#but I found the site and just felt I had to share it.

[satellite-evans]

Le petit prince

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader

Summary: “The most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or touched, they are felt with the heart.”

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

This is something that popped into my head and I couldn't help myself. It is not my best work and I am not quite familiar with Charles but I tried my best lol

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

It was an unspoken truth that the entire world seemed to be in love with your husband. His charming smile, his effortless elegance, the way he carried himself both on and off the track—all of it made him irresistible to anyone who laid eyes on him. And while you couldn’t deny that you adored these traits about him, they weren’t the reasons you fell so deeply in love with him.

No, it was his mind. His wisdom, his insatiable curiosity about the world, and his eagerness to share what he learned with you were what truly captured your heart.

Charles had an intellect that burned brightly beneath the surface of his public persona. He wasn’t just a racer; he was an observer, a thinker. The books he read, the documentaries he watched, the podcasts he consumed during long flights or lonely hotel nights—all of them painted a picture of a man who was deeply intrigued by the world around him. And it was so unbelievably attractive.

Unlike some men, who might lord their knowledge over others or diminish their partner for not knowing something, Charles shared his discoveries with a kind of boyish enthusiasm that made you want to listen, learn, and engage with him. It was as if every fact, every little piece of knowledge, was a gift he was excited to give you.

“Did you know,” he said one evening as you sat together on the balcony, the skyline glittering behind him, “that octopuses have three hearts? Two pump blood to the gills, and one pumps it to the rest of the body. But when they swim, the one pumping to the body stops. Isn’t that incredible?”

You leaned closer, resting your chin in your hand, completely enthralled. “That’s amazing, Charles. I didn’t know that.”

“I thought you’d like that one,” he said with a smile, his green eyes sparkling in the soft light.

Moments like these were your favorite. He was entirely himself with you, not the Formula 1 superstar the world admired, but the curious, tender-hearted man you had fallen in love with. He got as much joy from sharing these tidbits as you did from hearing them, and your enthusiasm only encouraged him.

You first met Charles in the most unassuming of places: a quiet little bookstore tucked away in the streets of Monaco. As a resident of the city, you often found solace wandering its hidden gems, especially the ones that felt untouched by the glittering extravagance Monaco was known for. This bookstore, with its creaky wooden floors and the faint scent of aged paper, had become your haven whenever life felt overwhelming. You had gone there on a whim, craving the comfort of an old favorite book, The Little Prince. Little did you know, that same book would change your life forever.

As your hand reached for the single remaining copy on the shelf, it collided with another. Startled, you looked up and met a pair of warm, hazel-green eyes. The faint scent of aged paper and leather bindings filled the air, mingling with the soft murmur of a distant conversation and the occasional creak of the wooden floorboards as other patrons moved about. For a moment, the world seemed to still, the gentle warmth of the bookstore wrapping around you like a protective cocoon. Charles. Even then, you knew who he was. It was impossible not to. But what struck you wasn’t his fame or his looks—though those were undeniably striking. It was the way he immediately stepped back, smiling apologetically.

“C'est à vous,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Je vous en prie.” ("It's yours, I insist.")

“No, really, it’s okay,” you replied. “I can wait for another copy.”

But Charles wouldn’t hear of it. He purchased the book and handed it to you outside the store. “Only if you’ll let me buy you a coffee to make up for the trouble.”

The coffee turned into an hours-long conversation, one where you discovered a man who was so much more than the glamorous image the world saw. You spoke about everything and nothing—books you loved, your favorite childhood memories, and even silly debates like whether croissants or pain au chocolat reigned supreme. Charles shared stories about growing up in Monaco, how the roar of engines had always been a part of his life, but so had the quiet afternoons his mother would spend reading to him. He confessed his love for history, the way he found peace in learning about the past, and how it sometimes felt like the world moved too fast for him to keep up. You, in turn, told him about your passions, your quirks, the little things that made you feel alive. By the time the conversation ended, it felt as though you had known him for years, not just a few hours. He was kind, attentive, and curious about your thoughts on everything. By the time you exchanged numbers, your heart was already a little lighter, a little fuller.

Your relationship grew in the quiet spaces between his chaotic schedule and your own life. And yet, no matter how hectic things got, Charles always made you feel like you were the center of his world. He’d call you from far-flung locations, sharing the things he’d learned that day, whether it was a new French word he’d picked up or an interesting fact about the city he was visiting.

“Did you know that Kyoto has over 1,600 temples?” he asked one evening, his voice crackling slightly over the phone. “I wish you were here to see it.”

“Me too,” you said softly. “But tell me everything about it. What did you see today?”

And he did, painting vivid pictures with his words so that you felt as though you were right there beside him.

When Charles proposed, it was as though your entire world had crystallized into a single perfect moment. He took you back to that little bookstore where you first met, leading you inside under the pretense of looking for a book. But when you turned around, he was there on one knee, holding out a ring and looking at you like you were his entire universe.

“You’ve given me more than I ever thought I could have,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “A love that feels like home. A reason to keep learning, growing, and becoming a better man. Will you marry me?”

Through tears, you managed to say yes, and he swept you into his arms, laughing with pure, unfiltered joy.

Now, years later, you found yourself sitting together in your cozy living room, the remnants of his birthday party scattered around. Everyone had gone home, leaving just the two of you to share a quiet moment. Charles picked up the last gift, the one you’d been waiting all evening for him to open.

“Let’s see what this is,” he said, glancing at you with a playful smile. “You’re more excited than I am.”

“Just open it!” you urged, your hands fidgeting in your lap.

Carefully, he peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing the familiar cover of The Little Prince. For a moment, he just stared at it, his expression unreadable. Then he opened it and saw the inscription you’d written on the first page:

To my prince, who taught me that the most beautiful things in life are felt with the heart. Joyeux anniversaire, my love.

He looked up at you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You kept it?”

“Of course,” you said softly. “It’s where it all began.”

Charles set the book aside and pulled you into his arms, holding you as though he never wanted to let go. “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me,” he whispered into your hair. “Thank you for loving me, for seeing me, for being you.”

You buried your face in his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your cheek. In that moment, the rest of the world faded away. It was just you and Charles, two hearts intertwined, finding solace and joy in each other’s presence.

And as he kissed you, slow and tender, you realized that you’d never need anything more than this. Because with Charles, you’d found your forever.

[un-perro-vago]

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[nezuscribe]

arguing with arranged!gojo is difficult because he’s not used to arguing with women and you’re not used to arguing period.

it rarely happens, but when it does it gets really heated between the two of you. you pace around your room, huffing as gojo stands there with his arms crossed, nose flaring.

like that one time he found out that one of the new guards the brought in from the west was somebody you used to fool around with.

yeah that was bad.

“why do you even care!” you snap at him, and he can’t find a plausible reason aside from the fact that he was purely jealous.

this guard that they’d brought in from the west, much to your shock, was somebody you used to see in the late hours of the night. you never did anything frisky, just some shared kisses here and there.

but the moment you saw him, your whole demeanor changed. and gojo could tell. it took a bit of picking and prodding (which gojo is great at) but you eventually told him the story.

and he was not excited to hear it.

“i want him gone,” he tells you and you roll your eyes, shrugging indefinitely.

“fine,” you throw your arms up, “get him out. but what about those girls? you think i don’t want them gone whenever we walk into one of those balls or those dinners? when i see the way they look at you? you think that’s easy for me?”

“it’s different,” his tone is unwavering and cold.

you scoff, shaking your head in dismay.

“what? what’s so different? that i kissed him? big deal!” you feel like you want to cry and yell and jump and scream at the same time.

because it was different. for you. because the men didn’t seem to care that gojo had a new wife, or that he cared for her. but the ladies did. they gossiped in frenzied tones, batted their eyelashes at him even more as if that could cast him away from your spell.

so you didn’t know why he cared so much about this one man. why it should matter to him when he’s had far, far more experiences than you.

you felt hurt that he doubted you, angered with his hypocrisy, and tired from spending the entire day ignoring each other.

“this is going nowhere,” you mutter eventually, picking up your pillow as his eyes drop to your hands, “i’m sleeping somewhere else.”

“what-”

“and don’t follow me,” you bite out, not even glancing behind your shoulder as you begin to sulk out of your shared bedroom to your old one all across the estate.

and sure, maybe you’re not being entirely fair. there’s been some petty arguments when he bumps into one of his old girls, but it didn’t hurt nonetheless when he accused you of lying, when the conversation of your old romantic life was just never brought up.

you wipe at the stray tears on your cheek as you slug down the stairs, sniffling to yourself as you curse your husband to hell and back, when a force unlike any other picks you up from behind.

“what?” you squeal, your body manicured over a strong shoulder, your legs near his torso, your eyes facing his back as you kick at him, “let me go, i’m going to fall!”

“don’t make me laugh,” gojo murmured, one strong arm around your waist, the other around your thighs as he hauls you back up the stairs.

“i told you not to follow me,” you grumble, pinching his back but he doesn’t react.

“you’re funny if you think i’ll let you sleep alone.”

your brows furrow, feeling the need to kick him, but also not wanting him to drop you.

it doesn’t take long for him to reach your bedroom, opening the door with his free hand (unbridled strength if the greatest warrior of the north meant he could pick you up with just one hand) and plops you back on the mattress.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking away, hoping he can’t see the tear marks.

because it did hurt. his words hurt you. they cut deep. and he notices, his gaze softening slightly.

“don’t cry,” he whispers, leaning down to trace your tears away but you swat his hand off of your face.

“then don’t make me cry,” you say with a heavy sigh, siting upwards, back slightly hunched.

you take a deep breath, rubbing at your eyes as you glance upwards at him. it’s been a while since the two of you had fought, and the first time over something serious, and he looks awful.

“i don’t judge you for being with those girls,” you start with a heavy whisper, “you did what you could to stay sane. but don’t judge me for doing the same.”

gojo breathes deeply through his nose, blinking.

“you’re right,” he says after a heavy second, causing you too look up in confusion.

he nods again, his big hand cup your jaw, his thumb rubbing your cheek as he catches the stray tear from the corner of your eye.

“you’re right and i’m sorry,” he repeats, and you’ve never had somebody agree with you before, “i just…saw the way he looks at you and…i didn’t like it.”

you offer him a small nod.

“but he just looked at me,” you shift so that your resting on your haunches, hands in your lap. he towers over you, one hand going to cradle the back of your head.

gojo shrugs, like he can’t put it into comprehensible words how he felt when that guard looked at you with hunger in his eyes. how only he was allowed to look at you with such starvation.

“i didn’t like it,” he can only repeat, and you know he struggles with his emotions, spent years hiding them so that they wouldn’t become his weakness.

“do you want to sleep?” he finally asks you, and you slowly blink, trying to hide the tiredness from your face.

“i’ll still be here when you wake up,” he offers and you crack a small smile, trying to hide it from him.

but your smile drops as you think, eyes darting up to his.

“it’s okay to not like something, and it’s okay to feel angry that you don’t. but don’t ever, ever, make me feel like that again because of it.”

your stare is unwavering, and he feels a certain sense of pride in seeing that. and gojo nods, one steady movement as he drops down to his knees, trying to be level with your gaze.

“you have my full authority to strike me down if i do,” he promises, his hands cupping your face, his words serious but you can’t help but giggle.

“good,” you murmur, tugging slightly harshly on some of the strands of his hair as he winces, pushing you back onto the bed with the sheer force of his body, climbing up into you as he hold you close to him.

you let out another laugh as he acts like a bear cub, not wanting to move an inch away from your warmth as he cuddles into you, trying to finish his massive size compared to you.

the two of you laid in silence, a comfortable one, as he laid his head in your chest, hearing the steady rhythm of your heart.

“i am sorry,” he whispers, craning his neck to look up at you as he rests his chin on your sternum, “i’m sorry.” he says again, his words barely above a sound.

you blink again, moving some of the hair away from his face as you observe his sorrowful features.

“i know,” you whisper back.

gojo finds your hands, interweaving your fingers together, heart tugging when he feels your ring against his skin.

he brings the finger to his lips, pressing a soft kiss against the ring as you watch him silently. no other words needed to be said, no words left unspoken as he pulls you into his chest.

because no woman would amount to a sliver of you. and no man would amount to a morsel of him.

[zarameraki]

🖊️💌 𝘀𝘂𝗸𝘂𝗻𝗮'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗽𝗿𝗶𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝗽𝗲𝗻-𝗽𝗮𝗹 🖊️💌

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 prisoner sukuna x his penpal 𖥔 just plot with porn 𖥔 mentions of abuse 𖥔 mentions of sexual assault 𖥔 pussayy eating rawr but also u suck his dick so 𖥔 uraume and toji found family 𖥔 he would kill for you 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw

: ̗̀➛ words: 10k?? idfk it's long

: ̗̀➛ notes: happy halloween, mamas! 🎃 i know ive been MIA for a while but thats because i wasnt feeling creative. but now ive dumped a 10k sukuna fic on you for you to read at 3 in the morning. this one's got a kick to it yall. its long but give the bitch a chance, shes good. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

So, this was where you’d ended up—on a site for writing to prisoners. A pen-pal with an inmate.

How lonely did you have to be to fill out your info, pay a yearly fee, and do this? The answer: really, really lonely. Orphaned, friendless, and scarred from a relationship that had left you with broken ribs and a blind eye. And as if to top it all off, you wanted to reach out to a criminal. I guess you deserved at least that small bit of connection.

You scrolled through inmate profiles, noting their crimes—arson, theft, cybercrime, drug trafficking, money embezzlement, and so on. None of them were charged with homicides or serious offences.

One profile did catch your eye. The smirk in his mugshot suggested he’d probably killed someone and managed to evade the cops before they could pin anything on him.

“Sukuna Ryomen,” you whispered, clicking on his profile and staring at a laundry list of crimes. “Aggravated assault, drug manufacturing and distribution, kidnapping—Jesus—extortion, cybercrime, Satanism . . . what the hell?” You chuckled as you scrolled further. “Bank burglary, vandalism of religious properties—so that’s the Satanism part—illegal possession of firearms, stalking?”

Why was this man even on this website, given his long list of crimes?

You zoomed in on his mugshot. Was it wrong to find him attractive despite his record? He truly embodied the term “bad boy,” though he didn’t look like a boy at all. He was ruggedly handsome with hollowed eyes. His light-mink hair was swept back, with a few strands falling over his forehead, and he wore a single hoop earring in his left ear. Black tattoos marked his nose bridge, jaw, and the centre of his forehead, while narrow-eyed designs were inked on his cheekbones.

You wondered if he’d get any letters, given his long rap sheet. Maybe delusional women like you, who’s pussies sang for high-profile criminals, sure. 

Licking your lower lip, you picked up a piece of paper and a pen, tapping the end against the sheet as you continued to study his face.

Then you started writing.

Hello, Sukuna Ryomen, 

My name is Y/N. 

You thought it over. For now, you'd keep it light before diving into your deeper issues. It felt easier to share your thoughts with someone you’d never meet face-to-face than with a stranger in a bar whose only interest was getting into your pants.

You kept writing.

Dear Sukuna Ryomen,

I’m currently living in an apartment complex that’s in desperate need of renovation. I’m harvesting cockroaches—no, I’m not eating them; the fuckers just won’t stop nesting in my kitchen cabinets, and I’m tired of spending money on pest sprays. On top of that, I’m pretty broke, barely managing to keep a roof over my head. I’ve even considered trying to seduce the landlord into reducing my rent, though I doubt any man would find a woman with one working eye appealing. I noticed you have an extra beneath your real eyes. Care to share?

Anyway, this is my first time writing to someone like you, so apologies if it’s a bit awkward. I wish I could send a nude, but I’m pretty sure you’d wish you were blind after that. I feel like I’m rambling like this is my diary, so I should probably wrap it up. If you want to write back, feel free. I don’t mean to sound privileged, but I’m lonely as fuck.

Thank you (?),  

Y/N

P.S. About the Satanism—care to explain?

You didn’t bother proof-reading and folded the letter into an envelope, sealing it with a lick. From your drawer, you pulled out a pack of old stickers—remnants of your childhood—and placed one where the envelope met. You wrote the prison address provided on the website and added the stamps you’d bought during your walk, which was your final push into becoming a prison pen-pal. After selecting Sukuna Ryomen on the site and uploading your ID and other required documents, you waited for your profile to be approved. 

After three days of waiting, you sent out the letter first thing in the morning and anxiously awaited a response.

Sukuna’s fists collided with the inmate’s face, each strike more brutal than the last. Blood splattered across his knuckles as the crowd of orange-clad convicts roared with twisted delight, their voices a chorus of vile encouragement. “Finish him!” they taunted, while others jeered at the barely conscious man, urging him to get up and fight back, to aim a desperate kick at Sukuna’s balls.

“Sukuna!” A guard’s voice cut through the chaos, and soon the officers were pushing through the throng, shutting the prisoners who dared resist their authority. “Get up, now!”

“Fuck off!” Sukuna snarled, his lips curling into a sneer as he shoved the guard aside. He watched with cold satisfaction as the man lay still, blood pooling beneath him. All this because the idiot had the nerve to laugh when Sukuna missed a three-pointer. Now, the bald bastard had paid the price for his arrogance, and Sukuna breathed in the aftermath—his own dark victory painted in blood and broken bones.

Officer Gojo Satoru strode into the circle, handcuffs gleaming in his hand. 

Sukuna's eyes narrowed at the sight of the blue-eyed bastard, a wave of hatred surging through him so fierce he could almost feel his fingers tightening around Satoru's throat. The very thought of choking the life out of him fueled his dark desires.

Satoru’s father—the man responsible for dragging Sukuna down, catching him red-handed with crates of cocaine at the border, and sealing his fate with a fifty-year sentence. If Sukuna had known the old man’s spawn would end up as a deputy officer here, watching his every move with those piercing eyes, he would have never shown up to that cursed delivery. But no—he had wanted to play the good boss, personally seeing his precious cargo off. Now, every day behind bars was a constant reminder of that one fatal mistake, and Sukuna’s rage festered as he thought of the traitor, Yuji. The little fuck who sold him out would pay dearly, and Sukuna was already plotting the perfect revenge.

His own fucking nephew sold him off. Motherfucker wanted the throne for himself—an empire Sukuna built with his bare hands. 

“Throw him in the ice box,” Satoru commanded, his voice dripping with that infuriating smugness. The officer roughly cuffed Sukuna’s wrists, shoving him forward. “Cool down, Big Guy. You’re not going any—”

Before he could finish, Sukuna rammed his forehead into Gojo’s nose, relishing the satisfying crunch as the lanky bastard staggered back. The inmates roared with approval from where they were restrained by the other officers. 

Gojo chuckled, dabbing at his bleeding nose with a pristine handkerchief, the kind only a spoiled little bitch like him would carry. “You think that’s funny?” he asked, his tone laced with condescension.

“Hilarious,” Sukuna whispered, a dark grin curling at his lips.

“Okay,” Gojo replied with a casual shrug. Without warning, his fist slammed into Sukuna’s jaw.

Once.

Twice.

Three fucking times.

The officers stood by, indifferent, as their captain unleashed his fury. For them, it was just another case of self-defence.

Sukuna finally collapsed to the ground, his vision swimming. Gojo leaned over him, his voice a venomous hiss. “Who’s laughing now?” A final, vicious kick to Sukuna’s chest left him gasping for breath. “Keep him in that freezer until he’s begging to be let out. No meals for a week.”

Sukuna’s vision blurred as he glared at Satoru’s retreating figure, the ringing in his ears barely drowning out the disappointed murmurs of his fellow inmates. His body, battered and beaten, finally surrendered to the encroaching darkness.

When he came to, he found himself in the prison’s infirmary, cocooned in three heated blankets. Yet the warmth did little to pierce the deep, bone-chilling cold that gripped him. The need to piss gnawed at him, but even that seemed distant compared to the icy numbness that had taken hold. 

“Welcome back to hell.” 

Sukuna raised his head from the pillows to find Uraume, the prison’s doctor. They were also the only person he tolerated, and somewhat close to since he ended up in the infirmary more than once. He hoped they considered him a ‘something’ after he killed a two-hundred pound guy for groping their ass in the cafeteria. How did he do it? He knew Uraume kept a pocket knife in their doctor’s coat and quickly swept it out and stuck it in the dick’s jugular. 

“How long have I been out for?” he asked, squirming his arm out of the blanket to rub his eyes. 

“A day.” 

“What?” Sukuna pulled himself out of the blanket by wiggling around like the fucking worms his cell mate Toji liked to collect every time they went in the courtyard to play. They’re better company than your grouchy ass, he said once. “How long was I in the ice box?” 

“Barely an hour.” Well, that’s just pussy behaviour from him. “They pulled you out before hypothermia killed you. What a way to die, am I right?” They chuckled, preparing some pills in a small disposable cup. “Here, take these. They’re nutrients.” 

“I could use actual food.” Sukuna downed them like a shot. God, he missed alcohol. “That blue-eyed bitch restricted my meals for a week.” 

“Fuck him.” Uraume took out a sandwich from their bag and threw it in Sukuna’s direction. “Just fake illness when you’re hungry. I’m always here to feed my favourite dog.” 

Sukuna snorted. “Go to hell.” 

“Already here.” Uraume clipped back their white hair with the back dyed red. Like someone smashed their head into the wall and the colour just bled to the sides. “Oh, this came for you.”  

Sukuna shoved the sandwich in his mouth and stretched his muscles before walking over, snatching the letter. It was already opened, a flimsy teddy-bear sticker hanging from the paper. “What the fuck is this?” 

“A letter.” 

“A letter? For me?” 

Uraume broke their attention from the computer to look at him. “Remember when you had me register you on that prison pen-pal bullshit after Toji received a pile of fan letters?”

Sukuna blinked. 

He definitely remembered being jealous when Toji got a letter from an artist who drew herself naked on paper for him, and a shit ton more asking for his dick size or when he’ll be out. Of course, Sukuna was envious of the attention. Plus, no one in prison made good company. He just wanted the taste of the outside world again after being locked in for five years now. Even if it was through ink on paper. 

But then Sukuna looked down at his first ever letter torn open. “Why is this open? Who read it?” If it was Satoru, he was going to rip his eyeballs from his sockets and feed it to Toji’s pet worm. 

“Relax. They’ve got to identify if there’s any substances attached to the paper, or any other shady shit. Whoever wrote to you is just a harmless nobody.” 

Sukuna frowned, bringing the letter up to his nose. It smelled like a plain envelope. No drugs, nothing.

He found purchase on the bed again, pulling out the folded paper and ironing the creases out on his leg. Here we go.

He began reading each word carefully. 

A week went by since you’d mailed your letter to Sukuna Ryomen. A week of pure torture to hear something back from the criminal. You’d relaxed on Sunday because the post offices are closed, but on Monday, you were at your mailbox, watching the mailman sort out letters and slip them through the boxes. 

Once he left, you dashed to your box and flipped through the coupons, flyers, newsletters—

Your breath hitched. 

Everything dropped from your hand except the cream envelope with an address from the prison. You didn’t care about reading it upstairs and quickly, yet carefully, tore it open from the side, reading the writing. 

Trying to read it. 

Sukuna had terrible handwriting. It made you giggle. 

You leaned against the mailboxes and murmured the words written under your breath. 

Hey, Y/N

I don’t know how to start a letter since I’ve never written one so don’t mind if I hurt your little feelings. Don’t know if you’re aiming to entertain me or bore me to death with this “dear diary” bullshit. I thought I’d get a nude, at the very least. Hell, Toji over here—yeah, the bastard who was on the news last year with a thing for setting houses on fire—gets way better fan mail every week. Pictures, drawings, mostly nudes. And I get your whining about rent and cockroaches?

Look, I may be locked up, but I’m giving you some advice here. Don’t fuck your landlord. You’ve got one eye? Good—use it. Hell, that’s already intimidating enough. Threaten the prick to call pest control, or better yet, trap those damn cockroaches and give him a taste. Stuff a few down his throat if he still doesn’t take you seriously. People respect action, not whining.

Speaking of. One eye? Really? Now, how’d it happen? Was it torn out? Still got some sight in it, or is it just gone? That’s gangster. Hot, even. I’d fuck a one-eyed chick. Maybe when I’m out we can cross that off my bucket list. Nah, I’m just playing with you.

Or maybe I’m not.

Think on it.

Hate (in a friendly way),

Sukuna.

P.S. Yeah, I took out some satanist scum who tried kidnapping one of my people’s kids. But don’t go thinking I’m in with those freaks. I’m just the Devil they wish they could be.

“Woah,” you breathed out, hugging the letter to your chest. This was it. This was what you were waiting for. A pull towards something real, something thrilling. It’s all you’ve been craving for eons now. 

“Whatcha got there, sweetie?” The voice snapped you back, harsh as nails against glass. Your landlord had wandered out of his door on the first floor, wrapped in a faded bathrobe and gripping his mug like some king holding court. “Made a mess on my floor with your papers.”

“Sorry,” you muttered, quickly tucking Sukuna’s letter back into its envelope and reaching down to gather the stray papers scattered on the floor. When you straightened, he was already in your space, close enough that the coffee on his breath made you flinch.

“Excuse me—”

“You’re excused.” His smirk widened as he leaned in, his nose grazing your neck. The greasy warmth of his breath made bile rise to the back of your throat. “Just wanna take a little bite out of you.”

Sukuna’s advice echoed in your mind. You’d never—never—think of following through with his revolting insinuation. But letting this sleaze get away with treating you like this? No. Not anymore.

“Step away,” you commanded. “Now.”

He blinked, then chuckled, dismissive. “Feisty today, huh? Got a letter from your boyfriend in prison, sweetie?” How did he know that? Fuck. Did he go through your mail before it was deposited? “Let me guess—you think he’s got your back now?” He leaned even closer, the stench of his laugh wafting in the air. “Come on, where's that one eye of yours aiming, sweetheart?”

“Next person who mentions my eye eats the dirt,” you snapped, every ounce of your resolve boiling up. “And as for what I’ve got—it’s something way out of your league, old geezer. So get the hell back to your apartment, and call pest control now.” 

For a second, he was stunned, face going pale as your words sank in. But you could feel Sukuna’s thrill, his twisted approval in the back of your mind. You’d tapped into something that wouldn’t settle. But then, “Well, I’ll be damned. Someone put on their big girl panties.” 

Your jaw tightened as you held your ground, taking small breaths. You’d rehearsed this moment in your head, picturing a confrontation that ended with him backing down. But things never went as planned with him.

“I’m not here to beg,” you said evenly. “But I’m not gonna let you walk all over me, either. I pay rent. It’s your responsibility to keep this place livable.”

He snorted, raising his coffee mug and giving you a once-over that made your skin crawl. 

“Not for free, sweetheart. You’ve gotta give me something worth my time.” His eyes travelled down your body. 

Your pulse throbbed in your ears, but you squared your shoulders. “I’m already paying rent. It’s your right to ensure your tenant's safety.”

His face darkened, lips curling into a bitter smile. “Not when that tenant’s acting like a spoiled little bitch.” And then, with a flick of his wrist, he launched the mug’s contents right at you.

You dodged, but a few hot droplets scorched your arm, leaving a raw sting that only fueled your anger. He laughed, shaking his head with a mocking scowl. “Get the fuck out of my sight before I kick you out on the streets.”

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You turned on your heel, heading back upstairs with quick steps, forcing the tears back until you could lock the door behind you. Once inside, you slumped to the floor, breathing hard. The letter from Sukuna crackled beneath your hands, and you clutched it close to your chest, feeling the heat of humiliation turn into something fiercer, darker. 

“Damn it,” you whispered to yourself, pushing back to your feet with renewed energy. You marched to your desk, grabbed your notebook and pen, and let the words pour out, hurried and jagged. If anyone would understand this kind of anger, it was him—the one man whose entire life was carved from rage.

And this time, you wouldn’t hold anything back.

“Letter for you, Ryomen.”

Sukuna dropped down from his top bunk, snatching the letter right out of the guard’s hand.

“From your girl?” Toji asked from across the table, flipping a card, halfway to beating Sukuna in Blackjack.

“Not my girl,” Sukuna grunted, tearing into the envelope. But still, he smirked as he unfolded your letter.

Hey, Sukuna. 

Fuck my landlord to hell and back. I need you to know I’d kill him if I could get away with it. I’m trying to keep this “ethical” so they don’t cut off my letters, but let’s just, I hate the elderly. They should be rotting in retirement houses instead of owning properties and doing a shit job running them. That senile asshole threw hot coffee at me this morning. Burning. I nearly shattered the damn mug over his skull.

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his fingers squeezing the letter hard enough to crumple the edges.

And now he’s saying he’ll kick me out, as if I have anything to pay him with. This place is a dump, anyway. I might hit up one of those shelters for women, maybe hop from couch to couch for a bit. My job at corner store’s giving me scraps; it’s not nearly enough to get by. So yeah, you could say I’m screwed.

And to answer your question about my eye—yeah, I’m blind in it. Got it from a real piece of work I used to call a boyfriend. He decided my face was fair game, and thought I could just live with it. But he's dead now. Overdosed last I heard from his brother. Good riddance, am I right?

Oh, and for that kink of yours you mentioned—sending my picture along with a little extra treat. 

Hate (because I’m about to go crazy here), Y/N

P.S. For all the things you’ve done, I can’t lie—the world you talk about sounds safer than this one. Well, except for you committing the most heinous crimes. 

Toji clicked his tongue. “Look at that dumbass grin on your face.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna muttered, flipping the letter over—and there it was: a stick drawing of a woman lying on a bed, two messy circles for her chest, legs spread wide, and what looked like . . . well, he didn’t need to guess. Sukuna went from grinning to outright laughing. “She’s hilarious.”

“Not just that. She’s sexy as fuck,” Toji said, holding up a photo, ripped clean in half.

Sukuna’s eyes flashed. He swiped the photo and pieced it back together, cursing himself for tearing through the envelope like a brute. But as the two halves reconnected, he felt his pulse kick up, hard.

“Well, shit.” You were more than just beautiful. The way your hair fell, the curves of your body wrapped in that short black dress, standing under a streetlamp with the city lights glinting around you . . . But it was the smile—the easy, teasing grin—that really did it for him. “I’m definitely jerking off tonight.” Respectfully, of course.

“Can we get back to the game now, or—”

“Fuck the game. I’ve got a letter to write.” And a plan brewing to get you out of that dump and right where he wanted you.

Your landlord was pronounced dead. 

An ambulance had arrived early in the morning, around nine, waking up every tenant. You were one of them, groggy from your sleep, and all the crying you’d done from realising how high rent was these days.

Apparently, he had a heart-attack, said one of the residents. 

He was eighty, said another. 

You stuck to the back of the crowd as his body was wheeled out on the stretcher. How could he have died just five days after you sent your last letter to Sukuna? It couldn’t have been him, could it? Maybe one of his associates? Given the man’s extensive criminal history, you suspected he had some serious connections.

As the crowd began to disperse a few minutes later, you joined them but didn’t head upstairs. Instead, you made your way to the mailroom.

And luckily, Sukuna’s letter was present. 

All he wrote was: 

You’re welcome. 

Neutral, 

Sukuna. 

You broke out laughing, or crying. Whatever it was, it felt good. So good. 

Hey, Sukuna!

These days, I’m feeling calm. Really calm. I’m sleeping well, eating better, even starting to enjoy work. Sometimes, I’m scared it’ll all get snatched away. By who? I don’t know. Life’s been that way, though. I’ve lost so much—my parents, my friends, even my left eyesight. At one point, I lost my will to keep going. But I guess some part of me held on, believing a better day would come.

Turns out, those days are here. Who would’ve thought a felon could make me feel less alone? I know it sounds crazy, but my life’s been full of surprises lately.

If you think you can’t bring happiness to someone, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong. I’m genuinely happy, and it’s thanks to you. I already think of you as a friend—and I hope you think of me the same way. You don’t get a choice in that, by the way.

Love (genuinely), Y/N

P.S. I’d like to come visit you sometime soon.

Sukuna lowered the letter, his eyes settling on the wall where he’d pinned up your picture. “Toji?” he called out, still staring at the photo.

Toji paused mid-pushup, raising an eyebrow. “What, bitch?”

Sukuna let out a low laugh, barely shaking his head as he spoke. “I think I’m in love.”

Hello, Y/N.

When I’m out in fifty years, I’ll give you a real surprise. And don’t write me any more of that sentimental crap, alright? Save it for when you visit. I’d rather hear it in person.

Hate (but maybe not so much), Sukuna

P.S. You’re beautiful.

You pressed the letter to your chest, biting your lip as warmth spread across your cheeks, your face aching from how much you were smiling. It was official—you were falling for Sukuna Ryomen. You’d have to look your absolute best for your visit. Just the thought of seeing him, hearing his voice, maybe even feeling his hand brush yours, made your heart race. You’d kiss him if they’d let you. And if they didn’t? What could the guards do? Throw you in jail? Now that would be ironic.

But fifty years . . . Would you really wait fifty years for Sukuna to be released? How high was his bail, anyway, that even his hidden cash stash wasn’t enough to cover it? He had to have some kind of pull with the right people, didn’t he?

With a sigh, you grabbed a piece of paper and began to write your reply.

Sukuna,

Fifty years is a lifetime, don’t you think?

Love, Y/N

Sukuna read the short note you’d sent, surprised by how much you’d poured into just a few lines. He noticed small, faded dots on the paper—tears, unmistakably yours. You’d been crying, and it didn’t sit right with him. His stomach tightened, but thankfully, he’d already secured your visit through Uraume, who handled it while Gojo was away.

Now, all that was left was seeing you.

He wondered how he’d keep his hands to himself after all the nights he’d spent memorising your picture, losing himself in thoughts of you. Every night before sleep, every morning when he woke, every time Toji was out cold and couldn’t hear Sukuna’s barely-stifled groans as he imagined you were there. God, he wanted to steal you away. 

The day of your visit finally came. Sukuna was led to the visitor room, wrists cuffed, flanked by two guards. He hadn’t set foot in this room since a couple of his associates had visited months back with updates on the family business and Yuji’s latest fiascos. They’d kept everything running despite his brother’s mess-ups, and Sukuna owed them.

He glanced down at his hands. Fifty years. He’d been scheming for a way out since he first set foot in here, but now, with you in the picture, the urge to escape was relentless. Bail was twenty million. Even if he could scrounge it up, he doubted he could get it done without tipping off the wrong people. No, his only real option was breaking out.

“Sukuna.”

A soft voice pulled his head up slowly. He couldn’t remember the last time his name was spoken with such warmth. 

“Y/N.”

He shot up from his seat, his eyes flicking to the guards stationed in the corner before letting himself drink you in. You looked stunning—a soft sundress, hair delicately curled, makeup enhancing every curve and angle of your face. His gaze lingered on your eyes, marvelling at the contrast: one foggy, hazy, while the other was bright and striking. A smirk pulled at his mouth, but he softened it for you. 

“Hey,” he whispered, the one word holding more emotion than he’d ever admit, especially with witnesses around.

“Hi,” you whispered back, eyes lowering down his muscled body, the pattern tattoos like rings around his wrist and with the first three buttons of his jumpsuit unbuttoned, you found the top of the rings on his pecs as well. His light-pink hair was brushed down, the tendrils poking his reddish-brown eyes. A peculiar colour. “Hi.”

He smiled. “You already said that, baby.” 

Baby. Gosh, you were even more nervous now. 

“They said I can’t shake your hand.” You looked at the cuffs on his wrists and tossed a glare at the guards. “Or hands.” 

“Fuck them.” Sukuna sat down and you followed. “You’re stunning.” 

You blushed. “Thank you.” 

“Not gonna compliment me back?” His deep voice was cocky, smug. You loved it. 

“You’re handsome and you know it.” 

“I sure do.” 

You chuckled and Sukuna watched you with a soft expression. “Thanks for . . . you know.” 

He understood the words you mouthed and smiled. “A little Ricin never hurt anyone.”

“How did you pull it off?”

His eyebrow arched in surprise. “Just because I’m stuck in this hellhole doesn’t mean I’ve lost everyone’s respect out there. Blood is thicker than water in my clan—except when it comes to my nephew. I just want to drain it out of him.”

Your own smile faltered. “Well . . . I’d like to have coffee with you. But fifty years, Sukuna, is too long.” 

He sighed. “I know.” 

“Isn’t there any way to get you out?” 

Sukuna saw the longing on your face and wanted nothing more than to hold it in his hands and stare at you for hours. He just couldn’t believe you were real. He would’ve killed you if you were cat-fishing him. “I really want to touch you,” he whispered instead. He did. He really fucking did. 

You pinched your lips in a smile. “Me, too.” 

Sukuna placed his hands on the table and grabbed both of yours. They were so soft and small. He wanted to kiss each finger. Knuckle. Vein.

“Hands off, Ryomen,” the guard warned. He didn’t relent, and simply winked at you. “I said hands off.” 

“Fuck you,” Sukuna spat back. 

“Visit’s over.” The pair of guards pried Sukuna away, making you reach out for him with a protest. 

“I’ll see you this weekend.” Sukuna winked and let the guards drag him away. 

You sat stunned before the officers escorted you out of the visiting room and apologised on his behalf. 

When the weekend finally rolled around, you found yourself standing at the prison gates once more, entering alongside a pair of guards.

Waiting by the visitor room was a towering figure with straight silver hair and striking blue-eyes. You got a closer look at the badge—Satoru Gojo. You’ve read the name in one of Sukuna’s letters complaining about him.

“Y/N. What a pleasant surprise,” he greeted, waving away the guards and pressing a hand on your back, leading you down the opposite direction. 

“We can chat another time, officer. I’ve got to meet Suku—”

“He can wait. Prison teaches a man patience. He’s got fifty more years left. Plenty to visit then.” Gojo opened the door and guided you inside. The shutting made your shoulders flinch. The lock clicking had dread pooling in your stomach. “Sit. Would you like anything to drink?” 

You eyed the dark setting bathed in a golden light from a corner lamp. There was a cart with a decanter set and a mini-fridge to the right. A bookshelf and a wardrobe on the left. “I’m fine, thank you.” 

Gojo shrugged and poured himself whiskey before taking his seat behind his table. You sat opposite him. “So, what’s your relationship with my favourite prisoner?” 

You blinked. “Uh, we’re just pen-pals.” 

“Lying to a police officer is a serious offence.” 

“I’m telling the truth,” you said. “We’re strictly pen-pals.” 

“I’ve read your letters to know that isn’t true, Princess. So unless you want to sit there and lie to my fucking face, I suggest you start using that mouth for good and tell me the goddamn truth.” He slammed his glass down, but his face remained smiling with false politeness. 

You felt suffocated in the office, eyes darting left and right for anything sharp in case he tried some other method to get you to talk. 

“I’ve been in this field for a decade now to know when someone is hiding something from me,” Gojo continued, taking a leisure sip from his drink. “I have a file on you, Y/N. You’re an only child, with no proper education or a stable job. You’re one bad decision away from being trafficked. You’re submissive, a follower, who if went missing, no one would look for.” Tears welled your eyes at his words. “And I know that bastard’s the reason you’re still living in that dump you call home.” 

That was the last nail in the coffin. 

“I’ve been following you since your first letter,” he said quietly. “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? Oh, Princess, you couldn’t be any more wrong.” He stood up and rounded his way to you. 

You quickly scrambled out of your seat. “Please. I don’t know anything. I—I don’t—Sukuna’s a friend, yes, but I’m not involved in any of his criminal activities.” 

“Friend?” Gojo spat out. “That man is the last person you’d ever want as your friend.” He stalked forward and you retracted. “He’s committed more crimes in his lifetime than any other man. He’s killed half the people in this country, extorted money from politicians, burned down houses for fun, and killed my father!” He grabbed the collars of your dress and slammed you back into his wardrobe door. A cry ripped from your throat. “And you, a nobody, has the audacity to call that fucker a friend? Sweetheart, you’re just a ploy, a pawn, a time-pass for him. A hole to warm his cock in.” A sardonic chuckle. “That’ll never happen since he isn’t getting out anytime soon. But, hey, maybe I can prepare you for him.” 

Your breath quickened, a whimper slipping past your lips. “How does that make you any better than him?” 

Gojo smiled and brushed his lips over your ears. “Because I have the power to get away with it.” 

Your eyes, frightened and flickering, dragged up to his blue-ones. 

In the blink of an eye, you slapped him across the face, taking him by complete surprise and broke free from his hands. He leaped towards you as you unlocked the door and ran out and down the hall, shouting for help. 

A pair of officers turned the corner. 

“Help, please!” You fell into the arms of one of them. “Please, he’s going to hurt me!” 

“Who?” one asked with concern. 

“Satoru Gojo!” 

They exchanged a look and briskly turned away, leaving you standing. Their spines straightened as Gojo walked down the hallway, flattening a hand down his chest. The duo saluted him and walked away with their heads down. 

Your heart sank. 

You had no power here. 

“I told you, Princess,” Gojo purred, prowling towards you, “this is my domain.” 

You cried out and ran towards the visitor’s room. The door knob was locked and could only be opened with a keycard. “Help!” You slammed your palms on the surface. “Please, someone! Help—ah!” 

Gojo gripped the back of your hair and pulled you from the door. “Perfect timing, actually. I’d like to see the look on Ryomen’s face before I split his woman on my cock.” He swiped the card and opened the door, pushing you inside but controlling you with the grip he had on your head. 

Sukuna was already standing and enraged, held back by two guards who struggled. He must’ve heard your helpless cries. You wish he didn’t have to. “Let her go, Gojo!” 

“Oh, I will,” said Gojo, “as soon as I’m done with her.” 

Sukuna growled, thrashing against his restraints. “You fucking prick, I’m gonna tear you in half if you touch her!” 

“Like this?” Gojo squeezed your left breast and laughed. 

Sukuna elbowed one of the guards in his nose, momentarily seeking freedom to hit the other. Hope blossomed in your chest as he fought them off and made his way towards you. 

Gojo chuckled and pulled out his gun, shooting Sukuna in the leg. You jumped with a scream as he fell to the floor, clutching his thigh. “All this chaos for a common whore,” he muttered. “Come on, Princess. Let’s put you to good use.” 

“No, please!” You shouted as he dragged you away. “Sukuna, no! Sukuna!” 

“Y/N.” Sukuna reached his arm out, his hand curling into a fist and falling defeatedly onto the floor. “Don’t hurt her, please.” His face was squeezed in pain, as the guards kept him pinned to the floor. “Please! Don’t fucking hurt her—” 

The door closed shut, and the last sight before your eyes was Sukuna crying. 

Sukuna hadn’t heard from you in over a month. 

He’d also spend the month in the infirmary after Uraume did an extensive surgery on his leg. It hadn’t hit a vital artery. He believed Satoru’s aim was calculated to keep him alive. To continue letting him suffer. 

Sukuna also went quiet. He hadn’t spoken a single word to anyone except murmuring to himself. He read back on your letters, slept with the papers under his pillow, if he slept at all. 

Every morning, afternoon, night, in and out of his dry sleep, he was plotting a way to get out of this hell and find you. Would you even want to see him? Would you even care? Were you even alive? He’d dragged you into his mess, put you in danger, and fell into Satoru’s disgusting trap. 

“You need to eat something, Sukuna,” Uraume advised as they have been since his injury. They placed the tray in front of him. “At least eat the yogurt.” 

Were you eating? Were you still living in his house? Were you alive? That question rang in his head again. 

“For fucks sake.” Uraume brought forth a stool and sat next to his bed, staring at the side of his face. “What the hell do you want to do?” 

He wanted to kill Satoru first. Then escape with Toji since he was the only bastard he trusted in this place. Then find you and run away from the law as far as possible. It was a simple plan that required efficiency. 

“Are you gonna talk—” 

Sukuna shoved the tray aside, the food falling onto the floor. He was irritated by the questions outside and inside of his head. “I need to find her,” he mumbled to himself. “I need to know if she’s alive.” Please, baby, please be alive. 

“Everything all right in here, doc?” One of the guards stationed outside the door asked with his head peering through the door. 

Sukuna stared at him, then went back to Uraume. They met his eyes with their blank stare. They scanned down his body, to his injured leg, then back to his head. 

A sigh left them. “No,” they replied. “Do you mind helping me clean up the mess?” 

Sukuna gritted his jaw as the guard walked in, closing the door and crouching down, grumbling curses at Sukuna. Uraume stood from their stool and made their way to the cabinet, pulling out a syringe and a small vial. 

Sukuna's eyes lightened, spine straightening. A smile curved at his lip as they flicked the droplets from the tip of the injection and walked over, making small-talk about the weather. 

Suddenly, Uraume jabbed the needle into the officer’s neck and pushed down the plunger. He fell to his side, clutching his neck and staring up at them as they shrugged. Sukuna watched with pure delight as his body began to convulse, foam gathering at this mouth and dripping from the side. 

Then he stopped. 

“He’s dead,” Uraume said before Sukuna could ask. “Works the night shift so you won’t have a problem running into anyone else. Change into his clothes. I’ll drive.” They walked away to grab a face mask. 

“Why?” asked Sukuna. 

Uraume sighed, head dropping. “Because I fucking hate it here.” 

Sukuna was definitely going to hire them once he killed his Gojo, and his nephew. 

He quickly changed into the officer’s clothes, giving him a hard kick in the stomach that had Uraume rolling their eyes. 

Sukuna followed behind as they led the way. “Let’s take Toji.”

“Why?” they asked. “That’s a hassle.” 

“Just feel bad.” 

“And when did you start feeling guilt?” Uraume easily slipped past the security gate, waving to the officer who was busy on his phone. 

“I don’t know,” he said, smiling because he knew. Sure, you’d only touched him once, but your letters were what truly began to change him. Just the other day, he’d lost a round of blackjack, stacking his debt to Toji by a million, and instead of knocking the guy out cold, Sukuna shook hands and called it a ‘good game.’ “On second thought, let’s leave him here for the time being.” Until he got his money in check. 

Once they settled into Uraume’s car, Sukuna quickly discarded the officer's cap, tie, and badges. Uraume entered your address from the letters, and they drove in silence for the next thirty minutes.

When they arrived, the building matched your description: shitty.

Uraume stopped Sukuna before he could leap out of the car. They scanned the street for any signs of police presence. “Go. I’ll wait here.” 

Sukuna nodded and dashed out of the car, walking inside the apartment. There was no buzzer system, which meant anyone could stroll in, armed and dangerous. This was a problem. He needed to get you out of here and into one of his safe houses—a hidden place even his bastard nephew didn’t know about.

He hurried up the emergency stairwell to the tenth floor, slightly winded by the time he reached door 1090.

This was it.

With his hands gripping the edges of the door, he hunched forward, heart racing. Please, be alive.

Finally, he knocked.

He chewed the shit out of his bottom lip, hissing impatiently through his teeth. “Come on, Y/N.” He knocked again, his impatience boiling over. “It’s me, Sukuna! Please, open the door.” He pounded harder, fear creeping in with each passing second. The Sukuna Ryomen was . . . scared. “Goddammit!”

“Sukuna . . .?” 

He halted mid-breakdown and turned slowly, his heart dropping at the sight of you standing there with two bags of groceries. You looked so fragile, your complexion pale, and the radiance he remembered from your visit had completely vanished.

The grocery bags slipped from your hands and fell to the ground.

In an instant, you both rushed toward each other, and he lifted you off the ground effortlessly. You wrapped your arms around him, sobbing uncontrollably as he buried his hand in the back of your hair, inhaling the comforting scent of your body wash.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispered. “It’s okay, I’m here.” His eyes were directed straight ahead, and he was shaking. Terribly. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

You pulled back, cradling his face in your small hands. Gently, you brushed aside his dark, mink-like hair, tracing the tattoos on his skin with your fingertips. “You’re alive,” you whispered, overwhelmed by relief. You couldn’t help but touch him, and he simply smiled, allowing you the closeness. “God, you’re alive. Sukuna—you’re really alive. How?”

“Of course, I am. I just needed to know you were alive,” he replied, his hands enveloping your cheeks. “Where did you go? Why did you stop writing to me?”

Your face went blank. “What do you mean?”  

“Your letters. You stopped writing to me.” 

“They . . .” Your voice cracked. “They told me you were sentenced to death.” 

He was taken back. “What the fuck?”  

Realisation dawned upon you. The second time you visited Sukuna, Satoru had literally dragged you out of the station, kicking you out the doors. He’d threatened to take you to his office next time, but since he had a meeting with officials that day, he’d reluctantly let you go. That didn’t stop you from sending countless letters, pouring your heart out until, two weeks later, you finally received a notification from the police station. Sukuna had been sentenced to death by lethal injection and was no longer alive. You’d cried for days on end. You imagined he had been cremated and reduced to ashes, stored away somewhere. The thought shattered you. For an entire month, you couldn’t bring yourself to leave your house.

Until tonight. 

And he was here. Sukuna was here. He was alive. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, his thumb gently brushing the area below your sightless eye. “Let’s head inside, alright?”

You nodded, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his wrist. He held your hand tightly while using his other arm to carry your grocery bags. Once you reached your apartment, you opened the door and locked it securely. The deadbolt you had installed was a precaution against Satoru, just in case he showed up.

“I’m so happy you’re al—” 

Sukuna kissed you before the words could leave your mouth. You wrapped your arms around his neck, moaning from the taste of his lips, the taste you’d been craving for months now. He didn’t allow you to breathe, didn’t pull away. You both stood there in the alcove, kissing for minutes, clinging to each other. He cupped the back of your head and drew apart from your lips, peppering kisses over your face, especially your foggy eye. 

“I don’t want to fuck you, baby,” he whispered in your ear. “I want to make love to you. For hours.” Your grip tightened in his shirt. “Then I need you to pack everything in a bag and run away with me.” 

“Run away?” You searched his dark-reddish eyes. “Run away where?”

His knuckles grazed your wet cheek. “Somewhere not even God can find us.”

You swallowed hard. “They’ll send out a manhunt, Sukuna. What if we get caught? What if they take you—”

He cut you off with a kiss. “No one is going to take me away from you. Do you get that?” His strong fingers moved through your hair. “I’d turn this world to dust before that happens.”

Your insides melted from the threat. “Take me,” you murmured over his lips. He kissed you. “Take me everywhere, anywhere, wherever, as long as it’s with you.” 

Sukuna lifted you effortlessly, carrying you like a bride as he kicked open your bedroom door. He set you down on the bed, then began stripping off his clothes, revealing the geometric tattoos that marked his thighs and torso. You were caught off guard by how quickly he moved, fumbling to take off your sweater and jeans. By the time you looked back at him, he was already naked, and your gaze dropped to what you could only describe as a gloriously, long erection. 

“Woah,” you whispered, feeling your mouth go dry. “You’re abnormally big.” 

“You can take it.” He leaned over you, tearing your panties without a second thought. Before you could protest about them being your favorite pair, he spread your legs and went down on you. “Oh, my god—Sukuna—wait—”

“Waited too long,” he growled, his mouth finding your clit as he buried his nose between your wet folds. He nipped, licked, and bit, his tongue plunging deep into you, creating messy sounds that filled the air. You couldn't form words or catch your breath, gripping the roots of his hair tightly.

When you came like a flood, Sukuna lifted your hips, making sure not a single drop of you was lost to the sheets. He let out loud, deep moans as he sloppily lapped at your sensitive cunt.

He wiped his glistening mouth with his fingers and then pressed them against your lips. You eagerly sucked on his warm, thick digits, noting the lustrous glint in his eyes. He pulled his fingers out abruptly. “Suck my cock.” 

Suck his what? 

You looked down and saw him leaking at the tip. You clenched your legs, unsure. He wanted you to take that into your mouth?

You licked your lips, managing to kneel while he stood before you. He took hold of himself, rubbing the tip against your lips. You instinctively flicked your tongue out to taste him, causing him to flinch. “Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He seemed to enjoy it. “Just take it in your mouth.”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around his hot, veiny length. You opened your jaw as wide as you could and slowly took him in. His head fell back, and he engulfed your face with his palms. Your performance was mediocre, and yet he was entertained.

His tip pressed against the back of your throat, making you pull back to cough. He laughed softly, brushing your cheek with his hand.

“Come on, baby. You need to get used to it.”

“I’ve never done this before,” you replied, your voice shaky as you reached for him again.

“Stick your tongue out.”

You took a deep breath and extended your tongue. He rested the head of his cock on it and started to move his hips slowly.

Slowly, you took him in, feeling his satisfaction as he gently rocked his hips back and forth. He tasted warm and a little salty, and you found your hand wandering between your legs, seeking some relief.

“I’m going to pick up the pace, alright, baby?”

You nodded in response.

“Don’t be embarrassed if you choke,” he said, hooking a stray lock behind your ear. “It’ll just make me come faster.”

With that, he thrust deeper, and you gripped his hips tightly, struggling to catch your breath. He noticed and pulled back slightly to give you a moment, but it was brief before he pushed back in again. “You’re taking me so well, baby. Fuck.” His movements became more feverish, and you felt the pressure building as you choked and gagged, saliva escaping at the corners of your mouth. “Fuck, I’m gonna come. I’m gonna come down your throat.” 

You tapped his leg, shaking your head.

“No?” He smirked. “You don’t want me to come down your throat?”

You shook your head again and pointed between your legs.

In an instant, Sukuna pulled out. He flipped you onto your chest, lifting your ass up in the air. Without a second thought, he thrust himself deep inside you, and you cried out his name into the pillow.

He felt so full, so thick, pushing into you with a force that made your breath hitch. It was everything you needed—so good, so fucking good. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned. He filled you completely, driving into you with a fast rhythm that left you moaning, completely lost in the pleasure.

Your nails clawed at the sheets as his thick tip pressed against your womb, punctuated by the stinging slaps of his hands against your ass. He showered you with a blend of sweet and dirty words—“good fucking girl,” “cock slut,” “so perfect and tight,” “little whore”—and you pushed back, needing him deeper and deeper.

Sukuna released a torrent of warm cum inside you, still driving his hips against you, holding you securely by the waist. The sensation sent waves of pleasure through you, and he pulled out, flipping you onto your back. He bent your knees, driving himself back inside without hesitation. How was he still so hard?

Your hands cupped his flushed, beautiful face, a lazy smile stretching across both your lips. Sukuna leaned in, kissing you deeply before trailing his lips down to your neck while his hand found its way to your breast. “I’m not on birth control anymore, you know?”

“Good.” He pulled back to meet your gaze. “And don’t even think about getting back on it.”

“But we can’t afford the risk, Suku—”

“I love you,” he said, his grip firm on your jaw. Everything inside you exploded. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much that I’ll take every fucking risk.”

You moaned softly as he came again, your trembling fingers brushing against his lips. “I love you, too.” He kissed your fingertips, a promise in every touch. “I’ll take every risk with you.”

“Fuck yeah you will.” He didn’t pull out, his eyes locked on yours. “Starting with putting a baby in you.”

You happily accepted your fate.

Sukuna pulled the trigger, shooting another police officer in the back of his head. The sound of the gunfire mixed with the blaring sirens, echoing through the flickering lights of the corridors—a devious melody composed just for him. He chuckled low, the corners of his mouth pulling up in a grin as another officer lunged out, attempting to stop him—pathetic. A single shot rang out, and the man crumpled like paper.

The path to Satoru’s office was a long one, and the bodies he left sprawled out in his wake were only a brief distraction from the task at hand. He had things to do today, after all.

Another officer stumbled into view, eyes wide, panic evident. He didn’t stand a chance. Sukuna barely glanced at him as he fired, stepping over the man as he slumped against the wall. Blood splattered his shoes, but it was hardly the worst stain on his day.

You were going to be pissed. He could practically hear the biting tone, the disappointed scowl that’d meet him the moment he finally made it to Mai’s first birthday party. Sukuna scoffed as he shot a bullet straight through a door that dared open near him, knocking down yet another obstacle.

But this was necessary. He needed to do this.

Free Toji. Kill Gojo. And then, eventually, deal with his meddling nephew. Everything would finally align, and maybe—just maybe—he could stop all this. For you. For your daughter.  

Satoru’s office was close now. He could smell the antiseptic scent of the door, the false air of authority that seemed to reek from it. He cocked his gun, steeling himself. Because when he was done here—when he’d finally finished what he’d started—he’d make it up to you.

Or so he told himself, as another officer charged and met the floor with a hole in his skull.

Sukuna didn’t bother with the doorknob. He slammed his boot into the door, sending it splintering inward with a loud crack. The office was stripped bare; Satoru’s usual pile of clutter, the irritating stench of his cologne—gone. Only the dust of where things once sat remained on the shelves and desk.

The bastard had fled.

Sukuna’s jaw clenched as he surveyed the room. Gojo knew he was coming and had bolted like a coward hours ago. He pulled his lighter from his pocket, flipping it open with a flick of his thumb, the small flame dancing aglow. Without a second thought, he stepped to the heavy, pretentious curtains Gojo insisted on, pressing the flame to the thick fabric. It caught quickly, embers licking up and curling black around the edges as the fire took hold, consuming Satoru’s last pathetic hold on this place.

He turned and walked out, ignoring the smoke that was already billowing into the hall. The prison alarm was still blaring, red lights flashing down the cold corridors as he made his way to the cells. Every so often, he’d pause, assessing the prisoner cowering behind bars. Rapists, pedophiles, molesters, abusers, killers of innocent lives—he moved on from them. But when he found those who didn’t quite repulse him, he took a single shot at their lock, releasing them in a stream of confused, wary freedom.

As he approached the far end of the corridor, a familiar sight greeted him—his old cell. And standing behind those hard, metal bars, arms crossed, a faint smirk tugging at his lips, was Toji.

“Didn’t think you’d come back to this hellhole,” Toji remarked. 

“Not for long,” Sukuna replied, levelling his gun at the lock. He fired once, the lock shattering as the cell door swung open. 

Toji stepped out of his cell, took one look around, then paused. “Hold up.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, watching as the man crouched beside a loose brick in the wall. With a wry smile, he pulled out an old, scratched-up plastic bottle with a wriggling, sickly-looking worm inside. He tapped the side of the bottle, making the creature twist and writhe. “Almost forgot my little friend here.”

Sukuna barked a short laugh. “You’re out of your damn mind.”

Alarms blared louder as they navigated the winding corridors and ran past prisoners surging toward freedom. Some guards tried to block the path, but they were quickly swept aside by Sukuna’s bullets and Toji’s fists. By the time they hit the outer gates, the entire prison was pandemonium, prisoners scattering into the open like ants from a burning nest.

Outside, a sleek, black car idled just past the gate. Uraume sat coolly behind the wheel, watching the stampede of convicts with bored detachment. As they approached, Uraume rolled down the window, glancing at them with their nose slightly crinkled.

“I could smell you two from a mile away,” they said dryly, eyes flicking to the stains of blood on their clothes. “Maybe next time, schedule a prison massacre that doesn’t fall on your daughter’s birthday?”

“Just drive,” Sukuna replied, sliding into the backseat with Toji following. Toji glanced at Uraume with a quick nod, still keeping a light hold on his bottle, the worm twisting inside.

“Welcome back to the real world, Fushiguro,” they said, starting the car as they drove off into the night.

The road stretched long and dark, winding into the depths of a thick forest. The further they drove, the thicker the trees became, their branches curving overhead to cast everything in shadows. The road narrowed into a rugged trail, overgrown and wild. Uraume navigated it deftly, until at last, the forest opened up, and they could see the soft glimmer of moonlight on the water beyond.

Perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the ocean stood their safe house—a dark brick estate against the endless stretch of water. Waves crashed against the rocks far below, the scent of salt and sea heavy in the air.

Sukuna looked at the house, then at Toji’s surprised face.

“This is where you’ve been hiding for the two years?” he asked as soon as they were out of the car. 

“Not for long if I fuck this up.” Sukuna slipped in through the garage, keeping his steps light. He had just one goal at this moment: reach the shower before you spotted the blood streaked on his clothes and the smell of gunpowder clinging to him. 

But as he shut the door, there you were, arms crossed, eyes sharp as they landed on him.

“Sukuna,” you started, an edge in your tone that he recognized all too well. “Do you have any idea what day it is? Look at you; you're a mess!” You gestured at the dark stains on his shirt and his unmistakable smirk.

Instead of trying to dodge the lecture, he listened, that faint smile tugging at his lips as he watched you, soaking in each scolding word. You were the one person who never held back with him, and it made something dangerous in him soften, something in him settle. “I know, baby,” he replied, pecking your cheek. “But I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“Barely,” you replied, sighing, though you couldn’t quite hide the relief in your voice. You glanced over his shoulder. “Toji, Uraume—it’s good to see you both.”

Uraume gave a slight bow, a wry smile still tugging at their lips, while Toji just gave you a quick nod.

You waved a hand, turning back to the kitchen. “Both of you boys—shower, now. I won’t have the two of you smelling like a prison while I’m trying to decorate my daughter’s cake. Go on!”

Toji gave Sukuna a knowing look and shrugged, as if to say, She’s right. Sukuna shot him a warning look, then followed up the stairs, chuckling under his breath as he imagined how you’d cornered him like this. 

Fifteen minutes later, he stepped out of the shower, cleaned up, feeling far lighter as he tugged on a fresh shirt and came downstairs, catching the scent of the dinner you’d prepared. 

He walked over to you, wrapping his arms around you and pressing a kiss to your temple. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that melted your anger as he pulled you close.

“Gojo got away,” he murmured. “He knew I was coming, and he ran like the coward he is. But I’ll find him. And I’ll make him pay for what he did to you. I swear it.”

You paused, looking up into his eyes, your hand settling on his cheek. “I know you will, Sukuna. But don’t miss the important things here. We’re what’s important now, not just revenge.”

The words took root in him, grounding him, but that flicker of rage still danced in his eyes. He pulled you close, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’ll never let him touch us again. I promise you that.” 

Just as you leaned in for another kiss, Sukuna heard the faint sound of your daughter stirring awake from her nap on the living room floor. Mai’s soft little whimpers broke the room’s quiet. Instinctively, he abandoned your kiss, his attention snapping to her as he practically floated over to where she was squirming in her pink dress, rubbing her tiny fists over her eyes.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured, scooping her up with all the gentleness he could muster. Her sleepy eyes blinked open, and he was rewarded with that toothy little grin she’d recently mastered, one that brought an uncharacteristic softness to his entire face. He pressed a cascade of kisses on her cheeks, nose, forehead—anywhere he could reach. “Look at you, sweetheart. All dressed up for your birthday, huh? The prettiest girl in the world.”

You laughed softly from the kitchen, watching as Sukuna held her close, stepping into an impromptu waltz around the living room, his steps surprisingly skilled. She squealed in delight, her small hands reaching up to his face as he spun her around. Even Toji, who had just come down from the shower, stopped in his tracks at the sight, a rare, amused smile tugging at his mouth.

Sukuna glanced up, catching Toji’s presence, and with a proud smirk said, “Toji, meet my daughter, Mai. She’s already got more spirit than most of the people you and I have met.”

Toji stepped forward, studying your daughter. He reached out a hand, and she looked at him with wide eyes, inspecting him with her natural, innocent curiosity. “She looks like trouble. Must take after her old man.” 

“Her mother, mostly,” Sukuna said in your direction, bouncing her lightly. “She’s going to have a whole world to handle, with us around.”

In the background, Uraume was setting the table, their usual precision in each movement. They threw Sukuna a blank look, brushing off their hands. “Now that the table’s set, if you’d all just take your seats, maybe we can have a peaceful birthday dinner without the talk of blood and violence for once.”

Sukuna chuckled, shooting them a dry look before turning back to his daughter. Holding Mai close, he took a seat at the head of the table with you beside him. He looked around, taking in the sight—the cake you’d just set down, the quiet chatter as Uraume and Toji exchanged comments, and his daughter babbling in his lap, still pawing at his face with sticky fingers.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, he felt peace. 

The “Happy Birthday” song had been sung, candles blown out, cake shared, and Toji had crashed in the guest room, completely knocked out. Uraume, too, was resting in another room, finally allowing herself a few hours of sleep.

In your bed, the soft rise and fall of your daughter’s tiny breaths filled the space between you and Sukuna. She slept peacefully between you both, tiny fingers curled into fists as she dreamed. But you and Sukuna were both wide awake, eyes locked on each other in the moonlight. His hand drifted up, fingertips brushing your cheek. 

“Do you remember my first letter?” you asked.

A smirk began at his lips. “You mean the diary entry about the cockroaches in your kitchen and how you thought seducing your landlord was a better solution than paying rent?”

You laughed, covering your mouth to keep quiet, not wanting to wake your baby. He loved that laugh—the way it sounded like music only he got to hear.

“Or how no one with one functioning eye could ever be taken seriously romantically,” he added. “Debunked, by the way.”

Your laugh softened, and you looked at him with a smile that held a thousand memories. “Do you remember the last thing I wrote?”

“The part about Satanism?”

You laughed again, the sound bubbling up and melting into the dark. And as he listened, he couldn’t help but chuckle alongside, his thumb tracing along your cheek, taking in the moment like he was trying to memorise it.

You took a breath, glancing down before meeting his eyes again. “I said I was lonely as hell, remember?” Sadness wove into your words. “And . . . I was. Back then, I thought no one could ever really understand me. Until you did.”

Sukuna shook his head. “You were never meant to be alone, baby,” he murmured. “Not then, not ever. Not while I’m here.”

You swallowed, heart catching as you looked at the life you’d built, the fragile happiness that now lay nestled between you both. “I’m just . . . scared sometimes,” you admitted. “I’m scared of losing this. Of losing you. I don’t know if I could protect what we have.”

“We’ll protect it together,” Sukuna affirmed. “Nothing will take this from us. Not while I’m still breathing.” He leaned forward, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was deep, reassuring, exactly like the one he’d give you when you’d sealed your vows. When he pulled back, you met his eyes, a soft smile tugging at your mouth. 

“I love you, Sukuna,” you whispered, fingers brushing his sharp jaw. “Genuinely, your wife.”

He took them and gave a kiss to the tips. “And I love you most, baby. Genuinely, your husband.” 

Moments later, your eyes drifted shut, your breathing evening out as you finally slipped into sleep. But Sukuna stayed awake, his gaze never leaving you, or your daughter. 

This was the family he’d fought and bled for, the life he’d killed to create. And yet, an unsettling undercurrent of unfinished business tugged at his nerves. But tonight, he forced it away, just for a while. 

For now, there was no room for anything but the second chance he’d been given.

Genuinely, by you.

[wonderjanga]

Accessories

The twins couldn’t believe it. They had gotten news that after nearly five years their father‘s body, or rather it was left it, had been somehow pulled from the tomb. So, Billy and Mary were allowed to collect some of the things from the body.

Billy and Mary: *walking over to the collection site*

Coworker 1: “The Batson twins?”

Billy and Mary: *pause and look over to Coworker 1*

Coworker 1: “My god you two are all grown up.”

Mary: “Do we know you…?” *shares a look with Billy*

Coworker 1: “Ah you were probably too young to remember. I was a work friend of your father’s. I met you both when you were babies.”

Coworker 2: *walks over* “So did I!”

Billy: “Oh cool…” *sounds awkward and shares another look with Mary*

Billy and Mary didn’t know that all the people there were either friends of C.C. or Marilyn. They didn’t know that this entire thing was basically turned into a sort of funeral, seeing as none of their friends got to go to C.C.’s. The people were nice though. Most had flocked to them, telling the twins stories about their father and mother which everyone was honestly grateful for. It made the entire thing hurt less for them.

Coworker 2: “But anyways, are you two here to collect the stuff from the body?”

Billy: “Yeah.” *nods head*

Coworker 1: “Well, it’s just over there.” *points in a direction*

Mary and Billy: “Thank you.” *in unison*

Coworker 1: “No problem.”

Coworker 1 & 2: *watch the twins go*

Coworker 2: “Those poor kids.”

After this, neither of the twins could bring themselves to go out in their Marvel forms for about a week. A direct result of their grieving was that everyone was concerned about where the two superheroes had gone. For the Fawcitizens, they were worried sick about their lovable heroes. For the JL, one of the sunniest person they know, and one their heaviest hitters just up and disappeared and isn’t answering his comm. For the YJ, one of their kindest and lovable members poofed and was gone. For magic users, their Champion just vanished. And for the Marvels’ villains, they were confused because the imbeciles they fight nearly every week didn’t seem like the type of people to just abandon their post. Safe to say, it threw a lot of people off.

Meanwhile, Billy and Mary are looking at the things C.C. had with him during his last moments. The man only had his wedding ring and a pair of now broken glasses. The backpack he had been spotted with before going into the tomb was nowhere to be found. So, now with these two items were in the twins’ possession, they decided to do something with them. Billy put the string on some yarn he got from an old lady a couple doors down, and as for the glasses, he and Mary pooled as much money as they could to get the frame fixed, thankfully getting a discount because the glasses fixer had a soft spot for kids. They didn’t care for the lenses because they remember their mother saying something about how C.C.’s vision was absolutely terrible. Billy now lets the ring hang around his neck from the yarn and Mary wears the glasses on her head since they’re too big for her face.

Unfortunately for them, they couldn’t grieve forever. Black Adam showed up in Fawcett and literally demanded they come out of hiding. So they did, or at least Billy did. He let Mary stay home.

Black Adam: “There you are.”

Marvel: *waves to Adam* “Heeeey… Sorry I’ve been gone for a bit. I’ve been busy.”

They fought like usual, and everything was going normal until…

Marvel: *punches Adam in the face*

Black Adam: *skids back and his hand went to his face*

Marvel: *confused because he’s seen him shrug of worse*

Black Adam: *moves and there’s a nice ring mark on his face*

Marvel: *jaw slightly drops and looks to the hand he punched him with*

Yup, for some reason, the ring translated to his Marvel form. (The Gods were feeling like causing drama) He honestly felt so bad for Adam because the mark looks like it’s going to welt. They wrapped up the fight soon after that. The fight was caught on the news and everyone was happy Cap was back, although they were still concerned as to why Mary hadn’t appeared. They were hoping she’d come back too.

Eventually though, someone pointed out the wedding ring. That was how everyone collectively came to the conclusion that Marvel had been gone because he was getting married. Everyone was then collectively distraught. Like the JL are upset because Marvel didn’t invite them, let alone mention it. The YJ are upset because Mary didn’t tell them she was leaving. They also would’ve liked to be invited too. As for the simps and or stans? All screaming, crying, and throwing up.

After fighting Black Adam, the twins decided to get back into heroics. When Mary transforms now, she gets to wear her father’s glasses. (Her Gods just wanted her to look more like a cutie patootie) Everyone was eating up the new look. The two decided to clear the air with their friends too.

At the Watchtower…

Marvel: *sitting at a meeting table being bombarded*

Flash: “Dude I invited you to my wedding! Is the sentiment not the same??” *sounds completely betrayed*

Marvel: *confused* “Wha-”

Supes: “I invited you to mine too!”

Billy ended up having to make a flimsy excuse that no one believed. As for Mary…

M’gann: “Mary? You went to a wedding? Why didn’t you tell us??”

Mary: “What do you mean? Marvel and I just went on a little adventure that got out of hand.” *all calm and stuff*

Kid Flash: “What about the ring?”

Mary: “What ring- Oooh the ring. Marvel just wanted to accessorize. Trust.”

Also, as for how C.C.’s body hadn’t just been dust? Here are a couple solutions you can choose from: This AU isn’t a time bubble AU, or this AU is a time bubble AU but since the tomb held Black Adam, it’s remaining magical properties slowed down the decomposition rate of C.C.’s body, or the wizard did something and that slowed the decomposition rate, or something else, which I would LOVE to hear yall’s ideas.

[writing-fanics]

don’t mess with the devil ii

Part I final

Chapter ii: Home is with you

[warning: mentions of sex]

Lucifer Morningstar x human!Reader

Y/n

Y/n?

Sweetie?

The smell of chemicals wafted through your nose, and the occasional beeps that sounded like a heartbeat monitor? You groaned, and your vision still blurry. “L-Lu?..” Your voice hoarse, but the voice didn’t respond.

“It’s me mom.” The voice said, causing you to sit up quickly in response. “Whoa, slow down.” Your mother, said placing a hand on your back. “I-I’m back..” You whispered, and your mother looked at you worriedly. She gently rubbed your hand, “Yes you’re. Thank Heavens.” She said, planting a kiss on the side of your head.

You sat there and said nothing, staring blankly at the blanket. Processing everything, you were no longer in Hell. No longer with Lucifer. You were back home on Earth with your mother. Like you always wanted right? Then why did you feel so cold? So empty?

You felt as if a piece of you was missing. Like you were missing your other half. Your Lucifer. You missed his warmth, his smile, and his goofy personality at times. He always found a way to make you smile whenever you were feeling down, and you would return that sentiment.

You didn’t tell him you loved him yet, he’s told you. But he respected that you might not be ready to saw it yet. He understood completely, once you explained it to him. Having told him about your bad relationships in the past. Now, that all seemed to end right now. You were never going to see him again.

“Y/n, oh sweetie you look pale.” Your mother said, snapping you out of your thoughts. As she placed her hand on your forehead. “I’ll be right back.” She said, and you assumed she left to get the doctor. You frowned, as you laid back down in the hospital bed. The hospital gown fabric scratchy, and the sound of the heart monitor made you sick.

You laid on your side, back towards the door. Your stomach grumbled, but you didn’t feel like eating anything. Laying in the single bed made you, the king sized bed you shared with the king of hell.

The satin sheets and the comfortable bed. Mainly you missed, laying in bed with him cuddling or just laying there to relax. Or of course doing the ol devils tango. You missed the smell of the caramel apple candle that filled the bedroom. The smell of freshly baked apple by on Saturday mornings.

Tears trickled down your cheeks, as you hid your head into your pillow. As much as you were happy to be back home, seeing your mom again. Somehow, what was once home no longer felt like it.

You opened your closed hand to reveal, a golden ring with wing like textures engraved into it. Tears welled up in your eyes, as you were filled with so much regret.

“I should’ve told him..” you sniffled, as you closed your hand again. Hiding your face into your pillow once again. “How much I love him.” You whimpered, as you sobbed.

back in hell

Weeks later

Lucifer sighed, as he leaned forward onto his desk. His eyes wandered towards the framed picture on his desk, of you and him at Lu Lu World. “This is way better than Disney!” He remembered you said, after which you showed him pictures. He knew of another park called ‘Hellsney’.

You had faded away from his hands, and a part of him knew you were going back to the living world. He felt it when part of his magic he shared with you, returned to him. He didn’t even get to say goodbye, tell you how much he loved you before you faded away in his arms.

At least, he knew you were much sadder up there than here. He couldn’t bear the site of your beaten and battered body. Adam was lucky that Charlie was there to keep him, from killing him.

Lucifer stared down at Adam, as he held Charlie in his arms. His voice distorted and demonic. “You come at me my daughter and my partner!” said Lucifer, as his daughter stepped down onto the ground.

He lunged towards Adam, and stood over him. Eyes red glowing filled with rage, “Don’t forget your in my house now bitch!” He laughed, demonically as he threw punch after punch. With the intent to kill. You don’t mess with the devil or his family.

He’s going to miss that smile of yours, that infectious laughter. Your voice, and your delicious cooking that rivaled his. He never thought he’d find love again after, Lilith left. Yet, here you come in six years later. A human no doubt ending up in hell so suddenly, and he fell in love with you.

Now, you left too. Not by choice but you were gone as well. He was still recovering from Lilith leaving him while the two of you, were still in a relationship. You told him that you understood, being together for as long as they did you understood.

You being there with him helped seemed to heal that wound. Then fixing his relationship with his daughter helped too. But now that wound in his heart, seemed to open back up. Hells, he loved you god so fucking much. You were special there was something about you, maybe the two of you were soulmates.

A silly thing to think but it could be possible?

He reached towards the photo, and stared at it longingly. You had a goofy smile on your face.

He remembered that day, after that photo was taken. A hellbird flew down, and stole his caramel apple. You gave yours to him, and the two of you shared it.

God he was going to miss you..

“Come on.” A distorted voice said, he turned around in his chair. “Who’s there?!” He called out, but saw nothing. Was it all in his head. He could’ve sworn that voice sounded familiar.

“Lu!” A voice called out, a faint yellow glow as if a portal trying to manifest itself appeared behind him. He didn’t notice a hand reaching out to touch him, through the tiny hole.

He thought it must’ve been that Alastor, pulling some sick twisted prank on him. But he could’ve sworn, he felt a little bit of his magic leave him.. That could only mean..

Taglist: @96jnie

[nathaslosthershit]

Media Interrogation [Part 2] (LN4)

(Read part 1 here!)

Summary: He had prayed the media would leave his newfound ‘friend’ out of their questions, only focusing on the race. But Lando Norris would soon see he wasn't so lucky.  A/N: I don't know how Twitch works so excuse the poorly explained streaming things.

A little less than two weeks after Lando had met his new neighbor, they had spent any time they could together, and any time they couldn’t they were texting and calling. It was exciting, they weren’t dating per se, still trying to get to know each other before they jumped into anything, but this newfound friendship had been great for both of them. Slowly, Lando had been introducing her to some of his friends, and with all the new faces, she didn’t feel half as lonely as she used to. 

It was wonderful.

He had warned her about the stream, leaving the details of him turning bright red, giggling, and Max admitting that Lando had called her his “cute neighbor” out. But, of course, after she spent far to long going through the #landonorris tag on various social media sites, she had found a clip of the interaction. Seeing how giddy he was about it, even after meeting her for only a minute, made her giddy as well, happy to know that it seems her feelings weren’t one sided.

He had invited her to the race, being as it was at Silverstone, but the thought of going there and meeting new people and being seen by the media so soon after her and Lando just met made her nervous, so she politely declined. 

Although he was a bit upset, he understood her reasoning. 

Before the race, Lando was with Oscar giving various interviews, with mostly race related questions. ‘How was the car feeling?’, ‘you think you guys can give Max a run for his money this weekend?’, etc. It was easy and he wasn’t worried about intrusive questions.

Until they opened it up to the fans.

When they said they’d take fan questions, Lando began to sweat. Beside him, Oscar let out a laugh, knowing what the first question was bound to be.

“Lando, it seems you made friends with you “cute neighbor” while streaming, have you guys talked more?” one of the fans asked.

Shit.

He probably should have warned her this would happen but, maybe it was wishful thinking, he hadn’t expected to be asked about it. And maybe his cute neighbor wasn’t even watching. 

“Uhhh” he said as he let out an awkward laugh, “Yeah, we have talked a bit more. The cookies were really good so I’ve been trying to get the recipe.” Lies, he hadn’t asked for the recipe, he just wanted her to make the cookies for him again.

“Is she your girlfriend?” Another fan yelled out.

There was a beat of silence from Lando, causing fans to laugh at his awkwardness around the situation. Oscar, now feeling bad for his teammate, jumped in.

“He shared some of the cookies with me too. He wasn’t kidding when he said they were really good. Might have to ask her to make me a batch.” Oscar jokes. 

Seeing as he wasn’t going to answer the girlfriend question, which wasn’t even a proper question as the fan just yelled it out instead of waiting to be picked, the interviewer moved on. 

He really hoped she wasn’t watching this.

She was totally watching this and enjoying every second.

It felt nice to see Lando blushing so profusely at the mention of her, which made her feel better for also blushing profusely when he talked about her.

Since she saw the stream, she had noticed he definitely had a bit of a crush on her, but she didn’t know how deep it went. If it was a tiny crush that was bound to fade as they became closer, or if this closeness was going to lead to an even bigger crush. Only a few weeks into their friendship though, and she had already fallen fast and hard.

She couldn’t do anything. She'd never do anything, even though she so badly wanted to. All her new friends were Lando’s, if he wasn’t as serious as she hoped about his feelings, it would crush her. She wouldn’t be able to stay friends with him and in turn would lose all the new friends she had made. 

So she vowed to not make the first move.

Eventually, three months had gone by and the pair only became more inseparable. Instead of planning mini vacations and trips between races, Lando always tried to get home so he could see his favorite neighbor, who he now knew he had massive feelings for.

She had started work and it was going great! Her worries about being alone if she lost Lando went away as she made more non-Norris-acquired friends. 

The two had also graduated to an even deeper level of intimacy. They weren’t sleeping together, or straight up kissing. But holding hands, cuddling, kisses on the cheek or forehead, were all normal for the pair. Sure it seemed so childish to dance around their feelings at their grown age but it's all they could do for now.

Baking had become a new hobby as well. Before moving, she couldn’t really say she was much of a baker, only doing it when it came to birthdays or bake sales. But with Lando becoming increasingly more obsessed with her cookies, she had started to branch out with other flavors, even throwing in muffins or a pie. 

She had just finished a new recipe her mom sent her, which were divine, when she knocked on Lando’s door, flashbacks to the first time they met those few months ago going through her head.

Lando, also like those few months ago, had been streaming when he got a knock on his door. Smiling to himself as he already knew who it would be, which the fans most certainly caught, he quickly excused himself to go open it. When he saw her there, he immediately pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve missed you.” He mumbled into her neck.

“You saw me yesterday.” She laughed, happy to know he missed her as much as she did him.

“Can’t blame me for wanting to see my favorite girl all the time.” He replied.

“Favorite girl, huh? It's an honor. I don’t know what I did to deserve such a title.” She teased.

“Your cookies, of course!” He said as he pulled back, when she shot him a look, he continued, “and your wonderful personality, and how great of company you are.”

“That's more like it. Speaking of, I tried a new recipe and, not to toot my own horn, these are the best yet.” She said as she grabbed the container of cookies from her bag.

“Yes! Thank goodness I was beginning to experience withdrawal. I am streaming right now, they are always asking about you since the- anyway, could I do a taste test? You can join me, I think the chat would love it. I would love it. But you don’t have to if-” He began to ramble, clearly feeling awkward at almost admitting just how much she is brought up on his streams.

“No, that sounds great! I definitely join.” She immediately regretted the words the moment they left her mouth but the look on Lando’s face stopped her from taking it back. He has lit up in a way she hadn’t seen and all she wanted to do was forever make him light up that way.

He quickly pulled her to his streaming room, giving her a quick kiss on the cheek before pulling her onto the screen. “I’ve returned with cookies, oh and of course a special guest. Guys, please don’t be weird. Be normal or I'll end the stream.” He joked, but also prayed that his fans would for once listen and try not to embarrass him for their own entertainment. He knew they wouldn’t listen though.

Immediately after saying that, someone donated and got their message read out loud,

‘Are you the cute girl that gave him cookies?’

“Uh I don’t know. That depends. How many cute girls give you cookies, Lan?” She teased.

“Oh hundreds, I am constantly drowning in sweet baked goods. My trainer hates me now.” He teased back.

“Then I guess I should take these back, don’t want to make your trainer even more mad.”

“Over my dead body. Seriously, you’d have to pry these out of my cold dead hands. Anyway, this is a taste test of a new recipe, as was explained to me ‘it's the best yet’. You guys can’t eat them obviously so I’ll try to be descriptive.” 

After one bite, Lando started moaning in a way that was uncomfortable for everyone except him. Her face had never felt hotter at the sounds he was making and she was far too scared to check to see if her face was as red as it felt.

Do you hear him make those noises a lot?

“Alright! I told you if you guys made it weird I’d end it, so you lost your privileges. Goodbye everyone, think about what you did.” Lando was kidding, his fans knew it, but it was a pretty crazy question to ask. Not that the chat cared.

“Wow, I wasn’t expecting all that.” She said once he turned off the stream.

“I know, I’m sorry they get like that.” He replied, feeling bad that he hadn’t explained well enough what she should expect. 

“No, I thought they would be worse to be honest, I meant the moans you were making from my cookies.” “Oh come on they weren’t that crazy, and the cookie was amazing, I had to.”

“Lando, those noises were nothing short of erotic, I was worried how far you were going to go if you had another bite.” She teased.

They both laughed and after a few seconds, a beat of silence fell over them. As they looked into each other’s eyes, the energy in the room shifted. Finally, Lando spoke up.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked.

“Please,” She replied.

Explosions, fireworks, sparks, whatever you want to call it, they felt it. It was so cheesy but it was so electric, they couldn’t help but feel like they did in the movies.

After a much needed breather, before going in for more, Lando asked, “Let me take you out, properly, please? Like an actual date.”

“Only if it's not a seafood place, I’m allergic to fish.” 

“Good God, I’m gonna fall in love with you.”

[caxde]

bright eyes | eddie munson x reader

summary Eddie runs into his ex while he's out in a date with you and his little girl, and you try to deal with his unresolved feelings (5.3k)

warnings fem!reader, girl!dad Eddie!!!!, fluff, mutual pining, yearning etc, slowburn strangers to lovers, idiots in love!!!, first ily, english is not my first language so I apologise if there’s some mistakes, not proof read! 

a/n: thank you guys for the support, this was based on a request by @althea-tavalas and @callsignraver thank you both, and sorry it took a while! part1 part2 part 3 part 4 (they can be read seperatly)

“They’re pink!” Lua screamed as she saw the flamingos, standing still on their delicate legs. 

“Yes, they are!” You added with glee, matching her energy as she found her way near the enclosure. You crouched beside her, holding her carefully by her waist, just in case she felt like running again. 

“I thought they were yellow…” Eddie said as she crouched behind you, teasing his little girl with his colour confusion. 

“That’s pink” She mumbled as her finger pointed to the animals, her head looking back at him, a shy smile on her lips. 

“No, this is pink” He continued as he grabbed his shirt, a faded ochre tinted the fabric, and you heard Lua giggle as she shook her head no. 

“Yellow?” She asked, looking at you while she grabbed her dad’s shirt. You nodded as you smiled, finding the whole scene overwhelmingly pure. 

She whined as she rolled her eyes, you stiffed a laugh. She was copying Eddie to perfection, you had seen that same eyeroll a few moments ago when you told him you had to go to the merry go round before you leave, even if the sun was going to set soon. 

He caught you doing so, and gave you a smirk, a look of recognition you both shared. 

You stayed at her level, both of you pointing out what else she could see, while Eddie slowly stood up, his eyes not leaving the both of you as giggling escaped both of your lips. 

“Bug, can you stay with princess for a second?” He asked with a soft touch on her shoulder. She nodded enthusiastically, her hand holding yours, just like he taught her to do so when he leaves her with you. 

“Where’re you going?” He smiled as soon as he saw how your head tilted to the left, Lua was picking on that too. He gave you a quick look, the same smirk as you realised what he meant invaded your face. 

“You’re going to need tickets…” He responded, not loud enough so the surprise could still work whilst he nodded to the carousel. 

You smiled up at him and he took that as you giving him the all clear, distracting Lua with more questions, guiding her to the opposite site of where he was going.

He was a bit busy, thinking about you and how thoughtful it was, you buying the tickets for the zoo. It’s summer solstice! you had cheered as you tried to make it seem like it wasn’t too much, that you were excited to go and that you needed to celebrate. He had only agreed to do so, if he drove the three of you to Indianapolis, and he could take you out to dinner later that week. He had called it a real date, the promise of such made you blush. 

Eddie was deep in his thoughts, he knew he couldn’t really afford Enzo’s -it was too fancy anyway- so he was trying to decide if the dinner was a better idea than a picnic by the lake. He was too focused, he bought two tickets instead of three. 

But as soon as he saw the strawberry blonde hair his stomach dropped, closed and turned around all of a sudden. He hadn’t seen her since she called saying she couldn’t do it, that he had to do it alone, that she was leaving. 

Now Paige's hand was wrapped around another boy he didn’t know the name of. 

Her eyes widened as soon as she made eye contact with him, a shy smile appeared on her face as she waved at him, slowly raising her hand. He returned the gesture, not sure what to do, or why his feet felt so heavy. 

He stood in place, looking back at where you were, scratching the back of his head in a nervous manner, he relaxed his breathing as soon as he saw you picking Lua up, walking a bit closer to the flamingos so she could see them better. 

He started worrying right away though, he hadn’t told Lua anything about her mother, and she was right there. 

What would he say? He figured he had more time, that he would be able to tell her about her once she’s grown up and asks for her. Hell, she doesn’t even know the meaning of the word mom, she had never heard of it. And even if she did, Eddie knew you had been acting like one ever since you met, he hadn’t even told you anything about it, because you hadn’t asked out of respect. The only thing he did tell you was that you could ask about it, and the only thing you said back was just how much you care about Lua, and how you’d never wanna make things awkward by asking too much. He had kissed you after that, and he could feel the sensation on his lips now, even when panic was invading his body, the thought of you seemed to relax him enough. 

“Eddie?” Paige’s voice snapped him back with a painful stab at the memory, one where it didn’t hurt hearing her say his name. 

“Hi.” He didn’t expect his own voice to sound that cold, but he didn’t care if it did if he was honest with himself. 

“How are you? It’s been a while.” She tried to keep the conversation friendly, but Eddie pursed his lips, and she remembered enough to know that he did that when he was uncomfortable. 

“Yeah, two years and five months.” He spitted out, reminding her how old her daughter was. 

“Is she here?” She asked back, her eyebrows slightly raising as she looked for her near Eddie. 

“Yeah. She’s with my partner, they wanted Lua to come.” He wouldn’t admit it, but seeing her lip quiver as he said those words made him smile internally, knowing that it was a small victory. 

“Could I see her?” She tried again, Eddie noted the regret in her eyes. He also saw just how much they looked like Lua’s. 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He barked back, slowly and calmly. “You made it very clear that you didn’t want to be involved.” 

“She’s still my daughter.” Paige added with shame in her words, Eddie felt bad once he saw her eyes crystalize.

“I think I remember you saying a very different thing.” He was going in for the kill, he could taste the anger dripping out of every word, though it was anger but protection. 

“That…” She tried to gather herself. “I know you’re pissed off but I… C’mon Eddie, I was a child!” 

“I was one too!” He finally snapped back, raising his voice to match hers, he saw heads turning, but he didn’t mind, he never had. “And I stayed. You left.” 

“I just… I wanna see how she’s doing, I thought about calling you but I didn’t know… I don’t know where you are, now that I know you live in the city I could-'' Eddie had to cut her off, he thought maybe someday he would want her back -for Lua’s sake- but this proved, he just couldn’t stand her and her selfishness. 

“We don’t live here, and if she decides she wants to meet her, i’ll let her. Nothing else matters to me but her.” Eddie admitted, he could feel the vein on his neck growing larger as he became more agitated. 

He looked back for a second, rubbing his chin. A moment of silence that he used to check on both of you, and he was glad he did once he saw you walking with Lua in your arms, as she cheered seeing the merry go round light up. He smiled for a second, it wasn’t a full one, but a half upside down smile, his lips still slightly pressed. 

“I know I didn’t… I am sorry Edds.” She tried to apologise, rubbing her hands together in an anxious manner he knew too well. 

“Eddie.” He corrected her. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do this right now, sorry.” He ended up apologising, excusing himself, needing a way out once he heard the particular chuckle of his little one. 

He desperately needed to hold her. 

You noticed something was wrong as soon as you saw him stomping his way back to you. 

You noticed the way his breathing was troubled, going up and down faster than needed. 

You noticed the way his lips were pressed against each other, and the way his hands shake. 

Before you were able to ask anything, you looked back at where he was coming from, it wasn’t that hard to understand. She really did have Lua’s bright eyes. 

The scrunch in between his brows asked for permission to hold her, and you let your head hang on the left as you nodded slowly, leaving a kiss on his cheek as he bent down to grab her, holding her tightly. 

“Do you need to talk about it? Later?” He didn’t say anything, he just gave you a kiss back, right where your hairline started. You knew it was a yes. 

“Should we go, bug?” He asked Lua, pointing at the fast yellow lights turning, a soft melody emerging from it as it turned. 

“Can we?” 

“Anything you want” He promised, as he held her tightly, hugging her as he walked over, leaving you behind as you watched both of them.

You saw that girl, walking by you, with a strange mix of melancholy, nostalgia and jealousy in her eyes. You could swear she stopped as she passed you by, looking at you in an analytic manner. Even if her eyes were lost deep into her own thoughts, you could feel the way she judged you, and how her fingers twitched for a moment, wishing she got to hold her as closer as you did, even if she said she couldn’t all those years ago. 

You decided to just avoid her sight, enjoying the way Lua was smiling, being held by her dad, who was enjoying more than ever having her that near. 

-

“Is she asleep?” Eddie asked, his eyes not leaving the empty road. 

“Yeah” You answered with a quick glance backwards. You noticed the way her eyes were shut highly, her long lashes and a bit of drool falling from her parted lips. “Her neck will hurt” You noted, Eddie kept his lips pressed, nodding slowly. “Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“Maybe”

“Moon?” You pleaded, your hand reaching for his, holding the pedal shift softly as his fingers melted to your touch. 

“Are you sure she’s asleep?” His voice was trembling now, impotence clear in his tone. “She’s more clever than you think” He added as he grinned to himself. 

“Edds she’s drooling, I’m quite sure.” Your thumb petted the back of his hand, he smiled at the gesture. 

“I do want to talk about it… I just… I think… you might know?” He tried to make you say it, as if admitting it outloud was just as painful as having lived it. 

“I think I do.” He just nodded, his lower lip quivered in anticipation to hear you say it, he needed to be you to break the ice, he needed you to be the one to ask it. You knew he would never impose such a hard topic onto you, just as well as you knew he needed to talk about it. “So… That’s her mother?” 

“Mmmh” He answered, his head nodding as he tried hard to contain his disdain for her. “Paige.” 

“How long have- When was the last time you-” You didn’t finish asking yet he was already answering. 

“Since she decided to leave Lua with me. Right after having her.” You could feel how hurt he had been in the past, and just how seeing her for such a short moment had reopened the wound. “You know she decided she didn’t even want to hold her? She never gave a fuck about her now she wants to see her? Why!? Because you ran into us and thought you had to ask? Why!? It makes no sense at all. She hasn’t asked in two years and five months she can wait until bug asks it herself.” Eddie’s eyes narrowed, as he tightened his fingers around the wheel, his jaw clenched. Poison dripping out of his lips. You let him breathe, your hand now on the back of his neck, caressing him softly. 

“Better?” You asked, a shy smile found its way on your tone. You saw a chuckle escaping him. 

“Kinnda.” 

“How did you meet her?” You were genuinely curious, and he could tell with just a glance at you. Your eyes shined up to him, while your free hand played absentmindedly with the hem of your dress. 

“I uh… Old customer” He winked at you, hoping you would understand. 

You confirmed it with a short chuckle. 

“Soft stuff?” 

“The softest.” 

“And how did… that happen?” You added with a nod at Lua’s direction. He laughed at the question, his eyebrows raising.

“I think you know how that happens” He answered with a grin on his lips, teasing you a bit, his shoulders more relaxed now. 

“Eddie…” You flickered his ear in a playful manner. 

“We were bored. Honestly. Maybe a bit high.” His confession started as he slowed the car, pulling into Hawkins now. “She came over for some uh… stuff. I fancied some so we smoked in my room, one thing led to another and… A couple of months later she came back, scared to hell. She said she didn’t know what to do. I held her, I told her we could figure it out. She said she didn’t love me, I said I knew. I didn't love her either for the record, not that it really matters but uh… We told Wayne. He was pissed but didn’t show it to her. He said I had to step up, and I did.” He gave a quick glance to the sleeping girl on the backseat through the rearview mirror. His eyes softened as soon as he saw her dreaming. “As soon as I held her I… I knew'' He took a deep breath in, bracing for what he wanted you to hear. You continued the soft caresses into his skin that he was so thankful for. “Nothing would hurt her, and if that meant I had to get my shit together… I did. I graduated, I got a job… a legal one.” You chuckled at that at the same time as he did. “I vowed to take care of her, and to do that I had to take care of myself, so I did.” His hand finally reached for your thigh, reciprocating the caring touch you had been giving him. “I also vowed to not fall for anyone again, not until I was sure anyway. It was all going well… Until I met you I thought I could keep that promise but I… I’m kinnda glad you proved me wrong though.`` 

The car stopped, and suddenly the silence grew louder. His words resonated stronger. And your smile grew wider. 

“I should put her down. Thank you for listening.” He concluded, giving your wrist a slow kiss, his lips sent goosebumps through your skin. 

“Moon…” You got his attention, not too sure what to say next. “I… I um… Do you wanna come?” 

“I’m tired.” He admitted, hoping you wouldn’t get offended by his answer. 

“I know, me too I just… I think you could use the company. Nothing has to happen just, I’m here if you want to, you know that. Right?” He tilted his head, his lips curving in the usual smirk he gave you. You swear you could draw it if you had to by now, it was a magical feeling. 

“I don’t- I can’t leave her alone, not today.” The sincerity in his voice grew bigger as his eyes flicked to her little one, sleeping soundly on the back of the car, unaware of everything that had happened. 

“Yeah I know I just… You deserve someone to take care of you too.” 

Something inside Eddie clicked.

Maybe it was the way your voice had sounded, soft and full of care and meaning behind every word you enunciated. Maybe it was the way your eyes looked up at him, as if he was a bright night sky, filled with stars and no clouds. Or, perhaps, it had been the way he noted how you had chosen the words so meticulously, your fingers going over the same spot on the end of your dress, as your lip quivered before finally deciding what to tell him. 

It didn’t matter, not to him anyway, what the cause had been, but he was sure now that he was ready to let himself fall hard for you. 

Deeply, madly and truly. 

But then again, maybe he already was and was just now realising.

But from your point of view, you just saw a lovesick smile with puppy dog eyes looking down at you. Half closed lids hiding his sight as his head tilted slightly, a soft rush of blood invading his cheeks. You nodded slowly, closing the distance between the both of you just so you could leave a short kiss on his cheek, the warmth of it clashing with the coldness of your unkissed lips. You opened the door on your side, mouthing a short and wordless ‘bye’ as you left. He was left looking at you, his smile turning into a big grin as he looked deeper into you. 

-

Wayne waited for Eddie to put Lua down, before he asked him what's wrong. 

He could tell something had happened by the way his nephew took off his shoes. He didn’t take them with the top of his heel and left them there for him to put away. He took them with his heel and left them out of the doorway neatly with the exterior of his foot. And Eddie only did that when he was overthinking something

So Wayne waited, a cigarette burning in between his fingers, an unburned one waiting for his boy layed next to him. He raised his brows at him as soon as Eddie closed the door pointing at it with his head, Eddie’s face relaxed in a soft thank you way Wayne knew way too well. 

He waited a bit more. For Eddie to open the window so the smoke would clear out and for him to light his cigarette. 

He gave him a hard long look and Eddie folded immediately, with a short chuckle precinidng his words, a way of telling him to fuck off for knowing him too well. 

“Long day, Wayne.” His eyes were lost into the horizon, looking at the dull wall in front of him. 

“I gathered.” He spoke nonchalantly as smoke escaped his lips. 

A short beat of silence occurred as Eddie thought about how to tell him what had happened, in the end, it was best to just say it. 

“We ran into Paige.” Eddie finally said, over enunciating every vowel, with a hint of irony masked as rudeness.   

“Shit.” Wayne’s surprised tone was genuine, just as much as his head whipping around to meet his eyes. Eddie just nodded slowly, taking a drag out of his fag, enjoying the numbing feeling the smoke left in his tongue, as if would make it easier to speak. “How did that shitshow go?”

“Horrible.” 

“Did you overreact?” Wayne raised his brow at the question, as his eyes finally met Eddie’s. 

“I don’t overreact!” He opened his eyes even more at the squeak in his voice, he waited to speak after he let out the smoke. “Maybe I do.” He admitted. 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“I said maybe.” 

“What did you tell her?” 

“Nothing!” Eddie was getting flustered with the quickness in which his uncle caught up to his bullshit. Wayne had only let his arm rest on his thigh, resting his head on the palm of his hand, looking deeply into him. “I just… She wanted to see Lua, and she made it very clear how much she didn’t want anything to do with her, so I told her no.” Wayne scoffed, dropping the accumulated ash off. “What?” 

“Even if she’s a shit person, she’s still the kid’s mother.” Eddie couldn’t quite believe his words. “She’s got a right to meet her.” 

“When Lua asks about her, I’ll tell her. Not now.” He pleaded, his eyes crystalizing at the idea of Wayne not having his back for the first time in his life. 

“Okay kiddo, but you’ll have to tell her” Wayne pointed out, moving his hands as he spoke, smoke trailing after them. 

“I know. I had to tell princess too.” Wayne’s eyes widened at the information as Eddie just nodded in confirmation, taking one more drag, seeing the smoke travelling off the window, finding its way to you. 

“You did?” 

“Yeah” 

“How did she take it?” Wayne feared the answer. It being a negative one and therefore it being the answer as to why Eddie had a gloom over him. 

“She told me if I needed company? And that I deserve to be taken care of too…” He trailed off, the soft look on your face coming back into his mind. 

“She’s a good girl…” 

“I know” 

“And she knows you better than you do.” Wayne added, patting his thigh as he stomped the cigarette out on the ashfilled plate. 

“What do you mean?” 

“You do need company.” Wayne told him, standing up as he whipped his hands on his jeans. He clocked Eddie’s quick glance to the closed door, and shook his head. “I’m here, nothing will happen. And you deserve to be with someone that cares.” It sounded as if Wayne was scolding him off, as if he was telling him how big of a douche he was by not allowing himself to be vulnerable for once. “Go!” He added, opening the door for him. 

“She wakes up in a big mood when I’m not here…” He tried to fend off for himself, some sort of excuse that would justify him. 

“And I know you enough.” He pointed out, nodding to your trailer. “You’ll be here for breakfast.”

“Dick” He joked, giving him the winning point of the argument. 

- 

Unaware of it all, you stood on your toilet floor, washing your face whilst the kettle whistled on the stove. 

The same oversized shirt you always used, the fabric had become soft and with the same wrinkles falling perfectly in the same spot after so many years. You didn’t mind it, you just shushed the whistling, as if it could actually hear you whilst you mouthed along a jingle that came out of the telly, the ad brake had given you the excuse to actually stand up the couch and snapped you out of feeling sorry for yourself. 

You had been brave, he hadn’t. And that wasn’t your fault. 

Maybe he had been a little brave, you now thought, after all, he did answer everything you had asked him, even if he seemed rather anxious about it. And that was him being brave. 

You shook your head, as you saw yourself spiraling again. You splashed water in your face, trying not to go down the same overthinking abyss you seemed to frequent. So maybe it was the water that made you not hear the soft knocks on your door, and that prompted a somehow worried Eddie to let himself in, looking around with curious eyes unable to find you anywhere, spotting the noisy kettle on the stove that was now burning the lower end of it, he walked over the kitchen, turning it of in a quick movement. 

Before he even realised it, he was already preparing your tea the way he knew you liked. 

When you emerged out, you left your body rest on the wall, arms crossed over your chest as you just looked at him. 

You liked looking at him when he was unaware of it. He was beautiful, and you did tell him so constantly and he’d play it off with a funny face that made you chuckle, yet it was true. 

His eyes softened when he was busy doing something, yet his sight seemed to harden as concentration invaded his body. You started to notice these little details long ago, now they were your favourite things about him. If you had to, you could list them all, if only the world had enough paper, you thought. 

“I can brew my own cup, y’know?” You broke off his concentration and dedication with a soft chuckle, he turned around with a pinkish hue already invading his cheeks. 

“I know, yet you always seem to prefer the ones I make for you” He tried to force his lips not to curve upwards, falling miserably as he handed you the cup. 

“Since I taught you how to make one” You added before taking a short sip, careful not to burn your own tongue. 

“My coffee still tastes like shit” He remarked, making you both snort a laugh, while you shook your head, the hand that wasn’t busy holding your tea found its way to your forehead. 

“It kinda does actually.” You laughed as you spoke, one of the many details Eddie loved about you. 

Love, as it turns out, is not one particular thing, but a conglomerate of them. Eddie was now realising that, as he put that laughter on the bottom of the things he could not live without. 

“You said it was good!” Eddie raised his tone as he playfully bumped your shoulder with his, your head resting on it now. 

“I didn’t!” 

“Yes you did!”

“No, you asked, do you like it? and I said yeah…” You replicated the downward tone, replicating the irony you had used in the past. 

“Oh, fuck off.” He was the one laughing with you now, holding into you tightly, his arm wrapping around your waist. “I’m sorry I left myself in, I kinda needed to talk to you actually.”

“Shoot” You said as you nodded to the couch, knowing it was better if the both of you were sitting down, able to look at each other. 

Eddie’s steps followed you closely, strangely enough his words didn’t worry you. Not if his hand was intertwined with yours. 

“What’re you watching?” He raised his brow at the T.V, still playing nonsensical ads. 

“I don’t really know honestly” You added in an embarrassed hushed tone as you turned it off. The silence of the moment makes the bubble feel smaller. “What do you uh…”

“Right.” He took a sharp breath in, enjoying this moment even if he wasn’t sure what he actually wanted to tell you, you looked too beautiful not to take in. Even if your hair was put away in a messly manner, flyaways framing your face as you tilted it, looking deeper into him. Even if the only thing you were wearing was that faded shirt, it still let him look at your legs, and the softness your skin promised if he were to touch them. 

“Moon?” 

“Sorry, got distracted.” He muttered, shaking his head as his eyes left your legs, linking back with yours. “I uh… I realised I may have been a dick earlier, as Wayne pointed out.” 

“Wayne?” 

“Yeah he uh… He really does know when I get into my head”

“I could kinda tell.” Your eyes now avoided making contact with his, focusing solely on the way your fingers wrapped around the end of your shirt. 

Eddie had your nervous movements learnt by now. If you held his sight he knew you weren’t overthinking, just trailing off so you’d play with whatever you had at hand so you would stay focused, but if your eyes landed elsewhere, he knew that your brain was going a mile a minute. 

So his hand grabbed yours, pulling you back to him. 

A tilt in his head as he scotched himself closer to you was all it took for your heart to stop racing.

“Not your fault, my love.” He reassured now, his words trailing off in that softened tone he only had for you. “I just didn’t know how you’d take it, the whole Paige thing and I freaked out.” 

“If you freak out, I freak out.” You pointed out as your gaze finally met his. 

“I know, I’m sorry” You gave into the palm of his hand as he cupped your cheek, the other one was still interlocked with your fingers. “I’m just really scared.” He confessed, whispering now. 

“What for?” You looked at him through your eyelashes, you had never looked more angelic, pure, a clashing look with the concern on your tone. 

“That the more you know about me, the easier it will be for you to find a reason to run off. And I’ll stay here, heartbroken over you” You could feel the sincerity leaking through, the earnestness in which he spoke was truly admirable, you had never seen someone be as open as he was being. 

Brave. 

You could be brave too. 

“I’m not leaving, Moon.” You kissed the tip of his nose before letting your forehead touch his. 

Eddie could feel his lips curving upwards even if he tried for them not to. 

“How can you be so sure?” If you weren’t as close as you were, you were sure you wouldn’t have heard it, or the warmth he emanated with his vulnerability. 

Brave. 

You had to be brave for once, even if you could feel your heartbeat on the back of your throat. 

“Because… You don’t run away from the things you love.” 

Eddie froze on the spot. A sense of complete glee washed over him, and he could swear he just felt his heart miss a beat, as if it had answered before he was able to. He widened his eyes before separating your foreheads, just so he could look at you. 

You and your flushed red cheeks, you and the way the sincere smile turned into a flirtatious and nervous one, while you tried to mask it by biting your lower lip. 

“I knew you’d say it first” He cave in with that stupid grin in his face, his dimple making an appearance on his cheek. 

“Fuck off” You chuckled as you scotched in even closer, your legs finding their way over his. 

“I couldn’t run away from you either” He pointed out, the hand he had on your cheek now on the back of your neck, fingers tangling with your hair. 

“Why’s that?” You played dumb now, pushing your body into him, as you sat on top of him, your arms resting on his shoulders, your gaze deep into his. 

“Because I might love you too” He played too, following your lead as he pulled you in even closer, your noses touching again. 

“MIght?” 

“I do” 

“I thought so, idiot” 

You were both grinning, smiling and laughing all at once. 

A weight had been lifted, as you had finally been brave for once, and actually spoke your mind. 

It was even better now that he was finally kissing you, his lips gracing yours with that slowness that marked a good meaningful kiss and moment. Only made better by both of your lips curving upwards, still processing what had been said. 

It had been more than the first i love you.

It had been a promise. 

One that you both intended to keep. 

-

requests! are open

@took-me-hours-to-steal-those @edens-vices-art @micheledawn1975 @peachystenbrough @mewchiili @bylermaxmayfield @yujyujj @honeymoonmunsonn @paleidiot @ali-r3n @sunshineandwitchery @supernaturalstilinski @womencriedpower @saramelaniemoon @cultish-corner @babyloutattoo89 @witchwolflea @serenadingtigers @readergf @guineveresghost @saramelaniemoon

part 5 is up, thank for the support dudes <3

[pedge-page]

Mother Who Indulges

Joel Miller x F! Reader

Summary: Joel’s found other means to get his favorite snack. But he’s bad at hiding the evidence taking form on his own body.

Can be read as sequel to Mother Who Provides or on its own.

Warnings: Fat!Joel, Sub! Joel, breastfeeding, lactation kink, feedee/feeder, burping, belly worship, belly button licking, gluttony, riding, vaginial fingering, m! Masturbation, forced feeding, hands free ejaculation, unprotected sex, breeding kink, cream pie, switch dynamic at the end, Mommy and brief Daddy kink, nipple play for Joel, derogatory names such as cow or hog (towards Joel)

18+ ONLY

- - - -

Your husband was never a closet eater. 

Joel was someone who enjoyed food in the company of others. Never saw it as anything more than fuel for the body, only ate when he needed it. Sure, he wouldn’t turn down a soda and a bag of chips every blue moon, but the amount of physical labor he does at his job always combats any minimal amount of snacking he does. He’s always been in perfect, lovable shape. Not shredded abs by any means, but he had just the right strength to carry you bridal style, just the right softness to cuddle up against him like a warm pillow.

Or at least, he used to.

You started to notice it after the 6 month mark of brining your baby home. As you very slowly lost a few pounds of post partum weight, Joel seemingly started to gain them—a couple dozen of them. And it was … odd. 

He didn’t go out to eat—the man preferred a home cook meal and saving a few bucks where he could. There also weren’t any suspicious amounts of extra processed snacks coming into the house. And it’s not like Joel was slacking off on the construction site by any means. And yet, you noticed it when he started huffing just to get his once baggy jeans over his thickened belly. Or the way his shirts stretched a little tighter over his chest. Or the extra grunts after any regular amount of food. 

The only real change was that 10-month old Sarah had started refusing pre-bagged bottle milk. The little thing ONLY wanted mama’s nana’s straight from the tap. And that meant Joel’s little breastfeeding habits had to go on pause so that your baby would actually eat.

“Picky little thing,” he grumbled with folded arms as your baby sucked away happily at your breasts, all wrapped up snugly in your arms. You could see the distain in his face—the idea that Sarah was no longer going to “share” your perky tits and even more delectable breastmilk. You were a full blown cow utter live and on demand when Sarah needed it.

You only laugh. “It’s all meant for the baby anyway. Besides, you got more than enough fill, right?”

He didn’t exactly answer you that night. Just grunted and walked away. You thought that was the end of it.

Until one night: half asleep and feeling an incredibly soreness in your breasts. It felt hot, wet, and heavy like a sack of potatoes sitting atop your chest, with a leach on the end of it. Though, you did notice they gradually felt lighter, which is strange. You always filled with milk over night. Groaning, your nipples felt twisty, sore as hell. Groggily you reach under the covers—God, why are they so hard and big? I can’t even feel it … oh, oh no. why it is hairy? And there’s growling coming from below.

 Panic ensures, fear that you’re turning into some hairy wolf beast stuck in a dream, becoming misshaped and hideous and—

You wake up fully and toss the covers off, revealing your husband who’s latched on to your tit, suckling the milk like in second heaven.

You stare down at him disappointingly. Joel only just realizes he’s been caught, your nip falling from his mouth with suctioned pop, as cream pours from his lips. Caught red handed.

“Um….sorry. Was hungry.”

You wack his head hard several times, enunciating, “That-is-for-the-baby!”

“Okay okay!”

“Do you do this often when I’m asleep?”

Joel shifts up slightly, staring down at your teeth ridden mounds. He clears his throat guiltily. “…No...”

He got an earful, and you were careful to make sure he didn’t try sneaking Sarah’s breakfast off of you in the early morning again. 

And that seemed like the end of it. He never brought it up or complained again.

And yet, the man was still gaining weight like nobody’s business…

-

Joel doesn’t like sneaking around his wife. 

Realistically, he should have been losing weight, what with the extra snack of your milk each night he could enjoy now entirely off the menu. He should have not been too indulgent either, as you may have noticed his... physical difference. In fact, he was surprised it didn’t really dawn on you, where all those extra pounds on your hubby are coming from.

Joel tiptoes down to the kitchen in the late night, far after you’re lightly snoring. He makes sure not to hit the pressure sensitive creaky floorboards too. Honestly, even with the extra weight, he’s pretty good at slinky-ing around. 

But his eagerness is getting the best of him. Rumbling through his body despite the slowness in his pace. He waits all day for this moment and can’t rush it now.

He cracks open the fridge, the light illuminating the dark kitchen as he briefly scans behind him again for any signs of movement. When the area is secure, he turn back. He’s so excited, goosebumps riveting his skin. Bubbles gurgling in his stomach. He’s become gluttonous, no doubt. But when you get that high, it’s hard to just quit cold turkey. 

Reaching behind the beer bottles, carefully laid under a foil wrap of steak, is his most prized possession of the late night endeavors: that extra sum of frozen baggies of your breastmilk in the freezer that you gracious kept saved and that his even more gracious baby now refuses to drink. To his luck, you must have mentally completely forgotten about them. He always pulls three each night and lets them thaw in their hidden place in the refrigerator, waiting all day for this exact moment.

His obtuse stomach rumbles. Joel typically wears a buttoned sleep shirt as of late since it was the only thing that fit him to bed. But now the bottom few buttons had torn off, leaving his fat gut rounded and hanging out. 

The hungry man licks his lips as he tears open the first buoyant bag of cream, his lips quivering when that first scent hits his nose. “Ah—oh fuck yeah. That’s the good stuff,” he groans, but quickly softens his voice again, remembering he can’t get caught on his indulgence.

He hastily dips a fat finger into the milk and swirls it before pushing past his lips. Joel closes his eyes, humming loudly as the taste of your fine breastmilk invade his buds, travel through his electrical signals to his brain that then releases pleasure throughout his entire body. He moans around his digit, sucking every little drop until he’s close to gnawing his finger off. Then he releases with a pop and grins, dipping two more fingers and scooping it out messily. Tilting back to drink the second helping. It drips down his palm, and he’s quick to suckle it up. None can be wasted.

He suppresses a slight burp. His large stomach screaming for more, for what he came he for. Joel tilts the baggie back over his head, leaning back and drinks the entire contents. Audible gulp after gulp, the sweet taste of milk fills his tongue and travels to his happy belly. All while his other wondering hand roams over the thick, stretched flesh, right over his belly button, jiggling the heavy underside of lard. God he feels so good like this. Getting gorged out on your milk, feeling so full and fulfilled from it. 

He wags the bag once the last few drops are struggling to pour, sticking his tongue out like a dog. Heat spreads from his core down to his loins. Joel grips his hardened length over his soft pj shorts. He can’t help it. He once had prime seat to your lap, drinking straight from your tits whenever he felt like it while you jerked him off. Now reduced to palming his hard-on while lapping at your bagged milk by himself in the dark late of night.

 The first bag never lasts. He makes sure to lick any remnant on his lips, squeezing his belly and groan with a pathetic whimper. He needs more. He always needs more. Thankfully there are two more bags for tonight, but fuck he could drink 300 right now and still never be full. 

His shirt stretches tightly over his chest, and he decides to unbutton the top few stained buttons. His puffy chest bursts through the fabric like a damn. Now fully free, the silk material hanging forgotten and obscured by his massive figure, Joel can now take more enjoyment out of tearing into the next bag and downing it even faster than the first.

He huffs out, breathing for the first time after slurping the entire bag in one go. Rubbing faster up and down his stiff cock. Shit, he’s gonna cum. Feels so euphoric having his tip bump against the lower hang of his pooch. The fat tip meeting his even fatter tummy. 

And your taste. That’s what sends him over every night. Has him cumming in his sleep shorts by the time he’s finished the third bag. Joel grunts, lifting his stomach from the underside so his other hand can palm his swollen dick. “Momma’s got the best milk,” he hums to himself, eyes closed in bliss. “Oh fuck fuck fuck, fuck yeah, I’m—I’m gonna—!”

“So!”

Joel swings around, crashing his body into the open refrigerator door, spilling his precious milk all over his tits and belly. Only to be met with you, your arms folded over your  chest, spaghetti silk nightgown adorning your figure and a knowing smirk on your face.

“So this is where you’ve been getting your little extra snacks.”

He’s speechless, caught and cornered with no where to go. His mouth opens, but no words leave, like a gaping fish out of water.

“Nothing to say, Joel?” You ask with a tilt of your head.

“I—its—“ he casts down at his belly sadly. God, he looks pathetic now. Cock rock hard and stabbing through his pants, and belly flush out like a pig at a buffet. You must think he’s disgusting like this. “I…I missed your milk, baby,” he says solemnly. “Got carried away, I guess.” 

Instead of the scolding he expects, you walk up to him quietly and bring his eyes to yours. Taking the bag of half drank breastmilk, he acquiesces and lets you. 

To his surprise, you hold it up slightly to mouth level for him. “Looks like you’re not finished yet, honey.” 

Joel stares at you, confused. But when you start palming his erection, gliding your hand up and around his belly with a swirling ticklish finger before brushing back down to his dick, he doesn’t have any braincells left. You push the bag forward and his jaw drops open once again, feeding him. With you at the control, he gulps quickly, afraid to lose any as you pour the entire contents at once. He sputters a moment when the bag is empty, too caught up on the pleasurable heat spreading in his crotch and core again. You kiss his lips, the sweet taste making you realize how difficult it must have been for him to give something so delightful up.

“Mmmm, that’s better?”

“Ah—oh—oh-yeah-so good baby-shit-“ he groans as you continue your ministrations on his member. With two hands, you hoist the underside of his enlarged middle, bouncing it up and down. 

“Oh, Joel,” you tsk. “So light. So empty! We’re not done yet big boy. Not even close.”

-

 They say there’s such a thing as too much of a good thing.

But as for Joel, stripped naked and sitting his fat ass on the couch, gorging on the funneled tube that’s been cascading a mix of whole and breastmilk into his stomach, he can confidently say that saying doesn’t apply here.

His finishes a big gulp before pulling the nozzle away, letting out a massive burp. As he grips the side of his belly, the rolls on his side multiplying before his vary eyes and skin stretching like a taught balloon, he’s never felt so full in his life. 

And it feels fucking amazing. 

He’s never felt so guilt-free, so perfectly enlightened and fully allowing himself to feel pleasure like to this level. 

“You full yet?” You coo. You’re standing next to him by the cough, a gallon of mixed milk partially full in one hand as you check on your gluttonous husband.

He shakes his head, devious and energized. “Hit me again, baby!” He puts the nozzle back in his mouth and rests the back of his head on the couch headrest again.

You chuckle but does as he says, pouring the jug into the large funnel. He can’t wait fast enough for the milk to force its way through the tube and finally squirts onto his tongue again.

“That’s my good boy. Mommy loves filling you up with her milk. No need to hide it from me any more baby. You keep drinking and drinking until you’re full.”

With one hand splayed over his belly button, physically feeling his gut fill past its maximum, he gets a quick glance at you. The way you giddily grin, eyeing him up and down in his fattened state like a delicious piece of steak. He’s never felt so sexy in his life.

His cock feels it too. Reddened and swollen beyond belief. curved against the swell of his belly leaving a sticky trail where his precum keeps nudging along. Though, with how much he’s packing into his stomach, he’s struggling more and more to be able to fully grasp his cock and jerk it with the mean pumps he usually does. Joel was the type of masturbator to grip his base with one hand while the other beats his meat like a car engine. His arms still retained their muscled strength, but everywhere else was starting to fill in. Now, he can only get one hand down there to gently tug on it. 

“Poor baby, got you so fat you can basely touch that little dick?” You tease. Though at the sheer size of him, Joel Miller’s cock is anything but ‘little.’ In fact, it’s even more imposing now, like somehow he added a few extra pounds onto his mini me as well to keep the proportions the same. 

“S’not little. I can—oh fuck—still reach jus’ fine.”

Another burp billows up his throat, and he just gets the tube out of his mouth to let it out. Hell, he can barely move. The amount of effort just to sit upright again makes him bounce his whole body, the fat moving at a slower pace. Fuck, even when he can’t fully jerk his cock like he used to, the pressure of his belly on top of his tip, smushing his balls into the couch feels heavenly. Especially when he bounces and rocks back and forth slightly. Friction doing its thing and grinding his sack between his big thighs. 

“Baby,” he gasps. “M so full of you.” He peers up to you with heart, drunken full pupils as he jiggles his belly. “M’ so packed tight. So much Mommy’s milk.” One finger trails up the fold under his pec, now swollen like a breast himself, before pinching and rolling his nips between his calloused fingers.

“Yeah? Let Mommy feel.” You press your palm over his chest, down to his belly that protrudes so far out. Despite being squishy earlier this night, his stomach is indeed bursting to its limit. Hardened just as yours was right before giving birth. 

“Aww, oh Joel…” you squeeze your thumb into his belly button and grip the lower half before jiggling it roughly. He gasps and pushes him belly out further for you, rocking his hips best he can into the air. “You really are full baby, huh? Greedy greedy piggy.”

“Mhm,” he hums with a pout, licking his lips. “Momma’s fat fuckin’ gluttonous hog. ‘At’s me.”

You prop the funnel up on a coat hook before sliding down to your knees in front of your husband. He leans as far forward as possible to be able to see all over you between his chunky legs, parted to let you breathe against his tummy that’s right up against your face.

You gently caress his sides along the rounded shape, holding his middle in your hands. You’re so soft against him, so loving and careful. He feels no different right now than when he used to be able to lie on your lap and feed from your tit. It’s been so long since then, and he realizes now this is the feeling he’d been chasing bag after bag all this time.

Your soft cheek presses into his skin there, making him sigh relaxed. 

He’s getting lost in the feeling of you on him, but you need to keep him on track.

“Keep drinking. You’ve got 2 more gallons.” You point towards the table where more mixed milk sits, and Joel settles up and begins gulping his cream again.

He moans, cock twitching against your chest as your tongue swirls around his belly button, dipping inside slightly. The hairs around his happy trail feel soft as you stroke along his naval. You can hear the little sloshing of liquid inside him each time you plant a wet kiss against his skin, making out with his gorged stomach. 

The weeping end of his length bobs painfully each time you brush it. You notice he’s glancing down at you playing with him, while he continues to swallow big batches down his throat. “You want me to take care of your little problem?”

He nods pitifully. 

“Not until you’re done.” You smile, standing up and gripping his belly harshly. He grunts but doesn’t release the bottled end, sucking more milk as you slap his belly repeatedly. Watching it wobble from the sheer effort and taking a moment to settle before you slap it again. Each time he whimpers but pushes it out more, asking for another.

“Greedy“—slap—“fat“—slap—“Milk hungry“—slap—“whore.”

You squeeze his plush tit, no bigger than an A cup but still, the man had nothing there before. He grunts and eyes you, dark and pleading. “Holy fuck, You’ve even got such cute cow titties Joel.” You giggle, rolling his perked nipples under you thumb while cupping the rest of the fat pooling there. “Wouldn’t that be something? Squeezing milk from your own tits?” You place your mouth on his pecs and begin suckling like the tip of his cock. Joel tosses his head back, milk spilling from his cheeks as he howls in pleasure. 

“Oh fuck Momma that’s it—keep sucking my fat tits—christ. Fuck—fuckFUCK!” One hand caresses your hair as he whines, “I Love you.”

“I love you too. How are we doing?” You gesture to the funnel.

He tilts it upside down. “All out,” he says with a grimace.

“Good. On your knees.”

You grab his chubby hands and hoist him up, the two of you laughing when he fails after the first attempt.

When he does get to his feet, you cup his face with both hands and kiss him. “You look so fucking sexy, Joel Miller.” 

You brush his fingers under your thigh, between your slit. “Oh—shit—so fuckin’ wet,” he whispers, rubbing your slicked walls with his meaty fingers.

 Pressing your cunt against his crotch, your belly collides with his, creating the perfect friction on your clit. “I want you bigger than me when you knock me up with twins next.”

He grits his teeth and hisses against your lips. The mental image doing a whirlwind on him. You chuck two pillows to the ground for him comfort. With a big thud, he gets to one knee on the plush, then the other, arms flailing forward and hands plastered on the ground to hold his weight. His belly sags so heavily, causing him to groan. the compressed tip is damn near toughing the floorboards even as he holds cow position. 

He stares up back up at you, soft big moo moo eyes getting eager when you grab the funnel and uncap another jug.

 He used to marvel at how much pregnancy changed you. At how he changed you. Your body growing round with child, a child he put inside you, and then your tits swelling up with milk, all because of him.

And now he’s changing physically because of you too. His body filling with fat, engorged from your abundant lactation that you’re feeding him.

He sticks his tongue out without a single word, sucking in the nozzle and guzzling the milk funneling through again. 

He downs this one fast and hard, pushing away with a big sigh. “Christ, I can’t do it. MN’gonna fuckin’ explode.”

You crouch down to see his convex stomach. It’s perfectly rounded and bulging like a moon. 

He shivers when you cup the underside and glide up along, feeling how smoothed over from so much filling him. “Touch it, please touch it baby. Gonna go crazy if ya don’t.”

You watch as his eyes squeeze shut, his swaying back and forth like he’s trying to get his belly to hump his dick, or maybe the other way around. He’s helpless in this position by his own doing. 

“Aww, has my big boy had enough? No more Mommy’s milk?”

He shakes his head painfully. “More,” he croaks. God, his body is screaming no. he’s never felt so ready to turn into an atom bomb, and yet his intoxicated brain knows if he can’t down the last of this gallon, you’ll never give him the full on tap again.

Joel snatches the tunnel again, balancing on one hand briefly as he wraps his tongue around and drinks yet again. Gulp after gulp, the sweet liquid bulges in his esophagus before traveling down to his mighty belly. You kiss his cheek and hold the nozzle to his face, forcing it to stay. “Almost there, Joel, drink it to the last drop, and then you’ll get your reward…” you not so subtly squeeze your breasts together, and that does it for him.

He spits out the nozzle and falls head first to the ground, back arched as much as possible as his tummy smushes into the hardwood. With a howl, his hips jerk forward into his fat middle, suffocating the tip and he starts cumming untouched. “Oh-ah-ahaugghhh-yeah—yeah!” He hums, cheek pressed into the ground and drool and milk spilling from those sinful lips along with a litany of sexy, satisfied noises. 

All the while you praise him with kisses and gentle curls of his hair, telling him how good he’s been for you. The funnel rolls around the floor, having been drained into Joel’s gut just a moment before he gave in. 

And you’d think he was done, out for the count, needing a fat coma nap. Instead, just as you help him up to his bum, Joel snatches your waist. “Get on my lap Momma,” he slurs, licking his lips once again. You half climb, half are hoisted up to his lap, his cream coated cock still raging hard and sitting between the two of you. “Show me what those bouncing titties can do. “He slaps your breasts with little slapslapslaps. The tight grip he has on your hips forces you to begin rolling, your neglected cunt beautifully nudged against his sack with his belly and cock brushing your clit.

“Hop on Pop,” he chuckles. 

Gripping one of his shoulders, you align his cock along your soaked folds and sink down on him, the two of you sighing heavily. His sticky cum coated length needed no prep to enter you, filling your womb to the brim with his Daddy sized dick. “Gonna pump you full now, little Momma. Gonna get ya bred in no time.” Joel dips his head down and latches your tit between his jaws.

You gasp and grip his hair as he begins suckling out your warm breastmilk. It’s like all this time, he wasn’t truly even full. Like he had a separate storage in this lard living planet between you just for your hot fresh pure milk. 

“J-Joel,” you moan, eyes rolling. He’s always been good at sex. Always had a great body, but this…this is different. You can feel all of him pressing against you. Burrying your nub and hitting it so deliciously from the outside as he pummels you from the inside. You fee like a little doll, being used like a flashlight up and down along his thick cock

“That’s it, Mommy, ride me. Ride my fat cock. Ride it till ya swollen here—“ he pokes at your stomach “—as big as mine, like ya said.” You grin, biting your teeth. “B-bigger.”

He smiles. “Bigger.” His beefy hands wrap around your back and pull you as close to him as you can physically manage. “Let Daddy do all the work on that one. Just gotta take my cream, at’s all. I drink yours—n’ you take mine.”

“Mmfff--fuck—fuckyes Daddy fill me up—fill me with your cream! Ah! oh shit I’m cumming! Make me a Mommy again!”

You spasm, convulsing around Joel’s base just as he stills and ruts his second load inside you, grunting into your tits like a pained beast. You feel each pulse overwhelming your walls, yet having nowhere else to go but inside. The man has never cum so much in a second orgasm in his life, and you start to wonder if any of this is your own milk having traveled to his balls and deposited safely inside you again.

As the two of you come down, breathing in and holding one another tightly, Joel pecks at your jaw with feather kisses.

“You know…I won’t be lactating forever.” You twirl some of his curly brown hair out of his sweaty temple. “It’s going to end eventually.”

He only shrugs. 

Gasping as his dick twitches to life inside you once again, he presses his lips to yours and begins shallowly thrusting again. “Guess I’m just gonna have to keep knocking you up.”

- - - -

Notes: I have plans for more Fat!Joel content in a variety of flavors...not just subby and breastfeeding. Will be different characters and have other independent requests so stay tuned!

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[oldsoul007]

loving you, loving me

joel miller x reader

summary: y/n and joel save time for the little moments in their busy schedules

a/n: veryyy domestic, kissing

joel miller masterlist

The sun had barely risen when I stirred awake. The soft light filtered through the bedroom window, casting gentle shadows across the room. I shifted, my body still heavy with sleep, but the warm weight of Joel beside me made it hard to stay asleep. He was still tangled in the covers, a few strands of his messy brown hair sticking to his forehead.

I smiled softly, brushing them away, the quiet intimacy of the moment making my heart flutter. Before I could think, my hand found its way to his arm, fingers tracing the familiar muscle beneath his worn-out shirt. Joel stirred just a little, his breath deepening as if he could sense my touch even in his sleep.

“Morning, handsome,” I whispered, leaning down to kiss the side of his cheek.

“Mmm,” Joel muttered, eyes still closed. “Mornin’.”

His voice was gravelly from sleep, but there was something comforting about it. Something that made the rush of our busy lives seem insignificant in this small pocket of quiet. He cracked an eye open, meeting my gaze with a smile that softened his rough exterior.

“I have to get up soon,” I murmured, already dreading the coming hours. “But I don’t want to leave you yet.”

“I know, I don’t want you to either.” Joel reached for me, pulling me into a brief but tender embrace. “But you have work, and I gotta get to the construction site.”

We both groaned at the reality of our hectic schedules, the same routine we’d shared for years. I leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before slipping out of bed. He watched me go, a sense of longing in his chest as he sat up, but he didn’t say anything—just let his gaze linger on me for a few moments before he started his own morning routine.

Later, at the office, I sat hunched over a pile of paperwork, the soft hum of the fluorescent lights above the only sound in the quiet office. I was buried deep in numbers when I felt the briefest sensation—someone’s fingers grazing against mine. Startled, I looked up and found Joel standing in the doorway, grinning like a schoolboy.

“Don’t you have a meeting?” I whispered, though my heart skipped a beat.

“I do,” he said, voice low. “But I needed to steal a kiss from my wife.” He leaned down just enough to plant a soft kiss on my lips, just a touch—so quick, but full of warmth.

I smiled, the weight of the day momentarily lifted. “I needed that.”

“I’ll be back tonight, okay?” He squeezed my hand before turning to go, leaving my heart full and my work still waiting.

The hours between our brief exchanges seemed endless. By the time I got home that evening, the house was quiet, the air a little cooler, and the sun was setting in a soft cascade of oranges and pinks. I kicked off my shoes and headed toward the kitchen, where Joel was busy making dinner, his shirt rolled up at the sleeves.

“Smells good in here,” I said, my voice carrying a bit of weariness from the long day.

Joel turned, a smile immediately spreading across his face as he crossed the room. “I thought we could eat together tonight, no interruptions. Just us.”

I felt a rush of affection and walked straight into his arms. I didn’t say anything—just pressed my face into his chest, feeling the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat. He held me like that for a long moment, his hands moving gently up and down my back.

“I missed you today,” I murmured.

“I missed you too.” He kissed the top of my head, a soft, lingering gesture. “But hey, I think we both know there’s no such thing as too much love, right?”

I chuckled softly. “You say that now, but you’ve got a lot of work ahead of you.”

“We’ll manage,” Joel said, his voice warm with certainty. “I’ll find ways to sneak kisses in. I’ll make sure you never forget I’m here.”

And so, it went. The days were busy, the hours long, but whenever we could, we stole moments together. A touch of my hand while making coffee, a kiss on the cheek when no one was looking, an embrace that lasted just a little longer than it should have. Those tiny moments made up for the time we were apart.

At night, after the world had quieted, and the chaos of our separate lives had finally simmered down, we sat side by side, Joel’s hand nestled in mine, his fingers drawing circles against my palm. The silence between us was never uncomfortable—it was the kind of silence that spoke volumes, the kind that only two people who had been through years of life together could understand.

“I love you, y/n,” Joel whispered as we both settled in for the night, the room dark except for the faint light coming through the window.

“i love you too,” I replied, turning my face to him, my lips seeking his for a final, soft kiss of the day.

And as we lay there, with nothing but the sound of each other’s breath and the occasional murmur of affection, we knew our love—quiet, steady, and full of those small, meaningful moments—was more than enough to keep us going through the busiest of days.

[juniperskye]

Those Were Brand New!

Sneak peek: You and Hotch attend a wedding together – Not together, together…carpooling just made sense, right? Things between you change, resulting in a ripped pair of tights.

Aaron Hotchner x (Fem) FBI Reader

Smut/Fluff

Word count: 747

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited, please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!! My blog is 18+, minors DNI, no use of y/n, no physical description of reader other than she/her pronouns and female anatomy, explicit language, sexual themes, P in V sex, unprotected sex (Don’t do this!), sex on the kitchen counter, Let me know if I missed any!!!

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

His eyes had been on you all evening, since the moment he picked you up for this wedding. You had left your apartment in the most beautiful deep green dress. The velvet rested just above your knees and beneath it, your legs were adorned in black lacy tights, your feet tucked gently into a pair of stilettos.

As the wedding festivities died down, the chill in the air had increased. You had drifted closer and closer to Aaron, trying to regain some of the warmth that had slipped away throughout the evening.

“Why don’t we go say goodnight to the happy couple? That way I can get you out of the cold.” He suggested.

“That sounds good!” You shivered.

--

Music was playing quietly, filling the otherwise silent vehicle. This happened a lot when you drove with Aaron, you’d fall into comfortable silence, only chatting when it was needed. Truth is, you were just so comfortable around one another.

“Thanks again for driving me Aaron, I really appreciate it.”

“Of course, sweetheart. Let me walk you up.” He offered.

You nodded in thanks, knowing it was no use arguing with him – he’s the most stubborn man you know.

--

“I uh, I had a really good time tonight. It was nice to see you let loose Aaron.” You teased.

“I had a great time too. I enjoyed spending time with you.” He returned.

You shared a look, only this one held more weight than usual…this gaze felt charged. Which you both must’ve realized because your lips quickly met in a heated kiss. Aaron had shifted the two of you, so your back was pressed against your door, his lips shifting to your neck, allowing you to fumble for your house key.

Once you had the door unlocked, Aaron’s lips found yours once again. He was gently leading you to your kitchen, only stopping when your ass met the edge of the counter. His hands dropped down to the back of your thighs, lifting you to sit on the edge of the counter.

“You look so beautiful.” Aaron breathed.

“So are you.” You gasped.

His hands slid under your dress, grasping your thighs, as his mouth moved to your neck, sucking harshly, sure to leave marks. A fact you couldn’t care less about in this moment.

“I have wanted this for so long.” You confessed.

“Me too sweetheart, and as much as I want to take this slow…I need you. You have to tell me if you want to stop.” Aaron was breathless.

“Don’t stop.”

Aaron’s hand moved further up your dress, his fingers gripping the material of your tights. Your head fell back, and his lips started their descent further toward your collar bones. The room was filled with the salacious sounds of his wet kisses and your hands ruffling his hair…until a tearing sound cut through the kitchen.

“Aaron! Those were brand new!” You gasped. Taking in the fact that Aaron had just ripped your tights open to give himself access to your soaked heat.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.”

One of his hands moved to toy with your center while the other pulled your sleeve down enough to expose your lace covered breasts. Aaron’s mouth closed around your pert nipple while his fingers circled your clit.

You brought your hands to the waistband of his slacks, pulling them open and releasing his throbbing cock and guiding it to your entrance.

You both understood that there would be another time for slow and sensual…but right now you were both desperate for this.

--

He thrust into you in one quick fluid motion, stealing the breath from your lungs. Aaron’s arms wrapped around you, one around your waist and the other reaching up to grip your shoulder as he pounded into you. Your body was leaned back against the counter, arching up into his embrace.

With every thrust, Aaron’s tip kissed your cervix, and you could feel your climax quickly approaching.

“Aaron I – I’m so…” You let out in short gasps.

“I know baby, let go for me.” He replied, kissing you once more.

After a few more thrusts, your orgasm ripped through you. In your hazy state, you could feel Aaron’s pace faulter, signaling how close he was.

“Fuck I…”

“Let go baby.”

With a final thrust, Aaron filled you. Collapsing onto you, allowing himself to relish in this moment with you, Aaron thought about all the exciting things a future with your would hold.

[satellite-evans]

Home at last

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x wife!reader

Summary: Lewis spending hiw morning with his wife and daughter <3

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: fluff, making out

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

When Lewis woke up that morning, he felt the familiar warmth of peace settle over him. It wasn’t always this way. Mornings used to be quiet—too quiet. Even with his booming career, a circle of friends, and fans cheering his name, coming home to an empty house had been a stark reminder of what was missing.

Loneliness had been a constant companion then, a heavy weight that settled on his chest every time he crossed the threshold of his home. The silence would press in on him, making the space feel cavernous and cold despite its luxurious trappings. He’d sit in the living room, scrolling aimlessly through his phone or staring at the walls, wondering if all the success in the world was worth it when there was no one to share it with. The ache wasn’t just about being alone—it was the absence of connection, of love, of the warmth only a family could bring. He’d envied the simple joys he saw in others’ lives: a partner’s laugh, a child’s hug, the quiet hum of a life shared.

But now, things were different. No, better. Perfect, even. The moment he opened his eyes, the quiet was replaced by the sound of soft breathing beside him. He turned his head to see you, his wife, still lost in the tranquility of sleep. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a golden hue over your features. It struck him again just how beautiful you were, even with your hair slightly mussed and your cheek pressed into the pillow.

Gratitude washed over him like a wave, so strong it almost took his breath away. You and your daughter, Rana, had filled the void in his heart, replacing the silence with laughter and the ache with a profound sense of belonging. He didn’t just love you; he adored you, cherished you. You were his anchor, his light, and every day he woke up thankful that fate had brought you into his life.

Lewis’s lips curled into a soft smile as he brushed a stray strand of hair from your face. He could never resist touching you—a grounding force in a world that constantly spun too fast. His hand found its way to your waist, and he pulled you closer, resting his forehead against the back of your neck. This was his favorite place in the world: right here, with you.

“Good morning, love,” he murmured, his voice still husky with sleep.

You stirred slightly, your eyelids fluttering open. A soft groan escaped your lips as you stretched. “Morning, handsome,” you replied, your voice gravelly but endearing. You turned to face him, a sleepy smile spreading across your face. “What time is it?”

Lewis glanced at the clock on the bedside table. “Just gone 8. Rana’s probably about to wake up.”

The mere mention of your daughter brought an automatic smile to both your faces. But as you moved to get out of bed, Lewis tightened his arms around you.

“Not yet,” he whined playfully. “Stay a bit longer. I’m not ready to let you go.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Lewis, I have to get up. Rana’s going to need breakfast, and so will you.”

“I can survive,” he protested, nuzzling into your neck. “Can’t say the same for my heart if you leave me now.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the grin on your face. “Alright, Mr. Hamilton, stop with the dramatics. How about you make the bed, brush your teeth, and then come help me downstairs? Chop, chop!”

Lewis groaned in mock defeat, flopping back against the pillows as you slipped out of his grasp. “Yes, ma’am,” he called after you, his tone laced with amusement.

Your laughter echoed from the hallway, a sound that warmed his heart and left him grinning like a fool.

When you stepped into Rana’s room, you were greeted by the sight of your daughter standing in her crib, her tiny hands gripping the bars as she bounced excitedly. Her dark curls were a chaotic halo around her face, and her giggle filled the room as soon as she saw you.

“Good morning, my little sunshine!” you cooed, scooping her up in your arms. “Oh, aren’t you the cutest thing?”

Rana’s only response was more laughter, her chubby arms wrapping around your neck in a hug that made your heart swell. After a quick diaper change, you carried her downstairs, placing her in her highchair before heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast.

The smell of coffee brewing filled the air as you worked, humming softly to yourself. Rana was occupied with her favorite picture book, occasionally babbling to herself in a language only she understood. The peaceful morning scene was interrupted by the sound of Lewis’s footsteps coming down the stairs.

“There’s my favorite little girl!” he exclaimed, leaning down to press a kiss to Rana’s forehead. She squealed in delight, reaching out for him, but he turned his attention to you before picking her up.

“And there’s my favorite big girl,” he added, sliding his arms around your waist from behind. You jumped slightly as his lips found the curve of your neck.

“Lewis, stop! I’m trying to cook,” you protested, though your laughter betrayed you.

“I’ve done everything you asked,” he teased, his fingers grazing your sides in a way that made you squirm. “Now I’m asking for a little something in return.”

“Oh, really?” you asked, turning in his arms to face him. “And what exactly do you want, Mr. Hamilton?”

His grin turned mischievous. “Just this,” he said, capturing your lips in a kiss that left you momentarily breathless.

It started slow, his lips moving softly against yours, as if savoring the taste of you. One hand stayed firm on your waist, anchoring you to him, while the other gently cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed your skin, sending a ripple of warmth through you. When he tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss, you felt your knees weaken. His tongue traced the seam of your lips, coaxing you to open for him, and when you did, a soft groan escaped his throat—a sound that sent shivers down your spine.

Your hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he were the only thing keeping you standing. His kisses became more urgent, more insistent, and you could feel his need for you in every movement. When his hand slid from your waist to the small of your back, pressing you closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between you, your heart raced in tandem with his.

Eventually, the need for air forced you to break apart, but he didn’t let you go far. He rested his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips as both of you tried to catch your breath.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he murmured, his voice low and rough. His eyes searched yours, filled with so much love it made your chest ache.

“And you make it impossible to think,” you replied, your cheeks flushed and your lips tingling from the intensity of the kiss.

Lewis chuckled, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “Good. You’re not supposed to think. You’re supposed to be here, with me.”

Your playful retort was interrupted by Rana’s voice. “Daddy! Up!”

Lewis turned to see her waving her little arms, her bright eyes locked on him. He chuckled, kissing your forehead before stepping away. “Duty calls,” he said, lifting Rana out of her chair and spinning her around until her giggles filled the room.

You watched them from the kitchen, a smile spreading across your face. It was in moments like these that you were reminded just how lucky you were. Lewis’s love wasn’t just something he said; it was something he showed every single day—in the way he looked at you, the way he played with Rana, the way he filled your home with joy.

Lewis caught your eye over Rana’s shoulder and grinned. “You’re staring, love.”

“Can you blame me?” you shot back, your tone dripping with affection.

And just like that, another ordinary day became extraordinary—filled with laughter, love, and the quiet certainty that this was exactly where you were meant to be.

[straylightdream]

delicate

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: joshua hong x cam girl reader

Long night, with your hands up in my hair. Echoes of your footsteps on the stairs. Stay here, honey, I don't wanna share

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: established relationship, non idol au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much angst, emotional & kinda jealous joshua, slut shaming not by joshua. Smut warning below

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.2k

an: my next story for SVT inspired by reputation songs by taylor swift. This is loosely connected to a few other stories with the other boys. You can look here to see which stories are kinda connected. This can be read as a one shot tho.

if you would like to be tagged in any svt stories please fill out this form.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex(mc is on birth control), creampie, body worship, oral (both rec), recording sexual acts, masturbation, anal play, use of a butt plug, sex toys

Everything about your life felt like it was falling apart suddenly. In the last year after being laid off from your job unexpectedly you took up being a cam girl. A college friend told you about all the money she’s been making doing it. Instead of trying to find another random job you decided to give it a go.

Your first month of doing it you weren’t very sure of what you should do and decided to wear a mask that covered part of your face. After your first month you really started doing well and making lots of money. You finally didn’t have to worry about paying rent. You wouldn’t have stressed out Jeonghan like you have a couple times about missing rent.

You managed to fully keep your job a secret from everyone you knew, even Joshua you had you had been seeing for about three months. Everyone thought you had an online marketing job that let you work from home. It was your little secret for the first two years you started doing it. Everything fell apart when Seokmin, Chan, and Joshua found out about your job.

It turns out a girl that went to college who had a crush on Joshua back in the day, that never liked you discovered your secret. She took it upon herself to share you secret when she ran into Joshua while he was out with Seokmin and Chan getting coffee one day.

You and Joshua have always been close. You became friends in college and you still share the same friend group to this day. Four months ago you decided to give dating a try. You planned on telling him at some point about your job but you weren’t sure when would be a good time.

As soon as he finished getting coffee with the boys, he asked them to keep what they had been told to themselves even though he knew deep down inside they were going to go home and look up your page. Something didn’t sit right about his friend seeing his girlfriend naked online. He knew it was a matter of time before one of them accidentally let someone else know.

Walking into his apartment he slipped off into his room locking the door. Putting his headphones on he went onto the site the girl had told him he would find your account on. Opening his laptop he searched the user name he was told he could find you by. Your username you went by “kittenqt”. The moment the page opened his mouth went dry. Even with half your face covered he could tell it was you. He knew he should close his laptop and just let it go. You had chosen not to share this information with him for a reason, but this all just didn’t sit right with him. He didn’t care that you were a sex worker. He cared more that you hid this from him. He wished you would have trusted him enough to let him know.

Staring at your home page he reached up to close his laptop, but he couldn’t. He instead clicked the button to open your live stream. The moment the page loaded his eyes focused on your naked form laying on your bed with your legs spread. You were dressed in pink sheer crotchless panties and sheer bra that was completely see through that matched.

Silently he listened to you pleasuring yourself with a pink sparkly dildo he’s never seen before.

Your sex life with Joshua was passionate, but you had never brought in toys or anything like that. He felt guilty for you without you knowing. He couldn’t help that he was starting to get turned on at the sight of you. Before he could go any further he quickly shut his laptop.

-

Finishing up your livestream you immediately went to take a shower before Jeonghan got home from work. Before hoping in the shower you send your boyfriend a text wondering if he wanted to come over.

From you: Shau are you free tonight? I’m craving Thai food and was thinking about ordering in.

Jumping into the shower you take time enjoying the warm water washing your tense muscles. You had a good stream tonight and made a good chunk of money on tips. After showering you could look online for new lingerie to buy for your streaks.

Getting out of the shower you look at your phone to see you had a new text but it wasn’t from your boyfriend, but instead your roommate.

From Jeonghan: I’m bringing home some wine. Can we order take out?

From you: yeah I’m craving Thai food. I texted shau seeing if he wanted to come over but I haven’t heard from him.

Going off to your room you got dressed in some lounge shorts and sweater before laying on your bed so you could shop for lingerie. By the time you finish online shopping it’s been an hour and glancing at your phone you see your boyfriend hasn’t responded to your message yet.

Walking into the living room you find Jeonghan coming in from work. He immediately hands you a bottle of wine before heading off to his room. You crack open the bottle of wine and place an order for dinner already knowing what Jeonghan likes to eat.

Opening your text you aren’t sure why Joshua hasn’t texted you back. You know he had the day off from work so it’s not like he’s working late.

From you: hey I’m not sure if you’re busy but I miss you. I was hoping to see you tonight.

Before you can even close your phone he responds.

From Shau: sorry tonight is a little crazy for me. Maybe Saturday we can hang.

Your chest stings realizing you won’t be able to see him for three days. You aren’t sure what could possibly be going on that you have to wait so long to see him. Shaking the feeling in your chest you decide to spend the night drinking wine and hanging out with Jeonghan.

-

Friday rolled around and you had barely spoken to Joshua and you definitely hadn’t seen him. When Seokmin mentioned he wanted to come over and have coffee you immediately accepted. You had a feeling he might know what’s going on with your boyfriend.

Seokmin sat across from you. You could immediately tell something was off.

“Seokmin what is going on?”

“Has Shau talked to you?” There is suddenly this twisting feeling in your stomach.

“No I feel like he’s avoiding me,” you sigh.

“I guess I should tell you then,” he lets out a sigh as he nervously picks at the sleeve of his sweater. “Joshua, Chan and I know what your real job is now.”

It feels like an ice cold bucket of water had been dumped on you. Bile suddenly feels like it’s crawling up your throat. It wasn’t bad enough that not only does your boyfriend know about your job, but also two of your mutual friends.

“What the fuck?” You can’t even think of anything else to say.

“Val from school ran into us and you know how bitchy she is. I’m not sure how she found out but she told all three of us about it.”

Your eyes instantly brim with tears. You feel sick to your stomach. “What did Shau say?”

“He told her to shut up, and then told both of us to keep it to ourselves.”

“I feel like he’s going to break up with me because of this,” tears start sliding down your cheek.

Seokmin reaches out resting his hand on yours and gently squeezes it. “Hey he’s not going to break up with you. He might just be processing what he wasn’t told.”

“You guys all probably think I’m just some huge slut or something.” You realize all your worst fears are coming true suddenly.

“Nobody thinks that. Chan and I agreed after Joshua left us we would never speak about it or tell anyone. You and I both know Joshua and you know he would never shame you for this.”

“I need to talk to my boyfriend,” you sigh.

“I would call Cheol and see if Shau is home.”

-

Joshua couldn’t fully explain all the thoughts going through his head since he saw your stream. He wasn’t mad at you or disappointed. He was just upset you hadn’t told him. He also didn’t like the idea that Seokmin and Chan also knew about your account.

When you had texted him at first after he found out he told you he wasn’t free until Saturday because he just needed time to process everything. He wasn’t going to tell you that he knew but he just needed time.

He originally planned on staying home Friday night but Seungcheol convinced him to go out to a dive bar on the east side with him and Mingyu.

Normally he wasn’t a heavy drinker but tonight he needed to relax and try to forget about all the thoughts floating around in his head. He wasn’t shocked when Mingyu was pressing him about the fact you didn’t come out with him. Since you had started officially dating you often hung out with friends together.

Sitting at the table he was on his second beer when he watched Seungcheol walk over to meet someone. Joshua was caught off guard when he saw you walked over with him.

“Hi,” you say softly, walking towards him.

“Hi.” He wasn’t expecting to see you. Based on the look on Seungcheol's face he’s the one who let you know where to find him.

“Can we talk?”

He chugged his beer before saying, “Yeah.”

He leads you out of the back through the door that leads to the ally. Neither of you say anything as he leans against the brick wall.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you break the screaming silence.

“I wasn’t intentionally avoiding you,” he sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair.

“I talked to Seokmin,” Joshua's stomach drops at the mention of your mutual friend who knows about your secret. “Based on how you’re acting I take it you’re upset about me being a cam girl.”

“I’m not upset. It’s just a lot to process.”

He sounds hurt, and you have a stabbing feeling in your chest that you’re the reason he’s hurt. “I was going to tell you. I just didn’t know how. I was scared that if I told you after you told me you wanted to date-“ you pause. You weren’t ready to have this conversation “I thought you would change your mind about wanting to be with me.”

“Your career doesn’t make me want to break up. Just I wasn’t expecting to be told my girlfriend makes porn. I think if you told me I wouldn’t have felt as blindsided.”

“I’m sorry, looking back I should have told you before it was clear we both liked each other,” looking down at your feet you feel embarrassed.

“I felt funny about Seokmin and Chan being told. I didn’t want them to look you up without you knowing they knew.”

“Seokmin told me that he and Chan agreed not to look up my website.” He finally looks you in the eyes and you can see remorse. “Did you look me up?”

Leaning his head back he looks up at the night sky. “I wanted to see for myself. I didn’t believe Val when she told me. I just wanted to know if it was real.”

“I want you to know I’ve never slept with another person on camera or ever cheated on you,” your mind is riddled with the thought that maybe he thinks you cheated on him.

“I never thought you did. I trust you and I know you wouldn’t do that.” You cheating on him never even crossed his mind when he found out about your secret job.

“I’ve only ever filmed solo, and stuff with me playing with toys.”

“What little I saw of your stream, I saw you playing with a toy I have never seen before.” He’s quite curious to see what toys you’ve got hidden from him.

“Are you going to ask me to stop?” You weren’t sure what you would do if Joshua asked you to walk away from the career that gave you a comfortable lifestyle now.

“I couldn’t do that to you. I know how much you struggled after being laid off. You clearly make good money doing it.” He has no idea how good the money actually is.

“I don’t have to worry about paying rent anymore.” This job has done a lot of good for you. You can’t give it up. “Are we going to be okay?” You don’t think you can handle your boyfriend being distant anymore.

“Yeah we’ll be okay,” he pushes himself off the wall and steps closer to you. Taking your face in his hands he rest his forehead against yours. “I wish you would trust me more with this kind of stuff.”

Pulling back slightly you glance up at him, “I was scared this would be a deal breaker.”

“It's not. I want you to know I’ll support you doing whatever makes you happy.” He finally leans in, pressing his lips to yours. You kiss him like you need him to breathe. Pulling away he smiles at you for the first time tonight.

“You must like me for me if you’re willing to put up with me doing this.”

“You don’t understand how much I love you.” Everytime he says he loves you it gives you butterflies. Leaning forward he captures your lips for a searing kiss. Your hands wrap around his neck pulling him closer to you.

Slowly he pulls back and you instantly miss the feeling of his lips on yours. “Am I allowed to ask to see all your toys you’ve been hiding from me?”

You press your lips to his for another quick kiss before pulling away. “I can show you everything.”

-

Sitting on your bed Joshua watched as you reached into your closet and pulled out a black box. Sitting it in the bed next to him. Taking off the lid he instantly looks like a kid in the candy store at the sight of all your different toys you have.

Picking up the pink sparkly dildo he stares at it moving it around. He notices it is quite similar in size to him. Make a tad a tad longer. “I saw you play with this when I saw your live.”

“Did you want to use any of these on me?” The idea of Joshua using your toys you have kept hidden away turns you on more than it probably should.

He picks up a silver small butt plug that you recently bought. He glanced at it and then looked back up at you. “Since when are you into butt stuff?”

Shrugging your shoulders you say, “I haven’t really tried much but I’m intrigued. I’ve only used it once on myself while I rode that dildo with the suction cup on it.” He adjusts the way he’s sitting and you look down to see his erection is starting to strain against his jeans. “Did you wanna try and use the plug tonight on me?”

-

Laying on your bed completely naked with your legs spread Joshua is eating out like a man starved. His finger gently toys with your asshole. You had no clue he was interested in anal play before tonight, but you’re excited to try anything with him.

He pushed you over the edge hitting what is probably your first orgasm of the night. Pulling back he smiles as he wipes your release from his face.

He picks the lube off the bed and applies some to the silver plug before slowly sliding it inside of you.

“Can I be on top?” You asked.

He lays on your bed with his head resting on your pillow. You crawl on top of him. Grinding your wet core against his cock. Moaning each time his leaking tip bumps in your sensitive clit.

“Did any girls before me ever touch you like this?” You think back to the string of girls you’ve seen him date.

“Never,” he moans.

Ever so slowly you sink down on his length. Gasping as you bottom out. “Fuck I can feel pressure of the plug against your walls.”

Your eyes practically roll back in your head at full feeling. You start riding him at a slow pace. This feels even better then the time you tried the plug while streaming. The way Joshua is looking at you with lust blown eyes is intoxicating.

One hand rests on his chest while the other plays with your clit. His hands touch anywhere he can reach.

“Are you ever going to ask me to film with you?” He ask something that had been on his mind since you talked in the alley earlier. A part of him was inside in the possibility of being on camera.

“No, because I don’t want to share what we have with other people. This is mine.”

“I’m just yours,” he moans.

“You can watch me film off screen though. Maybe it will turn me on more having you in the room watching me.” The idea of him being there is thrilling.

His hands grip your hips helping you ride him at a quicker pace. “Oh my god I want to kiss you,” you moan.

He sits up connecting his lips to yours for a heated kiss. His hands move down gripping your ass. His fingers press on the plug causing you to moan loudly into his mouth. He kneads your supple flesh of your ass while helping you ride him.

“Fuck I love you,” you moan with your lips ghosting his.

“I’m going to come-“ he moans.

“Please, I'm so close.”

His lips latch onto your neck. He leaves a trail of wet kisses on your skin. You rub your clit at a quicker pace. You fall apart moaning his name.

“Fuck-“ is all he says as he paints your walls white.

Pulling back he gives you a blissed out smile, “I love you.”

This is the most intense sex you’ve ever had with Joshua and something tells you that things are going to continue to be like this. When you and Joshua originally confessed your feelings you both agreed to make no promises that this would last forever, but the longer you have been together the more in love you have fallen. You went into this open mind knowing that this could all fall apart but things changed. Your love for him was something you couldn’t fully explain. When it came to Joshua you love him for who he was and it was clear he loved you for you. No matter what happened to your reputation, if everyone found out about you being a cam girl it wouldn’t matter to him. He was going to love you no matter what.

If you are tagged please reblog. If you could use tags or comments that would be amazing.

[lonelychicago]

no but i can't stop about eddie finding queering the map and being overwhelmed by the amount of stories that resonate with him.

it starts with buck, because of course it does.

buck comes into the station one day, rambling about this site he found online. he's still figuring out bisexuality for himself and has been going down a rabbit hole ever since, reading endless articles and reddit stories and experiences told from so many people.

and something about it, about this particular site, catches eddie's attention. he really can't stop thinking about it, wondering if people from el paso would have any of those pins. if anyone from the place he grew up in, was raised in, ever felt like him.

he can't stop wondering if maybe he was never as alone as he thought he was.

when he gets home, he decides to look for himself— it takes him a while. there's too many black pins and he doesn't quite know how to navigate the huge map on his screen. it takes him a few minutes to get the hang of it.

but when he does— oh, when he does.

right there in el paso, people from the same streets he once rode his bike in, are sharing his experiences. fellow soldiers in the same base eddie trained at.

eddie reads these sacred, secret little messages and feels his heart expand more and more with every each one of them.

some of them makes him laugh and chuckle, teary eyed but amused, like "even the army has gays," and "from one gay cowboy to another."

others, nake him falter. make his bretah hitch inside his chest. make something beautiful and fragile and orecious uncurl from the deepest depths of his soul. make him feel seen in a way he isn't sure he's quite ready to.

messages like— "you're not the only one," and "you'll be okay." "the heaven the people from this town speak of, is not a heaven i wanna be sent to." "i should've told him when i had the chance." "stuck in a warzone, thinking about how i wasted so much time and now i might not make it home to him."

messages that hit a little too close to home. from soldiers still in the closet, struggling to accept themselves and living a lie.

messages from dumb teenagers, scared of the future— just like eddie had been once.

messages from people braver than he ever could be, sharing the stories of how they came out to their families and moved across the country to be able to live their truest selves.

eddie spends hours and hours just reading post after post, goingbthrough as many lins as he can and drinking them in as a dying, thirsting man in the middle of the driest desert. he reads until the light from the comouter makes his head hurt and his eyes burn everytime he blinks.

at the end, before closing the tab, he decides to put on his own note.

📍not sure if I'll ever be ready to say it out loud, but I love him. i'm too late. I've lost my chance. this changes nothing, my heart is still in his hands.

he clicks on add and feels the tiniest amount of weight lifting from his shoulders.

[will80sbyers]

Concise (uh, maybe not) explanation of the mischief productions scandal (?) about the AI script of their next short called The Prank:

The person that had most power in the mischief productions (that has now disappeared from the internet) lied to everyone on the cast and crew and said they wrote the script for The Prank when in reality they used AI (they confessed this to the cast when they were confronted about it) to write a big part of it

no one else in the cast and crew knew about this, and they went to film the short film not knowing about it, they went there using their own money and also some of them even put funds from their own money to make this short film happen like buying things for the set and all that's needed for the background of the scenes and costumes etc—they didn't make money from it

Anyway, during the filming they started to notice that the script was weird, and it felt like there were inconsistencies in it and two of the people involved started to question if it was AI so they put it in one of the sites to check and also to check for scripts that were “humanized” after they were made from the AI site... so if you have the script you can check yourself ( someone did it ! )

After discovering this, the whole cast and crew was pissed off about it and shocked because they don't like AI (and it also could fuck up their careers as actors because there's stuff like the writer's guild that obviously doesn't like that) and they went to confront this person that ADMITTED to their face that they used AI so they all quit and tried to make them give up the social media of the production to one of them to make things right, but this person removed them instead and is now currently radio silence and even eliminated their account from the internet, and they are the only one that should refund people and also do the right thing and give the socials back

Anyway the cast and crew and also Ethan quit as soon as they found out, and they all decided that they would talk about the best way to tell the fans what happened and be completely honest, but they wanted a bit of time to see what they could do also legally

Unfortunately, one of the mods in Ethan's stream that was in a private discord chat where Ethan privately shared the news that AI was used and that he quit etc. thought that Ethan meant to keep this private from the fans and It (the pronoun of this person) decided to make a video on TikTok about it and a thread on Twitter talking about how Ethan and the mischief productions were problematic and basically leaking the whole thing

...misunderstanding, in my opinion, what was happening, but I must say this person did it from good intentions (even if a bit biased because It doesn't like Ethan personally) because obviously it wanted to protect the other fans from donating money to something that they weren't aware it was AI generated, so I don't think it should receive hate, just leave it alone!

Anyway after this all leaked all the creators went online on a live and explained all of this and Ethan also is trying to explain on live even right now

My personal opinion is that it's just that one person (and I know who they are, but I'm not saying it because the cast and crew asked to avoid hate campaigns and speculation, rightly so) fucked up the whole thing for all of them because they were insecure about their ability but also wanted to have their ego stroked for that film

In general the footage filmed for the prank is with the crew and cast and will be edited and posted, and they rewrote the final scene all from their minds and also changed stuff while they filmed, and also they said they wanted to post it even if part of the script is AI because the acting is real work from them and also the sets and costumes and direction which is a big part of the film, and they don't want it to completely go to waste

They are trying to recover the social media but at the moment both the money made from it (the ko-fi) and the accounts are only in the hands of the person that fucked it all up, and this person is not responding to anybody

ALSO all the other videos before this were NOT AI generated at all and were written by Dorian which is also the director with Rafa, and they didn't know about any of what the other person did for The Prank

idk I got involved because I loved the production and was following it all, and I also think their acting and direction etc is amazing for it being a fan production and I hope they can just fix things with that person and this person refunds the money to who paid for the script without knowing it was AI

Annnndd that's it, in conclusion maybe I need to get a life, but I hope this is helpful 🌈

You can watch the live on this account on tiktok

[amyoffline]

It's done! The outline for—

—is below the cut. The goal of this project is to explore the following phenomena with as much context and nuance as I can manage, tracing our history over the past 15 years:

What about us, and what about Dan and Phil, drew in and continues to draw in a very specific audience. If they are a ranch metaphor, we are a pizza metaphor 🥗🍕🫶🏻

Why we were Like That™, by which I mean so parasocially invested in them that we became, at times, the most annoying people on the internet. Much of that reputation is undeserved, and the videos on the phandom to date have been strongly negative. So, uh, I guess I'm going to put my face on camera and (mostly) defend us.

Reblog, share in your Discord servers, reply, or send me messages/anon asks with feedback or resources if you have any! Especially if your experience being in this fandom community has been dramatically different from mine. There are TIT spoilers near the end of the outline, but I'm not tagging because certain individuals seem to be lurking over there. Thank you!

Chapters:

Full outline:

introduction

cold open

felt personally attacked by jonathan haidt's last press tour

showed up to the phrenaissance 11 months late

had an unexpectedly strong response to their new content, needed to find out why

what the hell are we doing here?

- phenomenology (academics are professionally insufferable) - research question 1: what drew the audience in? - research question 2: why were we Like That™?

what we're NOT doing here

- a strict content analysis or "wow we sucked" video - providing sources for things best left uncirculated, thank you

reflexivity (personal biases)

- american zillennial in public health - in the youtube audience by spring 2010 - lurking in the phandom on tumblr 2013-2015, back* since 2019 - fan behavior i did and did not engage in

(----): truly necessary background information, i swear

(pop) cultural trends, tech, and their intersection

- nerd/geek identity and the first online weirdos - broadcast tv & the music industry vs the internet - defining "emo" - blogging & vlogging - early internet comedy

broader social/economic trends

- so the U.S. economy collapsed in 2007 - a decade that sucked except for rom-coms and square enix games - the flip/slide phone + digital camera + mp3 player loadout

(05-8): early youtube and early phil

youtube: a great video uploader without a clear purpose

the content on the website

- crossposts, corporations, and creative/social outlets - omg guys it's amazing phil - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: justin bieber

the audience of "early adopters"

contemporary social media sites and forums

(2009): origin story

a wild dan appears… in the comments

the global constant that is teenagers being messy online

daring my old school district to sue me

- "one town's war on gay teens" (literal rolling stone headline!) - epidemiology 101: rates of… ugh… "unaliving" oneself - ways kids cope when it seems no adults will help them

the earliest days of dan & phil

- hello internet + pinof - a chronically overexamined timeline - file deleted ---* so how big WAS the audience at the time? ---* acceptable funny/edgy language was just different

contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: lucas cruikshank

omg it's meeeeeee

- how amy & friends were using youtube - ways i was just destined to end up here - being in social environments with peers 3-6 years older

(2010): is it "twenty-ten" or "two thousand ten?"

youtube is a platform about to explode in popularity

- the algorithm before it was The Algorithm™, lost site features - let's take a trip through the wayback machine :3c - actual dan & phil content in 2010 - the green brothers found vidcon - contemporary youtube-to-legacy success: darren criss

social media: also about to explode in popularity

- facebook was cool at the time, believe it or not - law of equivalent exchange: 2010 amy cringe compilation - the birth of instagram and pinterest - youtube slash livejournal (the first phanfics… sort of) - shockfic and its place in the overton window

the beginning of "the great rewiring" as haidt calls it

- ways social media is about to dramatically change - third spaces become online spaces - confounding variable: changing expectations of teens

(2011): the end of an era, the start of an age

a very long tangent on fandom and pop culture

cultural exchange

counterculture and teenagers as concepts

the first british invasion: the 1960s

- beatlemania and its descendents - moral panic about the virtue of tween/teen girls - tv/film/fashion trends being imported from the uk - in parallel, star trek births the modern fandom

the second british invasion: the 1980s

- synth/new pop that came out of the punk movement (hi, emo?) - confined mainly to music and fashion - cool britannia

it's harry freakin' potter

- absolute titan of pop culture influence - the rise of online fandom: examining the horrors ---* what is "wank" ---* flaming, sockpuppeting, and general cyberbullying ---* censorship: ffnet purges, boldthrough, & strikethrough ---* other fandom shenanigans of the time (yaoi paddles, anyone?)

harry potter's over. now what?

- for those who needed coming-of-age hero's journeys ---* twilight and YA dystopia waiting in the wings ---* some pretty iconic tv shows start or hit their stride ---* the mcu's phase one ---* takeaway: the rise of "geek culture" generally - for those who just wanted to go to hogwarts ---* doctor who & the wider world of bbc programming ---* british vloggers, you say? where? on youtube? brb--

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

dan & phil in the first half of 2011

- a continuation of 2010… for now - the videos - british pancakes as a case study of bad fan behavior

streaming and social media

- the birth of snapchat, twitch, and younow - netflix starts developing original programming - multi-channel networks (mcns) - digitour

dan & phil in the second half of 2011

- and they were roommates (omg they were roommates) - fantastic foursome - youtube glitches out - the super amazing project - the first proper baking video + wait, is that the bbc?

~ baking interlude 1: christmas cookies ~

the family sugar cookie (sorry, delia)

amy's 2011

(2012): why is anyone nostalgic for this

the transition from desktop to mobile

- massive growth in smartphone ownership 2011-2015 - things one might do on mobile one might not do on desktop - non-online ways smartphones changed being a youth™

what is tumblr and why is my child using it

- how the site is meant to work - fandom, memes, aesthetics, and SOME public figures - want to be anxious and depressed in peace? come to tumblr - this site seems a little……… gay ---* tumblr's very queer, very neurodiverse userbase ---* legacy media representation in 2012: bad! ---* actual academic research on tumblr users (yes, it exists) - the tumblr experience for non-native english speakers

amy becomes a vibrating mass of panic and paranoia

- in context of the above - additional rant about the american public school system

the growing dan & phil audience

- investigating the origin of the term "phannie" - more collaborations = more viewers - more video uploads = more /invested/ viewers - younow and interacting with fans - watch time replaces clicks in the algorithm

online etiquette, or lack thereof

- mid-transition from the 2000s to the 2010s - "professional internet celebrity" is still basically brand-new - lack of boundaries - various ways to be an asshole online - unsupervised kids simply do not engage in best practices

the end of 2012

- dan and phil move to london - wikipedia vandalism - tiptoeing around a top contender for the phandom's greatest sin - super amazing project DONE, now it's BBC RADIO TIME

(2013): arguably the most important year

- wait. what's that six-second video platform over there--

[amy's curated vine compilation]

- a new wave of internet comedians (read: future youtubers) - the zillennial lexicon - other platforms start emphasizing short-form video content - magcon

emo is BACK - well, sort of

- fob hiatus ends, mcr breaks up. my god. you had to be there - more open ties to nerd/geek culture than in the 2000s - these things once again intersect at dan and phil

dan and phil in the first half of 2013

- siri, what's a "sex symbol?" why are you booing me i'm right-- - d&p are everywhere - radio shows, interviewing, hosting - youtube uploads on their individual channels

rapidly changing cultural attitudes towards queerness

- gay marriage will be legal in places other than canada soon - a lot of assimilationist rhetoric though tbh - parallels to the pop feminism of the decade

hey kids, let's talk about compulsory heterosexuality!!

- what is it and why do people do it - academic, tumblr-level, and anecdotal research - the dannies, the phillies, and the phannies

amy

- the closet™ - mental health stigma - 2013 dnp posts from my main blog

dan and phil in the second half of 2013

- subscriber milestones, vidcon - joint content before the gaming channel - phandom starts having a major presence outside tumblr

(2014): achievement unlocked!

it's time to talk about rpf

- definitions (a chance to be annoyingly pedantic) - academic perspectives and fan discourse on the ethics - when the subjects clearly aren't fine with it - so… we can acknowledge "shipping phan" was different, right? ---* sometimes the subjects are fine* with it, actually ---* how dan and phil started to handle the shipping ---* obvious differences between phan and other rpf ships ---* sharing my favorite passages as a first-time phanfic reader

dan and phil in 2014

- wikipedia vandalism 2: electric boogaloo - bbc request show → internet takeover - the 7 second challenge - youtube content, subscriber milestones, rewind - cons and award shows

tumblr reaches the peak of its influence

- yahoo's attempts to monetize the userbase - buzzfeed and aggregators steal our jokes and bait our clicks - legacy media dangles carrots and uses us for free marketing - the legend of korra breaks TV precedent, almost out of nowhere - the tumblr user experience ---* on mobile, without xkit ---* on desktop, with xkit ---* 2014 dnp posts from my main blog

gamergate and its long shadow

- trolling, renewed and revamped - algorithms push increasingly extreme content - the broad conservative backlash conglomerate - increased normalization of conspiracism in general

my greatest sin [not clickbait] [very funny]

- so, circling back to comphet… - the actual story

anyway, let's talk about danandphilgames

- a star is born: dil howlter - different types of gaming content on youtube at the time - why did 17yo amy not subscribe? well…

~ baking interlude 2: chocolate cupcakes ~

make your own frosting. it freezes well

roasting myself further

(2015): it's not queerbaiting when it's real people

facebook "pivots to video"

- mark zuckerberg lied. water is wet - causes other platforms to REALLY double down on video - the birth of musical.ly - corporate-branded creators (read: future youtubers)

queerbaiting enters mainstream public consciousness

- academic origins - early fannish and acafan writing - johnlock, destiel, and sterek - statistics 101: type i error, type ii error, and queerbait

dan, phil, and the phandom

- bbc, cons, & the brits - danandphilcrafts - phan conspiracies ---* japhan ---* body language experts ---* timeline truthers ---* floor plan investigators ---* no but seriously imagine it - regular youtube uploads ---* solo content ---* joint content ---* subscriber milestones, rewind - tatinof uk and tabinof ---* on "selling out" ---* revisiting the statistics 101 lesson: now with real people! ---* never meet your heroes (unless they're dan and phil)

amy's (temporary) exit from the phandom

- it's legal adulthood with a steel chair!! - growing discomfort with some fans' behavior - 2015 dnp posts from my main blog - the closer: final fantasy vii

(2016): season finale

vine's imminent demise

- content platforms behaving badly - content creators behaving badly

youtube after "the great rewiring" (as haidt calls it)

- version 1.0 of the modern youtube algorithm ---* deep neural networks for dummies ---* what's holding creators accountable, or not - advertising and sponsorships ---* basically every child and youth™ is watching now ---* the battle for our attention ---* regulators start to crack down on undisclosed ads - the rise of drama/tea content (and later, channels) ---* youtubers are now seen as regular celebrities ---* dan and phil as the butt of other youtubers' jokes ---* baiting the phandom for engagement

tatinof us and aus

- a proven new model for live show tours - show & documentary released to youtube red (now premium) - [sigh] the tour bus

sea change in online fandom

- the newer, sometimes queerer media in korra's wake ---* better and more representation in live-action tv shows ---* voltron (i'm sorry!!!) ---* the mystic messenger craze ---* alice oseman & heartstopper - the new dynamics of #discourse ---* proship is to anti as phannie is to phanti ---* the bad behaviors of the 00s get a new coat of paint ---* new, though: fans harassing creators ---* a personal note on ace discourse

dan and phil presence off-tour

- the internet takeover ends - regular content, subscriber milestones

so. uh. current events.

- brexit - sorry the united states is a font of chaos - ripple effects

closing out the year

- amy finally gets an anxiety diagnosis and treatment! hurray! - dapgo, rewind - bbc radio awards & the boncas - gamingmas

(2017): time for a rebrand

tangent - sit down!!! buckle up!!! today's lecture is on PSIs & PSRs!!!

"parasocial" as defined by the current zeitgeist

- summing up youtubers' and laypeople's opinions (not dan's) - an unfairly negative stance overall, imo

older academic literature

- the 1956 paper (yes, 1956) - with traditional celebrities - with fictional characters

current academic literature

- with youtubers and other content creators - positive effects on the audience - negative effects on the audience - broader societal implications

fandom spaces as a parasocial experience

- parasocial and truly social interactions with each other - phandom as a supportive, welcoming space for oddballs - what research i can find about neurospicy folks, + anecdotes - me and everyone else on planet earth move to discord

inherent transactionality

- the nature of celebrity - positive effects on creators - negative effects on creators

reexamining early phandom through a parasocial lens

- the good, the bad, and the ugly - the role audience demographics played in all of this - entering, exiting, and remaining in the phandom

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

vine is well and truly dead

- some had prepared to become primarily youtubers (smart) - some move to musical.ly, insta, facebook, or snap (less so)

the sun sets on danisnotonfire

- i am very normal about dan's hobbit hair, i swear. - the last dnp content before the rebrand - new apartment, new floor plan investigations

adpocalypse now

- youtube has become the village elder of platforms ---* increased scrutiny, increased responsibility ---* some youtubers had been getting away with !#$!#@% - the scandals ---* pewdiepie + logan paul ---* elsagate and being "family- friendly" (read: ad-friendly) - censorship and monetization ---* adsense revenue goes down as advertisers pull out ---* the glory days of posting whatever and making bank are over

amazingphil and ~daniel howell~

- youtube & younow content - that week in march - vacations and conventions - conjoined baking and the concept of a "soft launch" - daniel & depression → dan as a mental health advocate - truth bombs, ii announcement, rewind

(2018): the phandom vs the hiatus they told us not to worry about

interactive introverts

- "giving the people what they want" - in hindsight… - let's talk about dnp fans from the global south

youtuber burnout

- it wasn't just dan: (more examples than header fits) - the old model was simply not sustainable - newer contributing factors - research on burnout, plus personal anecdotal experience

other dan and phil content

- younow/rize lives - dan's last videos before… you know… - phil's solo content in 2018 (quiff!!) - pinof → wdapteo - the gaming channel

other stuff happening online and in the world

- youtube raises the barriers to monetization - many "pivot to video" creators are now independent - the modern youtuber's multiple streams of income - continuations of societal trends in 2016 - musical.ly becomes tiktok - notable: she-ra and the princesses of power

the hiatus™: part myth, part reality

- how long dan was actually offline - major confounder: tumblr implodes almost overnight - major confounder: perception of content density from '13-'16 - major confounder: rapidly maturing audience - major confounder: our temporal awareness is about to go way ↓↓

~ baking interlude 3: scotcheroos ~

minnesotans and their obsession with "bars"

amy has one last existential crisis (you know, to date)

(2019): demolishing the closet with a nail bat

phil videos in the first 5 months of this very important year

basically i'm gay

- my thoughts - its legacy in the canon of "coming out" stories - multiple things can be true at once

coming out to you

- my thoughts - its legacy in the canon of "coming out" stories - why phil waited (actual explanations, speculation)

amy's 2019

- return to the audience, not really to the phandom (rip tumblr) - strange coincidence that i also had a major life transition

dan and phil: still here, freshly queer

- twitter becomes the main nexus of phandom, by default - regular phil uploads + brief return to younow - vidcon

(2020): go home and stay there

so it's a goddamn global public health crisis

- infectious disease perspective - effects on overall well-being of adults - effects on kids and teenagers (sorry to all of you) - political and economic impacts

hitherto unforeseen levels of online content consumption

- tiktok replaces basically all short-form video content - yet another wave of new (otherwise unemployed) youtubers - you're watching a video essay. these got really popular now. - being young and isolated: thoughts from younger phannies

the Content™ bc that's the one word we use for this now

- phil's videos - when dan is around - that attitude magazine interview - pour one out for the phil solo project(s) the panini wrecked

further political disaster… avoided?

- checking in on the state of social issues previously discussed - unfortunately,

(2021): welcome to the 2020s, we have lingering trauma

THE PHOUSE?!?!?

- social media posts - the stereo shows

other dan and phil videos

- phil's solo videos - gay and not proud - hometown showdown - other joint videos - phil's #shorts (sounds normal in american english)

panini updates

- vaccines soon, uwu??? + entrenched misinformation - pros and cons of remote work - pros and cons of remote school - pros and cons of remote socializing

you will get through this night

- younger me really could have used this book too, dan - thoughts as a professional in a related field - reflecting on some of my more unique circumstances

daring my old school district to sue me (again!!)

- updates: racism and transphobia - updates: right-wing freaks take over the school board again - residents vote against improving mental health resources

(2022): dan returns (still not on fire)

hey so politics are um getting worse

- americans lose the right to reproductive freedom ---* the quickest of histories on where these freaks came from ---* this shit kills people. - trans kids become the punching bag of culture war discourse ---* fuck off! (gently) ---* fuck off! (i have a knife) ---* checking in on terf island

we're all doooooooooooooooomed

- dystopia daily my beloved - the style, the substance, the metatextual analysis-- - not everyone loved it, though. why? - the promo - dan on tour + sister daniel

amy's 2022

- i got covid - then i got long covid: brain fog, pots-like symptoms

some more news (i will work on my warmbo impression)

- dan joins tiktok + danisnotinteresting uploads - phil: uploading less, busy doing remote crisis management - twitter is acquired by an idiot jackass - heartstopper on netflix! ---* the show and what it means to people ---* drama (revisiting "real people can't queerbait") ---* why this has anything to do with the phandom

~ baking interlude 4: cinnamon rolls ~

- lovingly, recipe changes and corrections :) - if i have an opinion about anything, it's sweet yeasted breads

(2023): the phrenaissance

phil

- joins tiktok! - youtube uploads through september - what even is phannie tiktok. i've never used this app. help.

dystopia daily b-sides

- dan memes of 2022 - the 2023 dystopia daily episodes

amy: the doctoral candidacy process

- purgatory, privilege, poverty, and free pizza - checking in on what this is like outside the united states

pretending the panini is over

- complaining about post-adpocalypse censorship standards - honest take about "giving up" on covid - who gets the short end of the stick

the youtube algorithm is BAD and UNINTELLIGENT, actually,

- unhinged rant about not hearing about the gaming rephrival - because i was offline from other platforms. like, @amyoffline.

pov: you are a phannie (not me) on october 15th

- what i was doing on october 15th - saying goodbye forever, spooky week, and november - gamingmas - phil uploads through december

(2024): fifteen years of terrible, terrible influence

hey what the fuck is going on

- dan and phil ---* joint and phil videos ---* jokes they never would've made ten years ago ---* a collection of emotional posts about how far they've come ---* people want fun and silly content again. we'll get to why ---* nostalgia, hope, and other warm and fuzzy feelings - the phandom ---* ancient parasocial attachments, reactivated instantly ---* people are way more normal now. let's discuss why ---* tumblr vs twitter vs tiktok phandom

we're all doomed, youtube version

- my thoughts - thoughts on "dan should/shouldn't" do video essays - i can't objectively evaluate anything he makes bc [gunshots]

terrible influence tour

- legally phlonde - the concept: healing one's inner child / taking it back - we gotta talk about phannies in the global south again - no but seriously imagine it? ---*ogres are like onions, they have LAYERS ---* [placeholder for whatever does(n't) happen]

anglosphere current events once again

- the likely us tiktok ban - the tories get fired - [placeholder for whichever hell americans manifest] - witnessing genocide and feeling powerless

ffx full-circle moment to the intro of this video essay

- the night i found out they came back - why i am doing this, now with context - reflections on a nearly 15-year (parasocial) relationship

whatever youtube uploads we get during fall/december

AMY SEES TIT (nov 14)

- the vibes at the phamily reunion - buying merch to apologize for eternal ublock origin use - how much should i document?? (not during the show) - phanspiracies confirmed - atlanta confessions - favorite bits - the alternate universe where i went to tatinof and/or ii

(2025): the horrors persist, but so do we

whatever 2025 content is out while i'm still working on this

our parasocial social club

- let me be philosophytube for a second ---* every interaction has a parasocial element ---* what are we obligated to do as a phandom, actually? ---* as people who parasocially care about these two dorks? ---* what else should we be doing socially to be at our happiest? - "they're my gay uncles" vs "i'm a little in love, even now" ---* riffing about the boundary/overlap between these camps ---* sibling reads me for filth in a single text (sister daniel...) ---* at least we're all in this together

what's going to continue to draw people in

- grown adults drawing our cat whiskers back on - updates on queer/nd kids - updates on anxiety/depression rates - updates on tech and the broader environment of content - world still feels doomed

tangent - the "hard launch" and why people want it

what are people referring to, exactly

- general definition and other examples - when it comes to dan and phil - maybe they hard launched already and we just missed the memo

the ludonarrative of phandom

- if you got here early on - if you got here in the mid-2010s - if you got here after they came out - if you got here post-hiatus - final fantasy comparison: ffvii's chokehold over first-timers

a rom-com for the ages

- the tropes in play - brief tangent on the evolution of the genre - queer romantic comedies - final fantasy comparison: ffviii's plot and squall/rinoa

phriends… or…

- wholesome influence, slice-of-life - projection - final fantasy comparison: ffxv's gameplay loop, the chocobros

humans don't like ambiguity

- from a media perspective (narrative tension) - research from the hard sciences - final fantasy comparison: fanille ---* the first gay final fantasy characters, actually ---* ffxiii's character development process ---* fang and vanille in the text. brb, clawing at the walls ---* so, if anyone is looking for a phyuri au prompt…

tl;dr: reality is not fiction. make peace with not "knowing"

end tangent, back to your regularly scheduled programming

the phuture

- phil's big solo project when??? - dapg is just the joint channel now - youtube has changed since when dan last "regularly" uploaded - nothing lasts forever, and that's okay

~ baking interlude 5: ranch + pizza ~

- ranch propaganda and ranch metaphors - showing off my dough and sauce skills

conclusions

- a lot has happened in 15 years - [placeholders: don't write your conclusions before you do your research]

Proof this project can only be done in consultation with Tumblr: no other platform we're on could accommodate a post of this length and formatting detail lol