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fushitoru · 1 month ago

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chapter 7: the rebound a bridgerton au

pairing ⸺ duke!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary ⸺ dearest gentle reader, a new season is upon us as the ton gets ready for a season filled with drama, heartbreak, and passion. after being crowned diamond of the season, duke gojo⸺only looking to marry just to secure his inheritance⸺has his sights set on you, the easiest (and most obvious) option. later, when you catch his saying unsavory things about you on a terrace when he least suspected it, you swear to never marry gojo. as london's fashionable set goes through yet another wedding season, will there be hope for scandalous gossip, hate, and thinly veiled insults, or will we witness blooming love and passion?

warnings ⸺ nsfw, enemies to lovers, bridgerton au, angst, fluff, SUGGESTIVE, eventual smut, jealousy, misogyny, description of injury, concussion, blood, regency era au, gojo being infuriating, reader also being infuriating, both of them are clueless honestly

chapter summary ⸺ after the arrival of your dearest brother, you pursue a new angle to the season, one to prove that you, the diamond, will not be scorned. new opportunities with duke nanami arise and with it jealousy and bitterness fester in the ballroom. (6.8k)

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

Once again, dear Reader, this humble Author finds herself vindicated. Country house parties, as ever, remain the fertile soil from which the most delicious scandals bloom. And today’s revelation is no exception.

Yes, indeed, you read it here first: the dashing and ever-elusive Lord Satoru Gojo will not be marrying Miss Itadori, this season’s most celebrated diamond. The murmurs have already begun spreading like wildfire, bringing sighs of relief from hopeful ladies and knowing smirks from their watchful chaperones. The eligible Duke-to-be’s sudden return to certified bachelorhood is, no doubt, a development many find most agreeable.

But what, pray, has caused this sudden turn of events? The dissolution of an arrangement so seemingly perfect? Alas, even this Author—a tireless seeker of truths—has found the particulars elusive. Was it a clash of personalities? A misstep at the ball? Or perhaps, a secret grievance unearthed during those long, candlelit evenings at the country estate?

What this Author can confirm is that the ballroom whispers point to Lord Gojo’s own doing, based upon the countenances and actions of the pair at the ball. Did the ever-charming lord tire of his diamond’s sparkle, or has he found a more alluring treasure elsewhere? The possibilities are endless, and so, it seems, is the intrigue surrounding the pair.

One thing remains certain: while Miss Itadori may have stumbled in this engagement, she remains a diamond among gems—brilliant, resilient, and admired. What paths now await her are anyone’s guess, but if this Author knows anything, it is that diamonds shine brightest under pressure.

As for Lord Gojo, the question lingers: will his rakish reputation survive this latest scandal unscathed? Or has he, at last, met a match too dazzling even for him to outshine? Rest assured, dear Reader, this Author will remain ever-vigilant, pen poised and ready to uncover the truth.

⸻ LADY WHISTLEDOWN’S SOCIETY PAPERS

You could have had a bit more tact when informing Sukuna of the events of the past few days, for the reaction you gained made you realize that you may have made a misstep.

“What?!” Sukuna roared, looking at the three of you with fury. Yuji jumped, while you and Choso grimaced. “He did what?!”

“Now, now, brother,” Choso stood up nervously to pat his younger brother on the shoulder. “It is all good and well, for I have arranged for a better match for our dear sister—”

“A duel!” Sukuna bellowed, standing up from his seat on the couch to stomp his way to the door. “I will challenge that Gojo fellow to a duel—” It was only until Yuji ran and tackled him to the ground that he was waylaid to God knows what he was going to do to Lord Gojo. You and Choso could only watch the scene, too perforce to the strength of bulls that your brothers had to be able to interrupt.

A few scratches and awfully purple looking bruises later, Sukuna and Yuji were seated on the couch once again, thanks to Choso’s plead for nonviolence. It was then that Choso started explaining what had occurred in the season so far. “Mother insisted,” he sighed, shaking his head. “She seemed to have struck a mutual…entente with the Duchess of Gojo. It was only a matter of time before Mother forced her ways. Now that it has not redound in her favor, I have even more rationale to have my…way with Sister’s matches. For God’s sake, Sukuna stop glaring at me Mother left me behind on the first ball—”

Sukuna did not stop glaring; in fact, he chose that moment to take a long slurp of his tea while staring fiercely at him while Choso shifted nervously. After a long bout of silence, he finally offered, “I understand Mother can be very pushy, and that you, Choso, are not fierce enough to withstand her.” Choso did not even protest, just offered a deadpan. “But I, however, will not be a feather to a simple blow of the wind that Mother is. It is time our dear sister lived up to her reputation, what she has prepared so hard for.” He looks upon you with a soft gaze—that is, a soft gaze for Sukuna. “No matter how tactless Gojo’s estrangement was, Sister will recover, so long as her morale has not lessened. Sukuna’s head turned sharply to you, “It has not weakened, right Sister? He has not left you heartbroken?”

You could hear your heart as you looked at your brother, dumbfounded. His perceptive gaze disarmed you, but you blurted out a “Of course not” and turned to hastily grab a pastry from the table next to the loveseat you were seated at.. When you looked back at your brother, you jumped as his gaze lingered on you then nonetheless turned to glare at your brother when Yuji opened his mouth, undoubtedly ready to irritatedly remark on his denseness.

No matter, you think to yourself. Whatever you feel about Gojo is of no matter. The visit at the manor was only a delay and a small obstacle for your season. It was time to attend to the matter at hand: finding a husband.

The dewy grass kissed the hem of your nightgown as you wandered to the old swing set on the far edge of the manor grounds—a relic of your childhood, weathered but enduring. The creak of the chains was a sound that had long since embedded itself in your memory, a reminder of simpler days when duty had yet to tighten its grip.

You had not been able to sleep.

The house was still, the hush of midnight settling over its grand halls and sprawling grounds. Yet sleep evaded you, your thoughts as restless as the autumn breeze that stirred the curtains of your chamber. In the quiet, the weight of your obligations pressed heavily upon you, a familiar but unwelcome companion. Deciding that solitude under the stars might grant clarity where the confines of your room could not, you slipped on a shawl and had ventured outside.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the quiet, low and teasing. He was seated on a swing with his big frame illustrating a comical sight on the small seat. His silhouette was faintly illuminated by the dim glow of his cigarillo, and the faint ember cast fleeting shadows across his sharp features, making his smirk all the more pronounced.

The unexpected sight of him startled you for a moment, though you quickly masked your surprise. You drew your shawl tighter around your shoulders, the chill of the night settling into your skin, and stepped closer. “And here I thought I was the only one who sought refuge in our old playground at such an hour,” you replied lightly, though your voice carried the faint weight of sleeplessness. “What brings you here?”

He took a long, deliberate drag from the cigarillo before discarding it into the damp grass, the embers hissing softly as they extinguished. Straightening, he gestured to the empty swing beside him. “Thinking,” he said simply. “And you? Or do I even need to ask?”

You hesitated for only a moment before lowering yourself onto the swing, your fingers grazing the cold chains as you pushed back slightly. The seat creaked beneath your weight, swaying gently with your movements. The motion stirred a familiar ache of nostalgia—a reminder of days when life felt less complicated. “What else could it be but the endless circus of expectations Mother has so kindly bestowed upon me?”

The bitterness in your tone was impossible to conceal, and Sukuna chuckled darkly. He reached up to push a hand through his disheveled hair, his movements purposeful, almost theatrical. “Ah, yes,” he said mockingly. “The marriage parade. The grand auctioning of one’s life for the sake of the family name. What a fine role you’ve been cast in, dear sister. I don’t envy you.”

You gave a dry laugh, your voice quiet yet tinged with resolve. “Unfortunately, dear brother,” you began, staring into the star-dappled sky, “it is my duty to be wed.”

Sukuna turned to you sharply, his brow furrowing. “It is not your duty, least of all when it robs you of your freedom.”

A protest began to form on his lips, but you held up a hand, your expression soft yet resolute. “Let me finish,” you said, your tone firm but affectionate. Taking a deep breath, you continued, “If I were to grow old into a spinster, there would be no one to take care of me. You and Yuji would inherit our lands and manors, and Choso is the viscount; there would be no space for me except with some of our aunts.”

At the mention of your aunts, both of you shuddered involuntarily. The thought of their overbearing presence, their sharp tongues and endless criticisms, was enough to unite even the most quarrelsome of siblings.

“You cannot take care of me forever,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the ground. The swing swayed faintly as you spoke, the motion as restless as your thoughts. “One day, you—or any of our brothers—might choose to start a family with someone you love. It would be intrusive of me to remain dependent on you all.”

Sukuna scoffed, his voice rising slightly with indignation. “You know better than anyone that I aim to travel the world. I cannot be chained to a family or a manor—not now, not ever.”

You turned to him, your eyes softening as you regarded his familiar fire, the same defiance that had always set him apart from the others. “Sukuna,” you said gently, your voice tinged with fondness, “you may do as you please, and I would never wish to impede you. But I cannot rely on you indefinitely. You deserve to live freely, to make your own choices without the burden of my future weighing on your conscience.”

Once again, silence enveloped you both, broken only by the faint creak of the swings and the rustle of the wind through the trees. Then, Sukuna eventually broke the quiet with a heavy sigh. “Then we must make sure to do well and find you a husband on your terms.”

You turned to him, brow arched in curiosity. “Whatever do you mean?”

“I mean,” he said, his lips curling into a mischievous smirk, “that you must stop playing the part Mother has assigned you. Demure and meek may be what she wants, but it’s hardly the truth of you. Besides,” he added, leaning closer as if to share a conspiracy, “do you think the kind of husband you’d want would fall for such a facade?”

His words caught you off guard, and you frowned slightly. “Are you implying I’m to frighten potential suitors away?”

“Not frighten,” Sukuna corrected, his tone amused. “But consider this: if a man is drawn to meekness, might that not suggest he wishes to dominate or control? Would you truly wish to tether yourself to such a person? Or would you rather find someone who can appreciate your independence, who will meet you as an equal?”

His reasoning gave you pause. The image of a husband who might respect your will, who might value the sharpness of your mind and the strength of your character, was tempting—if not entirely what you needed. “And how, pray tell, do you suggest I go about finding such a man?”

Sukuna’s grin widened. “Start by being yourself, unapologetically. Let them see the wit, the fire, the resolve that I know so well. Let them see you, and if they can’t handle it, then they aren’t worth your time.”

You smiled faintly, your heart lighter from his words. After all, this scheming was due on your part; you were only grateful this shift occurred with Sukuna as your humble advisor. “It’s a daring plan, brother. Let us hope it does not lead to my complete social ruin.”

Sukuna laughed, the sound rich and unrestrained. “If it does, then you shall travel the world with me. Who needs societal approval when there’s an entire world to explore?”

For a moment, the weight of your burdens felt a little easier to bear. Under the vast, starlit sky, you allowed yourself to hope that perhaps, just perhaps, there was a future where duty and happiness could coexist.

Despite the peace conversing with Sukuna had granted you, sleep evaded you still, leaving you to roll onto your side, the cool fabric of the pillow offering no solace. Your thoughts had been louder than ever these past weeks, and one name in particular echoed through your mind like a stubborn refrain: Gojo.

His face came unbidden, as vivid as if he were standing at the foot of your bed. That insufferable smirk, the casual way he tilted his head as if always in on some grand secret. He saw through you—that much was undeniable, no matter how much you abhorred it. It wasn’t just the way his piercing gaze seemed to cut through your defenses, stripping away the layers of pleasantries and propriety until you were left exposed. It was his words, too—sharp, direct, and unyielding. Unlike everyone else, he wasn’t content to let you be the demure and dutiful daughter your mother had so painstakingly sculpted.

You turned onto your back, staring up at the shadowed canopy above, the weight of his judgment pressing against your chest. “He wouldn’t want to marry me either,” you thought bitterly, biting your lip to suppress a laugh that was more self-deprecating than amused. Why would he? I am only but a pathological people-pleaser—a woman who smiles and nods and folds herself into whatever shape is required of her. It was a role you had perfected, a mask you wore so often that you sometimes forgot it wasn’t your face. And yet, he saw through it.

That was the part that unsettled you most—not his arrogance, not his sharp tongue, but his ability to cut through your defenses as though they were paper. He saw you, in all your contradictions and uncertainties, and somehow, you suspected that he pitied you for them. Or worse, respected you less for it.

Your stomach twisted at the thought, and you turned onto your other side, burying your face into the pillow. No wonder I’m still unmarried. The thought came unbidden, sharp and cruel. What man would want a wife who couldn’t even decide who she wanted to be?

But that wasn’t fair—not entirely. You had a plan, didn’t you? A bold, liberating plan that would take you far from the shadow of your mother’s expectations. You could already picture her face when you told her—calm, composed, and quietly furious, as though your refusal to obey were a personal affront. The thought brought the faintest flicker of satisfaction, but it was fleeting.

The plan wasn’t perfect, nor was it foolproof. It hinged on one pivotal point: finding a husband who could be an equal partner rather than a master. A man who could grant you the freedom to forge your own path in peace, without the constant weight of disapproval bearing down on you.

Your thoughts wandered to Duke Nanami. Equal in power to Gojo, fair-minded, and kind—a man with no appetite for games or artifice. If you manage to secure a match with him, the ton would not view your…blunder with Gojo with such amusement. Insofar your interactions this season, he had always treated you with quiet respect, never pressing you into conversations you didn’t wish to have or cornering you with expectations. He would be a good man to marry, you thought. A safe choice.

And yet, even as you considered him, Gojo’s face intruded once more, unwelcome and unavoidable. Duke Nanami was everything Gojo wasn’t—measured, steady, predictable. But it was Gojo who set your mind alight, who made you question things you had long accepted as unchangeable truths. He irritated you, challenged you, unnerved you in a way no one else did.

You sighed, turning again, the sheets tangling around your legs like restraints. The very fact that Gojo occupied your thoughts at all was infuriating. He had no place there, no right to linger in the quiet moments when you were supposed to find peace. And yet, here he was, as persistent in your mind as he was in person.

The plan. You needed to focus on the plan. Liberating yourself from your mother’s expectations wasn’t about Gojo or Duke Nanami or anyone else. It was about reclaiming yourself, about becoming a woman who didn’t need to twist herself into shapes for anyone—not your mother, not a potential husband, and certainly not Gojo.

And it would start at your wardrobe.

You give the most polite smile you can muster, but you do not need the mirror in front of you to know that your countenance is strained, the edges of your smile not reaching your eyes. “Lower it even further.”

A beat passes in the room as the modiste, your mother, and Sukuna stare at you in incredulity. The bustline to your dress is low. Of course, it is not yet teetering on the edge of what is socially acceptable, and that is the position you want it to be. Hence, you gesture to Sukuna, prompting him to regain his senses and snap his head towards Momo. “Please attend to my sister’s request.”

You could smell what you mother was about to say, even if she had not yet done so. “My dear,” she began, “I hardly think that’s appro–” Sukuna’s glares reorients itself now to focus on your mother, and she purses her lips with what appears to be arduous effort, knowing a quarrel with Sukuna would escalate quite quickly, both immediate and unwise.

Madame Momo, for the better, offers no protest as she lowers the deep, wine red fabric she was upholding against your body. If you were not wearing your regular clothes, you would know that quite a bit of the swell of your breasts would be framed by the dress. However, it wasn’t enough. “A bit lower.”

The modiste lets out a small sigh, her needle poised mid-air as she hesitates. “My lady, to lower it further would risk—” she pauses delicately, “—compromising the structural integrity of the gown.”

“I appreciate your insight, Madame, and know that you are quite skilled at your craft,” you flash her a semi-apologetic smile. After all, she is the one that has to attend to your…rebranding crisis and revamp a majority of your wardrobe. “However, I am afraid that I’d like to do something new this season. Something eye-catching.”

A faint chuckle escapes her lips, no doubt spurred on by the flattery. With a practiced hand, she adjusts the fabric once more, lowering it to the precise balance of scandalous and sophisticated. She steps back, her critical eye assessing her own handiwork. “Well, it will definitely be eye-catching.”

“Precisely.” You nod in approval, smoothing the line of the fabric with your fingers. “I believe Lady Whistledown,” you add, your voice tinged with knowing confidence, “will ensure that the modiste responsible for the diamond’s striking attire becomes the talk of the season.”

Momo’s lips twitch into a smile, and she dips her head in acknowledgment, already returning to her work with renewed purpose. Sukuna, standing to the side, folds his arms and smirks at the scene, clearly entertained by your audacity.

Your mother, meanwhile, remains silent, though her pursed lips betray her disapproval. Let her simmer, you think, satisfaction curling in your chest. This season is yours to command, and you will not be overlooked.

I cannot do this. I cannot I cannot I cannot I cann—

“Sister!” Sukuna called out. You regained your senses, snapping your head at once to look at him, who was holding out his hand. Swallowing, you grabbed it so he could assist you out of the carriage. What had you in a tizzy was the sheer amount of people. Yet again, you were attending your first party after the events in the countryside but this time without your mother and Yuuji. Not only had the people you were accompanied with changed, but also different attire. A red silk dress fell over your curves gracefully, the draping across your chest a bit lower than usual. It is the dress of your dreams—one that you would have worn if not for your mother and her beliefs regarding your image. Now, your clothing was still socially acceptable but nevertheless daring—exactly the image you wanted to present.

However, it was safe to say that after the events of the house party, venturing out in another—with so much of your chest exposed—had you nervous. Oh God, perhaps this wasn’t the brightest of my ideas— (a/n she’s just a girl :( )

“Presenting Miss Itadori, Mister Itadori, and the Right Honorable The Viscount Itadori!” As you were announced to the room, with your brothers linking arms on either side of you, you smiled—trying not to let the nerves show. At the sound of your name, the buzz of conversation faltered, dozens of heads turning toward you. You felt the weight of their gazes—sharp, judgmental, curious. You were certain half of them were eager to witness the fallout of Whistledown’s latest scandal, while the other half seemed transfixed by the boldness of your attire.

Your eyes flitted over the sea of faces as you moved through the room. There were gasps, poorly veiled whispers, and even a few widened eyes aimed at Sukuna, but what truly set your nerves alight was the attention fixed squarely on you. You resisted the urge to fidget, to adjust the neckline of your gown, to shrink under their scrutiny.

Then, amid the crowd, your gaze locked onto a familiar figure with a piercing stare—Suguru Geto.

He was lounging by the far wall, a glass of wine in hand, his dark eyes gleaming with mirth. An amused smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he shook his head, clearly entertained. Your heart stuttered, the heat rushing to your cheeks making your nerves spike further. Am I being mocked?

Before the thought could consume you, he raised his glass in a mock salute, a gesture of acknowledgment—perhaps even respect. He then nudged the man standing next to him, none other than Duke Nanami.

Your pulse quickened at the sight of the Duke, his composed demeanor a stark contrast to Geto’s casual amusement. The weight of Nanami’s steady, discerning gaze was one you weren’t prepared to meet—not tonight. In the periphery, you caught Geto slipping toward the courtyard, his laughter soft but audible as he disappeared into the night.

You tore your gaze away just in time, focusing straight ahead as you approached the Queen. Your shoulders stiffened, the intricate beading of your gown catching in the light. The murmurs grew fainter, the towering figure of Her Majesty now looming just ahead. With each step, your pulse thundered louder in your ears, but you kept your chin high, determined not to falter.

When you and your brothers reached the foot of the throne, you slipped your arms free from theirs and sank into the deepest curtsy you could manage. "Your Majesty," you murmured, lowering your head to avoid the weight of her gaze. The richness of the room—gold-trimmed drapes, towering portraits, and the hum of whispered conversations—did little to steady your nerves.

"Rise," the Queen commanded, her tone clipped and dismissive, the single word laced with impatience. You obeyed, your movements deliberate and slow, feeling the weight of every eye in the chamber on your shoulders. When you met her gaze, she was already appraising you, her sharp eyes scanning you from head to toe. Her scrutiny was clinical, and when she sighed audibly, it was clear her judgment was far from favorable.

“I have not been…pleased by the recent affairs, diamond,” the Queen began, her voice cold and detached, like a blade gliding through silk. A sniff punctuated her words, and the lump in your throat grew harder to swallow. “I fear this is a failure to the crown.”

The room seemed to tilt, your heartbeat quickening in your chest. The Queen’s disappointment carried a weight that could crush reputations, and yours was teetering precariously on the edge of her approval.

“However,” her tone shifted ever so slightly, and you found yourself snapping to attention, clinging to that single word like a lifeline. “Your recent change in…style is fitting.”

You blinked, unsure if you had heard her correctly. The Queen’s gaze lingered on the daring neckline of your gown, the rich red fabric catching the light in just the right way to emphasize its boldness. “You are not a simple and bland gem, Miss Itadori.” Her words were deliberate, measured, and the faintest hint of approval gleamed in her sharp eyes. “You are a diamond, and you must start to shine like it.”

For a moment, you were too stunned to respond. The Queen’s words were praise, yes, but they also carried an implicit warning: a diamond that failed to sparkle was of no use to anyone, least of all the crown.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” you said, your voice steady but quiet, and you curtsied again, the fabric of your gown whispering against the marble floor. The Queen’s gaze swept over you once more before she turned her attention elsewhere, her dismissal unspoken but clear. As you rose again, Choso placed a reassuring hand on your elbow, a subtle anchor in the sea of your swirling thoughts.

A light, “You all are dismissed.”

The cool night air wrapped around Suguru Geto as he strolled into the courtyard, his boots crunching softly against the gravel path. The faint strains of the ballroom's orchestra followed him, muffled now by the grand walls of the manor. A slow, self-satisfied smile crept across his lips as he glanced up at the stars. The night felt ripe with possibility, though it was the scene he had just left that truly amused him.

He exhaled, letting the crisp air settle over him, before taking another measured step toward the fountain at the courtyard’s center. His fingers grazed the cool stone edge, the chill a welcome change from the warmth of the crowded ballroom. He savored the silence, only for it to be broken by the familiar sound of approaching footsteps.

“Geto,” a voice called out, casual but clipped.

Suguru turned slowly, almost lazily, as though he hadn’t already recognized the speaker. Gojo Satoru emerged from the shadows of the colonnade, his silver hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. He moved with his usual languid ease, though his sharp blue gaze belied his carefree demeanor.

“Well, well,” Suguru greeted, his tone light but edged with something sharp. “You’re out here. Don’t tell me you’ve finally tired of the fawning crowds?”

Gojo came to a stop a few paces away, crossing his arms as he leaned against one of the marble columns. “Needed some air. The room’s packed with too many people pretending to like each other.” His gaze flicked to Suguru, scrutinizing. “And you? Slipping out to avoid trouble, or cause it?”

Suguru chuckled, swirling the wine in his glass before taking a slow sip. “Oh, you wound me, Satoru. Can’t a man enjoy a moment of peace without being accused of scheming?”

“You?” Gojo raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not a chance. So, what’s your angle this time?”

Suguru let the question hang, savoring the quiet tension between them. He set his glass down on the fountain’s edge, turning to fully face Gojo. His smirk widened as he finally spoke. “No angle. Just admiring the company tonight. Speaking of which…” He paused for dramatic effect, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his sleeve. “Miss Itadori made quite the entrance.”

Gojo’s expression didn’t change immediately, but Suguru saw the faint flicker of something—irritation, maybe, or something more carefully hidden. Gojo’s mouth twitched into a scoff, though the sound was faint, almost perfunctory.

“What about her?” Gojo asked, his tone deliberately disinterested, but Suguru noted how his fingers flexed briefly before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

Suguru hummed thoughtfully, his gaze drifting toward the sky as if considering his next words carefully. “She looked… radiant tonight. Stunning, really. I can’t imagine half the room wasn’t staring. Though, I must say, some seemed more surprised than others.” His eyes darted back to Gojo, watching for a reaction.

Gojo rolled his eyes, though there was a tightness in his jaw that Suguru didn’t miss. “She’s just another debutante. Why would I care what she’s wearing?”

“Why indeed?” Suguru replied, his voice deceptively mild. He stepped closer, leaning against the fountain with an easy grace. “But it does make one wonder—what kind of man would care? Surely someone with a sharp eye for detail. Someone with… let’s say, a bustful interest.”

Gojo stiffened slightly, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Suguru tilted his head, studying Gojo with an intensity that bordered on playful. “Because I could swear you seemed a little distracted back there. And not by the Queen, mind you. Why did you leave as soon as the Itadoris were announced?”

“Drop it, Geto.” Gojo’s voice was sharper now, but there was an edge of unease beneath the command.

Suguru’s smirk deepened as he tried to fight the urge to snicker at his friend, but he let the moment linger, letting Gojo stew in his discomfort. He picked up his wine glass again, swirling the liquid idly before taking another slow sip. Finally, he straightened, his tone turning lighter, though no less pointed.

“Well, whatever it is—or isn’t—you’d better sort it out soon.” He started to walk past Gojo, his footsteps deliberately slow. Just as he passed, he paused, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “Because if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re in danger of losing your famously cool head.”

Gojo didn’t respond immediately, but Suguru didn’t need him to. The slight narrowing of his eyes, the subtle clench of his jaw—those were all the confirmation he needed for his plan.

Suguru chuckled softly, a sound more amused than mocking, and continued on his way, his voice drifting back over his shoulder. “Enjoy the rest of the night, Satoru. Something tells me it’s going to be… illuminating.”

Left alone, Gojo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he glared at the retreating figure. “Bastard,” he muttered under his breath, though his voice lacked fervor. Still, Suguru’s words lingered, circling his mind like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch. He turned his gaze back toward the ballroom, his thoughts uncomfortably crowded with images of a certain young lady and the maddening smirk of a man who always seemed to know too much.

It appears that you and Duke Nanami have much in common, for you are able to hold a most pleasant conversation with him.

The din of the ballroom fades to a dull murmur as you stand near the refreshment table, your gaze politely fixed on the Duke. His presence is commanding yet unassuming—a rare quality that draws you in. Dressed in a deep navy coat that matches the intensity of his solemn eyes, he inclines his head slightly as he speaks, the weight of his words tempered by the gentleness in his tone.

The arrangement is perfect. You have successfully caught your target, much to the chagrin of ladies. After all, it was not all days that Duke Nanami took interest in a lady. You would have to credit Choso; he had researched that HIs Grace did not like overbearing mamas accompanying their girls—a most rational opinion. Posing fiery opinions without the presence of anyone except yourself, it seemed that you had hit the mark.

“I find, Miss Itadori,” he says, his voice smooth yet deliberate, “that many in our circles underestimate the joy of simple pursuits. They mistake extravagance for fulfillment.” He takes a measured sip from his glass, his gloved fingers resting lightly on its stem.

You nod, a genuine smile forming on your lips. “I could not agree more, Your Grace. There is a certain comfort in the unadorned pleasures of life. A good book, a quiet morning—these seem to me the most worthwhile indulgences.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up in what might pass as a rare smile. “Indeed. Though I daresay, quiet mornings are hard to come by when the season is in full swing.”

You let out a soft laugh, the sound almost swallowed by the music that swells across the room. “Quite so. I suppose we are all too busy chasing the next waltz or whispering about the latest Whistledown missive.”

At the mention of Whistledown, the Duke raises a brow, his expression a mixture of amusement and intrigue. “Ah, yes. Our ever-watchful chronicler. One wonders if she, too, finds time for quiet mornings.”

“I imagine she must,” you reply. “After all, how else would she craft such keen observations? A mind as sharp as hers surely requires moments of reflection.”

“Reflection, yes,” he murmurs, his gaze drifting briefly to the chandelier above, as if lost in thought. Then, returning his attention to you, he asks, “And what of you, Miss Itadori? Amidst the bustle, do you find moments to reflect?”

The question catches you off guard—not because it is intrusive, but because it is sincere. Few have ever asked you such things. You hesitate, then answer truthfully. “I try, Your Grace. Though I must admit, the season has left little room for it. It seems my every step is watched, my every word weighed. I sometimes wonder if I have forgotten how to simply be.”

His expression softens, and for a moment, you feel as though he truly sees you—not as the diamond of the season, not as the subject of idle gossip, but as a person. “That is a heavy burden to bear,” he says quietly. “Perhaps it is time you allowed yourself a reprieve. Even diamonds require care, lest they lose their brilliance.”

The words settle over you like a balm, and you find yourself holding his gaze longer than propriety might dictate. There is no judgment in his eyes, only understanding. It is both comforting and disarming. Before you can respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby group breaks the spell. You glance away, suddenly aware of your surroundings once more. “You are kind to say so, Your Grace,” you murmur, your voice steadier than you feel.

“I merely speak the truth, Miss Itadori,” he replies, bowing his head slightly.

A pause lingers between you, not uncomfortable but weighty with unspoken thoughts. Finally, he clears his throat, his tone lighter as he says, “Would you care to take a turn about the room? I find the air here grows rather stifling.”

You smile, grateful for the excuse to move. “I would like that very much.”

As he offers his arm, you place your hand lightly upon it, allowing him to guide you into the throng. The music swells once more, and though the room is as noisy and crowded as ever, the world feels a little quieter with Duke Nanami by your side. You can see it—early mornings with Nanami, enjoying gentle banter as he returned your thoughts without any ire, without snark or judgment. Quiet respect and gentle affection filling your days. A life free of chaos, where your worries dissipate into the steady calm of his demeanor. Perhaps this could be happiness. A steady, uncomplicated happiness.

But then you see him.

You abhor your traitorous heart for lurching ever so slightly at the sight of Gojo. He is standing near the edge of the ballroom, the golden light catching on his shock of silver hair as though it had been crafted to draw attention. His smile—always so bright, so effortless—makes the lady beside him laugh. She looks at him with a sultry, yet detached and amused expression, her fan flicking lazily as if to dismiss her own growing interest.

Your chest tightens. You know this scene well. It is one you have observed too many times, and yet you have never been able to steel yourself against the sting it brings. The way he leans ever so slightly toward the lady, as though she were the only person in the room. The way his laughter echoes, a sound full of mirth and mischief, as if he had no weight upon his shoulders.

You tell yourself it doesn’t matter. You tell yourself he doesn’t matter.

But then, as though he feels the weight of your gaze, Gojo turns his head. Your pulse quickens as his eyes widen, the usual lazy charm momentarily replaced by something sharper, something you can’t quite place.

First, his gaze lands on your face, his eyes sweeping over it with a quickness that feels like a jolt to your chest. Then, they drop lower, and you feel the heat of his scrutiny settle uncomfortably on your chest. A flicker of something crosses his expression—shock, perhaps, or something else entirely—but before you can decipher it, his gaze moves again, lower still, to where your hand rests upon the Duke’s arm.

It is subtle, the way his jaw tightens. The way his smile falters, only to return a moment later, forced and brittle. He shifts his weight, turning back toward the lady at his side, but not before you catch the way his fingers twitch at his side.

You force yourself to look away, to focus instead on Duke Nanami’s steady presence beside you. He has not noticed the exchange—or if he has, he is far too polite to show it.

And yet, the moment lingers. Gojo’s image burns in your mind like the fading glow of a candle, stubbornly refusing to extinguish. You loathe the way your heart betrays you, its treacherous rhythm quickened not by the Duke’s calm assurance, but by the mere sight of a man who has always been more trouble than he’s worth.

Nanami’s voice cuts through your tumultuous thoughts, soft and grounding. “You seem distracted, Miss Itadori,” he remarks, his gaze kind but curious.

You manage a small smile, tightening your grip on his arm as though it might anchor you. “Not at all, Your Grace. Perhaps just…overwhelmed by the crowd.”

He nods, accepting your answer without pressing further. “Understandable. These gatherings can be rather tiresome.”

“Yes,” you murmur, casting one last glance in Gojo’s direction before forcing your focus back to the Duke. “Tiresome indeed.”

But even as you walk beside Nanami, his presence a welcome reprieve from the chaos of the evening, you cannot help but feel the weight of Gojo’s lingering gaze, the memory of his startled expression etched into your thoughts like a brand. You cannot help but observe the situation. Tonight, you would be ending the night on Duke Nanami’s arm, and Gojo with another woman.

Is this not what you both wanted?

Today, it seems that the usual trio at White’s is only a duo. The blonde and raven head swirl their alcohol in their shimmering glasses while sharing a comfortable silence. That is, until one interrupts.

“How do we know we’re not simply toying with her?” The blonde man’s voice is steady but tinged with unease, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glances toward his companion. “It would not be honorable of me to pursue Miss Itadori under the pretense of riling Gojo, as you seem intent on doing—”

“Kento!” The raven-haired man—Lord Geto—throws his head back in laughter, the sound rich and unapologetically amused. He leans forward slightly, propping his elbow on the armrest, as his grin widens. “So confident in your lady-pleasing and romancing abilities, aren’t you?” Nanami’s frown deepens, but Geto merely waves him off, his laughter subsiding to a mischievous chuckle. “No, no—don’t worry. You misunderstand me. This isn’t about Miss Itadori falling for you, though,” he smirks, “I’m sure you’d manage well enough.” His tone is teasing, but his words lack any true malice.

“Then what is it about?” Nanami’s voice carries a note of exasperation, though he remains as composed as ever, swirling his drink in quiet contemplation.

Geto straightens, a glint of something sharper flashing in his dark eyes. “It’s about them. They’re idiots, Kento—idiots in love, the both of them. And it is our duty, as Satoru’s friends,” he pauses, meeting Nanami’s gaze with deliberate emphasis, “to help him realize what he truly desires.”

Nanami snorts, setting his glass down with a muted clink. “You just want to toy with them, to orchestrate the ton and its leading source of gossip.”

The corner of Geto’s mouth quirks upward in a sly smile, one that practically oozes self-satisfaction. “That, my dear friend,” he says, his voice low and conspiratorial, “I cannot deny.”

They lapse into silence once more, the kind that only years of friendship can create, as the firelight flickers and dances on the walls around them. Nanami tips his glass back, savoring the warmth of the whiskey as he contemplates Geto’s words—and the inevitable chaos that would follow in their wake.

prev. the house party | next. the lake

general masterlist | series masterlist

a/n HEYYY POOKIES IT'S HERE IT'S HERE WHAT DID WE THINK. also here is the bridgerton!gojo playlist if anyone is interested!!! i apologize it is 99% taylor swift but i will be adding more diverse songs

despite the miss itadori hate in recent times our girl is BOUNCING BACKK #mogged i cant wait for her to become even more of a diva in the next few chapterssss!!!! (not rn shes going through her sad girl era or wtvr)

suguru (left) and nanami (right) at this whole drama

also i hope none of you WHORESSSS simped for geto when we made eye contact with him (im looking at zaynesbathrobe anon and all those anons that are obsessed with bridgerton!geto). stay FOCUSED girls gays and theys

thank you for readinggggg. a hot new bombshell will be entering the villa in the next few chapters can we guess who he is??? hint he has huge tits and smelly balls

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots ;3

TAGLIST:

@ncitygreen @backstagepaige @serinatly100986 @nappingmoon @coochellati

@extremelyexh4usted @yoshisaurmuchakoopas @nixiepixee @generalstephkenobi @vernasce-blogs

@byhuenii @geniejunn @a-girl-with-thoughts @dazedin2d @chuuqxs

@megumiivs @anthastudios @arranacosmist @arishaxml @jingyuun

@undercooked-chaos-noodle @jaegersity @camzzn @bluelai @1sweetheart1

@hyori2 @babyblue0t7 @iwanttoberich420 @rosso-seta @ladytamayolover

@kalulakunundrum @r0ckst4rjk @mo0sin @angelina7890 @jaeminaur

@yamiyas @cherry-blossoms-in-red @r3inae @lagataprrr @sasfransisco

@fortunatelyfurrygiver @aurora-tiny @gojonegs @luna-v-roiya @xxemmarldxx

@soobssedwithyourex @manyno @samkysnks @stefnarda @bbqsauceonmytitties2

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multific · 2 months ago

Text

Gifts and Cake

Emperor Geta x Reader

Summary: Your marriage was arranged but your love for each other was not.

Marrying him was not in your favour.

He took a liking to you at one of your father's parties and now, you were his wife.

Emperor Geta truly showed his other side to you.

While people saw a raging crazy man, he was kind and sweet with you.

An unmerciful ruler, but a kind husband.

He always made sure you had everything you wanted.

And as your birthday approached, he came to you during the day.

Bursting into the room you currently sat, reading and eating fruit.

"Tomorrow is your birthday, My Darling Wife, I wish to know what it is that your heart desires?" his question was so sudden you froze for a moment.

"I believe I have everything because I have you, My Husband. But I do know you and you mean gifts, I simply wish for cake, you know my love for sweets and if it's not too much a new pet." you ended up saying.

"A pet? What kind? A tiger or lion perhaps?"

"No, nothing like that, I simply wish for a healthy kitten."

"A kitten. Why a cat if I may I ask?" you watched as his face filled with confusion.

"I adore them, and I wish for a small companion to be with me when you can't." His eyes lit up at your words and a smile spread on his lips..

"My Sweet Darling!" he kissed your hand before darting out of the room you smiled at his actions.

He left just as he arrived.

—-

The next morning came, you woke up to your husband missing from his side of your bed, but soon, he entered with servants.

All carried presents for you.

"My Love! This day is special, we celebrate your birth after all! To show my love for you, these are all presents from me."

"Thank you!" you smiled as the servants placed all gifts around you and left, leaving you and your husband who eagerly watched you and waited for your reaction.

You began with a smaller box, it had a beautiful new ring inside.

"To match my own." Geta spoke up and you looked at him, seeing his hand you noticed the same ring on his pinky.

"I really like it. Thank you."

You looked at all the presents which included a lot of different jewellery, dresses and sweet things.

"I really liked everything, Geta. Thank you." you smiled as he waved a finger at you.

"Not everything. Of course, we will hold a party tonight, there will be cake as I promised and I still have one gift for you."

The entire day went by pretty usual.

During the evening as promised, there was a party held in your honour.

You had so many sweets and enjoyed the songs. Your husband was there as you laughed and enjoyed yourself.

Caracalla was another pleasant surprise with his lovely gift. He arranged for you and Geta a lovely bath in a popular bathhouse.

But most importantly, your husband finally gave you your last gift.

"As promised, My Empress, your new pet. Name him as you please." a beautiful white kitten sat in Geta's arms. Such a small and gentle being.

You stood up from your seat and your husband handed you the kitten.

"Thank you, My Love. I'm very happy. Today has been the happiest." you said with a smile and a kiss to your husband's lips.

"It is only the beginning, we still have much wine to drink and we will head to our chambers." he whispered the last part into your ears, and you smiled at him once more.

"I truly love you, Geta."

"And I love you, My Empress."

You sealed your love with a kiss.

Taglist:

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

1K notes · View notes

pboogerswbb · 1 month ago

Text

EARNED IT

Paige Bueckers x reader

In which reader wants a pair of shoes but instead of just buying them, Paige makes reader earn them, each orgasm bringing her $200 closer - loosely based on a request @d3arapril got and passed onto me (ty girl ily)

Warnings: SMUT (slight CNC, use of a dildo, overstim, P being a little sadistic), lowkey filthiest thing i've written so beware

Wordcount: 4.9K

A/N: SURPRISE! enjoy this little pre-game treat while I work on the prologue for So It Goes ;)

It had been a long day. Work had been killing you and frankly, you missed your girlfriend who had been training tirelessly in the past weeks. It was as if the only times you saw each other were when she was about to leave, coming into your bedroom and kissing you goodbye for the day, or the couple hours after she got home when you ate dinner together and went to bed.

It was all okay, you understood the stakes, you always knew what it entailed to date the famous Paige Bueckers. That basketball was her life, that it meant a lot of lonely nights, sometimes for weeks during the season. But it was all worth it, because when she was there, you were the most spoiled, pampered girl in the world.

You could hear the shower turn off as you sat on the couch of your apartment, looking for something to spoil yourself with on your phone - you had received a bonus earlier today and thought you deserved something nice to celebrate. So naturally, almost out of habit, your finger was scrolling on the Louboutin homepage, admiring your dream shoes - the shiny leather and bright red sole of the shoe drawing you eye in. Maybe if you saved a little more, you could finally get them.

“You’d look so fine in those,” you’re interrupted by Paige, leaning over your shoulder to see what you were up to. When you turn around you find her shower fresh, wet hair still dripping and a robe tied loosely on her body. She smelled so delicious and clean you just wanted to bask in her. To throw yourself on her and have her hold you for days on end.

Paige kisses the top of your head from behind as she leans down and wraps two arms around you. Heaven is the only way to describe how that felt after days of missing her.

“Well gimme a couple months and I’ll save up,” you chuckle, tilting your head back to look at her. She smiles but scoffs a little at your words.

“I gotchu,” she laughs and yanks the phone out of your hands much too quickly for your reflexes.

“No!!” you yelp, jumping off the couch in a white top and underwear, following her around your apartment, feeble attempts to try and steal back the phone as she dodges you with ease, a smug grin on her face.

“‘S not even that much, relax,” Paige pushes your hands away gently, plopping herself down on the armchair in your living room that the blonde had reclaimed as “hers”.

“Got that NIL money, can buy my girl whatever she wants,” she brags, leaning back in the robe that’s not doing much to cover her legs up. The sliver of white boxers on her muscular thighs electrify you, and the confident expression on her face doesn’t help when you feel the familiar ache fluttering between your thighs.

“It’s 800 dollars Paige,” you point out, sitting yourself on the blonde’s thigh, like you had so many times before. It was something about this chair that made her want to have you on her constantly. Perhaps it was the way you two fit in it just right, the way you felt small in her arms. Nevertheless, you had spent hours in this chair scrolling Tiktok, sharing a tub of ice cream, reading books or just talking after a long day.

Paige holds you bridal style, your bare legs sprawled across her lap. Her fingertips draw patterns up and down on your thighs, sending goosebumps everywhere. You loved these moments, they almost made up the fact that she was gone most days.

“That’s nothing baby, don’ worry,” Paige murmurs, already putting her card details in.

“I’m serious P!” you groan, grabbing your phone finally from the blonde’s hands. Truth be told, you felt a little bad. Paige was always showering you with gifts, trips on your birthday, hell she had even convinced she should pay for your groceries since she was over all the time and ate most of them. She paid for every date, for gas, drove you around whenever she could. She spoiled the hell out of you and you let her. You knew she loved to do it. But still, something about it made you feel bad. To have your girl do so much for you without giving anything in return.

“I wanna earn it! I just got a bonus and if I save up some more I can get them,” you explain, the bewildered look on Paige’s face finally softening. A small grin tugs at the corner of her mouth as her blue eyes roam over your face, flickering to your lips. Her fingertips sneak further up your leg as her tongue licks over her pink bottom lip. All that was enough for you to know Paige had something dirty on her mind.

“Oh yeah? You wanna earn it?” she asks menacingly. With a confused look you nod, not quite sure what she meant.

Instead of explaining, she’s pulling you in by the back of your head, kissing you feverishly. The tension grows quickly, each kiss more passionate than the last. She wants you bad. Your hands entangle in her wet hair as you wrap your arms around the blonde. The fresh scent of shampoo, mango and guava, fills your nostrils. Paige moves her hand to your inner thighs, squeezing and caressing the soft skin, making a wet spot grow on your underwear embarrassingly quickly.

She pulls her lips away with a struggle, attempting to catch her breath. You wince, already missing her mouth.

“You wanna play a lil game with me baby?” She asks, hooded eyes blinking quickly as she refocuses on your face.

“What game?” Your voice is shaky from how much the ache between your legs had grown.

Paige sits up a little, clearing her throat. “Well, you said you wanna earn it,” she starts, walking her fingers up your thigh slowly. “and I really wanna touch you baby,” she adds. “How about each time you cum for me you get 200 dollars?”

The blush that sets on your cheeks is immediate, making your face red and hot. At first you want to shake your head, immediately turn it down. It felt so wrong. But then Paige’s fingertips inch closer to your core, and you can’t help but consider. She really wants to get you off after all. And if there was one thing about Paige, once she started she didn’t know how to stop.

The blue eyes roam your face, looking for a reaction. With a huff, Paige leans in and kisses on your earlobe. “Been away so much lately, need my girl,” she hums into your ear, chills taking over your body. That’s enough to do it.

“Okay,” you whimper, Paige grinning against your skin.

“Yeah? You not gon’ tap out?” She says with that arrogant lilt in her voice as your gazes meet.

“No.”

Your tone is much more confident than you are.

“Bet.”

With that Paige’s fingertips press into your clothed core, dragging along your clit as you moan, your head already lulling back.

“You already this wet?” The blonde chuckles irritatingly, but you’re too desperate for her to do anything about it.

“Been missing you,” you whimper as her fingers rub in a circle, her lips returning to your ear as they suck on your earlobe, pulling on it with her teeth.

“Fuck I know baby, haven’t been giving you enough attention huh?” She coos, hot breath on your neck. You nod, agreeing with her, growing wetter, needier for something she wasn’t giving you yet. “Lemme make it up for you,” she whispers, nuzzling her nose against your neck. “Stand up.”

You do as she says as if in some sort of trance, willing to bend every which way for her. Paige looks up at you, spreading her legs further and reaching for your panties. With a swift movement she pulls them down, leaving you only in the tight white tank top in front of her.

She pats her thigh, flexing the muscle there, inviting you to sit. It’s so tempting you don’t hesitate even for a moment when you straddle it. A gasp leaves your mouth when your wet cunt meets her soft, warm skin. She hisses, feeling your slick on her, licking her lips.

“Oh shit,” you whimper, Paige’s hands moving to your ass, kneading hungrily. You could already feel a fire in your abdomen, making you lightheaded.

“C’mon,” the blonde urges you to move, her hands beginning to grind your hips back and forth. The way her thigh drags along your clit is making you see stars. Paige’s eyes are locked on the way you’re grinding on her, her cheeks turning red as she lets out loud exhales and hisses at the way your pussy feels on her skin.

Grabbing onto her shoulders, you fasten the pace, needy for more.

“That feels so- oh fuck baby,” you moan, feeling Paige flex her thigh underneath you, providing just the correct angle and pressure for you. Your legs are already shaking as her hands guide you, hips moving back and forth.

“Shit,” Paige whimpers as if she’s the one getting off. Leaning forward she begins to kiss your neck, sucking enough to leave a mark and a sting but it only spurs you on. Grabbing the hem of your top, she lifts it just enough to reveal your tits, eyes locked on the way they move with your body as you grind faster.

“Look so fucking good,” she murmurs almost to herself, one hand kneading your ass, the other your breast. “C’mon, you gonna get off on my thigh?”

You nod desperately, hair falling all over your face as the coil inside you tightens, the pressure on your clit bordering on overwhelming. Your movements were turning sloppy as your orgasm approached you, desperately grinding your hips. To help you Paige’s hands return to your ass, assisting with the movements.

“Fuck Paige, fuck,” you gasp, the burn in your core so intense it made your eyes roll back. A loud smack is followed with a sharp pain as Paige slaps your ass harshly, spurring you on.

“C’mon baby,” she groans, leaning forward to kiss your chest feverishly. As her warm tongue begins to circle your nipple, you can feel yourself starting to spill over. Hands gripping onto her shoulders, she flexes her muscles one more time, your clit rubbing desperately on her thigh as you come.

“Oh-” you’re gasping, face scrunched up in pleasure as Paige’s hands guide your hips, soft lips sucking on your nipple to make the pleasure even more intense. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your cunt clenches around nothing, slick spilling out of you.

“That never gets old,” Paige moans as you try to catch your breath, your movements coming to a halt as the blonde keeps kissing along your neck and jaw. Your body already feels tired, worn out. But the night was just beginning.

“That’s 200 bucks for you ma,” she grins, finding your lips in a needy kiss. “You should know tho, you riding my thigh is worth a lot more,” Paige murmurs against your mouth. “Fuck, would pay millions to see that shit.”

Her words make you whimper into her mouth, giving her the opportunity to slide her tongue inside, meeting yours in a wet, sloppy kiss. Grabbing your thighs, Paige stands up from the chair and lifts you with ease, her robe falling open as she walks you to the couch. Placing you on the soft cushions, she watches you with hooded eyes.

“Wait here,” she murmurs before disappearing into your bedroom. When she returns, her robe is hanging off her shoulders loosely, chests and abs completely exposed. In her large hands she’s holding a purple, 7 inch dildo. A gift from the blonde but left unused because of how busy she had been.

You could still feel your core throbbing from your last orgasm, but the heat was quick to grow again when you see Paige holding it with a grin. As you lie on your back, waiting for her to touch you, Paige walks to the opposite end of the couch, leaning back and spreading her legs.

“C’mere,” she says hoarsely, her fingers curling to invite you closer. Excited, you crawl to her. Paige’s impatient hands grab you and pull you onto her lap until you’re straddling her.

“You wanna put on a show for me?” She asks. Her head is tilted back as she watches you, the blue of her eyes completely blown out.

“Yes,” you whimper and gasp when her hand smacks your ass again, sharp pain following but making your pussy more soaked if possible.

“Such a slut huh?” She asks, making you only needier. Paige looks down between her thighs, holding the toy there in her hand, the plastic pressing against your stomach.

“Ride this shit,” she says, and you can tell it’s not a suggestion with the way she’s looking at you, her jaw suddenly sharper, eyes even darker. Your legs still feel shaky, but the urge to be filled up by her is so overwhelming you can’t help but lift your hips.

The tip of the toy presses against your folds, the blonde sliding it to your entrance teasingly. Your slick is already dripping down its length as you lower yourself on the tip, Paige’s hand on your hip guiding you.

A loud gasp escapes your mouth as Paige pulls you down on the length, making you take all of it. The stretch is too much, overwhelming you quickly, making your eyes roll back. However, Paige’s grounding hand grabs your jaw firmly, bringing your eyes to hers.

“Earn it ma,” she commands, leaning back and holding the toy steady with both hands. You knew exactly what she wanted.

With slow movements you begin to move up and down on the toy, letting it fill you up all the way. It feels so good it’s almost painful, and you can’t help but moan loud when it hits somewhere deep inside you you didn’t even know existed.

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting in ecstasy. Paige is leaning back, watching you with hooded eyes and mouth slightly parted, moaning with you like she’s the one getting fucked.

“You’re so hot,” she groans, licking her lips. “Play with those tits for me.”

Without thinking your hands grab onto your chest, kneading as you pick up the pace, now bouncing on the toy that Paige is holding. The blonde can’t take it anymore, hand snaking around you to grab your ass hard.

“Paige-” you gasp as she smacks your ass again, hard enough to leave marks to remind you of tonight for the days to come.

“That’s it ma, love it when you ride my shit,” she whimpers, her voice hoarse and deep. Watching you is getting Paige so wet she thinks she might come untouched, watching you bounce on the toy - what might as well be her cock.

She can’t help it anymore, purely the way you look is getting her close enough to come. Her veiny hand moves off your ass, dragging down her stomach into her boxers where she’s met with her soaked cunt already throbbing.

“Ah shit,” she moans as her fingers slip inside her, filling her up while you ride the toy for her.

“C’mon, faster,” Paige commands. Whimpering and writhing, you maneuver from your knees to your feet, squatting on the toy now. Gripping Paige’s muscular shoulders for dear life, you begin to bounce on the toy, your tits in the blonde’s face.

“Such a good girl for me, shit,” she moans, her fingers pumping in and out of herself. She’s struggling not to come before you, her head lulling back and eyes nearly shutting.

“Oh fuck,” you cry out, the burn in your thighs becoming overwhelming as you ride her, your pussy clenching around the length inside you. Leaning backwards to give Paige an even better view, you reach back to hold her thighs for support, making sure she sees all the inches disappearing inside you, stretching you out.

“Fuck baby you making a mess on my cock huh?” Paige whimpers, trying to sound together but there’s a whine in her voice that’s telling you she’s trying not to roll off the edge.

“Feels so good,” you gasp, the new angle letting the tip of the toy hit the spongy part inside you, making fire spread all over your abdomen. You’re dripping around the toy now, probably all over the couch, but neither of you seem to care.

“You like how my cock feels inside you?” Paige asks, voice breathy.

Nodding desperately, you allow your head to lull back, the squelching sounds coming out of both of you echoing around the living room. “Love riding your cock baby.”

“Aw sh- please tell me you’re close ma,” Paige cries out, her cunt throbbing around her fingers as she watches you.

“N-need to cum,” you mewl, tears filling your eyes.

“Shit- that’s right baby, earn it for me,” Paige rambles, her voice getting whinier as your pussy squeezes the toy tight, your movements on it turning rampant as you chase your high.

“Such a good girl for me, gonna make me cum,” the blonde continues, forcing her eyes to stay open as she spills over the edge so she can watch you come on her cock. All of a sudden intense pleasure takes over you, and your moans turn high pitched and desperate as you release all over the toy, the stretch making your legs shake.

“Aw fuck you look so fucking good, yeah ride that shit,” Paige moans loud as she comes with you. Plenty of high pitched cusses spill from her pink lips but you barely hear her, too focused on the ecstasy running through you. Once the feeling passes you crash onto the blonde underneath you, whole body shaking from the strain.

“That’s it baby,” Paige praises, sliding her fingers out of her cunt and carefully bringing them to your lips. They’re glistening in the light, covered in her slick. Eyes still closed and head resting on the blonde’s chest, you part your lips and swirl your tongue around them, tasting her. You wrap your lips around her fingers and suck on them as Paige pulls the toy out of you, leaving an uncomfortable emptiness behind.

“No more,” you whisper once the blonde’s fingers return to her side. She chuckles, brushing the hairs sticking to your sweaty forehead.

“C’mon now that’s only 400 bucks,” she laughs but you shake your head.

“It’s ok, I can save the rest,” you complain, your body sore and tired and way too sensitive to be touched.

“Well I’m not done with you yet ma,” Paige whispers. “So you might as well earn a lil sum.”

With that Paige is pushing you to your back, the robe finally falling off her body leaving her exposed, nipples hard and goosebumps covering her milky skin. Her hands grip your thighs spreading them wide and without warning, she leans down and begins to slowly drag her tongue along your cunt, taking her time.

You’re already squirming, two hands on her head ready to push her off. The two orgasms had left you sensitive and worn out. You’re not sure if you could do more. But Paige seemed to have decided for you.

She grabs your wrists, pulling them to your side against the couch. “Keep ‘em there,” she orders as she begins to lick against your puffy, swollen clit, humming contently as your body begins squirms.

“‘S too much,” you cry out but she shakes her head, moaning into your pussy.

“No it’s not, you can take it,” she assures, arms wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer, to hold you down. She’s lapping you up now, desperately trying to taste every inch of you. Her warm tongue swirls in your folds, moaning at your taste. If there was something Paige Bueckers loves it’s eating pussy. “Doin’ so good for me,” she praises.

The sensation is enough to make your legs tremble desperately, your third orgasm quickly building up. Every muscle in your body ached, and all touches and flicks on your clit felt heightened, making your eyes well up. You were a mess, back arching, hands grabbing the couch, the soft pillows thrown all over the floor now. Every part of you was writhing except your hips that Paige was holding down and still for her sake. She was eating you like she had never tasted you before, as if she had been starving for you.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck-” you mewl, grabbing onto her blonde locks still wet from the shower. As you yank Paige moans, watching you from underneath her long dark eyelashes. She’s watching for every reaction, blue eyes filled with lust and locked onto every movement, every expression. She can’t look away.

Paige lays her tongue flat against your puffy clit and shakes her head from one side to the other, your cunt beginning to throb immediately.

“Just like that, shit baby,” you moan, pulling onto the blonde hair. Paige pulls back, buried so deep in your folds she’s gasping for air as she comes up. Her gaze moves from your face to your pussy, a mixture of her spit and your slick dripping out of you onto the couch.

“Aw fuck I can see this pussy throbbing,” Paige gasps and immediately dives back in, the strain in her jaw quickly forgotten by the sight of you. Suddenly she spits onto your folds and urgently leans back in to lap it all up. It was so hot, so dirty that the sight was enough for your muscles to begin to twitch a third time around this evening.

“Oh fuck, Paige-”

“Right there?” She asks, staring up at you from between your thighs, her fingertips digging into the skin of your hips. Her tongue lies flat against your swollen clit, circling against it making all the muscles in your body tremble desperately.

“Yes, yes yes yes yes!” You gasp, real tears spilling from your eyes. You’re teetering right on the edge, only needing permission now from the blonde between your thighs.

“Fuuuuckk ma, cum on my face, please,” she moans, fastening her movements and gripping you harder, her eyes rolling back when you yank on her hair hard. “Please,” Paige cries out, clearly desperate, needing to make you come.

“I’m coming, oh fuck-” you cry out, your whole back arching upwards but Paige’s hand presses you down as her tongue keeps working you, drinking up all of it as you crash over the edge. The sounds coming out of you are muffled from how hard the climax hits you, seeing stars as Paige keeps lapping you up.

“Okay okay okay stop,” you whine pulling her hair, the sensation becoming too much too quickly as you come down. But Paige only grabs your wrists tightly in one of her large hands, pinning them together and holding them against your stomach.

“I’m not fucking done,” Paige says directly into your pussy, not slowing down for a second. You try everything, squirming, pulling your hands free, but it was useless. She was way too strong, and clearly wanted you way too much to give in to your whining.

“Paige please,” you cry, eyes welling up again as the tip of her tongue moves back and forth at an accelerating speed.

“You’re not done till I say so,” Paige commands and from the tone of her voice you know - there’s no fighting if she had decided to have you.

“‘S too much.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Suddenly Paige has you flipped over, pressed against the soft armrest of the couch. Her strong hand quickly wraps around your hair and yanks on it, pulling your back flush against her exposed front.

“You want those shoes huh?” She asks with her lips pressed against your ear, a slight sadistic tone in your voice.

“Yes,” you answer weakly.

“Gotta earn it,” Paige says, kissing your neck before pushing you down by your hair till you’re bent over the armrest, ass high up in the air. Paige’s hands grip onto your ass and spread you wide open before you feel her tongue lick against your folds once, twice, until she dives and begins to lap you up even more hungry than before.

“Oh fuck!” You gasp, completely forgetting about the thin walls and the poor neighbours next door. Nothing in this moment mattered except you, Paige and her plump lips sucking on your clit, still holding you wide open for her.

“Fucking love this pussy,” Paige groans, lips and mouth working hard, getting covered in a mixture of your mess and her spit. It’s simultaneously too much and so fucking hot, the way she’s eating you from behind, the way her nose is pressing against your entrance, rubbing against it teasingly.

Suddenly your pussy is throbbing around nothing, and it’s like the blonde can tell because next thing you know you feel a sudden stretch inside you. The toy from earlier suddenly pounds into you, making you gasp.

“Ohhhhhh shit P-” you can’t even form full sentences, the sudden sensation and the speed which Paige is fucking the dildo in and out of you with making you let out a cry louder than before.

“Ohh fuck ma, perfect pussy I swear,” Paige groans, pulling herself back to fuck the toy into you with more force, watching the way you’re getting stretched out.

“‘S too big,” you cry, reaching back to push the blonde’s hands away. She grabs your wrists, holding both in one hand with ease and pinning them against your back.

“Don’t push me away,” she asserts, somehow finding a new angle as you crash flat against the armrest, making you take it even deeper. You could swear she’s in your guts now, and the loud squelching sounds your soaked cunt is making is only making your mind spin more.

Your whole body’s shaking as your front presses against the soft cushions of the couch, Paige pinning you down by your wrists as she keeps fucking into you. Your juices are everywhere, on the couch, on Paige’s face and hands, gushing out of you around the toy.

“You gonna cum on this cock?” Paige asks, her voice hoarse with arousal.

“Mmph-” you moan, face buried into the armrest. The blonde lets go of your wrists and smacks your ass, gripping it tight to fuck the toy even deeper, impossibly so.

“Answer me baby,” she groans, increasing her speed, the tip hitting the right spot each time to make you clench and throb so hard you could barely think.

“Yes yes yes ‘m gonna come fuck,” you cry, grabbing the cushions of the couch desperately.

“Yeah, you gonna cum for me just to get some shoes?” Paige sadistically says, kneading your ass. The wet sounds are becoming louder, your mess dripping everywhere.

“Yes Paige, please please please!”

“Perfect girl, perfect fucking pussy huh? Letting me fuck your shit up just like this?”

“Yes, please P-”

“Cum for me.”

She’s killing your shit, toy pounding into your guts. The stretch is so intense your eyes roll back involuntarily, and a loud whimper leaves your body as your pussy clenches around the toy, finally releasing and letting your climax wash over.

Paige is talking you through it, you’re pretty sure. But you can’t hear over your own moans, over the sounds coming from your body, over the way you felt like you might black out. Every muscle in your body is on fire, fingers gripping anything they could find. Next thing you’re being carried into your bedroom, Paige laying you down gently on your back and climbing next to you.

Finally your eyes flutter open as the blonde pulls you into her chest.

“What happened?” you murmur, and Paige chuckles.

“Just made you cum a lil too hard I think,” she laughs and kisses your forehead. Her hands are playing with the ends of your hair, stroking your arms and back, grounding you.

“Did so good for me,” the blonde coos, kissing your lips softly. You could still taste yourself on her. “You okay?”

You nod. All your muscles ache and the strain had made you exhausted, but that definitely made up for all the time Paige had spent away from you in the past weeks.

“That was hot,” you admit, which makes the blonde let out a loving giggle.

“Not you saying that, hottest thing we ever did I swear,” Paige praises, pressing kisses on top of your head again. “Let me go run you a bath baby.”

But as she moves you wrap your arms tighter around her waist, pulling her closer with all the strength you had left.

“A little longer,” you whisper against her sticky skin. Paige couldn’t dream of leaving you alone, not like this, not when you sound like that - all of it makes her bend to your every whim, she couldn’t help it.

“Okay, a little longer,” she repeats.

“And you’re ordering those shoes now,” you command, a slight shake to your voice from the prior activities.

“Deal.”

taglist: @thaatdigitaldiary @bueckersfive @sierrale8ne @lovegalor333 @xxloveralways14 @vamptizm @jadasogay @paigesbabygirl

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers fanfiction #paige bueckers x reader #wnba x reader #lilas writing

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vroomvro0mferrari · 5 months ago

Text

LN4 | Happy Anniversary!

Summary: When Lando forgets the date of your anniversary, you can get over it. However, the pressure of his job isn’t a good enough reason to excuse all of his forgetful tendencies and lack of attention for you.

Based on this request!

Lando Norris x fem!Reader, established relationship

WC: 4.8K

Warnings: cursing, angsty, sad fic with happy ending

Masterlist

The soft morning sunlight peeks through the curtains of your bedroom, casting a soft rosy glow over the room. You take a deep breath, a gentle smile settling on your face at the realisation that it’s already been a year – a year of being loved, of sharing every thought and story, of new experiences and memories... One year of being married to the love of your life. It’s hard to believe.

You turn on your side to face your husband, propping your head on your palm as you watch him sleep peacefully. Your hand is softly stroking his chest while you smile with adoration. “Good morning, baby,” you say when you notice the change in his breathing.

Lando merely grumbles, not quite awake yet. Nevertheless, he pulls you closer to his side, letting you cuddle up against his warm body. Pressing your face against his chest, you leave a few kisses along the bare skin.

Lando sighs, stretching out his body. “Good morning, darling,” he mumbles, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

You smile excitedly, sitting up to look at the handsome man you get to call your husband.

“Do you know what day it is?” You whisper.

Lando frowns as he wipes his tired eyes, “What day?”

The confusion is evident in his voice. Regardless, you nod excitedly. Your smile falters as you watch the wheels turning in his head, gathering that he doesn’t remember. You move to the bedside table, rumbling through the drawer until you find what you’re searching for.

The expression on Lando’s face changes from confusion to guilt when you proudly show the present you’ve wrapped up so neatly, the realisation settling in. “Fuck. It’s our anniversary today, isn’t it?”

You nod, “I got you a little something, to celebrate,” you clarify. The smile on your face is gentle, comforting, and it nearly makes Lando believe you don’t care that he forgot.

“Oh, baby, I’m really sorry. I can’t believe I forgot our anniversary. God, that’s bad, isn’t it? The first year, and I’ve already screwed it up. I’m so sorry, love. Fuck.” Lando rubs a hand over his face, his expression pained.

“It’s okay, Lan. I know you’ve been busy,” you reassure him, “besides, it’s only the first year, we’ll have many more anniversaries.” You offer your gift again. “Just open the present, please? I want to know what you think of it!” You say enthusiastically.

Lando’s not fully convinced yet, “But I haven’t got anything for you,” he protests.

“Doesn’t matter, I already got this for you. Open, please!”

Lando sighs, but doesn’t resist further. However, the guilt of his forgetfulness settles deeper when he opens the carefully wrapped gift. You had taken the time and effort to make something, rather than buy a present, and he couldn’t even bother to remember your first wedding anniversary. He felt like an asshole.

At his silence, you felt the need to explain, “It’s a jar of notes,” you take the jar from his hands and open it. “It’s got different things: my favourite memories of us, things I love about you, what reminds me of you, just whatever I could think of. Then, when you’re gone for work, you can pull one out whenever you miss me,” you demonstrate, grabbing a note from the full jar, “or you could just call me, or whatever.” You put the piece of paper back, close the jar, and look up to your husband.

“Do you like it?”

Lando smiles lovingly, “I love it! Thank you, baby. I love you,” he says before kissing you softly.

“I’m really sorry I didn’t get you anything. I swear I’ll make it up to you. In fact, I’ll make a reservation for tonight right now, we can go out to dinner together to celebrate, and if you want we can go shopping today too, I’ll buy you anything you want—”

You cut him off with a laugh. “That’s not necessary, Lan. I know you love me. Besides, I’d much prefer to spend today at home with you, while you’re still here,” you say, stroking his face fondly before you pull him in for a kiss.

Regardless of your objections, Lando still manages to make a reservation for tonight at your favourite restaurant. He doesn’t make a single comment when you order the salmon despite his dislike for fish, and for weeks after he anticipates every single need you might have before you can utter even a syllable. He brings you the snacks he knows you love most on his way home, makes homecooked meals for you (however bad at cooking he is – he switched to take away after the first two times), and watches your favourite shows with you even though he hates them. He does anything and everything he can think of to make you feel loved and appreciated.

Unfortunately, his efforts only lasted a few weeks. Now, you knew what you were getting into when you married Lando last year. You had been in a relationship with him for several years before the wedding, so you are well aware of the time he needs to put into his work, even outside of office hours, not to mention the amount of stress and anxiety that come with racing at such a high level. That’s why it doesn’t bother you that much that your husband forgot about your anniversary; you know the pressure he’s under.

However, lately, his work has become even more time-consuming, more stressful and he’s become less attentive. It’s no surprise with how well the last races have been going – Lando’s finishing on the podium every weekend – that pressures have increased. He’s no longer fighting for only the constructor’s championship, but he has an actual chance at the driver’s championship too. The team is excited, and working hard, and the same is expected of Lando. Additionally, the fans have been putting more pressure. You know how much Lando’s affected by the stress of it all; he doesn’t want to disappoint, and now that the car’s performing, the only factor that could cause a loss, is him. The pressure, stress, and anxiety are taking over his body. He’s becoming more forgetful and instead of spending his free time with you, his wife, he’s thinking about the next race’s strategy, working out to improve his performance, or practising the tracks. Formula 1 had taken over the number one spot in his life.

You get where he’s coming from, you really do, but one of the most important things, if not the most important thing, in a relationship is communication and recently, Lando wasn’t communicating with you. He doesn’t tell you about the pressure or anxiety, all you know is from reading the man. After the number of years you’d spent together, you know him well enough to be aware of his struggles without him having to tell you.

You’d address the issue, ask him to talk to you, but you don’t when. Lando’s gone so much that you barely see him. His early mornings and early nights don’t align with your schedule; Lando’s gone before you’re properly up and has already eaten when you get home from work. The both of you have always been busy before, but at least you’d always eat together, and talk about your day. Now that those moments are missing, you feel lonely.

Lando has no clue of the things running through your mind. After all, you never told him. Even during the summer break, you keep quiet about your feelings, not wanting it to affect Lando’s performance during the races when you know how hard he's working to do well. Besides, it does get better during the break; Lando’s home more often and his mind's not as occupied with thoughts about his work. Nevertheless, he’s gone most of the time. You had expected for Lando to spend his time off with you, but instead, he hangs out with his friends.

Although the break has positively affected his behaviour, Lando's forgetfulness remains the same. You had told him about your friend’s birthday party several times during the past weeks, asking him to come along. When he promised you would, you thought things were finally going back to normal. But now, as you are waiting for your husband to come home so you can leave for the party together, you realise nothing has changed.

It’s already quarter past eight. Fifteen minutes later than you had said you would leave. You are ready to go – makeup glowing, favourite dress on, present wrapped and purse checked – when you decide you won’t wait any longer. You had given Lando plenty of chances to show his care for you and to consider you in his plans. You always visited his friends with him when he wanted you to, and he couldn’t show up for one party you asked him to come to? You leave the house, no messages sent and your phone on do-not-disturb: let him worry.

You plaster a fake smile on your face when you arrive to your friend’s house, pulling her into a hug when she opens the door.

“Hey, girl! Happy birthday!” You say in a high-pitched voice. “I can’t believe you’re finally 25!” You continue, squeezing her tight.

“Thanks, babe,” she responds when you let each other go, looking over your shoulder. “Where’s Lando? Parking the car?”

“Uh, no, actually. He couldn’t come.” The awkward smile on your face says enough, she knows not to ask any further.

“Oh, okay. That’s too bad. I would have loved to see him. You know, congratulate him on his podiums, it’s been going well lately, no?” She walks you into the house as she speaks, turning her head to watch your reaction.

“Yeah, the team’s really improved.” Once again, the tight smile on your face is clear.

A frown forms on her face at your reaction and she’s about to ask further, whether everything is okay, when she’s interrupted.

“Hey, Y/N! I haven’t seen you in a while! How are you? You never come to the races anymore,” Carlos tells you with a fake pout.

You look at him in surprise. You always forget that everyone in Monaco knows each other. Carlos and your friend met at the golf club and had somehow become good friends. Usually, you liked seeing him, but tonight you would’ve preferred not to see him. Not because you don’t enjoy his company, but simply because you’d rather not talk about Lando, whom he’ll undoubtedly ask about.

And so, your mask shoots up when he pulls you into a hug. “Hey, Carlos. I’m good. How’ve you been doing?”

“I’ve been doing well. You heard the news? That I’m going to Williams next year?” You nod, saying a quick “Of course, congrats!” Naturally, you heard the news; everyone had. But this conversation was already heading in the wrong direction. “Yes, glad to have found a place that will appreciate me, even if the team’s not doing the best right now. Talking about the best, Lando’s been doing so well. You must be proud of him, hm?”

“Ah, yes, of course,” you say indifferently.

Carlos frowns at your reaction. “Everything good between you two?”

Your smile drops, apparently, you aren’t as good at hiding your feelings as you thought you were. “Yeah, everything is fine. Why do you ask?”

Carlos shrugs, “Just the way you react, is all. You seem kind of tense…”

You sigh, letting a silence fall for a few seconds. You might as well tell him, he’ll figure it out eventually. “You’re right. Things… haven’t been so great lately.”

Carlos frowns at your comment. “Between you and Lando, you mean? He didn’t say anything was up, he seemed fine the last time I spoke to him,” he says confusedly.

You roll your eyes at the suggestion, “I’m not surprised. He seems to be clueless to what’s been going on.”

Carlos takes a sip of his drink, “Have you talked to him about it?”

“That’s the issue. Lando’s never home, we barely speak anymore. He’s been so stressed with work that nearly all his free time is dedicated to racing. He gets up early and goes to bed before I’ve even had dinner. I’ve had no chance to talk to him.”

The frown deepens, and he breathes out a puff of air. “That’s tough.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be putting this on you.”

“No, it’s fine don’t worry about it. Sometimes you need to get it off your chest.”

You look up at Carlos, hesitating to continue your story.

“Has the break not changed anything?” He pokes further.

Another sigh. “No, not really. Lando’s using his time off to catch up with his friends. And his forgetfulness has clearly not improved either.”

“His forgetfulness?”

“Yeah, he forgot about the party, clearly.” You have to resist the urge to roll your eyes again.

“What else did he forget about?” Carlos asks with a frown.

“I don’t know if I should tell you,” you hesitate, “but he forgot our anniversary. I told him it’s not a big deal, which it isn’t, but it’s just that everything is adding up. I feel kind of alone in the relationship at the moment, like he doesn’t really care about me anymore. How can I think otherwise, when we barely see each other, let alone speak?”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. That really sucks.”

You smile sadly, as if to say ‘it is what it is’.

“It’ll work out in the end,” you tell him. You hope. “Maybe tonight he’ll realise he forgot something important, again. Maybe that’ll make a difference.” You offer an awkward smile.

Carlos breathes in deeply, putting an arm around your shoulders. “Let’s get your mind off it, huh?” he says while directing you towards the fridge.

You nod, follow him, and accept the drink he offers you. Tonight is not about Lando, it’s about your best friend and the fact she turned 25. You are not thinking about your husband until you get home.

– – – – –

You slam the front door of your shared apartment louder than necessary when you enter. Nevertheless, there’s no reaction when you enter the dark apartment. You switch the lights on, noticing Lando isn’t in the living room or kitchen. Did he really go to sleep not knowing where you were or who you were with? Whether you were safe or not? Lando obviously didn’t remember the birthday party or he would’ve come, yet he didn’t text you to ask you where you were? Does he truly care so little about you? Does he even love you anymore? It feels like a punch to the gut – like someone had ripped your heart out.

The man had been basically avoiding you for weeks, barely saying a word at the moments you did see him, but at least he was still awake to see if you arrived okay. Now he doesn't even stay up to check if you get home safely anymore? Or text you to ask where you are? To say you are upset is an understatement, you feel angry and neglected at his disregard. You feel lonely instead of beloved. The lump in your throat is a painful reminder of how close you are to crying. But you don’t.

You swallow the lump, blink a few times to get rid of the lingering tears in your eyes and go into the bedroom to take off your makeup. You lean on the counter, sniffling silently, and close your eyes. You breathe in through your nose deeply, before breathing out through your mouth. It’ll be okay. Right?

When you enter the bedroom you stare for a minute at the man sleeping peacefully before you. It feels wrong when you climb into bed next to him, nevertheless, you do it. It’ll probably take you a while to fall asleep tonight.

– – – – –

The situation hasn’t changed a bit when the racing season starts back up again. No matter how strained your relationship has become, you do want to say goodbye to Lando before he leaves for the next race. So, the morning he’s supposed to fly, you make sure to get up extra early. You don’t know how, but he still somehow manages to finish his breakfast before you’re even out of bed, the container already in the trash.

“Good morning,” you mumble, wiping your eyes as they adjust to the bright light in the kitchen.

Lando looks up from his phone in surprise, clearly not expecting to see you awake this early. “Hey, what are you doing up?” He asks in a soft voice.

“Wanted to say goodbye,” you say as you walk closer to the kitchen island at which he’s sitting.

“There’s no need for that, Y/N. I’ll see you again soon enough.” The smile on his face is sickeningly sweet, a clear contrast to the words coming out of his mouth.

You frown, “You’re leaving for a week… What do you mean, there’s no need?”

Lando sighs at your question, “Never mind, it’s kind of you to get up extra early just for me,” he smiles dismissively before getting up from his seat. “It’s time for me to go,” he says looking at his watch before grabbing his backpack and suitcase which are sitting by the door, “I’ll see you in a week.”

You’re left staring in surprise as the door slams closed. He didn’t kiss you goodbye. He always did that, even during the worst of fights. That’s your rule. Formula 1 is a dangerous sport, he could be hurt in a split second, never mind being killed. From the start of your relationship, he always kissed you before he left, just in case. You hated the thought at the start, but learned to think it was sweet; that, in case something happened, at least he kissed his girl goodbye.

You’re watching your marriage crumble before your eyes, and Lando doesn’t seem to have a clue, or pretends not to notice. This is it, you decide. This cannot go any further. As soon as he gets home, you will talk to Lando, no matter how badly it will affect his race. You can’t do this any longer.

However, somebody else is already one step ahead of you. Carlos had noticed the toll your strained marriage with Lando was taking on you, and couldn’t help confronting Lando the first second he saw him. It didn’t help either that Charles was way too curious about the relationship drama. He had been pushing Carlos to find out more to save his gossip-desperate soul after the radio silence during the break.

“Hey, Lando!” Carlos yells, jogging up to Lando and matching his pace.

“Hey, man! How are you doing? Had a nice break?” Lando asks, giving Carlos a quick hug.

“Yeah, yeah, I had fun. What about you?”

“Ah, yes. Of course. It was good to get some time off. I really needed it; finally got to see my friends again,” Lando grins while Carlos raises an eyebrow at the answer.

“What about your wife? Finally got to spend some time with her now that you didn’t have to travel so much?” Carlos asks.

Lando laughs awkwardly at his suggestive question, “You know it!”

Carlos ignores the casual response. “I actually saw Y/N last week, at a friend’s birthday party. Was surprised to see you didn’t come with her…”

A frown etches onto Lando’s face. “What birthday party?”

“I think she’s one of Y/N’s best friends, she turned 25?”

Lando’s eyes widen in realisation. “Fuck, yes, I remember now.”

“She told you about it?” Carlos asks, watching as Lando’s expression shifts from realisation to discomfort.

“Yeah… She mentioned it a couple of times,” he admits. “She didn’t tell me that she went...”

Carlos lets him ponder it for a moment before adding, “Well, she was there. We talked for a bit, actually.”

Lando feels his stomach tighten. He tilts his head slightly. “What did she say?”

Carlos hesitates, glancing around the paddock while he weighs his options. “Uhm, she said you’ve been distant lately. That you haven’t been paying much attention to her, that you missed your anniversary…”

Lando stops walking. “She told you about that?”

“Yeah, man.” Carlos sighs. “Look, she didn’t go into too much detail, but… she sounded upset. Maybe you should make some time for her, take her out on a date or something. It seems like she feels pretty lonely.”

Lando shifts uncomfortably, his heart sinks in his chest. “Lonely?” The word echoes in his mind, unsettling him. He knows the feeling all too well. He’s the reason his wife has been feeling lonely? The guilt settles deep within his soul as he mulls it over. He tries to laugh it off, but it feels hollow. “She knows how demanding the season has been. I’ve been swamped.”

“I’m sure she does, but… it’s more than that. She told me she feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.” The look on his face is serious as he says it.

Lando blinks, the weight of Carlos’ words sinking in. How could he have missed something so crucial? Why hadn’t Y/N said anything? More importantly, why hadn’t he noticed?”

“She thinks I don’t care about her?” He mutters to himself. His gaze is unfocused as he chews his lip, running a hand over his face out of frustration. “Why didn’t she tell me?” He says quietly.

“There was no opportunity to tell you, she said. You're never home.”

Carlos lets out another sigh. “I’m sorry. I know it’s none of my business, but I don’t want your marriage to be ruined. I know you love Y/N to pieces. I would be upset with myself if you guys don’t make it out together knowing I could have done something about it. That being said, I think you should talk to her.”

Lando nods absentmindedly. He didn't even consider that they might not make it out okay. “You’re right. Thanks for telling me, man.”

As Carlos walks away, Lando is left standing there, his mind working overtime. He had been busy, yes, but surely you understood that, right? He’d been working so hard for the both of you, to secure a future for you. But… had he been neglecting you without even realising it?

The conversation with Carlos continues to replay in his head throughout the day. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive as he thought. Maybe all those nights out with friends, all those early mornings spent focused on racing had a bigger effect than he assumed. He tries to push the thoughts away, to justify it with the pressure of the season, but it doesn’t sit right anymore.

The rest of the weekend Carlos’ words echo through his head, ‘She feels like you don’t really care about her anymore.’ Lando can barely concentrate with the guilt that’s gnawing at his conscious.

– – – – –

By the time Lando leaves his hotel, he has formed a plan. He has rehearsed a dozen different apologies in his head. He’ll explain what happened, that he’s been so busy with work that he didn’t notice, and he’ll say sorry and change his behaviour. And after that, all will be well.

His plan is thrown out the window as soon as he gets home and sees his wife sitting on the couch, your face pale and tired as you watch TV. The state of you makes the practised words dry on his tongue. How could he not have noticed what was happening?

“Why didn’t you tell me you felt lonely?”

You look up in surprise at the abrupt question cutting through the silence. No ‘hello’, no ‘how are you’, no ‘I missed you, baby’, just the sharp edge of confrontation.

“What?”

“Carlos told me you’ve been feeling lonely. Why didn’t you tell me?”

You frown at his directness, “When was I supposed to do that, Lando? You’re always gone.”

“That’s not true—” he tries to protest, but you cut him off.

“There was not one moment I could have told you, Lando! You’re always busy with work and when you’re not, your friends take up all your free time! You haven’t made any time for me in weeks, months even!” You yell.

Tears well up in your eyes at the confrontation. You had kept your frustrations to yourself for weeks and now that he finds out about your feelings he decides to yell at you for it. How else are you expected to react?

Your words hit Lando hard, each one landing like a punch. His eyes flicker with guilt. “I’ve been under so much pressure. The team needs me—this season could be my best chance at a championship, and I—”

You cut him off, your voice soft. “I know, Lando. I know how important your career is and that this is your chance, but that doesn’t mean all your time should be spent on racing. You’ve no time left for me anymore; all your energy is drained when I finally see you at the end of the day.”

“I can’t help that my job is demanding! You know that, Y/N. You’ve always known that. It takes a lot of time to improve, and the team is finally performing. It’s my chance at a championship! I can’t pass that up!”

“I get that Lando, I really do. But I’ve felt alone in this relationship for months now. I never see you, we never talk… The night of the party you didn’t even text me to ask where I was, or who I was with. You were already sleeping before I got home! Weren’t you worried at all? Or even curious to know where I was, whether I was safe? Sometimes… Sometimes, I doubt whether you still care about me – whether you still love me, because it feels like you don’t.” The tears slowly fall down your face while you say it.

That’s when it hits him – truly hits him. Lando swears he could hear his heart break. He looks at you in shock, and you can’t deny you feel a little better because of it. Had he really fucked up that bad? Do you really believe he no longer loves you, or cares about you? You are the most important person in his life. How could this have gone so far without him noticing? How could he have made the love of his life feel like she wasn’t loved? He runs a hand through his hair in distress, trying to wrap his head around your admission.

“I’ve been patient, Lando. I’ve been understanding, but you’re just never present. Not just physically, but mentally, too. I miss you.”

Lando looks at you sadly from across the room, disappointed in himself. He quickly closes the distance, reaching for your hand. His voice is soft when he speaks to you. “I do. I do love you, Y/N,” he says, caressing your face softly, pulling your chin up so your eyes meet, his teary eyes staring into your red ones. “You’re the love of my life. I care about you so much. You’re the most important to me, above anything else, and you always will be. Don’t forget that, okay? Promise me you’ll never forget that, baby.”

You sniffle, wiping away the tears that are slowly making their way down to your chin, while you nod. The sound physically pains him, his heart twisting torturously in his chest. He vows to never make you cry again.

“I’m so sorry I let it come this far, darling. I’ve been so wrapped up in everything, trying to win, trying to be perfect for the team that I didn’t see what I was losing in the process.”

You interrupt him, “I don’t need perfect, Lando. I just need you to be here. With me. Because if it keeps going like this… I don’t know how much longer I can take it.”

Her words hang between them, and for the first time in weeks, Lando realises the gravity of what he stands to lose if he doesn’t make a change soon. He nods frantically. “Of course, baby. I’ll do anything to make it up to you. You say the word, and I’ll do it. I don’t want you to feel like I don’t love you, because I do. So much. I can’t lose you, I don’t ever want to come this close to losing you ever again.”

He pulls you into a tight embrace, his arms wrapping around you like he’s afraid to let go; like you’ll walk away from him as soon as he does. You press your face into his chest, missing the feeling of him against you and his comforting scent. The last time he touched you, let alone hugged you feels like ages ago.

“I’ll be better, I’ll make time for you, I promise,” he mumbles, his mouth grazing over your hair, as he tugs you impossibly closer into his tight embrace.

You smile faintly through your tears. “I believe you.”

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