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no-144444 · 6 months ago

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the break up of the century - (l.norris, no 4)

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pairing: lando norris (no.4) x fem! singer! reader

summary: you and lando break up on horrible terms, can a new album and a special performance bring you back together? is that even what you two want?

7.6k + words, brief fade-to-black smut, fluff, mainly angst :)

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You weren’t sure how it happened, one moment you were on stage, the next, you were crying in your dressing room, hating every single thing about your life. Funny how one moment leads into the next, right?

Y/n Y/l/n. Household name at the age of 19. Now, 23. Fans impatiently awaiting your next album, the album you hated, and now on a world tour that is sucking the life from your body.

Sounds like you have it all.

The money, the fame, the clothes, the boys, the voice. It’s all you’ve ever dreamed of. And now it means nothing, because you have it. And it’s nowhere near as good as you wanted it to be.

You’d always been told of the horror stories of fame taking more than it gave, and you always brushed it off with a smile and a ‘that’ll never happen to me’. Low and behold, you’ve had 4 stalkers in 2 years, 3 lawsuits against you from old record companies that dropped you, 2 grammys, and 1 ridiculously public break-up with he-who-shall-not-be-named.

Having it all really means having too much to think about, and too much to deal with. You would’ve preferred to just go to university like all your friends. Be young. Make mistakes. But those were luxuries you took for granted, and now you’re paying the price.

“Y/n?” Sasha, your manager called from outside. “We have the meet and greet.”

And then there was your fans. They were great, obviously, but they were also very hyper teenagers and young adults that paid a lot of money to see you, and it made you feel even worse about not being 100%. At least you’d cut ticket prices down by 50% in meetings, meaning they were much cheaper than any other artist at the moment. At least you could do that for your fans.

You nodded, sniffling as you wiped your eyes on the sleeve of your dress.

“Do you need your makeup touched up?”

“Yes,” you answered, voice hoarse. “How many more shows?”

“This was your 97th. You have 53 left.”

“Fuck!” You groaned. “Fuck this.”

“You have the British Gran Prix tomorrow, you have to make an appearance, alright? I’m sending Maria in to fix your makeup,” Sasha was trying to pity you, but she also had a job to do, which you understood.

“Thanks Sash,” you sighed as Maria came in.

“Hey babe,” she smiled softly, sympathy and pity shown in her eyes.

“Hi,” you sniffled, wiping your last tear away.

“Let’s get you fixed up, yeah?” She started unpacking her bag with all your makeup as you nodded, turning to face her. “You’re amazing. You were so pretty tonight.”

You somehow didn’t scoff in her face. “Thanks.”

“I know you don’t believe me,” she sighed. “I can’t even understand why. You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

You hiccupped, the tears threatening to pour again as you thought about him.

“You’re the most beautiful girl in the world.”

Stop thinking about him. You told yourself. He’s in the past.

But he wasn’t in the past, how could he be when he was always on your fucking feed with his new girlfriend. Allison and Lando, what a beautiful couple. More like a bunch of crap. They weren’t real, everyone knew it was just pr, especially considering that she was promoting her new racing movie. You had no idea why they even tried to keep up the charade. They didn’t even look good together.

Alas, they were together, and you weren’t anymore.

And you were going to be reminded of it every single second of the next day.

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You pressed your entry card to the barrier and walked through as cameras flashed and you smiled one of your best fake smiles.

“Y/n!” Oscar smiled, walking up and hugging you. You knew everyone, and you started to feel embarrassed about everything. This was his workplace, and you had to be here to do press and sing a song you didn’t want to sing.

Bullshit.

“Hey Osc,” you smiled, hugging him back.

“You look so wonderful today,” he smiled, taking your hand instead. He led you to the McLaren paddock as you two chatted about tour and races. You asked about Miami, and Oscar answered. “It was the best day of his life- his words!”

“Meeting you was the best day of my life. That’ll never change.”

Oh. I guess it changed.

“How's the tour? It looks amazing!” He cheered as you two entered the paddock. Mechanics and engineers greeting and hugging you as you went through and lied about how ‘amazing’ the tour is.

“Y/n!” Zak cheered. “My favourite girl!”

He pulled you into a bone-crushing hug, and you hugged back. It felt good to be back, and to still have so many people still like you. “Hi Zak.”

“I missed you so much! Please tell me that awful Allison girl is gone and you and Lan are back? She’s driving me crazy,” he scoffed.

“No, I’m just here to do some press with Ferrari,” you chuckled. “But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to come see my favourite CEO.”

He sighed but nodded, knowing that Lando had the board cut you off the ‘influencer list’ when you two broke up. “Well, once you know that you’re my favourite.”

“You’re my favourite too,” you smiled. “Don’t tell anyone.”

“Lips are sealed,” he smiled and moved on, going about his various duties. For a moment you looked around the paddock you had known so well and felt your heart ache a little. You loved Lando, you still loved Lando. You loved McLaren, and you loved the people here, yet you didn’t get to see them anymore because of the stupid fucking tour. This tour was ruining your life. You didn’t talk to family, or friends, you and Lando had broken up, you weren’t eating or sleeping, you always felt sick, you were rarely allowed to speak during the day so you could ‘conserve’ your voice for shows.

But the worst part was that nobody noticed.

“He's right y’know,” Oscar smiled. “We all miss you. Even Lando.”

“Lando is with Allison. He has no reason to miss me.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow. “All they do is fight.”

“So? That’s what Lando and I did for weeks.”

“But it was different. You two were in a bad situation, but you loved each other, so the fights meant something. Allison and Lan are just wrong for each other, they’re fighting to fight.”

You groaned, sitting on the bench and resting your head in your hands. “When did you become a philosopher?”

Oscar laughed, and placed a hand on your back. “I’ve always been this philosophical, you were just too busy to notice.”

“Shut up,” you chuckled, pushing him off.

“All I’m saying is that you should talk to him, that’s all,” he shrugged, walking away from you and further into the paddock.

“Y/n.”

Your head snapped up, so hard it hurt. There he was. Lando. For the first time in months. With Allison. And a dog.

Oh.

“Hi,” you smiled, standing up. It was a puppy, a jack-russell terrier, the kind you’d always wanted. The kind like your childhood dog. Great, now they stole your dog breed. “Nice to see you.”

“I didn’t know you would be here,” he said bluntly. “What are you doing here?”

“Press for Ferrari. Oscar just… brought me in to say hi to everyone. So, hi. And now I’ll take my leave,” you smiled, then started to try and walk off. But Allison clearly had other plans, since she stuck out her hand for a ‘handshake’ that conveniently stopped you from walking off.

“Allison,” she smirked. “And this is Mila.”

You stared blankly at Lando for a moment. Seriously? He’d taken the dog breed and what you’d agreed to be the name of your first child? Give me a break.

“Y/n,” you shook her hand. “And I have to go, bye and good luck today.”

Thank god Ferrari was on the other side of the fucking track.

“Y/n!” Charles cheered, hugging you close. You’d been getting closer with Charles since your split with Lando and his split with his ex had happened within a week of each other. “How are you?”

You took a deep breath. “I’m fine, tired.”

“I have been seeing the tour, it looks great!” he smiled, pulling back.

“Thanks Charles, it was amazing to see you, but I better go. I have to-”

“Sing the new song? Yes! I can't wait,” he cheered. You mustered up a small smile, and left him alone.

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Sasha came and found you in the bathroom an hour later. “Y/n?” She was frantic, and stressed, so you just decided to give up and show yourself.

“Yeah?”

“It’s time, come on,” she sighed. “I know this is hard-”

“How could you know it’s fucking hard? My entire life is in shambles and I’m supposed to be happy about it because I’m a ‘superstar’ what the fuck does that even mean? My boyfriend broke up with me because of this tour, and I thought I was going to marry him. Isn’t that insane? Isn’t that fucking crazy? And the worst part is, that I can’t even stop if I want to. I’m not allowed to stop. Sasha, how could you ever understand how hard this is for me? I’m 22. I should be in college, having fun. But instead I’m about to sing a song I don’t like or care about, in my ex-boyfriends workplace. Does that sound like fun to you, Sasha?”

Her face was blank, stoic, unmoving. “Let’s go, you have soundcheck.”

You just followed her. Sasha was good at that, good at making you feel small, making you feel like a nuisance. The stage was big, bigger than most of your stadiums, but you didn’t care. You just had to get through it.

“Have you eaten?”

“Feel sick,” you replied. “No thanks.”

Sasha sighed. “You’re going to faint one day.”

“Let’s hope I never wake up,” you replied dryly. Sasha scoffed and walked on, showing you the layout of the stage. You followed and asked questions, getting into ‘work mode’, and warming up your voice as you went along. A small crowd of the driver’s was gathering, even Lando was standing there, front row, just like he used to.

You wanted to punch him, in all honesty. How could someone do that? He had no fucking right to stand there and watch you sing. He should be with Allison.

“Start when you’re ready,” Sasha called and you nodded.

The music started, and you were off. When the music started, you became someone else. You were moving around, laughing with your band, smiling. It was nice. Even if you hated the tour, you felt free on stage. Even if the song was sad.

‘Champagne problems’, you’d written it right after your break up with Lando, it was new, and it had just been released. It had become the top of the charts in 15 countries. It would be on your next album,

‘What if it doesn’t get easier like everybody says?’, and it was your most raw album. It was clearly all about your break up with Lando, there was no denying that.

The song ended and the entire track clapped. You stopped moving when you spotted Lando’s parents, and you realised very quickly that you had to get out of there.

You ran to the Ferrari hospitality, did some promos for your next album with them, and suddenly it was time to sing for real. The stands were full, the microphone was on, and the spotlight was on you.

“Hi everyone,” you smiled, and the crowd erupted in cheering. “How are we feeling today?”

You had worn a short red dress, for Ferrari, and it was sparkling in the late afternoon sunshine. Everyone could see how beautiful you looked. Your hair perfectly styled, your makeup flawless, your beautiful face.

Lando was entranced.

You started singing and you sounded like an angel, truely. Lando had always thought you sounded otherworldly. He knew it was about him. He knew he’d fucked up. He knew he missed you. He knew it was too late, and that was the worst part.

“Thank you so much for coming out and listening to my dumb sad song,” you chuckled as the crowd cheered. “But I have something else for you,” you were cut off by excited fans. I have something just a little bit happier, it’s called ‘Lover’. Please enjoy!”

Lando watched you as you danced around the stage, and he felt something dark growing in his stomach. You weren’t talking about him. It was someone new. You were seeing someone new.

You couldn’t be seeing someone new, you’d been in a new city every few days. You couldn’t make it work with him, you were never on your phone, so it couldn’t be online. How did this happen?

You finished your song, and you left the stage. You fell into a chair and passed out. Maybe not eating was a bad idea? Probably.

“Y/n,” Sasha shook you awake. “Someone’s here to see you.”

“I feel like shit-”

“We all do. Let’s go.”

And you followed. Because you had to. What else were you supposed to do but follow? Was this your life now? Taking orders and following them.

“Now, you have to be nice to everyone, even Lando and Allison, alright?” she turned to you, stopping in front of the door.

“I really don’t feel well,” you tried to protest. “Can I grab something to eat first?”

She rolled her eyes. “It’ll be 15 minutes, you’ll survive,” she sighed, opened the door, and pushed you into the room.

The drivers and their partners all cheered, happy to see you back in the paddock.

“Y/n! I missed you so much!” Carmen immediately pulled you into a hug.

“I missed you too,” you smiled, even if it was forced. You needed to sit down, you needed a drink, and you needed to be alone.

“Some pretty amazing songs!” George cheered, patting you on the back.

“Thanks George,” you smiled. Soon you were all sitting on the various couches and chatting, even if you didn’t speak. Lando’s eyes were glued to his hands as Allison’s eyes were glued to you. She was practically sitting on him, on the verge of straddling him if you looked in their direction again. She didn’t know it, but you were looking at the door behind them, wondering when you’d be called. It had surpassed the 15 minute mark, and you felt yourself getting more and more faint as time went on.

“Y/n?” Allison cut across Daniel chatting to you about your latest show in Manchester, remembering a story of the two of you when you were there, and telling it to the group. “How’s the tour going?”

You cleared your throat. “Well, thanks,” you smiled shyly.

“So the rumours that you haven’t been performing to your full capabilities aren't true? Like I’ve heard you’ve been lip syncing,” she smirked as the rest of the drivers and wags just looked at her with disgust. Oscar rolled his eyes. He’d been sick of her for weeks, and he was usually quite good with people he didn’t like, but he hated her. So did Lily.

You gulped. “I don’t lip sync, but obviously 97 shows in 113 days is quite a lot for my voice, so I don’t always sing my super vocally- challenging songs every night or else I’d have to go on vocal rest all the time,” you explained, feeling the change in energy in the room.

“And that would just be horrible, right guys?” She turned to Lando with a smirk on her face, but he was just looking down, embarrassed by her. “I’m a huge fan of your music, how much of it is about Lando?-”

“What the fuck?” George stood up with Carmen by his side. “Allison, what is your problem with her?”

“It’s just a question!” Allison defended as Lando got up and left. She looked a lot less imposing with Lando gone. “He’s my boyfriend now!”

“Yeah, we wish he wasn’t,” Lewis said under his breath.

“Guys, it’s fine,” you just wanted to leave. “Some of my songs are, because I like to put my feelings into music, right? But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself. Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well.”

With that, you got up and left. You didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if Sasha screamed at you, you didn’t care if they all came running after you.

It was done. You and Lando were over. Was it your choice? No. Was it a choice you had to deal with? Yes. His choice. Yet, everyone had looked to you for answers. ‘What happened?’ ‘Was it going downhill?’ or your personal favourite; ‘Did he get bored?’.

You didn’t know. All you knew was that one moment, you were with him, and the next you weren’t.

You ran to your dressing room and lay down, eating some random snacks you found. You felt better after eating, you felt-

Knock knock.

“Come in!” You called, not caring much about who it was.

“Hi,” Lando’s voice was small and quiet.

You sat up, staring at him.

“Beautiful songs,” he smiled softly. “Missed hearing you sing.”

You nodded. “Good luck today.”

“Thanks,” he sighed. “I'm sorry about Allison, she’s the fucking worst.”

You chuckled softly. “I’m sorry you’re dating her.”

He cracked a soft smile, then it fell. “Who’s the new lucky guy for you?” He watched as your face fell.

“No… no new guy, just an old one I wrote back at the start of… us…” you trailed off.

His heart was shattering, watching you be treated like this. Watching from afar as you lost your mind, lost your life, over a fucking tour. He saw the soulless look in your eyes, the dropped weight, the dampened smiles, all of it. He was shocked that other people couldn’t see it too. He’d regretted breaking up with you since the moment he did it. He was haunted by the way you begged him to stay, and he questioned how he’d ever said no to you. How was he so blind-sighted? How did he not see how much pressure you were under? How did he not see that he was what was keeping you above ground?

“Oh,” he breathed out.

You took a deep breath. “I’m releasing an album soon, and a lot of the songs are about our relationship,” you explained hesitantly. “I wanted to offer you a chance to listen to it before it goes out, just as a… heads-up? In case you’re worried about what’s on it.”

God, punching him square in the face would hurt less than watching you feel awkward around him. He cleared his throat. “Oh umm…yeah. I’d like that. Thank you.”

You nodded and got up, taking a cd out of your backpack. “Here you go. Sorry again, about… everything.”

“I’m sorry too,” he nodded. “So, are you leaving now or…?”

“No, I’m holding the chequered flag today, so I’ll be up at race control,” you explained, trying to look anywhere other than him. “And I’m handing off the 1st place trophy.”

“Maybe I’ll be first to see you,” he chuckled.

“Maybe,” you shrugged.

“The tour looks… awful. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” he spoke after a minute’s silence.

You just shrugged. “Not your fault,” you lied.

He knew this was when he was meant to leave, but he wasn’t sure when you two would be in the same room again. He didn’t know when he’d see you again, so he took a moment to fully take you in. “You were really incredible today. You sounded like an-”

“Angel? Thanks Lando, see you soon,” you nodded, finishing the compliment you always used to get from him. He nodded and left, realising he had no more time.

When the door closed you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. How could he do that? How could he stand there and be nice to you, after what he said that night? After what he fucking put you through?

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Weeks of complaining from him, blaming you for his performance in races, telling you that you needed to be there for him, not calling you back, not texting back, not listening when you told him about how awful everything was going.

“I’m sorry Lan, I know how hard this is. It’s hard for me too-”

“How the fuck can you say that? You’re the one who choose to do this, you fucking decided to tear us apart! This is all your fault, and you’re telling me it’s ‘hard’ for you. What is hard for you? Spending all your time with adoring fans? Being on stage and living your dreams? Being away from me?”

“Lan, you know better than anyone that I didn’t want this tour to happen,” you cried. Even then, even 48 shows in, you were being driven crazy. You were exhausted, you missed home, and you missed Lando. “I had no choice-”

“You had every fucking choice! And don’t give me that fucking bullshit about your label forcing you, we both know that’s a fucking lie!” he shouted. You hated it when he shouted, when anyone shouted. He had no fucking right to speak to you like that. You didn’t want this to happen, you had no say, you just had a contract and an incompetent lawyer to thank.

“I don’t know what you want me to say to that,” you shrugged, your voice breaking. “I love you, and I miss you. We can make this work Lan, I just need time to figure it out, alright? I just need time-”

“Yeah? Well I’ve given you all the time I have to give. We’re done, I bet I could find a million girls just like you, girls who would actually take my feelings into account before she made huge life decisions!” he scoffed.

“Lando, please don’t do this. I-I don’t know what- I- Lan please, I need you,” you pleaded. “I’m trying my best I swear-”

“Your best isn’t good enough.”

And he hung up.

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The fallout of your relationship didn’t exactly go great either. A day later your feed was flooded with pictures of Lando out with someone else. One day later.

What the fuck? Didn’t he care? Didn’t he love you?

Well, apparently not.

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Lando knew he wouldn’t see you again for months. This was his only fucking chance to speak to you, to see you, and instead, he stayed in his driver’s room listening to the heart-wrentching songs you’d written about him. God, if he thought ‘champagne problems’ was devastating, ‘cowboy like me’ was worse. It was a long album, almost 2 hours long. It spanned your entire relationship, starting out, your first date, your grammy win, his podiums, the hate you two got, the start of the fighting, the end of the relationship, and the after. It was awful reliving it from your perspective, especially since you had tried to tell him, and every time he’d pick a fight.

“Lando?” Oscar’s voice came from outside his door. “Allison’s looking for you.”

“Tell her to piss off!”

“You can do that, mate,” he scoffed and walked off, into his own driver’s room.

“Lan?” Her voice rang out, and he wanted to scream. He had put himself in this position, he knew it, but it was still difficult to fully self-actualise his own shortcomings.

“What?” he groaned, opening the door.

“The other girls are excluding me,” she pouted.

“I wonder why,” Lando rolled his eyes. “They love Y/n.”

Her face fell into a frown. “But you love me, so they should love me. They keep going off to find her and talk to her, and any time I try to tell them that I’m uncomfortable around her, they tell me not to come.”

“I don’t know what you want me to do,” he sighed.

“Talk to their boyfriends, ask them to include me!”

“Babe, I have a fucking race today, please leave me alone,” he sighed. He pushed past her to walk to the paddock, knowing he just had to keep his head down and race today, he just had to do the one thing he was good at.

“Well, what am I supposed to do for the rest of the day?”

“I don’t know,” he grunted, and moved on. The garage was somehow too loud yet not loud enough to drown out the negative thoughts in his head. Recent months had been difficult. Races were taking more and more out of him, he was lonely, and if he wasn’t training or racing, he was looking at old photos of you or watching the tour. He could see how you deflated as you left the stage, how upset you looked going on stage. It was all a terrible reminder of how selfish he’d been. How hadn’t he seen it? Why didn’t he listen?

He remembered telling Max what had happened. He’d gotten so angry, begging him to call you back and apologise. He’d been so blindsighted, he wouldn’t listen to Max. Why was Max always right?

“You good?” Oscar asked, a hand on his shoulder to drag him out of his thousand-yard stare.

Lando sighed. “Good,” he lied, and it wasn’t convincing. Everyone knew what you were to him. You grounded him, you knew him, every single part of him. You loved him. “You?”

“Good. Y/n’s set was great earlier,” he offered a small smile. “At least you have a good break-up album, right?”

Lando cracked a small smile. Oscar was good at that, making him laugh when he was down. “Yeah, it feels great when it’s about you.”

Oscar chuckled. “Story for the grandkids,” he shrugged. “Don’t sweat it.”

Lando nodded.

“Oh yeah,” Oscar added. “When you left, Allison asked Y/n what songs were about you, so just… expect that conversation with her, I guess? I’m not entirely sure what’ll happen-”

“What did Y/n say?”

Oscar swallowed. “Something like; ‘some of my songs are, ‘cause I like to put my emotions into music. But not all of them, because my life doesn’t revolve around Lando, it never did. I am more than my relationships, and you’d do good to remember that for yourself’.”

Lando nodded, and could tell by the look on Oscar’s face that he was holding something back. “That’s it?”

“‘Don’t let love become who you are, it doesn’t end well’,” Oscar finished. “Then she left.”

Lando nodded as the weight on his chest got heavier. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“Of course,” Oscar offered a pity-smile and walked off to his side of the garage.

Lando was always a person to be stuck inside his own head. He wasn’t good at expressing his feelings. He didn’t know how to talk about them. Yet, you always knew how to get him to talk. You always had the right solution, the right thing to say, the right face to make. He was in awe of you, so effortlessly perfect.

He remembered back to Greece, back in the off-season, before the tour, before the season started. Before he fucked everything up.

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You smiled as he pulled you closer. The air was anything but cold, and the water was still. There you two sat, sitting on the bow of the as the sun set. The clear water beneath the yacht you’d been on for the past few days was calm and steady, lulling you both into an unmistakable tiredness. Yte, Lando wanted to stay up, wanting to soak up as much time with you as he could. He was going to miss you so much this season. You hadn’t ever been to every race in a season, you were a busy person, he understood that. He was a busy person too. But you’d go to as many races as possible. Now, ‘as many races as possible’ means about 4. Stupid tour.

“What are you thinking about?” you asked, your eyes closed as you soaked in the moment. You leant against his chest as you lay in his arms, your favourite place to be.

“How much I’ll miss you this year,” he admitted. There was never any point in lying to you, you always knew.

You pressed a kiss to his arm. “I’ll miss you too.”

You were straight forward with things, he loved that. It was a bad situation. You were off to a tour you didn’t want to do, and he was off to another season.

“I love you,” he confessed. He said it a lot, but it always felt special. He made you feel special. You made him feel special.

“I love you,” you opened your eyes, a smile on your lips. You spoke again after a few moments of silence. “You’re going to win a race this season, I can tell.”

He chuckled. “Once I get back home to you, I don’t care if I win.”

You laughed. “Sure, we all believe you.”

He smiled. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You looked at him for a moment, that perfect, soft smile on your face. “Ditto,” you laughed as he did too. Your laugh was melodic, his favourite sound.

“Who says ‘ditto’ to that?!” he laughed.

“I do,” you chuckled.

You two locked eyes for a moment, then he leant down and pressed his lips to yours, soft and sweet.

The perfect night.

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He caught a glance of your red dress walking into the garage.

“Y/n!” The engineers cheered. He heard your laughter.

The room was a collection of cheers and conversation, and he wanted more than anything to be able to walk over to you and hold you, and kiss you, and tell everyone to leave you alone because you were his girlfriend, not theirs.

You walked in with a smile on your face. That smile dropped in half a second. Everyone was talking, everyone was patting you on the back, everyone was looking at you. You caught a glance of Lando and immediately felt the pit in your stomach grow. Everyone knew everything, everyone looked at you. Everyone blamed you. Oscar wrapped his arm around you and walked you through the garage as he saw you getting overwhelmed. He’d learnt the signs from his little sisters. Blown out pupils, teary eyes, tight features, heavy breathing. Oscar had always been a great friend to you, he’d always cared for you. He brought you through, doing most of the talking if anyone stopped you two and let you in his driver’s room, promising to grab you when you could leave without being bombarded by crew, or the press.

Lando followed behind after a few minutes, then knocked on the door. He knew how to calm you down, he was probably the only person who did.

Oscar opened the door looking panicked. “She’s having a panic attack,” he whispered.

Lando nodded and walked in, taking your hand in his as you hid your face in your other hand. He knelt beside you on the floor as you sat on the bed. “It’s me baby, I’m right here. Come on, squeeze my hand,” he said, voice steady. You didn’t. “You need to start breathing properly, squeeze my hand like I’m squeezing yours,” He put some light pressure on your hand, which jump-started you into squeezing his hand as hard as you could. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t fair. You hated how well he knew you. You wanted him to not know you, to not understand you and your body better than you did. “Just like that,” he cooed. He pressed your hand to his chest, where you could feel his steady and calm breathing, feel his regular heartbeat. It was in stark contrast to you. The thump of your own heartbeat in your ears, the quick breathing, the erratic heart. “Breathe with me. Please baby,” his voice was soft and comforting. You tried, gently slowing your breathing down to normal. The adrenaline was still rushing through your body as you calmed down. Oscar offered you a water bottle and you let go of Lando’s hand to take it.

“I shouldn’t have come here, I’m sorry,” you said, sounding smaller than ever. “Zak said he wanted to see me after my set. I should’ve just said no.”

“You’re always welcome here,” Oscar placed a hand on your shoulder. “Seriously.”

“We want you here,” Lando added. The air was sucked from the room. “I want you here.”

“You don’t,” you refuted. “I shouldn’t be here.”

Lando sighed. “Let me walk you back to Ferrari, please?”

You shook your head, finally looking up and making eye contact with him. “You and I both know how that’ll go.”

Lando nodded, his heart breaking for the thousandth time. It’s hard to find an end to something you never want to let go of. “Ok,” he whispered, his emotions getting the better of him.

“Goodbye Lando,” you sighed, then took Oscar’s arm and let him lead you back to Ferrari.

----------------

“I’m sorry about Lando,” Oscar sighed as you two walked up to the entrance to Ferrari. “About the break up, now, and basically everything in between. He’s been… difficult recently. He’s always been a ‘glass half empty’ kind of guy I guess… I just… you made him better, y’know?”

You chuckled sadly. “Thank you for apologising, but you don’t have to. Lando is an adult, so am I. Things just… end sometimes. Him and I just aren’t meant to be.”

Oscar cocked an eyebrow. “I think we both know that’s not true.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Oscar had never been this straightforward with you, and he sure as hell had never broached this topic before. You just nodded and took his hand. “Thanks for helping me.”

And then you walked back to Ferrari.

Oscar did get one thing right, Lando wasn’t done with you. Maybe it was seeing you again, maybe it was the album, maybe it was Allison, maybe it was all of it, he didn’t know. But what he did know was that he was still in love with you. He’d never stopped. How could he? He missed everything about you, your lips, your smile, your kindness, the way you’d make him laugh, the way you’d make him smile. Everything. He missed listening to you sing, seeing you on a stage that you wanted to be on. Seeing you get to be you.

----------------

The Silverstone after-party with Charles who dragged you along. You’d thought it would be a bad idea, but when you were already 8 shots deep, you didn’t really notice. Yuki had pulled you away to sing a karaoke duet with him as Pierre and Charles laughed at you both, and you somehow ended up outside on the balcony with Carlos, both of you laughing at something random.

“Y/n!” Lando cheered, clearly as drunk as you. A part of you had forgotten about everything before this moment, like you were seeing him for the first time. Perfect, with his curls, unbuttoned shirt, and damn pretty smile. “I didn’t know you were here!”

“Lan!” you cheered, pulling him in for a hug. Carlos gave you both a very confused look, but was called away by Charles for a game of beer pong. Surprisingly, these ‘fancy’ parties usually just turned into something out of a frat house in Florida. Maybe it was just Logan’s presence. “How are you?” You slurred.

“I feel great!” he shouted. “We should go for a walk!”

“Yes!” you agreed.

----------------

And that’s how you ended up back in his hotel room making out with him on his bed as he pulled your dress off. Funny how things can happen when you’re actually 18 shots deep, not 8. Oops?

“So pretty,” he murmured into your neck as he settled you on his lap. “So pretty for me.”

You laughed into his mouth, pulling back. “Lan, speed up.”

He smirked at you, his eyes heavy, then pressed his lips to yours again. He fully pulled your dress off of you as you started making quick work of his belt and trousers.

“Fuck me,” you whispered in his ear and he let out a low moan. “Please Lan.”

He didn’t waste time.

----------------

You woke up the next morning with a blinding headache, and a very naked Lando Norris beside you. You had to leave. You’d just fucked him, and he had a girlfriend. You were a homewrecker. You didn’t know if the sudden urge to vomit came up because of that, or the 18 shots of straight vodka you did the night before.

You quickly grabbed your clothes, shoes, one of his hoodies, and tried to salvage whatever dignity you had left, then made a swift exit. It was still dark out and you were just praying that you could get through the 2 blocks you had to walk to your hotel without running into someone, or running into cameras. You quickly dialled Sasha’s number and tried to stop yourself from crying. You just pray you two used protection, or fell asleep before doing anything real.

“Morning?” she answered groggily.

“Sasha I did something really fucking stupid,” you admitted, the tears welling up in your eyes as you walked into the lobby of your hotel. “And I don’t know what to do.”

“Come to my room, we’ll sort it out,” she sighed. “You’ll be ok kiddo, I promise.”

----------------

You knocked on her hotel room door, tears in your eyes.

“It’s 5 am,” she stated, opening the door.

You rushed in, bursting into tears. “I think I fucked Lando, I mean- I-I think we fucked, last night- we were so drunk a-and then I don’t re-remember,” you hiccuped. “I’m so fucking stupid!”

She put a hand on your shoulder, sighing. “That was a very stupid thing to do,” she nodded. “But it’s not the end of the world. Did you use protection?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’ll go get Plan B, you stay here. Get changed into some pyjamas. Get some water, relax. Just don’t leave the hotel, yeah?”

“Alright,” you agreed. She left for the door. “Sash?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” you said in a small voice. She offered you a pitying smile, and went on her way.

----------------

Months passed and you both went on with your lives. He didn’t reach out, you didn’t either. Sadly, you were in fact a homewrecker. A week after ‘the incident’ Allison and Lando broke up. You truthfully felt so ashamed and awful for the girl. It wasn’t right what you two had done, and truly, you were insanely drunk. In no world would you fuck Lando Norris sober.

The tour had finally ended, and your world was no longer turned upside down. You were working on new music, healing your body after all the travel and abuse you put it through, and continuing to try and get over Lando.

It hurt like a bitch. He hurt like a bitch.

----------------

Lando two-wins. Contender in the Championship. Supposedly dating someone. Last Lap Lando.

Lonely Lando, more like. Max Fewtrell had decided to stage an intervention and join him for the rest of the races, worried about his mental state. Since seeing you again, he’d been… less than alright. He’d talk about you all the time, stalk your instagram (to the point that Max took his phone off of him in Greece), and generally just think about you a lot. It was coming up to the album drop, and you were having your launch party in Italy. The same weekend as the race. All because Charles wanted to come.

Shit was bound to go down, and no one was more excited than Hallie.

You were dressed to the nines, nervous and excited. You’d fired half of your team, you’d dropped your old label, and you’d become… happier? That couldn’t be right, not when you felt the oppressive weight of your own regret on your chest everyday. Not when you woke up reaching for Lando. Not when you watched every single race and couldn’t look away until he was safely across that damn finish line.

You were surviving. That’s the best you could do.

----------------

“You look beautiful,” Charles smiled as he walked into the party. The night had gone off without a hitch so far. A select group of fans, influencers, celebrities, and almost all the drivers were mingling with one another, and not one sighting of Lando Norris. Not that you didn’t miss his face, or him in general. You did. More than you’d ever thought possible to miss someone.

“Thanks Charles,” you smiled, pulling him into a hug. “You look great too.”

He smiled and beside him, Alexandria smiled at you, then pulled you into a hug. You continued the superficial chatting for a few moments, just hoping Charles wouldn’t ask the dreaded question.

He looked at you for a second too long, and you knew it was coming. “Are you alright?” God, why did he have to ask stupid fucking questions? Obviously you weren’t alright. Obviously, if you could, you would run away. Obviously, you were drowning.

Didn’t he see that? Didn’t anyone notice? Didn’t anyone care?

Apparently not.

You nodded, putting on your best fake smile. “Just nervous.”

He nodded. It was enough to fool him.

The night went on in a flurry of uncomfortable small talk, ridiculous requests from your most esteemed guests, and it was finally time to start listening to the album. You stood on stage, a nervous smile on your face as everyone looked at David, your producer, who was speaking in length about how proud of the record he was, and how proud he was of you. Everything was perfect. Everything was right in the world.

But, of course, because he had to always be the centre of your universe, Lando walked in.

And you were fucked. Every single breathing technique you’d learnt, every single pressure point tapping you’d done, it all left your head. Everything stopped. You stopped breathing. You stopped.

But it didn’t feel wrong. It didn’t feel bad to have him there. It felt awfully, and soul-crushingly, right. Lando was always meant to be there, a devastating realisation that you didn’t exactly want to make while on stage in front of 200 people.

“Any words, Y/n?” David asked, passing you the mic.

You looked at Lando and he smiled, waving at you. You smiled back.

“Please enjoy this album, it’s from a very important time of my life where I finally learnt what it meant to be in love, and be loved wholly in return. Obviously, it didn’t end very well, and that’s when I learnt what grieving someone was. I still have a lot of love for him, probably more than I should. But I have it. And I had nowhere to put it, so I put it to music, which is really the only thing I think I’ll ever truly understand. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope you understand it,” You explained to the crowd. You watched Lando the entire time, looking at how his eyes lit up when you talked about your relationship. Lando had always cared about you. He always would.

The opening cords of the first song started playing, and the attention was off of you. The crowd just closed their eyes and listened. You exited the stage and joined the crowd, desperately trying to get out of there. You stood on the balcony as the music blasted inside. People danced along, sang along as they started learning the words, and you stayed outside, tears falling.

“You’re beautiful,” Lando’s whisper made you jump. You turned to see him, standing there behind you. “The album’s beautiful.”

You scoffed. “The album’s an album. What was beautiful was us,” you sighed. “Thank you for coming.”

He nodded, leaning against the barrier beside you. “Do you even wish our lives weren’t as complicated as they are?”

You chuckled. “More than anything.”

“We were beautiful,” he shook his head, trying to remember why he ever ruined the best thing in his life. “If you ever find yourself wanting to love me again, just… call me?”

You nodded, looking at him. “I will.”

He nodded, putting his hand on your shoulder and letting it sit there for a split-second, just to remind him of what it was like to touch you. Just to remind himself that once, he didn’t have to wonder if you loved him, to remind him of the unwavering support you gave him, to remind him of how his whole world came crashing down when he made you leave it. “I love you,” he whispered before walking to the door.

His phone started ringing in his pocket as he got back inside. Unknown number. He answered it.

“I think I want to love you again,” he could hear your smile through the phone and he immediately whipped around, his smile growing as he got closer to you. When he stood in front of you again, you both took the phones down and smiled at each other.

Lando didn’t waste time. He closed the gap between you two in one simple stride, wrapped his arms around your waist and pressed his lips to yours. “I love you so much,” he pulled back. “I’m never letting you go again.”

----------------

landonorris

1,488,928 likes | liked by oscarpiastri, y/ny/l/n, and others

love of my life. @ y/ny/l/n

comments

user28: WHAT THE FUCK THEY BROKE UP MONTHS AGO THO????-> user92: they were seen kissing at her launch party

y/ny/l/n: who's that pretty girl? -> oscarpiastri: she's too good for him -> landonorris: >:( -> oscarpiastri: hurt her again and I push you off the track. ->carlossainz: I second this -> charleslecerc: I third this -> alexalbon: I fourth this -> georgerussell: I fifth this.

georgerussell: Trying to beat me with no shirt?

lewishamilton: Yay! (I begged her not to take you back you asshole). -> pierregasly: Yay! (I'm trying to be supportive of her).

lilymhe: fuck off. ->user83: LMAO -> user18: DAMN EVERYONE HATES HIM

danielriccardo: HAHAHAHAHAH (I'm crying.)

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navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

#lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris #f1 x reader #formula one imagine #formula 1 x you #formula one x reader #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fluff #formula 1 #mclaren #lando norris x reader angst #ln4 #lando x reader #f1 2024

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psychoticallytrans · 2 years ago

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There's this idea, fairly common in society, that mental illness is for teens and up. Children are happy little creatures, generally, right? Sometimes they're abused and the trauma can make them mentally ill, but that's not common.

There are two fundamental problems with this attitude. One, it's incorrect to assume that trauma is the only reason a young kid can be mentally ill. Two, trauma is more common than people think. I'll be covering the first problem in this post through the lens of my particular experience.

Where I live, you can be diagnosed with bipolar disorder at 18 years old. You cannot be diagnosed with bipolar disorder as a minor. This poses a problem because my age of onset was in first grade, roughly six years old. Because of the fact that I was very young and new to the world, this was also the age of my first suicide attempt. Thinking I wouldn't be able to pass a spelling test genuinely felt like something worth trying to die over. So, I ate some hemlock, since I'd read about Socrates being killed with it. Luckily, I ate western hemlock, an unrelated species, and just felt kind of sick.

I'm not recounting that for fun or pity. I'm recounting it because children with mental illness are in genuine danger because they have little to no experience with managing their emotions, have little to no concept of the idea that their life can change and improve, and are dismissed by adults. I told a teacher that the test made me want to die, though not that I'd attempted to, and it was brushed off as little kid hyperbole. If I had used a method that was effective rather than one I thought would be, I would have been dead at six years old.

I would not receive medication that worked even a bit for another two years. I would not receive treatment for bipolar disorder specifically for ten years, and that required my PCP fudging the reason for the medication because she was afraid I would die if she didn't, and diagnosis was still two years off at minimum. I received a formal diagnosis at age 19, thirteen years after onset.

But surely that's uncommon, right? This story is a huge edge case, right? I actually have no idea, because age of onset and age of diagnosis are massively conflated for most disabilities. Policies like the one in my area that restricted bipolar diagnoses by age can artificially raise the age of "onset", in my case by thirteen years. The general idea that children are somehow immune to mental illness can also delay diagnosis by several years, perpetuating the idea that young children can't be mentally ill. The data on when people start experiencing mental illness is inherently skewed upwards, and I frankly don't have a good estimate on how bad that skew is. If anyone does have that data, please chime in.

Listen to children. If they're saying they're sad all the time, that they don't care about anything, that they don't see a future for themselves, those are signs of depressive symptoms. If they say that tests make them feel sick, that they can't do anything because they're scared, that they can't breathe and freeze up, those are signs of anxious symptoms. Many children talk about imaginary things, and that's just fine, but slip in a question or two about them to make sure that the kid is just playing, and not experiencing psychosis.

Children are new to the world and vulnerable, and they don't know what's normal and what isn't. They need people who are more experienced watching out for problems they might be having, and listening when they talk about having problems. If you can, try to be the person who perceives them, and tells them that things can be better.

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yinyuedijun · 7 months ago

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SINCERITY

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now, not when his blood is all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. If Suo makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry. (Or: Suo, Nirei, and Sakura get into a fight in the red light district and go to you to get patched up. Suo takes the opportunity to tease you mercilessly.)

4.5k words, suo x reader with implied one-sided sakura x reader, sfw with mature themes. set post-canon (they are all 18-19 years old), non-canon backstory details for suo and sakura (speculative as of ch. 146). fem reader – references to gendered professions, e.g. hostessing; reader wears a dress for her job in a girls’ bar. warning for inaccurate depictions of first aid! dividers by @/cafekitsune.

Suo’s never liked your job.

You suppose this is fair. The feeling is mutual. You’ve never liked the fact that Suo chose to go to a delinquent school rather than a proper high school, and he’s never liked the fact that you chose to drop out of your proper high school to go work in the red light district—first at a kyabakura, and now at a girls’ bar. His master, who also happens to be your master, has always told you that this was a natural reaction on his part. Having a secondary school certificate is important, after all. But Suo’s disapproval of your income sources, no matter how politely or subtly phrased, has always felt like it runs deeper than simple concern for your education.

Still, this has never stopped him from visiting you at your place of work, though he only tends to come by under the worst possible circumstances—tonight worse than any other.

When you see the three of them limping through the clamour and heat of the red light district—the neon glow of the street making the blood smeared across Suo’s face shine vibrantly—you entirely forget that you're on the clock. You chuck your sign onto the ground (3000¥ per hour! it reads) as you cut a path toward them, almost tripping in your stiletto heels. Your customer service voice gives way to your regular one, which is so outraged that it startles everyone around you.

“Suo, you motherfucker—are you trying to lose the only eye you have left?!”

Suo is unbothered. His smile is calm and deeply shameless as you approach him. It’s nothing like Nirei, who cringes at the furious look you give him, or Sakura, who looks like a deer caught in headlights when you round on him instead. Like he doesn’t know what to do at the fact that someone is worrying over him, and especially not when that person is wearing an extremely revealing evening gown. For a minute, you think he's going to bolt.

But Suo keeps him there, grip tight on his arm.

“Hi,” he says brightly, like there isn't blood all over his face and shoulder. “Are you busy? We might need to trouble you.”

“Of course I'm busy! I'm in the middle of a shift!” you fume at him. But you still extract Sakura from him, scruffing him by the neck before he can clam up and run. You pull him in the direction of your bar, and gesture for the other two to follow. “Hurry up before my manager sees you.”

Smuggling three delinquents into the washroom of a girls’ bar is not a skill you thought you'd ever need, but it is one that you've become an expert in. This is at least the third time you've done it. The Furin trio rarely ever loses fights, but they occasionally slip up in the part of the red light district that isn't controlled by Roppo-Ichiza. This is somewhat unavoidable, as Keyaki Street is a different beast from Keisei Street. It isn't just delinquents here, but bona fide criminals. “Like, actual fucking Yakuza,” you grouse at Suo for the millionth time. You wipe at the blood remaining on his face—most of it you've already rinsed off, staining the melamine sink with iron—and the paper towel in your hand blooms red.

“But these guys weren't Yakuza,” he says cheerfully.

“They still pulled weapons on you! Bladed weapons!”

“Mm… well, that's true. I'm sorry.”

You scowl at him. “No, you're not.”

“No, I'm not.” He’s still smiling. “In our defense, we didn't have much of a choice. They were about to do something terrible to an innocent person,” he says, and you deflate a little, because you know Suo can't stand to see injustice. This is something you love very dearly about him, and also a quality of his that constantly raises your blood pressure. But then you roll your eyes when he happily adds, “And in my defense, it’s all our Captain’s fault!”

“Oi!” Sakura yells from one of the stalls, where he’s sitting and holding a bag of ice to a knot on his head. “Wasn’t my fault we ended up fighting. They were practically beggin’ to have their asses kicked.”

“You did provoke them, Sakura,” Nirei says. He's in the other stall, trying to stay off his sprained ankle.

“Well, they were dangerous! Not like you wanted to just leave them alone either,” Sakura grumbles, and Nirei apologises, though Suo accurately points out there is no need for him to. After hearing this story, you can't help but agree, and you suppose you shouldn't have expected any differently. After three years at Furin, Sakura is no longer the type to pick fights for no reason. Whatever those guys were up to must have been pretty bad for him to start shit in unfamiliar territory.

Still. The red light district is what it is. Touts, street gangs, and Yakuza are constantly causing problems here, with violence of a scale and nature that Bofurin simply don't see on their own turf. Your street in particular makes someone like Endo look like a joke. “You should still learn to exercise some restraint,” you say to Sakura. “And you”—you give Suo a miserable look—“you know the area. You should have known better. At the very least, you should have called me for backup.”

“But you were on the clock,” Suo points out, and you frown. Despite having absolutely no need, you take out an alcohol wipe and swipe it over his cut. He winces.

“I'm still on the clock now,” you reply, voice dry, “and here you are, distracting me anyway. My boss is going to be on my ass about it if I don't bring in any customers tonight, you know.”

“We can be your customers,” Suo offers.

“You aren't old enough to drink!”

“Neither are you, yet you work here.” His gaze has turned a little sharp. His voice too. You blink, suddenly mollified.

“...okay. If each of you buys a drink after this, I’ll call us even.” Then you glance down at his changshan, which is sliced through, the pearly silk stained red at the shoulder. He’s insisted that the wound is unserious and said that he'd rather clean up his face first, and you're starting to question his priorities. “That is, if you don't have to go to the hospital after this.”

“I don't.”

“I don't know if I believe you.” You pull out some polysporin. “Come closer.”

Suo could do this on his own. His hands aren't incapacitated. But he humours you, as he's always humoured you, and allows you dab his cut with the antibiotic. You feel a little sentimental as you do it, and almost a little sad. Doing this reminds you of when he was a kid who had just started learning martial arts. Granted, he never got any real cuts back then, but sometimes he’d scrape his knees or his elbows or—god forbid—his face, and you would plaster bandaids all over him when he did. But none of those were real injuries.

More than anything, doing this reminds you of when he lost his eye. The state that he was in after the accident. The way his face was bandaged after the surgery. The texture of the gauze against your fingers when you asked to try swapping out the dressings for him.

If Suo notices the way your lip is trembling, he doesn't comment on it.

“You’re so mean—how come you never believe anything I say?” he asks. You press the gauze to his cut with more pressure than necessary, and he blinks. He opens his mouth again, but then the door rattles violently.

“Sorry!” you yell. “Washroom’s closed for cleaning!” You wince as you hear complaints in reply—you’ve been closed for half an hour!—and shoot Suo a sour look as the customer leaves. “I’m really risking it all for you three,” you remark.

“I'll make it up to you,” Suo says. “I'll stick around the whole night and buy as many drinks as you want. Your manager won't be able to hassle you about anything then.”

“No way. You're not wasting that much money on the red light district.” You frown. “Master will kill me if I let you piss away your inheritance like that.”

“I’m not wasting my money on the red light district. I'm wasting it on you.”

“Well, I'm employed at a girls’ bar, so when you waste money on me, you are in fact spending it on the red light district.”

“Then you should quit so I can spend as much money on you as I want.”

“Quit and then live on what income?” You set aside the first aid kit and grab some more paper towel. “Take off your shirt.”

“Oh? Right here? Right now?” His eye goes wide. “How forward.”

Sakura coughs very, very loudly from the stall. If you weren't so used to Suo saying this kind of thing just to mess with you, you'd probably do the same. In fact, you'd probably choke on your spit and die on the spot. But as it is, you only sigh and start unbuttoning Suo’s changshan, starting at the high collar. Any sentimentality or concern you previously felt is quickly drowned out by annoyance.

“Suo.”

“Don’t worry—I don't mind,” he adds. “I thought you'd never ask. I just didn't think it’d happen here. And so suddenly.”

“Don’t do that. I can't do this today.”

“Don’t do what?” he says innocently. He lets you slip his changshan off one shoulder. To your relief, the cut does look very shallow—he’s too quick for anything other than a bullet to land a serious hit on him, you guess—but you still swallow when you see it. It looks like he's bled a lot more than he probably actually has.

Or you hope so, anyway.

“Joke like that,” you reply after a moment. “It's very mean.”

“I’m not joking about anything.” You feel his eye on you as you start dabbing at all the red on his skin, the paper towel in your hands blotting crimson as if with ink. Your breath shakes as you study the wound. He lifts his hand, his knuckle brushing against your cheek. You smack it away, but he doesn't seem bothered. “I was being very serious,” he continues. “Quit working in the red light district and let me support you instead.”

“Suo,” you say, your voice flat, “there is no job you could qualify for on this planet that will let you earn more than what I'm making now. If anything, you should let me support you.”

“Ah,” he says brightly. “I get it now—you want me to be your trophy husband!”

Now you are choking on your spit and you do think you're dying. Sakura sounds like he's not doing much better—something bangs loudly against the washroom stall, and you assume it’s his forehead. Even Nirei is affected, not-so-subtly clearing his throat.

“I do not want you to be my trophy husband.”

“Just a regular husband, then?” he asks. “That’s alright. If I joined the Yakuza, I could make plenty of money. You could even stay at home if you wanted.”

“Suo you motherfucker you are not joining the fucking Yakuza! And I wouldn't be a stay at home wife!”

“Oh? You wouldn't want to be?”

“No, god! Do you know how much I could make if I scored a hostess gig at a high-end place? Why would I ever turn down that kind of money?!”

“Ah, so you want us to be dual income?”

“Of course I would want us to be dual income!”

“You could get a different job and we could still be dual income.”

“There’s no other job that would pay as well.”

Suo sighs, and your brow twitches. You've always been suspicious about why he disapproves of your choice in career. It’s not in his disposition to judge people, but sometimes you still worry that he's doing it to you.

“What,” you ask, “would you be so against marrying a hostess?”

“No, not at all. But I'd be worried if my spouse worked somewhere unsafe. What if you end up at a Yakuza-owned club?”

You pause, startled at the abruptly earnest tone of his voice. Suddenly you feel guilty.

“Oh… well, I wouldn’t work at a Yakuza-owned club.”

“Hm… then I guess it's fine.” Suo nods, as if arriving at a decision. “We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us will work for the Yakuza.”

“Yes, exactly. We’ll get married, we’ll be dual income, and neither of us—” Your eyes go wide as you realize what you're saying. You feel yourself flushing. “Wait.”

“What? Is there a problem?”

“Suo.”

“Don’t tell me you're going to change your mind now. That would just be mean.”

“I'm being mean?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Well, yes. You don't think it would hurt if you changed your mind about marrying me? And so soon after agreeing, too.”

You stare at him in disbelief. You have a number of possible retorts that cross your mind, and somehow you pick the least relevant one: “You can't trick someone into marrying you.”

“Then can I trick you into dating me?”

“Suo! I said don't do that!”

“Don’t do what?”

“Joke about that kind of thing!”

“I'm not joking about anything.”

“Yes you are? You don't actually want to date me. Stop saying that you do!”

Suo leans in. He stares at you, his gaze distinctly vulpine. It's very attractive, and also intimidating, and you should be used to it by now, but your heart rate ticks up anyway. You swallow thickly as his thumb glides along your cheek again, your skin scorching beneath his fingertips. You forget to bat his hand away this time.

“You’re so mean,” he repeats, voice lilting, “how come you never believe anything I say?”

He's baiting you. He's obviously baiting you, and you consider for a moment whether you want to bite.

Flirting with Suo is never a good idea—you can never tell whether he means to charm you or make fun of you when you do it. Sometimes it feels like both. Occasionally it feels mean. More often than not, you like to entertain it. But you can't right now. His shirt’s stained with such a bright red that it keeps distracting you, just like the blood he's left all over the washroom sink. Your manager will be furious about the mess, and also about the fact that you're giving first aid to three delinquents while you're on the clock. You think they'd go broke before they could spend enough money here to appease her, were she to discover the four of you. You might even lose your job. Then you wouldn't be able to support yourself anymore, let alone Suo, who cracks jokes as easily about being your trophy husband as he does about being Leonardo DiCaprio.

If he makes one more joke about marrying you, you'll probably throw up and cry.

“You're not being very gentlemanly right now,” you finally point out. He raises a brow.

“No?”

“No. I'd even say you're being a menace, actually. Doing a very bad job of”—you almost laugh as you say this, because you've heard this speech so many times—“engaging with my feelings. Not being supportive at all. Really falling off the staircase to adulthood, you know.”

Suo studies you. Something complicated passes through his eye before he pulls away, his expression now back to normal. It's deceptive how innocent he looks.

“Sorry,” he says. “You’re right. I’ll play nice.”

“No, you won't,” you retort, and Suo smiles at you, not replying. But he does give you a break. You finish cleaning up the cut without incident, although you do get flecks of blood on your evening gown, which you hope won't be too noticeable against the black satin. You bemoan the lost cause of Suo's changshan too—made of Suzhou silk, a gift from your master—and silently make a note to buy him a replacement sometime.

You're in the middle of buttoning up his shirt when the door clicks and swings open. Met face to face with your coworker, you freeze up.

Your stage name leaves her mouth in an angry bark. “What are you doing? I told you you're not supposed to be having sex with customers here, you should be doing that someplace—” She stops, evidently spotting the blood on Suo’s shirt, and then the other two individuals locked up in here with you, one of whom is blushing violently and looks to be on the verge of dying from embarrassment. Beneath your hands, you feel Suo’s body go stiff too.

“Oh,” she says before either of them can comment. “It’s just your delinquent boyfriend and his buddies.” Suo waves at her, and she nods back before squinting at the sink. “Are you going to clean that up?”

“Yes,” you say quickly. “Please don't tell our boss.”

“Have I ever ratted you out?” she asks. “Just get out of here soon. People do have to piss, you know.” Then she stops, looking at Suo with a dubious expression. “And make sure your boyfriend doesn't die.”

You're too tired to correct her on the nature of your relationship. “I've been trying,” you say, and she gives you a sympathetic look before retreating. You hear her laughing with a customer about people fooling around in the washroom, and I'm so sorry for the inconvenience, sir, and could you please go downstairs while I clean up. You’re so relieved, you nearly fall to your knees. A calloused hand touches your back as you rub your temples.

“I’m sorry for worrying you,” Suo says quietly—sincerely—and instead of saying no, you're not, you reply, “I know. I’m sorry too.”

Suo’s always hated your job.

He’s always hated your job, your boyfriends, your apartment, and a lot of other things about your life that Sakura doesn’t have any business prying into. And it's just as well. Sakura also hates your shitty job, and your shitty boyfriends, and considering that you live in the same shitty building as him, he isn't a fan of your rental situation either. Nirei’s too polite to say anything about it, but Sakura can tell that he disapproves as well. It’s not like any of them are living the most comfortable lives either—Sakura has personally been living from shithole to shithole, mostly alone, ever since his parents passed—but your lifestyle does make them all feel poorly.

You're just a very easy person to like. And it's very easy to want nice things for you. So Sakura gets it, how Suo feels about you.

What he doesn't quite get is how Suo acts about you.

One thing he’s learned over the years is that Suo is very good at reading people. Sometimes he understands Sakura better than Sakura understands himself, and he can convince Sakura to do things which he himself didn't think were possible for him to do. He's done the same with Nirei, and about half the other people in their grade, and at least a third of the guys in Bofurin. It’s frankly a terrifying skill. But Suo never uses it with you—not to get you to change jobs, or boyfriends, or even apartments.

At first Sakura thought that you were just immune to Suo’s tactics, but he's recently come to realise that Suo simply gets too emotional about you to know how to convince you of anything. He’s even emotional enough to get kind of petty and a little mean with you, which is something that Sakura has only witnessed from Suo during fights. Really bad fights.

It’s terribly uncomfortable, especially when you’re clearly head over heels for Suo.

Sakura doesn't have any business prying into your personal problems. Though truthfully, he’d be happy to thrash some random assholes for you anyway, if that would fix your heartbreak. (He's already done this to at least one of your exes, and it worked shockingly well.) The problem is, Suo is not a random asshole and Sakura isn't sure that you'd want him thrashed in the first place. But it's just fucking painful watching the two of you act like this around each other, so he ends up pulling Suo aside after you kick them out of the girls’ bar, scowling.

Suo looks at him, surprised. “Sakura? What's the matter?”

He doesn't mince words. “How come you were being such a dick to your friend?”

Nirei goes stiff. “Sakura,” he says in his panicked ‘why are you trying to pick a fight now’ voice, “where is this coming from? I don't think Suo was being rude…” But Sakura can tell, as Nirei’s finishing his own sentence, that he's second-guessing himself.

“No,” Suo replies. “I was being a bit terrible, wasn't I?” There’s no humour in either his words or his face, but the corner of his mouth lifts. He actually looks endeared. “I'm surprised you noticed, Sakura.”

“I mean”—Sakura feels himself going red, embarrassed at just the memory of how you looked at Suo; first so worried, then painfully fond, and then like you were going to burst into tears right there in the washroom and ask him to hold you, as if you were in a horrible getsuku drama—“it was kinda hard not to.”

Suo nods. “I suppose it’s natural to be sensitive to the feelings of someone you like.”

Heat floods his face. “I don't like her!”

“Did I say you did?” Suo’s mouth curls when Sakura can't answer. “Don’t be embarrassed. She's a very easy person to like.”

Sakura tries his hardest to ignore Suo—which should be easy, because Suo lies randomly and pointlessly all the time, whenever he thinks it's funny—and says, “If she's an easy person to like, how come you act like you don't like her at all?”

“Was I acting like that? Or was she acting like it was impossible for someone to like her?” Sakura stops. Suo gives him a long look, then smiles. “You would know how difficult it can be to accept being liked, Sakura. And how long it can take to understand that there are people who want to support you unconditionally.”

Sakura opens his mouth once, twice. A third time. Nirei sighs. The two of them watch as Suo—rather than walking in the direction of the subway—steps over to a vending machine and buys a bottle of oolong tea.

“Are you going to wait for her shift to finish?” Nirei asks.

“Mm, I think so.” Suo glances down at his ankle. “But you should go home, Nire-kun. You can’t fight like that. In case those guys come back here, I mean.” He opens the bottle, takes a sip. “They had bladed weapons. It would be bad if you risked it.”

Nirei glances at the entrance to your bar, worried. “But…”

Sakura understands without Nirei finishing his sentence. The security at your bar is terrible, and plenty of people like to exploit that. It was Nirei who noticed a group men eyeing you before anyone else did, following you all the way from Keisei Street to your place of work. And sure, Suo kicked the shit out of them in the end, did much worse to them than vice versa—but who knows if there aren't more of them.

Suo hates your job. All three of them do.

“It’s okay,” Sakura says. “I'm sure the two of us will be enough.”

“...I'll ask Tsubaki if he's free,” Nirei finally relents. “And I'll text Kiryu and Tsugeura too.”

“Thanks, Nire-kun.”

Suo gets a bottle of ramune after Nirei leaves, passes it to Sakura. Tsubaki comes by later, still in his pole outfit, with several pieces of taiyaki for them to share—I’m always snacky after dancing, he explains—and the three of them loiter in front of your bar until four in the morning. Tsubaki asks questions about you in a tone that has Sakura wanting to crawl into an alleyway just to hide, and Suo deflects masterfully with questions about Tsubaki’s new boyfriend. The guys from earlier don't show up. Maybe the sight of Roppo-Ichiza’s top fighter scares them off.

You're surprised to see them there when you emerge a little later. You give Tsubaki a happy but perplexed look as he hugs you.

“Tsubaki? What are you doing here?”

“Keeping these two company,” he replies. “And I wanted to say hi, of course. You should come by the club sometime, you know! I haven't seen you in forever.”

“Sure! That would be nice, but…” You turn to Sakura and Suo, puzzled. “Why are you guys still here?”

Sakura, on instinct, nearly recounts the whole evening to you—about the men tailing you, about how they got into a fight, about the kind of things they said they'd do once they caught you—but Suo answers first.

“Troubling you again,” is all he says. “It’s fine since your shift is over now, right?”

You give the two of them a long, curious look. For a moment, you look worried, but you're eventually disarmed by Suo’s expression.

“I guess it's fine,” you reply. You sound so happy. Suo’s gaze goes soft, and Sakura has to force himself not to look away. “Let's hurry up and go home.”

You smile at them, and it's the kind of smile that makes it very easy to like you. The kind of smile that makes it natural to want nice things for you. The kind of smile that would make anyone emotional, even if they're normally very controlled. It makes something in Sakura squeeze tightly, all knotted up and painful.

He’s starting to understand why Suo acts the way he does around you.

END

this wasn't meant to be a love triangle, my apologies…

this was also meant to be a very short piece (like 500w lol), but I kept thinking about what suo’s backstory might be, and why he was so comfortable in the red light district in the manga, and what these guys might realistically act like in an aged up, romantic context. that all coalesced into this very bizarre fic LOL. I'm not sure how it'll land, but I hope someone out here enjoyed it! I would like to write more about this triangle (+ nirei) but I'm not sure what the level of interest would be, or if it'll even make sense with the manga. I guess we’ll see eventually!

in any case, thank you for reading!! <3

#hayato suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #haruka sakura x reader #sakura haruka x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #i cannot believe this was 4.5k words...#yueshuo.fics #divider by @/cafekitsune

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mymoonisgrey · 4 days ago

Text

B2B

❤︎ ໋𓈒 back to back, love to hate, hate to love— your relationship with gojo satoru was a mess, but, you can’t really leave, can you?

warnings. 18+, smut, satoru is a munch, yearning, brief cameo of yandere!satoru, breeding kink if you squint, borderline obsession and possessiveness, toxicity, masturbation (m)

wc. 7,43k

You were reminiscing on decisions you made in high-school that got you to this point.

You were never the type to generally date. It wasn’t your thing, never was—you once said your perdition would come as a man trying to ruin your life, or ruin you generally, body and soul.

However, the 19-year-old theory hit you hard, because Gojo Satoru weaved himself into your life like a cobweb you can't seem to dust. You didn’t give in so easily, no. You took your sweet time to finally get in the scene, without ever seeking advice from friends because somehow situationships always disappear when you tell a friend about them.

But Gojo? He was persistent. He had his hands in your pockets before you even realized he was slipping his fingers between yours. His charm was something built into his DNA, impossible to resist, even when you swore you would. He knew how to make you laugh when you were furious, knew how to touch you like he was mapping out constellations on your skin. And maybe that’s why, even when it hurt, even when you knew better, you always came back.

The fights were cinematic—shouting matches in rain-soaked streets, doors slamming, voices breaking on words too sharp to take back. But the reunions? They were something biblical. You’d fold into him like he was home, let him press his apologies into your skin, your lips, your throat. And just like that, you’d start again. Back-to-back, love to hate, hate to love. A cycle neither of you wanted to break.

Because both of you had flaws neither of you could fix, but only learn to love. There’s constantly something to worry about—whether it was Utahime’s closeness to him and how it managed to get on every nerve of yours—or how men swarmed around you like ants on glucose, it was fucked up. He once had to verbally warn his ex-best friend to leave you alone.

❤︎ ໋𓈒

OCTOBER

You walk in with a sense of dread—you ‘broke’ up with Gojo two months ago, and it has been like... the longest you two have been separated since high school. Jujutsu Tech was lively and it made you nostalgic for the days you ran around as a student rather than a sorceress-to-be, life was much easier back then anyway, wasn’t it?

You know you’ll see him as usual, he runs this place, walks like he owns it because hell—if someone had the power he did, they’d be a lot cockier and haughty than he is. Satoru is considered humble compared to the rest of the power-hungry geezers you put your neck out there for.

The memories flood in before you can stop them. The late-night missions where exhaustion blurred the lines between camaraderie and something deeper. The way he’d lean into you, mask slipping—only for a second—before the world called him back. The stolen moments in between duty and destiny, the whispered confessions between bruises and battle scars. You remember the way he looked at you then, like you were something sacred, something he wasn’t quite allowed to have but couldn’t help but claim anyway.

And then, the downfall. The slow unraveling, the fights that started small but snowballed into something monstrous. The jealousy, the frustration, the push and pull of two people who loved too hard and hurt even harder. You remember walking away that night, the weight of his gaze heavy on your back, the ache in your chest that felt like a wound that would never close.

You shake the thought away, forcing yourself back into the present. You weren’t here for him, not really. You had a job to do. And yet, as you step further into the familiar halls, you can’t help but feel it—the pull, the inevitability of it all. Because no matter how far you run, how long you stay away, it always leads back to him.

Back-to-back. Love to hate. Hate to love.

Your line of sight drifts to the bright green fields stretching out, where a couple of students train one-on-one—blades clashing, curses forming, sweat glistening under the afternoon sun. Your gaze flickers, unintentional, to those three students: pink hair, black hair, and brown hair with a voice loud enough to carry over the clash of sparring.

Then, your eyes find him.

That white, silvery hair you know the soft texture of like your own name. He’s dressed simply—a white tee, his usual slacks, hands tucked into his pockets. A pair of God-knows-how-expensive sunglasses shields his eyes, but you know what’s behind them. That easy smile graces his lips, effortlessly relaxed as he watches his students, his posture all confidence, all control.

Your stomach churns with something familiar, a tangled mess of longing, resentment, and something you won’t dare name. And then—your heart plummets, crashing straight to the pit of your stomach when his head snaps with surgical precision, turning directly toward you. Of course, he felt it. He always does.

His gaze pins you in place, a tether snapping taut between you, even from across the field. There’s no mistaking it, the way recognition flickers behind those ridiculous shades.

You almost want to disappear, but it’s too late. How the hell—scratch that. Of course, he’d know. Him and those freak-show eyes you love so fucking much.

Your face remains neutral, betraying none of the storm beneath, despite the way your fingers dig into your palms, nails carving crescents into your skin. He doesn’t look away. Instead, he smiles, slow and easy, like he has all the time in the world. His eyes flicker downward, just for a second, shameless and languid, before locking with yours again. And in that moment, through the tinted lenses, you catch it—a glimmer of iridescent blue, a ghost of something unspoken.

His lips part, and you swear you see the tip of his tongue dart out to wet them. His head tilts, the corner of his mouth quirking like he’s thinking something inappropriate—no, scratch that, he definitely is.

Then he raises a hand in a lazy wave, and you can hear it in your head before he even says it. Miss me, baby?

God, you hate him. And even worse? He knows you don’t.

You spare him a nod, offering a brief, almost nonexistent smile, before turning away and heading toward the administration building.

Your pulse is erratic, but you keep your steps measured. Controlled. Like he didn’t just unravel something inside you with a single look.

This is why you never did love—because how the hell are you supposed to just... forget someone and move on? Like flipping a switch? Like love is something that fades if you just give it enough time? That wasn’t you. You weren’t built for that kind of indifference.

And as for him...

You don’t know.

You tell yourself you don’t care. That his life—his thoughts, his wants—are no longer yours to consider. But there’s an itch in the back of your mind, a whisper of doubt crawling up your spine.

Would he ever get over you?

Would he even try?

❤︎ ໋𓈒

Gojo had never moved toward his office as quickly as he did now, his long strides purposeful, nearly frantic, his heart hammering in his chest. Seeing you—hell, even just feeling your presence—had turned his entire world on its axis, and no amount of cocky bravado could hide it. Who the fuck was he kidding? He needed you back. Pronto.

The moment he shut the door behind him, his back hit the wood with a heavy thud, his head tilting upward as he stared at the ceiling. His breath was uneven, hands twitching at his sides.

And then there was the other problem.

The one currently straining against the fabric of his pants.

"Fuck," he muttered, his brows knitting together as the ache in his chest twisted into something darker, heavier. His body felt like it was fighting itself, caught in the crossfire between want and restraint.

He had no idea what the hell he was even horny for—you hadn’t been wearing anything particularly revealing, hadn’t even done anything except stand there looking at him like a deer caught in headlights. And yet, his entire body reacted like it had been starved for you. Because it had.

He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair before unbuckling his belt, frustration coiling hot and tight in his stomach. He palmed himself through his slacks first, the friction barely enough to ease the throbbing pulse of his cock, already leaking against the fabric.

His sunglasses were thrown somewhere across the room as he pulled himself free, hissing at the rush of cool air against burning-hot skin. His cock was hard, thick, an angry red at the tip, drooling precum like it was begging for relief.

The only cure was you.

He spat into his palm, a filthy, wet sound breaking the silence, and wrapped his fingers around himself, squeezing at the base before giving a slow, torturous stroke upward. "Shit," he groaned, his voice husky, dripping with need. His shirt bunched between his teeth as his free hand gripped his desk, knuckles going white.

His pace picked up, faster, rougher, as images of you flooded his mind. You, with your legs spread wide for him, your lips swollen from his kisses, your body arching, gasping his name like a prayer.

"Fuck, baby..." he panted, hips jerking into his fist, his strokes messy, erratic. "Miss this fuckin' pussy... goddamn, you made for me. Shit—gonna fuckin'—"

The orgasm ripped through him, his whole body shuddering as thick ropes of cum spilled over his fingers, his stomach, his mind blanking out in white-hot pleasure. His breath was ragged, uneven, body twitching as the aftershocks coursed through him.

And then...

The silence hit. Hard.

Post-nut clarity slammed into him like a freight train.

What the fuck was he doing?

This wasn’t enough. Not even close.

He needed you. Bad. Toxicity be damned.

Because no matter how fucked up the cycle was, no matter how many times you tore each other apart, he knew one thing for certain.

He wasn’t letting you go. Not again.

❤︎ ໋𓈒

The only time Yaga ever felt generous enough to take his hardworking sorcerers out to dinner—some looked forward to it, others did not. It was just simple barbecue, nothing extravagant, but the company always managed to make it lively—especially Shoko, who was an absolute menace when she got drunk.

The air was thick with the smell of sizzling meat, sweet and smoky, mingling with the distant scent of cigarette smoke. The usual bustling sounds of downtown Tokyo surrounded you—laughter spilling from izakayas, the occasional honk of a car, the chatter of normies oblivious to the weight the people at this particular table carried.

Nanami, naturally, looked like he’d rather be anywhere else, his displeased grunts audible every time someone—usually Gojo—spoke too loudly. His arms were crossed, his beer barely touched, his patience thinning with every passing second.

Shoko was already a drink in, lazily leaning against the table with a lopsided smirk. Her brown eyes were hazy under the dim lighting, and the way she swirled the ice in her glass told everyone she was only just getting started.

You sat beside her, one hand propping up your cheek, the other absentmindedly pushing around the meat sizzling on the grill in front of you. There was something about the atmosphere tonight—lively, warm, yet… off. Maybe it was the way you felt his eyes on you, heavy and unrelenting, even as he pretended to be fully engrossed in whatever ridiculous conversation he was having with Nanami.

Or maybe it was the way your stomach twisted, knowing he wasn’t just looking.

He was remembering.

His posture was lazy, his usual grin in place, but his fingers drummed against the table with slow, rhythmic taps. You knew him too well—his restless energy, his smug amusement—but this? This was different. His legs were spread wide, arms slung over the back of his seat, and beneath the cover of his dark lenses, his gaze flickered, tracing the curve of your cheek, your lips, your throat.

He looked calm. Completely at ease.

And yet, beneath the table, his fingers curled slightly, the ghost of a grip.

Fuck.

The thought hit him like a truck.

He hadn’t been able to get you out of his head since this afternoon. Since the moment he saw you standing in front of Jujutsu Tech, looking like something he wasn’t sure he deserved but wanted anyway. The way you had looked at him—stiff, hesitant, like you were trying so hard to act unbothered—had sent a wildfire through his veins.

He had barely made it to his office before undoing his belt, his mind already painting too-clear images of you, the way your lips parted, the way your legs felt wrapped around his waist. He had gritted his teeth, hissing your name under his breath, fisting his cock like a starved man—fast, desperate, chasing something that didn’t exist outside his head.

And now, here you were. Sitting just a few feet away, oblivious—or maybe not—to the fact that earlier today, he had been thinking about nothing but you while spilling all over his own hand.

His jaw flexed.

You shifted slightly in your seat, rolling your shoulders as if shaking off the weight of his gaze. The movement made the hem of your top ride up just the tiniest bit, exposing a sliver of skin, and Gojo—despite his reputation, despite his control—felt something snap inside him.

His fingers stopped drumming.

The air between you grew thick, unbearably so, like a taut rope ready to snap.

You still didn’t look at him.

And he didn’t look away.

This was bad.

He needed you back.

Toxic or not.

The weight of his gaze was suffocating. It pressed against your skin, coiled around your throat, settled in the pit of your stomach like something dangerous. You swallowed against it, forcing yourself to stay still, to not react—but your fingers twitched, and your heart pounded, and you knew if you sat there a second longer, your composure would snap.

You leaned toward Shoko, murmuring a quick excuse before pushing back your chair, slipping away before your legs could betray just how unsteady you felt. You barely registered the bustle of the restaurant, the warmth of the air thick with the scent of grilled meat and soju. All you could focus on was the pounding in your chest, the way the tension clung to you like a second skin.

The bathroom door shut behind you with a quiet click. You exhaled sharply, pressing your back against it, your pulse loud in your ears.

What the fuck was this?

Two months. Two fucking months. You should’ve been over it by now. Should’ve built an iron wall around your heart, should’ve let time do its thing and dull the edges of what you felt for him.

And yet, it took nothing. Just a look. Just the ghost of a smirk. Just the knowledge that, beneath that cocky mask, there was something else—something darker, something desperate.

A muscle in your jaw ticked. You refused to be the one to break.

But you should’ve known better than to assume Gojo Satoru would let you leave first.

Out at the table, he was still staring at the closed door.

He knew you weren’t running from the conversation at the table. He knew you weren’t going to throw up from too much soju. He knew exactly why you left. And fuck, if that didn’t send a sick thrill down his spine.

With an exaggerated sigh, he pulled his phone from his pocket, the screen blank—but that didn’t matter. His movements were smooth, calculated. He glanced up, feigning distraction, catching Shoko’s gaze. She squinted at him, trying to focus through her haze of alcohol, but before she could voice the question forming in her mind, he was already standing.

Sliding his hands into his pockets, he stepped away from the table, disappearing into the crowd like a ghost.

Shoko blinked slowly, then exhaled, swirling the ice in her drink.

“…This is gonna be a mess,” she mumbled to herself.

❤︎ ໋𓈒

The bathroom door slammed open so hard it rattled against the hinges.

Your breath caught.

Satoru stood in the doorway, tall, imposing, his presence swallowing the small space whole. The door clicked shut behind him, sealing you both in, the air turning suffocating in an instant.

You straightened, fingers twitching at your sides, but you didn’t move back. You held your ground, even as your pulse roared, even as something electric crawled down your spine.

His hands were still in his pockets, his stance deceptively casual, but you weren’t fooled. His broad chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths, his jaw tense. Those sunglasses of his—arrogant, infuriating—were gone, stuffed somewhere in his pocket, and that meant his eyes were on you.

Unfiltered. Unhidden.

And you felt them.

The weight of them. The hunger in them. The sharp edge of something between obsession and anger.

Seconds passed.

Neither of you spoke.

The silence stretched, taut and fragile, like something was about to snap.

And then, finally—

“…Why are you here?” Your voice was steady, but there was venom beneath it.

His lips curled, slow, deliberate. His head tilted just slightly, like he was amused, like he wasn’t the one who had cornered you in a fucking bathroom like a desperate man.

“You tell me,” he said smoothly. “You ran first.”

Your fingers twitched. “And you followed.”

His eyes dragged over your face, slow, taking his time, like he was savoring something.

“You left me with a problem,” he murmured.

Your stomach flipped, but you didn’t let it show. “Not my issue.”

Gojo clicked his tongue, taking a single step closer. Just one. Just enough to make the space between you feel nonexistent.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” he mused, voice dipping lower, dangerous now. “You’ve always been my issue. Even when you don’t wanna be.”

His scent curled around you—clean, sharp, tinged with the faintest trace of the cologne you still remembered, the one you once pressed your face into his neck to breathe in.

Your pulse hammered against your ribs.

This was dangerous.

You knew it.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to stop him.

He leaned in, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear, his breath warm against your skin.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he murmured, voice dripping with something dark. “You have any idea what you did to me earlier?”

Your breath hitched.

Shit.

You knew exactly what he meant.

But you refused to acknowledge it.

Instead, you exhaled sharply, planting a firm hand against his chest, shoving him back—just enough to put space between you. Just enough to make it clear you weren’t playing his game.

“Don’t start,” you bit out, your voice cutting, but the effect was ruined by the way your breath was still uneven.

Satoru barely moved, barely reacted. If anything, the corner of his mouth twitched, like he found it cute.

That pissed you off more than it should have.

“Start what?” he asked lazily, tilting his head. “You’re the one running, sweetheart. And for what? You really think you’re over me?”

Your jaw clenched. “I don’t think—I know.”

He snorted. “Sure. That’s why you’re shaking right now, right?”

Your nostrils flared. “Fuck off, Satoru.”

“Or what?” His voice dropped, teasing but sharp. “You’ll run again? You’ll pretend like none of this ever happened?”

You hated how easily he got under your skin. Hated how he knew exactly where to poke, exactly which wounds to press his fingers into.

“I don’t have to pretend,” you shot back. “It already ended. Two months ago.”

His expression darkened, his smile slipping just slightly. “Yeah? And you’ve been real happy since then, huh?”

You crossed your arms, refusing to let him see how your fingers trembled slightly where they dug into your skin.

“Actually?” You forced a smirk. “I’ve never been better.”

It was a lie, and you both knew it.

And for the first time tonight, something flickered in Gojo’s expression.

Something ugly.

Something that twisted and burned behind his eyes.

His lips curled—not in amusement, but in something bitter, something close to anger.

“You really wanna play that game?” he murmured, stepping forward. “Fine. Let’s play.”

He reached up, his fingers gripping your chin—not harshly, but firm, tilting your face up to his.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice lower now, something dangerous coiled beneath it. “When you’re lying in bed at night, when it’s quiet, when there’s no one else around—do you still touch yourself thinking about me?”

Your stomach clenched, heat flashing through your veins, but you didn’t let it show. Didn’t let him see how that single sentence knocked the breath out of your lungs.

You scoffed instead, eyes narrowing. “You’re fucking disgusting.”

Gojo grinned. “Yeah? But you like it.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why aren’t you stopping me?”

Your mouth opened—but no words came out.

And Satoru saw it.

His grip on your chin tightened, just barely, his thumb brushing over the corner of your lip, his eyes dipping down—watching, waiting.

You hated him.

Hated how easily he broke past your walls.

Hated how, even now, even after everything, your body still reacted to him like this.

Hated how much you fucking wanted him.

And he knew.

Of course he knew.

A slow exhale left him, his breath fanning over your lips, and you felt it—the shift in the air, the way the tension between you snapped from hostility to something darker, something that burned.

“I jacked off to you today,” he murmured, his tone almost conversational, but there was a roughness to it. A rawness. “Couldn’t even fucking help it.”

Your stomach flipped.

“I was pissed, you know?” His thumb dragged down, tracing the curve of your jaw. “Seeing you. Watching you act like I don’t fucking exist. Like you weren’t mine.”

“I’m not yours,” you bit out.

Satoru smiled.

And then he laughed.

Low. Mocking.

Like you just said the funniest shit in the world.

“Oh, baby,” he murmured, and your breath caught at the way his voice dipped into something dark, something possessive. “You’ve always been mine.”

Your fingers twitched.

And then you did what your body screamed at you to do.

You grabbed him by the collar and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was teeth clashing, hands grasping, months of tension snapping like a rubber band pulled too tight. It was resentment, and love, and lust, and every unsaid word swallowed into the heat of the moment.

Satoru groaned against your mouth, his hands snapping to your hips, yanking you flush against him.

And fuck—he was already hard.

You felt it, pressing against you, his body burning hot, his grip rough as he spun you, backing you against the sink.

“You always do this,” you panted against his lips. “You always—”

“Always what?” he murmured, dragging his teeth along your jaw, his hands slipping under your shirt, burning against your skin. “Make you want me?”

You shuddered, fingers tangling into his hair, tugging harshly—and he groaned, low and wrecked.

“You fucking love it,” he said against your throat.

You hated that he was right.

But you weren’t about to let him win that easily.

Your hand slid down, palming him through his slacks, and his breath hitched, his hips jerking into your touch.

“Fuck,” he bit out.

You smirked. “What was that?”

His grip on you tightened, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

And then he was yanking your head back, capturing your lips in another kiss, and you knew—this wasn’t ending anytime soon.

Your fingers curled tighter into his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, and the sharp hiss that left his lips sent heat flashing straight down your spine.

But just as fast as it started, you wrenched yourself back.

Breathless.

Satoru’s grip on your waist tightened for a fraction of a second—like he didn’t want to let go. Like he physically couldn’t. But you pushed against his chest, and he let you slip through his fingers, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as you put space between you.

A smirk curled your lips as you leaned back against the sink, crossing your arms. “What happened to all that confidence, Satoru?”

His chest rose and fell with each breath, his jaw ticking.

“Don’t fucking start,” he muttered.

“Or what?” You tilted your head, faux innocence dripping from your tone. “You’ll break?”

The muscle in his jaw clenched harder. His hands twitched. His eyes—fuck, those fucking eyes—burned into yours with something wild, something unrestrained.

And then, just when you thought he was going to snap—he laughed.

Not his usual laugh. Not the carefree, cocky one he tossed around like spare change.

This was different.

Low. Dark. Wrecked.

Like he already knew he was losing.

Satoru took a slow step forward, closing the distance you put between you, his fingers dragging along the edge of the sink counter, his gaze never leaving yours.

“You wanna play, baby?” His voice was soft. Dangerous. “Fine. Let’s play.”

You didn’t move when he caged you in, his hands bracketing your hips, his breath fanning against your cheek.

“But we both know how this ends,” he murmured.

You swallowed. “Enlighten me.”

His lips brushed against your jaw—so close, but not touching. Just there. Just teasing.

“It ends with you on your knees,” he said, voice thick with something sinful. “Or maybe I’ll be on mine. You know I never minded.”

Heat pooled in your stomach, but you didn’t let it show.

Instead, you let your lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk. “I think you need me more than I need you.”

That got him.

His nostrils flared. His fingers flexed against the counter. His whole body tensed like a live wire about to snap.

And you had him.

For a split second, he looked like he was going to crack, to give in—

But then—

He stepped back.

The loss of his warmth, the absence of his presence, sent something hollow through your chest.

Satoru exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, his head tilting back toward the ceiling. “You drive me fucking insane,” he muttered.

And then he looked at you—really looked at you.

Like you were something unattainable. Like he could reach for you, but you’d slip through his fingers.

Like he was already mourning the loss of you, even though you were right there.

Something inside you clenched.

Because Satoru never looked at you like that.

Not like he was breaking.

Not like he was crumbling under the weight of you.

And that—that scared you more than anything.

You turned, grabbing the door handle.

“Where do you think you’re going?” His voice was sharp.

You hesitated. Just for a second.

And that second was all he needed.

In one swift movement, he was there again—right behind you, his chest pressing flush against your back, his fingers gripping your hips with bruising force.

“Go ahead,” he murmured into your ear. “Walk out that door.”

You swallowed hard, your fingers twitching against the handle.

His hands slid down, slow, deliberate, fingers pressing into the flesh of your thighs.

“But we both know you won’t.”

Your breath hitched when he rocked against you, his erection pressing firm against the curve of your ass.

Your fingers clenched around the handle.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his forehead dropping against your shoulder. “I’m going insane.”

You closed your eyes. “Then let me go.”

His laugh was soft. Bitter.

“Never,” he whispered.

And then his fingers dug in, and he spun you—slamming you back against the door.

His hands were everywhere, mapping out the body he had memorized, relearning every curve and dip like he was starving.

“You think I don’t miss you?” he rasped.

Your heart pounded.

He kissed you before you could answer.

Desperate.

Teeth and tongue and months of loneliness crashing into you all at once.

His hands slid under your thighs, hoisting you up, pinning you between him and the door.

“I can still taste you,” he murmured against your lips.

Your breath stuttered.

His grip on you was bruising, his lips trailing down your neck, sucking, biting, marking.

“You think you can just leave me?” His voice was rough. “Think you can just walk away?”

Your head tilted back, breathless, overwhelmed.

“You’re mine,” he muttered against your skin, his hands slipping under your shirt, fingers tracing the edge of your waistband.

You gasped when his hand dipped lower.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered.

You didn’t. You never could.

Because even now, even after everything— You still wanted him just as much as he wanted you.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your pants, yanking them down with a sharp tug, and your breath hitched as the cool air kissed your heated skin.

“Satoru—”

“Shh,” he hushed, lips dragging along the column of your throat. “S’okay, jus’ me, baby.”

His voice was low, raspy, a dark chuckle rumbling in his chest as he palmed between your legs, fingers running over the damp fabric of your panties.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he groaned. “What, you missed me that much?”

You bit your lip, refusing to answer.

He didn’t like that.

Without warning, he pressed the heel of his palm against your clit, and your hips jerked involuntarily.

“There’s my answer,” he murmured, lips ghosting against your ear.

Your nails dug into his shoulders as he pushed your panties aside, two fingers sliding through your slick folds, teasing.

“Y’know,” he mused, voice like velvet, “I thought jerking off earlier would take the edge off. But look at me.”

You felt him grind against your thigh, the thick outline of his cock straining against his slacks, hot and heavy.

“Didn’t work,” he continued, dragging his fingers through your slickness, circling your clit with lazy, taunting strokes. “Still fuckin’ starving for you.”

Your breath hitched when he pushed a finger inside, slow, teasing, curling it just enough to make you gasp.

“Missed this pretty pussy,” he murmured, adding another finger, stretching you out. “my pretty pussy.”

Your head tilted back against the door, a sharp moan slipping from your lips.

His pace quickened, fingers thrusting in and out, his thumb rubbing circles against your clit, every motion calculated, precise, like he was pulling you apart piece by piece. “Feel good, baby?”

You nodded frantically, hips bucking into his hand.

“voice, honey, use it.”

“Y-yeah,” you choked out. “Feels so fucking good.”

A wicked smile tugged at his lips.

“Good,” he murmured, his fingers suddenly disappearing—making you whine at the loss—before he spun you around, pressing your chest against the door. “Hands up,” he ordered.

You obeyed instantly, pressing your palms against the doorframe, your breath coming in quick, shallow pants. The anticipation burned through you, every nerve in your body attuned to him.

A loud thud echoed behind you, and when you glanced over your shoulder, you found Satoru on his knees, his striking blue eyes locked onto you with a dark, ravenous hunger. His fingers hooked into the band of your flimsy panties, tugging them aside with ease before his nose brushed against the sensitive heat of your core.

“Ah, fuck,” he exhaled, his voice thick with desire. “Yum.”

The warmth of his breath sent a shiver coursing through you, and then—oh god—his lips parted, his tongue swiping through your folds in a slow, deliberate stroke that made your knees tremble. A deep groan rumbled from his chest as he pulled you closer, his grip firm on your thighs.

“You smell so good,” he muttered against your slick skin, his words vibrating against your core. “Fuck—been thinking about this for the past two months— why’re you depriving me of this, wifey?”

Your face twists from anticipation, and moreover, irritation at how he seemed to always think he owned you. news flash, he does.

“you’re acting like—“ you gasp out breathlessly before—His mouth latched onto you, devouring like a man starved. The wet heat of his tongue worked expertly, tracing and teasing, alternating between languid strokes and eager, desperate sucks. Every movement sent shocks of pleasure crackling up your spine, your fingers clenching uselessly against the doorframe as your body melted into his touch.

“Satoru—” you gasped, hips jerking instinctively toward his mouth, craving more. He chuckled against you, the vibration making you whimper.

“So needy,” he murmured, his tongue flicking wickedly before he sucked your clit into his mouth. His grip on your thighs tightened as he buried himself deeper, his own groans mingling with the wet, obscene sounds filling the room.

Your legs shook, pleasure coiling tight in your stomach. He could feel it—he always knew. With one hand, he slipped two fingers inside you with ease, curling them just right, pressing into that spot that had you biting down on your lip to keep from crying out.

“C’mon, baby,” he coaxed, voice thick with arrogance and lust. “Let me hear you.”

Your hands trembled against the doorframe, fingers pressing uselessly into the wood as a whimper slipped from your lips. Satoru’s pace was relentless—his tongue dragging through your folds, his fingers curling inside you with devastating precision. The tension in your stomach coiled tighter, heat pooling low as he worked you over like he had all the time in the world.

“Look at you,” he murmured between strokes of his tongue. “Dripping all over me—fuck.”

You gasped as he pressed his palm flat against your lower stomach, holding you in place while he sucked your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking against the swollen nub. The pleasure hit you like a wave, rolling through you in sharp, dizzying bursts.

“Satoru—I’m—”

“I know, baby,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Go ahead. Come for me.”

And you did.

Your body seized, pleasure snapping through your core as your orgasm crashed over you, hard and unrelenting. Your knees buckled, and Satoru caught you effortlessly, keeping you steady as you trembled beneath his touch. He groaned as he licked you through it, his fingers stroking you lazily, coaxing out every last aftershock.

When you finally slumped against the doorframe, boneless and breathless, he pulled back, licking his lips like he was savoring the taste of you. His eyes, darkened with lust, raked over your trembling form.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, rising to his feet. He cupped your face, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “You good?”

You nodded weakly, still floating in the haze of pleasure.

His lips curled into a smirk. “Think you can take more?”

Before you could answer, his hands were on your waist, spinning you around to face him. He kissed you—deep, filthy, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. His hands wandered, fingers tracing the curve of your ass before giving it a firm squeeze and letting out a loooowww whistle.

The moment your silence stretched too long, Satoru knew he had you.

A slow, cocky smirk curled on his lips as he rolled his hips forward, pressing his hardness against your core, just to hear the way your breath caught in your throat.

"That's what I thought," he murmured, voice low, rough—wrecked.

His hands gripped your thighs tighter as he lifted you, pinning you between the door and his body, the heat of him searing straight through your clothes. You barely had a moment to gasp before his lips crashed against yours, desperate and bruising.

It was messy. Uncoordinated. More need than finesse.

Teeth clashed. Tongues tangled.

You wanted to hate him for how easily he unraveled you, how quickly he made you forget why you were supposed to be angry, but the way he groaned into your mouth, like he was starving for you, made it impossible.

"Fuck," he muttered, breaking away just enough to look at you, his pupils blown wide. "I've been thinking about this all day."

His fingers found the waistband of your pants, yanking them down in a single, impatient motion, his breath hitching at the sight of your bare skin.

"God, baby," he groaned, voice shaking. "You have no fucking idea."

You swallowed hard, gripping at his shirt as he reached down, palming himself through his slacks. The outline of his cock was thick and heavy, and when he popped open the button and shoved his pants down, your mouth watered at the sight of it—hard, flushed red at the tip, pre-cum already leaking.

He gave himself a few strokes, his eyes locked onto your soaked cunt, before he pressed the blunt tip against your entrance.

"You’re already dripping," he murmured, smug. "Missed me that much, huh?"

You wanted to argue, to shove him back and wipe that cocky smirk off his face, but the second he pushed in, stretching you open inch by inch, your brain short-circuited.

"Shit," you gasped, head tipping back against the door.

Satoru grunted, his hands gripping your hips, keeping you in place as he bottomed out, his cock buried to the hilt inside you.

"Tight as ever," he hissed. "Like this pussy was fucking made for me."

You dug your nails into his shoulders, your walls clenching around him as he gave a sharp thrust.

"Shit—" His head dropped to your shoulder, his breath ragged. "You’re gonna kill me."

And then he started moving.

There was no build-up, no easing into it—just raw, desperate thrusts, his hips snapping against yours, his cock driving into you so deep it had you seeing stars.

Your moans filled the small bathroom, drowned out only by the muffled sounds of the restaurant beyond the door. The thrill of it—the risk, the absolute filth of being fucked up against a public bathroom door—only made it worse.

Satoru must have felt the same, because his grip on you turned bruising, his pace brutal.

"This what you wanted, huh?" he growled, lips brushing against your ear. "Wanted me to ruin you like this?"

You could only whimper in response, your legs tightening around his waist.

"You love it," he groaned. "Love letting me fuck you like this, even when you hate me."

His teeth found your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark before soothing it with his tongue.

"Fuck, baby," he panted, "I should keep you like this forever. Stuck on my cock, whining like a bitch in heat."

The filthiness of it sent heat rushing straight to your core, your walls fluttering around him, making him curse under his breath.

"That's it," he muttered. "Come on, baby, give it to me."

His thumb found your clit, rubbing harsh circles, and your body jerked at the sensation.

"Fuck—Satoru—"

"I know, baby," he gritted out. "Come for me. Come on my fucking cock."

The coil in your stomach snapped, and you came with a sharp cry, your walls clenching down so hard on him he nearly collapsed against you.

"Shit, shit, shit—"

His thrusts turned erratic, sloppy, his breath ragged against your skin as he chased his own release.

"Fuck, I'm gonna—"

And then, with one last thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could go, spilling inside you with a low, wrecked groan, his body shuddering against yours.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. Just panting, clinging to each other, the aftershocks still rippling through your bodies.

And then—

Reality crashed down.

His head dropped against your shoulder, his arms tightening around you.

"Fuck," he murmured, voice hoarse.

You didn’t respond, still coming down from your high, your mind too fogged to process anything else.

But then he spoke again.

"You’re never leaving me."

Your breath hitched.

"You hear me?" He pulled back just enough to look at you, his iridescent blue eyes burning.

"This—" He gestured vaguely, his chest still heaving. "Us. It’s never gonna stop."

You swallowed hard. "Satoru—"

"I don’t care how fucked up it is," he interrupted, voice cracking. "I don’t care if we tear each other apart." He sniffled, You swallowed, your throat tight. His words pressed against your skin, heavier than his body pinning you to the door.

"You can’t say that," you whispered, voice barely there.

Satoru’s gaze didn’t waver. He just looked at you, eyes burning with something you weren’t ready to name.

"I can," he murmured. "Because it’s true."

His fingers ghosted over your cheek, sliding down the column of your throat, pressing lightly—just enough for you to feel his touch, like he was mapping you all over again.

You closed your eyes, trying to ignore the way your body still ached for him, how every inch of you still burned from the way he took you.

"You don’t own me."

He exhaled shakily, his forehead pressing against yours.

"I know," he admitted, his voice a broken rasp. "But you still belong to me."

Your breath stuttered. "That’s not the same thing."

"Isn’t it?" he asked, his hands slipping down to your waist, holding you like you were something fragile. "Tell me, then. Tell me you don’t feel it, too."

You didn’t answer.

Because you did.

You felt it in the way his body curled over yours, in the way his breaths mingled with yours, in the way he held you—not with possession, but with something deeper. Something unshakable.

He pressed a soft kiss to your temple, then another on your cheek, then lower, down to your jaw. He was shaking. His lips trembled against your skin.

"I thought about you every fucking day."

His confession poured into you like warm honey, thick and golden, coating every inch of your chest.

"I know you think this is just obsession," he continued, his nose brushing the shell of your ear. "That I’m selfish and I only want you because I can’t stand the idea of someone else having you. Maybe that’s true."

His hands slid up, wrapping around your wrists, pulling them down from where they’d been pressed defensively to his chest.

"But it’s more than that," he said, kissing your palm. "It always has been."

Your fingers curled slightly against his cheek, as if testing the weight of his words. "Then why do we keep ruining each other?"

He let out a breath, slow and quiet, like it hurt to say the truth out loud.

"Because I don't know how to love you without ruining myself, too."

Your heart clenched.

Satoru lifted his head, his gaze searching yours, his lips parting slightly before he said it.

"And you can’t leave me anyway."

You blinked. "What?"

His hands flexed at your sides, gripping tighter like he was afraid you’d disappear.

"Something’s already taken root inside you," he whispered, almost reverently. "You know it, don’t you?"

Your stomach flipped, your breath catching as something deep inside you—something instinctual, something unspoken—stirred at his words.

Because you did know.

It wasn’t just the way your body still felt like it belonged to him. It wasn’t just the way your heart raced whenever he was near.

It was something more. Something permanent.

Satoru swallowed, his thumb brushing over your lips, his voice raw, like he was barely holding himself together.

"Tell me I’m wrong."

You couldn’t.

His eyes darkened, something deep and knowing settling in them.

"That’s what I thought."

His hands found your hips, gripping them, his thumbs tracing slow circles.

"You’re never leaving," he murmured, softer this time, like a promise. "Not now. Not ever."

You shivered, your head dropping against his chest, your breath unsteady.

Because for the first time in all the years of back-and-forth, of fights and reconciliations, of leaving and coming back—

You believed him.

And maybe… maybe you didn’t want to leave anyway.

Satoru’s arms wound around you, holding you against him like he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers.

His lips pressed against your temple, slow and lingering, and then—

"Marry me."

The words were quiet, barely louder than the sound of your own heartbeat.

Your body froze, rigid, like glass refusing to budge. Satoru only pulled you closer.

"We both know this is forever."

His hands skimmed your sides, like he was memorizing you all over again.

"So let’s stop pretending otherwise."

Your throat went dry.

Because as crazy as it sounded, as reckless and fucked-up as this love was—

Maybe, just maybe—

He was right.

Back to him, you guess. Forever this time.

FIN.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 a/n. hello loves, i was feeling very uninspired towards my long fic “All I Need” so im posting this. I’ll hopefully be back on track once i jot down my ideas for chapter five. I hope you enjoy this one-shot, based on B2b by charlixcx.

#gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru smut #jjk gojo #gojo smut #satoru gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #gojo x you #dividers by cafekitsune #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #smut

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greengoblinswifey · 1 month ago

Text

Forbidden Flame

pairing— dad’s best friend!nicholas chavez x fem!reader

summary— the move to LA allows you to meet your dad’s best friend you’ve always seen on the big screen and who he always speaks about. what you don’t anticipate is the tension and connection between you that inevitably boils over on vacation after much teasing. based on this request.

warnings— age gap(reader is 19, nicholas is aged up to be 40)teasing and flirting, praise kink, choking, sir kink, oral(m&f receiving), fingering, degrading kink, unprotected sex, creampie, aftercare.

Part II

Your dad had been best friends with Nicholas Chavez for years—decades, really. They’d grown up together, gone to the same schools and stuck by each other through all of life’s twists and turns. Nicholas’ move to Los Angeles to chase his acting dreams hadn’t changed that. Despite the distance, they talked almost daily, keeping their friendship as strong as ever.

You’d only met Nicholas once when you were younger, during one of his rare trips back home. You were about twelve at the time, and while you vaguely remembered his tall frame and sweet smile, he hadn’t left much of an impression. Over the years, though, you’d grown more familiar with him through your dad’s endless stories, their calls, and the movies your dad insisted you watch.

“You should be proud,” he’d say, nudging you as another one of Nicholas’ films played on the TV. “That’s my best friend up there.”

Your dad would occasionally fly out to California for Nicholas’ premieres or events, but you’d never felt inclined to join him. It wasn’t until university brought you to Los Angeles that your paths finally crossed again.

When your dad divorced your mom, he decided to move to California to be closer to you. He bought a house in Hollywood, offering you a place to live while you attended university. You didn’t mind, you’d always been closer to your dad, and his laid back, supportive attitude made sharing a house easy.

Being in the same city as Nicholas meant your dad finally had a chance to see his best friend more often, and you heard him mention Nicholas’ name even more in passing.

“He’s coming over soon,” your dad told you one afternoon. “Haven’t seen him in person in ages. Thought we’d catch up.”

You didn’t think much of it—until the night Nicholas arrived.

The dinner table was a culmination of clinking silverware, stories and laughter. The kind of laughter that made the years between old friends feel like seconds. Your dad beamed as he embraced Nicholas, who stood in the foyer looking effortlessly charming.

“There he is, the big shot actor!” your dad teased, giving Nicholas a pat on the back.

Nicholas chuckled, his voice deeper and smoother than you remembered. “You haven’t changed a bit, man. Still know how to make me feel like a show off.”

And then his eyes fell on you.

“And who’s this?” he asked, his gaze sweeping you up and down with a hint of curiosity and something more.

“This is my daughter, Y/N,” your dad announced proudly, gesturing toward you. “You haven’t seen her since she was, what? Twelve?”

You swallowed hard, feeling pinned under Nicholas’ attention. His brown eyes lingered just a second too long before his lips curled into a slow, polite smile.

“You’ve grown a lot,” he said smoothly, extending a hand. “Nicholas Chavez. Though I suppose you know that.”

You managed to stammer out a soft, “Nice to meet you,” shaking his hand. His grip was firm, and his touch sent a strange spark down your spine.

Dinner was filled with nostalgia and catching up. Your dad recounted old stories from their youth, embarrassing moments, spontaneous road trips, and the mischief they’d gotten into. Nicholas laughed freely, though every so often, you caught him glancing at you when he thought you weren’t looking.

“So,” your dad began, shifting the conversation, “she’s doing theatre arts and creative writing. Wants to get into the business—creative side of things, you know?”

Nicholas raised an eyebrow, turning his attention fully to you now. “Theatre arts? Creative writing? That’s a great combination. What’s the end goal?”

“I—uh—I want to write scripts,” you admitted, feeling nervous under his intense gaze. “Maybe work on sets or be an actress, just get my foot in the door somehow.”

“Well, you’re in the right city for it,” he said with a small smile. “And, hey, if you ever need some experience, I’d be happy to take you under my wing. Help you learn the ropes.”

Your breath caught, and you fumbled with your glass, bringing it to your lips to hide the warmth creeping up your neck.

Your dad laughed, oblivious. “Hear that? You’ve already got a mentor lined up. I always knew you’d be useful for something, Nick.”

Nicholas smirked, his eyes still on you as he raised his glass. “Happy to help.”

The rest of the evening passed, but your mind kept replaying his words. Take you under my wing. It was nothing inappropriate—perfectly professional. Yet something in the way he’d said it made your stomach flip, as if there was an unspoken undertone you couldn’t quite place.

By the time the night ended, Nicholas was standing at the door with your dad, exchanging plans for future meet ups. He glanced back at you one last time, his expression unreadable but lingering.

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice softer now, just for you.

“Goodnight,” you replied, and as the door shut behind him, you exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding.

Your dad clapped you on the shoulder, oblivious to your spinning thoughts. “See? Told you he’s a good guy. You’ll learn a lot from him.”

You weren’t so sure what you’d learn having a man that attractive around you, but one thing was certain—Nicholas Chavez was going to be hard to forget.

The next day, your dad picked you up from campus, his energy high as he tapped the steering wheel with excitement. “Nicholas invited us over to his place,” he announced. “Thought it’d be nice for us to hang out. You’ll love his house, it’s insane.”

Your stomach flipped. Spending more time with Nicholas already had you on edge, and now you’d be in his home? You glanced down at your outfit, a cute red and white crop top paired with high waisted shorts. You’d worn it to class without a second thought, but now the exposed skin felt too revealing.

By the time your dad pulled into the driveway of Nicholas’ mansion, your nerves were in overdrive.

Nicholas greeted you both at the door, his smile welcoming as hugged your dad. “Good to see you, man,” he said warmly, stepping aside to let you in.

Then his eyes landed on you.

For a moment, he just looked, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that felt deliberate. His jaw tightened slightly before his expression softened. “And you,” he said, his voice dipping lower, “looking even more beautiful than last time.”

You stared back, trying to keep your breathing steady. Up close, Nicholas Chavez was impossibly good-looking. The sharp lines of his jaw, the way his hair framed his face, the confident way he carried himself—it was overwhelming.

His hand brushed against your bare back as he stepped aside, sending a shiver up your spine. “Come in,” he said, though his eyes lingered for just a second longer.

The inside of his house was stunning. Bright sunlight poured through massive windows, highlighting every detail of the sleek, modern décor. Your dad let out a low whistle. “This is incredible, bro. You’ve really done well for yourself.”

Nicholas chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Thanks, but it’s just a house. A place to unwind, you know?”

“Unwind?” your dad teased. “This place looks like a movie set.”

Nicholas smirked but didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes flicked back to you. You met his gaze, your stomach tightening at the look in his eyes. For a moment, it was like the world around you faded, leaving just the two of you. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he quickly turned back to your dad.

“Speaking of unwinding,” Nicholas said, his tone casual now, “I thought we could hang out by the pool for a bit. I’ve got drinks and food.”

“That sounds great,” your dad said, clapping his hands together.

Nicholas glanced at you again, his expression unreadable. “You good with that?”

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your voice a little too soft.

“Perfect,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll get everything set up.”

As he walked toward the kitchen, you couldn’t help but watch him go. The way he moved, so confident and self assured, only added to his appeal. You exhaled slowly, trying to shake off the heat crawling up your body.

Your dad caressed your arm, snapping you out of your thoughts. “See? This is gonna be fun. Maybe you’ll even get some acting tips while we’re here.”

You nodded, forcing a smile, but your mind was elsewhere. The way Nicholas looked at you, the brush of his hand against your skin, the charged silence that hung between you—it all left you wondering what, if anything, it meant.

Seeing as you didn’t have your swim suit, you opted to just dip your feet in the water. Your dad could get one of Nicholas’ swim trunks. A few minutes later, Nicholas returned, a bundle of fabric in his hands.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to you.

You tilted your head, confused, as you took the neatly folded bikini. “What’s this?”

He shrugged casually, but there was something in his smirk. “Ordered a few things online a while back, and this one accidentally came. Figured it might fit you, though. You can keep it.”

Your fingers brushed over the soft fabric, noting the vibrant color and skimpy cut. “Oh, uh, thanks,” you said, a bit shy now.

“Don’t mention it,” he said, his voice smooth. “It’s better than swimming in your clothes.”

Feeling the heat rise to your cheeks, you nodded and got up. “I’ll go change.”

The pool house offered privacy, but as you slipped out of your clothes and into the bikini, you glanced at yourself in the mirror. The top hugged your tits tightly, barely offering coverage, while the bottoms sat high on your hips, leaving little to the imagination. It wasn’t something you’d typically wear, and the thought of walking out in front of Nicholas made your stomach flutter.

When you stepped back outside, the air felt cooler against your exposed skin. Nicholas was leaning against a lounger, sipping beer, but when he saw you approach, his movements stilled.

His eyes swept over you, and for a brief moment, his breath hitched. “You’ve—really grown up,” he said, his voice low and a little rough.

Flustered, you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “It’s just a swimsuit.”

“Still,” he said, his gaze lingering for a second too long before he cleared his throat. “It looks good on you.”

You managed a quiet “thanks” before sliding into the pool, letting the water cool the heat creeping. Nicholas joined you and your dad shortly after, but even as they talked and laughed, you could feel his eyes on you.

It wasn’t obvious—his gaze flicked back and forth between you and the conversation, but every time your head turned, you caught him watching. The weight of his attention made your heart race.

By evening, the three of you had dried off and gathered around the dining table. The smell of roasted vegetables and perfectly cooked steak filled the air.

“Wow, Nick,” your dad said, cutting into his meal. “This is impressive. Never thought I’d see the day you’d learn to cook.”

Nicholas chuckled, sitting back in his chair. “Had to pick up a few skills along the way. Can’t survive on takeout forever.”

Your dad teased, “Guess that’s what happens when you don’t get married. No one to cook for you.”

Nicholas glanced at you then, his dark eyes steady and unreadable. “Maybe I just haven’t met the right girl,” he said, a slight edge to his tone. Then, with a small smirk, he added, “But when I do, she’ll find out I’ve got all the skills she’ll ever need.”

You swallowed hard, the double meaning not lost on you. His gaze lingered second longer before he shifted his attention back to his plate, leaving you wondering how much of that comment was intentional.

Your dad laughed, shaking his head. “Well, if she’s out there, she’ll be lucky to have you. Who knew you had all this domestic talent?”

As the conversation carried on, you found yourself quiet, focusing on your food and the occasional glance Nicholas sent your way. The air felt heavy, but whether it was in your head or something more, you couldn’t be sure.

The wine Nicholas poured had loosened you up, and by the time your dad excused himself to use the bathroom, leaving you and Nicholas alone, the air felt thick and suffocating.

You tapped your glass idly, the boldness of the wine coursing through your veins. “So, is this how you usually spend your evenings? Hosting your old friends and their kids?” you teased.

His lips curved into a slow smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, swirling his own drink. “Not usually, no. But tonight’s—different.”

You decided to push, emboldened by his tone and the way his attention seemed to settle solely on you. “Different, huh? Maybe because you’re spending time with someone younger? More interesting?”

Nicholas tilted his head, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip. “You’re bold tonight,” he said, his voice low. “I like that.”

“Oh yeah? Maybe you like more than that.”

He opened his mouth to respond, his expression enticing, but the sound of your dad returning broke whatever moment had formed. He shifted in his seat, clearing his throat, and you quickly sat back, pretending to focus on your glass.

“Alright,” your dad said, clapping his hands together. “She’s got an early class tomorrow, so I think it’s time we head out. Thanks for dinner, Nick.”

Nicholas stood, composed. “Anytime, man. You know that.”

Your dad reached for his jacket, but when you stood and approached Nicholas to say your goodbyes, you couldn’t resist one final moment of boldness.

“Thanks for dinner,” you said sweetly as you stepped in for a hug. But instead of the polite embrace he might have expected, you pressed yourself flush against him. One hand slipped up around his neck, fingers grazing through the soft strands of his hair, while your hips brushed against his. You felt the way his breath hitched, and there was no mistaking the hardness you’d pressed against.

Nicholas’ hand hovered near your back before resting lightly, as if trying to maintain control. His voice was low, barely audible. “You’re playing a dangerous game,” he murmured, his lips brushing close to your ear.

You pulled back to meet his gaze, your voice equally quiet. “So are you.”

Before either of you could say more, your dad turned back to you, oblivious. “Ready, sweetie?”

You smiled innocently and stepped away, pretending nothing had happened. “Yeah, dad. Goodnight, Nicholas.”

“Goodnight,” he said, his voice steady but his eyes stayed on your ass as you walked out the door.

That night, you lay in your bed, staring at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. The interaction replayed in your mind on a loop, his sharp, chiseled features, the way his breath faltered and his dick got hard when you touched him, the low, gravelly tone of his voice.

It was wrong, you knew that much. He was your dad’s best friend, for God’s sake. The kind of man you should steer clear of, not fantasize about. But the very thought of how forbidden it was only made it more intoxicating.

Nicholas wasn’t just handsome, he was magnetic. His success, the way he carried himself, it all checked every box you’d ever had. And then there was the age gap. You had a taste for men who were older and Nicholas embodied everything you craved.

You pressed your thighs together as the memory of his body against yours sent a rush through you. The way his voice dropped, how he’d let his guard slip for just a moment, it made your heart race and your core throb.

“This is bad,” you whispered to yourself, but even as you said it, you knew the truth. You didn’t want it to stop. If anything, you wanted to push further.

And, deep down, you hoped he felt the same way.

Friday came faster than you expected, but the days leading up to it were anything but dull. Earlier in the week, Nicholas had texted you out of the blue, and the conversation quickly veered into dangerous, flirtatious territory.

Nicholas: “Miss me yet?”

You: “Should I?”

Nicholas: “You tell me.”

You: ��Maybe a little.”

You smiled at your screen, biting your lip as you typed out your next message.

You: “You like having me around that much?”

Nicholas: “You have no idea.”

His response made your pulse quicken, but you weren’t about to let him have the upper hand so easily.

You: “Guess you’ll just have to wait.”

Nicholas: “Not sure I can.”

Your heart was racing, and just when you thought the conversation couldn’t get any more suggestive, his next text came through.

Nicholas: “Keep your phone locked.”

You raised an eyebrow, staring at the message for a moment before replying.

You: “Why? Are you planning on sending something?”

Nicholas: “Only if you want me to.”

You: “Hmm, maybe.”

You could feel the tension even through the screen, but after he replied, you left him on read, smirking to yourself. A part of you wanted to follow up, but you were content letting him stew in his anticipation.

For the next few days, you didn’t respond to any of his subtle messages, leaving him to wonder if he had pushed too far. You stayed busy, keeping things light and casual whenever you tagged along with your dad and Nicholas during their outings. The tension was always there, simmering, but you played it cool, knowing full well that you held all the cards.

Then Thursday evening came. Your dad burst into your room with the kind of excitement you didn’t usually see from him.

“Pack a suitcase,” he said, grinning.

“What?” you asked, looking up from your laptop.

“We’re going on a trip,” he said, leaning against your doorframe. “Me, you, and Nicholas. We’re heading to Miami for the weekend. Figured we could get away, hit a resort, relax a bit.”

“Miami?” you repeated, your mind already racing.

“Yeah. Nice beach, warm weather. Get a little fucked up for the weekend,” he added with a laugh.

“Dad,” you groaned, rolling your eyes. “Don’t say it like that.”

He laughed. “Just pack something nice. We leave tomorrow.”

Excitement bubbled inside you as you started packing. You made sure to include a few outfits that would undoubtedly turn heads, particularly Nicholas’. Tight dresses, short skirts, and bikinis that barely covered anything, they all made their way into your suitcase.

Later that night, as you sat on your bed scrolling through your phone, you decided you’d teased Nicholas long enough. You called him, and he picked up almost immediately.

“Finally,” he said, his voice deep.

“Did you miss me?” you teased, twirling a strand of your hair between your fingers.

“Maybe I did,” he admitted. “I was starting to think the trip was the only way to get you alone.”

“Technically, it’s not,” you countered, smirking to yourself.

“Well,” he said, his tone dropping slightly, “I’ll make sure to get you alone at some point.”

Your breath caught at the implication. “See you Friday,” you said quickly, hanging up before he could say anything else.

Friday morning, Nicholas’ driver arrived to pick you and your dad up. You wore a simple yet flattering outfit, a short skirt that showed off your legs and a fitted top that hugged your tits. When Nicholas greeted you at the private hangar, his eyes lingered just a little too long, sliding over your body before meeting your gaze.

“Morning,” he said, his voice casual, though his eyes betrayed something else entirely.

“Morning,” you replied lightly, pretending not to notice how he was looking at you.

Your dad clapped him on the shoulder, grinning. “You’re spoiling us with this, man.”

Nicholas laughed, his gaze flicking to you again. “You deserve it, you’re my brother. Besides, what’s the point of having nice things if you can’t share them?”

You followed them onto the jet, your jaw dropping slightly at the sheer luxury of it all. The plush leather seats, the spacious layout, and the private rooms in the back, it was a dream.

“Not bad, huh?” Nicholas teased, catching your expression.

“Not bad is an understatement,” you muttered, shaking your head.

Once in the air, your dad fell asleep almost immediately, leaving you to sip on a cocktail in the small lounge area. You scrolled through your phone, trying to act casual, but your mind was already racing.

A few minutes later, you heard footsteps. Turning slightly, you saw Nicholas leaning against the doorway, his arms crossed and a small smirk on his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice low. “Your dad’s out cold.”

You raised an eyebrow, setting your drink down. “Why would I worry? What’s going to happen?”

Nicholas chuckled, his gaze dropping briefly to your bare thigh before meeting your eyes again. “Anything you want to happen.”

Your heart skipped a beat as his eyes lingered, his jaw tightening briefly before he looked away.

“You always this confident?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

“Only when I’ve got a reason to be.” His smirk widened as he stepped closer, leaning on the back of the seat across from you. His voice dropped as he added, “You’re making it hard to behave, you know.”

“Who said you have to behave?”

His eyes darkened slightly and he shifted, running a hand through his hair. “Your dad’s my best friend,” he said, almost to himself, though his gaze never left yours.

“And?” you challenged, your voice softer now.

His lips quirked up into a small smile. “And—you’re trouble. I can see that already.”

You leaned back in your seat, crossing one leg over the other deliberately. “Maybe you like trouble.”

Nicholas exhaled sharply, shaking his head, though he smiled in amusement. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He shook his head, his gaze not wavering. “You should,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

You stood, crossing the small space between you and Nicholas in a few deliberate steps, until you were right in front of him. His eyes flicked up and down your figure, his jaw tightening slightly.

“You’re not very subtle, you know,” you teased, tilting your head as you caught his eyes trailing over your legs and the hem of your skirt.

“I’m not trying to be,” he replied.

You took a step closer, your voice dropping just enough to make him lean in. “You can look and touch,” you whispered, grabbing his large hands and placing them gently on your hips.

Nicholas hesitated, his fingers barely pressing into your waist. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull away.

“You’re such a pussy,” you said, shaking your head and giving him a challenging look.

That seemed to snap him out of his hesitation. His hands tightened on your hips, pulling you closer in one swift motion, and suddenly his grip was firm. His other hand slid up, fingers grazing the side of your neck before settling at the base of your throat, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp.

“Not so bold now, are you?” he murmured, his lips just inches from yours.

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding against your ribcage, but you weren’t ready to back down. With a final burst of boldness, you pushed him onto the chair then swung your legs over him, settling yourself in his lap so you were straddling him. The movement seemed to catch him off guard for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you.

Your breaths mingled, the air between you filled with so much tension. His hands rested on your hips, his fingers pressing into the fabric of your skirt. You leaned in slightly, and he mirrored the action, your faces so close that your lips were slightly brushing against each other.

The kiss came almost naturally, slow and testing at first, as though either of you could pull away at any second. But when you didn’t, when you leaned in just a little more, it quickly deepened. His lips moved against yours with a hunger that made your head spin, his hands pulling you closer against him like he couldn’t get enough.

Your fingers found their way to his hair, tugging lightly as the kiss grew more urgent, more ferocious. He groaned softly against your mouth, and you felt the sound vibrate in your chest, sending a thrill down your spine. Then the plane shook.

You both froze, pulling back just slightly. His hand stayed on your waist as you both caught your breath, your faces still close enough to feel the warmth of his skin.

Nicholas cleared his throat, his voice quieter now. “We should probably stop before this goes any further.”

You nodded, slipping off his lap and standing in front of him again. “Yeah,” you said softly, smoothing out your skirt.

His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer, and then he stood, straightening his shirt. “Get some rest,” he said, his tone gentler now. “I’ll see you when we land.”

Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked back toward the main cabin, leaving you standing there with your heart still racing. You took a deep breath, shaking your head as you went back to your private area.

As you closed your eyes, the lingering heat of his touch still burned on your skin, and you wondered how the rest of this trip would unfold.

You stirred awake hours later, feeling the gentle sensation of fingers brushing through your hair. A lazy smile tugged at your lips as you mumbled, “You’re being bold now, aren’t you?”

“Bold?” a familiar voice replied. Your eyes fluttered open to see your dad standing over you with a raised eyebrow. “Sweetie, we’ve landed. Time to get moving.”

Blinking away the sleep, you sat up quickly, your heart beating fast. “Right. Thanks, Dad.”

The ride to the resort was quick, and you were immediately struck by how massive and luxurious it was. Each of you had your own private room, and you couldn’t wait to explore. After setting your bags down, you wasted no time pulling out a swimsuit—a sexy two piece that hugged every curve, and headed out to meet your dad and Nicholas by the private pool.

When you arrived, heads turned, and you couldn’t ignore the stares and the occasional whistles from passersby. Nicholas stood nearby, clearly irritated by the attention you were getting, his sharp jaw tense as he greeted fans asking for his autograph. You caught the way his eyes flicked to the men looking your way, his annoyance evident.

“Not a fan of the attention?” you teased, stepping closer to him while your dad busied himself at the far end of the pool flirting with a woman.

Nicholas’ gaze bore into you. “Not when it’s them giving it to you,” he muttered, his tone low.

You grinned, deciding to push your luck. “Jealousy doesn’t suit you.”

His eyes narrowed, but the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smirk. Before he could reply, you held out a bottle of sunscreen. “Do me a favor and get my back?”

He hesitated, glancing over to where your dad was preoccupied. “You’re a tease, you know that?”

“Am I?” you asked, turning around and presenting your back to him. “Then don’t help me.”

He sighed but took the bottle from your hand. His touch was firm as he worked the sunscreen over your shoulders and back. When he reached the small of your back, his hands faltered for just a second.

“You’re awfully quiet,” you said over your shoulder, playfully.

“Trying to focus,” he replied, but his hands moved lower, brushing over the curve of your hips and your plump ass.

You shifted slightly, making your ass jiggle beneath his hands. His breath hitched audibly, and he muttered under his breath, “You’re going to kill me with this shit.”

You giggled, biting your lip as you turned to face him and took the bottle back. Without breaking eye contact, you squeezed some sunscreen onto your hands and began rubbing it over your chest, your fingers grazing deliberately over your tits.

His jaw clenched, his eyes darkening as he watched you. But before he could say anything, you gave him a sly smile and walked toward the pool, leaving him standing there visibly hard.

You dove into the water, and moments later, he joined you, swimming a few laps before suggesting, “Why don’t we head down to the beach? It’s quieter there.”

You nodded, glancing over at your dad, who was still deeply engrossed in conversation with the woman. Nicholas called out to him, and your dad waved him off with a grin.

“I’ll be busy this evening, maybe even tonight,” your dad said, his tone suggestive. “You two have dinner without me. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

Nicholas laughed then muttered, “Always the womanizer. Some things never change.”

You laughed softly. “Don’t worry, we’ll be fine. Have fun.”

The beach was stunning, with the sun beginning to set, casting everything in a golden glow. As you walked along the shore, Nicholas’ eyes kept wandering, lingering on your ass and the way your bikini hugged your figure.

Finally, you turned to him with a teasing smile. “See something you like?”

“Definitely,” he said, his voice steady, though his gaze was anything but.

“Good,” you said, stepping closer, your heart racing at the way his eyes raked over you.

The water was warm as it slapped against your body. Nicholas stood just a few feet away, his eyes locked on yours as the golden light of the setting sun reflected off your dark skin. You moved toward him, closing the space between you, and without hesitation, you wrapped your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist. His large hands instinctively gripped beneath your ass, holding you steady as he swayed you gently in the water.

You giggled at the way he playfully moved you around, the water rippling around you both. His gaze softened as he looked at you, a faint smile on his lips. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

Heat went to your cheeks, and you instinctively buried your face into the crook of his neck. “You can get shy now,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a teasing tone, “but don’t be shy when I’m fucking you.”

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so confidently, that it sent a shiver down your spine. Your breathing quickened as you pulled back, your eyes locking onto his. The look in his eyes made your heart pound, and without a second thought, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

The kiss started slow but quickly turned desperate, your mouths moving against each other as the water swirled around you. Nicholas’ grip on you tightened as he deepened the kiss, his tongue brushing against yours, leaving you breathless.

“I need you so bad,” you whispered against his lips, your voice trembling.

He groaned softly, his forehead resting against yours. “I need you more,” he said, his voice rough and full of hunger. His eyes roamed your face. “Fuck, look at you.”

You kissed him again, your lips pressing against his like you were trying to convey everything you couldn’t put into words. He pulled back slightly, his breathing ragged. “At this rate,” he muttered, his voice strained, “I’ll fuck you right here, right now. But we can’t—not yet.”

Before you could respond, he adjusted his hold on you and began carrying you toward the shore and you admired the way his muscles flexed under the golden light. Once you reached the sand, he set you down gently and handed you a towel, his eyes lingering on you as you dried off.

The two of you returned to your rooms to freshen up for dinner. You slipped into a stunning white dress that hugged your curves perfectly, the gold jewelry you chose glinting against your dark skin. When you stepped out, Nicholas was waiting for you in the hallway. His eyes widened slightly as he took you in, and he let out a low whistle.

“You look—” He trailed off, his gaze sweeping over you. “You look breathtaking.”

“You clean up pretty well yourself,” you said, glancing at the fitted shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders.

He offered his arm, and you looped yours through it as the two of you made your way to one of the resort’s restaurant. Inside, the air was intimate, with dim lighting and the soft hum of music filling the air. Nicholas pulled out your chair for you, a small but thoughtful gesture that made your stomach flutter.

As the meal progressed, you noticed he couldn’t take his eyes off you. His gaze lingered on your lips when you spoke, on your hands as you picked up your glass, and on your cleavage.

“You’re staring,” you teased, setting down your fork.

“Can you blame me?” he replied, leaning back slightly in his chair. “You’re making it hard to focus on anything else.”

You smirked, sliding off one of your heels under the table. Slowly, you let your foot brush against his leg. His eyes flicked to yours in amusement. “What are you up to now?”

“Nothing,” you said, innocently as your foot moved higher. When it pressed against the growing bulge in his pants, he let out a low chuckle, his hand running over his jaw.

“You’re such a bad girl,” he murmured.

“How big is it?” you asked, your tone filled with need.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk growing. “Come to my room and find out.”

“Maybe I will,” you replied with a sly grin, withdrawing your foot.

By the time you both made your way to the elevator after finishing your meal, you knew the dam would burst.

The doors had barely closed when Nicholas turned to you, his eyes blazing. Without a word, he pushed you gently against the elevator wall, his hands gripping your thighs as you jumped into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your lips crashed together in a deep kiss, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands roamed over your back.

The elevator dinged, but neither of you broke apart. Nicholas stumbled down the hallway, fumbling with his keycard as your lips moved against his, both of you breathless and desperate. Finally, the door clicked open, and he carried you inside, kicking it shut behind him.

His lips never left yours, the kiss deepening with every step. When he reached the large bed, he laid you down, his body hovering over yours as he took you in.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” he murmured.

Your chest rose and fell quickly as you looked up at him, your own desire reflected in his gaze. “Fuck,” you breathed, your voice trembling. “Me too.”

His hands moved to the hem of your dress, and with one swift motion, he hiked it up, revealing your bare pussy. His eyes darkened when he realized you weren’t wearing anything underneath. He let out a low, groan. “You’re so fucking naughty,” he said, his lips curling into a smirk.

You bit your lip, your voice dropping into a sultry tone. “Only for you, sir.”

That one word made him pause, his gaze snapping to yours. He arched a brow, his smirk deepening. “Sir?” he repeated, the word rolling off his tongue with deliberate slowness. “I like that.”

Your teeth sank into your bottom lip again, and before you could respond, he leaned down, his lips trailing down your stomach with kisses. The heat of his breath against your skin sent shivers racing through your body, and anticipation built as his hands slid up your thighs, parting them gently.

When his mouth finally found your wet pussy, your back arched off the bed at the first touch of his tongue. The sensation was otherworldly, every nerve ending in your body sparking to life. His tongue moved with practiced precision, alternating between slow strokes and quick flicks that left you gasping for air.

“God, you taste amazing,” he murmured against you, his voice full of praise.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly as you squirmed beneath him. Every flick of his tongue sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, and you couldn’t hold back the moans that spilled from your lips. “Nicholas,” you whimpered, your voice breathy and desperate.

“That’s it baby,” he murmured, slipping two fingers inside you with ease. His touch had you squirming, and he moved them in sync with his tongue, building your pleasure higher and higher. “You’re so perfect,” he praised. “So responsive. Taste just as good as you look.”

Your breathing grew erratic, your pussy tightening around his finger as the sensation became overwhelming. “Sir,” you gasped, your grip on his hair tightening. “I’m gonna—”

“C’mon baby,” he encouraged. “Cum for me, beautiful.”

His words tipped you over the edge, and with a cry, you fell apart beneath him. Your body trembled as the orgasm washed over you, and he didn’t stop, working you through every wave of pleasure until you were left breathless and trembling.

As you relaxed, his lips trailed back up your body, leaving soft kisses. When he reached your face, he smiled down at you, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “You’re fucking amazing,” he whispered.

You caught your breath, still trembling from the pleasure he’d just given you. You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, a small, mischievous smile on your lips.

“I wanna please you too,” you whispered, your voice soft.

“Yeah?” he asked. “Wanna be my good little cock sucker?”

Your breath caught at his words, but the flush of desire through your body made you nod without hesitation. “Yes,” you murmured, but his smirk widened.

“Say it properly,” he demanded. “Yes, sir.”

You swallowed, your gaze never leaving his as you obeyed. “Yes, sir.”

“Good fucking girl,” he said. He leaned back slightly, giving you room as you slid off the bed and sank to your knees before him. The sight of you looking up at him from that angle made his jaw tighten, but he maintained control, watching you with focus.

Your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt, your hands steady but your heart racing. As you tugged it free and unzipped his pants, your pussy dripped. When you finally freed his cock, your eyes widened, and your lips parted in surprise.

Nicholas smirked down at you, clearly pleased by your reaction. “Now you know how big it is,” he said, his tone dripping with arrogance.

You glanced up at him, still slightly stunned, but you couldn’t help the small, breathy laugh that escaped you. “It’s—a lot,” you admitted, your voice teasing.

“You can handle it,” he replied confidently, wrapping a hand gently but firmly in your hair. His fingers tightened slightly, enough to guide you.

Leaning forward, you began slowly, your lips wrapping around him as you took him into your mouth. He moaned softly at the first touch. “That’s it,” he murmured. “Just like that. You’re such a good girl for me.”

The sound of his praise spurred you on, and you moved with more confidence, hollowing your cheeks as you took him down your throat. His grip in your hair tightened slightly, guiding you at a steady pace. “God, your mouth feels amazing,” he muttered, his head tilting back for a moment before his gaze returned to you.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he continued, his voice strained but steady. “Sucking my dick so well. Just like I knew you would.”

You couldn’t help but moan softly at his words, the vibrations pulling another groan from him. His free hand reached down to cup your cheek briefly before sliding back into your hair, his touch firm but still careful.

“Such a perfect mouth,” he murmured, his voice rougher now. “You’re making me lose my mind.”

You glanced up at him, your eyes meeting his as you continued, and the look in his eyes sent a shiver down your spine. The way he looked at you—like you were the most intoxicating thing he’d ever seen—only made you want to please him more.

Your tongue slid across his shaft as you moved, every glide eliciting a deep, guttural sound from him. You moved your head faster and massaged his heavy balls, his breathing turned uneven, and his grip in your hair tightened. “You’re such a good little cock sucker,” he muttered, his voice rough.

Just as his cock throbbed, and you thought he was close to letting go, he grasped your hair gently but firmly, pulling you back. “I’m not gonna cum in your mouth tonight,” he murmured, his eyes dark and unwavering as they locked with yours. “Next time, I’ll fill that gorgeous mouth of yours. But right now, I need to be inside you. Need to fill your pussy up first.”

Nicholas hovered over you, brushing a thumb across your lips as he looked into your eyes. “Are you ready? Are you sure you want this? I need to hear you say it.”

You nodded, your breath shaky. “Yes, sir. I’m sure.”

He smirked faintly at your words, though his gaze softened with something deeper. “You know there’s no going back from this,” he murmured, his voice low. “And no one can ever find out.”

“I don’t care about anything else right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I just want you.”

His expression flickered, caught between control and desire. Slowly, he leaned down to kiss you, taking his time as though to savor the moment. His hands moved over your body, caressing your skin and pulling off your dress fully leaving you bare.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured, his breath warm against your collarbone as his lips trailed lower. “So beautiful and all mine.”

“All yours,” you echoed.

He lined the leaking, heavy tip with your entrance and rubbed it along your folds. He was so big, probably the biggest you’d ever had. That’s one of the things you loved about older men.

He stared into your eyes as he slowly pushed his cock inside you. You gasped for air, the feeling of him filling you inch by inch taking your breath away. It felt like he was so deep and he just started.

“Breathe baby, you can take it.” You nodded, biting your lips as he could only get half way in but that was enough. He started snapping his hips to meet yours, the friction against your clit making you shiver. His raw cock dragged along your walls and you could feel every vein.

“You’re fucking me so good,” you croaked out, getting lost in pleasure.

“Yeah? Only I can make you feel this good,” he smirked.

He pushed your legs back even further, and the new angle had his cock going even deeper. Your pussy clenched tightly around him and he moaned, increasing his pace. “I can’t get enough of this wet fucking pussy,” he groaned. You wrapped your arms around his neck, grinding against him as he fucked you.

You couldn’t contain the loud moans that left your lips feeling him snap harshly into you, his cock practically kissing your cervix. If you had felt guilty about fucking your dad’s best friend before, it all went out the window as you felt an intense orgasm approaching.

“Gonna cum for me baby? Yeah? Do it. Cum all over my cock,” he growled.

Your entire body shuddered and you stared into his dark eyes as a rush of liquid spurted from your pussy, soaking his raw cock. He continued pounding into you, guiding you through your high until he flipped you so that you were on top of him.

You cried out as he positioned his cock back inside your aching pussy, your nails digging into his chest.

“Fucking ride me like the slut you are,” he said.

The stretch was intense, your pussy twitching as you sank down on his cock, taking him deeper, every inch filling you to the brim. Your pace was wild, desperate, and you screamed feeling his cock repeatedly hit that perfect spot deep inside you.

Nicholas’ hand wrapped around your throat, his grip firm, cutting off your breath just enough to make your head swoon. Your tits bounced with each thrust and he reached up, tangling his fingers in your hair, tugging your head down to make you look at him. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and possessive, as he forced you to glance down at your own stomach to look at the bulge in your belly where his thick cock was buried deep inside you.

“Look at that baby. Look how deep my cock is inside you,” he teased.

“S-so deep sir,” you screamed, lifting your hips and dropping back down.

The sight of him in your guts, being on top of his muscular body, it was all enough to send you over the edge. Tears spilled down your cheeks as you moaned his name and came on his thick cock. Your entire body convulsed as you did, muscles contracting around him, gripping him tight. But Nicholas wasn’t done. He fucked you even harder, his hips snapping against yours with brutal precision as you whimpered on top him.

“Oh shit. I’m gonna cum inside you, take it. Take it like a good little girl.”

You collapsed on top of him and he wrapped his big arms around you, bucking his hips deep inside you. Soft whimpers left your lips as you felt his hot load fill your insides and you were almost sure you came again from just that. Your pussy clenched down, milking him of everything he had and he continued thrusting slowly, making sure every drop went inside you.

He held you close, kissing the top of your head as you both caught your breath, relishing in the afterglow of the moment. Nicholas leaned back slightly, brushing a damp strand of hair away from your face. “You okay?” he asked softly.

You nodded, catching your breath. “I’m more than okay,” you replied with a small smile.

He grinned back at you, running a hand through his tousled hair. “That was incredible. You’re the best I’ve ever had.”

A soft laugh escaped you. “I could say the same,” you admitted, cheeks warm as you avoided his intense gaze.

He lifted you off him then stood, stretching before heading to grab a towel from the bathroom. You watched him move, his broad shoulders, his strong back and felt a familiar heat start to build again. By the time he returned and gently cleaned you up, his touch so attentive and tender, the idea of another round was already teasing the back of your mind.

But you stayed quiet, watching his face as he finished and leaned over you, planting a kiss on your temple. “You don’t regret this, do you?” he asked.

You shook your head quickly. “No. Do you?”

“Not at all,” he said immediately, a reassuring smile on his lips. Then he sighed, running a hand over his face. “But if your dad ever finds out—”

You placed a hand on his chest, cutting him off. “He won’t,” you said firmly. “He can’t. He would never forgive you.”

Nicholas nodded slowly. “Yeah. We’ll keep this between us, then.”

The unspoken agreement hung in the air for a moment before you sat up, reaching for your clothes. As much as you wanted to stay wrapped up in him for the night, you knew better. “I should go,” you said reluctantly, slipping your dress back on and smoothing it down.

Nicholas leaned back against the doorframe, watching you with a smirk. “You know, you don’t make it easy to say goodbye,” he teased as you slipped on your shoes.

You walked over to him, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” you murmured against his mouth.

He grinned and gave you one last kiss before opening the door. “Goodnight princess,” he said, his hand sliding down to give your ass a smack. You shot him a look over your shoulder, smirking as you stepped out into the hallway.

But the moment you turned, your stomach dropped. There, just a few feet away, was your dad, stepping out of his room with the woman from the pool earlier.

Your heart stopped.

His eyes flicked between you and Nicholas, who was now standing in the doorway behind you, and you forced a smile, hoping your face didn’t betray the panic building in your chest.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your dad said casually, his arm around the woman’s waist. “What are you doing up so late?”

You fumbled for words, glancing back at Nicholas, who gave you a subtle nod before stepping back into his room. “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep,” you managed, swallowing hard. “I was just getting some air.”

Your dad narrowed his eyes slightly but didn’t press. “Alright,” he said, his tone light. “Well, get some rest. We’ve got a full day tomorrow.”

“Of course,” you said quickly, forcing a smile. “Goodnight, Dad.”

“Night, kid.”

As he turned to head back into his room with the woman, you let out a shaky breath, your pulse still racing. You hurried back into your own room, your mind spinning. You couldn’t believe how close that had been.

In the bathroom, hot water cascaded over your body, soothing your muscles but doing little to quiet your thoughts. You leaned against the cool tile of the shower wall, closing your eyes as you tried to steady your breathing. The memory of Nicholas hovered like a spark in the dark. You could still feel his hands on you, the way he moaned your name like it was a prayer, and the look in his eyes that made you forget anything outside of that moment existed.

You knew this was dangerous. You knew you should stop before it spiraled out of control. What’s done in the dark always comes to light, you reminded yourself, the words playing in your mind like a warning.

But then his voice echoed in your head. The thought sent a shiver down your spine, and you groaned softly, pressing your forehead to the wall. “What am I doing?” you muttered to yourself, the guilt swirling in your chest.

Still, no matter how much you tried to rationalize, you couldn’t shake the pull he had over you. The way he made you feel alive, craved, wanted, it was intoxicating. You bit your lip, your cheeks heating even as you stood under the water.

The truth settled heavily in your chest. You couldn’t stop. Not now. Not after the way he made you feel, the way he fucked you like you were his very fantasy come to life. The way he held you, kissed you, worshipped every part of you. You needed more.

You turned off the water and stepped out of the shower, wrapping yourself in a plush towel. As you stared at your reflection in the foggy mirror, your mind wandered back to the way Nicholas had whispered your name, the way his lips had trailed over your pussy. A quiet voice in your head reminded you of the risk, the possibility of your dad finding out, the fallout it could bring.

But as you looked at yourself, you found a strange sort of clarity. You weren’t going to let Nicholas go.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

Tags: @blackynsupremacy @hoffmansgirl @nicholaschavezslut69

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mapileonxputellas · 1 year ago

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Beckham II: 2 That Day

Part 2 is here!!!!!

Short one for this part but I think some context is needed before I bring us back to the present day!

Hope you enjoy! Also in this the third place game doesn't exist.

(Part 1 can be found here x)

2nd July 2019, England vs USA, World Cup Semi-final

25th minute – 1 - 1

“This is a real battle out there isn’t it Sue?” Jonathon Pearce broadcasted to the UK, all eyes on the England team trying to defeat the US. Though they had gone behind very early on, an Ellen White leveller had brought them back onto even terms.

“It certainly is, you can see how much this means to all the players out there. None of this England team have ever experienced an occasion like this before but they seem to be carrying that emotion well.”

Out on the field it felt like an out of body experience. Before this the biggest game you’d played in would have to be a substitute appearance in an FA cup final, now you were starting the semi final at a World Cup. You were 19 and felt like the whole world was watching you.

At the start of the tournament you hadn’t been expecting to start but when Jill Scott picked up an injury in the round of 16 you’d stepped into the starting position next to Keira and never looked back. Receiving praise back at home for the level-headed game you played but still managed to bring out that touch of David Beckham in you.

It was a free-kick in the quarter-final that really brought you to the forefront of the nation. A slick ball which soared into the top corner of the net leaving their goalkeeper stranded and left everyone open-mouthed at home. You were never a nobody but now you were here to stay. Your Instagram following doubled and whenever you left the hotel in the past week the camera had never left you. The pressure was on.

“Fucking hell.” You swore coming up to take a corner for England nestled into the corner of the ground flooded with US fans.

“Nepotism trash!” “Daddy not here to hold your hand!” “Can’t even kick a ball!” “Weak!” “Spineless!”

The insults were flying in from every angle, everything was covered in the thirty seconds you had to wait to take the corner, of course your dad was mentioned but so was your appearance in the media. Newly turned 19 and yet it seemed like you were still the five-year-old girl who had her father carry her everywhere. Everyone just presumed you were an innocent little baby who couldn’t put in a tackle, you hated it.

But now was not the time to let that frustration out. Now was game time when nothing else mattered.

Your in-swinging corner found Millie on the edge of the 6-yard box but she couldn’t quite get the connection on it to trouble Naeher, instead giving her an easy catch but you could feel it coming.

The only problem is now there was now a break on. A quick release from the goalkeeper had set Lavelle free, Keira had stayed back but you couldn’t leave her one on one with Morgan in the centre.

You had one second to make a decision.

One second to work out how to stop her. You could try and get further back but you knew you had to stop it at source.

You were known for your pace so you had no trouble getting back to her but Lavelle was known for her trickery and skill.

In your head you made the best decision you could. You followed the rules you played football by and trusted your instinct.

That was where the world as you knew it slowly began to fade away.

“Oh that’s a nasty one from Beckham there and Lavelle seems seriously hurt.”

You thought it was clean, in fact you were sure of it. The contact with the ball was clear sending it flying out of play, you didn’t touch her other than her leg coming into yours as she came over the top of you and yet as she rolled around on the floor it was like the opposite had happened.

Suddenly you were surrounded by players in red, all screaming at you. “What the fuck did you do that for?” “Learn that one from your daddy did you?”

Millie came to stand in front of you, trying to block you from the players as Steph and Lucy surrounded the others at the referee.

“She didn’t touch her.” Millie defended you. “Tell your own player to stop cheating.”

You thought that would be the end of it. Tempers flared, emotions were high and you would get on with the match again. When the referee reached into her pocket you were convinced it was to calm everyone down, a booking usually helped to send a message out but when you saw it was red and it was flashed in your direction it was like time stopped.

“It’s a red card for Beckham, just like her father that name has once again come back to haunt England.” Jonathon commentated. “It’s a long way back for them here.”

You couldn’t believe what was happening. “Go and have a look yourself.” Millie shouted at the ref to overcome the noise in the stadium. “It was a clean tackle, she didn’t touch her.”

“The contact was enough to endanger the opponent. It’s reckless, dangerous and that it is a red card.”

“VAR has got to overturn this.” Sue Smith pointed out. “She’s nowhere near her opponent, it’s not even a yellow card.”

“When you make a challenge like that you bring about a decision from the ref.”

“But that’s what VAR is here for, to show the referee what actually happened. Beckham has arguably been one of the players of the tournament and yet she could be remembered for just this moment.”

It could have been minutes, it must only have been thirty seconds that you stood there. Waiting for some to tell you it had all been a big mistake. Apologies would come and you’d be able to restart the game.

Instead VAR confirmed the red card. You’d been sent off in the most important game you’d ever played in, maybe would ever play in.

This time though it felt like the impact hit you immediately, looking back it was probably the reason you hated showing any emotion now. Your teammates tried to comfort you as the tears started to come but the guilt was already too much, you couldn’t bare to be around anyone right now so pulling your shirt over your face you walked back inside. Every step towards that sideline felt like you were wading through quick sand, the boos from the US side ringing in your ear as you tried to head to the tunnel.

Before the match had begun your brother had FaceTime’d you, at the time you imagined looking up at them at the final whistle, perhaps celebrating with them. Now you couldn’t face looking where you knew they would be sat. The disappointment from yourself was too much to handle right now never mind disappointing your idol, your father.

You can vaguely remember Karen Carney coming out to meet you on the touchline, a kiss being pressed to your head and a little muttering of “keep it together” in your ear. Maybe it was for the best that everyone else was busy trying to reshuffle the pack a few sympathetic faces were thrown your way but you knew football didn’t have time for sentiment. Maybe it was also for the best that Phil didn’t even look your way, your favourite kitman met you to head back into the changing rooms with you but the rest didn’t even bat an eyelid at you.

It was only when you got inside, when you were all alone that the emotion fully came out.

The anger, the pure sadness, the hatred you felt towards yourself. It started that day and it felt then like you’d received a life sentence. A life sentence hating yourself.

……

“Phil, a lot happened out there today. Can you tell us your overriding emotions right now?”

“Oh I’m just proud of every dingle girl out there who competed to the very end. They gave it their all tonight and this result shouldn’t tarnish their pride in themselves or in each other. They stuck in the game when it seemed like other people threw it away.”

“We can’t shy away from Y/N Beckham, what were your thoughts?”

“As football players we know that every tackle we put in can lead to a card and she made that decision. It’s hard because I know the talent is in there but talent can’t be everything.”

“Do you think it should have been a red?”

“Like I said the referee was put in a position where she had to make the decision. We can all wish for different outcomes on the pitch but sometimes we just have to accept them.”

“How is she doing now?”

“As a team we are all very disappointed right and I think it’s the team we should be focusing on right now.”

“Fucking bullshit.” If this was your own bedroom perhaps you would have thrown the remote at the TV, instead you calmly had to just turn it off.

Maybe it wasn’t the best decision to turn on the TV when you got back to the hotel room. England had lost in the end, going 2-1 down to an Alex Morgan winner, they’d given it there everything but it just wasn’t enough.

In the two hours since the game finished you couldn’t count the number of times you’d cried. Firstly on your own, then with some of the girls, then on your own again on the bus and yet not a single word had been said. You knew you’d never be able to say sorry enough times and they knew it was no use telling you anything right now. Though you were crying it was almost as if you were blank inside, you couldn’t take in anything else right now. Your usual spot on the bus next to Keira was left vacant, instead you found a little corner and tried to kid yourself and other that you were asleep when how could you be with all the thoughts swirling in your mind.

Your phone lay switched off on the other side of the room, that interview being the first real insight you’d got into any opinions on the matter. He was right, he might not have said it outright but it was obvious he blamed you. When Phil brought you in for your first senior camp fans were concerned about favouritism but if anything it was the opposite. He had this almost saintly view of your dad and you would never be anything compared to him.

You knew he would be worried, he tried to protect you from everything growing up but now he was powerless. Yet even knowing that you couldn’t bring yourself to switch the phone on, answer any of the messages or calls you’d received before you turned it off on the couch.

It was all too much.

…..

The plan was always for you to spend the 2 weeks you had off after the weekend in the south of France, a quaint villa in the middle of nowhere which you’d had since you were a child. This place was one of the only true places you could just be yourself. You could vividly remember the holidays there once a year being the only time you felt truly free. Your father would spend every second of the day just being a father and your mother could show you her true self, the fun and carefree woman she was away from the pressures of the public eye. This was the place where yourself, Brooklyn and Romeo would spend hours on the beach with a ball and jumpers for goalposts, where you all taught Cruz to ride a bike and Harper to swim. This place meant so much to you.

It felt wrong to tarnish this place with the thoughts you had right now.

That’s why when you touched down in London the following day instead of rushing back to your apartment to pack and meet your family at the airport, you sat, staring at the clock. Time passed, they would have waited for you to arrive and slowly realised you weren’t coming. They would probably be worried and it was for that reason only that you finally turned your phone on. The messages flooded onto your lock screens, dozens of missed calls came through but you ignored them all simply sending a message to your mum claiming you were fine and didn’t want any company right now, only one of those statements being true.

Maybe you should have expected the phone call that immediately came up from your father but they also should have expected your immediate response, decline.

You always thought you were quite strong about the media. You’d grown up with famous parents, you sadly were used to comments about every aspect of yourself from your appearance to the way you spoke. In your time at Chelsea you’d had your fair share of stick from the fans about your place in football but before this you’d proved everyone wrong.

People called you dumb, you passed all your exams and were studying part time for a degree.

People commented on your appearance, your friends and family’s comments opposed that.

United fans taunted you in an FA cup match, you stuck the ball in the top corner and celebrated right in front of them.

All those times you’d known they were wrong and could do something about it. All that media training and yet in that moment you broke the number one rule and opened Twitter.

The results were more horrendous than you ever could have imagined. Not only were there comments about your performance, but they also came for your family, your friends, yourself. The death threats were constant, every other comment on an article link were suggesting this was punishable in unimaginable ways.

Instagram though more concentrated felt worse when you checked a post from your best friend outside of football, comments were left under her post for even just being associated with your name. Taunting her, taunting you and threatening the both of you. Not only had you disappointed everyone but now you were putting those you loved in danger.

Leaving Instagram, blurry eyed and shaking like a leaf, twitter was opened once again. You couldn’t stop and the more articled you read, the more the panic started to set in. People knew where you lived from media pictures, it wouldn’t be long before they came here again. You lived in a gated community but they’d find a way in. You’d never be alone.

Your throat was closing in, it was becoming harder to breath as you panicked more. The only thing you could do was phone the only person who would understand.

“Dad…. dad I need you.”

……

Everyone probably thinks they have the best family but in this moment you knew yours were the best. Thirty minutes on from that phone call you were in your old family living room, curled up in blankets next to your mum and dad, eating homemade chocolate cake and listening to your sister talk you through her week. The biggest drama in which being a girl who took the last apple juice carton and left her with orange juice, which to an eight-year-old felt like the end of the world.

You hadn’t even said another word on that phone call before your dad was ordering you to pack a bag and promised he would be with you in less than ten minutes.

“Why didn’t you go to France?” Your thoughts came out. “We were meant to go.”

“Like we were ever going to leave you here alone,” Your dad chastised you. “I know you well enough to know you might not have needed us in that moment but we were always going to be there when you did.”

“I didn’t mean to do anything, I thought I made the right decision and now people are threatening me. They’re going to find me.”

“They’re not.” Your mother immediately comforted you. “I’ve watched enough football over the years to know tackles like that are made every week and they never get punished. Football is a game, you live for it but it’s a game and people sometimes forget that. You were a big reason England even got to the semi-final and people need to remember that.”

“What did your teammates say?” Brooklyn asked from the next sofa with my other brothers.

“I haven’t spoken to them.”

“What? You flew home with them this morning.”

“I can’t look at them. They’re all sad because of me, everyone knows it, they were always on the back foot because of me and now they’re going home.”

“Millie messaged me this morning.” Brooklyn said. You were of course very close to the Chelsea girls and they’d met your family more times than you could count. You remember they exchanged numbers before you went away on a summer camp one year just in case they needed to contact your family. “She asked me to look after you, they’re not upset.”

“They’ll never admit it, at least not to my face but how can I play with them again after all this.”

“They’re your friends.” Your mum implored and she was right. You were the youngest in the world cup but yourself Leah, Keira and Georgia had formed a little England squad bond. Your sensible and often shy nature balancing out their craziness.

“They’re better off without me. I need to get out of here.”

“Out of where?”

“Out of England, I can’t stay.”

#woso imagines #woso imagine #woso #barcelona femeni #woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #lionesses #leah williamson imagine #beckham #lionesses x reader

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underthetree845 · 9 months ago

Text

(dazai osamu birthday post- 2024)

A Taste of Sunlight

Dazai Osamu/gn! Reader (oneshot)

cws: gn! reader (uses of 'bella(donna)') but gender not explicitly stated, mentions of suicide and self harm, mentions of cigarettes and alcohol, ada dazai, ada reader, coworkers/friends to lovers, domestic love, domestic fluff, implied mutual pining, mentions of dazai's past suicide attempts, dazai's past spoilers, dazai's dark thoughts, dazai calling himself inhuman and undeserving, baking together, dazai's birthday, reader is dazai's safe space

wc: about 3.7k

summary: how will reader make dazai feel special on his birthday when he doesn't feel like he deserves to?

a/n: this turned out a little darker with dazai's thoughts than I thought it would, but i'm satisfied with how i wrapped things up! i know it's been awhile since i posted my own writing- burnout hit me pretty hard and it's been difficult to get back on my feet, but i knew i had to do something special for him (♡ˊ͈ ꒳ ˋ͈)

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

Ceilings, plaster. Can’t someone just make it move faster? Abandoned bottles of sake scattered on the tatami mat floor of his bedroom catch the light of the late morning sun as it creeps in through the curtains he keeps forgetting to close. Or rather, the curtains he can never bother to close on certain nights. He never forgets, not really. The dusty little fan in the corner of his room does little to break up the lingering staleness which hangs in the air. You should really open a window in here Dazai-kun, he heard your voice echo in the basement of his mind, Sunlight and fresh air are good for you. You were probably right. Sunlight and fresh air are good for you, everyone knows that. You somehow always are right about him.

The sun had already found his skin that morning- or rather, the shield of cloth he uses to hide the vast nothingness underneath. The icky, inhuman blackness that he would never allow a creature like you to even brush with your fingertips. For the first time that day since observing the sun come up out his window with hollow eyes and a blank expression, Dazai sat up. Ignoring the slight ache in his head and soreness of his muscles, bandages seeming to be the only thing holding him together, Dazai arose from his futon and silently slumped to his kitchen to down a glass of water. Today was a pointless day. One that shouldn’t have happened at all. Probably one of the worst of Dazai’s life, save for a few particularly nightmarish ones. Nightmares. Maybe he’d wake up, wake up as somebody completely different; or as an old man, and realize that the countertop in front of him and fingers wrapped around the sturdy white mug in his grasp were all really from a time long gone. The mug’s black, dotted on eyes stared back up at him, Dazai’s own brown ones focused, the emotion behind them simply indescribable. Part of Dazai feared waking up too. Something light, something warm, managed to flicker in the cavern of his chest at the memory of the grin that had spread across your lips upon presenting him with the cat mug. A grin you only ever seemed to take on for his eyes. You, he should be ashamed of himself for allowing skin so pure to meet with his own bloody, bandaged hands. Muddled flesh that hardly ever got a taste of the sunlight which always seemed to bathe the surface of your skin. Dazai Osamu had always been a sinner, would it really make his eternal damnation that much worse if he decided to linger in your comforting embrace for a moment longer?

Yes, today never should have happened. The first one so many years ago, and all the years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret that followed. The number taunted him from the calendar Kunikida had insisted he hang up on his wall, your support in the idea being the only reason he had gone through with it at all. 06 19. The nineteenth of June. June 19th. Definitely some sort of horrible mistake by the gods of this universe. If they even existed. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. Most things can be predicted- whether it be by pattern of behavior… calculated likelihood, or something else of the like. Dazai thought- and still did- that it would be tragically poetic if the date of birth and the date of death on a gravestone perfectly matched. Right down to the date of the month. Yes, a perfectly beautiful idea of a gravestone Dazai had tried a handful of times to make his own. He had the scars to prove it. Aside from empty ‘happy birthday’s from the other executives, there were only really two people in the mafia who placed any sort of importance on Dazai’s birthday. None of that mattered now. Of course, in reality, all of it mattered. It was what led him here, to the light which now poured in through the window in the living room of his little apartment. In the almost two years Dazai had been employed at the Armed Detective Agency, he’d had one birthday. He was new enough in the office last year that the prospect of his colleagues doing anything to commemorate the event was not very keen. Such was his hope. He did get a lollipop from Ranpo and a ‘happy birthday’ from Kunikida; the blonde did not get on Dazai’s back over his paperwork for the whole day. That was, until you first stepped foot into the agency a few months into Dazai’s employment. Ironically, in spite of all the warm welcomes you received from his colleagues, the brunette found himself extremely suspicious of you. No one could possibly charm that many detectives with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile. Not just anyone could possibly hold that much warmth in their laughter and still have so much to share. That smile of yours. Dazai had ended many lives for many different reasons, despite having failed at cutting his own short so many times. Rarely did he ever spill blood to protect someone- much less because of some irrational, sentimental attachment. If not for his years in the mafia, it probably would have frightened Dazai to realize how easily he would watch the world burn if it meant that smile of yours would be safe. As it turns out, Dazai wasn’t entirely wrong. You weren’t just anyone- you were Name. You, who he didn’t deserve to even stand anywhere near. Who shouldn’t even bother buying someone like him some cat mug that made you think of him. He never knew he could be so emotionally attached to a piece of ceramic. But that was nothing compared to the way you made his head spin. You would let out a giggle while calling him a flirt for the millionth time. You would share your umbrella with him on a rainy day, circle his birthday in a bright red marker on the little calendar sitting neatly on your desk. The desk right across from his. He’d pretend to not notice the glances you steal because he knows he’s far worse. Buying each other coffee on occasion- usual orders memorized. Experiencing such simple pleasures on a weekly basis- how could anyone have not expected Dazai to fall as hard as he did?

The thing that broke him out of his trance were four soft knocks on the door. The same way you would knock on the wood of his desk to discreetly get his attention. Dazai was about to dismiss the four knocks as a phantom of his imagination before they sounded again, causing him to turn his head and peer at the door as if it had just grown a pair of wings and flown away. Before you could get the chance to knock again or ring his phone, Dazai ran a bandaged hand through his scruffy locks before brightening up his expression slightly and opening the door. And there you were- not unlike the sunlight which flooded in through the entryway, the first thing you did was send prickles of warmth into his skin and allow that smile of yours to glow.

“Ah, Bella! I didn’t expect to see you here today,” Dazai greeted you with a singsong voice, “You’re looking as radiant as ever. To what do I owe this pleasure?” Dazai held his mask up for the whole sixty seconds it took you to reply. In that time, your honeyed eyes scanned over the expanse of his face in a way only you could make so overwhelming. The grin on his lips, though meticulously crafted, failed to meet his eyes. He knew you could tell the moment your irises flickered with an emotion far too deep for Dazai to have the energy to explore. You somehow always were right about him. It didn’t take much longer for you to ask if you could come in for a while, and Dazai accepted as if he’d ever have the strength to refuse. The fabric tote bag clunked with weight as you placed it on his kitchen counter, Dazai trailed behind you as if your torsos were connected by some invisible string. His eyes reminded you of a burnt black cat.

As far as cooking came, Dazai knew how to prepare a few basic things. How to scramble eggs, how to steam rice, how to use the microwave, how to open a can of crabs. It had always been too much of a nuisance to bother with anything more. The cigarettes and sake sustained him well enough. Even so, he found himself peering over your shoulder with dark, curious eyes as you unpacked several ingredients and laid them neatly on the counter.

“My my, did you go shopping for me? How thoughtful,” a small grin played on Dazai’s lips as he held up a tiny bottle of vanilla extract with an inspectful eye. Uncapping the bottle, he took a moment to inhale the scent, goosebumps rising underneath the bandages on the back of his neck at how much it reminded him of your usual shampoo.

“You like cheesecake, right?” you asked, voice a gentle breeze as you tilted your head in his direction. It’s hard to surprise Dazai Osamu. He paused momentarily, raising an eyebrow as you cleaned your hands in the sink. How you came to acquire such a fact was beyond him. Your fingers then reached out to preheat the oven, the one he usually didn’t spare so much as a glance. “I’ve only had the chance to taste it a handful of times, but I do have to admit, I’m a fan,” Dazai replied. You were smart enough to bring your own mixing bowls, pans, and stirring utensils. Sometimes he questioned how he ever allowed you to come to know him so well. “If you wanna help me, would you mind washing your hands first, please?” you requested, and Dazai didn’t even wait a moment before turning to the sink.

You did a better job of filling his apartment with warmth and light than the sun ever could. From the way your shoes sat at the front door right next to his own to the way your perfume would linger around after you’d taken your leave. Your fingers would cup over his own as you demonstrated how to properly stir the ingredients together. He would internally curse the persistence of the butterfly in his chest when you commented on how pretty you thought his hands were. You made his sparsely decorated, thin-walled little apartment feel just a little more like a home. Dazai waited patiently with the batter in his arms as you pressed the buttery graham cracker crust firmly into the pan. If the universe were kind, he would have been allowed to stand there and take you in until the end of time. He knew he probably wouldn’t ever deserve to have someone like you in his life. Not the way your eyes softened when they met his, not the way you flushed so beautifully in response to his compliments and praise. He didn’t think he’d ever be able to give you as much as you deserve. He didn’t even come close to deserving the trust you must have had in him that evening on the metro, when you slept on the shoulder of his coat. Both of you missed your stops that day. How could anyone have expected him to have the heart to disturb you? They were the ones who whispered how he didn’t even have one.

Before he knew it, the cake was almost ready to be placed in the oven. Your fingers cupped his own once more as you helped him pour the batter evenly before scraping the last bit out with the blue silicone spatula from your bag. He spun the pan in a circle on the countertop to even the batter as you slipped a pair of well used oven mitts onto your hands. “Looks perfect,” you offered some gentle praise and he felt his heart soften. Once the batter had been slid into the warmth of the oven, you removed the floral print oven mitts from your hands and leaned against the counter with a sigh. Dazai’s eyes were drawn to the way your fingers were delicately folded in front of you, how soft your skin looked and how it might feel against his own. From the gentle curve of your lips to how your eyelashes brushed your cheeks and the way your eyes sparkled when you laughed… he found himself at a loss. You always somehow seemed to dwindle him to a shadow of his former self, bring out sides of him he didn’t even know he had. Out of all the crimes Dazai had committed in his life, stealing your heart was by far the worst one. He didn’t think he’d be able to give your heart back if he tried, especially when you held his own so easily in the palm of your hand. “Have you had water today?” you voiced, finally turning to bless him with your gaze. “I drank some just before you came, actually,” Dazai replied, eyes briefly flickering over to the now empty cat mug sitting on the counter. “Would you care for something to drink yourself? What might suit your fancy, m’lady?” He cocked his head playfully. Your eyes regarded his thoughtfulness. A look far too fond for someone like him. Especially from someone like you. “Some water might be nice, thank you.” “You know I aim to please,” he nodded slightly, opening the fridge to get his pitcher.

A little while later, a timer went off on your phone, and Dazai tilted his head when you slid the oven mitts back on and set the cheesecake on the stovetop. “Isn’t it a bit too soon, Bella?” he inquired, leaning over your shoulder as you grabbed a little green bowl that had previously been set aside, “The center still looks a bit too mushy, doesn't it?” You hummed slightly, a pleased expression crossing your face. “Look at you, getting more adept at cooking already?” a soft grin played on your lips as you gave him an affectionate pat on his cheek. “I’m learning from the best,” Dazai replied, the corners of his eyes crinkling when he smiled. “You’re right, it’s not quite done yet, but I’m adding the topping now so it can cook a little with the cheesecake at the very end,” you explained as you carefully poured the topping on, “It’s usually done this way. Makes it yummier.” It’s wrong, Dazai thinks, to indulge himself in your company like this. There are a million other better ways you could be spending your time. Not taking the time out of your day to come fan a flame already at the end of its wick. Even so, even if a part of Dazai might never allow himself to fully believe what you say when you tell him what kind of person he is in your precious eyes, nothing but being in your arms has ever felt so close to what others might describe as home. Not where he grew up, not his shitty old shipping container or the mattress on its rotting floor. Not any of the places he would lie awake at night hoping to waste away or any of the many bottles of sake that have met his lips. They filled his stomach, flushed his skin, but left his chest cold, barren, empty. “Cherries are in season this time of year you know?” you said, sighing at the scent of the mashed up fruit and sugar bubbling in the pan in front of you. Combined with the warm scent of the cheesecake wafting from the oven, even Dazai, whose appetite usually didn’t amount to much at all, found his mouth beginning to water. “Are they?” he tilted his head with a fond smile, imagining what it might be like to get used to having you in his kitchen more often. What a dream it would be to have coming home mean coming home to you. You looked so perfect in his apartment it almost hurt. Whether you were curled up on the cushions of his couch, cross legged on the floor, or standing in front of the stove pouring some homemade cherry sauce over a freshly made cheesecake, he would take it all. Savor every last bit of the warmth and light with which you filled his apartment. “Why don’t you open a window in here before we start eating?” you suggested, and Dazai let out a breath of resigned amusement. He stood from where he had been leaning against the countertop and strolled over to the living room. “Hm, Bella, don’t people usually eat cheesecake cold?” Dazai wondered, looking back at you for a moment as you grabbed a pair of forks from a drawer. “Yeah, they do,” you replied, placing two equally sized slices of cheesecake onto one of the plates from Dazai’s cabinet. He didn’t have to remind you where they were kept. “But personally I like eating it warm, I always have,” your lips curved up into a smile, “especially when it’s freshly baked. Makes it yummier.” “Huh, well I trust your opinion,” he offered a slight smile, returning to take a seat at the little round table just as the two plates were lowered. The cheesecake looked even more appetizing now that it had been neatly sliced and plated, but nothing made him want to eat it more than the fact that it had been prepared by the loveliest pair of hands he had ever met.

Dazai took notice of the way you held your breath when he took his first bite; you shouldn’t have been so anxious for the approval from the likes of him, yet he found it hard to get himself to care when you looked so downright adorable while doing it. His eyelids slid shut for a brief moment, being sure to completely savor the mouthful before swallowing with a bob of his throat and finally meeting your gaze with his own. “Bella…” Dazai started, hands unmoving, voice lower than usual. You furrowed your brows when you couldn’t decipher his tone. “What is it? Is it okay?” you leaned forward, eyes searching his face for any sort of indication. “Do… do you not like it?” something pulled tight in your chest at the thought, your grip on your fork stiffened slightly, “It’s okay if you don’t, you can say so.” The following heartbeat of silence felt like it stretched on for an eternity. “Bella you’ve ruined me,” he sighed dramatically, slumping in his seat and placing the back of his hand on his forehead in exasperation, “How am I ever supposed to enjoy anyone else’s cheesecake ever again?” His heart nearly melted when you paired a blink with the slightest tilt of your head, he could see the wheels in your mind turning for answers. “So you… do like it?” you spoke softly, as if afraid to disturb whatever strange state of emotion Dazai was using to express his feelings about the cheesecake. “No, my Dear, I’m afraid ‘like’ isn’t nearly a strong enough word, not even close!” he suddenly sat up straight in his seat, “I love it so much, I don’t think I’ll ever enjoy cheesecake ever again unless you make it for me.” Finally, Dazai gets his reward when a grin splits onto your lips. “Is that so?” you giggle when he cups your hands between his own and nods urgently. That smile of yours. “Absolutely. You’ve doomed me to a pathetic existence,” Dazai pretended to cringe in pain, “forever wandering in search of the joy I once experienced, never knowing if-” “...I’ll do it again,” you said, and his ears perked up. “Hmm? What was that? You’ll do what again?” he raised his eyebrows, satisfied with the flush now evident on your cheeks. “I’ll make you cheesecake for your next birthday, and the one after that, and any time you want some in between,” you smiled sweetly, and Dazai’s heart leapt at your sincerity. “Do you mean it?” his eyes seemed to light up slightly, matching the sparkle in your own. He squeezed your hands.

There was a saying in the Port Mafia. ‘The biggest misfortune for Dazai’s enemies is that they are Dazai’s enemies.’ Whether they called him a demon prodigy or the black wraith or a dog of the mafia really made no difference. When the sun set, they would be the ones quivering at the barrel of his gun as he listened to their pleas with cold, dead eyes. Dazai has been called by many names throughout his life; most, he knew, were well deserved. Even when addressed by his own name, it was usually out of exasperation, irritation, unease, or something else of the like. People spat his name with the bitter bite of a cold rain, and he couldn’t even remember the last time someone uttered his given name very tenderly at all. It was dangerous, Dazai thought, how easily he could see himself growing used to being with you like this. Pathetic, how the Demon Prodigy of the Port Mafia was reduced to a shell of himself the moment you offered so much as a smile. The way you said his name made him seem like something precious; something worthy of getting to see that smile of yours, to have your eyes light up when they meet his.

“Happy birthday, Osamu,” you said, and god your voice had never sounded sweeter. Yes, you’ve ruined him. Absolutely ruined him. Reduced him to a shadow of his former self with nothing but a bit of sweetness and an even sugarier smile, and the worst of it all was that you didn’t even know it. You tore away all those layers of bandages, you reached out and touched something Dazai didn’t even know he had. Even as his heart bled, you would cradle it close to your chest, whisper sweet nothings that everything would be alright. Dazai found himself inclined to believe you. Perhaps the reason he seemed to be without a heart for all those years of bloodshed, soiled bandages, and regret, was because it had been with you all along.

ʚ ═══･୨ ꕤ ୧･═══ ɞ

a/n: thank you so much for reading! it means a lot- i hope you have a lovely day/night/morning/evening and remember to drink plenty of water! divider credit: (x) (x) tagging: @ringsofsaturnnnn

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miowritings · 10 months ago

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Pjsk boys x gf who is older than them so she treats and calls them her baby? Fem reader plzz alsp hcs plz, tyy <3

Pampering♡

Tsukasa tenma, rui kamishiro, toya aoyagi, akito shinonome x F! Reader(separate)

✮A/N: yayayayayy fantasista gang!! Was gonna post this on tsukasa's birthday but forgot.. so sorry if it looks rushed!! :'(( idk if you wanted me to include len and kaito aswell but you only said pjsk boys and kaito and len arent from pjsk so i decided not to add them..

✮Synopsis: general hc's for the squad🔥🔥

✮Contains: no warnings! May have a few grammatical errors but thats it, fem reader!(Though pronouns arent mentioned)

✮Tsukasa tenma!

-When tsukasa started dating you, he would think that he would be the clingy one, that was a mistake..

-whenever both of you were around, he would often get teased by his friends, but nevertheless, it was funny, as he was a grade lower than yours..

-both of you would get nicknames such as father and mother, cause of how mature you look and how you care for others as if theyre your children, and tsukasa? He cares for his peers as if they were his siblings! A good match if you say so;)

-speaking of nicknames, he loves making you nicknames and so do you! He'd call you my love, darling or honey, you? You love calling him sweetheart, darling too, and babe

-whenever he's practicing his lines for a show, you'd sometimes sneak up on him and hug him from behind, at first he'd be surprised, but eventually getting used to it

-despite you being the oldest in the relationship, he's more reliable than you.. he loves helping you with your studies.. even though you're the oldest, and you love giving him your old notes, occasionally, both of you spend more time at the library

-when cuddling, his favorite position would be him resting on your chest, your taller, so he likes to be the little spoon sometimes.., he'd nuzzle into your chest and would fall asleep then and there

-tsukasa would pout when you kiss anywhere his face except for his lips, its funny how he gets red, expecting you to kiss his lips but i. Reality? You would kiss him everywhere but his lips

-"hey.. are you doing this on purpose..?! I didnt do anything wrong did i..?"

-when visiting his place, saki would be the first one to greet you, hugging you while squealing, oh how she loved to have an older sister!!

-nevertheless, tsukasa likes the way you cling onto him, he feels warm.. back then.. he didnt receive that much attention from his parents as his parents were busy taking of his little sister, so, seeing you shower him with love and affection, makes him feel lucky and proud to have you.

✮Rui kamishiro!

-Rui doesn't mind being pampered by you, heck he loves it!! Sometimes he'll do the pampering but it's mostly just you :3

-Rui may be sly and cunning, but he blushes ALOT when you call him any nicknames such as "baby" or "honey" he'll give you an awkward chuckle accompanied by the blush on his cheeks<3

-Rui doesn't really care about you being older than him, that gives him an excuse to act immature just to tease you!

-His classmates often envy him of having a girlfriend that's older than him, some boys would come up to him and ask "howd you manage to get her?" Or something like that..! Though all he replies are shrugs..

-WILL BRING YOU WHENEVER HE GOES TO THE CINEMA, like, rui's probably 17-18 considering he's a 3rd year, you're probably 18-19?? He'll bring you to the cinema to watch horror movies that are too graphic for the younger audiences

-would sometimes ask you for the lessons you learned during your school year, so that he could learn in advance!

✮Toya aoyagi!

-will definitely look up to you!!

-gives you the biggest amount of respect since youre older than him

-would often ask you for advice since youre older than him, he feels as if he had some kind of strong bond with you, sometimes it would be simple ones, and sometimes its really confusing to the point you search it up

-will blush awkwardly when you call him "baby" or any other lovely nicknames

-WOULD BE EASILY SOFTENED WHEN YOU CUDDLE WITH HIM!! his fave cuddling position would be where his head would rest on his lap, he likes it when you play with his hair TRUST!! He'll easily calm down when you tell him some assuring words while playing his hair<33

-really, REALLY likes it when you pamper him with care and love, do you notice his parents? Sure they're not that good but.. they're somewhat distant? So.. having you close by him is pretty new.. at first he would be easily flustered but eventually, he'd get used to it

-Toya here is very reliable, sometimes the other way around, both of you take turns when helping each other, he's pretty mature so when you act "childish" he'll simply tell you so!

✮Akito shinonome!

-when akito first met you, he would put on his "nice guy persona" time gradually passes by and he put the mask away

-isnt that used to receiving affection.. when you call him baby or pamper him even just a bit, he gets red and would often murmur out something or look away

-has deep respect for you, since your older than him, its obvious he'd treat you much nicer and respectful

-does tease you here and there.. would sometimes tell you your shoes are untied only to find that they werent..

-accepts any forms of gifts you give him... Even if theyre a bit.. cringey.. still he finds it cute

-SUCKS AT STUDYING, will always ask you to teach him, if not, lets you answer his homework

-"hey.. uh y/n? Could you help me out here?" He asks, showing you a math problem he finds difficult

-your older than him so its just like the others, would ask you for advice whenever he's lost

-secretly loves it when you pamper him with affection, sure he may be gruffy or rude to others, but deep down he's very clingy and would get protective of you when something isnt right..

Taglists..

Rui kamishiro: @nogenderbee

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bonefall · 11 months ago

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I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)

If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.

SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.

BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.

Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.

Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.

I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.

At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course

As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.

Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,

The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.

On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.

I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.

#BB!ASC #Better bones au

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darry-queen · 6 months ago

Text

How much Darry and Soda would make modern day and if it would be enough to pay for at least the three of them: (note this may not be incredibly accurate and while yes I did do research while calculating this shit it wasn't super in depth! feel free to correct me on any and all mistakes you notice and feel free to also give your own opinions!! Much love!)

Starting with Darry's:

Before I get into number this is all assuming that Darry works exclusively the hours allotted to him while missing no work, he'd have a 5 day work week at 40 hours which is standard practice in the United States, except for his part time job which he'd be working 25/h a week (i talk about this more later just continue reading) also I'm not giving them any kind of insurance. Sorry! Lol!

Starting salary of a roofer in Oklahoma is $14/h with the average being around $15/h. Assuming this Darry will be getting around 30k a year. I'm going to be generous and say he works for a good company and has a strong union so I'll give him a end of year bonus as well ($200-$800)

His weekly pay would be around $550-$600

This would be taxed though! Using a taxing calculator (bc I'm not doing all that math babeee) He'd be payed around $500 a week.

Darry also canonically has a second job! Though it is never really talked about, not even mentioned whether it's part or full time. I'm just going to assume, generally, that it is probably a part time job that pays minimum wage. (I'm aware that there are many popular hc's as to what this job is I'm ignoring those lol) now I don't live in Oklahoma but I do have personal experience with working part time and it fucking sucks. They have you working only slightly less then a full time employee so they do not have to give you full benefits. It is an incredibly fucked up and exploitative practice.

Something to note is that Oklahoma allows part time employees to be payed half minimum wage the first 90 days of employment when under the age of 20. I do not think I will include this in the calculation because even though Darry would be 19 at the time of his parents death I think he would be 20 not long after and I do not care enough to look into this law to include it in my calculations! Just wanted to mention it because?? What the fuck Oklahoma?

Anyway, part time would have Darry working 25 hours a week for $7.25/h which would be around $180/week. After taxes he'd make $160/week getting him to $660 a week.

Finally, what everyone was waiting for.... doordash fucking driving baby. Considering he lives in a populated area I am going to be generous and say he manages to get around $20/h from doordash driving. Assuming he does this on the days he doesn't work part time (so the other 15 hours) he'd make a whopping 16k extra a year OMG!!

As for any money he'd earn from the state for guardianship of Pony and Soda: Idk! It's kind of confusing trying to figure out Oklahoma giving shit out for this because fostering and guardianship are two dif things and I'm almost certain Darry would have Guardianship over his siblings, not fostering them. So I'm just not including it: he may have received a check upon first becoming their guardian but since that is a one time thing I'm not going to include it in my final calculations (i know this is kinda contradictory for giving Darry a bonus for his roofing work but IDC IDC IDC IDC I AM NOT PUTTING THAT MUCH EFFORT INTO THIS (NOTE I FILLED OUT A MOCK W2 FORM TO GET A ROUGH ESTIMATE OF WHAT DARRY'S TAX RETURN WOULD BE BUT THAT DOESN'T MEAN I CARE))

All of the above considered: Darry is making $960 a week. Wow!

Now for Sodapop!

Soda I'm just going to copy paste what Darry's theoretical part time job would be because it's almost time for me to go to bed and I couldn't find any special rules for 16< year olds, so he'd be working 25 hours for $7.25 which after taxes is again $160

In total him an Darry combined are making a good healthy $1120 a week on average. Probably more if you consider Darry going insane with doordash/overtime! Overall a good $4480 a month

GREAT NOW TIME FOR EXPENSES!!

Expenses Include:

Mortgage payments

power bill

water bill

natural gas

car payments (maybe)

car insurance (maybe)

fuel

food

phone payments

internet bill

probably more I can't remember off the top of my head

OKAY NOW explaining the maybe's rq

You can just, not pay for car insurance. It's illegal, but when you're poor it's not like you can really care about the legality of certain things. Sometimes, it's eating vs car insurance, y'know? Especially because Darry is only 20, that shit is going to be expensive. And the car was def under his dad's name previously so he also def doesn't have any history. I'mma be generous though and say that he does have CREDIT history, which following my own car insurance premiums: my man is going to be paying like, $400 a month. and trust me, I'm being generous here. This is also for liability only. crazy right? With that considered, if I can not get Darry's salary to work with the rest of his expenses I'm saying he's driving without insurance. Hope you understand.

Now for the car itself, it might be payed off already might not. Again it's almost time for me to go to bed so I"m not willing to double check the book to see if car payments are ever mentioned. If they are I'll come back and fix this another time but for now. I'm not including it.

As for the gas for this theoretical truck? I'm going to put it from $250-$300 a month based off of what Reddit car owners said on how often they have to get gas for their own trucks. Great!

OKAY NOW FOR THE REAL EXPENSES! The average cost of utilities in Oklahoma, Tulsa specifically, is $270 a month for electricity, like $130 a month for natural gas, and for water $100 a month. Now you're probably saying, "Paya, isn't that a little high?" to which I'd say, they have 4 (presumably more) other boys coming around almost everyday. SO I feel it's fine to rate that shit on the higher side of things.

Before I forget: the mortgage payments!

This one is kinda fucked! I have no idea when the Curtis parents bought the house in canon. If it was after, or before Darry was born, etc. Because of this you can kinda just make hc's for this. The reason I say this is because obviously the housing market now is VERY different from the one in the 40s-60s which is when they'd have had to buy the house in cannon. In fact, I'm not even entirely sure they own the house in canon I'm just assuming right now! Like, if you're making a modern au: feel free to say that they're renting! Like who really cares about it? I'll even calculate it here for you so you have a frame of reference: Assuming the house is at least 2 bedrooms 1 bathroom it's gonna be around 1.5k a month. If you want to say they're paying a mortgage though, I'm going to assume based off the little data I could find of average home cost in 2004 (I'm assuming the house was bought around the time of Darry's birth) we're looking at somewhere between 150k-250k. I'm going to low ball it though because I think Oklahoma housing prices are generally cheaper and I'm going to assume they'd go for something affordable over something large. So I'll say 175k! Average interest on a home loan in 2004 was around 6%, with a 20% downpayment Darry will be paying 1k a month for the mortgage. Not that bad!

Phone bill is p cheap around 100$ feel like you may be able to play around with this. Like maybe they're paying for Johnny? Who knows not me I want to go to bed!

Food is like so fucking expensive now tbh. I pay $300 a month on grocery shopping a month for my household. Assuming Darry is purchasing food for himself, his brothers, and a little extra for the gang I'm going to put his grocery bill at around $500 a month. I think I'm lowkey low balling it, but I think he'd be a good bargain shopper. Btw, don't ask if he qualifies for food stamps! Because he doesn't!

internet bill is significantly cheaper going to be around $50 a month, as for services like live streaming and other things, we're gonna say it's all pirated. no one is paying for that shit when you can get it online for free! (Personal hc: Steve is a fucking amazing pirate and can get you literally anything you ask for.)

Final cost of living for my boys, not including school supplies, school/extra curriculars/or clothing: $2400 - $3350

Ending conclusion: If Darry works 80+ hours a week and Soda helps out with his part-time job they have more then enough to pay for almost all living expenses. Tell me where I fucked up! Thanks. Btw according to the shittily done w2 I did for Darry he'd get almost 2k in tax returns; i most def fucked something up but I'mma accept it despite that.

#the outsiders #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #ponyboy curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #johnny depp #johnny cade #dallas winston

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chiharuhashibira · 1 year ago

Text

What about a shorts featuring your fave Kimetsu No Yaiba teacher?

But make it Professor X Student

So, in this version, Giyu's still your PE professor at your university and the old Guidance Counsellor at your old school when you're still in high school.

So a little history too but also different 🤭 Y/N is around 19-21-ish? and Giyu is around 28-30.

Note: W/N=wrong name

𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔𝒆𝒔: 𝑷𝒉𝒚𝒔𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒍 𝑬𝒅𝒖𝒄𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏

𝐊𝐲𝐨𝐣𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐤𝐮 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐓𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 𝐔𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐆𝐢𝐲𝐮 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐨𝐤𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐒𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢 𝐒𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 | 𝐎𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐢 𝐈𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐨 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

Content Warnings: ProfessorXStudent/Age Gap/Suggestive/Spanking/Curse Words/Matured Content/18+/Sexually Explicit

Minors DNI.

(Image is not mine, credits to the rightful owner)

🌸𝑮𝒊𝒚𝒖 𝑻𝒐𝒎𝒊𝒐𝒌𝒂🌸

You were faced with an intense volleyball competition against the other second-year college students. Shinobu Kocho is really fast, and you can't help but groan whenever she manages to spike the ball. The girl is your friend, but the fact that she is more skilled at sports than you is irritating. Which eventually gets her noticed by your crush...

Giyu Tomioka.

But he's not just a simple crush. You've been smitten with him since you were still a student at the school where he was the guidance counsellor. Yep! You liked him ever since you first laid eyes on him, and since then, you have been doing everything to get his attention.

Detention is just one of the long lists of things that you endured back in high school just to meet him face-to-face. There is a lot more that eventually marked you as one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke Hashibira.

Yep, a bad record just to see Giyu.

And when you went to college, it was also the time that Giyu resigned from his old position at the school. The man is not close to you because you have always irritated him, but he was not as harsh with you as he is with Inosuke. As if fate were on your side, Giyu Tomioka became your PE professor in college.

While reminiscing, you felt a sudden pain on your face, and there, your sight suddenly went dark.

"Where am I?"

That's the first thing that you muttered when you opened your eyes. You looked around and met the most enigmatic blue eyes that you had ever seen. Your heart started beating fast as you watched how fixated Tomioka's eyes were. He tilted his head to the side, and without an obvious expression, he asked, "Are you okay now?"

You loved the feeling that even just his stare could give you. And the fact that you're alone in this room with him makes you so happy. You were about to speak when suddenly the door busted open, and there, Inosuke ran towards your side.

"Oi Shiru-sensei! What happened to my W/N-chan?"

"Your voice, Hashibira-kun. She just woke up."

"But what happened? Are you okay, W/N-chan?"

You wanted to strangle the fuck out of your best friend for ruining the moment where you had finally locked eyes with Giyu. That's once in a lifetime, for crying out loud, and Inosuke knows that you've liked the PE professor for so long, and yes, surprisingly, Inosuke's good at hiding secrets.

"Inosuke... I'm okay... But what happened, Tomioka-san?"

"Kocho accidentally hit your face with the ball. You weren't doing well earlier. It's your fault."

Ouch. Harsh. But yes, Giyu has always been too harsh with his words, so it is a surprise to see that he is the one who is looking after you at the clinic now. You frowned and looked up at Inosuke, who was pouting at Giyu. He looks mad.

"Miyoka-sensei! W/N-chan is great at sports! It's just that you favour Morobu-chan so much!"

You turned red when Inosuke said those words to Giyu, who seemed unaffected by them. If Inosuke did that to other professors, he would be expelled by now, but then, it's Giyu that we're talking about. And yes, the man's desensitised to both of your craziness, to the point that he just shoves them off.

Tomioka stood from his seat and looked at you with emptiness in his eyes, as usual. "See you at next week's class. And you, Hashibira-kun! Button up your goddamn shirt!"

Giyu finally left the clinic, leaving you with your best friend, who was still glaring at the door. You threw your pillow at Inosuke, and that astounded the hell out of him. Inosuke looked back at you and pouted while rubbing his face, as if he were hurt, even if the pillow was soft as heck.

"What was that for, W/N-chan?"

"Idiot as always... You entered the room at the wrong time. He was staring at me, and our eyes locked with each other. But you ruined it, boar-head."

"Oh..." Inosuke picked his nose while watching you sulk on the bed. Then his eyes suddenly shone, and you knew too well that when he does that, he has a crazy idea.

"I have an idea!"

"Pray do tell, my henchman."

"Pfft!" He rolled his eyes at you but still sat beside you. "What if I hit your face hard with a ball so you'll collapse again? Maybe Moyoka-sensei would help you—"

"What if I hit your face with that chair right now, Inosuke? You're insane as always."

"But I am serious!"

And that day ended up with Inosuke pitching you his mundane ideas just for you to get Tomioka's attention again. Yes, you listened, but in the back of your head, you can't stop thinking about Giyu's stare.

You realised that being bad doesn't benefit you, especially with a by-the-book professor like Giyu. You felt like if you became better at sports than before, Tomioka would notice you like he notices his star student, Shinobu. You can't help but feel envious whenever she casually converses with Tomioka and he responds with a nod of his head.

Oh well, it's kind of your fault for choosing the path as a delinquent kid back then. Of course, Tomioka won't ever be fond of you because of that impression.

Another PE day has ended with you just watching how Shinobu gave Giyu a high five when their team won over yours again. You sighed and frowned at the sight, but then finally managed to breathe properly when Shinobu left the gym.

You decided to stay because perhaps helping Giyu clean up might make a good impression. You stood up from the bench where you're sitting, and that surprised Tomioka, as he never sees you staying in this shithole, which was also your school gym.

He sauntered towards you, wiping the sweat from his face. Gosh, at that moment, you felt like all the muscles in your body had tensed up. He looked so handsome with his hair tied. You composed yourself and walked towards him, fixing your shirt as you felt conscious.

"Why are you still here, menace?"

"Bad sensei. I'm not like who I was back in high school." You muttered, stopping in your tracks, which made him raise an eyebrow and cross his arms. His eyes were fixed on you again, and you loved it.

"Then why are you here?"

"Sensei... I just want to say sorry for being a pain in the ass back in high school."

Giyu didn't reply that quickly and just tapped his fingers on his arm. He tilted his head once again. "Okay. Be a great girl, then. And for the hundredth time. Follow the rules."

You nodded. Giyu turned his back on you, picking up the volleyball. "You need help, Sen—"

He suddenly tossed it to you, and as if on reflex, you spiked the ball back to him, which made a small smile appear on his lips. That astounded you and eventually made you smile as well. Yes, you have seen him smile before, but now what makes you happy is that it's because of you.

"Good pass, Y/L/N-san. Want to try again?" He asked with a calm tone, different from his emotionless one. You immediately nodded, and then he served the ball so perfectly that it almost stunned you. But no, you composed yourself and jumped to hit the ball back at him.

And that sequence of serving and hitting lasted for a few more seconds. Giyu's movements flows like the water but of course, you started adapting to it. Yet, you started feeling tired, until... score! With a last spike, you managed to win! You jumped and squealed in joy as you managed to score against your professor.

Tomioka smiled and finally went in front of you. He patted your head, and that made your world stop. You know that there's no romance in his gesture, but still, you can't help but be flustered.

"Few more practices, and you'll be better than Kocho."

"Would you help me, sensei?" You asked boldly, making Giyu surprised. He took his hand away from your hand, and you felt like cold air suddenly embraced you in the absence of his touch.

You waited for an answer, but all you got was a shrug, and that made you annoyed. But you wanted to be a good girl in front of Tomioka's eyes, so you just decided to speak again. "I promise I'll help you clean up after class."

"Great deal then." He said this, tossing the ball back to you. "You can start today. Just put it back in the storage room."

So weeks passed with Tomioka training you after class. But of course, both of you make sure that every student has already left before doing so. You felt happy that Giyu managed to go out of his way to help you become better.

It's as if he had enrolled you in a special class that was just perfectly curated for you, as you weren't just learning; you were also spending time with him, which would always make your heart swell. And yes, everything's decent as you know how Tomioka lives by the rules.

But you never expected that things would change today.

While taking a break from your after-class training, you felt a cold thing press on your cheek. Surprised, you looked up and saw Giyu pressing a pop can on your cheek, which immediately made you blush. You took it from his hands, and when your skin brushed against his, shivers ran up your spine.

He sat beside you, stretching his back and wiping his sweat with his towel. You realised that you had forgotten yours, so you stayed sweaty as you rested. Giyu seemed to notice this, so he raised an eyebrow at you and said, "You're so sweaty. Why don't you change and go home early today? Where's your towel?"

"I left it. Sorry."

He handed you his towel and sighed. "Beggars can't be choosers. Use this. Don't worry, I don't smell bad."

You smiled at what he said, but internally, you were screaming. You took his towel and wiped your neck with it, and yes, Giyu definitely smells like apple and ocean. It's like what you imagined. You turned to look at him and noticed that his eyes were still fixated on you. He gulped and looked away immediately after you caught his stare.

What was that?

Giyu cleared his throat and stood up. "Uhh, do you want me to open the pop can for you?" He offered so, you nodded and gave him the can. With a few movements of his hands, he gave it back to you, opening it with ease.

You wondered why Giyu suddenly became soft. You noticed this change on the third week of practicing with him. He stopped making harsh comments on your movements; he even clapped once when you scored against Shinobu. Sometimes, you'll find him looking at you at break times. And just like now, he would quickly avert his gaze from you whenever you caught him.

"Tomioka-san, thank you." You said that before drinking the pop. Your eyes lingered on Giyu, who seemed to try his best to look away. There's a weird tension that he creates right now that wasn't present in your old practices.

"Welcome." he said in a low tone of voice.

But before you could speak, Tomioka suddenly spoke up. "Why do you always cling to me, Y/L/N-san?"

"What do you mean?" His sudden question left you perplexed.

"I've been your guidance counsellor for two years. And now, I've been your professor for almost two years too. You think I won't notice how you tried to get my attention for those four years? Think again. So, now tell me why you would do so?"

You shivered, but it wasn't because of fear. The mere thought of him noticing those things you did for him since then made you flustered. A part of you wished that Tomioka was thinking of you before he went to sleep, wondering why, because at least with that, you managed to get the attention that you have longed for so long.

You shifted in your seat and gripped his towel. "Sensei, it's not like—"

"So you're saying that you're just weird, then? People avoid me, Y/L/N-san. But you kept bugging me despite my cold shoulder."

"It's just... I feel comfortable with you."

"But why?" You won't know, but Tomioka was perplexed at himself too. The sudden eagerness to know about the reason behind others actions towards him was new to him. You sighed deeply and stood up from your seat, closing your eyes before doing the most insane thing that you'll do in your life.

But before you could almost speak, a sudden jolt of pain hit your calf, which made you almost scream. "Oh fuck..." You said this, biting your hand as tears welled up in your eyes. Fucking cramps...

For a moment, he thought that you were just being dramatic to avoid the question, but when he saw you literally almost crying with the pain, Tomioka suddenly jogged near you and crouched down. He tried to stretch your leg, which made you swear at him out loud.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck! Stop Tom—ouch! No!"

Giyu sighed but still stretched your leg, slowly massaging the back of it with his other hand.

"Idiot. If we don't stretch it, the cramps will be worse."

And it's true—it felt better this time. You looked at Giyu, who was crouched down, massaging you. You wiped your tears with his towel and enjoyed the sensation of his hands against your skin. Yes, it's non-romantic. You reminded yourself for the nth time, but that didn't stop your breathing from changing as your heart started beating fast.

The pain went away, but his hands are still massaging you. You didn't stop him, though. You want this moment to last for a few seconds because you know that it won't happen again.

Giyu suddenly looked up at you, his eyes still empty as always. But for some reason, it seems darker than usual. "Why do you feel comfortable with me? I'm not a good person."

You wondered why he said those words, but you remained silent. What he's doing now is different from what he's saying. If he's a bad person, why would he spend time training you after his class? If he's not really the way you see him, why would he try his best to correct your mistakes and make sure that you're okay?

Giyu felt his muscles relax, and so he stood up and stretched his back. "Fine. If you don't want to answer, then okay. It's not my business anyway." He tried his best to sound professional, but a hint of annoyance still escaped his voice.

"Thank you, Tomioka-sensei." You thanked him for helping you, but without telling him, you also wanted to badly thank him for dropping the subject, as you knew you'd end up confessing if he kept on asking.

"Mmm..."

Giyu started walking away, which also meant that your training was over. But then he stopped in his tracks and turned to look at you again. "And for your and your boyfriend's information, I wasn't favouring Shinobu. She's just good at sports. And so you are right now. So perhaps I'll be less harsh on you at class."

"Boyfriend?"

"Hashibira-kun's your boyfriend, right?"He was astounded by your reaction. Yes. Tomioka had always thought that Inosuke was your boyfriend, as you were always with him. He has no idea that the guy's just like your brother, and he actually has a girlfriend of his own.

You can't help but laugh at what he said, which bothered him, so he sauntered back to you with a clear, confused expression plastered on his face.

"Why? Do I sound funny?"

"No! It's quite hilarious that you believed Inosuke to be my boyfriend! He's taken already; what the heck?"

You noticed the littlest changes in Tomioka's expression, like how the tension on his shoulders faded and how his breathing pattern changed.

Giyu stared at you as if he were solving a puzzle. But still, he stopped himself from asking too much. "Whatever. Go home early." He said and finally went out, with a small smile on his lips.

You slept like a baby that night as you reflected on how adorable Giyu had been that day.

But on the other hand, Tomioka was sitting on his bed, wondering what just happened. He was questioning himself all day after he left you.

Yes, he was thinking of you, and he can't fathom why these thoughts started to plague him. And it worsened today as he felt a bit relieved to know that Inosuke's not your boyfriend. He hated to admit it, but he was quite happy to know that.

"I'm failing as a professor. Why would it drive me crazy if she's with Inosuke? I never wanted to be with her. I never even imagined myself wanting that for my student. But damn, why am I thinking about all these things?"

Giyu rubbed his face with his palms intensely and plopped back on his bed. He cannot fathom why, but sometimes he just wants to hoard you for himself. Yes, it's clear to him that it's against the principles he is living for, but he just can't stop it.

It started the day he carried you to the clinic bed. And of course, he won't tell you that he was the one who carried you. He would also hide the fact that he had scolded Shinobu that same day, after he left you and Inosuke.

That moment was the first time he really looked at you and seen how beautiful you are. That's also the first time that he realised that it seemed like you were doing everything just to get his attention. Before by being delinquent, and now by trying your best to be his star student.

He somehow appreciated it.

Earlier, when you had cramps and he massaged you, he would never admit it, but the sounds you make create a whirlpool of insane thoughts inside his head. Giyu shook his head and heaved a sigh.

Now he can't stop thinking about what would happen if you weren't his student. Would he still feel this way? Yes. He will.

I never really wanted this to happen, but I think I'm falling. What should I do?

A few days had passed, and yes, Giyu still decided to train you after his classes. You'll never notice how hard he tries to compose himself whenever he sees you. But today, he can't keep it any longer.

There's no PE class today, so you headed straight out of the university. While walking home, a car suddenly stopped. You turned to look at who it was, and it was Tomioka. He was gesturing for you to come in, and of course, you did without thinking ten times. Tomioka drove once again, wishing that no one had seen you come inside his car.

You sat beside him, adjusting your skirt. "Tomioka-san, thanks for the ride!"

"Mmm, of course."

"What made you drive me—"

"Don't think about it too much."

You nodded and just stared at him, watching how focused he was. The silence started to thicken, and to your astonishment, it was Tomioka who broke it this time.

"Have you ever done something that was against your virtues?"

"Wow, that's a deep question, sensei. But I'm not quite sure what you mean. As you can see, I was once one of the delinquent kids with Inosuke, Gyutaro, and Ume before college. So I guess, yes?"

"I know you've been annoying before. But I mean now."

"Can you elaborate?"

"Nevermind—"

"Elaborate please."

"Uh... I can't put it into words."

"How can I answer if I don't know the context?"

"Okay, um, something like this."

"Like what?"

"Me asking you to ride in my car."

You crossed your arms and bit your lip. Now you're interested. "I don't interpret this in a bad way, sensei. And I think it leans more towards you being a gentleman."

"Oh, aren't you scared that I might take you somewhere?"

His question astounded you. What is he saying? You gulped and placed the bag on your thighs, looking at him with the same expression. But inside, you realised yes. He doesn't know where you live in the first place. "Nope. You're not a bad person. You're my sensei so I trust you." That seemingly irritated Tomioka.

"You don't get the point, but you also do."

"Then tell me!" You said, raising a voice at your own professor as you hated riddles. But then his next words took your breath away. "I like you, Y/N."

You feel like you've lost the ability to talk. Your eyes brightened as you saw Giyu's face flush at the sound of those words. You could have never foreseen him making such a confession to you.

Perhaps he suddenly realised the weight of the thing that he just did. He suddenly stopped the car and hit the steering wheel in frustration. "Fuck! I shouldn't have told you that." He looked up at you with eyes that almost told you how much he feared what you would do.

"I mean, I-I... Fuck, I look like a fucking creep. I don't fucking deserve to be your sensei. I'm sorry, but can we just forget about this?"

"I've been waiting for you to fall for me." Those words suddenly made every bit of fear in Tomioka collapse. He was afraid to lose everything just because of his recklessness, but then, when he heard you say that, everything just brightened.

"What do you mean?"

"I'm in love with you Tomioka-sensei. So I don't want you to tell me to forget about this because you'll definitely hurt me."

"Y/N." Tomioka called you by your first name and suddenly had the courage to hold your hand.

"Are you serious, Y/N?"

You didn't speak but just leaned in to kiss your PE professor, which certainly caught him off-guard. But then he pulled out his eyes, now drunk with passion, and caressed your face. "What should we do?" He asked as if he were a lost child, even if he was older than you.

"Hide this? No one needs to know Tomioka-sensei."

"Wouldn't you tell this to your friends? What if you're just pranking me?"

"I would never do that." You said this while holding his hand and letting him feel your rhythmic heart through your clothing. When Tomioka put his hand on your chest, he flushed a little bit, but he was relieved to feel the same rhythm coming from both of your hearts.

Nothing had changed between you and Giyu at school. Of course, nothing should change, or else everything will be obvious. But when the classes are over, he will try his best to show you how sweet he is. And when we say sweet and classes are over, it's outside school, as he will die first before making a move on you while also being at his job.

Ironic, isn't it?

Now, you were with him as both of you decided to spend the weekend at his house near a river. Giyu was shy when he first asked you out, but eventually, here you are, cuddling up with your PE professor, a.k.a., boyfriend.

Except for kisses, Giyu has not yet made a move on you. A part of him still can't believe that he's having a secret relationship with his student, despite how obedient he is to the rules.

You were cuddling with him, making the most of every second. As you know, on Monday, he'll be your professor, and you'll just be his student again, at least in class. You felt a sensation when you felt Giyu's hand slide down onto your waist. But the man thought that you were uncomfortable, so he pulled his hand away.

"Sorry."

"Why? I want your touch."

Touch? He was surprised by what you said. You repeated it as you sat over his lap, facing him. "Touch me, Giyu." The sudden emotion that had taken over you shocked even you. But then, with that, Giyu suddenly smashed his lips against yours, kissing you hungrily. His hands went inside your shirt, and each touch made you whimper in pleasure.

Giyu pulled out and told you to turn your back on him, so you did. A part of him is shy about what he is doing, but he can't just stop himself, so he'll just prefer you looking away instead. His hands suddenly caressed your thighs, lifting your skirt in the process. You felt him getting hard beneath you, which definitely made your dam break.

He rested his chin on the crook of your neck and whispered in your ear with a low, sexy voice. "Do you want more?"

"Mmm yes, Giyu." You said, moaning as his hands slowly stroked your clothed cunt.

"So wet for me, Y/N. You want this?"

"Yes Giyu~ Ahhh~"

"You want to do risky things, right? You've been a very naughty girl. I'm gonna teach you something better than PE." He suddenly lifted you and bent you over by the table. His left hand caressed your breast while he used his right hand to take off your underwear and his pants.

Tomioka spanked you, which definitely made you moan loudly. He chuckled and went near your ear again, grinding his hot, hard cock on your ass.

Hands grasping the table, you moved your hips, wanting him to be inside of you. "Giyu... I-I've never let anyone touch me this... ah~ way since I fell in love with... you." Giyu chuckled and kissed you behind your ear. "Good girl. Let me reward you then."

You felt him line his cock on your entrance, and finally, with mixed pleasure and pain, he managed to enter you, making you scream in passion. "Ahh~ You're so tight. Is this your first time?" He whispered again, and you nodded with tears welling up in your eyes.

"Don't worry, baby, it'll be better. I'll be gentle."

For someone who seemed cold at the university, Giyu was definitely sweet and caring behind closed doors. He slowly thrust himself into you, both of you moaning in pleasure. As he stated, after a few more slides into and out of your tight cunt, it felt great.

Giyu wrapped his arms around your waist, and slowly his thrusts became faster. You grabbed both sides of the table as he gave you a vigorous fuck. Your head was spinning in satisfaction with his motions.

He's your PE professor, and no wonder how graceful the bucking of his hips felt. The slapping of your skin, mixed with your lewd sounds, made you so wet that it dripped down on your leg as Giyu hit your g-spot repeatedly. "Yes! Yes there!"

But then the man suddenly stopped and turned you to face him. You saw how dark his eyes were with lust, and you loved it. He laid you down on the table and ravaged your lips with his hungry kisses as he ripped your shirt, revealing your wonderful tits to him. He kissed them down as he once again aligned his hard cock on your pussy.

He didn't go slow this time. With his nails digging into your waist, Giyu went in and out of you as if there was no tomorrow. You never expected that the decent, by-the-book professor would be this wild in bed, and that turned you on so much that you just wanted to cum.

And yes, as Giyu's lustful eyes watched you and your breast jiggled with each of his movements, you suddenly felt tingles all over your body, especially on the pit of your stomach. "Uh...haah~ Giyu! I'm going cum!"

That made Giyu smirk, and with his right thumb, he rubbed your clit as he fucked you harder, making you almost pass out from the overstimulation. You loved it. You felt like you were in heaven as you reached your first orgasm. Your eyes rolled, and you moaned so hard as you squirted against his cock. But yes, Giyu didn't stop fucking you.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful!" He muttered between his moans.

Suddenly he felt like he was about to cum too, and so he smashed his lips against yours, and his movements went faster and harder than you could imagine. You were literally moaning in his mouth as your first orgasm came. Then, now, you can already feel your second orgasm after just a minute of having your first one.

"Fuck baby, I can't take it anymore!" Giyu said, and finally, with a final thrust, both of you came, his warmth filling your already dripping cunt to the brim.

Giyu planted sloppy kisses on your lips, which you returned, causing him to hum with contentment. Without pulling out, he carried you to the bedroom and laid you on the bed.

There, he finally pulled out but still wrapped his arms around you. "You'll never know how I tried my best to stop myself from making love to you at the uni."

"Me too, Tomioka-sensei."

"Hey, I told you not to call me that when it's just us." He pouted, but then you kissed his nose. "Giyu, my Giyu." Tomioka caressed your cheek and kissed you once again. "Did you plan all of this to happen?" he asked innocently, making you chuckle.

"What I planned was just to get your attention. But I've got something better, I guess." You said that, kissing his cheek. Giyu stared into your eyes and smiled. "You know, I never wanted to feel this way towards you before, but you convinced me to still do it anyway."

"And how did I do that?"

"By trying your best this time and not being the idiot you were before in high school."

You wanted to tease him more, but you just rested your head on his chest. "I just always wanted to get your attention. I love you, Giyu."

"I love you too." He muttered in a sleepy tone as he embraced you tight. Both of you are wishing this weekend wouldn't ever end.

𝑨𝒂𝒂𝒌𝒌! 𝑻𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒐 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒈 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒉 𝒊𝒕~

I enjoyed writing this that it took me THREE EFFIN DAYS XD But yeah, that was hot! 🥵 Giyu breaking his by-the-book attitude is so cute XD Risqueee babyyy hahaha!

Anyways, OF COURSE! The most awaited Sanemi chapter will be next and I can't wait for it as well hahaha!

Reblogs, Comments, and Requests are highly appreciated! Love you!

MDNI!

Ja ne~

~𝓒𝓱𝓲𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓾-𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓷🌸

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missmiyao · 2 months ago

Text

Like That (Tobio Kageyama)

Warning: Toxic relationship, miscommunication, jealousy, one night stand, wrong/incorrect depictions of works ethics, explicit language, smut warning, dirty talk, noncon picture taking, stalking, coercion, non consensual, dubious consent, rape, mention of drugs.

I wrote this without thinking much of the plot but somehow, managed to finish it. ~5k words. Heavily emphasize on female reader.

You thought the long relationship could at least make you know him better. You do hope he does know you better too. You know Tobio Kageyama from middle school, high school and still remain as friends until you finish your college year, graduate and have a job while he continues to become a professional volleyball player. He even played for the Japan National Team when he was just 19 years old.

Support? You always support his decision. He wants to try this team? Go, Tobio. You are great. He has a problem? You'll listen to them from night to dawn, even though you have a very important meeting with a very important person the next day.

You do think you're another friend of Tobio. Well, you're not a manager or anything during your whole high school life with him, but you're a close fan. Respect, it's what you always have to him. He's the same age as you. Although he is always his usual self that lacks in terms of communication, you know he tries.

During your final year in high school, you heard Shoyo Hinata talk to him.

"Hey, Kageyama. I know this is not related to volleyball, but I do want to ask this." You were there because Tobio promised you that he would walk you home. You told him it is not necessary, but he insisted. Your houses are close to each other too, so he doesn't mind.

"What?" His tone is always like that, either talking to you or Shoyo.

"Are you and her dating?" Shoyo mentioned your name, and you remain static behind the front door. Both of them didn't notice you at all.

"We're not dating, idiot. Back to training. Stop thinking of these useless things." He is always like that. You decided to ignore the ache you felt in your heart.

"Really? You two were so close! Even Tsukishima said you two are dating, if not, doing something behind our backs!" He claimed and Tobio rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"We're not dating. Fact. Get that inside your head. Pass the ball!" His tone became higher and started to become defensive.

"Tobio Kageyama. Listen to me. Only an idiot like you couldn't tell that she likes you. Hah, in love may be the perfect word. Can't you see how she looks at you?" Your heart beats faster when you hear this. Somehow, Shoyo and the others see it?

"Are you high, Hinata? Stop it." Again, with his defensive tone.

"I know you like her too Kageyama, but you refuse to do anything. You can't let her go. You don't want her to date any other man, that's why you always remain on her side silently but you're too stupid and path-minded. That's why you didn't want to be with her either. Man, you're weak!"

Tobio didn't say anything and Hinata refused to provoke him any longer.

You see them practice before deciding to close the door. The night wind of March never did anything to you other than deep thinking.

Maybe, you didn't read him wrong. Maybe, Tobio does like you just like how you're head over heels for him.

30 minutes later, the gym door finally opens and you see Tobio first.

"Hey, Tobio." Your smile is like usual. He stares at you and nods.

"Let's go back." He didn't waste any time and you agree. You wave back at Shoyo when the three of you part ways.

That's in high school. During your college year, you remember that Tobio called you. He said that he has this problem and you meet him that night. He cried, telling you about what he felt. His sets don't feel good, everyone starts to say a lot of things to him that's meaner than high school and he feels like he couldn't breath.

You help him to calm down and that's the first time you and Tobio ever had sex. It's inside a hotel room that he booked to calm himself. You two somehow ended up like that. You never left in the morning and he never did either.

He stays, staring at you like he usually did in high school. It confuses you when he doesn't say anything. When you wake up, he kisses your forehead as sweetly as ever and finally gets up to leave. He leaves right after that, leaving you thinking in the hotel room.

Ever since, you two sneak to hook up whenever he is free. To you, you are always free for him.

This continues for like a few years, until you're 24 years old.

"Um, Tobio, I want to ask something." He's cuddling you under the blanket. He just got back from his game in Ireland. He's tired, you know that, but he insists on meeting you.

"Hm? Ask then." You cup both of his cheeks while staring into his eyes. His dark blue eyes and one of the perfect haircuts he ever did really makes his face lethal to you.

"What are we?" You talked to Hitoka Yachi about this and hell, she yelled at you on the phone. She wasn't angry with your poor life decision, she just asked if you're okay or Tobio ever forced you to do this. She's worried about you.

We're friends. Why?" His words make your heart ache again after a few years. You nod at him, smiling before kissing his lips once and hug him tight. You know he wouldn't notice your tears. Not at all.

Tobio had a game the next day, so you decided to end this stupid situation-ship one-sidedly. Friends? Friends don't kiss each other on the lips. They don't have sex conveniently and definitely, do not share this kind of intimacy. You cooked for him, be his emotional supporter and such. He had the nerve to call you his friend?

You should give yourself a break. You should have more self respect.

Right after he leaves in the morning, you blocked his number and social media. Everything. Hell, you even deactivate your social media for your own sake. You didn't tell Tobio that your work changed your office to Hyogo. Somewhere in Ichikawa you're not mistaken. Though, your work doesn't stop there.

"You mean- training? Brazil?" You look at your new boss as if she's joking. It's just your third day here, and you're now going abroad?

"Wasn't it great? You don't have to worry about a single thing! Just pack your belongings for a week! All of the expenses will be covered by the company! You just go to the training and be well." Wow. Just, wow. You can't say anything much because you're new.

You did go on company vacation or outstation or whatever it is, but you never thought you would be sent to one right after you're repositioned here.

"No worries. I know you feel like 'oh, can I do this?' but please, I know you can. I've read your performance comments. You're more than capable. I trust you. Now, you're a part of my team and I will do my best to make sure you're well and knowledgeable!" She's a little kinder than your old boss but you're going to take it.

"Thanks, miss!"

A flight to Brazil sores you out. You're with your boss and the other person. She's very talkative, extroverted but she's good at her job. She's joining this training for another part of training that the company didn't cover you for.

Nevertheless, it is a good week for you. You're free from everyone you've known.

"Since we had a whole free day, why don't you two walk around and enjoy the scenery? I'm going to have a drink at the bar. Don't get lost. Anyway, have fun. I trust you two to have fun and be ready for the training at 8. We'll leave at 7 in the morning though." You decided to walk around the beach after you waved at your boss.

It's a very calm night for you. Somehow, you see someone with a ginger head that you know from high school. It took all of you to not scream at him. Lucky, he noticed you first. Shoyo is in Brazil! What is the possibility of him being in the same area like you, Rio de Janeiro?

Shoyo calls for your name, and you two end up hugging in public. It is such a relief to someone that you know, but it didn't stop there.

"Oh, you're here too?" You know that voice too well. You spend countless years with Tobio to analyse this man's skill.

"Oikawa san." You pulled away from Shoyo before stare at the older man. He's smiling at you, just like he did during middle school and high school. It is not rare for you two to cross paths.

"Well, what are you doing here? A vacation? You look like you need it." He winks at you, and you chuckle.

"Oh no. I'm on a work trip. I'll be here for the whole week for training. How about you two? I thought you're playing with a team under Argentina? Hinata's team is São Paulo, so I wonder why you're in Rio too."

You learned that Shoyo has a game in Rio de Janeiro and Toru Oikawa has the same reason as you, training. You three ended up drinking non-alcoholic drinks for the night and enjoying ourselves. Shoyo is the first one who said that he needs to part ways because his teammates are worried about him.

"I can walk you back. My sense of location is not worse, okay?" Toru joked with you and you simply chuckled.

The two of you keep on exchanging conversation here and there. You finally know a lot of things from his perspectives, not only from Tobio.

"I've heard you and Tobio chan are dating. Congratulations! Though, it must be hard to keep up with that volleyball brain." Toru is right on one thing but wrong on another.

"Tobio and I are not dating. We're just... Friends." Yes, friends. That word hurts you so much that you cried in front of Toru. He didn't react much. He is indeed surprised, but decided to pat you on the shoulder and back a few times.

10 minutes of crying are enough to calm you down. Your eyes are red, your nose is stuffy and you don't even know what to do anymore. It's embarrassing enough to cry in front of your senior in middle school, but it is more embarrassing when he starts giving advice about relationships.

You cut him off after a while.

"I don't think he's ready. He's just volleyball oriented. He has his own life to do, and I have mine." The walk became so slow, that you felt like the supposedly 20 minutes walk became an hour.

"Yeah, but if he wants you to be in his life, he will fight for it no matter what. Trust me. Look, you know Nicollas Romero, the world-class player? He has a son. Thus, he's married when he's like, 22? If a man wants you, he will do his best to be with you." You hum at his statement.

Maybe, you're just a piece that he can toss whenever he wants. All of his aim, his life is all volleyball oriented. If you're going to cause chaos of that balance, he will push you away. That's why he refuses any relationship. That's why he said he's single. That's why you two are just friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Sorry. It's not my business to talk about this to you. Now, let's get you back to your hotel room safe and sound." He walks first and before you know, you pull his wrist back.

"I don't want to go back. Not now." You saw glint in his orbs when you said that. You know Toru is not stupid are a fool. Even Tobio is not that dense in this situation.

"Mhm? Then, what are you suggesting now? Don't play coy this time." He pulls his wrist away from you and somehow, you start trembling.

"Since... Well, you know-"

"I don't. Speak clearly." His command makes you shiver. The Toru Oikawa in front of you now is not the same person you know. You gulp, taking a deep breath before exhaling.

"Can I spend the night with you?" He didn't respond, but he slowly crossed his arms.

"Why? What are you planning?" You shake your head.

"I'm not planning anything. You can just say no, Oikawa san. I respect that. Maybe we should go." You start walking and before you know it, he pulls you by your waist. Your chest is touching his front and you feel his heavy breathing.

"I didn't say no. I'm just looking at any possibilities from you, non-verbally." You firmly grab his shoulder.

"It's just a one time thing, Oikawa. One night will not change anything. Tobio and I had been sneaking around for years and we still remain as friends. Just friends. One night of you fucking me on any surfaces would not suddenly change our relationship. I know you, you know me. I'm your junior and you're my senior." He sees courage in your eyes. You heard Toru lets out chuckles.

You always saw him laugh, but never heard him chuckles this close. Too intimate for you.

"Your boss might be looking for you though. I can't risk hearing any phone calls during sexy times." He didn't touch you more than your waist. You admire his self control and perhaps, his respect towards you.

"I don't care. All I care about is leaving for work at 7."

That's how you and Toru hooking up for the night. You weren't sure how you ended up in this cramp room in the resort or whatever. You haven't got a good look at it. All you feel is Toru and Toru.

Maybe you're just using him to forget your frustration towards Tobio. Toru must have known that when he heard what you suggested earlier. But, if he didn't want to be a part of it, he would never agree on doing this.

"Do you have a condom?" You ask him and he nods.

"I've always kept spare in my wallet." He's laughing and you want to slap that cheeky face of his. He's toying with you.

"Whatever. You're clean, right?" You undo your shirt first and he stops.

"I am, okay? I have the report on my phone. We all get tested before every season. How about you?" He shoves you his phone and indeed he is clean. You unlock your phone and show your phone to him.

"Same. Though, I'll not let you hit me raw." As you're about to pull your skirt, he yanks your hands away.

"I don't mind, but these two must stay." He wink and you kinda regret this.

"You're a closet pervert, are you? Seriously, whatever."

He promised you a lot of things before you two even start kissing. It started slow but it makes your mind hazy. You're pretty sure you didn't drink any alcoholic beverages and Toru didn't drug you.

But every touch, even the slightest caress on your neck makes you go crazy. Toru is slow with his touches but he does more based on how you react. You're going crazy and he bathes in every single moment of you.

He keep his promise of fucking you on each and every surface of this room. His stamina is what makes you jealous and intimidated the most. The last hour of him finally fucking you on bed is at 3 in the morning and he never once cum.

"Oi-Oikawa-" You can't even breathe at this point. He's too hard, too fast and he's making your mind numb. You can't even count how many times you come, either by his finger, his tongue, his dick, whatever it is. You're far too fucked out.

"Toru, bebê. Toru. I'm the one fucking you now." You can't even open your eyes at this moment. All you feel is this mushy feeling. You're sure all Toru sees is your ugly face that tried to take everything he gave.

You can't even start with your drool and eyes crossing everywhere.

"Give me the last one, okay? I promise." That's one of the promises that he broke a few minutes ago. You shake your head, holding onto the pillow dearly as if that squishy pillow could save you. You're lucky that you're not that small or else you might be suffocated by his muscular body on you.

"Li-lie- FUCK!"

You can't remember anything much, other than seeing him. He cleans up, he helps you to clean up. Hell, he even bathes you. All you can do is to take everything he gave you. You have no strength to stand anymore. It is all hazy and confusing. Your mind didn't come back. Even after he put your shirt back on along with your skirt, you didn't say anything.

You passed out with him hugging you to sleep.

Toru wakes you up at 5:30 in the morning, which you immediately but slowly dress properly to leave.

"Hey. Wait." He calls for your name. Even though you did smack his back a few times because he laughs at how funny you walk, you can't even blame him at this point.

"What?" You hope that your new boss will not kill you.

"Let me have your number. Who knows this little secret of ours will become more than this?" He winked at you and you sigh.

"I told you, we're not. Though, sure." Not that you care. You will never meet him again after this. All you care about now is you're going to go to the training.

After that, you leave and never see Toru anymore. Perhaps he's busy but hey, that's not your business. A week of going to train makes you learn a lot, theoretically. You hope to bring every knowledge you learn in your new office.

Three months. You're really loved by your co-workers and your boss. You're good at your job but know when to slack. You stare at Toru's number. You two did have a conversation like weeks ago. Again, both of you always remind each other of your status.

Friends.

You don't mind, because it is true. You're not going to assume more than you should.

"Hey! I've heard that you still have your PTO from last year. I'm going to be very honest about this. The company won't pay you, so I want you to take your remaining PTO from last year. No worries about the schedule since I'm the manager." Your boss said. Straightforward and very honest.

It's good actually. She does care for the well-being of you.

"It's just 7 days."

"The company will not pay us shit, please. Schedule any days for your time off. I'm not going to let you burn your entitled benefits." She showed you the whole calendar of everyone's off time and you're impressed.

So, you decided to finish your job and take a week off of last years' PTO at the end of this month. You deserve it. Your boss gives you the green light the very next day after you send your request.

On the first day, you spend your time with your beloved pet. Your parents have already passed away and your brother is working overseas. Since he lives in California, you two often text each other about your and his well-being. The time zone sometimes makes it impossible for you two to video call.

You miss to see his ugly face and you know he misses to say snarky remarks regarding your appearance like before.

"Aww Coco. I'm sure nii san loves to see you tuck your paw again." You yawn, letting your big, black and fat cat on top of you. Aww, how you love calling him fat. Your cat seems to know when you're shaming his body, so he smacks your face.

You flinched.

"Ouch! What was that for? You ungrateful- OUCH! I'm not going to mix your dry and wet foods then!"

Your phone is ringing, and Coco jumps from your stomach to the floor. You flinch in pain because of how hard his feet are pressing your chest.

"Grr. That hurts. Oh, Hitoka?" You picked up your calls and all you heard she's yelling.

"DID YOU HEARD?!" Gosh.

"Hitoka calm down. What is it?"

"Kageyama! Kageyama is going back to Japan!"

"Hitoka, that's not really concerning. He's Japanese, why would you need to yell about this?" You didn't scoff, but you wonder why. You never check on him anymore. You made a new account on social media and steer away from the volleyball world.

"He's looking for you. He keeps texting me, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima! I didn't say anything because you told me you're blocking him, but when Hinata told him about how he met you in Brazil, Kageyama somehow..." Hitoka takes a deep breath. You wonder what it is.

"Hitoka, I went to Brazil like three months ago. It's not a big deal. I blocked Tobio because I want to end this weird friendship I had with him." You heard Hitoka screech for a second.

"He saw your pictures with Oikawa. Did you go out with Oikawa?" You remain silent. How did he find out by pictures? You're pretty sure that none of you three take any pictures.

"I didn't take pictures?"

"Well, apparently... He saw pictures from Oikawa." You clench your jaw. If Toru took your picture, that must not be a good one. You will yell at that man later.

"What pictures?" You wait for Hitoka to respond.

"I didn't know. Kageyama didn't show any pictures and Hinata didn't know about it either. I've heard from Hinata that Kageyama video called him early in the morning and started yelling. Hinata's teammates wonder what the chaos is about." You wonder what actually happened. You decided to sigh.

"Hitoka wait. I'll ask Oikawa-"

"You have his phone number?! You two did go out together!" She pointed that out.

"Yeah, yeah. I do, we do. But, why would Tobio care about me? We're just friends, like he said. Even if I sleep with Oikawa-"

"Seriously? You... Gosh!" You know, she's indeed frustrated with your poor life decision but it already happened.

"I'm not in any relationship with Tobio. He can't stop me. Why is he mad anyway?" You decided to text Toru.

>> Did you take a picture of me without my consent and sent it to Tobio?

You're pretty sure he's sleeping or whatever he's doing. You don't care.

"Well... I thought that you and Kageyama always have something. You know, something that can't be said verbally, but everyone could see it." Her words make you remain silent. Why, you wonder?

"See what?"

"You and Kageyama. Together?"

You wanted to shake her shoulder violently. Didn't she hear it? You and Tobio are friends.

"I'm gonna hang up. Thanks for the update, Hitoka." You hang up and are immediately greeted with the text from Toru.

<< [Oikawa] Yes. I did.

>> Why?

<< [Oikawa] You never said I couldn't. No worries, I've deleted everything after I sent it to Tobio chan 😉

>> Thts not the point.

<< [Oikawa] I'm just whipping his ass for you. Now, now. I'm going to grab my dinner. See ya~

And you never get any reply after that.

On your second day of your time off, you decided to grab some groceries. Coco keeps meowing because he dislikes the cat food that you bought, and you need to buy a lot of supplies for him. Thus, here you are, stuck inside the oversize mall just to buy a few things for yourself.

"Urgh, I swear that if Coco ever does that act where he scratches the food like it's his poop, I'm going mad." You grab each flavour of the wet foods and grab the usual dry foods that you always give him.

You also grab the sand for his poop or whatever.

"Hmm, I need to get my groceries too." You push your trolley away and head to the wet section. Maybe you'll get that nugget that you wanted last month since your budget is a little tight last month.

But for this month, your brother sent you extra cash because he finally got rid of his girlfriend that you didn't like. He finally found out about her infidelity that you told him like 20 times and yeah, they broke up.

You never like her. She's arrogant.

You feel shiver, somehow. It feels like someone is watching you from somewhere. You decided to shake it off, before continuing to do your shopping.

"Urgh, I can't wait to get back home. Hope Coco will be more grateful. That fat, black, fluffy, stupid but so cute cat." Your push your cart to the self checkout.

After taking the whole thing by one hand, you finally get to fit it in the boot of your car. Just as you managed to close the boot, someone's touching your shoulder. You're about to scream and yell, but it's just him.

"Get in." His voice is not soft like he always used to. He's mad, perhaps it's more than the tone he always used when Shoyo pissed him off.

"Where are we going? This is not the-"

"You slept with Oikawa?"

His voice is clear. It's too quiet for your own liking, contrary to the sudden rain that is pouring non-stop. He drives your car as if he owns it, stopping at who knows where this is.

You don't like this but Tobio is always like this.

"Why? Does it even matter to you?" You glare at him. He tried wearing a face mask to cover his identity, afraid of the public recognizing him from somewhere. But, you always know it's him.

"That's not the answer."

"Fine. I did, okay. So what? What's with it?" You never see his expression become as dark as that. Never, not even in high school. Tobio stares at you like you've did something wrong.

"You can't."

"Why not? Tobio, we're just friends. Nothing more, nothing much. Why would you care?" He glared at you, before driving you back home. He didn't say anything, not even a word.

When you're just about to reach your apartment, you get this tingling feeling. A dangerous one.

"You can go, I can handle myself. Thanks." You didn't unlock your door yet, staring at him.

"I'll go after you get in."

"No."

He didn't move at all. Somehow, his stare makes you scared. It's like a predator watching its prey. Nevertheless, you sigh, putting down your groceries and unlocking your door. You stare at Tobio who stares back at you before entering.

"See you, Tobio." You close the door faster than you ever did to him before but Tobio managed to stop it with his leg. Everything, every single thing that he did makes you become more aware than everything.

You pull away from the door, tossing all of the groceries and run to the closest room to lock it. You need to get away from him.

You find solace in your bedroom after you unlock it, but only for a moment, after you realise that you did not lock the bathroom door that joined with your room.

That's how Tobio enters your room with his hands in his pocket.

"Tobio, what is it? You scared me." Yeah, he could see that too. You've been trembling ever since you noticed him following you during your shopping. You and your senses are great, better than him even.

"I don't like what I saw."

"I promise you, what happened between Oikawa san and I is just a one time thing. I never saw him again. Just, forget about this, okay?" You didn't move from your position. In fact, you're holding the knob.

"Oh yeah? Really? Those pictures that he showed me would never make me believe it's a one time thing."

"Come on! Why would you care! You're my friend, not my boyfriend, not my fiancée or my husband!" You yell at him. He needed someone to put some sense into him and you did.

"Tch." He grabs you by wrists, holding you tight before dragging you to your bed. He makes you kneel before getting his phone out from his pocket. His physique makes him able to hold you by just one arm.

"Tobio!"

"Shut up. I'm showing you what he sent to me. I just finished my shower after that damn practice and then I saw these." He shove his phone right into your face. Somehow, you wonder how numb your mind when Toru fucked you that night.

That picture. He's fucking you and using his phone at the same time. Fuck, he even had videos on and you never know?

You gulp, staring at Tobio. Knowing him from before and now...

"I'm not that mad- okay, I am mad. Truly. You know how many times I fucked my fist watching Oikawa fucking you? You know I need to take another shower right after that, making me late for my next practice the next morning?" He did talk about this volleyball and that volleyball, but somehow, you noticed another feeling among it.

"Tobio... I just-"

"Did he get to fuck you raw like I did?" You shake your head upon his question and he smiles. It's so genuine.

"Tobio, please. I-"

"Did you suck him off?"

"Tobio, please. I just want to-"

"Answer me, bitch."

The conversation continues, dragging from him shaming you as a whore and slut, another demeaning words that should make you cry, but you do not. All you know now, he's fucking you. He's like he's on drugs, yapping about a lot of things.

From how he sees you in middle school then high school, starts crushing on you, slowly making you his friend then more than that. You become the star of his wet dream and he never gets off without imagining it's you.

He told you he can't focus when you're nearby, because every single time you smile at him, he gets a boner. Nobody notices that, except Kei Tsukishima. The blond hair man told him to calm down or else he will tell you.

But you never know though.

When a man tries to flirt with you, he goes crazy. He didn't attack them, simply glaring at them and asserting his dominance like he always does to you. Hold your hands, bring your goods, help you, everything. Yes, he couldn't do that during your college time but he made time for the good time.

He thought he did good to make you stay with him.

"Tobio-" You can't focus. He's going without any protection and this is a serious issue of consent. You hate him doing this to you, but you can't do anything when all of his weight is pressed on top of you.

"I just want to retire at the age of 30, propose to you and marry you. I never- oh fuck, you like that, baby? I want to marry you after I retire. I don't want to force you to quit your job and follow me to Italy or any country that I play for."

You feel hazy as he's kissing your neck. Maybe you're too pent up, that's why you're reacting to him.

"I tried to contact you right after my first game and all I see is one tick, you really blocking me here and there you bitch." He pressed you further and you squeal.

"Sorry- Tobio."

"Now it's three fucking months I'm looking for you and what news I got? You slept with Oikawa! I don't fucking care if it's Hinata. Hell, I don't care if it's Kunimi or Tsukishima but Oikawa? You're really getting on my nerves." He slaps your cunt once and that makes you cry.

"I'm sorry! I never-"

"Must be fun, huh? Fucking on each and every surface on that damn room." Your visions were blocked by your own tears. Everything is too stimulating. All you could feel is Tobio Kageyama and nothing else.

Tobio grips your neck, tightening it up just like your cunt do.

"Did he ever choke you, baby? Did he know that you're a little masochist for me?" You shake your head.

"N-no, Tobio." You're struggling to breathe and Tobio does make it harder for you.

"Good girl. You're mine, okay?" You nod, agree with his statement. You block out right after you cum and he never stops at that.

Somehow, you woke up after two hours? All you know is that your apartment smells like curry. You stare at Coco, who eagerly and greedily eats his foods that were refilled. Hmph, that fluffy cat. You saw a man standing at the kitchen counter, cooking. You check your groceries from earlier and it's already put away.

"Tobio?" You call for his name, softly. He turns around, smiling at you as if he never does anything to you.

"I made curry rice. Sorry for using your kitchen." He should apologize for another thing but you let him.

"It's fine." You noticed a morning after pill on top of the table. Wow, he could finally buy one without asking you the difference and alone? He's a changed man.

Tobio turned off the stove before serving you the food. You didn't react but you're hungry.

"First, I want to apologize. What I did last time is wrong. I know my jealousy is wrong. I also apologize for calling you my friends even though I thought of you more than friends. Sorry that I never asked for your opinion."

His apologies are dumped at the same time. All you can do is stand up and give him a hug.

"It's fine. I know you. You're always like this. I wouldn't stay with you if I truly hated you." He pressed a kiss on your forehead.

"I know you too. You're blocking me here and there not because you hate me. You're just mad because I didn't declare you more than friends. I apologize and next time, I will introduce you as my girlfriend. Will- will you be my girlfriend?" His eyes show sincerity and you chuckle.

You always know him.

"Apologies accepted and yes, I will be your girlfriend."

The two of you are eating together for breakfast. Your heart didn't feel heavy anymore and finally, you two are no longer normal friends.

After a few months, he proposed to you and you said yes. Although he's still career oriented, you know Tobio will always choose you over volleyball. The only exception.

Yeah, he's always like that.

End

#kageyama tobio #haikyuu fanfiction #hinata shoyo #yachi hitoka #kei tsukishima #yamaguchi tadashi #oikawa tooru #kunimi akira #post timeskip #haikyuu smut #hq smut

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