#tw implied cheating

[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.

[brainr0t-landfill]

T

Chapter One: You get baptized.

Captain Price x male reader

(T.W: forcemasc fetish, kidnapping, forced headshave, reader is currently girlmoding, implied stalking, implied cheating)

The road to your new home is long and wet John is stiff in his seat as the cold lights of the bumfuck, misreable town you called home for years bleed across the dark car he wonder if you can see them if you're still awake, rain splashes against his front window.

Wrongness gnaws at something burried deep in his chest even though it's been hours since your struggle has died down; your desperate pleas and pathetic threats muffled by an old rag and held in place by duct tape, all the frantic energy in your soft body weighed down by exhaustion, he feels bad for you so confused and lost but he knows he's doing what's right like his old man always told him.

"No one finds their true love, son."

He'd tell him sitting on his old throne shallow, warm glass of whiskey in hand.

"You make it, wives like your mother are for husbands like me. I didn't find her on the side of the road as she is today, made her i did."

The contradiction is that Senior Price was more shaped by his wife than his wife by him John's mother with her dishwasher white knuckles and red stained lips, an ex whore, a cols blooded creature in a warm home trying to make her claws into wings.

The contradiction is that John never wanted a woman like his mother, never wanted a woman at all.

On the edge of town he stops the truck, turns the engine off and steps outside walks through the murky mud puddles to the trunk pops it and beholds you, curled into yourself with eyes like a desperate dog you thin wrists held together by zip ties, knobby knees knocking against eachother.

He kneels infornt of you on one knee like a crude mockery.

"I know you're confused."

He tells you rubbing across your ribs,

"But in due time you'll get it luv, I'll be so good for ya, never gonna want for nothing y'hear?"

He gives you his best smile but you don't respond he shushes the sniffles with a heavy hand grabbing you by your scruff and dragging you out, you don't struggle at all and he gently rips the tape off it leaves red lines across your pretty, soft cheeks and pink lips glossy with spit.

"Please, please I won't tell anyone I need to go home please please-"

He stands there as you kneel on the ground big paw rubbing at your sore jaw as you work yourself into tears and sobs begging for things you don't want, he sees your eyes stuck where the sun is setting on the other side of the road desire peeking out like teeth.

"Shhh, shhh it's alright now, it's alright"

He tells you as he rubs his hands across your beautiful locks, such a shame

"I'm not gonna hurt ya luv, no, no not at all. But you need to trust me, alright?"

He looks down at you and clicks his tounge in dissapointment but of course, men are proud animals they play best when they think they'll win, they grasp at any chance to prove their loving masters wrong.

"Looky here, let's make a deal, yeah?"

He takes a deep breath and plays a gamble, rolls the dice knowing he holds every card.

"A year, ya stay with me a year, listen, and be good and if by the end of that year ya still wanna go back home, I'll let ya. Hell I'll even drive ya, drop ya off at the door. But untill than you play by my rules, yeah luv?"

He asks and rubs his calloused hand over your cheek watches the war raging behind those eyes.

"O-okay."

You croak out and your trembling seizes as you steel your shoulders.

"Okay, y-you've got a deal, just please don't hurt me."

He pats your head and takes the clippers out, drags you to the gutter, walk you on your knees deep into the filthy water, stains your pretty, modest white skirt not that you'll have much use of it anymore.

You start screaming again struggling like a feral dog, he thinks of what name to give you, dogs get new names after all to know what they should answer to your old one never fit you anyways.

"What are you doing-? What are you-"

He starts it up and runs it across your scalp, your soft hair falling into the water and your sweat stained blouse as be buzzes it all off, there will be better cuts in the feature; neat crew cuts like his in barber shops before your wedding and once every month, routine trims and beard oil.

"Oh don't pretend you don't know luv, look at you! Even with ya short height everybody can tell, ya make such an unconvincing girl, sweets but that's alright. Everybody strays sometimes, not ya fault ya never had anyone to guide ya right, ya just trust me, alright? Ya just trust me."

He burries your face in his crotch to muffle your noises as he shaves your head feels you go limp with shame.

He pities you, he doesn't know what it's like to be seen after a life spent hiding, to be in the light after two decades of chasing it.He strips you off your skirt and blouse there, pockets your jewelry and wedding band takes out your I.D and taps your picture there.

"Ya recognize her?"

Your lips twitch, mishapen face scrunched up in shame.

"No, ya don't, ya never did..."

He thinks for a second, what to name you, who to make you, how to love you.

"Tommy, Tom Price, ya recognize that?"

You nod and he brushes the hair off your scalp as he leads you back to the car, lays you in the back seat to stew, throws his uniform jacket over you.

"Wait-"

He looks down, at you half hidden under the jacket, pulls it further, tucks you in to hide a body that's of the past.

"Yes luv?"

"What's you name?"

He smiles and huffs out a laugh that's been brewing for weeks, weeks and weeks of watching you, feeling your yearning eyes burn kisses on his skin.

"Jonathan, Jonathan Price, ya can call me sir."

[meadow-hearthfire]

Meet the BroZone bros' parents! Lily Juniper and Pine!

See the design of their union bracelets? They're weaved out of the couple's respective hairs, representing their bond and marriage. Too bad Pine is an unfaithful twat!

I've redesigned my BZdad from this because the BroZone bros gotta have a parent to inherit their skin/fur color from, especially if the skin/fur color occurred five times in a row. I've also changed his name because it didn't feel quite right.

Lily Juniper's design is inspired by @keebsification's BZmom. Specifically from this video and this video.

Oh, and the homewrecker locking tails with Pine is Creek's mom.

UPDATE 21/05/2025: I realized the line layer was set to multiply, so I fixed it.

[incorrect-drwho-quotes]

Jack: When I was married, you know what The Doctor often said to me? Missy: Please stop sleeping with other people?

[crowned-peony]

Being in an arranged marriage and knowing you will never love them, and the day before your marriage your fave sneaks into your room to make love to you ♡

[agirlwithmagicpals]

Au info dump

Tw:Mention of miscarriage, pregnancy, affairs, the hospital, and fertility issues amongst other things

1.The majority of dolluppets ether live in secret or they keep they’re true colors very well hidden especially since the oldest dolls to ever be magically given life are still considered boogeymen unless they are genuinely trying to be good but are still rather flawed.

2.Natasha is a giant demonic snake with muppet type anatomy that is essentially a prophet demon who can see visions of the future, she takes more after her father Lafargo when it comes to having a very dark color scheme and receiving a soft shade of midnight blue on her belly side.

3.Constantine however, is a tall skinny puppety albino hound like false angel who is the only rejected son of Lafargo and the much more uncanny one of the two siblings. He has more angelic powers that are essentially much more twisted into a more darker yet still semi-divine magic that he consistently abuses for his own personal gain even when it causes him great physical pain.

3.Humphrey has some fertility issues due to his intersexuality and has unfortunately miscarried Jerry’s kid without his knowledge although later on after going to the hospital to get better care and coming home with Jerry and his generous girlfriend lida he decided to use howdy as a donor since he’s already registered although this time he kept his pregnancy a surprise before eventually having his first normal muppet child this of course was long before Humphrey had a lovely semi-secret affair with the local mailman Edward until he accidentally had his triplets whilst on an incredibly fun road trip.

4.When Humphrey was in the hospital still, His father barnaby left him a voicemail saying that he was getting married to a lady beagle who was expecting his puppies, however Humphrey didn’t even realize that he was seeing someone since he doesn’t talk to his dad too often and wasn’t able to respond right away eventually he did meet barnaby again at a neighborhood family gathering involving practically everyone there and was eventually introduced to his new wife and they’re puppies, all four of them. And in turn, Humphrey showed all of his new siblings all the love he could.

Around that same time, Jerry found out that his wife was pregnant by accident but decided to give they’re little family a try also Humphrey is still technically married to Jerry especially since they enveloped so they’re polyamorous.

[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

[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.

[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.

[sweetestflow3rs]

and he did.

[tempfrangit]

has someone already pitched a Candyman!Ghost x Reader fic?

Like Reader as a grad student looking into the ghost story of well… Ghost, sure everyone knows he was really named Simon Riley and he’s definitely dead now (right?), but the name still sparks fear in Manchester.

Reader’s whirlwind romance with her former professor hasn’t continued the way she expected, yes he’d left his wife and children and married her, but she feels like he’s distant, so she’s looking for some kind of distraction from the dull colors of her life. When she and her best friend (and hopeful co-author) decide to investigate Ghost’s home — a former butcher shop carcass left to rot. It would likely never reopen in anyway unless it was gutted and flipped, all of the buildings beautiful original designs torn out rather than attempted to save. You couldn’t help yourself from looking around, and there was such a delicious thrill in looking the rooms over.

You don’t know what possess you to look into the smashed mirror in the loo, smile playing at the edges of your lips as you caught sight of the original tiles, still so beautiful despite the time that had passed. The sight of yourself makes you sigh, brows pinching together as you touch that girl’s cheek.

“Simon Riley.”

It’s barely a whisper as you recite the supposed spectre of fear and vengeance.

When you hear your friend call you name, ask what you’d found, you turn to look behind you — and your eyes must have been playing tricks on you, because you swore for a moment a hulking man was just behind you? A shiver shudders through you

[searenbound]

Thinking thoughts of soulmate! Bakugou meeting you while you’re on vacation and you’re insanely attracted and know right away.

In this day and age, it’s rare to find your true soulmate. You can find just close enough, feel a familiar tug towards another person and for a lot people that’s good enough. Your true soulmate however, well that feels more like an impossible to ignore fire that only their touch can quell.

It’s a blessing to finally find your kindling, only problem is you’re on your honeymoon because you never thought you’d find him.

He doesn’t judge you for moving forward with a marriage that wasn’t to him, but god does he want to kill your husband for stealing you before he ever got to have you.

[writermask-0807]

“winter’s eve,” or: “and the cold of your embrace.” gojo satoru x reader

Warnings: wrote this in a weird mood and a banging headache, so that's probably why it sounds so shitty lmao (😭) there’s also some stuff that doesn’t add up so there's that. angst with no happy ending (dont come for me yall), implied cheating, swearing (like one f bomb lol), also the title literally has nothing related to the fic in itself (except maybe one paragraph 😭). uhh that's all, I think, but lmk if I missed anything!!!

he comes home late, your satoru. late enough that it’s early, actually, with the pale rim of the sun trying to push weakly through the bruise-colored clouds purpling the night sky - late enough that you think he’s not coming, like most other nights. 

but when he comes stumbling in, staggering off to the side as he giggles, drunk, with pink in his cheeks either from the cold or the booze, you think it might’ve been better if he didn’t come home at all. and it sounds cruel, doesn’t it? knowing why satoru, your satoru, who can’t really be called yours anymore, (from a god to a worshipper, did you really think that he would love you like he actually, truly meant it?) is like this. why things are like this, really, but it’s getting harder to bear, these days. 

and as tears fills your eyes when your mouth parts open to speak, you wonder when it’s changed to bearing, and not loving satoru. “where were you?” you ask him, and it’s a broken, whispered thing, no longer being shouted with explosive anger, wrapped in vicious hurt and dripping venom. 

it comes out resigned. tired. you’re tired, and maybe he sees it, for once; (and you want to scoff at the irony of it all — because even with his all-seeing six eyes, satoru has always been blind to you. or maybe he chooses to slide a rose-tinted film over them, and honestly, at this point, you don’t know which one is worse-) maybe he sees the harsh shadows in your eyes and the halo of dark circles, the bitten lips and the messy hair. maybe he sees that he’s the root of all this, because he stops. 

there’s a pause - a sobering quiet, and you think he knows what’s coming. there’s something in the air, something cold and stinging, something tight enough that when you finally breathe his name, it feels like a thread snapping, something falling apart at the seams — like blood oozing through the stitches of a wound, scabbed over and over and never quite healing. a beat too late, you realize that that something is really you and satoru. you and me, he said. we. us.

there is no us, satoru. there was never an “us” and that fucking hurts.

and now it’s all gone, snowed over by satoru and his frost-cold eyes and his freezing voice and his icicle-sharp words, cutting so deep that you’re afraid you can’t dig them out, especially with your winter-numbed fingers. in hindsight, you really should have seen this coming. 

and he must see it too, now, because satoru is a man called god - mighty and powerful and all-seeing - and he truly plays the part. and so he smiles, wide and nonchalant like he doesn’t know this is ripping you apart. like he doesn’t know that this is the end. like he doesn’t even care, and you hate him for it. 

“oh, you know. out.” 

he says lazily, throwing his shades off as he stumbles his way towards you, arms wide open, grinning all the while. you flinch as he steps into the moonlight, reaching out for you, those cruel, cruel eyes holding the stormy brilliance of the skies, glimmering in the weak light — and you think that cuts through the fuzz, the haziness in his mind - sobers him up.

satoru stops, only a breath away from you, close enough that you can smell the alcohol on his breath and the scent of another catching in his clothes and his hair and his skin, see that the smile has slipped off of his face, see the shimmer of his cold eyes, the gaping emptiness in them - a void, that, no matter how much you give of yourself to him, that can never be filled. 

“you’re leaving.” he breathes quietly, soft. broken.

you remain silent, tears clouding your eyes, spilling over your cheeks like a dam burst. because you’d expected yelling, screaming and even cursing, or the cold indifference that satoru has always used to freeze you out, and this - this vulnerability hurts so much more. you wish he would just - just - 

a trembling hand comes to cup your cheek, cradles your jaw, lifts your eyes to meet his, full of melted ice, desperate and searching for something, anything to hold onto, but it’s been ten long, painful years of breaking and fixing, hurting and healing until you’re so scarred over that there’s nothing else left to wound, and by god - you’re so, so tired.

you bring a shaky hand to cup his, curled around your face, tears trembling on your lashes, unable to bear that look of heartbreak in those damned crystalline eyes of his. did he see this, too? 

“i love you. i love you so, so much, don’t you know that?” he murmurs, voice catching, forehead knocking against yours, and you stifle a sob behind gritted teeth. because you know. of course you do; it’s why you’re here now. it’s why you’ve always been here for so long. 

“i know, satoru. i know, but this love of yours is only killing me.” you tell him in a broken whisper, and you feel his grip tighten, feel him shake against you. 

“don’t say that. don’t say that. please…” satoru never begs. he never has had the need to, but now - now he wonders if anything would have changed if he had. he would have fallen at your feet, begged you with all that he had and meant it with his entire chest, baring the tender heart inside for the entire world to see. but it’s too late.

he’s always too late.

“please…” he murmurs against your mouth, lips brushing against yours in one last desperate attempt - and it’s helpless and bitter and wet from the salt of your tears — yours or his, maybe. you don’t know anymore. 

he kisses you and you kiss him back just as hard and wanting, fingers curling into the moon-bright mess of his hair as you tug him down, nails digging into his back and his mouth crushed against yours and it’s desperate and rough and messy, and it feels like the last time and the first time in a long time but this is it. 

this is the end. 

and when he finally pulls back, panting and breathless, you think he knows it too. 

“i’m sorry, satoru.” 

you tell him, and even without the tears in your eyes, and the waver in your voice and the ache in your chest, he knows you’d mean it all the same. you’ve never been as selfish as him, even now, even when it’s your right to be. you could never be as cruel as him. and maybe that’s why this is goodbye. 

and so gojo satoru is selfless for once. he doesn’t chase after the warmth of your mouth when you press your lips to his one last time, a parting gift - a lingering curse. he doesn’t have it in him to look up even when he feels you glance at him one last time, your eyes tired and mournful and full of tears. 

and worst of all, he doesn’t hear the faint “i love you,” that lingers long after you leave, silent to his ears, the door to his house left open, but his home long gone.

FIN-

[mintmatcha]

Does your f/o like the strip club yes or no?

[squiggle3worm]

I never noticed that it was implied that after Sally went missing Gabe was cheating on her.

“She was interviewing him in our apartment, in the middle of a poker game, and there was a young blond lady sitting next to him, patting his hand. A fake tear glistened on his cheek. He was saying, ‘Honest, Ms. Walters, if it wasn’t for Sugar here, my grief counselor, I’d be a wreck’…”

Gabe never actually cared about Sally so why would he have a grief counselor besides keeping up appearances for insurance or something. If she is an actual grief counselor why is she comfortable being called “Sugar” unless it’s her first name. That’s not impossible but the amount of people with that name is so low it would be surprising. It’s easier to assume Gabe was cheating on Sally that it is to assume Sugar was there for any other reason.

We already knew that Gabe was abusive and a horrible person so I guess it’s not that shocking he’d cheat on Sally too. It just went over my head when I was reading it as a kid.

[holylulusworld]

Better than this...

Summary: He’s a taken man. You are a broken-hearted girl.

Pairing: John Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, implied cheating/infidelity, unrequited feelings?, no happy end

A/N: Just a random angsty drabble.

It’s always the same game. He comes to you, for a night full of passion and lust. But then, he leaves. He never stays overnight or goes out with you. At least not in town. If you have dinner, it’s at a restaurant you call the mistress’s place.

You close your eyes and even your breathing. You pretend to be asleep, and he pretends that he doesn’t know you are still wide awake. Letting him sneak out of your home is easier than asking him to stay the night.

You did so often, and he always comes up with an excuse. His sons. Business. An important meeting.

The truth is you are only his dirty little secret.

He softly pecks your forehead. You hold your breath and don’t move.

“Sleep well, doll,” he whispers against your skin. It sounds almost loving. But you know better than to keep your hopes high.

He leaves. You exhale deeply.

You feel like you ended up in an endless circle of heartbreak.

It started three years ago when you met the man of your dreams. Well, at least you thought that he is a dream man back then. Now you’re not sure anymore.

John is a good man in public. The successful businessman. Perfect father. Perfect husband.

When you met, you didn’t know about his wife. And after you found out, you were already in too deep to get out.

John swore that his marriage is over for years. That he will ask Mary for divorce. He wanted to make things official with you and introduce you to his sons and friends.

Lies. So many lies.

You are still his dirty secret. The woman he meets up with to forget about his hectic life. John Winchester won’t fulfill his promises. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not in a year.

You blink your eyes open when the door shuts behind him. Silence greets you. But this time, you welcome it.

You roll over to his side of the bed to bury your face in his pillow. His scent still lingers on the fabric, and you inhale deeply. He always smells so good, and forgetting you cannot have him is hard.

This has to end. You’re not the kind of person who settles for less than love or ruins someone else’s marriage.

He cannot give you love, and devotion. Only lies, and secrets.

You sit up and grab your phone, sighing deeply. “I guess this is goodbye.” You bitterly say as you dial his number.

You take a deep breath when he immediately answers his phone.

Closing your eyes, you count to three.

“This must end. I’m better than this…”