who cares about childhood friends to lovers when you can have childhood bully to lovers, add a bit of spice then and voilà, you got eenie meanie asshole bully gyu 😤

this guy has his eyes set on you ever since kindergarten, purposely broke your small clay pot because he loves it when you cry. but when he knows it's him who makes you cry—yeah, he gone do it again and never let you go, ever.

Mattsun clicks his tongue as he watches the commotion, rubbing a hand through the shorter hair at the back of his neck and leaning a bit more into Hajime’s arm as he speaks. “I sure feel fucking old watching them,” his voice doesn’t travel far over the splashing, the shill squeaks and amused thunderous laughs, “don’t you?”

“We are old,” Hajime chuckles as he looks over his shoulder, then throwing back the last of his beer and placing the bottle with the others. “But yes,” he eventually nods, “it doesn’t exactly make me feel great either.” He turns back to the bumbling group and leans his thighs against the table, crossing his arms over his chest. You’re in the pool. Splashing around, bright eyes and glowing with so much joy it’s almost intoxicating, such a change from the usual weariness you catch his eyes with.

Hajime doesn’t blame you for it, hell— it’s almost a miracle you’re still as cheery and doe eyed as you are, still the same naive little thing he had to grow into accepting for what it was, what Tooru made it. You never really had that much time to enjoy being young before you got pregnant, and it’s times like these where it slips out and fills you up, top to bottom, leaves you gasping and giggling like a kid presented with sugar and sweets.

He lets his eyes go from you to the brute hauling you through the water like you’re a puppet, lifting you up and tossing you back into the water, where you go under, push yourself back to the surface to gasp for a breath that’s halfhearted at best, laughing like your life depends on it- then repeating the cycle all over again. Atsuko sticks out of the water like a steadfast rock, his face split with a grin to darken the sun. He looks so much like Tooru- looks like his dad. It’s still weird to come to terms with that some days.

Makki is joining in dragging you around when you pop up again too close to him, letting you cling to him for a few seconds and waving you off when Atsu grabs your leg again. Hajime isn’t surprised by that one, watching his long time friend stand and tease as the back of his neck starts getting a bit too red. And Tooru, he sits at the edge of the pool, nursing a glass as he watches everything happen, legs moving back and forth in the water.

“You think he knows?” Mattsun asks suddenly, popping a cigarette in his mouth and lighting it as he flicks his eyes to the bunch of you under heavy lashes. Hajime groans for a second, before uncrossing his arms. It’s so hard to navigate who knows what, and most days he’s not even sure he himself knows all the intricacies of the tangled mess that has become your ‘friendship’. He’s not sure he can call himself your friend anymore— or if he ever was. Makki was, and Tooru was something wholly other- but him?

“He knows what?” he settles on saying, picking uncomfortably at the buttons of his shirt.

Mattsun puffs out a ring of smoke, before he scratches at his face, rubbing the stubble on his chin back and forth like it’s going to soothe him. “That he’s Tooru’s kid. That Tooru loves her. That she loves Tooru, any of it.” Luckily Mattsun doesn’t speak in riddles like the setter does, and Hajime is relieved when he gets a straight answer.

“He knows,” Hajime says after a few seconds of silence, then biting his lip. “Do you know that—” Something lodges up his throat when his basically-nephew meets his eyes so sharply, so directly that the words stick, unable to tumble from his tongue anymore. Atsuko pulls you close to his chest without breaking eye contact, dips his mouth to your ear and whispers something, and your eyes flutter open too. Mattsun bumps his elbow into his arm when Hajime doesn’t continue, but before he can ask the athletic trainer turns on his heel and breaks open another beer with the bent spoon on the table. “Never mind, s’nothing.”

He doesn’t want to think of the thing he sees flickering in the young man’s gaze from time to time, or the way he moulds and bends when you come pick him up from practice. As his trainer, Hajime sees a lot more of you and your son than the others do, and sometimes it just seems like— the beer is cold as he downs half the bottle in one breath, cold droplets of condensation wetting his palm. Sometimes it’s like you and your son are close, Hajime just clenches his eyes closed harder, taking smaller gulps as he blocks out the noise. There’s no use in thinking about it, he knows that, definitely when it makes a strange feeling stir in his stomach.

“Don’t drink too much,” a melodic, lithe tone interrupts his thoughts from the side, coming to stand next to the two of them and trailing a path of wetness over the tiles that’ll dry in the sunny weather too quickly. “You still gotta drive them home later.” Tooru runs his long fingers through his hair when meeting his best friend’s look, nodding his head towards the garden.

Hajime nods, letting his eyes slip over your form cuddled into Atsuko’s chest only a second to look at the other group of people sitting on the grass and talking among each other. He pushes the thoughts blaring lovers, lovers, lovers far to the recesses of his skull as he counts the young adults splayed out on the lawn. Two of his own, along with the lanky blond boy- young man- that he’s seen for years now, and a couple more friends that must be high school or uni classmates. He offered to drive everyone home- ever the reliable parent, right? Doesn’t take a fucking thing away from the headache that’s slowly but surely growing unavoidable.

Everything is still for a few seconds, before everything seems to shift and they all get up and move to the pool, and you take that as your clue to escape the never ending game to wrap a towel around yourself. Hajime blinks, and you’re back to the respectful young woman he’s used to running into on days where Tooru isn’t there, cheeks hot and so much smaller seeming, just taking up less space, less room for your own happiness, less attention. That most of all. When you walk over to them Tooru tucks you under his arm, not caring you’re wet, his eyes on the group of not-teens-anymore now growing rowdier. He’s careful bringing a knuckle under your chin, nudging you into looking at him.

Both Mattsun and Hajime himself look away as you two talk, hearing you say something about cutting some more fruit, some softer words that Tooru presses to your temple with a quick kiss. If anyone were to really look, it’d be easy to tell that there’s nothing platonic left about the way the ex pro-athlete follows you with his eyes, not about the way he seems to slip into thought and not about the way he has to shift on his feet, resting his hands in his lap. He’s so fucking obvious, Hajime thinks, shaking his head.

“Can you at least pretend like you’re not constantly two seconds away from bending her over and fucking her here and now,” Hajime grumbles under his breath as he watches his friend, bristling when Tooru meets his eyes and they’re all blown out and rabid, his mouth curling slightly at the edges.

“Why, because you wanna do the same?” The hostility is disrupted by Mattsun who breaks between the two men to get himself a beer, giving both of them a heavy hand on their shoulders. He doesn’t have to say it aloud for them both to read the message in there. Tooru purses his lips as he watches the brunet that’s now sitting on the edge, a tick coming into his brow. “I was just thinking I should’ve put some more of them into her when I did. A whole house full of my babies.”

“You’re nasty,” Makki says with a frown as he walks up, only catching the tail end of the conversation. His nose, cheeks, ears and neck all have a painfully red tint, skin screaming out against the summer sun. He takes a bottle of water and presses it up to his forehead, then sighing. “I got burned, I think.”

And Mattsun laughs as he tosses his cigarette down and stomps it out under his foot. “You look like a fucking crab, you asshole.” There’s no bite behind the insult, and a smile tugs at Hajime’s lips.

+

Your hands tremble when dropping the knife onto the counter, eyes flicking up at the open windows that let fresh air into the airy home. The screaming and giggling from outside is enough to have you tense as large hands slip down your hips to your thighs, moving along the curve of your ass and the inside of your legs. He hums, then presses his solid, big body back to yours. “You know how unfair it is to make me hard all the time? I’m supposed to be hanging out with my friends.” He drops his lips to the soft skin behind your ear and plants kisses there, trailing them along your neck as the hands pick at your wet bikini bottom and peel it from you enough to let you feel the air on freshly exposed skin.

“Let’s do it quickly, hm?” he suggests into a messy kiss to your pulse, pressing his hips into your ass and moaning softly because of it. But you push his hands down and shake your head, trembling on your legs. You wish you could blame it on the change in temperature.

“There’s too many people here, baby. Not today, not —n-now.” It’s soft as it falls from your lips, and Atsu continues like he didn’t hear you at all. “Ko,” you breathe, still not receiving an answer other than his hands flying back to your thighs, squeezing the plush between stong fingers and his hard cock being rubbed in between your cheeks with a deep breath. “Atsuko,” you say, and he bites down on the tendon connecting your neck to your shoulder with a growl.

“Don’t tell me no, I want you now. Not later, not tomorrow. Now.” His dick twitches hard enough for you to feel it through his swimming trunks, one hand reaching up to grip your neck. Loose enough not to hurt but tight enough to make your heartbeat rise. “You still think I give a fuck about who sees us, don’t you? Think I wouldn’t just walk you out there and fuck my mom stupid in front of the entire neighborhood.”

He turns your head more towards his so he can hover his lips over yours, basically kissing you as he stares you down. “I don’t give a fuck. I’d love to show everyone how pretty my silly, little mom takes her son’s cock. How easily you whore yourself out and drip down your legs for me. I’d let them see how good you suck cock too, how good you look having your little mouth full of my cum.” His hazels glint with mirth when you swallow, pressing your thighs together. “Want me to show everyone, momma? Want to have my cock out there instead?”

“N-no,” you whimper as he backs you into the cupboards, lifting your hands up to suck your fingers clean of the fruit juice, purposefully pressing his hard cock against your center again. He sucks at your fingers and trails his tongue along them one by one as you watch him, letting him melt you so easily. Of course you feel bad about getting wet. You still hate yourself for ever letting it get this far, or any farther than normal in the first place. You hate feeling the wetness coat the fabric of your bikini as he grinds himself into you like he owes this, like it’s a personal reward to himself.

You hate that his cock is so hard from having you— his mom, the person who gave him life and nurtured him this close, this wet and shaky. But when he finishes and lets your hands drop to his chest, there’s no blame there anymore. He’s really grown to own it, practiced only in grabbing you close, gripping your ass and moaning when the heat of your clothed pussy gets to be too much. “In the bathroom, or I’m fucking you right here,” he hisses, licking his lips with too much spit and drool of you, large body only slipping slightly aside to let you through.

Your eyes flick to the garden, where you can just about see the very edge of the pool, and your stomach drops. There’s no telling when they’ll come in for a drink, some ice, anything at all. This is a horrible idea. But still you follow your urges as slick drenches your bottoms and wets your thighs, walking over to the bathroom with your son in toe. He grunts as he shuts the door and locks it, before impatiently pushing his trunks down and letting his thick, flushed cock bounce up to his belly. It’s glossy, thick beads of precum dripping down the shaft and along the vein pumping along the underside, where he grips it and his balls to tug them with his other hand.

You slip your bottoms off, whimpering when he tugs the flimsy fabric under your tits too and stares at you for a second, then hissing again. “Fuck, get on my cock already, before I cum from just watching you.” He lifts your thigh and lets you do the work of lining up, leaning in to meet your lips with him in a sweet kiss. “You’re so fucking sexy, so fucking good. I can fuck you so much better than Tooru can,” he whispers when you wrap your hands around his neck, thread them through his hair and cling to it, shutting your eyes tight. “Should show everyone how pretty you look.”

You mewl when after a few seconds of fumbling he rubs the glossy head of his cock to your clit and then back, slipping between your slick lips and pushing in a few inches at a time. “Ah- Atsu- hmng,” your mouth open, nails digging into his shoulders. “Atsuko.”

“That’s it, mom. Say my name nice and loud, beg your kid to fuck you.” He pushes in further, letting you almost lean onto your tippy toes into him as the hand smacks your ass and keeps you stable while rutting your gummy walks open more, deeper. It gushes slick down your thighs and down his cock, his balls, you don’t doubt you’re making a mess. “Such a good momma, letting me use her cunt for my own pleasure. Aren’t you, mom? You’re Atsuko’s pussy, aren’t you?”

“Mhm,” you squeak, trembling onto him as he rocks his hips back and forth faster, fucking into you so good, the light curve of him hitting so deep.

“Takes my cock every fucking day, comes on it like it’s nothing. Like she was made for me, right?” Your teary eyes flutter open to find his phone in your face, moving from your expression back to where you’re connected, a smug smile peeking out behind the screen when you panic and bury your face into his chest. “Aw, she’s shy. My mom’s shy, look.” You didn’t even know he had that— your thoughts are interrupted when he clamps his arm around your back and lifts you to use your body to fuck into you like you’re just a hole for him, toes barely reaching the floor.

“Turn- ah-agh, turn it off, Ko,” you almost cry it out as he hits your spot right when dropping you back down, his breathing heady and heartbeat banging against your cheek, and he hums. “Delete that.”

“It’s live,” he giggles then, much too fucking accomplished as he drops the phone to the sink, no doubt still going, and picks you up under both of your thighs to haul your body up against him. Coarse hair at the base of his cock rubbing up against your clit as the both of you devolve in a mess of moans, coming too quick and followed by a string of swears when he does too. It stays quiet for a few minutes after and you balance against each other, slowly catching your breath.

You can’t think. Don’t want to, can’t. You don’t even want to know if he’s serious. But before you can say anything at all, there’s a knock at the door.