#gotta say these are the messages that hurt the most | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lockefanfic · 26 days ago

Text

Last Chance

“Come over?”

You knew what the message meant, what she was asking for. What else could she mean, sending you that text at near midnight on a Friday night?

The night air is crisp as you leave your friend’s apartment, where his yearly Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years party was raging. It seemed to only get colder as you stood on the sidewalk waiting for your ride, and the Uber driver’s seeming reluctance to crank up the heat in his car meant that the ride across town to her apartment was almost equally as chilly.

Her building was a lot warmer, thankfully, and when she opens the door and greets you with a smile she gives you all the warmth you need.

“Come in,” Chou Tzuyu says with a small wave of her hand and nod of her head. “Drink?”

“I’ve had plenty at the party,” you admit, “but wouldn’t say no to water.”

“Good choice,” she says with a sly smile, cracking open her fridge to pull out a jug. “Gotta stay hydrated.”

You watch as she pours you a glass, her back turned to you as you enter her small but nicely furnished kitchen. She’s wearing a short, tight t-shirt and what were probably the tiniest pair of green cotton shorts known to man. The fit left much of her midsection and all of her long, shapely legs bare, highlighting the wideness of her hips and the fullness of her thighs. You hadn’t thought it possible, but she almost looked as attractive with the flimsy scraps of cotton on her as she did without them.

She hands you your glass of water, tapping it with her own as you both take sips and step into her living room.

“Had a real shitty week,” she says, unprompted, as though she somehow felt the need to justify calling you over on a Friday night, felt the need to justify what the both of you were about to do. “Kind of need to blow off some steam.”

“Fair enough. Work again?”

“Yeah,” she says with a sigh under her breath, leaning against the arm of her couch, where you join her. “Big project due next week that’s kept me at the office most nights. And…”

“And?”

“There’s this guy.”

You sigh, inwardly, hiding your reaction behind another sip of water. You feel a sting somewhere in the depths of your heart, one you do your best to keep hidden behind the barrier of nonchalance that you’d worked hard to maintain with her.

“Oh?” you manage.

“Co-worker,” she says, softly, after another sip. “Yeah, yeah, I know, ‘don’t date co-workers.’ But I’m pretty sure he’s into me, y’know? And I’ve been into him since, well, forever ago. But I’m so frustrated, because he won’t make a fucking move, no matter how many signals I send his way.”

“...and you’re into him?” you ask, even as the words hurt to say.

She fumbles a bit with the glass in her hand, staring down at it as though she were looking for the answer to your question in the transparent liquid that it contained.

“Well, yeah,” she admits. “I know I should really keep it professional, considering how long we’ve been working together and how much I rely on him at work, but… I dunno. I dunno what to make of it, that’s all. I just wish he’d call me or something, get it over with, one way or another. Was kind of hoping he’d ask me out over the holidays, but nothing.”

“Ah,” you admit. “Maybe he’s just not into girls that aren’t hot enough to be invited to Inbetween-Christmas-And-New-Year’s parties,” you tease. “I wouldn’t be either, to be honest.”

Tzuyu smirks and gives you a playful swat on the arm, the smirk turning into a warm smile. “Thanks for coming over,” she says, softly. “I need this.”

“I mean, I had to leave an above average Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Year’s party because my moderately attractive friend across town needs my dick in her so she can get over some guy at work, but sure, I guess I kinda need it too.”

Tzuyu giggles - a soft, musical sound you never tired of hearing.

She locks eyes with you for a moment, and in that split second you feel disarmed, as though she sees right through you, right through the humor and sarcasm and other defenses you’d put up to keep her from seeing the real you. You worry, for a moment, that she sees right through your sarcastic, aloof facade you forced yourself to wear lest she see how you really felt about her.

The moment is fleeting, though, and after she takes your glass of water and places it on the coffee table next to hers, the look you find in her eyes is altogether different. There’s hunger there now, and need.

She pulls you to your feet, wraps her arms around your neck, and your heart stops beating for a moment when your lips touch.

Gentle, soft at first, as it always was, because despite being friends with benefits for a year or so and friends for much longer you both never quite got over that initial awkwardness, those odd, clumsy moments when you both knew what you wanted but weren’t quite sure how to go about initiating the process to get it.

You liked to think it was because you were both hopeless romantics at heart, and something within you both thought that sex without the feelings was beneath you, was something only indulged in by desperate single people who couldn’t get into a relationship to save their lives. Perhaps it was because neither of you wanted to be the one to admit, at least on the outside, that this was just for pleasure, that you were using a friend for an orgasm or two and that was it, end of story, we now return you to your regularly scheduled programming.

But the feeling quickly fades amidst the feel of another body pressed to yours, and soon the kiss becomes heated. Tongues dance, mouths open, your lips crush against each other. Your hands roam - yours around that tiny waist of hers, hers around your neck, fingers furrowing into the hair at the back of your neck. You pull her against you and her body molds to yours, warm and soft and pliant.

You break the kiss, eager to have more of her, your heart pounding now, so loud you fear she might hear it pounding out of your chest. She gasps as you dive into her neck, her hands weaving further into your hair, nails digging into your scalp. She tilts her head to the side, gives more of herself to you.

“Fuck,” she hisses, between gritted teeth. “Fuck. Need this.”

You devour her neck, finding and fixating on those sensitive spots where you knew she loved to be kissed. Your hands slide up her back and cup her ass and you’re thankful again that she decided to wear such a flimsy outfit that did little to hide the wonders of her body.

She pulls away for a moment to pull her shirt up and over her head and she’s topless now, her hands working on your own clothes and divesting you of your button-up and t-shirt you wore beneath it. You come together again and the thrill of her soft, warm breasts pressing against your chest takes the breath away from your mouth for a moment, even as she covers your newly breathless lips with a kiss. The stiff peaks of her nipples press against you, tight and needy, sending a shiver up your spine.

You reach down, pick her up with your hands beneath her ass - and she giggles again as you carry her toward her bedroom. Her legs wrap themselves around your waist, her arms around your neck, but she weighs nothing against the need for her that gives you all the strength you need. She’s smiling and laughing and she’s everything you could ever want, right there in your arms.

She’s yours, and she’s not.

You drop her onto her bed, where her landing gives those small, perfect breasts of hers a delightful looking bounce. Your eyes find hers and for a moment, a split second, you’re afraid again - that she can see right through you, find the way you really feel about her beyond the hunger and lust and need.

Because Chou Tzuyu is perfect - when she’s topless on her bed, lips slightly parted, eyes hooded, yes - but she was also perfect when you met her in your senior-level psychology lecture, perfect when you helped her move into this very apartment, perfect when you went out for dinner after she landed her first big job in her field; the very same one where she’d meet the guy she was apparently so very into, the same guy you most decidedly were not, the same guy you were apparently a substitute for on a lonely Friday night.

You need her - that perfect, tight body, the wide hips and full thighs, the round, perky breasts and the beautiful smile - but in ways beyond the physical. You need her beyond lonely weeknights and 2am weekend hookups. You need her for Sunday mornings at the grocery store where you both plan your lunches for the week, you need her for vacations in Fukuoka and Amsterdam and Vancouver. You need her for random, candid photos on your phone during a coffee date where she believes, ridiculously, that she were anything less than perfect in your eyes.

But she’s not yours - at least, not in the way you would like. She’s half-naked on her bed and you’re between her spread thighs and she’s looking at you like she wants to devour you whole and somehow, someway, that’s not enough. It would never be enough. But it’s all you have. It’s all she can give you.

You bend to kiss her, and being past that clumsy, awkward initial phase, the kiss is heated, passionate. It’s also a short one, because the rest of her body beckoned, and you didn’t possess the patience or self-control to deny yourself what was yours to take. You indulge in the delights of Chou Tzuyu’s body because it’s a distraction from the feelings that you fear might take over if you indulge them, if you let yourself dream about what your life would be like if she weren’t just a friend, weren’t just a Friday night fuck.

You kiss a path down her neck, to her sharp, prominent collarbones, each soft peck eliciting a little gasp or hiss from her lips. When you reach her breasts she’s practically begging, back arched off the mattress, desperate to have your mouth on her. She loved having your hands on her small mounds, your lips locked over her nipples, licking and sucking. Smaller boobs are more sensitive, she’d said once, only half-jokingly, and you never forgot it.

You give her what she wants - what you both want. Your mouth latches on to one breast, lips closing over her tight nipple and sucking, licking, lightly biting.

Tzuyu moans - a long, languid sound of pleasure, her loudest of the night. You never tired of hearing the pleasure leaving her lips in long, wordless drawls. It was like music. It was a song that only she knew the lyrics to, that she performed only for you, and you never tired of hearing it play.

Your mouth and hand swap, your lips latching tightly to her other nipple while you squeeze the other one with an open palm, relishing the feel of the soft flesh beneath your fingers.

You spend a little longer on her right breast, because you knew it was somehow more sensitive than the other one - just another of those small things you knew about her body that no one else did. Another fact about Chou Tzuyu that belonged just to you, that you held tight against your chest and treasured greedily. You loved knowing that you knew things about her body no one else did.

You loved knowing that you were the only one who knew these dirty, filthy little things about her, and that you were the only man on earth she trusted with them. The thought of sharing that knowledge with another man - or even worse, of losing access to it altogether, having it taken away from you by some random asshole who didn’t know these things, hadn’t worked to learn them - made you feel something dark and upsetting, something between fear and anger.

Tzuyu is a moaning and sighing mess now, her legs wrapped around your lower back, her own back arching up and off the mattress in an attempt to offer more of her body to you. Her nails dig little spikes of pain into your scalp with each suckle you draw from her nipple. Her thighs part even further and you feel the warmth between them pressing against your belly, even through the green shorts riding up her hips. She moans and writhes beneath you and if you’d spent the rest of the night with her breasts in your mouth and under your palms you would’ve been satisfied with that alone.

But she has other ideas - wants more, craves more. The fingers she’s woven into your hair push you downward. You release her stiffened nipple from between your lips with a pop, gazing up momentarily to find her looking back at you, cheeks flushed, eyes half-lidded, a sigh on her lips. Their corners perk up in a barely noticeable, shy little smile.

Her tongue darts out, moistens her full pink lips, and you catch the unspoken request.

You bend your head again, returning your lips to her skin, starting a trail down her flat stomach, taking care to press a soft kiss on that cute belly button of hers. You open your eyes to watch her abs flex with every movement, delighting in the sight and feel of the tight muscle beneath the perfect, creamy skin. Hers was a body she’d spent many long hours in the gym and pilates studio for, and you were more than happy to make sure she knew how worth it it all was.

You reach her shorts, eventually - the flimsy strip of soft green cotton that was just barely enough to provide her with some measure of modesty. You take a moment to admire the way they sat on her hips, the way her full, flushed thighs look spread beneath them. She squirms under your gaze, her hips searching for friction, begging you to get them off her.

Your patience outlasts hers, because she’s the one to reach for the buttons keeping the shorts closed. You consider stopping her and undoing the buttons yourself, but there is a part of you that needs to see her undress herself for you, needs to watch her reveal her most intimate parts to you and you alone.

Thin, dainty fingers make quick work of the button, and she raises her hips, hooking her thumbs into the waistband and pulling them off her hips. You make way as she pulls the shorts off the long, endless length of her legs. She tosses them aside, over the side of the bed, where for all intents and purposes they cease to exist.

Her thighs remain tight together for a moment, only a few moments - and in those seconds her eyes are locked on yours, capturing and holding every ounce of your attention. Her thighs part, her legs spread and allow you back between them, but your eyes hold her gaze regardless. Her eyes tell you she wants you to relish the way she looks, naked and vulnerable, her body spread and laid out for you to take, to make yours for the rest of the night.

“Fuck, Tzuyu,” you mumble, unable to really say anything more than her name.

She smirks, those wonderful lips of hers curling into a smile. Without further word she grasps your skull with her palms and gently pushes you down towards her waiting pussy.

Her cunt is beautiful, like the rest of her - flushed and pink and glistening in the soft light of her bedroom, the insides of her thighs already moist with her juices. You bend down and give her a long, slow lick from the base of her opening to the top. The taste of her floods your palette just as the sound of the gasp that leaves her lungs fills your ears - a sound that is quickly muffled by the closing of her warm, moist thighs around your cheeks and face.

You do it again, give her another lick from bottom to top, then a third. You swirl her juices around on your tongue, relishing the taste of her. She’s squirming now, writhing, waiting for you to really commit to pleasuring her, her back arching and her nails digging more incessantly into your scalp.

You take a glance up at her - a viewpoint that you were truly blessed to bear witness to - past the flat planes of her stomach, between her heaving breasts, and finally to her face, flushed and pink, lower lip tucked under teeth, eyes fixed on you. She does it again - communicates her need without words, telling you, begging you, to give her the pleasure she so desperately needed.

And so you do, bending and closing your lips around the tender bud of her clit, your tongue darting out softly, gently, avoiding the sensitive nub and instead licking around it, tracing soft, slow circles around it, just the way you knew she liked.

The wordless song that has been leaving her mouth all night hits a higher tone, another octave as you work her over with your tongue. Everything intensifies for Tzuyu - the pleasure coursing up her spine, the wetness between her legs, the volume of the moans leaving her mouth. Her head falls back, eyes shutting, mouth now permanently ajar.

It intensifies for you, too - the pinpricks of irritation her nails are digging into your scalp become painful nails, the wet warmth of her thighs closes ever more around your cheeks, and the slick wetness of her cunt increases, making your lips and chin slick. You continue to swirl your tongue around the tender flesh surrounding her clit, neither increasing nor decreasing in pace - simply maintaining your current one, knowing from experience what made her body work, what would give her the most pleasure.

Tzuyu becomes a mewling, quivering mess beneath your tongue. The moans and profanities leaving her lips continue unabated. She forces herself every now and then to open her eyes, glance down at the top of your head nestled between her spread legs, the mere sight of you there, in her most intimate area with your lips around her clit, enough to send yet another spike of pleasure up her spine and into her addled brain.

“God, fuck, that feels so good,” she manages to gasp, her brain barely able to form recognizable words out of the stream of sounds leaving her mouth. “Fuck, keep going.”

You knew where exactly where she was, what level of pleasure she was experiencing - knowledge that was the product of many a night doing exactly this, pleasuring her just the way you were now. You knew that she was right there, dangling on the precipice, and that she needed just that one last nudge, one last push.

You slip your right hand from where it was wrapped around her thigh, sliding it beneath her, bringing your fingertips to her drenched opening. She gasps as she feels your fingertips at her thus far neglected entrance, knowing what it means, knowing what is about to come. You can almost feel her pussy writhe and ripple around your fingers, now a knuckle deep, urging you, begging you deeper.

“Please,” she gasps, and you oblige. You slide your index and middle fingers inside her, palm up, and the effect on her body is immediate. Her moans cut out, her entire body goes rigid for a moment, as though shocked by lightning. The silence left by the cessation of her moans leaves only the sound of her body writhing on the bed to fill your ears, along with the wet slickness of your fingers moving inside her.

Throughout it all your tongue is swirling around her clit, merciless, unwavering in its pace and depth and pressure. Your fingers are ones pushing her, upping stakes, sliding slowly deeper inside her slickness, curling upward, searching, finding, then teasing.

It takes only a few seconds of your fingertips grazing that most sensitive part of her before Tzuyu orgasms, taking herself by surprise almost as it did you. Her world explodes, her body goes stiff, her eyes shut and for a few wonderful moments all she sees is stars.

You almost have to fight to hold her down with your free hand flat on her tense belly lest your mouth lose contact with her spasming cunt. You fight to keep your tongue and fingers moving, if at a slightly slower pace, letting her ride it out, letting her feel and relish every second of the pleasure coursing its way through every fibre of her being. She’s quiet through it all, mouth frozen in a silent scream, which was rare - she was usually one to announce and talk through her pleasure, but here she was, rendered unable to even moan.

“Fucking hell,” she spits, sometime later when she is able to form words again. Her body is suddenly boneless and sinking into the mattress, utterly drained. Her thighs finally loosen around your head, much to your chagrin, because you’d grown fond of the sticky warmth you’d found between them.

She pulls your face up toward her, and you delight in the tour you’re given of her breathless, sweaty body beneath you as you crawl up the bed until you’re face-to-face. When you reach her lips she captures yours in a tight, passionate kiss, her tongue finding yours and tasting herself on its surface.

“I need you now,” she hisses, eyes boring into yours. You need her too. You always have, truth be told, but perhaps not in the same ways that she needed you. You want to say something, lying here, inches from her face, her eyes needy and vulnerable. But the words never come. The moment passes.

Before you can react any further her hands slide from your head to your shoulders, where she gives you a gentle push onto your back on the bed. She rolls atop you, straddling your hips.

There’s a coy smile on her lips as she undoes the belt at your waist before undoing the button and fly of your jeans and pulling them down your hips. She lets out a soft giggle as you raise your hips and pull the clothes off your legs as though they were on fire. This is all a game to her, a release, a fun, if momentary, distraction. The realization of that stings a little, somewhere deep inside you, where she can’t see the hurt she’s caused to you.

When you’re finally as naked as she is, she straddles you again. Your eyes find hers, as they always did, drawn to them, magnetically, as though you could always find what you needed in them. The small moment of levity and amusement she gained from watching you desperately undress disappears, replaced again by need and desire.

Her tongue slips out between her lips when she gazes down and sees your cock, hard and aching. Her hand reaches out to grasp it and you feel the air rush out of your lungs at this first intimate contact. She brings your tip to her entrance, dragging the head up and down through her lips, lathering it with her slick juices.

You want to say something, want to tell her how utterly captivating she looks on your lap, your cock at her entrance; you want to tell her how much you wish you were about to fuck your girlfriend or your wife and not just a friend; you want to tell her how the very thought of another man being where you are, right now, upsets you more than you had any right to be.

The moment passes - again. You slide inside her, and suddenly words don’t exist any more.

The sight of Chou Tzuyu impaled hilt-deep on your cock is like nothing else you’ve ever experienced, like nothing else you ever will. She’s feminine perfection, right here, on you, wrapped around you.

Her head is tilted back, mouth open in a silent moan, eyes shut, brow furrowed, as though deep in concentration. Her breasts are perfect and round and her nipples taut. Her abs flex - defined, toned. And her thighs - perfect, full, flushed. She’s more than you can take. She’s more than you can keep.

It’s a feeling that is only intensified when she begins to move, begins to use those strong, firm thighs and hips of hers to move herself up and down your cock, slowly, with soft, measured movements. She lets herself get used to you, get used to that delicious stretch of you inside her. It’s painful, in a way, how slowly she’s moving - it takes more self-control than you’d care to admit not to just hold her hips down and piston into the wonderful slickness of her cunt.

But hurting her was the last thing you wanted. If only she’d known how much she was hurting you. You wonder if she would stop if she knew. You wonder if she would even care.

Eventually she ups her pace as her body molds itself around you. She’s beginning to sigh and gasp now, mostly on the downstroke as your cock slides inside her, spreading her apart and stretching her out, sending shocks of pleasure throughout both your bodies with each entry. Your hands are firm on her hips, resisting for now the temptation to reach up and play with her softly bouncing breasts, or pull her back down onto your cock with more force. You’re content, feeling her, watching her take her pleasure from you.

Watching her use you.

Tzuyu feels your eyes on her, roaming her body, drinking in the sight of her. One hand reaches up to her breasts, capturing one, teasing the taut nipple for a moment with long, dainty fingertips, giving you a show. Eventually she brings both her hands to her scalp, gathering her hair, pulling it above her head and holding it there. She’s a vision, then and there - her hands above her head, back arching, breasts bouncing wildly as she continues to ride you.

“Jesus, Tzuyu,” you spit, the profanities tumbling from your mouth before you even knew you were speaking them. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

She lets her hair fall from the top of her head in a chocolate waterfall. Her hands cup her own breasts, fingertips playing with her aching nipples.

“You like me like this, baby?” she hisses, a question she knows the answer to. “You like me like this, bouncing on your cock, all tight and wet for you?”

“Fuck, yes, Tzuyu, fuck.”

Her lips curl into a wicked smile, before her lower lip curls under a perfect white tooth. She lets something deep and guttural escape her throat behind her bitten lip.

She bends over you, hands on either side of your head, hair framing a face twisted in pleasure.

She ups her pace, riding you fiercely now, hips slamming down onto yours at a pace that is almost violent. Your hands grasp her thighs, fingers clawing into the soft flesh, feeling the muscles beneath them work to throw their owner against you over and over and over.

“Fuck me,” she snaps, and you oblige.

You thrust upward to meet her, timing each movement of your hips to match with the downstroke of hers, and soon you are slamming your bodies against each other at a merciless pace.

Tzuyu shrieks - loud, sharp. She swears and spits and she’s becoming a loud, mewling mess atop you, but throughout it all she manages to keep riding you, keep bouncing that perfect body of hers atop your cock. Her cunt pulsates, squeezes you like a velvet glove. She’s so wet, leaking with so much arousal, that every slamming of your hips against each other is muffled by the wet stickiness that has coated much of your lower bodies.

“Oh god, oh god, I-” she begins, each word punctuated with a thrust of your cock into her cunt. “Oh fuck, I, so good-”

You watch her, watch that perfect face of hers twist in pleasure, watch as that perfect body of hers takes your cock. Your brow furrows and your hips burn with the effort but you feel none of the fatigue, none of the weariness of the physical effort. All that matters is her pleasure. All that matters is making sure she-

“Cumming-” she hisses, just barely before she does.

Her eyes shut, body stiffens, just as it did when she came on your mouth - and her cunt tightens wonderfully around your cock, pulsating, squeezing. You bury yourself inside her to the hilt, wanting to feel every second of her orgasming around you. You can feel the shocks of pleasure radiating from her, reaching her limbs, flooding her brain with sensation.

When she remembers to breathe she lets out a long, drawn out breath. Her arms, shaky, finally give way and she collapses atop you, head next to yours. For a few long seconds she does nothing but breathe heavily against you, the gasps and sighs that leave her mouth loud against your ear. Your hands roam her sweat-slick back, fingertips tracing a path down her spine and pulling a soft sigh from her tired lips.

“God,” she says into your ear. “Fuck, that was so good, baby.”

You loved and hated when she called you that. It was a pet name for lovers - and she only used it during sex. She only ever called you by your first name anywhere outside the bedroom. Another reminder of the boundaries. Of the limits.

“You feel amazing, Tzuyu,” you say, truthfully. Her cunt is still pulsating softly around your painfully stiff cock as the last waves of her orgasm leave her body. The warm slickness of her around you made a pleasant distraction from your emotions. Pleasant, but not easy.

You feel her lips curl into that sly smile of hers again against your cheek. She plants a few kisses under your ear, tracing a path along your jaw, until she finds your lips. Her hips begin to move again, side to side - not taking you in and out of her body, but just moving you around, swirling your stiffness inside her.

“Your turn, baby,” she whispers, half-lidded eyes locked on yours. “How do you want to cum in me?”

You’d had her in every position imaginable over the time you’ve been fuck buddies. But you always enjoyed one of them more than the others.

“Want you from behind-” you begin. “-Tzu.” you finish, resisting the temptation to call her ‘baby.’ Some small, bitter part of you felt she didn’t deserve to be called that, not if she was going to tease you, hurt you with its use, make a weapon out of it that she wielded carelessly, inconsiderately.

Thankfully, she doesn’t notice your momentary hesitation - maybe she was still recovering from the high of her orgasm, or maybe she was too focused on gyrating her hips around the stiffness still hilt-deep inside her.

“Alright, baby,” she says, again, the word stinging even if it was laced with the sweet honey of her voice. The smile on her lips is proof of how oblivious she is to the damage she wreaks with each wreckless use of it.

You didn’t blame her. How could you? How could you expect someone to know what you felt internally when you continually denied it externally?

You’d promised each other, when you first started this little arrangement, that you’d put an end to it if either of you found yourselves with anything even remotely resembling feelings for the other. But how could you end it, when you’re in her bed and you’re both naked and she’s wet and ready and on her hands and knees, looking over her shoulder at you, slick pink lips opening to say-

“Come take me, then.”

A stronger man would have ended this a long time ago. You were not that man, not today. You doubted there were many men in the world with that level of strength.

You bring yourself behind her, admiring the sight of her - perfect, as she always was, perfect in every sense of the world. She’s creamy skin and a tiny waist and those hips and thighs, my god, those hips and thighs. She’s there and wet and ready and wanting and who could say no?

You bring your tip to her opening, parting her lips with your head, swirling it, swiping it up and down her slick flesh, sending a shiver of pleasure into both of your bodies. She sighs and her back arches delightfully, the dip of her spine sharp and prominent in the low light of her bedroom. She mewls and sighs, her hips pushing back against you, needy, wanting.

“Fuck, baby, come on,” she sighs, she begs.

You loved her voice, soft and light, like silk spun into air - but you loved it most when it was begging, needy.

Her hips continue to push against you, the round cheeks of her ass pressing against you, trying to pull you inside her herself. “Please,” she continues, airy and breathless. “Put it in me. Don’t you want my pussy? Don’t you want me?”

You did. You wanted her, but in more ways than this. Chou Tzuyu is on her hands and knees in front of you and she’s dripping wet and begging and somehow it’s not enough.

One of her hands slides down her body, and her fingertips part the slick lips of her pussy. She’s glistening and pink and pure distilled need, right there, right here, ready for you to take.

And she doesn’t give a damn about your feelings, is blissfully oblivious to everything but the emptiness between her legs. All she wants is a fuck. That’s it. That’s all you are. You’re everything and nothing, all at once.

“Look how empty I am without you inside me, baby. Come fill me up.”

You slide inside her - how could you not, after hearing that? She’s so tight and hot and wet, and you forget, momentarily, everything other than the feel of her cunt wrapped around you.

You fuck her - hard, firm, your pace fuelled more than you would care to admit by a darkness inside you that you weren’t proud to admit to. Jealousy, of some man you’d never met, some man who made her feel like you never could? Anger, at her, for not seeing how you felt about her, how amazing you could be together?

Whatever it was, it was ugly and came from a dark place, and you didn’t want to acknowledge it. But you fuck Chou Tzuyu with it running through your veins - fast, hard. And she sighs and moans and thinks you’re just especially turned on today, want a harder fuck than usual. She doesn’t know any better. Doesn’t know that you’re using her body the way you are, as an outlet for your frustration and anger as much as an outlet for your pleasure.

You reach forward, running your fingers through her hair with a surprising gentleness, even as your cock hammers in and out of her body, rocking it, pounding her.

Then your fingers close, pull. She yelps, gasps.

Her spine arcs sharply backward as you pull backward on her hair. You use her hair like a leash, pulling back as you thrust forward. Tzuyu can do nothing but take it, her body given to you fully. The spasming and quivering of her cunt around you is evidence of her acceptance, her submission.

Your hips slap wetly against her ass with each hard thrust you make into her tight, slick pussy. The bedroom fills with it - flesh hitting flesh, wordless sighs and moans that turn into begging, profanity, name calling - the lewd soundtrack of sex.

“Fuck, fuck,” Tzuyu manages, “You’re so fucking deep, fuck, more, fuck me more-”

You shut her up. The hand pulling her hair wraps around her scalp, pushes her face down onto the bed. You pin her down, your palm flat against the back of her neck and upper shoulders. Throughout it all you are fucking her, using her, just as she uses you, even if it’s for different reasons, with entirely different depths of emotion.

Her mouth muffled against the bed, she’s unable to say or do much more. And you prefer her this way, because every word she says - even the ones that spur you into fucking her harder, faster, deeper - will only make it harder to leave her when you’re done.

Not that you needed much motivation to fuck her the way she liked - hard, deep, but not wild or uncontrolled. You maintain your pace, enjoying the way her cunt squeezed and tightened rhythmically around you. Tzuyu knew how to communicate with her body, knew how to tell you exactly what she wanted without words.

You watch her beneath you, relished the sight of her helpless and unable to do much of anything but take your cock again and again. Her moans and sighs are muffled by the cotton of her bedsheets, but you heard enough of them to tell you you were hitting just the right spots inside her. She’s under you and she’s yours and you do your best to stay in the moment, enjoy the feeling of her wrapped around you.

You feel that feeling in your core, the telltale building of pleasure in your gut that heralds your impending orgasm, tells you to fuck her harder and deeper and bury your cum inside her. She must have felt it too, somehow, in the slightly more erratic rhythm of your thrusts, or the tighter grip of your palm against the back of her neck.

Tzuyu turns her head enough to clear her mouth of the bedsheets, despite your palm on the back of her neck.

“Fucking cum in me,” she hisses, “Please cum inside me. Make me yours.”

The perfect words, on any other night - but on this night they only hurt you.

Because she isn’t yours, might never be. Tomorrow, she might be another man’s. Even as you thrust harder and harder and your orgasm comes closer and closer all you can think of is how empty this feels, how even if she’s under you and taking your cum she’s not what you want her to be, what you need her to be.

But for a moment, a fleeting, blissful moment, you forget all that. Your hand leaves the back of her neck to join the other one at her hips, pulling her hips back against yours as you crest your peak, burying yourself inside her and letting go.

She moans as she feels you pulse inside her, each movement of your cock signifying another rope of warm, thick cum that fills her thirsty, needy little cunt. You give her a few more short, sharp thrusts before you bury yourself inside her for the last time. She’s so fucking full of you that your juices begin to overflow from her stuffed pussy, around the lips still tightly wrapped around your shaft, down your balls and her flushed thighs.

Time freezes, becomes irrelevant, and for a few blessed minutes you forget everything about the way you feel about Chou Tzuyu.

When your senses return and your brain has recovered long enough to process thought, the first thing you’re aware of is her voice.

“Fuck,” she’s saying, “God, that was… god.” And then she’s saying your name, and it makes you wince, as though hearing her say it caused you pain.

You slip out of her, and she winces herself - although hers is borne of the emptiness you’ve left inside her and not out of any deeper emotion. She makes no effort to get off her hands and knees, staying frozen there, her ass in the air like some lewd testament to the sinful acts you’ve just committed. You watch, absent-mindedly, as your cum drips from her well-fucked cunt, down her thighs, staining her bed.

Eventually she falls onto her side, facing you. You’re sitting there, on your knees on the bed, watching her. Her cheeks are flushed and her eyes are glassy. She’s so perfect, so desirable - and you curse yourself for the millionth time that night that you lacked both the wisdom to find the words to say and the courage to say them.

But it doesn’t matter, because you’re not the guy she wants, not the one she’s waiting for a call from. And that’s when it hits you, dark and ugly and painful - you wonder if she were pretending you were him this whole time, pretending it was his cock fucking her, making her cum, cumming in her, using you like some fucktoy replacement for the real thing.

You turn away from her, as though the very sight of her were somehow painful to you, despite the fogginess of your post-orgasm haze. Before you know it, you’re climbing off the bed, finding your pants on the floor, throwing them on.

“Are you-?” she begins, her words soft as you find your t-shirt and button-up, throwing them on.

“I, uh, I have to get back to the party,” you stammer, hoping she would buy your flimsy excuse for an exit. But you had to leave, had to do anything to get out of that room. The thought of losing her, the thought of this being your last time together - it hurt, it was too much, and every fibre of you screamed to get away from it.

“Oh,” she says, softly. You turn to find that she’s sitting up on the bed now, her arms wrapping around her knees.

“There’s, uh, my friend, he, he introduced me to this girl,” you mumble, fabricating a story, trying to come up with some way to hurt her, just as she’s hurt you. “I told her I’d, uh, get back to the party. She likes me, I think,” you add, the words tasting like ashes in your mouth.

“Right,” she says, surprise and something else in her low voice. Her knees come up closer to her chest. “So, um, hey, about that guy-”

“Good luck with him,” you spit, cutting her off, afraid of what you might hear if you let her continue. “Uh, let me know how it goes.”

There’s a short silence, one that drags on for longer than you’d like. You don’t look up at her, unable to muster the courage to do so. You fumble with your shirt buttons, fingers numb.

“Sure,” she says, finally. “I… I think I’m going to call him tomorrow.”

“Right. I, uh, I should go. I’ll. Uh. I’ll talk to you later,” you say, as you turn towards her bedroom door.

You think you hear her say something, a couple of words.

Your eyes finally look up at her, but she’s looking away. You look for confirmation on her face, but she’s turned away from you, and her expression is unreadable. She suddenly looks small and vulnerable.

“Did- did you say something, Tzuyu?”

“Nothing,” she says, a hand pressed against the side of her face, her eyes shut, as though she were suddenly fighting a headache. But just as quickly it appears, it’s gone, and Tzuyu manages a weak smile, even if there’s no happiness or mirth in her eyes. “It’s nothing. Be safe getting back to the party, okay? And don’t forget your jacket - it’s cold outside. Let me know when you get there.”

“I, I will, Tzuyu,” you say, words shaky, unsure. “See ya.”

You leave her, leave her hot, stifling apartment.

The night is cold.

Author’s Note: High five to you if you guess what she said.

#twice #tzuyu #twice tzuyu #kpop smut

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whorenerdking · 2 years ago

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so many people on steddie/st twitter have such bad takes on things and I’m like……….

#sometimes I wanna say something but twitter drama is so fucking exhausting #literally like #it reminds me of people taking personal offense over something a youtuber/streamer does #and then feel the need to send them a message about why they’re unfollowing them #like #‘I’ve been subscribed for 8 years now and I’ve gotta say I don’t think I can keep supporting someone who would shove someone in fall guys’#like thanks but I don’t remember asking #I made a comment about how I don’t really like nancy and think she deserved more black lash for how much she hurt steve #but also like I just never really cared for her character #and then I see people constantly retweeting things like #‘saying you hate nancy because she’s written badly is stupid cause no one in steps written well’#or like seeing people ship just the most awful shit #and trying to justify it by putting down other ships/characters #just #christ alive

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motherlvr · 2 years ago

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3+1 times Prowler! Miles Morales x Spider-woman! reader

SPOILERS FOR ATSV

read part 2 here!

3 times Miles tried to confess, + 1 time he did.

Word count: 2.7k

Summary: Instead of the radioactive spider biting Miles, it bit you. You turned into Brooklyn's one and only Spider-woman, while Miles turned into the prowler. Miles also helps you with Spanish.

Warnings: friends to lovers, lots of cursing, most definitely not canon, kind of slow-burn?, jealousy, morally gray reader, he's lowkey toxic, no smut, heated make-out session, im feasting on crumbs (his 2 minutes of screen time), this is not ATSV plot heavy, the whole prowler x spidey thing isn't really until the end (enemies to lovers)

A/N: for the sake of the plot, the reader doesn't fluently speak spanish, but can speak some. this has been rotting in my drafts ever since ATSV came out

Miles glares at you two from across the room, predominantly at the guy you're laughing with. Surely he's not that fucking funny. Miles thinks as jealousy spreads within the pit of his stomach like a forest fire. However, you don't seem to notice his stare burning holes through the guy you're speaking to. The same cannot be said for him, however. Miles makes eye contact with him and sends him one glare that immediately makes the poor guy cower with fear away from you.

"I uh...gotta go." The guy squeaks out to you, his voice cracking with terror as he runs away. You raise an eyebrow as you watch him run away. What the hell was that? You think.

Miles appears next to you within the next moment and says, "Hey, ma." he gives you a slight smirk and wraps his arm around your shoulders. That smirk made you weak in your knees, you almost kissed him right then and there. You should be given an award for your amount of self-restraint.

"Hey Miles, qué pasa?" You greet him with a smile that reaches your eyes. Miles' smirk drops and he furrows his eyebrows at you as he inquires. "Who was that guy?" "He's just a friend, why?" You raise an eyebrow and question back. "Don't worry about it, you like him?" His words catch you off guard. You pause for a moment and turn your head to him with a judgmental stare as you shake his arm off you and say, "Miles. What is this? 20 questions?" You deadpan and continue, "He's not important, alright?" Seemingly satisfied with your response, he drops the subject.

After school, Miles and you head to his house. You've been struggling in Spanish class. Spanish grammar might actually be the death of me, you think. Since Miles excels in Spanish due to primarily being raised by his mother, you asked him to tutor you, which he surprisingly agreed to.

It doesn't hurt that you get to spend more time with Miles, either. Something about him never fails to send butterflies straight to your stomach, maybe it's his intense stare that makes you weak in your knees, his accent that somehow makes him ten times more attractive, or- You cut your thoughts off. You felt guilty for feeling this way about Miles. You know you shouldn't. These feelings you harbor would only cause more harm than good. After all, the people you love always seem to be in danger.

After a couple of hours of pure torture, (Spanish grammar) Miles started to speak, "Escúchame, mami. I-"

Loud, blaring police sirens cut off his sentence. Thanks, Brooklyn. Pretending to get a message from your mother, you glance at your phone's screen and look at Miles with an apologetic expression, "Shit, sorry Miles but I gotta go. My mother wants me home. She said it was urgent. But we're still on for tomorrow right?" Miles raises a skeptical eyebrow but ultimately says, "Yea. It's 'Ight, princesa. See you tomorrow" his accent lacing his words. You get up to kiss his cheek and wave him goodbye. As normal friends do, you tell yourself. Shit. You shake the thoughts away before your overthinking completely undoes your brain.

You wait until you're at least a couple blocks away from his house before you reveal the spider suit underneath your clothing and pull your mask down your face. You thwip your webs and swing away to investigate what crime was scheming tonight in Brooklyn. Leaving Miles alone in his room to regret not telling you.

Honestly, you weren't paying attention to whatever Miles was saying. Instead, you were just focusing on how attractive you found his accent. You'd suffer through two more years of Spanish just to hear his voice. In fact, during most of these tutoring lessons with Miles, you weren't paying attention to the actual lesson. It doesn't help that he keeps staring at you with those eyes of his. But behind that cold exterior, you knew he had a soft spot for you. Even if he didn't outright admit it.

Miles' voice brought your attention back to the actual lesson, "Lo entiendes, princesa?" Miles asked you with a knowing smirk. You nodded your head immediately, trying to play it off. "Uhh, si." You said with a thumbs up, immediately regretting it. That was so nerdy. You shame yourself in your mind. You pretended to take notes, shamefully lowering your head down to your notebook.

While you were pretending to take notes, Miles broke the silence.

"So what's up with you and that guy from earlier?" "I told you, he's just a friend. Nothing is going on between us." Miles puts his hands up in his defense, "Alright, mami. It just didn't look like that with the way you were laughing at whatever he said. He's not Kevin Hart."

Way to completely ruin the mood. You dropped the pencil you were holding and stopped taking notes. Looking directly into his eyes, you said "Miles, I really don't know what your deal is." "You really wanna know what 'my deal is'? 'Ight. It's 'cause-"

Miles' phone beeps, interrupting him. He cursed in his mind, not being able to tell you how he felt yet again. He glances down at his screen. "Ay princesa," Miles spoke up, his words never failing to make your face go warm. His nicknames for you weren't new by any means, but they still made your heart flutter. He continued, "Uncle Aaron needs me, I gotta roll. He said it's an emergency. Don't think I'm trying to cut this short. You're still my girl, alright?" He started to leave when he turned around suddenly. He walked over to you and turned your head to him with his hand, kissing your forehead. "Hasta luego, mami." He left the room, leaving you alone in his room with only your thoughts swirling around your mind. You were sure you were about to have a heart attack. His girl? The kiss? Miles was acting oddly affectionate. And what's with him practically using the same excuse I used? It's not like he's the crime-fighting vigilante here. You rolled your eyes.

You didn't know what Miles and his uncle were so busy doing, but you had a feeling that it wasn't very morally right. That would explain how ambiguous he's been lately. More often than not, he's had to leave in the middle of tutoring to tend to whatever his Uncle needed him for. But you can't entirely blame him, you have secrets you've been hiding from him too.

You packed up your things and left his room. "Chao, Mrs. Morales. Thank you for letting me into your home!" You said to Miles' mother while leaving. "Of course, you're always welcome here." She replied to you with a warm smile. That woman was a true saint.

If you had to spend any more time confined in a room alone with Miles and just your emotions, you were sure you'd fucking lose it. By losing it, I mean grabbing him by the collar of his hoodie and kissing him senseless. But you were afraid. Afraid that he would take your heart right out of your chest to shatter it and then leave you alone to pick up the pieces. So, you came up with a little white lie to get out of tutoring today.

"Is it alright with you if I skip tutoring today? My mother is sick and I have to take care of her." The lie slipped off your tongue like butter.

"Nah that's cool." He shrugs. Huh. He let me off that easy? You were two seconds away from having the dreaded 'What are we?' conversation with him after last night, until someone's arms wrap around you from behind.

"Hey, beautiful." Your friend from the other day was back. And he clearly didn't see Miles right next to you. You cringe and awkwardly take his arms off of you and turn around, "Hey, Josh." "Are you free tonight?" Miles was watching this interaction with jealousy coursing through his veins. Did this douche seriously not see him right next to you? Right before you could even open your mouth to respond, Miles responds for you. "Hell no she isn't. Get the fuck out of here, man." Miles snaps at him. Your friend's head whipped to Miles so fast you were sure he'd get whiplash. "Oh shit." He stuttered, "Sorry, man. I didn't see you...I'll leave now." He ran away as fast as his feet could take him. Poor Josh.

You glared at Miles. "What the actual fuck was that, Miles? He was just asking me a question." "He was asking you out, idiot." Miles said right back to you. "So what if he was? Honestly. What's it to you? You've been acting so possessive. May I remind you that we are not together?" You snapped at him. "Maybe I want-" He started, but this time, he was the one cutting his sentence off. He couldn't find the words to tell you just yet.

The bell rings. You look at Miles, awaiting his response. When a few silent moments pass by, you finally say, "What? What is it you want?" For once in your friendship with Miles, he didn't have a response. You, he thought. "Y'know what Miles? Until you've come to your senses, just leave me be for now." He had no right to start acting like you were bound to him. You walked to your class without him. He cursed himself in his head.

You'd been ignoring him the whole day. Yet ever the petty, he hadn't messaged you at all.

Your phone pings. "You busy with Jake?" You read. It was from Miles. That petty fucker. Your face immediately drops. That's not even his name. You left him on read and turn off your phone. For someone who thinks he's heartless and nonchalant, he sure was acting possessive.

Dusk approaches Brooklyn and you're out patrolling instead of thinking about Miles. That's all you've been doing lately, and you needed a distraction.

Unfortunately, Miles had the same idea. He was out taking missions Kingpin gave him.

As you were searching the streets of Brooklyn for crime, you sensed a presence. Ahead of you was a silhouette in a dimly lit alley, their back facing you. You hid behind the wall. Finally something interesting tonight! As you climb on the walls and get closer, you recognize the figure.

Oh, great. It's the Prowler.

This wasn't your first time meeting the Prowler. No, you've fought with him in the past. He's ruthless and a cold-blooded killer. He's efficient and excruciatingly fast. That's what makes him an imminent risk to be allowed to roam the streets freely.

As Spider-woman, it's your responsibility to keep the streets of Brooklyn crime-free. So, you follow him. As you're trailing behind him, crawling on the walls, you notice the people he's meeting with. It's an arms deal, you realize. As you crawl closer, you notice that they weren't regular arms. They were abnormally high-tech for these seemingly harmless criminals.

I'll just web up the couple of amateurs and then deal with the big guy Prowler, easy. Oh how wrong you were.

"Hey, boys! Nice toy you've got there." You said as you dropped your voice down an octave, disguising your voice. You jump down from your place on the wall and thwip your webs at the unsuspecting arms dealers, binding them to the wall. They were knocked unconscious.

You thwip'd your webs at the weapon and effectively took it away from them. You'd have to drop it by the police station later with a friendly note.

The Prowler lunged at you, his steel claws missing your face by an inch.

"Hey, man! That felt a little personal." You shouted, thankful to still have your face attached to your head. You used your webs to grab onto the Prowler and strike him directly on his mask. You started to run, with the Prowler tailing right behind you.

He had you cornered, but you weren't surrendering that easily. You positioned into a defensive stance, ready to defend yourself.

His mask was cracked a bit, causing his voice modulator to reveal his unfiltered voice. "Nowhere to run, spider."

Your heart dropped as your eyes widened through your mask. Not in fear, but in recognition. You could recognize that voice anywhere. That was the voice that sent shivers down your whole body, yet made you want to strangle him the next.

"...Miles?" The words came out more of a whisper. Your voice sputtered as you dropped your fake voice. You webbed the weapon to the wall, disregarding it. Turns out, he didn't need to reject you to shatter your heart into a million pieces.

His stance immediately faltered. He could recognize your voice out of a thousand others.

Prowler, or rather Miles, stood silent.

“Miles, take off that damn mask. I know it's you.” You took off your mask, and he opened his. His eyes were unreadable. “What the hell have you gotten yourself into Miles?" You sighed. You didn't recognize him anymore. You didn't know who he was. There was no way the Miles you knew had become this.

"Fuck, princesa. I didn't want you to get involved in this shit. You're the fucking spider?" You feel as if he was seeing you for the first time again. "I'm fucking Spider-woman, you dick. And I've been involved with this 'shit' ever since I got bit by a spider. Now explain this, whatever you've turned into!" You spurted out, pointing at his suit. "I got roped into business with Kingpin after my father died. Shit, I never meant for this to happen." He exclaimed.

"What, you think you're protecting me by not telling me? Bullshit." You say, throwing your hands up in the air. "I was protecting you. I was protecting you from Kingpin. Because I fucking love you. I meant it when I said you were my girl." He proclaimed.

When you thought this night couldn't get any wilder, it just did.

Alarms blared in the back of your mind, telling you to leave. Your brain is screaming at you to think about your moral obligation to stop the Prowler, no matter who he is. But your heart is telling you otherwise. You choose the latter.

"Fuck, Miles. Shut the hell up." You threw a web at his abdomen and pulled him towards you, efficiently shutting him up by connecting your lips to his. Sliding your hands onto his braids, you pulled him in closer. He immediately reciprocated and grinned into the kiss, setting his arms on your hips.

Turning into a heated make-out session, he backed you against the wall of the alley. You felt your legs giving out on you. Miles put his knee in between your legs, supporting you. He kissed you with passion. He's pinned for you for the longest time, and he finally has you. He wasn't going to give it up for anything. Unfortunately, you needed oxygen to live, so you pulled back. A string of saliva connected your lips as you parted.

He took away all the oxygen in your body, and apparently your moral compass as well, with only one kiss. Unable to open your eyes until a few moments after, you fluttered your eyes open. "I fucking love you too, Miles" You whispered against his lips. "Oh, really? Couldn't tell." He teased with a smirk, his lips seconds away from yours as he looked down at you. He held your gaze with longing in his eyes.

Muffled screams ruined the moment. Miles and you react immediately, putting your masks back on. You got your webs ready while Miles had his steel daggers out. Lowering your guards, you realize it was the couple of guys you webbed up and forgot. "Sorry, I'll go take care of them." You said as you rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. Miles stifled a laugh as he said, "That's alright, ma. You can make it up to me later." You heard the smugness in his voice as you swung away to the police station. You made sure to fulfill his request later that night.

---------

part 2!

#miles morales x reader #miles morales #miles morales x y/n #miles morales x you #earth 42 miles morales x reader #earth 42 #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #into the spider verse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #prowler miles #miles morales spider man #spider man #spiderman into the spiderverse #jealousy #enemies to lovers #friends to lovers

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ddejavvu · 5 months ago

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Ok so smut idea for Tyler! Tyler’s shy and sweet gf who gets all horny and needy while he’s gone so she sends him some nudes or like a dirty vid and Tyler is totally thrown because that’s not his sweet innocent girl?? Is it??

Caught off Guard - Tyler Owens x Reader

please send me tyler owens requests!

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Tyler's never had a problem with opening a message from you in front of his crew. You love him more than life itself, Tyler knows that, but you're almost painfully shy, and the most racy thing you've ever said to him over text was that he looked 'handsome'. In private, in the secluded space of your shared bed, filthier things come from between your sweet pink lips, but over text you're always civilized.

It's why he's so taken aback that he nearly doesn't turn the sound down on his phone when he presses play on the video you'd sent him. It's nothing but a black screen originally but your sweaty, flushed face pops into frame when you lift the phone.

All anyone at the makeshift table is able to hear before he turns the volume down is Tyler's own name, and he's wildly, viscerally grateful that it hadn't been something more suggestive.

"Woah!" Tyler coughs over a mouthful of cheap beer, chest heaving as you showcase your two fingers pressed together with a slick substance coating them, dripping from them, "I gotta- y'all eat without me, I'm- I have to go."

"Is Y/N okay?" Lilly peers up worriedly at him, the typically brash storm chaser reduced to a pouting mother hen at Tyler's urgency, "She sounds like she's crying."

"She's fine." Tyler's already jogging towards their motel room, struggling with the keys in his pocket to jam the card inside of the door, "Don't bother me, and- and don't let anyone touch my beer!"

He's fairly certain that before the door even shuts behind him, Dani is already chugging it, but he can't bring himself to care.

He reloads the video, turning the volume up so that he can hear your voice again, "Tyler, I- I need you so bad right now. I've been feeling- aagh! I've been feeling like this all day, and I just- I keep trying, but I can't do it like you can!" You sob, your face screwing up as you desperately try getting yourself off, "Look, look! This is- I'm so wet, Tyler I'm so wet thinking about you, and I just can't- I can't finish, I need you I need- hnngh! Tyler," You cry, tears spilling out over your lower lashes and down your humid cheeks, "I need you!"

Tyler's hands tremble as he jams his thumb onto the 'call' button. His jeans are uncomfortably tight now, and one of his hands is already palming against the denim before he realizes that he's even hard. He acts on instinct, tucking the phone beside his ear and panting when the rough fabric of his jeans rubs flush against the angled head of his cock.

You pick up on the first ring, "Ty!"

"Baby," He breathes, groaning as he unzips his jeans and frees his cock from the confines of his boxers, "Shit, honey, you can't- you can't fuckin' do that to me."

"I need you," You're still crying, perhaps moreso now that Tyler's voice is in your ear but your cunt is devoid of his erection.

"'Thought I was gonna bust at the fuckin' table," He scoffs, stroking over his leaking cockhead, "Shit, baby, sendin' me pretty little videos like that? You're feelin' brave today, huh?"

"It hurts, Ty," You sob, "I- I need you."

"Shit, say it again." He pleads, already fucking his fist with vigor, uncontrollably turned on by your sudden, bold change in demeanor.

"I need you!" You cry, and Tyler's throat grows sore with the volume of the groan he releases as you hopelessly grind on your too-small fingers, "Please, Ty, i need you so bad!"

"Shit," Tyler curses, wondering if he's ever cum faster in his life, slightly embarrassed yet still raring to go as he hears your needy gasps, "Oh, fuck, baby, you're- you're all mine. I've got you, we're on our way back home. I'm gonna- agh, I'm gonna fuck you into the mattress, baby, just you wait."

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens fanfiction #tyler owens x you #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens blurb #tyler owens drabble #glen powell x reader #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens smut

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storywriter007 · 6 months ago

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can you do a “fighting for the first time” preference/headcannons with the HoO boys ? i love ur work!!

Fighting for the First Time - HoO Boys x Fem!Reader

author's note: thank you for the request!! and i'm so glad you like my work, this literally made my day. this is what i feel like first fights (non-quest related) would go but add your ideas in the comments!!

genre: angst ending in fluff

word count: 1.5k but it's all in bullet points

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here! (these are my guidelines)

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

percy jackson

the first time you guys seriously fight, it goes one of two ways

either a.) he doesn't care about who's right and just wants things to go back to normal or b.) he thinks he's right

option a is the preferred option

he tries to talk to you, finding you whenever and wherever

he refuses to leave until the problem is sorted out

and he is upset the entire duration of the fight

he apologizes for anything

"i'm sorry if i did anything at all to hurt you" kind of apology

option a fights would be over things like unintentionally hurting each-other

like accidentally saying something mean or sparring too roughly with each-other

or it would be over his reckless behavior

in which he understands why it worries you

this first fight wouldn't last long

maybe a day before you guys are all good again

option b is the worst

when he's convinced he's right, he tunes you out

not intentionally, it's just that he's too caught up in what he's feeling to properly listen to you

you guys go back and forth in circles

practically yelling at each-other

his eyes get dark and he becomes angry quickly

refuses to listen to you until things reach a tipping point

either you or him storm out and leave the other one alone for a few days and talk it out once they've cooled down

or one of you starts crying, and the anger is overshadowed by guilt and heartbreak bc of their ignorance

this fight would probably be over his loved ones

if you had pointed out a flaw about them or something they did which you didn't appreciate

or maybe just a passing comment you unintentionally made

i mean the loyalty on that man is crazy

lots of hurt feelings during this fight

and it would last a while - the most being a week

however, both fights would have a mutual apology

where both of you apologize for the things you've said and done

and you guys agree to do better in the future

you probs end up falling asleep in cabin 3 that night

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

jason grace

to get in a serious fight with him, it's gotta be something big

jason is calm and level-headed

he takes a walk the first time things get heated and comes back to you with a clear mind

he talks to you calmly, treating the fight more like a debate

don't get it wrong though: internally he's freaking out

he's lost a lot, and he doesn't want to lose you

honestly your first serious fight with him would be over reckless behavior (on your end) or him being walked over

your first serious fight spawns from how deeply you two care for each-other

either he's mad you don't care about yourself and doesn't know how to tell you calmly bc you don't listen

or you're mad that he's ready to die for gods and kids who don't care about him in the least

you guys only fight about these things because light-hearted conversations don't send the message

jason, especially, stays stern during the fight

you wonder if he even cares tbh

but then you notice how he pauses and searches for words, how his lip twitches when you say something snappy, and the look in his eyes

he barely raises his voice, and only does it when you interrupt him constantly

the first fight would end within a day

it would end with revealing why you are reckless or why he is so selfless

it would be a calm, vulnerable conversation

would probs end in a make-out session bc he was so afraid he was gonna lose you

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

leo valdez

i'm going to be so real rn: the fight starts because he's feeling inferior

he loves you sm and he considers himself lucky to have you

but bc of that - his feeling of inferiority would be on the back of his mind

he's not really jealous, but more-so afraid you're going to leave him at the drop of a hat like how everyone else has

so he gets upset if you're spending too much time around any other guy

the book series repeatedly talks about leo's insecurities and how he feels like he's not good enough and how he feels everything is his fault

insecurity runs deep and it would most definitely be a reason for a fight

you guys do raise your voices bc at first you're not understanding each-other

you think he's jealous and he thinks you don't want to be with him anymore

after you guys are done with your screaming match, leo would coop up wherever his machines are

he would stay there for a long time and think

he 100% is over analyzing every single thing you said to him

he's convinced you guys are going to break up and you're going to leave him

and he deserves it because it's his fault for starting the argument

even though he isn't jealous or thinks you're a cheater, he just let his insecurities get the best of him

and he feels like it's over for you two

he doubts himself; wondering if he should even try to talk to you or just let what he believes is the inevitable happen

so he doesn't even try to apologize

he is convinced it is all his fault

overworks himself in an attempt to distract himself from all of his terrible thoughts

you, on the other hand, have your time alone and want to talk to him

it's nighttime and he's nowhere to be found

you go to his little lab and voila, there he is

his eyes are red and sunken and his hands are shaky and dirty

you don't say anything, you just hug him

he breaks down and tells you why he was actually mad

he profusely apologizes and doesn't blame you if you want to break up

you explain to him that you are with him because you love him and that one little fight would never make you leave him

you reassure him that he is more than enough

this fight doesn't last more than a day or maybe two

the fight would end with a really intense kiss

and you would probably spend the rest of the night with him in his little work area

you'd watch movies, make jokes, laugh a lot, and company him while he manically works on something

that something is metal flowers as an apology for acting the way he did

it's his way of saying "we're stuck together and i love you :)"

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

frank zhang

it's difficult to get into a serious fight with frank

but if you do, it would be over reckless behavior (on your end, c'mon y/n) or his own insecurity

your reckless behavior specifically with fire

frank and fire do not get along - it's well known

he literally can't stand you doing something dangerous in general

but with fire, it's even worse

he's convinced something terrible is going to happen and he lashes out at you bc of his previous experiences with fire

this fight would be short-lived though, bc you would understand why he feels that way

you'd apologize to him and he would apologize for lashing out

you'd agree to stop joking around with fire, but you'd convince him to start getting over his fear

this first fight actually ends up more helpful in the long run as frank slowly overcomes his fear of fire with you by his side

however, if it's his own insecurities, this would go another way

as mentioned, frank has been bullied

and he repeatedly feels like an outcast because he doesn't have dyslexia/adhd, he's an archer but he's a mars kid, and his life depends on a piece of firewood

your fight would start bc he felt left out with you

but it's just him overthinking

(if you use a sword) it's you sparring with jason or percy for practice

and it kinda makes him feel like "i want to help my gf but she needs someone who's actually good"

if you hang out with another mars kid for too long

makes him think "what i should be"

if you made a jab at him that he took a little too seriously

frank is a gentle giant, so he wouldn't yell in the least

you guys would argue and he'd be lost for words, kind of stuttering and repeating himself a lot

he'd just kinda walk off during an argument

this would make you mad bc he started the thing and doesn't want to listen to you

but really, he just wants to talk to you when it's not so heated

you'd go hide in your cabin/room

frank would be walking around and comes to the realization that walking out on your argument was a douchebag move

he shapeshifts into like a rat or a bug or something to go see you in your cabin and make sure you're not hurt

you'd see some random animal in your cabin and you get freaked out

he turn back into himself and apologizes for being rash

he'd be honest and tell you that he was just overthinking things and that he just got in his own head

you accept his apology and tell him to communicate better

to tell you if he feels left out or if he doesn't think something is funny, and to tell you that's he's leaving the argument bc he wants to think abt it

this fight is over by sundown

and you spend the rest of the evening practicing archery with him

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azzibuckets · 28 days ago

Text

sweet [part four]

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

word count: 2.5k

masterlist

Azzi wakes up to a sweater being thrown on her face. It’s bright, sunlight streaming in through the window and bathing her room in a soft yellow. “Wake up.”

“Mhmmm.” Azzi tosses the sweater away, burrowing back into the warmth of her comforter. She’s halfway asleep again when the feeling of cold water dripping down her cheek sends her flying up. “What the fuck?”

Paige smirks, clearly fighting the urge not to laugh. She’s in her UConn puffer and sweats, her hair tied up in a messy bun and her eyes brighter than ever in the sunlight. “You gotta wake up for real.” She screws back the cap of her water bottle.

“What are you doing here?” Azzi fumbles around for her glasses, slipping them on as she takes in the sight of Paige in her room for the first time in weeks. She blinks rapidly, trying to get ahold of her bearings.

Paige stuffs her hands into the pockets of her puffer. “Your doctor called me. Said you missed your last rehab appointment?” She raises an eyebrow at this.

Azzi rolls over in bed, stuffing her face into a pillow. It’s too early to deal with this. All she wants to do is go back to sleep, her only escape from the nightmare that’s been her life recently. “What does that have to do with you?”

“Check the time.”

Glancing at her watch and seeing that it’s almost noon, she curses. She’d forgotten to set her alarm last night. Even if she left now, she’d still be hours late - her rehab center is all the way in New York.

“He asked me if I knew where you were, seeing as you haven’t been responding to most of his messages or calls lately.”

Choosing to ignore the question hiding in her words, Azzi searches frantically among her blankets for her phone. “Shit, I gotta call an Uber.” But Paige rests a hand on her wrist, the warmth of her touch burning through the long sleeve she’s wearing. Azzi’s pulse quickens.

“I’ll take you.”

“No, it’s really okay,” Azzi objects.

“Az. By the time the Uber comes you’re gonna be even more late. You won’t even make it by the time they close.” When Azzi still doesn’t look convinced, Paige adds, “I seriously have nothing else to do. Let me take you.”

Azzi hesitates before finally relenting with a nod. She’s already been on a thin ice with her doctors before missing her last appointment, and every minute she shows up late today is another minute under their scrutinizing gaze and interrogations.

Pulling on the sweater Paige had thrown at her, she rushes around the room, trying to collect her things and get dressed as fast as possible. Paige tosses her random items as she gets ready - socks, her shoes, her purse. The older girl seems to know what Azzi needs before she even says anything, and it makes her miss their dynamic even more - Paige always understood her so easily.

The look in Paige’s eyes hasn’t left Azzi’s mind since that night. She knows she should’ve said something, done anything to take that destroyed look off of her face. And she’d regretted the words as soon as they’d left her mouth, every step taken with Micaela and away from Paige feeling like another crack in the shattered glass of their friendship. But she hadn’t had the strength to turn around and apologize then, to face Paige when she could barely look in the mirror and face herself.

Afterwards, she’d expected the older girl to be frustrated, upset, angry at her. But in their clipped interactions during practices and team events, Paige never snapped or made snide comments. Instead, she almost seemed timid, wary and withdrawn, like she was just hurt, and somehow? Somehow that was even worse.

“Hey.” Paige glances over at her, surprise flickering across her face. They’d been sitting in silence for the past hour, aside from the occasional comment on the passing scenery. Paige had seemed lost in thought, her eyes darting around quickly like they usually do when she’s zoned out. But now she has Paige’s attention. This is her opportunity. Azzi shifts in her seat. “I just wanted to say I’m, uh, sorry about the other night.”

Paige’s face remains indifferent, indecipherable. Azzi searches for any sliver of emotion in her expression - the familiar furrow of her eyebrows when she’s upset, the crease at the corner of her mouth when she’s sad - anything. But Paige’s face is carefully controlled, as if she doesn’t trust Azzi with her emotions, and Azzi thinks this might hurt more than anything. “It’s all good. You didn’t do anything wrong.” Paige’s hands tighten ever so slightly on the steering wheel. “I’m glad Micaela looks out for you.”

They fall into silence again. Azzi isn’t used to this either - Paige being silent, not chatting her ear off. She’s treading in unfamiliar waters, and it almost feels like she’s drowning. “I put you as the emergency number.” Azzi finally says. “That’s why they called you.”

“Aw, I thought Janelle just missed my face,” Paige says, her lips tugging upwards, and Azzi sighs in relief. A joke. She can work with this.

“I can change it, if you want,” she offers.

Paige looks at her weirdly, as if Azzi had just proposed something preposterous. “Why the hell would you change it?”

“I mean, I don’t want them to keep bothering you about stuff. I can just change the contact to Micaela?”

“No, don’t change it,” Paige says a little bit too quickly. “I know more, um, basketball and treatment stuff. It’ll be easier if they just contact me.” Paige doesn’t say that she doesn’t trust anyone else to be Azzi’s emergency contact. That she needs to be the first to show up if Azzi ever needs anything, that no one can understand Azzi like she does.

“Okay,” Azzi agrees. She taps her fingertips on her knee. “I won’t change it.”

Paige finally looks at her, and Azzi swears she sees the familiar softening of her eyes. But she turns her gaze back on the road, and it’s gone. “Are you hungry?”

As if on cue, Azzi’s stomach grumbles. “A little bit.”

Paige jabs her thumb towards the back seat. “I brought some snacks. Help yourself.”

Azzi reaches over, grabbing the bag and ruffling through it. Gummy worms, chocolate chip cookies, Quest protein bars - all her favorite snacks. And - a Tupperware of strawberries, and a mini jar of Nutella. “Did you pack this for me?”

Paige’s cheeks color. “No,” she says defensively. “I just happened to grab your favorites.”

“Aw, Paige,” Azzi coos, earning a roll of the eyes and a swat from Paige. She dodges her hand and laughs, and they almost feel normal again. But then Paige clears her throat, and says, “So what’s up with rehab? Why’d you miss your last appointment?” And Azzi knows that that momentary slice of normalcy could only last so long.

“Micaela was having a rough day. I wanted to stay home and make sure she was okay.”

Paige’s jaw tightens. “You know every appointment you miss is another day you can’t play?”

“I know that. I missed one appointment, it’s not the end of the world. She gave me some stuff to do at home and I followed all of her instructions,” Azzi defends.

“Bullshit.” Paige shakes her head in disbelief. “You know that your actions affect the entire team too? It’s another game we have to figure out a way to work without you.”

“God, Paige, you’re acting as if I completely fucked up my entire rehab,” Azzi laughs incredulously. “It was one day.”

“One day you chose to fool around with a girl rather than focus on basketball,” Paige says sharply.

“Oh, please,” Azzi scoffs. “Fool around with girls? Yeah, real fresh, Paige. Let’s talk about how many girls you hit up at the bar every fucking week.”

“You know I don’t do that shit anymore. I have a girlfriend,” Paige shoots back.

Azzi’s eyes burn, and she forces herself to look out the window again, to blink away the tears before they start to form. Yet another reminder of how she was never good enough for Paige - Paige could never take her eyes off other girls when they were friends with benefits, but with Ella, she didn’t even want to look at anyone else. “Good for you,” Azzi replies coldly. They sit in silence for the rest of the car ride.

••

Azzi doesn’t want to admit it, but rehab somehow becomes bearable again with the presence of her best friend, even if the tension between them is still suffocating. Paige, always attuned to Azzi’s feelings, seemed to have noticed the negative shift in Azzi’s mood as soon as she entered the facility. She’d started cracking jokes at everyone they talked to, and although she never even made eye contact with Azzi, the younger girl knew that her sudden playful behavior was for her.

Even now, as Janelle works her fingers around her scar tissue, Paige is sitting just inches from her, telling a long story about an encounter she’d had with some crazy fans. Azzi is mostly quiet, merely contributing a nod or a laugh every so often, but she nevertheless appreciates it, because even despite petty arguments, Paige has always made it a point to look out for her. Azzi thinks to herself that it couldn’t possibly be her fault that she’s always been so caught up with the older girl. Paige was too easy to fall in love with.

Janelle’s phone rings suddenly, and she excuses herself to take it. “Paige, can you take over for a sec? Massage the tissue around her scar, just like how we did it with you.”

Paige looks hesitantly at Janelle’s retreating figure before slipping into her chair, taking over her position. Her hands hover over Azzi’s knee, almost as if she’s afraid to hurt her by touching her. “Is this okay?” she asks softly. And Azzi wants to laugh, because if someone had told her a month ago that Paige would be asking for permission to touch her when she’d once had her hands constantly on her waist and back and butt, she would’ve thought they were insane.

And Azzi’s not even sure if she can handle Paige touching her, because her heart is already thumping from the mere proximity of her presence. But Paige is waiting with bated breath and hopeful eyes, so she nods. Paige presses her thumbs into the tissue around her knee, moving them in soft circles. Azzi’s numb where her scar is, so she can’t really feel Paige’s touch until she shifts slightly, and the blonde’s fingers graze the sensitive skin of her inner thigh for just a second, and she lets out a little sigh. Paige freezes for a second before continuing to work more firmly around her knee.

“Paige.”

Paige looks up at her, and all Azzi can focus on is how pink and kissable her lips look, and the pretty flutter of her long lashes. They lock eyes, neither of them saying anything, scared to start another argument that will blow a fuse between them. But then Paige slowly lowers her mouth to her knee, her gaze stubborn on Azzi’s. She presses a kiss to Azzi’s scar, lips lingering on her skin as her thumb continues to stroke circles into the side of her knee. Azzi brushes a strand of hair away from Paige’s eyes, gently tucking it behind her ear, her thumb caressing her cheek for a brief second before she drops her hand.

“I said to massage my patient, Bueckers, not feel her up in my office,” Janelle reprimands as she steps back into the room. Paige jumps away quickly, looking at anything but Azzi, tucking her hands behind her back like a little child whose just been caught stealing a cookie red handed. Azzi licks her lips, wishing that Janelle could’ve waited just two more seconds.

Her doctor looks between the two of them with a knowing smirk. “I got it from here,” she tells Paige. “Go make yourself useful and stop distracting her.”

“I’ll go, er, fill up the ice tub,” Paige stammers, scurrying off before Janelle can make another comment. She busies herself for the next hour or so, filling bags of ice for other patients, making sure Azzi’s water bottle is filled, everything and anything she can do to keep her mind off the sound of Azzi’s breathy moan and the way it had made her feel warm all over. She had a girlfriend, for Christ’s sake. A girlfriend that couldn’t make her feel half of what Azzi made her feel.

When she’s finally done, Azzi is waiting for her in the lobby. “You might have to drive back alone,” Azzi says. “They said I should come back tomorrow because I missed my last one. Think I might just book a hotel room and stay over.” Azzi’s about to fall asleep on her feet, and she doesn’t feel like waking up at 5 am tomorrow to repeat the long drive.

“You’re funny for expecting me to let you stay in a random city by yourself.” Paige grabs Azzi’s duffel and tosses it over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

••

Paige comes out of the bathroom in boxer shorts and a tank top. She wrings her hair with a towel, and Azzi’s eyes skim appreciatively over the muscle of her arms going taut.

“Wanna put a movie on before we sleep?”

Azzi nods, and Paige somehow manages to find a channel that’s playing Frozen. They sit on the bed at first, stiff. All the rooms with doubles were already booked, so they’d had to settle for the room with the biggest bed possible. But even as they sit on opposite sides of the king bed, the distance between them feels too small, too weak to stop the energy in the air between them.

And neither of them knows how it happens, but as the movie plays, they’re shifting closer and closer together until their arms are touching, their knees pressed against each other. Then Paige is moving Azzi onto her lap, and Azzi isn’t resisting, letting the blonde take control of her hips and place her in her lap.

They stare at each other for half a second, indecision running through their minds. Azzi knows that whatever happens next won’t fix whatever’s going on between them - the constant arguing, the back and forth, the exhaustion. It’ll only make it worse, complicate things until they’re tied into a messy tangle of knots. But Paige looks so soft in the dim light of the room, her hair loose and wavy and down and her eyes tired, and her skin still warm from the heat of her shower, that Azzi thinks that she just has to feel her, for just one second, and before she can stop herself she’s nuzzling her face into the crook of Paige’s neck. The older girl shudders at the feeling of Azzi’s lips grazing her pulse point, heat blossoming in her lower tummy. “We can’t do this,” Azzi whispers, even as she tucks her body in closer to Paige.

Paige’s hands wander down to Azzi’s ass, pressing their hips together. They both groan at the feeling. “Why the fuck not?”

“You have a girlfriend,” Azzi gasps as she rolls her hips, grinding against Paige’s lap. “And I have a girlfriend. This will fuck everything up.”

“Me and Ella are taking a break,” Paige moans, hips bucking up as she searches for more friction. Azzi whimpers, and it takes everything in Paige not to lose all control at how needy the younger girl sounds.

“How the fuck are you guys already on a break?” Azzi pants.

“Trust me, we are.” Paige suckles on Azzi’s neck beneath her ear, nibbling at the skin and tasting her sweat with a swipe of her tongue.

“This is so wrong,” Azzi whimpers, but she laces her hand through Paige’s hair and tugs her even closer. She can feel Paige smirk against her neck, her warm breath damp on her skin.

“Are you and Micaela exclusive yet?” Paige’s fingers creep closer to the waistband of Azzi’s shorts, itching to dip below.

“No,” Azzi moans. “Not yet.” She grinds against Paige again, getting lost in the slow, sensual rhythm of their bodies moving together in pure want.

“So what’s so wrong about this?” Paige rasps. “Because it feels so right.” She runs her hands up Azzi’s bare thighs, heart beating wildly at the sight of the prettiest girl on her lap, her abs flexing as she moves, eyes big and dark and blown out. Her thumb briefly pushes up her shorts, stroking her upper thigh, making the younger girl shudder. She kisses a line down Azzi’s clavicle, leaving a messy and heated trail of spit. “Let me make you feel good. Please.”

Azzi groans, and she’s so close to giving in, so close to taking Paige’s hand and guiding it to where she needs it most, so close to letting Paige take all control and have her way with her, until Paige pants, “Come on baby. It’s just sex.”

It’s just sex.

Fuck you, Paige Bueckers.

#paige bueckers #azzi fudd #uconnwbb #pazzi #uconn wbb #wcbb #paige x azzi #paige bueckers x azzi fudd #fic #angst #fluff

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miyukisu · 7 days ago

Text

No Matter What .ᐟ

❤︎ | If Umemiya Hajime promises you something—best believe he's keeping it (1.3k wc) ╰ feat. umemiya hajime (winbre) x afab! reader

tags - reader gets hurt, mentions of violence and injuries, angst to comfort, fluff, happy ending, caring ume, friends to lovers -ish, no y/n

a/n - this was a request on my other blog

MEGA MASTERLIST

"If you need help—no matter what it is—just call me and I'll be there."

Those were the words that Umemiya Hajime told you the first time you met him. And maybe he was just being nice. Maybe he only told you that because you were Kotoha's friend. Sure, he was the head of Furin and Furin's supposed to save the people of this town—but that doesn't mean that Ume would always be at your beck and call.

It doesn't necessarily mean that he'll be there for you no matter what.

Because you were just that��Kotoha's friend. You weren't anyone important that the top dog of Furin would come in and rescue you. But, God, you wished that you were.

You let those sweet words float by you at first, but now it was the only thing you were holding on to. That and your dwindling hope.

How did it come to this? Why did they have to come to the cafe at exactly the time that you were alone? Why did Kotoha leave you alone? Not that you blame her... but you do blame whoever these people are—for being so weak that they would hold a grudge against Furin, going as far as torturing the people that mattered to their leader rather than aiming for him themselves.

They were after Kotoha; that much you were sure of. Though, they figured, you could also be someone important to Umemiya Hajime. So they beat you up for safe measure. Perhaps a consolation that they couldn't get their true target.

You could only watch as they continued to trash the place, trying to send a message to Furin that they were dead serious about this feud—a feud that you unfortunately got tangled up in.

With your back facing the door, you were a witness to their wickedness. As much as you wanted to shout or flee for your life, you were frozen in place. Softly, you could only whisper his name—a futile prayer on deaf ears.

But Ume had a knack for turning bleak situations upside down. Too absorbed in fear, you failed to notice an intense presence make its way into the cafe. A newfound weight was put on your shoulders, a coat which you instinctively held on to. It radiated a masculine smell and it comforted you because it smelled exactly like him.

"Can you make do with my jacket for now? Just gotta deal with these guys first," he says, turning to look back at you with a reassuring smile.

Dumbfounded, you simply nodded at him, allowing him what he does best: saving the people he cares about. He effortlessly plowed his way through his opponents. His face showed no emotion, punch after punch. Part of you could tell that he was holding back; he could do even worse to them than this.

When all was said and done, Ume gave them a warning—more so a threat to be honest. The men almost crawled their way out of the place. Only then did you see a speck of emotion on Ume's face.

He was seething. The aftermath of the gang's actions made his blood boil. And to think what could have happened if Kotoha were there...

But most of all—and the reality is—you were the one that got hurt. You were no Kotoha, but Ume cared about you all the same. He was that type of guy after all.

Once he had calmed down, he knelt down in front of you. HIs face relaxed a bit, hoping it could calm you down.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here earlier. I really am."

You quickly shook your head, still holding on to the jacket he perched on your shoulders a few minutes ago. "No... please don't apologize. I'm just glad that you came at all."

Ume's expression softened, feeling bad that someone like you had to go through such a traumatic experience. He wanted to tuck the lock of hair behind your ear and to cup your cheek at that moment, but decided against it. There were more pressing issues than giving into his impulses at the moment—like getting you to safety for instance.

That's how you found yourself being carried on his back. You insisted that you could walk, but he was as stubborn as you.

"Are you sure the cafe will be alright?"

"Of course! The other guys should be there with Kotoha now—cleaning around and stuff," he says.

"What about you though?"

"Me?"

"Don't you want to be there with Kotoha? I'm sure the other guys would have been able to help me..."

He lets out a short chuckle. "You want someone else to help you? What's wrong with me?"

"What? I didn't mean it like that. You know what I'm talking about so—"

A smile graces his face, glad to be so quick-witted. "Then just get comfortable behind there and let me bring you home."

Not that he could see your face, but you hid your flustered face behind his shoulder anyway.

────────────

Ume carried you all the way inside your house and at this point you've learned that it was fruitless to refuse his kindness. He gently places you down on the sofa before facing you with his usual positive expression.

"Alright. You got a first aid kit somewhere?" he asked with his hands on his hips, looking around as if he'd find it in plain sight.

"It should be in the bottom cabinet in the bathroom... um, first door to your right when you go up the stairs," you sheepishly respond.

He nods. "Got it. I'll be back."

Sure that he was gone, you let out the breath you've been holding for a while. You were glad that no one else was home. Otherwise, you'd have to deal with explaining as well.

And... maybe it would be nice to be alone with Ume even for just a while.

You see him come down the stairs and jog towards the hall leading to the kitchen. The fridge opens and closes, and you wonder what he's up to. Although, soon as he comes back with the kit and ice pack in hand—you understood the quick kitchen detour.

"Got some ice from the fridge. Here," he says, handing the pack to you. "Your knee looks pretty swollen. You'll need that."

You softly thank him for his thoughtfulness and he kneels down in front of you once more. He raises his hands, "You okay with a bit of touching?" preempting you to his care.

"Yeah... though it's a bit embarrassing that you have to tend to my wounds when I can do it myself."

He already had a cotton ball with antiseptic. One hand holding your leg up with the other dabbing the medicine on your cuts, he smiled thoughtlessly to himself.

"Wouldn't let a lady tend to her wounds herself, would I?"

"Knowing you... I guess you wouldn't."

He looks up at you with a grin. "Besides, I told you I'd always be there for you. Even after we get you all patched up and ready to go to the pastry shop downtown to get a sweet treat to lift your mood—I'll still be there. Someone's gotta carry you, right?"

You didn't think it was possible for you to smile, let alone laugh, after that incident. But here you were, giggling while Ume cared for your wounds.

"We're going to the pastry shop after this?"

"You bet."

It was this day that you learned: Umemiya Hajime keeps his promises no matter what.

©miyukisu do not repost/reupload/translate any of my works on other platforms

╰ author's note I used to post a lot of WinBre on my main blog, like 40% of it used to be WinBre. But this is my first fic about it on this blog. Hope I still ate.

#wind breaker #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker nii satoru #umemiya hajime #umemiya x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #windbreaker umemiya #wbk #wbk x reader #wind breaker manga #wind breaker angst #wind breaker fluff #wbk umemiya #mksu.works

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smuthospital · 1 year ago

Text

⭐️Yandere Kylar x Reader⭐️

Premise: You're a streamer, and your biggest fan really really likes you

Warning: Non-con, kidnapping, gn reader

Minors DNI

Bright lights flash in your eyes, your fingers rapidly bashing buttons on your keyboard, your other hand furiously clicking your mouse. You whine as your character suddenly falls to the ground, dead.

"Ok, guys! Ok, I get it! I know I'm not that good at this game! No need to tease me!" You laugh. Inside, you're a bit peeved. These stinky bastards aren't here for your gameplay so they better shut up. Shut up and enjoy their eye candy. You're currently streaming an online first-person shooter. You made your little hobby into a little side hustle not too long ago. Guys love watching hot people play games and it's proven to be profitable. "I'm cute? Well thank you, Mr. Husband!" This guy is a regular. Gotta give him those shout-outs he practically pays for.

As much as it hurts to deal with these weirdos, It helps with expenses. You've even seen Robins username pop in and out quickly, probably hoping you didn't see. At first, you were uncomfortable with acting all sweet for your audience, but you warmed up to the idea when it started staving off your bastard Landlord at the orphanage you live in, Bailey. You play games dressed sexy, say sweet dumb things and the money comes pouring in.

These poor, lonely guys send you money in hopes you'll give them a crumb of attention, and you do. Sometimes, you say their names. You don't exactly care that you're taking their money at all. It's a gift! It's not like you forced them to give you money, nor did you even ask. They just want a chance to get in your pants and you're not gonna stop them from dreaming. You can't count the number of times people in the chat have asked if you have an onlyfans.

You'd never, of course, date one of these pigs. You imagine your viewers are stinky, slimy, greasy and would cum in their pants at just seeing you in person. Their whole body is probably sticky to the touch and shower maybe once a month they probably have piss filled mountain dew bottles on the floor next to their pc and shit stains on their seat. You're pretty sure a few guys in the comments are jerking off as you stream this very second.

A few times, you've received ominous messages in the comments from different users, almost threatening you for some ridiculous problem they have with you. How you play, what you're wearing, or just your face, so you make sure to always hide your location and are very vague about your personal life. You're used to them being weird, saying things about what they'd do to you if they were alone with yo- Just have to learn to ignore it. You calm yourself down.

"Well, that's enough for today, I'm getting sleepy! It was nice playing with you today. I'll see you tomorrow, goodnight, love you!" You blow a kiss at the camera. You see people commenting their 'i love you too's and whining about how you could stay a bit longer' in the chat before you disconnect. You made $540 from that two-hour stream. You received most of it from the same person. Mr.Husband. Not one minute after closing the stream, you get a message. You thought you disabled direct messages? You notice that it's to your personal account that's open on another tab from an unnamed account. No bio, no profile picture.

New user: Hey

New user: Do you want to meet up sometime? For coffee?

You: Who's this?

New user: I'm Kylar. You can get to know me when we get coffee.

You: Uh no? How the fuck do you know me?

New user: I love your streams, pretty. Drop the fucking attitude before you piss me off. I knew you'd be more of a bitch off-camera. You just look too good to be good hearted. You have to be taught obedience. You're lucky I care about you so much.

You: Keep your tiny prick away from me. I never want to see you in my presence. Disgusting. Ugly pig. Do me a favor and never ever leave your dirty cave. Go fuck yourself

New user: Wanna watch?

*New user has now been blocked*

You stand up and walk away from your computer. how the fuck did he find your actual account? You don't even have your real name anywhere. You start to undress, not noticing your computer's camera has flicked on again.

In a dark room, a man fists his massive cock slowly, eyes trailing up and down his obsession through the screen. His mind is filled with all the things he wants to do to a little cock tease like you. Ruin you, break you, crush you under his weight, teach you a lesson for whoring yourself out. A cute treat like you should have better manners "Pig...tiny prick. Ah, (y/n) I can't let you just say those things to your husband." he watches as you slide your underwear down, eyes zeroing in on the crevice between your thighs as you bend over. He shudders as hot baby batter coats his chest and thighs, continuing to roll down his cock in fat globs.

Two days later, you're walking back home from a late shift at the cafe. You plan to stream when you get home.

Something is watching you.

Cold sweat dribbles down the back of your neck. You shiver, the cold night air doing nothing to calm you. You can feel eyes drilling holes into your back. You picked up your pace, your eyes darting all around. Who is it? What do they want? You think you can hear footsteps not far away. They're getting closer. You break into a sprint and make it to Danube street before you're tackled to the ground. All air is pushed from your lungs, depleting you of oxygen. You do your best to fight against your unseen attacker, but they're far too strong. You try to scream, but only a wheeze comes out. The man roughly picks you up like a sack of potatoes under his arm and carries you into a mansion nearby.

He walked down a flight of stairs and threw you to the ground. You tried to scramble away, but he grabs your ankle and drags you back to him. You get a look at his face in the dim light. He's handsome, but his expression strikes fear in your heart. Fury is the only word you can think of to describe it. You scream and flail your limbs wildly, trying to get him the fuck off of you. You hear a crack and before you realize what happened, your cheek is burning. "Shut." Smack "The." Smack "Fuck." Smack "Up." He's seething by the end. Your head was knocked back into the ground by the last hit. A dribble of blood runs down your nose, your cheeks completely red and moderately swollen. You're no longer trying to fight him, head far too foggy to do anything but lay there in pain.

"I'm sorry, baby." He huffs, calming down a bit. "Don't fight me and that won't have to happen again." He wiped at the blood on your face with his thumb, cradling your cheek. A blush creeps over his face along with a deranged smile as he stares down at you with his unblinking eyes. "You're just so perfect. Everything." You feel a bulge forming atop you where he's straddled. He pants heavily as he looks you up and down. Hot tears slip down your swollen cheeks at the realization that you can't get yourself out of this one.

You lie completely still as he palms his crotch in front of you. "I...I'm kylar...you said I have a small prick, (Y/n)... That wasn't very nice. You should say things like that to your husband." You stare at him in awe...it's..the guy from the chat. did he find you? He's crazy. He's insane. He's gonna kill you. Your chest heaves up and down uncontrollably. You feel blood rushing to your ears, feeling the most fear you've ever felt in your entire life. He takes notice of your panic attack and tries to calm you. "H-hey! Shhh, it's ok, just breathe!" You don't hear a word he's saying and thrash wildly again. Your legs kick underneath him, but his body doesn't budge an inch.

You freeze when you feel his lips smash onto yours. He grabs your wrists in one hand above your head, effectively immobilizing you. It feels like he's trying to eat you, no longer caring about your little tantrum. "Just stay still." He mutters as his large hands roam up and down your body like he's waited his life for this moment. You feel his ever growing bulge rub against your stomach. He grabs your hands before you could try to fight him again.

"...You know...I've been giving you my good money, (Y/n). All because I knew how hard it was to live on your own. But now you're here with me. You'll be my personal house whore." You feel his breath hit your cheek. "Please...let me go. I didn't do anything to you!" You're full on sobbing at this point and to your horror, you feel his cock twitch against you.

"Oh fuck! Keep crying for me like that, baby." He's clawing your pants. Your eyes dart around the room for anything that can help you, but your blood runs cold when you just see hundreds of photos of you plastered all over his walls, some even on his ceiling. You hear a loud tear. This animal ripped your pants and underwear in the process of ridding them from your body.

You're a shaking mess as he cups your sex in his hand. "K-Kylar, please!" You cry, trying to appeal to his humanity. He groans, a little wet spot of pre cum appears on his crotch. "Say my name again." He demanded. His fingers rim around your hole, threatening to dive in. You quiver at the feeling. He unzipped his pants and you feel something impossibly large, heavy and hot slam onto your stomach with a thud.

He releases you momentarily and moves himself lower on your body, his head between your legs. His arms circle around your thighs in a vice grip. He takes a strong whiff and lets out a moan. You feel his tongue slide up and down your sex as his fingers plat around with your hole before dipping half a finger in. You're too dry, it hurts! You whine and struggle, uncomfortable. His finger dips all the way in, uncaring for your pleasure. You scream as he continues to thrust his finger inside you as his mouth engulfs your sex. He removes his finger and lifts himself off you. You sigh in relief.

That relief dies as you feel his meaty cock push at your hole. He begins to push in, but your hole resists. It's too big. He lets out a sound of annoyance before spitting on his hand and rubbing the liquid up and down his cock. It does little to help aid in his entrance. "This may hurt a bit…a lot actually." He wicked grin stretches across his face before he rears his hips back and forces his cock through. You let out a blood curdling scream he rips through your insides. He's only halfway in, your walls desperately trying to push him back out. He holds onto your waist and pulls you into him, bottoming out. You feel like you're bleeding, but you're too afraid to look down.

You can hardly breathe. His cock feels like it's in your stomach. Your body twitches, hot tears slipping past the corners of your eyes as you wheeze out please for mercy. He only looks down at you in awe at your beauty. "Oh, you're so cute like this! I knew you could take it! I know it hurts now, but just give it time." His thumb rubs at your tears. There's nothing you can do to get out of this. You feel completely helpless.He pulls himself out, and slowly goes back in, groaning. "Fuck, you're so tight" he grunts. You close your eyes and hear a flash. Your eyes snap open to see he's holding a camera. A blinding light fills your vision along with a 'click'. This sick fuck.

You let out an involuntary moan when he shoves himself into you at just the right angle. He presses himself deep inside you, holding himself there, his cock hugging your sweet spot. "Ah (Y/n)! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!" He chants your name like a mantra at each thrust, but you can barely hear him. All you can do is feel him. Hurt hurts so bad but feels equally as good.

You can't help but let little sounds of pain and pleasure spill from your lips as his hips ram into yours. You look up to see his eyes are completely rolled back. His lips press wet kisses to your cheek. You feel a knot start to build in your lower stomach without your consent and you feel yourself lift onto cloud nine. "Oh (Y/n), cum for me! Cum for your husband!" He moans. You feel shame and pleasure wash over you as you do just that. You clench around him, his breath hitches in his throat at the feeling. He slams into you harder and harder. The over stimulation is killing you now. It's too much!

You think he might break something inside you, you think his dick might knock your brain out of your skull with how hard he's pounding. You feel like your organs will never be the same. "Gonna get you pregnant, gonna breed you again and again. Gonna have my babies. We'll be great parents!" His muttering awakens what's left of the fight in you. "Ah! N-no, stop! I-I can't!" His hand slams over your mouth, his bottomless green eyes staring directly into yours. He lifts your legs up and puts them over his shoulders in a tight mating press.

He hits your special spot and your eyes roll back. He can reach far deeper like this. He slams into you with one final thrust, pressing into you with his full weight. You can't breathe. The over stimulation finally comes for you and you cum all over his cock again. You feel his cock twitch before unloading what seems to be an endless supply of semen into you. You can almost hear the wet sound of him cumming inside you. Your lower stomach rises by the sheer volume of cum produced. You wonder if he used to be a bull at Remy's farm or something. That thought quickly vanishes along with your whole mind as your brain is unable to produce anymore thoughts.

With a satisfied sigh, he pulls his slipping wet cock out of you, a rush of lightly pink cum following after, quickly stopping when he plugs you up with a small plug. His cock isn't even fully soft. You pray he doesn't decide he wants a round two. "That wasn't so bad, now was it? You were crying for nothing." He pants. He kisses your temple before picking you up by your waist, once again like a sack of potatoes in one arm. He walks over to a mattress on the floor and drops you on it, your body softly bouncing on top before settling in a heap. He had a mattress the whole time and still fucked you on the cold, dirty cement floor!? You hear a click and see he's chained your right angle to the wall. He smiles at you and pevks you on the lips the way a husband would before leaving to work. His mood did a 180. He's so very cheerful, his handsome face cheerfully grinning down at you like you're a cute little kitten.

"You did really well today, (Y/n), my love. I'll be back tomorrow. You won't get dinner tonight because you fought me so much, but you'll learn to behave. I want to treat you better, so please be good for me. Goodnight." With that, your new 'husband' stands up to his full height and walks upstairs, leaving you in the cold pitch darkness of the basement.

#lemon #non con #x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #dead dove do not eat #degrees of lewdity #kylar the loner

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yogsandchaos · 21 days ago

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I gotta say I heavily HEAVILY respect Tommy for being like "just because youre an asshole now, doesn't mean you'll be one forever" and how he hopes that Dream will at some point be able to reflect and grow. Like that's the most mature real thing anyone has said this entire thing. My respect for Tommy for both being able to say both "you are being a cruel bad person" and "even so you can still better yourself and i hope you do" about Dream has shot through the ROOF. Like do you know how hard that is to understand and vocalize about someone who hurt you that badly?! Especially as an early 20 something???

God, momma innit raised her kid RIGHT, especially because even if Dream never does, I guarantee you there are people who watch this video who do need to hear that they can get out of the hole they've dug for themselves and be better. It's such an important message to be able to vocalize and I'm just kinda in awe that Tommy is able to do it in a situation like this.

#tommyinnit #dreamwastaken

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nicka-nell · 5 months ago

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wow ok read the recent request and I gotta say that was pretty heavy. Can we have a similar request but with a light angst with the remaining characters ??? I like the previous request

Hi, of course! :)) I've had really little time lately but I hope you like it anyway. I would say that all three contain rather mild angst compared to the previous ones. So I hope you enjoy it more. 💚

Regretting their actions

Pairing: Kuroo x, Ushijima x, Sakusa x reader

Warning: angst to fluff

Part 1 | Part 2 (End)

Kuroo finally made it. He has a job he enjoys. A job that also pays well financially and provides stability.

However, this job also involves some overtime and company trips.

In the beginning, he tried to keep to the working hours as much as possible. After all, he didn’t want to neglect you. However, the overtime increased year by year.

You often tried to gently point out to him that he shouldn’t overwork himself, but most of the time, your remarks were met with anger and ended in an argument.

At some point, you stopped and tried to suppress his increasingly frequent absences. Even if it hurt you.

Sometimes you lie in bed, looking at the empty space next to you, before the screen of your phone lights up and the usual message from Kuroo appears. “Sorry, kitten, but I can’t make it home today. But I’ll be there tomorrow at the end of the day.”

A message that raises so many doubts in you. What if he’s not at work at all and is seeing another woman? You’ve hardly had any time together in the last few months. Just a good morning kiss before work... that was all.

Does he no longer loves you? Does he possibly have a girlfriend and is leading a double life? No, Kuroo wouldn’t do that.

You’ve already reminded Kuroo three times this week that it’s your niece’s birthday today and that she’s looking forward to finally seeing him again. Because your niece loves Kuroo. Your boyfriend kept telling you before work that he had the date in his calendar and that he would definitely be home in time for the two of you to go to your niece’s together. You believed him. After all, the date was important to you. But you soon realize that this was just another lie. An empty promise.

Because when you look at your watch, it’s ten minutes before departure... and Kuroo still hasn’t arrived. He didn’t even reply to your “I’m looking forward to this afternoon.” You wait another four minutes, but nothing happens. In the end, you take the train to your niece’s house. Alone, without Kuroo. Because he doesn’t answer your messages or your calls.

Your little niece is so sad when she opens the door and looks up at you, realizing that you have come alone. It’s not that she doesn’t like you, but her dear uncle Kuroo always does so much nonsense with her. What did she once said? The aunts and grannies are there to go shopping and with the uncles and grandpas you have fun. Not exactly nice, but whatever.

She looks at you with sad eyes. “Isn’t uncle Kuroo coming? Doesn’t uncle Kuroo like me anymore?” she asks tearfully as you try to calm her down somehow. It takes a long time for her to stop crying, and that on her birthday. And as if that wasn’t enough, you also get asked by your brother and your parents if everything is all right with you and your boyfriend. Whether you are still together at all. Because even at the last events, you were always there alone. When they passed by your home, only you were ever present.

“No, no, everything’s fine. Tetsu’s just really busy today,” you reply with a forced smile, even though you don’t know where you stand as a couple right now. Can you even call what the two of you have a relationship?

As you head home in the evening, the apartment is still empty, just as expected. You sigh as you put your bag down and go into the bathroom to get ready for bed. The apartment seems so bitter as you lie down under the cold sheets, but you don’t care. You don’t even look at your phone anymore, because you know that Kuroo hasn’t texted you anyway. Nor do you mind that the bed is empty. Because that has also become a habit by now. Just then, you realize that tears are suddenly running down your cheeks. Yet you don’t even bother to wipe them away because no one will see them anyway.

Kuroo curses as he looks at his watch. His day had been stressful. So stressful that he didn’t even have time to look at his phone or check the time. Only when it got darker outside did he realize that he had once again worked too long.

“Shit,” he curses again as he stands in front of the entrance door. Should he go back to get flowers for you? After all, he promised you he wouldn’t work so late. No, never mind. Staying away any longer will only upset you more.

“Hey kitten, I’m sorry I was gone so long again. I know I said that-” but when Kuroo enters the living room, the light is off. You’re not in the kitchen either. Have you gone to bed already? He walks quietly towards the bedroom, but his hand stops on the door handle when he hears you sniffle.

“Hey, baby, what’s wrong?” he asks, immediately moving past the bed to your side to kneel in front of it. Only now do you realize that Kuroo has returned home. You look at him almost empty-eyed. “Nothing...” you reply and want to turn away from him, but his hand holds onto your shoulder.

“Don’t say nothing when you’re obviously crying. Is it because I’m here so late again? I’m really sorry... I’ve completely lost track of time. I’m trying-”

“I suppose you’ve forgotten my niece’s birthday? She cried bitterly today... and not only that. I was asked today if we’re still together because you’ve never been to celebrations lately. And honestly? I don’t even know myself...” You say in frustration and watch Kuroo’s eyes suddenly widen.

Today was your niece’s birthday... You had told him several times during the week and yet he had forgotten. Kuroo doesn’t even know how to answer you. There is no answer that can please you. Because Kuroo has completely fucked up. He opens his mouth to say something, then closes it again.

“Maybe we should really break-”

“No, no don’t say that. I know I fucked up. I know I promised you I’d work less overtime and be there for you more often. I know I didn’t stick to any of that. But please. I can change.” His answer interrupts yours, his voice soft and yet so panicked as he looks at you pleadingly. But you can’t help but laugh in frustration. “I’ve already asked my brother... I can stay with him for a while.”

You see the fear in his face as he tries to struggle for words. His shoulders begin to shake before he opens his mouth. Kuroo has no arguments to defend himself. In the end, he just failed. Made you sad. Neglected you. It had to get that far before he finally understood that. But when he looks at your sad face, he knows that he has no right to stop you.

“Yeah... if that’s what you want... I don’t want to stop you... make you any more miserable.” He replies dejectedly before squeezing your shoulder a little tighter to stand up to leave you alone in the bedroom. To give you the tranquility that you would prefer over his presence. But his legs won’t let him go any further as he stops in front of the door, just a step away from the hallway.

Instead of leaving the room, he turns in your direction, switches on the big light and goes back to your bedside. “No, I can’t do that. I know I don’t have the right, but I just can’t let you go. I have neglected you. I have neglected us. And although you reminded me several times, I forgot your niece’s birthday. I don’t even want to imagine how sad she was that I wasn’t there, or how sad you must have been that I couldn’t keep my promise again. I am sorry that I have once again failed as a boyfriend. I know I probably look like the biggest asshole and my words sound like lies to you. But please... I love you and I mean it when I say I’m sorry. I enjoy my job, even if it is stressful. But I’ve probably lost sight of the most important thing, and that’s you. Please... please, if there’s still a little bit of hope, tell me how to make it right.” Kuroo says, looking you in the eye with determination, even though he is struggling to keep his composure.

You sit up in bed and look down at him, still kneeling in front of you. You love him, but what’s the point if he can’t keep his promises anyway? Still, when he looks at you like that… with these sad eyes… as if he’s about to break apart… “I’m staying with my brother for a week from tomorrow... I need a clear head. So use this week to think about how you can set things right. And maybe... maybe there will still be a future for us.” You answer him more coldly than you actually wanted to and look over at the empty side of the bed. “And now go to bed... there’s no point sleeping on the sofa in the living room. It’ll only make your back ache.” you add, before crawling back under the covers and closing your eyes. Not waiting to see if Kuroo actually lies down next to you or not.

The week you spend with your brother is like a wake-up call for Kuroo. A reminder that he needs to change something.

He writes to you every day before he leaves for work. A simple “Good morning, I hope you have a good start to the day” and in the evening he always writes to you when he’s on his way home.

Nevertheless, overall he leaves you in peace. Just like you wanted.

After the week you spent with your brother, you now stand in front of the entrance to your own home and take a deep breath. Wondering if Kuroo is home yet.

He should actually be at home. After all, his working hours are over. Did he keep his promise? You open the door and step inside. The apartment looks exactly the same as it did when you left it a week ago. Tidy, clean. Almost as if no one lived here. And as you might expect, Kuroo’s shoes are also missing. So nothing has changed after all. Standing in the hallway, you laugh in frustration and shake your head as you suddenly hear a key in the door lock and Kuroo enters.

A little surprised to see you, his eyes widen. “H-Hey...” he says almost shyly as he stands in front of you. Kuroo has a bouquet of flowers in his hand and a bag of groceries in the other. “I thought... maybe we could cook together and then... talk afterwards. That’s why I went grocery shopping after work, but I guess most people do it after work. It was really crowded...” he clicks his tongue and tilts his head to the side with a somewhat strained smile.

So he did finish work on time? “And the flowers? Are they there for cooking too?” you ask, unconsciously breaking the tense atmosphere between you. Kuroo just rolls his eyes and you see the tips of his ears turn red as he hands you the bouquet. “Of course not. They’re for you... for the best woman in the world.” His last words are quiet, but you hear them well.

Kuroo and you cook together, even if it’s a bit strange at first.

You both don’t quite know what to say or how to behave.

But while you wait for your food to be ready, Kuroo speaks up, pushes a chair back and asks you to take a seat at the dining table before sitting opposite you and taking your hands in his.

He tells you that he has only worked one hour of overtime this week. That he has applied for an assistant so that he can hand over some of his work and therefore work less overtime.

He tells you about all this in such an excited tone, as if you’ve just had your first date and he’s asking you out. Kuroo seems to be making a real effort...

“You know, there are even therapists who deal with people who work too much and-” says Kuroo, but you interrupt him directly. “Tetsurou... I’m not asking you to go to a therapist. If what you’ve said is true, then... that’s a good start.” His posture relaxes abruptly at your statement before he grips your hands tighter again and rests his head on them, sighing with relief. He had fully expected you to draw a line today after all the lonely nights he had given you. After all the empty promises. And here you both are, sitting together, and he can’t believe how good-natured you are. “That means... you’ll give me another chance?” he asks, but doesn’t lift his head from your hands.

“One last one... so don’t mess it up Tetsurou.” you reply much more gently this time.

You’ve been together with Ushijima for a long time. You know his personality, that he tends to be quiet, sometimes blunt, and doesn’t talk much. Nevertheless, his lack of words sometimes makes you uneasy.

Something that Ushijima often can’t understand, because after all, that’s how you met. It usually ends with you just nodding off at some point and saying that you must have been imagining things and you just pretend that nothing happened.

But lately he’s been so quiet again. Even more distant than before.

Whenever he comes home from training, he goes straight to the kitchen to make himself a protein shake. Then straight to the bathroom to put his sports clothes in the washing machine and then gets ready for bed. Somewhere in between, he greets you with an almost indifferent “hello”.

You know that Ushijima is a little different, that his communication sometimes falls short. But his current behavior is unsettling even for you.

Has he perhaps met someone new? Does he no longer love you?

No... you don’t want to have thoughts like that. And yet you have them, and yet they don’t stop you from asking Ushijima this one question when he’s about to go to bed.

“Be honest Toshi... do you have another person you see next to me? Well... I don’t mean friends, but... a potential love interest?” The question slips out a little more reproachfully than you would have liked.

Ushijima looks at you with wide eyes as he puts on a T-shirt to go to bed. He can’t believe you actually asked him that. He has enough stress at the moment with the upcoming championship games. Now you’re just throwing in your insecurity. He doesn’t need that right now. “Do you really think I have the time or energy to deal with another relationship? This one is stressful enough at times,” he says almost coldly.

Wow... you think. It feels like he’s hitting a volleyball right against your chest. It hurts. “So you see me as a burden?” you try to say in a calm voice, but it’s already shaking. Ushijima just shakes his head in annoyance before climbing into bed next to you.

“When you ask questions like that, yes. Where do you come up with such nonsense? Do you have so little self-esteem?” says Ushijima before switching off the light on the bedside cabinet and turning towards you. “Let’s go to sleep now. I have to get up in the morning. And stop thinking such nonsense.” He says, as if he hadn’t hurt your feelings with his words earlier, before leaning in to kiss you goodnight, but you just turn around and avoid him. “Good night...” you mumble coolly, but Ushijima doesn’t think much of it.

Only after several days does he realize that something is different. You hardly talk to him, not at all, in fact. You no longer cook for him either. Maybe not in general? You’re often out until late in the evening and only come to bed when Ushijima is already asleep. But when he asks you what’s wrong, you just answer with a strange smile and say “nothing”. Ushijima doesn’t understand a thing.

It’s only when he’s on the phone with Tendou and the two of them are talking about all sorts of things, about how Ushijima is very stressed right now from training and the upcoming championships, that he mentions in passing that you’re behaving strangely. Tendou has known Ushijima for a long time. So he can guess that Ushijima has once again misunderstood something or said things that came across wrongly. When Ushijima tells him about the conversation with you a few days ago, Tendou sighs loudly into the phone. “Wakatoshi, that’s the stupidest thing you could have said to her. Does your better half know that you’re under a lot of stress at the moment?”

“Of course not. After all, it’s not something she can change. So she doesn’t have to worry about it.” As soon as Ushijima has spoken his sentence, he hears the sigh on the other side of the line again. “Wakatoshi, that’s not how a relationship works. How long have you been together now? Almost six years... She’s just worried about you. And if she then asks you whether there might be another woman in your life, ‘Don’t ask such stupid questions, why do you have so little self-esteem’ is not exactly the best answer.” Tendou imitates Ushijima.

He is surprised that he still has a girlfriend at all with this manner. Maybe he needs to fly to Japan more often after all… To give Ushijima a good slap on the back of the blunt man’s head.

“I just wanted to tell her that she’s a great woman and I can’t understand how she can have such thoughts when she’s perfect,” Ushijima replies as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Yet Tendou has to spend half an hour talking to Ushijima about how wrong his behavior was before he finally realizes it himself. So he decides to go home after training and wait for you, no matter how long it takes.

Sighing, you stand in front of the front door. On the one hand, you hope that Ushijima is already asleep, but on the other, you don’t want to continue with the silent treatment. You shake your head and open the door, only to see Ushijima sitting in the living room, his hands clasped together as he rests his arms on his thighs.

“Wakatoshi?” You ask, a little irritated, as you notice him staring into space. You can’t interpret his gaze. “Can you please sit down? We need to talk.” He says in a firm voice that makes your heart beat uncomfortably faster. You know you haven’t done anything wrong, and yet it feels like you have. Nevertheless, you nod, sit down next to him and look in his direction. He mirrors your movement. Only he doesn’t look at you with concern, but neutrally as always.

“I...” he begins, but then his voice drops. He doesn’t quite know how to start. After all, that’s never been his strength. “What is it, Wakatoshi?” you ask almost impatiently. After all, if he wants to end the relationship, he should keep it short. That will hurt, but maybe it’s better that way.

“I have hurt you. Seemingly very deeply. I’m sorry about that. It’s not that I don’t love you. I do and I thought you knew that too. Maybe I didn’t express myself properly, no actually, I didn’t express myself properly. But I can’t understand why you think that I might have another woman for whom I have feelings. You are a wonderful woman. Strong, independent, intelligent and attractive. For me, you are just right the way you are. I wouldn’t want anyone else by my side. I thought you would see yourself the way I see you.” Ushijima looks deep into your eyes with every word, his complete focus on you, before glancing briefly to the side. As if he’s thinking about what else he wants to say. Then he turns back to you and puts his hand on your thigh.

“We’re really under a lot of stress at the moment with our training. But that’s not something I want to burden you with in any way. After all, there’s nothing you can do to change the situation. And you shouldn’t have to worry about your husband. So… If I hurt you with my words, I’m sorry.” His words are sincere and the uneasy feeling you felt in your chest is suddenly gone. You should have known that Ushijima doesn’t love another woman. After all, it’s Ushijima.

“Let’s go out for dinner together at the weekend. Just the two of us. Let’s talk, spend time together. There hasn’t been enough of that lately.” Ushijima says, turning you more towards him by your thigh before wrapping his hands around your waist and placing you on his lap with ease.

“Wakatoshi!” you shriek briefly. His head is on your shoulder, his breath warm on your skin. “I’m really sorry that my words hurt you,” he whispers softly, starting to rub your back with his thumb as he holds you close to his chest. You are no longer angry with him. Has been no longer. Actually, you are glad that he told you how he felt.

“Going out for dinner sounds good,” you say softly and put your arms around him. As you answer, you feel him squeeze you a little tighter. As if he wants to tell you how grateful he is that you show understanding for him.

Actually, everything is going well between you and Sakusa. You both harmonize well, have similar interests and friends. The only thing that is a little difficult is the fact that you have to keep your relationship a secret.

At least Sakusa wants to keep the relationship private because he doesn’t want paparazzi following you around or some crazy fans sending you threatening letters or maybe even hurting you.

Sakusa is very cautious when it comes to you.

So apart from your closest friends, your family and his agency, nobody knows about your relationship.

However, it is becoming more difficult from year to year. Because there are already pictures that have been made public. Pictures in which you are seen with Sakusa. Sitting together in a coffee shop or going for a walk in the park. You’ve even been photographed while buying groceries.

There are also more and more rumors about you. “Who is the unknown woman who is always in the front row at every game?”, ”Is this young lady the girlfriend of athlete Kiyoomi Sakusa?”

Today Sakusa forgot his sports shoes. Since you work in the same building as the agency that has him under contract, you decide to simply take the shoes with you. After all, Sakusa told you today that he has an appointment at his agency before he goes to training.

With a slight nod, you greet the security people at the entrance to the third floor where the agency for athletes is located. You’ve already been here a few times, so it’s easy for you to find the right way. You stop in front of Sakusa’s manager’s office. In front of the office, you see that the door is slightly open and that people are talking. Sakusa was one of them. You briefly consider knocking and going in, but when you hear the next words, you stand still, petrified.

“Sakusa-san, are you sure you want to bring your relationship with Ms. Abe into the public eye? Ms. Abe is a popular tennis player. It would draw a lot of attention to both of you,” says Sakusa’s manager. Soon after, the sound of a woman giggling rings out, followed immediately by Sakusa’s voice.

“That’s fine... I think it’s for the best. But before we go through with this -” you don’t hear the last words, because you’ve already set the bag with the shoes down outside the office and rushed back to your own workplace.

You can’t concentrate all day long. You keep thinking about that conversation you had heard earlier. About Sakusa... wanting to make a relationship public? Only now do you realize what that actually means. Does this mean that Sakusa has been cheating on you the whole time and you were nothing but a pleasant distraction for him?

Frustrated, you stomp home after work, thinking about all the things you want to say. Everything you want to throw at Sakusa. When you arrive home, the apartment is still empty. Nothing unusual, because Sakusa wanted to go to his training after the meeting. So he’ll probably be gone for several more hours. Or did he just use that as an excuse to meet up with his new girlfriend?

You laugh bitterly, rolling your eyes at the thought of Sakusa’s name appearing in the magazines next to the name of that tennis player .... “Ridiculous...” you snort, and walk into the living room, where, ironically, the picture of Sakusa and you immediately comes into view. A photo of the two of you on vacation. You were in Norway. A country where Sakusa isn’t really well known. That’s why you could enjoy your vacation without paparazzi. In the photo you are in a small restaurant, outside on the terrace, both smiling intimately into the camera. Was it all just an act?

Furious, you grab the photo and throw it on the floor. The glass breaks and all the shards lie on the ground. “Damn...” you curse, annoyed at yourself for your outburst as you kneel down to pick up the pieces. But a familiar voice makes you flinch.

“My love, is everything all right?” you hear Sakusa, who must have come home a few seconds ago, dropping his bag in the hallway and looking in your direction with wide eyes. He left training on time today because he thought it was strange that his sports bag was in front of his manager’s door, but you weren’t there.

But now the time has come. The pain in your chest suddenly gets impossible to bear, your mouth quivers and your eyes are all warm as big tears run down your cheeks. A sight that really knocks Sakusa off his feet. Immediately he rushes in your direction, kneels down next to you and takes your hands in his to see if you have cut yourself. But your body seems to be unharmed.

“W-what’s wrong?” he asks again, concerned, before you pull your hands out of his grip and stare at him angrily. “When... when were you going to tell me you had another girl? And what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn’t you be at training or with your new lover?” you say angrily, but don’t raise your voice.

Sakusa tries to follow your words, even if he can’t understand them at first. But then he realizes… The bag in the hallway, your tears... you must have heard part of the conversation he had this afternoon. But you probably haven’t heard everything. The man with the raven-black curls closes his eyes before taking a deep breath and looking at you again, trying to reach for your hands.

“You’ve completely misunderstood something-” he is about to start, but you interrupt him directly. “Don’t say ‘it’s not what it looks like’. You can spare that phrase, Kiyoomi!” you say a little louder now, but Sakusa doesn’t back down and continues to try to talk to you calmly.

“Please Y/n... I want you to listen to me for a minute... just a minute... After that you can still be mad at me. Is that possible?” Sakusa grabs your hands this time, pulls you up with him and leads you to the sofa. “Sit down, please.” You’re actually reluctant, but you’ve been together for so long now... you can give him that one minute, can’t you? You grudgingly sit down, but don’t look at him.

“Lately, paparazzi are getting bolder and bolder... even the other day there were some in the supermarket who wanted to take pictures of us... I’m just worried that your face will eventually be in all the newspapers and platforms and you’ll no longer be able to live your life carefree, but will always have these people at your back, following you,” says Sakusa somewhat awkwardly. Almost as if he himself is unsure whether what he wants to tell you is plausible for you. But before he can continue, you interrupt him directly and give him an angry look.

“Oh, and that’s why you thought you’d find a new girlfriend who’s already a celebrity and just date her? Then you can go out without hiding? Is that it?” you’re struggling to keep your voice under control. Sakusa’s eyes widen and he shrinks back for a moment, his hands almost in a protective position in front of his chest as he shakes his head.

“Wait, no, it’s not like that. I don’t have another relationship. Well, okay wait. I thought it might be good if I publicly revealed a fake relationship with another celebrity. Of course, it’s not real and we’re not really a couple. But I thought it would take the pressure off you and you could-”

You can’t believe what Sakusa is saying right now. Is he really serious? If it’s true, why is he talking to his manager first and not to you? Doesn’t he care about your feelings? “Do you actually... don’t think at all? How do you think I would feel when I read the messages and your name is everywhere with the name of your fake girlfriend? Have you ever thought about the fact that this is extremely hurtful to me? I would rather be seen in public with you than see you with someone else ‘for my supposed freedom and privacy’. How would you feel if I introduced another man to the whole world as my boyfriend just to ‘protect’ you?” The words you say so loudly hit Sakusa, and he gets quiet. He doesn’t even know what to say anymore. Your question slaps him hard. How would he feel… The thought of seeing you with another man makes him angry, sad... and somehow helpless?

“I...” Sakusa begins, but immediately doesn’t know how to continue. “I’m sorry, that was probably stupid of me.” He then says, tilting his head downwards. Sighing, you stand up and shake your head once more before walking past Sakusa.

“You know, you never asked me, but I wouldn’t mind if people knew my face. It’s more important to me to do things with you without having to hide. You’re always the one who overdramatizes and worries unnecessarily... Whatever… I’m going to bed now. Good night.” You no longer wait for his answer. Instead, you go straight to the bathroom and get ready for bed.

Sakusa remains seated in the living room. He knows exactly that it wouldn’t be right to talk to you now, that you want to be left alone. Especially since he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to tell you. He just knows that his action was really stupid.

Sakusa hadn’t signed a contract with the tennis player and the two agencies yet, because he wanted to talk to you about it first, but at the moment his own idea to protect your privacy disgusts him. He really should have talked to you first about how you feel, whether you want to be in the public eye, instead of drawing any conclusions. Sakusa sighs, leans back against the sofa and closes her eyes. “Idiot...” he whispers quietly.

Two days pass and you are still disappointed by Sakusa’s behavior. Even though he probably only meant well. You haven’t really spoken much either. Just the usual “Good morning, have a nice day at work...”, “How was your day?” and all that sort of things.

Still at work, you just can’t concentrate and start massaging your temples when suddenly one of your colleagues shrieks and starts giggling. “Hey, isn’t that Sakusa Kiyoomi? What’s he doing here? His agency is upstairs, isn’t it?” she asks one of her colleagues, who quickly reaches for her make-up mirror and fixes her hair.

Now you too turn your head forward and see Sakusa walking in your direction with a bunch of white lilies. Everyone looks after him, puzzled, and you also stare at him with irritation as he stops in front of you. “Uhm... I wanted to bring these over to you because I have to go upstairs to talk to my manager about a photo shoot.”

The whispering of your colleagues gets louder and louder and you still look a little confused, but you take the bouquet and stand up. “Kiyoomi, what is this about?” you whisper to him, not quite knowing how to react. Sakusa grazes your arm, wanders up to your cheek and looks deep into your eyes. “You were right. I should never have had this stupid idea. I should have asked you. And even if I’m worried about you, I only want to see you by my side in any pictures on the internet. After all, you are the woman I love. I’m really sorry. Will you... accept my clumsy apology?” Sakusa gazes at you with such a puppy-dog look that you can’t help but put the bouquet on your table and jump into his arms.

Of course, Sakusa did not sign the contract with the tennis player.

At his next match, you’re in the front row as usual, and when Sakusa scores the final point to victory and his team cheers along with him, he immediately runs to you, pulling you over the barrier to hold you in his arms before setting you down and cupping your cheeks with his hands. Just a few seconds later, you feel his lips on yours, cameras pointing at you and taking photos. But you couldn’t care less. “You know, I’ve wanted to do this so many times before,” he says calmly, leaning his forehead against your own.

Although everyone knows your face now, Sakusa is always reserved in interviews when it comes to private questions.

He will not answer questions about you if they become too personal.

In the beginning, the paparazzi and reporters were really a nuisance, but everything calmed down over time and the two of you can go out and enjoy dates together without being followed, just like back then, before his career.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #Sakusa x reader #ushijima x reader #kuroo x reader #tetsurou kuroo x reader #ushijima wakatoshi x reader

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ckret2 · 2 months ago

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Still love howling void being Bill's first. Makes the fact he talks about her twice in tbob milleniums and several partners later kind of sad and very hilarious

I've gotta break this down, this demands itemization. She comes up three times total in TBOB and they are:

denying he dated the void, it was totally just a coffee date

a hidden message on the romance page that says "I MISS THE VOID"

hidden away in the deluxe edition, on a page talking about various BS holidays, "I briefly dated knew a howling void" while sharing a holiday he learned from her even though he's not fully convinced it's a real thing, which means she made an impact on him, he thinks unprompted about things she told him, long after they parted ways bits and pieces of his life have been shaped by her

—and good god if you're a fan neck-deep in character analysis that's just enough info to make you rabid.

I headcanon the howling void as one of Bill's... well, not best relationships, because it was pretty shit (100% Bill's fault)—but one of his emotionally deepest relationships. Specifically because it was his first.

Because that means he hadn't yet learned what he's like in relationships (selfish, controlling, manipulative, progressively more emotionally & then physically abusive, and thus doomed to destroy the relationship), so he went into it thinking "this could last forever" instead of "this is a fling that'll last a couple centuries at best before it inevitably self-destructs for reasons completely outside my control"—which means he put up way fewer emotional walls and facades.

He let her get a whole lot closer than most partners because he hadn't yet learned the hard way that letting someone get close hurts when he loses them—and he will lose them. Because he sucks.

#anonymous #ask #bill cipher #the book of bill #howling void #headcanons

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coichii · 3 months ago

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Hiii<33

Plsplspls im begging for a angsty Chan comfort fic <333

Ur writing is just incredible and kdxjbdkd

I KNOW YOU ✭

—(🎧)—> the relationship had gone public, and you thought it was going well. well… it was until the people you hold dearest to your heart started talking shit about you.

pairing - bf!bangchan ♥︎ fem!reader

genre: angst & comfort (my speciality hee hee hee)

word count: 1.1k

warnings: slight descriptions of panic attacks, self deprivating talk, body image talk, and negativity

—

Your eyes are irritated and bloodshot, but you can’t stop staring at the text messages on your phone.

They hurt to look at, but you can’t pull away.

There layed a collection of text messages that one of your “friends” had sent to you. The message are vile, disgusting things your other friends had said about you behind your back when you and Chan went public not to long ago.

There was a lot of discussion regarding going public, but he finally got the feedback he needed from his company for the both of you to go public, and you wanted it more than anything.

There was nothing more you wanted than to be able to show to the world how you’ve bagged the most amazing and handsome man to exist, but you knew there would be harsh feedback.

You just didn’t expect it to come from some of the people you hold the closest to your heart.

To say they were cruel would be an understatement. The messages said horrible things about your body, personality, and a man like him would ever love someone like you.

It stung, and you wished it didn’t. A part of you wanted to belive they were just being jealous, mad that they couldn’t be with somebody like him.

But a part of you also knew that he was an amazing boyfriend, producer, leader, and so so much more, and that made you believe a mediocre woman like you could never be for him. How could you.

It had been a few days since your friend had sent these to you, and you hadn’t been able to face chan pretty much the entire time except for a few short and dry texts here and there.

You knew if you spilt anything to him, he would be livid. Not at you of course, but to anyone who had told you that you were anything but perfect, and you didn’t want to give him another burden; he already had the media on his ass for the same reasons.

Just as you were getting even deeper in your thoughts, a message pops up on your phone, ironically being a message from him.

—

new message from : channie🖤

channie🖤 : I’m coming over.

channie🖤 : I’m worried about you.

—

Shit, Shit, Shit !!

You looked a mess.

To be honest, your room looked an absolute disaster, and you hadn’t showered in a day. The thought of him seeing you like this was downright embarrassing, but you know nothing you say would get him to turn around. When he feels as if something’s wrong with you, there’s nothing that could make him not do whatever he could to make it better.

So you’re not shocked when the tears start to pour down your face as you hear the sound of keys jingling and Chan stepping in, immediately walking towards your bedroom where he knew you’d be.

“Oh. Come here, my love.” And he’s walking over to you and grabbing hold of your body, rocking you back and further in his tight grasp as you cry harder.

His embrace only coaxes the tears farther, his presence reminding you of how you’re not deserving of his comfort. Not deserving of his love.

“Hey, baby. You gotta breathe with me, okay?” He whispers when he notices your breathing becoming uneven. It’s a tell-tale sign you’re about to slip off the edge.

“It’s easy okay? I’ve got you. One breath in..” he starts, waiting for you to follow his instructions.

Ever so slightly, you take a deep, shaky breath in, earning a soft smile of satisfaction from Chan.

“Ok, now out.. there you go, baby. You’re doing so good.” He says, watching you follow his steps. “Just a couple more, okay?”

Slowly but surely, your breath evens out. The burning, painful feeling in your lungs is soon replaced by a soft and light feeling, getting rid of the tension you once felt.

That’s when it hits you.

Chan is here. Your boyfriend who had been so busy for the last few days came to see you because he knew something was wrong. He came for you.

“We don’t have to talk right now, but if you want to, please let me know what’s been happening, baby. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

You sigh heavily, the want to be comforted overshadowing the need to keep him hidden from your personal burdens. You want his help, so you’re not shocked when you find the words rumbling from outside fr of your mouth.

“I-I I’m sorry. I thought that m-most people would be supportive of us. B-But um.. some of m-my closest friends said something things about it and I-I can’t help but feel like you d-deserve someone better?” You say, and you can see the way his gaze softens with hurt.

“I just.. don’t feel good enough for you. I-I mean you’re perfect. You’re an amazing producer, friend, leader, and an even better person. What am I? I- I don’t deserve you.” You finish, and you can feel the heat rising to your cheeks as you turn away, not wanting to look in his eyes any longer. But he doesn’t let you, turning your head towards his and making you look him in his eyes.

“Listen here baby. I have no idea what they said to you, but none of it’s true. You’re perfect for me. You’re the reason I am the way I am. The thing about me being an amazing producer? It’s because I have you to inspire me. An amazing friend? Because you always guide me to be the way I am. Leader? Because I have you to lead me. And person? Because I have you with me and you make me complete. I know you, my love. And knowing you is the best choice I ever made.”

The way his eyes shine with both unshed tears and love has the words he said to you soaking in. You thought it would be hard to believe him, thinking that nothing could save you from the deep pit you had found yourself in.

But he saved you, pulled you right out and vowed to never let go again. You can believe it, and you will.

So you give him a slow, daunting kiss. It shows and reciprocates the love that words can’t.

It shows that no matter how hateful others can be, he knows you. And you’re here to believe it.

back to masterlist

#stray kids #skz x reader #straykids x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #straykids angst #bang chan angst #straykids comfort #bang chan comfort #coichii’s mail

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not-neverland06 · 9 months ago

Text

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick.

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around.

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks.

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it.

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill.

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way.

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore.

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them.

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world.

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long.

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand.

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited.

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening.

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him.

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would.

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires.

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it.

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal.

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls.

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby.

You don’t even know where they got that one from.

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots.

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them.

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is.

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table.

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap.

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist.

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed.

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other.

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.”

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb.

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches.

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground.

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from.

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her.

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose.

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own.

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?”

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die.

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop.

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them.

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares.

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair.

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face.

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.”

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge.

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink.

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper.

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face.

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t.

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly.

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help.

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face.

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement.

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground.

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can.

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it.

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it.

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again.

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood.

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him.

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here.

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it.

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end.

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him.

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?”

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her.

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her.

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down,

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief.

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him.

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it.

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part.

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit.

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane.

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer.

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him.

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt.

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable.

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips.

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again.

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable.

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him.

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.”

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth.

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice.

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned. “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you.

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least.

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing.

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?”

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home.

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels.

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard.

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you.

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words.

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity.

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now.

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass.

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside.

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly.

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn.

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store.

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot.

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you.

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming.

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do.

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life.

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him.

Or he could help you.

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve.

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other.

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him.

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him.

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap.

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go.

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on.

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together.

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different.

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed.

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be.

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once.

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns.

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit.

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same.

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover.

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely.

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have.

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more.

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him.

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again.

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it.

He’s giving in now, giving into her.

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