absquatulate

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏.

𝐕𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐚𝐧 𝐃𝐢𝐣𝐤 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

✧ in which you have a fat crush on your brother's best friend, without getting much success.

You watch proudly in his shirt as you clap in the game's first minutes, chanting while taking pictures of him.

The first half was pretty equal, with some shots from both teams but neither could score. You could see that Virgil was getting nervous. He stopped his movements abruptly when the referee called for a corner and looked at the crowd, his eyes sparkling with tenseness.

He gazed down at where his family (and therefore also yours) was and licked his lips. You couldn't help but wonder what would your brother think of your little huge crush on his childhood best friend.

In the 34th minute, he passed the defenders and tried to score with a pass from Cody Gakpo, making the goalkeeper lose his balance and thus scoring.

You celebrated the goal screaming it to your brother's face and he couldn't help but smile at you, happy that you were having a good time.

Your cheeks were red after Virgil approached the stands and celebrated the goal, dedicating a kiss to where you were.

And that was the effect that Virgil Van Dijk had on people, especially you.

Virgil was your brother's best friend, you had known him for years. It was a stupid crush that all your friends grew out of but not you. You had to keep drooling every time he was near you, that being almost every day because your brother had him over to dinner nearly every night.

You remember the day the Van Dijk family moved next to your house, a loud and proud Dutch family. The day after they had moved in, his siblings asked if your older brother was interested in playing football with Vrigil.

It didn't take long for your brother to become close to Virgil, both at the cusp of boyhood.

Their friendship only bloomed from there.

After spending almost every weekend watching your brother and Virgil training, to spending most afternoons around the Van Dijk’s house playing, you felt like family.

You always found yourself drawn to the boy next door although he was away a lot of the time, playing different matches and training. Virgil’s natural affinity and talent for the game, ensured the quality of his skills.

He was slightly older so no doubt he found you childish and would always moan when his parents made him spend time with you.

"Mom, not again! I don't want to play with her, she's boring!" Virgil exclaimed with an expression of obvious annoyance on his face.

Virgil’s mother was the first to figure out your crush on the boy. She first noticed it when you joined the Van Dijks at a family dinner when you were around thirteen.

Both families were playing football, as usual, while the adults were preparing supper. When you had the ball you felt your body lean way too far back and Virgik tried to act on impulse, stretching his body to catch you in time.

"Hold on to me!" Virgil exclaimed, extending his arms towards you. However, the weight of the fall was too much, and in an instant, they were both on the grass, in some sort of mess.

"Virg, God, I'm so sorry! I dragged you with me!" You apologized, feeling the blood rise to your cheeks, turning them crimson red.

He brushed the grass off his jacket with an angry expression.

"Well done. First minutes into the game and you're already annoying."

"Thanks for trying!" you laughed, shyly.

When there was a long silence, you realized that Mason was not joking and was serious. "Sorry, I..."

Virgil’s mom looked from afar at the little girl carefully while she kept her eyes glued to her son's. She watched her cute little cheeks tinted red as Virgil scoffed and begged you to stay away from him.

The mom would soon get used to it as she watched you fall in love with her son over the next few years.

Until your first boyfriend. An age difference of three years was not a big deal since it was a common factor among your friend's partners. You had recently turned sixteen years old and you thought that you had met the boy who could take you out of the charm that had her wrapped around Mase.

Lyon was older, he was eighteen years old, like Virgil. You had met him at school on a spring afternoon. You walked through the school hallways, books clutched to your chest. A gust of wind caused some of the books to fly out of your hands, scattering them across the hallway floor.

Lyon was passing by and noticed the scene. He approached you with a smile and that is how the story started.

Your brother didn't approve of your new boyfriend. He knew that her sister just wanted to show his best friend that the age difference wasn't that important.

Being with Lyon was great at first. You knew that he was not the love of your life, but for the moment he seemed to play the role quite well, so that was fine with you. It was a Friday night and you and your brother were at a party at the house of one of your brother's friends.

You were downstairs in the kitchen while your friends watched you drink alcohol like there was no tomorrow. They realized something was bothering you, but decided not to mention it.

"Where is the lover boy anyway?" Spoke one of your friends.

Your lack of response was when they realized that Lyon was the reason for the sadness that was painted on their best friend's face. He abandoned you, once again. This seems routine, they thought.

You slammed your empty red glass against the kitchen counter, wiping the drip from your chin as you decided that was enough.

"I'll go look for him."

From the corner of the room, your brother wished you good luck and with courage, you stumbled through the party. The house was huge.

Enormous windows covered the entire house.

From the kitchen window you could see the river of lights going down to the beach.

And there he sat, on the stairs leading to the illuminated outdoor pool, Lyon. A thin blonde girl was sitting on his lap, probably older than you.

She took the cigarette from Lyon's lips and placed it on top of her painted red lips.

Tears welled in your eyes as you returned to the house with your heels in hand. With all the bad luck in the world, as you returned, you heard in the background:

"Baby, relax." You ignored your boyfriend's call as you made your way through the crowd to return to the kitchen, hoping that your brother was still there.

You made it to the kitchen before your boyfriend grabbed you by the back of your arm and pushed you against the kitchen island.

"Come on, I didn't even do anything"

"She was on your lap."

"It's not that serious, okay?"

"It's a big problem! I'm humiliated! " You shouted back, creating a scene you desperately wanted to avoid. Lyon's grip tightened around your arm as he tried to wriggle out of your grasp.

"Let go of me, you're hurting me." That only made his grip tighten around your arms.

"Let her go, man." Your vision was too blurry to focus on what happened next, but you felt Lyon back away.

"Oh yeah?... and what are you going to do about it, Virgil?" That's when the punches were thrown and Lyon was left hunched over holding his split lip.

Your now ex-boyfriend was grabbed by someone else before he could lunge at who you assumed was your brother, but when you turned your head you saw Virgil shaking your hand out of pain.

His knuckles were red and his eyes were darker than what you were used to.

"Let's go to the car." Said Virgil, you nodding your head. "Get in the car." He said. His tone was strong, not what she was used to.

Still, the ride to your house was silent, you sitting in the front with Virg, while your brother passed out in the back seat. Faint English music played on the radio as Virgil’s eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

You’re childhood crush finally spoke. "You really don't know how to choose them, don't you?"

You could only sob again, unable to answer him mainly because he was right and you were ashamed. When the car stopped, he unbuckled his seat belt and murmured that he would walk you to your door.

Virg rocked on his heels as he watched the moonlight highlight the tear-stained cheeks of his best friend's sister. He thought you looked beautiful that night even though you had been crying for the last half hour, your hair hadn't been brushed, and you were digging through your purse like crazy.

Although he would never admit it.

"I got them!" You laughed, waving your keys in the air before bumping your nose with the keychain. You paused as you pushed the key into the door, turning to look Virgil’s in the eye for the first time since the party.

"Thank you." Mason didn't want to hear it. You were just her best friend's sister.

"It's no big deal."

"No... really thank you, Virgil," you smiled and Virgil listened too, mainly because it was probably the first time you had called him Viegil and not Virg.

After a moment, you dropped your bag to the floor and wrapped your arms around the boy's waist, your head resting on his chest as he quickly moved his hand and rubbed your back.

"Just... make sure the next one isn't a complete idiot, yeah?" he whispered, his chin resting on the top of your head.

That sentence broke your poor little heart.

✧.・。.・゜✧・.・✧・゜・。.✧

𝐈 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫!🤪

wearning: +18,smut

request: yes.

You are sitting on the couch at home, snuggled up next to Virgil van Dijk. The atmosphere is quiet, the sound of the television in the background is barely perceptible. His presence was always reassuring, a mix of strength and sweetness that made you feel protected. He has his arm resting on your shoulder, his fingers slowly marking circles on the fabric of your shirt.

You turn slightly to look at him, the sculpted profile of his face is illuminated by the light of the screen. He looks down at you with a smile just touched, one of those smiles that always make you get butterflies in your stomach.

"Virgil," you start out in an innocent tone, but the mischievous gleam in your eyes does not escape him.

"Hm?" he answers without taking his eyes off you, curious.

"Could you... play badly against Arsenal?" you ask in a soft voice, almost as if you were proposing the most logical thing in the world. Hold a grin, knowing what his reaction will be.

Slowly, his right eyebrow rises. He looks at you with a mixture of amusement and disbelief, and for a moment there is only silence. Then he tilts his head to the side, his gaze becomes tighter and more penetrating.

"Wait, wait... what did you say?" he asks, his voice low and a hint of jealousy that shines through behind the jesting tone.

You shrug with an innocent expression, but you can’t hold back your smile.

"You know, if Liverpool loses to Arsenal, Chelsea has a better chance of getting back on the board. It’s not a big sacrifice, is it?" Add, touching his chest with fingers in an innocent and provocative gesture at the same time.

He stares at you intensely, his gaze is now deeper. He moistens his lips with his tongue and then shakes his head, letting out a brief incredulous laugh.

"Ah, so is that it? you’re more supportive of Chelsea than you are of me?" He replies with a calm voice, but his dark eyes hold you captive, full of silent jealousy that he had never openly admitted.

"Come on, baby, you know I’m a big fan of Chelsea," you say, putting your head against his shoulder. "That’s not new."

"I know," he replies slowly, his voice more raucous. He turns slightly, so that he looks you straight in the eye. "But that doesn’t mean I like it."

Feel his arm clench around you, and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder gives you a jolt. Your heart beats faster.

"Oh, are you jealous?" you ask, challenging him with a funny smile.

"Maybe a little," he admits with a slight grin, hid lips dangerously close to yours. "I don’t like it when you’re not rooting for me. Makes me think you don’t support me as well as you should."

"Oh, poor baby," you joke, trying to keep a defiance tone, but your voice goes down unconsciously. "Do I have to cheer for you when you play against my team?"

"Yes, that’s what I’m saying," he replies with a confident smile, his voice getting lower and more seductive. "You’re mine, aren’t you? Then you must cheer for me. Period."

You don’t have time to answer. Before you can open your mouth, he leans over you and kisses you with an overwhelming passion. His lips move with a decided sweetness, and the warmth of his kiss envelops you like a flame. A big hand slips behind your neck, fingers sink gently into your hair, locking you in that delicate but authoritative grip.

Your breath is broken, and your mind is empty instantly. The awareness of what you were trying to do disappears under the pressure of his lips against yours. Every logical reasoning gives way to that feeling of warmth that runs through you all.

Virgil interrupts the kiss for a moment, his eyes burning with intensity as he stares at you.

"I told you so," he whispers in his deeper voice than before. "I come before Chelsea."

You’re short of breath, warm cheeks, and your answer is a whisper you can barely utter.

"You are unbearable," murmurs, the eyes lost in his, the heartbeat accelerated.

"Yes, but I’m your unbearable," he counters with a triumphant grin, leaving you speechless.

You stare at him, trying to catch up, but the smile that lights his face makes you lose any desire to counter. You already know he won, and he knows better than you.

"So," he adds, tongue-licking as if he was still enjoying the kiss, "I will play against Arsenal. And not only will I play... but I’ll do everything to win. And you know what? When I score, my first thought will be you. My girl who cheers for Chelsea."

"Ah, you’re unbearable!" you exclaimed, laughing as you slap a light punch on his chest.

"You’ve said it before," he replies with a smile full of arrogance and affection at the same time. He holds you closer to him, his arms wrap you with that sure and stable force that you have always loved in him.

"I come before Chelsea, remember that," he whispers to your face and then kisses you again

The kiss becomes more passionate as Virgil explores your mouth with his tongue and you groan.

With a fluidity that leaves you breathless, Virgil lays you down on the couch gently, his big strong hands guiding you with sweetness and determination. It makes you lie down with a slowness that feels like safety and control. His body moves over yours with the grace of a sure predator of its prey. His eyes follow your every movement, his gaze burns with an intensity that makes you spin your head.

"Now don’t run," he whispers in that husky voice that makes your soul vibrate. His lips bend in a smile that drives you crazy, a promise and a challenge together.

His hands slowly caress you, sliding down your hips with a delicacy that contrasts with the strength of his movements. It keeps you still, but at the same time it makes you feel free. The beat of your heart accelerates, every sense is concentrated on him, on his touch, on every breath you feel against your skin.

"You’re too stubborn," he whispers against your lips, his warm breath tickling you. "But I like it that way."

And then he kisses you. But this time it’s different. It’s not a sudden or impetuous kiss. It’s slow, deep, studied. His lips move against yours with a precision that makes you lose your breath. Every second that passes, the world around you vanishes. There is no more television in the background, there is no more dim light in the room. It’s just you two.

His hands caress your face, thumbs trace little circles on your cheeks. Hi8s touch is so sweet that you almost cry. Yet there is a strength in that gesture, a silent promise. He holds you as if you were the most precious thing in the world, and at that moment you feel just like that.

Feel the weight of his body against yours, not too heavy, but enough to make you feel protected, safe. His lips move more now, and your breath is mixed with his. Your fingertips run along his broad shoulders, tracing the line of his muscles. Every corner of his body is carved to perfection, and it seems almost unreal that it’s all yours.

"Tell me," he whispers against your lips, interrupting the kiss for just a moment. "Who comes first, me or Chelsea?" His voice is full of arrogant confidence, but his eyes are full of expectation. It’s not just a question, it’s a challenge.

Pretend to think about it, tilting your head slightly and biting your lip to hold a smile. "Let’s see..." Jokes, but you do not in time to finish the sentence that his lips return to claim you, more hungry than before.

"Wrong answer," he whispers against your mouth before kissing you again, and this time it’s more insistent, deeper. You find yourself letting go completely, your hands clinging to his back as the kiss becomes more intense. There is no Chelsea, no Premier League ranking. There is only Virgil, with his strength and his sweetness fused into one overwhelming embrace.

When he broke off the kiss, he turned you on your stomach and pulled out your pants and underwear leaving you naked in front of him, Virgil began to strip himself and sucked his dick on his hands to then rub you on your entrance making you groan.

You tried to push your hips back to feel more friction but he blocked you. " do the good blues" he said mocking you and then with a quick blow he put his dick inside of you.

You cried a whimper and your whole body felt weak for a moment. He grunted feeling you tight and took a handful of your hair to arch your back against his chest and started fucking you making you scream moaning.

You lowered your head on your shoulders, while leaning against his body. He looked at you and smiled when he saw your fucking face with his mouth open and kissed you ruddy as he kept fucking you.

You moaned even louder feeling his power and how he was filling you with his cock. "Chelsea comes first, huh?" he whisper to your ear, then nibble playfully on your lobe and you groan without giving him an answer.

Virgil put his hand on your pussy and started to insert a finger into your pussy and made it move as he began to increase his thrusts even faster.

You groaned, focusing on your pleasure and Virgil began to attack your neck with bites and kisses. " Answer me when I ask you a question" he said and gave you a push that made you bend on your legs on the couch.

He started to fuck you without stopping and you were screaming with pleasure his name. He grunted as you felt that you were close. "That’s fine," you whispers with a short breath as he is still fucking you. "You come first."

A triumphant smile lights up his face. "I know," he says, with that arrogance that drives you crazy. His lips touch your neck, leaving a trail of light kisses that make you shiver. "And I’ll remind you of it every time you try to forget it." He continued giving you a last shot by making you cum on his cock and he kept hitting you until he cummed inside of you.

"a blues girl who gets cum in her pussy held by a player of the Liverpool, that bad girl" he said jokingly.

I pull his dick out and you whimpered about the loss of contact. Virgil sat on the couch trying to catch his breath and you crawled over to him kissing him and he hugged you.

If your world is to survive, I must light the way. Because I am the Shield of the People. I am Rhaenyra the Chosen. I am the Prince That Was Promised.

I'm sorry, Your Grace. The old man was never much for praying. What is a trial of seven?