OH MY GOD GUYS PLS SOMEOME MAKE A MAKI X YUTA X F!Y/N FIC ABT THEM AS THEY GROW OLD LIKE PLSSSS OOOMMMMMMMFGGGGGG I would sell my soul and send toe pics with honey on em for this like guys do u hear me like guys Hai
yuta okkotsu has loved and adored you ever since he met you, absolutely infatuated with your skill in photography for his team and how you carried yourself with others— self-assured, never once letting anyone talk to you a certain way, and the sweetest thing ever to him, giving him the time of day when he feels like a loser moron that certainly doesn't deserve it. one problem though? you have a piece of shit asshole of a boyfriend who somehow became the exception to treating you badly. and yuta can't take it anymore, his year long pent up yearning and frustration for you piling to the brim before either of you realize it... until it bursts.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFFFF, yearning, pining, SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship beware, yuta is IN LOVE with you omg, ANGST AFFF, reader is the photographer for yuta's team, sexual themes, filthy dirty talk, fingering, pet names, readers bf is a dickhead, best friends to lovers, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)
word count: 11.7k
authors note: WELCOME TO PART TWOOOO OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REEEAADDINGGGG MWAH MWAH MWAH !!! amazing strawberry patch divider by @/saradika-graphics !!
PART ONE of this fic is available here! please read that first :)
“your stats are just not cutting it to where they’re supposed to be kid.”
his manager sighed, flipping through bundles of paperwork— sitting at the end of the huge oval table in the conference room, yuta and his coach seated on either sides.
“really?” yuta’s brows furrowed. “no— i mean i understand but i've been playing decent these last couple of games—”
“that you have.” his manager sent him a half smile, tossing a single white piece of paper and it sliding his way, yuta shooting a hand out to catch it.
at the top of the letter, bolded in big fat red letters, was a phrase that made him sick to his stomach.
player trade notice.
“but a couple months' worth of games, and plus the fiasco we had at the homecoming game, isn’t gonna make up for the entire season okkotsu.” his manager explained, genuine sympathy plastered on his face as he leaned forward and folded his fingers over the table. “i do applaud you for playing better recently, i do, believe me. but...”
yuta felt like he was gonna vomit.
“not unless you play so terrifically and the team manages to make it into the superbowl this year... i’m afraid we’re gonna have to trade you off for the next year. and moving forward.”
he was cold, and clammy, the blood completely drained from his face as he sat there staring at the stupid piece of paper.
yuta okkotsu had officially exhausted his luck and met the inevitable end of his career.
“i understand.” he quietly replied, his coach and his management exchanging worried looks.
“listen okkotsu—” his coach began. “it’s not permanent yet... right? you've been one of my most loyal players and i'd hate to see you go. just... just work hard and hope that we make it into the superbowl, alright?”
his manager cut in. “it’s never easy letting one of you boys go believe us, and i do applaud you again for that wicked touchdown you made during playoffs last season—”
yuta drowned out the rest of that meeting, all the way up until he blankly shook both their hands and took the contract from the table, thanking the both of them for their time and the opportunity before quietly closing the door behind him, silently making his way back to the locker room to pack up his stuff for the night.
had the meeting really run for that long that practice was over? it had genuinely felt like at least ten minutes to him... what more could they have possibly said?
it's not like it mattered anyway, because yuta was not only losing his team, his career, and his livelihood... but you.
he would no longer see you every morning and every night on weekdays. he'd no longer see you from across the stadium— taking pictures for your work and doing what you did best. he’d no longer have your water bottle in his cubby or your giggles in his ears when he managed to make you laugh in passing.
he'd no longer have nanami to guide him. he'd no longer have his cheerleader friend to lean on.
he wouldn’t have anything.
he wouldn’t have fucking you—
“yo okkotsu. the hell were you?”
yuta snapped out of his thoughts and looked up, his gaze met with itsuki just exiting from the locker room doors.
god not now man.
“you left the rest of practice we were down a receiver.” he lifted a brow at him. “and y/n has been waiting in there for you for like an hour already.”
yuta's face dropped. “has— has she?”
itsuki rolled his eyes.
“jesus as if you don’t already make it more obvious dude.” he hiked his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “you know she has a boyfriend right? so what are you doing?”
yuta's eyes drew into slits. “i’m not doing anything what are you on about.”
itsuki snorted and started trekking down the hall.
“right yeah. listen she’s hot as hell but do you really think she’d wanna be with you? of all people? if it was nanami i'd believe it.”
“itsuki i'm not in the mood tonight so just go the fuck home.”
“i’m just trying to help you!” he called from down the hall. “forget about her already! you're out of the running!—”
yuta kicked the locker room doors open, having to physically remove himself away from itsuki to refrain from literally murdering him, yuta completely missing the way you jumped at the loud noise from where you sat as he flung the letter somewhere in his cubby.
“hi yu.” you softly greeted.
“hi.” he mumbled.
why was he such a god damn failure?
you faltered a bit at his tone, but continued nonetheless.
“i um... i wanted to thank you again for the flowers!” you faintly smiled. “and for being there for me...”
“s’fine.”
he ripped his gloves off and threw them in his cubby, along with pulling whatever padding he had nestled underneath his jersey off.
“i— i talked to reno and we managed to work it out...” you timidly explained.
he froze, eyes stuck to the floor.
“so you don’t have to worry about me anymore heh! he told me that he was sorry and that he had dinner reservations for tomorrow night—”
“don’t count on it.”
you stopped, blinking dumbfounded for a couple of seconds.
“h— huh?”
“i said don’t count on it.” he snapped from over his shoulder, and you flinched at his tone.
yuta wasn’t one to talk to you like that.
“...what do you mean?”
he spun around and flailed his arms out in exasperation.
“what do i mean? y/n—” he dug a hand in his hair. “he’s a piece of shit! he doesn’t love you!”
your jaw dropped.
“are you—”
“how do you not see it?!” he shook his head side to side. “i’ve watched him be so fucking awful to you for almost two years, he forgets your anniversary, basically verbally abuses you over the phone, and you forgave him?! again?”
“yes because he’s my boyfriend yuta—”
“and what am i?!” he yelled in desperation. “did you forget what happened earlier? what i said?!”
you gnawed on the inside of your cheek.
“what— what did you—”
“i fucking love you y/n! that's what i said!”
yuta was so done.
he was done with his team, he was done with the nfl, and he was done watching you be with another man that couldn’t care less about you when he was right freaking there.
“i can’t— i can’t eat, i can’t sleep, i can’t play football i can’t do anything because i'm literally sick over you and you’re with him!”
the sight of his bloodshot glistening eyes killed you, and you sniffled, frantically trying to blink back your own tears.
“i can’t get you out of my head baby.” yuta frantically shook his head again, a palm to his forehead. “i’m so fucking sorry y/n i tried i swear to god i tried but i can’t do it i can’t shake you i can’t—”
baby.
“—i held on for as long as i could and i kept my— my space but i just can’t do it anymore. i would do anything for you i'd let you do whatever you wanted i'd let you get a cat!”
“yuta—”
“so what am i to you.” he cut you off, his breathing ragged and cheeks flushed red as he dropped his arm. “after what happened earlier in here. what am i to you.”
you hiccuped. “yu you’re— you’re my best friend—”
he let out a pained breath and closed his eyes. “don’t give me that shit y/n please—”
“you are!” you argued. “you’re everything to me you’re not—”
“they’re trading me off.”
you locked up. “what?”
“that’s what the meeting was about that nanami came in here for.” he sniffed. “i’m being traded. m'leaving in a few months.”
your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, your blood running cold and feeling like this wasn’t real, like you weren’t currently fighting with yuta and that he wasn’t being kicked from the team, like he wasn’t officially being beat down by the industry like you’d feared so much for all along.
“you can’t be— you can’t be serious—”
yuta turned his body and reached behind for the notice in his cubby, holding it out for you and you quickly taking it, hurriedly wiping your eyes and cheeks so you could see it clearly.
player trade notice: yuta okkotsu.
a breath of disbelief escaped your throat, flipping the paper over to its back and then to the front, over and over as if that was going to make this situation any better.
“coach says my only saving is if i play well and the team gets into the superbowl, which isn’t possible and you know that.” he numbly explained. “so i'm asking you again.”
you snapped your head up from the notice.
“what am i to you.”
why couldn’t you figure it out? why couldn’t you fucking admit it? why was your skin and chest burning so badly when you looked at yuta’s teary eyes?
but reno...
your hands trembled as you set the notice down on the bench, a sob wracking through you as you crossed your arms and hugged yourself.
“you’re... my best friend.” you spoke through your tears, diverting your gaze.
yuta slumped then and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart actively breaking into a million fucking pieces in that moment as he put a hand over his chest— not knowing of why but just needing to do it or else he felt like he was going to die.
you had made your choice.
and stupid itsuki was right.
“i think— i think me leaving is for the best.” he shakily spoke, turning around and dragging his backpack out from his cubby. “i really can’t be here anymore—”
“no yuta don’t say that please don’t say that—”
you speed walked over and grabbed his wrist, tugging and willing for him to look at you.
he didn’t.
“why are you even friends with me to begin with.” he mumbled. “it's because you feel bad for me isn’t it?”
a pang of hurt and anger shot through your chest.
“are you kidding?” you asked incredulously.
his frustration was entirely misdirected at this point, and his heart was screaming and pulling at him to stop what he was doing and just make amends with you, to stop making you cry, to— to—
“m’not.” he laughed humorlessly then. “why else would you even talk to me y/n... you pity me because i'm the worst god damn player here—”
“how could you say that?!” you raised your voice, broken hearted in your own way as you stared at the side of his face with narrowed wet eyes. “do you even know who the fuck i am?!”
he turned to face you head on and your fingers slipped from his wrist, expressionless with silent tears streaming down his face.
“you of all people should know that i would never do some shit like that! much less to you!”
yuta did know that.
“i care about you yuta! so fucking much i care and i worry and i think about you but i've never pitied you! not even once!”
“that’s why i can’t be here.” he choked out. “because you do that and it makes me want you more and i— can’t.”
“don’t say that please...” you sobbed. “please yu just— i need you here with me.”
he lifted his hands and carefully cupped your face as you cried, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs again and again despite the fact that it was practically useless with how much you were crying, each hiccup and beg that you iterated further tearing him apart into smaller bits and pieces.
“i love you pretty girl.” he whispered. “i love you and i can’t be here.”
“yu!—”
yuta turned your face and smushed his lips to your cheek in a firm kiss— squeezing his eyes shut in utter agony as you stood there wide eyed.
he couldn’t control himself anymore, knowing that he’d fucked it all with you by doing what he did and saying what he said— stupidly crossing the lines of what it took to lose you forever when he swore up and down that he never would.
but he just couldn’t do it anymore.
yuta held you there for a couple of seconds before detaching his lips with a little chuu, dropping his hands and snatching his backpack from the ground.
“m’sorry—” he choked on a sob and wiped his eyes with his arm, slinging his bag over his shoulder without sparing you a glance and quickly walking to the exit, pushing his way through the doors— leaving you.
you didn’t speak to each other for four weeks after that.
it was a mutual avoidance, the both of you no longer attached to the hip as you stayed on your respective sides of whatever— the field, the locker room, the wrap up at the end of the day to go home— the walk through the parking lot that was awfully quiet now without either of you babbling about anything you wanted.
yuta would cautiously make sure that you weren’t in a room first before going in himself, or you would keep your distance from him on the field when capturing photographs, neither of you even looking at one another except for stolen glances— your eyes somewhere else while his somber ones were on yours, lingering there just up until you turned your head, his gaze switching off and replaced by you looking at him— a tangled up ball of guilt and heartache in your chest that hadn’t gone away since the day you argued.
it was obvious enough that your cheerleader friend noticed, along with nanami, the two of them gently questioning you every now and then about how either of you were doing... about why you weren't speaking to yuta, why he wasn’t speaking to you, the answer always the same every time they asked.
you both were just busy.
did they buy it? no. but they knew better than to question.
it was torture and fucked up for the two of you. you missed yuta... and you didn’t know if you could ever forgive yourself for hurting him in the way that you did.
and yuta should’ve known better than to assume he’d ever be a choice to you.
his lack of sleep grew worse, along with his self-loathing and misery, his body considerably aching all over despite him sustaining zero injuries during practices, him just— exhausted every day and mourning you even when you were standing just a few feet away from him across the field, beautiful and lovely and a girl that didn’t belong to him no matter how many times he wished and begged for it.
he was sick in the heart because of you.
“speak with her.” nanami spoke while rearranging his cubby, yuta sitting on the bench nearest to him with his head hung low.
“this has gone on for quite a while. enough of a while actually.”
yuta solemnly shook his head, eyes trained to the ground as he absentmindedly tugged at his fingers.
“i can’t.” he mumbled. “i really can’t.”
“because of your pride?”
“what? no.” he softly pushed. “it has nothing to do with that...”
“i’m failing to understand the issue okkotsu.” nanami sighed through his nose, pausing what he was doing to look at him from over his shoulder. “i thought you loved her enough to make amends.”
he faltered. “i— i do.”
“then speak with her—”
“the difference is she knows now nanami...” yuta picked his head up to match his gaze. “things can’t go back to the way they were i don’t— i just can’t do it.” he tiredly rubbed at his eyes. “i can’t be her friend anymore.”
yuta messed things up with you... you messed things up with him... there was nothing more to it. nothing more to do.
and the fact was quickly eating away at him.
nanami silently nodded then, moving around a bit to take a seat next to him on the bench.
“you’re correct.” he spoke. “she knows. she made her choice. there is nothing you can do.”
yuta's throat tightened.
“but if you love her enough to set your needs aside one final time, you’ll find that making amends with her will hurt far less than you leaving things the way they are.”
yuta looked away, his brows pinched together in gloom, a permanent frown stitched on his face.
“it’ll help you find peace okkotsu...” nanami continued. “allow yourself to have a bit of it by knowing you did everything you could to get her.”
a beat of silence followed.
“you’ll live to regret it if you don’t. i promise you.”
peace.
what even was that if you weren’t the one giving it to him?
with a heavy pat to his shoulder, nanami stood and grabbed his duffel bag, murmuring for him to consider it just before packing up the last of his things and leaving, yuta sitting there in his thoughts as the locker room vacated little by little, all the way up until it was just him and the slight buzzing hum of the air conditioning unit.
yuta sighed after a few moments and placed his hands on his knees to help himself up off the bench, silently walking over to his cubby to take his backpack and sling a strap over his shoulder, zipping up his jacket before making his way out of the locker room for the night.
he wondered when it was that you went home.
he wondered if reno was still being mean to you.
he wondered a lot of things as he walked through the empty stadium, entirely preoccupied in his whirling aching brain to pay attention to where he was going, his hands stuffed in his pockets with his head down— almost thinking it was comical how he’d lost practically everything in the span of one night.
yuta wished he was into tennis instead of football. he wished he wasn’t so bad at everything.
he wished he met you first rather than reno.
and he wondered who was the one crying as he stepped through the stadium doors to get to the parking lot, a chilly gust of wind brushing across his skin.
feet coming to a halt, his eyebrows furrowed and he picked his head up, looking around at the mass of cars and thinking he was going fucking crazy, failing to spot anyone at all— but the quiet sniffling very much there.
who was still here at this hour?
a particular hiccup then made him realize that he was in fact not going crazy.
and that it was you.
he moved faster than he even realized, legs hasty and his heart in his throat, all reason and rationale for not talking to you and avoiding you flying out the fucking window as he rounded the corner of the building, hands rushing to stabilize himself on the brick wall upon doing so, chest rising and falling and cheeks flushed—
to see you sitting on the ground against the wall, knees drawn to your chest as you hid your face in your arms and sobbed.
“y— y/n?”
you squeaked from where you sat and snapped your head up, your gaze locking with his and instantly wiping your cheeks upon realizing who it was, your heart internally breaking at you noticing how much darker the bags under his eyes were...
“oh fuck i'm sorry—”
shaking his bag off him to land god knows where, he unzipped his jacket and he swiftly made his way over to you.
“are you okay?! how long have you been out here y/n it's freezing—”
he kneeled and draped his jacket over your shoulders despite your weak protests.
“put it on.” he ushered, placing the back of his hand against your cheek while helping in slipping your arms through his jacket. “put it on please you’re really cold—”
a sob broke through you then, one that made him stop entirely, his eyes softening and shoulders slumping as he looked at you, properly for the first time in four weeks— your expression completely broken hearted and torn to bits.
“what happened?” he breathed out, pupils frantically scouring over your face as he cupped your cheeks, you taking him by surprise when you immediately placed your hands over his own and cemented them to you, gripping onto him.
oh god.
“shit don’t tell me it’s because of me y/n i— i'm sorry for hurting you i'm so fucking sorry—”
“it’s not you!” you cried, drowning in your tears. “it’s n— never you—”
“then what is it?” he gently pushed, and his face fell when you shook your head no.
“why not?” yuta tightened his hold on your cheeks just a bit. “please y/n i— fuck what happened with us that doesn’t matter at all right now—”
“i’m just stupid!” you wept, your eyes glimmering with chunky tears. “everyone was telling me to— leave and i didn’t li— listen—”
“y/n—”
“reno cheated on me!” you finally admitted, weeping in his hands.
...
yuta's pupils constricted.
“he what.”
but you could only nod, sobbing and hiccuping and choking back as much of it as you could.
“i found out today—” yuta hurriedly wiped your teary droplets as you bawled. “in— in the morning—”
“the morning?!” he exclaimed.
meaning you’d been holding this in all freaking day?
“some— girl messaged me on my socials a bunch of fucking screenshots and— and pictures and videos—”
“no y/n no...” he painfully breathed out. “you looked at all that?”
you nodded, and yuta authentically felt like beating the shit out of him.
“for how long.” he demanded. “how many times? just once?”
you sobbed harder.
“the entire time we were together!” you wailed. “i don’t get what i did— wrong i— hic!— i tried so fucking hard for us and put so much effort—”
“why are you blaming yourself? it has nothing to do with you it's him!—”
“because m’not enough!” you sobbed. “everything i did and i still wasn’t enough i don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
“what?! nothing is wrong with you—” your head hopelessly drooped and yuta lifted it to grab your gaze again. “please you’re way more than enough i promise you y/n you were an absolute angel to that piece of shit moron and all he did was shit all over how sweet you are i— fuck man—”
he'd heard enough.
grabbing your arms, he placed them around his shoulders before wrapping his around your waist and hoisting the both of you up to your feet, snatching your wrist and walking.
“we’re leaving.”
“h— huh?” you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, trying your best to keep up with his fast legs. “yu where are we going?—”
“we’re going to reno’s place, you’re gonna break up with him and then you’re gonna go wait in the car while—”
“what?! no!" you dug your heels into the pavement and pulled at your wrist to stop him. “we’re not doing that we don’t need to do that!”
“y/n listen to me—” yuta reached and gripped your shoulders as you cried, his eyes wild and desperate. “you can’t stay with him after this please baby please!—”
“we’ve been broken up already!—”
he halted.
been?
“been?” he blinked in confusion. “wha— since— since when?”
you hiccupped and rubbed a fist into your eye.
“since the day we fought...” you sniffled. “i broke up with him that night...”
that was— four fucking weeks ago.
yuta let out a stunned pant, his hands unsteady as he used one to cup underneath your chin and bring your crying face up, gaze fixed on you.
“i don’t get it i—” he shook his head. “you chose him that night you— you stayed with him i thought that’s what you wanted—”
“no!” you bawled. “that’s not what i wanted—”
“but you said—”
“i want you!” you cried.
yuta's heart stuttered.
there was no way in hell this was real— yuta concurring that somehow he managed to fall asleep somewhere and now he was dreaming about something so fucking cruel—
“please say something...” you whimpered with a hiccup, and yuta slowly lifted a thumb to caress over your chin.
“you want me?” he softly asked.
you immediately nodded.
there's no way there was just no way—
“i’m so sorry for hurting you.” you sniffled. “it was— killing me so bad knowing that i hurt you and i can’t tell you how s— sorry i am that’s why i stayed away—”
“why’re you apologizing to me pretty girl...” he murmured, using his unoccupied hand to gently brush the strands of your hair away from your face. “you have nothing to be sorry for...”
“no i do!” you negated, voice cracking. “since we met you’ve been the sweetest boy ever and— and all i did was go on and on about reno without thinking about how you must’ve felt—”
“how could you have known y/n there was no way.” he laughed softly, using the hand under your chin to gently squish your cheeks together repeatedly. “now you’re just being silly.”
it had taken you long enough to realize that you were entirely and idiotically wrong. two years total to be exact. maybe even before that.
reno showed you that he supposedly loved you in flashy gestures and expensive gifts that had zero correlation to who you were as a person, he had buttered you up and sweet talked you, made you feel like you were it for him...
and all of these things conveniently happened in moments where he messed up and upset you, him so unbelievably good at manipulating and guilt tripping you that you remained blinded to it up until the moment you met yuta.
you genuinely didn’t know how in the ever living hell you were so fucking stupid.
reno never saw you for who you were, nor took the time to get to understand you, instead choosing to blame you for every misfortune that came your way or throw fits whenever you refused to allow him to get his way, him twisting the narrative every time into you being the issue— blatantly taking advantage of your loyalty and forgiveness and morphing it into something that would let him get what he wanted.
it was exactly that that prohibited you from seeing yuta.
because you had, but your frenzied devotion to making your relationship work with reno completely blocked it off, putting you into an endless pit of denial that only further sucked you into the toxic cycle that you let a man enable for so long.
yuta okkotsu was the embodiment of what a good person was supposed to be like.
he was pure, incredibly considerate of those around him and respectful, always full of everything good and everything he did was just overwhelmingly sweet, unlike anything you had experienced before from a man— one who was genuinely kindhearted in every aspect despite being pushed around by the industry he was involved in.
yuta saw right through you the minute he introduced himself to you on his first day on the team.
yuta knew you. he knew your likes and dislikes, the things that made you laugh or gag, the people you adored and the ones you couldn’t stand.
he knew you preferred silly photographs over the serious ones you had to take for work, he knew that you leaving behind your water bottle in his cubby at the end of the day was almost always a given.
he knew you loved cats. he knew you loved charms.
he knew you loved lilies.
and there wasn’t ever a moment where you had to explicitly tell him any of it. he just noticed and remembered. he made you feel seen without expecting anything in return.
he made you feel like you were worth someone to think about.
you really didn’t know when it was that you fell in love with yuta, and it was a very real possibility that it happened merely months into getting to know him, because it was yuta that unlocked a feeling within you that was entirely foreign and endearing and one you were afraid of letting in to make sense of, leaving you confused all of the time, too timid to abandon the false sense of conformity to address that it was yuta all along.
he was always the one and only choice for you.
maybe the reason why you pulled your weight so hard over everything with reno, wasn’t because you were trying to salvage the relationship... but because he just wasn’t yuta, you grasping at anything to force the puzzle pieces together— reno being all that you knew and terrified of abandoning it even if it was hurting you, stuck on the familiar instead of accepting that it wasn’t good for you.
your loyalty was in the wrong hands and you fucking knew that. you knew all along and tried to fill your own needs with the wrong person, because the right one was a little too late to the race— leaving you to give your all to someone else.
and yuta loved you through it all anyway. without conditions.
“i don’t deserve you yu...” you fought back a new wave of tears. “you didn’t deserve me literally leading you on and— upsetting you with everything that was going on with me—”
his brows furrowed as you spoke, quickly shaking his head.
“baby what are you talking about?” he continued to wipe your newfound tears. “you never lead me on... i chose to stay. i did that not you.”
“and you shouldn’t have!” you sobbed. “you didn’t— deserve to be in pain like that—”
“stop telling me what i deserve y/n...” he breathed out a little squeaky laugh that made your stomach flutter. “i’m a grown man i can decide that for myself... okay?”
you sniffled and hiccupped, and he gave you a tender smile in response.
“i hated being away from you.” he whispered.
you'd never experienced your heart pounding as hard as it was until this moment.
“i hated being away from you...” you replied, hands coming up to wrap your fingers around his wrists, caressing them.
“and i love you.”
yuta felt his heart stop.
“m’sorry i didn’t tell you that night.”
it was then that yuta okkotsu realized he hadn’t exhausted all of his luck just yet, for the privilege of having someone like you love him was a solid testament that he still had a teeny weeny bit of it left— along with hope.
and he was glad to officially use up all of his fortune on you.
“where do we go from here?” he quietly asked. “whatever you need is okay with me.”
a gorgeous smile spread across your lips then, the first one he’d seen up close since the day you argued, and he flushed at the sight.
“i... i wanna try.” you nervously bit your bottom lip, yuta’s gaze locked there. “i wanna try with us. but is— is it okay if we go slow..?”
he lit up then, having to internally swallow down the giddy scream that threatened to escape.
“of course pretty girl!” yuta smiled wide, his thumb absentmindedly tracing over your bottom lip to gently untuck from your teeth. “whatever you want.”
your cheeks buzzed at a sudden thought.
“there’s something else i want...” you hummed. “if... that’s fine?”
curiosity spiked him and he instantly nodded.
“what baby?”
your grip slightly tightened on his wrists, ever so slowly standing on your tippy toes to lean in closer.
“for you to kiss me a little.” you whispered, and yuta’s pupils dilated, dazed and loopy in all that was you as he brought his own lips closer.
the moment was awfully familiar to the one you’d had in the locker room, except lovelier and a bit frosty— your cheeks cold and both your fingertips nearly going numb, your cloudy puffed breaths visible in the air as they fanned across your faces, slight heat tickling your mouths.
“tell me you love me and i will.”
you giggled.
“i love you, yu. very much.”
your noses brushed against each other’s as well as your mouths, yuta briefly biting on his bottom lip before releasing it, intoxicated by the fact that your soft plushy lips were right there for him.
he hummed.
“that so..?”
you knees nearly buckled.
“uh huh.”
“how lucky am i...”
and he engulfed your mouth then, lips softly smacking as they wrapped around each other, slotting perfectly and yuta just about whimpering by how soft your lips were— craddling your face in his hands as he moved and deepened the kiss, savoring it all and engraving it in his mind to remember for as long as he lived.
the flutters in your stomach went on overdrive with every shift of your mouths, the two of you literally having to pull apart for a millisecond to catch your breaths before you swallowed one another back in, your hands sliding up around his neck and his down to envelop around your torso and pull you in, kissing again and again— completely lost in what it was to finally be together.
the right way.
whether yuta stayed with his team or got traded really didn’t matter to him in retrospect, because he felt he had everything he needed already... experienced everything that he needed to experience, feeling that he played the best that he could and worked just as hard through it all to keep himself afloat. he was satisfied with it.
because through his football blood, sweat, and tears... it earned him you.
it earned him peace.
and that was all he needed.
“can you do a peace sign— yes! awww how handsomeee!—”
yuta boyishly laughed as he stood in the middle of the tunnel with you and posed, surrounded by buttloads of staff and media personnel and anything else of the like, him and his teammates gathered up— awaiting for their usual signal that it was time to run out on the field and commence the game with the starting kickoff.
your camera clicked as you snapped a couple of photographs, a series of bright flashes going off, the sight of yuta so compliant and grinning widely for you, the absolute glee on his face and the crinkles by his eyes... all worked in turning you into literal doughy putty.
“you look so cute yu!” you cheesed, lowering your camera and flicking through the photos you just took, a pink hue to your cheeks. “you look so happy in theseee!”
his own cheeks warmed and he diverted his gaze, wringing his hands behind his back and leaning up against the wall, fighting with himself to not reach out and grab you for the sake of keeping what the two of you had going on in private, to respect you.
but it was as if you read his mind anyway... because you giggled and stepped closer to him, putting down your camera and adjusting the strap so the device would lay by your hip, lifting your arms to loop around his torso and propping your chin up on his toned chest, his eyes snapping to yours then before breaking out into the biggest smile.
it was still so surreal to him more often than not that you actually loved him... that he got you in the end and that you were hugging him... or holding his hand... giving him sweet cheek kisses any time you’d pass by him in the halls or when he just got off the field from training, all that made him freeze and laugh like an idiot in front of you as he tried to get his head straight from it.
yuta was oddly more bashful and nervous around you than before, because now he knew that the feeling was mutual, that it had been, that he could do all of the things he’d craved doing with you— without the hundred pounds of guilt he carried on his shoulders because your heart was trapped elsewhere.
he was happy because you were happy. and healthy. and free from the torment that you mistook for love.
“what yu?” you gently spoke up, and he untucked his arms to wrap them around your head and pull you in closer. “you okay? you nervous?”
“i am.” he shyly cheesed, craning his neck to plant a kiss to your forehead. “but it's okay! i don’t care about what happens from here.”
you pouted and whined. “but i do! don't say that silly boy...”
it had been a couple of months since you and yuta reunited, agreeing to take things slow, no titles just yet, and go at a pace that was comfortable for the both of you, loving every moment of it as you went to ample farmer’s markets to look at pretty flowers or munch on some more sweet fruit, yuta taking you out on coffee dates or planning movie nights at his apartment with bratty rika, or even beach picnics— those being particularly your favorite as you sat along the warm sand and soaked in the heat of the sun, grubbing on the food you brought before deciding to dip your feet in the chilly water for a little while.
though yuta often had to mentally and physically prepare himself every time you went on beach dates, for the sight of you in a fucking bikini was one he had to tear his eyes away from and literally avoid looking at you just to keep the dent in his pants not dented.
it never worked.
but throughout these said months... yuta also played better.
he was still teetering along the lines of being the worst player and a god awful player, but he no longer fumbled the ball whenever he accepted passes from a quarterback, or misinterpreted signals and ran the wrong direction, or accidentally gave a defender from the opposing team the perfect opportunity to score a touchdown.
perhaps the football gods didn’t want to let go of him yet, for reasons he could not understand whatsoever.
because he was sharper. quicker on his feet. more purposeful in his play that was noticeable to the rest of his teammates— his coach and manager— yuta’s player stats slowly rising little by little, contributing to his team moving along the path to the superbowl game after game, time and time again...
until his team’s jagged road through playoffs landed them in the divisional round, which they miraculously won, him and his teammates now placed in the conference championships that dictated who was qualifying for the literal superbowl.
how it happened yuta genuinely didn’t know. he hadn’t been focused on that at all, and instead on what kind of pastry he should pick up for you to give you in the morning at the stadium, or if you were hungry after work and wanted to come eat dinner with him at the small diner down the street.
but if his team managed to pull through and win... yuta would get to stay.
“why baby?” he giggled squeakily, finding the genuine anxiety and frustration on your pretty face amusing.
“because you deserve more than anyone on this team to stay yuta...” you softly emphasized, and his lips flipped into a loving smile. “you’ve been working so hard... i don’t want you to settle for a different irrelevant team when you’re supposed to be on this one. with me.”
with you.
he tilted his head then, dipping his neck down once more to ever so gently graze his nose against yours, the echoey rowdy chatter and hollering of the hasty crowd around you both subduing to indistinctness, until all that was left was you and him and the pinks on your cheeks.
“you think so?” he murmured, and you sent him a warm closed lipped smile.
“i know so.” you replied, giving him a slight nudge to his nose yourself. “i promise you.”
he grinned.
“make them feel stupid?”
and you vigorously nodded, lips coming up to capture his in a cutey kiss that nearly made him black out, tightening his hold around your head and smothering you in even closer, your bodies completely flushed against each other.
you were so soft...
“i’m assuming you did more than make amends?”
your eyes snapped open and you separated your mouths with a little smack!, yuta’s arms sliding down to settle around your waist as you turned in his hold.
you beamed.
“nanami! how are you?! oh! come find me after the game i need to get shots of you fresh off the field and sweaty i got multiple emails from—”
yuta burst out laughing and nanami flushed up beet red, physically unable to compute what he’d just heard, his mouth opening and closing as he stared at the both of you and tried to regain his composure.
“i— who is sending you these—”
“your fangirlies! i told you.” you smiled sweetly, leaning back against yuta’s pad cladded chest. “there’s never a day that goes by that i don’t get requests for a swimsuit calendar i'm telling you they need your beefed arms out—”
“i’m going back to the original subject.” he muttered, and you and yuta slipped into a fit of little snickers and giggles, hunching over and having to clutch onto each other to keep yourselves balanced.
he smiled.
“i’m glad to see you two are doing well.” nanami continued, and your eyes softened at the tiny content quirk of his lips, a gentle one of your own spreading across your face as you listened. “i was starting to believe i had to intervene.”
you laughed some more and shook your head, stepping out of yuta’s grasp to walk up to nanami, swinging an arm up over his neck to bring him in a friendly hug.
“no kento it's okay we’re okay.” you pulled away and patted his shoulder. “but thank you for worrying anyway... and for being so kind to yuta.”
he chuckled under his breath, giving you a singular nod as you walked back to yuta’s side.
“being a few steps behind everyone else is not a sin.” nanami spoke evenly, his gaze switching over to yuta. “the accumulation of everything you endured has built you to be the player you are now. rest assured that your path will match mine and only get easier from here.”
yuta was touched by his words, though he knew that deep down he could never amount to the level of skill that nanami harbored, the very same play that set him to be in the hall of fame upon retirement, the blonde haired man being the sole backbone of the team that left many worried as to how it would survive once he was gone.
how yuta would. his only teammate to look at him in the eyes and see no difference between him and a good player.
“thanks nanami!” yuta brightly grinned, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. “i appreciate it... really i do.”
“two minutes ‘til kickoff! cheerleaders are wrapping up their set!”
nanami slid on his helmet and pulled the chin strap under his chin.
“i’ll see you both out there on the field, yes?” he snapped his buckles in place, securing the helmet to his head. “be sure not to be the last one to line up okkotsu. you have generous time with miss y/l/n now no need to worry anymo—”
“ahaha!” he blurted, his neck abruptly growing hot and the hold on your hand tightening. “ahaha i— i won’t heh! i'll be there in a second!”
and with one last nod nanami left, the two of you watching his broad frame slip through the hectic crowd until he was no longer in your line of sight.
you turned to yuta and flashed him a pretty smile, bending down to pick his helmet up off the floor and holding it in your hands.
“you ready yu?” standing on your tippy toes, yuta bent his neck for you and you slipped it on over his head, readjusting the strap so it’d fit snug— clicking the buckle secure.
“mhm!” he smiled, his hands coming to rest on your waist as you slid your palms down over his jersey, dusting it off and tugging any visible wrinkles out. “as much as i can be.”
you huffed softly through your nose and reached to loop your fingers through the bars of his helmet, gently bringing him to look at you straight on.
“just play my love... okay?” you tilted your head, yuta’s eyes taking a moment to scour over your gorgeous features as you spoke. “just play that’s all you need to do. you've done more than enough already.”
and he grinned then, tenderly as he squeezed your hips and touched his helmet with your forehead, resting it there.
“i will pretty girl, don’t worry for me.” he murmured.
he'd play for you.
and whether yuta got to stay or not it still didn’t matter to him.
but it’d be nice to keep seeing you in the bright early hours of the morning at the stadium...
wouldn’t it?
“wow ladies and gentlemen! it's been one tough and close game for both team’s just up until the last quarter, the scoreboard reads twenty eight to thirty one with the hawks taking the lead— jesus i can hardly stay seated!”
“you’re damn right! the heartliners have been making uncanny progress through this entire season going through the playoffs, and now they're being carried by an unlikely source— yuta okkotsu himself! can you believe it?!”
you gnawed on your nails as your eyes stayed glued the field with a hand on your hip, fingers anxiously tapping on your radio as you listened to the idiot commentators that for once weren’t pissing you off too badly.
yuta was playing like a fucking machine.
and you hadn’t seen him play this way before, with his gaze sharp and sort of feral like as he listened to orders or made calls himself, his chest heaving and his legs moving so unbelievably fast any chance he had the ball and tried to get it to the end zone, an aura of— authority to him that was entirely new to you and absolutely lovely to see firsthand.
because yuta never received the support and guidance that he should have to flourish and be the player his management kept getting on his ass to be.
but he did all of that on his own. without needing the favor or connections of anyone to do so.
and you were so incredibly proud of him and— and in awe of him that words genuinely couldn’t describe how you were feeling in that moment as you watched him play, your nerves on fucking acid and your hands literally trembling due to the fact that there was actually a chance yuta might get to stay, that he’d get to prove himself to everyone that stupidly refused to see what you had seen the second you met him.
potential.
it was the last quarter... getting down to the last final minutes... all they needed was a touchdown and yuta would get to—
“y/n?”
you froze, and you felt the blood completely drain from your face.
absolutely fucking not—
“i um—”
against your will you turned around, reno standing there with a massive expensive looking bouquet of flowers in his grasp, staring at you with guilty saddened eyes that did everything but make you feel bad for him.
“i came to say that i'm really, really fucking sorry about everything—”
your gaze dropped down to the flowers.
they were roses.
“—you deserved way more than what i gave and did to you and... you were always so good to me babe i'm— i'm sorry.”
your eyes moved back up, raising a brow.
“how did you get on the field? you need a badge for that.”
reno fidgeted from where he stood.
“i have a buddy that works for the media.” he explained. “i asked him for a favor.”
you remained silent.
“babe you have no idea how sorry i am...” he heavily sighed and took a step closer to you. “i’m serious i... i miss you like crazy and i was just so stupid... i shouldn’t have treated you the way that i did.”
“reno i really don’t have time for this right now—”
“—no please y/n please just hear me out—”
yuta was drained.
he didn’t even know what quarter they were in, or what the actual score was, his lungs literally burning with every inhale he sucked in to regulate his breathing, limbs aching so badly from being tackled to the ground so many times and doing the tackling so many times, his brain moving nonstop from the minute he kissed your cheek goodbye and stepped onto the field.
he was just going. and killing himself in doing so all in the hopes of contributing a tiny bit to his team and get to the superbowl, to make up for all of his previous fuck ups, to stay with you.
“okkotsu!”
yuta whipped his head around to see itsuki jogging up to him.
“are you still a shitty player?” he breathed out, sweat dripping from the sides of his face as he got to him.
yuta gave him a look.
“dude we’re in the middle of a game—”
“are you a still shitty player okkotsu.” he panted. “because i'm about to call a huddle, and i'm gonna explain to the rest of the boys that i'm passing you the ball to score us a touchdown and end the game.”
yuta's eyes flew open, head snapping to the scoreboard and realizing then that it was the last fucking quarter, that the opposing team was winning and they were minutes from losing unless someone made a score in the end zone—
holy shit holy shit—
“give the ball to rei.” yuta hurriedly spoke over the cheering crowd, his tone firm. “he has way more experience than i do and i can’t promise you—”
itsuki shook his head. “you’re faster than him. i need you to run straight down the sideline and beat your defender guy.”
itsuki took a step closer, holding his gaze.
“beat your guy and i throw you the ball. and you get to stay. with y/n. deal?”
yuta felt a pang of shock ricochet through his chest at his words, the fact that itsuki was actually not being a nuisance for once and— fairly solid, was an odd thing for him to see.
but his brows furrowed.
“how do you know about y/n and i—”
“when there’s a hot girl i watch.” itsuki shrugged. “she’s a hard one to miss. that’s why the two of you make no fuckin’ sense at all i mean— yes your stats are better for whatever reason but i would assume she’d be interested in a guy like me—”
there he was.
yuta rolled his eyes and drifted his gaze away in annoyance, letting him continue yapping his ear off about utter nonsense that he drowned out for the sake of keeping himself level-headed, his line of sight tracking over the packed stadium— flashing lights and thunderous hollering, the cheerleaders dancing on the sidelines, and you.
standing face to face with reno.
his face and heart dropped, shoulders slumping as he watched reno extend an absurd bouquet of roses to you... and you reaching out to accept them.
please no.
there was... you wouldn’t. right?
you... you loved him you said you loved him you—
you said you were done with reno that there was absolutely nothing for him to worry about that you— that you wanted to take it slow no titles that— why were you accepting his fucking roses—
you then whirled the bouquet up and smacked reno’s body with it, over and over left and right you were beating the shit out of him— deep red petals flying in every direction as reno cowered and hunched, flailing his arms out in defense.
oh thank fuck—
and yuta felt a heavenly wave of relief, immediately perking up and the frown on his face breaking out into the widest grin, giggling and snickering as he watched you confront reno in the way that you were.
“y— y/n!—”
“you think roses are gonna make me drop to my knees and suck you off?! you complete dumbass?!”
you wacked him once more.
“okay! i'm sorry i'm sorry!” he exclaimed. “i— i know babe i know i'm the biggest douchebag—”
“you cheated on me reno! our whole freaking relationship you were getting your dick wet behind my back do you really think i would ever want to get back with you?!” you yelled, your blood boiling hot and chest pumping from the adrenaline and hatred you had. “what kind of fucking woman do you think i am?!”
“the greatest one i ever had—”
you reeled your arm back and smacked him again, the bouquet merely made of stems now as he whined and cowered again, your eyes briefly catching your sweet cheerleader friend from behind reno— laughing her ass off, doubling over in choking gasps, pointing and nearly falling to her knees.
you would’ve burst out laughing yourself if reno hadn’t opened his fat mouth again.
“y/n please. i am begging you.” he reached for your hand and you snatched it away. “please babe you’re right i'm— i'm awful i'm god awful but—”
“you're more than god awful.” you spat. “and stop calling me babe it’s gross.”
“y/n—”
“get off the field before i hit you again.” you muttered, spinning around and walking over to the nearest trash bin, chucking the stems inside. “we’re done reno. don't ever try to talk to me again i'm being serious.”
“y/n—”
“get off the field reno!”
“babe—”
“SECURITY!”
“NO!—”
upon breaking the huddle, there were thirty seconds left on the clock as yuta’s team jogged to their positions for a line of scrimmage, the lot of them face to face with the opponent as itsuki stood behind them by the center, crouched over and awaiting to make the call.
the crowd grew louder.
“set!...”
yuta readjusted his footing, his heart fucking pounding and the blood rushing to his ears as he waited, breathing rapidly through his nostrils as he begged and prayed that he’d just do what itsuki asked him to do.
because he had no choice but to do it. there was no other way around it if he wanted to prove his worth and make his suffering worthwhile.
if he wanted to keep spending his days watching you take photographs from the sidelines...
“hut!”
fuck it.
the crowd screeched and yuta made a run for it down the line as the huddle dispersed, his legs moving astronomically quick, feet trudging along the grass with no intention of stopping, him briefly checking over his shoulder to confirm that the ball had successfully been passed to itsuki before returning ahead.
it had!
and yuta’s eyes widened upon realizing that the path was actively clearing up for itsuki to pass him the ball.
he picked up speed and barreled down to the endzone, hyperactively keeping track of his defender opponent running parallel to him to try and take him out and run a touchdown himself, watching him out of the corner of his eye, getting closer—
“okkotsu the ball!—”
when yuta shoved his shoulder to the left and knocked the defender clean off balance, refusing to give himself time to think about anything as he swiveled around and jumped for the spinning ball, catching it in his hands before landing on his two feet.
booking it to the end zone.
“what a play from heartliners very own itsuki and yuta! christ! what kind of game is this?!”
“the kind that proves even the worst players have something to give my friend! because the heartliners may have just earned a spot in the superbowl all thanks to okkotsu and his timing—”
“go yu go!” you yelled from the sidelines, jumping up and down while simultaneously taking an insane number of photographs, your heart in your throat and tears tickling your eyes at the incredible play you just witnessed by him, your emotions so overwhelming that you could hardly even properly do your job and take the damn pictures.
you were so so so proud!
the crowd grew even louder, beer droplets flying everywhere and fans from yuta’s team begging him to keep running, to ignore whatever the fuck the other team was trying to throw at him to get him to trip up— everyone at the edge of their seats and your hands in your hair—
when yuta threw himself to the endzone and landed, scoring an official touchdown and marking the end of the game.
marking his place back on the team.
you screamed and hollered and cried as confetti cannons burst and celebratory horns blared through the atmosphere, the cheerleaders screaming and hollering themselves because they get a chance to dance at the superbowl, and you finally getting to see yuta be appreciated by the football industry and community like you’d wished for all along.
they'd finally listen. and see that yuta okkotsu was a force to be reckoned with.
you got back into photographer mode and clicked away— taking pictures of practically everything and anything, the fans, the team, the scoreboard, though taking extra time and effort to photograph yuta in particular being rightfully celebrated by his teammates, them surrounding him in tackling hugs and pats on the back that made you giggle.
but after a few moments, you saw yuta break through the crowd through your camera lens.
and was jogging his way straight to you.
your eyes blew out and you popped your head up, putting your camera down and readjusting the strap.
why was he..?
you watched as he jogged faster then across the field, unclipping his helmet before yanking it off and throwing it somewhere on the grass, you standing there totally confused with your tummy fluttering the closer he got to you.
“yu!” you called once he was of earshot, though he didn’t stop and continued, him on the brink of standing in front of you when you spoke again.
“yu— hey what’s going on why aren't you out— EEEEEKK!—”
yuta grabbed you by the back of your thighs and hoisted you up around his waist, smashing his lips to yours and muffling the rest of your words as he proceeded to speed walk through the sidelines, down the long tunnel and down another hallway until he got to the utility closet, all while smothering you with his mouth.
“yu baby!— mmpf!—”
he kicked the utility door open and shut it with his foot, shuffling through some more to get to the table in the back used for storing padding equipment, dropping you down on it and you letting out a squeak in reply— his lips not once breaking from yours.
your heart bounced around as you gently pushed on his chest and tried to get your words out.
“yu—”
“i don’t wanna wait anymore.” he breathed in between kisses, his hands clutching and kneading at the meat on your thighs. “i’ve waited two years i don’t want to.”
your tummy flipped at his words, losing yourself in his desperate kisses as he continued.
“m’so sorry but— i can’t take it slow anymore—” his swollen wet lips slid down to the space under your jaw and you gasped. “i love you and i want you— shit— so fucking much please pretty girl be mine please—”
you frantically nodded, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his wet tongue lapping up your neck, your arms around his head that pulled him in even closer, his own hands doing the same thing and rolling his hips up to meet the ache in between your legs.
“yes yes i will yu—”
“you mean it..?” he hotly spoke against your neck, moving his sloppy sucking over to the other side of your jaw and grinding. “you’ll be mine baby..?”
“uh— uhuh! i do i swear to you—”
yuta felt like he was on a cloud that was bigger and better than cloud nine, him literally swallowing you up as you shot a hand on his shoulder to keep you balanced, the other clutching his jersey as you rutted your little cute hips in rhythm with his, a feral delighted smile slowly curving his lips that you felt against your skin.
he finally had you.
"you gonna let me do what i want with you now..?"
jesus his words were making you lose it.
"mhm— pant!— a— anything you want—"
yuta's hands slid down to your torso, squeezing and rubbing at your sides while he sucked your neck before they trailed even further down, a palm settling on your waist and the other slithering its way in the space between your legs.
"make some room for me pretty girl..." he murmured, and you listened— parting your legs and him immediately sliding his hand to your clothed pussy, working you there and applying pressure that made you choke on a gasp and shudder, bucking your hips up.
he brought his head back up to level with you, his lips grazing yours as he spoke.
"this okay?" he whispered. "you like it?"
you gave him a ditzy nod that he loved, moving to hook a finger under the waistband of your jeans and slightly tugging.
"you wanna loosen these up so i can play with your pretty pussy for a little?" yuta hummed, and you just about collapsed, a loopy little smirk curling his lips. "just enough so i can feel you baby? you'd let me?"
you didn't even give him a response, you were incapable with how desperate you were for him to touch you and do whatever the fuck he wanted with you, you basically hypnotized as your hands went down to unbutton your jeans, popping it open and yuta licking his lips at the little peek he was getting of the waistband of your lacy panties while you tugged your jeans down a tad.
"goood baby—"
he helped you the rest of the way and stopped just at the top of your pillowy thighs, his blood rushing everywhere as he proceeded to impatiently slip his hand in your panties— you squeaking and flailing your hands out flat behind you on the desk.
dear god the amount of times yuta had fisted his cock to the thought of this exact scenario...
"you're so warm." he murmured, his greedy little fingers feeling you up and slotting in between your pussy lips, you already so fucking wet and squelchy, heat rising to your face at how loud you sounded as he played with you, fingers brushing your sensitive clit.
you were so embarrassed...
you gnawed on your bottom lip and shyly peered up at him with rosy cheeks, a hand coming up to cup your mouth as you whined.
"m's— sorry..."
he breathily chuckled, finding you oh so incredibly cute as you hiccuped and whimpered with every dragging rub of his fingers, drunk off of how much of your juices were coating his hand, your hips chasing after his every move.
"for what baby..?" yuta placed his unoccupied hand on the desk before lunging forward, his puffy chest gently colliding with your front and pulling you down flat on your back with no other option, a high pitched gasp! slipping from your throat as you looked up at him.
"for this?"
he plunged his index and middle finger inside your leaky little hole, you letting out a surprised moan that made you slap a hand over your mouth to shush yourself up, your face fucking burning now.
"you're so silly." he laughed, giving you no time at all to adjust to his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you and shoved his face back into your neck, planting his mouth in the space just below your ear to slobber, you turning your head the other way with a slack jaw and heaving chest. "if anything i need you louder—"
you were quite literally trapped underneath him... and you were fucking obsessed— in a state of fuzzy euphoria as he continued to finger you in such a way that pulled more obscene sloshing noises from your pussy, you whining and helplessly lifting your hips at how fast he was going.
yuta almost dug his nails into the wooden desk as he supported himself.
he can't cum in his pants he can't cum in his pants—
—but shit you were being so agonizingly beautiful in this moment as he moved— rapid and desperate, needing you to make a mess on his hand while he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot that had you mewling louder, squealing and arching your back off the table.
"you felt that baby?" he lapped and sucked at different parts of your neck, drool trickling down your skin— the desk rattling with his jerking arm and you jolting underneath him by the force, him getting a perfect view from the corner of his eye of your tits deliciously bouncing from your low cut top.
"god your pussy's swallowing my fingers i can't even pull them out." he huffed. "such a pretty greedy girl..."
"mmm yuuu!—"
your hand shot to his wrist and gripped it, though that did nothing in halting his jack hammering movements.
"what... you trying to stop me now?" he lifted his head to catch your fucked out gaze. "you bad little fucking thing..."
your mind was going through a whirlpool, having difficulty processing how a sweetie boy could speak so filthily to you and scold you in the way that he was.
"'cause i could." he hotly continued. "'i'll give you what you want and stop right now—"
"no!—"
you pulled both your hands up and away from his work, your shiny glazed eyes staring up at him, pleading.
"please no yu i'm— m'gonna cum!—"
"yeah?" yuta wildly grinned. "but i dunno if you deserve it baby... you broke my heart trying to pull my fingers out—"
you sniffled and frantically shook your head side to side in a panic. "no please! i'm sorry yu i'm so so sorry please i need— i didn't mean to!"
"mmm..." he pondered, and that only made you more desperate, quickly cupping his cheeks and bringing his face down to mush your lips against his, your kisses fast and sloppy as you tried your best to tongue him down through his fingering.
"please— mmpf— please baby—"
yuta's knees almost gave out, letting you ravish him and slop your tongue all over his mouth for a few moments before he slightly pulled back, panting against your lips and feeling how tight you were clenching on his fingers.
"good thing i can never stay mad at you."
and you fucking came, a white hot flash flooding through your body as your limbs locked up, moaning and choking‚ your thighs clamping around his hand while trying to keep your high pitched squeals to a minimum, not knowing when or how long it was until you seemingly came back down from the cloud you were riding on.
you laid there, both of your chests pumping and breaths misty, your brain trying to rewire itself back into place through the numb fuck you just went through, yuta peppering tiny little kisses along your jaw that aided in pulling you back to him.
when he suddenly detached from your skin and dipped down between your legs—
“w— wait! yu!—”
“mm?” he hummed, coming back up with a happy loopy smile on his face, only to lip lock with you again.
yuta could not get enough.
“you should—” you panted. “—be out there celebrating my love i—”
“i don’t give a fuck.”
you laughed against his mouth and forced a bit of separation, both of your chests rising and falling as you looked at each other— lips plumped red and cheeks flushed.
“why not?” you pouted, sliding a hand through his slightly sweaty raven locks, softly caressing. “you deserve to have them see and appreciate you yu and all your hard work. let them please...”
he gave you a loving tender smile then, his twinkling eyes boring into yours as he squeezed your thighs a little.
“you’ve done that this entire time.” he murmured, nudging his nose with yours. “that’s all i ever needed.”
you shyly blushed and rested your forehead against his, the both of you slipping into a fit of lovesick giggles then as you held onto each other, completely wrapped in a warm fuzzy atmosphere that consisted of no one else but of just you and him.
together.
the strings on your pinkies finally untangled and thicker.
yuta spent the majority of his life not knowing how he ended up playing football in the first place. it was something that he simply just couldn’t remember.
but the reasoning became abundantly clear to him as the days passed.
when he met you. when he befriended you through pathetic stutters and fumbles.
when he realized he’d fallen in love with you.
when he went to the grocery store during his thirty minute break to buy you a bouquet of lilies, standing there in line while he received odd looks from other customers because he was bulked up in his uniform, doing it all with absolutely no requirements because he adored you. so fucking much.
when you saw him through a lens that was entirely your own despite everyone else telling you not to.
and that's exactly the reason why life had pulled and insisted and nagged for him to keep playing football even through his embarrassing failing trials and tribulations.
why it had made him the luckiest boy alive.
so he’d cross paths with you, even if it was at the price of being the worst player on his national football league team.
yuta okkotsu has loved and adored you ever since he met you, absolutely infatuated with your skill in photography for his team and how you carried yourself with others— self-assured, never once letting anyone talk to you a certain way, and the sweetest thing ever to him, giving him the time of day when he feels like a loser moron that certainly doesn't deserve it. one problem though? you have a piece of shit asshole of a boyfriend who somehow became the exception to treating you badly. and yuta can't take it anymore, his year long pent up yearning and frustration for you piling to the brim before either of you realize it... until it bursts.
warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, cursing, FLUFFFF, yearning, pining, SMUT, mentions of a toxic relationship beware, yuta is IN LOVE with you omg, ANGST AFFF, reader is the photographer for yuta's team, sexual themes, filthy dirty talk, fingering, pet names, readers bf is a dickhead, best friends to lovers, mentions of reader having ‘pink cheeks’ is only to amplify and over-exaggerate feelings of embarrassment, shyness, and everything in between, and not to be taken literally! this is a work of fiction, and you can imagine many things for yourself :)
word count: 11.7k
authors note: WELCOME TO PART TWOOOO OMG THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR REEEAADDINGGGG MWAH MWAH MWAH !!! amazing strawberry patch divider by @/saradika-graphics !!
PART ONE of this fic is available here! please read that first :)
“your stats are just not cutting it to where they’re supposed to be kid.”
his manager sighed, flipping through bundles of paperwork— sitting at the end of the huge oval table in the conference room, yuta and his coach seated on either sides.
“really?” yuta’s brows furrowed. “no— i mean i understand but i've been playing decent these last couple of games—”
“that you have.” his manager sent him a half smile, tossing a single white piece of paper and it sliding his way, yuta shooting a hand out to catch it.
at the top of the letter, bolded in big fat red letters, was a phrase that made him sick to his stomach.
player trade notice.
“but a couple months' worth of games, and plus the fiasco we had at the homecoming game, isn’t gonna make up for the entire season okkotsu.” his manager explained, genuine sympathy plastered on his face as he leaned forward and folded his fingers over the table. “i do applaud you for playing better recently, i do, believe me. but...”
yuta felt like he was gonna vomit.
“not unless you play so terrifically and the team manages to make it into the superbowl this year... i’m afraid we’re gonna have to trade you off for the next year. and moving forward.”
he was cold, and clammy, the blood completely drained from his face as he sat there staring at the stupid piece of paper.
yuta okkotsu had officially exhausted his luck and met the inevitable end of his career.
“i understand.” he quietly replied, his coach and his management exchanging worried looks.
“listen okkotsu—” his coach began. “it’s not permanent yet... right? you've been one of my most loyal players and i'd hate to see you go. just... just work hard and hope that we make it into the superbowl, alright?”
his manager cut in. “it’s never easy letting one of you boys go believe us, and i do applaud you again for that wicked touchdown you made during playoffs last season—”
yuta drowned out the rest of that meeting, all the way up until he blankly shook both their hands and took the contract from the table, thanking the both of them for their time and the opportunity before quietly closing the door behind him, silently making his way back to the locker room to pack up his stuff for the night.
had the meeting really run for that long that practice was over? it had genuinely felt like at least ten minutes to him... what more could they have possibly said?
it's not like it mattered anyway, because yuta was not only losing his team, his career, and his livelihood... but you.
he would no longer see you every morning and every night on weekdays. he'd no longer see you from across the stadium— taking pictures for your work and doing what you did best. he’d no longer have your water bottle in his cubby or your giggles in his ears when he managed to make you laugh in passing.
he'd no longer have nanami to guide him. he'd no longer have his cheerleader friend to lean on.
he wouldn’t have anything.
he wouldn’t have fucking you—
“yo okkotsu. the hell were you?”
yuta snapped out of his thoughts and looked up, his gaze met with itsuki just exiting from the locker room doors.
god not now man.
“you left the rest of practice we were down a receiver.” he lifted a brow at him. “and y/n has been waiting in there for you for like an hour already.”
yuta's face dropped. “has— has she?”
itsuki rolled his eyes.
“jesus as if you don’t already make it more obvious dude.” he hiked his duffel bag further up his shoulder. “you know she has a boyfriend right? so what are you doing?”
yuta's eyes drew into slits. “i’m not doing anything what are you on about.”
itsuki snorted and started trekking down the hall.
“right yeah. listen she’s hot as hell but do you really think she’d wanna be with you? of all people? if it was nanami i'd believe it.”
“itsuki i'm not in the mood tonight so just go the fuck home.”
“i’m just trying to help you!” he called from down the hall. “forget about her already! you're out of the running!—”
yuta kicked the locker room doors open, having to physically remove himself away from itsuki to refrain from literally murdering him, yuta completely missing the way you jumped at the loud noise from where you sat as he flung the letter somewhere in his cubby.
“hi yu.” you softly greeted.
“hi.” he mumbled.
why was he such a god damn failure?
you faltered a bit at his tone, but continued nonetheless.
“i um... i wanted to thank you again for the flowers!” you faintly smiled. “and for being there for me...”
“s’fine.”
he ripped his gloves off and threw them in his cubby, along with pulling whatever padding he had nestled underneath his jersey off.
“i— i talked to reno and we managed to work it out...” you timidly explained.
he froze, eyes stuck to the floor.
“so you don’t have to worry about me anymore heh! he told me that he was sorry and that he had dinner reservations for tomorrow night—”
“don’t count on it.”
you stopped, blinking dumbfounded for a couple of seconds.
“h— huh?”
“i said don’t count on it.” he snapped from over his shoulder, and you flinched at his tone.
yuta wasn’t one to talk to you like that.
“...what do you mean?”
he spun around and flailed his arms out in exasperation.
“what do i mean? y/n—” he dug a hand in his hair. “he’s a piece of shit! he doesn’t love you!”
your jaw dropped.
“are you—”
“how do you not see it?!” he shook his head side to side. “i’ve watched him be so fucking awful to you for almost two years, he forgets your anniversary, basically verbally abuses you over the phone, and you forgave him?! again?”
“yes because he’s my boyfriend yuta—”
“and what am i?!” he yelled in desperation. “did you forget what happened earlier? what i said?!”
you gnawed on the inside of your cheek.
“what— what did you—”
“i fucking love you y/n! that's what i said!”
yuta was so done.
he was done with his team, he was done with the nfl, and he was done watching you be with another man that couldn’t care less about you when he was right freaking there.
“i can’t— i can’t eat, i can’t sleep, i can’t play football i can’t do anything because i'm literally sick over you and you’re with him!”
the sight of his bloodshot glistening eyes killed you, and you sniffled, frantically trying to blink back your own tears.
“i can’t get you out of my head baby.” yuta frantically shook his head again, a palm to his forehead. “i’m so fucking sorry y/n i tried i swear to god i tried but i can’t do it i can’t shake you i can’t—”
baby.
“—i held on for as long as i could and i kept my— my space but i just can’t do it anymore. i would do anything for you i'd let you do whatever you wanted i'd let you get a cat!”
“yuta—”
“so what am i to you.” he cut you off, his breathing ragged and cheeks flushed red as he dropped his arm. “after what happened earlier in here. what am i to you.”
you hiccuped. “yu you’re— you’re my best friend—”
he let out a pained breath and closed his eyes. “don’t give me that shit y/n please—”
“you are!” you argued. “you’re everything to me you’re not—”
“they’re trading me off.”
you locked up. “what?”
“that’s what the meeting was about that nanami came in here for.” he sniffed. “i’m being traded. m'leaving in a few months.”
your heart dropped to the pits of your stomach, your blood running cold and feeling like this wasn’t real, like you weren’t currently fighting with yuta and that he wasn’t being kicked from the team, like he wasn’t officially being beat down by the industry like you’d feared so much for all along.
“you can’t be— you can’t be serious—”
yuta turned his body and reached behind for the notice in his cubby, holding it out for you and you quickly taking it, hurriedly wiping your eyes and cheeks so you could see it clearly.
player trade notice: yuta okkotsu.
a breath of disbelief escaped your throat, flipping the paper over to its back and then to the front, over and over as if that was going to make this situation any better.
“coach says my only saving is if i play well and the team gets into the superbowl, which isn’t possible and you know that.” he numbly explained. “so i'm asking you again.”
you snapped your head up from the notice.
“what am i to you.”
why couldn’t you figure it out? why couldn’t you fucking admit it? why was your skin and chest burning so badly when you looked at yuta’s teary eyes?
but reno...
your hands trembled as you set the notice down on the bench, a sob wracking through you as you crossed your arms and hugged yourself.
“you’re... my best friend.” you spoke through your tears, diverting your gaze.
yuta slumped then and squeezed his eyes shut, his heart actively breaking into a million fucking pieces in that moment as he put a hand over his chest— not knowing of why but just needing to do it or else he felt like he was going to die.
you had made your choice.
and stupid itsuki was right.
“i think— i think me leaving is for the best.” he shakily spoke, turning around and dragging his backpack out from his cubby. “i really can’t be here anymore—”
“no yuta don’t say that please don’t say that—”
you speed walked over and grabbed his wrist, tugging and willing for him to look at you.
he didn’t.
“why are you even friends with me to begin with.” he mumbled. “it's because you feel bad for me isn’t it?”
a pang of hurt and anger shot through your chest.
“are you kidding?” you asked incredulously.
his frustration was entirely misdirected at this point, and his heart was screaming and pulling at him to stop what he was doing and just make amends with you, to stop making you cry, to— to—
“m’not.” he laughed humorlessly then. “why else would you even talk to me y/n... you pity me because i'm the worst god damn player here—”
“how could you say that?!” you raised your voice, broken hearted in your own way as you stared at the side of his face with narrowed wet eyes. “do you even know who the fuck i am?!”
he turned to face you head on and your fingers slipped from his wrist, expressionless with silent tears streaming down his face.
“you of all people should know that i would never do some shit like that! much less to you!”
yuta did know that.
“i care about you yuta! so fucking much i care and i worry and i think about you but i've never pitied you! not even once!”
“that’s why i can’t be here.” he choked out. “because you do that and it makes me want you more and i— can’t.”
“don’t say that please...” you sobbed. “please yu just— i need you here with me.”
he lifted his hands and carefully cupped your face as you cried, wiping your cheeks with his thumbs again and again despite the fact that it was practically useless with how much you were crying, each hiccup and beg that you iterated further tearing him apart into smaller bits and pieces.
“i love you pretty girl.” he whispered. “i love you and i can’t be here.”
“yu!—”
yuta turned your face and smushed his lips to your cheek in a firm kiss— squeezing his eyes shut in utter agony as you stood there wide eyed.
he couldn’t control himself anymore, knowing that he’d fucked it all with you by doing what he did and saying what he said— stupidly crossing the lines of what it took to lose you forever when he swore up and down that he never would.
but he just couldn’t do it anymore.
yuta held you there for a couple of seconds before detaching his lips with a little chuu, dropping his hands and snatching his backpack from the ground.
“m’sorry—” he choked on a sob and wiped his eyes with his arm, slinging his bag over his shoulder without sparing you a glance and quickly walking to the exit, pushing his way through the doors— leaving you.
you didn’t speak to each other for four weeks after that.
it was a mutual avoidance, the both of you no longer attached to the hip as you stayed on your respective sides of whatever— the field, the locker room, the wrap up at the end of the day to go home— the walk through the parking lot that was awfully quiet now without either of you babbling about anything you wanted.
yuta would cautiously make sure that you weren’t in a room first before going in himself, or you would keep your distance from him on the field when capturing photographs, neither of you even looking at one another except for stolen glances— your eyes somewhere else while his somber ones were on yours, lingering there just up until you turned your head, his gaze switching off and replaced by you looking at him— a tangled up ball of guilt and heartache in your chest that hadn’t gone away since the day you argued.
it was obvious enough that your cheerleader friend noticed, along with nanami, the two of them gently questioning you every now and then about how either of you were doing... about why you weren't speaking to yuta, why he wasn’t speaking to you, the answer always the same every time they asked.
you both were just busy.
did they buy it? no. but they knew better than to question.
it was torture and fucked up for the two of you. you missed yuta... and you didn’t know if you could ever forgive yourself for hurting him in the way that you did.
and yuta should’ve known better than to assume he’d ever be a choice to you.
his lack of sleep grew worse, along with his self-loathing and misery, his body considerably aching all over despite him sustaining zero injuries during practices, him just— exhausted every day and mourning you even when you were standing just a few feet away from him across the field, beautiful and lovely and a girl that didn’t belong to him no matter how many times he wished and begged for it.
he was sick in the heart because of you.
“speak with her.” nanami spoke while rearranging his cubby, yuta sitting on the bench nearest to him with his head hung low.
“this has gone on for quite a while. enough of a while actually.”
yuta solemnly shook his head, eyes trained to the ground as he absentmindedly tugged at his fingers.
“i can’t.” he mumbled. “i really can’t.”
“because of your pride?”
“what? no.” he softly pushed. “it has nothing to do with that...”
“i’m failing to understand the issue okkotsu.” nanami sighed through his nose, pausing what he was doing to look at him from over his shoulder. “i thought you loved her enough to make amends.”
he faltered. “i— i do.”
“then speak with her—”
“the difference is she knows now nanami...” yuta picked his head up to match his gaze. “things can’t go back to the way they were i don’t— i just can’t do it.” he tiredly rubbed at his eyes. “i can’t be her friend anymore.”
yuta messed things up with you... you messed things up with him... there was nothing more to it. nothing more to do.
and the fact was quickly eating away at him.
nanami silently nodded then, moving around a bit to take a seat next to him on the bench.
“you’re correct.” he spoke. “she knows. she made her choice. there is nothing you can do.”
yuta's throat tightened.
“but if you love her enough to set your needs aside one final time, you’ll find that making amends with her will hurt far less than you leaving things the way they are.”
yuta looked away, his brows pinched together in gloom, a permanent frown stitched on his face.
“it’ll help you find peace okkotsu...” nanami continued. “allow yourself to have a bit of it by knowing you did everything you could to get her.”
a beat of silence followed.
“you’ll live to regret it if you don’t. i promise you.”
peace.
what even was that if you weren’t the one giving it to him?
with a heavy pat to his shoulder, nanami stood and grabbed his duffel bag, murmuring for him to consider it just before packing up the last of his things and leaving, yuta sitting there in his thoughts as the locker room vacated little by little, all the way up until it was just him and the slight buzzing hum of the air conditioning unit.
yuta sighed after a few moments and placed his hands on his knees to help himself up off the bench, silently walking over to his cubby to take his backpack and sling a strap over his shoulder, zipping up his jacket before making his way out of the locker room for the night.
he wondered when it was that you went home.
he wondered if reno was still being mean to you.
he wondered a lot of things as he walked through the empty stadium, entirely preoccupied in his whirling aching brain to pay attention to where he was going, his hands stuffed in his pockets with his head down— almost thinking it was comical how he’d lost practically everything in the span of one night.
yuta wished he was into tennis instead of football. he wished he wasn’t so bad at everything.
he wished he met you first rather than reno.
and he wondered who was the one crying as he stepped through the stadium doors to get to the parking lot, a chilly gust of wind brushing across his skin.
feet coming to a halt, his eyebrows furrowed and he picked his head up, looking around at the mass of cars and thinking he was going fucking crazy, failing to spot anyone at all— but the quiet sniffling very much there.
who was still here at this hour?
a particular hiccup then made him realize that he was in fact not going crazy.
and that it was you.
he moved faster than he even realized, legs hasty and his heart in his throat, all reason and rationale for not talking to you and avoiding you flying out the fucking window as he rounded the corner of the building, hands rushing to stabilize himself on the brick wall upon doing so, chest rising and falling and cheeks flushed—
to see you sitting on the ground against the wall, knees drawn to your chest as you hid your face in your arms and sobbed.
“y— y/n?”
you squeaked from where you sat and snapped your head up, your gaze locking with his and instantly wiping your cheeks upon realizing who it was, your heart internally breaking at you noticing how much darker the bags under his eyes were...
“oh fuck i'm sorry—”
shaking his bag off him to land god knows where, he unzipped his jacket and he swiftly made his way over to you.
“are you okay?! how long have you been out here y/n it's freezing—”
he kneeled and draped his jacket over your shoulders despite your weak protests.
“put it on.” he ushered, placing the back of his hand against your cheek while helping in slipping your arms through his jacket. “put it on please you’re really cold—”
a sob broke through you then, one that made him stop entirely, his eyes softening and shoulders slumping as he looked at you, properly for the first time in four weeks— your expression completely broken hearted and torn to bits.
“what happened?” he breathed out, pupils frantically scouring over your face as he cupped your cheeks, you taking him by surprise when you immediately placed your hands over his own and cemented them to you, gripping onto him.
oh god.
“shit don’t tell me it’s because of me y/n i— i'm sorry for hurting you i'm so fucking sorry—”
“it’s not you!” you cried, drowning in your tears. “it’s n— never you—”
“then what is it?” he gently pushed, and his face fell when you shook your head no.
“why not?” yuta tightened his hold on your cheeks just a bit. “please y/n i— fuck what happened with us that doesn’t matter at all right now—”
“i’m just stupid!” you wept, your eyes glimmering with chunky tears. “everyone was telling me to— leave and i didn’t li— listen—”
“y/n—”
“reno cheated on me!” you finally admitted, weeping in his hands.
...
yuta's pupils constricted.
“he what.”
but you could only nod, sobbing and hiccuping and choking back as much of it as you could.
“i found out today—” yuta hurriedly wiped your teary droplets as you bawled. “in— in the morning—”
“the morning?!” he exclaimed.
meaning you’d been holding this in all freaking day?
“some— girl messaged me on my socials a bunch of fucking screenshots and— and pictures and videos—”
“no y/n no...” he painfully breathed out. “you looked at all that?”
you nodded, and yuta authentically felt like beating the shit out of him.
“for how long.” he demanded. “how many times? just once?”
you sobbed harder.
“the entire time we were together!” you wailed. “i don’t get what i did— wrong i— hic!— i tried so fucking hard for us and put so much effort—”
“why are you blaming yourself? it has nothing to do with you it's him!—”
“because m’not enough!” you sobbed. “everything i did and i still wasn’t enough i don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
“what?! nothing is wrong with you—” your head hopelessly drooped and yuta lifted it to grab your gaze again. “please you’re way more than enough i promise you y/n you were an absolute angel to that piece of shit moron and all he did was shit all over how sweet you are i— fuck man—”
he'd heard enough.
grabbing your arms, he placed them around his shoulders before wrapping his around your waist and hoisting the both of you up to your feet, snatching your wrist and walking.
“we’re leaving.”
“h— huh?” you wiped your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater, trying your best to keep up with his fast legs. “yu where are we going?—”
“we’re going to reno’s place, you’re gonna break up with him and then you’re gonna go wait in the car while—”
“what?! no!" you dug your heels into the pavement and pulled at your wrist to stop him. “we’re not doing that we don’t need to do that!”
“y/n listen to me—” yuta reached and gripped your shoulders as you cried, his eyes wild and desperate. “you can’t stay with him after this please baby please!—”
“we’ve been broken up already!—”
he halted.
been?
“been?” he blinked in confusion. “wha— since— since when?”
you hiccupped and rubbed a fist into your eye.
“since the day we fought...” you sniffled. “i broke up with him that night...”
that was— four fucking weeks ago.
yuta let out a stunned pant, his hands unsteady as he used one to cup underneath your chin and bring your crying face up, gaze fixed on you.
“i don’t get it i—” he shook his head. “you chose him that night you— you stayed with him i thought that’s what you wanted—”
“no!” you bawled. “that’s not what i wanted—”
“but you said—”
“i want you!” you cried.
yuta's heart stuttered.
there was no way in hell this was real— yuta concurring that somehow he managed to fall asleep somewhere and now he was dreaming about something so fucking cruel—
“please say something...” you whimpered with a hiccup, and yuta slowly lifted a thumb to caress over your chin.
“you want me?” he softly asked.
you immediately nodded.
there's no way there was just no way—
“i’m so sorry for hurting you.” you sniffled. “it was— killing me so bad knowing that i hurt you and i can’t tell you how s— sorry i am that’s why i stayed away—”
“why’re you apologizing to me pretty girl...” he murmured, using his unoccupied hand to gently brush the strands of your hair away from your face. “you have nothing to be sorry for...”
“no i do!” you negated, voice cracking. “since we met you’ve been the sweetest boy ever and— and all i did was go on and on about reno without thinking about how you must’ve felt—”
“how could you have known y/n there was no way.” he laughed softly, using the hand under your chin to gently squish your cheeks together repeatedly. “now you’re just being silly.”
it had taken you long enough to realize that you were entirely and idiotically wrong. two years total to be exact. maybe even before that.
reno showed you that he supposedly loved you in flashy gestures and expensive gifts that had zero correlation to who you were as a person, he had buttered you up and sweet talked you, made you feel like you were it for him...
and all of these things conveniently happened in moments where he messed up and upset you, him so unbelievably good at manipulating and guilt tripping you that you remained blinded to it up until the moment you met yuta.
you genuinely didn’t know how in the ever living hell you were so fucking stupid.
reno never saw you for who you were, nor took the time to get to understand you, instead choosing to blame you for every misfortune that came your way or throw fits whenever you refused to allow him to get his way, him twisting the narrative every time into you being the issue— blatantly taking advantage of your loyalty and forgiveness and morphing it into something that would let him get what he wanted.
it was exactly that that prohibited you from seeing yuta.
because you had, but your frenzied devotion to making your relationship work with reno completely blocked it off, putting you into an endless pit of denial that only further sucked you into the toxic cycle that you let a man enable for so long.
yuta okkotsu was the embodiment of what a good person was supposed to be like.
he was pure, incredibly considerate of those around him and respectful, always full of everything good and everything he did was just overwhelmingly sweet, unlike anything you had experienced before from a man— one who was genuinely kindhearted in every aspect despite being pushed around by the industry he was involved in.
yuta saw right through you the minute he introduced himself to you on his first day on the team.
yuta knew you. he knew your likes and dislikes, the things that made you laugh or gag, the people you adored and the ones you couldn’t stand.
he knew you preferred silly photographs over the serious ones you had to take for work, he knew that you leaving behind your water bottle in his cubby at the end of the day was almost always a given.
he knew you loved cats. he knew you loved charms.
he knew you loved lilies.
and there wasn’t ever a moment where you had to explicitly tell him any of it. he just noticed and remembered. he made you feel seen without expecting anything in return.
he made you feel like you were worth someone to think about.
you really didn’t know when it was that you fell in love with yuta, and it was a very real possibility that it happened merely months into getting to know him, because it was yuta that unlocked a feeling within you that was entirely foreign and endearing and one you were afraid of letting in to make sense of, leaving you confused all of the time, too timid to abandon the false sense of conformity to address that it was yuta all along.
he was always the one and only choice for you.
maybe the reason why you pulled your weight so hard over everything with reno, wasn’t because you were trying to salvage the relationship... but because he just wasn’t yuta, you grasping at anything to force the puzzle pieces together— reno being all that you knew and terrified of abandoning it even if it was hurting you, stuck on the familiar instead of accepting that it wasn’t good for you.
your loyalty was in the wrong hands and you fucking knew that. you knew all along and tried to fill your own needs with the wrong person, because the right one was a little too late to the race— leaving you to give your all to someone else.
and yuta loved you through it all anyway. without conditions.
“i don’t deserve you yu...” you fought back a new wave of tears. “you didn’t deserve me literally leading you on and— upsetting you with everything that was going on with me—”
his brows furrowed as you spoke, quickly shaking his head.
“baby what are you talking about?” he continued to wipe your newfound tears. “you never lead me on... i chose to stay. i did that not you.”
“and you shouldn’t have!” you sobbed. “you didn’t— deserve to be in pain like that—”
“stop telling me what i deserve y/n...” he breathed out a little squeaky laugh that made your stomach flutter. “i’m a grown man i can decide that for myself... okay?”
you sniffled and hiccupped, and he gave you a tender smile in response.
“i hated being away from you.” he whispered.
you'd never experienced your heart pounding as hard as it was until this moment.
“i hated being away from you...” you replied, hands coming up to wrap your fingers around his wrists, caressing them.
“and i love you.”
yuta felt his heart stop.
“m’sorry i didn’t tell you that night.”
it was then that yuta okkotsu realized he hadn’t exhausted all of his luck just yet, for the privilege of having someone like you love him was a solid testament that he still had a teeny weeny bit of it left— along with hope.
and he was glad to officially use up all of his fortune on you.
“where do we go from here?” he quietly asked. “whatever you need is okay with me.”
a gorgeous smile spread across your lips then, the first one he’d seen up close since the day you argued, and he flushed at the sight.
“i... i wanna try.” you nervously bit your bottom lip, yuta’s gaze locked there. “i wanna try with us. but is— is it okay if we go slow..?”
he lit up then, having to internally swallow down the giddy scream that threatened to escape.
“of course pretty girl!” yuta smiled wide, his thumb absentmindedly tracing over your bottom lip to gently untuck from your teeth. “whatever you want.”
your cheeks buzzed at a sudden thought.
“there’s something else i want...” you hummed. “if... that’s fine?”
curiosity spiked him and he instantly nodded.
“what baby?”
your grip slightly tightened on his wrists, ever so slowly standing on your tippy toes to lean in closer.
“for you to kiss me a little.” you whispered, and yuta’s pupils dilated, dazed and loopy in all that was you as he brought his own lips closer.
the moment was awfully familiar to the one you’d had in the locker room, except lovelier and a bit frosty— your cheeks cold and both your fingertips nearly going numb, your cloudy puffed breaths visible in the air as they fanned across your faces, slight heat tickling your mouths.
“tell me you love me and i will.”
you giggled.
“i love you, yu. very much.”
your noses brushed against each other’s as well as your mouths, yuta briefly biting on his bottom lip before releasing it, intoxicated by the fact that your soft plushy lips were right there for him.
he hummed.
“that so..?”
you knees nearly buckled.
“uh huh.”
“how lucky am i...”
and he engulfed your mouth then, lips softly smacking as they wrapped around each other, slotting perfectly and yuta just about whimpering by how soft your lips were— craddling your face in his hands as he moved and deepened the kiss, savoring it all and engraving it in his mind to remember for as long as he lived.
the flutters in your stomach went on overdrive with every shift of your mouths, the two of you literally having to pull apart for a millisecond to catch your breaths before you swallowed one another back in, your hands sliding up around his neck and his down to envelop around your torso and pull you in, kissing again and again— completely lost in what it was to finally be together.
the right way.
whether yuta stayed with his team or got traded really didn’t matter to him in retrospect, because he felt he had everything he needed already... experienced everything that he needed to experience, feeling that he played the best that he could and worked just as hard through it all to keep himself afloat. he was satisfied with it.
because through his football blood, sweat, and tears... it earned him you.
it earned him peace.
and that was all he needed.
“can you do a peace sign— yes! awww how handsomeee!—”
yuta boyishly laughed as he stood in the middle of the tunnel with you and posed, surrounded by buttloads of staff and media personnel and anything else of the like, him and his teammates gathered up— awaiting for their usual signal that it was time to run out on the field and commence the game with the starting kickoff.
your camera clicked as you snapped a couple of photographs, a series of bright flashes going off, the sight of yuta so compliant and grinning widely for you, the absolute glee on his face and the crinkles by his eyes... all worked in turning you into literal doughy putty.
“you look so cute yu!” you cheesed, lowering your camera and flicking through the photos you just took, a pink hue to your cheeks. “you look so happy in theseee!”
his own cheeks warmed and he diverted his gaze, wringing his hands behind his back and leaning up against the wall, fighting with himself to not reach out and grab you for the sake of keeping what the two of you had going on in private, to respect you.
but it was as if you read his mind anyway... because you giggled and stepped closer to him, putting down your camera and adjusting the strap so the device would lay by your hip, lifting your arms to loop around his torso and propping your chin up on his toned chest, his eyes snapping to yours then before breaking out into the biggest smile.
it was still so surreal to him more often than not that you actually loved him... that he got you in the end and that you were hugging him... or holding his hand... giving him sweet cheek kisses any time you’d pass by him in the halls or when he just got off the field from training, all that made him freeze and laugh like an idiot in front of you as he tried to get his head straight from it.
yuta was oddly more bashful and nervous around you than before, because now he knew that the feeling was mutual, that it had been, that he could do all of the things he’d craved doing with you— without the hundred pounds of guilt he carried on his shoulders because your heart was trapped elsewhere.
he was happy because you were happy. and healthy. and free from the torment that you mistook for love.
“what yu?” you gently spoke up, and he untucked his arms to wrap them around your head and pull you in closer. “you okay? you nervous?”
“i am.” he shyly cheesed, craning his neck to plant a kiss to your forehead. “but it's okay! i don’t care about what happens from here.”
you pouted and whined. “but i do! don't say that silly boy...”
it had been a couple of months since you and yuta reunited, agreeing to take things slow, no titles just yet, and go at a pace that was comfortable for the both of you, loving every moment of it as you went to ample farmer’s markets to look at pretty flowers or munch on some more sweet fruit, yuta taking you out on coffee dates or planning movie nights at his apartment with bratty rika, or even beach picnics— those being particularly your favorite as you sat along the warm sand and soaked in the heat of the sun, grubbing on the food you brought before deciding to dip your feet in the chilly water for a little while.
though yuta often had to mentally and physically prepare himself every time you went on beach dates, for the sight of you in a fucking bikini was one he had to tear his eyes away from and literally avoid looking at you just to keep the dent in his pants not dented.
it never worked.
but throughout these said months... yuta also played better.
he was still teetering along the lines of being the worst player and a god awful player, but he no longer fumbled the ball whenever he accepted passes from a quarterback, or misinterpreted signals and ran the wrong direction, or accidentally gave a defender from the opposing team the perfect opportunity to score a touchdown.
perhaps the football gods didn’t want to let go of him yet, for reasons he could not understand whatsoever.
because he was sharper. quicker on his feet. more purposeful in his play that was noticeable to the rest of his teammates— his coach and manager— yuta’s player stats slowly rising little by little, contributing to his team moving along the path to the superbowl game after game, time and time again...
until his team’s jagged road through playoffs landed them in the divisional round, which they miraculously won, him and his teammates now placed in the conference championships that dictated who was qualifying for the literal superbowl.
how it happened yuta genuinely didn’t know. he hadn’t been focused on that at all, and instead on what kind of pastry he should pick up for you to give you in the morning at the stadium, or if you were hungry after work and wanted to come eat dinner with him at the small diner down the street.
but if his team managed to pull through and win... yuta would get to stay.
“why baby?” he giggled squeakily, finding the genuine anxiety and frustration on your pretty face amusing.
“because you deserve more than anyone on this team to stay yuta...” you softly emphasized, and his lips flipped into a loving smile. “you’ve been working so hard... i don’t want you to settle for a different irrelevant team when you’re supposed to be on this one. with me.”
with you.
he tilted his head then, dipping his neck down once more to ever so gently graze his nose against yours, the echoey rowdy chatter and hollering of the hasty crowd around you both subduing to indistinctness, until all that was left was you and him and the pinks on your cheeks.
“you think so?” he murmured, and you sent him a warm closed lipped smile.
“i know so.” you replied, giving him a slight nudge to his nose yourself. “i promise you.”
he grinned.
“make them feel stupid?”
and you vigorously nodded, lips coming up to capture his in a cutey kiss that nearly made him black out, tightening his hold around your head and smothering you in even closer, your bodies completely flushed against each other.
you were so soft...
“i’m assuming you did more than make amends?”
your eyes snapped open and you separated your mouths with a little smack!, yuta’s arms sliding down to settle around your waist as you turned in his hold.
you beamed.
“nanami! how are you?! oh! come find me after the game i need to get shots of you fresh off the field and sweaty i got multiple emails from—”
yuta burst out laughing and nanami flushed up beet red, physically unable to compute what he’d just heard, his mouth opening and closing as he stared at the both of you and tried to regain his composure.
“i— who is sending you these—”
“your fangirlies! i told you.” you smiled sweetly, leaning back against yuta’s pad cladded chest. “there’s never a day that goes by that i don’t get requests for a swimsuit calendar i'm telling you they need your beefed arms out—”
“i’m going back to the original subject.” he muttered, and you and yuta slipped into a fit of little snickers and giggles, hunching over and having to clutch onto each other to keep yourselves balanced.
he smiled.
“i’m glad to see you two are doing well.” nanami continued, and your eyes softened at the tiny content quirk of his lips, a gentle one of your own spreading across your face as you listened. “i was starting to believe i had to intervene.”
you laughed some more and shook your head, stepping out of yuta’s grasp to walk up to nanami, swinging an arm up over his neck to bring him in a friendly hug.
“no kento it's okay we’re okay.” you pulled away and patted his shoulder. “but thank you for worrying anyway... and for being so kind to yuta.”
he chuckled under his breath, giving you a singular nod as you walked back to yuta’s side.
“being a few steps behind everyone else is not a sin.” nanami spoke evenly, his gaze switching over to yuta. “the accumulation of everything you endured has built you to be the player you are now. rest assured that your path will match mine and only get easier from here.”
yuta was touched by his words, though he knew that deep down he could never amount to the level of skill that nanami harbored, the very same play that set him to be in the hall of fame upon retirement, the blonde haired man being the sole backbone of the team that left many worried as to how it would survive once he was gone.
how yuta would. his only teammate to look at him in the eyes and see no difference between him and a good player.
“thanks nanami!” yuta brightly grinned, his hand finding yours and intertwining your fingers. “i appreciate it... really i do.”
“two minutes ‘til kickoff! cheerleaders are wrapping up their set!”
nanami slid on his helmet and pulled the chin strap under his chin.
“i’ll see you both out there on the field, yes?” he snapped his buckles in place, securing the helmet to his head. “be sure not to be the last one to line up okkotsu. you have generous time with miss y/l/n now no need to worry anymo—”
“ahaha!” he blurted, his neck abruptly growing hot and the hold on your hand tightening. “ahaha i— i won’t heh! i'll be there in a second!”
and with one last nod nanami left, the two of you watching his broad frame slip through the hectic crowd until he was no longer in your line of sight.
you turned to yuta and flashed him a pretty smile, bending down to pick his helmet up off the floor and holding it in your hands.
“you ready yu?” standing on your tippy toes, yuta bent his neck for you and you slipped it on over his head, readjusting the strap so it’d fit snug— clicking the buckle secure.
“mhm!” he smiled, his hands coming to rest on your waist as you slid your palms down over his jersey, dusting it off and tugging any visible wrinkles out. “as much as i can be.”
you huffed softly through your nose and reached to loop your fingers through the bars of his helmet, gently bringing him to look at you straight on.
“just play my love... okay?” you tilted your head, yuta’s eyes taking a moment to scour over your gorgeous features as you spoke. “just play that’s all you need to do. you've done more than enough already.”
and he grinned then, tenderly as he squeezed your hips and touched his helmet with your forehead, resting it there.
“i will pretty girl, don’t worry for me.” he murmured.
he'd play for you.
and whether yuta got to stay or not it still didn’t matter to him.
but it’d be nice to keep seeing you in the bright early hours of the morning at the stadium...
wouldn’t it?
“wow ladies and gentlemen! it's been one tough and close game for both team’s just up until the last quarter, the scoreboard reads twenty eight to thirty one with the hawks taking the lead— jesus i can hardly stay seated!”
“you’re damn right! the heartliners have been making uncanny progress through this entire season going through the playoffs, and now they're being carried by an unlikely source— yuta okkotsu himself! can you believe it?!”
you gnawed on your nails as your eyes stayed glued the field with a hand on your hip, fingers anxiously tapping on your radio as you listened to the idiot commentators that for once weren’t pissing you off too badly.
yuta was playing like a fucking machine.
and you hadn’t seen him play this way before, with his gaze sharp and sort of feral like as he listened to orders or made calls himself, his chest heaving and his legs moving so unbelievably fast any chance he had the ball and tried to get it to the end zone, an aura of— authority to him that was entirely new to you and absolutely lovely to see firsthand.
because yuta never received the support and guidance that he should have to flourish and be the player his management kept getting on his ass to be.
but he did all of that on his own. without needing the favor or connections of anyone to do so.
and you were so incredibly proud of him and— and in awe of him that words genuinely couldn’t describe how you were feeling in that moment as you watched him play, your nerves on fucking acid and your hands literally trembling due to the fact that there was actually a chance yuta might get to stay, that he’d get to prove himself to everyone that stupidly refused to see what you had seen the second you met him.
potential.
it was the last quarter... getting down to the last final minutes... all they needed was a touchdown and yuta would get to—
“y/n?”
you froze, and you felt the blood completely drain from your face.
absolutely fucking not—
“i um—”
against your will you turned around, reno standing there with a massive expensive looking bouquet of flowers in his grasp, staring at you with guilty saddened eyes that did everything but make you feel bad for him.
“i came to say that i'm really, really fucking sorry about everything—”
your gaze dropped down to the flowers.
they were roses.
“—you deserved way more than what i gave and did to you and... you were always so good to me babe i'm— i'm sorry.”
your eyes moved back up, raising a brow.
“how did you get on the field? you need a badge for that.”
reno fidgeted from where he stood.
“i have a buddy that works for the media.” he explained. “i asked him for a favor.”
you remained silent.
“babe you have no idea how sorry i am...” he heavily sighed and took a step closer to you. “i’m serious i... i miss you like crazy and i was just so stupid... i shouldn’t have treated you the way that i did.”
“reno i really don’t have time for this right now—”
“—no please y/n please just hear me out—”
yuta was drained.
he didn’t even know what quarter they were in, or what the actual score was, his lungs literally burning with every inhale he sucked in to regulate his breathing, limbs aching so badly from being tackled to the ground so many times and doing the tackling so many times, his brain moving nonstop from the minute he kissed your cheek goodbye and stepped onto the field.
he was just going. and killing himself in doing so all in the hopes of contributing a tiny bit to his team and get to the superbowl, to make up for all of his previous fuck ups, to stay with you.
“okkotsu!”
yuta whipped his head around to see itsuki jogging up to him.
“are you still a shitty player?” he breathed out, sweat dripping from the sides of his face as he got to him.
yuta gave him a look.
“dude we’re in the middle of a game—”
“are you a still shitty player okkotsu.” he panted. “because i'm about to call a huddle, and i'm gonna explain to the rest of the boys that i'm passing you the ball to score us a touchdown and end the game.”
yuta's eyes flew open, head snapping to the scoreboard and realizing then that it was the last fucking quarter, that the opposing team was winning and they were minutes from losing unless someone made a score in the end zone—
holy shit holy shit—
“give the ball to rei.” yuta hurriedly spoke over the cheering crowd, his tone firm. “he has way more experience than i do and i can’t promise you—”
itsuki shook his head. “you’re faster than him. i need you to run straight down the sideline and beat your defender guy.”
itsuki took a step closer, holding his gaze.
“beat your guy and i throw you the ball. and you get to stay. with y/n. deal?”
yuta felt a pang of shock ricochet through his chest at his words, the fact that itsuki was actually not being a nuisance for once and— fairly solid, was an odd thing for him to see.
but his brows furrowed.
“how do you know about y/n and i—”
“when there’s a hot girl i watch.” itsuki shrugged. “she’s a hard one to miss. that’s why the two of you make no fuckin’ sense at all i mean— yes your stats are better for whatever reason but i would assume she’d be interested in a guy like me—”
there he was.
yuta rolled his eyes and drifted his gaze away in annoyance, letting him continue yapping his ear off about utter nonsense that he drowned out for the sake of keeping himself level-headed, his line of sight tracking over the packed stadium— flashing lights and thunderous hollering, the cheerleaders dancing on the sidelines, and you.
standing face to face with reno.
his face and heart dropped, shoulders slumping as he watched reno extend an absurd bouquet of roses to you... and you reaching out to accept them.
please no.
there was... you wouldn’t. right?
you... you loved him you said you loved him you—
you said you were done with reno that there was absolutely nothing for him to worry about that you— that you wanted to take it slow no titles that— why were you accepting his fucking roses—
you then whirled the bouquet up and smacked reno’s body with it, over and over left and right you were beating the shit out of him— deep red petals flying in every direction as reno cowered and hunched, flailing his arms out in defense.
oh thank fuck—
and yuta felt a heavenly wave of relief, immediately perking up and the frown on his face breaking out into the widest grin, giggling and snickering as he watched you confront reno in the way that you were.
“y— y/n!—”
“you think roses are gonna make me drop to my knees and suck you off?! you complete dumbass?!”
you wacked him once more.
“okay! i'm sorry i'm sorry!” he exclaimed. “i— i know babe i know i'm the biggest douchebag—”
“you cheated on me reno! our whole freaking relationship you were getting your dick wet behind my back do you really think i would ever want to get back with you?!” you yelled, your blood boiling hot and chest pumping from the adrenaline and hatred you had. “what kind of fucking woman do you think i am?!”
“the greatest one i ever had—”
you reeled your arm back and smacked him again, the bouquet merely made of stems now as he whined and cowered again, your eyes briefly catching your sweet cheerleader friend from behind reno— laughing her ass off, doubling over in choking gasps, pointing and nearly falling to her knees.
you would’ve burst out laughing yourself if reno hadn’t opened his fat mouth again.
“y/n please. i am begging you.” he reached for your hand and you snatched it away. “please babe you’re right i'm— i'm awful i'm god awful but—”
“you're more than god awful.” you spat. “and stop calling me babe it’s gross.”
“y/n—”
“get off the field before i hit you again.” you muttered, spinning around and walking over to the nearest trash bin, chucking the stems inside. “we’re done reno. don't ever try to talk to me again i'm being serious.”
“y/n—”
“get off the field reno!”
“babe—”
“SECURITY!”
“NO!—”
upon breaking the huddle, there were thirty seconds left on the clock as yuta’s team jogged to their positions for a line of scrimmage, the lot of them face to face with the opponent as itsuki stood behind them by the center, crouched over and awaiting to make the call.
the crowd grew louder.
“set!...”
yuta readjusted his footing, his heart fucking pounding and the blood rushing to his ears as he waited, breathing rapidly through his nostrils as he begged and prayed that he’d just do what itsuki asked him to do.
because he had no choice but to do it. there was no other way around it if he wanted to prove his worth and make his suffering worthwhile.
if he wanted to keep spending his days watching you take photographs from the sidelines...
“hut!”
fuck it.
the crowd screeched and yuta made a run for it down the line as the huddle dispersed, his legs moving astronomically quick, feet trudging along the grass with no intention of stopping, him briefly checking over his shoulder to confirm that the ball had successfully been passed to itsuki before returning ahead.
it had!
and yuta’s eyes widened upon realizing that the path was actively clearing up for itsuki to pass him the ball.
he picked up speed and barreled down to the endzone, hyperactively keeping track of his defender opponent running parallel to him to try and take him out and run a touchdown himself, watching him out of the corner of his eye, getting closer—
“okkotsu the ball!—”
when yuta shoved his shoulder to the left and knocked the defender clean off balance, refusing to give himself time to think about anything as he swiveled around and jumped for the spinning ball, catching it in his hands before landing on his two feet.
booking it to the end zone.
“what a play from heartliners very own itsuki and yuta! christ! what kind of game is this?!”
“the kind that proves even the worst players have something to give my friend! because the heartliners may have just earned a spot in the superbowl all thanks to okkotsu and his timing—”
“go yu go!” you yelled from the sidelines, jumping up and down while simultaneously taking an insane number of photographs, your heart in your throat and tears tickling your eyes at the incredible play you just witnessed by him, your emotions so overwhelming that you could hardly even properly do your job and take the damn pictures.
you were so so so proud!
the crowd grew even louder, beer droplets flying everywhere and fans from yuta’s team begging him to keep running, to ignore whatever the fuck the other team was trying to throw at him to get him to trip up— everyone at the edge of their seats and your hands in your hair—
when yuta threw himself to the endzone and landed, scoring an official touchdown and marking the end of the game.
marking his place back on the team.
you screamed and hollered and cried as confetti cannons burst and celebratory horns blared through the atmosphere, the cheerleaders screaming and hollering themselves because they get a chance to dance at the superbowl, and you finally getting to see yuta be appreciated by the football industry and community like you’d wished for all along.
they'd finally listen. and see that yuta okkotsu was a force to be reckoned with.
you got back into photographer mode and clicked away— taking pictures of practically everything and anything, the fans, the team, the scoreboard, though taking extra time and effort to photograph yuta in particular being rightfully celebrated by his teammates, them surrounding him in tackling hugs and pats on the back that made you giggle.
but after a few moments, you saw yuta break through the crowd through your camera lens.
and was jogging his way straight to you.
your eyes blew out and you popped your head up, putting your camera down and readjusting the strap.
why was he..?
you watched as he jogged faster then across the field, unclipping his helmet before yanking it off and throwing it somewhere on the grass, you standing there totally confused with your tummy fluttering the closer he got to you.
“yu!” you called once he was of earshot, though he didn’t stop and continued, him on the brink of standing in front of you when you spoke again.
“yu— hey what’s going on why aren't you out— EEEEEKK!—”
yuta grabbed you by the back of your thighs and hoisted you up around his waist, smashing his lips to yours and muffling the rest of your words as he proceeded to speed walk through the sidelines, down the long tunnel and down another hallway until he got to the utility closet, all while smothering you with his mouth.
“yu baby!— mmpf!—”
he kicked the utility door open and shut it with his foot, shuffling through some more to get to the table in the back used for storing padding equipment, dropping you down on it and you letting out a squeak in reply— his lips not once breaking from yours.
your heart bounced around as you gently pushed on his chest and tried to get your words out.
“yu—”
“i don’t wanna wait anymore.” he breathed in between kisses, his hands clutching and kneading at the meat on your thighs. “i’ve waited two years i don’t want to.”
your tummy flipped at his words, losing yourself in his desperate kisses as he continued.
“m’so sorry but— i can’t take it slow anymore—” his swollen wet lips slid down to the space under your jaw and you gasped. “i love you and i want you— shit— so fucking much please pretty girl be mine please—”
you frantically nodded, your eyes fluttering shut at the feeling of his wet tongue lapping up your neck, your arms around his head that pulled him in even closer, his own hands doing the same thing and rolling his hips up to meet the ache in between your legs.
“yes yes i will yu—”
“you mean it..?” he hotly spoke against your neck, moving his sloppy sucking over to the other side of your jaw and grinding. “you’ll be mine baby..?”
“uh— uhuh! i do i swear to you—”
yuta felt like he was on a cloud that was bigger and better than cloud nine, him literally swallowing you up as you shot a hand on his shoulder to keep you balanced, the other clutching his jersey as you rutted your little cute hips in rhythm with his, a feral delighted smile slowly curving his lips that you felt against your skin.
he finally had you.
"you gonna let me do what i want with you now..?"
jesus his words were making you lose it.
"mhm— pant!— a— anything you want—"
yuta's hands slid down to your torso, squeezing and rubbing at your sides while he sucked your neck before they trailed even further down, a palm settling on your waist and the other slithering its way in the space between your legs.
"make some room for me pretty girl..." he murmured, and you listened— parting your legs and him immediately sliding his hand to your clothed pussy, working you there and applying pressure that made you choke on a gasp and shudder, bucking your hips up.
he brought his head back up to level with you, his lips grazing yours as he spoke.
"this okay?" he whispered. "you like it?"
you gave him a ditzy nod that he loved, moving to hook a finger under the waistband of your jeans and slightly tugging.
"you wanna loosen these up so i can play with your pretty pussy for a little?" yuta hummed, and you just about collapsed, a loopy little smirk curling his lips. "just enough so i can feel you baby? you'd let me?"
you didn't even give him a response, you were incapable with how desperate you were for him to touch you and do whatever the fuck he wanted with you, you basically hypnotized as your hands went down to unbutton your jeans, popping it open and yuta licking his lips at the little peek he was getting of the waistband of your lacy panties while you tugged your jeans down a tad.
"goood baby—"
he helped you the rest of the way and stopped just at the top of your pillowy thighs, his blood rushing everywhere as he proceeded to impatiently slip his hand in your panties— you squeaking and flailing your hands out flat behind you on the desk.
dear god the amount of times yuta had fisted his cock to the thought of this exact scenario...
"you're so warm." he murmured, his greedy little fingers feeling you up and slotting in between your pussy lips, you already so fucking wet and squelchy, heat rising to your face at how loud you sounded as he played with you, fingers brushing your sensitive clit.
you were so embarrassed...
you gnawed on your bottom lip and shyly peered up at him with rosy cheeks, a hand coming up to cup your mouth as you whined.
"m's— sorry..."
he breathily chuckled, finding you oh so incredibly cute as you hiccuped and whimpered with every dragging rub of his fingers, drunk off of how much of your juices were coating his hand, your hips chasing after his every move.
"for what baby..?" yuta placed his unoccupied hand on the desk before lunging forward, his puffy chest gently colliding with your front and pulling you down flat on your back with no other option, a high pitched gasp! slipping from your throat as you looked up at him.
"for this?"
he plunged his index and middle finger inside your leaky little hole, you letting out a surprised moan that made you slap a hand over your mouth to shush yourself up, your face fucking burning now.
"you're so silly." he laughed, giving you no time at all to adjust to his long fingers as he pumped them in and out of you and shoved his face back into your neck, planting his mouth in the space just below your ear to slobber, you turning your head the other way with a slack jaw and heaving chest. "if anything i need you louder—"
you were quite literally trapped underneath him... and you were fucking obsessed— in a state of fuzzy euphoria as he continued to finger you in such a way that pulled more obscene sloshing noises from your pussy, you whining and helplessly lifting your hips at how fast he was going.
yuta almost dug his nails into the wooden desk as he supported himself.
he can't cum in his pants he can't cum in his pants—
—but shit you were being so agonizingly beautiful in this moment as he moved— rapid and desperate, needing you to make a mess on his hand while he curled his fingers inside of you, hitting that spongy spot that had you mewling louder, squealing and arching your back off the table.
"you felt that baby?" he lapped and sucked at different parts of your neck, drool trickling down your skin— the desk rattling with his jerking arm and you jolting underneath him by the force, him getting a perfect view from the corner of his eye of your tits deliciously bouncing from your low cut top.
"god your pussy's swallowing my fingers i can't even pull them out." he huffed. "such a pretty greedy girl..."
"mmm yuuu!—"
your hand shot to his wrist and gripped it, though that did nothing in halting his jack hammering movements.
"what... you trying to stop me now?" he lifted his head to catch your fucked out gaze. "you bad little fucking thing..."
your mind was going through a whirlpool, having difficulty processing how a sweetie boy could speak so filthily to you and scold you in the way that he was.
"'cause i could." he hotly continued. "'i'll give you what you want and stop right now—"
"no!—"
you pulled both your hands up and away from his work, your shiny glazed eyes staring up at him, pleading.
"please no yu i'm— m'gonna cum!—"
"yeah?" yuta wildly grinned. "but i dunno if you deserve it baby... you broke my heart trying to pull my fingers out—"
you sniffled and frantically shook your head side to side in a panic. "no please! i'm sorry yu i'm so so sorry please i need— i didn't mean to!"
"mmm..." he pondered, and that only made you more desperate, quickly cupping his cheeks and bringing his face down to mush your lips against his, your kisses fast and sloppy as you tried your best to tongue him down through his fingering.
"please— mmpf— please baby—"
yuta's knees almost gave out, letting you ravish him and slop your tongue all over his mouth for a few moments before he slightly pulled back, panting against your lips and feeling how tight you were clenching on his fingers.
"good thing i can never stay mad at you."
and you fucking came, a white hot flash flooding through your body as your limbs locked up, moaning and choking‚ your thighs clamping around his hand while trying to keep your high pitched squeals to a minimum, not knowing when or how long it was until you seemingly came back down from the cloud you were riding on.
you laid there, both of your chests pumping and breaths misty, your brain trying to rewire itself back into place through the numb fuck you just went through, yuta peppering tiny little kisses along your jaw that aided in pulling you back to him.
when he suddenly detached from your skin and dipped down between your legs—
“w— wait! yu!—”
“mm?” he hummed, coming back up with a happy loopy smile on his face, only to lip lock with you again.
yuta could not get enough.
“you should—” you panted. “—be out there celebrating my love i—”
“i don’t give a fuck.”
you laughed against his mouth and forced a bit of separation, both of your chests rising and falling as you looked at each other— lips plumped red and cheeks flushed.
“why not?” you pouted, sliding a hand through his slightly sweaty raven locks, softly caressing. “you deserve to have them see and appreciate you yu and all your hard work. let them please...”
he gave you a loving tender smile then, his twinkling eyes boring into yours as he squeezed your thighs a little.
“you’ve done that this entire time.” he murmured, nudging his nose with yours. “that’s all i ever needed.”
you shyly blushed and rested your forehead against his, the both of you slipping into a fit of lovesick giggles then as you held onto each other, completely wrapped in a warm fuzzy atmosphere that consisted of no one else but of just you and him.
together.
the strings on your pinkies finally untangled and thicker.
yuta spent the majority of his life not knowing how he ended up playing football in the first place. it was something that he simply just couldn’t remember.
but the reasoning became abundantly clear to him as the days passed.
when he met you. when he befriended you through pathetic stutters and fumbles.
when he realized he’d fallen in love with you.
when he went to the grocery store during his thirty minute break to buy you a bouquet of lilies, standing there in line while he received odd looks from other customers because he was bulked up in his uniform, doing it all with absolutely no requirements because he adored you. so fucking much.
when you saw him through a lens that was entirely your own despite everyone else telling you not to.
and that's exactly the reason why life had pulled and insisted and nagged for him to keep playing football even through his embarrassing failing trials and tribulations.
why it had made him the luckiest boy alive.
so he’d cross paths with you, even if it was at the price of being the worst player on his national football league team.
Noticed that you're taking requests ekth Grace Ashcroft from RE9 (Ik that game didn't come yet, but I already love her sm🤌❤️)
Maybe romantic headcanon? Like being relationship with her? Hope you understood me😅
Have a nice days❤️❤️❤️
Soft Romantic Headcanons
Pairing- Grace Ashcroft x GN!Reader
A/N- Hi there lovely anon 🥰 I'm so sorry for being this late, life just was a bit of a mess lately, I have just started writing your requests 🥺 I hope you find this relatable and enjoy it before we get to see our beautiful girl, Grace.
Grace isn’t someone who falls into relationships easily. Trust doesn’t come quickly to her, and opening up to someone takes time.
Until she feels truly safe and comfortable, she might come off a little shy, reserved, or emotionally distant—but once that space is there, she knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to stay.
Grace falls for you in the smallest ways. One day she just realizez her coffee tastes better when you’re around. Another day, she notices she has started smiling without thinking when she hears your footsteps.
She's shy about affection, but once comfortable, becomes clingy in a quiet way. Sitting closer than necessary. Leaning her head on your shoulder “just for a second” — that second somehow turning into minutes.
Grace absolutely melts when you do mundane things together. Grocery shopping, folding laundry, sharing earbuds. To her, domesticity is intimacy at its purest.
She loves tracing absent-minded patterns on your hand with her thumb when she's thinking. If you point it out, she blushes and murmurs,
“Sorry… I didn’t realize I was doing that.”
Compliments hit Grace hard. You call her cute once and she replays it in her head for the rest of the day, trying very hard not to smile in public.
She doesn't say “I love you” easily, but says it in other ways:
“Text me when you get home.”
“Did you sleep well?”
“I saved you some.”
Grace likes late nights where you’re both half-asleep, voices low, legs tangled together. Those are the moments she feels safest — when nothing is expected of her except being there with you.
She rests her forehead against yours when words feel like too much.
Grace gets flustered when you initiate affection. A kiss on her cheek? She freezes for half a second, then smile softly like she has just been handed something precious.
When she laughs — really laughs — it’s quiet but genuine. And every time, she looks at you afterward, like you were the reason. Eyes glaring for too long, and sighs afterwards, thinking that she has the best person in the whole world.
Grace loves holding hands. Not tightly. Just enough to feel you there. Her thin, cold fingers fit into yours like it’s instinct, like they were always meant to.
She's bad at asking for comfort, but if you pull her into your arms, relaxes instantly. Breath evens out. Heart slows down.
You feel like home to her.
Sometimes Grace whispers your name just to hear how it sounds out loud. Softer. Warmer. Real.
If you fall asleep on her, she doesn’t move. Even if her arm goes numb. Even if she's uncomfortable.
Loving you makes Grace gentler with herself. Braver, too. Because for the first time, she's not facing the world alone.
🌸 BONUS:
When you hug Grace, she freezes at first, her shoulders tensing just a little. Her cheeks warm up instantly, eyes darting away, and you panic—thinking you might’ve crossed a line. You pull back too quickly, apologetic… but the sight of her flustered, adorably stunned expression makes you giggle before you can stop yourself.
You lean in and press a gentle kiss to her cheek, light and sweet. Grace’s brain short-circuits. Her face burns even redder, hands half-raised like she doesn’t know what to do with them. She doesn’t pull away though—just stands there, smiling shyly.
The next time, it’s Grace who does it. No hesitation. No second-guessing. She hugs you first, a little tighter, a little longer—because now she knows you want her there just as much as she wants to be 🥺🥰
He gives them intentionally, usually focusing on the sensitive skin just below the jawline or behind the collarbone. They are small but dark—a quick, focused mark.
Leon is surprisingly easy to mark, as his skin is relatively fair. He makes a low, approving sound when you land a good one, immediately trying to counter it with one of his own.
Usually covers them with a simple black turtleneck or a high-collared shirt when on duty. If one is visible, he'll simply pull his jacket zipper higher and give a practiced, dismissive shrug if questioned. Or telling that he just got bruises during missions.
He is protective of yours. If you're going out, he carefully brushes your hair over your neck or insists you wear a scarf or a high-necked top, only exposing them to the world if you're feeling particularly defiant. But deep inside, he is actually proud of this.
His favorite place? Just inside your shoulder, where the mark is hidden by your shirt collar but visible only when your head is turned. It's a sweet, secret confirmation for him. Or your neck.
He'll trace the edge of the mark with the tip of his finger while you're sleeping or watching TV, his gaze intense, a small, private smirk playing on his lips.
If one of his colleagues spots a visible mark on him, he offers zero explanation, just a cold, challenging glare that shuts down any further inquiry instantly.
Wakes up and immediately notices the fading mark on your skin. He doesn't say anything, but he gently kisses the spot where it sits, acknowledging the passion of the night before.
If you ask him stop, Leon will. He respects your boundaries completely and simply laughs, saying, "Alright, alright. I'll stick to the places no one else can see."
Leon views the person with the most visible marks as the "winner" of the night. He enjoys the silent competition.
Chris Redfield
Chris rarely gives them accidentally. When he does, they are deep, dark, and look like a bruise—a testament to his immense physical strength and passion. They are usually placed on the inner thigh or hip.
He's difficult to mark because of his thick, hardened skin and muscle. You have to work for it. When you succeed, he groans, a deep, satisfied sound, acknowledging your effort and passion.
Since he only wears tactical gear or basic tees, a neck hickey is his worst nightmare. Will rigorously apply heavy concealer or neck tape if he has to be visible, cursing under his breath the entire time for the lack of self-control.
He’s hyper-aware of how public they are. He immediately buys you a very stylish, high-collared shirt or uses the provided thick, wool scarf. He views it as a security risk, not a fun accessory.
Like to put on the base of your throat, visible only when you tilt your head back. It reminds him that despite his reserved nature, he allows you to claim him.
Chris doesn't just trace it; he covers it entirely with his massive hand, rubbing his thumb over the mark, a protective and possessive gesture that says, "This is mine, and I earned it."
If one is seen, he becomes instantly cold and detached. He uses his authoritative voice to redirect the conversation away from himself, making the person who noticed instantly regret bringing it up.
If he catches you staring at a mark he left, he'll give you a smoky, heavy-lidded look across the training field that promises more of the same when you get home.
Intentionally leaves one low on your back or hip before you go out, knowing it's perfectly hidden, a secret symbol that he shares only with you.
If you ask him stop, Chris will, but his disappointment is palpable. He'll give a gruff apology: "Sorry. Sometimes I forget my own strength." He makes a mental note to be gentler but doubles down on hidden marks.
Albert Wesker
He doesn't seek them out, but he accepts them as a side effect of passion, which he frames as a biological necessity.
Gives them rarely and accidentally. When he does, they are small and precise, usually placed on the inner curve of your hip or thigh. They are not random; they are focused.
His enhanced durability and speed make him almost impossible to mark. If you manage a faint bruise, he pauses, slightly annoyed but also intellectually intrigued by the temporary disruption to his cellular structure.
Since his skin is usually covered by his pristine black attire, it's not a major concern. If a collarbone mark is visible, he simply states, "A minor contusion sustained during an experimental endeavor."
Albert only cares about them being covered if they violate the "optimized aesthetic" he demands of you. He suggests a high neckline with cold, detached precision.
His favorite place to see one? On the tender skin of your wrist, where he can monitor your pulse while simultaneously appreciating the evidence of your passion for him.
He uses a small, high-powered LED light to inspect the pigmentation, tracing the bruise's edges and analyzing the blood vessel rupture. He views it as a fascinating biological event.
If one is spotted, he ignores the person entirely. He looks at you and says, in his low, chilling voice, "Control your impulses, subject. The outcome is aesthetically unsatisfactory."
Might intentionally leave a mark on you before a high-stakes meeting, using the bruise as a calculated sign of his intense, unchecked dominance over you to intimidate rivals.
Wesker will sometimes take a digital photo of the mark over several days to track the rate of cellular regeneration and healing, creating a small, morbid database.
He stops immediately if you ask him and without question. He views the act as functionally unnecessary for intimacy and will simply replace it with more complex forms of physical pressure.
Ethan Winters
His hickeys are usually an accident of intense, relieved affection. They are faint, often fading quickly, and are the result of him getting completely lost in the moment.
He gets them easily due to his pale skin. He jumps slightly and lets out a surprised, breathless gasp when you mark him, often resulting in a brief, nervous laugh.
Tries to hide them, not out of shame, but because he prefers not to draw attention. Ethan wears a zip-up hoodie or a tightly buttoned shirt, occasionally fidgeting with the zipper/buttons near the mark.
He is concerned about your comfort. He is the first to gently suggest a scarf or high neckline, asking quietly, "Are you sure you want people seeing that?" It's rooted in genuine anxiety for your privacy.
Like to put them on your breastbone, close to your heart. It's a reminder of deep, meaningful intimacy and the life you share, hidden beneath your clothing.
Will stare at it with a mix of awe and slight guilt, his thumb gently smoothing over the mark. He murmurs an apology, "Sorry, I got carried away" even though he doesn't truly mean it.
If someone notices yours, he goes red and immediately makes a joke about a terrible "bug bite." If one is spotted on him, he becomes incredibly quiet, avoiding eye contact entirely.
If a mark on him is particularly noticeable, he might try to cover it with a small, discreet band-aid, claiming he scraped himself on something "while gardening."
Ethan finds the mark endearing because it confirms his physical presence and reality. It's proof that his hands, his touch, and his kiss are real and impactful.
If you asks him stop, he looks genuinely troubled and immediately apologizes profusely, promising to be much more careful. He reverts to gentler kisses, but his eyes constantly search for hidden places to leave small, secret marks.
Carlos Oliveira
Oh, he is unlike others, can confidently put hickeys without shame
Put them with enthusiasm, placing them prominently on your neck, shoulder, or chest. They are deep purple and often clustered together—he's not subtle.
Absolutely loves getting them and sees it as a sign of your matching passion. He will often encourage you by whispering things like, "Yes, right there, show me how much you want me."
He makes zero effort to hide them. In fact, he might wear a shirt with the top buttons deliberately undone to showcase a prominent mark. He views it as bragging rights.
He asks if you want to cover them, but secretly hopes you say no. If you do hide them, he gives you a playful, dramatic sigh of disappointment.
Favourite places are on the prominent curve of your collarbone. He loves how it sits right above his favorite chain and can be partially hidden by his oversized jacket.
Carlos catches his reflection and immediately smirks, running his hand over the mark, striking a confident pose. He will then saunter over to you and insist on returning the favor.
If a friend or coworker notices his mark, he doesn't deny it. He laughs loudly, winks, and proudly announces, "My girl is a wild one, no? I love her passion!"
He tries to take silly, close-up photos of the marks you leave on him, attempting to document the "battle scars" from your passionate evening.
Loves to gently run his lips over a prominent mark you left, creating a slight tingling sensation just to tease you and make you blush in public.
When you stopped him, he is slightly confused but respects it. "No more war paint? Alright, mi amor. I will find other ways to show the world you are mine." He then kisses your wrist dramatically.
Jack Krauser
I am sorry for you. His marks are deep, painful, and functional. They are a physical imposition, meant to leave no doubt as to who owns whom. He places them aggressively on the shoulder or upper arm.
He despises getting them, viewing it as a moment of lost control. He grunts sharply and might even momentarily pin you down, demanding, "Don't mark the asset."
Jack covers them instantly and completely with his uniform or tactical gear. He would view a visible hickey as a failure of discipline and a severe liability.
He doesn't hide them for your sake; he hides them because doesn't want other people to see his conquest. He insists on covering them with a thick scarf or a high-collar shirt of his own.
Right where your neck meets your shoulder blade is his favourite place for hickeys —a place that requires submission to expose. It is a constant reminder of the physical hierarchy between you.
Doesn't admire it; he inspects it like a brand. He traces the bruise with his metallic arm, the cold metal contrasting sharply with the warmth of your skin, a moment of cold, possessive analysis.
The Accidental Public Reveal: If a mark on you is revealed, he maintains absolute silence, letting his intense, deadly glare communicate a promise of pain to anyone who looks too long.
Krauser is most likely to leave a mark immediately after returning from a dangerous mission, needing a physical, non-verbal way to claim you and ground himself back into his reality.
If you point out a mark he left, he'll simply sneer and say, "Next time, fight back harder."
He stops if you ask, but his voice is dangerously low. Krauser interprets it as a challenge to his authority. He won’t leave marks but will immediately increase the intensity and dominance of his physical intimacy to compensate.
Karl Heisenberg
He is wild about them.
His marks are rough, deep, and often painful. Heisenberg doesn't aim for finesse; he aims for impact. They are often placed aggressively on the side of your neck or just above your hip.
Heisenberg lets out a loud, gruff, satisfied chuckle when you mark him. He appreciates the wildness of the action, viewing it as a moment of pure, unrestrained savagery he enjoys.
Makes zero effort. He constantly wears his trench coat and hat, but if a mark is visible, he couldn't care less. He might even see it as a mark of honor.
He insists they remain covered unless you are completely alone. Not for your modesty, but because he views the marks as his private territory sign that others don't deserve to see.
His favorite place is on the prominent vein on the side of your neck, where the mark is dark and visible. It's a reminder of your lifeblood, which he claims as his own.
Karl runs his cold, fingers over the bruise, the temperature difference making you shiver. He then gives a rough, satisfied smile and declares, "Good. Don't let anyone forget you belong here."
If he sees a mark on you that someone else is looking at, he doesn't talk—he growls low in his chest, his eyes flashing yellow, daring the onlooker to challenge him for his mate.
He refers to them as "my brand" or "my color." He sees them as necessary to assert dominance and possessiveness.
He enjoys leaving a hot, deep mark and then running his cold, magnetic hand over it, enjoying the physical contrast of pain, warmth, and cold metal.
Gets defensive and sulky if you asked him stop, taking it as a rejection of his raw affection. "What? Too rough for ya? Fine. But don't expect me to be gentle next time." However, he will try to be less aggressive
Luis Serra
Luis sees that hickeys are "love stamps"—proof that the romantic drama of your life together is intensely real.
His hickeys are everywhere—on your neck, shoulder, and chest. He gives them with a flair, often leaving clumps of smaller, lighter marks, like little constellations of love.
Luis makes a loud, delighted sound, often exclaiming, "Ah! My beautiful little vampire! I am marked for life!" He enjoys the attention and drama.
Makes a half-hearted attempt to hide them, maybe buttoning up his shirt for a meeting, but if they show, he simply winks at you and blows a kiss across the room.
He is protective but proud. He asks, "Do you want to show the world that you belong to the most charming man in Spain?" If you say yes, he beams. If you say no, he dramatically pins a brooch or flower over the spot.
On the back of your hand or inner forearm his favourite place —somewhere unexpected that can be seen only when he holds you close.
Luis runs his thumb over the mark and then immediately kisses it, giving it a playful, dramatic flourish and whispering a compliment about your strength and passion.
If someone notices a mark on him, he doesn't hide it. He smiles brilliantly, shrugs, and says, "Ah, the price of passion! Worth every beautiful bruise!"
He calls them his "timbres de amor" (love stamps) and insists on leaving a new one every time he comes home from a long, dangerous trip.
Sometimes pretends to leave a lipstick mark instead of a hickey, only for you to find the real bruise beneath the kiss mark later.
If you ask him stop Luis pouts dramatically, throwing his hands up in mock defeat. "No more proof of our beautiful love? Fine, but I reserve the right to leave invisible ones!" He then proceeds to nibble your ear for five minutes straight.
Ada Wong
Often gives them actually
She gives them precisely, only when she knows they will be covered by high-collared clothing. They are often faint, strategically placed, and are more about the intense feeling of being claimed than the visual mark.
She is very difficult to mark. Her skin is firm but still pale, and she maintains an air of composure even in the most passionate moments. If you leave a mark, Ada pauses, giving you a rare, impressed smirk, acknowledging your persistence.
They are always hidden. She has a wardrobe full of high-neck gowns, silk scarves, and turtlenecks for exactly this purpose. To expose one would be a gross tactical error.
Ada is meticulous about concealing yours. She will expertly apply foundation or simply drape a perfect silk scarf around your neck. She views any visible mark on you as a distraction to her mission.
Her favourite place is Right beneath the small, prominent bone at the base of your spine. It is a secret, untouchable spot that reminds her of the vulnerability you share with her.
She doesn't just admire it; she takes an internal inventory. She'll trace the mark's edge while you're asleep, analyzing the color and size, seeing it as confirmation that you let down your guard for her.
Sometimes leaves a very faint mark on your hand or wrist as a private, coded sign of affection before she disappears on a long mission.
The only person Ada allows to see her marks is you. She might briefly lower her collar when you are alone just to let you see the result of your passion before quickly covering it again.
She doesn't talk about them, but if you mention a mark you left, she’ll give a quick, knowing look and a deep, low chuckle that implies, "You are lucky you survived that attempt."
When you asked her stop, she nods instantly. "Of course. No need for crude displays." She is easily redirected to places where the marks are concealed, viewing it as a challenge to make them more intense but less visible.
Claire Redfield
She gives them playfully and spontaneously, usually after a moment of intense, relieved affection. They are often clustered around the shoulder or collarbone—visible enough to make a statement.
Claire laughs when you manage to land a good one on her, giving you a surprised, "Wow, okay, hot stuff!" look. She wears them proudly.
Claire makes a conscious decision not to hide them unless she is meeting with a specific government contact. Otherwise, she lets her leather jacket collar fall low or wears an open-neck shirt as a sign of defiance.
She'll gently rub a bit of concealer on your neck if you look nervous, but mostly she encourages you to own it: "Seriously, who cares? It looks great on you."
Her Favorite Place is on the base of your throat, where she can feel the pulse flutter beneath the bruise. It's a reminder of life and passion after too much death.
If someone stares, she meets their eye with a challenging, amused smile. She might even lean in and whisper a loud, suggestive comment to you just to make the watcher uncomfortable.
Often gives them before you leave for a trip as a physical reminder of home and a promise of what's waiting for you when you return.
If one of her NGO colleagues spots a visible mark, she shrugs and says, "Yeah, I finally got some time off. What of it?" and immediately changes the subject to motorcycle maintenance.
She stands in front of the mirror, turning her head to admire the shade and size of the marks you left, touching them gently with a wide, satisfied grin.
When you ask her to stop, she understands immediately but pouts dramatically. Claire switches her target to the inner wrist or shoulder blade, saying, "Fine, but I need my signature!"
Jill Valentine
For Jill hickeys are an embarrassing sign of lack of control, but she secretly finds the vulnerability endearing.
They are usually accidental, happening during intense moments of physical contact and deep affection. They are lighter in color and often happen quickly on the shoulder or upper chest.
She lets out a sharp, surprised exhale, pulling away slightly with an awkward laugh and saying, "Did you just... are you serious?" She tries to maintain her composure but fails.
Jill is embarrassed by them. If she has a mission or training, she rigorously tries to cover them with makeup and high-collared shirts, viewing the mark as proof she momentarily dropped her guard.
She is very practical. She immediately applies a cold cloth to the area to reduce swelling and suggests you wear something to conceal it, saying, "We don't need Barry making jokes."
The inner curve of your arm, near your bicep is her favourite place. It's subtle, muscular, and visible only when your arm is raised, a hidden moment of passion.
Catches herself staring at the mark on your skin while you're focused on something else. She blushes and quickly looks away, muttering, "God, I'm such an idiot."
If she sees one on your arm during a gym session, she'll give a quick, tight-lipped smile and then immediately push you to work harder, using the mark as proof of your shared intensity.
She keeps a tube of arnica gel or Vitamin cream in her bedside drawer specifically for quickly healing and concealing any accidental bruises or hickeys.
When you're alone and the lights are low, she might gingerly touch a mark you left on her, whispering, "Don't tell Chris I let you do that."
When you ask her to stop Jill agrees instantly, a wave of relief washing over her. She appreciates the respect for her need for control, simply asking for a high-five instead.
Mia Winters
First Time was a little hesitant about them.
Mia gives them emotionally, usually during a moment where she feels particularly safe and secure. They are lighter in color and often delivered in a sudden burst of overwhelming affection.
She becomes instantly flustered and giggly, covering the spot with her hand and saying, "Oh my goodness, I'm going to have to wear my hair down tomorrow!"
Makes a theatrical attempt to hide them with her hair or a scarf, but she's not very good at it, and they usually end up peeking out, much to her dramatic dismay.
She worries about you. She carefully pats concealer on the mark and insists you wear a sweater or jacket, constantly checking throughout the day to make sure it's still covered.
Her favourite place is on the back of your shoulder, where the skin is soft and easily covered by a sundress or blouse. It is a sweet, hidden sign of her domestic claim.
Mia will stare at it with wide, loving eyes, immediately becoming flushed. She'll reach out and touch it with the back of her hand, saying, "You are just too much. Look what you did to me!"
If Rose somehow noticed one on her, Mia would have a hilarious, panicked moment, scrambling to cover it while whispering urgently to you, "She saw it! She saw the bruise! What do I tell her?!"
Mia often insists on leaving a mark on the same spot on your body every time, making a small, temporary pattern that only the two of you know about.
Often apologizes for leaving a visible mark, even though she clearly enjoyed it: "I'm so sorry, sweetie. I just... I missed you so much."
Would be deflates slightly, looking disappointed if you ask her stop, but respects your request instantly. Mia compensates by increasing the number of soft, non-marking kisses she gives you throughout the day.
not his twin brother who has his nose stuck in a comic book 24/7, but him.
the boy you’d least expect.
he parties every night, skips classes, and flirts with girls left and right. one would never assume him to still have his v card.
so when you have him in your room, sitting on your bed with his hands folded on his lap as he stared at the way you removed your bra, gulping and sweating? you noted.
“sato.. we don’t have to do this if you don’t want to..” you whispered, leaning down, breasts exposed. your thumb lightly teased his reddened tip, spreading around his pre.
he let out a soft moan, shifting in his spot. the boy shook his head, “no! i d-do want this..!” he’s never been this close to having sex before. and god, if it meant having it with you?
“okay.” you coo’ed, peppering his face with kisses in which he immediately melted into. “go on then, touch me.”
his shaky hands reached up to squeeze your chest, gasping when he felt the buds harden underneath.
“wow.. you’re so beautiful..” sato bit the inside of his cheek. without a second thought, he began sucking on them. you arched to his touch, grabbing a fistful of his hair with your free hand. “oh sato.”
your eyes fluttered shut, starting to fist him faster, rougher.
sato was practically shaking, looking up a you through his long lashes, taking in the way a pink hue appeared on your cheeks.
“you’re such a good boy aren’t you?” you praised.
he moaned, bucking his hips upwards. “please.. need you.”
-
he stuttered against you, losing rhythm in his thrusting already. "oh my fuck." his breath hitched, gripping onto you tightly. "don't stop."
your hands were grabbing onto his shoulders, his on your waist, attempting to help you ride him. but he was already so pussy drunk, the boy couldn't do anything but groan.
the room smelt of nothing but sex, the sound of skin on skin echoing.
"you're so big!" that wasn't a complaint. his cock really was massive. it was long and thin but had the cutest pink tip.
of course, he twitched at that.
"yeah?" he rested on his back, getting more comfortable.
his head fell against the pillow, messy locks scattering all over the place while his bangs stuck to his forehead no thanks to his sweat.
"think im gonna-"
"no, not yet." you ordered, going harder, slamming right back down on his dick. "just because you're a virgin doesn't mean you get to cum like one."
₊˚.⋆ M4F, fluff (?), RE2R leon, possible zombie outbreak… ??
CW : nothing extreme but! If I do go down the route of zombie outbreak I’ll probably be changing the story of Re2r a lot so :(( sorry luv bugs !!
𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 - 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭 𝟐𝟏
Leon wasn’t mean, far from it. He’d never intentionally go out of his way to be an asshole to anyone..besides you. It was like only you could provoke him to be such an asshole! You were constantly nagging him about whether he documented his papers or filed his reports, or on him about little stupid stuff like how he came into work today with his hair all messed up, but it’s safe to say Leon isn’t exactly being tortured by you; it’s mutual. You felt like the first day you two met, he had an instant attitude towards you, and he practically nagged you about the same things.
Rivalry in the workplace is normal most supposed but for you and Leon it wasn’t about a job promotion or who could get in Chief Iron's favor. You two were simply at each other's throats because you both thought you knew more than the other! Which is funny because both of you are rookies. Meaning hardly either one of you knew the ropes around here, excelling in the police academy or not, it’s completely different from the real deal. Despite you two not even being partners it didn’t stop either one of you from being complete dicks to one another. Whether it be snagging the copy machine from each other or making sure each other's staplers have no staples, little inconveniences like that seem to really ruin each other's day.
Unfortunately, it seemed the odds weren’t in anyone’s favor tonight. Every officer had a certain job, but one job that every officer shared was night patrol.
Somehow, someway, neither one of your partners had shown up today. Marvin figured it wouldn’t be that much of an issue pairing you two up for night patrol, since Leon and his partner had patrol tonight anyway. But Marvin didn’t realize how he was so wrong.
Sitting in the police car together, in silence like two pouting children. The rain pattering on the window kept some noise besides the passing traffic. You tapped your fingers against your leg in a rhythmic beat similar to ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player. Leon glanced over at you before focusing his eyes back on the road, pulling into an empty parking lot, making sure the car faced towards the road.
“So, what, we’re not gonna talk to each other for the next few hours?” Leon spoke, breaking through the silence with a hint of humor in his voice. “Sounds perfect to me” you murmured, in all honesty, you’d be picking at him about something right now maybe even picking at him about how somehow he has his gun holster flipped the wrong way but not after this morning. For the first time Leon actually didn’t intend to piss you off, he had accidentally bumped into you while grabbing a donut and caused you to spill your coffee, which yes did end up somehow you getting in trouble with Chief Irons for looking unpresentable? Who is this guy?
Leon sighed, he knew why you were upset, and despite him already apologizing he did feel a bit more assholey because you ended up actually getting in trouble. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I know you’re still upset about the coffee thing but I seriously didn’t mean it,” looking over at her “I didn’t intend for you to get in trouble” he said with a little frown before looking back at the road ahead. You were looking out the window before glancing over at him noting how he seemed to be genuinely sorry. “It’s alright Leon, just watch where you’re going” You said crossing your arms watching as the rain fell down the window before being wiped away by the windshield wipers. Leon just glanced over at you and nodded with a hum before looking back at the road.
After a few moments, there was still more silence and more rain. Leon puffed the air in his cheeks and blew it out tapping on the steering wheel waiting for any speeding cars or maybe someone to radio in from the station about something, anything! “Sorry-“ “Leon.” “Ok..” Leon pressed his lips into a thin line. More silence.
“Okay, can you at least say something?! You’re giving me the hibi jeebies sitting there not saying anything” Leon said looking over at you, “Something” you said simply looking over at him. Leon paused “Okay smartass” he rolled his eyes, and you found yourself chuckling to yourself.
“Well, we might as well find something to talk about for the next eight hours” you spoke tapping your fingers on your lap, lip tugged to the left side of your cheek.
Before either one of you could attempt a conversation the radio buzzed in.
“Unit 21, please meet a complaint at 301 Eastwood Road.”
You and Leon glanced over at each other before Leon pulled out of the parking lot and down to the home they were sent to. In all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were something as simple as a burglary, for some reason here recently crime rates have spiked in the peaceful city known as Raccoon City. After living here all your life it was almost worrisome, so many assaults happening left and right, this feeling in your stomach was aching almost like you couldn’t force yourself to believe it was a simple burglary. Leon could practically feel the nervousness dripping off you
“It’s probably nothing, maybe an old woman upset about some kids partying” he said with a reassuring smile, glancing over at you before focusing back on the road. You pressed your lips into a thin line, his reassurances doing hardly anything to ease this coil in your gut.
As you pulled up to the scene the old woman stood on her front porch arms crossed with a frown on her lips. “I called 15 minutes ago!” “Ma’am-“ “don’t ’ma’am’ me young man, I could’ve been dead” Leon sighed and held an awkward smile on his lips. “Mrs….?” “Uriah” “ok, Mrs.Uriah, sorry for the hold up but could you maybe tell us what exactly happened?”
Turns out, Leon was right, just some kids being loud next door.
on the other side of town
“Shit, where the hell are my keys…” the woman murmured as she rummaged through her purse, a cigarette between her lips. Walking down the rainy, cold concrete path.
The woman turned down a dark alleyway. The street lights barely illuminated the dark area, she hated that her apartment was in such a dark area of town, it was so creepy…
Walking down the alleyway she found her keys in the crevice of her purse. Opening the fence door behind the apartment building.
crunch
The woman paused, noticing a man hunched over something. Putting a hand over her nose it smelt…putrid. Like a rotting corpse and fresh blood.
“probably some crackhead” the raven-haired woman thought to herself walking past the man, feeling a bit uneasy at whatever he was doing, figuring it was best to ignore it.
A low groan could be heard behind her as it sounded like the man shifted to stand behind her. “Look, I have no money, I just bought my last pack of cigarettes with what I had left alright?” She turned around, seeing a pair of white eyes staring back at her, and rotting flesh.
A loud shriek came from her throat before the ‘man’ pounced on her.
₊˚.⋆ M4F, fluff (?), RE2R leon, possible zombie outbreak… ??
CW : nothing extreme but! If I do go down the route of zombie outbreak I’ll probably be changing the story of Re2r a lot so :(( sorry luv bugs !!
- 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐭 𝟐𝟏
Leon wasn’t mean, far from it. He’d never intentionally go out of his way to be an asshole to anyone..besides you. It was like only you could provoke him to be such an asshole! You were constantly nagging him about whether he documented his papers or filed his reports, or on him about little stupid stuff like how he came into work today with his hair all messed up, but it’s safe to say Leon isn’t exactly being tortured by you; it’s mutual. You felt like the first day you two met, he had an instant attitude towards you, and he practically nagged you about the same things.
Rivalry in the workplace is normal most supposed but for you and Leon it wasn’t about a job promotion or who could get in Chief Iron's favor. You two were simply at each other's throats because you both thought you knew more than the other! Which is funny because both of you are rookies. Meaning hardly either one of you knew the ropes around here, excelling in the police academy or not, it’s completely different from the real deal. Despite you two not even being partners it didn’t stop either one of you from being complete dicks to one another. Whether it be snagging the copy machine from each other or making sure each other's staplers have no staples, little inconveniences like that seem to really ruin each other's day.
Unfortunately, it seemed the odds weren’t in anyone’s favor tonight. Every officer had a certain job, but one job that every officer shared was night patrol.
Somehow, someway, neither one of your partners had shown up today. Marvin figured it wouldn’t be that much of an issue pairing you two up for night patrol, since Leon and his partner had patrol tonight anyway. But Marvin didn’t realize how he was so wrong.
Sitting in the police car together, in silence like two pouting children. The rain pattering on the window kept some noise besides the passing traffic. You tapped your fingers against your leg in a rhythmic beat similar to ‘Baby Come Back’ by Player. Leon glanced over at you before focusing his eyes back on the road, pulling into an empty parking lot, making sure the car faced towards the road.
“So, what, we’re not gonna talk to each other for the next few hours?” Leon spoke, breaking through the silence with a hint of humor in his voice. “Sounds perfect to me” you murmured, in all honesty, you’d be picking at him about something right now maybe even picking at him about how somehow he has his gun holster flipped the wrong way but not after this morning. For the first time Leon actually didn’t intend to piss you off, he had accidentally bumped into you while grabbing a donut and caused you to spill your coffee, which yes did end up somehow you getting in trouble with Chief Irons for looking unpresentable? Who is this guy?
Leon sighed, he knew why you were upset, and despite him already apologizing he did feel a bit more assholey because you ended up actually getting in trouble. “Look, I’m sorry okay? I know you’re still upset about the coffee thing but I seriously didn’t mean it,” looking over at her “I didn’t intend for you to get in trouble” he said with a little frown before looking back at the road ahead. You were looking out the window before glancing over at him noting how he seemed to be genuinely sorry. “It’s alright Leon, just watch where you’re going” You said crossing your arms watching as the rain fell down the window before being wiped away by the windshield wipers. Leon just glanced over at you and nodded with a hum before looking back at the road.
After a few moments, there was still more silence and more rain. Leon puffed the air in his cheeks and blew it out tapping on the steering wheel waiting for any speeding cars or maybe someone to radio in from the station about something, anything! “Sorry-“ “Leon.” “Ok..” Leon pressed his lips into a thin line. More silence.
“Okay, can you at least say something?! You’re giving me the hibi jeebies sitting there not saying anything” Leon said looking over at you, “Something” you said simply looking over at him. Leon paused “Okay smartass” he rolled his eyes, and you found yourself chuckling to yourself.
“Well, we might as well find something to talk about for the next eight hours” you spoke tapping your fingers on your lap, lip tugged to the left side of your cheek.
Before either one of you could attempt a conversation the radio buzzed in.
“Unit 21, please meet a complaint at 301 Eastwood Road.”
You and Leon glanced over at each other before Leon pulled out of the parking lot and down to the home they were sent to. In all honesty, you wouldn’t be surprised if it were something as simple as a burglary, for some reason here recently crime rates have spiked in the peaceful city known as Raccoon City. After living here all your life it was almost worrisome, so many assaults happening left and right, this feeling in your stomach was aching almost like you couldn’t force yourself to believe it was a simple burglary. Leon could practically feel the nervousness dripping off you
“It’s probably nothing, maybe an old woman upset about some kids partying” he said with a reassuring smile, glancing over at you before focusing back on the road. You pressed your lips into a thin line, his reassurances doing hardly anything to ease this coil in your gut.
As you pulled up to the scene the old woman stood on her front porch arms crossed with a frown on her lips. “I called 15 minutes ago!” “Ma’am-“ “don’t ’ma’am’ me young man, I could’ve been dead” Leon sighed and held an awkward smile on his lips. “Mrs….?” “Uriah” “ok, Mrs.Uriah, sorry for the hold up but could you maybe tell us what exactly happened?”
Turns out, Leon was right, just some kids being loud next door.
on the other side of town
“Shit, where the hell are my keys…” the woman murmured as she rummaged through her purse, a cigarette between her lips. Walking down the rainy, cold concrete path.
The woman turned down a dark alleyway. The street lights barely illuminated the dark area, she hated that her apartment was in such a dark area of town, it was so creepy…
Walking down the alleyway she found her keys in the crevice of her purse. Opening the fence door behind the apartment building.
crunch
The woman paused, noticing a man hunched over something. Putting a hand over her nose it smelt…putrid. Like a rotting corpse and fresh blood.
“probably some crackhead” the raven-haired woman thought to herself walking past the man, feeling a bit uneasy at whatever he was doing, figuring it was best to ignore it.
A low groan could be heard behind her as it sounded like the man shifted to stand behind her. “Look, I have no money, I just bought my last pack of cigarettes with what I had left alright?” She turned around, seeing a pair of white eyes staring back at her, and rotting flesh.
A loud shriek came from her throat before the ‘man’ pounced on her.
I’m semi-new to editblr and I am still learning things! My edits are most of the time eyestraining and overwhelming … sorry
I have many many f/o’s and kin’s as well as interests. I edit them often and rethem often too! I take requests often, but sometimes don’t do them for any reason. I do love taking requests though
I’m sixteen and mixed. I am also Jewish yay! I speak broken Tongan and English. I am profic and comship! I do not like darkships, and don’t like things like lolisho, so I often block those.
I want to take more requests! My blacklist is tcc, psd edits, and whatever else is said in my pinned post. My whitelist is everything else! I love making edits so go ahead and request or commission me
Taglist: @wisterixn @wavyskies @dreamveils @aerodroum @tiied @llosttemple @vxmpmaki @moldificate @stomachbooks (dm to be added or removed)
. ݁⋆ ۶ৎ ݁˖ . ݁ 18+ | helping nerdjo study for an exam by sucking him off under his desk
you being the ever-so-supportive girlfriend that you are, you made yourself comfortable beneath his desk, placing a cushion under your knees that he had passed to you.
his baggy jeans are unbuckled and shuffled down to his thighs, just enough to free his girthy, leaking cock. blushing tip hitting the back of your throat and it constricts around him, making him whimper and stutter.
his face is flushed red, glasses askew on the bridge of his nose, and his pen held tightly in his grip it’s close to breaking.
he pants and stutters, attempting to get his words out as he explains a concept to you. but when he gets something wrong, you immediately move your mouth away, leaving it throbbing and aching with a deep need.
“c‘mon, pretty boy, you know that’s wrong,” you tease with a giggle.
“f-fuck, please... wait,” he begs breathlessly, voice cracking on the last word. begging for you to give him another chance to get it right, to be able to feel your warm mouth wrapped around him while your tongue glides over his length.
you sit on your knees expectantly, teasingly and slowly running your index finger up and down the vein on the underside of his cock as you wait. it twitches from the slight touch, a bead of precum dribbling down.
you’ve only let him cum once so far, being edged or denied pleasure when he says something incorrect or takes too long to answer. it wasn’t often that your nerdy boyfriend couldn’t automatically recite formulas and solve equations like it came to him so naturally.
but how is it his fault when he has an angel between his knees, teasing him with your tongue and lips endlessly he can barely think straight.
he begins again, and you guide his cock back into your warm mouth, slowly bobbing your head up and down, up and down, up--
“a-and... fuck... the schrodinger equation t-tells you how--... hah... a quantum’s s-system’s wavefunction changes over time-- nnghhh…!”
--and down.
it’s like a ding, ding, ding goes off in his head when he finally gets it right, your mouth moving faster along his length and your hand compensating for what you can’t reach, stroking the base of his heavy cock.
he gasps out a wanton moan, his fingers gripping the edge of his desk so tight that they turn white. he’s so fucking sensitive from being teased for so long, his dick feeling like it’s ready to explode and his eyes rolling back lewdly.
“shit, shit, shit... don’t fucking stop, please.”
it’s only a few more sloppy sucks of his cock, along with the sound of you gagging that drives him over the edge. his hips buck into your mouth uncontrollably, making you choke further on his cock but you don’t care. it only makes your ministrations hungrier and filthier.
his eyes are screwed shut, curses falling from his lips one after the other as his breath becomes laboured.
“fuuuuck... that’s it,” he moans loudly, his head tossed back as he releases rope after rope onto your eager tongue.
his chest rises and falls with heavy breaths beneath his dusty blue sweater vest, his skin becoming redder than before and a sheen of sweat making his skin glisten as he attempts to come down from his high.
your throat works to swallow his cum before you smirk up at him from under the desk, wiping off a drop of cum from your chin.
“now, next topic. let’s see if you get to cum again.”
and his cock twitches back to life at the sight of the tilt of your lips and your cheeky tone.
a/n: an old repost while i work on jealous fwb toru hehe
