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yougavemeyourheartyouknow · 2 months

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Childs play (Miguel O’Hara x fem! Reader [ex-Childhood best friend turned Fwb AU]) Part 1

Hiiiii! I’m so freaking excited for y’all to read this I’m literally shaking! This will only be 1 part. (Edit: I’ve changed my mind it will get a second part but it won’t be put right away) Shout out to @chickenshit03 for beta reading the one shot. Absolute sweetheart 🫶🏼. Not proofread, enjoy!!

(Y/N)-Your name.

NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! Cursing, light choking during the deed , protecting PinV, Miguel being a big meanie near the end, Comfort/Hurt, lmk if I can’t think of anymore

Word count: 4.6k

Part 2

Masterlist

—

Knock knock…

“Hello, I’m sorry if I’m intruding but I wanted to introduce myself, me and my family just moved in next door and I wanted to introduce ourselves.” Your mother said as she stood at her neighbors door, you hid timidly behind her leg as she spoke to a Hispanic woman with curly dark hair. Your eyes wandered around her living room, or at least as much as you could catch from your spot. Not paying any mind to the conversation they were having when your eyes spotted a young boy around your age, about five or so walking past with a few legos in hand.

Your shyness was quickly overtaken with curiosity as you went to pull on your mother’s hand, she must have been watching you stare at the brunette, because before you could even turn up to ask her if you could go play, she was already shooing you in the direction of him as her and the other lady went to go talk over coffee in the kitchen.

He didn’t glance up at you as you sat down in front of his spot on the living room floor, being too preoccupied on the Star Wars set he was working on.

“Hi.”

“My name’s (Y/N).”

“Cool.”

“What’s your name?”

“Miguel.”

You paused, shifting to sit down better before speaking again.

“Can I help? I love legos.”

He stayed quiet, and for a second you think he’ll say no, until he shrugged and moved the instruction book so you both could read it, making your lips come up in a smile.

“Sure.”

—

“You can teach me to play street fighter a million times and I will never understand it.” You huffed as you dropped the controller on your lap and leaned back on the couch, the tv in his living room sounded out a “finish her” as Miguel’s character killed yours, you couldn’t even be bothered to remember the names, peeved off that’d he beat you for the upteenth time, him not even having the courtesy to let you win one round.

“I’m not gonna be sorry for you being bad.” He retorted in a teasing tone, sticking out his tongue at you, and blew a raspberry. Your arms quickly crossover your chest as you puff your cheeks out with a pout.

“You’re so mean to me Miguel, I hate you.” You mumbled the half-lie to the other ten year old, looking away as you felt your cheeks heat with embarrassment, you didn’t even notice his movements until you felt him grab for your hand, turning your head to realize he was now standing in front of your spot on the couch.

“You don’t hate me, I’m your best friend.” He states, making you nod your head in confirmation after a beat, “Good. Because you’re my best friend too.” You smiled.

“Can we play something else then?”

“Nope.”

“Ughhh.”

—

“(Y/N), it’s your turn to spin the bottle.” Mj’s voice snapped you out of your head, suddenly aware of all the other fourteen years olds turning to stare at you. Was it a bit embarrassing you were about to lose your first kiss in a game of spin the bottle?

Half-dried nail-polished fingers gently grabbed the base of the empty Coke bottle, praying to god no one saw the way your hand trembled slightly, as you gave it a good twist. As your eyes tracked the blur of clear glass, you got your lower lip, silently hoping it was someone who you wouldn’t fluster up in embarrassment when you had to tell them who was your first kiss in the four walls of the lunch room. Like Kyle, or Ben or-

“Oooo- you got Miguel!” One of the other girls giggled as your eyes shot up to where the tip was pointing and surely, there he sat in front of you. Miguel was good…yeah, great even! You trusted him, he was your best friend since you were practically in dippers…So with a fine silent look of confirmation, you crossed the circle, closing your eyes as your lips connected for the first time.

Is it normal for your heart to skip a beat during a kiss? God how red is my face right now? Have I been holding it for too long? I wonder if he’s enjoying it, he hasn’t pulled away so that’s a good sign right? I should probably stop now. It's been like four seconds.

You finally pull away, sitting down on your knees as you bring a hand up to wipe some excess saliva away from the cover of your mouth. The sound of the next person going to spin the bottle muffles out around you as you focus on the weird flutter in your stomach.

—

“SLOW DOWN MIG-YOU’RE DRIVING LIKE A MANIAC!” You yelled as your left hand flew to grab at your seat belt, right hand gripping the overhead handle so hard your knuckles were turning white, pushing yourself as much as you could into the passenger seat at you could while he just let out an eye roll and chuckle as you were being dramatic (you weren’t).

“I’m not taking driving advice from someone who doesn’t have their license yet.”

“You got your license yesterday! I don’t turn sixteen for another four months!”

“Don’t care, you could ever shut up or take the bus.”

You couldn’t respond right away because another scream came from your throat as he turned a corner.

“If I die in this stupid car, I’m going to haunt the shit out of you O’Hara!”

“I’m not gonna let you die, stop being dramatic.” He scoffed, finally pulling up to the school parking lot, finally slowing down as he looked for a place to park. His arm comes around the back of your car seat as he goes to backwards park in an empty spot. “See I didn’t let you die.”

“I’m actually traumatized…” You muttered, eyes still wide as you kept still in your seat. Miguel let out a huff and he goes to take your seatbelt off once the car was shut off.

“If I buy you some subway during lunch will you stop complaining?”

“…yes.”

—

“Maybe I could just take a gap year-or-or go to the community college nearby, just until I can transfer, then I can try for Columbia again?” You kept fumbling your words, looking at the rejection letter in your hands. If you tried to focus on it enough, you’d be able to hear the paper shaking lightly in your hands. Glossy eyes trying to rapidly blink away tears before they fell on the paper. Miguel quickly shook his head as he placed his coffee cup down on the table of the cafe you two would frequent.

“No. Not happening, I’ll just reject my application and we can go to Stanford together in California.” He told you, making you copy his actions as you placed the paper down next to your other University letters.

“Are you crazy? That’s your dream school! I am not letting you do that for me. I’d never forgive myself for that.” You admitted, looking at him in those familiar brown eyes, praying to god yours weren’t growing bloodshot from the emotional moment between you both. Miguel letting out a heavy sigh, his hand going to run through his pushed back brown locks as he looked down at his letters again. The silence that grew over you two was almost suffocating, a thing it never felt like around him. It made your heart ache, trying to keep back a whine and some tears as you closed your eyes and took in a shaky breath before opening them again and finally breaking the silence between you both. “I mean…FaceTime is a thing right?” Miguel raised a brow at your sentence, before it clicked in his mind what you were implying. Quickly shaking his head, his hand coming up to stop you.

“No. No. I can’t even go a week without seeing you, I’ve lived next door to you for thirteen years and you expect me to be okay with us being two thousand miles away from each other!?” You glanced around you when Miguel raised his voice slightly, luckily other than you and the owner the place was practically barren.

“Mig, we’ll figure it out! We’ll call and text, FaceTime, and I’ll come back for breaks! And besides, you don’t strike me as a type to enjoy California.” You attempted to lighten the mood, thankfully being met with an amused grunt and his lip twitching up slightly.

“Fine… just, promise we aren’t going to end up like all those friends who stop talking because we’re going to separate college’s alright?”

Your smile grew. “I promise.”

—

Ring…

Rin- “Hey it’s Miguel,” your ears perked up, quickly scrambling up from your position on your bunk bed, where you were laying on your stomach, “I can’t come to the phone right now, leave me a message.” Beep.

“Hey Miguel… just wanted to see how you were, I finished my exams for the semester, and I’m going back to Neuva York tomorrow. I wanted to see if you’d want to hang out during the break, let me know… bye…” You mumbled before you hung up the call, tossing your phone on the other side of your bed. Running your hands through your head, letting out a heavy sigh. Closing your eyes to keep any forming tears of frustration from spilling out.

You and Miguel weren’t as close as you’d like to be anymore. How did a few months apart completely unwind the tight knit threat that had kept you both close for years? It had started out well, you did good at keeping your side of the promise and he did as well. Texting every hour, FaceTiming him every weekend, calling every night while you both studied, it almost felt like nothing had changed.

Then, classes became harder, you’d both start to develop new friends, new routines. The text became less frequent, now lagging to every few days, FaceTime sessions were now non-existent and your daily calls now became monthly, never lasting more than half an hour. You hated how you two were growing apart, and it hurt to see that Miguel didn’t seem to care. You didn’t have to see him in person to notice his new friend group was starting to change his personality. He was starting to seem more stoic, dry, it almost seemed like he was constantly agitated or something of the sort when you finally would get a hold of him. Still… despite the gradual change he seemed to be going through you still had hope that deep down he was still the same old Miguel you had grown to love and cherish. And that spark of hope only grew when you heard the faint buzz of your phone from the foot of your bed, quickly grabbing it to read a new message.

Text me when you get in tomorrow.

—

This was not what you had in mind.

Somehow Miguel had convinced you to go to some random bar that didn’t ID with him and his college buddies. “I’ll be fun” he said, “you’ll love them” he said. Now here you were forced to listen to some snobby trust fund kid bitch and moan about how he had to inherit his father’s company and blah blah blah. You weren’t even paying attention anyways, his words were going into one ear and flying out the other, opting to sip on your mixed drink to help keep you from banging your head into the bar counter. Tonight had simply e been the worst. Not to mention Miguel had been acting… different.

Maybe he just wasn’t good with distance, but it still struck you as odd how the second you were both finally in close proximity it was almost as if nothing had happened, like your friendship with each other wasnt badly strained for weeks on end. It didn’t stop there though, no no no. Because now that you were with him in front of his new friends and all dolled up he had been more… touchy, and not in a way he had been before.

A hand on your thigh, an arm around your waist, a finger idly twisting and twirling your hair. It was so… intimate… like he wanted them to think there was something there that was more than just a childhood friend. You couldn’t say that you hated it, it was just unexpected.

“Hey… let’s get out of here?” Miguel’s whisper snapped you out from your thoughts. The way his voice murmured lowly against your shoulder as he all but rubbed against it like a cat making your cheeks flare up and a shiver ran down your back. Quickly ignoring the feeling of the spike in your heart rate and the wetness growing in your panties, nodding as you go to stand up, not wanting to be in the over cramped bar any longer and just waiting to head back to Miguel’s place since you were staying there for a week. Feeling like your knees were going to give out from underneath you when he slid his large hand from between your shoulder blades and upwards to squeeze your right shoulder.

Not sure if your hazy mind was from the alcohol or from his actions anymore. Not sure if things would go back to how they were before you’d left when he went to leave sloppy wet kisses on your neck as soon as his apartment door was closed and locked. Not sure if you could look at him the same way after he made you see stars from the comfort of his sheets. Still you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, he felt too good.

“Fuck- felt so fucking good…” He hissed as he pulled out from between your legs, taking a moment to let himself to catch his breath before rolling the condom off and tossing it in the trash can. You didn’t respond, still out of it from the aftermath of experiencing nirvana in the form of drunk sex. Letting out a sigh as you turned to your side and closed your eyes as drowsiness starts to seep into your bones. Feeling the other side of the bed dip before a strong arm came around to hug your waist.

“…Miguel?”

“Yeah?”

“This… was a one time thing right?”

A pause, a heavy sigh before you felt his soft lips kiss the nape of your neck.

“… of course.”

—

A flash of light shined through the darkness of your studio apartment. You didn’t even need to check the notification screen in order to know who it was. Only one person would text you at two in the morning.

Come over?

If you told your high school self that the only time you ever saw Miguel was in the deeps of night while you were tangled in his sheets, she would have thought you were lying. The most fucked up part was that it was starting to affect you mentally, how your best friend had turned into a booty call because of one night from a drunk fuck seven years ago, it was painfully obvious you’d never get to the point where you’d be able to go back to the way you both once were. You couldn’t help but cling to the last broken bits he was willing to give you though. So every time he calls or texts you at random hours of the night since you’ve moved back to Nueva York, you’d show up at his doorstep like you are now.

“I know it’s late, I'm sorry, these Master exams are kicking my ass.” He apologized while letting you in after a few seconds. Closing and locking the front door before gently pushing you against it, his lips already finding their usual spot against the crook of your neck. Calloused hands began to slip underneath the baggy material of your hoodie, his large fingers gently grazing the exposed skin, you’ve learned to stop wearing shirts to these sessions a long time ago. “Need to blow off some steam…”

“Miguel…”The way you’d breathe out his name always made him feel like he had died and gone to heaven, your hands wandering upwards against the black fabric of his tank top. His lips separated from the blossoming red and purple mark they left in their wake so he can pull your jacket off before stripping off his own shirt. Your arms quickly wrap around his neck, any guilt that had been lingering in your mind quickly melted away when his hands ran down to your hips underneath your waistband, thumb fidgeting with the thin fabric of your panties. “Need you-“

“Need you too Cariño.” He muttered before going to place a gentle peck against the edge of your lips, you couldn’t help but let out a small whimper at the movement. You’ve noticed he never kisses you directly on your lips, always on the edge, on your neck or cheek. You would have felt your heart ache if the feeling of your core throbbing when his hand dragged your bottoms down to squeeze your ass wasn’t more overwhelming, lifting you up to wrap your legs around his waist.

Half of the time you two didn’t even make it to the bedroom, finding a spot on the hallway wall or against the kitchen counter. This was one of those times, he stumbled over to the couch, too distracted on leaving hickies all over your chest and dipping his fingers into your wet cunt. You let out a gasp when you landed on the brown leather rather harshly, making the couch move a few inches from its original spot due to the weight of both of your bodies hastily climbing on top of it. He made quick work to strip the rest of your clothes from both of your bodies once he made sure you hadn’t accidentally hit your head. Quickly slipping a condom before lining himself up.

“Fuuuuck-fuck…” He groaned, as he pushed the tip of his cock between your folds. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream from the deliciously painful stretch that he always provides. Giving you a second to adjust to his length and girth before pulling out and slamming his hips against yours, each thrust making your silent whimpers and whines turn into pornographic moans and incoherent babblings. “Love filling you up. You love this cock don’t you?” He taunts, it was so cruel the way the words fell from his mouth but you loved it nonetheless. Nodding rapidly as you gushed around him for the first time tonight.

“Nah uh… need to heard you say it. Use your words.” He smirks, enjoying the plop plop sound that started to quietly reverberate off the walls of his living room. Glancing down momentarily to watch a thin layer of cum that was forming a ring around the base of his cock. “Tell me how much you love it.” He urged.

“Fuck-fuck… love it so much.” You moaned, overstimulated from your orgasm, squirming underneath him just the way he liked. He couldn’t help the way his ego swells at the way you feel apart for him.

“Don’t know what I’d do without you.” He cooed as he propped your leg over his shoulder to get a better angle, his sweet words always messed with your foggy mind. “Such a sweet little thing, all for me.”

“Don’t-don’t say that Mig.” You whined, head turning to the side, as your hand dropped from his chest to drop off the couch. His right hand quickly leaves your hip and runs up to your neck, keeping his grip light as he props your head back to face him with his index finger.

“Aww poor baby, can’t handle when I talk all sweet to her, huh?” He let out an airy half chuckle. Despite the honey-like toned he’d use, the underlying taunt was always present. “Let me make it up to you baby.”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he thrust deeper into your core, making your hips subconsciously jump up to meet his.

“Mig-Miguel, I’m so-so close.” You whimpered and whined, clenching around his length, his hips stuttering slightly as you felt the heat building in your lower belly start to grow with each thrust.

“Cum with me baby… Cum all over this cock.” He groaned.

“Fuck-Fuck.” With one final thrust, you finally came undone around him, his name falling from your lips over and over like a mantra. Miguel followed suit, stopping his thrust while fully inside your cunt, letting out a deep groan as he came.

“Shit… You okay?” He asked once he was able to collect himself enough, climbing off top of you before rolling the used condom off his softing member, picking up his forgotten boxers and placing them back on.

“Mhm…” You nodded, trying to stabilize yourself on shaky arms and legs. Miguel seemed to have noticed, picking up your clothes from the floor and making his way over to hand them to you.

“Let me get you some water.” He said before retreating to his kitchen. The only sound in the air now was the faint noises of him rustling around his cabinets, and the quiet shuffling of clothes. Hating the feeling of putting your legging and hoodie back on due to the thin layer of sweat still on your skin. Once you were decent enough Miguel came back with a glass of water and handed it to you. Mumbling a “thank you” before taking a sip. Miguel cleared his throat as he sat down on the other edge of the couch, eyes cast down, hands rubbing anxiously together, finally deciding to break the steadily growing awkward silence. “Look, (Y/N), I wanted to talk to you about something… something kinda important.”

You raised a brow, noticing the sudden change in his behavior, taking another quick sip before placing the half empty glass on his coffee table. “What’s up?”

He released a heavy sigh as he brought a hand up to scratch the back of his neck, still not making eye contact as he continued. “I’m not sure how to say this, so I’ll just put it out there…” He finally brought his gaze up to meet yours, “We need to stop seeing each other.”

Huh?

“I’m sorry what?” The words came out of your mouth before you could stop, your face quickly filling up with confusion and a bit of disbelief as you stood up. Miguel follows your actions as he puts his hands up in defense, but you continue before he could try explaining. “You can’t just fuck me on your couch then tell me afterwards we need to stop. You know how much of an asshole you sound?”

“I know, I know it makes me sound like an asshole.” He tried to reason with you, going to finally put on his shorts and tank top that were still on the floor. Not feeling like being half-naked during this conversation. “Look, there’s this girl I’ve been seeing and it’s getting pretty serious-“

“A girl you’ve been seeing?” You repeated in disbelief. “You can’t be for real.”

“Well, we never agreed to be exclusive. It’s not like we were going to start dating or anything.”

Ouch.

You had to turn away so they didn’t see the tears building in the corner of your eyes, but even with your face hidden your body language gave you away.

“I know we weren’t exclusive but fuck Miguel.” You shake your head, going to make your way to the door. “I’ve known you since we were five and you’re just gonna throw me away like some old toy?!”

“Hey-no. That’s not-that’s not what I mean, you know that.” He takes a step forward, grabbing your arm before you could get too far. “We can’t sleep together anymore, but we can still be friends.” You couldn’t help the scoff that left your lips, finally gathering yourself enough to pull your arm away and face him again, not caring if he saw the tears cascading down your cheeks. He’s made you cry one too many times, it’s about time he saw what he did to you. “We can still be friends! You’re still my best friend (Y/N)!” He couldn’t help but let his voice come out in more of a panic, a bit more rushed. You quickly shook your head.

“No. No, we aren’t best friends anymore Miguel, we haven’t been in a long, long time. I know that, you know that. So don’t pretend like we are just because your afraid of losing your emotional support fuck buddy.” You finally head toward the door and towards your car in the driveway, not turning to face him as you hear him call your name. “Don’t call me, don’t text me. If you're as serious about this girl as you say you are, you’d do the right thing and block me. Because I’m so tired of waiting around and pretending like one day you’ll wake up and realize I’m in love with you.”

You froze once the words came out, hand still on the car door handle as you came to the realization you finally admitted the secret you’ve been holding for the past ten years. Your free hand going to cover your mouth as you finally turn to look at Miguel, the look of shock from the confession was evident. You shook your head as you attempted to back track.

“Wait, Miguel I didn’t mean to tell you that-it just happened-“

“… You should leave.” His voice suddenly became stoic, his face hardening so it was hard to read his emotions. “This is just helping my case. Leave.” The tears flowed harder down your face as he slammed the front door shut. Leaving you to sob into the emptiness of the night as you finally let all the pain from the last seven years catch up to you.

You weren’t surprised to see your text bubbles turn green the next morning.

—

“I really think this one is it.”

“Me too!”

“He’ll love you in that dress.”

“Aww I can already see the waterworks.”

All you could do was smile, your hands repeatedly smooth non-existent wrinkles as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you looked like a real life princess. After what felt like hours you finally found the wedding dress. You couldn’t be happier.

“Alright Miss future Osborn.” Your maid of honor squealed, finally getting your attention, “You need to get out of that dress, you need to meet up Harry to look over the venue.”

You sighed, as you turned back to admire the white wedding dress one more time. “You’re right, I don’t wanna keep him waiting just cause I can’t stop staring at myself.” You giggled, before heaving to the back.

You and Harry have been dating for four years now, and he had proposed last month during your anniversary. You couldn’t be happier, he treats you like a queen, better than any other Man you’ve ever been in romantic contact with.

Once you had finally finished changing out of your regular clothes, you grabbed your phone out of your purse. Sending a quick text telling him that you found a dress, before doing a quick check on insta, wanting to look at the engagement pictures you posted on your page last week. But the soft smile on your face quickly dropped, like your heart did to your stomach when you checked your activity page.

Miguel.Ohara.99 and 4 others liked your post.

Miguel.Ohara.99 started following you.

1 message request from Miguel.Ohara.99

Fuck.

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @strawberryjuice9 @loser-alert @maomaimao @franceseca-the-1st @scaryplanetdestroyer @miguels-aranita @beezusvreeland @raginghomo62 @miguelbaby @thedevax @vera4luv @alialucille

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 months

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AITA for not taking my ADHD meds?

I (m 21) have ADHD. My girlfriend (20) does not. We’ve been dating for just over a year. I don’t like taking my ADHD meds bc 1) they’re expensive, 2) it’s too difficult for me to maintain a regular schedule which makes them basically useless, and mostly, 3) I don’t like how they make me feel. I feel more like myself when I don’t take them.

My girlfriend gets really frustrated/angry at me when I’m off my meds. She says I’m too irresponsible and I forget when we have dates planned, when we have uni assessments due (we both do the same degree), I lose things all the time, things like that. I tell her that’s just part of who I am, and if she cares about me she just needs to deal with that.

She likes to be the boss in most situations, and my friends have said she’s controlling. I’ve given up smoking for her, and I’ve converted to Christianity for her bc she doesn’t believe in sex before marriage (side note: I’m bisexual but she thinks same sex attraction is a sin. We don’t really talk about it but it does bother me a bit). I honestly don’t mind her calling the shots most of the time, and I really care about her so much. I can imagine getting married to her one day (we’d both be happy to get married young, just out of uni). She can come across as super tough and cold when u first meet her, and I think that’s why my friends think she’s controlling, but really she’s just insecure like everyone else and acting tough is how she deals with that. When we’re alone she’s soft and gentle and smiley, and I like that she saves that side of her just for me.

But this is something that really pisses me off that she tries to control. She says I’m not thinking about her and our relationship by not taking my ADHD medication, and it’s damaging our relationship. I tell her she needs to learn how to be more flexible and that this is real me. It’s only damaging our relationship bc she’s making it a problem. Yeah, I fuck up more often when I’m not on my meds, but I’ve already made huge life changes for her, and it doesn’t feel fair, basically. My friends agree with me, but they don’t like my gf, so I’m not exactly taking them at their word.

Am I the asshole??

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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buckybabieboy · 2 years

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So I've read several smut fics about Bucky's first time after 70+ years but never a combination of these:

- touch starved Bucky, him begging the reader to touch him where he needs it the most

- him being iper sensitive, just a simple touch makes him whimper

- cumming a lot, reader can't even manage to suck him or stroke him properly

- still being hard after cumming several times

- he's just a moaning mess who needs attention, his metal hand isn't enough anymore

- his thrusts getting harder and deeper while he loses himself in the feeling, not even able to form a sentence

...could you please write something like this? If the f!reader and Bucky are friends, friends with benefits, in a relationship, how it starts, how it ends... it's up to you.

Wow. Here goes nothin’ BAHAHA.

Starved.

⚠️TW: NSFW, sub!touch-starved!bucky, dom!fem!reader, blowjob(m!receiving,) p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampie, slight overstimulation, cockwarming, Bucky being a touch starved and needy little thing, much more lol just read it

☁️Summary: You make Bucky cum for the first time(s) in over 70+ years. Your touch starved little baby.

📝A/N: Thx for this request babie. I tried my very hardest to include everything in here! P.S: I’ve been a very busy person lately, which meant no time for writing. I’m so very sorry! You guys sending in requests really motivates me though. <3 I even used some of your exact words if you look closely, anon ;)

You and Bucky had a relationship that was indescribable. He was honest and open around you, which was something that nobody else could ever say. Wherever you were, so was he, and you didn’t have a problem with that.

During the time you’ve spent getting to know Bucky, you’ve come to 2 conclusions; James Buchanan Barnes was a broken and damaged man, but that will never mean he’s any less worthy of love. You also noticed a certain desperation in him. The slightest touch would make him go rigid.

You can recall multiple occasions where you’d grab his hand, kiss his head, or simply pull him in for a hug and he’d be all flustered and glossy-eyed. He’d beg you to do those things again. To touch him literally anywhere. It didn’t matter where because to him, any sensation was a good sensation, just as long as it came from you.

Which led you to your second conclusion; Bucky was longing for touch. He was a touch starved, delicate, little thing that just needed to be taken care of. And you had no problem being the one to fulfill his needs.

As of right now, Bucky has made himself comfortable in your arms, eyelids shut and mouth agape as he indulges in your soft, delicate touch. He’s on your lap and facing you, so you notice even the slightest twitches of his beautifully flushed face. Your fingertips slowly scratch at his scalp, and you feel him fall limp in your arms, as if he’d given himself up to you.

“l- I love that, y/n. please don’t stop...” Bucky mumbles.

“when you touch me.. f-feels like m’ floating...” Bucky continues to babble and whimper from your simple movements. He’s literally shaking in your lap, which makes your mind wander into filthy places. You’re still awed about how the simplest touches from you make him go mad.

“yeah? feels good?” You ask quietly in response, and he nods his head yes. You feel subtle, but noticeable movements against the skin of your right thigh. His metal fingers were lightly tapping your thigh, as if he needed something to hold on to, to ground him here on earth so that his now ‘normal’ headspace wouldn’t become a fuzzy and floaty one.

“my sweet boy..” you whisper to him, brushing his hair away from his face and behind his ear. He gives you a weary and desperate look in response, and you give him a soft kiss on the nose as an attempt to calm him down. You began to feel something on your thigh again, but it wasn’t his metal fingers. You look down and see Bucky grinding against your thigh, whimpering and hyperventilating while doing so.

“f-fuck, I c-can’t! need more…” Bucky whimpers, hot tears falling from his baby blue eyes. He was so frustrated that he could never do it for himself, it was humiliating for him. You know he’s tried to cum by himself, but his metal hand just wasn’t enough. Poor little baby just couldn’t get himself there, and he needed you to do it. You wipe his tears with your thumb and begin to shush him. He was stiff in his pants, and the fact that he was wearing his comfy gray sweats didn’t make it any less obvious.

“shh… you’re okay James. What is it that you need, hm?”

Your voice was soft and delicate to his ears, which was something that Bucky appreciated. He was feeling so many things right now, it was all so overstimulating for him, but you’re sweet, sultry voice reminded him that he was okay.

“please do something. anything! it hurts, y/n… make it stop, please…”He whimpered, avoiding your eyes. His cock was leaked and stained his sweats.

His whimpers have gotten even more high pitched as he’s become more desperate for you. You palm him through his sweats which makes him jolt in your lap, practically screaming at the sensation. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already so spent.

“get up, baby. gonna take care of you now.” You whisper to him. He gets off of you and sits on the edge of your shared bed as you get down on your knees in front of him. You take off his shirt and undo the drawstring to his sweats, taking them off along with his boxers. You stare at his body in awe. He was so beautiful, so ethereal. All his scars and bruises were so perfect in your eyes. Even that metal arm of his, the one that he would be insecure about from time to time. Your eyes trail down to his aching cock, loads of precum having spilled out from before.

You get up to kiss him on his adorably pink lips before coming back down to leave a trail of kisses down both his trembling thighs.

“y/n, please! Please touch my cock, I need you there!” Bucky yelps at the feeling of your soft, plush lips kissing his legs. He’s so sensitive and whiny, just needing you to touch him where he needs it most. You hum in response and move up to his twitching cock. You plant a kiss on his tip, causing him to let out a gasp and buck his hips up towards you. You notice how stimulated and sensitive his cock is, which wasn’t very surprising. His cock must be aching from being hard and not releasing for so long.

“you’re so hard, sweet boy...let me know if it’s too much, okay?” You say before taking his red tip into your mouth, sucking on it softly. You make sure to make your movements slow at first, not wanting to overwhelm him. The moment your soft, moist lips wrap around him, you hear him stifle a pathetic whimper. When you’re halfway down his shaft, you begin play with his balls with one of your hands.

“keep goin… please don’t stop!” Bucky cries, both his hands gripping the sheets. You finally take his whole cock in your wet mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you go. Bucky had no idea such ecstasy existed; the feeling of your wet tounge on his sensitive cock was almost driving him mad. You could feel his poor cock pulsating in your mouth, which motivated you to continue your movements. You reach down into your shorts and rub yourself through your soaked panties. You didn’t even notice how wet Bucky’s pathetic sobs and whimpers made you.

“f-fuck, y/n that's so good! feels so, so good! gonna make me c-cum!” Bucky continues to babble and cry, the poor little baby couldn’t even manage to speak one complete sentence. He was literally finding it hard to breathe because of the way you were making him feel. This would be the first time in over 70 years since he’s last had an orgasm, so he could feel every little thing. Every flick of your tounge, the vibrations of your moans, the way your fingers fondled with his balls.

Bucky’s chest rises and falls as he pants heavily, shaking and trembling as he cums in your mouth, his cum painting the back of your throat. He didn’t even notice how much he was cumming until he felt the cold air hit his sensitive cock after you let it out of your mouth. Replacing your mouth with your hand, you start to pump him. Loads of cum continue to spurt out of his cock in long white strings, coating your hand and his spasming thighs.

“y/n...can’t stop..” Bucky whimpers wearily as he thrusts his hips rapidly into your fist.

“awh, can’t stop cumming, sweet boy?” you coo at him, continuing to pump his spasming cock, milking him for all he’s got. His cock and your hand were now painted white with his cum. Once you’ve pumped out the last of his creamy warm liquid, you sit next to him on the bed so you could check on him. He immediately falls into your arms, whimpering and babbling like a little baby.

“need more..wan-wanna be inside you...please? please let me be inside you, i need it!” Bucky cried. Your sweet baby boy was sobbing, visibly frustrated because he still wasn’t satisfied, and you didn’t expect him to be after only one orgasm.

“shh, of course you can, baby. you can have anything you want.” you assure him, understanding how overwhelming this all must be for him. You take his hands in yours and kiss them, and an adorably pathetic whine escapes from him.

His precious eyes glistened, tears falling from them. He was so desperate for you; he’d probably take anything you gave him at this point. You take off your clothes before scooting back on the bed, laying down and spreading your legs for him. You smile at how Bucky just stares at you, eyes wide at the sight of your wet, glistening pussy.

“you can touch me, y’know” Bucky's precious turquoise eyes narrow at your words, as if he wasn't certain this was real, as if none of this was, and he was merely dreaming of this euphoria he was experiencing right now. Before you knew it, he’s scrambling to get above you as he thanks you over and over again.

His flesh fingers glide over your silky skin, traveling from your cheek, down to your neck, before hesitating over your boobs. His cheeks have become flushed, and you giggle softly at how adorable he is. You take his hand in yours and place them on your tender breast, and you watch at how his once flustered and shy expression became a hungry and erotic one. You give him a soft kiss on his plush lips before gently grabbing his aching cock and aligning it with your entrance.

“m’ ready whenever you are, baby” you coo. Bucky nods his head in response, and slowly enters you. He gasps at the sensation and remains motionless inside of you for some time as he tries to get used to the intense and overwhelming sensation of your warmth.

“too much f’you?” You ask him, more than willing to call it quits if he wanted to. Your main focus was to keep him comfortable. You only receive a breathy “nuh uh” in response, and before you knew it, Bucky was pounding into you relentlessly. “Bucky!” You moan blissfully, throwing your head back against your pillow, and wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him even closer.

“f-fuck y/n, s-so warm! feels so good!” Bucky slurs as he continues to jackhammer into you, the feeling of your wet pussy tightening around his cock sending him into overdrive. He buries his head into your neck, whimpering and whining for you.

You bring your hands to his hair, tangling your fingers in his soft brown locks, which is something that Bucky couldn’t get enough of. You were practically screaming at the way he thrusted in and out of you rapidly. Each time he’d thrust back into you, he’d hit that spot inside you that sends you right over the edge.

“Bucky, you’re doing so well, making me feel so good!” you praise him. He rutted into you even harder at your praise. The sounds you were both making were those of a pornographic film, one you would definitely watch.

Bucky was a pathetic, babbling mess for you, tears streaming down his face from how good you feel.

“m-my cock... s-so deep inside you...!” Your sweet boy was so pussy drunk; he couldn’t form a complete sentence. His thrusts only got harder and deeper as he loses himself in your feeling. He sobbed, the thought of filling you with every last drop of his cum making his balls tighten.

“fuckfuckfuck, so close! can I please cum in you? can i? want to cum in you, y/n! I need it!” Bucky pleaded as he continued railing into you balls deep like a savage animal.

“Go on, sweet baby. cum in me, fill me up.” You say between heavy pants. Your back arches, your hips meeting his as you chase your own orgasm. Bucky’s mind went blank as he released his load into you, his cock pulsating extremely fast in your pussy, which in turn makes you cum right after him. He never stopped his thrusts into your now sensitive and fucked out pussy.

“James, too much okay? m’ sensitive..’’ you mumble shakily, trying to recover from that intense orgasm you just had.

“please, y/n.. one more, just feels so good..”

You nod your head, giving him permission to cum a second time. You tried to pay no mind to how overstimulated you are as Bucky begins to fuck you into the bed, chasing his orgasm for the third time today. He gripped your hips and angled you so he could get deeper inside you.

You scrunch your face in discomfort at the almost unbearable sensations you were feeling, but the pain quickly subsided into an undeniable pleasure. Your legs begin to tremble around Bucky’s waist, and you bite your lip to stifle a whimper.

Bucky leaned down to bury his face in your neck again, and you felt hot tears fall onto your skin. He wanted to scream out-- his third orgasm was only seconds away, but he couldn’t manage any words. Only broken and pathetic whimpers came from him, as he railed in and out of you, over and over again, neither of you caring how overstimulated you were. An intense shiver runs down your spine and through your body. You almost couldn’t take it anymore, the feeling of his swollen cock hitting your g-spot making you lose all control,

“fuck Bucky, gonna make me cum again!” You wail. You can feel that he’s close too, his cock twitching madly inside your velvety walls. Bucky lets out the most broken and pathetic cry as he bites your shoulder, making you wince slightly.

“y/n..feels so good, feels so fucking good..” Bucky cries softly in between thrusts. “f-fuck! m’ gonna cum inside you again!”

“go ahead, baby. m’ right behind you..” You whisper as you stare at his beautifully fucked out face, nearing your orgasm as well. His thrusts become sloppier and more desperate as he cries out for you.

You watch Bucky’s eyes roll back as his warm cum fills you up. You follow after him, pussy fluttering around his pulsating shaft. Your liquid drips out your pussy and onto the bed. He thrusts in you balls deep a few more times before falling limp on top of you, cock still buried inside you.

You and Bucky were both too exhausted to move as you lay there panting heavily. Your fingers massage his sweaty scalp, and his breathing begins to even out slowly.

“that was so.. you made me feel so-” Bucky tries to speak, but only manages to make a few words come out. You kiss his head softly, and he sighs contently as you continue to play with his hair.

“you did so well, Jamie...” You praise him before looking at the alarm clock on the nightstand beside you.

“come on, Buck. It’s getting late. let’s clean up, okay?”

Bucky shakes his head no at your words as he buries his face deeper into your neck.

“don’t wanna pull out just yet. you feel so warm..” Bucky mumbles, pulling the covers over the both of you. He was already exhausted from cumming all those times today, and the feeling of your fingers playing with his hair ever so softly made him even more sleepy. Just this once you would make the exception of sleeping on sheets this dirty. If it were anyone else you would have refused immediately.

“okay love, we’ll stay here for a while then.” you coo at him, shifting slightly and relaxing in the position you were in. Bucky lets out the cutest little yawn, and a few moments after, begins to softly snore. You stay there, watching your little baby looking the most peaceful you’ve ever seen him.

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ohthewh0rror · 5 months

Text

I’VE DUG TWO GRAVES FOR US, MY DEAR.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — “Can I request Tom riddle x (fem!) reader angst? Basically, they have been trying for a long time to have children, but haven’t succeeded. So, to have an heir, Tom gets Bellatrix pregnant and obviously hasn’t told reader. Reader finds out shes pregnant and goes to tell Tom and show him the pregnancy test, but right outside his study she hears him ask Bellatrix „how is my heir doing? Is my child healthy?“ and reader drops the test in front of his study, where Tom finds it later, and leaves.”

Part 2

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 3.6K

A/N: “but baaaabe, she doesn’t even mean anything to me” and for him he MEANS it, that’s the worst part. Oh god I’m going to be sick. I headcanon him as loyal and now he’s out here embarrassing me. Anyway, thank you to my best friend Madie for helping me choose the right ending for this and for proof-reading for me. To the requester: I didn’t take the suicide route bc that’s a very sensitive topic that I have personal ties to. But yeah, if anyone wants it I’m 100% down to write a part 2 to this.🖤🖤

You felt wrong.

Well, not exactly you, just something felt wrong. You felt on edge, tense, like you were just waiting for the galleon to drop. There was no explanation for the way you were feeling, at least not one you could think of. But you couldn’t help but feel on edge, your mind racing as you resisted the urge to continuously look over your shoulder throughout the day.

You had hoped that the feeling would be gone by the end of the day, but as you sat with Tom having dinner the feeling was still there. You wanted to hide it from him, but you just knew he could see the slight shake of your hand as you poked mindlessly with your fork at the food in front of you. Though, either out of courtesy to you or him just not wanting to deal with it at the moment, he didn’t ask.

No, it wouldn’t be until the two of you had gotten into bed for the night that he would.

As you settled into bed, you felt Tom’s arm wrap around your waist, pulling you close. While you would normally welcome this, as it was rare that Tom would hold you in such a way, the unusual action added to your sense of unease. You felt his lips press a kiss just behind your ear before he asked, “there’s something bothering you, what is it?”

You didn’t know how to tell him, or if you even wanted to tell him. You didn’t want Tom to think negatively of you, to think you were officially losing it, but a part of you knew Tom wasn’t going to drop it. What Tom wanted, Tom got, one way or another. So, reluctantly, you told him.

“I’m not sure, I just don’t feel right, not in a sick way but—,” you paused, mentally kicking yourself for admitting it out loud, “I feel as if something bad is about to happen, something very bad.” Tom said nothing, but you could feel his hold on you tighten just a fraction. There was a few seconds of silence before Tom finally spoke again, “I see, I’m sure you are alright, you probably just need to rest.”

You know this was his way of comforting you, but it did nothing to help how you felt. You tried taking his words to heart though, and forced yourself to relax, attempting to get some sleep.

6:23 am.

You stared at the ticking hands of the clock on the wall, watching them dutifully count the time, hoping the dullness of it all would help you fall back asleep. It did nothing to help you, though, and instead just aided in helping your mind wander. You went through every possibility, until you were left with two options.

Tom was up to something… or you were pregnant. You didn’t want to think of the first option, it was a thought that left you upset even considering, but he had been distant for the past 4 months. He did not treat you any different, but he seemed… distracted. Where he once did not mind if you opened his letters for him, he now tightly guarded them. You tried asking him why, but he said it was to protect you if things went bad. He attempted to explain your worries away, saying he did not want you implicated in anything he was up to.

Not to mention he was out the house more— Death Eater business, he tells you. Always that. It almost made you angry how much time he spent working towards his grand scheme when all you wanted was just some of his time. At first you tried to push back on it, but soon realized it did nothing to sway him. Tom did what he wanted, regardless of the feelings of others.

Despite all this you refuse to accept Tom may be up to something behind your back. He was your husband, and he loved you, even if he did not express it often. So that left you with one conclusion: you’re pregnant.

It was a possibility that had been hanging in the back of your mind, but not one you wanted to genuinely entertain. After years of trying and it being false alarms have left you with nothing but negative feelings towards the process of finding out. You did not want to get your hopes up once again, as each negative was becoming more and more unbearable.

You couldn’t just rule it out without taking a test though, so you had no choice but to do so. Not wanting to go to a healer and have them check on you magically, you decided to instead go about it the muggle way. You had heard during your younger years, while at Hogwarts, that muggle women had measures of finding out on their own in the comfort of their own bathroom. So that’s what you set off to do, after getting dressed of course.

Entering muggle London, it was hard not to stick out. While you tried to dress as casual as you possibly could, you knew there was still something off about how you dressed. No one seemed to mind though, letting you walk through the busy streets without much more than a double take. It didn’t take long for you to find what looked like a small store, you hoped to Merlin that they had what you needed.

As you walked around the small shop, you realized what you were doing was beyond ridiculous. You were truly out of your league as you browsed the aisles looking for what you needed. You were beginning to get frustrated when you heard a feminine voice from the left, “excuse me, miss, can I help you find something?”

You paused, stopping midstep, turning your head to look at who was speaking to you.

The girl, who couldn’t have been any older than 19, seemed to be a shop attendant. She had on what you could only guess was typical muggle attire, and a vest with the name of the shop on it. You nodded, “yes, I need the test that will tell me if I’m pregnant or not.”

The shop girl gave you a look, and you began to worry more that you were sticking out far too much. “You mean a pregnancy test?” She asked. “Yes, that,” you replied, hoping she would just show you where it was and stop talking to you. Thankfully she seemed to have read your mind, gesturing you to follow her. She took you to the aisle furthest back in the store, pointing out the shelf that was filled with a dozen different options. You thanked her, and she left you alone with all the different tests.

Looking over them all you picked the one you thought would be best, but as you held the test you had a revelation, ‘I have no muggle money’. You froze, now weighing your options. You could leave and convert the money, coming back at a later time, or you could just…take it. Leaving was the morally correct choice, but just taking it was the more tempting one as it would save you the trouble of explaining to Tom why you needed muggle money if word got back to him.

So, looking around and making sure no eyes were on you, you silently cast a spell, hiding the box from any prying eyes. As you walked out the store you couldn’t believe what you had done. Stealing? From a muggle establishment? How scandalous! As you walked down the street you shook your head, banishing the thought from your mind. You didn’t have time to worry about the ethics of stealing from muggles. You needed to know if you were pregnant.

Thankfully, it was a little easier to find a place to use the restroom. You sat on the toilet, reading the box, and the instructions seemed easy enough. You followed them exactly before capping the test, holding it in a way where the results faced away from you. You didn’t want to see the results, too scared of it being negative once again. After what you considered an appropriate amount of time, you flipped the test over.

Positive.

‘It’s wrong, it has to be,’ you thought to yourself as you eyed the muggle pregnancy test. The test was wrong, it’s a defective muggle device. You’d make an appointment with the healer as soon as possible until you could confirm it for sure and you’d keep it a secret from Tom until then. You didn’t want to tell him, only for it to be a false positive and get his hopes up fruitlessly.

So, you wrapped the test tightly and tossed it in the bin. Washing your hands, you made your way out of the muggle establishment, and to an empty corner before apparating to the edge of yours and Tom’s property. You stood there for a moment, taking in the site of your shared home, wishing you had some calming draught on hand.

You knew as soon as Tom saw you he’d know something was wrong. Tom had always said you weren’t a very good liar, and you knew with the state you were in right now that if he tried to pry your secret would come tumbling out before you had the chance to stop it.

You couldn’t stand out here all day though, the November air was more than chilly, and you were going to freeze if you didn’t go in soon. You took a steadying breath and walked forward with your head held high, taking your time to get to the doors, attempting to look casual. You were halfway up the set of stone stairs leading up to the front doors, when they began to open. For a split second you felt yourself panic on the inside, thinking maybe it was Tom who came to greet you, until your house elf Poppy came into view.

“Welcome back, madam,” the little elf said, ushering you in.

“Hello, Poppy,” you said. You had never been happier to see a house elf in your life. As Poppy shut the doors behind you, and she ushered you to the dining room, she informed you that Tom had already left for the day, leaving you to have breakfast alone. Normally that would have left you disappointed, you and Tom made sure to always eat breakfast and dinner together, and this would be the first time in a long time that you ate alone. But, after the morning you had, you relished in the absence of conversation.

“Poppy, please make an appointment for me with a healer,” you asked, sitting down at the dining table. Poppy nodded wordlessly before leaving you to go make the appointment.

It was a week later that you found yourself sitting in a sterile room, awaiting the results. You wanted so desperately for it to be true. You’d never recover if you found out the test had lied. Tom still didn’t know about the possibility of your pregnancy, but then again, it wasn’t hard to hide it from him with how busy he’d been this past week. And seeing as your mind was preoccupied, you hadn’t pushed on what had him so busy.

Just as your mind began to drift from boy names, to more feminine names, the door to your right clicked open. The healer gave you a bright smile, greeting you. The forced politeness left a bad taste in your mouth as you just wished for the results so you could get home. You gave a tight-lipped smile back, and a similar greeting. The healer stopped in front of you, flipping one of the papers up, quickly reading its contents before looking at you once again.

“Well, Mrs. Riddle, it seems you certainly are pregnant!” He congratulates you, before explaining how far along you seem to be and that he needs you back in a month. You’re still in a daze when he hands you the paperwork, telling you your diagnosis and other information regarding your pregnancy. It feels too good to be true, and you’re not sure if you should laugh, cry, or do both as you leave the office.

You’re pregnant. You’re actually pregnant. You walk down a secluded alley, casting the muffliato charm as you buried your head in your hard, a soft cry erupting from you. You both had tried so hard for so long and it’s finally happening, you are finally having the child you both wanted. You let yourself cry from the overwhelming feeling of happiness for a moment longer before collecting yourself. You needed to tell Tom, you knew this was just the news he needed.

Tom was working from home today, something you had never been so happy about before today. It made the process of talking to him much easier than if he left to Merlin-knows-where to do what he needed. But, as you walked up those stairs to the hallway that his office was down you felt your heart plummet.

Tom was here, but so was another woman.

You quieted your steps, hoping to figure out who the woman was and what they were talking about. It was difficult as the door was mostly shut and they were talking in hushed tones. But, as you stepped off the stairs and into the hallway you recognized the voice of the woman immediately.

Bellatrix Lestrange.

A woman that you held more than just disdain for. She is the only female Death Eater Tom has recruited, and not only that, she was his second in command. While Tom didn’t see any of his Death Eaters as true equals, even you knew he seemed to favor her over the rest of them. Bellatrix seemed to revel in this fact, and despite being married herself, her loyalty seemed to lay more with your husband than her own. She did whatever Tom asked, no matter what it may be, without even a hint of resistance. You truly believe if Tom asked her to kill herself, she would do it without hesitation.

As you walked closer to the door they seemed to have stopped talking, but before you could knock and let yourself be known, you heard something that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

“You had a check-up last week, did you not? How is my heir?” Tom sounded casual, as if he was asking Bellatrix about the weather. His heir? His heir? Your mind was sent reeling as you began to hyperventilate. You quietly backed away from the door, walking as silently but also as quickly as you could away. But, as you turned to leave you nearly tripped over your own two feet, the papers you were holding falling to the ground. In your distress you left them, not being bothered to pick them up, as you caught yourself and hurried down the hallway intent on putting space between yourself and the cracked office door.

You found yourself in a guest room on the other side of the house, away from Tom and Bellatrix, away from the source of your heartbreak. You sit on the edge of the bed, and cast the muffliato charm for the second time today. After you cast the spell, you finally let yourself feel completely. Your heart shatters into tiny crystallized bits, the shards of it dig into every crevice of your sternum, leaving you clutching at your chest as it pierces your lungs and esophagus. Your chest and throat have an indescribable ache as a piercing wail leaves you, the pain of his betrayal leaving you feeling something beyond devastation.

The knowledge that he cheated on you was painful enough, but the fact that it was Bellatrix made it all the more painful. He knew how you felt toward their dynamic and his trust in her. It was as if he chose her on purpose, to tell her that Bellatrix is a more suitable partner for him.

How Bellatrix was everything she wasn’t: unwaveringly devoted to him, believed in his pureblood ideology, and stood by him on it. Bellatrix could also give him children, and she couldn’t.

Or so he thought. He didn’t know she was pregnant yet. Maybe that was for the best, you considered, as you sat in that empty room, fingers wringing together painfully as you tried to calm yourself. As you attempted to gather yourself, knocking on the door began to reverberate throughout the room, causing a panic inside you. You cleared your throat, and took in a breath, hoping to gather yourself before addressing who was on the other side. Lifting your wand you released the muffling charm, “come in.”

Your voice still wobbled as the words left you, leaving you mentally kicking yourself. The door opened, revealing Tom, on the other side. As he took in the sight of you, sniffling and teary-eyed, he walked in completely, softly shutting the door behind him. Looking at him sent a surge of anguish through you, a new wave of tears gathering in your eyes. The vision of Tom doubled as your lips began to wobble as you held back your tears. You were unable to see the look on Tom’s face as you looked away, trying to calm yourself once again, so you weren’t quite sure what he was thinking.

Getting on one knee before you, Tom placed his left hand on your knee as his right reached up, wiping at your tear streaked face. You let out a shuddering breath, finally looking at him. Tom’s face was the most expressive you’d ever seen it, if you hadn’t been in such a miserable state you would have taken a moment to admire it.

There was a look of genuine worry on his face as the both of you looked at each other. The silence was suffocating, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to be the one to break it. There was nothing you wanted to say to him, you could hardly bear to look at him, much less talk to him.

“Why are you upset, darling? This is wonderful news” Tom sounded sympathetic in his attempt to comfort you. You let out a laugh in disbelief, you could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. “Wonderful news? In what world is this ‘wonderful news’?” You were close to yelling by the time you finished talking, feeling your sadness morph into something far uglier: anger. Tom at least had the decency to look taken aback, seeming to not expect the response he received.

Tom’s eyes searched yours for a moment before his expression became guarded, he gave your hand a squeeze before standing up, “it seems we are talking about two different things.”

You said nothing, there was nothing you could say that he hadn’t just deduced for himself, and it seemed he knew that too as he continued speaking.

“Y/N, you have to understand, I needed to ensure I had an heir and we hadn’t been successful in getting you pregnant,” Tom tried to explain. You’re sure in his head that this was logical, just the rational choice to get around your fertility issues. But to you, this was anything but the best next step. There was no reasoning good enough to make this okay; it will never be okay. This is a wound that may scar over, but will always ache when brushed against.

“You had an affair with a woman who I already voiced my concern about, without even consulting me on your decision, and expect me to understand?” You asked, incredulously. Tom, though looking mildly annoyed, still had the decency to also seem a touch guilty. “I didn’t step out of our marriage for pleasure or some sort of validation, you've always been the only one for me, it was merely to—” you decide to cut him off. “Produce an heir,” was all you said, finishing his sentence for him.

A heavy silence hung in the air, what you said leaving a palpable bitterness in the air. Tom still had the same touch of guilt in his eyes, but it wasn't enough. The guilt wasn’t strong enough to let him take full accountability for how wrong he was. Tom reached out, his hands cupping the back of your neck as his thumbs grazed your jawline, forcing you to look at him.

“It will be okay, I made a mistake by not telling you my plans, I apologize,” Tom may have sounded sincere, but it wasn’t good enough. Nothing will ever make up for what he has done to not only your relationship, but also to your trust in him. You reached up, and gently removed his hands from your face before standing up yourself, forcing him to take a few steps back.

“No, it’s not going to be okay; it will never be ‘okay’. You didn’t just make a mistake, you ruined our marriage, and for that, Tom, I hate you.”

And you left.

Leaving your husband to stand in that spare room, alone, with only his thoughts to keep him company.

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #if this flops I’ll cry

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bimbobaggins69 · 1 year

Note

I’ve had this thing in the back of my head for awhile about Phone Sex Operator!Eddie and the reader going through a dry spell so she calls to get out her frustration OR the other way around and Eddie constantly calls because he’s obsessed with her voice, and most of the time he just wants to hear her voice so he’ll spend his time just talking to her

dial-a-thrill

Phone sex operator!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: you and your ex broke up more than five months ago and you’ve refused to start dating again, even the thought of a one night stand puts a bad taste in your mouth but on a lonely night something you thought you’d never be desperate enough to do, becomes as tempting as ever.

⚠️warnings: eventual smut, 18+ mdni, phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation, sweet eddie, talk of sexual acts, lots of pet names (baby, sweet thing etc) readers been deprived, one little mention of readers ex being a cheater, they fall fast.

notes: thank you so much to whoever requested this. I’m obsessed with this prompt. Yes, there will be a part 2. (don’t forget to tip your writers with a comment and reblog)

wc: 3k

You’re not sure what lead you to this point, what has you so desperate to stoop to a new low. But you’re willing to bet it’s the fact that you’ve not been touched in several months. After you ended things with your cheating, lying, sorry excuse of an ex boyfriend Troy, the thought of moving on and putting yourself back out there in the dating world just didn’t seem appealing to you in the slightest. You decided after the break up to throw yourself into work, so you didn’t have to deal with the hollowed out feelings of loneliness that had taken over.

Up until now, you thought you’d be completely fine, you thought you would make single life your bitch by doing just that, staying single. What’s the point of moving on when you’re just bound to get hurt? You couldn’t risk feeling that pain, again.

So instead of being a normal person and going out to a bar or club to find someone to offer you the release you’ve been craving, you’re dialing a number you got off the the tube as you watched some late night tv. The commercial alone had you hot and bothered, the men they used for the ad reeled you in so easily, but the sultry sound of the man’s voice that read off the number, beckoning you to call and talk to “hot local men” had you shamelessly clenching your thighs together. Has it really been so long, that you’re this desperate? The answer is yes, absolutely.

So here you are laid in bed, silky pajamas adorning your curves, as you wrap the red cord of the landline around your manicured fingers. Awaiting a voice on the other end, as the phone continues to ring. You debate hanging up, this was embarrassing, surely the man that picks up will know what a desperate loser you are, so desperate you have to call a phone sex operator to help you get off. But your curiosity out weighed your pride at this point.

“Hello, thank you for calling dial-a-thrill, what’s your name?” The low husky voice greeted, knocking you right out of the back and forth thoughts playing ping pong in your mind.

“Hi, hello.” You replied, as all confidence left your body “m-my names, y/n.” You closed your eyes in shame, rubbing your hand down the side of your face, it’s been so long that you can’t even speak to the opposite gender without fumbling over your words, or it could be the insanely attractive voice of the man on the phone, that is making you lose all resolve.

“Nice to meet you y/n, my names Eddie. How are you this evening?” He mused, you could hear the hints of a smirk said through his words.

“I’m doing okay, how’s yours?” And you definitely sucked at small talk.

“Can’t complain now that I’m talking to you.” He flirted, you know he probably says that to everyone who calls in, but you couldn’t help the blooming heat of your cheeks at his admission.

You giggle like a little school girl, “well same here, Eddie.” You try out the same salacious tone he’s using, but end up cringing at yourself.

“What can I help you with tonight, sweetheart?” Your panties are ruined, you mind as well take them off now because if he keeps up with this you’ll be drenched. “Hmm, I don’t know, I just wanted to talk.” You responded, immediately realizing how desperate that sounds, you should’ve just hung up when you had the chance.

“Just to talk? Are you sure about that?” He laughs a little before continuing. “I mean, we can talk, don't get me wrong but people don’t usually call just to talk.” Yup, you were right, you are humiliated.

“Yeah, I’m sure they don’t, but um I’ve just I don’t know maybe this was a dumb idea, I’m sorry.” You almost slam the phone down back onto the receiver before you hear his voice again, “no, no, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad or weird just because you want to talk. I don’t mind talking, sweet thing, I’m just not used to it, that's all.”

You bite your lip, mentally battling with yourself whether you want to continue, his voice once again knocks you out of your inner turmoil, “hello? Sweetheart?” — “mmm, yeah I’m here, sorry!” You say after clearing your throat. “Well what would you like to talk about? we can talk for as long as you'd like, but just to remind you, it is 5 dollars per hour.”

“Right, yeah I remember,” you clarified as you lay back into your pillows, getting more comfortable. “So, how do these calls usually go for you?” Probing purely out of curiosity, a little part of you wanting to know how this phone call could possibly go.

“Well, that depends on you, sweet thing.” He chuckles, “but, usually it’s women wanting me to help them get off.” He sighs, as if he’s deep in a memory, “mm, I see, so what do you usually say t-to help them?” You were aware Eddie could practically feel your nervous energy through the phone, “hey, baby. I can tell you’re nervous, I'm sure this is your first time doing this, but I promise you I'm not here to judge you, I don’t bite okay?” His voice going from an almost low growl to that of a tone with genuine compassion, it put you at ease and made you feel ten times more comfortable with the whole situation.

“Thank you, I needed that.” You lightly chuckle, “so, do you also touch yourself? Or, I mean I’m sure you get so many calls, sometimes you have to fake it.” You continue prodding until the conversation slowly goes in the right direction, in due time. He hums before he begins speaking, “I’ll be honest, I fake it about 80% of the time, after doing this so long you kind of get immune to the dirty talk and the moans.” You weren’t sure if you wanted that honesty, you definitely don’t want him to fake it with you.

After a beat of silence from you, as if he’s telepathically reading your mind through the phone he lets out a held breath softly distorting the sound on his side. “Shit, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said that, I’m trying to make you comfortable and now you’re probably going to be worried about whether what I’m doing or saying is real.” He huffs. “No, I mean yeah that was my first thought but I guess I asked so you’d answer honestly. You’re right, I’ve never done anything like this before and I’m just curious on how it all works.” You begin playing with the buttons on your silky top out of nervousness.

“That’s alright, I’ve never had anyone call in curious about any of this, so it’s a nice change. You just tell me what you’re comfortable with and I’ll follow along. How does that sound, baby?” His tone pulls you in like a siren's song. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

You bite your lip, and begin rubbing at your pert nipple as you continue to speak. “Eddie?” Your voice sounded so soft, you almost didn’t recognize it. “Yes, sweetheart?” His voice, just as soft, answered. “Can you not pretend with me, please?” You sounded so delicate, so sweet. “I wasn’t planning on it, y/n.” His voice was wrapped in honey. ‘I wish I knew him outside of this’ pops into your head, but you quickly shake that thought away.

“Your voice is really sexy.” The burst of confidence makes your heart rate pick up. “Oh yeah?” His tone now cocky, you couldn’t help the movement of your right hand making its way into your little sleep shorts. “Mmhm, it is.” The words come out breathy. “Well thank you, sweet girl.” He says. “Mmm.” Is all you let out as you begin to rub your clit over your cotton panties, you can feel the very prominent wet spot in the center. “What are you doing, baby?” The seductive voice on the other end asks. “I have my hand in my shorts, I-I’m rubbing myself.” You say shyly.

Eddie’s eating it up on the other side, your innocence for what you’re engaging in, is really turning him on, he hasn’t been this aroused by a caller in what seems like forever. “How bout you take your little shorts off? Get comfortable.” He suggests, you oblige by lifting your hips and pulling your panties and shorts down in one go, dropping them off the side of your bed. “Okay, they’re off.” The last thing you wanted from this call was to feel desperate, yet here you are completely and utterly desperate for this man, who you didn’t even know. “Good girl,” his tone getting even more salacious, “open your legs up wide for me, baby.” You couldn’t hold back the moan that bubbled out of your chest at his words, you’d never been talked to like this, it was sending you into an orbit and you began to wonder if he was really local to your area like the commercial said, what you would do to meet him in real life and have all these words whispered into your ear as he pounded into your pussy.

“You like that, baby? You wanna be my good girl?” As those words left his mouth, you began to sink a finger into your drenched hole. “Fuck yes, I wanna be your good girl, please?” You beg as your lower lip slightly puckers. “Listen to you baby, you’re a natural.” He says with a chuckle, “such pretty little noises. You’re makin’ my dick hard, sweet thing.” He growls, “mmm, am I really?” You’re continuing the assault on your pussy, pushing your finger all the way in to the second knuckle, but you need more so you add another. “I told you baby, I’m not faking it with you, you make the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard, fuck!” He groans, you hear shuffling going on in the background. After adding the second finger you’re now letting out little sounds of “uh, uh” and “ah”. You can hear slick, wet sounds coming from him, “If I was there with you right now, what would you want me to do to you, baby?” He sounds breathless. “I would have your fingers inside of me, instead of mine. They’re too small.” You whine with a pout. “I would love to finger fuck you, baby.” He groans, “would you let me eat your pussy?” He sounds so needy, needy for you and it’s turning you on even more, if that’s possible. “I’ve never had anyone do that before.” You timidly say, “no? Well fuck now I wanna be the first guy to eat your pussy, make you feel so fucking good! I’d make you forget what your name was, after I’m done.” His breathing continues to pick up.

“Oh you’re cocky.” You giggle but it’s cut off by a guttural moan you let out after you take the wetness from your hole and begin rubbing your clit. “Fuck,” he moans before continuing. “I have a good reason to be.” He says with a heavy sigh. “Really? Why is that?” Your ministrations have picked up as the knot in your belly begins to tighten, “if you saw my dick in person you’d understand.” He chuckles, “describe it to me, Eddie.” You know the description is going to be what sends you over the edge. “It’s about 8 inches, cut and thick.” Your legs start shaking as you tense up your body, “keep going, omg please keep going.” You squeak. He laughs before he continues, “It’s so fucking hard right now, the tip is so red and I’m already leaking precum, baby.” The picture in your head is so vivid, god what you would do to be able to suck it, or bounce on it. “Eddie, fuck! It sounds so pretty.” The knot is wrapped so tight and your body is unbelievably tense. “Spit on it for me, baby and pretend it’s me on my knees, sucking your cock.” You were full of confidence now that you were on the verge of an earth shattering orgasm, “fuck, I’m the one suppose to be talking to you like that, but holy shit sweet thing, you’re about to make me cum. Are you close?” You debate on lying and edging yourself, you don’t want this phone call to end, but you can’t you’re already there and fuck does it feel amazing. “I’m cumming! Oh my god Eddie, I’m cumming!” You’ve never been a loud person in bed but you’ve also never been this turned on. If that says anything about your ex, then maybe you should be more appreciative that it ended.

“Fuck, I’m cumming too, baby!” You hear the slick noises get faster as Eddie’s moans get louder, as the crescendo of his orgasm crashes over him and now all you hear is the loud breathing of you both, coming down from your highs. “You still there?” He asks, after inhaling and exhaling a particularly deep breath. “Yeah, I’m still here.” You didn’t want this call to get awkward, you should probably just thank him for his time and hang up. “Do you wanna keep talking or are you good for the night?” His cocky laugh makes you playfully roll your eyes. “Well maybe I can call again, sometime?” You get up and slip your panties and shorts back onto your lower half. “Yeah baby, you can call whenever you like.” You can hear his smile, even though you can’t see it, but god you wish you could see it. “So if I were to call, say tomorrow same time, would you answer?” You ask nervously, “Well, I’m not supposed to do this and I never have, but I do have an extension number you can reach me on after dialing this one, if the line is busy then just hang up and try again until I answer, does that work?” You nod before remembering he can’t see you, “y-yeah, that works. What is it?” You dig in your side drawer pulling out an old receipt and pen, “it’s extension #045.” You scribble it down before throwing the pen back in the drawer, “okay, sounds good. You have a goodnight Eddie.” There was a giddiness to your tone, you hoped he didn’t pick up on. “Goodnight, baby. I’ll talk to you later?” He questioned, “yes, talk to you later.” You hang up and stand from your bed walking over to your mirror, sticking the number on one of the open spaces between the mirror and the wood encasing it.

You didn’t call Eddie until four days later, you were swamped with work and when you’d get home you were absolutely exhausted, you also didn’t wanna seem too eager so you were grateful work took up some of your time. But today was your day off and your plan was to stay home and talk to Eddie, maybe it’s stupid to spend your time talking to a phone sex operator but you can’t deny, he made you feel things you never have before.

When the clock hit 7:30pm you punched the number and the extension into the phone, to your disappointment it was busy, so you hung up and decided to occupy yourself for a little bit. After about 20 minutes you called back, Eddie almost immediately answered.

“Hello, thank you for calling dial-a-thrill, what’s your name?” You smile at the sound of his voice.

“Eddie, it’s y/n.” You were afraid the next time you called you’d feel as nervous as the last time, but luckily you had some sort of confidence this time round.

“Fuck, thank god! I had some real weirdos today.” He snorts “I haven’t heard from you, thought you wouldn’t end up calling back.” You could hear the disappointment in his voice. Wow, did he actually want to talk to you? A part of you thought he wouldn’t even remember you the next time you called, but here he is basically telling you he waited for your call, he thought about you. The thought made your cheeks rosy and made a warmth descend over your body.

“I’m sorry, I was really busy with work, and honestly way too exhausted, but luckily I didn’t have to go in today, so..” you trail off before he interrupts. “You don’t have to be sorry, baby. Guess I was just excited to hear from you.” Your eyes slightly widen at his words, excited to hear from me? You silently asked yourself. “Yeah, right. How many women call in and hear that?” You cackled at your words, but Eddie stayed silent. “I actually don’t tell anyone that, just like I’ve never given out my direct extension.” He takes a deep breath, “look, I’m sure you have your thoughts about me considering what my job is, but when I speak to other women it’s about sex and that’s it, for me and them. They don’t care if they’re talking to me or some other guy, I-I know this is weird, given this is our second time talking on the phone, but I really felt this connection with you I’ve never felt, talking to anyone else.” Your stomach fills with butterflies, you knew you felt something, you just didn’t expect him to feel it too. You couldn’t help but do a little giddy dance at his words, you felt like you were dreaming. You’ve been pining over this man for days, unable to get him out of your mind and you don’t even know what he looks like, you only have his voice and personality to go based on and somehow that makes the connection feel deeper. “Hey, um are you really local to Indianapolis?” You sheepishly ask. “I actually live in Hawkins, so kind of.” He says, but his next words catch you totally off guard, “would you like to maybe meet up sometime?”

Thank you for reading!

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson series #fic rec

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foli-vora · 1 year

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without you

matt murdock x f!reader

A/N: made myself hurt with this one tbh. I'll think about a part 2 if enough are interested, but I'll warn you - it won't be a happy ending lmao. Enjoy the angst-fest loves! x

Summary: You return after the 'blip'. Five years is a long time, and a lot of things can happen in that time.

Word count: 2.1kish

Warnings: ANGST. ANGST ANGST ANGST. i got sad af writing this. i don't even know what to put in the warnings. the events of infinity war & endgame, brief mention of the avengers, severe and utter fucking heartbreak, i would lose my fucking mind coming home after an apparent 5 years and finding the love of my life *******, lots of anxiety/panic, severe panic attack, passing out. no hate to karen here - she's a fucking babe.

It happens within a blink.

One moment there’s no one, and the next, an older woman is suddenly standing in your way and you can’t help the brief twitch of annoyance that she’s there. You have a meeting, you have groceries to get… you can’t just play chicken with a stranger on the pavement all afternoon.

She freezes, like many others you notice, and your frown deepens, confusion starting to take over the irritation. They all look at you, but not just you.

Time seemingly comes to a momentary freeze and you just don’t understand. Why is she looking at you like that?

The next minute—panic.

There’s a rush.

People scramble for their phones, they run. Cars swerve and there’s chaos. There are people crying, people start screaming, but there’s also awe, laughter. People embrace strangers. You know they’re strangers by the way they look around in complete bewilderment in the arms of the other, seemingly just as confused as you.

Five years.

Why do you keep hearing ‘five years’? Why are shop fronts different? What the hell has happened?

“You’re… you’re all back,” the woman utters, tears starting to build along her lash line.

Back?

You feel it in the pit of your stomach, a sick feeling of dread slowly building until it feels like it sticks uncomfortably in your throat. Something happened. You don’t know what, you don’t know how, all you know is that you need to go home immediately.

It’s halfway back to the apartment, after passing things that weren’t there previously, shops that you had passed just hours before now different, and your phone simply refusing to connect for unknown reasons, that you break into a panicked run.

You want home, you want somewhere familiar.

Matt left for work the same time as you—would the new mayhem taking over the streets bring him home to you? Maybe he’d already be waiting, sensing the frenzy before you?

The view of your building is a welcome relief, and you slow as you reach the door, heart pounding in your chest as you take the stairs as quickly as possible. The apartment is unlocked, and you berate yourself for forgetting to lock up earlier, but Matt’s cane resting by the door turns your inward irritation to understanding.

He’s home. He got here before you. He must be waiting, maybe he’d have answers—

“Matty?” you call, “do you have any idea what’s—”

A clatter, a sweep of air, and then he’s on you.

He’s curled around you before you can even finish, his arms so tight and constricting you struggle to take in a full breath. He’s talking, muttering incoherent words into the skin of your throat and all you can do is stand there, mind whirling in a maddening rush, not even able to lift your arms to return his embrace due to his restrictive hold.

“You’re here,” he breathes, almost disbelieving, “you’re here. I didn’t want to have hope but—God, I—”

“Matt, I’m so confused,” you breathe, unsure of why tears are starting to gloss your eyes or why your heart suddenly feels like it’s beating in the back of your throat, “what’s going on? It’s crazy out there, I don’t know wh—”

“I know. I know, sweetheart. I’ve missed you. God, I’ve missed you. It’s been so long, I didn’t think I’d ever—” he trails off, unable to finish his sentence and a few more panicked kisses press into the side of your throat.

He’s crying.

You feel the wetness of his tears smear over your skin and it’s enough to bring your own falling heavily from your eyes. What is he talking about? You saw him this morning, only mere hours ago. You made breakfast, you kissed him goodbye like every other day, nothing had been different.

“Matt,” you whimper, “what the hell is going on?”

—

Five years. You were gone for five years. Just one day—poof. Out of existence, never to be seen again. The city had been clouded by dust, remnants of those also taken disappearing with the autumn breeze. So many people just lost. You don’t remember any of it.

There was no pain, no suffering. You had no recollection of the time lost at all, and yet for Matt it had been years.

Years since he had touched you, kissed you, felt you. He tells you that he looked for you for weeks, months. Even went to the damn Avengers—or what was left of them—and found out what had happened. He’d been distraught, falling into a deep, dark pit of despair and heartbreak from the sudden loss of you.

You cry for him, for the time you’d lost together.

Nothing could ever make up for it. Sure, you’re here now, but could you ever truly make up for the loss of time? What had he gone through during your absence?

The two of you don’t part for what feels like hours.

Matt clings to you, inhaling you deeply and kissing whatever inch of skin he could reach. He doesn’t pull away to answer your questions, instead letting the low rumble of his voice melt through the fabric of your shirt and flooding warmth along your shoulder.

His hands still roam over you, almost as if they’re retracing your dips and curves to remind himself of how you felt when you disappeared five years ago. You catch his fingers with a sweet flutter in your chest, lifting his hand to press a tender kiss to the back of it when the smooth feel of metal catches your attention.

It’s a simple gold band, fit snug around the fourth finger of his left hand and you rub your finger over the shiny surface of it in curiosity. He wasn't wearing a ring this morning...

A ring.

A wedding ring.

You feel sick.

He senses the moment you realise it, picking up on the sudden quicken of your heartbeat and the clammy sting of sweat that builds along the back of your neck.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as you stare at the smooth gold band in shock, feeling as if the room had suddenly gotten ten times smaller. He starts to shift, his fingers quickly flipping to wrap around your wrists to keep you from moving away.

“Let me explain—”

“You… are—are you married?”

“Sweetheart, please—”

You hurriedly stand, wrenching your hands from his and stumbling on your quick step back as he advances after you. He’s married? How can he be married?

Maybe he’s not. Maybe he just slid the ring you both picked out onto his finger when you disappeared in an effort to keep your memory fresh… but with the shine of guilt starting to seep into his features, you fear it’s not as sentimental as you hope.

Panic consumes you. Your eyes flitter around the room, your ears filling with a dull ring that drowns out whatever words fall from his lips as he cautiously steps after you.

It’s your apartment, but it’s… it’s not.

You start to notice the little things you had missed upon coming home so quickly. That throw over the back of the couch isn’t yours. The coffee mug next to Matt’s on the kitchen counter isn’t yours. Your trinkets aren’t lingering on the shelves where you’d placed them. Your shoes aren’t thrown by the door. Your photo with Matt isn’t in its usual spot on the wall.

Instead, another picture hangs there.

Bile burns the back of your throat. Your heart thunders away in your ears. You know what it is, you can see the general feel of it and who stands within the frame through blurry eyes, but you simply can’t accept it.

It’s morbid curiosity that makes you take those few steps towards it, a part of you screaming to not look, to turn away before it really hammers that final nail into the coffin and fucking destroys you. Maybe your mind needs to truly see it in order to make sense of it… but no. It only makes you more confused, more distressed.

What the fuck?

Oxygen is impossible. You can’t fucking breathe. You can’t—

“Sweetheart—”

It’s a wedding photo.

Matt’s wedding photo.

Matt and Karen’s wedding photo.

“Oh my god,” you whimper brokenly, clutching a hand to your chest in an effort to keep yourself together. You press where you feel the rapid beat of your heart, half wondering if you’d be able to feel the break of the frantic organ under your palm.

The room starts to spin.

This morning you’d woken up with an apartment and a fiancé, and now, only a few hours later, you have nothing. How can you have nothing? The apartment is home to you—you left your pyjamas on the floor of the bathroom this morning. You had your coffee at the counter. The love you feel for Matt is present as it always had been, there in the centre of your entire being, so sweet and consuming and yet, his love for you had seemingly vanished.

Disintegrated, along with your body apparently five years ago. Maybe with a clearer head, you’d come to understand that five years is a long time and it’s understandable that he had to move on at some point, but in the moment you feel nothing but hurt—rage.

Matt’s hands are frantic on your body, grabbing at your arms and keeping you from falling to the floor as a sob tears its way out of your chest. You can hear him try to soothe you, hear his worry that your heart is erratic and you just need to breathe.

Breathe, sweetheart—please, breathe.

You can’t. You simply can’t.

Oxygen isn’t coming as easily as it should. Your lungs burn. You’re shaking, unable to stop the tremble taking over your body as you choke on your tears. They burn your skin, painting your cheeks with the bitterness of your heartbreak and they just won’t stop.

He supports you as you sink towards the floor, legs no longer having the strength to hold you up. He goes down with you, hands cradling your head to his chest and you can’t find it in you to push him away and escape his touch.

It’s Matt. Your Matt.

You shouldn’t want to shrug him off. You shouldn’t feel guilty at his touch. He’s your Matt, has been for the eighteen months you’ve been together. It was meant to be you in that frame, swimming in white with a smile stretched along your lips, Matt dressed to the nines in an immaculate tux and his ever present red shades beside you.

But it’s not. It’s… it’s Karen.

It’s not you, there’s no trace of you anywhere to be seen. Had you been that forgettable? Foggy’s there, Marci a step behind holding a beautiful little girl with ribbons in her hair. They had a baby? You’ve missed so much.

You start weeping for the life you’d missed out on, for the chances and opportunities of growing older with them and the sweet potential you had had with Matt.

Gone.

All of it, just—gone.

Where would you be now had your soul not been chosen? Married? Promoted? A godmother to the sweet little angel cradled in Marci’s arms?

“Sweetheart, come back to me,” Matt’s voice cuts through your despair, low and soft in your ear and you cling to him tighter, “breathe. I’ve got you, I’m here.”

“I-I’ve lost so much,” you choke out, hiding your tear stricken face in his throat and desperately trying to get ahold of your body jerking with each difficult inhale and broken exhale, “and I didn’t even know—”

You didn’t know. You didn’t know anything when you apparently ‘returned’. It’s all so haunting and overwhelming and so fucking confusing.

He stills smells the same, feels the same, despite all these years. You cling to him, desperate for comfort in the moment of your utter heartbreak, but it doesn’t work like it used to and that only makes your pain increase tenfold. His hold feels wrong now. His hold isn’t for you anymore. He has a wife.

You still don’t understand. You can’t comprehend the fact that he’s married, that the arms that hold you are now meant for someone else. They were yours this morning. It’s not possible. You had him this morning; you felt him this morning, you kissed him—

“Sweetheart,” he’s urgent now, manoeuvring you in his hold until you sit in front of him, your back pressed up against his chest and his arms tight around your torso, “breathe with me. Feel my chest, listen to me and follow—in… and out. Come on—”

You pay attention to the exaggerated feel of him breathing against your back, focusing on every expansion of his chest and attempting to match the pace of your inhales. It doesn’t work. Your heart still thunders away against your ribs, your mind still runs fucking wild, and your eyes threaten to roll back from the rush of it all.

“Stay with me,” he begs, but his voice starts to sink to the back of your mind, taken over by the high pitched ring sounding in your ears.

It’s not long until black fully engulfs your vision, and Matt’s voice calling your name is the last thing you hear, frantic and terrified. Maybe you'll find peace in the darkness.

matty tags: @javier-pena, @dihra-vesa, @a-reader-and-a-writer, @radiowallet, @januarystears, @danidrabbles, @amneris21, @acourtofsnakes, @mstgsmy66, @evyiione, @stardust-galaxies, @kelseyxyeslek, @greeneyedblondie44, @you-got-me-starry-eyed, @withasideofmeg, @mad-girl-without-a-box, @fangirl-316, @xoxabs88xox, @federleichtefreiheit, @lavenderluna10, @mindidjarin. @stardustingold, @androah, @itwasthereaminuteago, @wildmoonflower, @naughtynecromancer, @h-hxgirl, @Unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men, @juletheghoul, @punkerthanpascal, @itswanktime, @omlwhatamidoinghere, @celestinemuse, @chaoticemz, @alexxavicry, @mylifeispainandiloveit, @cran-berry-vodka, @nishi-reads, @mandocrasis, @lawfulgranola, @ew-erin, @fuckoffbard, @spaceserialkiller, @captain-jebi

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x f!reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock angst #daredevil fanfiction #marvel fanfiction

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seraphimaa · 1 month

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Doll for a day

Soft(ish) Raphael x fem!Reader/Tav

Slight Haarlep x Fem!reader/Tav

Raphael comes home unexpectedly while a certain somebody is playing with his toys. Tav thinks that playing dead is preferable to facing his wrath. Maybe, in hindsight, it was not her brightest idea.

PART 2 IS UP

Warnings: kind of of dubcon, confessions under false pretences, feelings (boo!😈)

“Haarlep.”

That stern, musical voice cuts like a knife through the washing pleasure she had been so lost in. Ice jolts down her spine and suddenly it feels like someone has turned on the lights. The body over her freezes much the same, buried to the hilt as she clenches down on him, muscles going taut.

She sees the spark of surprise and fear mould the face hanging over her. She guesses that though she worries for her general well-being and survival in the upcoming moments, Haarlep was no doubt reeling at the thought of being put on the naughty step. Nobody ever let him have any fun in this house. The little mouse had been so easy to catch. So desperate to see the eyes he wore look at her the ways that he had. ‘The master is away. He’ll be gone for so long. Aren’t you lonely, little mouse? He’s lonely too and he’s wanted you for so long. Please give yourself to him.’ He’d promised that it would be their little secret and she’d all but melted before him, climbing across the satin, trembling.

“What little pest has managed to crawl out of my walls and find its way into my boudoir?”

Haarlep had promised that he’d let her go long before Raphael was due to return. “don’t worry” he’d said, “give me your trust. You’re perfectly safe with me.” Gods, she was going to haunt him. What a little shit. She did know, however, that he is clearly as caught off guard as she is.

The sounds of Raphael’s polished shoes clack across the tiles near the entrance.

The timbre changes as he reaches the oak flooring and she feels like she could faint, like her mind is floating above her and watching the scene from some detached place. A sigh.

“My fine cormyrean sheets, Haarlep!” He sounds appalled. “Do you know how much they cost, you animal?”

The little demon spawn stays in place, back facing him but tail flicking in obvious unease.

“Thousands. I won’t bore you with exact figures, harlot, as you’ve never been particularly apt in finances…or general intellectual engagement. So, let me ask you again, what little pest have you caught and defiled now? Gods they’re absolutely saturated. You’ve torn them too!”

She could feel her breathing quicken as his rage seems to rapidly increase.

“Hup, hup, Haarlep. Go sulk in the corner. I’m sure you’ll just drown in remorse while I clean up this mess. I’ve had a busy day, you know, and now I have to throw away your leftovers and order new sheets, too. Can a man not relax in his own forsaken house? Is it too much to ask for?”

The is tap, tap, tapping his foot on the ground is motivated, no doubt, by the unavoidable headache that he’d be forced to soothe with a glass of vintage later.

Haarlep begins to lean backwards, his eyes glued to hers. He was curious, excited to see what she was going to do but she could see that he was also silently pleading with her to act very carefully, for both of their sakes. She feels herself flush in humiliation as she loses the physical and psychological shield of Haarlep between them and as much as she desperately wants to curl into a ball and hide, her limbs remain frozen in place, her body completely detached from her thought and command. This was more than she could handle.

The incubus detaches from her and the air catches in her throat as he pulls out completely from her clenching hole, swollen lips left empty and drooling. Another breath catches in the air, but it’s not her own. She wishes she could sink into the sheets and disappear. Part of her is half tempted to just roll off of the bed then under the frame, never to come out again. Nevertheless, she still does not move. Her eyes glue themselves to a small crack in the ceiling above her and her face is slack in shock. Her hair is wild and splayed around her, her legs spread from accommodating their recent guest, her dumb and vacant face flushed a scandalous shade of crimson.

From her peripheral, Haarlep tries to scamper off, tail between his legs, but he’s stopped by his master raising one hand at him, eyes still glued to the little mouse on his bed.

His other hand snatches towards her, latching to her chin and he glowers down his nose at her in his own shock. She refuses to shift her gaze, focussing hard in every detail of the splintered paint above. He jerks her head left and her vision spins then fills with the detailed threading on the edges of his doublet and the hatched material of his trouser legs. He jerks to the right and her visions swims again, filling with stained glass and hazy walls as her other cheek meets the bed. He stands over her like this for some time and she is thankful to be facing the opposite wall as her eyes well in fear. She’s unsure what he plans to do as he continues to ponder her, simmering.

“Haarlep.” She can hear the effort behind the barely collected tone.

“Please, tell me that I’m mistaken. Please, tell me that you didn’t actually suck the soul right out of my most valuable investment. Please,” his voice cracks slightly, “tell me you didn’t just ruin everything everything I had worked so hard for.”

“Master-“

Before the incubus can interject again, Raphael’s claws seize him and suddenly he’s careening. He’s marched blindly backwards under the cambion’s grip, as the rant continues.

“You had one job, not to get meddle. Not to ruin this one thing. I swear I shall send you back into the rotten abyss you crawled out of.”

Haarlep’s legs meet the balcony ledge and he stumbles and plummets over the edge with a yelp. Raphael does not wait to watch his descent and turns back into the room. Stopping again at the edge of the bed.

He stills and heaves a deep sigh, fingers coming to pinch at his brow. He looks again at the mindless doll, all to familiar I shape, on the bed. Her potential was supposed to be so much greater than this. She was the one who would bring him his crown. She could have been his chosen, but there was nothing left. Nothing but her prone form still draped open in mocking invite. He tries to ignore the ache. Tries not to imagine that the invite was for him, that she would have lay so sweet for his craven self.

She knows she should say, do, anything. She screams inside to just start apologising and take the consequences, because there is no avoiding the inevitable but after watching the fate of the incubus, she feels her voice disappear back down her throat and her limbs cement themselves to the silk below. He thinks her to be but a lifeless husk and that was about the only role she felt capable of playing in this moment. He approaches her again and she feels another wave of adrenaline wash over her as he stares down at her, this time his face seems almost defeated. Glum. His eyes search over her. He looks into her eyes. They’re glassy and fixed. They look scared. He doesn’t know what it is that washes over him at the image of her terrified and trapped under the copy of his form as her soul is leeched from her, but he knows that he doesn’t like it. Her cheeks remain rosy, a lurking evidence of her undoing. Her lips are parted in a little gasp. What noises had left them in this very room? Her face looked shocked and horrified, tinged with shame and the remnants of her recent euphoria. Her death mask. From her lips left quick puffs of air but the life that remained in her shell held no more value. His little mouse wasn’t in there anymore. Not in any way that mattered, or so he believes.

With another dramatic sigh, he sags to sit on the edge of the bed, back facing to her. He leans his arms into his knees and considers how to salvage this wagon crash. He could not afford to wallow in childish fantasies and feelings. They never did him any good. She had disappointed him, immensely. He knows not of why she’d come skittering to his house but she’d found her end here none the less. His house was not built to cater to her meek nature. It was done now. He can not stop thinking, however, about what had led her to sneak behind his back and play with his toys. He couldn’t stop that nagging voice in his head reminding him that regardless of her reason to poke around, she’d been distracted by the fiend wearing his visage. She’d been lured in by the promise of laying under him. She was so willing to give herself, and she’d done so with such reckless abandon that she’d let a lowly fool like Haarlep steal her soul. She’d come into his sanctuary and used him without permission. Was she really so desperate? Did she share his hunger?

A wicked thought crosses his mind. He would dispose of her, as was the right thing to do, for it brought him no honour to keep her this way. It was sacrilege. She was, however, right here. She was gone by all means, but her body was still warm and willing. There was nothing to stop him using the carcass of her form as she had used his. It was harmless. Nobody would ever even have to know. She’d be his little secret and then he’d finally rid himself of her once and for all. Rid himself of the hold she had on him.

The screaming in her head falls silent in horror as she feels the bed dip and weight of him straddle her hips. He kneels over her, eyes flicking around, trying not to meet hers. He feels like she is watching him from inside herself. It is almost like she is still there and it makes him feel an uncomfortable twinge of vulnerability.

He brings one claw up to her mouth, pressing it over the curve of her lips and lets it push past, pressing against the ridges of her teeth. He pulls her mouth open, slackening her jaw down as far as he could until it resists, then eases his clawed finger back inside. The tip of certain scratches along the walls of her mouth, over her tongue, and her eyes bulge as it dips down and slips into her throat. She knows that she should stop it right bloody now before it goes even further but a coward she certainly is and she can’t even perceive facing his wrath right now. Her mind continues to feel locked behind the safeguarding of shock and fear, not able to pilot her body to do anything helpful. Her hands twitch at her sides but it escapes his rapt attention in testing her mouth. His face twitches slightly as her throat contacts slightly around his appendage and she realises he is palming himself, his knuckles occasionally bumping her stomach as he works his freed cock.

He plays around with her like this until his fingers come back soaked and stringing with her saliva as it pools - there’s a lump in her throat and she can’t seem swallow.

He clambers up the bed, hanging over her to grasp the headboard, and the intricate detailing of his doubled fills her vision again. She sees him staring down at her from above her point of focus. She tries think about anything other than his face. She swears she must be dreaming, losing her grip on sanity, as her she feels something heavy and hot press it’s weight onto her tongue. He presses the crimson, tapered tip of his cock into her mouth, feeling the wet cavern widen even further to allow him to slide inside. He hears her breathing change as she sucks air through her nostrils and he hears her heart thrum rapid like a rabbits. He supposed there had to be a little life left in someone with such a fate to make them enjoyable, and enjoy you he will. He releases his breath in audible groan as your sloppy, drooling mouth encases him.

Moving his hands to either side of her face, he cradled her skull and began to pump his hips, the muscles of his thighs jerking and jumping with each jolt of pleasure. He lets her gurgle around him at his lazy pace. He is in no rush. He at least deserved some kind of consolation, did he not? Tears crave tracks down her cheeks as he continuously plugs her throat, his cock pulsing in warning.

All at once he is gone from her and she next feels her awareness creep back to her as his hands take hold of her, behind her knees, and her legs are pushed towards her shoulders to expose her fully to his gaze. She hears his ragged breathing as he takes her in. The bud of pink blooming between the soft fat rolls of her labia. He uses his thumbs to part the puffy lips and his cock jumps in anticipation. He drinks her in. A flush, swollen nub perched between a tiny, fluttering pink hole. She is still leaking from her previous partner. The sloppy puddle below her still blooms a dark hue on his sheets. He knows if he doesn’t take her now, he’ll talk himself out of it.

With one thrust, he asserts control of his racing thoughts and sinks to the hilt inside of her, feeling his cock bump and press up against the resistance of her womb. Any thoughts plaguing him are gone as his mind draws blank from the blinding pleasure. The numbing release of finally laying claim to her. He hears her hiccup a wail that fades into a mindless keen and her hands ball into the sheets. She feels like her soul really did just leave her body.

He almost finds himself thanking the gods in that moment, hearing the sweet noises she made. At least her body could still give him that. At least she, like Haarlep, could tell him oleander lies while he buries himself inside of her.

He chokes a moan, sucking in breath and releases it in a hissed growl as he draws his hips back, feeling every twitch of her cunt as he slides against the grip of slick walls. He drives forward again, forcing them both further up the bed. A hand at her leg yanks her back down before she can catch her bearings and he pulls her into him , connecting them again as deeply as he can get. She feels like she’s falling - dying maybe. The conscience and guilt that told her to do good and smart things were long gone, lost some time after he’d speared into her with reckless abandon. Any sense was gone. A new voice was seeping through the hormonal concoction she was swimming in. It told her that this was all that mattered. In this moment she was his and it felt better than she’d ever dreamed, when alone at night with her imagination. She can’t stop the rhythmic song of pleasure he pulls from her, the room full with her whines and cries joining his.

Haarlep, for as devastatingly good as he’d been, could not match the ferocity and intensity that fuelled the fiend above her now. His face was twisted in a snarl, his own mouth hanging slack and his eyes locked to the sight of himself splitting her apart. His moans and gasps begin to lower as his hips stutter in their pace. He buries his face into her neck, hips continuing to rock. He inhales deeply, drinking in her scent.

“You silly mouse.” His voice is strained. He sounds close. Underneath it though, she recognises that somber tone.

“I was so close to having you. You were supposed to be mine. I could have given you the world. I would have given you everything.”

He groans as his hips jerk again, his cock pressing something deep inside. It’s all to much and the bubble finally popped. She shudders under him with a wail as white heat floods her senses. He loses it at her sound and the clenching of her strangling at his length. He collapses onto his forearms at either side of her, letting her quivering pussy milk his seed from him.

“I can find another champion, but you, you had been special. I wanted it to be your hands that passed me the crown. I wanted it to be you I shared it all with.” He stays buried inside of as he softens. His voice is a whisper, as if telling a great secret to the empty room. His hand is petting through her hair absently.

She doesn’t know how long he remains, body pressed to hers. The adrenaline is wearing off and she feels like her spirit is slipping back into her aching, exhausted form. She wasn’t prepared to face any of it. She didn’t think she ever would be. How could she even begin to process current events. How the hells would she explain any of this to anyone, least of all him? The concoction of shame and humiliation began to take hold of her again and she starts to plan, fast. He would never forgive her for this. He’d hate her. Why hadn’t she said anything? Why hadn’t she stopped it? She knew the real answer. She hadn’t wanted it to stop, really. She’d take being bounced on his cock over the eternity of suffering he was bound to expose her to as soon as the curtain came up. She just wanted to stay like this forever. Maybe time would stand still, or maybe, she’d simply die from a random heart attack from all of this absurdity and stress. Yes, she decided all at once, she’ll just stay here like this. forever. She finds momentary comfort in her delusions, painting herself a happy future where she never faces the music and gets to stay under him like this, hearing his sweet words and bringing him pleasure for the rest of time. She would be his new toy. He’d treat her so well. It would all be so very nice.

The image is ripped from her as a voice she recognises all to well chimes from near the pool.

“Fear not, master. I have returned unharmed. I wish you’d stop doing that all the time, you know I have wings-“ his voice cuts to an scandalised gasp. “Oh my, and back just in time to play, too!” She can feel Raphael’s tail swish in agitation, but he doesn’t have the energy left to channel his rage. “What an interesting turn of events, I must say! I did so hope that you both would work it out peacefully.” The cambion above her hisses as the bed dips with Haarlep’s weight, he sheepishly prowls the edges of the bed, testing the waters with his grumpy master.

Gods, it’s actually Haarlep! She fills with relief that he’s alive.

“See I knew you’d calm right down once you realised that I didn’t touch your mouse’s precious soul. I played so nicely with her. See, aren’t we all glad it was just a big, innocent misunderstanding?” His tail is wagging happily on the air.

She’s is going to kill him. That little shit. She is going to down him in the pool and throw him back over the balcony rails herself.

“Let me join, master, please! I’ll be so quiet that you won’t even notice me there. Think how good it’ll feel to bury yourself in two of those little holes at the same time!”

She doesn’t dare move, not even brave enough to take a breath as the body above hers stiffens then jerks backwards. Her eyes stay on the ceiling. Stay still. Stay still. Stay still. It’s deafeningly silent.

His voice hisses through the air, threatening and full of disbelief.

“Little mouse?”

Well. Fuck.

I guess you could read this and view the protagonist as morally grey but I raise you, as the ringleader of this circus, that I am also just stupid and the “if I don’t move it can’t see me” tactic is my favourite every uncomfortable social situation, so there’s also that. This was more of a practice. I’m trying to oil ye ol rusty smut skills. I hope I managed to make the characters somewhat recognisable even if it’s kinda goofy.

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lanadelnegan · 21 days

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Ghost - Part 3

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Part 2 here // Part 4 here

Warnings: 18+, negan masturbating, negan being all sweet and protective

A/n: I thought this would be the last part, but it was so long I had to break it up. Part 4 will be posted soon!

Negan’s POV:

I waited all night for her but she never came. Hopping back on my bike, I drove back to the sanctuary the next morning. I spent the next few days drinking in my room and missing her. Trying to give her space was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.

Two of my wives came to check on me, and I rudely dismissed them. And told them to kick rocks, for good. I wouldn’t even be able to get my dick up with anyone else but her. This girl has me wrapped around her goddamn finger and I don’t even know her name.

I sat on the couch, closed my eyes and imagined her face. Our night together. How I fucked her through her little shorts. I imagined her lips between mine and the little sounds she made as she scratched my back. Fuck.

I rubbed myself through my pants, imagining myself between her legs before I got impatient and pulled my cock out. I spit in my hand and began stroking it, focusing extra on the tip. My head pressed against the couch and I groaned, jerking my dick faster. Fuck, fuck fuuuuck.

"Boss, we've got a problem." Fucking Simon.

Tucking myself back in my pants, I walked over and flung the door open, clearly annoyed with an extreme case of blue balls. We walked towards the back exit quickly while Simon filled me in on the situation.

“Rick and the rest of them are outside." Simon explained. "He said he only wants you.”

“Of course he does.” I chuckled before walking out onto the balcony. “Well, what a nice surprise. This better be good Rick. I was right in the middle of something.”

Her silky black hair caught my attention almost instantly and I couldn't take my eyes off her. She stood beside Rick and my heart sank for two reasons. I couldn't let her get hurt in the middle of all this. And what the hell was she doing? She couldn't seriously want this.

I leaned next to Simon's ear and whispered. “Make sure everyone knows that one is off limits." I nodded towards my girl. "If anyone harms a hair on her pretty head, it'll be the last thing they ever do."

Your POV, earlier that day:

“We go in quick, and we don’t leave until Negan is dead. Understood?” Rick’s voice sounded far away and I realized my mind had been wandering the entire time, not able to concentrate.. Or accept Rick’s plan for Alexandria to go after the Saviors. I couldn't lose someone I...

Care about… again.

“Y/n?” Rick asked, tilting his head at me.

“Yes, understood.”

The ride over took ages it seemed like. My head rested against the window of the truck while I watched the sun slowly start to disappear. I should be thrilled. This is what I’ve wanted for so long - to get revenge.

So why did I want to save him?

“I dunno if I can do this.” Daryl’s focus remained on the road as I spoke. “I know you don’t understand it, but there’s good in him. I’ve seen it.”

Daryl scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

“I just don’t wanna see anyone else die, Daryl.” I wiped a tear from my cheek.

“Some people deserve it.”

“And we don’t? Think about all the ones we’ve killed.”

“Not the same.” Daryl mumbled.

“But it is. That’s the world we live in now. We do what we have to to survive. We’re all… psycho murderers, really.”

“Listen to yourself. What do you think Glenn would think about you defending the man who killed him?”

I sat quietly for a few moments, focusing my attention back on the clouds. “I think he’d be proud of me.” The gravel suddenly rumbling beneath the truck let us know we were getting close to the sanctuary and Daryl pulled over, parking near the others.

“You’re either with us, or ya aint. But you need to hurry and decide.” Daryl warned before he quietly exited the truck and met up with the others ahead.

I owe them for everything they’ve done for me. Everything they did for Glenn. I closed my eyes before hopping out of the car and quickly caught up with the rest of the group. Daryl gave me a nod and the rest of the tread was quiet. I tried focusing my mind on anything but Negan, disassociating to the best of my ability - a skill I’ve perfected over the past few months.

“Negan needs to surrender. This has to happen now. This is the only way.” Rick’s voice rang through my ears as I stood near him, shielding myself with the metal that stood between us and the Saviors. Peeking out, I watched Negan appear behind the railing, an arrogant smirk forming on his lips.

“You’re gonna make me count?!" Rick shouted. "Okay, okay. I’m counting. 10….”

Negan eyes traveled to mine and his gaze softened. I stared at him, silently begging him to surrender while Rick counted. He studied me as if he wondered if I wanted this.

Of course not. Surrender, goddammit.

I watched him lean over and whisper something to Simon while his eyes were still on me. Simon nodded and took out his radio, signaling something to the others that I couldn't hear.

The sound of Rick's gun cocking distracted me, and without thinking, I jumped in front of him, pulling the gun with with me. A bullet went straight through my foot, but I barely felt it.

I heard Negan cursing in the background amongst all the other chaos transpiring. Walkers were filing in now and everyone eventually scattered. I limped as quickly as I could, trying to escape before my feet lifted off the ground. I quickly realized it was Negan and he rushed us to an empty trailer nearby, shutting the door behind him when we made it inside.

“Oww.” I groaned, limping over to the wall and sliding down it. I pulled off my bloody sock and shoe and cringed at the bullet hole in my foot. The pain was starting to set in now.

“Shit.” Negan grabbed a first aid kit from a cabinet above and kneeled down, wrapping my foot. “The hell were you thinkin' darlin'?.”

He looked up at me, slightly grinning and I rolled my eyes. He finished wrapping it up, kissed my forehead, and sat next to me on the floor, leaning his back against the wall. His hand rested on my thigh protectively and I wanted to reach for it and hold his hand but I couldn’t. We both sat in silence for a few moments before he finally spoke.

“You never came. I waited on you all night.”

My heart ached at the thought of him there alone. “I told you, Negan. I don’t want to see you anymore.”

“Yet.. you just took a bullet for me.” I could hear the cocky smile through his voice.

“Why did you want to meet?” I asked.

“I guess I thought maybe if we went back to our place, you’d see me differently. The way you did that night, and I’d actually have a chance to win you over.”

When I looked over at him, I saw the man he was that night. Before I knew his name and all the horrible things he had done. I replayed everything in my head - the steam from his shower, our deep talks about our old high school days, his wife Lucille and how her death broke his heart, and how he read to me. And then I remembered him in between my legs, but stopping before it got too far because we were both tipsy.

How could the same man who bashed someone's skull in be the same one the had enough decency not to take advantage of a woman? I wanted so desperately to believe in the man he was that night - for that to be the only version of him.

“Listen baby, I don’t want to hurt you anymore than I already have." His voice was lower than usual when he spoke. "I get that you don’t wanna see me anymore and I’ve gotta learn to be okay with that. I don’t want to be a constant reminder of your brother’s death.” He leaned his head against the wall. “Fuckin' stupid of me to think this could ever work, huh?”

With every word he spoke, my heart broke into smaller pieces. If Negan would have died today, I’d hate myself for the rest of my life for not going back to the cabin and meeting him that night. As difficult as our life would be together - for so many reasons, I can’t live without him.

“Negan..”

“Yeah?” His hazel eyes met mine and he looked like a sad puppy that I desperately wanted to comfort.

“I don’t think I can ever forgive you.”

He nodded, clearly hurt and I watched his eyes fill with tears before he looked down.

I sighed, hoping I wouldn’t regret what I was about to say. “But I love you. And I want to find a way to make this work.”

His eyes darted back and forth between mine before his hand cupped my face and he kissed me all in one motion. I've missed his lips so much. His mouth was gentle, like he was scared to break me, but I wanted him to, so I pulled him closer and opened my mouth slightly. His tongue slipped in and collided with mine, making me see stars. After a few moments, he pulled away, breathing heavily and resting his forehead against mine.

“I love you so fuckin’ much, sweetheart. I’ll never disappoint you again.”

“I know.” And I did. I believed him. Gunfire in the distance quickly snapped us back to reality but we held each other, neither of us willing to let go first.

"Negan, I've gotta go back with them."

"No. Stay with me at the sanctuary until we figure out a plan? I'll take care of you and-"

"We can't. You can't stay here, Negan. It's not safe, they'll come back for you. Rick won't stop until you're dead."

"Then I'll kill him first, doll. Simple."

"No. You're not killing anyone else - none of my people. I can't lose anyone else. The only way everyone survives this is if you surrender."

Negan scoffed. "And then what? Be a goddamn prisoner and Rick's little bitch for the rest of my life? Not gonna happen, darlin'."

I sighed. This was going to be a lot harder than I thought.

"Hey, you're not giving up on me already are you?" Negan's hand rested again my cheek as he urged me to look at him.

"No.. no, I just, I dunno what to do."

"We've got all night to figure it out, doll. We don't have many options. There's no way you're going back to Alexandria on that foot. Come on." Negan stood, holding his hand out to me and I took it. "Stay close behind me, baby."

I nodded, gripping the back of Negan's shirt as he kicked the door open, flinging a few walkers in the process. I helped as much as I could, stabbing a few with my knife as Negan worked our way through the crowd.

Luckily the sanctuary itself seemed untouched. The walkers were only outside in the yard while a couple of guards secured the entry to the sanctuary doors. They opened them quickly as Negan and I tumbled in. His hand wrapped around my waist, helping me walk with my hurt foot.

We could hear Simon and the others around the corner. Turning the corner, Negan whistled his favorite tune and I watched in awe as the rest of the saviors bowed before us.

"I bet you all thought I was dead, huh?" Negan chuckled. "Here's a little refresher on who the hell I am. I wear a leather jacket, I have -“ He paused, leaning into you. "Hell’s your name darlin’? You never told me.” You whispered your name in his ear and giggled. He turned back to the saviors, finishing his speech. "I have y/n, and my nut sack? Is made of steel. I am not dyin' until I am damn good and ready."

What a dork. My dork. I thought, looking up at him as he spoke.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a honeymoon to get to. No one knocks on my door. Simon, you're in charge. Don't make me regret it."

Simon nodded and Negan lead us down the hall to a large door at the end. He held the door open for me as I walked through. A bachelor pad of the apocalypse. Exactly what I imagined. I smiled at him and he returned the gesture, flashing his white smile before he walked towards me and immediately wrapped me in his arms. My head rested against his chest and I felt his heart beat. For once, I felt safe.

Part 4 here. If you’ve read this far, thank you. 🥹💗

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northsoulss · 3 months

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breakaway - leah williamson

(a/n: im so sad about jen leaving arsenal, but shes in bay fc now so i hope we get news about her soon :”). also i LOVED leah’s cover of breakaway by kelly clarkson and it inspired me to to write this lol. also i’ve just been sad and stressed sooo. part 2?)

it was a gloomy day in your apartment, your clothes strewn all over the floor, dishes pilling up in the kitchen. you laid in bed, unable to move, absolutely heart broken. leah and you had parted ways not too long ago, the memory of her telling you she couldn’t do this anymore fresh in your mind.

you remember seeing leah hunched over at the dining table, phone in hand, not even acknowledging your presence. you could feel her pulling away from you, spending almost all her days outside and away from you. you really wanted to ask her what was wrong now that you’ve caught her at home. you’re sick of her silence and you want an answer.

“leah, what’s wrong?” your voice small, afraid to provoke her.

“nothing’s wrong, __. i’m fine.” she says in a deadpan voice, a slight bite to it.

“no leah! we aren’t fine! you don’t even call me baby, and you won’t even look at me anymore.” you lose it, your voice booming.

“yeah, i’ve had alot on my plate lately okay?!” she snaps back, and you finally see her face. her hair unkempt, eyes full of tears, her signature frown on her face. oh how you wanted to reach out to smooth her brows, your hand coming up to cup her face, but her hand pushes you away.

“well that doesn’t mean you get to just keep me out of it! i’m your girlfriend for goodness sakes. i want to be there for you.” your voice breaks, and you feel that familiar fear creeping back into your body.

she’s going to break up with you.

“look, __. i just can’t anymore.” leah says exasperated, hand pulling back her hair. you search her eyes, trying to find any ounce of love left, but all you saw was coldness.

there it is. that dreaded feeling.

“that’s it? you’re just going to give up?” you had more anger in your voice than you expected, the tone making leah flinch.

“i just can’t. you keep pestering me and i’m sick of it. i’m sorry.” and like that, she left your apartment, leaving you standing in your hallway, the extra set of keys to your house clutched in your fist. you sunk to the floor the moment she slams the door shut, your knees hitting the ground with a loud thud. a part of you felt empty, a vacant spot left in your heart. you spoke a language only she understood, and now that she was gone, no one will be able to understand you.

it stung, knowing that you didn’t know the reason why she left, but you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t just sit in your apartment all day, not moving while the world keeps spinning. you sit up, and immediately get hit with a memory of leah. you see your guitar collecting dust in the corner of your room. you haven’t played since ever since leah left, for it was too painful to have to relive every waking memory of her each time.

one of your favourite memories of leah was singing with her. you were classically trained in guitar, always pestering her to be your singer while you played. eventually when she relented, you would always beeline to your guitar, whipping it out from its case and taking it to where she sat.

one of your favourite songs to play was “break away” by kelly clarkson, it being the first song leah sang with you. you remembered the first time she did, her voice sounded like warm honey to your ears. your ears flushed and face warm as she sang, her eyes trained on you, watching your agile fingers strum the strings. from then onwards, you always asked her to sing while you played, wanting to only hear her angelic voice.

that memory was like a punch to the gut, knowing you can no longer hear her voice other than on the arsenal women’s Instagram which you still followed. you shook away the thoughts, a long sigh escaping your lips as you massaged your temples. you look around your house, and immediately start to clean up, slowly putting things away.

after a few hours of cleaning up, you collapse on your couch, completely exhausted. you open your tiktok, planning to doom scroll till midnight when a video of jen beattie and leah pops up. you forgot you were still following jen, becoming good friends with the older woman the moment leah brought you onto the pitch two years ago.

you instantly sat up straighter, eyes fixated on leah who sat next to jen, hoodie over her head with a smile. jen held her guitar, and the moment her fingers started to strum, your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. leah’s voice, oh how you missed it. she’s singing it again.

“shes singing our song.” you mumbled to yourself as you watched, a small smile growing on your face. you read through the comments, some of them mentioning you. you were a public figure as well after all, known for playing finger style covers of different songs. when leah and you started going out, you started posting videos of you two singing and playing, the very first video being that song.

“is it true? did they really break up?” “i miss your videos with __ leah!!” comments like this made your heart ache. you went MIA the moment you two split, not posting videos for over two months now. you really missed her, so much. after watching the video, you decide, fuck it. leah doesn’t get to ruin your love for guitar, and you sure as hell are not going to step playing just because she’s not here.

deciding to finally play again, you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you strummed, a sigh escaping your lips. propping up your phone, you record yourself, you play the introduction to breakaway, singing softly. you weren’t used to singing, only ever playing with an accompaniment. certain parts of the song hit harder than the rest, you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

trying hard to reach out

but when I tried to speak out

felt like no one could hear me

wanted to belong here

but something felt so wrong here

so I pray

i could breakaway

when you finished, you look up to the camera and stared wordlessly. this was the first time you truly saw yourself post breakup, and goodness. you looked terrible. hair in a disheveled bun, eye bags big enough to fit your dog in, bloodshot eyes. you’ve definitely had better days, and this is just the start.

“i’m sorry i’ve been gone for so long. i’m currently going through one of the toughest periods of my life, so have this song for old times sake.” you say with a smile, and stop recording, posting it without any second thought. you fall back onto your bed, ignoring the ringing of your phone. things are going to become better, you thought, yet another heavy sigh escaping you.

leah’s cover: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFLBWYhs/

#leah williamson #leah williamson fluff #leah williamson woso #leah williamson lionesses #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson arsenal #wlw #lgbtqia #wlw post #woso x reader #wlw yearning #woso fluff #alessia russo #katie maccabe #woso fanfics #wlw love

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azul-marie · 8 months

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flirtatious character intros. (various/goddess reader.) (3)

note: fem. reader. suggestive. 3rd person pov. feat. raiden (+ dark) fujin, nightwolf, scorpion

i’m so happy to finally share the newest installment of this series! all the exciting news about mk1 definitely gave me some much needed motivation to finish these. once mk1 drops later this month, i’m considering adding its brand new roster to this series as well — let’s hope future me does so. thank you all for the love and patience you’ve shown; please enjoy your reading.

part 1 ; part 2.

raiden

raiden: i am glad to see you look so well, name.

raiden: no matter our time apart, i will always be glad to see you.

raiden: do you still accept my friendship, twisted as i am?

raiden: your kindness is undeserving, name.

raiden: do they speak falsehoods, name?

raiden: are they a nuisance to you, name?

raiden: you never fail to surprise me, name.

raiden: despite our years together, my affection for you grows ever stronger each time we meet.

raiden: is that so? what were you in need of, name?

dark raiden

dark!raiden: haven’t i proved myself worthy of your devotion?

dark!raiden: devote yourself unto me, goddess.

dark!raiden: he would have you as his rightful bride.

dark!raiden: do you fear me, name?

dark!raiden: i’ve sought this power to protect us, name.

dark!raiden: tell me whose presence offends you most, name, and i will bring you their head.

dark!raiden: i’ve told you, haven’t i? anything for your sake is worth doing.

dark!raiden: i will allow no harm to befall you again, goddess.

dark!raiden: whatever necessary to have you remain by my side.

fujin

fujin: the winds have blown the most loveliest of breezes my way.

fujin: yet still they flatter, should your smile show for it.

fujin: no need to mind them. let the others speak all they want.

fujin: you need only ask, and i shall speak my heart, name.

fujin: my lady, would there ever come a day you’d reconsider my offer?

name: earthrealm has its brothers thunder for protection. is it necessary for me to join you?

fujin: it would certainly put my mind at ease, gazing upon your beauty each day.

fujin: of course. i couldn’t bear another moment without your company.

fujin: time itself could never keep me from you, lady name.

fujin: tell me, has bi-han troubled you in any way?

fujin: should that ever change, allow me to be the first you turn to.

fujin: you’re quite popular among our mortal friends, name.

fujin: i . . . ahem. it’s not like you to tease, my lady.

nightwolf

nightwolf: it is by the great spirit’s guidance, not my own.

nightwolf: the great spirit wasn’t lying about you.

nightwolf: kind as you are lovely.

nightwolf: all i am, all i have become, is for the matoka’s sake.

nightwolf: haokah is especially fond of you, name. he a close friend?

nightwolf: (scoffs) if i were him, i would’ve asked for your hand the moment i laid eyes on you.

nightwolf: thoughts on your first, name?

nightwolf: the great spirit’s keen on our meeting together, name.

nightwolf: she wishes for us to be . . . compatible. take that as you will.

nightwolf: none whatsoever.

nightwolf: i have heard that countless suitors vie for your hand, name.

nightwolf: allow me to put a stop to them for you, here and now.

scorpion

scorpion: my suffering can only be quelled for so long.

scorpion: shinnok was infatuated with you.

scorpion: so long as i am the only one in your company, no.

scorpion: for all we’ve suffered, will you bless the shirai ryu?

scorpion: your kindness will not be forsaken, name.

scorpion: should you ever desire it, the fire gardens are welcome for you to visit.

scorpion: it would be an honor, name.

scorpion: sub-zero has mentioned you time and time again, goddess.

scorpion: there will be no need for envy once i’ve proven my superiority for your hand.

scorpion: the ones i cherish fan the flames of my devotion.

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graybby · 16 days

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r u stalking me?

Lando Norris X Russell!reader

The F1 drivers twitch streamer sister Series ! Part 2

Part 1 here 863 words

Lando sits up in his bed, rubbing his sleepy eyes in an attempt to wake himself up quicker. Finding his phone in his sheets his eyes widen as the memories of last night slap him wide awake - oh god it wasn’t just a cringy dream. His thumb ghosts over the instagram app as he gains enough courage to open it. Breathing heavily when he does as he sees a DM unread.

Well - that went so much better than I expected. A sigh of relief passing his lips that he didn’t know he was holding in. smiling down at his phone like a giddy child he hears Max emerge from his room on the other side of the apartment. I’ll never live this down if I tell him - picking himself up he trudges over to his bathroom to shower in hope of clearing his mind of the y/hc girl that seems to be plaguing his thoughts.

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In a flat in London Y/N sits at her desk getting herself ready for a long awaited stream. Cursing George slightly for the sudden influx of F1 drivers following her private account - hoping her cover won’t get blown as a result, not that she has anything against her brother but she’d much rather people like her for her content and personality rather than her relation to a famous F1 driver. She’d only just started going along with him to attend the races (through a slight amount of begging) dressed in oversized hoodies and sunglasses in hopes of remaining anonymous. She had been streaming for a little over two years now and had gathered quite a following through her cutesy animal crossing, minecraft and stardew valley content. It had honestly shocked her to find out Lando had been quietly watching her streams, thinking her content wasn’t exactly his taste. She had obviously known of him prior to his follow request - him being amongst the fellow racers her brother competed against, she thought he was talented for his age and quite often rooting for him to get his first win when she watched the grand prix’s - not that she would admit that to George who would ‘jokingly’ disapprove of her supporting any team other than his.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and ended her fans misery - changing the stream starting soon overlay to her face cam.

“Hi guys, long time no see !” shyly running her hand through her hair.

y/nstan123: OMG finally ! where have u been ?!

User05: are queen is back at last

User22: missed ur streams where u been girly??

Y/N braces herself knowing her fanbase would have questions about her sudden social media disappearance. “Sorry chat I know it's been a while. I was quite ill the past few weeks with the flu so I’ve been laying low - I’ll remember to give you all a heads up the next time okay?” gulping back the displeasure of having to lie to her fans but on the other hand not being ready for them to discover her true identity and the fact she's been missing to go support her brother in Saudi Arabia, she continues “ but don't worry!”.

y/nstan123: Oh no ! our poor y/n

User41: r u feeling better now?

“Yes, thank you guys for your concern but I’m back to normal now” she replies clapping her hands together, “so what should I play today?”

User23: new stardew update??

User41: sims4 plz I’ve been asking foreverrrr

User52: GIFFTED 10 SUBS

y/nstan123: omg has anyone else noticed lando lurking in y/n’s streams

User41: (y/nstan123) norris???

F1stan24: (y/nstan123) no way is lando a y/n fan - my two worlds colliding !

Well shit they’ve spotted him now - do I acknowledge it?

Landonorris: DONATED £15 - I suggest you get a racing sim to play on stream

Guess I have to acknowledge him now, internally facepalming.

y/nstan123: OMG LANDO IS WATCHING HER STREAM

F1stan24: i'm losing my shit rn

User23: What is he doing here?

“Ha, well - I wouldn't really know where to start with that, I’ve never tried one” she’s trying to keep her cool now, not expecting him to put himself on blast like that - hiding behind her hair without realizing it.

User64: aww is y/n blushing

User38: (user64) I don’t blame her I’d be sobbing if that was me that got noticed by him

“Okay chat calm down, you guys are trying to embarrass me I swear”

y/nstan123: nah girly ur doing a good job of that urself

“I can’t believe how quick you lot switch up on me chat” Y/N groans out head now in her hands as her face reddens.

Ding

Her phone lights up on her desk taking her focus from the relentless bullying from her so called fans to her insta dms.

y/nstan123: guys she's giggling at her phone im gonna scream

User48: omg imagine its lando she’s messaging

F1stan24: ngl I ship it already

“You guys are insane” trying to brush off her laughter at a curtain someone's reply as just reading the flowing twitch chat. “Okay let's play some stardew before you all lose your minds”.

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Thank you for reading <3

Taglist : @bicchaan @lauralarsen @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @ssararuffoni @cherry-piee @eviethetheatrefreak

#lando norris #lando x reader #landonorris #lando norris x y/n #lando norizz #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #george russel x reader #charles leclerc x reader

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