#cheating implied

[meiplays]

Sunday Nights with Jensen

🛼🌆🌻📼 ��

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader (female!reader)

Genre: SFW, Fluff, Light Smut (Kissing, Heavy Makeout), Slowburn, Secret Romance, Frat Boy Jensen vibes

Warnings: Cheating (with a clueless boyfriend), Reckless Behavior, Inexperienced Reader, Heavy Kissing

Word Count: ~1,200-2,000 words

sᴄᴏᴛᴛʏ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ғɪᴏɴᴀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴍᴇ

ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ᴍʏ ᴠᴀɴ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ sᴜɴᴅᴀʏ

sʜᴇ ᴛᴇʟʟs ʜɪᴍ sʜᴇ's ɪɴ ᴄʜᴜʀᴄʜ ʙᴜᴛ sʜᴇ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ɢᴏ

sᴛɪʟʟ sʜᴇ's ᴏɴ ʜᴇʀ ᴋɴᴇᴇs ᴀɴᴅ sᴄᴏᴛᴛʏ ᴅᴏᴇsɴ'ᴛ ᴋɴᴏᴡ

.•♫•♬• .

Summary: Your boyfriend thinks you’re just hanging out at home on Sunday nights — but really, you’re sneaking away to the back of an old van to share reckless, messy, unforgettable moments with Jensen Ackles. You’re inexperienced and nervous, but Jensen’s frat-boy charm and wild kisses make you forget all your doubts. Sunday nights are your secret, and you never want them to end.

AN: this is the last of my drafts for awhile! Ive been posting them like crazy- anyways I heard this song again and knew I had to write this!

Sunday nights were sacred. But not for the reasons your boyfriend thought.

He probably figured you were chilling at home, watching Netflix or texting his friends, totally innocent and predictable. Meanwhile, you had a secret. A reckless, thrilling, can’t-keep-hands-off kind of secret.

Jensen Ackles was waiting for you behind that old van parked behind the school gym — the one nobody really cared about anymore. Your hideout. Your escape.

Your phone buzzed as the last light faded, and you almost dropped it when you saw his message:

Back of the van. 7 PM. Don’t be late, or I’m dragging you out by your hair.

God, that smug little threat made your stomach flip.

You grabbed your jacket, slipped out the door, and left your boyfriend none the wiser. His laughter floated up from the living room as you closed the front door, heart pounding in your ears.

The walk was short, but every step felt like a lifetime.

Jensen was leaning against the van, sleeves rolled up, grin wide as hell and eyes sparkling like he’d just won the lottery.

“Late,” he said with a teasing smirk.

“Traffic,” you shot back, sliding into the van next to him.

The van smelled like old leather and Jensen’s cologne — sharp, warm, and absolutely intoxicating. The space was cramped, the walls closing in, but all you could focus on was him.

Before you could think twice, his hands were on your waist, pulling you flush against him.

His lips slammed onto yours — sloppy, desperate, messy in the best possible way. You weren’t exactly experienced, but Jensen’s reckless kisses made you forget everything else.

Your hands fumbled on his chest, fingers trembling, trying to match his urgency.

His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging gently as he kissed you like he couldn’t get enough — like this was the only thing that mattered.

His mouth traveled down your jaw, to your neck, teeth grazing lightly and sending shivers down your spine.

You caught your breath, cheeks burning. “Jensen, this is crazy.”

He chuckled low in his throat. “Exactly.”

His hands explored your sides, rough but gentle enough to make your skin burn.

“This is… wild,” you whispered, voice shaky.

“Boyfriend doesn’t know, right?” Jensen teased, that cocky grin never leaving his lips.

“No clue,” you admitted, heart hammering.

He laughed, then kissed you again, even messier this time — clumsy and real.

The van felt too small, too tight, but that just made every touch, every breath, every second between you more intense.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer, lost in the reckless thrill of it all.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and flushed, Jensen caught your hand and squeezed it.

“Sundays are ours,” he said, voice low and sure.

“Deal,” you whispered, smiling wide.

The second Jensen said, “Sundays are ours,” the last bit of control you had over yourself snapped.

Before you could stop him, his hands were sliding down your sides, fingers pressing firmly against your hips as he yanked you flush against him. The cramped van gave no room to move, but that only made every inch of contact feel amplified—more urgent, more desperate.

His lips smashed against yours again, sloppy and wild. There was no slow build-up, no teasing. Just raw, heavy need. Your mouth opened instinctively, tongue tangling clumsily with his, breath hitching in the heat of it all. His stubble scraped your cheek as he kissed like he wanted to mark you, leaving no doubt that you were his secret.

Your hands scrambled up to his thick hair, tugging lightly, desperate to keep him close even as your knees shook beneath you. Jensen’s grip tightened on your hips, holding you steady as you shifted to grind against him—unthinking, reckless, and thrilling.

The world outside disappeared. The only sounds were your ragged breaths, the rough scrape of denim and leather, and the frantic thump of your hearts.

His mouth traveled down your jaw to your neck, teeth grazing and nipping just enough to make your skin tingle, sending sparks of fire racing through you. You moaned softly, head falling back as his hands slipped beneath your jacket, fingers tracing hot, electric paths over your bare skin.

You were inexperienced, sure, but Jensen’s urgency made you forget all hesitation. You clumsily pulled his shirt up, fingers trembling as you brushed your palms against his warm skin. His muscles flexed under your touch, solid and real.

He groaned, voice low and rough. “You’re driving me insane.”

You laughed breathlessly, the sound shaky but full of exhilaration.

Your hips pressed harder, grinding against him in that cramped space, the friction sending jolts of heat through your body. Jensen’s hands slid lower, sliding under your shirt to cup your waist, fingers digging in possessively.

The kiss became sloppy, breathless—teeth clashing, tongues exploring with messy desperation.

You felt yourself melting into him, dizzy and overwhelmed. Your hands wandered, seeking every inch of him as if you could memorize him through touch alone.

Jensen’s breath was hot against your skin as his lips found your collarbone, teeth nipping lightly and leaving a burning trail. You gasped, fingers tightening in his hair, legs trembling beneath you.

Your heart was pounding so hard it felt like it might burst, but you never wanted to pull away.

Time was a blur. The urgency, the heat, the messy grind of your bodies was a chaotic dance — frantic, raw, and reckless.

Just as the tension reached its peak, Jensen pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, voice rough with something deeper than desire.

You nodded, breathless and dizzy, voice barely a whisper. “And you’re mine.”

For a moment, all that existed was the two of you — tangled, messy, and consumed by the wild, reckless fire that only Sunday nights could bring.

The world felt slow and soft now.

You were stretched out against Jensen’s chest, tangled in his arms like a secret you didn’t want to let go of. Your hair was messy, your skin still flushed from the reckless heat of what had just happened.

Jensen’s breath puffed out in slow, satisfied bursts as he leaned back against the van’s cold metal, one hand resting lightly on your hip, the other holding a cigarette. The faint glow of the ember pulsed in the dim light, smoke curling lazily around you both.

His voice was low, rough — the kind of quiet that only comes after chaos.

“Damn, you’re something else,” he murmured, his fingers tracing soft circles on your skin.

You smiled tiredly, eyes half-closed. “You’re reckless as hell.”

Jensen chuckled, dragging on the cigarette, the smoke swirling between you like a veil.

“I’m just messing with you,” he said. “But yeah, Sundays are definitely our thing now.”

You nuzzled closer, resting your head against his broad chest, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat — grounding, real.

Then, your phone buzzed quietly on the van floor.

You bent to grab it, eyes widening when you saw the time blinking back at you.

“Shit,” you whispered, scrambling to your feet. “It’s almost ten.”

Jensen’s eyes darkened, a slow grin creeping onto his lips as he stepped toward you.

Before you could slip past him, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, fingers tightening just enough to hold you in place.

“Break up with him,” Jensen said, voice low and thick with something dangerous. “I want you to myself.”

Your breath hitched, heart pounding as his gaze pinned you like a wild promise — reckless, raw, and completely his.

For a moment, all you could do was stare.

Then Jensen pulled you close, lips brushing your ear.

“Think about it,” he whispered.

You nodded, trembling with the thrill and fear of what that meant.

And as you slipped out into the night, the weight of his words settled deep inside you — impossible to ignore.

...

[mimenoises]

Recessive genes

[fishareglorious]

kakania numero uno reverse 1999 character on the fact she makes a dig on the sex life of the guy she was dueling with at the moment. while also somewhat kinda maybe implying she fucked his wife

[blaithnne]

Remember this post where I talked about how funny Host!Vic’s gender neutrality is? Well now it’s even funnier because this episode seemingly confirmed something I have suspected to be true for a while now, which is that fictional Vic Michealis SOMEHOW DIDNT REALISE THEYRE BI?????

[loveisanimaginarydagger3000]

So Wrong

Wanda X Reader 18+

Summary- What happened that night between the two of you in her and visions bed was probably wrong. But how can something so wrong feel so right?

Warnings/Tags: Smut 18+ MDNI- Implied/Referenced Cheating (Wanda x Vision mentioned), Oral sex, Fingering, Top Reader/Bottom Wanda, Dom/Sub undertones

This is an old fic I found from my ao3 so the writing quality isn't that good, apologies but I don't have the time to improve it.

General Master List

W/c- 1.2k

“We shouldn’t do this,” you rasp out against her lips as your hips grind down onto hers, pushing her even more in her bed, her and her husbands bed.

“We shouldn’t,” she gasps out as your knee moves in between her legs, her hands tangled in your hair pulling you back down for kiss after kiss.

“This is wrong,” you husk out, trying to convince yourself to stop this even though you don’t want to.

“So wrong,” she moans out as her hips buck against your knee, your lips trailing over her jaw and neck.

“We should stop,” you try again as your lips press back onto hers. It’s as if she’s a drug and you’re addicted to the way she sounds likes, looks like, tastes like.

“We really should,” she whispers out when you pull away to look into her lust blown eyes. Piercing green eyes stare into yours and all the emotions you’ve felt, you’ve both felt over the years take over all your senses making you crash your lips back together in a passionate, hungry kiss. Her hands scrap along your scalp earning a low groan to escape you as she moves to cup your jaw, holding you in place as if you were about to slip out of her grasp. You move back to straddle her waist and look down at her, savouring the sight of her beneath you and not him.

“You’re beautiful Wanda,” you mumbled while leaning down halfway as she met you in the middle for another kiss. Slowly your hands explore her body, engraving all the sounds and reactions you would get from her into your brain as your hands ghosted over her sensitive flesh through her clothes. Eventually you reach the bottom of her shirt and play with the seams of the stitching as you wait for her answer. She quickly answers by grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it over her head leaving her in a black lace bra that makes her look like the definition of perfection. You mutter a little ‘wow’ under your breath, not going unnoticed by the witch earning a small laugh, before colliding your lips together once again. A faint moan leaves her lips as your hands tease her nipples through the fabric and you pull away from her mouth to press your forehead to hers. “If you want to stop tell me. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” you softly whisper as you want her. You’ve wanted her for so long but you want her to want you the same way you’ve craved her.

A smile forms at her lips and she plays with the strands of hair at the base of your neck, “Always so caring,” she whispers while leaning closer to you, so close your noses are brushing against each other and lips ghosting over one another. “I want you,” she says while gazing into your eyes, “I’ve wanted you for so long but…” she trails off at the end, her eyes closing while thinking about it all.

“You were with him,” you say softly while moving to brush some hair out of her face and behind her ear. You feel her nod against you and mumble, “Does he treat you right?”

“No,” she quietly admits and you bring her somehow even closer.

“Let me treat you right then,” carefully you push her back onto the bed, lips locked in an emotional kiss. Years of pent up feelings escaping the both of you as you smile into the kiss, your hands unclasping her bra and discarding it somewhere in the room. A low moan echoes around the room as you quickly latch onto a perk nipple, licking and sucking causing her hands to thread through your hair once again to hold you in place. You earn a loud gasp when you teasingly nip at the sensitive flesh and switch breasts with a loud pop.

“Please,” she whines as you’re teasing her at this point with how tantalisingly slow you’re going. You place a final kiss to her breast before kissing your way down her toned stomach, the muscle trembling in anticipation as you reach the waistband of her jeans. You bite lightly at the bone on her hip as you unfasten and slide down her pants to leave her in nothing but her matching lace panties.

“You’re so wet for me,” you rasp out as you can see a visible wet spot on the black fabric. Your words cause Wanda to groan and squirm under you as you toy with the final item of clothing. Deciding to try something else, you tear the lace in half and rip it away leaving her bare beneath you.

“Fuck,” she moans at the sudden show of strength, a new gush of wetness forming between her legs. “Please I need you!” she whines and who are you to deny her any longer. Your hot breath against her bare cunt has her wriggling under you but when you licked along her folds you both moaned at the sensation. Your tongue licks and sucks her clit while a finger runs through her dripping folds making her throw her head back in pleasure and hands grip the sheets of her bed. You slip a finger into her making her back arch and start a steady pace of thrusting the digit in and out of her while continuing to suck on her clit. “Please,” she whimpers as you add another finger and speed up your pace, driving her closer to edge. You can feel her thighs trembling by the side of your head as you manage to slip another finger into her tight cunt, stretching her walls in the best way possible.

“Do you want to come for me Wanda?” you murmur briefly before returning to the task at hand. You look up to see her nodding her head as her eyes are closed in pleasure and knuckles white from holding the bed sheets so tight. “Look at me Wanda,” you husk out, the tone of your voice making the witch shiver in arousal. Her eyes slowly flutter open to see you staring at her with a hunger and desire in your eyes. “Come for me,” as soon as the words leave your lips you feel her tightening around your three fingers and her thighs trapping your head between her legs as she rode out her orgasm. Once the strings of moans that left her lips quietened and her legs loosened up around your head you started to suck and lick again at her sensitive cunt to drive her into another orgasm. You didn’t start slow and quickly slipped all three fingers back into her and started a quick pace of pumping in and out of her. It didn’t take long for her to crash head first into another orgasm and gently push you away from her core as she was too sensitive. You moved back up her body and pressed your lips gently against hers, feeling the vibrations of the groan she made at the taste of herself on your lips. The kiss was slow not that either of you minded as the kiss told each of you how you both felt.

“I love you,” she whispered, eyes closed as if she was scared of rejection despite all the love and emotion you poured into being with her.

“I love you too,” you murmured while moving from above her to next to her so she could cuddle into your side.

What happened that night between the two of you in her and visions bed was probably wrong. But how can something so wrong feel so right?

[baby-tini]

Can I request cheater! Bonten Mikey (angst) but then regretted/ try to win her back? Thank you in advance!

TW- Cheating, implied abuse You didn't know how stressful running a gang could be- much less the biggest criminal organization in the whole of Japan. So you thought it might be best too give Mikey some space, give him time too himself and let him relax. You fully trusted Mikey, he's never betrayed your trust, never lied to you and never gave you a reason too doubt him. He was sweet to you, buys you the prettiest things and treats you like a princess. But, when you got back to his office, after being out for a couple hours, you could hear the sounds of skin-slapping and the creak of his desk. You didn't have too open his office door too know what was happening and you didn't, you doubted you could handle seeing Mikey like that, especially with another person, you knew he wasn't... as attentive as usual but, it wasn't too weird for you. Mikey just needs some alone time, you didn't think it would be anything like.. this. You didn't know how fast you ran out of the building, your head was so foggy, everything felt.. fake.

You knew you couldn't stay, that was it. You loved Mikey, promised too stay- he made you promise him over and over again until your throat was raw as he stared at you blankly. But, you couldn't take knowing that he was so intimate with someone else, so... physically connected to someone that wasn't you. You truly believed with everything that Mikey would never do something like that- like this to you. But then again.. you truly didn't know anything about Mikey, he never opened up, never gave you any unnecessary or personal details from his childhood or his life in general. You packed everything you could fit in your bag as soon as you got to the penthouse you shared with Mikey- well, not really shared.. he payed for everything, it truly was a beautiful penthouse but you couldn't stay. How long and how many you wondered, did he ever fuck women in the bed you shared together? Did he ever caress your cheek with the same fingers that were.. inside someone else...? Ever kiss you after kissing someone else? Ever.. ever spread your legs open and make love to you after he was done with someone else? Did he ever think of someone else as he fucked into you and told you he loved you? You knew he kept a stash of cash in the closet in case of emergencies, he told you if anything ever happened it would be there, should you need it, knowing he couldn't be with you all the time. It felt like a good reason so you took it, took a good couple thousand dollars, at least enough too last while you figured everything out and got far away from him. You couldn't.. go back after this, this was just too much. You knew realistically this could never be fixed and there was no going back for the both of you, you just hoped that Mikey would leave you be after he found you gone, would accept the note you left in place of your presence. It had been a couple hours after you left when he came home, exhausted and yearning too relax with you. He didn't like that you never came back to his office, but that was probably for the best, considering the session he had with that woman took a lot longer then he thought, but it's no big deal, her pussy wasn't nearly as tight as yours anyway. He quickly became irritated when he kept calling your name, you know he hates repeating himself, you've had bruises before, physically showing you how much he hated repeating himself. But, he'd just have to teach you anothe rlesson, be a little firmer with you this time. He froze when he saw the room you shared together a mess, clothes thrown about and the closet door open, the room was a mess the bedsheets were tossed and the gun he kept hidden away behind the clothes in the closet were gone. He had immediately grabbed his phone, planning too have all of his executives out looking for you, assuming it was a kidnapping at first. Until he saw the note, the white paper crinkled and under messy, crinkled blankets. Assuming it was a ransom note, he snatcjed it, eyes looking for a sum of money, when he didn't find one, he read over the paper carefully, making sure he didn't miss a word.

"Mikey, I truly don't know how too start this note... something like this has never happened before- never thought it would happen to be honest with you. I never thought you would do something so... unforgiving, after all the moments we shared together. The way you'd hold me when I cried, the way you'd kiss my tears away. I never knew a man like you could be so gentle, but you were. You held me, treated me like fragile glass, sometimes I thought, that you thought I would break if you were too rough. The way you would hold me while you made love to me, made me promise too stay and I did, but.. I can't anymore after hearing you in your office with someone else. The thought of you being so intimate with someone breaks me.. it'll break me for a while. I don't think I could ever look into those beautiful onyx eyes that I love- use too love. Knowing you've looked into others eyes as you did mine. I can't bare the thought of you holding someone as they called out your name, kissed you as they yearned for your touch. I promised too stay... but this is the only promise I'll ever break to you. I love you, more then anything, I'll always love you even when I'm gone. I just wished you'd feel the same. Goodbye Manjiro Sano, hopefully forever." There were wet spots on the note, bleeding through the paper as he got to the end. Reaching up to his burning eyes, they were wet, vision clouding and becoming blurry as his wet lashes stuck together. The salty tears ran down his cheeks as his hand started too shake and his breathing became heavier. He was struggling too breathe, too understand the note, his head was foggy and blank.. but also over-whelming with different scenarios of you, he doesn't even recognize his own voice when it comes out hoarse and rugged. You're walking out of his life, and as you wanted, possibly forever. "I can't... that can't happen angel. You can't leave- can't leave me. You promised and I won't let you break that promise. You'll understand how much I love you when I get you back" He pulled his phone out, calling Sanzu too immediately track you down, you belonged with him- with home. You were- are everything to him, the only thing left that he holds close. He's selfish, he knows that, he knows why you left but he didn't actually think you would... his chest hurts, feels like it's caving in on itself. He needs you, more then he thought, he can't and he won't let you leave- let you just walk away from him like this. Over his dead body.

[uno-san]

Hiii! Could I rq reader who was Fords gf/so before he left and when he comes back he’s happy bc he realizes reader stayed in Gravity Falls the whole time and maybe even helped Stan fix the portal!

But then Bill comes and it’s totally up to u whether to make Bill like super jealous of reader or become just as obsessed with reader as he is with Ford idk.

Thank u!

Hello! Thanks so much for sending in a request. This is the first thing I've written in FOREVER, so I miiiiight have gotten carried away. Hope you and everybody else enjoys!

It always reminded you of the night sky. 

That, or what lied far beyond it. Beyond you, maybe. But never Stanford Pines. Who, in this very moment stood several yards from where you yourself were. The both of you had that strange, not-quite night sky wrapped around your forms. Yet instead of the endless expanse that space was known for, various journals, textbooks, and equations littered that space around you.

It would have been a marvelous sight if you didn’t know the purpose behind this all-too tailored world for Stanford. A trap meant to make him feel seen and applauded in ways you couldn’t quite match. A place for them to meet.

Beside Stanford was another figure. A three-sided one to be exact who had taken place near his shoulder, where he had been far longer than you could have ever known. But here he didn’t need to whisper his lies. Here, the two of them could simply converse and enjoy each other’s company. A wonderful plan to make Stanford feel known while also shutting you out from the light altogether.

Their laughter was uproarious.

“AHAHAHAHA! COME ON, SIXER, YOU DON’T MEAN THAT!”

A shrill voice cut through your observations. The devilish figure that it belonged to had placed his hands over his chest, or stomach, as if he were trying and failing to hold in his joy. His one eye was closed and curved to show a smile that his body didn’t have the means to actually do. His tie meanwhile spun in circles as if a toy had been wound up.

‘Sixer’ had his eyes lowered to the platform of which he stood. Tucked under his arm was one of his prized journals, where each of his six fingers drummed against its spine. He looked bashful under interrogation.

“What, not quite the term your ego would prefer, Bill?” Stanford finally shot back, his gaze raising to meet Bill’s while his eyebrow raised to pose a challenge.

“NOT AT ALL!” 

The demon began to circle around Stanford, who’s whole body began to turn with a determination not to break eye contact again. As if he were afraid of losing sight of Bill. Or his attention. Seeing it reminded you of a puppy enamored with its owner. Its everything, really. You had been familiar with it at some point yourself. What felt like ages ago now.

“JUST SURPRISED, IS ALL. I MEAN, AAAAAAAAALL I’VE DONE IS EXPAND YOUR MIND TO THE UNIVERSE OUTSIDE YOUR PUNY WORLD, SHOW YOU NEW COLORS, AND GIVE YOU THE PERFECT COMEBACKS EVERY TIME YOU GET INTO AN ARGUMENT,” He humbly bragged, “BUT IS THAT ALL REALLY WORTH IT TO BE CALLED YOUR-”

MUSE.

Muse.

Muse.

Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse. Muse.

That damn word was going to be imprinted on your brain with how often it was quite literally repeating. Out Loud. High-pitched and nearly shattering your ear drums, a physical manifestation of the word appeared in the space to hurl itself in your direction; A move you’ve seen one too many times. You nimbly dodged off to the side without losing your footing like you had the first time this occurred. With both your feet planted firmly on the ground you whipped your head around to catch the end of the show.

The scene had frozen. Stanford’s expression was stuck in a form of denial, his cheeks tinted a rosy color that you used to make them turn. His brow was furrowed as if he were concerned. Or desperate to assure Bill that he truly was worth it all. Bill meanwhile had his arms folded behind his back while his half-lidded eye bore down on its prey like a benevolent mentor.

Bill’s pupil slowly slid in your direction.

“A BENEVOLENT MUSE, YOU MEAN.”

Bill Cipher became animated again. This time he no longer addressed the version of Stanford standing before him. His smug attention was all focused on you now. His small frame managed to tower over you in mere presence alone, even at the distance you two stood at.

Arms folded behind his back, there was a silence that followed while Bill inspected you. Perhaps waiting for you to give a response before he settled on his own. He feigned surprise.

“DIDN’T EXPECT TO CATCH YOU HERE. SIXER AND I WERE JUST HAVING A MOMENT ALONE,” Bill emphasized, his arm outstretching far past its supposed physical limit to wrap itself around Stanford’s still frame, “YOU KNOW, LIKE WE’VE BEEN HAVING FOR A WHILE. BEHIND YOUR BACK. IN FACT HE WAS JUST ABOUT TO GET TO COMPLIMENTING ME. SINCE I’M HIS MUSE. HIS SKY. STARS. WHATEVER.”

Muse.

Another manifestation hurled its way in your direction. You weren’t nearly as prepared and the edges of the word were sharp, slicing into your arm to draw what you assumed to be blood. With a wince you had to steady your balance before your glare shot back to the bastard in front of you.

He was a menace who you hadn’t realized you had been in competition with for years. And now, in a pissing contest with as the man you’re both fighting over like teenagers was lost in worlds unknown. The man you had loved and had been prepared to marry was gone now. Leaving you with his unfaithful ‘Muse’.

Oh, how you’ve come to hate the word.

It happened first when you had learned of the existence of an other-worldly being that had been secretly leading Stanford’s ambitions. Second was when you had discovered Ford’s hidden collection of idols and paintings. All squirreled away in a private chamber of his own viewing pleasure. That had been manageable.

But the fondness in his gaze when discussing their meetings made your heart ache. How he’d talk as if Bill Cipher was the sole purpose of everything now. His reason for continuing his research or facing adversity for his talents. Or the way he’d pause in the middle of a task to instead laugh at a memory of Bill from earlier, with his hands looking to busy themselves as a distraction.

All of that had hurt. But what made you hate the word most of all was its constant use to torture you. That the moment Bill had sensed your distaste for the term he had done nothing but plague your mind with it. Shoving it in your face as if he was a secret side woman in some stately affair.

Thus far this has been your nightly routine for several months now. Ever since Stanford Pines went missing from this world and so many others. With his brother, Stanley, being left behind with you to pick up the pieces to get back your lost loved one. And for some reason or other, Bill had set his sights on tormenting you.

Every night. Different visions of their bonded moments played in your mind while Bill sneered and poked fun at you for being fool enough to never notice the signs of your man slipping away. You never knew if what he showed you was true. You hoped not.

“THEY’RE REAL.”

You ignore him a moment to get back on two feet. Standing tall before him.

“Do you plan on taking me through your ‘Greatest Hits’ every night or are you going to fuck off already?” The venom in your tone caused interest to gleam in his eye. Most nights you try not to dignify his taunts with a response. But you were tired. Both mentally and physically thanks to late nights with Stanley to try to get the portal running again, or your lonely crying sessions blaming yourself for letting this go on for so long. You were exhausted.

“AW, DIDN’T THINK YOU’D GET SO CRANKY OVER A LITTLE FUN FORDSY AND I WERE HAVING! I’M SURE IT’S EASY TO GET INSECURE OVER THE IDEA OF YOUR MAN GETTING THE CHANCE TO VISIT A SUPERIOR BEING EVERY NIGHT BUT HE MENTIONED YOU ONCE OR TWICE. Y’KNOW, ABOUT HOW YOU’RE ‘SAFE’ AND ‘STABLE’.”

You knew he was just trying to get a rise out of you. Perhaps even deter you from working on that portal any further, ensuring that Stanford would remain lost to mystery forevermore. “Say what you want Bill but I know him better than what your mind creeping could ever do. You miscalculated by seeing only the parts that benefited you and that’s going to end up biting you in the ass. Because it doesn’t matter what you and Stanford had before. Whatever was there is GONE, and I know that Stanford will be coming to end you too.”

It was difficult to keep your voice steady to feign the confidence that you hadn’t had in a long time. You stood bravely in the face of Bill, who’s form only grew in size while you charged up your own argument. He was nearly towering over you now while his gaze remained steady on you. His expression was unreadable.

“WELL WELL WELL, I-”

He’s yapped for far too long.

“Maybe that’s the point to all of this,” You gestured to the spectacle put on pause, “You realize you fucked up. Pushed too hard. Or maybe you’re not even playing this for me. You’re just trying to convince yourself that Ford is still in the palm of your hand when in reality, he despises you. Wants you dead. That despite all the compliments and praises you keep showing me he still picked me over you.”

You weren’t sure if any of this was going to strike a chord. Especially with being in the dark as long as you had, there was nothing for you to fight with. The best you could do was treat him like the vindictive affair partner he was pretending to be. And it worked. Or it was the hint of a suggestion you made in saying you were chosen over him.

Bill’s form skyrocketed in size from its already heightened form, with the triangle now bending over you now to force you to nearly tilt your head all the way back just to make eye contact. His pupil was entirely black to reflect your new surroundings as the static image of Ford and their place of contact was suddenly whisked away. What used to be a bright yellow turned to blood-red bricks that you swore you could feel heat coming off of.

“STANFORD PINES FEARS ME,” Bill’s voice boomed, “AND THAT’S EXACTLY WHERE I WANT HIM. THINKING OF ME AND CHASING AFTER MY COATTAILS UNTIL THAT NERD COMES TO REASON. AND UNTIL THEN YOU-”

His fingers snapped. The ground beneath you disappeared and you felt weightlessness hit as you began to descend into a dark pit. “YOU WILL NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN!”

The vision of the gigantic demon began to fade away. His voice still boomed and echoed despite the void that they were shouted into. As your conscience begins to fade into its own form of nothing you close your eyes to instead repeat his words to yourself.

Never see him again.

__

The Mystery Shack above you groaned with disapproval. Its wood and structure creaked as it finally settled back on the ground, thankfully still supported by its own weight once gravity returned to normal. You were face first on the ground with your head still spinning from that hasty landing you made to resist any damage. With just one peek of an eye you could see that your vision was still hazy. Only a sickeningly familiar blue light kept the basement of the Shack from being in total darkness.

Darkened figures up ahead began to move. When you tried to join them you were quick to discover that your leg caught in debris. A quick examination told you that it wasn’t anything dangerous like active machinery, and the small tugs you gave to test your aching body showed that nothing was quite broken. Hurt, yes, but all intact.

Just like the house you could feel your bones settling back into place while creaking with resentment. You could only imagine how Stanley must have been feeling. Propping yourself up with one arm you then used your freehand to begin pulling away at the rubble on top of you, trying to carefully dismantle it piece by piece so that it wouldn’t collapse on top of you.

Having been so focused on your escape you had only caught the tail-end of what Stanley was telling dipper.

“The author of the Journals…”

Your head whipped around so fast it could have snapped, “My brother.”

As if on cue a figure cladded in a black cloak removed his mask with a six fingered hand, his silver hair whipping around him as he slowly revealed a face you thought you could have anticipated after having aged years with Stanley. The fact that they were twins did little to stop you from tearing up at the handsome visage that was your Stanford Pines.

The wrinkles in his face had deepened from the last you saw him. He was still chiseled with a hint of facial hair he might have shaved off recently while his posture and expression gave off a confidence you weren’t familiar with.

Stanley began to approach him with open arms, prepared to greet the brother he’s missed for years for longer than yours. Stanford didn’t match his sentiments. Instead his fist drew back to strike Stan who had flinched out of the way- But not before Stanford’s fist froze. Left hanging in the air as something else caught his attention. Past Stanley and Dipper. Through various piles of cement and broken wood.

You.

Neither of you moved. His eyes flickered back and forth in a manner that suggested he was examining you all the same. Taking in every detail of your graying form, of each new wrinkle that has marked your age like a tree. The intensity of his gaze made your heart stall for more reasons you could count.

Was that disappointment in his gaze? Or worse, indifference? The world had already been cruel in tearing you apart in the first place. How easy would it be to have Stanford simply forget you? To have moved on to grander and exciting things since his time away. After all, Bill Cipher had enticed him once before. YOU nearly lost him once before. Who’s to say you haven’t wasted your years chasing after a man who could no longer remember your face?

Tears began to gather. They soothed the sting of debris in the air to instead replace it with a dull ache in your heart. At this point you could have been crying over any number of things. You tried calling out his name but the words caught in your throat.

He shouted yours instead. Pushing passed his stunned brother and great nephew to run in your direction. Just as Stanford was a few feet away he suddenly dropped to his knees to slide the remaining distance. It was a physical endeavor you envied in this moment.

Already Stanford’s arms wrapped around your form, drawing you in close to his chest while he buried his face into your hair. You didn’t dare utter a sound of discomfort. Swallowing your tears you chose to focus on his warmth rather than the pain your body was in. How much studier his arms felt from the last time you were held in them, however long ago that was.

“M…My dear…” Stanford gasped, as if the term of endearment hadn’t been uttered in history before. His six fingers nearly dug into your body with his tight grasp. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, “This…This is real. Bill isn’t lying again. You’re here. You.”

From the corner of your vision you could see both Soos and Mabel staring in wonder. Their mouths were left hanging open while they slowly turned to each other to clasp hands together. Mabel began to mouth ‘they have a histooooory!!’

You opted to turn your face into Stanford’s chest to ignore all that as long as you could.

“All these years I’ve waited here for you, Stanford. Every year was spent fixing the portal, I-” Your eyes wandered to his twin, “-We’ve been fixing the portal. Stan and I together decided we weren’t going to stop until you were home safe.”

Stanford drew in a breath. The tension that coiled his posture was a familiar sign of his frustrations being withheld, and with the copious warnings in his Journals to not open the portal again you had a fairly safe guess as to what that tension was. Stanford managed to swallow it down as his hand cupped your cheek and directed your eyes to his.

The years have really gone by. For the both of you, you realized as you gazed into weary and worldly eyes. Did he see the same thing in you? Or has it occurred to him just how truly long it's been since the two of you were close like this. Since way before he was lost in the first place. To where Bill’s schemes began to put the first cracks in the foundations of your relationship.

From the distance the portal still glowed a blue hue, flickering every few moments as the machine began to lose its life at long last for what you pray is the last time. Both of you were left illuminated with blue. The beautiful sight of Stanford had been imprinted on your mind, nearly washing away the years of trauma the color had come to be associated with.

You could have sworn Stanford’s eyes were brimming with tears as well before they closed, the distance between you two gone as he leaned down to capture your quivering lips in a kiss. With it came the relief of a thirty-year grief. Not of a healed relationship but of a path to recovery and trust. You nearly grinned into the kiss. Stanford Pines chose you.

[dampcrown]

I'm sorry for barging in as unceremoniously as this on the last possible day for @valvertweek but after a way too stressfull week and a decade of occasionally lurking in this fandom without ever contributing anything I guess I finally had to get this out of my system and my sketchbook

[hypertechnica]

i’m going to make fiddauthor art with fidds wearing his wedding ring and you are NOT going to like it

big obligatory banner that says “cheating is bad don’t do it i just like stories with relationship drama”

closeted, internally homophobic gay men who are married with kids has to be the trope i’m weakest to. no person involved is escaping the despair brought on by a relationship built on a well intentioned, desperate lie, born out of a desire to be normal and good

he WANTED to love her so fucking badly. he felt no ill will towards her and he loves their son more than words can say. he thought the attraction, the way she felt about him, would come with time. it didn’t. he doesn’t want to hurt her yet was doomed to from the start, and he’s truly, truly sorry. this does not absolve him of anything whatsoever and she has the full right to never want to speak with him again. he lied! he pretended to feel the same when he never once felt anything but platonic affection! he’s been in love with someone else this whole fucking time! and their kid… he’s caught in the middle of it all, too young to understand why his father would hurt his family like this.

and then he disappears and never comes back. imagine you’re 5 and your dad goes to the middle of the woods with his buddy for science shit, all of the sudden your parents are yelling on the phone and signing papers, and then he goes MIA. for years.

imagine your husbands “buddy” was the one he was thinking of all this time, not you, never you. and the first chance he gets to run away from you, he takes, and you should have been suspicious by the rushed frenzy of it all, the phone calls getting shorter and shorter until it fizzles to nothing. he forgot to get you a christmas gift. he hand-made him two. there has to be something wrong with you, it has to be your fault. you wish you married the man he becomes when he’s in his presence.

he folded when you started questioning him directly - he’d been to neurotic to ever be a good liar. you thought he was the one. he thought you were nice.

by the time the divorce is finalized he’s different in a wrong way. confused, angry, forgetful, insane - if the giant homicidal robot pterodactyl you’ve been harassed by is any indication. (he’s had a bad habit of building homicidal robots when he’s mad since they met -engineer things- but it was never directed at her - thankfully it never actually does anything) he’s clearly abusing drugs - you’d feel bad if he hadn’t abandoned you with the burden of explaining why your son can’t see his father anymore.

it’s a rotten bit of your soul, but time heals you. you move on and no longer think of him. trust in your career. find a man who truly loves you with no motives attached. raise your kid to be a good man. and in a fashion not unlike shakespearean dramatic irony, this makes him move to gravity falls to find and take care of his father. you couldn’t care less what hee doing now, but damn it, it’s his father, what is the kid supposed to do? but its futile- he appears to have no remorse, hell, no memory of the incident in the first place. (this isn’t his fault but how are they supposed to know that?) so he grows bitter and cold just like his mother used to be.

imagine that.

all over a mans inability to do anything but live in denial. to force himself to live in a box and pine like a dying man over the right one at the wrong time, destined to crash and burn. to take denial to a new level- a cult, brain damaging radiation, a total ego death - just to take the edge off. take off that damn wedding ring

[thedevilsruby]

Despise You (Tengen x reader oneshot)

The three watched as Tengen greeted you excitedly with different expressions.

Makio scoffs, grumbling that Tengen never even smiled at her like that when he returned from missions. Suma's frown deepened, looking like she was ready to cry. Hinatsuru simply frowned, wondering why Tengen acted like this towards you than he did them.

You smiled brightly, bowing and telling Tengen how good it was to see him in good health. Tengen laughs. "Well, I have to stay flashy don't I?" He grins as you giggle at his response.

You then smile and wave at his three wives, and you're surprised when they don't wave back. Makio glares at you and storms away with her basket. Suma tears up and walks away from your gaze. Hinatsuru looks at you, her expression unreadable before she goes back to whatever she was doing.

"Did I do something wrong?" You ask Tengen, a look of worry on your face. The Hashira looks just as perplexed as you.

"I don't know." He replies, his tone confused. "I'll talk to them okay? Don't worry your pretty head off." Tengen pets your head with a soft smile. You smile back, nodding and enjoying his touch.

His wives despise you, even if you weren't aware of it.

[razzafrazzle]

strange old men!! theyre married for tax purposes (and gay purposes but thats less important)

[image description: a drawing of human designs for coach z and bubs from homestar runner. coach z is depicted as a lanky pale-skinned older man with a tooth gap, a five-o'clock shadow, and balding curly light brown hair with a grey streak through it. bubs is depicted as a bulky, dark-skinned older man with short greying afro hair and a short beard. end id]

[skruttet]

give me broken biscuits but no more broken hearts oh, mymble

[holdmymetaphor]

one of the most bone chilling writing moves house ever pulled was when wilson more or less cheated on house with sam

bc house had said that part of wilsons pathology was that he needed the needy and left them when they werent needy anymore

and house was the healthiest he had ever been in their apartment. he was sober and basically wilsons partner.

[a-ikus]

the idea of being in a marriage with a busy man, out of the house most of the hours, business trips often and long, every minute of his day scheduled for something, something useful. there was love once, you think, maybe years ago, maybe it would still there if he wasn't too busy for you.

of course, his time spent out of the house funds your life, keeps the house running, keeps you entertained. but never entirely fulfilled like you were when it was puppy love.

you want something to do with yourself, an extension on the house surely enough to keep your mind off missing your husband for a while, getting to choose paint colours, furniture, architecture styles, how you wanted the skirting to look, or what the new rooms will be, maybe a home office to convince your husband to stay with you a little more.

although, those thoughts slip out of your mind at a speed you didn't even think possible when you meet eyes with your builder, introducing himself to you with a firm handshake, his hands hard from years of work, fingers thick and forearms tanned from years working under the sun.

you almost forget you have a husband when you watch him work, biceps flexing as he moves, his throat bobbing when he drinks the ice cold water you bring him, forget about the weight of your ring on your finger when he's standing so close to you, asking what you think of his work so far.

[beifong-brainrot]

[nordicfiord]