#ex!reader

[msfantasy-comics]

The Ex gets Married

Bruce Wayne x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Bruce breaks up with Y/n and ends up in a tumultuous relationship with Selina. Bruce finds out about his ex-girlfriend moving on and is heartbroken.

Warning: Bruce does not have a happy ending.

Many years before, Bruce, had to make a life altering decision.

Should he follow his head or his heart?

He loved both Selina and Y/n dearly for very different reasons.

But there was no use pondering the decision further. Selina was a safe bet.

Selina, whilst fickle, was still a woman capable of handling the rough and tough life style that accompanied his alter-ego. Selina’s life parallels his own; their secret life, their deep rooted trauma, their years of personal growth together.

When considering these factors, it was indisputable, he had to follow his head, and in the end he got exactly what he asked for.

An unbridled romantic companion that was only ever present when it suited her.

Selina was never consistent in supporting Bruce. Only being present at the worst of times, and never being available to celebrate the best of times.

Selina was incapable of bonding with his sons. It’s not like she didn’t try, the boys were just utterly disinterested in bonding with a woman who seemed to sail in and out of Bruce’s life on a whim. Dick, Jason, Tim and Damian felt Selina was not going to be around long, so they always turned her down or avoided Selina when possible.

Selina was uncomfortable with the mundane. Drama followed her where ever she went. Her constant blow outs strains Bruce beyond measure.

As usual, Bruce retreats to his cold and lonely bed. It’s been weeks since he last heard from Selina. He stares at the ceiling and wonders what his life could’ve been like had he followed his heart.

You were always the first to hold Bruce and comfort him in his times of need. You were always pushing to celebrate ridiculous milestones and insisting it was important since it was an achievement.

You put in so much effort bonding with his sons. You’d spent days in Bludhaven, looking after Dick in hospital when no one else could. You drove to Jason’s favourite dive bar, drank beer with him every Friday. You attended all of Tim’s extracurricular events. You would drink tea with Damian and listen to him vent his frustrations with his teammates.

Better yet, you were always in bed waiting for him. Arms always spreading open, ready to embrace him after a difficult night out.

Bruce missed you dearly, but he knows he made the right decision. Selina was capable of protecting herself- you weren’t.

Bruce constantly reminds himself of that time Joker almost took your life as you helplessly dangled from the building. Your survival from that encounter was pure luck. If Bruce wasn’t your boyfriend, you would’ve been safe.

So, Bruce made the right decision following his head. Following his heart would’ve brought nothing but heartache.

The house seemed unusually quite. There was no noise, no movement. He hasn’t heard anything from anyone.

“Alfred, where are the boys?” The older gentlemen continues to assemble the cucumber sandwiches, pretending he didn’t hear a single word. “Alfred?” The older man sighs as he contemplates telling the truth, to honouring the lie fabricated by the boys. At last, Alfred opts for the ugly truth.

“The young masters are attending a wedding ceremony.” Alfred answers bluntly, unwilling to be the barer of bad news.

“A wedding ceremony? Who’s wedding is it?” Alfred places the plate in front of Bruce, continuing to avoid eye contact. “Alfred, answer the question.”

He sighs as he pours a glass of water. “John Constantines wedding.”

Confusion crosses Bruce as to why his sons are attending that man’s wedding. “I didn’t know he had a significant other, who is he marrying?”

Alfred looks off to the clock as Bruce waits impatiently for the long drawn out answer. The clock strikes twelve, which floods the house with a melody to notify half the day has passed. Finally, Alfred speaks. “As of 12’oclock John Constantine has married his beloved wife Y/n Constantine.”

All colour in Bruce’s face drains, his mouth goes dry and he’s not sure if his heart is beating. “Y/n… she’s married?” Alfred nods unsympathetically.

“The women you love has married someone that isn’t you.” Alfred’s words rubs salt in Bruce’s already wounded heart. “Incase you were wondering Master Bruce… Selina Kyle had introduced the two around the time you had broken up.” Bruce’s head turns to mush at the news.

It’s not like he intended to get back together with you or anything- so why is he so upset?

Of course you would move on eventually, he knew that. That’s just common sense. Why would you be single for the rest of your life?

Yet despite all common sense Bruce’s heart continues to squeeze painfully, his head thumping away as a growing migraine takes place.

The love of his life has gone on and married someone else.

God.

Is it too late to win her back?

What was he thinking ? Of course it is.

There’s no going back.

Bruce will just have to accept his decision.

[miaoua3]

Moth To A Flame

Pairings: bf! dk x f!reader x ex! mingyu, friend! dk x friend! mingyu

Genre: angst, no comfort, exes to enemies, secrets from the past, hatred, unspoken promises, breakup talk, insinuation about the break up being set up, unfinished business, inoccent! dk

Description: no matter how many men come after him…he will always be on your mind, a part of your past haunting your present. (or you go on a date with your newly secured boyfriend dk when you run into your ex, mingyu, the one who broke your heart, and yet is still the one you refer to as “the one who got away.

Author’s note: inspired by this tiktok and also the whole younghee live😭

you thought you had it in the bag.

you thought that after years and years of having a broken heart, that you finally started mending the pieces together. thought that you grew up and finally started forgetting about him.

oh how wrong you were.

because no matter how hard you try to get away from the past, to forget him, he always comes to haunt you in one way or another.

you were having a wonderful time with your boyfriend, seokmin, enjoying the day despite the gloomy weather.

seokmin, although you haven’t been together for that long, just 3 months, has been the best boyfriend you could’ve asked for.

after many failed attempts at dating since him, many times where they were straight up rude and misogynistic, many that were so self centred you had to resist the urge of rolling your eyes, you finally found the one good guy.

seokmin was all smiles and positive energy, always bringing a bit of sunshine to your gloomy days. he was good, kind, he genuinely cared for you.

seokmin was the type of guy to open all the doors for you, give you his jacket when you were cold, and who your mother loved. the type that treated you with nothing but gentleness, like you were a fragile flower, fearing that if he touched you any harder, that your petals would fall off.

he was a good guy, the type of guy you needed after 5 years of lingering feelings for him, 5 years of not allowing yourself to move on, 5 years of keeping out the hope that he would come to his senses and come back to you.

he was truly what you needed.

and yet…

seokmin was sitting opposite of you, telling you a story about one of his friends, a cheerful smile grazing his sharp features, all while cutting and feeding you a piece of cake you two order and decided to share.

although you had to hide your grimace every time he put a fork with a piece of cake in your mouth, as you absolutely despised the blueberries. which, of course, was his favourite fruit and what the cake was made out of.

but instead of telling him that you would eat literally anything else, you just smiled a fake smile, saying that you had no problem with ordering it.

he was getting at the height of his story, the build up reaching almost it’s peak, when he stopped and looked behind you, a look of surprise and happiness overcoming his features.

in retrospect, had you known who he saw, you would’ve bolted right through the window that you two were sitting by.

“ggyu! over here!”, seokmin called out, hand raised to signal the person where he’s calling from.

ggyu?

you looked and your boyfriend confusedly, ready to look back and see who it is, when you heard his voice, the voice you knew too well even after all this time, making you freeze in place.

“oh, minnie! what are you doing here?”

you heard his steps approach your table, a sense of dread and anger overcoming your whole being as you sensed his dominating and strong presence.

before you knew it, he stood right beside you, looking at seokmin, not bothering to even look at you yet.

seokmin reached out his hand for a handshake, all too cheerful considering that he was the one on the receiving end of the said handshake.

“oh nothing, ynnie and me decided to make the best out of this gloomy day and come here for breakfast!”

it’s only when seokmin said your name that mingyu slowly looked over to you, shock and surprise on his face clashing with anger and disgust on your own.

he just looked at you, the big brown eyes flying over your features, drinking up the sight of you after not having seen you since your break up, 5 years ago.

somewhere in the distance, you hear seokmin speak out, his clueless voice all too cheerfully ringing inside your ears.

“love, this is mingyu, one of my good buddies. and mingyu, this is yn,” seokmin stops for a second that it takes him to grab your hand across the table, before he finishes “my girlfriend.”

the shock and surprise on mingyu’s face disappears the second the word “girlfriend” leaves seokmin’s mouth, something colder and emotionless masking his real emotions, the brown eyes that usually looked at you with nothing but adoration looking at you with this…emptiness, almost like he doesn’t feel anything for you anymore.

and it pissed you off.

almost like he can sense the tension in the air, seokmin asks with an unsure tone “um, do you two know each other? because it looks like you do…”

after another second of looking at mingyu with anger and hatred, you finally look back at your boyfriend, a fake smile grazing your lips. in the corner of your eye you can see mingyu opening his mouth, ready to spill the truth and probably ruin everything you and seokmin have built up until this point. but before he can say anything, you answer for you both.

“just old acquaintances, baby. nothing much, we just know each other from mutual functions.”

at your smile, seokmin smiles in relief, his worries melting away at your words.

“oh, okay. well, didn’t know you knew each other, had i known it, i would’ve brought you to one of out group hangouts much earlier. maybe you could’ve reconnect with ggyu then.”

you smile fakely, your thoughts going from i would rather die than reconnect with him to had i known you two were friends i would’ve never gone out with you.

mingyu shifts beside you, catching your attention. you quickly look over to him, his jaw set in annoyance, eyes looking only at your hand that is being held by seokmin.

and it pisses you off, so much.

who does he think he is to get annoyed at you for having moved on? for having found the happiness in the kindest man there is? for having finally forgotten of his existence after he accused you of cheating and breaking up with you?

who does he think he is to sit there and act like he has any right to look at you with the eyes of betrayal?

before you can even register, seokmin pulls his hand away in the name of getting up.

as he stands beside mingyu, he smiles at him and pats him on his shoulder, pure happiness on his face as he says.

“well, since you are here already, i’ll let you two catch up while i go go the bathroom.”, he steps around mingyu before he stops beside you and bends down.

all too unexpectedly, he lands one brief kiss on your lips, shocking you to the core. you feel your whole blood turn cold in panic for the one millisecond it takes seokmin to kiss you, before he says lowly.

“i’ll be right back, okay? just have to go to the bathroom and pay.”

you just nod in response, his words barely registering in your brain before he walks off.

you immediately look out of the window, making it a point to ignore the man that stands beside you in silence.

after a few uncomfortable seconds of silence, he finally speaks out in the most condescending voice ever.

“ ‘just old acquaintances’, huh?”, he pauses for a second it takes him to sit down in the booth opposite of you, where your boyfriend sat just a second ago.

you snap your eyes to him, jaw set tight in anger, looking at him like he’s the last person you wanted to see.

he smiles condescendingly, a bit of his own anger mixed with it.

you start panicking, the way his smell has stayed unchanged and is now filling your senses, the way he still wears his glasses the same, the way he still hasn’t changed at all, yet he looks so unfamiliar, in the most familiar way.

before you can stop yourself, you snap back.

“fuck off mingyu. we obviously have nothing nice to say to each other so let’s spare ourselves the energy.”

his smiles dims a bit, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in anger like he always used to do. in a hoarse voice, he almost whispers back to you.

“oh, i have a lot to say to you. planning on screwing with seokmin like you did with me, huh?”

laughing in disbelief, you snap back just as quickly.

“i see nothing has changed with you. typical. should’ve known you would always believe her. tell me, did she try getting together with you yet? like i told you she would?”, you finally look back to him, eyes stormy, meeting his own.

he stops for a second, hesitating to answer your question.

hook, line and sinker.

you scoff as you look away yet again, muttering to yourself.

“so i was right after all. should’ve known from the minute she sent me those messages.”

mingyu’s anger disappears for a second, looking at you with confusion.

“what messages are you talking about?”

you are ready to call him out, to tell him to stop pretending because he probably knows. but when you look at him, you only see genuine confusion on his face, eyebrows furrowed and eyes slowly filling with a bit of fear.

huh.

making it your turn to smile condescendingly at him, you answer.

“the messages she sent me the night before. y’know, where she told me im not good enough for you and how- and i quote, ‘you will be hers, one way or another.”, you stop for second so you can lean in closer and drop the final bomb “y’know, the messages i tried telling you about while you were accusing me of cheating and breaking up with me. the messages i tried telling you about while you were packing my stuff.”

mingyu looks at you with genuine shock, guilt swimming in his big brown eyes.

but you don’t stop just there.

“you know mingyu, i always knew that you were a bit gullible, that you trusted the first thing you heard, and that you never checked the truth…” you stop as you look down at the table before you finish “…i just never knew that you would’ve believed her over me, your girlfriend. guess that just shows that i was always your second choice, ever since the beginning.”

you can see his mouth opening and closing, trying to form an answer, but to no avail.

luckily for you, you see seokmin slowly walking back to you, making you quickly get up and gather your things. but unfortunately for you, seokmin walks over to the counter first so he can pay, making your chance to get away void.

your foot taps impatiently, looking around as you wait for seokmin to come back.

suddenly, mingyu asks you a question, a question that makes your back freeze in panic.

“you let him order a cake with blueberries? even though you hate them?”

slowly, you turn your head around, his eyes challenging you to answer it.

but you stay silent.

he chuckles dryly, muttering to himself.

“and here i was worried for nothing. turns out, he doesn’t even know you that good. because you won’t let him.”, he pauses before he looks up at you through his eyelashes.

“won’t allow him know you…not like how i did.”

you freeze, eyes wide in panic, out of words at how right he actually is.

luckily for you, seokmin walks over at that moment, wrapping an arm around your waist. snapping you out of your panic, you see him smiling at you gently.

“ready to go, love?”

you swallow dryly, smiling a bit awkwardly as you nod your head at him.

you turn away as the two friends say their goodbyes, sighing in relief when seokmin intertwines your hands together and leads you to the exit.

in the moment of weakness, the one that you will cuss yourself out for later when you are laying in your bed in the middle of the night and staring at your ceiling as you think back about the sight, just as you and your boyfriend reach the exit, you slowly look over your shoulder to where your ex is sat.

only to see him looking directly at you.

his eyes are very serious as they observe, dark and full of emotions. you watch as he slowly plucks one of the blueberries from the leftover cake and puts it in his mouth.

like he always did whenever there were blueberries and he ate them for you.

you swallow dryly.

and you see it.

see how his eyes look directly back at yours.

see the unspoken promise that floats in them.

see the promise that reads out:

this isn’t over yet…love.

[coolgrl111]

Waaait idk if this makes sense but you could do a text au with art x reader who broke up but they still lowkey like eachother

[crushpunky]

‘tis the damn season - rafe cameron x ex!reader

masterlist

based off of ‘tis the damn season by taylor swift. warning: smoking + mentions of addiction

The windshield of her mother’s car had already begun to fog up as y/n parked the car just between the old Methodist church and the high school she'd gone to only years ago. As she exited the car, she was immediately greeted with a frigid gust of wind that reminded her just why she’d moved away from here in the first place. Sure, it was never cold enough to snow in Kildare, but that didn’t mean it didn’t get damned close.

Y/n tugged her jacket closer, her grandmother’s overbearing perfume seeming to linger even on her own jacket. She peered around the small parking lot she’d pulled into, there only seemed to be one other vehicle: a muddy, red truck. From the rearview mirror dangled a seashell, the small bits of light leaking out from the neon sign of the bar reflecting off the edges of the shell. Y/n let out something between a sigh and a chuckle, memories of walking the beach late at night searching for shells coupled with the feeling of driving along the winding roads with the windows down washing up in her mind.

A bell chimed as y/n entered the bar, wiping her feet off on the map as she looked around the space. Only a few people littered the bar, some chatting amongst each other while others sat quietly, sipping their drinks. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting. It's not like it was going to be packed like the lavish bars back in LA with their glittering chandeliers, thumping speakers, and fake smiles.

“What can I get ya?” The bartender said as y/n slid into one of the barstools.

“Just a vodka soda. Thanks.” Y/n said as she slid a wad of cash across the bartop. Mere moments later, the bartender slid her a drink before sidling off without another word. Y/n took a sip, the alcohol helping to warm the bitter cold seeping into her bones. The quiet calm of the bar was a welcome departure from the chaos that she’d just left at her parent’s house. Even after sleeping in damn near half the day, she’d still spent too much time with too many people with too many questions, leading her to slip out the back door and drive until she found herself here: drinking by herself on the night before Thanksgiving.

The relaxing silence of the bar was cut off as the bell above the door chimed once more. Y/n turned her eyes to the doorway without even intending to, her gaze immediately locking onto a familiar set of icy blue eyes. She felt her heart skip a beat, blinking harshly as she stood from her barstool. Without another word, she hurried out the back door onto the patio.

Y/n took in a shaky breath, reaching into her pocket for a cigarette. She fumbled with the packaging, pulling out a cigarette before placing it between her chapped lips. Her fingers retreated back into her pocket for a lighter, only to be greeted with nothing but pieces of lint and a straw wrapper.

“Need one of these?” A voice said, causing y/n to look up to see Rafe Cameron standing in front of her. Where a mop of greasy, blond hair used to sit, a slightly outgrown buzz cut now framed his face. A mud smeared Carhartt jacket sat unzipped, showing off the deep blue flannel he had on underneath.

A smirk she never thought she’d see again danced along his lips as he offered a lighter out to her. Etched into the body of the gold lighter, in an intricate, swirly script, was a “C”. She’d gotten it for him as a birthday present, many years ago. Her stomach fluttered at the thought of him holding onto it all this time.

“Uh, yeah.” Y/n cleared her throat, reaching for the lighter. Rafe’s fingers danced around the lighter, flicking the lighter as he raised the flame to the cigarette that dangled from y/n’s lips. Y/n leaned forward, her hands trembling slightly as she shielded the flame from the cold wind. Once the cigarette lit, y/n pulled away, exhaling smoke into the night air.

“Thanks.” Y/n said, turning away from Rafe to lean against the rail of the patio. She stood there for a moment, inhaling and exhaling smoke, until another pair of hands rested on the railing next to her own.

“Surprised to see you still smoke.” Rafe said, his eyes darting over to trail along y/n’s silhouette. Y/n’s gaze remained forward, the feeling of Rafe’s observance weighing on her.

“There are worse habits to have.” Y/n said simply, causing Rafe to let out a low, knowing chuckle. Y/n turned to him wide eyed, realizing what she’d said.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t—” Y/n sputtered.

“It’s fine.” Rafe said, a gentle grin on his lips as he gazed at her. Y/n swallowed harshly, taking another drag of her cigarette.

“I’m… I’m clean now anyways.” Rafe nodded. “Have been for a while.”

Y/n looked at him more intently. Even under the dim glow of the porchlight, she could see that the hollowness of his eyes or the incessant clenching of his jaw was gone. Where so often a frown or grimace had taken hold, a warm smile adorned his face. Where his face used to be sunken, a soft, pink blush dusted his cheeks.

“That’s great.” Y/n murmured. Rafe nodded, his fingers curling into the wood of the railing. The Cameron family ring that used to adorn his forefinger now rested on his middle finger, the gold glittering gently with each flex of his hands.

“Back for the holidays?” Rafe said.

“Yeah.” Y/n said, ashing her cigarette. “I’m staying at my parents' house for the week.”

“Hmm.” Rafe hummed, tapping his fingertips against the railing as they fell back into an awkwardly weighted silence.

“How—” 

“What’s—”

The two of them chuckled, Rafe’s eyes lingering on the way y/n’s head fell back as she laughed.

“You go.” Y/n said, turning her head to face him.

“How’s LA?” Rafe exhaled, his hip against the railing. Y/n let out another chuckle, taking a deep inhale of her cigarette.

“It’s… interesting, to say the least.” Y/n sighed. Rafe cocked his head to the side, waiting patiently for her to elaborate.

“It’s, I don’t know, it’s just so different from here.” Y/n said. “Can’t tell if that’s a good thing or a bad thing yet.”

“But you like it?” Rafe asked, leaning in slightly. Y/n paused, mulling over her response.

“Yeah.” Y/n said, meeting Rafe’s gaze hesitantly. Her lips drew up into a quick, faux smile, which drew a hearty chuckle from Rafe’s chest.

“You don’t have to lie.” Rafe said. Y/n bit her lip, shaking her head as she took another drag of her cigarette.

“The city is fine, it's just… the people suck.” Y/n sighed. Rafe hummed, nodding along.

“Well the people here can’t be much better.” Rafe said, fiddling with a piece of wood splintered from the railing.

“Trust me there’s plenty of great people here.” Y/n laughed, stubbing her cigarette out. Her mind thought back to the familiar faces she’d seen on her late night, drunken Instagram scrolls. Pictures of weddings and baby showers, people she’d used to pass by in the hallways at school now proudly smiling alongside families of their own.

“Yeah well… the best moved away.” Rafe said, his voice a low but gentle murmur. Y/n felt her heart clench at the vulnerability of his tone. It brought back memories of the day she left. The day she packed her bags and drove across the country, putting three time zones between her and the warmest bed she’d ever known.

“Rafe…” Y/n said breathily before the soft chime of her phone cut through the quiet night. Rafe let out an exhale, turning to face off the patio as y/n dug into her pants for her phone.

“My, uh, my mom texted me.” Y/n sighed. “I should probably get going.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Rafe said, giving y/n a short grin as he pulled the backdoor to the bar open.

“Thanks.” Y/n murmured as the two of them cut through the bar before exiting back onto the sidewalk out front. They walked side by side on the pavement until they made it to y/n’s mother’s car. Rafe tapped his fists gently against the top of the car before pulling the driver’s door open.

“Thanks.” Y/n said again as she climbed into the car. Rafe rested his forearms against the top of the car door, gazing down at y/n. Y/n dug into her pockets for her keys, shuffling through her mother’s keychains. Once she found the one to the ignition, she tossed a small grin up to Rafe, who threw her one back. Y/n put the key into the ignition, turning it as the car began to sputter… and sputter and sputter.

“Shit.” Y/n swore, trying the key again. Rafe sighed, running a hand along the short hairs of his buzz cut as the car continued to struggle before failing to turn on. Y/n groaned, hitting her fist against the steering wheel.

“How ‘bout I take you home?” Rafe said, gnawing at his bottom lip. “We can get it sorted out tomorrow morning, yeah?”

Y/n looked up at him, her eyes twinkling under the moon and remnants of light from the bar. Her lips parted slightly as she nodded, tugging her keys out of the ignition before climbing back out of the car. Rafe closed the door before digging into his pocket for his own keys. With the press of his button, the truck parked feet away roared to life.

“You… drive a truck?” Y/n asked, furrowing her brows as she looked at Rafe. He let out a chuckle as he dug his hands into his pocket.

“Well, when you own a construction company you kinda have to, baby.” Rafe nodded, the nickname slipping past his lips despite what felt like lifetimes of not using it. He didn’t miss the small smile that spread across y/n’s lips out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh, congratulations.” Y/n said, moving to round the back of the truck as they approached. Rafe split off, rounding the front of the truck with a bit of a jog before opening the passenger’s seat. As y/n stepped towards the cab, Rafe offered his hand out. Y/n’s heart caught in her throat before she took it, the familiar warmth of his skin sending shivers along her skin as she climbed into the truck. With a silent nod, Rafe reluctantly let go of her hand before closing the door and rounding the truck once more.

Y/n gazed around the interior of the truck, her eyes falling onto the shell that dangled from the rearview mirror. Up close she could see it for what it was. It wasn’t just any regular shell, it was her shell. The shell Rafe had found after the two of them had spent hours scouring the beach. He’d said something cheesy when he found it, something about the gentle colors that reminded him of her sun kissed skin, the glittering edges that shone even in the moonlight reminding him of her eyes, and the scalloped edges that reminded him of the curves of her lips. She’d thought he’d thrown it back into the water, buried it back into the sand, left it on the surf like she had left him so long ago. Yet here it sat, swaying slightly as Rafe put the truck into reverse.

“Thank you, Rafe.” Y/n whispered, tearing her eyes away from the shimmering shell. Rafe’s focus left the road in front of him for only a moment, his eyes catching the subtle glassiness in y/n’s gaze before he looked back at the road.

“No problem.” Rafe murmured, his hand gripping the steering wheel casually despite the hammering in his chest. Rafe cracked the windows, the cool air blowing into the cab. Houses and shops they’d passed countless times flew past, their lights bathing the truck in the occasional glow as y/n leaned out the window. The two of them drove in quiet, the only noises the steady thrum of the engine and the occasional chirp of birds. Y/n found herself falling into a comfortable trance she hadn't felt in so long, so much so she didn’t even say anything as Rafe drove right past her road. Or the next road. Or the one after that.

[trashytracktales]

GIRL GIRL GIRL MY AMAZING TRIPLE T!!

the way you write !exlovers and situationships >>>>

no. one. else. i’m real. the way you can combine smut and angsts and tension GAAAAH HOW

and pls let’s agree that lando norris IS the guy you have a situationship with, before landing it on a real relationship. he just is. and if we have to give him tropes? she fell first but HE FELL HARDER!! it’s canon.

Hey, I know you, hello 😏🤍!! Sorry for the late reply, life has been hectic, and my inbox looks like it’s been hit by a tornado. But thank you so much for appreciating my writing. Honestly, messages like yours make all the chaos of writing so worth it. I’ve been through my fair share of ex-lover situations, and instead of going insane, I channel all that angst and tension into my works. It’s cheaper than therapy, so 👍🏻

Now, about Lando… 100% yes. He’s the guy to have a situationship with before it somehow lands in real relationship territory. I think it’s the Scorpio energy... Don’t worry guys, he’ll tell us ALL about it.

He also IS the embodiment of “she fell first, he fell harder”. He doesn’t seem to have had a ton of serious relationships lately, but if/when he finds the right one? You know.

[rafescherie]

✮⋆˙ ex!reader can’t bear to see rafe treating his new girlfriend so badly — she’d be there to pick up the pieces of his broken heart, though!

warnings — angst ! rafe mentioned but not in the fic, manipulative reader, mentions of toxicity and manipulation.

cherie's note — i hope this is giving amy dunne my beloved.

she was gorgeous — really, she was. sleek brunette hair that kissed just above her shoulders, a tight little body that could keep any man’s undivided attention, and a personality so warm and inviting it was impossible not to like her. sweet, generous, kind — the perfect package. she had that down-to-earth charm, growing up on the cut and still somehow managing to stay humble about it. you could see why he liked her. she mirrored the same version of you he had fallen for years ago, back before everything crumbled.

her hesitation had been palpable at first, sneaking out behind her boyfriend’s back to meet with his ex-girlfriend. the forbidden allure of the situation must’ve been too tempting to resist. curiosity killed the cat, after all. and now here she was, perched nervously in the chair across from you, eyes wide and glistening with apprehension as she absorbed every word. you weren’t sure if it was horror or disbelief reflected in her gaze, but you knew she was listening.

“i don’t want this to affect your relationship, obviously,” you said, voice heavy with practiced sincerity. “i just think you deserve to know what i’ve been through. there’s a pattern here, sofia, and it’s glaringly obvious from a mile away.” you leaned back, pressing a hand against your temple as the headache brewing at the base of your skull flared.

sofia swirled her bright orange drink with the thin straw, taking slow, deliberate sips as she nodded. her face softened with an apologetic expression, one so genuine it made your chest loosen. you hadn’t expected her to seem this understanding — it was disarming, really.

“i’ve been through hell with rafe cameron,” you admitted, voice low and laden with the weight of memories. the name alone seemed to steal the air from the room. her boyfriend. the words sat unspoken between you like an undeniable truth. “and i can’t stand the thought of you going through the same thing i did. i know how it starts.”

she shifted forward in her chair, chin propped on her hand, as if urging you to go on.

“months of not seeing him because he was off on one of his impulsive escapes — running after those stupid pogues to god-knows-where in south america. screaming matches in the middle of the night over nothing, to the point my voice cracked and gave out the next morning. and his addiction…” your voice faltered. “that was the worst of it. cocaine, sofia. it consumed him. no matter how hard i tried, no matter what i did, he always chose it over me.”

her lips parted slightly, her eyes flickering with disbelief. “i had no idea,” she murmured.

you let out a humorless laugh. “nobody does. he’s good at hiding it when he wants to be. but trust me, he’s not the perfect man he pretends to be. and the worst part? he was the one who broke up with me.” you shook your head, the absurdity of it all still bitter on your tongue.

sofia’s brow furrowed, and she leaned in closer. “everything you say will stay between us,” she reassured, her tone steady but laced with sincerity. “i promise.”

could you trust her? that question lingered in your mind, but the truth was, you didn’t need to. this wasn’t about loyalty; it was about planting the seed.

“i don’t even know where to start,” you sighed, resting your chin on your palm. “i should’ve left the first time it happened, but i didn’t. i was in love, you know? and every time i tried to bring something up — anything, really — he’d turn it around with some sob story about his childhood. i’d feel guilty, and i’d let it go.”

her expression shifted — a flicker of recognition. she knew exactly what you were talking about.

“he’d compliment other girls right in front of me,” you continued, voice cracking as your emotions began to swell. “and then when i told him it hurt, he’d call me insecure. and if i got upset? suddenly, i was ‘too sensitive.’”

sofia’s face twisted in discomfort, her lips pressed into a thin line. it was clear she wasn’t just hearing you; she was feeling it too.

“he’s done that to me too,” she confessed, her voice quiet but laced with something heavy — shame, maybe, or realization. her hands fidgeted in her lap as she looked down, avoiding your gaze. “he did that with hollis.”

your heart skipped. that was new information. “and let me guess,” you said, leaning forward slightly, “he said it was just work partners or some nonsense like that. made you feel like you were crazy for even questioning it?”

her head snapped up, and she nodded quickly. “exactly. god, it’s like you’re reading my mind.”

“i’ve been there,” you said, voice low and somber. “i tried to leave so many times, but every time i did, he’d pull me back in. he’d remind me of all the things he did for me — made me feel like i owed him something.”

“jesus.” sofia’s voice cracked, her composure slipping as her emotions bubbled to the surface. “i thought that was normal with him. god, i feel like such an idiot.”

“don’t,” you cut in quickly, shaking your head. “don’t blame yourself. manipulators like rafe… they know exactly how to get to you. it’s not your fault.”

you reached across the table, offering her a small, reassuring smile. it felt natural, comforting. “i just want you to know the truth. you don’t have to go through what i did.”

she nodded, her expression resolute now, and in that moment, you felt a quiet sense of relief. she understood. she believed you. that was all you needed.

because in the end, this wasn’t just about warning her — it was about planting the seed. the doubt you’d carefully sown would fester, weaving its way into every little moment, every fight, every lingering glance that didn’t feel quite right. it would grow until it was too big to ignore, cracking their perfect little relationship wide open. and when it all came crashing down?

you’d be there. waiting. rafe cameron would come crawling back, brokenhearted and betrayed, just like you had been. and this time, you’d be the one to pick up the pieces.

you hadn’t told sofia the truth to hurt her — it wasn’t about that. you just couldn’t stand to see her go through what you had. and when it happened—when she left him for good—he’d see it too. he’d realize that you’d been there all along, that no one could love him the way you did.

sofia might break his heart, but you’d be there to put it back together. one piece at a time.

[writingroom21]

Text between ex!rafe and ex!reader

Taglist : @rafedaddy01 @rrafeswhore @10ava01

Let me know if you want to be added

[venuslcver]

jayj maybank struggled with constant, unwavering uncertainty that was entirely paralyzing. never relenting for even the briefest moments in time — a prime example of his environment.

however, after eleven, entirely too long months of an on-and-off relationship — a girl would lol her eyes when the same excuses were thrown at her when broken up with, every time.

"i-im like really fuck'n sorry. i just can't be do'n this, you know?"

the same look would be given when he would come back crawling to you after one, two weeks max of being broken up. to which you would inevitably cave — becoming putty to his touch. stuck in a constant, revolving loop.

on the occasional chance, the most recent time, you saw him well, happy. it had been longer than the standard few weeks, close to a month, maybe two.

unlike the others, this time you let go of the nagging heartbreak that took over you when the inevitable breaking up took place. feeling a lack of judgment towards him. see, you can't feel anger towards someone that you have a clean slate about. someone you let go of a long time ago. slowly you approach him a genuine smile plastered on your face, in contrast to the smirk he has when he catches you in his sight.

like always, jayj is the first to talk, not shying away from applying his confident facade, "you're looking real good, i didn't think you could get, well, y'know hotter. wanna get out of here?"

staring directly into his eyes, not making a peep. that was until he started fiddling with the neckline of the dress you were currently wearing. an agile scoff is tossed entirely into his cast, before completely ignoring his request, and his touchy nature altogether — "i just came over to tell you that you look better. happier."

"well, i think i would be doing a whole'lot better if you gave me some sugar"

besides the annoyingly obvious trait of self-destruction that possessed jayj at a constant rate. he always had impeccable timing for his dumbassry.

"n-nevermind. this was a mistake, you can't take anything seriously," you said, in an annoyed tone with swift movements to exit the situation entirely. it had been the first exchange since the most recent break-up, and all he could bring to the table was his unrelenting childish tendencies.

"wait i-i get this, you leave. i follow." jayj says with full confidence in his voice. though, quick to catch the glance you gave him. yet, he chose to continue.

"so-so no one suspects that we are leaving together"

"i swear you just hear what you want to, i was just coming to say you seem to be doing good, a-and that i have moved on"

let out a gulp as he attempted to nonchalantly catch his breathe at the confession. running his hands through unbrushed, light locks, he spoke asperated, "what? what could you possibly mean, you 'moved on',"

you barely had time to register his air quotes before he continued his rant, "i-if you 'moved on', then e-explain why were you come'n over here trying to y'know?"

a slight shake took control over him when the thought of you. with. another. guy.

"what?! i wasn't trying anything. at. all. i was just checking on you, and y'know i should've known that you would turn it into something it wasn't." "a-and honestly i felt real sorry for you — but, i won't allow myself anymore. you did this to yourself. i was there for you, and you blew it time and time again."

feeling completely hollow inside from the entire confession that took place, you only had it in you to push to walk away. leaving jayj maybank, standing alone, entirely by himself.

[eveninggstar]

my kink is karma ⊹ ࣪ ˖

charles leclerc x singer!ex!reader, unspecified driver x singer!reader

24.07.24

୨ৎIt's been six months since you and Charles broke up in April. Since he kicked you out, his team's performance has noticeably declined. Despite the breakup, you've kept up with the races and are often seen watching them. Some of Charles's fans have labelled you as jealous or worse, but in reality, you simply find satisfaction in seeing Charles fail after he proved to be an inadequate boyfriend. So much so you would joke its your kink.

୨ৎ back a page ୨ৎ back two pages

pretend monaco gp was in april, not may lol also the timeline is all over dont mind it lol (this isnt one of my best fanfics)

The roar of the crowd was deafening as Charles crossed the finish line, claiming victory at the Monaco Grand Prix. You stood by the sidelines, your heart swelling with pride as he emerged from his car, triumphant and glowing with sweat and adrenaline. As the celebrations unfolded, you finally found a moment alone with him in his driver’s room.

"Congratulations, Charlie!" you beamed, wrapping your arms around him. "What are we going to do to celebrate tonight?"

His expression shifted from joy to irritation in a heartbeat. He pulled away from your embrace, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I just want a moment alone," he snapped, his voice low but sharp.

The words stung, and you took a step back, trying to hide your hurt. "What do you mean?"

He sighed heavily, avoiding your gaze. "You're always around, always asking for attention. It's like you’re trying to piggyback off my success to boost your own career."

Your breath caught in your throat. "That's not true, Charles. I’m just proud of you and want to support you."

"Well, it doesn’t feel that way," he said, his tone colder than the champagne being sprayed on the podium. "You're annoying, and I need some space."

Tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked them away, refusing to let them fall. "Fine. I'll give you space." You brushed some loose hair behind your ear. "I’ll see you at home, I guess."

The following Tuesday, the apartment you shared felt colder than usual. Charles had been distant since the race, and you could sense something was wrong. As you walked into the living room, you found him waiting, his expression unreadable.

"We need to talk," he said, his voice devoid of emotion.

Your heart sank. "What’s going on?"

"I think it’s best if we go our separate ways," he said bluntly. "This isn’t working anymore."

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Charles, please, can we talk about this?"

He shook his head. "No. I’ve made up my mind. I want you to move out."

Tears finally broke free, streaming down your face. "But where will I go?"

"That's not my problem," he said, turning away from you. "You have until the end of today to pack your things."

With those final, cold words, he walked out of the room, leaving you standing there, shattered and alone in the apartment you had once called home together.

The days following the breakup were some of the darkest you’d ever known. You found refuge at your parents' home, which once felt warm and inviting and a good idea to bring Charles to, but now felt hollow and cold. Even when he ditched you, he couldn’t help but ruin something you held so dear. But instead of succumbing to despair, you channelled your emotions into your music. Late nights found you in your makeshift home studio/childhood bedroom, writing and recording songs that poured out your heartache, frustration, and eventual acceptance.

You released your music under an alias, wanting the work to stand on its own and not attract the flood of F1 fans wanting to see how you were after the "golden boy" broke everything off. To your surprise, the songs quickly gained traction. The raw emotion and honesty resonated with listeners, and your music began to blow up. The overwhelming support and success of your songs helped you heal. You started to feel happier and more fulfilled, finding strength in your own achievements. And it had only been a week!

One day, you decided it was time to reveal yourself. You posted a video on social media, explaining the journey behind your music and how it helped you through the toughest period of your life. The response was overwhelmingly positive, with fans praising your bravery and authenticity.

Meanwhile, Charles's career took a downturn after his Monaco win and the breakup. Ferrari’s performance in the following races was abysmal, plagued by mechanical failures and strategic errors. His frustration was evident, both on and off the track.

In a desperate attempt to distract himself and perhaps regain some control, Charles decided to change his appearance. During an interview, he was asked about the patchy, orange highlights in his hair.

“I thought a change might do me some good,” he said, running a hand through his hair and forcing a smile. “But clearly, it didn’t turn out the way I planned.” He sensibly decided to wear a hat until his mother was free to fix it, yet she had very little free time that lined up with his busy schedule.

Maybe karma was real, and it was his turn.

The Canadian Grand Prix was a disaster for Charles. During the race, a miscalculation led to a devastating crash. The car spun out of control, smashing into the barriers. The crowd gasped, and the cameras quickly cut to the chaotic scene. Fortunately, he was unharmed, but the crash marked a low point in his career.

As the medics rushed to Charles’s side, the camera panned over the crowd. There you were, sitting in the stands with your sunglasses on, watching the scene unfold. A slight smile played on your lips—not out of malice, but as a quiet acknowledgment of how far you had come since that painful breakup. You had found your path and your peace, and seeing Charles now, it was clear you were better off.

As Charles struggled with his racing career, his personal life took a turn that left many puzzled. He began dating a string of significantly younger women, each relationship seemingly lasting no more than two weeks. The media and fans noticed the pattern, and speculation ran rampant. It seemed like Charles was desperately searching for something—or perhaps someone—to fill the void.

Meanwhile, your career continued to flourish. You were seen at a variety of high-profile events: fashion shows, music festivals, charity galas, and, yes, occasionally at races. Your rising fame meant your presence was increasingly noted, and the public couldn’t help but draw connections between your appearances and Charles’s chaotic love life.

Some of Charles’s more fervent fans took to social media to voice their opinions, accusing you of being jealous of his new girlfriends and of Charles himself. They claimed you were trying to stay in the spotlight by being seen in the same places he frequented. The reality, however, was far from their accusations; your success had brought you to these venues on your own merit.

One evening, you attended a high-profile charity gala. Dressed in an elegant gown, you mingled with other artists, philanthropists, and celebrities. The event was buzzing with excitement, but the atmosphere shifted when Charles arrived with his latest girlfriend, an 18-year-old model. Whispers spread through the crowd, and cameras clicked furiously as the couple made their entrance.

You found yourself near the press line when Charles and his date approached. Despite the awkwardness, you struggled to hold back your laughter, it coming out as a quick snigger. Charles’s eyes briefly met yours, and there was a flash of something—regret, maybe, or recognition of how much had changed. Your reaction caught the lingering eyes of another driver who was present at the same gala.

Later that evening, you were approached by a group of Charles’s fans when a different driver had so graciously offered to walk you home. Their faces were a mix of anger and curiosity. “Why are you always around?” one of them demanded. “Are you still hung up on Charles?”

You took a deep breath, maintaining your calm demeanor. “I’m here for my career,” you said evenly. “Just like everyone else. My presence here has nothing to do with Charles.” You turned to look at the man holding your hand. "Charles is the least of my concern." After you said his name wrong in front of these die-hard fans, their faces morphed into more disgust (if possible).

It had been another tough race weekend for Charles. His frustrations were evident not only on the track but also during the post-race interviews. Sitting down with a popular motorsports journalist, he was asked about the ongoing challenges with his team and his personal life.

"Charles, it's been a rough season for you. How are you coping with all the changes, both professionally and personally?" the journalist inquired, genuinely concerned.

Charles shifted in his seat, a hint of irritation flashing in his eyes. "Yeah, it's been tough. The car isn't performing as well as we hoped, and there have been a lot of distractions off the track too."

The journalist nodded, sensing an opportunity to dig deeper. "Speaking of off-track distractions, there's been a lot of media attention on your former partner. She's been seen with another driver quite frequently. Any thoughts on that?"

Charles's jaw tightened, and he forced a smile. "I think it's interesting how some people move on quickly and find comfort in familiar circles. It’s almost like they’re trying to stay relevant by associating with those still in the spotlight."

The journalist raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "Are you suggesting that she's using this new connection to boost her own profile?"

Charles shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm just saying it's curious. I focus on my career and my performance. If others choose to spend their time differently, that's their prerogative."

The comments made by Charles quickly spread across social media and the news, stirring up a storm of speculation and opinions. Fans and analysts dissected his words, trying to decipher whether he was shading you and the other driver you had been seen with.

You had indeed been seen frequently with another driver, but it wasn't anyone's business, especially Charles's, if you "moved on too quick." Both of you had bonded over shared interests and the mutual understanding of life in the spotlight. The growing relationship had been a source of comfort and support for you, but now it was being dragged into the media circus.

Despite the media frenzy, you continued to thrive. Your music career soared, and your public appearances were met with admiration and respect. The relationship with the other driver remained a positive influence, untainted by the rumors and insinuations.

As for Charles, his comments eventually faded from the headlines, overshadowed by the ongoing drama and excitement of the racing season. The world continued to watch, always eager for the next twist in the tale, but you had found your peace and your path, no longer defined by someone else's shadow.

Please don’t steal my work, much love ᡣ𐭩

if this is your first time reading one of my fics i promise i can write better (i genuinely feel as if this was a flop) also if you saw this before i deleted the first version and had it copied twice no you didn’t

taglist: (comment if you wanna be added)

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃 eveninggstar

[vapekingg]

Creature of Habit - Ex!Eddie x Fem!Reader

Hurt, no comfort Inspired by Dial Drunk x Noah Kahan Additional tags: mentions of past seggs, alcoholism, driving under the influence, break-up, 18+

Eddie's fingers grip the leather steering wheel of his van. It's only a ten minute drive back to the trailer park from The Hideout, but winter winds whip into his open window and snap at his face, making this the most uncomfortable ten minutes he's had since... Well, since the last time you broke up with him and he went on a bender.

His eyelids are drooping. Every time he blinks they take a beat longer to reopen. Not that it matters, Eddie doesn't even have the headlights on.

The radio though? That Black Sabbath tape you'd pocketed from your job at the record shop is the only thing keeping him from drifting off the road. Die Young vibrates the dashboard and rings in his ears, nearly drowning out the howling wind that's screaming at him to get it the fuck together.

Eddie swats his palm against his cheek. The quick, sharp sting electrocutes him for a second, wakes him up just enough to get within the lines — or at least he thinks he's between the lines. Faded yellow and white paint crawls up this backroad, winding across the pavement like a corn snake and making it hard for him to decipher what's real. Bald tires churn up dirt as he drifts toward the edge again. This time, he isn't given the grace of correcting his mistakes.

Blue and red lights flash in his rearview mirror. It's the first time Eddie has really been allowed to see in the past six minutes, and what he sees is Chief Hopper's Blazer riding his tailgate as if it's his job.

"Put it in park, Munson. Don't make me show up at Wayne's with a warrant for evading." Jim eventually says over his car's loudspeaker.

Not that Eddie was going to run. Sure, he'd considered it — but that would be so typical for a Munson. Wouldn't it?

Besides, he's gotten himself into enough shit lately. Eddie accepts that he's spending the rest of the night at the station, that he'll have to pay another eighty bucks to get his van out of impound in the morning, and slams his foot on the brakes.

Soon, the bright whiteness of a flashlight is burning his eyes. He shields his face as Hopper approaches his window and leans against it.

They don't say anything for a moment. This is the second DUI Eddie has caught in the past six months, the second time you've broken up with him, incidentally. And rightfully so.

Eddie can't blame you for breaking things off. He just... fucks up. Right? He's a Munson, it's in his blood. But he'd bleed himself dry for you.

"Eddie..." Hopper starts, his voice soft and disappointed.

That's the worst part. Eddie just can't handle being a disappointment.

"Yeah, I know..." He responds.

Hopper slaps his hand against the hood of the van and begins to go through the motions. Step out of the car, blow into this tube, walk this straight line and follow my finger with your eyes. Eddie's never been good at tests. He's especially worse when he's eight beers and a joint deep.

"Alright, well, I'll do you a favor and let you leave your car, but I gotta take you in this time, kid." Hopper reluctantly tells him while snapping a pair of cold, metal handcuffs behind his back. "You wanna use my car phone to call someone?"

Eddie lets Jim lead him to the Blazer by the wrists.

The only person he wants to talk to is you. The only name and phone number he can even remember are yours.

"Call my girlfriend," Eddie slurs.

He's wobbly on his feet, but the seat in the back of that patrol car is a hell of a lot comfier than the barstool he was just sitting on for three hours. Eddie settles into the back of the truck and listens while Jim dials those seven digits that he used to eagerly punch after school, after shows, after every single Hellfire campaign so that he could ramble to you about how it all went.

The line rings, and it keeps ringing. It's only ten o'clock, he knows you aren't asleep. Your shift ends at eight, so he knows you're home.

With each ring, Eddie sinks deeper into himself. He can't hear anything else. Not the angry wind outside or the Black Sabbath still blaring from his own radio. Just every long, eerie, unanswered ring.

After ten or so rings, Hopper ends the call. He's not good at these things — sympathy — and Eddie isn't good at receiving it.

"Do you want to... maybe, call your Uncle... See if he can—"

"Call her back," Eddie interrupts.

That fucking dial tone won't stop ringing in his ear.

But Hopper hesitates. "Son, I don't think that's such a good ide—"

"Call her the fuck back!" Eddie spits.

He's sweating, can feel it collecting beneath his messy bangs. Heavy heartbeats thump in his throat and his head is starting to spin.

Slowly, Jim dials the numbers again, and Eddie listens to it ring. And ring, and ring. He recalls that New Year's Eve party where he kissed you for the first time, how your lips tasted like vodka and how that was the only drink he would have for a month after. Eddie remembers when the two of you got your place, how you didn't have any furniture but you had a cheap bottle of wine so you celebrated by getting drunk and making love on the floor. He recalls it all. Every kiss, every screaming match, every goddamn ring that has never gone unanswered... until now.

Hopper ends the call one more time, and Eddie doesn't say anything.

"I don't think she's answering this time, Eds..." He eventually says. Cautiously, quietly, as if Eddie is an unpredictable dog.

He's not as unpredictable as people think, though.

When the phone rings on the side table next to your couch, it's completely predictable. No one calls you this late, no one besides Eddie. And you think about picking up the line. It would be so easy. Just give in to your aching heart and all will be right again. You're sick of crying yourself to sleep on the couch. Sick of hearing the fucking phone ring all. night. long. Sick of all those memories that keep plaguing your mind.

But you're strong, too.

You remember him taking you to your first show and sitting on his shoulders so that you could see, how he'd gotten way too drunk by the end of the night and you had to drive home. You remember the beer on his breath, thick and hot on his tongue whenever he kissed you. You didn't mind it at first, maybe you'd even liked it for a little while, but eventually it got stale.

Eddie isn't unpredictable. He's a creature of habit. Bad habits.

So instead of picking up the phone, you white knuckle the arm of the couch. You grit your teeth and clench your jaw. You let the tears fill your eyes. But for the first time, you recognize that you cannot save Eddie Munson from his own self-destruction.

Hopper flips off his lights when Eddie doesn't say anything. He pulls out onto the back road and starts toward the police station while Eddie rests his head against the inside of the door.

The shadows of trees stretch across the road, illuminated by silver moonlight. Eddie watches them come into vision and then disappear again, and it feels like you'd ceased to exist in his life just as quickly.

He's not unpredictable, Eddie is a creature of habit. Habitually getting himself in trouble, habitually letting you down, and habitually having to make it up.

Until now.

[l4mbh3art]

Why’d you only call me when you’re high?

In which you get a phone call from Ellie in the middle of the night asking about your new girlfriend. You both are bad for each other, yet you always find a way to let her back in.

Cw: cheating(reader is in an established relationship), Ellie and reader can’t stay away from each other, phone sex, e! & r! are switches, fingering(r! receiving), intoxicated sex(Ellie is high), manipulation, kinda angsty towards the end, ex!Ellie x reader, oral(r! receiving), masterbaiting(both e! & r!), overstimulation, dacryphilia, praise, hair pulling, choking, black coded reader if you squint, Ellie is lowk toxic, pet names (baby, sweetie, etc.)

Mdni!

A/n: it’s been a minute since I put something out because writers block is a bitch but I’m back and this is a longgg one so sit tight

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・★

Part of her wished she never even smoked the damn joint, but all of that leaves her mind when she picks up the phone to call you. She couldn’t care less if it was 3:34 in the morning, or the fact that you had a girlfriend that you were probably sleeping next to right now. All she cared about was the insatiable appetite for something she couldnt have. After the third ring she was about to hang up, but you picked up at the last minute.

“What do you want, Ellie?” She couldn’t tell if you were aggravated or if you were tired, either way she got to hear your voice. “Are you with her right now?” Ellie’s voice was raspy and laced with something you couldn’t quite figure out, maybe it was jealousy. You tried to stop answering her calls a long time ago, but how could you when she would always tell you how no one would ever love you like she did?

This was stupid. You don’t even know why you picked up. “What are you talking about?” You sneered, the sleep evident in the way you spoke. “I mean, is she with you right now?” She doesn’t sound like herself, she sounds… “Are you high right now?” You asked, knowing her from when you guys were dating, every time she was high her words were more dragged out and raspy and she was far more bold than she usually was. That’s one thing you could never forget. “Would you hang up if I was?” “No.” You didn’t even let the thought simmer in her head before you replied. This was the worst thing that could possibly happen to you. You had no business talking to Ellie, let alone at 3:40 in the morning.

“No, she’s not here. She’s at work actually.” She just hummed in response, the sound graced your ears and you almost forgot why you guys broke up in the first place. “We shouldn’t be doing this” You broke the silence. The guilt of the situation finally weighted on you. “Do what?” “This, you can’t keep calling me like this.” You spat back, your tone rose higher then you intended but you got your point across. “Does she fuck you like I do?” She shut you up, her words cutting you off completely. “Ellie..” “Answer me.” Her question hung in the air, you could practically hear the smirk on her face when she said it.

“You know I can’t answer that—” you mumbled, all of your previous confidence went out the window. “But you can, unless she doesn’t? She doesn’t make you come like I can, huh?” She cooed oh so sweetly, the same way she would when she would fuck you through your orgasm. “No,” you confessed, her words buzzed through your body and before you knew it your fingers were toying with the waistband of your panties. “Ellie..” you whined, your breathing getting heavier the more she spoke. “Yes baby?” Either her voice was getting incredibly hotter or you were just horny but the way the pet name rolled off her tongue made your head dizzy.

“M’ need you.” Your voice rasped, you hand was now fully in your panties and rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “I thought you said we shouldn’t be doing this?” She teased in a mocking tone, her sentence obviously being condescending. She left out as dark as chuckle before her own hands slipped down to her boxers. She was fucked. You had a girlfriend, she was high, this whole entire situation was fucked. Yet here she was, playing with her pussy while you talked about how much you need her. “Poor thing, are you touching yourself right now?” She asked softly as her breath picked up, all you could do was whimper as you felt yourself grow increasingly wetter by the second. “No, use your words.” She corrected, you heard her shuffling in the background through your speakers. “Yes, need you so bad els” You whined pathetically, rubbing faster circles on your pussy.

“Let me hear.” She said in between heavy breaths, picking up her pace as well. “What?” “Let me hear how much you need me.” You quickly grabbed your phone with your unoccupied hand, bringing the speaker near your clit to pick up on the dirty squelching it was making. “Fuck baby, you like getting off to my voice behind your girlfriend’s back?” You shook your head as if she could she you, your noises becoming more louder as you slipped a finger in your entrance. You said no but the noises from your pussy told a whole different story though.

“Mmm no you do, I can tell. I told you no one could ever fuck you like I can.” And that’s all it took, you back arched off your bed as her words pushed you over the edge. Her name slipped from your lips as you dirtied the sheets beneath you. You added another finger as you fucked yourself through your orgasm, you whimpers becoming more high pitched than before. “I bet you look so fucking pretty right now, do you want me to come and fuck you right?” She slurred as she removed her hand from her pants, completely focused on how your voice sounded over the phone. She swore she could see how fucked up you were, pupils blown and your lips slightly parted, fuck she needed to see you so bad.

“Please do.” Is all you mumbled before she hung up the phone and got in her car.

★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・・・★ ★・・・・★

By the time you heard a knock on your door, you had already changed your sheets, fixed your hair a bit, and slipped into some lingerie. The same lingerie that your girlfriend had bought for you. God, it made you sick. Yet you couldn’t help yourself. You practically leaped off the couch when you heard a knock on your door. You smelt her before you even opened the door, weed mixed with her cologne plaguing nose.

“Hey, baby” she cooed, she looked so fucking out of it. Her eyes were fixed on you and her hair was somewhat messy, she was looking at you like you were a meal. “Hi els,” you smiled. Oh fuck. You smiled. you knew there was no way out of this now. You stepped aside to let her inside, close the door behind you. You felt a pair of hands on your waist as you locked it. “You know, I haven’t stopped thinking about you.” She whispered softly, turning you around to face her properly. “I haven’t either, that’s the problem..” You mumbled.

She grabbed your face gently, her other hand moving a stray curl from your face. “Then why don’t we just get back together?” She dragged on, her lips practically hovering yours, just barely kissing you. “Els, you know it won’t work, it never does—“ She pressed her lips on yours, effectively cutting you off. Her hands slipped down to your waist, her fingernails digging into your skin as you whimpered in her mouth. “No matter who you fuck, who you date, you will always come back to me. And you know that.” She said harshly, but so sweetly. It was like poison laced with honey and it made you sick. But at the end of the day she’s right. No one will ever treat you like she did, fuck you like she did, or even look at you like she did. “No matter how many dumb girls you fuck you’ll always think of me.” She purred as she nipped at your lower lip, inciting a moan from you.

“Oh? You like that don’t you? Thinking of me while your girlfriend fucks you?” She just chuckled as you shook your head no. She just smiled as she backed you up against the wall and slipped her hand to your neck, squeezing gently. “Liar.” She grinned as she added more pressure, her pupils dilating more as she watched you struggle to breathe. “Tell me the truth and I might let you come.” Your eyes were glossed over, it’s like you were intoxicated by her. The was she’s touching you, speaking to you, it threw you in a frenzy. “I do.” You mumbled, looking up at her with big brown eyes. She swore she could come just by you looking at her. “Speak up.” She taunted as her thigh nudged your legs apart, pressing directly on your core. You let out a small ‘fuck’ under your breath as she did so.

“I do,” You spoke a little louder this time, making her capture your lips in another kiss. Her fingers slipped under the waistband of your panties tugging them down you. You shivered as your heat came in contact with the cold air of your apartment. “Look at you, you’re fucking soaked for me” Ellie said as she became eye-level with your clit. You were unsure if she was talking to you or your pussy but either way you didn’t care, you just needed her to touch you.

“Els pleaseee,” You whined, your fingers itching to tangle in her hair. She took her finger and ran it down your clit, collecting slick and putting it in her mouth, looking up as you as she sucked her fingers clean. Fuck she was killing you. She got up from her knees and took you hand, pulling you towards your bedroom. She sat you down on the bed then sat down next to you, all you could is stare at her. The way her freckles decorated her face and her green eyes contrasting all her features, it drove you insane. She looked at you with equal need, your curls framing your face perfectly and your doe eyes looking at her so sweet and willing. You guys were made for eachother, yet you both kept up this game of cat and mouse.

“I miss you,” You muttered, your face mere inches from hers. “Im right here.” “That’s not what I meant” You chuckled softly, the sound made Ellie’s heart swell. “I know, why are we doing this? Why play this game when we both know we’ll crawl back to each?” She spoke softly, it sounded like she was asking her self more than asking you. You sat your bare pussy on her clothed lap, wrapping your arms around her neck and leaning in. “Because we both know we’re bad for each other.” You said as you pulled her shirt over her head, revealing she wasn’t wearing a bra. “Some one was in a rush.” You giggled and she pouted, hands finding your waist and pushing you down against her lap.

The friction causing you to moan. Your mouth latches on to her nipple as you rode her thigh, moans spilling from both your mouths. Her hands pull your hair, prying you away from her tit. “Lay down for me pretty.” And you did as she said, crawling off her and laying back on the bed. She slotted herself between your thighs, pressing open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. You started to squirm as she got closer to your heat, whines and whimpers of her name falling from you lips like prayers. “Patience.” She bit back, finally licking a stripe down your cunt.

“Mmm-oh fuckkk..” You moaned as she took your bud in her mouth and sucked harshly, causing you to grab a fist full of her hair. “Still sensitive as I remember. Are you like this for anyone else?” You quickly shook your head no and she just chuckled, she knew that no one else could make you feel this way. Her tongue began flicking at your clit, one of her fingers dipping into your entrance as she did so. The sensations were driving you crazy.

Your back arched off the bed as she began pumping her finger, almost every thrust abused your g-spot. She added another finger and you swore you were a goner. “Ellie I can’t—“ “Can’t what? You were talking so much about how you needed me earlier.” Her words mocked you as she picked up her pace, moving faster than you could blink. “Mmphh Ellie don’t—“ You let out a sharp cry as your orgasm ripped through you, harshly tugging on Ellie’s hair. Her fingers fucked you through it, slowing down but never stopping. Once it was over she was still going, fingers repeatedly hitting your g-spot but not enough pressure to make you come. It bordered on painful.

“S’ too much els..” You whined as you squirmed away from her, everything around you becoming too much. “You can give me another, pretty girl. Don’t you want to be good for me?” She cooed and you immediately nodded. She was torturing you, her tongue circling your clit and her fingers started moving faster once more. She didn’t even notice you clawing at her scalp and crying her name, she was basically pussy drunk. She was an absolute mess between your legs, moanimg into your clit as if she was the one being ate out. It drove you crazy. It didn’t take long before you came for the third time, tears flowing from your eyes as broken moans fell from your lips. Begging Ellie to stop and keep going at the same time.

Her eyes fluttered to look up at you, brown eyes reddened by tears and your chest heaving as she sucked the soul out of you. You bit your lip as your eyes rolled to the back of your head, her fingers hitting that delicious spot to make you see stars. Your thighs clamped around her head, the sensation was so much it hurt. “I can’t,” you pleaded, your voice cracked as you struggled to speak.

“Just one more baby, you’re doing so fucking good for me. See how she’s sucking me in?” She wasn’t even looking at you anymore. She cooed at your cunt as if it was speaking back to her. But the squelch of your pussy filled the room, and the filthy sound honestly made it seem like it was. “So fucking pretty like this, crying for me to make you feel good. Bet she doesn’t make you cum this hard, huh?” She spoke softly, as she allowed you to come for the last time, your essence coated her fingers as she slowly pulled out of your cunt. You shook your head no because of course you did, not missing a beat when the question was asked.

She crawled up the bed and hovered over you, sticking her pussy-slicked fingers in your mouth to clean off. And you did as she asked, even shoving her fingers further down your mouth to cause you to gag. She slipped her fingers out of your mouth and wiped them on her jeans which she shimmied out of after laying down beside you. You looked over at her with a fucked out expression, her red emerald eyes captivated you just like they used to when you both were together.

your heart felt heavy, old emotions that you thought were long buried away soon bubbled to the surface. This was wrong, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. But it felt so right. Being with her, laying next to her, holding her as you smelled her perfume. It hurt how much you missed her. And before you could control yourself, the words just came out of your mouth.

“I meant what I said, I miss us, and I know you’re high and might not remember any of this in the morning but I want us to work. No, need us to work. And I don’t want to keep jumping into relationships while trying to forget you.”

But your heartfelt confession fell upon deaf ears as you peered over to see Ellie fast asleep, stray hairs decorated her face as her chest rose and fell. You let out a small sigh as you smiled. You got up to turn off all your lights then settled yourself back in bed with her. She shifted to lay on your chest, the steadiness of your heartbeat lulling her back to sleep. You gave her a chaste kiss on her head, still smelling the shampoo she always used. You were ready to fall asleep until..

Fuck, your girlfriend.

[lokidokieokie]

Shattered Sanctum

Summary: After Y/n embraces darkness and their love turns to bitter enmity, Stephen Strange must confront and defeat her to protect the world, sacrificing their past love in the process.

Pairing: Stephen Strange x Villain!Ex!Reader

Warning(s): angst, violence, no happy ending, lovers to enemies

Inspiration: I was listening to the radio and Taylor Swift's Bad Blood came on...then this was born!

The Sanctum Sanctorum, once a bastion of unity and protection, now lay in ruins. The magical energy that once pulsed through its walls had dissipated, replaced by a heavy atmosphere of betrayal and resentment. Stephen stood amidst the wreckage, his eyes filled with anguish and regret.

The one he had loved, the woman who had held his heart, now stood before him as his bitter enemy. Y/n, a powerful sorceress in her own right, had chosen a path of darkness, forsaking the love they had once shared. The pain of their separation had carved deep wounds in Stephen's soul, wounds that bled anew every time he gazed upon her.

As they faced each other in the shattered sanctum, the weight of their broken bond hung heavily in the air. Stephen's voice was laden with sorrow as he spoke, his words echoing with a mix of longing and anger. "You know, we used to be madly in love, Y/n. We were unstoppable together. What happened to us?"

Y/n's eyes flickered with a mix of emotions—defiance, regret, and a flicker of the love that once burned between them. "Love wasn't enough, Stephen. Power, ambition, and destiny called to me. I couldn't ignore it any longer. You were holding me back."

Her words struck him like a dagger to the heart, and for a moment, the pain shone through his eyes. He took a step closer, his voice pleading, "I never wanted to hold you back. I wanted us to be equals, to explore the mystic arts together. But you chose a different path—a path drenched in darkness."

A cruel smile tugged at Y/n's lips as she circled him, her tone filled with mocking amusement. "Darkness, light, it's all the same in the end, isn't it? You were always so naive, Stephen, so confined by your own self-righteousness. I embraced my true potential, and now, I am more powerful than ever."

Stephen's eyes narrowed, his resolve hardening. The love he once felt now turned to a resolute determination to protect the world from the consequences of Y/n's fall. "If you won't turn away from this path, then I will stop you, by any means necessary. The world needs the Sorcerer Supreme, not a tyrant consumed by her own desires."

Y/n's laughter echoed through the ruined halls, a haunting sound that sent shivers down Stephen's spine. "Oh, Stephen, how blind you are. You think you can stop me? I have mastered dark arts that would make your blood run cold. You are no match for me."

In an instant, Y/n unleashed a powerful blast of dark magic toward Stephen. He reacted swiftly, conjuring a shield of mystical energy to deflect the attack. Their battle began in earnest, spells clashing and mystical energies intertwining in a deadly dance.

As they fought, the memories of their shared past echoed in Stephen's mind. The moments of tenderness, the nights spent exploring ancient texts side by side, the promises of forever. They were a distant echo now, drowned out by the bitterness of their present reality.

Hours turned into moments, and moments turned into eternity as their powers clashed and intertwined. Stephen fought with every ounce of his being, fueled by a mix of heartbreak and the determination to protect the world from her wrath. He knew he couldn't hold back anymore; he had to defeat her, even if it meant sacrificing the love they once had.

In the end, it was a combination of skill, strategy, and the remnants of love that brought him victory. Y/n lay defeated on the ground, her eyes filled with a mix of defeat and something akin to regret. Stephen, bloodied and battered, stood over her, his expression a mask of both triumph and heartbreak.

He knelt beside her, his voice a whisper filled with pain. "I didn't want it to come to this, Y/n. But I couldn't let your darkness consume the world. I hope one day you find your way back to the light."

A/N and that's a wrap for this one...lemme know what you think

tagging the usuals; lemme know if you want to be added or removed :)

🏷 @thewaithfuckingannoyme @evelyn-kingsley @moonlight-ee @fall-myriad @ironstrange1991

[madamechrissy]

Bad idea right

NSFW- you trip and fall into Gojo's bed- whoopsie

"We're... still... broken - ah - up!" You scream out as ex-boyfriend Satoru is pumping you full of his cock from the back. He chuckles, husky and deep as his cock strokes in and out of your soppy little cunt, your slick dripping down the veins of his cock onto the dark blue blankets on his bed.

"Sure we are, still... ha... broken up. F-fuck." He is moaning as you clamp your pussy down on him, walls tightening, making him cry out and you giggle deviously. "Ya fuckin brat, you really trying to make me bust quick?"

Your ex-boyfriend Satoru flips you on your back then, bending you in a mating press, and you look into those dilated blue eyes, his snowy hair falling over his forehead. "Still hate you, Toru." You manage to breathe the words out, hips arching up for him.

He smirks, shoving his cock back into your greedy pussy. "I know baby, but your pussy loves me."

"Ah!" You scream out as he's stuffing his cock so deep like this, your thighs are pressed against your breasts, you can barely breathe or think, feeling your walls fluttering around his thickness. "She's fuckin s-stupid, ngh." You're gasping for a breath, nails digging into his back hard, leaving cresent marks.

"She's so wet f'me, only me. Stop lying, you... mmm... don't like that little boyfriend of- ah - yours. Gonna fuck you stupid." He's bullying his cock in between your walls so mean, tip leaky and smashing your cervix. You cling to the sheets, eyes rolling back, mouth wide open, tongue lolling out. "there it is, stupid fucked out face."

"F-fuck... you... Toru, you dick! Ohmygod, c-cumming!" You're gushing around him as your orgasm wrecks you, and now ex-boyfriend Satoru is gripping your face, shoving your legs further against you as he's thickening. You've cum so much you hear it, the squelching wetness of your cunt.

"Gonna fill your pussy up, so you remember who you belong to." You smack at his shoulder, the hard muscles bunching as he leans over then, earning his psychotic grin, he grips your chin and rolls his hips, squishing your cheeks. "You're weak f'me baby, admit it."

You can't speak anymore, you just yank him down and smash his lips against yours, tongues dripping with saliva as your thighs tremble on his hips. "Nope. Gonna have to try harder, Toru."

He chuckles, then he's fucking your every last thought out of your brain, and you will wonder how you're gonna tell everyone you tripped and fell into ass hole ex-boyfriend Satoru's bed again later, for now you're getting filled by his cum, and you will just blame your pussy for her bad judgement, couldn't be you.

Was listening to Bad Idea Right from Olivia Rodrigo and thought of our boy lol

[crushpunky]

rafe cameron x ex!reader moodboard

masterlist

just because they're broken up doesn't mean they're not in love anymore

[trashytracktales]

I'm so mad at you for not including "if it's meant to fall apart" on your previous post that story made me fall in love with you I'm not even jokes 🤧❤

Nooo, you’re right. If it’s meant to fall apart has a special place in my heart, since it’s inspired by real events oop. To all the angst-to-smut lovers, proceed with caution 👀

[shotmrmiller]

roommate soap who catches you masturbating because nothing else quite takes the edge off like a little death or two but instead of looking surprised and pivoting, he stands there and looks perturbed.

yer doin' it all wrong, lass. it's no wonder ye always strung tight.

you go from mortified to insulted in seconds, but before you can even snarl at him to leave, he's already dragging his big ass boyfriend in the room, still fully appalled at how you're mistreating yourself.

got tae see this, simon. appalling, it is.

and now you're being manhandled into different positions, toys long abandoned for thick fingers and coarse palms, lube replaced with spit and they'd left you with the destabilizing knowledge that the first peak they'd brought you then had been humiliatingly fast and efficient and somewhere along the way, fingers had been replaced with tongues.

(that you had to almost crawl yourself to the bathroom after your long nap and they hadn't even fucked you is embarrassing.)