked her if she knew anything about tennis and if she wanted to play. 

She wasn’t good. Tashi was determined to make her good enough to play with. Soon enough they were inseparable. Heaven would sit in the stands at Tashi’s games, yelling as loud as the girl playing when she won. Tashi would go to see Heaven dance, offering her applause when she won awards or starred in a show. Having Tashi was intense, but Heaven was intense too, in her own right. They were both passionate about their crafts, and loved the art of working hard. They liked making each other proud. 

Tashi was Heaven’s first everything except her first love. That was dance. Her muscles stretching into beautiful motions. Using her body to tell all kinds of stories. Becoming someone else entirely over the course of a song. Heaven would die if she couldn’t dance. 

She doesn’t feel like that about Trevor. He was a sweet guy, and she liked him. Despite Tashi’s constant digs that he wasn’t good enough or amounting to anything, Heaven liked him. Not everything has to be an intense feeling. Content can be good enough. I can be satisfied with content. 

But Trevor wished she would be normal. He wished she wasn’t so close to Tashi. He wished she wasn’t constantly working at something. At least that’s what he said when he dumped her over the phone. 

“Trev-Trevor. Trevor are you fucking serious?” 

Dial tone. 

Heaven’s lip curls up in frustration as she feels her eyes watering. She throws her phone against the wall, hearing the distinct crack of the screen. “Fuck. Fucking shit.” She…needs Tashi.

Pulling a baggy t-shirt over her sport’s bra and underwear she goes to the bathroom and rids herself of any evidence that she’d been crying before she heads to the room Tashi told her she’d be in. She creeps past her friend’s dad’s door so she doesn’t wake him and alert him that neither she nor Tashi were in bed. As she gets off the elevator on the boys’ floor she straightens as she goes to knock on the door, hearing the faint sounds of lips smacking and moaning. 

That makes her feel worse then she did when Trevor told her she wasn’t worth the hassle.

Heaven turns on her heel and goes back to the elevator. Her bare feet pad on the rug of the hotel hallway as she wraps her arms around herself until she gets back to her door. 

She ties her scarf around her hair before climbing into the bed the girls had been sharing, facing the window. The blinds rattle as the wind blows and the quiet tears on Heaven’s face are dry by the time Tashi slips into the room and into the bed behind Heaven. 

The bed dips slightly under her weight and suddenly hands are planted onto Heaven’s side. “Hev, I’m back…I had fun. Come on, I know you’re awake.”

“Cool.”

“I hooked up with them.”

Heaven turns then, laying on her back as Tashi leans over her, her hair making a curtain around her. “Which one?”

“Hmm…both. We didn’t have sex or anything but…I made out with both of them…and then they made out with each other. S’fun.” Tashi grins, flopping on her back next to her friend.

“They…ever done that before?”

“Nope” she smiles, popping the ‘p’ loudly. Both girls burst out into laughter as they think about the difference between their friendship and the two boys they met, so similar yet so different.

“You’re evil. You fucking homewrecker.”

“Ahh, they’ll be alright. It’ll be a good fuckin’ match tomorrow…winner gets my number.” 

Oh. 

“Trevor dumped me today.” 

Tashi turns on her side at that. Her ever-inspecting eyes scan Heaven’s face before narrowing a little. “No bullshit? Good fucking riddance. Should’ve dumped him when I told you to. Damn, would’ve been an even better match if I knew that earlier. Imagine how they’d play if the stakes were the winner gets both of us at the same time.” She laughs, putting her legs under the blankets. “It’d be fucking funny.”

“Yeah, T. Fucking hilarious.”

Tashi is at the courts by 5 am the next morning, and Heaven is running on the beach. She normally loves training with here friend, but right now, she needs a fucking break. Being drilled about the audition or talking about this deathmatch for Tashi’s phone number doesn’t feel like something she wants to do right now.

Still, her and Tashi’s workout playlist blasts in her ears as she fights the sand’s resistance, panting out breaths to Lose My Breath by Destiny’s Child. That is until she sees something moving out of the corner of her eye. 

It’s the blond one. She wasn’t sure which one’s name was which, but to her, the blond one was the cuter one. She liked his smile and he looked like he had a nice body under his baggy shirt yesterday. His tight athletic tank today shows her she’s right. Popping an earbud out, Heaven slows to jogging in place, offering him a smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, you’re up early, aren’t you?”

“Might not play tennis, but I’m still an athlete. I get up at 4:30 everyday. Clearly you do too.”

“Uh,” he adjusts his cap on his unruly blond hair before covering it back up, matching pace with her in her jog. “Not really, but the match is in a couple hours and I gotta explain to my family how to watch it. There’s a lot of them. And Patrick snores.”

“I see. Well, you’re gonna have to get used to it if you’re gonna get with Tashi.” His mouth opens and closes at that, like he’s shocked she knows he’s interested in her friend. “She told me about the stakes for today…and the other stuff.” 

He falters in his step at that, placing his hands on his hips as he laughs in disbelief, before pulling her shirt over his mouth for a second to hide his face, ears red. “You guys share everything, huh?”

“Apparently you do too.” Heaven laughs, pausing in her jog to stretch her leg when she feels tightness in it, bending over to work the muscles. If her eyes hadn’t slipped closed she would see Art’s eyes dart to her backside before looking away in an attempt to be respectful. He absently thinks that Patrick is right. Hot girls usually are friends with other hot girls. “But I’m rooting for you…uh…?”

“Oh, Art. I’m Art.” he breathes, willing his eyes not to slip again.

“Short for Arthur?”

“Um, yeah, but nobody calls me that. Except my grandma when I’m in trouble.” He blushes. Heaven straightens, and offers him a pretty smile.

“If one of you is gonna be seeing Tashi, I need to know your full name. I’m sure you can carry the speech to the other one too. If you hurt her, you die, I’ll kill you little white boy, you get it right?” 

“Right.” he hums, rocking on his feet. “So, you guys are close huh? She talked about you a lot last night. Fucking hates your boyfriend.”

“Yeah, well, she won’t have to worry about him anymore. Done. As of last night actually. Tashi was saying she wishes would’ve known that before your little bargain. Then, it would be both her and my number on the line. What can you do?” Heaven shrugs absently. She was flirting a little. Sue her. She’d just been dumped and was finally free to start having fun. All summer she’d been traveling with Tashi, being a good little doting girlfriend, turning down every hot guy she met. Only ever having one slip up, with Tashi. She knew they both were into her friend, she didn’t expect anything-

“So raise the stakes.” 

Heaven’s eyes widen as Art looks at her earnestly, looking embarrassed by his own words. “What?” she laughs.

“You can…definitely tell me to fuck off…but…we would be interested in having your number added to the…pot? Fuck, that sounds awful, Patrick and I want your number too. I want your number too. If that’s okay.”

“And you wanna play for it?”

“Those are the rules right?” 

Heaven observes the man in front of her. Boyish. Cute. And nervous. He doesn’t know how hot he is. Not like his friend. Not like Tashi. He doesn’t know what he looks like. And he seems sweet enough, nervous to offend them, but determined enough to push past the embarrassment to get what he wants. “Tashi’s rules. Not mine. Do you guys want to play for my number?”

His jaw sets slightly as he looks her up and down. “I wanna earn it.” 

“Okay, winner gets Tashi’s number. And mine.” 

[hxltic]

pt.2!! (i know that cliffhanger was menacing) 800 followers hello?!

part 1 | part 2

It was weird. It felt weird.

You sat with your chest bare, Kenma contemplating his own conscientiousness and conscious before you. Should he have any integrity, he would turn you around and fulfill what you came to do.

But he doesn’t. Intrusive thoughts win, so he dives straight into you to suck on your tits like a fucking baby.

Just watching in amusement as he tugged and nipped, it looked like Kenma was genuinely enjoying himself when he licked the bud in a single stripe, cat eyes gazing into yours devilishly by the way he could feel your back has a slight arch to it. His pale hands roamed from the small of it to your shoulder blades.

Your manicured fingers tread through the black locks that cover his tinted cheeks and reveal his long, black eyelashes. You mentally curse him for having them. Your upper back begins to stray away; Kenma just follows.

You connect strands of hair behind his ear (which he greatly appreciates you for) because he needs to see you, your curves, and body in all the bright rainbow light from the edges of his setup.

He removes the slim shirt entirely and discards it randomly in the room. He couldn’t care less where it landed. He grasps—literally grasps— both tits in each hand before looking up at you ordinarily, but in an anticipating manner.

“Take the rest of it off.”

“Say please,” you announced. Yes, you asked first, but you could still have a little fun (and refresh his manners).

“You do realize you’re literally in my hands right?”

“…So?”

He just blinks up at you and rolls his eyes in obduracy.

“Please, take the rest of it off.”

You tap a fingernail to your chin, “Hmm… say it like you mean it.”

If you could describe the ravenette’s face right now, it would be the most unamused you’ve ever seen him.

Kenma grabs you and roughs you off him, twists you around, and adroitly unbuttons your jeans from behind you. Done with your shit, he peels them down and brings your panties along. He then pulls you back down to him backwards.

“See? Easy peasy,” he comments.

Slightly embarrassed from being absolutely manhandled, you shuffled against his front and dug your head into his sweatshirt on his left shoulder.

“Are you shy now? Not too long ago you were asking me to—”

“Shut up- Shut up.”

A giggle sounds behind you and lengthy, soft fingers trail up to your plush thighs anyway, then leads more inward. He pats twice to ask you to open up for him. You comply in spite.

With two delicate fingers he spreads you open, a third experimenting by dipping into your wetness. You were already getting throbbing having thought about it all day. Your friends constantly conversed about what their partners did and how good it felt, so you want as close to that as possible, but the problem is that you’re doing it while being unaware of how skilled Kenma actually is. You’re starting to question whether he was the right person or not. Or whether it holds up to its name. Or if you can do it at all.

He caresses you, rubbing the pad of his finger in circular motions against your clit.

“Okay,” his chest rises and falls, “just relax and think about whatever boy toy you want.”

You ignore his taunting. Your eyes trail downwards. He was going so slow, but if you thought you’d have Kenma pawing at you by the end of the night you had to be on something. So, you do what he asks of you and shut down any tense nerve in your body.

“There you go,” as you soften against his front, now two of his fingers locate your nub and continue the circling. Your thighs are spread apart on each chair arm, facing the dark idle screensaver Kenma had, the plush actively being kneaded between his free hand. Your center was tingly but not the trademark “oh my god!” tingly. It felt good but you weren’t screaming just yet.

Almost in time, he curls his hand farther forward and dips a finger into you. It was very slowly done for reactive purposes, and with your sight deactivated, the reaction he expected from your chest was granted. He sinks deeper and deeper until his palm is flat against you. Thanks to his patience, you were definitely wet enough.

He stills inside.

“I can’t do anything if you won’t breathe.”

“Sorry,” you apologized, and let out a breath you had no idea you were holding. His thumb reddens your clit even more while the other hand releases your thigh and slides up your body to tighten on your breast. You feel used with his hands all over your body, but in a good way.

Your regular breaths graduated to heavy ones, and those graduated to groans. Your voice wasn’t very high pitched anyway. When does the good part come?

The inactive hand rotated to your clit, while the other focused mainly on gyrating through your walls. His long finger reached places yours couldn’t, and adding a second would only increase the chance of him finding that single pile of nerves that could make you go haywire. He was close but he didn’t think to resort to that just yet.

Two of his hands meet around your front like a hug. His articulated digits roll inside you, each roll a tug on your resistance. A little to the left or a little to the right. His hand curled somehow even deeper on the hunt for your g-spot, so he takes a mental note: up and to the right.

“Oh shit,” your hips slightly stutter.

He smiles, “Right there?” and pesters the previous patch. Your hips lift off him the tiniest bit and your hand reaches up mindlessly. Really you just needed something to occupy yourself. He goes at it again and again, your tummy folded yet moving with him as he’s still going too slow when your body is screaming for more.

You rub his nape in an attempt to focus on anything else. Your arm is geniusly wrapped between the two of you by journeying under his neck. Your reflection in the screen is unbeatable, Kenma working you like it was his millionth time doing it. Everything had a job and you just had to sit and take it.

“That’s definitely you,” he mused. He kissed under your ear on the right side. You could say you weren’t feeling much all you wanted, attempting to lower his ego, but your contorted expression spoke differently with inaudible words. At some point his speed increased.

You unintentionally grind on him as your hips falter halfway. He tries his best to ignore it and keep your high ecstasy going because it was: A, the meaning of this entire operation; B, you’d be sore anyway, better to make the best out if it; and C, had he acted on it you would’ve squirted all over his dick. Which option C isn’t necessarily a problem, it’s just he’s almost certain you’d like to see yourself do it.

“Feels good Ken,” you mumble. The squelch sound could now be heard, and you both listened as he slotted himself in the crook of your neck and your head was thrown back on his shoulder. It was dead silent in the apartment, so silent you could hear your own thoughts and maybe even each other’s.

It sure seemed that way, because Kenma persisted with a finger and stimulated you simultaneously. Your head rolled back and forth, your calves flexed, and your pretty pink toes hung off the chair arms. The clip in your hair hadn’t bothered him one bit.

“Kenmaaa,” you insisted.

“I’m here, tell me,” he indulged. Your breaths were practically weights, yet shallow at the same time.

“G’na come soon.”

“I got you. Just let it happen.”

Kenma knew you were close before you did. Hell, he was a part of your body now. Obvious signs were shown like when you tighten around him and your muscles contract, informing him everything was already in motion. The orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave, taking you and your brain out to sea, but not your body. In fact, it left your disappointment behind too.

Nothing happened.

It took you a second to realize this though—considering it was still one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had—but also because Kenma hadn’t stopped.

“Please,” unaware of what you were calling for, you turned to his face, but he was already so close like he was waiting for you there. He’d slowed only a bit, but this makes little difference already being hypersensitive. Once again, you’re grinding on him, it’s just rougher now and more effective at getting him any harder than he already was.

You talked face to face and couldn’t decide what eye to look in. His lips were so close, and so very inviting. You kiss him.

Soft lips unite with yours meaningfully. You hadn’t known it would progress to this, however, Kenma now occupies your entire body, being, and mind. If you could dismiss how hard he was overstimulating you, just maybe you could kiss him with the passion you desired—but that was reaching because you couldn’t find the strength to kiss him back at all. Your lips were open yet hushed in all attempts to return the gesture, but your body fails you under the hands of lust.

You felt another coming. Your eyes had this faded look to them as if you weren’t here, so Kenma brought it upon himself to whisper to you.

“Tell me what you want and it’s yours.” His voice was soft in the air.

You respond with a light headed moan. Fuck all that shit about your voice not being high and you couldn’t pornstar moan, because to some extent it was and you really could.

“K-Ken I can’t—”

“You can,” he interrupts, “anything you want baby.”

Your hand quits fidgeting with the loomed bracelets adorning his wrists to move down to holding the both of his that were working you. The attempt is futile, because even if you did manage to get one hand away, the other would still be toying with your pussy. The veins that stretched from his muscles all the way to his forearm could be seen clear as day. Kenma adds another finger, and doubles into you as it sinks up and to the right.

“Oh fuck, Kenma, Kenma-” you repeated. You tried pushing him off, except you wanted him to continue, except that you were in no state of mind to make decisions. Your back arched impressively and you were on the verge of crying. This quick?

He constantly acknowledges you, “Uh-huh.”

Kenma almost triples in speed. He continues to whisper to you. “Do it. I know you can. Show me how you come for me.”

You don’t feel it, but Kenma plants his feet and swivels the chair around as your mouth drops. You were pushing outward more than downward, and as Kenma pistons into you, there was no way you weren’t about to squirt. Just preferably, not on his monitor. He kisses at your face now turned away from him. “Just like that, you’re almost there. Open your eyes.”

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god-!” you breathe.

Kenma quickly runs back and forth over your clit encouragingly and doesn’t let up. This wasn’t a wave that rolled over you this time, but one that came up to shore first, dragged you along into sea, and sucked you under. It felt normal until it didn’t and you were releasing all over his carpet.

“You look so fucking good like this. Knew my girl could do it.”

Your hair was fucked from rolling on it. You had came so hard your body tensed and slightly cramped, rendering you idle as he continued until you were done. The clear liquid rolled down your own leg. You felt as if you were underwater. Your head bashed like there was no oxygen. Kenma was a man of few words but after you got what you deserved, he didn’t have shit to say.

He gripped your thighs, lifted them, and slowly lowered them to his. A darker color stained his sweats. Was it from you, or him? Neither of you know. His hand pets your forehead gingerly.

“Your girl?” You ask lazily.

“I think we both know you wouldn’t have let anybody else do this,” he establishes. He was right.

sorry if it’s not as good as first!! it was supposed to come out earlier but my dumbass queued it for the wrong day 🤦‍♀️🤦‍♀️ also did you catch the easter egg😏😏 (I made this a little shorter to match up with the time it takes to…yk… that’s why all of my fics that aren’t penetration are shorter)

@iwouldbangchan @hislaevv @butterflyk04 @lilmisskreideprinz @ahahadumbo @bontensbabygirl @ninefuckingoneone @hwangsyunho @privthemis @anonymoussimper @frenchinator2sickk

[widow-tarot]

MINI PAC READING: What Would They Tell You If They Could? (Romance)

GROUPS: 1 - 2 - 3 4 - 5 - 6

You can always tip me! - paypal.me/sadwidow

If you want to support me, please reblog!

Instruction: Think about your person while choosing a group. Do not use more than 1 group for one person. Just to remind you, this is only for entertainment purposes.

If you don't feel drawn to any group, then this reading is not for you.

GROUP 1

Cards: Ace of Wands, Knight of Wands rx, Wheel of Fortune rx, I Like You, Girl Talk rx, Pond, Archangel Metatron.

I like you. I know it's straightforward, but I cannot say it in any other way that's more meaningful or more direct. It might not sound meaningful but it is to me (I hope it is to you too). I feel there is a spiritual connection between us and it seems no matter what, we keep coming back to each other. Our connection is like a pond; can be insignificant to others but to us, it holds so much life and secrets but it can easily be destroyed if not cultivated. We are so hot and cold; we like each other, then we hate each other over something trivial (we both don't know what exactly annoyed us). I want to move towards you but things are holding me back. There's so much I want to do and say but I'm standing still. I know we will truly come together someday. No one knows about it because I don't share those feelings with friends. It seems too private and sacred.

SONGS:

Eric by Mitski ("Take off my clothes and watch me move; You can come closer, I'll let you hurt me; But how long, how long can we play this way?; I'm tired, I'm tired of not loving you"

Blue Velvet by Lana Del Rey ("Ours a love I held tightly; Feeling the rapture grow; Like a flame burning brightly; But when she left; Gone was the glow")

Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby by Cigarettes After Sex ("Whispered something in your ear; It was a perverted thing to say; But I said it anyway; Made you smile and look away; Nothing's gonna hurt you, baby; As long as you're with me, you'll be just fine")

GROUP 2

Cards: 9 of Pentacles, 2 of Pentacles, 7 of Cups, Noose rx, Mushrooms, The Snake, Hammer rx, Seraphim Seraphisa rx.

You will forever be in my heart and mind, but we can never be together in the way we want. There are way too many blockages and I do think we are not fit to be in a relationship. I am in a committed relationship (or you are) and I do not wish to leave her for I love her. Maybe I am a coward, but I am a practical and cautious one. I will not take reckless actions just to wake up one day and regret it. I think what we have is a fantasy, pleasant make-believe, daydreaming. However, I don't want you gone because you're an important person to me. I wish you happiness but I can't follow you.

SONGS:

Lonesome Love by Mitski ("I call you, to see you again; So I can win, and this can finally end")

Blue Banisters by Lana Del Rey ("She said, "You can't be a muse and be happy, too; You can't blacken the pages with Russian poetry and be happy"; And that scared me; 'Cause I met a man who said he'd come back every May;Just to help me if I'd paint; Now when weather turns to May; All my sisters come to paint")

Flash by Cigarettes After Sex ("I'm a flash; You were blinded by the love I had; I'm a flash; The light could only get in through the cracks")

GROUP 3

Cards: The Hierophant rx, 8 of Wands, The Devil, 10 of Swords rx, Wildflowers, Mirror, Keys on a Ring, Archangel Raphael.

You are the temptation, the chaos in my life, the wildflowers that can still be growing but can also be already taken by someone else while I wasn't looking. You're untouchable, unable to be caught, translucent. One minute you're here only to leave seconds later just to come back and stay for a long time. You're unpredictable, a sin worth sinning for. But I hate to be alone and you make me sad. I love to see you but I hate myself when you leave. I don't know if you have any feelings for me; is it something serious or is it just casual and convenient? I can't do this anymore, I'm trapped and I feel miserable. I wish I could tell you to stay away, to abandon me, to never come back. It would be easier for me to move on then but I am a fool for you. I wish I was strong enough to talk things through but I'd rather have some of you than none of you. Then again, being with you hurts me so what should I do?

SONGS:

Should've Been Me by Mitski ("Relive all the ways you still want me; I haven't given you what you need; You wanted me but couldn't reach me; I'm sorry it should've been me"

Blue Jeans by Lana Del Rey ("I will love you till the end of time; I would wait a million years; Promise you'll remember that you're mine; Baby, can you see through the tears?; You went out every night; And, baby, that's alright; But when you walked out that door; A piece of me died")

Ambien Slide by Cigarettes After Sex ("Take my love with some pretend; You said you couldn't help it; Had everything that you wanted; When my love was something yours; But now you're feeling helpless")

GROUP 4

Cards: Death, Page of Pentacles rx, The Chariot rx, Archangel Sammael, Eileen Chang rx, Boat rx, Engagement Ring rx.

I don't want to try to fix this thing between us anymore, it's a fool's errand. We tried and it didn't work, it's time to move on to something else because we are just wasting our time and I'm exhausted. Let me go. Let me leave, peacefully. I don't want to fight but I'm frustrated. I think we tried to escape the inevitable but at the end of the road, we cannot pretend any longer. Relieve me of this burden and don't resent me.

SONGS:

Working For The Knife by Mitski ("I always thought the choice was mine; And I was right, but I just chose wrong")

Bel Air by Lana Del Rey ("Gargoyles standing at the front of your gate; Trying to tell me to wait; But I can't wait to see you; So I run, like I'm mad, to heaven's door; I don't wanna be bad; I won't cheat you no more")

Tejano Blue by Cigarettes After Sex ("We wanted to fuck with real love; Wanted it sweet, so pure and warm; And when you say you want it all, I know you want it all; Baby, take it all from me; I always will make it feel like you were the last one; So get in the waves like it was the first time")

GROUP 5

Cards: The Star rx, 7 of Pentacles, 10 of Swords rx, Glove rx, The Phoenix, Paradise rx, Archangel Haniel.

I wish we could start anew, without any bitter history between us that holds us back and clouds our judgment. We cannot fully be together while all these thoughts are troubling us, making us suspicious of each other and insecure. I know we both lost hope for this connection, yet we are still going and proceeding with it in any way we can. We don't want this to be over but we need to find a solution. I want you in my life and I'm willing to put work into it. Are you? Someone needs to make the first step though and it's the most difficult thing to do. We cannot stay still for much longer though. We communicate telepathically but we also have to communicate in real life.

SONGS:

First Love/Late Spring by Mitski ("Please hurry leave me; I can't breathe; Please don't say you love me; One word from you and I would; Jump off of this ledge I'm on; Tell me "don't" so I can crawl back in")

Video Games by Lana Del Rey ("It's you, it's you, it's all for you; Everything I do; I tell you all the time; Heaven is a place on earth with you; Tell me all the things you wanna do; It's better than I ever even knew; They say that the world was built for two; Only worth living if somebody is loving you")

Goodbye Mr Blue by Father John Misty (" But maybe if he'd gone sooner; Could've brought us back together last June; When the last time was our last time; If only then I knew; The last time was our last time; Would've told you that the last time comes too soon")

GROUP 6

Cards: Page of Swords rx, 9 of Cups rx, 4 of Swords, Sappho, Archangel Chamuel, Cupid's Arrow rx, Separation rx.

Do you love me? You say you do why does your love cause so much pain? Why am I in agony instead of being elated and happy? Is this how you show your love? I feel neglected and manipulated. I feel ignored and mocked. Am I your partner or your pet? Do you even care what I want? Do you care what I have to say? You treat me as a child as if I cannot think or decide for myself. Do you think I'm stupid? Do you think so lowly of me? When you're not here, I don't miss you and my mind is at ease. I lost all hope for anything to change. It hurts even more because I love you, but your love is weird and dysfunctional. I feel trapped. I even stopped speaking my mind because it was met with ridicule and anger.

SONGS:

Wife by Mitski ("For if I am not yours, what am I?; I daydream I'd give one a name of my own; For even I am on loan; For even mine is unknown; So let me go towards the morning star; With hope it won't disappear;)

Carmen by Lana Del Rey ("Baby's all dressed up, with nowhere to go; That's the little story of the girl you know; Relyin' on the kindness of strangers; Darlin', darlin', doesn't have a problem; Lyin' to herself, 'cause her liquor's top shelf; It's alarmin', honestly, how charmin' she can be; Foolin' everyone, tellin' 'em she's havin' fun")

Hot by Cigarettes After Sex ("Is it all in my head? 'Cause I keep getting scared; That I'll always be lost forever; But I don't give a shit if I'm too delicate; When you hold me, it's always better")

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hi. Could you write a rafe smut with 16 and 7 ‘’Be a good girl and spread your legs.’’ + ‘’Does that turn you on?’’

Here it is, part 2 of Rave x Thornton!reader (part 1 here)

Warnings: 18+, smut, p + v, mention of oral (f receiving)

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

It was past 1am when the boys came home from the club. Judging by the voices, Topper's 23rd birthday had been well celebrated. Your brother didn't abuse alcohol very often, but you could hear his drunk voice talking to Rafe in the hallway. 

 You laughed quietly. Happy birthday, Top!

You heard his door close, then shortly after Rafe's opened. He didn't turn on the big light, moving around in his bedroom as he was taking off his clothes and tossing them in a corner before going into his en-suite bathroom for a quick shower. 

When he came out of his shower, that’s when he noticed you in his bed. 

‘’What are you doing in here?’’ he asked, a white towel wrapped around his waist. 

You didn’t move from the comfort of his pillows. ‘’I told you I was taking your bed.’’

‘’I never agreed to that. Get out.’’ Rafe dropped his towel and opened one of his dresser’s drawers to pull out a pair of clean underwear. He didn't care that you saw anything. It was nothing you hadn't seen before - or tasted.

You propped yourself up on the pillows, grinning mischievously. ‘’Come on, Rafe, you’re really gonna kick me out at this hour of the night? I’m already in bed.’’

‘’I don’t care. I don’t let people sleep in my bed.’’ He walked to his bed and yanked the covers from you, catching the small matching pink pajama set you were wearing. It was hugging your figure in a way that made his cock twitch. ‘’Take a pillow and get out. I have shit to do in the morning.’’ 

‘’I’m not sleeping on the fucking couch,’’ you said stubbornly, tipping your head up to look at Rafe. 

The latter groaned, his patience wearing thin at this hour of the night. Without warning, he reached down and firmly grabbed your ankles, roughly pulling you towards the edge of the bed. 

You grabbed at the sheets, trying to resist his grip, but he was stronger. ‘’What are you doing—’’

‘’Getting you out myself.’’ 

‘’I'm not leaving,’’ you repeated, pushing at his hands and kicking your legs and feet. ‘’Let go of me, Rafe.’’ 

In the midst of your erratic movements, one particular hard pull made Rafe lose balance and topple over you on the bed. The scene felt right out of a cliché enemies to lovers rom-com. Your first instinct was to push him off you, but then it came to your realization that you could use this position to your advantage. 

‘’Let's make a deal,’’ you suggested, trying to ignore the heavy body on you. ‘’Earlier, we got interrupted before I could fulfill my second part of the agreement. So, how about I let you fuck me and you let me stay here?’’ 

‘’Absolutely no—’’ 

Before he could finish his sentence or get up, you pushed your hips up, purposely rubbing your bottom halves together. Although there was thin cotton separating both, the contact made Rafe groan — and his cock stiffen. He usually didn't get hard so fast, but the alcohol in his blood was making his hormones increase. 

‘’What was that? I didn’t hear,’’ you asked with a teasing smile, tilting your head to the side. 

A mix of desire and frustration filled the blue eyes looking down at you. He was trying to resist your advances, but Rafe was a guy and he was having a full on cock to brain dilemma. 

You gasp when his mouth crashed on yours. You won.

There was nothing slow or sweet about this kiss. It was rough and passionate and heated, just mouths smashing into each other. Exactly what you expected from Rafe Cameron after getting his patience tested by his best friend's little sister. 

His hand ghosted over your jawline, along the side of your neck, and then you felt him wrap it around your throat just lightly enough that you noticed it. Rafe broke the kiss, his blue eyes looking right into yours. No one ever did this to you, but you didn’t hate it. Your lips curled into a devilish grin, waiting for his next move.  

‘’I’m gonna show you how I deal with little bitches like you.’’ 

Rafe’s words had you dripping between your legs. Some girls preferred to be good, but it wasn’t your case. You liked to tease and get punished. 

He nudged your knees apart with his and you melted into his touch, mewling when he pressed against your clothed clit. ‘’Does that turn you on?’’ 

You pushed your hips against him to get more friction, but he removed his knee and stood to get a condom. One thing about Rafe was that he never hooked up with a girl bare. 

‘’This needs to come off,’’ Rafe said when he returned to the bed. He peeled off your pajama shorts and panties in one go. ‘’Be a good girl and spread your legs.’’ 

You spread your legs as wide as they’ll go, giving him the perfect view of how dripping wet your pussy was. Being completely exposed like this should be embarrassing, but if your legs could open wider, you would. You clenched around nothing, feeling Rafe's eyes on you.

‘’Look at that,’’ he said, giving your pussy a tap that echoed in the room. You squirmed at the contact, secretly wanting him to do it again. ‘’Looks better from the vip seat.’’ He then pulled at your pajama top up to free your tits and palmed your breasts as his fingers rolled your nipples, pinching it hard.

You hissed and his face bored the meanest smirk as he ripped the foil packet. He jerked himself a few times before rolling on the condom. 

You were about to be completely ruined. 

Rafe teased your clit with his tip, but plunged his cock into your cunt before you could push back against him for more. It would be a lie if you said it didn't hurt, your tight walls hugging every inch of his cock. 

You had been thinking of this since Topper interrupted you in the afternoon. How his cock would feel inside you. And now it was finally happening.

You grabbed at the bedsheets until the discomfort subsided, pleasure slowly taking over as Rafe began to thrust. You gasped in pleasure, clenching around him.  

He folded your legs for a deeper angle and groaned, looking down and watching his thick cock disappearing in and out of you. ‘’Such a good pussy. Surprised it’s still so tight after getting stretched out so often.’’

The urge to slap him was strong, but every thrusts felt so good that if you opened your mouth, only high pitched cries would come out. He may be an asshole, but the dick was good. 

Getting bored with this position, Rafe pulled out and flipped you over like a ragdoll, your bare ass raised in the air. You didn’t get time to register what was happening; Rafe wasted no time and began pounding you from behind, his big hands gripping your hips. You pressed your face in the mattress to muffle your moans, terrified that Topper would hear on the other side of the hallway. He was likely sleeping like the dead, but you didn’t want to risk it.

It was a matter of minutes before you felt close to your edge, the sounds of wet slapping of skin mixing with Rafe’s low groans echoing in the room. You reached below you to rub your throbbing neglected clit, but Rafe grabbed your hand with a vice grip and pushed you down on the mattress, holding you down as he pounded his last thrusts. 

When he was done, Rafe pulled out and threw the used condom in the trash, then flopped on his bed and pulled the covers over himself, leaving you there. ‘’Good night.’’ 

‘’Are you being serious?’’ 

Rafe looked at you, amused by how mad you looked. ‘’Aw, you haven’t cum yet?’’ 

You narrowed your eyes at him. He knew. He was doing this on purpose. 

‘’Get over here. Sit on my face, I’m tired.’’

—

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[houserautha]

These Destined Ends

Part 1

Summary: Jessica fulfilled the wishes of the Bene Gesserits to produce a daughter. You’re now burdened with the task of not only marrying the na-Baron, but also bearing his child — the Kwisatz Haderach. Will you take your fate into your own hands? Or will it always belong to those who control you?

Pairings: Feyd-Rautha x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none for this chapter. Masterlist of warnings overarching the series

A/N: Hello! If you’re here then there’s probably something wrong with you too, so let’s be friends. I haven’t been able to write anything lately until I saw the latest Dune movie and then all of my thoughts became dedicated to Feyd-Rautha. I must get these thoughts out. Help. Me.

“Chin up.”

Your mother brushes your hair back, bronze, like hers, and lifts your chin. Her gaze is critical. You stare back, thinking only of the things that she will find fault in you. An endless amount, you muse. The slightest flicker of expression on Lady Jessica’s face informs you that she suspects what you’re thinking. Your teeth grit.

“Must you do that?” You hiss through your painted lips. The servants have dressed you specially for the occasion. A floor-length black dress and, settled on your shoulders, a red cape clasped together with the House of Atreides insignia.

Jessica withdraws her hand. Your mother radiates femininity and power, a feat you’ve yet reached. Even the cool way in which she regards you drips with regality.

“Do what?” She asks, feigning innocence.

“Don’t make me say it.”

Jessica’s blue eyes harden. “You don’t have to, daughter. It’s plain enough.”

Mother and daughter stare at one another.

She tried to teach you the ways of the Bene Gesserits, but you failed to take to it. You were too expressive, too…volatile. You struggled to detect the slightest change in voice, you could never sit still long enough to study, and your facial features always betrayed you. The only aspect you succeeded in was combat — there was no need to mask your feelings, your thoughts, able to just completely lend yourself to the blade.

But it wasn’t enough.

“You’re fortunate the Reverend Mother has chosen to see through with this arrangement,” Jessica all but snarls. “There’s hope for you still, in form of an heir.”

The Kwisatz Haderach.

The only reason your mother still spoke to you, affords you any attention at all. The fact that you’ve been painstakingly bred to produce him: a Bene Gesserit of male origin, capable of accessing the memories of his ancestors and see through time and space itself.

A terrible mantle for an unborn child.

In the black of night, you sometimes lay your hand on your abdomen and utter apologies to the egg nestled in your ovary; burdened with horrible purpose. If only you could avoid its fate. But you were not even in control of your own.

“I want to stay here,” you plea finally, pitifully.

Jessica steps away from you, brushes off her skirt. “You know that you cannot.”

“I can help Father,” you insist. “You know that he worries about gaining the approval of the Fremen. I can —”

“Enough!” The Voice. It snaps your mouth shut and renders you mute. “This is bigger than both of us.” Jessica snatches your upper arm, pulls you close enough to feel the heat of her anger. “Your father wanted a son. A heir. But it was my duty to produce a daughter. I ignored the pleas of your father because I understand what it is to serve. Don’t make me regret my decision.”

You swallow your disgust, though it lingers like a foul taste on your tongue.

This isn’t the first time that your mother has told you this. Nor did you think it would be the last.

Perhaps making a home among your enemies would be better than staying here among family.

“Fine,” you say. You wrench your arm from her grasp then turn away. It’s futile, you know the heighliner will be here soon to whisk you away, but you can’t stand to be in the presence of your mother any longer. Fortunately she lets you go.

You’re not even aware of where your feet are taking you until the familiar sound of the baliset meets your ears. Gurney rests lazily on the ground in the massive corridor, back against the wall and string instrument in his scarred hands. He doesn’t look at you as you approach nor when you collapse down beside him.

Usually Gurney’s situationally appropriate songs bring you a modicum of comfort, but today it seems more ominous than insightful.

“I won’t miss your singing,” you say.

He stops playing. “You jest.”

Playfully, you crack open one eye and peer at his baffled expression. You try not to laugh. “I don’t.” A sigh escapes your mouth then, and you slump further down, uncaring if you rumple your gown. “I will, however, miss the singer.”

“Don’t bother appealing to an old man like me. It won’t get you anywhere.”

“Hm,” is all you say, lost in thought.

Gurney sets the baliset to the side. His hand finds your knee and he squeezes. “You will be fine, Lady Y/N. I’ve taught you well.”

“Not even what you’ve taught me will suffice for what I’m up against.”

“Nonsense.”

Both eyes open now, you stare pleadingly at the swordsmaster. “Just come with me. Please.”

It’s Gurney’s turn to sigh. With a groan he heaves himself to his feet and offers you a hand. “You know that I can’t,” he murmurs.

His loyalty to your father doesn’t extend to you.

He is Leto Atreides, Duke of Arrakis, after all. And you are just his daughter. A pawn. A womb and nothing more.

You reach out to ghost your fingers over the scar on Gurney’s cheek. “Tell me about them.”

The Harkonnens.

“There’s nothing you don’t already know or haven’t learned from the filmbooks,” Gurney says to you in a terribly soft voice. It’s unfitting of the great soldier. “They are a cruel people. Do not trust them.”

You nod, irrationally devastated that your final plea to Gurney did not work. But his words were not anything new.

Nothing you learned about the Harkonnens has been pleasant — from their oppressive rule and misogynistic society down to their industrialized homeworld. Your chest aches.

First you were forced to leave the lush beauty of Caladan for Arrakis. You had even grown admittedly fond of the desert planet, just to yet again be snatched from another home.

“Thank you, Gurney. For everything.”

He dips his chin in acknowledgment, then holds out his arm for you to take.

Gurney has been like a second father to you over the years. While Leto was out securing political alliances and holding meetings, it was Gurney who kept you company. He aided in your combat training and believed in you when no one else did. To lose him would be to lose a great friend, indeed.

By the time you return to the antechamber where you’d been, Leto has arrived. He looks as cunning and handsome as ever, and the smile he flashes you is enough to cut you to the bone.

If what Jessica said was true about your father wanting a son and being sorrowful he did not get one, you would never know. He has only ever made you feel loved.

“My beautiful daughter,” he greets you. He smells wonderful. The same way he did all of those years ago when he would tell you stories of your grandfather and tuck you into bed, his beard tickling your cheek.

You breathe him in for one of the last times. “Hello, father.”

“You look marvelous,” he says. His smile falters slightly. “Are you ready? I wanted to ensure that you’ve said your goodbyes before we leave.”

Bitterly, you think, Before I leave. Everyone else will return to Arrakis and you will be moored on Giedi Prime, married to a bloodthirsty monster and forced to grow round with his child.

The thought makes your knees tremble.

The Harkonnens controlled the fiefdom of Arrakis before your family and were unbelievably outraged that it, and the flow of spice, had been stolen from them. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what your reception on their planet will be like. It’s any luck if you don’t get slaughtered upon arrival.

Especially since the Baron’s nephew, the na-Baron Feyd-Rautha — your betrothed — was known for his brutal nature. You hoped stupidly that the arrangement of marriage and promise of an heir would be enough to keep you alive.

At least for awhile.

Feyd-Rautha killed his own mother. Who knew what the status of wife meant to him?

“I’m ready as I’ll ever be,” you answer Leto. He squeezes your hand.

You hug Gurney goodbye then board onto the heighliner after your parents. It’s difficult to suppress the tears threatening to fall as the ship takes off in a flurry of sand and departs.

Normally you’d be completely enraptured with the endless golden dunes, but today you stay rooted to your seat and refrain from crying.

The flight to Giedi Prime happens much too quickly for your liking. Already your heart is in your throat, hammering out your nerves in a steady rhythm.

The view from your seat reveals the strange nature of your new home — a black sun. Never again will you see the stretch of blue sky from Caladan or feel the formidable heat of Arrakis. The entire world outside the ship stood in sharp black and white contrast, all color drained from the surroundings and its people.

You spy hoards of Harkonnens gathering beyond the ship, awaiting the arrival of the na-Baron’s wife and their future Baroness.

Your stomach churns. How could you ever lead such ugly, wicked people?

Jessica’s voice engulfs you. “Chin up,” she says again to your dismay. “You mustn’t show any weakness. Not here.”

You raise your chin the slightest amount. Jessica nods stiffly in approval, and it’s in that moment you understand that your mother’s harshness has been preparing you for this. While you hardly feel the urge to forgive her, an odd sense of calm washes over you.

You are an Atreides. And you always will be.

No one can take that from you.

The boarding ramp disengages and you’re the first one to step onto it. A hush of silence befalls the crowds.

You stride forward with as much confidence as you can muster, focusing not on the leering eyes of the Harkonnens but instead on the Baron’s fortress. A large pathway separates you from it, granting you plenty of time to get your fill. It’s as grand as it is excessively boastful; tall, pointed towers cleverly connected, all sharp lines and edges. It leaves the impression of a finely crafted dagger.

A display of power and wealth.

Behind you your parents emerge and the carefully observant crowd launches into disarray — shouts and yells of anger, of hatred, grate your ears. You know that they take it in stride, however, and their strength fortifies your own.

By the time you’ve crossed the distance from the heighliner to the inner walls of the fortress, your eyes are blurried by the strong contrast outside now given away to darkness. It takes a few moments for you to adjust. When you do, you quickly look over your surroundings.

There’s few decorations or art. It’s cold and impersonal and extremely clinical.

Your slippered feet reverberate off the high ceilings.

Bracing yourself, seemingly, has been for no reason. For it’s not the Baron and his nephew that meet you but rather a line of Harkonnen soldiers. Their faces are stoic.

You bristle. “Where is the Baron? And my betrothed? Do they not wish to receive us?”

The soldiers do not answer.

A man appears then from down the hall, a Mentat by the look of him. He’s pale and bald and clad in black like the other Harkonnens.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N,” the Mentat says. “My name is Piter de Vries. I am here to escort you. The Baron and na-Baron will receive you now in the throne room.”

Leto lays a hand on your arm as if to stifle your response. “Please, Piter, lead the way.”

You can’t help but glance curiously at your father. This entire situation was delicate, you knew, but you wonder at his subservience. It’s an insult not to be immediately greeted by their hosts, especially when your guests happen to be the Duke of Arrakis, his concubine, and their daughter. If Leto agrees with this affront, though, he doesn’t show it.

Leto simply strides after Piter with you and your mother in pursuit.

The fortress boasts sleek walls and floors, polished to perfection. Piter guides you to the throne room a short distance away, the sight of it stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s larger than any room you’ve seen before, outfitted on the far side with steps leading up to a grand dais.

And upon the dais, demanding your attention, is Baron Vladimir Harkonnen. The man is as large as the throne room itself but not nearly as impressive, pale and beastly, his enormous weight supported by suspenders. He makes no movement as you enter.

Your gaze moves quickly, eagerly, away from him.

Standing on either side of the dais are his two nephews. Aware that you can’t stand to face your betrothed yet, you fix your attention on his brother. Rabban, you recall his name.

Rabban is bound with hard muscle and swathed in what you can only describe as thinly veiled anger. At his side, his fists clench and unclench restlessly.

Then, without permission, you look to your future husband.

Feyd-Rautha stands as tall as Rabban but roped instead with lean, attractive muscle. His brow sits above dark eyes and a generous mouth. There’s a frightening intensity to the way he stands, encapsulating both nonchalance and a dangerous arrogance. Clearly this man is used to getting his way and will stop at nothing to do so.

And it’s this man that makes no effort to disguise the way he studies you, starting at the top of your head and trickling languidly downward.

A chill dances down your spine.

When he catches this, catches you watching him — he must’ve known that you were — his lips twitch into the faintest of smirks.

Part 2

[xxblairexxss]

Revenge (part 2)

Part 1

Pairing : Charles Leclerc x reader

Theme : Tiny bit of angst and fluff

In which Charles tried to fix things back after what he did to you last night. Not proofread!

Charles didn’t sleep at all that night. He couldn’t sleep. He didn’t deserve a wink of sleep after what he did. Funny how he was so tired last night but couldn’t even afford a minute of sleep now. He tried to check up on you but you locked the door. Yeah, served him right. The audacity for him to even try to see you after everything he said was unbelievable.

He only fell asleep due to exhaustion and it felt like a solid 5 minutes before his alarm rang. The house felt cold for some reason. It was early in the morning. He knew you would still be asleep.

Soon as he took a shower and got dressed up, he walked past the guest room and made his way to get the car key. He thought it would be better to not disturb you as you had enough from him anyway. That was when he saw a bowl of fruits on the table with a small handwritten notes on the side.

‘My handwriting is probably so hideous with my left hand but I hope you can read this. I couldn’t prepare your favourite sandwich but I cut these fruits for you. Make sure to eat something before you head out! I’m sorry about last night.’

Charles had to sit as he felt his legs getting weak. Why did you have to make things even worse. He was too embarrassed to talk to you and now he didn’t think he could even look at you in the eyes.

“Chérie?” He softly knocked on the door before turning on the doorknob. Charles took a peek inside the guest room and there you were, sound asleep with one hand clutching on the heating pad against your stomach. He had come in hoping he could apologize or at least say something before he left but seeing the way you sleep, your hair bun was loose as those strands of hair covering your face, you looked like you had just fallen asleep so he didn’t have the heart to bother you.

Charles sat on your side of the bed, careful not to wake you up as he heaved a sigh and tucked the strands of hair away from your face. “Why do you have to do that…after everything I have said.” He placed his hand against your cheek and stroked his thumb on your jaw. You were so kind, too kind that he didn’t know if he still deserve everything, all of this, the blessing of being your boyfriend and to have you as his. “I’ll be back as soon as the shooting ended. I love you.” He leaned in to kiss on your forehead before tucking you in and leave the room.

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“I have never met someone who looks so sad eating strawberries.” Joris took the vacant sit in front his best friend who looked like he had dark clouds surrounding him. “What happened? Was it Y/N?”

“Yeah, I fucked up.” Charles had been playing with the fruit ever since he reached the set. Nothing felt right. He kept on reminding himself to smile and to not bring any private matters into job but it was even harder this time. Maybe telling someone about it would make it better so he told Joris.

“What the fuck? Dude, you know I have always got your back but that was really messed up. What about all the cuts on her? What happened?” Joris would have smacked his friend in the head if they weren’t in public. He wasn’t an expert when it came to dating but he knew that was so low of him.

“I don’t know. I didn’t ask her about that.” He wiped his palm across his face. Now that he thought about it, he didn’t know where you got all those cuts and bruises from. All this time he thought you injured yourself on purpose.

“You didn’t ask her? What a fucking gentleman you are. Your girlfriend came home all bleeding and all you cared about was your image?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I didn’t—sighs—I don’t know. I fucked up, okay. I know.” He aggressively messed on his hair and covered his face with his palm.

“Y/N even prepared you these after what happened? I would have left the house and you in a second.” You had always been Joris’s favourite. He could see you were different than any of Charles’s exes and hearing what Charles did to you made him fuming.

“No, no. Don’t say that. I can’t—I really can’t lose her, Joris.”

“Well then you should keep your act together or I’m gonna be offering her a ride to get away from you any second she calls me.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

Charles wasn’t expecting the reply. You would always asked him to buy you tons of your favourite snacks whenever you got your period.

“How was your girlfriend?”

“Pardon?” Charles thought he was hearing things.

“Your girlfriend. That poor girl was hit by a bicycle last night it was really bad. Thank god she has a very loving boyfriend to take care of her. Is this all?” The old man scanned on the items Charles had put on the counter before clicking on the total amount. “Sir, are you alright?”

Charles believed the universe had arranged every events today just to remind how much of an asshole he was. “Yeah, I’m alright. Here, keep the change.”

﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎﹎

“Chérie?”

Charles closed the door and locked it before walking to the room. He knew you were in the bathroom when he heard a mumble coming from it. “Love, what are you doing?”

You had been struggling to put an ointment to your cuts. The cap of the ointment was fully sealed so you had to spend 10 minutes trying to open it and everything felt so awkward when you had to do things with your left hand. “I was just trying to put these on, I thought you won’t be home until another hour. I’m sorry let me clean up the mess. I’m really sorry.” You hurriedly put all the ointments and cotton bud aside.

“Here, I’ll help you.” Charles pushed open the door to the bathroom wider and took a step closer to take the cotton pad from your hand to which you took a stepped back in surprise.

You were still scared of him. You were scared of your own boyfriend.

“I—…” He felt his throat closing up and had to breath from his mouth. He couldn’t believe what had just happened and he was scared, scared of what would happen from here. “Love, I just wanted to help.”

“No, it’s okay… I can do it myself.” You gave him a smile, a smile that Charles knew was just a smile to ask him to leave you alone.

“No, let me help you. Please?” He slowly took the cotton pad from your hand.

“It’s okay, I can do it myself. You can take your rest, I won’t take up your time. I’ll be quite I promise.” You gave him a smile, the same one that didn’t reach your eyes.

Charles knew he messed up but he never thought what he did last night would make you completely shut him off. You used to seek for comfort in him whenever you were in pain, now he was asked to be away because you thought you were taking up his time.

“You didn’t take up my time. I’m your boyfriend I should be the one helping you. Give me that.” He took the cotton pad back from your hand and he leaned in to carry you up, one hand supporting your back and another one behind your legs out from the bathroom and headed to the room. “Stay still, Y/N. It started to bleed again.”

“Charles, it’s okay. I can do it—“ You tried to take the cotton pad away from him but he retracted his hand before you could touch it.

“If you can take it from me then I’ll let you do it yourself.” He dropped the ointments onto the cotton pad and pulled his hand away when you tried to snatch on it again.

“Charles, I’m serious. Let me do it myself.” You let out a sigh knowing you could never win against him since you didn’t go through those reflex tests like he did for years.

“And I am not playing around too. Take it from my hand and I’ll let you do it, love.” He dapped the cotton pad on the cut a few times and placed it away. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah, that should be fine. I can put the wound plaster on my own.” You bended and was going to take the box of wound plaster that was on his side before he snatched it first.

“Too late. I got it first.”

“Charles..”

“There you go. All set.” Charles ignored your plead and threw away all plastics and used cotton pad away before taking a seat on your side. “Have you eaten?”

“Yes..”

“And what did you eat?”

“Something..”

“Yeah, right. I’ll order something.” Charles stood up to get his phone but you hold him arm before he walked away.

“I don’t want takeouts. Can you cook me your carbonara?”

“My infamous carbonara? That dish was put out of the menu, remember?” He took a seat back on the bed and was greeted with a forlorn look from you. “I think I can bring it back. Pretty sure it’ll taste better than my last attempt.”

He had asked you to stay put and you could hear all the ruckus going on in the kitchen. Charles loved to talk to himself whenever he cooked so you could hear “This is good. I’m such a good cook.” and “Carlos would be impressed if he tasted this.”

“Charles?”

“Yes, love? Am I taking a long time?” He turned around and saw you walked towards him while playing with your ring, the ring that he gave you. “What’s wrong?” He took your hands in his and brought it up to his lips and peck on the ring.

“I…”

“What is it, love?”

“I didn’t go out last night on purpose. My cramp hurt and I didn’t want to keep on pestering you. I swear on my life I wasn’t trying to ruin your night I was supposed to head out, bought the painkiller, went home, and slept.” You couldn’t look at your boyfriend in the eyes because deep down you were still reminded of his enraged look and whatever he said to you last night.

Charles pulled into a hug and kissed on the side of your head. “I know, baby. I know. I was wrong and I’m really really sorry. I didn’t know what took over me, I didn’t know why I was so mad. I know and I understand if you still can’t forgive me but let me take care of you.” He didn’t hear you say anything but he could feel your body started to shake as you cried in his arms. “I guess seeing you last night with all those cuts made me infuriated at myself and I took it out on you by thinking of the worst.”

He broke the hug and brought his upper body down to level his gave with your teary eyes and held your face as his thumb stroked on the freshly dropped tears on your cheeks. “I know everything I did can never be easily forgiven and I understand that. I’ll sleep on the couch if you don’t want me on the bed, I’ll leave you alone after this. Just stop thinking as if any of this was your fault and that you shouldn’t trouble me with your problems. I could cancel every schedule I have if it meant I could take care of my sick girlfriend. You are my responsibility.”

“I didn’t hurt myself on purpose. I was on my way home and—“

“I know what happened. That guy shouldn’t even ride a bicycle if he can’t control it.” He frowned in displeasure thinking about it.

“But he was nice.”

“Are you saying that the stranger is nicer than your boyfriend? He replied and made you titter in response. “On second thought, I am an asshole so he is probably nicer than me.”

You laid your head back on his chest and you could feel his arm snaked around your waist instantly. “You are not an asshole. You were tired. People say things they don’t mean when they are too tired.”

“That still doesn’t excuse my behavior last night, baby. Joris was fuming I feel like he would have choked me to death if it wasn’t for the staffs around the set.” He slid his hand under your oversized shirt and stroked on your skin.

“Well, serve you right.”

“Yeah, serve me right for treating my prettiest, softest, kindest girlfriend that way. I’m sorry, love.” He pulled away and planted a kiss on your forehead.

“Stop apologizing. I’m hungry.”

“Ah! My pasta! You distracted me. Anyway, I bought your favourite chocolates on my way home earlier but you said you didn’t want anything so I guess they are mine.”

“Can we share?”

[hannieehaee]

18 + / mdi

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, jealousy, possessiveness, afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, penetrative sex, creampie, etc.

part 1

wc: 2410

a/n: ppl rlly liked my first gyu x idol!reader fic so i decided to make a pt. 2! im working on a long fic for idol!gyu x idol!reader rn (its a diff universe from this one tho hehe) which should be out this month <3

masterlist

it's been a bit hard.

dating an idol as an idol would really seem like the ideal situation, except when it wasn't.

yeah, you had been absolutely ecstatic upon finding out mingyu had been carrying a torch for you for years. you had felt the same, only ever entertaining your other friends' flirting out of mere desperation for the man to finally notice you. after he suddenly blew up, declaring his love for you, you thought it'd just be smooth sailing from here, except you hadn't really thought much past that.

maybe you were being unreasonable. i mean, you had never dated a fellow idol before! maybe it was all in your head. or maybe you just weren't too used to the dynamic just yet. you weren't too sure. but you had no idea how much longer you could take watching mingyu flirt his way through life anymore.

fans, staff, other idols, male or female, you name it. mingyu simply had an overly flirtatious demeanor towards absolutely everyone. you, personally, always kept a very clear line in fan service, or any other type of flirtatious scenarios (sans your previous attempts to make mingyu jealous). mingyu did not afford you the same courtesy, consistently following requests to call fans his girlfriends and even going as far as initiating the flirting in both fancalls and physical fan meetings. okay, maybe this was something you could put up with. these interactions were very short lived, so they never went too out of hand, but these were not his only offenses.

you looked past the flirting with idols, chalking it up to being played up for the cameras for entertainment purposes. you looked away whenever it went far enough to have fans speculating online. you knew idols were professionals at delivering fan service, always wanting to give people something to talk about. hell, you did it too! this was a bit annoying to watch, but you trusted your boyfriend and your idol colleagues, so you let it slide. it was other things that were harder to look past.

was there any need for him to flirt up a storm among all the female staff members? he was behind the scenes, for fucks sake! there were no cameras nor any benefit from entertaining their giggles and subtle touches of his muscles as they pretended to be interested in what he was saying. you knew your boyfriend probably didn't realize that he was flirting, having simply grown too used to doing it that it was second nature to him by now, but it was still frustrating! specially when no one knew that mingyu was taken. as far as any of his staff members knew, mingyu was still just your best friend, and any sighting of the two of you together (always accompanied by another member of the 97s or a fellow group mate of his to avoid suspicion) was always assumed to be strictly platonic. even now, as you walked into his dressing room, only to find his stylist - and a few of the members' stylists - flocking around him as he told some stupid joke that probably wasn't even funny.

it was sickening, really. the way none of them saw how desperate they came off. how none of them realized that if they all flirted with him at once, it truly had no effect, as he wouldn't pay special attention to any of them in particular. you felt like a hater, but being real, you were starting to become one. you watched him for a good five minutes, wondering if he'd ever notice your presence from across the room. when he did, he immediately went over to you, cutting off any of the girls who had been flirting with him in favor of welcoming you. he was amicable, giving you a simple hug. but his eyes told a different story. anyone who knew mingyu knew those eyes were reserved for his loved ones. that made you calm down a bit, even hugging him back and daring a short peck on the cheek.

today was yet another shoot at the hybe building. you had the fortune of belonging to the same company as your boyfriend, which meant you could stop by whenever you wanted (as long as you kept a low profile). you'd often drag jungkook along with you for appearances' sake, but had decided to go solo today. gyu was clearly happy to see you, interrupting his stylists to take a quick breather with you, heading over to one of the empty changing rooms and finally indulging you with less platonic affection.

"baby! wasn't expecting you today?", despite that, he was clearly enthusiastic to see you, attached to you like a magnet now that he had locked the door behind you, making sure no one was around to see his affections towards you.

"yeah, clearly ..." you couldn't help but grumble, disconnecting yourself from him.

mingyu didnt give you much of a chance to create distance between you, immediately holding onto you again, this time by wrapping his arms around your waist, yours instinctively leaning against his hard chest.

"baby, what's wrong? what do you mean?", a pout made its way to his face. of course he was unsuspecting. the mingyu you knew was far too into you to ever seriously hit on someone else when he had you.

you responded with a sigh, "mingyu, do you have to flirt with every girl you meet?"

"w-what? what are you talking about?"

"did you seriously not notice all those girls giggling at every word you said? they all want you, gyu. and you never put a stop to it."

"i dont .. the stylists? baby, ive never flirted with anyone in our staff, what? i work with them, of course i'm nice, but its always strictly platonic, you know that."

"the fact that you dont even realize it!", you separated yourself from him again, facing away and crossing your arms across your chest like a petulant child.

"baby ..."

"no, gyu. i'm not in the mood. i came to see you, but again, you're hitting on some other girl."

he wrapped his arms around you for the third time now, pulling your back to his chest as he nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck. he was trying to break you down before you even managed to get fully angry at him

"princess, i'm sorry. i swear i didnt realize i was doing it. i- im just too friendly, i guess. why would i wanna flirt with anyone when i have you right here, hmm?", the kisses he began leaving along your neck did not help matters. he knew your weak points.

"forgive me, baby? please? don't want any of them. i'll tell them. i'll tell everyone, okay?"

"gyu ..." you whined, but still angled your neck for hin to keep kissing, leaning against his hold.

"yeah, pretty? i'll tell the whole world. it's just you for me," he paused, letting out a quiet chuckle as he shook his head, "it's kinda funny, though. now you know how i felt any time the boys would flirt with you."

"gyu! how is it my fault they liked me? and i only flirted with jungkook one time before we were ever together."

"and? still hated seeing you with anyone else. you're mine. you've always been."

he turned you around then, holding you close to him as he looked into your eyes. he smiled at you, kissing your nose before chuckling at your whines of annoyance at him. even when you wanted to be mad at him you couldnt. he'd always turn the situation around and swoon you somehow.

"let me show you, baby? show you that you're mine? maybe we can show those mean mean stylists too, huh?", okay, he was just teasing you now, lips drawn way too close to yours as he ran his hands up and down your back.

"gyu ..." you whined, making no effort to actually pull away.

"you'll let me. won't you, baby?" his eyes were glued to your lips, in a similar fashion to your own. you knew he could tell how badly you wanted him to close the gap, but you refused to make the first move. then he'd win. he'd be the voice of reason, which was something you just couldn't have.

"c'mon baby, just kiss me. you know you wanna. dont you wanna show them ill all yours? maybe leave your lipstick print all over my face for them to clean up? give me a hickey to- hmph!"

you had to shut him up eventually. he was driving you crazy. but he was also right. knowing you could make a statement about your relationship without actually having to explicitly say anything about it sounded too good to pass up, so you might've gone a little extra nastier with your kissing, running your lips all over his mouth, letting your tongue do all the work for you. mingyu had no complaints, even turning pliant under your touch.

huh.

he wanted you to be jealous, didnt he? he mightve not flirted on purpose, but now that he knew you were jealous he mustve felt some type of ... pride? at knowing how badly you wanted him to be yours and yours only. well. in that case, you were gonna give it to him.

you're not sure how it happened, but you ended up sitting on him, both your shirts thrown off as you ground on his lap as he sat back on the couch. the lower part of his face, along with part of his neck, were covered in lipstick stains, matching the smudged red along your own lips. you had left a few hickeys (okay, maybe five) on his chest area, not wanting to make the stylists work too difficult. the are with most damage, however, had been his hair, as you had messed it up in all directions possible through your incessant pulling. his hairstylists might have had complaints, but mingyu sure didnt have any. he kept moaning and sighing against your lips, hands guiding your hips from the moment you sat down on him.

"baby ... give me more ... please," you didnt blame him for growing frustrated at the lack of action. you yourself felt like you were at the precipice of pleasure, just needing to sit on him to find the way to your climax.

you helped him lower his pants enough to free his cock, playing with it for a bit before allowing it to slip under your skirt, panties shoved to the side in favor of creating a safe passage for his dick. you couldnt help the loud whine of pleasure you let out at the intrusion, feeling accompanied by mingyu and his own groan.

"gyu! shit ... feel so good- so big ..."

"i know, baby ... so pretty n so tight for me ... how could i ever want anyone else when i have my pretty girl so perfect for me. hole so wet and needy ..."

you cried at his words, speeding up as you angled yourself back to allow your clit to grace against him, making your eyes roll back even more.

"that's it, pretty. gonna cum for me? gonna let me fill you up, beautiful? that'll- fuck ... that'll show them who i belong to, huh? all yours, baby. just like y- you're all mine."

"yours! gyu, fuck! y- yours!"

"and im yours, baby. dont forget."

he kept poisoning at you from below, dragging your hips so you'd bounce up and down at a pace that had your toes curling. he always knew how to fuck you in ways that had your mind going completely blank, like right now. neither of you paid mind to the dressing room next door that was full of staff who could likely hear your muffles whines against each other's lips. you relished on it, even, knowing that once you walked back in the room they'd know who mingyu really belonged to.

"cum, baby. need you to cum so i c- shit ... so i can fill you up."

"almost there, gyu, just ... fuck! just like that! i'm cumming! gyu!"

"yeah, shit. gonna fill you up now, okay, baby? want you to keep it all in. show them im yours, yeah?", his hips never slowed down despite being you being on top. you were now just a rag doll he was using for his own pleasure. nothing had ever felt this good.

he filled you up soon after, with most of it spilling out due to the massive size of his load. he used his fingers to push it back in, then lifting them to your lips for you to lick clean, which you did with no complaint.

"oh, baby ... my nasty girl. how could i ever look at anyone else when i have my nasty baby so desperate for me? hmm? you're perfect for me, angel. dont care about any girl that flirts with me. you're all i want," he used his fingers to push down on your tongue as he said this, groaning at the way you sucked and sucked while looking at him with wide eyes.

"gyu ..." you whined as soon as he left your mouth alone.

"but im still sorry, angel. i didnt realize it bothered you. i get it. kinda wanna fight any of ur male fans when they get a little too friendly with you. that rookie at mnet last month? wanted to take him out back for the way he was looking at you when you performed."

"gyu!," you knew your boyfriend had been jealous of your friend group due to their former crushes on you, but he'd never told you that he felt the same way about literally any man you'd come across as an idol.

"what? im just saying, i get it! im also possessive and jealous. thats why we compliment each other. now come on. lets get you dressed, baby. gotta go have a very awkward conversation with my stylist so she can fix everything you just did to me."

"me?! look at me! im covered in cum!"

"hmm yeah. so pretty, angel. you better have it all in you by the time we get home, yeah?"

you huffed, but agreed, rolling your eyes at the innocent peck that landed on your cheek as he helped you look presentable.

you knew things would be awkward around his staff from now on, but it had been worth it.

[viennakarma]

My dearest friend and enemy (2)

PART 2 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.1k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I was wondering doing a bonus part about Fernando POV throughout everything (to show he was ALSO miserable), but I don't know if i have the time and energy for it. Let me know if you guys would be interested in it and I'll do it in headcanons/topics.

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was taking way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

Find me on Twitter!

PART 1 | FERNANDO'S HEADCANONS

You were moping and crying in the living room when the phone started ringing. Looking at the little screen that showed the number that was calling, you knew it was Fernando. You had memorized his number at some point in your lifetime. Your parents weren’t home, so you hesitated. You took so long that his call went to voicemail.

“I know you’re there,” he said, voice sounding tired, low and inpatient, “please pick up the-”

You pulled the phone cable, unplugging the call and silencing him. Wiping your tears, you stared at the unplugged phone on the little side table for what felt like hours, until your parents returned from work, when you got up to plug the phone back and pretend like you didn’t spend the whole day mourning a friendship you always thought would last forever.

After two days ignoring all calls, even Flavio’s, you decided that you’d shield yourself from now on, and you wouldn’t give Fernando any more ammo to hurt you. You met with Flavio at the next race, face heavy with makeup to cover up the sleepless nights you had gone through. You put your bag down and stared at Flavio across the table.

“Good morning. Let’s go back to work,” you said, gently pulling the stack of papers from his grasp. He called your name in that tone, of someone wanting a heart to heart.

“We should talk about the f-” He started but you cut him off.

“No, I don’t want to talk about that,” you said.

“I talked to Fernando and he-”

“I said, I don’t want to talk about it. He’s dead to me.” You repeated slowly, finally looking up at him. Flavio must’ve seen something in your eyes because he let the topic go.

You didn’t see Fernando for two more days, and when the weekend officially started, you avoided him like the plague. Even when you two were in the same place with other drivers, you’d ignore his existence for the most part. Whenever you were in a little circle chatting with other drivers and he arrived, you’d leave immediately. Press conference, you convinced Jenson to switch places with you so you could be as far from Fernando as possible. Even with team debriefs, with Flavio trying to make you talk to Fernando, you refused.

The rest of the season was insane, during team meetings and debriefs you were cold and barely talked to him. He didn’t try to talk to you either, and the silent distance only grew.

You were head to head in a race, you were P2 and Fernando P3 right behind you.

“Switch with Fernando,” your engineer said on the radio.

“He won’t fucking pass me,” you said into the radio, holding your position and pace. He was less than a second behind, and you refused to let him pass.

“I repeat, let him pass,” That was Flavio.

“If he manages to overtake me, he can go.”

He didn’t. You knew you had more pace, but still he insisted, and through the mirrors, you could see him closing in behind you. He tried to overtake but you pushed the car fast, and when he couldn’t anymore, he turned into you, touching his front right tyre to your rear left tyre. You were too fast. The mere touch of his tyre bursted yours. You couldn’t even get angry as you lost control of the car in a millisecond, the speed making your car fly into the air as it hit the gravel. With your car overturning a few times in the air, you watched your sight going ground, sky, ground, sky, ground, sky.

Then you blacked out.

When you woke up, you were on a stretcher being placed carefully inside the ambulance, you tried to get up, dizzy and someone handed you a bag where you threw up inside.

You had an insane headache as they took you to the medical center. Apparently, everything else was alright as you checked your own body for any injuries or problems. The doctor checked you but still made you through a round of tests and injected saline solution diluted with pain medicine in an IV drip. They also decided you’d stay overnight to make sure nothing was wrong. 

Your dad, who was watching from the garage, was the first to find you in the medical center, visibly worried and crying. He hugged you for a whole minute, before taking a step back and touching your face to make sure you were really alright.

“I’m ok, Papá. Just passed out when the car was spinning in the air,” You smiled softly, wanting to dissipate his worry.

“When you didn’t answer the radio-” He choked back tears.

“It’s ok, I’m ok now.”

“What are you feeling, darling?” He pressed, holding your hands to look for injuries in your arms.

“I’m all in one piece, Papá. Just a little sore, but that’s normal whenever a racing driver crashes,” you let him know, and he nodded.

“Let me just call your mother. She was so worried she wanted to get into the first flight here,” He told you.

“Tell her I’m alright and I love her,” you whispered and he nodded, going outside.

You sighed as you were left alone, trying to find a comfortable position where you didn’t have to move too much, since your whole body felt like it had been run over by a truck. The door opened and you thought it was Flavio, but you were faced with Fernando, still sweaty and in his overalls. He looked disheveled, but he was full of worry, even his eyes looked a little misty as he stood there a few meters from you.

But you couldn’t look past the anger when the memory of him diving into your car came back. He had gambled with your life, out of pettiness, out of envy, he couldn’t pass you, so he decided the next best thing was to take you out, not even caring about the danger he was putting you through.

“Leave.” You said, with gritted teeth.

“Please,” he begged with his voice softer than you had heard for almost a year, “let me just-”

“Leave! You could’ve gotten me killed, Fernando. Get out!” You said, louder. “Do you have any idea that you could have ruined my life in a moment of anger?! That you could have gotten me seriously injured or worse?! I would have never done that to you!” You pressed your index finger to the nurse button repeatedly, and a few seconds later, a nurse came in, “Ma’am can you escort him out please?”

You could see in his eyes that he was hurt by your words, but in that moment, all you felt was blind rage, for what he did the last time you spoke and because he crashed into you on purpose. You didn’t want to hear any excuses now that he realized he put your life in danger just because his ego couldn’t take a hit.

The next day, after you were discharged, you traveled for a meeting with Flavio at Renault’s headquarters. He met you alone in the meeting room, talking to you about the accident, and after making sure you were physically fine, he went off.

“What you did yesterday was reckless and you went against express orders from the team and from me. This is not happening again, or you will be risking your seat at Renault,” He said, his voice never leaving room for debate, you swallowed and nodded, “When the team orders you to do something, you do. No questioning, and no going against it. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Fernando was really worried about you yes-”

“I don’t want to talk about him.” You cut Flavio off.

“You two are best friends, it’s really sad to see you lose all that because of Formula 1” Flavio said, gently.

“He put my life at risk, Flavio. This is not something a friend would do,” you stood up, walking away but you stopped by the door, “Kinda curious how motorsports, the very thing that brought us together, is the same that tore us apart.”

Then you went to meet the engineers for the next race strategies. 

That night as you laid down at home, you thought that you’d never compete with Fernando solely because he was Flavio’s favorite. If it ever came to Flavio to decide whether you would win or Fernando would win, he’d always pick Fernando. You could’ve been fighting for the championship this year, he had promised you, instead you were being used as a step in Fernando’s path of glory, when you could be fairly racing him for the championship. You’d always come second to him there. That was also the moment you stopped seeing Flavio as a friend, and confined him back to a position of Team Principal.

You reread the Sauber proposal that came to you that year to start racing for them the next season, tempted to just go and make your name somewhere else. Somewhere where you’d be put first.

But deep down, a sense of indebtedness had rooted into your heart ever since the day Fernando told you the truth. You had to pay Flavio back for his trust and for his money, and the only way you thought you could do it was by becoming world champion under his team.

There was still a little kid inside you, a little kid who aspired to prove Fernando wrong, to become a champion and prove to yourself you’re more than him. More than who he wanted you to be, more than a loser.

You turned down the offer from Sauber.

The rest of the season you went almost robotically. You still gave your all every race, but your mood would always damper when you had to follow team orders.

“Ask if me and Fernando can switch, I’m faster!” You said on the radio. You kept driving, Fernando a little less than two seconds in front of you, but you were getting closer and would catch up to him in two laps.

“Negative, protect his position.”

“There’s a McLaren right behind me! They’ll pass us both!”

“Negative, team orders.”

You swallowed and held your position, trying to maintain your P2 and Fernando P1. But when the McLaren got close to you, they managed to pass you after a brief battle, going for Fernando a couple of laps later.

Later, you stood on the podium, looking ahead knowing that P3 could’ve been a P1 if they had let you fight for it. You didn’t look at Fernando on the other side of the podium, you just stood there, eyes watery. You pretended to take part throwing champagne for a few seconds, forcing a smile knowing that it would look bad not to.

The post race interviews were torture, and you wanted to go home and vent to your parents.

“How has it been to manage your friendship with Fernando outside the track?” A reporter asked, and your smile disappeared from your face.

“We were never really friends,” you shrugged, annoyed, you added “Are there any questions about racing instead of my personal life?” The reporter was silent, visibly taken aback by your responses, you had rarely been hostile toward a journalist before, you knew he would have a field day with just those replies, especially when your PR manager gave you a hard stare, “No? Thank you, see you around.”

You finished P2 in the race Fernando became champion for the second time. When you got out of the car, you watched as Flavio and Fernando hugged, jumping from the ground and celebrating. The number one and your team principal. After the podium ceremony, you didn’t bother to stay to spray champagne, just leaving and going straight out.

You got a couple more proposals from other teams, and you were tempted, until Flavio told you Fernando was leaving for McLaren the next year and offered you an extension. You took it under the condition to become the number one driver now that Fernando was out of the picture.

A part of you mourned the death of the dream, the one you had at fourteen to become teammates with your best friend. So many things had happened in between everything, now you would miss it. Only the good, not the bad and ugly. You wish you could go back in time, redo everything, and never allow yourself to lose your best friend on the way.

The next year you ended up striking an unexpected friendship with Jenson Button, Nico Rosberg and eventually the two rookies Lewis and Sebastian, who had been very vocal about being fans of yours.

You didn’t go back to talking with Fernando. You didn’t try and he didn’t either. It felt like the bridges were too far burned to recover.

One day as you walked out of the garage, you saw Fernando with a girl on the opposite side. She was clinging to his side, whispering. You knew he had his fair share of fun with grid girls but he never invited them to watch the race from his garage. You wondered if he was dating again, after a couple of years being nothing more than a player. You also wonder why it made a pang of pain flare through your chest.

You don’t linger too much. He had no reason to tell you. You weren’t even friends anymore.

You moved on, as much as you could. And eventually, you met Kaka, or Ricardo, as you preferred calling him. He was a footballer, a big name in the sport, playing for a big team in Italy. You actually met him at a gala party, the both of you being silly introverts, bumping into each other when trying to find a way out. You two ended up talking for hours on the balcony, watching the city lights.

He reminded you of Nano before Formula 1.

And you actually wanted to smash your own head against the handrail as you thought that.

After exchanging numbers and calling a couple of times, you managed to convince Ricardo to come to a Grand Prix. His presence was calm, funny without being mean, and so gentle. It was actually the calm between the storm your life and job was.

You were pacing around outside the motorhomes to try and see if he had arrived yet, since the last you had talked to him was when he was on his way. While waiting, your eyes found Fernando’s on the opposite side in front of McLaren, he was sitting down with his girlfriend telling him something. You stared at him for a whole minute, and for a brief moment, the anger left his eyes for something softer, something like-

“Hi, minha linda!” Ricardo showed up out of nowhere, and he hugged you so tight he actually swiped you off your feet.

Once the surprise passed, you hugged him back, your fingers finding their way through his hair. And he laughed, spinning you before putting you down. You talked for a bit, your face lit up as he told you about his day.

Your eyes unconsciously turned to Fernando, because you could feel that he had been staring at you for as long as Ricardo was there. His face was back to anger.

“You want me to give you the grand tour?” You offered, just so you could escape the weight of Fernando’s glare.

You took Ricardo by the hand and showed him all around, even introducing him to part of your team. After that race when you placed third, Ricardo invited you to a date, the first official one. After a couple of months and a few kisses, he asked you to be his girlfriend. You only hesitated for a second before smiling and squealing a yes.

Being the main driver of your team allowed you to live an entirely different season as a racer. You didn’t want to be arrogant, but you had it in the bag. You had the best car, the best engines, and just the perfect amount of boldness. Add insane strategies, and you were unstoppable.

Despite Fernando being your close rival on track, he was way too busy beefing with Lewis, his surprisingly great rookie teammate.

During summer break that year, you were on a trip to Brazil with Ricardo, but still, the night of July 29th, you got up at two a.m., slowly went to the fridge, where you got an ice cream pint. With a spoon, you sat on the handrail in the balcony, and watched the waves breaking on the beach a few meters away.

It was weird keeping the ice cream tradition alone, but you supposed it was even weirder not keeping the tradition. Staring at the stars, you wondered if Fernando had any ice cream to celebrate his birthday that day.

“Hi,” you heard Ricardo behind you, his hands sneaking around your middle and he hugged you from behind, laying his head against your shoulder, “everything ok?”

“Yeah, just wanted a little treat,” you mumbled, closing the lid on the ice cream, because a selfish part of you didn’t want to share the tradition with anyone other than Fernando. It was silly and stupid, and still… you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You put the ice cream back in the freezer and smiled at Ricardo as he pulled you into his arms and carried you back to bed.

You came back from summer break with a renewed sense of focus. Deep down you knew that was your season. Your season to become world champion, and nothing was going to get in the way of that. As you won the first two races after summer, you became first in the standings, this sense of purpose being the one thing motivating you every weekend to give your best.

It was Interlagos that year when you needed only a podium to become World Champion, pretty much the same as Fernando two years before. The race was tough, and it felt like Fernando was out to get you, especially in a moment right in the middle of the race, when you were behind him in P3 and he tried to brake test you again, but this time you were quick to react, avoiding his rear and using his own dirty trick against him, turning sharply to overtake him from outer side, moving past him fast enough to gain some precious couple of seconds.

After that, you managed to smoothly overtake the P1 with a carefully planned pit stop that allowed you to come out first. Later on, you saw a crash, nothing too bad, but you found out it was Fernando and Webber.

“Are they ok?” You asked via radio to your engineer.

“Yes, they are already back on the pitlane.”

You sighed and focused back to your race, keeping your P1 safe, and going smoothly to take the checkered flag.

“Congratulations, Y/N! You’re a Formula One World Champion!”

You felt the tears coming down and dampening your balaclava, as you took one last lap to parc ferme, waving at the crowd that went insane.

It was like a huge weight was lifted from your chest. Because you were now world champion. You were there, and you deserved to be there, among the best. You didn’t need to prove yourself anymore, and you had finally paid Flavio back.

You jumped out of the car straight into your team, jumping with them, and Flavio ran up to you, pulling you into a tight hug. Jenson also found you and hugged you firmly, patting your back and Nico also hugged you, both of them were on the podium with you.

As you looked down from the podium, with a watery, emotional smile, you saw your dad crying like a baby and clapping his hands. Unconsciously, your eyes looked for Fernando, silly hoping it mattered something to him, that at least in the name of your former friendship, he would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen, and you felt like that was another nail in the coffin of your friendship.

Deciding to forget it, you drank champagne straight from the bottle, laughing as both Nico and Jenson paired up to drown you in champagne, looking happy for you.

After talking to your mom on the phone, you stood up, taking your bag and going out to look for your dad. You didn’t make it very far, as you came out in the hallway, you found Fernando, leaning against the wall. You paused, looking up to him while your heartbeat went up.

“I’m happy for you,” he whispered. And you wanted to believe it really badly, but thinking about him brake testing you during the race, trying to take you out, made you roll your eyes at him.

“Sure, you are,” you said sarcastically. He shook his head and clicked his tongue, like he was disappointed you didn’t believe him, “my debt is over now.”

“What?” He frowned, confused.

“I just paid Flavio for his investment,” you explained, “I’m not just here because you asked him to support me, I’m a damn great driver. I’m here because I deserve it, not because you took me out of pity.”

Fernando stared at you completely shocked at your words, something painful stabbing at his chest. He never thought you’d think like that over disgusting words he said in a moment of anger. Words that never meant anything to him, that he didn’t even believe in himself. The hurt in your eyes was the same from the day he said the words, when you cried looking into his eyes and telling him he was dead to you.

You walked past him and away. He wanted to shout that he never meant those words, that you were so much more, so much better. But you just left. Fernando followed you outside, trying to catch you and explain himself, maybe fix things between you, making peace.

But as he got outside, he paused, seeing you jumping in your boyfriend’s arms, laughing at something he whispered to you. Fernando swallowed, closing his fist and jealousy burned through his limbs, with such force that it felt like a fever.

Right after the Brazilian Grand Prix, Ferrari got in touch with you, offering a two year contract to become teammates with Kimi Raikkonen and drive for what was one of, if not the most classic team in Formula 1. After negotiations, it was a no brainer. You didn’t owe Renault anything any more. And that’s what propelled you to meet with Flavio that winter break in a cafeteria in Monaco. When you had called, he said he wanted to talk to you about something, which was convenient.

After pleasantries and small talk, you were ready to start, but Flavio cut you off without noticing.

“I have to tell you something,” he started, carefully, “Fernando is coming back to Renault next year.”

You froze for a second, not wanting to think too much about the implications of that. The fact that Flavio was willing to force you and Fernando to be teammates again even after the catastrophic ending you had before. Sighing, you covered your face for a second.

“I know you have reservations, but I’ve talked with Fernando and he’s willing to-”

“I’m going to Ferrari.”

And Flavio understood, after talking for a while. He knew Ferrari was most drivers' ultimate dream, and you weren’t immune to that either. Unfortunately for you, Fernando released the news he was going back to Renault a week before Ferrari announced you, and the media had a field day with that, tabloids and media outlets doing numbers of articles about you avoiding being teammates with Fernando again, since he was coming back and you were conveniently leaving almost at the same time.

Your races with Fernando kept being dangerous, one always trying to one up the other, dangerous moves and overtakes, close calls of crashing into each other, and more and more jabs publicly. The attacks at each other never stopped, and the media seemed to enjoy it, feeding into it ever so often.

One occasion, you were going for a win, and the only thing between you and that damn P1 was Fernando Alonso. So you kept your P2, biding your time as you tried to close the gap, leaving your chance at overtaking for the last few laps. When a fast turn came, you advanced, overtaking him, Fernando tried to defend his position, but you were getting the lead, and both of you were in high speed. Someone had to back out, otherwise you two would crash. But you were feeding off of anger and hurt, and you didn’t back down well into the turn, but suddenly, Fernando slowed down, giving up defending. You took the P1 and after a few laps, the checkered flag. You knew on the podium that Fernando was seething, his face didn’t hide that. Later, at an interview, someone brought up the dirty move.

“So, a very dangerous move at turn 2 during lap 47, no?” The reporter asked, trying to get a reaction out of you.

“I thought it was a pretty common battle, no?” You said, a condescending tone imitating him.

“Well, it could’ve caused you both to crash.”

“I took a risk, either I would pass and win, or we would both crash and DNF. Alonso was wise and went for the safest option.” I gave the reporter a fake smile.

You knew that answer would piss Fernando off, and a part of you knew he deserved it. Sometimes you acted on pure rage and pettiness, feral and way more aggressive against Fernando on track than you really needed to be. But he just pissed you off. Walking around with his model girlfriend, his attacks at your racing abilities, his pretty eyes that always seemed to find yours at the most inconvenient times.

Then, the race weekend would end, and everything that was left was shame. Your burning shame every time your mom’s eyes shone when she asked about Fernando, hoping you two would have made peace. You, looking away from her face every time you told her you knew nothing about Alonso because you didn’t want to see the disappointment in her eyes.

Later that year, after your two year anniversary with Ricardo, you accidentally found a ring box in his suitcase. A proposal ring, a beautiful big diamond ring, probably worth a small fortune. And you tried to feel happy about it, but you could only find dread in your heart. Despite loving Ricardo, you knew you didn’t love him as much as you could. And certainly not as much as she loved you. You didn’t love him as much as you loved-

Closing your eyes, you also closed your heart, and after that just like the coward you were, you broke up with Ricardo the kindest way you could. He was confused, because your relationship was tranquil, without many problems. It broke your heart to break his heart, but you couldn’t lead him on, you knew Ricardo was husband material, and the earlier you let him go, the earlier he would find his true happiness.

Ultimately, you decided to only pursue love after your Formula One career. Having a bit of fun here and there, and a couple of casual relationships even with other drivers, but nothing serious or public. When you found out Fernando was single again, a flicker of hope sparked in your chest, but when you saw him go back to his playboy ways… It died down.

Sometimes you would dream of a different life, of one you never lost your best friend… or even better, one that you never had to suppress the love you felt for him. And sometimes it felt too much, like all this love was just filling up your hollow heart, filling up until it overflowed, until you felt like you were drowning in it, because there was nowhere for this love to go. And you wondered, what do I do with this love, there's no one to give it to, there's no recipient to put it. So you would just ground your teeth and bear it, holding onto anger because that much love, that much longing did nothing but cause you pain.

Every time someone mentioned him outside race weeks, you felt ashamed.

Despite being in a top team like Ferrari, you’d only get a few wins, and some podiums here and there, so it wasn’t like you didn’t achieve anything. But you were a woman so it was obviously not enough, and the media started questioning your career and your place in Formula One.

After two years of you driving for Ferrari, Domenicalli, your team principal, sat you down to let you know Fernando Alonso would be joining the team the next year, and you bit the inside of your cheek, considering just retiring. The criticism was getting to you, and the perspective of living hell with Fernando as your teammate was a broken heart all over again.

When an opportunity arose to drive for Red Bull Racing, with a two year contract, you didn’t think twice before accepting. It would be your chance to turn the tide in your career.

It sent the motorsport world into a frenzy when your new team announced you and a week later Ferrari announced Fernando as their future driver. The same narrative of you running away from him was passed ahead. And of course, it got to the paddock. Most drivers that were close to you actually congratulated you, but of course, nothing was ever good for Fernando. And despite not fully talking to him, he was always willing to throw a mean comment at you any given day.

“And people said you’re washed” Fernando said right after the news broke, the second to last race of that season, his voice dripping with venom. You knew it was a backhanded compliment, he always did that when he wanted to get a rise out of you. He smirked, waiting for your feral clapback, as you always had one on the tip of your tongue.

But when he looked back at you, your face was stony, and you were looking ahead with your chin raised. You didn’t even look at Fernando, nor answered his taunting. You pretended he wasn’t there but he noticed your eyes were misty.

That had been a low blow, even for him. He didn’t know shit about your feelings regarding your career, but he knew exactly how the world had been treating it, and it made you burn with shame that he could add insult to injury this easily. You wondered why he would say something like that if, just like you, it had been years since the last time he was champion of the world. Two years pushing yourself to the maximum so you could achieve your second championship.

Fernando had been your best friend for so long, he knew exactly what buttons to push when he wanted to hurt you.

When someone else arrived, greeting you, you cleared your throat briefly before answering and plastering a smile that never reached your eyes.

“Are you running away from me?” Fernando cornered you later that same day.

“What?” You paused.

“I went back to Renault and you left, now I’m going to Ferrari and you’re leaving,” he shrugged. You scoffed.

“I’m not sure if you know, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, Fernando.”

“Well, that’s a weird coincidence, don’t you think?”

“What do you want? Why are you here?”

Fernando paused for a second, his eyes searching yours, he looked vulnerable, open like he hadn’t been in so long. He looked every bit your best friend from years before.

“I miss you, I-” He started, then cleared his throat.

“I miss the old you,” You swallowed a whole bunch of your pride just to be able to say those words.

“Things are different now…” Fernando started, his eyes full of hoping, of longing, “We could- maybe we could-”

“Fernando, we’re too far gone, what we said- what we did…” You muttered, feeling a lump in your throat, “how do one come back from that?”

“We could restart. Try again-”

“You lost me forever that day, Fernando.” You muttered, the tears holding on to your eyelashes. You didn’t need to specify the day, he knew, he had seen in your eyes the moment he lost you, “I spent so long hearing your voice in my head, telling me I wasn’t good enough, I shouldn’t be here, and I- I hated you that day. And I had to hold onto this hate, because the alternative was overwhelming sadness.”

There was a numbing silence for a couple of minutes, as you stared down at your own feet, trying to stop all the feelings you spent years carefully locking away from breaking free. So much had happened, you believed you and Fernando were too far to recover now.

“I’m a woman here, the first and only woman in so long, and the whole world was against me. You have no idea how it felt that my best friend, the person I trusted the most, was also against me,” You shook your head, feeling the tears drop.

“I’m sorry, Nena… I’ve never- I’ve never meant any of that.” He muttered, and you didn’t look at him to see if he was being genuine. You had formed walls around your heart to protect yourself from heartbreak, and you now had a hard time believing him.

“There are some things… that are not meant to be.” You didn’t look back at Fernando after you said that, choosing to walk away with this broken heart feeling ever present.

It was hard to keep going everyday. You had always faced backlash for being a woman in Formula 1, and you were used to it. But the media took a turn over the next few years. When you didn’t win more championships, when years passed and you were still there, along with other champions and future champions. They started to call you old, washed, telling you to retire and placing bets on when you’d lose your seat. It was baffling because it had been six years since your championship, but it had been seven years since Fernando’s, but still, you were the only one whose spot was questioned all the time. It was unfair, and whenever they came up to you talking about it, you’d ask them if they’d ask the same to older drivers or other champions. They would leave you alone for a week and then come back stronger, ready to throw your whole career under the bus.

Finally, you got another chance at the championship in 2013, after an unbelievable start of the season with five consecutive wins. That had put you first in the standings for the championship, and from there on, your team molded the season around you. Smooth sailing through the season, you became world champion in Suzuka, way too far ahead in the championship to anyone be able to catch up to you.

When you stood on the podium that night, you cried happy tears. You had once again proved wrong years of demerit from the world. As you looked down to search for your family, your eyes found Fernando right beside them, a proud, emotional look on his face as he kept a hand over his heart, listening to your national anthem.

He nodded at you with a small smile, and a part of you healed a little bit.

You enjoyed a couple of days of pure bliss after becoming world champion. Parties, celebrations and trips, they were all you did for the next few weeks.

When the FIA Prize Giving ceremony came, you had another bombshell to drop at the world. You were the most stunning you ever felt that year when you arrived at the ceremony, in a beautiful dark blue dress with little crystals all over the bodice, a beautiful hairstyle and even more beautiful makeup. Never in your entire career in Formula 1, you had felt so fulfilled, so happy.

Hearing your name being called as the winner, the number one, was different this time, and had much more weight, and it made your heart burst with happiness. As you walked up the stairs to the stage, receiving your trophy, you stopped by the mic.

“Thank you so much. I’d like to thank my family for supporting me from the beginning, my team for making the perfect season, and the perfect car for me to be able to achieve this. I’d like to thank all my teammates that, in one way or another, taught me some valuable lessons as a racer. Thanks to Flavio for taking a chance on my career when probably no one else would.” You said, with a smile. You took a good look around, all the people in this sport who made Formula 1 the most important category of motorsport, all your peers, all the teams. “I’m announcing my retirement from Formula 1, as of right now.”

There was a wave of shock and loud gasps in the whole room, flashes and flashes bulbing harder than before, journalists scrambling to take notes… But you kept smiling, hand firm around your trophy as you let the news settle down before speaking again.

“In 2007 I wanted to pay Flavio back for giving me the opportunity to be here today. That debt was paid that same year. After that year I wanted to win for myself, to write my name in the history books, and my dream is now realized. I feel like I should move on and make space for new upcoming talents.” Your eyes were wet with unshed tears, but you smiled, the first genuine smile in a few years.

Fernando felt his heart drop at your words. Things weren’t supposed to go like this, you two should be best friends, drive together, retire together. Go down in history together.

“I’m grateful for everything this sport provided me, the adventures, traveling around the world, the people I met and the people I lost,” there was a calm pause, and Fernando wondered if you were talking about him too, “Now it’s time to go and achieve new dreams. Thank you very much.”

You turned around and walked away under the applause.

Later, after the ceremony was done, you were getting ready to leave when Fernando came to find you. He was dressed in a beautiful suit, looking like a million dollar man.

“Nena…”

It made you pause. It had been a while since he called you like that with that specific tone. 

“What? Came here to gloat?” You couldn’t help but be defensive, worried.

“What?”

“I knew you’d be one of the happiest when I retired.”

“No, I would not-”

“You would, Fernando. You did. Many times you said I was done, that my prime was over, that I should retire…” 

“I never thought you’d easily give up!” He shouted at you, “Like you did in 2006, not competing against me.”

“That’s because they didn’t let me compete! Do you think I couldn’t have competed with you back in ‘06? I could, but every time, they would tell me to back off, to let you pass, to not fight you, to not overtake you-” You threw at his face, because you wouldn’t stand there and let him look down on you like that. You refused to back down now that you were finally free. “Pat threatened my seat if disobeyed team orders.”

“What?! Why did you never tell me that?” Fernando looked shocked. His fighting stance was completely gone now.

“You were going to be World Champion again. I would never take that from you,” You whispered, voice failing.

“Nena…” He said, like he wanted to drop everything. “Please, don’t leave. If Red Bull don’t want you, you can find another spot with another team, we can think of something.”

“Fernando, I’m not leaving because the team doesn't want me. In fact, they offered me a 3 year extension.”

“That’s not how it was supposed to go, remember? We planned that-” His voice was kinder than it had been to you in many years, “We would go down in history together. Win together, retire together.”

“When push comes to shove, only one wins… We learned that the hard way.” I say, with a sad smile, “Life doesn’t always go as planned. And I got everything I could ever want from Formula 1. Now it’s time for new stuff.”

“What new stuff?”

“I want to have a family, Fernando. People don’t stick around long for this lifestyle, you know that-” You shook your head.

With one last look at Fernando, your eyes watered, and you walked away.

Sitting on the porch, you looked up at the sky, thinking of what’s next for you. It had been months since you announced your retirement from Formula 1. The new season had already begun. It was your birthday, a refreshing new one.

You heard steps coming closer and your heartbeat sped up as you saw Fernando walking up to you. He sat down by your side, holding a pint of ice cream and two spoons. He handed one to you and in silence, you started eating ice cream.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said after a few minutes of silence.

“Was it hard to find me?” You asked, with a tentative smile.

“It only took me my whole life to find you again…” He said, wistfully, his eyes shining under moonlight and you didn’t know if those were unshed tears or not, “my best friend, my nena, my girl…”

“I’ve always been here. Right here.” You said, eyes watering. You weren’t sure you could explain what that here meant, but somehow you knew he would understand.

Fernando took your hand, gently placing it on his chest, right above his heart.

“Right here,” he whispered, pressing his hand above yours, over his beating heart, “you were always here.”

Then, he kissed you. For the first time in more than a decade, for what felt like the first time for both of you. As his other hand pulled you closer, the kiss deepened, like a prayer and a promise. Both of you knew there was a lot of resentment to navigate through, and a lot of feelings you’d both have to unravel and understand. But there was one thing that was always there, through hate, anger and hurt… And it was love, unshaken, steadfast love.

As you broke apart, Fernando pulled you into him, hugging you tight for a few minutes, before pulling away to hold your face with both hands, his eyes looking into yours with so much devotion it melted everything away.

“We will be alright.”

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[dahliakbs]

Random Ideas I've Had For Batfam

Writer's block is the only reason I've yet to post any of them

1) Idol! Reader x Batfam

This is one of my newest ones, where basically the reader would be a tired, overworked idol in an industry full of talent. Their attention span would be that of a goldfish so in order for batfam to get them to actually relax and take some time off (which they can't do any of that but whatever) the batfam would use their attention span against them.

Leading them away slowly but surely from the toxic idol life and instead trying to get them back into the real world.

2) Batfam x Reader - The bats are from a different universe

Where basically reader lives in a universe where heroes don't exist and one day they phase into reality. Coming out of nowhere and for some reason no one is questioning a single thing.

Almost everyone you know has these alrmtered memories of those vigilantes or villains and you just can't seem to understand how the world changed so drastically over night.

You somehow gain their attention, you know from nearly freaking out every time their in your proximity (as vigilantes) or when you start noticing the questionable things occurring in your universe

Like ripples in time, or holes in the ground that when looking inside of it lead to another universe. The world eventually ends with only you and the vigilantes being left and you start to put it all together.

(Basically its kinda was supposed to be like Rick and Morty, where if they destroy their own universe they just skip to another one and in the end they end up having to take the reader with them)

3) Batfam x Five Hargreeves! Reader

Long and short of the story, your an overworked sidekick. Batman seems to have this idea that your the key, that your powers would be extremely useful in his nightly crusades so he trains you. Day after day your worked to the bone and then you snap.

Why can all the other kid sidekicks get to live their lives as normally as possible but your stuck training day after day to do something you don't even want to do? Your muscles are screaming and your on the verge of passing out from all the strain your training had on your body so when your desperate, tired mind comes up with a way to put all of this to a stop you decide to do it.

You use your powers to send yourself into the future, thinking that it will permanently separate you from your daily hell... and it did, just not how you were expecting it to.

(Then basically you return to the past and in the same body you left in with the mission of saving the world, the batfam slowly uncover your secrets and after a while confront you about it.) Like about how you were an assassin

4) Damian Wayne x Child! Reader

Funny idea I got from a tiktok audio where reader is a church girl and they meet Damian during morning mass. He's covered in blood, clearly looks like he'll jump at the next thing that moves in his peripheral but your a kid, you don't care.

You immediately become friends (that's how you see it in your mind) sneaking him out of the church while your parents aren't looking because he asked you to, well more like demanded you to but a friend is a friend. He'll keep secretly inviting you out, somehow finding your parent's house and showing up in the middle of the night to whisk you away.

Not for the purpose of hanging out. No no no, your his cover. He camouflages well when your around, your bubbly, childlike demeanor hiding his intense and dark intentions. And that's a good thing when it comes to his missions, his mother doesn't seem to care about your presence in his life so for now he'll just keep you around.

Your parents are a bit apprehensive about your friendship with him and only when they find out that Damian is Bruce Wayne's son is when they finally accept your friendship. (After Damian meets Bruce)

They finally allow you to hang out with him and you finally get to meet his "irritating" siblings that he for some reason always goes on about and they're just staring at you like.

How did you become friends with their rat of a brother?

A little dialogue I had:

"How did you meet our brother?" Dick's trying to seem as sweet as possible but your entire outfit could light up an entire city, your parents have you dressed like a disco ball and it's not doing you any favors.

And you know, these nocturnal vigilantes aren't really used to such bright light.

"I met Dami while I was in church" you answer sweetly, it's clear that the difference between the two of you is night and day which us honestly a breath of fresh air.

"Oh really...?" Dick's smile tenses, I mean who would expect Damian to go to church, let alone be at least 15 feet near one.

"I was there to kill the pastor" he just simply states.

"You were there to kill the what?!" Boom, reality shattered. Innocence gone, now you know why you haven't been seeing Pastor Malcom as of late.