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writing-flower · 15 hours ago

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“ Between life and death, death is tempting ”

First act: “From the roots”

Prologue: “Happy fifteenth birthday! (Again?)”

WARNING: Mention of blood and death.

My memory had never been the best, it was good, but not exceptional. Nothing out of this world.

I wasn't as smart as Damian or Tim, I wasn't as strong as Jason or Dick, nor was I as sharp as Bruce Wayne.

I wasn't exceptional, but I was good, but not good enough for them. For him.

God, I was so focused on getting his attention, playing sports, try to pass every subject with the highest grade, join any club like debate or math.

Anything, but all that never leads to anything.

Well, almost nothing, everything I did only caused Damian to see me as a desperate for attention, which, he wasn't wrong.

But still, it didn't make it hurt any less, every insult, malicious insinuation even the occasional threat flying through the air, each one was the result of three years of trying to get someone to look at me.

Sometimes that attention only appeared with Dick, on the few times that he came to visit and came across a scene of me with Damian, He immediately stopped him.

Forcing him to apologize, spoiler, he never apologized.

The first time it happened I thought that my attempts had finally yielded good results, but no, I dare say this was worse.

As if he gave me hope and then suddenly he snatches it away without any fanfare.

Oh wait, that's literally what happened.

And about the others, I didn't even have the chance to talk to them, simply because I was already tired and also because if Damian continued he would have more reasons to screw me.

And let's face it, nobody wants to feed the wolf because you know it bites.

In this case, the bird.

It didn't help that almost the entire family was going on patrol, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't interested in being part of that, but then I remember Jason...I immediately got that idea out of my mind.

Mm, but if I stop to think, or rather, remember, another thing that I learned in my attempts to get my family's attention, I fell in love with dance.

It was the only class that I didn't drop like the others, I genuinely loved it.

Once in her class, the teacher made us all dance with large, long, and thin fabrics. She made us dance what we wanted, in her words: “Dance as if you were free”.

My companions danced with joy, I just stayed silent for a few moments watching them without knowing how to start.

But then I sighed to close my eyes, letting my body move as it wanted.

“Dance as if you were free” I thought, I started to imagine the music in my head. It was nice, I love it.

I went from knowing what the hell to do to starting to laugh with my classmates, I turned around and then curtsied, feeling how almost all the fabric covered my body.

I open my eyes and see my entire audience applauding, not just me, but also the rest of the dancers.

As soon as I turned eighteen I followed my teacher's advice. I didn't do it before because I was a minor, I needed my tutor's permission and blah blah blah...

Contact with my family at this point was zero, except for the new member, Duke, a sweet and kind boy.

Just looking at him made prayers come to mind for Bruce.

“If you let this kid end up like Jason, I’ll take care of throwing the Joker at you myself, you unhappy idiot.” I was thinking but also listening as Duke energetically told me what his first patrol had been like.

I used to have a certain respect for Bruce, I mean, he's Batman and he does everything in his power to make sure Gotham isn't in such a shitty place.

But then I remember that he keeps adopting children as if they were dogs to give them "A better life" by turning them into human weapons.

Sooooo, yeah, I wish that every day he wakes up with a backache and a headache.

"[Name]"

"Yes dear?" Through the mirror I watched Duke looking at me hopefully as I put on my makeup for the upcoming performance in an hour.

Oh no, I already know what he's going to ask.

"Why do you never come to the mansion?" God, I swear he does that look on purpose, brat.

I sigh as I turn around to look at him.

"You already know my answer, I have no reason to do it and I don't want to either." I said as I turned back to the mirror to continue.

"Yes! I know, but why exactly don't you want to?"

A silence reigned in the room, putting on my makeup but at the same time thinking about what to answer him.

As much as I resent the Waynes, they didn't do anything to Duke, until now, they treat him as he deserves and the last thing I want is to plant that seed of hatred towards them in Duke.

Because I know him, as soon as I tell him what my childhood was like in that mansion and those responsible, the first thing he will do is complain.

And at this point in my life I don't want any unnecessary drama with them.

I lowered the lipstick and looked at him.

"I never liked being in that mansion, since I was little I was always afraid of those giant, dark hallways, and I still am."

Duke stared at me in bewilderment. "Is that the only reason you don't want to come to the mansion?"

I nodded. "It sounds stupid, I know, but every time I walk down those halls it brings back bad memories."

That wasn't a lie.

Duke was silent for a few moments before coming up to me and hugging me.

"Aww, honey you are such a sweetheart sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Yeah, because you can be a brat sometimes too." I laughed as I ruffled Duke's hair until it was disheveled.

"A white lie won't hurt anyone." I thought while Duke laughed and tried to pull my hand out of his hair.

Without realizing it, it was already time to start. I said goodbye to Duke, telling him to go back to the mansion, but he insisted on staying.

Something I allowed, GOD, I should have begged him not to do it.

Because from one moment to the next while I was dancing, all the lights went out and when they came back on I felt like blood was flooding my mouth, like everyone was screaming in fear.

What happened? Why am I bleeding?

Duke, he was next to me trying to keep me awake, to not close my eyes.

It got to the point where I couldn't hear anything he was saying, it was complicated while I felt like a part of my body was bleeding non-stop.

I hate to see him cry, please look away... leave me here.

Please...

I don't want the last thing I see to be you crying...

Please...

She opened her eyes calmly and confusedly, all she could hear was the ringing in her ears. She thought she was in a hospital because of the light.

But when her vision stopped blurring, she realized that the light was not from a hospital spotlight, but from the skylight in the wooden ceiling.

"Wait...Skylight?" She muttered, feeling her voice raspy and her throat sore.

The bed wasn't that soft, it was really hard and uncomfortable but still [Name] didn't want to get up, after almost dying...

[Name] sat up in bed right away.

"I ALMOST DIE!" She literally jumped out of bed and ran to the closet to get her clothes.

She needed to see how Duke was doing, his desperate face and the way he held back the urge to cry and couldn't, broke her heart.

But it was when she pulled out a t-shirt that she realized.

"This isn't my size..." Confused, [Name] walked over to the mirror.

If Duke broke her heart, now she's literally having a heart attack.

"WHAT THE FUCK!?" [Name] could swear that any living thing that was near her would have run away in less time than it takes a rooster to crow.

She touched her face carefully, as if it would disappear or break if she touched it hard, this is so weird...a woman in her late twenties trapped in her fifteen year old self, god, what a hell.

[Name] She stepped back without taking her eyes off the mirror while she sat back down on her bed.

On the other side of the door, she heard someone knocking on it two or three times. Accompanied by a soft but direct voice calling her name.

"Miss [Name]"

[Name] immediately turned around to stare at the door, for a few short moments no one said anything, there was only silence.

"Are you okay? You didn't come down to breakfast. That's not something usual for you." Alfred said once he got no response from her.

"Yeah, I'm fine Alfred...I just stayed up late last night that's all..." She didn't know what to say, obviously it wasn't okay, but she didn't want any more problems in her head, she just wanted to focus on the main problem.

She literally just got younger, which would be a good thing if it weren't for the fact that she also came back to this damn mansion.

"Okay, miss, I'll be waiting for you with your breakfast, you need to eat something before you start the day." [Name] was about to reply until Alfred stepped in. "Also, Happy Birthday Miss."

She didn't say anything, she didn't want to.

Alfred walked away from the door, [Name] could hear his footsteps moving away through the hallways and down the stairs.

"Was it always this quiet?" She muttered in her mind as she turned her gaze back to the mirror.

She thought about her life before coming back here, it wasn't good, she didn't earn much from dancing, but... it was her life, a life that took her time to perfect.

And now, I go back to the beginning? Shit, no.

"Alive or dead, I don't care, either way I'm getting out of here..." She said with some frustration and tiredness. "Happy birthday to me...that's new."

With nothing left to lose, she gets back out of bed to find some clothes to change into.

It was her birthday and she had to look good.

And hopefully, it would be the last birthday she would spend in this mansion.

NOTES: Hi, I hope everything is okay, even if it's better than me, I had finished the 'prologue' a while ago but I was feeling a bit unsure that something felt out of place or "weird".

I repeat and reiterate, I can understand English but in terms of speaking/writing it I am still learning. Until I feel completely confident for now I will continue using the translator (my savior).

But if there are any errors (probably some, I hope not many) let me know, I want everyone to be able to read comfortably and as long as I can I will make it happen.

Anyway, I hope you like it, I love you! Muak muak💋💋

TAGS:

@crazycaoticsimp @closetreader1864

#batfam x neglected reader #batfamily x neglected reader #yandere batfam #yandere batfamily x reader #negligent batfam #yandere dc #yandere batboys #platonic batfam x reader #reader insert #platonic reader #neglected reader #batfamily #batfam dc #batfam #alfred pennyworth

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lawofangie · 3 days ago

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hi guys! i've been getting some dms and asks, and since there seems to be some confusion about what the law of assumption is, i wanted to make a post clarifying some things. so here are some things you need to know:

1. the law is not a mystical thing.

it is not magic. its not foreign. it is not a superpower. it is simply making assumptions. not praying, not wishing, not hoping, not affirming. making assumptions. manifestation is about accepting things as true without any proof, the proof comes later. once you've successfully completed this step.

2. you didn't create life, you created your reality.

there is a difference. i remember this one tumblr interaction where someone sent an ask, believing that since they're the creator of their reality, then they also created every tv show they watched. and no, you obviously did not. anything that you obviously didn't physically create in your life, you didn't create. the only thing you are responsible for in your life is how things operate in relation to you.

3. you don't get what you want, you get what you are.

there's a reason why you're told by neville to stop desiring, why you're told to state your desires as a present tense fact. its because no amount of wanting, no amount of desiring, is going to change anything. if our assumptions (what we believe is true without proof) have so much power over our lives, what do you think desiring implies? what does wanting say about you? if you had your dream job, would you be wanting your dream job, or would you already have it and no longer desire it?

it should be obvious that we as human beings are conscious enough to realize certain things. we have the freedom to change our own minds because we are autonomous human beings. therefore, you are completely capable of making the conscious decision to believe something without proof.

4. you are a human being. other people around you are human beings too.

i've noticed that a lot of people within this community seem to be out of touch with reality. i find this very concerning and it's why i no longer say things like "the 3d isn't real" or "you are god", because they can be blown out of proportion. while yes, you are the cause for everything in your life, this is still your life. the 3d can be as unreal or "fake" as it wants to be, but it's all you've ever known. it's all you will ever know. why? because regardless of any material you've ever consumed, we are human beings living a human experience. nothing can change that.

you still need to take care of yourself, you still need to live your life, you should still enjoy your life, you should still be kind to others and treat them with respect. don't neglect yourself and others around you. the 3d is real, it's just not as absolute as we're made to believe. that's all. the 3d is real, but its authority over you is not.

5. again, the law is not magic. it's a natural process.

once you assume something, it's not going to just magically fall into your lap. the law is meant to be a natural thing. while manifestation is instantaneous, there is still the bridge of events that unfold to lead you to what you decided has already happened. and while things can still happen in an infinite amount of ways, the "how", regardless of what i've just said, is still none of your concern. your job will always be to decide it's already done and stick to that.

also, please don't take my words out of context. i'm not saying that manifestation is a process or anything like that, this is simply the way our world works. for instance, if you wanted to manifest a free vacation, the tickets wouldn't magically appear in your hand right that second. you'd decide you were already going on/already on that vacation first. then in the next couple minutes/hours or the next day or that same week, a relative of yours calls or visits and mentions that they won a trip to your desired location, but they changed their mind, so they ask you if you want to go.

this is what i mean by a bridge of events unfolding. there is no process, just events that lead you to where you already assumed you are. your physical reality is a mirror that reflects whatever you tell yourself instantaneously. things will always unfold in a natural way.

that's all for now. i hope this helps. 🩶

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rosenclaws · 2 days ago

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Could I pleasssse request a smut/fluff fic with Logan where he secretly likes the reader and doesn't like the readers bf? The reader is in their early to mid twenties and has been best friends with Logan for years and he snaps one night when her bf is being an asshole 👀 thank you so much 😭

warnings: Angst to fluff, asshole boyfriend, he's mutant hating low key, threats, fighting

a/n: Hehehe i fucking LOVE a good jealousy fic, also I based the asshole ex on multiple asshole exes of my own lol.

Things were well and truly complicated. You always knew what being a mutant meant for your relationship life. Having to dip your toes into the water to see if they the kind of person who wanted your kind dead or if they were more open to the idea of mutants.

Even then you ran into all kinds of assholes. If you could even get past the first date then you'd have to drop the bomb that you work at a mutant school with mutant children. Safe to say your dating life was pretty empty.

"You here again sweetheart?" You roll your eyes when you hear Logan's voice. It's Friday night and you're sitting in the living room of the mansion with a root beer.

“Yeah, so are you.” You bite back. He just chuckles and takes a seat next to you. Spreading his legs until his knee knocks into yours.

“Weren’t you supposed to go out with that kid, what was his name Jacob or…”

“Jason. Yeah he canceled when he saw the pick up address.” You remember the absolute terrified voice he spoke to you in, afraid you were going to melt his bones through the phone or something.

“You really know how to pick em.” You shove Logans shoulder as he laughs.

“Fuck off, I don’t see you getting any action lately either.”

“That’s because I’m not interested in dating some stranger.” He grumbles.

Truth is Logan hasn't been interested in anyone except for you for a while now. Its been years and as pathetic as it sounds Logan was too afraid to say anything. But there's no reason to mess up a good thing right? Plus it's not like you've been showing any interest in him.

“Look, any guy would be lucky to have you sweetheart, you just need to find the right one."

"Feels like I've been searching forever. Feels like I should make a marriage pact or something." You say with a groan.

"A marriage pact?" "Logan questions.

"Yeah you know, if we haven't found someone by the time we're forty we just, get married."

"We?" Your eyes widen and you start to flounder. The last thing you want is for Logan to think you're a creep or something. It's not like you fantasize about Logan or anything. Totally not.

"Not you, I mean if you wanted to then sure but I was just talking hypothetically you know. I mean god could you imagine you and I?" The words tumble out of your mouth with no filter. You just can't stop yourself. Logan cocks and eyebrow and you pray for something, anything to happen to help you shut up.

"Yeah...hard to picture you and I" Logan's face hardens as he talks.

Like he thought before, you don't want him. You could just burst into flames right here and now. The tension is palpable. Logan has been your friend for a long time but he never fails to make you a little nervous. He shouldn't have this hold over you but god he's just so big and intimidating.

"You know what? We should go out." You say abruptly.

"What? Hey give that back!" You grab the beer out of his hand and he looks at you confused.

"It'll be fun please, I'll buy the first round." You offer and he thinks for a second.

"Fine."

You don't really know what drove you to want to come here. It was loud and crowded and you and Logan had gotten separated after the first drink. Maybe you just wanted to avoid the odd feelings you get whenever you're alone with him. Plus that last conversation was awkward as hell.

You sigh as you swirl your drink around. You spot Logan across the room. He's leaning against the wall while a very pretty red head is all in his space. Your heart clenches as you notice the cocky smile on his face and how he's not pushing her away. Guess someone is getting lucky tonight and it isn't you.

"Hey, couldn't help but notice a beautiful girl all by herself." You look to your side to see a guy slide into the seat next to you. He seems nice enough. He's cute and all.

"Oh I'm here with a friend." You say looking back at Logan.

"Yeah, he seems busy to me. The name's Carter. Let me buy you a drink, no strings attached I swear." He offers. You take one last look at Logan, that woman's hand snaking up his arm. Fuck it.

"Alright deal."

Things since that night have been, a little off. You went home with Carter after Logan had disappeared. Carter was nice enough, at least he was at first. He treated you nice, bought you flowers. He didn't care you were a mutant or that you worked at a mutant school. He was the perfect gentleman. For the first couple months.

It happened so slowly you didn't even notice at first. You spent less time at the mansion, instead now spending it with him. The kids started to miss you and so did your friends but you were happy and they were happy you were happy.

You rarely saw Logan anymore. Ever since you came home from the bar he had been avoiding you, or something. Carter would come by the mansion but his nice guy persona seemed to fade the more he spent with everyone. It didn't help that one of your students accidently lit him on fire once. That's when the fights started.

He didn't trust the kids there, said they were dangerous. He would tell you that he liked mutants but h was worried for your safety. And he really didn't like Logan. The first time the two of them met it ended in a fight on the car ride back to his place. Logan was a strong personality and the two men clashed.

Soon every time your job got brought up it ended in a fight. He'd talk bad about your students, about your friends, about Logan. Carter wanted to keep you away from there because he loved you but they were your family.

He loved you, you had to believe it was all because he loved you. I mean you had spent so long looking for a man who didn't care about your job or your mutant abilities and Carter was that guy. At least you thought he was. You won't find anyone better. Carter liked to say that. It's hard to come by someone who's okay with what you are. So you just had to believe he did it all because he loved you.

"Do we really have to go to this stupid thing? Can't we just stay in..." Carters hand snakes up your leg but you bat his hand away making him huff.

A pissed off look on his face as you drive to the mansion. It was a simple staff party but it had been too long since you got to relax with all your friends. Carter had insisted on coming along but right now you wish he had just stayed home, especially if he was going to complain the whole time.

"This is really important to me. We don't have to stay long I promise." You say in a cheerful tone but Carter just rolls his eyes.

"Whatever." It was exhausting. To Carter anything he wanted to do was fine but as soon as there was something you wanted to do it was a chore.

"Don't understand why you're so obsessed with being around these...people." He mumbles under his breath. Not this again. You plaster on a fake smile as you pretend you didn't hear him. He loves you for who you are right?

The party was in full swing by the time you get in. You greet your friends, trying to hide your feelings as Carter says something about getting a drink.

"You finally made it." You turn to see Logan standing behind you.

"Logan! Didn't expect to see you here." You tease. Parties were never Logan's thing.

"I heard you might show up, can't miss that now can I?" He opens his arms and you don't hesitate to hug him. You missed this. Your nights used to be filled with movie nights and late night snacking with Logan. It's been so long since you got to do any of that.

"Hey, is everything okay?" Logan clocks the fake smile immediately. He's noticed the ways you've changed. You're deflated, tired. It's all that assholes doing and he knows it.

"Yeah every things fine," Logans hands rest on your arms, he's about to press you a little further but Carter comes back.

"Hey man get your hands off my girlfriend." Carter almost seems to puff out his chest as if he was trying to appear bigger than Logan. Logan rolls his eyes.

"Calm down bub, just saying hi to my friend."

"Well she's my girlfriend."

"Yeah she's also a person not a fucking object." Logan growls and you step to get in between the two of them. The last thing you wanted was a fight right now.

"It was great seeing you again Logan." You smile as Carter wraps his hand around your wrist.

Logan reluctantly lets go of you as you're taken away by your boyfriend. He feels this anger burning inside of him. Every time he sees that bastard touch you he wants to rip off his damn arms. Every time he sees your smile fall or hears your fake laugh.

"Jealous much?" Scott comments, a smirk on his face as Logan turns to glare.

"I ain't jealous." Logan snaps as he stalks away.

Yes he is, he's very jealous. He's jealous that asshole is your boyfriend and not him. He's jealous that he's not the one who gets to hold you at night and call you his girl. But he was too late. So he's got no one to blame but himself.

Carter hadn't left your side since your moment with Logan. Normally you'd be happy about this but he was doing nothing but complain every chance he got.

"Can we just fucking go home already. You saw your little friends."

"It's barely been an hour Carter. All I asked for was this one thing! These people are my family would it kill you to try and act interested." You snap, finally fed up with his attitude. He scoffs and crosses his arm.

"I am trying. It's not my fault your family are freaks! Especially that fucking monster." He says with an extra glare towards Logan. Heads start to turn as he raises his voice.

"They're not freaks and don't call Logan that! He is not a monster!" You hiss. You've had it up to here with Carter. Everything you thought about him was crumbling down. If this is what love was then you'd rather be single.

"Of course you come to his defense. What are you fucking him on the side?" He spits.

Logan looks ready to pounce but he's being held back. If he could he'd maim this guy until he's nothing but blood and bones. He doesn't care what insult this guy spews his way but the second he disrespects you, all bets are off.

"He's my friend that's why I'm defending him. I will not let you talk about anyone of these people like that! You are nothing but a hateful asshole. You can go home and don't wait up because you're done."

You're seething with anger but there's a sense of relief that washes over you. You can feel every ones eyes on you but you don't care. You turn around to walk away but Carter grabs onto your wrist.

"Don't fucking walk away from me!" You wince at how hard he grabs you and that's when Logan snaps. Like an animal he's on Carter in an instant. Claws out and a murderous look on his face.

"Get your fucking hand off her before I slice it off." Whatever arrogance Carter had was gone in an instant. He lets go of your wrist and grabs at Logan's arm but Logan is unmoving.

"Listen here bub, you're going to get your sorry ass out of here and never come back." Logan leans in, just close enough that Carter is the only one who can hear his next words.

"If you even think of contacting her again I'll find you and I'll rip you limb from limb." Carter scrambles out of Logans grip and falls to the ground.

"You're all fucking insane." He yells as he runs out the door.

There's a weight that falls off your shoulders the second he's out of your sight. You let out a sigh as you turn to face everyone. Some of them were looking at you with pity and others were happy he was finally gone.

"I am, so sorry for ruining the party."

"You didn't ruin the party sugar, we're glad he's gone. Now we can really party." Rouge says with a smile, you're grateful for her as this breaks the awkward tension.

Things seem to go back to normal but you slip outside, not really feeling a party mood anymore. You hear the door open and foot steps behind you. A root beer is placed in front of you and you gladly take it. Wordlessly Logan takes the spot next to you. Man you can't remember the last time you got to sit down with Logan.

"Thank you, and I'm sorry." You say. He shrugs and throws an arm around you, pulling you closer.

"Nothing to be sorry for sweetheart, asshole had it coming." He takes a sip of his beer and you sigh, leaning a little closer to him.

"How could I be so stupid, things went south way before tonight. I just...didn't want to see it."

"Hey, you're not stupid. You were in love." Love makes you do a lot of things. Turn a blind eye or in Logan's case. Pretend like the feelings aren't even there.

"No I wasn't. Not really. I think...I was so afraid of never finding someone that I latched onto the first guy to give me an ounce of attention." You groan. What's so wrong with wanting to be loved huh? Nothing. But you deserve a guy who isn't a complete asshole.

"There will be other guys, anyone would be lucky. to have you"

"Yeah? Like who?" You say with a snort.

"Like me." Logan says simply. Your eyes widen as you taken in what he just said.

"What?" You ask in disbelief.

Logan shifts where he sits. Fuck this isn't how he imagined telling you, in fact he thought he never would. But Carter made him so angry and he'd be dammed if he let another dick come and take you away again.

"Like me, I want to be the lucky bastard."

"I...Logan how long have you felt this way." You ask, a hand coming to rest on his chest.

"It doesn't matter,"

"Yes it does, please. I need to know how much of an idiot I've been." You beg and Logan frowns, he doesn't like it when you call yourself an idiot.

"Years sweetheart, I've been in love with you for years." He confesses.

All this time. He's been there. As your friend, as something more. Too wrapped up in his own shit to say something at first and then by the time he worked out some of it, it was too late. He hates to admit it but that asshole did one thing right, it pushed him to stop hiding how he really feels about you.

"Logan..." You whisper as your lean in close to him.

His hand snakes around your waist and pulls you closer. Your lips ghost each other for just a moment, before he leans closer and kisses you. Your lips move together slowly. Logan groans against your lips as he pulls you even closer, if anyone were to look outside they'd see you practically crawling onto his lap.

His other hand cups your cheek, keeping you right there for him to kiss over and over. A part of you is kicking yourself for not saying anything to Logan sooner. So much pain and annoyance could have been avoided had one of you just confessed, but the other part of you is too happy to care. Too happy knowing that he felt the same way and that he was finally yours.

"I wish we had done this sooner."

"Me too sweetheart, but you have me now." He says as he kisses you again. A thought lingers in your mind and you pull away from Logan much to his dismay.

"Fuck, I need to get my shit from Carters place." You say with a groan.

"Don't say his name ever again," Logan grumbles and you laugh.

"I'll take care of everything so you never even have to think of that asshole." Logan buries his face in your neck, kissing every bit of skin he can reach.

"Now, lets ditch this party and make up for some lost time." Logan purrs.

God there's so much time to catch up on, you mourn what could have been but Logan taps your cheek. Snapping you out of your spiraling thoughts.

"You alright sweetheart?" You nod, shaking your head free of those thoughts. That's all in the past now, it took a while but you found your way to Logan and that's all that matters.

"I've never been better. Now, take me home."

#logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #wolverine x reader #logan howlett angst

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atzhrts · 1 day ago

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what are some things you think give dom riize butterflies in bed 😋

includes: mentions of corruption but not actually (shotaro) dacryphilia, mentions of sex with the others around & squirting (eunseok), size training kind of (sungchan), pussy eating (seunghan), choking (sohee)

shotaro

he loves whenever you get this random burst of confidence, pushing him on his back and straddling him before looking at him like ‘what now’. is very into the fact that you want guidance from him (also corruption kink), sure you were feeling like a big girl just know, thinking you can just do your thing but now you’re asking him to take over again. definitely tells you no and that you started this and need to go though with it. (manly because he enjoys seeing you struggle to ride his dick)

eunseok

when you cry. there’s just something about you showing such raw emotions that seem like they’re so misplaced. it also gives him such an ego boost, because of course he knows you are not faking your moans - otherwise you wouldn’t let them slip out around his members when you’re riding him during movie nights. and he’s pretty sure you’re not faking your orgasms either because he hasn’t found an explanation for how you could fake your juices spraying against his abdomen and bedsheets but adding the vision of you crying just from his dick is doing wonders for him.

sungchan

the very moment when he first pushes into you and he watches your eyes flutter as both of you let out a synchronized moan. sungchan knows you always struggle a bit with taking his length, even if he prepares you throughly most of the times (heavy on the most). gentle finger running through your wetness before he pushes the first one in, pressing little kisses against your clit as he adds a second one. he loves listening to your sweet gasps and pants as he moves them in scissoring motion inside of you, eyes fixed on the way your pussy pulses around his digits. he knows he’s big but he loves to see the physical reminder on your face everztime his tip enters your tightness.

wonbin

as i said before, praising and that in all possible ways. i don’t think wonbin is very insecure, he knows he’s fine and he’s secure enough in your relationship to trust you would tell him directly if he’s not pleasing you. but something about you stuttering out praise without him having to ask for anything or even doing much always gives him this warm fuzzy feeling in his belly. whether it be you actually telling him how good he is doing and that he makes you feel so good, or combined with your touches. your shaky hands running down his arms “you’re so pretty binnie” he feels your pussy tighten around his length and knows the desperation is speaking out of you “your dick is so good”

seunghan

when your brush his hair out of his face as he’s eating you out. we all agree he’s a certified muncher right? that man can spend hours between your legs and not get bored. im fact he tried, coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of you, tongue abusing your swollen clit as his fingers massage your insides. he smiles into your pussy as he notices the way your legs start to shake around his head before threatening to close, thighs pressing against his ears tightly. your hand however is the exact opposite brushing his hair out of his face ever so gently. he loves the fact that even being lost in your pleasure you still take your time to make sure you can properly see your lovers face.

sohee

he’s into choking i just know it. nothing too extreme till the point he can’t breath anymore but a warm hand against his throat just weirdly reassures him. like this is really happening, he’s really dating the most beautiful person he’s ever laid his eyes on and he really has her at his mercy. that being said he doesn’t mind a gentle squeeze every now and then. like when he hits that special spot inside of you or uses a particularly harsh thrust he just knows he’ll be rewarded with your fingers tightening around his neck. he lets out the sweetest high pitched moans, something about the power dynamics just get him. you trashing around and whimpering underneath him as he thrusts into you harshly and even if he has the dominance ver you he’s still in such a vulnerable position with your hand wrapped around his sensitive neck

anton

jerking him off whenever you put the condom on him. he’s a grown man he’s perfectly capable of putting a condom on by himself but he absolutely loves it when you do it. opening the package with his teeth, mindlessly spitting the trash to the side before he places it over his tip, eyes meeting yours when your hands cover his hands. “let me do it” you look up at him “please” and who is he to deny his baby? + he really enjoys the tightness of your hand as you roll the latex down his length, throwing his head back when you squeeze the base. the first time you done this he nearly came in your hand as he watched you jerk him off lazily before he gets the real deal.

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nomie-11 · 1 day ago

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Chase After You - Part 3

masterlist! | part 1 | part 2

synopsis: after messing up the best thing that ever happened to you, you knew you would do whatever it takes to prove to vi that you believed in her, and believed in soulmates

pairings: vi x reader, lowkey Ellie x Dina

The cold tiles beneath your cheek provided the only reprieve from the relentless pounding in your skull. It was the kind of migraine that felt alive, like claws scraping the inside of your head, each pulse of pain sharper than the last. You barely registered time passing. Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter. The pain had stolen every coherent thought, leaving behind only nausea and the faintest flickers of self-loathing.

It wasn’t just the migraine, though—it never was. The tightness in your chest, the exhaustion that weighed down your limbs, the ache behind your ribs and in your knuckles wasn’t entirely yours… it all blended together in a swirling storm of misery. This was supposed to be easier. You’d told yourself over and over that you could handle the bond, the connection, the pain. But after today, it felt like it was swallowing you whole.

The sound of the apartment door opening and closing barely registered over the throbbing in your head. You didn’t even flinch when Caitlyn’s familiar voice called out from the other room, her words muffled by the bathroom door.

“Y/n?” Her footsteps grew closer, concern evident in her tone. “Y/n, are you home?”

You wanted to answer, but the effort felt monumental. Instead, a soft groan escaped your lips as you shifted slightly, pressing the cool side of your face more firmly against the floor. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to guide her to you.

The door creaked open, and Caitlyn’s sharp intake of breath cut through the haze. “Oh, Y/n.”

She was at your side in an instant, crouching down and gently brushing your hair back from your damp forehead. Her touch was light, careful, like she thought you might break if she pressed too hard. “Why didn’t you call me?” she asked, her voice low but firm.

You managed to crack open one eye, though even the dim bathroom light felt like a knife slicing through your skull. “Didn’t… want to bother you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

Caitlyn frowned, her brows knitting together in a way that made you feel even guiltier. “You’re not a bother, Y/n. You’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

You closed your eyes again, not because you didn’t want to answer, but because the pain was too overwhelming. A few seconds later, you felt her slip an arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up despite your weak protests.

“Come on,” she said gently, her voice softer now. “Up you go. You’ll feel better on the couch.”

The movement made your stomach churn, and you clutched at Caitlyn’s arm as she guided you out of the bathroom and into the living room. By the time she eased you down onto the couch and tucked a blanket around you, your head was swimming. The nausea ebbed and flowed, but the pressure behind your eyes remained constant.

She disappeared for a moment and returned with a damp cloth, pressing it against your forehead with a tenderness that almost made you cry. “Better?” she asked softly.

You nodded, even though it wasn’t true. The pain was still there, a relentless reminder of everything you wanted to forget.

“You’ve been like this since the cafe, haven’t you?” Ciatlyn asked, sitting down beside you with two painkillers and a glass of water, handing them to you for you to quickly down them with a grimace. Her voice wasn’t accusatory, but the concern in her tone made you shrink into the couch.

“It got worse after,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “And she’s definitely feeling it too.”

Caitlyn sighed, her hand resting lightly on your shoulder. “Y/n, you need to talk to her. Properly, I mean. You can’t keep letting it fester.”

“I can’t,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I don’t know how. It’s too much, Cait. Every time I try, it just… falls apart.”

“She’s not a mind reader,” Caitlyn replied gently. “If you don’t tell her what’s really going on, how is she supposed to understand?”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight. “What if she doesn’t understand? What if… what if I’m not enough for you? I’m already holding her back.”

“That’s not true, and you know it,” Caitlyn said, her tone firmer now. “You’re not holding her back, Y/n. You’re scared, but Vi isn’t your father and you aren’t your mother. She’s not going to hurt you.”

You shook your head, tears welling up despite your best efforts to hold them back. “How do I even get her back? She probably doesn’t want to talk to me at all.”

Caitlyn turned to you with a sly grin, her eyes glinting with mischief as she stood from the couch. “I’m going to a craft store, be right back.”

—--------------------------------

Vi’s knuckles stung as they slammed into the punching bag, over and over again, each strike more punishing than the last. The repetitive thuds echoed in the mostly empty gym, the only sound keeping her grounded. Her breathing was sharp, uneven, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was hitting something, anything, to drown out the hollow ache in her chest and the raging swirl of emotions in her head.

The migraine that wasn’t hers had started hours ago, creeping in like a storm on the horizon. By the time it fully hit, it was unbearable. Every pulse of pain in her skull was a reminder of the bond she shared with you—of the way you felt every ache, bruise, and break of hers just as she felt yours. She hated it. Hated that it made her feel closer to you when all she wanted was to shut it out. To forget the way your voice cracked when you told her you didn’t believe in soulmates.

She tightened the wraps on her hands, her jaw clenched, and pivoted into another strike. Sweat dropped down her face and neck, but she ignored it, channeling everything she had into the bag. Her body begged for a break, muscles trembling with exhaustion, but the storm inside her wouldn’t let her stop.

“You think I don’t care?” she muttered under her breath, her voice breaking slightly as she jabbed the bag again. “You think I don’t feel it? Like I don’t know what it’s doing to you.”

She swiped at her forehead with the back of her hand, exhaling shakily. You had been angry—hell, she got it. The bond was brutal, unrelenting, and no amount of love could erase the fact that it made you both vulnerable in ways neither of you had signed up for. But what gutted her the most wasn’t your anger. It was the fear she had seen in your eyes. Fear of her. Fear of the bond you shared.

It was the same fear you’d carried with you from the day you met. She knew why. You’d told her about your parents—about how they had torn each other apart, even as their bond kept pulling them back together. How they had used it against each other, weaponized it in ways that left you terrified of following the same path. She’d told you she wasn’t like that. That she’d never do that to you.

But yesterday, you’d looked at her like maybe you didn’t believe her anymore.

The thought sent another surge of frustration and pain coursing through her. Her fist collided with the bag in a brutal cross, and this time, her wrist buckled slightly. She hissed in pain, stepping back to shake it off, but it only made her angrier. Her ribs ached in tandem with the pounding in her head, a dull throb that wasn’t her own. She slammed her fist into the bag again, uncaring of the sharp jolt that shot up her arm.

“Goddamn it, Y/n,” she hissed, her voice cracking. She leaned her forehead against the bag, her chest heaving.

Her whole life, Vi had prided herself on being tough, on enduring anything the world threw at her. She’d been knocked down more times than she could count, but she always got back up. She had to. But this? This was different. She couldn’t fight this. She couldn’t just punch her way through the way you looked at her, like you were bracing for the moment she’d hurt you. Like you didn’t trust her.

Her head twinged again, and she closed her eyes, letting the pain wash over her. It was ironic, really—how the bond that tied her to you, that was supposed to be a gift, felt more like a curse some days. And yet, she couldn’t imagine life without it. Without you.

The sound of approaching footsteps snapped her out of her thoughts. She didn’t have to look up to know it was Ellie.

“Vi,” Ellie said, her voice firm but not unkind. “That bag isn’t going to hit back, you know.”

“Good,” Vi muttered, not moving from where she leaned against the bag. “I don’t want it to.”

Ellie sighed, crossing her arms as she stepped closer. “You’ve been at this for hours. You're going to wreck your hands if you keep this up.”

Vi huffed, another punch echoing out. “Maybe I should, not like it matters.”

“You’re going to wreck her hands if you keep this up,” Ellie sighed, moving into Vi’s gaze, forcing her to look at her. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I was there for that argument.”

Vi let out a humorless laugh, sinking to the floor with her back against the bag. “What’s going on is that Y/n hates me. She hates this, she doesn’t even want a soulmate.”

“She doesn’t hate you,” Ellie said, her voice steady. “She’s scared. There’s a difference.”

“She doesn’t want this, Ellie,” Vi shot back, her voice rising. “She made that perfectly clear yesterday. I’m trying—god, I’m trying—but it’s like no matter what I do, it’s not enough. She doesn’t trust me. She doesn’t trust this.”

Ellie sat beside her, her tone softening. “You’re right—she’s scared. She’s got walls up that would make a military fort jealous. But you knew that when you chose to chase after her, didn’t you?”

Vi exhaled sharply, running a hand through her sweat-dampened hair. “Yeah. I knew. But I thought… I don’t know. I thought I could prove to her that it could be different. That I’m different.”

“You are different,” Ellie said firmly. “And she knows it. You just have to wait for her to come around.”

Vi clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists. “I don’t know if I can do it, Ellie. I don’t know if I can keep trying when all she does is push me away.”

Ellie leaned forward, her expression serious. “If you care about her—and I know you do—you’ve got to hold it out for her. She’s hurting right now, just like you are. And she’ll fight for you if she really does care for you.”

Vi stared at the floor, the weight of Ellie’s words settling heavily in her chest. She wanted to believe it wasn’t too late—that the two of you hadn’t already ruined everything. But the pounding in her head and the pain in her knuckles told her one thing with certainty: you still needed her.

—-----------------------

The cold air bit at your cheeks as you stood outside the rink, your breath visible in soft puffs. Your palms were clammy despite the chill, and you fidgeted nervously with the oversized sign in your hands. You could feel the weight of every bold letter you and Caitlyn had painted last night: “If the rink is your first love, let me be your second!”

It had seemed like a good idea in the moment. Something bold, something unmistakably Vi. Something that said, loud and clear, that you were sorry, and that you’d do anything to make this right.

but now, standing here in the bitting January cold, your stomach churned. What if she didn’t want this? What if she walked out, saw you, and just kept walking? What if she didn’t even give you a chance?

A few players trickled out of the rink, chatting and laughing as they slung their gear bags over their shoulders. The curious glances landed on you, and you could hear the murmurs as they noticed the sign.

You wanted to melt into the concrete. But you didn’t move.

And then you saw her.

Vi walked out with her usual confidence, her duffel slung casually over one shoulder. Her face was flushed from practic,e and her damp hair clung to her in messy strands. She was laughing at something Ellie said, but then her eyes landed on you, and she froze.

Her expression was unreadable.

Ellie said something to her, nudging her shoulder, but Vi didn’t react. She just stood there, staring at you like she wasn’t sure if you were real.

Your heart hammered in your chest, and for a moment, you thought about running. Just bolting down the street and pretending this never happened. But you couldn’t. You owed her this.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped forward. “Vi.”

Your voice came out shaky, but it was loud enough to carry over the murmurs of the small crowd gathering near the doors. Vi’s gaze snapped to yours, her lips parting slightly, but she didn’t say anything.

You swallowed hard, gripping the sign tighter. “I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you. And I know this probably looks ridiculous, but I need you to hear this.”

Her brow furrowed slightly, but she didn’t move. She just stood there, her powder blue eyes locked on yours.

You learned your throat, the words spilling out before you could lose your nerve. “You were right, Vi. About everything. I was scared, and I let that fear control me. I told myself I didn’t believe in soulmates because it was easier than admitting I was terrified—terrified of not being enough for you. Of not being able to protect you from injuries, or keep up with you. But I see it now. I feel it.”

Your voice cracked, and you felt the burn of tears in your eyes, but you pushed through. “This bond? This thing we have? It’s not a mistake. It’s not something I get to run away from just because it scares me. It’s you, Vi. It’s always been you. And if that means I wake up sore or bruised sometimes because of this bond, then fine. I don’t care. I can afford the painkillers, and I’ll path up every single one of your bruises and cuts. Because you’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it.”

The murmurs around you grew louder, and you could feel the eyes of her teammates on you. Your face burned with embarrassment, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered if this wasn’t getting across to her.

You stepped closer, lowering the sign slightly. “I’ve spent so long trying to convince myself that I didn’t need anyone, that I wasn’t good enough for this kind of love. But being with you showed me that I’m better with you. Stronger with you. And I’ll chase after you if that’s what it takes for me to make sure you understand that I’m not running away anymore.”

You took another shaky step forward, your voice steadying as you met her gaze. “I love you, Vi. I love everything about you—your stupid reckless grin, your ridiculous jokes, your pet names, the way you’re completely unstoppable on and off the ice. And if that means your first love will always be this rink… then fine. Let me be your second.”

The silence that followed was deafening, your heart pounding so loudly you were sure it echoed off the rink walls. Vi’s teammates were staring, Ellie included, and you wanted nothing more than to turn around to where Caitlyn was waiting by her car and hide behind her and cry.

But then Vi moved.

She dropped her bag with a heavy thud, closing the distance between you in three long strides. Before you could say another word, her hands cupped your face, and she kissed you.

It wasn’t soft or tentative. It was fierce and desperate, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as you had. her lips crashed into yours, and everything else faded away—the cold, the crowd, the doubts. All that mattered was her.

The sound of cheers and whistles broke through the haze, and you realized her teammates were clapping and shouting in celebration. Ellie yelled, “About time!” And you could hear Caitlyn’s more poised claps from behind you.

Vi pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against yours, her breath warm against your skin. Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was filled with so much emotion it made your chest ache.

“You’re such an idiot,” she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“I know, and I’m so, so sorry,” The tears brimming in your eyes blurred your vision as you looked up into hers, hoping that she could see even a fraction of the emotion you were trying to convey.

She laughed, wiping a stray tear from your cheek, the sound of her laugh feeling like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “I know, I know. Don’t worry.”

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “I really mean it, Vi. I’m all in. For you, for us, for everything.”

Her eyes brightened as she nodded, her hands still cradling your face. “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” you said, your voice soft. “But I’m here now. And I really promise I’m not going to run away again.”

Her smile widened, ands he kissed you again, slower this time, like she was savoring the moment. The cheers around you still echoed in the background, but for the first time, you didn’t care who was watching.

When she pulled back, she grabbed you hand, lacing her fingers with yours as she turned to face her teammates. “Alright, you’ve all seen enough. Practice is at five tomorrow. Get lost.”

Ellie rolled her eyes, grinning. “Fine, fine. but don’t expect us to stop teasing you about this for at least the next month.”

Vi rolled her eyes and flipped Ellie off, squeezing your hand with her free hand as the crowd began to disperse. She turned back to you, her expression softening. “You really made a sign?”

You blushed, glancing down at the painted letters. “Caitlyn and I thought it was a good idea at the time.”

“It’s perfect,” she said, leaning in to kiss your temple. “I’m getting it framed.”

And as she led down the path to your cafe, her hand warm in yours, you knew you’d made the right choice. For the first time, you felt completely.

Vi was your soulmate. And you would spend the rest of your life chasing after her to prove you were hers, too.

this is the first part in a three part series! reader part 1 here! read part 2 here!

If you enjoyed this one shot, please check out my other series!

#arcane vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x y/n #vi x you #vi x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #arcane x female reader #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane season 2 #arcane season two #piltover's gayest #ellie x dina #dina tlou #ellie williams

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rebelspykatie · 2 days ago

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Part 4 - Steddie Angst

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4

The only problem is, Eddie doesn’t know how to fix it. Moments where Steve is alone are few and far between, unless he shows up at Steve’s house unannounced. He doesn’t think he’ll be welcome there, if Steve would even answer the door. Which is fair, he wouldn’t talk to himself either if their roles were reversed.

If this skin crawling, stomach turning, palms sweating feeling is how love eats away at your insides, Eddie’s glad he spent the first twenty years of his life devoid of it. How do people live like this? He’s never really been a chick flick kind of guy, but he suddenly understands the plight of the main character that figures it out too late. The idiot that has to stand outside with a boombox and declare his love loudly because he made a mistake.

His chance comes as a happy accident. A New Years Eve party, one with everyone that survived the Upside Down that he reluctantly agreed to come to, and only because Dustin wouldn’t leave him alone until he showed up. Most of the night, Steve keeps that healthy distance from him, not altogether avoiding him, but never allowing himself to be caught at the punch bowl alone.

Steve’s walking around with Eddie’s heart in his hands, even if he doesn’t know it. His skin prickles with awareness when Steve’s near. Everyone has to know that something happened. They used to be inseparable, one mass on a couch, barely able to see where the other ended and began. Now? It’s like they’re two poles of a magnet, an invisible force pushing them to opposite sides of the room, circling each other in a twisted dance.

At some point, he loses sight of Steve, and he gets drawn into a conversation about music with Lucas and Jonathan. He’s on just the right side of loose, nursing a second beer and desperately in need of some fresh air, when people start to get antsy as midnight approaches.

He steps outside the cabin and the cold air melts away his anxiety. He closes his eyes, soaking up the outdoorsy stillness of the night, the only sound the quiet rustle of creatures in the forest’s depths, the echo of distant fireworks, and the ragged breath he inhales. He’s never really gotten accustomed to the packed house that happens when they’re all together, after so many years of just him and Wayne.

He jumps nearly a foot in the air when he hears Steve say, “Hey.”

When he turns towards the sound, he sees the silhouette of Steve with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He’s curled up on the bench that sits directly below the window, backlit by the dull yellow light shining through the curtains, keeping most of his face hidden until Eddie’s eyes adjust to the dark.

“I didn’t think anyone was out here,” Eddie says, cautiously inching forward, not sure if he’ll spook Steve.

“It was getting a little overcrowded,” Steve shrugs, the blanket falling off one shoulder, but making no move otherwise. He looks so young like this, and they are young, Eddie knows that. But he also feels ancient after everything they’ve been through. He’s lived too much life for a twenty year old.

It’s a stark reminder that there’s no time to waste. This could be his one opportunity. A gift handed to him from the universe to start the year on a better foot. If Steve can forgive him and listen. Which is more than Eddie deserves.

Eddie slinks over and drops down into the empty space beside Steve, making sure to leave enough space between them, giving Steve an out. He doesn’t move. It’s foolish for that to give him hope, but it does. Steve’s admitted to being overwhelmed as much as Eddie was inside, but he’s not bolting for woods or yelling for Robin. There’s not even a fake smile plastered on his face. Just this quiet, contemplative look as he casts his gaze into the darkness beyond the cabin.

“S-steve,” Eddie starts. He clears his throat and tries again, ��Steve, I was wrong.”

It takes a moment for Steve to turn his attention to Eddie, a sharp beat of time where he braces himself, swallowing thickly and shoulders hunching, before their gazes meet. An eternity must have gone by since the last time they made eye contact. Eddie isn’t prepared for the butterflies that take root in his stomach. The way it’s all clicked into place that Steve’s presence in his life is and always has been different.

“About what?” He asks quietly.

“Everything,” Eddie turns his whole body towards Steve. “For most of my life, I’ve never thought about anyone romantically. I didn’t have crushes, or flirtations, or summer flings. None of that mattered to me. Figured I’d leave Hawkins one day, find some chick to settle down with, and have kids like everyone else. Do what was expected of me. Or at least that I would end up an old man living alone in my trailer, like Wayne.”

“Wayne’s not alone, he has you.”

“Not by choice, though.” Eddie laughs wryly. “Doesn’t matter. I just had this idea in my head of what that would look like, but I never stopped to think about whether that was what I even wanted. It never occurred to me that maybe I was missing out on what everyone else was going through in high school, all the dates and prom nights.”

“Are you saying you’ve never had a crush on anyone?” Steve asks, disbelief in his tone. He pulls the blanket back up over his shoulder.

“Not for twenty years of my life. Not a single one.” He takes a deep breath and steadies himself. “Until now.”

“Eddie, I’m not-” Steve moves like he’s going to stand up, but Eddie reaches out and stops him with one hand on his arm over the blanket.

“Steve, please just let me explain.”

TBC - one more part

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #katie writes #sorry i left you hanging for 5 months

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lila-lou · 1 day ago

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✨His true fate - Part 36/?✨

Summary: Jensen hasn't been happy for years. But it seems almost impossible for him to escape. After another nasty argument between him and his wife, he decides to visit his ´former´ best friend for his birthday. Back in Austin, an encounter awaits him that will turn his life completely upside down.

Pairing: Jensen x Reader

Warnings: Language, age gap, Angst

Word Count: 8075

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

Jensen’s panic quickly shifted to anger, sharp and hot as it coursed through him. He stared at the photo again, his jaw tightening. He recognized the moment immediately—it had been just before Christmas, during one of the most exhausting days he’d had with the kids and Danneel. He’d wanted nothing more than a break, a few quiet moments to himself, and the hot tub had seemed like the perfect escape.

He remembered it vividly: he’d been leaning back, arms stretched out on the edge, eyes closed, a few drinks already in his system. The steam rising around him had been a small comfort, a rare moment of peace in a storm of tension. And then Danneel had appeared, catching him off guard as she joined him—completely naked.

“What the fuck are you doing, Danneel?”, he’d barked, sitting up straight as she slid into the water.

“I just want to talk”, she’d said smoothly, her tone too calm, too practiced. She’d waded closer, her movements deliberate, and before he could react, she’d climbed onto his lap.

The memory made his blood boil. He’d pushed her away immediately, his voice sharp and full of disbelief. “Get off me! What the fuck is wrong with you?”,

But none of that was in the photo. Whoever had taken it—probably Danneel herself—had captured only the moment before, when she was laughing, leaning against him, making it look far more intimate than it had been. The scratch on his bicep from hanging the Christmas picture was like a mocking timestamp, proof of how recent the photo was.

“She planned this”, Jensen muttered to himself, his anger growing with each passing second. “She fucking planned it”.

He clenched his phone tightly, his mind racing. This was exactly the kind of manipulation Danneel was capable of—trying to undermine his relationship with you, to keep him tethered to her for appearances, or simply out of spite. It was infuriating, and it made him feel sick knowing that you’d been hurt because of it.

Jensen paced the room, running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out what to do. He needed to fix this. He needed to talk to you, to explain everything. But first, he had to make sure this didn’t happen again.

He grabbed his phone and called Danneel. She answered after a few rings, her voice casual, as if she hadn’t just sent a wrecking ball into his life.

“Jensen”, she greeted, her tone almost sweet. “What’s up?”.

“You know exactly what’s up”, he snapped, his voice low and angry. “That photo. The one you sent to her. The fuck are you trying to do?”.

There was a pause, then a feigned laugh. “I have no idea what you’re talking about”.

“Don’t play games with me, Danneel”, he said, his tone sharp. “You set me up. You took that picture knowing exactly how it would look, and then you sent it to her to mess with us. Why?”.

Jensen’s voice was rising, raw and filled with fury. “How the hell did you even get her fucking number?”, he demanded, pacing back and forth, the tension radiating off him in waves. His hand tightened around his phone as though he could physically shake the truth out of her.

Danneel’s pause on the other end of the line was brief but telling. “It wasn’t hard”, she said casually, her tone dripping with smug satisfaction. “You know, Jensen. Your phone always laying around”.

Jensen let out a sharp, bitter laugh, his disbelief bubbling over. “You signed the fucking papers, Danneel! It’s already over. Why the fuck would you try to destroy that for me? Why can’t you just let me be happy?”.

Her voice was calm, too calm, and it only made him angrier. “Because, Jensen, you don’t just get to walk away like this never happened. You don’t get to move on and play house with someone else while everything we built gets left in the dust”.

“Everything we built?”, Jensen snapped, his voice nearly breaking. “You mean the marriage you’ve been emotionally checked out of for years? The marriage that was dead long before I met her? Don’t give me that bullshit, Danneel”.

His words hit a nerve, and her tone turned icy. “Watch yourself, Jensen. I still have plenty of things I could say. Things that could make your little fairy tale crumble”.

Jensen stopped pacing, his body rigid as he pressed the phone closer to his ear. “You think threatening me is going to change anything?”, he growled. “You’re only proving why I had to leave in the first place. I’m done playing these games, Danneel. Done”.

She didn’t respond right away, but he could almost hear her smirk through the silence. “If you were really done, Jensen, you wouldn’t be calling me now, would you?”.

His grip on the phone tightened. “The only reason I’m calling is because you crossed a line. You had no right to send her that picture. None”.

“And yet”, Danneel said smoothly, “it seems to have gotten your attention. Funny how that works”.

Jensen clenched his jaw, the anger simmering in him reaching a boiling point. “You think this is a fucking game, don’t you?”, he said, his voice deadly quiet now. “Well, congratulations. You won this round. But this stops here. Do you hear me? I won’t let you come between us”.

Danneel’s laughter came through the phone, low and cold, the sound sending a fresh wave of frustration through Jensen. “Looks like it’s already working”, she mused, her voice tinged with triumph. “You’re losing your temper, Jensen. I don’t think I’ve heard you this rattled in years”.

He clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the phone. “You think this is funny? You’re playing with people’s lives, Danneel. Real people. This isn’t just some power move to make you feel better”.

She ignored his words entirely, her tone dripping with mock concern. “So, how bad was it? Did she already dump you? You don’t call me like this unless you’re desperate. Guess I hit a nerve”.

Jensen’s chest tightened at her question, his mind flashing to you. The guilt was suffocating, but he wasn’t about to give Danneel the satisfaction of knowing she’d hit her mark.

“You’re unbelievable”, he said, his voice low and dangerous. “This isn’t about me. This isn’t about her. It’s about you not knowing when to let go. You signed the papers, Danneel. What the hell do you even want from me?”.

“Maybe I just wanted to remind you who you’re dealing with”, she said smoothly. “You don’t get to rewrite history, Jensen. I was there first, and I’ll always be part of your story, whether you like it or not”.

Jensen let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head even though she couldn’t see him. “You really don’t get it, do you? Being ‘first’ doesn’t mean a damn thing when you treat someone like they’re last. Whatever hold you think you have on me, it’s gone. And if you ever try something like this again, you’ll regret it. Trust me”.

Danneel’s silence stretched for a moment, her smirk almost audible when she finally spoke again. “We’ll see about that”, she said simply, her tone calm and calculating.

Jensen ended the call without another word, throwing his phone onto the couch as he dragged a hand through his hair. His chest felt tight, the weight of the situation pressing heavily on him.

The sun was already high in the sky by the time you stirred awake, your body feeling heavy from a restless night. As you rubbed your eyes and reached for your phone, the missed calls and messages from Jensen were the first thing you noticed. Your chest tightened as you scrolled through, rereading his words:

“This isn’t what it looks like. Please, call me as soon as you wake up. I swear, there’s nothing between us. I love you. I’ll explain everything”.

Despite his reassurances, doubt gnawed at the edges of your mind. How could he explain a picture like that? No matter how much you trusted him, seeing him and Danneel together—naked in a hot tub, no less—felt like a punch to the gut. You needed to hear his voice, needed him to tell you this was some cruel misunderstanding.

You quickly dialed his number, the ringing in your ear feeling like a countdown to answers you weren’t sure you were ready for. But instead of Jensen’s familiar voice, you were met with his voicemail. You tried again, your anxiety climbing higher with each unanswered call.

By the third attempt, you sat back on the couch, your phone still clutched in your hand. Jensen wasn’t picking up, and the hollow ache in your chest grew stronger. Little did you know, he had finally succumbed to the exhaustion that had been dragging at him, having stayed up for hours after his night shoot, waiting for your call. His phone was sitting untouched on the nightstand beside him as he slept deeply.

You stared at your phone, debating whether to leave a message. The weight of your emotions made it hard to think clearly. A part of you wanted to lash out, to demand answers, but another part of you just wanted to cry. Instead, you put the phone down, wrapping your arms around your knees as you tried to steady your breathing.

The room felt too quiet, the silence amplifying every doubt and fear in your mind. Jensen’s reassurances in his message had sounded so genuine, but the image of him and Danneel wouldn’t leave your mind. You hated feeling like this—unsure, insecure, questioning the foundation of a relationship that had always felt so solid.

You curled up on the couch, pulling the blanket over you as you tried to gather your thoughts. You knew you needed to talk to him, but the uncertainty of what you’d hear when you finally connected weighed heavily on you.

The day felt like an endless tug-of-war, each missed connection with Jensen adding to the gnawing anxiety in your chest. Every time he called, you missed it—whether you were in the shower, in the bathroom, or distracted with mundane tasks. Each time you tried to call him back, he was on set, his phone tucked away as he filmed.

It was frustrating, the space between you growing wider with every missed opportunity to connect. But what truly broke you was the message from the unknown number—one that cut through your fragile resolve like a knife:

“You think he’s faithful to you when he wasn’t with me? Don’t fool yourself. Stop being a stupid little girl”.

The words stared back at you from the screen, venomous and cruel. Your stomach twisted, and your hands trembled as you reread the message. It was the same number that had sent the photo, and while you didn’t know who it belonged to, the implication was clear: someone wanted to hurt you. And worse, a part of you couldn’t ignore the nagging fear that it might be true.

The nausea returned with a vengeance, twisting your stomach into knots as the cruel message replayed in your mind. No matter how hard you tried to push it away, it lingered, poisoning your thoughts with doubt and insecurity. By the evening, you found yourself hunched over the toilet, your body trembling as you emptied your stomach yet again. The violent retching left you gasping for breath, your hands clutching the cool porcelain for support.

Tears streamed down your face, a mix of physical exhaustion and emotional turmoil. You hated how deeply it affected you, hated how a few words from an anonymous number could unravel your sense of security. The image of the photo—the hot tub, the laughter, the closeness—was seared into your mind, feeding your worst fears.

By the time the sickness subsided, you were shaking, your body weak and your mind heavy with despair. You leaned back against the bathroom wall, your knees pulled to your chest as you tried to steady your breathing. The house felt too quiet, too empty, amplifying the ache in your chest.

Your phone buzzed from the counter, the sound startling in the silence. You hesitated, reaching for it with trembling hands. The screen lit up with Jensen’s name, and your heart skipped a beat. He was trying again.

You stared at it for a moment, torn between answering and letting it go to voicemail. Eventually, you pressed the green button, your voice hoarse as you whispered, “Yeah?”.

“Baby”, Jensen’s voice came through, filled with relief and urgency. “Finally. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Are you okay?”.

The sound of his voice sent a fresh wave of emotion crashing over you, and your throat tightened. “No”, you admitted, your voice breaking. “I’m not okay, Jensen. I don’t know how to be okay right now”.

His sigh was heavy, his frustration with himself clear.

"I swear, that picture isn’t real”, Jensen said urgently, his voice tinged with panic. “Well, I mean—it is, but it’s not what it looks like. It’s not what you think, baby. You have to believe me”.

You closed your eyes tightly, tears slipping down your cheeks as you shook your head even though he couldn’t see you. “Jensen, I don’t even know what to believe anymore”, you sobbed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “It hurts. It hurts so much”.

The sound of your crying broke something in him, and his voice softened, though the desperation was still there. “Don’t say that”, he murmured. “Please don’t say that. I love you. I love you so much, and I would never hurt you like this—not on purpose”.

Your grip on the phone tightened as another wave of tears overcame you. “Then why does it feel like you did?”, you choked out, the pain in your chest almost unbearable. “Why do I feel like I’m just… some stupid little girl, like that message said?”.

Jensen let out a string of curses under his breath, his frustration clear. “That message? That’s not me. That’s not us. That’s Danneel trying to mess with your head. She sent that picture, and I know she sent that message too. She’s trying to ruin what we have because she’s bitter, but it’s not true, baby. None of it is true”.

His words were rushed, almost frantic, and you could hear how much this was tearing him apart. But your mind was a storm of doubt, the image of that photo and the cruel words from the message replaying over and over.

“Then why were you even in that situation?”, you demanded, your voice shaky but laced with a flicker of anger. “Why did it happen in the first place? Do you know what it’s like, sitting here, alone, missing you, and then seeing that? Do you?”.

Jensen’s silence was deafening, and for a moment, you thought he wasn’t going to answer. But then his voice came through, raw and filled with regret. “No, I don’t”, he admitted quietly. “I don’t know what it’s like. But I know that I messed up. I let myself get caught in her bullshit, and it’s hurting you, and I hate it. I hate myself for it”.

Your sobs quieted slightly, your heart aching at the pain in his voice. “Jensen…”, you whispered, unsure of what to say.

“I’m coming home”, he said firmly, cutting you off. “I’ll get on the next flight, and I’ll explain everything to you in person. I need you to see my face when I tell you the truth, baby. Please let me come home and fix this”.

Your heart was racing, torn between the desire to believe Jensen and the lingering doubt clawing at your mind. Just as you were about to respond, you heard a voice in the background, faint but clear enough to interrupt the moment.

“Jensen!”, It was Antony, one of his co-stars. “They need you on set. Now”.

Jensen cursed under his breath, his frustration palpable even through the phone. “Shit”, he muttered, his voice strained. “Baby, I don’t want to hang up, but they’re calling me. I—”.

You cut him off, your voice raw and unsteady. “Go. Just go, Jensen. Do your job”.

He hesitated, clearly torn. “I don’t want to leave you like this”.

“You don’t have a choice, do you?”, you said bitterly, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You immediately regretted the sharpness in your tone but didn’t correct yourself. “Just… do what you have to do”.

“Baby, please”, he pleaded, his voice softening. “Don’t let this fester. I’ll call you back as soon as I’m done. Or better yet, I’ll get on a plane tonight. I swear”.

The line went quiet for a moment as he waited for your response, but all you could manage was a quiet, “Okay”.

“I love you”, he said, the words carrying an almost desperate sincerity.

But you couldn’t say it back, not right now. The silence stretched, and before he could push further, Antony called his name again, more insistent this time.

“I have to go”, Jensen said reluctantly. “Please, just… hold on for me”.

You didn’t respond, and after a beat, the line went dead. The sound of the call ending left an emptiness that felt even heavier than before. You stared at your phone, the quiet around you amplifying every ache in your chest.

For the rest of the day, you felt trapped in limbo, unable to focus on anything. Every time your phone buzzed, your heart jumped, only to sink again when it wasn’t Jensen. The mix of anger, sadness, and doubt churned in you, making it impossible to find peace.

You wanted to believe him. God, you wanted to. But the picture, the message—it was too much. And now, with him gone again, all you could do was wait.

The next morning, the nausea clung to you like a persistent shadow, leaving you drained and barely able to move. Each step to the bathroom felt like a marathon, and the cycle of weakness, tiredness, and hurt seemed unending. Your emotions were already raw, and the physical toll only made everything feel heavier.

Every moment, you expected to hear the door open, to see Jensen standing there with an apology and an explanation. But the house remained quiet, save for the occasional hum of your phone vibrating with notifications that weren’t from him.

When you finally managed to drag yourself back to bed, curling up under the covers in a futile attempt to find comfort, your phone buzzed again. It was from Jensen, and the brief flicker of hope in your chest vanished as you opened the message:

“I’ve tried everything, but I can’t come. They need me in Toronto for two more weeks. I’ll call you tonight—I promise”.

The words blurred in your vision as tears welled up again. Two more weeks. It felt like a lifetime, especially after the emotional storm of the past few days. The hurt twisted in your chest, mingling with a sense of defeat. He wasn’t coming, and the hollow ache of his absence felt unbearable.

You threw your phone onto the bedside table, burying your face into the pillow as your body shook with silent sobs. His promise to call that night was little solace. The distance between you wasn’t just physical anymore—it felt emotional, a canyon growing wider with every unanswered question and missed reassurance.

Hours passed in a haze, the nausea keeping you pinned to the bed as the weight of everything pressed down on you. The day dragged on endlessly, the hours punctuated only by your occasional trips to the bathroom. Each time you returned to bed, the ache in your chest seemed heavier.

When night fell, you stared at your phone, waiting for it to ring. You wanted answers, explanations, anything that could ease the turmoil inside you. But as the minutes stretched into hours, the phone remained silent.

You were too tired to cry anymore. Curling up under the covers, you closed your eyes, your heart heavy as sleep finally claimed you, though it offered no escape from the pain.

Even though Jensen rarely left voice messages, you woke up around midnight to see a notification: a voicemail from him. Your heart raced as you played it, his familiar, exhausted voice filling the quiet room.

“Hey, baby”, he began, his tone heavy with fatigue. “I’m so sorry, but things are absolutely crazy here on set. We’ve had delays all day, and I can’t call tonight. I know you’re upset with me, and I promise we’ll talk soon. I just need you to hang on a little longer. I love you”.

It was the kind of message that would’ve reassured you once—but not now. Not after the past few days of being pushed aside, ignored, and left in the dark. First, the lack of calls or texts. Then the picture and message that shattered your trust. And now, this—another excuse, another delay.

Your emotions surged, the hurt and frustration boiling over into something you could no longer suppress. Gripping your phone tightly, you opened your messages and typed out the words before you could second-guess yourself:

“It’s alright, Jensen. Maybe a little break is what we need right now. See you in two weeks”.

Your thumb hovered over the send button for a moment, doubt creeping in. But the anger and exhaustion won out, and you pressed it, the message sending in an instant.

As the seconds ticked by, the weight of your decision began to settle in. You set the phone down on the nightstand, staring up at the ceiling as your chest tightened. For now, this felt like the only way to protect yourself from the rollercoaster of emotions he’d put you through. You needed space—space to think, to breathe, and maybe even to figure out if this relationship was truly as solid as you’d believed.

Curling up under the covers, you willed yourself to sleep, though your mind refused to quiet. You didn’t know how Jensen would react, or if he’d even respond, but for now, the ball was in his court.

The next few days passed in a blur of unanswered calls and unread messages from Jensen. His texts ranged from concerned to apologetic, to downright pleading, but you couldn’t bring yourself to respond. Every time your phone buzzed, it only added to the weight in your chest.

It wasn’t just the unrelenting nausea that kept you from answering—though that was bad enough. It was the fear of hearing yet another excuse or promise that would inevitably fall short. You felt raw, drained, and utterly unprepared to face his voice or explanations. And then, another fear began creeping in: you couldn’t remember the last time you’d eaten a proper meal. Over the past week, everything you tried to eat came right back up. You were weak, shaky, and desperate for answers.

So today, you dragged yourself to the doctor’s office, clutching the straps of your bag tightly as you sat in the waiting room. You’d convinced yourself that the stress had finally caught up with you, wreaking havoc on your stomach. Maybe some pills could calm it down. Maybe you just needed something to numb everything you were feeling.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?”, the nurse called out, her voice drawing your attention. You stood slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you as you followed her into the exam room.

The doctor entered shortly after, a kind, older man who listened intently as you explained your symptoms. He nodded along, jotting down notes on his clipboard.

“Well”, he said, closing the file and looking up at you with a calm expression, “it sounds like there could be a few things going on here. But before we jump to conclusions, let’s run some tests to rule out anything serious”.

You nodded, your hands clasped tightly in your lap as they drew blood and asked for a urine sample.

The doctor’s words were calm and reassuring as he handed you a small pamphlet about managing stress-related nausea, though his advice to rest and eat light foods felt almost impossible to follow. He mentioned the test results would be ready in two days, and you could return to discuss them. You nodded along, thanking him softly before leaving the office with heavy steps.

When you reached your car, you slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out your phone to set a reminder for the follow-up appointment. As you scrolled through your calendar to select the date, something stopped you cold: little red dots marking the weeks of your cycle—or rather, the lack of them. Your heart stuttered as the realization hit you.

You hadn’t marked your last period.

Not this month.

Not even the month before.

Your mind raced as you counted backward, piecing together the timeline. Stress, nausea, exhaustion - it all clicked into place like a puzzle you hadn’t even realized you were solving.

You stared at your phone screen, the glaring absence of those little red dots sending your mind spinning. For a moment, you just sat there, frozen, as the weight of the realization settled over you. Then, to your own surprise, a laugh bubbled up from your chest—sharp, bitter, and disbelieving.

“This has to be a fucking joke”, you muttered to yourself, shaking your head as the laugh turned into something closer to hysteria. Your life already felt like a bad movie, but this? This was beyond absurd.

Pregnant? No. Absolutely not. That wasn’t even possible.

Jensen had told you about his vasectomy years ago. He’d said it with a shrug, explaining how he’d made the decision after his third child. “Snipped and done”.

So what the hell was this?

Your stomach churned, and for once, you weren’t sure if it was the nausea or the panic clawing at you. You gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles turning white as you tried to rationalize what was happening. Maybe you’d miscounted your cycles. Maybe the stress had thrown off your hormones. Maybe the nausea was some weird lingering bug that had nothing to do with this.

You bit your lip, your mind racing as you tried to shake the persistent thought of pregnancy. It wasn’t logical. It couldn’t be true. And yet, the idea clung to you like a bad dream, refusing to let go. Every rational argument you came up with was met with that same nagging doubt.

“Against all odds”, you muttered to yourself bitterly. “Just my fucking luck”.

In a trance-like state, you started the car and drove to the nearest pharmacy. The familiar streets blurred around you as your thoughts spiraled, replaying every moment that could have brought you to this point. By the time you pulled into the parking lot, your hands were trembling on the wheel.

You didn’t get out right away. Instead, you sat there, staring at the bright pharmacy sign glowing in the distance. Your stomach churned with nerves, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over you as you considered the possibility. It was ridiculous. Impossible. And yet, here you were.

As you leaned your head back against the seat, your phone buzzed next to you. The screen lit up with Jensen’s name, and your heart clenched. He was trying again. Another call, another chance to hear his voice, to let him explain, to maybe find some comfort in the chaos.

But instead of answering, you let it ring. The sound seemed to echo in the confined space of the car, each buzz pulling at your already raw emotions. You couldn’t do it. Not right now. Not until you had answers for yourself.

When the call ended, you stared at the phone for a long moment before finally stepping out of the car. The cold air hit you, jolting you slightly as you headed inside. You moved through the store quickly, avoiding eye contact as you grabbed a couple of pregnancy tests and made your way to the register. The cashier barely looked at you, and you were grateful for their indifference.

Back in the car, the bag felt heavy in your lap as you sat in silence. Your chest felt tight, your breath shaky as you realized there was no turning back now. Whatever the result, you needed to know.

You gripped the steering wheel tightly, your knuckles pale as you took a deep, shaky breath. It’s just the stress, you told yourself. Jensen can’t make babies. He had a vasectomy, for fuck´s sake. This is all in my head.

Repeating those words like a mantra, you started the car and began the drive home.

The drive felt longer than usual, your thoughts spinning with every mile. You thought of Jensen, his laughter, the way he’d always reassured you when you were overthinking. But now, it felt like there was a wall between you, built by the distance, the missed calls, the photo, and now this unbearable uncertainty.

It’s just stress, you repeated silently. It has to be.

By the time you pulled into your driveway, your nerves were frayed, but you felt a faint flicker of determination. You gathered the bag, clutching it tightly as you made your way inside. You dropped your purse near the door and headed straight to the bathroom, closing the door behind you and locking it with a resolute click.

You placed the boxes on the counter, staring at them for a moment before letting out a deep sigh. “Let’s just get this over with”, you muttered to yourself, opening one packaging and reading the instructions. Despite your shaky hands, you managed to follow the steps, setting the test down on the counter as you sat back on the edge of the bathtub, waiting.

The seconds stretched into what felt like an eternity. You tried to calm your racing heart, reminding yourself again and again that the odds were impossible. Jensen couldn’t make babies. You were just overwhelmed, and dealing with too much at once.

But even as you told yourself that, you couldn’t shake the weight of doubt pressing down on your chest.

Finally, the timer on your phone buzzed softly, jolting you out of your thoughts. You stared at the test lying face down on the counter, your heart pounding so hard you could hear it in your ears. For a long moment, you couldn’t move, your hands gripping the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

It’s impossible. It’s just the stress, you repeated in your mind, but the words felt hollow now. Every second you hesitated made the tension in your chest grow tighter, the air in the bathroom feeling impossibly thick.

Finally, with trembling fingers, you reached for the test, the plastic cool against your skin as you turned it over. The small screen blinked back at you, and for a moment, your brain refused to process what you were seeing.

Two lines.

The world tilted for a moment, your breath catching as you stared at the unmistakable result. Two lines. Pregnant.

“No”, you whispered, shaking your head as if that could change the outcome. “No, that’s not… that’s not possible”.

But the test didn’t waver. The reality of it stared back at you, unflinching and undeniable.

Your hands trembled as you reached for the other tests, ripping open the packages with shaky fingers. It has to be wrong, you thought desperately, your mind racing. It’s just stress, or a faulty test. It has to be.

One by one, you followed the instructions, your breath shallow and your pulse pounding in your ears. You lined up the tests on the counter, each of them a small, silent judge waiting to deliver their verdict.

Time dragged as you waited, staring at the row of tests like they held the power to decide your future. Finally, the seconds ticked down, and you turned the first test over. Then the second. The third.

By the time all five were turned, you were staring at ten lines total, their meaning unmistakable. Pregnant. Every single one.

You bit your lip, still frozen in place, unable to process what you were seeing. A hollow laugh bubbled up in your throat, escaping despite yourself. “This can’t be real”, you whispered, shaking your head as you gripped the edge of the counter for support. “It’s… it’s not possible”.

But the lines staring back at you didn’t waver. The room felt too quiet, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a lead blanket.

Your stomach churned, the nausea threatening to rise again, but you pushed it down, focusing on the tests in front of you. Ten lines. Five tests. There was no escaping it now.

You’re pregnant.

And you had no idea what to do next.

The silence in the room grew heavier as another thought crept into your mind, one you didn’t want to entertain but couldn’t shake.

Maybe Jensen lied about the vasectomy.

You frowned, staring at the tests again as if they might suddenly change their verdict.

And while you were sure Jensen loved his kids more than anything, he’d always been so adamant about not wanting more. That was part of the reason you’d never really worried about this happening. He was certain. He was done. Wasn’t he?

Your mind spiraled, each question leading to another. Had he lied? It didn’t seem like him to do that.

You shook your head, cutting off the whirlwind of thoughts. No. Jensen wasn’t the kind of man to lie about something like that. He was too honest, sometimes to a fault. But then what?

Your stomach twisted again, not just from the nausea but from the fear and uncertainty clawing at you. The picture, the message, the distance between you and Jensen lately—it all felt like it was piling on top of this new revelation, threatening to crush you.

You needed answers, but the thought of calling Jensen felt impossible right now. If he had lied, what then? If he hadn’t, how did this happen?

What the hell are you going to do?

You sank onto the bathroom floor, your back against the wall, staring at the line of positive tests on the counter. For the first time in days, the tears didn’t come. You were too overwhelmed, too numb to cry. You didn’t know what to feel—only that your world had just shifted in a way you never could have expected.

On set, Jensen was a shadow of his usual self. He’d always been the kind of actor who could compartmentalize—focus entirely on the work, leaving whatever was going on in his personal life at the door. But today, it was like that ability had completely deserted him.

He fumbled his lines repeatedly, missing his cues and breaking character in ways that were completely uncharacteristic of him. Every mistake earned him a concerned look from the director, but he brushed off the quiet questions with a muttered, “Sorry, long night”, or a vague excuse about being under the weather.

Inside, though, he was spiraling.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you—not just your silence, but the fear that had settled deep in his chest. Jensen had never felt panic like this before. You weren’t just upset; you were shutting him out completely. No matter how many times he called or texted, there was no response. And after the message he’d left last night, he thought he’d hear from you by now.

He wasn’t used to this kind of uncertainty, and it terrified him. The possibility of losing you—of pushing you so far away that he couldn’t fix it—felt unbearable.

“Jensen”, the assistant director, called gently, bringing him back to the moment. “Let’s take it from the top. Just take a breath, man”.

Jensen nodded stiffly, running a hand through his hair as he forced himself to focus. He tried to shake it off, to dig into the professionalism he’d relied on for so many years, but the second the scene started again, his mind wandered.

Are you okay? Are you still upset? Are you—

“Cut!”, the director called, exasperated but still trying to be patient. “Jensen, man, what’s going on? This isn’t like you”.

Jensen exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck as he struggled to come up with an answer. He couldn’t tell them the truth—that he was one text away from completely unraveling.

“I just—”, he started, but the words wouldn’t come. He shook his head and muttered, “Give me five”.

Without waiting for permission, he walked off set, grabbing his jacket and pulling his phone out of the pocket. He stared at the screen, willing it to light up with a message from you, something—anything—to break the silence. But there was nothing.

He hovered over your name in his contacts, his thumb brushing over the call button, but he hesitated. If you weren’t answering, it was because you didn’t want to talk to him. And the thought of that hit him like a punch to the gut.

“Damn it”, he muttered, leaning heavily against the wall. He wasn’t used to feeling this helpless, and it was driving him to the brink.

As the afternoon crept on, your phone buzzed persistently with calls. Each time Jensen’s name lit up the screen, it was like another weight pressing against your chest. You’d ignored him for days, but his relentless attempts to reach you began to chip away at your resolve. By the fifth call in a row, you sighed heavily, your fingers trembling as you finally answered.

“Hey”, your voice came out quieter and shakier than you’d intended, but it was all you could manage.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, followed by the sound of Jensen’s breath hitching. “Baby”, he said, his voice full of relief but also thick with worry. “Thank God. I’ve been losing my mind. Why haven’t you been answering? Are you okay?”.

The sound of his voice, so familiar yet distant, sent a pang through your chest. For the first time, it felt foreign to you—like the voice of someone you no longer knew. The days of silence, the picture, the cruel message, the endless nausea, and now the impossible test results… it was all too much.

“I’m fine”, you said flatly, the words automatic. But they weren’t true, and you knew he could tell.

“Fine?” he repeated, his tone incredulous. “I know you´re not.Talk to me”.

You hesitated, gripping the phone tighter as your emotions warred within you. Part of you wanted to tell him everything—to lay it all out and demand answers. But another part of you felt so detached, so unsure of where you even stood, that the thought of opening up to him felt impossible.

“I’m just… tired”, you said finally, your voice cracking slightly. “It’s been a lot, Jensen. I don’t know…”.

He cut you off, his voice tinged with desperation. “Don’t do this. Don’t shut me out. Please, baby. I know I’ve messed up. I know I haven’t been there the way I should’ve been, but I swear to you, I’m trying to fix it”.

His words should have soothed you, but they only made the ache in your chest worse. “It feels like all you do is promise things”, you said softly, your tone bitter despite your attempt to keep it neutral. “But nothing ever changes".

“That’s not true”, he argued, his voice raising slightly in frustration. “I’ve been trying, trying to come home, but the timing’s been—”.

“Terrible?”, you interjected. “Yeah, Jensen. It’s been terrible. For me. For us. And I don’t even know if there’s an ‘us’ anymore”.

The silence that followed was heavy, the weight of your words hanging in the air. When Jensen finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. “What are you saying?”, he asked, his tone raw and broken.

Your grip on the phone tightened as you struggled to hold back tears. “I don’t know”, you admitted, your voice trembling. “I don’t know what I’m saying, Jensen. I just… I don’t know how to feel right now”.

The vulnerability in your voice seemed to knock the wind out of him. “(Y/N)”, he whispered, his voice full of pain, “whatever this is, we can figure it out. Please, don’t give up on me. On us”.

Hearing his voice crack sent fresh tears streaming down your face, but you stayed silent, unsure of what to say. For the first time, you weren’t sure if there was anything left to say.

Jensen’s voice broke through the heavy silence, softer now, laced with raw emotion. “You know it’s been Danneel”, he whispered, his tone pleading but also tinged with hurt. “She’s trying to destroy us. She’s done it before, and now she’s doing it again. Why would you doubt me so easily?”.

His words hit you like a weight, and you felt your chest tighten further. You closed your eyes, leaning against the wall as your grip on the phone tightened. You wanted to believe him—you really did. But everything about the past few days had left you feeling fragile, unmoored, and unsure of what to trust.

“It’s not that easy”, you murmured, your voice barely audible. “I saw the picture, Jensen. I read the message. And you weren’t here to explain. It’s been days. How was I supposed to feel?”.

Jensen exhaled sharply on the other end, his frustration barely contained. “You were supposed to trust me”, he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I’ve never lied to you. Not about us, not about anything. Why would I start now? Why would I risk everything we have for… for her?”.

“I don’t know”, you whispered, the tears in your throat making it hard to speak. “I don’t know what to believe anymore”.

“Believe me”, he said firmly, his voice cracking with desperation. “Please, baby. You’re all I care about. Danneel’s just trying to get in your head. You can’t let her win. Don’t let her take this away from us”.

Your tears spilled over again, your heart aching at the raw pain in his voice. You knew Jensen wasn’t someone who let his emotions show easily, and hearing him like this only added to the storm inside you.

“I want to”, you admitted, your voice trembling. “I want to believe you so badly. But I feel so… lost, Jensen. Everything feels like it’s falling apart”.

“It’s not”, he whispered, his voice steadying slightly. “We’re not falling apart. I’m here, and I’ll do whatever it takes to prove that to you. Please”.

“I don’t know what to do”, you said softly, almost to yourself.

Jensen’s voice came through the line, gentle but resolute. “You don’t have to do anything. Just… let me come home and fix this. Let me prove to you that I’m telling the truth”.

Jensen's voice softened, his tone pleading yet firm. "I’ll be home tomorrow. And we’ll talk, alright? I’ll explain everything—what happened in that picture, why it looked like that, and why the fuck I would never cheat on you. Especially not after buying a fucking house for us”.

As his words grew sharper toward the end, his voice cracked slightly, frustration and anger bleeding through. Before you could respond, he hung up abruptly, leaving you staring at your phone in stunned silence.

The sound of the call ending felt like a slap in the quiet room, and the weight of his last words lingered in the air. You could hear the raw emotion in his voice—his anger wasn’t just about the accusations but the sheer pain of hearing you doubt the foundation of your relationship.

You sank onto the couch in the living room, your head spinning. The way he’d hung up so quickly stung, but the guilt gnawed at you too. You hadn’t meant to say the words that hurt him so much. I don’t even know if there’s an us left. The second they’d slipped from your mouth, you’d wanted to take them back, but the damage was done. And it had clearly hit him harder than either of you had anticipated.

Now, all you could do was wait for tomorrow to come and hope that somehow, this conversation would bring clarity instead of tearing you apart further.

Meanwhile, on Jensen’s end, he slammed his phone onto the bed with more force than he intended. His chest heaved as he paced the room, running his hands through his hair in frustration. Your words replayed in his mind, cutting deeper every time. I don’t even know if there’s an us left.

“Fuck”, he muttered, his voice barely audible as he sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. His hands cradled his face as he tried to steady his breathing. The idea of losing you—of everything you’d built together slipping away—was unbearable.

The next day couldn’t come fast enough for him. For now, all he could do was cling to the hope that he’d be able to fix this when he saw you. And that you’d still be willing to let him try.

The next day began the same way the last few had: with your stomach rebelling against you. You knelt over the toilet, weak and exhausted, your body trembling from the effort. By the time the nausea passed, you were too drained to do anything but sit on the bathroom floor for a few moments, letting the cool tiles press against your skin.

Eventually, you made your way to the kitchen. The clock on the wall read just past noon, and you realized you hadn’t eaten anything substantial in days. You poured yourself a small bowl of oats, hoping something plain and gentle might stay down. You managed two spoonfuls before your stomach churned violently again, the sensation threatening but not enough to send you rushing back to the bathroom.

You pushed the bowl aside, leaning back in your chair with a hand resting on your stomach. The restlessness gnawed at you, a mix of nerves and the undeniable physical discomfort that had become your new normal. You glanced at the clock again, the minutes dragging impossibly slow as you waited for Jensen’s arrival.

The thought of facing him made your chest tighten. There were so many things to say, questions to ask, but you weren’t sure where to start. Could you even bring yourself to tell him about the tests? About what those two lines meant? Would he even believe you, after the accusations and the growing distance?

———————————

A/N: Well, there we go, lol. Please let me know what you think.🥰

Taglist: @cheynovak @chriszgirl92 @jenniferr0323 @angelbabyyy99 @cevansbaby-dove @muhahaha303 @jackles010378 @suckitands33 @n-o-p-e-never @mayafatimakhan @ladysparkles78 @viviandarkbloom06 @jassackles @evasmlp @acklesaddict67 @mostlymarvelgirl @emma1998sblog @mishaesque @headinthemoon87 @hobby27 @winchesterwild78 @impala67rollingthroughtown @manicjk @kr804573 @zaratahir @djs8891 @winchesterwild78 @jamerlynn @whimsyfinny @libby99hb @deansimpalababy @deans-queen @kawaii-arfid-memes @faephoria @stoneyggirl2 @fitxgrld @luvr4miya @yikeschoices @lyssalvus @soab1967 @luvr4miya @didi0666 @impala67rollingthroughtown @cheekygirl2309 @kamisobsessed @deansimpalababy @magnificientgirl

#jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles x you #jensen x y/n #jensen x you #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles #jensen ackles the boys #jensen ackles x y/n #his true fate #spn fanfic #spn cast #spn #supernatural

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parker-artio · 2 days ago

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The idea of Steph being a med student cracks me up. Because this girl stays up all night beating people up, gets maybe two hours of sleep before she’s getting up for her 7am class on human anatomy.

She starts working in Gotham’s City’s ER as a volunteer student so she doesn’t have to take an extra class and can just take the test at the end of the year for the credit. One day she shows up and sees her patient is a thug she bullied last night while kicking his ass.

She might never show her face in his room again.

When she barely passes a test with a C- she wants to cry when Alfred asks how her test went, but Alfred reassures her, saying it’s good, and that she still passed. But Bruce always catches a stray or two when her major gets brought up. No way he wouldn’t.

Alfred: Congratulations Miss Stephanie, it might only be a C but it is still passing!

Steph: Thanks alfred but I feel like I could be doing better

Alfred: At least you’re sure you want to be a doctor. You haven’t dropped out and you’re passing your classes. That’s what matters.

Bruce at Wayne Enterprises in the middle of a board meeting, feeling a chill go down his spine: something just happened…

Plus there’s the added joke of her being called dumb, lazy, ect from Damian (he insults her so much I can’t remember them all rn)

Damian: What’s that Brown? Can’t shake your head in fear your brain will rattle around in there?

Steph thinking about her biology test tomorrow she got maybe 10 minutes of studying in for since it was announced last month: Shut the fuck up.

Thugs would hate to see her. Like genuinely HATE seeing her during finals season. They don’t know anything about these bats, but they all agree if it’s final season and you see a blonde haired bat in purple- you’re fucked. Run as fast as you can unless you want a concussion and her to ask where all your pain is.

None of the super villains in Gotham ever remember mentioning they have any kind of health issues, yet somehow she always knows. The purple bat who goes by too many names, just KNOWS.

Riddler about to pull the lever for something dramatic: Well you failed to answer my riddle so-

Steph cutting him off: Your skeleton

Riddler: wrong it’s-

Steph cutting him off yet again with a heavy sigh: Listen Nigma, you have to calm down for once. Your blood pressure hates you, slow down on the salty and fatty foods. Do you smoke? Because if you do, slow down on that too. Or just quit. And the actual answer is bare-bones. But synonyms of the answer should work too.

Riddler who’s doctor told him he was at risk for high blood pressure but ignored it: I- no… I don’t smoke.

Steph: …

Riddler: I quit years ago!

Plus she’d totally access Alfred’s medical records to learn little things about the others to annoy them with. She’d be elbow deep and learn that Dick’s left ankle was injured at 12 and is prone to injuries because it never proper medical attention because he avoided Alfred when he first got hurt.

She’d bring it up in conversation too.

Steph, after Dick pisses her off and she’s walking away: What your step, Boy Wonder, it’d be a shame if your left ankle got broke because of its fragility…

Dick unsure where she learned that: …what

The whole concept of her as a med student makes me laugh and I wish more people looked at it and thought about the humor and jokes that can go with her being one.

It’s peak comedy to me, I need more fics of her just being a broke college student who’s tired of thugs attacking her when she’s trying to study for her test on patrol. She’s sitting on top of W.E. Reading her anatomy book for her first class at 7:30 while her four other books are underneath. Why she has a test in all of her classes on the same day, she doesn’t know. Will she pass them? Who the fuck knows. But if that bat signal goes off again tonight she might break into the police precinct and give them a piece of her mind.

#she’s genuinely terrifying when she fails a test #thugs stay away #no one wants to deal with her #Bruce is scared of her when she’s like that too #stephanie brown #spoiler dc #batfamily #alfred pennyworth #damian wayne #dick grayson #richard grayson #shitpost #batfamily headcanons #headcanon #bruce wayne #Bruce Wayne catching strays #she hates college #but also love it

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allfearstofallto · 2 days ago

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if you’re still doing the yandere alphabet, could you do E,L,P,T,X, and Y for childe? no worries if not, I love ur writing! <3

I've definitely been wanting to write more of these!! Thank you so much!!!

Yandere! Childe x Fem! Reader

TW: Yandere, obsession, mentions of stalking

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Childe is open. More open than you'd want him to be and more open than you're willing to hear. You tend to not care about his back story or his interests, but he'll tell you regardless and you're forced to listen.

But if you do listen, really listen, really take in what he says, maybe you'll be able to see how much information he omits. Stories he laughs off like they're funny, are traumatizing in nature. The things he says are horrifying, scary in a way that would change a person permanently.

He assures you that no such thing has happened with a playful smile, but you see the subtle twitch of his eyebrow and quiver of his lip. He's truthful, but not completely honest.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Childe is one of the few yanderes who's approach will be different based on where his standing is with you.

Know him as that one guy you met on the streets of Liyue, the one who was rather charming, but also rather persistent about seeing you again and he'll court you proper. The whole nine yards. He'll be the ideal boyfriend, albeit with a few quirks that can be brushed off. Mostly his fierce, protective jealousy and strangely short temper.

Know him as the fatui harbinger? He'll also be just that. It's even worse if you owe money to the northland bank, a debt that he insists that you pay back with your affection rather than money. He won't even attempt to hide his true nature. You already know who he is and what he's capable of. Rather, he'll try to force you to fall in love with the real him, by any means necessary.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Patient as a fighter, patient at heart. Childe isn't inherently cruel. At least to you he's not. He'll give you time, space, conversation, whatever he thinks you may need to make you more comfortable. But that isn't him being generous. His patience comes with the expectation that you'll eventually fall into the role expected of you.

Refuse or even worse, actively fight him after all the kindness he's given you and you won't see that tolerance anymore. Expectations are higher with harsher consequences if not done when he wants, exactly how he wants.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Oh, does he hate that crying face of yours. He can't stand to see you sad, let alone actually sobbing. Each year rolling down your cheek is like a stab to his heart, he can hardly bear the agony.

He's quick to console you when you cry, especially when he's the one who caused it. Although he can't help, but notice you tend to cry harder when he wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a hug. Even though he hates your tears, he hates the disdain you have for him more.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Worship is a strong word. Childe loves you. Adores you. He does put you on a bit of a pedestal, believing you to be better than most people. But worship? Worship is a bit much.

Childe doesn't feel like he has to win you over. The depraved side of him believes he already owns you. Of course, you also own him as well, if you so desire. But because of that, his actions has him seeing you as almost an equal. Almost. There are still times where he loses himself in the desperation and desire to have you completely.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Like a fish needs water, like a man needs air, Childe yearns for you in a way that's animalistic in nature. Childe knows about you long before you know about him.

“Snapping” is a term that can't entirely be used for him because of this. You can't really lose it if it was never really there. The second he saw you, the second he felt the way he did, the way you made his heart pound the same way it would if he were to be thrusts into the throes of a fierce battle, he's already plotting how he plans to take you.

#mai<3 answers #genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere x reader #yandere genshin #yandere x you #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere childe x you #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #tw yandere

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durgeapologist · 3 days ago

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I'm confused, durge. Do you like Solrook or Solavellan? Your post bashing Solavellans contradicts your recent reblogs defending them. What are your actual thoughts on these ships? Because I cannot tell.

alright i feel like this needs to be said here and now. buckle up because this is long, and probably the only time i will be commenting on this ever again.

i do not hate the solavellan ship. i have stated many times across all my socials that i used to be a hardcore solavellan shipper. i am IN LOVE with my lavellan. i literally started playing the dragon age series because i heard about the betrayal in solas' dai romance, and i am a sucker for angst. i played through dao and da2 just to romance him with my lavellan in dai.

when dav came out, first day of release, i set my world state up to be solavellan. i redeemed him and sent her off to the fade with him. point blank.

however, even before i started shipping dreadrook, i was wary of solavellan FANS. not the ship, the FANS. i am a solas lover to the ends of the earth and back. i can get behind ANY ships that involve him. what i cannot, and will not ever, get behind is the absolute infantilization of both solas and lavellan that many solavellan shippers i have interacted with engage in.

i had to leave and the solasmancers subreddit because they bashed the fuck out of epler for having SANE and NORMAL takes on solas' villainous behavior. because: YES. solas is a VILLAIN. he is an ANTAGONIST. and for some reason, most of the solavellans i was friends/mutuals and most other VOCAL solavellans i saw refused to admit as much.

they baby solas, they baby their self-insert lavellans, and they romanticize the ship without acknowledging the (imo delicious) potentials for a tragic, toxic, and morally-grey partnership. they whiddle solas down to this abused, kicked, drowing puppy that must be saved- nay, can only be saved by their adoring, kind, never-angry-always-understanding lavellans.

i also dislike immensely the way rook gets dragged through the mud, killed off, belittled, bullied, etc. by some (not all) solavellans who cannot handle solas having insane chemistry with another character. because the chemistry between dreadrook is insane.

i could drone on for hours my issues with the solavellan fans that twist and bend the relationship dynamic between the two, but i won't. it's been regurgitated by so many people so many times, and i would be adding nothing new to the conversation.

my canon lavellan romanced solas and moved on to cullen after the events of trespasser. my canon lavellan would never leave her life behind in southern thedas to follow solas into the fade for eternity, especially not after he killed varric. if your lavellan would do that, then kudos to you! really! i am so thankful many solavellans have a way to get their happy endings! i did it the one time for the novelty, and never will again.

but i can't stand solavellans who can't admit to themselves that their pairing is just as toxic as (if not more than) the dreadrook pairing, and i doubly cannot stand solavellans that baby the fuck out of the pairing. these are two grown (pixelated) adults. they are not infants. their relationship is built on lies and deceit (again, delicious dynamic to me!) and it heavily annoys me when people cannot admit that.

THIS IS ALL TO SAY: i do not hate ALL solavellans. my bestest mutuals and online friends are major solavellan shippers. i am a solavellan shipper. i just so happen to enjoy dreadrook a thousand times more, and therefore have my lavellan married to cullen in my canon world state while my rook and solas frolick off into the sunrise together.

tldr; it's a CERTAIN TYPE of solavellan FAN that i do not enjoy interacting with. i do not think ALL solavellan fans are like this. i KNOW they are not. it's just the ones that ARE happen to be the loudest in a room at any given time. that is all.

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guttedwhxre · 2 days ago

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─ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐎 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 ❞ multiple slashers

UNDER THE CUT: bo sinclair, michael myers, billy loomis & stu macher

tw: reader death ment, violence, torture ment

author's note: photo courtesy of @/pngsnail <3 also, hi everyone! i missed you, did you miss me?

michael is one of the most particular of the slashers, and dating him means you must be able to handle his peculiarities. this requires patience and resilience to do so, losing your temper would only result in pissing him off. michael won’t have quarter for being patronized and demeaned, not anymore. a pissed off michael typically means a deadly michael — but your death won’t be immediate. he’ll toy with you, gradually making your life worse and worse. he’ll allow you to keep blowing up at him, snap at him, until one night michael ends it all, for good. as you look up at him while you bleed out on the floor, cursing him under your breath, he’ll slowly don his mask, and leave you there without a second thought.

while he won’t allow a bad temper, or disrespect of any kind, michael is surprisingly lenient about you boundaries. as long as you’re firm, and gentle he’ll let it slide. in fact, he almost encourages it. in his own, twisted way. again, michael will push you in small ways until something is done about it. here you can blow up, or collect yourself and gently, yet firmly tell him what he’s done wrong and ask him to stop. that’s only the first part however, as you have to consistently keep these boundaries, or michael will push, push, and keep pushing.

don’t let him threaten you. he’s not actually trying to kill you when he holds his blade to your neck, no, just testing you. even if you’re into that, you have to be able to differentiate between play time, and a test. once you know that’s he’s testing you, cut him off there. ask that he doesn’t put his knife to you outside of play time, and he’ll slowly drop the knife from your neck, tracing it down your front as he tries to initiate play. however, if you let him press the cold steel into your neck, sit still as his gaze rests on his knife and your supple flesh - he’ll stop there, for now. then another day, when he comes home, he’ll “accidentally” cut you with his knife, watch as you rush around to clean and cover up the wound, gently asking him to be more careful next time. more little “accidents” will follow, each one more life-threatening than the last, and it’ll become more apparent that michael is toying with you. he just wants to see what will happen! just because you let him each time, he wants to see your breaking point. if that ends in your death, well, michael still got what he wanted. to see you break.

to be clear, michael isn’t very picky about what kind of person you are. just stay consistent, keep your boundaries and make them clear, don’t be a pushover, then you and michael will be very happy together.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

bo is a simple man. at least, that’s how he’d describe himself. he describes his ideal mate as the perfect house-spouse kind — docile, quiet, stays out of the way. but that is far from the truth. someone who submits with no questions asked, all of the time, would bore him. nah, bo sinclair needs someone to match his temper, his fire, not take any of his bullshit. when he blows up, shouts, you need to be able to stand your ground, and sometimes shout right back. it surprises him being challenged, excites him, even. go ahead baby, put him in his place.

like with michael, constantly shouting and losing your temper at bo wouldn’t be the best idea. it wouldn’t result in your death, just a constant, toxic cycle of fighting and making up. it’s not fun, nor is it worth the exhaustion. you have to be able to know when to fight fire with fire, and when to back down and let bo do his thing.

bo, to be totally honest, isn’t the kindest guy. he puts on a front for the tourists, sure, but that’s just that – a facade. to be with bo sinclair, you have to have tough skin. he’ll throw more than one insensitive comment your way, about your hair that day, your complexion, hell your weight, even if it’s not intentional. he’s never had to hold his tongue before, why would he now? you’ve gotta stand up for yourself, or else the comments will keep coming, and probably worsen over time.

all of the sinclair brothers have been through a lot, and it’s affected them in different ways. but for all of them, bo especially, empathy will go a long, long way. take into consideration why he lashes out the way he does and be able to understand why. you don’t have to excuse his actions, just be able to tolerate them, and of course — stand up for yourself.

𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

with billy and stu, you’ve gotta be able to take a joke. a lot of jokes, at that. at your expense, the expense of others, billy and stu have absolutely NO filter and that won’t change when you’re around. be happy it doesn’t! it means they trust you. billy is meaner than stu by a longshot, so be prepared for them to take shots at you. to get them to stop, or at the very least let up a little, go at them right back! joke back or tell them to fuck off, either works. just avoid the topic of mommy issues unless you want a knife to your neck in a not fun way.

you don’t need something super special to make them interested in you — just be you. do your own thing, mind your own business, be content with yourself. that kind of casual confidence is enthralling, and if one of them picks up on it, trust me, the other will know shortly after.

gotta be okay with a little kick-back every once in a while — stu likes to party and billy is just fine tagging along, so that means you have to be too! stick to one of them the whole party if you need, though i don’t suggest it as it can very well lead to semi-public sex. unless, sweet thing, that’s exactly what you’re looking for — then be my guest!

stu is handsy. incredibly so. he needs to touch you often, so you’ve gotta be okay with physical contact frequently. he can’t help it! you’re so precious and touchable it makes his heart melt (and his cock hard). if you say no one too many times he’ll tattle on you to billy, which nobody wants — least of all you. billy is fiercely protective of both of you, and stu knows how spoiled he is. he will surely use that to his advantage, even if it’s to your detriment.

billy often takes the lead when it comes to the three of you, and stu gives up control willingly, eagerly even. you don’t have to be as excited about it as stu is, but it’s best to hand control over day to day decisions to billy. he gets a little bitchy if you don’t, and no one wants a bitchy billy. just whisper to him that he knows best, that’s he’s so strong and capable…and then maybe you can slip a little suggestion in, and he’ll take it. since you’ve been so good…so yes, they’re both very susceptible to seduction.

billy and stu just want you to be you. if you can accept them at their ugliest, most carnal, real selves, they will gladly accept you.

xoxo, babe 💋ྀིྀི

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yunholic-jongholic · 18 hours ago

Text

Present | K.HJ x Reader

SUMMARY | Hongjoong was working late at his office. You are asking your friend to help you with a present for Hongjoong. When Hongjoong comes back home, he is tired but very interested in his present waiting for him in his bed.

PAIRINGS | Hongjoong x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | Possessive x Dom!Joong, very smutty, NSFW, bondage kink, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, explicit language, Unprotected sex (don't do that), pussy-eating, creampie, orgasms, rough sex, praise kink, pet names, edging, teasing, dry humping, bulge mentioning.

WORD COUNT | 2.2k

AUTHOR NOTE | Wowie... First story... I am so sorry if it's lame I don't know how to write this stuff. I was being held captive by my Atiny gc. 😝 Please note that ENG is not my first language. I have grammar of a 2nd grader. I tried my best here. If you enjoyed this, thank you! If you didn't, I'm sorry again I'm not good.

•

It was late night in the apartment, You were waiting for your boyfriend Hongjoong to come back from working at the studio. You knew he was super busy, and it was already almost midnight. You had an idea of surprising Hongjoong when he comes back with a little present. You called up your best friend Mingi to tell him to come over and help you with the present.

"Mingi! I need you to come over before Hongjoong gets home, I want to make him a present, but I need your help on setting it up for him! He is going to love it!" You chirped excitedly, already looking in your closet for the items. "Okay? What happened to saying 'How are you Mingi' it's now always 'Help me with a favor, Mingi' You should be more thoughtful of me." Mingi pouted and cackled at the other end of the line. You rolled your eyes also puffing out a laugh.

"Please then? If that makes it better." You started rummaging through your drawers of clothes looking for a cute outfit to go with the present. "Alright. I'll be there in 10." Mingi sighed as he caved in towards your favor. You thanked him as you hung up, continuing to debate on clothing. "Damn, I can't decide if a cute outfit or revealing outfit would be better." You grabbed a pair of red laced panties and matching bra.

10 minutes go by, and Mingi arrives at the apartment, which you welcome him in. "Hey, great! Okay, meet me in my room so you can help." You said as you ran upstairs back to the room. Mingi follows from behind, not really saying anything. When Mingi and you go to the room, there is red ribbon you got from your sewing kit and your dark red laced bra and panties.

"Okay, not to concern you or make this awkward, I need to be wrapped in the ribbon. I am only needing help because I need my entire body while I sit on the bed and wait for Hongjoong." You confidently asked. Mingi just completely tries to interpret what you really meant and want. It finally clicks in him when he scans the bed. "Oh! Oh." He says almost slack-jawed. You nod your head, kind of feeling a light of embarrassment sparking up.

"Well, I need to go change so when I come back, please help me." You grab your underwear and go change in the bathroom. Mingi waits there, holding the ribbon. You come back just in the laced red underwear. "You promise this doesn't make an awkward friendship between us, I want to know it's because I trust you in these types of situations when Hongjoong isn't here." You mention standing next to the bed waiting. Mingi nods and thanks you for trusting him. He starts wrapping the ribbon from your feet to your neck. "Do you want me to tie the bow on your neck or your head?" Mingi asked. You told him where thinking the neck would be best so Hongjoong could see your face when he walks in.

Once he is done, you get up on the bed and sit there. "Okay, I am ready! Hongjoong should be home in a few minutes if he doesn't stay too late." You say, and Mingi nods, grabbing the ribbon, putting it on the desk by your bed. "I am going to go home and go to bed. No more favors, you freak." He smiles at you, and you smile back thanking him for his help. Mingi leaves closing both doors from your room to the front door and you just wait there until Hongjoong arrives home. A while goes by and you hear the front door open, right away Hongjoong yells through the house from downstairs.

"Hey, I will be up in a minute, going to make me a drink." Hongjoong spoke out from downstairs with a tired tone. You knew he was stressed with work especially when he called you this morning just feeling overwhelmed with how much work has been to him. You shuffled to get more comfortable and sat on your hind legs, middle of the bed. Took a few more minutes until you heard his footsteps come upstairs and you felt your face heat up right when he opened that door.

Hongjoong entered the room with a glass in hand, his gaze sweeping over your body. The sight of you lying on his bed, adorned in nothing but red lace underwear and elegantly wrapped in red ribbons, instantly ignited a spark within him. Hongjoong moved closer, his eyes hungrily devouring every inch of you. He quickly took a large swig of the alcoholic drink in his hand, a few drops trailing down his chin. You decided to say something breath shaky from what you were imagining what would happen.

"I wanted to give you a present, I know you've been working so hard lately and I wanted to help you relieve some stress." You said to him shifting your legs already feeling heat rush down to your core. Hongjoong touches your cheek making you look into his eyes. "So, you planned all this and dressed up so perfectly just for me?" His voice grew raspy, and you could see the darkness deepening in his eyes. You nodded softly and mentioned Mingi helped you a bit with the ribbons. That's when Hongjoong's mood changed. He grabbed your chin, and you felt a shiver crawl down your spine as he gritted his teeth.

"So, you let Mingi see you like this? And touch you?" Hongjoong snapped, taking another deep swig of his drink. The strong scent of alcohol mixed with sweet apple lingered on his breath. You explained quickly not to get the wrong idea that Mingi only helped you with this and it was nothing personal or for that reason. "Hongjoong, I swear, Mingi only helped me put this on for you, we don't have that type of relationship or anything." You breathed out and at that moment Hongjoong got on the bed with you setting his drink down on the nightstand which was already near empty. He got closer towards your face, his nose almost touching your nose.

"I don't like people touching my things, especially Mingi." Hongjoong growled grabbing the ribbon around your thighs pulling you on his lap. You whimpered as you felt his length in his pants poke you in the ass. "Oh my god! Joong-" you whined out, but before you got to say anything he connected his lips onto yours. He slid his tongue into your mouth fighting over dominance with you which clearly, he won, and you let him take over. You started frottering your hips down on him causing him to groan in your mouth. He pulls away and huffs out telling you to stop. As his lips meet your neck, a shiver runs down your spine and you moan out. His teeth pull the ribbon from your skin unraveling the bow tied around your neck.

"Hongjoong- Please..." You moan out once again. Hongjoong pulled the ribbon down from your neck towards your chest revealing only your red laced bra now. He continued kissing your neck, nibbling it a few times as he next snapped your bra off.

"Next time Mingi comes over, he is for sure to know you are only mine." Hongjoong groaned as you started grinding your hips down on him again. At the sensation, he hissed and grabbed your neck, pinning you to the bed and now on top of you. You whimpered once again, Hongjoong sighed and started pulling the ribbons off your body more and more to where you were only left in your red laced underwear.

Because of your sensations of sensuous arousal and griding with him, you already had a wet patch on your laced panties. Hongjoong pulled your panties down and kissed your thighs and stomach. His hot breath brushed over your skin. You moaned as he caressed your thighs telling you to spread out for him which you obeyed.

"Good girl." he smirked, kissing your inner thigh. He nibbled on your inner thigh skin leaving a small bite mark on it causing you to whine at the feeling. Hongjoong slowly lowered his face onto your cunt. You already felt so damn sensitive down there and right as Hongjoong latches his tongue onto your folds, you feel the spark of pure bliss hit you.

"Oh! My fucking goodness!" You moan out almost screaming. You grab a fistful of his hair in one hand and grip the clothed sheets in the other hand moaning out. He repeatedly flicks his tongue over your clit causing you to arch your back.

"Hongjoong please!" You moan gripping his hair pulling him closer into you. You start feeling your insides pulse as he swirls his tongue.

"Fuck! Please! I am going to cum!" You sit up quickly feeling your orgasm about to snap. You were practically melting just by his damn tongue. With a sly smile, he glanced up at you before grabbing your arms and pinning them to your hips. When he stopped touching you, you whimpered and squirmed in an attempt to free yourself from his grip. Smirking at your attempts to get away, he licked his lips.

"Ah, it's so cute seeing you struggle under me. You are so wet down there, were you close?" He teased. You huffed out and told him it's not fair. He sat up pulling his shirt and pants off, leaving him only in his underwear. You could see the hard outline of his erection and you just hummed having dark thoughts. He groaned as he pinned you back down, preventing you from sitting up. "You aren't going to escape so easily darling." He gave a playful coo. He grabbed the ribbon he took off your body from the bed and lifted your arms tying them together above your hair to restrain you.

"Fuck! Y/N!" he cursed seeing how helpless you looked at him. Hongjoong then took his underwear off letting his cock spring free which was already leaking with precum. Feeling both anxious and thrilled you squirmed your hips underneath him. He gripped your waist and pulled you onto his lap aligning the tip into your entrance. He finally pushed himself in causing you to moan out.

"Hongjoong!" you screamed his name as he pushed even deeper inside you not giving you time to prepare for him. He looked deeply into your eyes as he started to move in and out of you. Huffing every time, he slid back in.

"You are so tight darling." he groaned. His grip on your waist tightened, firm enough to leave bruises by tomorrow. He kept eye contact with you, but you couldn't. You just wanted to throw your head back, scream and close your eyes.

"Hey! Darling. Keep looking at me." he groaned as he started thrusting harder. You were just a moaning mess, and you tried to grasp the sheets above your head, but your fingers failed to find a hold. Hongjoong started moving faster and his thrusts got sloppier. You could tell he was clearly drunk and in need of support, so you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. You even started grinding your hips down on him. As he continued to thrust in and out, you could feel his cock pulsing inside of your sopping wet cunt. Hongjoong moaned as the thrusts got sloppier and quicker.

"Hongjoong! I am so close!" You moaned, pulling his neck down, locking eyes with him. Within moments, he pressed his lips against yours, deepening the kiss as you melted into each other. He was the first to break the kiss, his hand tightening around your ribbon-tied wrists as he pinned them above your head with a firm grip. Your head fell back to the side, a moaning mess as his tip kissed your sweet spot. "Fuck, Y/N! I need you to cum with me!" He growled nearly sinking his nails into your wrists.

"Please!" You moaned agreeing to cum alongside with him. Hongjoong did one final hard thrust as his cum filled inside your cunt. Your body shook with intense pleasure when you experienced the release of your own orgasm, and you let out a loud moan. Hongjoong huffed out keeping himself inside. Out of breath he chuckled looking into your eyes. "Best present I got." He spoke out licking his lips again. You whined as he pulled out and he kissed your cheek.

"You need to go to bed now messy boy." you teased him as he untied your wrists. He gave you a glance as he grabbed his drink taking the last sip of it before immediately kissing your lips slow and softly. "Better keep your mouth shut or I will tie your mouth up next." he teased snickering at his own comment. You rolled your eyes and sat up. He mentioned right away he could go for a second round.

"Of sex or a drink?" you laughed a bit, and he just stared deeply into your eyes knowing what he meant and wanted. Hongjoong wanted another round with you, not caring if he is drunk as fuck.

•

Yo! First Story! I am so sorry if it sucked. If you did like it, please reblog! I am also totally welcomed to any recommendation/requests if you have them! I would love y'all to recommend me ideas for future stories! Thank you again for reading! :] -N

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