#cheating trope

[farfromstrange]

Is It Over Now? | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader ; (hinted) Frank Castle x Reader ; Elektra Natchios x Matt Murdock

Summary: Matt cheated on you, and you are trying to navigate through it.

Warnings: Angst, no happy ending, break-up, mention of cheating, song references (Taylor Swift), inspired by 'Is It Over Now?', (some) Matt "slander", (somewhat) suicidal thoughts, alcohol consumptions, hint at smut

Word Count: 1.7k

A/n: 1989 TV came out and I am losing my shit. Is It Over Now? Is my new favorite song and I just had a brain fart that made this. You can read this if you're a Swiftie and catch the references or just read it without listening to the song. It works either way.

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

To be fair, there was a time when you thought it would never end. The thought of ever having a last kiss with him would have killed you back then. 

He told you that you were the love of his life. You believed him. He was yours, certainly. You can’t deny that.

You were happy, you laughed and cried together, and part of you figured that if you ever broke up, you would find a way to work through it somehow. 

Maybe in another universe, you are still together. Maybe in another universe, you two are still friends. Maybe in another universe, you never had to lose each other.

In this reality though—in this brutal, unforgivable reality—everything changed in a matter of a day. And there is nothing you can do about it now.

Your flower was withering in secret, and you didn’t realize what it was doing to you. Every time you woke up alone, every canceled date, every time he called you and told you he wouldn’t make it home tonight, it was sure to build up to this. 

But this, whatever the hell this is, it hurts beyond compare. 

He said you were a rose, but now that you look in the mirror, you only see a rotten mess.

The past few months have done this to you. He has done this to you. The paper airplanes crashed and burned. There is nothing left but pure bitterness and this hatred you have toward yourself and him; you just want to land your fist in his face, and then maybe your own because how could he hurt you like that after making you love him so very much? 

You loved him so much, but now you doubt he ever loved you back. 

Date after date, coffee after coffee, nights spent together on his couch and in his bed, sharing laughter, sharing tears, it all feels like a hoax now. 

You held him when he was unconscious, stitched him up and told him he was going to be okay. Where was he when you were bleeding out from your own battles? You wonder.

His smile used to be your safe haven, the epitome of innocence and strength, but now it only makes you angry. It makes you resent him. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but you still do.

So much has changed, and all it took was one day. 

One day. 

Three hundred days, all wasted in one. 

If you think about it, you spent almost an entire year attached to each other’s side. You moved in together. You kissed, you had sex, you shared secrets you wouldn’t have told anyone else. You helped him hide away from the world, from his enemies, made the world go quiet, and comforted him while he cried. You waited up, you worried, and you almost lost him more times than you can count, and you still stayed.

When no one else would take a chance on him, when he felt everyone was against him and going to leave him, you acted as his rock. You stayed.

You thought he was the one. 

And then it just… ended. 

You gave him the benefit of the doubt when you found her in his dress shirt on his leather couch. The very same couch you two often shared passionate nights on, but at the same time it used to be a symbol of so much more than that.

You let him explain. He explained that she got seriously hurt after showing up out of nowhere, and he just wanted to help without putting you at risk. You believed him because that is the kind of man he was in your head. He was going through some things, things you couldn’t possibly understand, and she was the connection. You tried to understand. In the process of understanding him though, you lost yourself. 

That is something you will never forgive him for. Making you care, making you love him, and unintentionally making you give up on yourself while he continued to break your heart.

You never wanted this to end, never wanted him to go, but in the end, it was the only way. Sticking around wasn’t an option anymore, you have to remind yourself.

He did the one thing he promised he would never do. He broke your heart and your trust into a million pieces that you are now left to pick up on your own. 

You didn’t want to see it before. You were too in love to open your eyes.

He wouldn’t do such a thing, right? You remember repeating that to yourself, to your friends, to Foggy and Karen, but Karen saw him with her, too, and she gave you little hope.

Still, you believed in him. You believed in his morale and his faith. You had faith in him, not even in God but in him and the man he pretended to be—and somehow, he still picked up the knife when you weren’t looking and buried it in your back. 

There were so many signs, but you were blind. So many flashing lights. Red flags. Screaming voices in the back of your head begging you to think. You were in a forest full of trees, yet you saw nothing.

When you came home to find his lips on hers, that’s when you knew. Too little, too late.

He called your name. He told you, “This isn’t what it looks like!” But you lost count of the times he used the same line in relation to her.

To anything, really. He always knew how to talk his way out of something when you were together, although back then, it was mostly harmless.

“I trusted you,” you remember saying. You couldn’t even cry. “And you turned right back around and fucked her!”

“It was just a kiss,” he argued. 

“Are you sure about that? ‘Cause if I ask Elektra, I’m sure she will tell me the truth.”

“No,” Matt was adamant because he could hear your heart breaking.

The way you spoke to him was so eerily quiet. That was how he knew he lost you, and he tried to fix it with nothing but his hands. 

But that is not how you fix a broken vase. That’s how you make it worse and hurt yourself in the process.

You remember him opening his mouth, having the audacity to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he said. 

“No. Fuck you, Matt!”

You tore the necklace with his initial off your neck and tossed it at his feet. You couldn’t even look at it. You wonder what happened to it after he picked it up. 

“I trusted you. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I was there when no one else was, and this is how you repay me?” you said.

You should have never let him fool you.

At least you had the decency to keep your lonely nights to yourself.

“Sweetheart, please,” Matt tried to beg again. 

You wouldn’t let him. Thank God you were strong enough to withstand the tears in his eyes. 

“You’re a fucking traitor, Matthew Murdock,” was one of the last things you said to him. “I wish we’d never met.”

Three hundred days. You fell in love. You finally knew what love felt like, and then…then he turned around and fucked it all up. 

“We’re done.”

Some days, you still regret it, but if it was so easy for him to toss all this time together down the drain, he probably wasn’t worth it. 

But God, you were so in love. 

Sweet nothings whispered in your ear are gone now. You’re all alone in your bed. No one to cuddle, no one to touch. It has been a while since you heard someone say, “I love you,” and mean it. You felt loved until you didn’t. Until the life he led ate him up. 

Instead of talking, instead of fighting with you, he drove you into a tree. A car that didn’t need sight, and still he crashed. It was winter then, the snow painted red by the blood of your broken heart. Your favorite dress torn up as you tried to escape. He reached for you the same way you reached for him, but you weren’t there. And he wasn’t there when you needed him most.

Part of you feels bad. You could have worked through this if he hadn’t kissed her. Or maybe you wouldn’t have. In the end, it killed you. It killed him. 

You killed each other. 

Though there are still days when you think about jumping off of very high somethings just to get his attention. Just for him to see you. To come to rescue you. It is a hurtful and selfish thought. Yet, you can’t help it. 

He was your first true love. 

Your mind keeps repeating the same sentence: It wasn’t supposed to end like this. 

“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he told you once. 

He searched for something greater in the bed of someone he loved before. You weren’t his first love. You should have known he would say that and not mean it.

But when exactly did you go wrong?

Was it over when he stopped coming home at night? Was it over when he forgot your anniversary? Was it over when he canceled your birthday dinner? Or was it over when he shoved his throat down his ex-girlfriend’s throat in front of you and acted as if it didn’t matter? Was it over then?

“Another one for the lady,” a voice pipes up beside you. 

Your empty glass of tequila disappears, now replaced by a full one. In your drunken haze, you see a head of brown hair, and his smirk makes you wonder if there’s more to him than he lets on. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, tipping your glass to the stranger. 

“Nah, don’t thank me.” He sits down next to you. “You look miserable.”

“What if I am?”

“I’d tell you I know the feeling.”

You huff but offer the stranger your hand with a mention of your name.

He smiles. Your name rolls off his tongue effortlessly. “Frank,” he introduces himself in return. “Castle.”

“Nice to meet you,” you say. 

Broken people make bad decisions, but whether it was over when he took her right there on his couch, or it was over when you told him it was doesn’t matter. 

It is over now, and all you want to do is forget. 

You need to forget Matt Murdock. 

And if this stranger called Frank needs to unbutton your blouse to help you do so, you will gladly follow him home. 

Matt Murdock Tag List: @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @itwasthereaminuteago @mattkinsella @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @thychuvaluswife @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @ravenclaw617

(also, I keep tagging you in stuff, but I also think you might like this @blackshadowswriter)

#matt murdock #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock angst #daredevil x reader #daredevil angst #angst #no happy ending #songfic #is it over now by taylor swift #elektra natchios #frank castle #frank castle x reader #x gender neutral reader #elektra natchios x matt murdock #cheating trope #lizzi writes #charlie cox #matt murdock imagines

[queen-paladin]

"I know this male character cheated on his wife, but he's a good guy!"

IS HE THOUGH???? IS HE ???

#cheating trope #trope #yes this is about queen charlotte and the e**ex s*rpent #tropes I hate #books #movies #tw: cheating #cw: cheating #if a character cheats I can't redeem them

[paddockbunny]

It Wasn’t Supposed to be like This

Summary : You were married. You were supposed to be happily married to the man of your dreams and YET, you just cannot seem to quit Daniel f*cking Ricciardo, no matter how hard you seemed to try. Rating : 18+ Pairing : Daniel Ricciardo x Reader Word Count : 1,140 Trigger Warnings : female reader cheating, oral female receiving, betrayal themes.

💞 Authors Note: I hope this is ok. I’m writing at 5:30 due to insomnia while on vacation! although this isn’t intended as a fic it’s maybe going to be a quick mini fic! Please read till the end so you can see the reader participation!

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Truthfully, you didn’t even know how you ended up here in this position. One thing lead to another. Missed opportunities to bring things to a close and stop before you were no longer treading water but suddenly you in far over your head and struggled to hold on anymore.

Daniel was supposed to be just a little bit of fun. Harmless, innocent flirting wasn’t supposed to go beyond that. But as his hand slid across your stomach and pulled you tighter into him while he slept soundly (and nakedly) beside you, it made me feel like this was all too real, too dangerous, too much.

Trying to slip out of the bed without him noticing was harder than you ever would have thought. The soft snores escaping him weren’t as much of an indication of deep sleep as you thought they were. Daniel stirred almost immediately as you tried to slither further away from him. His grip on your bare naked side tightened and he asked where you thought you were going.

“I have to leave, Dan.” The following words were on the tip of your tongue and you hated it but they needed to be said - he needed reminding that you were in fact, not his - “he will be wondering where I am.”

He relinquished his grip simultaneously. The change in atmosphere washed over your body and you felt a sudden echo of shame and guilt begin to descend upon you. With your body free you managed to remove yourself from the bed you had spent most of the night fucking in and the groan that left Daniels frustrated mouth was enough to make you want to vomit. “Fuck!” He swore unexpectedly loudly. “I hate that you run off back to him.” He had never vocalised it with so much anger before. He always just sounded despondent and full of distain before but now his voice was filled with nothing but pure anger.

“Let’s not do this, Daniel.” You summoned the strength deep down inside of you to order him not to go there. You found your still damp panties and pulled them on and you knew he was watching you intently as you redressed. Bathed only in the slither of moonlight streaming in through the still open curtained windows. “Why? You know I can’t stand the thought of his fucking hands on you. The thought of him kissing you makes me feel sick.” “Because it doesn’t help.” You snap at him. He never understood why this was so hard for you. He had it easier. He wasn’t the married one. He didn’t have to deal with the the pangs of consciousness hit him in relentless waves. The countless times since this thing started that Daniel begged and pleaded with you to choose him, to end your marriage, replayed over and over in your head. Every heartfelt word and promise he would treat you better and declaration that you completed him flashed before your eyes and still you continued redressing.

Realising he wasn’t getting through to you, Daniel changed tactics. As you pulled on your jeans and went to button them, his hands pulled them away from their task. His name fell from your lips so effortlessly and yet you couldn’t bring your eyes to meet his gaze which you knew he would scold you for. His eyes always told you everything you needed to know. That old quote about them being a window to a persons soul was inherently true about Daniel’s. They were captivating.

“Look at me.” There it was. And yet when you refused he only repeated himself and added your name to the end. You finally caved, gave into him, gave him what he wanted and as soon as you did, his fingers undone the button again on your jeans. “Daniel….” His name came out of you in nothing but a whisper “I have to go.” His body stepped closer, his searing hot temperature almost burning you. “I can’t stay…” his hands tugged on your dark blue denim. Firm yanks to get them back down your thighs. Daniel’s mouth connected to the flesh in between the valley of your breasts before trailing lower in their pursuit. Featherlight, ghosting kisses followed the removal of the garment you had only just put back on. Trying to remember to breathe was harder than you expected and you didn’t want to give into him (again) but your shaky breaths were all he needed to continue. A smirk played mercilessly upon his mouth.

“Do you still want to leave? Do you still want to go back to him?” The words left his mouth as he made you step out of the apparel he had finished removing. His scorching hot breath lapping at the flesh of your bare thighs as he settled down on his knees before you. You knew what he was going to do, how he was going to convince you to stay. You were so weak for it. He was beyond good at it, no one had ever made you climax harder from it, and Daniel was beginning to look like a man possessed as his hands needed the skin of your round, peachy ass waiting for your vocal agreement that you wanted - no, NEEDED - him to continue. His voice calling your name snapped you back.

“Do you want to go?” He held the power right now and he knew you were too weak to lie to him. You thought fleetingly of your husband - probably sitting there in bed or pacing the floor wondering why you hadn’t answered his texts and how possibly a dinner with friends could extent this far into the morning - and as Daniel’s fingers hooked around the skinny sides of your scrap of lace you called underwear you found your head slowly move from side to side before an almost inaudible; “no” escaped your lips.

Daniel wasted no time making sure you knew your decision to stay was the right one. Like a man possessed he made quick work of bringing you to orgasm with his tongue, your leg flung over his shoulder and working on your slick folds with complete and utter ease. Your fingers laced in the mop of brown curls that you loved so much while he never tore his eyes from your face the whole time. He enjoyed holding eye contact as the tip of his tongue flickered and lapped at your highly sensitive bundle of nerves. He liked knowing that only he could make you cum like this, that he could confidently say your pussy belonged to him and not the god awful man that gave you the ring that sat upon your finger.

You were now his. You were now Daniel’s.

You just had to trust him enough to believe it.

You just had to leave your husband.

*

*

*

Thank you for sticking with me! Now to the “fun” bit….I want you the reader to tell me who “you” (the reader) is married too!!!!! In the comments of this post please tell me who you’d have at home while you were having a full blown affair with Daniel. It can be anyone in the F1 universe. It can be a current or ex driver, a principle, a presenter (I’m looking at you Jenson and Nico haha) or whatnot. Please think about the age range too (obviously somewhere around the 21 - 35 mark is where I usually picture most of the “you” lead stories to be so keep this considered x)

#Daniel Ricciardo #Daniel Ricciardo fanfiction #Daniel Ricciardo fic #Daniel Ricciardo series #Daniel Ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shots #daniel Ricciardo one shot #daniel Ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 x reader #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel Ricciardo x y/n #cheating trope

[featheredclover]

Hey , everyone!

Rant alert, but I just want to know your opinions on this.

Why is the cheating trope prevalent in ipkknd fanfic world?! There should be a disclaimer for this (as it is to each their own)! Misunderstandings are okay, and who doesn't love the jealousy track ? But, Arnav actually cheating on Khushi (and it has never been the other way around btw) ? And I have tried to read them with an open mind, but it never seems to make enough sense that Khushi forgives him because "Arshi is the endgame in every multiverse" It's so painful to read. And I thought that maybe I am not mature enough to understand the intricacies of such relationships. But I would really want to know if you like such fanfics and why?

#iss pyaar ko kya naam doon #ipkknd #arshi #arnav singh raizada #khushi kumari gupta #fanfiction #ipkknd fanfic #cheating trope #lavanya kashyap #rant #indiaforums #my afternoon was tearful

[snow-fire13]

A Trope That Makes Me Say Nope

If there's one storyline/trope that I dislike the most, it's cheating. It kind of ruins the story for me, especially when the cheater is easily forgiven. Heck, the fact that they are forgiven at all is crazy to me.

The only time I don't completely dislike it is when the person being cheated on is the absolute worst or there's a revenge plot. Other than that it just makes me feel bad lol. I do get why people like those kinds of stories though.

Will I still read the story?....probably.

Are there any tropes you don't particularly like?

#fanfic #cheating trope #cheaters suck #avengers x reader #stranger things x reader #angst #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #robin buckley x reader #kate bishop x reader #swanqueen #ouat x reader #haha ouch

[summerinthecloudsx]

Where the rain can’t reach or Ushijima, your best friend, runs out of patience with Terushima, your (ex)boyfriend

A/N: Minors DNI. The chokehold these men have on me I swear. Idk what this is I’m just trying to fill the void of Ushijima content :’)

Angst to comfort, cheating, brief mentions of past intimacy, friends to lovers, Terushima is a player, Ushijima is a giant (protective) teddy bear, timeskip ages, eventual smut

Part 1

You should have known. They warned you this would happen. Hell, you warned yourself. Terushima is too wild, too much of a free spirit to commit to one person. You knew that. You knew you shouldn’t have expected faithfulness from him or believed him when he said he would change for you, love you honestly. You knew better, sensed the betrayal looming and growing closer by the second, but god it hurts to have it thrown in your face so carelessly.

“I-I didn’t know you’d be stopping by.”

Terushima doesn’t even push the girl off of him. Your stomach forms knots as you glance at her legs straddling his hips, pushing her bare chest against his. They’re relaxed in his stylist chair, the neon lights from the streets outside casting a bright fuchsia glow through the small gaps in the closed blinds and the partially opened door. They look beautiful in the light, ethereal even. Untouchable. 

“This is–.” Your boyfriend stops himself, pursing his lips because he knows there’s no way he can defend himself. He’s been caught, and he can't even manage to give some type of excuse. 

The woman—you recognize her as a regular client of his—glances back at you, sleek black hair falling over her bored, hazel eyes while Terushima pulls her white shirt back up her torso. Like your boyfriend, she makes no attempt to feign innocence or ignorance. She simply tilts her head to the side as if to ask why you’re still here, and truthfully, you have no idea. 

“I wanted…” Your words fade, voice muffled and shaky. Wanted to surprise you. You grip the brown bag of treats in your right hand, clenching your left hand into a tight fist. Don’t cry. Don’t let them see you cry. Your shoulders rise with your labored breathing, an attempt to calm yourself enough to speak or react in some way other than complete shock. The breath ends with a short, soft laugh. Nothing about the situation is funny, but you’re not sure what else to do. Why does it hurt so much? 

“I brought your favorites.” You raise the bag so the light catches it, shaking the pastries within. “They um. They’re still warm so…” Your voice cracks, lip trembling as your emotions betray you. Tears fall freely down your cheeks despite your best attempts to hold them in, and you can only laugh as you toss the bag onto the floor. 

Terushima calls out your name, finally. He gently slides the woman off his lap, though he doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to reach you even as you back away from the scene. “Please wait. Don’t leave, I–.” 

Please. It hurts to look at you.

“It’s okay,” you tell him with another false smile. You stumble a bit as you descend the steps, your back to the man in the doorway. You let your lips fall in a frown now that he’s unable to see you, unphased by the cold rain that’s begun to fall. It’s unusually cold for this time of year, the winter season starting early. They say it’s supposed to snow soon. You were going to build snowmen with Terushima and bake your favorite breads and sweets. You were looking forward to the many ways he found to keep you warm, keep you fantasizing about him whenever you weren’t together. Now, you felt nothing except the harsh, empty cold. 

“I shouldn't have tried to tie you down, right? I’m sorry.” You're not the one who needs to apologize. You’ve done nothing wrong, never forced Terushima into the relationship. He approached you first, after all, and spent many months convincing you to give him a chance, to trust that he changed his ways since high school. It isn’t your fault, and yet, you can’t stop yourself. “I just want you to be happy, so no worries.” 

“Wait!” The way he cries out your name, his own voice cracking just slightly, almost makes you want to turn around. For a moment, it makes you want to stop running blindly down the sidewalk and sprint back to him. But it won’t change anything. It won’t make the beautiful woman in his salon disappear, and it certainly can’t make you forget what you witnessed in the neon glow. So you keep running, faster until you can no longer hear his pleading voice or anything besides your choked sobs and water splashing beneath your feet. You run until your chest hurts, until you reach a quiet alley where a cat hisses at your sudden chaotic appearance. It rushes away from you, though your own legs have stopped their movement without your permission. An animalistic cry scratches your throat as you press your forehead against the brick wall of one of the surrounding buildings.

Make it stop.

Your stomach hurts, it aches so fiercely that you lean over and empty its contents onto the concrete next to the dumpster. The landscape dances around you as your vision grows fuzzy, but you force yourself to gather a bit of rainwater and wipe off your face, reminding yourself to breathe. Inhale for three seconds. Hold for five seconds. Exhale slowly for five seconds. Repeat. You do this several times until the panic begins to fade and you have enough awareness to make note of your surroundings.

You’ve ventured into an unknown area of the city, far from your apartment and Terushima’s salon. There aren’t as many lights in this section save for a few  flickering street lamps. The alley you’ve hidden yourself in rests between two buildings, a typical run-down bar and an old abandoned building. You’ve never been to the bar or even heard of the obscure name. You’re not even sure how to get home from here. If not for the GPS on your phone, you’d be completely lost and panicking yet again. 

Just as you begin the humiliating walk back to your apartment, your phone dings to signal you received a text. For a moment, you think it’s Terushima. Maybe he’s apologizing or ending your relationship officially. You’re not sure which would hurt more, but when you see it’s a message from Ushijima instead of your now ex-boyfriend, you decide the silence hurts the most. 

Practice ended late today. Are you awake?

You don’t have the energy to respond to him. Despite his awkward, stoic persona, Ushijima’s become rather skilled at reading your emotions. Even through text, he would realize something is wrong, and you’re not sure you can talk about it just yet. Not to mention, it wouldn’t be fair to him. He had enough going on with his professional volleyball career. He doesn’t need to deal with your drama as well. 

Sorry. I’m sure you’re asleep or with Terushima. I should have thought more first. I have a free day tomorrow if you’d like to do something, though. 

Reading his text brings fresh tears to your eyes, fingers trembling over your screen. For a moment, they hover over the call button on his contact information, knowing he’d happily welcome you into his home. Well, as happy as he can seem. He’s never been one to be loud or energetic, but the calm surrounding him always makes you feel better. 

“No, ugh stop!” You whisper, realizing that your trembling finger accidentally hit the call button. You mumble curses to yourself as you try to end the call before it registers on Ushijima’s phone, sighing when it finally disappears. You can’t do this to him. He’s seen you endure a few breakups through the years from a fling with a quiet boy in high school that ended in a mutual friendship and a long distance relationship with someone the summer after you graduated. He even sat back without judgment when you went through with a few hook ups before you settled down with Terushima. Your friend has never seen a breakup this severe, though. 

Everything okay? You just called and ended it before I could answer. 

Your stomach twists again, unsure of how to respond. You don’t want to tell him what happened over text, but you know you can’t speak clearly. And you definitely don’t want him to see you in person right now. Apparently, you’ve taken far too long to respond, because your phone lights up with a request to FaceTime him, which you quickly deny without thinking twice. 

Not a good time. Text you later!

You type out the response and send it before he has the chance to call again, hoping it will be a good enough excuse to give you time to get home. 

-

Ushijima is many things. He’s strong-willed, determined, and hopelessly devoted to the things he loves. Patience isn’t one of his charming qualities, however. So when you refuse to elaborate on why the night isn’t going so well, he tries to resist the urge to pry. Maybe it was a bad day at work, he tells himself. You’ve been working as a freelance artist while you update your web comic series on the side. Perhaps you had to deal with a demanding client, or maybe you’re stuck working on a panel and don’t know how to finish it. All of those are valid reasons for your strange behavior, but Ushijima can’t shake the feeling that something worse has happened. You’ve never intentionally ignored his calls or responded so coldly to him. Did he…upset you somehow? 

He thinks for a second he might call Terushima. If something bad has happened, then he’s sure to know more about it. But he isn’t close with the hairstylist, so the call might seem a bit overbearing or even intrusive. So then, he’s back to square one. 

His concern grows deeper as the minutes go by, hastily washing his hair and rinsing the pine scented soap off his body. He isn’t a skeptical person, and he isn’t one to act on emotional impulse, but something is wrong. He can feel it.

He quickly finds himself jumping into a pair of warm sweatpants and yanking a hoodie over his head, roughly drying the wet strands of hair with his towel before tossing the damp fabric in its designated basket. Making sure he has his keys and wallet, Ushijima locks up his apartment and sprints outside with an umbrella prepared. 

-

You’re soaked by the time you make it home, clothes sticking to you as if the rain had magically glued them to your skin. At least the long walk home gave you plenty of time to compose yourself, although you hesitate to call your current state ‘composed’ or anything of the sorts. Despite the residual sniffling, your sadness has transformed to an overwhelming state of humiliation. 

Thinking back, you wonder how you missed the signs. Between the late nights at the salon claiming his boss wanted him to organize the products and the distance he inserted, it should have been obvious. Terushima had always been a flirt, and changing that lifestyle for someone as ordinary as you was out of the question. You wanted to believe he was different, wanted so badly to be the only one for him, but now you understand how unfair it was to hold him to such a standard. Unfair to yourself and Terushima.

But what if you had done things differently? As you peel off your wet clothes, your mind briefly imagines everything you could have done to keep him interested. Maybe he needed more intimately, though you certainly never had a problem with your sex life. He satisfied your every want and need, but perhaps you didn’t do enough for him. 

If I was a little more spontaneous…

If I didn’t get so absorbed in my work…

If I cooked or cleaned more often…

Thousands of what if scenarios raced through your mind until the sound of a rushed knock signaled you had a visitor. You knew it was Ushijima before his deep voice called out your name, roughly wiping your eyes to ensure no liquid remained. If you kept the lights dim, he wouldn’t notice the redness. 

Just tell him you’re sick, you command yourself as you crack open the door to reveal his tall figure. Tell him to go home so he doesn’t catch anything before his next game. 

But you can’t. Because the minute you see the furrowing of his brow and the wild state of his hair, you know you can’t turn him away. 

You’re silent as you turn your back to him and walk towards the white plush sofa, thankful when he enters the apartment and closes the door without waiting for instructions. Though, he doesn’t join you on the sofa. His brown eyes watch with deepening concern as you pull your knees to your chest, fingers fumbling with the fabric of your pajamas. 

“What happened?” He asks in his usual calm voice, though there’s a slight edge to it. 

You smile sadly, a soft, airy chuckle filling the room. “You’re always so good at figuring me out.” 

“You’re not that hard to read,” he responds. “And your eyes are bloodshot.” 

You frown, pausing for a moment as you contemplate how to tell him what happened. You don’t want useless pity, and you don’t want to have another panic attack in front of Ushijima. Best friend or not, you don’t want to scare him. “Terushima and I are over.” Don’t ask…

“Why?” 

Of course he wants to know, you scold yourself for thinking otherwise. You’re his best friend. But the pain is still so fresh in your mind that for a moment, you’re back in the salon. Neon lights, bare flesh, and hazel eyes flash repeatedly. You can still hear the way he screamed your name at the end, wondering why he pretended to care enough to do so when he barely moved away from the woman’s touch at first. 

“I went to his salon, and he…” Your voice falls quiet again, palm sliding across your mouth to silence the sob you so desperately want to let out. 

Ushijima steps closer until his legs brush against yours. His body is stiff as he lowers himself to the couch beside you. “Did he hurt you?” 

“No,” you quickly respond. “He um, he cheated on me.” 

It feels embarrassing to admit it for some reason. You’re half expecting your friend to laugh or provide a stoic, I told you so. But Ushijima just clenches and unclenches his fists repeatedly, jawline sharp and tense. 

You let out an awkward laugh, lightly nudging his arm. “But it’s fine. Sorry I scared you over something so silly.”

He doesn’t respond, not initially. He just stares, watching you patiently, silently until your resolve finally crumbles. Your lips part with a pathetic, strained cry as you force your face into your palms. You want to curl up, hide away from Ushijima’s intense gaze. Everything is too much.

It hurts again. 

“It’s not silly,” he barely grunts. It sounds as if his jaw is clenched while he’s speaking, but he doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he snakes his arms around your waist and pulls you on top of his lap. A soft, forest green blanket is soon draped over your bodies as a large hand rubs circles against your back. 

“Everyone was right. I–.” 

He shushes your self depreciation before it begins, still brushing his warm hand over your back while his other arm pulls you impossibly close. 

“This is his fault. Not yours.” 

“It still hurts,” you sob against his shoulder. “It hurts so fucking much.”

“I know,” he whispers, tightening his hold on you. 

It hurts, but his warmth caresses you in a way that begins to ease the ache. He isn’t running away or telling you to get over it. He isn’t yelling at you for ruining his sweatshirt. He’s right there, calm, quiet, and soothing.

And just as you’re content to remain in that peaceful warmth until you fall asleep, he’s content to hold you until then. Because despite how absolutely furious he is, his worry is slowly melting away. No matter how much he wants to spike a volleyball at Terushima’s face, Ushijima is determined to hold you until you tell him to leave.

Maybe after, he thinks with one of his rare smirks. Definitely after. 

#haikyu x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #angst with a hopeful ending #eventual smut #cheating trope #friends to lovers

[im-immortal]

hot girl summer (playing by the rules)

chapter 12: cupid's chokehold

During the final hymn, Beth rose from the pew and sang along just as loudly as everyone else. Though the words were coming from somewhere empty and hollow. All she could focus on was that image of Jesus on The Cross plastered to the wall behind the preacher. And all she could think was, I begged You not to let me fall in love with him. And once again, You didn’t answer my prayers. Is this my punishment for knowingly sinning? For giving in to the sin of lust so many times with no repentance? Or are You trying to tell me something else? ‘Cause I can’t seem to hear it over his heartbeat.

#bethyl fanfiction #smut au #no za #beth greene pov #beth and daryl #beth/daryl #mc fic #bethyl #my fic: hot girl summer #my series: ifap ifap #cheating trope

[somethingoriginal127]

i would never excuse cheating !!!!

unless its done by bj ballentine, craig manning, elena gilbert, rory gilmore, manny santos, ginny miller, marcus baker,

#i couldn’t think of anymore lmao #my fave cheaters frl #elena gilbert #bj ballentine #magnolia parks #craig manning #rory gilmore #this is mostly satire #ik how u guys are abt cheating #so do not take this post personally pls😭 #manny santos #degrassi the next generation #gilmore girls #ginny and georgia #marcus baker #ginny x marcus #ginny miller #cheating #cheating trope

[author-dean-conti]

I know people hate the cheating trope, but let's see if I convince you:

Trilogy

MC has Love Interest A and Best Friend B in book one, where it's very obvious to the reader but not as much to the MC(cuz they're not that... bright) that B has like the hugest crush on MC.

In book two, clearly between A and the MC it ain't working no more and MC starts developing feelings for B. And the cheating is MC x B. MC breaks up with A by the end of the book.

In book three, B is the endgame love interest.

AND I EVEN SQUEEZE IN ONLY ONE BED TROPE FOR BOOK TWO.

Still bad?😏

#high infidelity #original character #romance tropes #cheating trope #only one bed #trilogy #hated tropes #okay but hear me out #Spotify

[paddockbunny]

Ancient History

Summary : Gabriel was the man you were planning to spend your future with. The only issue is the (brief) history you had with his best friend, Pierre Rating : this part would be 16+ but part 2 will be 18+ Pairing : Pierre Gasly x Reader Word Count : 1,646 Trigger Warnings : another cheating trope one in here! Lingerie mention but nothing particularly graphic enough for a warning Gif Credit : @housepandacrimes (not sure if this is the right tag so if this gif is yours please let me know so I can update to the right tag!!)

Your arms felt like they were about to break from being weighed down by shopping bags. You never really got to go shopping very often because you had such a packed work schedule. Being a business owner was hard but the hard work paid off when you made your first million, then your first ten million and well, let’s just say you would never have to work ever again if you wanted. But today you were taking a well earned break and done a little retail therapy.

Thing was, when you pulled into your parking garage and saw several very nice expensive luxury cars near by you had an incline your fiancé was not alone. There was a PSG match on this afternoon and you considered getting back into your car and driving off again because seriously, you couldn’t cope with his friends. One or two were ok - the settled down ones - but the the single ones were absolute nightmares. Especially Pierre fucking Gasly.

See, you had actually (and rather naively) “dated” Pierre for the summer months, two ago before he introduced you to Gabriel and the rest was history. You fell for Gabriel the second you lay eyes on him and thankfully vice versa. However, Pierre seemed to resent you and Gabriel and he continually made things feel awkward for you by being incredibly over familiar and suggestive. He would openly flirt with you in front of your fiancé and always laugh it off with the insulting phrase “been there, done that” like I was some car or rollercoaster to ride and be done with.

As you purposefully strolled over to the elevator from the car park up to your penthouse floor, you saw the car with his PG10 licence plate and internally screamed. Fuck! You groaned aloud as you pressed for the elevator. Why him? Gabriel knew you didn’t like him in your home, preferring to keep him on neutral ground so he didn’t snoop and pry too much.

You just needed to say hi. You just needed to be civil. He was here to watch the game he wouldn’t cause any drama. You left the elevator and entered your apartment, heels clacking on the floor signalling your arrival. The loud roars coming from the lounge were evidence that something must have happened in the game and you thought you might have been able to sneak upstairs without them even noticing. But your name was called by your fiancé seconds later and you groaned. The rest of his friends were fine in general, rowdy, single types that did nothing more than break girls hearts. But Pierre was the gang leader and you knew he had tried to break you and Gabriel up for his own selfish egotistical reasons.

“You had a good time?” You boyfriend asked when you appeared after taking a deep breath and putting on your game face. “Wonderful.” You replied and held up your numerous shopping bags. Gabriel tore his eyes away from the game to come over to you, kiss you gently and ask if you had brought him anything. You smirked and quietly suggested it isn’t something he himself could wear but he would certainly enjoy it. “…In fact, I’m going to go upstairs and try it on right now to make sure it fits.” You winked and he bit his bottom lip playfully. It was the best way to get out of the room.

You felt eyes on you - ones that didn’t belong to your man. He was so arrogant and his behaviour that comes out around you is almost possessive. He still can’t comprehend you chose another man over him.

Fixing the bra in place you pushed your tresses back over your shoulders and inspected the barely there sheer black fabrics JUST covering the important parts of your anatomy. The garter belt was a touch too small and you perhaps should have sized down on the bra but overall it was pretty and when Gabriel saw it you wouldn’t be in it very long anyway. You had put some music on while you got to trying the things you had purchased on and so when the door opened slightly you missed it. You kept looking at different angles of yourself in the mirror. Twisting and checking out how good the thing part looked and how peachy perfect your ass was. All the work with your personal trainer was pulling off. You readjusted the too tight garter belt again, trying to make it work but also trying to make sure you could breathe, and a low purring came from the doorway.

Gabriel. You thought instantly. So excitedly turned to show him the items you bought for him - but not FOR him - eyes wide and smile equally so. Expecting he really couldn’t wait any longer and he forgot all about the game downstairs an electricity shot through your body at the prospect of him coming to fuck you while his friends waited for him. But your eyes did not meet familiar coffee brown ones. They met a pair of steely slate grey ones that you had tried so hard to forget over the past two and a half years.

“What are you doing?” You gasped through gritted teeth. He was casually leaning against the door frame, arms crossed snuggly across his chest with his signature overtly confident smirk painted upon his mouth. His ignored your question in favour of simply holding your gaze and you knew he wanted you to crumble. He persisted in continually telling you he knew you still wanted him over the years and it only got worse after Gabriel proposed to you. It was almost as if Pierre couldn’t stand not coming out the winner and viewed you as the ultimate prize - even though he very much enjoyed the fruits of his celebrity and had a multiple girls on the go at once because commitment was not his strong suit.

“You have to leave.” The words rushed out of you after his eyes trailed slowly down your body. Drinking in the sight of you in expensive lingerie. For a second you allowed the fact that he wouldn't be able to control his mind and all of the dirty thought raging in it. He wouldn’t be able to refrain from getting hard just from looking at you like this, knowing what lies underneath. He’s looking at you like he wants to tear you apart. Rip the items off your body and consume you right there not giving a single fuck if he lost the decades long friendship of the man sitting watching football downstairs. You swallowed. You couldn’t think about that. Pierre had been a moment of madness that lead you to meeting the love of your life. The ring on your finger proved that. And yet, as Pierre stepped foot inside of the room and closed the door behind himself you couldn’t help but remember how good Pierre was in bed. How commanding and in charge he was. How no one had ever made you get off faster, or harder, than he did.

“Pierre, don’t. You shouldn’t be here.” You tried to get the upper hand as he took long, slow steps toward you like he was a lion stalking his prey. “You look insane, Mon amour.” You didn’t focus on the words that left his mouth. You knew how much of a seducer he was. A modern day Casanova. You went to grab the shirt from the bed that you had taken off earlier and he took several confident, quick strides toward to you stop you.

“Don’t cover up.” He growled “let me see you.” “I’m not yours to see, Pierre.” You fought back. Stating nothing more than a pure and simple fact. He had done this before. Stayed overfamiliar and confident when he really shouldn’t have been. The man didn’t know decorum and boundaries.

“And whose fault is that?” He asked, now almost close enough you could smell his expensive foreign cologne. You rolled your eyes. He had done this before. Tried to convey it was you that ruined what the pair of you had by falling in love with one of his best friends. But he knew the reality, he knew his own playboy behaviour called endgame for the pair of you. You don’t really come back from finding another girls panties under your boyfriends pillow 10 weeks into your new relationship. Pierre simply didn’t want to feel like he was the one at fault and always tried to paint you as the “girl who got away”. His head dipped a little and that fucking grin appeared on his face before he said your name. “Pierre, I’ve warned you. Please leave.” You stated as you felt a sudden ache appear between your thighs that you felt you had absolutely zero control over. You swallowed again, hoping it wouldn’t be noticeable how your body wanted to react to him.

“I can see you don’t want me too.” His eyes cast down to your sheer bra and your responsive nipples gave you away. “Gabriel is downstairs. If he comes in here and sees you…” It didn’t nothing to Pierre. Mentioning his friends name did nothing. He had no reaction. He didn’t seem to care. He just kept his eyes focused on your practically naked body still on display to him. He had to see how fast your heart was beating in your chest and how your breathing was rapid. He always enjoyed making you squirm, making you feel awkward around him. But this was another level.

“Pierre….” You breathed when he was close enough to touch.

“When will you give up the notion that he wants you more than I do?” Pierre’s words almost took the air right out of your lungs. “That silly little ring means nothing.”

There will be a part two to this but please don’t hound me and ask me when!!!

#Pierre Gasly #pierre gasly fanfiction #Pierre Gasly fanfic #Pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly one shot #Pierre Gasly imagine #Pierre Gasly imagines #pierre gasly smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 smut #f1 x reader #Pierre Gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #Pierre Gasly x you #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #fanfiction #cheating trope

[liquorisce]

Is it just me or is eremika one of the few shonen canon ships where 'cheating trope' isn't only not out of character but very possible in many situations? Mikasa who loves Eren above anyone or anything and Eren who can be a pretty selfish and ruthless guy? I feel like any situation that ended with Mikasa with another guy and Eren returned for a second chance while she's still in a relationship/marriage would end in homewrecking. It just makes too much sense

I defs think it’s possible. The governess au (aruani) that I always wanted to write hinges on the fact that Mikasa is so fucked for eren that she leaves her marriage with armin (they even have a kid) bc at some point she just knows she was lying to herself and her own heart. I legit think she is capable of doing awful things for Eren. Or even if it’s ooc, idc, it’s interesting to explore the slightly unhinged parts of her person.

Bruh I don’t have to tell y’all about eren. He’s crazy, he has no limits bye 🤤

#anonymous conversations #eremika #cheating trope #governess au

[smut-angel]

i have a genuine question!

i see a lot of writers say that they will never write a fic with cheating involved (which is fine) but im interested in readers who like that sort of plot in fics. idk if i would personally write anything that involves cheating but i would like to know what the appeal is (?)

#jade speaks #send asks #cheating trope

[donnaemerson]

save the last dance for me

Summary:

Leah sees Fatin inhale the deepest breath of air and exhale it audibly. "Usually, when someone flirts with me, I get the intention they wanna have sex with me."

(Okay, what started as playful flirting may be taking a different – borderline wrong – turn.)

Leah's eyebrow shoots up at the comment. Really? "Well, it must be unusual for you today, because we're not gonna have sex."

"Right, no, you insinuated that," Fatin nods. "But, just out of curiosity, are we not gonna have sex because you don't want to or because of that ring on your finger?" She points at Leah's left hand quipping the glass of wine at its tail, her ring clearly visible.

Fuck.

---

or leatin cheating trope au

Rated T, rating may change

#leatin #leah x fatin #leah rilke #fatin jadmani #the wilds #fanfic #ao3 #cheating trope #au #multi chapter

[summerinthecloudsx]

Where the rain can’t reach or Ushijima, your best friend, runs out of patience with Terushima, your (ex)boyfriend

A/N: Minors DNI. Angst to comfort, cheating, brief mentions of past intimacy, friends to lovers, Terushima is a player, Ushijima is a giant (protective) teddy bear, timeskip ages. Multipart., eventual smut

Part 3

The next two weeks pass by in a frenzied blur. The first few days are boring with Ushijima practicing for an upcoming match. It leaves you to your own vices, floating through your apartment in a dull haze. The hours fade together as you tend to your typical chores. Your fingers prune in the dishwater, citrus scented bubbles sticking to your wrist every time you reach into the soap filled water. It’s mindless work scrubbing plates and mugs, your thoughts free to roam as they always do. Sometimes it’s troublesome the way your imagination works, but this time it’s different.

The first thing you think about is a recent digital painting you’ve been working on. A client had reached out to you asking you to design a cover for their upcoming fantasy novel. They provided a brief description of the characters and plot, emphasizing the sensuality of the book. It followed the story of a lonely elvish woman who by chance found herself the main interest of a man who appeared more like a barbarian. It was an interesting concept, and you had already started designing the cover for it. A vine taken over by thorns wrapped around the woman’s arm while the barbarians gloved hand could be seen reaching out to her. Somehow, your mind strays from the book to imagine Ushijima’s hand behind the glove. 

You’re not sure what prompted the thought at first. Maybe it’s his strong, unrelenting personality or the silent brooding nature that translates so well to the barbarian in the client’s book. Whatever the reason, it quickly shifts from the fantasy persona to his every day form. A true athletic wonder in every sense of the word with a misunderstood personality that makes you feel somewhat special to know the truth behind it. The way he texts you in the middle of practice to check on you. The time he took away from his friends or teammates to spend with you, taking spontaneous trips just because you seemed upset. Behind his solemn face is a heart of gold, and your cheeks feel hot knowing you’re close enough to have experienced that golden kindness. 

But then, of course he’s kind to you. He’s been your friend since high school, where you met by chance the day you quite literally ran into him on his afternoon jog. You remember it so clearly, the way you huffed in annoyance as the collision knocked you to the ground but left him perfectly upright. And then stuttered apologies once you realized who you had run into. For a while, he had simply stared at you, blinking and observing until he kneeled in front of you to help gather your spilled art supplies. His apology was soft, the words sounding foreign on his tongue and contradicting the severe expression on his face. The first thought you had when you looked at him, warm light from the sunset folding around his kneeled form, was the intense need to sketch him. You hadn’t even realized your request had been vocalized until he arched one of his brows but agreed to it nonetheless. You became friends soon after. 

The memory prompts you to sift through your old sketchbooks at the end of the first week. Smiling fondly at the drawings of neighborhood stray cats and dogs. Various books are filled with charcoal sketches, watercolor paintings, and the normal pen or pencil sketch. Most of them are of landscapes, abstracts, or fantasy creatures, but there’s one or two pages of portraits you created at your friends request. And while the lining and shading have definitely improved through time, you’re proud of it all. Even the sketch of Terushima. 

It makes you cringe despite the pride in your work. The way you spent so much time on getting the shade of his eyes exactly right and the playful, flirty expression you often saw on his face. The detail in the sharp point of his chin and his wild locks of hair. It’s beautiful, but it’s foreign. Because the man you drew looks like a playful boyfriend, not a cheating womanizer. You remember showing him the portrait only to be met with confusion as to why you drew him in the first place. It left you feeling silly, embarrassed, and you stopped drawing people for a long while after that. 

Now though, the memory just makes you sad. Not for your current self or situation, but for the you in the past who so desperately wanted him to love you. When you finally gave him a chance, he made you feel so special those first few days and you never wanted it to end. Except it did, and now you’re left staring at his picture wondering how you ever fell for his lies in the first place. 

You close the book with a short huff or laugh you’re not sure, though it’s probably a decent mix of the two. The noise is quiet enough that you manage to hear a ding from the kitchen where you left your phone, rising from the floor of your living room with a soft groan. Another ding sounds just as you pick it up, fully expecting Ushijima’s name to flash across the screen. It isn’t until you open the messages that you realize it’s Terushima, his number on display after you deleted his contact information in a rage a few nights prior. 

Should I drop your things off at your place or are you coming here? 

I’d like to talk to you. Please…

You snort at the messages, sadness long gone as bitterness takes its place. Of course he wants to talk to you. It’s a classic, isn’t it? A person cheats on their significant other and then suddenly when they’re caught, they want to make things right. They want to provide an excuse, even if they know it isn’t good enough to mend what’s been broken. It’s just an attempt to gain closure for themselves, somehow justify their actions. And, however selfish it may seem, you’re not sure you want to give that to him. 

So you ignore him. For three more days, you open his messages, read them, and then lock your phone. He isn’t the type to damage your things just because he’s angry, so you have little to no hesitancy in remaining silent. At first, it almost fills you with a rush of adrenaline. It’s what he deserves, you think with a petty, triumphant smirk. You even think to leave your read receipts on so he knows he’s being ignored, though you turn it off on the second day, feeling a tiny twinge of guilt at your obvious hatred. The third day, you send his calls straight to voicemail, not having the energy to listen to the phone ring or vibrate. It’s exhausting, so much so that you don’t even leave the house despite needing to shop for groceries. You can only sit on the couch, glaring at your phone as you try desperately to watch tv or do anything to distract yourself. It crosses your mind briefly that you can just silence his calls and messages, block him if it comes to that, but for whatever reason, you can’t. 

One more day, you tell yourself. If he’s still doing this the next day, you’ll block him, and leave your things at his place for the time being.

But on the fourth day of ignoring him, the spark completely fades. It becomes a chore to read his messages and listen to his voicemails. The bitter fun you had at his expense is gone, replaced with annoyance because he just doesn’t seem capable of letting things die. The relationship is over. He can’t remedy it. He must know that, and yet, he still sends messages and calls every day to ask if you’ll come over.

You’ve had enough, groaning loudly as you snatch your phone off the coffee table. You mean to open it and immediately block his number, but a knock at your door halts your movements. Panic settles in quickly, fearing Terushima has grown tired of being ignored. He did offer to bring your things to you, after all. It’s not as if you’re afraid he’ll do something. He’s a cheater, not a fighter or anything of the sorts. It’s more of a matter of your own recovery. You’ve been doing so much better than you anticipated, and you don’t want him to even attempt to sneak his way back into your life. 

You wait a few more minutes until a familiar deep voice questions you from the other side of the door. The sigh of relief is audible, shoulders visibly slumping as you force your shaking legs to the door and open it. 

Ushijima looks down at you, head tilted to the side and brow arched. It’s been his usual look lately when he sees you as if there’s something different, peculiar about the way you look now. You try not to let it bother you, try not to squirm under his unblinking gaze, though you can’t manage to keep eye contact while he’s doing so. Instead, you wave him inside and toss your ringing phone on the couch. 

“Are you not going to answer that?” He asks. He walks to your small couch, knees bumping against the fabric while you make yourself comfortable again. You’ve sat on the opposite side, leaving your phone closer to Ushijima while you pull a blanket over yourself. Whether it’s to hide from the ringing or warm yourself, you don’t know. 

“It’s not important,” you scoff. “See for yourself.” 

And he does. Only, his reaction isn’t what you expect. You’re expecting him to hum or roll his eyes and place your phone back on the couch, but your eyes go wide when the ringing silences as he presses the phone against his ear. 

“Ushijima.” He answers with his name instead of a polite greeting. He must know it’s Terushima by the annoyed glare in your eyes, and he spares no amount of kindness to the man over the phone. 

“She’s sitting on the couch,” he answers in a bored tone. “Why?” Whatever Terushima says brings out a rare laugh, but it isn’t a humorous one. It’s short, clipped in a dangerous and dominating way you haven’t heard from him in a while. It’s so foreign to you that you think for a moment you should take the phone. That is, until Ushijima’s voice lowers in pitch as he nearly snarls, “She isn’t interested in talking to you. And if you have some of her things, I’ll be more than happy to get them tomorrow.” He pauses for a moment before he adds, “Alone. While she takes a break from your attempts at communication.” 

The tension in the air is thick when he ends the call. His shoulders are raised as if he’s holding his breath, though they relax slowly when his eyes fall over your figure curled beneath the blanket. He opens and closes his mouth, mind struggling to form the words he knows he needs to say. He thinks he needs to apologize, assumes that while you’re visibly upset with Terushima, he had no place inserting himself into the situation like he did. He didn’t have to answer your phone or volunteer himself to fetch whatever items you left at the man’s apartment. He must be overstepping some boundaries, he thinks, brows set in a firm line as he desperately grasps at a way to apologize. 

But then, your lips lift just slightly, twitching in the way they do when you’re trying not to laugh. It doesn’t last long before a muffled chuckle cracks through and then soft laughter fills the room. Ushijima scratches the back of his neck, puzzled. He can’t for the life of him understand why you’re laughing, and he thinks for a minute maybe you’re laughing at him. It makes him nervous, shrinking in on himself despite his height until you cover your lips and shake your head.

“I can’t believe you did that,” you sigh blissfully. There’s still a broad smile on your face as your laughter fades, eyes watery with tears you’re quick to wipe away. 

Ushijima’s eyes widen, ears growing red. “I’m sorry. You just seemed so annoyed and…” His words trail off into nothing, gaze shifting to the couch beside you. 

“Don’t apologize,” you assure him. “Really. Maybe I’m being a jerk, but I thought it was funny. You seemed so serious. I’m sure you even scared him a little.” 

He blinks once. Twice. Three times before your words settle. Funny? I was being serious. He clears his throat while he lowers himself to the seat beside you. His own lips twitch when you offer him another reassuring smile, telling him you’re not angry or upset with him in the slightest. And truthfully, part of him does find it strange how quickly you’ve gotten over your heartbreak. Though, he remembers what he had seen from older people while he was still in high school. Some people break up mentally long before they do physically. Maybe you had seen all of the signs and distanced yourself from Terushima without actually realizing it. It’s better for you that way, he supposes. He ignores the selfish piece of him that says it’s better for him too. 

“I meant what I said, though.” 

You smile, leaning your head against his broad shoulder. He’s warm, heat radiating off of him as if he hadn’t just been outside in the cold air moments before. It’s a chore to resist the urge to snuggle against him, especially when you know he won’t stop you if you try.

“Are you really okay going alone, though? It’s my stuff. I feel kind of guilty…” Your voice is muffled, but he hears you well enough because he hums a short note of assurance.

It’s quiet after that, the two of you falling into an easy silence while your tv plays in the background. Eventually, Ushijima’s arm lands across your form while you curl into him even more, head sliding until it rests against his chest. What you hear then makes your own heart beat harder. Because above the actors on screen and the gentle knock of rain against your windows, Ushijima’s heart pounds. It’s a hard, steady rhythm that picks up when the actors begin to kiss, and you chastise yourself for forgetting it’s a romance movie. You’re not sure if he feels awkward watching it with you or cuddling like this, but when you go to pull away, suddenly unsure if you’ve overstepped his physical contact limits, Ushijima pulls you fully on his lap. 

“We always end up like this.” Your laugh is soft, quiet and hesitant. 

Ushijima hums, heart beginning to slow again. His fingers idly run across your spine, up to the back of your neck and down again. His chin hovers above your head, though you can feel his eyes shifting between you and the screen. “Is this…okay?” 

It’s addicting, you want to tell him. You spare yourself the embarrassment and settle for nuzzling your head against his chest. It’s an intimate gesture, far more physical than your usual friendly cuddle sessions. You’re well aware of the line you’re crossing, but you’re tired of walking it like a tightrope. It’s okay to give into this, to allow yourself this moment of bliss. 

“It’s okay,” you breathe out. And the way his shoulders fall in relief tells you all you need to know about his own feelings. 

Taglist: Let me know if you’d like to be added!! ^^ (And of course, MINORS DNI.)

@shadoweepingscream

#haikyu x reader #angst with a hopeful ending #cheating trope #eventual smut #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x reader #friends to lovers #haikyuu!! #haikyuu fluff #comfort

[im-immortal]

hot girl summer (playing by the rules)

chapter 15: powerful with a little bit of tender

Her head was in the clouds, her heart following right along with it. She was floating somewhere high above the atmosphere, nearing space and damn near able to touch the stars. And this… this is what she’d been searching for when she’d let Gareth press his lips to hers. This is what she’d been desperately yearning for while she’d gone about her day-to-day life. Like drowning in that lake and letting the euphoric sensation of breathlessness overtake her, swallow her up, consume her. She could almost hear the low hum of a boat engine at the surface, reminding her that reality was awaiting her once she came back up for air.

But then Daryl growled against her lips and pulled away. Before she could comprehend what was happening, he gently pushed her back with the hand that had been kneading and massaging at her breast and teasing her nipple. His lips trailed their way down her chin, her neck, her chest. She gasped in a deep breath, trembling at his touch. She arched her back over the steering wheel and pushed her chest out, and he seemed to relish in the access. His mouth was still trailing down and down, kissing its way around both breasts, tongue flicking out across her nipples. She couldn’t swallow back the moans that escaped at the sensation. She slid her hands back to grasp either side of his head, tangling her fingers in his shaggy hair.

As he kept up the work with his hand on one breast, he was wrapping his lips around a nipple and sucking slowly. She couldn’t suppress the shudder than ran through her, a moan escaping her parted lips. Her fingers tightened in his hair, hips grounding down against his twitching cock through both her shorts and his jeans. He growled against her skin, the vibration reverberating through every bone in her body, and sucked a little harder.

She moaned even deeper, almost a guttural sound, tilting her head back as her jaw went slack and her eyelids fluttered, gasping for breath in between relentless moans that escaped on their own fruition. Felt his cock twitching and jumping from beneath his jeans. Felt his tongue tracing around her nipple, his lips sucking at it fervently. Felt his palm kneading at her breast. 

He’d turned her into an animal, moaning like a cat in heat, grounding herself down against him for even the slightest bit of pressure to ease the ache that had bloomed into a primal need. Then she felt the sharp edges of his teeth nipping at the very tender flesh around her nipple. 

Maybe she’d turned him into an animal, too.

A shudder wracked her whole body and she jerked against him.

“Daryl—!”

At the sound, he immediately stopped and pulled his mouth away to look up at her with hooded eyes, pupils wide and blown. She met his gaze, recognizing the uncertainty and slight hint of fear in his face.

“‘M sorry,” he said breathlessly. “Didn’t mean to—”

“Why’d you stop?”

Something sparked in his eyes, and though he didn’t smirk or even grunt, she felt his fingers dig tighter into the flesh of her hip before he resumed his previous ministrations. Leaned in like he was ready to bury his head into the earth that was her bare chest, wrapping his lips around her nipple and cupping her breast with his hand. Then he switched to the other breast, offering that side the same treatment with his mouth on her nipple and his hand kneading at the soft, tender flesh.

She couldn’t swallow back the squeal that escaped when he lightly dug his teeth in, her hips bucking reflexively, her core grounding down into him desperately. He wasn’t sucking as hard on this breast, but he returned to the other one as though he had a job to finish.

“And when Daryl Dixon says he’s gonna do something, he does it. And he doesn’t leave ‘til the job’s done,” she recalled, smirking to herself as that ironic thought popped into her head.

She could already tell—could already feel—that a mark was forming around her nipple. Knew it would end up being a hickey to rival the one on her neck. And oh, God, if that didn’t just feed the fire currently blazing at the very bottom of her stomach. She wanted him to mark every inch of her. To declare her as his and his alone. She wanted to be left with the evidence that Daryl Dixon had been here, had conquered her. And had been conquered in return.

#bethyl fanfiction #smut #au #no za #beth greene pov #cheating trope #sneaking around #beth greene/daryl dixon #my fic: hot girl summer #my series: ifap ifap #bethyl