#Space Between Worlds is really high up there too

[wandixx]

I'm not much for naming things but: Danny's associated with green and M'gann's a White Martian, so... Spearmint (like the green and white mint candies)? Just a thought.

Prompt: Magic removed Amity Park from the map. JL didn't notice, but in an Alderaan type moment (Star Wars ref. yay!) The martian on Watchtower monitoring duty heard the residents get silent unanimously.

Of course they need to be investigated! So M'gann gets her watch partner to take over and flies there, discovering an odd green rift of death energy doing a black hole effect and it sucks her in. Danny gets landed on/ flown into when she tumbles through the rift. She tried getting a message through to JL when she felt herself getting sucked in, but the message was not received due to ectoplasmic interference.

So Danny has to figure out how to get her AND Amity Park back home!

(Just a thought. I'm curious how you flesh it out if you do!)

This is such an interesting idea, and it definitely deserves much more story than I can write in single prompt, so this here is just a beginning and I will continue. I hope it's up to your expectations

Also, I really love the Spearmint idea

*****

M’gann understood the importance of monitor duty in Watchtower, she really did. She also understood why they were taught it while still in this gray area between fully dependent sidekicks and fully independent heroes, that was the main reason the Young Justice Team even existed.

It didn’t make it any less boring. Even when she had a decent duty partner. Don't get her wrong, Green Arrow was a much better option than Batman or Superman, it was just awkward. At least he seemed equally done with it and didn't scold her for jumping between satellite cameras just a bit too fast to actually ‘monitor’ anything.

And it was only twenty minutes into the two hour shift.

One of the sixty (or so) screens, the one directly in front of her, blinked to the view of the American Midwest. She was about to skip further, when a sudden movement caught her attention. She clicked a few keys to review the footage and asked, still unsure if her eyes weren't deceiving her.

“Did the entire city… just disappear?“

Green Arrow nodded, equally stunned.

“I'm going to check this out” she spluttered, already flying out of the room and doing her best to get Zeta to send her as close as possible. It was a bit tricky when she couldn't see the keyboard. She managed though, so before the adult hero even finished yelling that it was above her skill level, she was out.

From there, getting to the disappeared city was a piece of cake.

She stopped right in tracks when the thing came in view. M'gann had no idea how to describe it. It was a green and white and black storm but not, glass, see-through dome but not, deep space but also decidedly not. It made her want to run away but also come closer, almost like it was tugging at her. Like some pseudo, mental in nature, gravitation.

Oh, wait, no. It was an actual, physical force that after a quick test turned out to be inescapable for her.

Green Arrow, perhaps, maybe probably was kinda right. It was so high above her skill level that a balled napkin from this height would cause serious damage. Thank Batman for comms that she could use to call a backup!

The comms, that, of course, didn't work the one time she needed them.

She sent the message anyway, describing everything to the best of her ability, even though it was only a tip of the iceberg. Just in case, if the magical storm thing just made her comm one way communication only. It was highly unlikely, but who was she, if not an optimist.

She barely closed her mouth, when she was jerked sideways before the whole world became blurred.

She later would have a hard time telling anyone how it felt, to be inside the thing. She was basically powerless, thrown around randomly despite clearly keeping all of her abilities. She couldn't see, couldn't tell which way was up and down, couldn't change direction even a little bit. The rumble of the thing was so loud she couldn't hear her thoughts, throwing her brain so off the loop she forgot what her name was. She was crying probably, almost puking, her limbs hitting any and every part of her body.

At first, she didn't even realize she was out, so dazed from the ride. She didn't even see the flying boy until a while after she crashed into him, throwing them both off the sky. Neither of them caught them before they slammed into the ground. Somehow she ended up cushioning the boy's fall. M’gann couldn’t breathe for a moment. She kinda deserved it for ramming into him in the first place though.

By the time she could use her lungs and behave like a social creature again, the boy scrambled off her and just crouched, intensely staring, anxious and awestruck at the same time. She sat up and gave him once over herself.

He was around her physical age, but much skinnier than her or anybofnher teammates, build like a twig. He had fluffy, white, almost glowing hair, caucasian complexion, and wore a black and white jumpsuit with a tool belt. Big ‘P’ on his chest indicated he was someone from a hero/villain scene, and from general vibes she got, M’gann was leaning towards a hero. He was kinda cute. She coughed awkwardly when she realized how long they just sat in silence.

“Hi?”

Apparently it was enough to release an incoherent babbling from the boy.

“Hi, um… Miss Martian, ma'am? I'm Phantom. What are you doing here? Is the rest of your Team going to fall off the sky too? Justice League?”

“Not right now probably”

She was ignored. Phantom just kept panicking.

“Is this some of your villain's schemes? Are you alright? You crashed pretty hard, sorry I landed on top of you by the way, do you–?”

“I'm fine, don't worry I got worse”

“Sure…”

“Sorry I threw you off the sky”

“Not your fault, really, it's fi–”

“You asked what I'm doing here. I went on my own to investigate when I saw the city blink out of existence and got sucked in. I'm not sure if my report from site made it through, but they know where I went, so they'll soon come to help, don't worry”

Phantom did not stop worrying.

“Alright, cool, cool” he ran his hand through his hair, tugging at them “The Justice League knows you mysteriously disappeared along with an entire city. This is fine, totally fine, absolutely–”

“You're panicking”

“No shit Sherlock. Someone kidnapped my city again and I have no idea how to fix it because my usual tactic is ‘punch the cause of the problem into submission’ and this time I can't punch the storm. Now you're here so if something happens, I’ll have pissed of Justice League to worry about because, of course, it will be my fault. You could be overshadowed and I have no clue what's going on but I have to fix it as soon as–”

“Breathe Phantom“ she interrupted again, projecting what the Team called ‘calming vibes’. Since it didn't involve outright entering someone's brain and humans almost didn't react to it, it was an okay thing to do without asking even on non-villains. “Remember, I'm a hero, not a damsel in the distress you have to protect non stop”

“Of course, you're not. You're Miss Martian. You're amazing, but it doesn't give me any more of an idea on what's going on nor what to do with Justice League when they come, obviously furious because everyone in Amity and their mother will testify that it was somehow my fault, especially if–”

“Hey, hey, none of that. I know you're a good guy and they’ll too. I will vouch for you if for some reason they get misled”

Phantom looked her in the eyes as if he was trying to read her mind himself without even an ounce of psychic powers. She could tell if he used it.

“I could be a bad guy,” he said seriously after a moment of silence.

“I know you're not”

“You don't know me”

“You spent almost all of our interaction agonizing over how to save your city. It's not typical bad guy behavior”

“I could be acting”

M’gann didn't even dignify it with her response other than an incredulous stare.

“ Alright, if I've been acting, I would be a lot cooler but still… I could be acting!”

“I'm a literal psychic, remember? I didn't read your thoughts, don't worry, I know it's invasive for humans. But I got a general overview of who you are, and your vibes matched pretty well with the vibes of good guys”

“Sure, of course, why not,” he muttered, taking a moment to reboot “Why is this my life now?”

M’gann decided it wasn't to her and well… Phantom wasn't wrong, she didn't know him, so however she'd try to answer it was pretty much hit or miss. But from what she'd seen of him, she was curious to learn more.

“Nevermind, let's get you a Specter Deflector before anyone tries to use you as a meatsuit” he said, catching her wrist to drag her somewhere.

She let him lead her. He still didn’t have any nefarious reasoning, and hey! Maybe she'll finish this adventure with a new teammate!

[Sure M’gann. Just a teammate. Don't worry, Danny won't be a panicked mess all of the time here]

[octuscle]

Cholo Life

“First the damned Democrats stole the elections from us and now they are stealing our identity!” Manolo began to roll his eyes. He was familiar with this. When KJ worked himself into a rage, he sounded like a personal disciple of Trump. ‘I mean that they eat the cats in Springfield and the dogs, it's not just an isolated incident, they do it everywhere!’ ‘Kyle…’ Manuel began. KJ gave Manolo a friendly punch on the shoulder. He knew that when Manuel called him “Kyle,” Manolo was angry. “Of course I don't mean you,” said KJ. “You're an American through and through, you're American as peanut butter!” Of course that wasn't true. Manolo was born in Lima, went to school in Lima, and only came to Minnesota with his parents at the age of eight. But his parents had placed great importance on him learning the language quickly, and today Manolo speaks better English than his best friend from school days, KJ.

Kj, on the other hand, was a prime example of a junior at an American college: muscular, bright eyes, fair complexion, of course he played American football, and of course he parroted what Trump said without thinking. Yes, he was damn good-looking, but yes, he was also a real airhead. And even though olu secretly had a crush on KJ, KJ was out of reach for Manolo. You couldn't be more straighter than KJ.

KJ was studying business. With a bit of luck, he would at least get his bachelor's degree. Manolo had already graduated from high school two years before KJ and was about to get his bachelor's degree in biochemistry. He wanted to follow in his father's footsteps, who ran the research department of a seed company here. KJ, on the other hand, would join his father's trucking company and would alternate between driving trucks on the highways and struggling with the accounting in the office.

“Besides, you yourself admitted that you eat pets. You said that your grandmother serves guinea pigs.” ”Yes, but first of all, my grandmother doesn't steal the guinea pigs from some guys in Ohio, but has her cook buy and prepare them at the market, and secondly, guinea pigs are a delicacy where we come from. We find it rather absurd that you…” “All fake news!” KJ countered. ”Admit that the whole world would be in ruins without the USA. Our culture is simply superior!” There were situations in which Manolo was annoyed at being physically inferior to KJ. There were situations in which he just wanted to smash KJ's face in. It was really crazy that a guy who already classified cartoons as art wanted to lecture him on culture. His abuela had once given him a lucky charm that he always carried in his pocket. In situations like this, squeezing the stone firmly helped him. It drained the anger out of him. But this time was different. The stone became warm. The stone became hot! Manolo let go of it. He reached for the cold coke glass to cool his hand.

“Are you okay, hermano?” KJ asked. Manolo winced. That was the first time KJ had used a Spanish word correctly. ‘Would you order me another tequila? ¡Tengo que mear!’ Manolo looked after his friend. He had never drunk tequila before. KJ was also a feast for the eyes from behind. The torn jeans clung to his firm ass. His shoulders were broad. He was muscular. But not exaggerated. And his patriotic tattoos emphasized his masculinity. Manolo waved at the waitress and ordered two tequilas. He didn't usually drink. But maybe he could stand KJ better today if he was a little drunk.

The tequila arrived before KJ. And when KJ sat down, Manolo was playing with his cell phone. KJ took his tequila glass. “A nuestra salud y amistad, hermano” “A nuestra salud y amistad, KJ” Manolo replied distractedly, picked up the glass and was about to toast. He was frozen for a few seconds. What the hell had happened to Kyle? The smooth cheeks were covered by a hint of a beard. His tattoos had expanded. And now they had a lot more space too. Because KJ's muscles had almost exploded. His slender neck, with the Adam's apple whose movements always made Manolo so horny, had become a bull's neck tattooed all over. “Dude, you look like you've seen a ghost,” KJ said. His English had a slight Spanish accent. And there was a tear tattooed under his one eye. Manolo ordered two more tequilas… Their conversation turned into Spanglish gibberish. And at some point into Spanish. KJ got terribly worked up about the gringos. In doing so, he accidentally knocked his trucker cap off his head. He picked up a bandana and tied it around his head. KJ's gaze became somehow different. While they were talking, he played with his nipples more and more. He looked at Manolo more intensely. Somehow… lustfully? “Tengo que ir al baño otra vez. ¿Y no te gustaría venir conmigo?” KJ stood up. He was a muscleman. His tight-fitting tank top emphasized his muscles even more. With every twitch of the muscles, the tattoos moved, creating a real cartoon. His ass looked phenomenal in the pleated pants. If Manolo had to create a wank fantasy, this is what it would look like. And now the wank fantasy was telling him to follow him to the restrooms. Damn it! KJ looked like a real cholo. And he was a square college student in khakis and a button-down. Manolo hesitated for a moment. And then he followed KJ. KJ? Why “KJ”? I have no idea when the nickname developed. César Jesus should have been called CJ. But some stupid gringo hadn't understood that in elementary school. And so he had eventually become KJ. And the nickname stuck.

KJ was standing at the urinal. Manolo could see from behind that he was about to jerk off. Even though they had known each other since childhood, he had never seen KJ's cock. KJ's father had the typical conglomerate that enterprising wetbacks build. He had a few trucks that he used to transport goods or help with removals, he owned a few cafes, a laundry… And KJ was supposed to take over this small local empire at some point. His parents had always hoped that the friendship with the clever and ambitious Manolo would have a positive effect on KJ. But KJ had always been the type to hang out with the bad boys. And who could blame him? He looked just as brutal and manly as his father.

Manolo stood next to César at the urinal. César pretended not to notice Manolo. His tattooed hand jerked his cock, which was also covered in tattoos. It was a monster that offered almost as much surface area for artistic decoration as Manolo's thin forearm. César pushed up his tank top with his other hand, revealing his granite abs and finally his nipples. He played with his right nipple with his left hand. And Manolo, whose cock was almost as hard as César's muscles, couldn't help but suck on the left nipple. “Siempre supe que detrás de la fachada de empollón se escondía una zorrita,” César moaned. He let go of his nipple and pushed Manolo gently but firmly onto his knees. And Manolo greedily licked the precum from César's gleaming glans. This beast was not the first cock he sucked. But it was the biggest. And its owner was the one he wanted to satisfy more than anyone before. They had been like dissimilar brothers. Now he wanted to be this giant's whore. And César obviously wanted him to be his whore. He enjoyed the blow job and moaned loudly enough to signal to anyone who wanted to use the toilet that it was occupied. Manolo sucked César's cock and jerked his own. Both came almost simultaneously. It was impossible for Manolo to swallow all of César's cum. And his own cum splashed onto his shirt. Exhausted, he fell back. César was breathing heavily, too. “Necesitas una camisa nueva, hermanito,” he said. Manolo certainly couldn't go out like that. César took off Manolo's shirt and wiped his cum-smeared face with it. Then he took off his sweaty tank top. It was a bit difficult because it couldn't be easily pulled over his muscular body. He handed it to Manolo. Of course it was too big. But it felt good. And César would make sure that he would fill it out better soon. Today two men became real cholos.

Pics by @ki-kink

[merinsedai]

Thank you, @ficreadingchallenge for this fun little bingo challenge this summer! Some of these, I could have filled multiple times and some I had to have a search for, but all part of the fun!

1. Under the influence: Spoils of War by @seiya-starsniper [E] Aphrodisiacs! Starting strongly with the smut. Kinda feral for this piece, multiple rereads. Hob is not a good man but he is good in bed. Dream has not spoken since he arrived. How long ago that was I don't know, but I'm in awe of the pettiness. Excellent, love it. Very much E (and probably not the only one on this list...)

2. Newest fic in the tag of your choice: listen, I'm very one-track minded. Dreamling has basically been the only tag of my choice for the past two years. So, the newest fic when I decided to do this square was: Dream Ship by @often-adamanta [E] A spicy little tale set on a space ship which Dream controls and Hob's his muscle. They're a new partnership and Dream's not happy about it so he's giving Hob the silent treatment. Queue Hob taking some alone time, Dream accidentally interrupting and Hob having no privacy issues at all. The start of something beautiful, no doubt.

3. Inspired by another fanwork: I'll Go To Sleep and Dream Again by @chaosheadspace [E] which is inspired by Shelter by softestpunk. An accidentally human Dream has need of the help of Hob Gadling to help him navigate life as a human (eg facial hair, food, and morning wood), regain his Endlessness and recover his tools. Whilst falling in love and having some hot sex ofc. Also, a lot of lovely petnames.

4. Mistaken Identity: As a Stranger I Know Myself by @phinofthestorm and @sleepsonfutons [E] Could be no other choice for this square. Gripping drama, mysteries, feeeeelings, smut (obvs), plentiful existential angst, and shit goin' down. Featuring Jessamy the raven knocking her head against the wall; Burgess's cane; name repetitions; everyone having A Time of it; side characters Shipping Them Too; oh, and a main character you don't expect to like as much as you do...

5.Slow Burn: What Dreams May Come, When Living is at an End by Sebena [T] This fandom is slow burn central, but this is the fic I'm currently in the middle of, and I'm quite enamoured with the relationship between Knight Hob and Morpheus, and it's beautifully descriptive. Plus some lovely pieces of art by @teejaystumbles A real treat.

6. Dressing Up: Make it Count by @arialerendeair [E] Dream gets to dress Hob up very nicely for posh dinners aboard the world's most famous ocean liner in this wonderful Titanic AU. Dream gets to dress down, too! A longer fic but absolutely gripping! Could also use Aria and Konstadt's Colour Forecasting [E] for this square. There's lots of fancy tailoring and clothing choices going on here. And lots of smut, relationship navigation and lots and lots of kissing.

7.Author's oldest fic: Metamorphosis by @windsweptinred [M] Delightful fic about-yes- the metamorphosis of Dream and Hob into Something Else. Starts with high drama as Dream is about to take Death's hand as the Kindly Ones are ravaging the Dreaming and takes things in a very different direction. There's stunning artwork on each chapter that really adds to the reading experience!

8. Small Fandom (<1000 fics): In Which Cat/Cow Is Not A Yoga Pose by @temve [E] ok, technically a crossover with The Sandman (although for pure Aldrich Kemp there's A Fishbowl, a Forklift, and a Friend: or, Who Hired Aldrich Kemp? which I read back in April, so doesn't count for the summer challenge) Temve has Aldrich's voice down to a T and her humour is so on point. I laughed out loud many times in both these fics.

9. Gift Giving: For Your Affection by @cuubism [T] short and sweet little fic by cuubism dealing with high larceny as a love language. cuubism's writing is so joyful, the playfulness she often gives to her Dream brings me great happiness and there's no exception here.

10.Enemies to friends/lovers: Tower and Rose by @moorishflower [E] Beauty and the Beast style 'au' with a magic tower, a mysterious lord, a plucky peasant Hob, an 'imprisonment', a terror stalking the grounds and many, many questions. Why are all the servants ravens? Twists and turns a plenty, and some fun eldritch sex sprinkled in.

11.Lyric Title-listen to the song, too!: please wake me/for my love lies patiently by @beatnikfreakiswriting [E] sequel to the also-having-a-song-lyric title, would you let me know...? aka fics that live rent-free in my head after having rewired my brain. Featuring the most relatable Hob ever, copious interesting facts in the author's notes, and a Dream who would have scared the shit out of me if he'd been my lecturer but is hot af and needs lots of love really. Lots of scorching smut too. Is this a theme? Obviously. Bonus that each chapter, and the series title, have song lyric titles too.

12.de-aging/kidfic England and Nowhere (Never and Always) by @dsudis [M] The last fill on my card, and one I had to search for. And I'm glad I did. I'm about 1/2 way through so don't know the resolution but a lot of it is very soft, especially Dream's relationship with the changeling toddler, Finn. Finn feels very much like a real little boy in his actions and his dialogue. I'm very much enjoying this fic.

FREE SPACE: literally anything by @tj-dragonblade fluff and smut and pure delight.

13.character study: Unsent Letters, Nameless Stranger by @rainbowvamp [M] letters from Hob to Dream throughout the centuries detailing the evolution in Hob's thoughts, attitudes and feelings towards his life, his history and mostly, his feelings for Dream (aka a lot of pining). I'm about halfway through the letters so far and am looking forward to getting back to them.

14.happy ending: My Fair Gadling by @zigzag-wanderer [E] a work in progress, so we haven't reached the happy ending yet, but I have faith in the author and this absolutely wonderful fic. Hob has such a strong narrative voice, he is a delight to read and so, so funny. I laugh out loud constantly in all of ziggy's fics, whether that's the dialogue or the hilarious analogies and metaphors. Professor Morpheus is a study in buttoned up sadness to begin with, but just wait until he's unleashed. He's unbearably sexy when he rolls his sleeves up and fixes car engines at the side of the road, and endearingly earnest in bed. I eagerly await every chapter (especially to find out what outfit Hob has shimmied into that day).

15.Secret Relationship: Risk and Reward by @signiorbenedickofpadua [E] absolutely cracking Regency au. Lord Morpheus spends a lot of time early on feeling mildly fevered. It's probably nothing to do with his new house guest, Mr Robert Gadling, right? These guys slowly, so slowly move towards Something Special. There is the ultimate thrill of finger brushing; the admiration of shapely legs and the highly charged Shakespeare reading. Also balls, duels, painting, stargazing, horse riding and misuse of biblical quotes. And I'm only half way through! The relationship is of necessity given the time period, secret. At the point I'm at, it's finally begun in earnest and I'm excited to see where the plot takes them next!

16. Angst: Exit Wounds by @valeriianz [T] There are many angst-ridden fics in this fandom, and I am a sucker for angst. I love it and seek it out. This fic by sanyumi tore my heart out, stomped all over it and then threw it in the river for good measure. Sometimes you just need to feel destroyed and this delivers.

17. Omegaverse AU So Tell Me Where To Put My Love by @seiya-starsniper [E] Another of my favourite au topics! This starts out with an unhappily arranged marriage, secrets and angst and lots of miscommunication and then explores the developing relationship between Hob and Dream; Dream getting to feel empowered; more miscommunication; knitting; Hob getting to be incredibly rude to Dream's mother, and a very happy ending. Could have tagged loads in this square. Special mentions to i have no fear of time / for who knows how my love grows? by @gabessquishytum [E] for pure horny good times most centuries; and also the incomparable Lover, Be Good to Me by @omgcinnamoncakes which I haven't actually read this summer but which hasn't left my brain. The ultimate omegaverse slowburn and healing fic. Wonderful.

18. High School/College au: Dr Hardass and Professor Sweetheart by crimandclove [G] an outsider pov look at Hob and Dream, who are both professors at the same university (and also married, of course, though the protagonist doesn't know it). And by the same author: Coincidence, [T] which is the story of how Dream and Hob met and became friends in high school. Pure nostalgia for me and Hob is such a delightful pov character to follow. Unfinished but with a full synopsis of how the story would have gone.

19. Road Trip: The Blood of Bucephalus by @llflorence [E] no actual roads, but these guys sure go on a journey. Set in ancient times, with shades of Alexander the Great. Except it's king Morpheus and his loyal soldier (and lover) Hob. Featuring Hob being mostly bewildered about what's going on and Morpheus being the most tight lipped monarch in existence. Also featuring a love for horses and Morpheus's unquenchable desire to travel incognito. Written with the same tenderness, intensity and mystery that is Lis's hallmark.

20. New author (<1 year) Coma Dreams by TheTroubleWithTribbles [M] a fic I had to actively search for but very much enjoyed reading. Some domesticity, Dream being caring, Matthew being traumatised, and Hob enjoying an extended trip to the Dreaming. Featuring some laugh out loud moments, Dream with broccoli patterned oven gloves and Hob being free with terms of endearment.

21. Crossover or fusion fic: Half Asleep, Half Waking by @softest-punk [G] again, I could have chosen fics by softestpunk to fill most of the spaces on this grid! Isn't their writing delightful? Such warmth and such range. Something for whatever you're in the mood for. Am in awe. Anyway, this is a crossover between The Sandman and Rivers of London. I didn't know the RoL books, but after reading this I listened to them on audible and came back to the fic. Very enjoyable- thanks, Cecil! Nightingale is my favourite character from RoL and I loved his relationship with Hob. And Hob gently chiding Molly and Nightingale to get their acts together, ha!

22. Superpowers/no powers Au: Here in the Darkness by @cuubism [M] Since we've got one 'super' character, and one 'normal' character in Dreamling, I chose cuubism's reverseverse fic where they've switched around. Good grief, it was good. Hope is a ray of sunshine, eh? He's just going around being lovely and offering hope, and being kind to Morpheus. And then gets captured and treated horrifically for a century. There's plenty of angst, Morpheus being snitty, then depressed, then a vengeful angel and then they get some softness. It's pure cuubism magic: it's fucking brilliant.

23. Only One Bed: The Chase by @imnotcrying-ipromise [M] I followed along with this story as it was being published early last year, and it was a wild ride of emotions and cliffhangers! Not only is there only one bed, there is a hunt across the country, a wonderful yet dangerous connection, and of course, some falling in love. It's such a fun and thrilling tale: a unique concept with a menacing villain. The sense of peril is real: for our canon characters and some lovely ocs we meet, too. And in the quieter moments there is a lot of sweetness and care between Dream and Hob. An excellent re-read this summer.

24: Soulmates: Destined by @arialerendeair [M] I love a good soulmate au, and this is a cracker by Aria. Featuring not one, but two rescues, a number of villains getting their just desserts, and visits to a Greek temple. Hob is, by turns, a bamf and a gentle, considerate man. He's spent 600 years trying to figure out what the letters of his soul mark mean, and when he does... Dream has spent countless years not even knowing he has a soul mark/mate; it takes a severance from the Dreaming to reveal it, and when he finds out...

[tinytalkingtina]

Born to Run

Part 1 of Running with the Devil, a Steddie role reversal series

4k words | Rating: E

Tags/CW: Role reversal no upside down AU with some canon divergence, Jock/Track Star!Eddie, Metalhead/drug dealer!Steve, appalachian Eddie, confident bisexual Steve, Eddie has a sexuality crisis but is in denial, Eddie's sleeping mind decides to take matters into its own hands, wet dream (contains spanking and public humiliation), running of both the literal and metaphorical kind, child abuse referenced indirectly (physical beatings that happened in the past)

Read now on Ao3, and be sure to read @little-annie's Part 2 from Steve's POV, "Metal Health will Drive you Mad"

The sex dream within this fic is brought to you by the Week 4 prompt "slap" of the @steddiesmuttyseptember event

Eddie was always a runner. If you asked Wayne, he apparently skipped straight from crawling to toddling around as fast as his chubby legs could carry him. When he got older, it was a release valve, for everything and anything shitty in his life.

He didn’t have to think about his mom pulling a disappearing act, or his dad getting himself arrested (again). The world would narrow until the only sounds he could hear were the rushing in his ears and the smack of his sneakers on pavement.

Running had brought him to where he was now, as he clawed his way up the proverbial high school ranks. Anyone at this party would look at him and only see the triumphant senior captain of the track team, fresh off a successful meet. Every keg stand, every heroic retelling of a close race, every sloppy makeout session with a cheerleader, kept the attention on the Eddie of the present. 

No one needed to remember the wide-eyed weirdo with patched baggy clothes, nearly ten when his classmates would only turn nine that year.

All around him, the crowd ebbed and flowed between the alcohol and the bonfire, the flickering flames and shadows making it hard to tell who was who. Someone stumbled into Eddie, breaking him out of his brooding.

“Whoops, sorry Eddie! Guess I’ll have to make it up to you later.” Before he could say anything, the giggling cheerleader pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. (He knew he went on a date with her about a month ago, but her name eluded him. Tina, maybe, or Vicki?)

He forced a grin back. “Of course you didn’t mean it sugar. Gonna hold you to that ‘kay?”

The girl possibly named Tina swooned at the tiny bit of accent he'd carefully slipped in. Just a touch could be charming to the fine folks of the Midwest, even if what he ended up using was way less Appalachian hick and more refined Southern gentleman than his momma's family had ever spoken in their lives.

As soon as her back was turned, he let the smile slide off. His post-meet high wore off too quickly tonight, and it left him well, twitchy.

An arm slung itself over his shoulder. "Ed my man, this party is wild! Your best work yet dude." Tommy grinned at him, already drunk. Neither of them commented on how close Tommy was pressing himself into Eddie. Or how Eddie wasn't quite moving away. But then again, the two of them had perfected the art of leaving things unsaid after what happened sophomore year, how close they had come to—no.

"Heh, yeah. Hey, where's Carol? She's gonna be pissed you abandoned her."

"Please, Carol's fine. She's busy talking with Lisa Carmichael. Speaking of which, she's really into you. Come on, get your dick wet, you deserve it after that 800 meter. We're fucking going to states!" His last sentence was said much louder, and a chorus of cheers and whoops predictably echoed back from celebratory partygoers. The twitchiness grew.

"I dunno man, not really feeling it tonight." Eddie tried to subtly back up a little bit, but Tommy just swayed forward into his space again.

“Trust me, you won’t be feeling like that when you're balls deep in a nice tight—"

"Tommy will you just fucking stop? What's with your obsession with my dick huh?"

A look of fear and hurt flashed across Tommy's face for a second, before it was replaced with a scowl. Fuck that was the wrong thing to say and danced way too close to the thoughts about—nope, they were not gonna talk about that.

Eddie carefully pat Tommy on the shoulder instead of thinking. "Shit sorry, it's fine, you're just looking out for me, right? I appreciate it, just not uh, really in the partying mood for some reason." 

Tommy managed to recover his grin. "Oh, duh, why didn't you say so? That fucking freak Harrington finally showed up about thirty minutes ago. Sure he's got something that'll make you unwind a bit. Here, have one on me.”

Eddie wanted to snap that he didn’t need pity money. He got the kegs supplied just fine on his own, hadn’t he? But Tommy was still holding himself tensely several steps away. Tommy, who in sixth grade biked over every other day even after his parents had told him to stay away from the trailer park. Who “accidentally” always had a second pudding cup tucked in with his lunch for sharing. Whose summertime freckles were just starting to fade but Eddie knew still trailed down all the way to his—. 

Besides, maybe weed would take the edge off whatever ugly thing kept rearing its insistent head inside him tonight. Help him forget about the looming pressures of the future and the things he wasn’t going to think about, help him feel normal again.

“Thanks Tommy, I’ll try and relax.” Eddie grabbed the money and set off down the path towards Skull Rock, where Harrington always held court. The chill wind rustling through the trees was a welcome respite to his overheated skin.

The walk over to the next clearing was only a few minutes, but by the time Eddie came upon it, the thrum of bass and general teenage debauchery had faded into a low murmur.

Instead, Skull Rock reverberated with the sound of tapping and gentle humming. Eddie’s heart picked up a little.

Read the rest on Ao3!

It's finally here! This began life as a brain worm that Annie and I have turned into a whole fully expanded universe. We can't wait to write more with these two :D

Tagging a few folks who showed interest in the original Wiggly Wednesday post (but please feel free to ignore): @eyesofshinigami @augustjustice @griefabyss69 @hairstevington

Thank you to steddiecameraroll-graphics for the runner divider!

@dreamy-jeans137 @eriquin @hbyrde36 @hotluncheddie

[thegalleonsnest]

Sizzling Sands is still one of my favorite tracks in the game, full stop. Nothing will top the vibes and chill factor of running around a big open desert with that shit slapping in background.

[bunnihearted]

🍓

[deadsetobsessions]

Of all the places he could have been summoned to, Danny Phantom had never considered a private school’s bathroom to be one of them.

With glowing green skin, a shock of flickering flames for hair, and a suit made out of the spaces between collapsing stars, Danny stared down at the stupefied faces of Gotham Academy’s finest students. One of them had their face in their hands, having caught sight of him and undergoing all the stages of grief in but a moment.

They sat around a circle that he was appropriately impressed with considering the limited space they had to work with. Danny could see the empty stalls, some of which were adorned with drawings and writings that were left by the, no-doubt, extremely busy caretaker.

“Seriously, a bathroom?” Danny wrinkled his nose.

“Holy shit, that actually worked?” One of the kids blurted out, then slammed their hands on top of their mouth.

“Did you expect it not to?” Danny squinted at them, frowning. It’s Friday, so it’s not like he had much to do, but Danny would prefer it if his time wasn’t wasted.

“No- no, your… uh, highness?”

“All of that schooling and you’re still uneducated,” one of the other ones hissed at the red headed kid who spoke. It’s “Your Majesty.” He’s a king, idiot!”

That was a pretty solid burn but, “It’s actually just Phantom. Did you guys want something? I’m busy.”

He’s not busy, but who cares?

“Uh…” the kids exchanged glances. The one in the back sighed and spoke up. He adjusted his glasses.

“We’re sorry for bothering you, Phantom. You wouldn’t happen to have a solution for dimensional separation, would you?”

“Huh.” Danny tilted his head, face souring. “I hate dimensional issues. They’re the worst. Who’s causing them?”

“His name’s Klarion!” The one who slapped a hand across his mouth earlier piped up.

“Oh! The lords of chaos or whatever. Yeah, I can help, for a price.”

Danny is against unpaid labor. Extremely against it, considering his side gig is being a half-dead vigilante. Then again, are you really a vigilante if you’re not half dead on a regular basis?

“What do you want?” Despite the reluctance from earlier, it’s clear the one with the glasses made the big decisions in this weird friend group.

“… A hundred dollars.”

“That’s it? No stipulations?” When Danny nodded, the kid had a calculating expression. “Deal.” The teen said immediately. He pulled out cash and wow, Danny’s definitely in a place with a different tax bracket.

He snatched it. Nasty burger money!

“Deal’s a deal. Also, don’t ever summon me again, but if you do, don’t ever do it in a bathroom again. You kids are so weird.” Danny floated out of the circle, grinning sharply. He formed a small bird- he doesn’t know why, but it felt right- of ice and handed it to the kid with glasses. “There. Proof of the deal.”

With that, Danny disappeared. Private school kids were so fucking weird, but… Dash and his goons were probably worse. What’s a little ritualistic summoning in the face of teenagers?

——

“I leave you guys alone for ten minutes and you summon the king of the dead?” Robin narrowed his eyes at his teammates, traitors who had the good graces to look sheepish. “How could you?! I wanted to try, too!”

Kid Flash patted him on the shoulder, a granola bar appearing in his mouth now that the possible world ending terror disappeared. “Sorry, Rob. Maybe next time! Magic still isn’t real though.”

“I’m not doing this shit in a bathroom again,” Artemis rolled back to her feet. “He sounded like he was going to rip our bones out if we ever summoned him in a bathroom again.”

“Ugh…”

[yeonzzzn]

ease my mind ; sim jaeyun

pairing: bf!jake x afab!reader word count: 681 synopsis: when your boyfriend had a stressful day at work and all he wants is to have his face between your legs. warnings: swearing, SMUT, pussy eating (obvi), fingering, cum eating, MINORS DNI!!

You arch your back at his touch. The sounds of both your and his soft moans fill the space of your room. His hands slide up to your hips and slip under, squeezing the skin between your ass and back as a soft “fuck,” leaves his lips with a breath. 

Your hands are in his hair, fingers gently tangling and pulling at the dark locks. You slowly lift your head to look down at him, seeing his eyes already staring back at you. He makes eye contact as he slides his tongue into your heat, his nose rubbing gently against your clit. 

A moan escapes your mouth at the sight of it. Of your beautiful boyfriend between your legs, tongue pushing against your walls, and hands exploring every part of your naked body. 

“Jake,” you breathe out his name, feeling his body shudder against your thighs and the vibrations of his soft moan in reply to his name rolling off your tongue sending goosebumps up your body. 

“Fuck, baby,” he whispered between the short few seconds he gave himself from lifting away from your soaking cunt, eyes glossing over the slick pooling out. Tongue stretching out his mouth and licking a stripe up to your clit, lips wrapping around the sensitive bud and sucking gently. 

You could feel your orgasm slowly approaching. And as badly as you wanted to cum all over his pretty face, you want this to last so much longer. 

“Thank you for this baby,” Jake mumbles against your clit, lifting his face and rubbing soft circles against it with his thumb, “I really needed this so bad.” 

You think back to the text messages you received from him just an hour ago: 

Jake: Can I eat you out, please? Jake: Just real quick.  Jake: It’s been a rough day at work and I am pacing in the middle of the dorm and all I can think about is my mouth on that pretty pussy of yours to release this stress.  You: Of course, babe. The door is already unlocked for you <3 Jake: Baby :( Jake: omw

He was at your front door not even fifteen minutes later, opening the door and letting himself in. Already finding you naked and spread out on your bed all ready to go for him. And he thanked every god possible for giving him a girlfriend like you. 

Jake adores you and loves how you take care of him and his needs in every way possible. He loves you so much and even though you’re doing this to take care of his stress, he sure as hell will make sure you’re taken care of too. 

Jake slides two of his fingers down to your lips, spreading them open, “You have the prettiest pussy I have ever laid eyes on, YN,” he groans, kissing your cunt softly, tongue kitten licking your clit as his two fingers slip between your gummy walls. 

The grip you have on his hair tightens as his long fingers rub against your spot. Jake is soft with his touches but still so very good at making your orgasm rush out faster. 

Your walls clench his fingers, jaw slack as you feel your pending orgasm threatening to snap at any moment, “Jakey, please,” 

“I know, baby,” he kisses your clit, shifting his fingers a tad bit faster in your cunt, “Want you to cum on my tongue, can you do that for me, baby?” 

You nod quickly, arching your back even more off the bed, toes curling once you feel his tongue enter you along with his fingers. Then you saw stars. 

You squeeze your legs against his head, panting as your cum coats his tongue and fingers. Jake slurping every ounce of it up and moaning at your taste.

You didn’t even realize Jake was squeezing your hips until you came down from your high, looking down at him and seeing your juices covering his mouth and jaw, hooded eyes down staring back at you. 

The corners of his lips curl, “You always know how to ease my mind.”

—tags: @alvojake @ikeuverse @woniebae @shawnyle @jwnghyuns

@in-somnias-world @zyvlxqht @aaa-sia @wonniethepoo @addictedtohobi

@eneiyri @skzenhalove @fakeuwus @cherry-park @vousty

@ladyartemesia @criminalyun @enhaverse713586 @wondipity @lhsvibez

@jaeyunq @rikizm @kaykay11sworld @vixialuvs @onlyhyunjin

@enha-cafe @ppanghoon @sunpov @zeeloveshee @hxxsxxng

@moonrisearies @brownsugarbaybee @nshmrarki @vveebee @teddybeartaetae

@kookify @abysofsteel @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @hee-lvrr @1309zip

@moon0fthenight @jakeflvrz @021894s @sendhelpiloveyeonjun @surrik-i

@heeseungsbm @niki-riki-nishimura-riki @star-hoon

[mononijikayu]

amnesia — ryomen sukuna.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.” You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: sfw, fluff, angst, romance, hurt/ comfort, post - break up, amnesia, hurt, physical touch, memory loss, sadness, pain, pining, slowly getting back together, light-hearted, happy ending, getting back together, depictions of amnesia, depiction of pining, mention of grief, mention of accident, mention of pining, ex-boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! ex-girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 9.9k words

NOTE: the entire chapter is a sequel to drunk tonight and is set five years later. sukuna won second place at the poll again and i feel like this is my apology for sukuna for always making him an angst main lead. this was inspired by a filipino film called amnesia girl and its a funny drama-romcom. its available on youtube, but i dont know if there's subtitles!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy this and i hope you know how much i love yall 🫶🫶🫶

ADDENDUM: so......so long sukuna??? (manga readers iykyk)

masterlist

kayu's playlist - side 1000;

if you want to, tip!

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE LIKED TO THINK HE COUNTED THE HOW LONG IT HAS BEEN WELL. Five long and painful years ago, you and Sukuna parted ways in what felt like an explosion of unresolved emotions and unmet expectations. Your relationship had been a tempestuous blend of fiery passion and constant turbulence, a rollercoaster of intense highs and devastating lows. From the beginning, it was clear that both of you had strong personalities, often clashing in ways that seemed impossible to reconcile.

The reasons for the breakup were numerous and complex. There was the perpetual danger that came with Sukuna's world, a constant reminder that you were living on the edge, with no guarantee of safety or stability. His life was fraught with peril, and the reality of that danger had taken its toll on both of you. You both knew that living under such stress was unsustainable, and it began to fray the bonds that had once held you together.

Your expectations, too, weighed heavily on the relationship. You had dreams and aspirations that seemed at odds with the life you were leading alongside Sukuna. The demands of his world often overshadowed your own needs, leading to a sense of neglect and disillusionment. It felt as though you were always putting yourself second, trying to accommodate the chaos that was Sukuna's life while struggling to maintain your own sense of self.

Despite the chaos and the inevitable breakdown, there was an undeniable connection between you—a bond that neither of you could completely sever. It was a connection that defied logic, a thread that seemed to pull you back together despite all efforts to move on. Both of you had tried to let go, to walk away and start anew, but the lingering feelings and shared history made it nearly impossible to fully break free.

Sukuna, in his own way, struggled with this as well. Even though the relationship had reached its breaking point, he found himself unable to completely let go of what you had shared. He was deeply aware of the toll that the relationship had taken on you, and he knew that you needed to prioritize yourself, your own well-being, and your own path forward. It was a painful realization, one that left him feeling hollow and lost, but he was determined not to be the reason you couldn't move forward.

In his mind, letting you go was the only way to truly show his love for you—to give you the space you needed to heal and grow. Even if it meant enduring his own misery, he accepted that it was a sacrifice he had to make. He knew that holding on would only serve to drag you both down further, and he wasn't willing to be the obstacle in your pursuit of happiness.

So, as time passed and the separation became a part of your history, Sukuna endured his own internal struggle. He remained in the shadows of your life, silently wishing for your happiness while grappling with his own feelings of loss and regret. He respected your decision and tried to move forward, even as he kept a part of himself tied to the memories of what once was.

But even then, you were truly something that made his life more than it was. You were the blossoms of his youth, the hope and vibrancy that had once colored his world. Your presence had breathed life into the mundane, transforming his days from mere existence into something filled with possibility and wonder. 

His elder brother Jin had seen it all those years ago, recognizing the profound impact you had on Sukuna. Jin had often remarked on how you were a beacon of hope, a light that guided Sukuna through the darkest corners of his life. Your influence was undeniable, a force that had shaped him in ways he could hardly articulate.

Yet despite the depth of his feelings and the significance of what you had shared, Sukuna couldn’t escape the gnawing belief that he had ultimately failed you. He carried with him the heavy burden of the notion that he wasn’t good enough—never had been, never would be. The weight of this conviction was a constant companion, a shadow that loomed over every thought and action.

He remembered the countless moments of doubt, the times when he felt that his flaws, his imperfections, and the dangers of his world were too great a burden for you to bear. It was a painful realization, one that left him grappling with feelings of inadequacy. He wanted to be the person who could give you everything you deserved—love, stability, safety. But he feared that he fell short, that he could never truly be the partner you needed.

Even as he watched you move forward, find your own path, and build a life without him, he was haunted by the belief that he had let you down. He was acutely aware of all the ways he had failed to meet your expectations, to protect you from the chaos that had once defined your life together. He thought that perhaps he had been too caught up in his own struggles, too consumed by the demands of his world to fully appreciate what he had with you.

In his quieter moments, Sukuna wrestled with the idea that he would never be good enough for you, that he would never be able to offer you the kind of love and life you truly deserved. This belief became a part of him, shaping how he viewed himself and how he measured his worth. He felt that he had lost you not because of any one mistake or shortcoming, but because he was fundamentally flawed, incapable of providing the kind of relationship you needed.

And so, even as he grappled with his own pain and regrets, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were better off without him. The memory of what you had shared lingered like a bittersweet echo, a reminder of what could have been and what was lost. He had to come to terms with the fact that he might never be able to offer you the life you deserved, and that acceptance was a hard, painful lesson he had to learn.

Sukuna's struggle with these feelings was a testament to the depth of his love for you, a love that, despite its imperfections and its failures, had once been a source of profound meaning and transformation in his life. Even as he moved forward, he carried the weight of this truth with him—a reminder of what you had meant to him and the painful realization that, perhaps, he would never truly be good enough to have you back.

Sukuna sat in the corner of the room, a half-empty glass of whiskey in his hand, as he listened to his friend's banter. The atmosphere was lighter than it had been in years. Gojo, with his usual grin, was recounting some ridiculous tale of his latest escapade, while Uraume, ever the quiet observer, occasionally chimed in with dry comments that had the others laughing.

But Ryomen Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention. His mind kept drifting back to you—to the way your eyes had softened when you told him you wanted to give “us” a real chance, to the way you’d leaned into him, trusting and vulnerable in a way that made his chest tighten.

“Oi, Sukuna. You’re….” Gojo’s voice cut through his thoughts. “You’re awfully quiet tonight, bud. What's got you all broody, huh?”

Sukuna blinked, realizing he’d been staring into his glass for who knows how long. He knows he spaces out when he’s thinking, but when he’s thinking of you — he suppose the time can go on and he wouldn’t even notice. He looked up to find Gojo’s bright blue eyes fixed on him, a knowing smirk playing on his lips. Uraume was watching him too, their expression unreadable but attentive.

“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.” Sukuna muttered, taking a sip of his drink. “Just thinking.”

“That’s a first from you, hm.”  Uraume teased, earning a snort from Gojo.

“Come on, spill it!” Gojo pressed, leaning forward with that infuriatingly playful grin. “Is it a girl? I don’t mind if it’s a guy, I know you swing that way too! Oh, wait… don’t tell me it’s the girl.”

Sukuna’s dark scarlet eyes narrowed at him. “What are you talking about?”

Gojo’s grin widened. “The one you’ve been moping about for the last five years. Don’t think I didn’t notice, Sukuna. You’ve been different at work lately—quieter, more… I don’t know, introspective.”

“Gojo–san’s right, Sukuna–san.” Uraume added, their tone softer. “You’ve changed. It’s like you’re finally letting go of whatever it was that had you so wound up.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, feeling the weight of their words settle over him. He wasn’t used to being the one on the receiving end of their scrutiny, and he didn’t like it. But he also knew they weren’t wrong.

“Yeah, well……” Sukuna began, his voice rough, “I haven't seen her in a long while.. Five years, I think. But I heard…I heard she’s been around. She’s moved around town.”

Uraume raised their eyebrows. “Five years? That’s a long time, Sukuna–san.”

“Yeah. We were together throughout our senior high school and college. Then we broke up after we graduated.” Sukuna sighed, taking a long sip of his drink. The alcohol burned as it slid down his throat, but it did little to ease the ache that had settled in his chest. “It’s been a long time, but… hearing that she’s moved here just brings back a lot.”

Gojo’s eyes widened in surprise. “Was that breakup really that bad?” His usual grin faded, replaced by a look of concern as he sensed the gravity of Sukuna’s words. “What happened?”

Sukuna nodded, his gaze drifting away from Gojo’s intense stare. The room seemed to grow quieter as he delved into the past, the weight of his memories heavy in his voice. “We had multiple breakups. It wasn’t just one—there were several. But the last one was particularly rough. We both cried a lot, said things we didn’t mean. It was messy.”

Gojo leaned in, his curiosity piqued. “Why was it so difficult?”

Sukuna’s face tightened as he struggled to find the right words. “If I’m being honest, it’s my fault. I wasn’t secure in myself. I was jealous, possessive. I couldn’t handle the idea of her moving forward or being happy without me. And that jealousy, that insecurity—it hurt her more than I realized.”

There was a long pause as Sukuna’s confession hung in the air. Gojo’s usual bravado was replaced by a rare, contemplative silence. He took a moment to process Sukuna’s admission, trying to reconcile the man he knew with the vulnerability being revealed.

“That’s a lot to carry,” Gojo said finally, his voice softer than usual. “But it sounds like you’re taking responsibility, which is more than a lot of people do.”

Sukuna’s expression was a mix of regret and acceptance. “Yeah, well, it doesn’t change the past. I know I hurt her, and I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for that fully. But seeing her again… it’s brought everything back. The pain, the regret, and the memories of what we had.”

Uraume, who had been quietly listening, spoke up, their tone gentle. “It’s clear you’re still affected by this. Maybe it’s a chance for you to make things right, or at least find some closure. People change, and sometimes, revisiting the past can help us understand ourselves better.”

Sukuna nodded, though his expression remained somber. “Maybe. I’m not sure what will come of this. I just know that seeing her again made me realize how much I still care, how much I’ve changed, and how much I wish things could have been different.”

Gojo leaned back, his eyes thoughtful. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot, and maybe this is a chance for you to show her the person you’ve become. It might not fix everything, but it could be a step toward healing—for both of you.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened, a flicker of hope in his eyes. “Yeah, maybe. It’s worth a shot.”

The room fell silent, the playful atmosphere dissolving as the weight of Sukuna's words sank in. Even Gojo, who was usually quick with a joke or a teasing remark, seemed at a loss for what to say. His usual bravado was replaced with something more thoughtful, almost solemn, as he processed what Sukuna had just revealed.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft clink of ice in Sukuna's glass as he set it down on the table. He could feel the eyes of his friends on him, but he kept his gaze fixed on the drink, not ready to meet their concerned looks just yet. The silence stretched on, thick with unspoken emotions.

“I hope the best for you, man.” Gojo finally muttered, leaning back in his chair as he exhaled slowly. His tone was softer than usual, lacking its typical teasing edge. “You deserve to be happy too.”

Sukuna snickered. “You must be drunk being this nice to me.”

“Hey! I am nice at all times.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

Uraume, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward slightly, their expression gentle and understanding. They had always been more in tune with Sukuna's moods, more aware of the nuances in his behavior than Gojo, who often masked his own sensitivity with humor.

“If you bump into her again, though….” Uraume asked, their tone devoid of judgment, only curiosity and concern. “Would you try and talk to her, then?”

Sukuna finally looked up, meeting Uraume’s gaze. There was a hesitance in his eyes, as if he was still grappling with the reality of it all. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low, almost as if admitting it aloud made it more real. “I would. In a drop of a hat.”

The confession hung in the air, heavy with the weight of all the unspoken feelings that had built up over the years. It wasn’t just the fact that you had come back into his life; it was the realization that despite everything, despite the time and distance, Ryomen Sukuna had never really let go of you. He had buried those feelings deep, tried to move on, but now that you were here again, they had all come rushing back to the surface.

Gojo watched Sukuna carefully, his usual smirk gone, replaced with a rare expression of empathy. He knew Sukuna better than most, knew how much pride had always driven him, how hard it had been for him to admit his feelings even when things were good between the two of you. For Sukuna to open up like this now, it meant that whatever he was feeling ran deep.

“I get it.” Gojo said, his voice unusually quiet. “I mean, you guys were… well, you were everything to each other. It makes sense that she’s still on your mind.”

Uraume nodded in agreement. “It’s not surprising that you still think about her, Sukuna–san. What you had wasn’t just something you can forget, even if you wanted to.”

Sukuna’s jaw tightened, and he looked away, staring off into the distance as if trying to collect his thoughts. “It’s just… weird.” he finally said, his voice thick with the frustration he’d been holding back. “I’ve been trying to move on, to put all of that behind me. But I just….I want to see her again. Even just one more time.”

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he regarded Sukuna with a serious expression. “Maybe you’re not supposed to forget, man. Maybe this is your chance to figure out what you really want, to make things right.”

Uraume added quietly, “It’s not too late to change the narrative, Sukuna. If you still care about her, if she’s still on your mind after all this time, maybe there’s something there worth exploring.”

Sukuna closed his eyes for a moment, taking in their words. There was truth in what they were saying, and he knew it. He had spent so long trying to bury his feelings, convincing himself that it was over and done with. But the truth was, he had never truly moved on. And now, with you back in his life, even in this new, unfamiliar way, he couldn’t ignore the pull he felt toward you.

When he opened his eyes, there was a resolve in them that hadn’t been there before. “You’re probably right.” he admitted, his voice steady. “I’ve been running from this for too long. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I need to see this through. I owe it to myself, and… to her.”

Gojo’s grin returned, but it was softer, more genuine. “That’s the spirit, man. You’ve got this. Just… don’t screw it up this time, okay?”

Sukuna let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’ll try not to.”

Uraume smiled softly, a rare display of emotion from them. “We’re here for you, Sukuna–san. Whatever you need, just say the word.”

Sukuna nodded, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. For the first time in a long time, he felt like he wasn’t alone in this. With Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he could face whatever came next, even if it meant confronting the feelings he had buried for so long.

One more drink and  the conversation shifted back to lighter topics, the tension that had hung in the air slowly dissipated. But the resolve in Sukuna’s heart remained, stronger than ever. He knew what he had to do, and for the first time in years, he felt ready to face it head-on,

As the night wore on, Sukuna couldn’t help but think about the future—about what it would be like to build something real with you this time, something lasting. The thought scared him, but it also excited him in a way he hadn’t felt in years.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could get it right. And with Gojo and Uraume by his side, he knew he wouldn’t have to do it alone. But the hour is late. And they’ve got things going on in their lives too. So they pay their bills and wave him goodbye.

As he watches his comrades pair off, he is forced to confront a painful truth. Despite years of searching, no one has been able to replace you. The women he's met, the flings he's had—they were all distractions, mere shadows compared to what he had with you. Each time he tries to move forward, your memory pulls him back, the echo of your laughter, the way you challenged him like no one else ever did, and the warmth you once brought into his life, all refuse to fade.

In quiet moments, when he's alone, Ryomen Sukuna wrestles with the possibility that his true love, the one person who could truly understand and match his intensity, might have been you all along. The very thought frustrates and angers him, but deep down, he knows it's true. The idea that you could be happy with someone else, that you could have moved on, is a bitter pill to swallow.

But what can he do? Could he really go back to you after all this time, after all the hurt and pride that kept you apart? The thought of reaching out, of admitting that he hasn't been able to stop thinking about you, is terrifying in its vulnerability. Yet, the more he tries to resist, the more he finds himself wanting you back in his life.

Sukuna has always been a man of action, but this...this is different. It's not about power or control; it's about something far more fragile—his heart, his pride, and the chance of losing you all over again. The question that haunts him now is whether he can swallow that pride and take the risk, whether he can open himself up to the possibility that, just maybe, what he’s been searching for all these years was right in front of him all along.

And that possibility, terrifying as it may be, is the only thing that has ever truly scared him.

Sukuna's inner turmoil grows as the days pass. The world around him, once filled with the thrill of battles and the allure of endless conquests, now feels hollow and cold. He notices how his friends look at him, their eyes reflecting pity and concern. They know him too well, aware that behind his sharp words and defiant attitude, something is eating away at him.

He tries to brush it off, burying himself in work, in fights, in anything that will distract him. But no matter how hard he tries, his thoughts keep circling back to you. The memories come unbidden—your smile, the way you used to tease him, the way you understood him in a way no one else ever did. It's maddening, the way you haunt him, and yet he can't bring himself to let you go.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

IT WAS UNEXPECTED. It was that sort of day once again. Sukuna found himself in charge of his energetic nephew, Yuji, who had just been picked up from school. With his brother Jin and sister-in-law Kaori and Choso tied up with commitments for the weekend, Sukuna was left to manage Yuji. Given that he didn’t have to hit the gym or deal with work obligations that day, it seemed like a manageable task.

Ryomen Sukuna’s house was usually a quiet refuge from his chaotic world, but today it felt oddly empty. He doesn’t really like decorating that much, mostly because he has no time and mostly because he really doesn’t feel like it. But his nephew doesn’t seem to mind it every time he’s here. If there was something to distract the brat, then he doesn’t pay attention to everything else. Well, that and food. As he settled Yuji into the living room, Yuji’s curiosity quickly turned to hunger.

“Uncle Sukuna, I’m starving.” Yuji announced, making a beeline for the kitchen. “Do you have any natto? I could really go for some.”

Sukuna blinked, momentarily confused. “Natto? I don’t think I have any. Let me check.”

He shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and peering inside. His search yielded nothing but a few cans of expired beans and a half-eaten pizza box. Sukuna eats out most of the time, because of work. If he does buy anything, it would be from the last time Yuji was here. And that was….a while ago. And just as much, there was no natto in sight.

“Uh, brat, I think we’re out of natto.” Sukuna said, returning to the living room with a sheepish grin. “And it looks like the rest of the fridge is pretty bare.”

Yuji’s eyes widened in disappointment. “But I was really looking forward to it!”

Sukuna rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry about that. Looks like we’ll need to go out for groceries. How about we make it an adventure?”

Yuji’s face lit up at the prospect of an outing. “Okay! Can we get some ice cream too?”

Sukuna chuckled, relieved that Yuji’s mood had brightened. “Sure, ice cream it is. Let’s get going before your hunger turns into a full-blown meltdown, brat.”

As they left the house, Sukuna and Yuji made their way to the nearby supermarket. Yuji’s excitement was palpable, his small hands gripping the shopping cart handle as he eagerly pointed out various items he wanted to add to the list. Sukuna, trying to keep up, found himself both amused and exasperated by Yuji’s relentless energy and enthusiasm.

In the aisles of the supermarket, Sukuna pushed the cart while Yuji darted from one section to another, collecting snacks, fruits, and—of course—several packs of natto. Sukuna grabbed a few essentials and, true to his word, added some ice cream to the cart.

As they approached the checkout line, Sukuna glanced at Yuji, who was happily munching on a sample cookie from the store. The small bit of chocolate on Yuji’s cheek made him look even more cherubic and endearing. Sukuna’s lips twitched into a small smile, a rare moment of warmth slipping through his usually stoic facade.

“You know, I think I might need to keep a better stock of food for next time,” Sukuna said, his tone light.

Yuji, still with cookie crumbs on his face, grinned up at him. “And more natto!”

Sukuna couldn’t help but chuckle. The idea of having to stockpile natto just to keep his nephew happy was a new one, but it seemed like a worthwhile endeavor. He ruffled Yuji’s hair affectionately, feeling a soft, genuine affection for the boy.

“You’ve got it, brat. More natto it is.” Sukuna agreed, a rare, relaxed smile on his face.

As they loaded their groceries onto the conveyor belt, Sukuna glanced around, realizing how normal and mundane the experience was compared to the high-stakes, dangerous life he usually led. The simplicity of shopping for food and sharing a lighthearted moment with Yuji was both refreshing and oddly comforting.

Yuji, ever the energetic child, started pointing out items in the store with increasing enthusiasm. “Uncle Sukuna, look! They have those gummy candies you like!” 

Sukuna gave a half-hearted, amused shrug. “Sure, toss them in. I guess I can indulge a bit today.”

As they made their way through the aisles, Yuji chatted away, filling the silence with stories about school and his friends. Sukuna wasn’t really paying attention, his mind elsewhere, when something—or rather, someone—caught his eye.

There, at the end of the aisle, stood a familiar figure. The sight stopped Sukuna in his tracks, his eyes widening in disbelief. It was you.

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. He watched as you browsed through the shelves, seemingly lost in thought. Your presence, once a distant memory, felt so strikingly real that Sukuna’s heart skipped a beat. The years seemed to melt away as he took in the sight of you.

At first, he didn’t recognize you. It was just a fleeting glimpse, the way your hair caught the light, the familiar way you moved. But then, as you reached for something on a high shelf, he saw your face, and his heart stopped.

It was you.

He couldn’t believe it at first. He thought maybe it was someone who just looked like you, or perhaps his mind was playing tricks on him, dredging up memories he’d tried so hard to bury. But the more he stared, the more certain he became. It was you.

Yuji, noticing Sukuna’s sudden pause, looked up. “Uncle Sukuna, what’s wrong?”

Sukuna swallowed hard, trying to regain his composure. “Uh, nothing, brat. Let’s just finish up here.”

But his gaze was fixed on you, unable to look away. You hadn’t noticed him yet, and Sukuna fought with the urge to approach you, unsure of what to say or do. The familiar mix of excitement and anxiety churned within him, a reminder of the past he had tried so hard to reconcile.

Yuji, still unaware of the significance of the moment, tugged on Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go over there? I want to check if they have those chocolates I like!”

Sukuna nodded absently, allowing Yuji to lead him towards the end of the aisle where you stood. As they drew closer, Sukuna braced himself, trying to steady his racing heart. He needed to act normal, to approach you calmly despite the flood of emotions.

Without thinking, he handed the shopping basket to Yuji and began walking toward you. The world around him seemed to blur, the noise of the supermarket fading into the background. It was just you and him, the years that had passed suddenly meaningless.

When he reached you, he hesitated, unsure of what to say. His mind raced, a thousand questions and emotions fighting for dominance. He hadn’t expected this, hadn’t prepared for the possibility of seeing you again. But now that you were right in front of him, he couldn’t just walk away.

“Is that you?” He finally said it. He finally said your name. He could feel his entire body shake from nervousness. He didn’t notice until he said it that his voice was rougher than he intended.

You turned to him, blinking in confusion. Your eyes met his, and for a brief, electrifying moment, Sukuna saw the spark of recognition. It was fleeting, but it was there—an almost imperceptible flicker that hinted at a shared past. But then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by a polite, detached expression.

“I’m sorry, but…” you began, your voice soft and apologetic. “Do I know you?”

The words hit Sukuna like a punch to the gut. The confusion on your face made no sense to him; how could you not remember him? The realization was like a cold wave crashing over him. He scanned your face more closely, noting the faint scar near your temple and the way your eyes seemed to search his face for something familiar but found nothing.

“Are you… are you playing a joke on me?” Sukuna’s voice wavered slightly as he tried to comprehend the situation. “It’s me. Sukuna. We… we know each other.”

You shook your head slowly, an apologetic smile tugging at your lips. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t remember you. I had a really bad accident a few years ago, and… well, I lost my memories. Amnesia. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Amnesia. The word hit him like a ton of bricks. All the anger, hurt, and regret that had simmered in him for years suddenly evaporated, replaced by something he couldn’t quite name. You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything about your life together, the love you shared, or the pain that had driven you apart. He stared at you, struggling to process what you’d just told him. The person he’d spent years trying to forget had forgotten him completely. And it hurts. It burns. It…it kills him.

Sukuna’s heart sank as he struggled to process your words. The memories of the past, the shared moments, the intense connection—everything seemed to blur together in a confusing haze. He tried to hold onto the hope that maybe, somehow, there was a chance you might remember him later, but the reality of your situation was clear. You had no recollection of your time together.

“Right…” Sukuna muttered, his voice thick with emotions he didn’t quite know how to handle. “No, it’s… it’s fine.”

“I just… I feel like I’ve upset you,” you mumbled back, your eyes filled with sincere regret. “It’s been like this for a while. I’m really sorry.”

“No, no… it’s okay. Don’t worry about it. It was my fault,” Sukuna said, shaking his head, though the words felt hollow against the weight of his feelings.

You nodded, your gaze sympathetic. “No, please. It’s not. I understand. It must be hard to run into someone who doesn’t remember you. I’m truly sorry.”

There was a quiet moment between you, the weight of lost memories hanging heavily in the air. Sukuna, feeling the sting of both your absence and the reality of your condition, struggled to find the right words. He wanted to bridge the gap between what had been and what was now, but he found himself at a loss.

Before you could turn away, Sukuna took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak. “Um… could I… could I have your number? Maybe… maybe we could talk sometime. If you’re okay with that.”

You looked at him, a flicker of surprise crossing your face. For a moment, you seemed to weigh his request, and then you nodded slowly. “Sure. I can give you my number. I’d like that.”

As you exchanged contact information, Sukuna felt a mixture of hope and apprehension. The act of sharing numbers was a small step, but it felt significant. It was a bridge to the possibility of rebuilding a connection, even if the past was shadowed by the uncertainty of your memory.

“Thank you,” Sukuna said quietly, his voice carrying a note of genuine gratitude. “I appreciate it.”

You gave him a warm, understanding smile. “Of course. I’ll be happy to talk whenever you’re ready. It’s… nice to have some help with my memories, even if it’s just a little.”

Before he could speak, Yuji tugged at Sukuna’s sleeve. “Uncle Sukuna, can we go home now? I’m tired.”

Sukuna glanced down at Yuji and then back at you, his heart heavy. “Yeah, Yuji. Let’s head out.”

As Sukuna began to walk away, he felt your gaze on him. The pain of seeing you again, only to find that you had no memory of their shared past, was almost too much to bear. The bittersweet encounter left him with a mix of longing and resignation. You smiled at Yuji and then to him. Yuji grinned back at you and waved back. 

“Take care.” you called softly as he left the store with Yuji. Sukuna gave a small, subdued wave in response, his mind reeling from the encounter.

Once outside, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Yuji, noticing his uncle’s somber mood, looked up with concern. “Uncle Sukuna, are you okay?”

Sukuna forced a reassuring smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, Yuji. I’m fine. Just… a little surprised. Let’s get home.”

As they drove back, Sukuna’s thoughts were filled with the echoes of the past and the present reality. The encounter had stirred up old feelings, and the realization that you had lost your memories of him was both heartbreaking and profoundly unsettling. Yet, despite the pain, there was a strange sense of closure, as if seeing you again, even under these circumstances, had helped him come to terms with the unresolved aspects of their past.

As you walked away, Sukuna stood there, frozen in place, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Yuji came up beside him, his eyes wide with concern.

“Uncle Sukuna, are you okay? Who was that?”

Sukuna glanced at Yuji, then back at the aisle where you’d disappeared. He didn’t know how to answer that. He didn’t know how to explain that the person he’d never been able to forget had forgotten him entirely.

“That,” Sukuna finally said, his voice hollow, “was someone I used to know.”

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

HE DOESN’T REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER. The days that followed were a blur for Sukuna. But he couldn’t help it.  Your encounter in the supermarket had shaken him in a way he hadn’t expected. He tried to push it aside, tell himself that it didn’t matter, that you were just a part of his past. But every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face, the way you looked at him with no recognition, no anger, no pain—just blank politeness. It haunted him.

Yet, fate seemed determined to keep throwing the two of you together. A few days later, he saw you again, this time at a coffee shop. You were sitting by the window, a book in hand, oblivious to the world around you. Sukuna hesitated, debating whether to approach you, but before he could decide, you looked up and caught his eye. There was that same polite smile, and he found himself walking over to you before he could think better of it.

“Hi again.” you said, looking up at him with that same soft, apologetic expression. “We keep running into each other, don’t we?”

“Yeah…..” he replied, his voice rough. He wasn’t sure what to say. The awkwardness between you was palpable, the weight of the past pressing down on him in a way you couldn’t feel. But you didn’t know that, couldn’t know that, so you just smiled and gestured to the seat across from you.

“Would you like to join me?” you asked, your voice gentle, offering a small, tentative smile as you gestured to a nearby café table.

Sukuna hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wasn’t sure what he was doing or why he was putting himself through this, but there was something about being near you, even if you didn’t remember him, that soothed the ache in his chest. 

“If you wouldn’t mind.” he finally said, his voice betraying the mix of emotions swirling inside him. He sat down across from you, the familiarity of the scene almost too much to bear. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to walk away. 

You giggled. “I don’t mind. Not at all.”

As you both settled in, the air between you was filled with an odd mix of tension and familiarity. You began to talk—small, inconsequential things at first. You mentioned how you liked the café’s atmosphere, how it had become one of your favorite spots since you moved here. Sukuna nodded along, trying to focus on the present moment rather than the flood of memories threatening to overwhelm him.

“You know….. “ you said after a moment, stirring your coffee absentmindedly, “it’s strange. I feel… comfortable with you. Like I’ve known you for a long time, even if I can’t remember it.”

Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the years of pain, regret, and longing he had carried since you’d been apart. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair to burden you with memories you didn’t share anymore. So instead, he offered a small, wistful smile. 

“Maybe it’s just one of those thing.” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “Some people just click, I guess.”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on his face as if you were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Maybe. But still, it feels nice. Like I can trust you.”

Sukuna swallowed hard, forcing himself to keep his emotions in check. “I’m glad,” he said quietly, his voice betraying the depth of his feelings despite his best efforts. “I’d like to be someone you can trust.”

The conversation shifted to lighter topics after that, and the tension slowly eased. You talked about your life, your work, and the things you enjoyed. Sukuna listened intently, hanging on to every word, savoring the sound of your voice even if the stories were new to him. 

As the minutes turned into an hour, Sukuna found himself relaxing. The ache in his chest dulled, replaced by a warmth that he hadn’t felt in years. It was as if, for the first time since you had parted ways, he could breathe a little easier. There was no rush, no pressure to define what this was or what it could become. Just the simple pleasure of being in your company again, however different it might be from the past.

When you finally stood up to leave, Ryomen Sukuna felt a pang of reluctance, but he knew this wasn’t the end. You had exchanged numbers, after all, and there was a possibility that this could lead to something more. 

“I’m really glad we ran into each other.” you said, giving him a sincere smile. “I hope we can do this again sometime.”

“Me too.” Sukuna replied, his voice thick with emotion. “I’d like that.”

As you walked away, Sukuna remained seated for a moment, staring at the now-empty chair across from him. Despite the uncertainty of the future, he couldn’t help but feel a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this was his chance to make things right—to show you the kind of love and care he should have given you all those years ago. And as he left the café, he found himself smiling, a feeling of lightness in his chest that he hadn’t felt in far too long.

Like the wind, the days brushed by into weeks, these accidental meetings became more frequent. He’d see you at the park, at the grocery store, at the small bookstore you frequented. Each time, you greeted him with the same warmth, and each time, he felt the walls he’d built around his heart start to crumble a little more.

It was during one of these encounters, when you were sitting together on a bench at the park, that Sukuna realized something had changed. He wasn’t just dwelling on the past anymore. He wasn’t just seeing you as the woman he used to love, the one who’d left him behind. You were still that person, but you were also someone new, someone who’d been through their own struggles, their own pain.

And he’d changed too. He wasn’t the same man you’d walked away from five years ago. The anger, the recklessness, the pride that had once driven you apart had mellowed. He’d grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, sitting beside you, he realized that he wanted to make things right.

There was one afternoon where after you’d both finished your coffees at that familiar café, Sukuna finally found himself gathered the courage to speak again. He’d been thinking about this for days, the words tumbling over and over in his mind until they felt like second nature.

“Hey….” he began, his voice uncharacteristically hesitant, “I’ve been meaning to tell you something.”

You looked at him, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “What is it?”

“I know you don’t remember me, or anything about… us, but I want you to know that I’m not the same person I was back then. I’ve changed. And I want to try again.” He paused, searching for the right words. “I want to make things right for you.”

There was a long silence as you absorbed his words. He could see the confusion in your eyes, the way you were trying to piece together something that felt like a missing puzzle in your mind. You wanted to know what it was. How to be complete, and yet you didn’t know how. Not even if your past thought he was what complete was. Finally, you spoke.

“Sukuna, I… I don’t know what to say. I don’t remember anything about us, about our past. But I can see that this means a lot to you, and that you’ve been carrying it with you for a long time.”

You paused, looking down at your hands, and then back at him. “I don’t know if I can ever get those memories back. But I do know that I enjoy spending time with you, that I feel comfortable around you. And maybe… maybe that’s a good place to start.”

His heart leapt at your words, hope flickering to life in a way it hadn’t in years. This was a second chance, an opportunity to rewrite the story that had once ended in heartbreak. He didn’t know what the future held, or if you would ever remember what you once had, but for the first time in a long time, he felt something close to peace.

Sukuna reached out, his hand brushing against yours, and you didn’t pull away. “Then let’s start there, hm?” he said quietly. “No pressure, no expectations. Just… us.”

You smiled, a genuine, warm smile that sent a wave of relief through him. “Just us,” you agreed.

And for the first time in five years, Sukuna felt like he was finally on the path to something real, something lasting. It wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined to prove that he could love you the way you deserved—this time, the right way.

As the weeks turned into months, Sukuna and you continued to meet, slowly rebuilding a connection that had once been lost. Each encounter felt like a tentative step forward, a cautious yet hopeful attempt to bridge the gap that had formed between you over the years. Yet, instead of the intense and sometimes overwhelming passion that had defined your past relationship, there was a newfound sense of calm and understanding between you both.

There was an ease between you now, a natural rhythm that felt different from the intense, almost chaotic bond you’d shared in the past. In the beginning, it was subtle—a shared smile over a mundane joke, the comfortable silence that fell between you as you walked side by side, the way your conversations flowed without the need to fill every gap with words. The pressure that once loomed over your relationship, demanding definitions and clarity, had dissipated, leaving space for something more genuine and unforced.

You found yourselves slipping into each other’s lives in small, almost imperceptible ways. Sukuna would pick up your favorite coffee without being asked, remembering the way you liked it just by heart. You’d invite him to a quiet dinner at your place, cooking together in the kitchen as you talked about everything and nothing. There were no grand gestures or declarations, just a quiet, steady presence that felt reassuring and right.

This time, there was no rush, no urgency to define what you were to each other. It was as if both of you understood that whatever this was, it needed to grow at its own pace. You’d learned from the past, from the way things had unraveled before, and there was an unspoken agreement that you wouldn’t make the same mistakes again. You allowed the relationship to unfold naturally, letting each moment build upon the last, like carefully stacking stones into a tower that could withstand the test of time.

Sukuna, too, had changed. The man who once wore his emotions like armor, who had always been so guarded and intense, was different now. There was a softness to him that hadn’t been there before—a willingness to listen, to be patient, to let things unfold without forcing them into place. He no longer felt the need to control every aspect of his life, and that included his relationship with you. He had learned to let go, to trust that if this was meant to be, it would be.

And in that trust, something beautiful began to grow. Your conversations deepened, moving beyond the surface-level topics that had once dominated your interactions. You talked about your dreams, your fears, the things that kept you awake at night. Sukuna shared pieces of himself that he had kept hidden for so long, opening up in ways he never had before. And you, in turn, felt safe enough to do the same.

There were moments when the past would resurface, like shadows lingering at the edges of your newfound connection. Memories of heated arguments, of painful goodbyes, would flicker in your minds, reminding you of how things had once gone wrong. But instead of letting those memories drag you down, you faced them together, acknowledging the hurt while choosing to move forward.

It wasn’t always easy. There were still days when doubts crept in, when the fear of repeating past mistakes threatened to pull you apart. But each time, you chose to stay, to work through it rather than run away. And with each challenge you faced, the bond between you grew stronger, more resilient.

Sukuna, who had once been so afraid of vulnerability, found himself looking forward to the moments he spent with you. The walls he had built around himself slowly crumbled, replaced by a quiet confidence in what you were building together. He no longer needed to prove himself, to assert control over his emotions or over you. Instead, he allowed himself to simply be—with you, in the present, without the burden of past regrets or future expectations.

You, too, noticed the change in yourself. The tension that had once gnawed at your heart, the constant questioning of whether you were enough or if this was right, had eased. You felt more secure, more at peace with where you were and where you were going. You trusted Sukuna in a way you hadn’t before, not just because he had changed, but because you had changed too.

As the months passed, the connection between you deepened, solidified by the quiet moments of understanding and the shared experiences that had brought you closer together. There was a sense of contentment that neither of you had anticipated—a feeling that, for the first time in a long time, you were exactly where you were meant to be.

And so, you continued to meet, to grow together, allowing whatever this was to take shape in its own time. There was no rush, no urgency, only the quiet certainty that what you were building was worth the patience and the effort. You both knew that the past would always be a part of you, but it no longer defined you. Instead, it had become a foundation upon which you could build something new, something lasting.

In each other’s presence, you found a kind of peace that had once seemed elusive, and in that peace, you discovered the possibility of a future that was not just better than the past, but truly, deeply right.

Sukuna found himself looking forward to your meetings, the mundane moments that had once seemed trivial now holding a new significance. Whether it was a simple walk in the park, browsing through books together, or sharing a meal, these moments began to stitch together a new story between you, one that was quieter, more deliberate, and infinitely more meaningful.

But beneath the surface, Sukuna wrestled with his own emotions. The more time he spent with you, the more he realized just how much he had missed you—how much he had missed being close to someone who truly understood him. Yet, there was also the constant reminder that you didn’t remember him, that the memories of your past were locked away, possibly forever.

One afternoon, after you’d both finished a long walk along the river, you sat together on a bench, watching the water ripple in the sunlight. The conversation had lulled into a comfortable silence, and for a moment, Sukuna just watched you, taking in the way the light caught your hair, the serene expression on your face.

“Can I ask you something?” Sukuna finally said, breaking the silence.

You turned to him, nodding. “Of course.”

“Do you ever… feel like something’s missing? Like there’s a part of you that’s still out there, waiting to be found?”

You considered his question carefully before responding. “Sometimes.” you admitted. “There are moments when I feel like I’m on the edge of remembering something important, something that’s just out of reach. But I’ve learned to let go of the frustration. I’ve had to accept that those memories might never come back.”

Sukuna’s heart clenched at your words, the weight of your shared history pressing down on him. He wanted to tell you everything—to pour out the story of your love, the highs and lows, the way you had been everything to each other and how it had all fallen apart. But he held back, knowing that it wasn’t his place to force those memories on you.

Instead, he reached out and took your hand in his. “I don’t want to push you more than I already did.” he said quietly. “I just want you to know that I’m here, whatever happens. I’m not going anywhere this time.”

You squeezed his hand, offering him a gentle smile. “I know, Sukuna. And I appreciate that. I’ve come to trust you, even if I don’t remember our past. What matters to me now is the person you are today, the one I’m getting to know all over again.”

Those words gave Sukuna a sense of hope he hadn’t allowed himself to feel in a long time. He was no longer the man who had let his pride and anger destroy something precious. He had grown, learned from his mistakes, and now, he had a chance to show you that.

As the days passed, he became more intentional in his efforts to be there for you, to support you in ways he hadn’t before. He listened when you spoke, offered comfort when you needed it, and gave you space when you needed to process your thoughts. There was a quiet strength in the bond you were forming, a steady foundation that was being built brick by brick.

One evening, after you’d invited him over for dinner, you sat together on your couch, a comfortable silence settling between you after a long day. Sukuna glanced at you, his heart full of things he wanted to say but didn’t know how to put into words.

“I’ve been thinking….a lot.” you said suddenly, turning to face him. “About us.”

His breath caught in his throat, but he stayed quiet, waiting for you to continue. He could feel his heart pounding, the silence between you filled with unspoken tension. You looked at him tenderly, and those eyes—those eyes he had once loved so fiercely—held a warmth that stirred something deep within him. But this time, there was something different in your gaze, something he couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t the same love he remembered, the love that had once consumed both of you. It was softer, more distant, as if it had been tempered by time and the loss of memories.

Sukuna wasn’t sure what that look meant, but he longed for the days when your eyes had been filled with nothing but love for him. He yearned for the intensity, the passion that had once been theirs. But deep down, he knew those days were gone, that you had changed, just as he had. And even though he wished for the impossible, he understood that the love you had once shared might never return in the way it had before.

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from hoping, from wanting you to look at him like that again, to feel that love again. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that it was unlikely. Maybe this was his punishment, the price he had to pay for the mistakes he had made, for the years he had spent without you. Maybe fate was just that cruel, giving him a second chance only to remind him of what he had lost.

“I don’t remember our past, Sukuna.” you said softly, breaking the silence. Your voice was gentle, but there was a sincerity in it that made Sukuna’s chest tighten. “But I do know that I feel something when I’m with you. It’s not just comfort or friendship… it’s more. I don’t know how to explain it, but it feels right, being with you.”

Sukuna’s heart swelled with emotion, a mix of relief and longing coursing through him. He had waited so long to hear those words, to know that there was still something between you, even if it wasn’t exactly what he had expected. It wasn’t the grand declaration of love he had secretly hoped for, but it was something—a spark, a glimmer of the connection that had once bound you together.

He searched your face, looking for any sign of the emotions he had once known so well. But all he found was that same tender expression, tinged with a hint of uncertainty. It wasn’t love, not yet. But it was something. And for now, that was enough.

“I’m glad you feel that way.” he said, his voice thick with the emotions he was struggling to keep in check. “I don’t want to rush things, or push you to remember something that might never come back. I just… I want to be here with you, whatever that means.”

You nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I want that too, Sukuna. I don’t know what the future holds, but I’d like to find out—together.”

He felt a weight lift off his shoulders, the heavy burden of his regrets and fears easing, if only a little. This was far from the ending he had imagined, but it was a beginning, a chance to rebuild what had been lost. And maybe, just maybe, if he was patient and if he allowed things to unfold naturally, there could be something new between you, something that was just as meaningful as what you had once shared.

As you both stood there, the world around you fading into the background, Sukuna couldn’t help but think that perhaps fate wasn’t as cruel as he had feared. Maybe this was his second chance—not to reclaim the past, but to create something new, something even better than what had been before. And for the first time in years, he allowed himself to hope that this time, he wouldn’t let it slip through his fingers.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

epilogue 

A few weeks after your heartfelt conversation with Sukuna, you find yourself at a park on a sunny afternoon. Sukuna had asked you to meet him there, mentioning that his nephew, Yuji, would be joining. You had heard a lot about Yuji from Sukuna—how the kid was full of energy, always getting into something, and how Sukuna had taken on a sort of protective role in his life. You were curious to see this side of Sukuna, the man who had once been all sharp edges and intensity.

As you approach the park, you spot Sukuna first, sitting on a bench with a somewhat exasperated look on his face. Beside him is a young boy, who is clearly trying to balance on the back of the bench with one foot, arms outstretched like he’s performing some kind of circus act.

“Careful, you brat.” Sukuna warns, his tone stern but not unkind. “You’re going to break your neck.”

Yuji, grinning from ear to ear, just laughs and hops down with a flourish. “I’m invincible, Uncle Sukuna!”

“Yeah, well, let’s not test that theory.” Sukuna mutters, but there’s a fondness in his voice that catches you off guard. “Your mom and dad will kill me.”

You approach them, smiling as Yuji notices you and waves enthusiastically. “Hi! You must be the one Uncle Sukuna’s always talking about!”

“Yuji!” Sukuna snaps, looking mortified. “I do not—”

Yuji doesn’t miss a beat, cutting him off. “He totally does! He’s always like, ‘I wonder if she’s gonna remember me today,’ or ‘Maybe she’ll cook something nice again.’”

Sukuna groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Kid, do you ever stop talking?”

You can’t help but laugh at the exchange, and Sukuna’s embarrassment only makes it funnier. “Nice to meet you, Yuji!” you say, crouching down to his level. “Your uncle’s right, though. You should be careful on that bench.”

Yuji shrugs, his smile never fading. “Uncle Sukuna’s always careful too, even though he acts all tough. But he’s really soft, especially when I get hurt. You should see him panic when I stub my toe.”

“Yuji!” Sukuna’s voice is a mix of frustration and resignation, clearly regretting bringing his nephew along.

You stand up, grinning at Sukuna. “I see you’ve got a little soft spot, huh?”

“Don’t listen to him.” Sukuna mutters, glaring at Yuji, who just laughs and runs off toward the playground. “He’s a menace.”

“Sure, sure.” you tease, nudging Sukuna lightly. “But you love it.”

Sukuna sighs, watching Yuji with an expression that’s a mix of exasperation and affection. “Yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep him out of trouble.”

You slip your hand into Sukuna’s, squeezing it gently. “You’re doing a great job, Uncle Sukuna.”

He gives you a sidelong glance, the corners of his mouth twitching upward. “Don’t start calling me that too.”

“No promises.” you reply, laughing as you both watch Yuji play, his laughter filling the air. It’s a side of Sukuna you never expected to see, and you find yourself growing more and more fond of the man who, despite his rough edges, is soft in all the right places.

[azulhood]

It all started because of a school project, technically two projects, while it wasn't a world ending threat they set of a change reaction that lead to startling discoveries.

Mr Lancer had given the class the task of looking through their pasts and finding an life changing event that helped shape them into the person that were today and writing about that event.

It was a ten page essay (they were allowed to go over that limit) the more details the better and if you had something from that event to show (such as photos or keepsakes or really anything) you were awarded extra credit.

Danny's choice of event was the school field trip to a nearby museum he went on when he was seven, the space exhibit they had was what sparked his love for the stars and kick-started his dreams of being an astronaut.

It wasn't like he had any other choice (he doubted mister Lancer would accept 'my death' as a good life changing event)

He knew that he had photos of the field trip somewhere with all the other photos taken throughout his life, he just had to find them.

And after digging through thousands of boxes and piles of discarded inventions he handled with care (in case they blew up) he found them tucked inside an old photo album covered in green stains that sat on top of a bookshelf.

Opening the book caused all the pictures to fall into his lap, it seems like his parents didn't get around to actually adding them to the book, Danny resigned himself to spending the rest of his day shifting through old photos.

It wasn't all bad though, he found pictures of when Sam still had blonde hair and wore pink and of that time Tucker wrote an 'I love you' on his parents cars with their keys and many other embarrassing photos.

A treasure trove of blackmail material.

He finally found the picture he was looking for.

All of the kids who are now students of Casper high stood in front of an old building each proudly holding up something they bought in the gift shop (Danny had bought a book on planets that had long ago fallen apart)

It was a normal photo.

And yet, something seemed off.

Sam and Tucker were there with him in between them, Dash was there too.

Along with Kwan, Mikey, Paulina, Valerie, and all the others.

And yet, something was missing.

Then it hit him.

Wes wasn't there.

Danny could've sworn that he had been on that trip, but the more he thought about it the less he was sure.

He couldn't actually remember Wes being there and Danny remembered nearly everything about that trip.

'Maybe he was sick or something?' It was the most logical thing he could think of to explain the other absence, that and his parents not wanting him to go for some reason.

Mystery solved he pushed it to the back of his mind , he had an essay to finish.

Still, it stuck with him.

-----------------------------

The next school project Lencer gave them was one with assigned partners.

Danny got Wes who, despite not being Sam or Tucker, was leagues better then Dash and he'd take that as a win.

Wes had insisted on studying at his house so he could, and Danny quotes "Keep an eye on you Fenton"

Danny could practically feel the hidden cameras burning a hole into him while he stood in front of the Weston's door, waiting for him to go ghost for whatever reason.

Jokes on him though, Danny asked all the ghosts to leave him along for this month with the promise of giving them a head start the next time they caused trouble, so really Wes was just wasting his time.

"This way." Wes said already heading inside without caring if Danny followed.

Being the first time he had ever been in Wes's home Danny looked at everything and anything.

It was a fairly normal home, not like Danny's which had an anti-ghost defense system or Sam's super rich house.

But more like Tuckers

One of the things that drew his attention was the pictures that lined the walls.

There were so many.

Some with Wes and his mom, some with just him, some with just his mom, and some with people Danny didn't recognise.

But there were no baby photos.

The only pictures Danny could find of a young Wes seemed to be from when he was eight? Nine?

And nothing before.

'Maybe they were put away in storage' Danny guessed, but it still made his brain itch.

He remembered looking at old school photos and not finding any sign of a young Wes at all, he didn't even remember Wes coming to school any time before the year Danny turned eight.

And in a small town where everyone knew everyone that really wasn't possible.

'Maybe they moved here and lost a lot of stuff' Which would explain a lot, well no harm in asking. "Did you loss a lot when you moved here?"

Wes stopped walking and turned around to give him a look that asked if he was insane. "I've lived here my whole life, Fenton."

Danny froze, that couldn't be right, he'd remember that.

Something was wrong.

---------------------------------

Tim Drake sat in front of the bat computer as the rest of his family patrolled.

He had one monitor displaying the other bats locations while all the other monitors were used to show him files, or rather the lack there of.

Wayne Enterprises had tournaments held for schools and the prize was an all express paid trip to Gotham and tour of WE and surrounding areas, Tim could think of way better prizes that weren't visiting the crime capital of the world but that wasn't the point.

What was the point was that every time there was a winner Tim preformed a routine background check on students and staff (and by routine he means learn their whole live story) just in case anyone happened to be trained assassins set to kill one of them, stranger things have happened.

Wes Weston was one such student whose background Tim had to check.

And he found nothing.

Sure, there were hospital and school documents from age eight and upwards, but other then that nothing.

There was no birth certificate, no evidence of him attending daycare, nothing.

It was as if Wes did not exist before he was eight years old.

And perhaps the most interesting thing.

Amy Weston was listed as Wes's biological mother, DNA even said as much, and yet Amy's medical file said that she had never been pregnant and also had no siblings that could've been Wes's parent.

And yet Wes existed, appearing one day as if he had always been there.

Was it cloning? Aliens? Magic? A changeling? Someone creating false information to hide the truth?

It was a mystery, and mysteries had always been Tim's Kryptonite.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Natalia VI

Hardersson x Daughter!Reader

Natalia Guijarro (OC) x Hardersson!Reader

Part of The Big Adeventures Universe

Summary: An opponent gets angry at you

If you weren't so massively pissed at yourself, you could accept that the goal was beautiful.

Playing Manchester City wasn't for the weak, at least for a goalkeeper, and a pass to one of your defenders was intercepted and the shot came in quicker than you could move.

The City player came celebrating straight in your face, really rubbing it in.

That was the first straw.

The second straw came during injury time of the first half.

Another ball slotted neatly past your outstretched gloves.

She celebrates in your face again.

The final straw happens nearer the end of the match.

You save the goal on the line.

It's a near miss for you but you get it.

The City girl, the one that's been pressing you all match, doesn't think you saved it on the line. She thinks it went in.

She gets up into your face about it.

She's yelling something, hands waving around wildly.

Pernille watches anxiously.

You don't like being yelled at. You used to cry as a child whenever she and Magda so much as raised their voices. You used to keep your head down, folding your body in on itself and lowering your head. You used to sniffle for a few moments before bursting into uncontrollable sobs.

Even as Pernille yelled, her heart would break just because you seemed so broken up by it.

Not many people can match your height. You usually tower over everyone but this time you can't.

This girl seems even taller than you as she yells right in your face, jabbing you in your chest.

She's taller but you're stronger.

You square your shoulders, not even moving as her jabs get a bit more aggressive.

Pernille would be annoyed too, she thinks, if she'd already scored two goals, potentially a third and her team was still nowhere near Barcelona's six shiny goals.

Pernille would be angry too if her third shot was saved on the line.

But she'd never try to instigate anything. She would never start yelling at the keeper, trying to get needlessly aggressive.

Emotions run high on those first leg Champion's League semi-finals.

No one wants to go into the second leg with such a large deficit.

But aggression has no place on the pitch.

The girl shoves you back but you still stay strong, simply rocking back on your feet for a moment before righting yourself again.

There's a reason people call you a brick wall.

"Just shove her back," Pernille hears Magda mutter next to her.

"Magda!"

"What? That girl's gone crazy! She won't listen to reason. Fight fire with fire."

Pernille raises a brow. "Our daughter? You think our daughter will be shoving anyone?"

"Our daughter won't," Magda says confidently," But her girlfriend will."

The ref is coming towards the group from the halfway line.

So is Talia.

Talia gets there first.

She wiggles her way between the two of you and you give her the space to do so.

The City player is yelling.

Talia is yelling.

The City player shoves.

Talia shoves back.

They're up in each other's faces and it's like this referee is the slowest ref in the world.

"Go on," Magda murmurs," Get her! Get her!"

"Magda!" Pernille says again," Stop supporting violence!"

"I'm not! Just making sure she gets a taste of her own medicine! It was on the line! It didn't go in! She's just wasting time now."

Thankfully, it doesn't get any more violent than a few shoves and finger jabs but both Talia and the City girl get yellow cards.

The City girl walks off in an angry storm.

Talia takes it on the chin, a devilish smirk on her face and another goal slotted into City's net before the game is up.

"She looked a tad angry," Pernille notes as you amble towards her at the end of the match.

"Emotions are high, I guess," You say with a shrug, eyes darting to the side," Spot in the final up for grabs and all that."

"She was yelling. I know you don't like yelling. How are you feeling?"

You glance at her, shrugging again. "Sometimes, when people yell, I wonder what they'll do if I start crying at them. Like, if they continue to yell then they're an asshole but if they don't...What are they meant to do? Hug me?"

"An apology would be nice," Pernille teases," But, seriously? Are you okay?"

"I'd probably be worse if we'd lost but we didn't. We're in a good position for the second leg. Yeah, it was a good game. I'm okay."

Pernille holds your face in her hands for a moment, staring into your eyes to see if you're lying.

She can see no deceit in them so just pulls you into a hug.

"Yeah," She hears Magda say next to her," She's lucky I'm not playing anymore. Squaring up to my kid like that? I'd have swung at her."

Talia laughs. "I nearly did."

[reidmania]

hi i saw you take requests… could you write about established relationship reid and reader fluff for like a party or gathering where she sneaks behind his back and puts hands over his eyes whispering “guess who?” and like really lovey dovey?? please

guess who | s.reid

summary; after spencer was away for a few days, you get to see him again when he asks you to come to a afterwork gathering at rossi’s.

warnings; fem reader, literally none?? pure fluff, establishment relationships

an; im so sorry this took so long!!

The room hums with the gentle murmur of conversation, laughter threading its way between clusters of people. Soft lighting casts a golden glow over everything, making the gathering feel intimate, warm despite the autumn chill outside. You drift through the space, greeting old friends and acquaintances, your eyes always searching for one person: Spencer.

He’s on the other side of the room, deep in conversation as usual, the serious expression you’ve come to adore furrowing his brow. He’s talking animatedly with some colleagues, but your mind isn’t on what he’s saying. Your lips curl into a smile as you think of a playful idea, something to surprise him. The excitement of seeing him after the long week bubbles up inside you, making your heart flutter.

You weave through the room with practiced ease, avoiding spilling anyone’s drink as you maneuver behind him. The laughter around you fades into the background. You’re close enough now to smell the familiar scent of him—clean, a hint of his cologne, and something uniquely Spencer.

Your fingers twitch, and without a second thought, you gently place your hands over his eyes. He stiffens for the briefest second before your voice reaches his ears. “Guess who?”

The words are soft, whispered just beside his ear, playful but tender. You feel his body relax beneath your touch, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips even though you can’t see it. You know him too well, the way his shoulders lose their tension when he’s with you, how he tilts his head slightly, leaning into your presence.

“Hmm…” His voice is a low, thoughtful hum. “Well, considering the overwhelming amount of literature and research on tactile memory and voice recognition, I’d say my chances of guessing correctly are quite high.” He pauses dramatically, and you can practically hear the smirk in his tone. “But I’d rather play along. Is it…Einstein?”

You laugh softly, pulling your hands away but keeping close, standing right behind him as he turns to face you. There’s a spark of something mischievous in his hazel eyes, but it quickly melts into something much softer, something meant just for you. His lips quirk up, that smile you’ve always adored.

“Nope. Not even close,” you tease, sliding your hands down to rest lightly on his arms.

His grin widens as he looks down at you, tilting his head as though he’s examining you for the first time. “Well, I guess I’m terrible at this game.”

You roll your eyes, tugging him a little closer by the sleeves of his shirt. “You knew it was me the whole time.”

He chuckles, a sound that vibrates through his chest and warms you from the inside out. “Maybe,” he concedes, his hands gently settling on your waist. His touch is light, casual in the way of someone completely comfortable with you, and yet there’s always a certain reverence in how he holds you, like he’s afraid you might slip away if he doesn’t keep his grip just right.

You sway slightly, the distant sound of music filtering through the room. It’s not the kind of party where people dance, but with Spencer, you can turn any moment into something more, something that belongs only to the two of you. You smile up at him, enjoying the way his eyes linger on your face, like you’re the only person in the world who matters right now.

“So,” he says, his voice soft but tinged with amusement, “having fun sneaking up on me?”

You shrug playfully. “It’s one of my favorite pastimes. I have to keep you on your toes, Dr. Reid.”

His smile softens into something more affectionate. “You’re the only one who could.”

For a moment, the world around you seems to fade. It’s just the two of you, standing in the middle of a crowded room, but completely absorbed in your own little bubble. The laughter and chatter around you are nothing more than a distant hum, the soft light casting a gentle glow over the sharp lines of his face, softening his features in the way that makes your heart skip a beat.

You lean into him, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your ear. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer in a quiet, protective gesture. The scent of him, the feel of him, it’s all so familiar, so comforting.

“I missed you this week,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the ambient noise.

He tightens his hold just slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “I missed you too. It’s always too long, even when it’s only a few days.”

You close your eyes, letting yourself sink into the moment. There’s something about being with Spencer that always makes you feel like everything else fades away. The worries, the stress, the noise of the outside world—it all disappears when you’re here, in his arms, wrapped up in the quiet certainty that he’s yours and you’re his.

He shifts slightly, leaning back to look down at you. “I was actually thinking about sneaking up on you,” he says, his voice playful, “but I’m not sure I could pull it off as well as you.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I don’t think you have it in you, Spencer. You’re too…earnest.”

“Too earnest?” He raises an eyebrow, pretending to be offended.

You nod, your smile widening. “Yes. You’re terrible at sneaking. You’d give yourself away in two seconds.”

He hums thoughtfully. “I’m not sure that’s true. But I think I’ll leave the sneaking to you, then.”

You grin, leaning up on your toes to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “Good choice.”

He smiles down at you, that gentle, loving expression that never fails to make your heart melt. “I’m glad you’re here,” he says quietly, his voice sincere in the way only Spencer can manage.

“Me too,” you reply softly, feeling the weight of the words settle between you.

And in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you and the world spinning on outside, you realize just how deeply you’ve fallen for him.

[joelsmochi]

outside? no problem. - joel miller

rating: E 18+ pairing: joel x pornstar!reader summary: part four; after convincing joel to go on a journey within nature with you, you quickly realize that a long hike won't be enough to wear you out. warnings: porn with a little bit of plot, slightly proofread (expect errors), joel is a llittle nervous, some anxiety, unprotected sex, premature ejaculation without orgasm (look it up it's hot), use of daddy, creampie, public sex + risk of getting caught, joel experiencing love and affection!!!!!!, reader gets her first official hate comment (plus a couple horny ones just cus lol) wc: 2.5k my thoughts: this was a very random thought i had, but it's fun and nothing too serious. also i hate the title but oh well 🥲 part five will dive into emotions a little more than i have allowed for this series, but for now enjoy the smut lovelies <3

series masterlist | main masterlist

“How many miles so far?” You asked Joel, who shot you a quick glance before returning his attention to the trail ahead of him.

“So far eight,” he replied. “We really need’a do this today?”

“Oh, you mean after you came up with excuse after excuse the past three weeks? Yeah, we needed to do it today,” you sassed before steadying the camera to focus on the trees ahead.

“Can we take a break? My knees are killin’ me—“

He was cut off by your giggling and you managed to zoom in on the glare he was giving you.

“What?” He firmly asked, halting his progression forward.

“Old man,” you teased as you passed him.

A stinging sensation quickly seared across your right ass cheek causing you to jolt from the smack Joel planted there.

You yelped, laughing as you back away from him; he managed to snatch the camera out of your hands and pointed it at you as you tried to rub away the pain. Your shorts was unbearably wedged into your ass showing off more than enough of your butt, waistband folded down to expose more of your body than necessary.

“Smartass,” he grumbled. “You turn fifty fucking years old and tell me how your knees hold up after eight miles.”

You grinned, walking over to him and smacking his chest playfully. “My knees will feel fucking amazing because they’re used to a little traction.”

He chuckled, petting the side of your head endearingly, eyes softening as they examined your features. “I’ll just have to take your word for that then, huh?”

“You’ll have to take a lot from me,” you mumbled against his lips before closing the space between your two.

His tongue immersed itself into the world of your mouth, cherished the cool, wet slick cheeks, the grooves of your teeth, that serpent tongue of yours — he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t high on you 24/7 starting two weeks prior, when his brother paid you a visit.

You’d been making it up to him even though he continuously assured you there was nothing to make up for.

But he most certainly was not going to complain.

Suddenly, everything you did was just that much better to him, and not just during sex. He wanted to give you more than what you’d initially agreed upon. Love. A life. He didn’t just want you to be satisfied, he wanted you to be happy.

And he memorized every centimeter of your body, how it felt, how you reacted to his every move.

Every time his tongue slid across the top of yours he could feel your eyebrows furrow a little more.

Every time you deepened your grasp on his jaw or shirt, you wanted him to open his mouth a little more so you could reach further into him. To somehow be even closer to him.

And every time he moaned pleasure into your mouth your body melted a little more into his, and your lips curled into a smile.

It wasn’t until you’d heard footsteps nearby that you finally broke the kiss.

“Two more miles,” you whispered against his lips, giving him one final peck before continuing the hike.

He rubbed in the cherry chapstick you left on his heated lips and watched you walk away for a moment before following.

“We just reached ten miles,” you said to the camera that Joel smugly forced into your face, “and I’m so fucking— tired— why the fuck are the last two miles entirely uphill?!”

“Yeah, how those knees working now?”

“My knees are fine, fuck you very much,” you expressed between deep pants. “And I’ll prove it.”

“What about the ten miles back?” He said gleefully, nearly bursting with excitement at your breathless suffering.

“Oh,” you chirped, “old man afraid of some sex in the woods?”

“Wh—HERE?!”

“Not here. Maybeeee… There.”

“We’re not having sex in the woods—“

“Old man!” You shouted after you ran away into the trees.

“Fuck,” Joel breathed out before walking in the general direction of your disappearance.

After five minutes (which felt more like a half hour) of not being able to find you he began thinking the worst.

His palm became clammy, heart beating so fast it felt like punches, but the relief he felt as soon as he spotted you was well worth the worry.

Joel’s eyes scanned over your body, spotting a familiar pair of shorts and panties lying on the ground nearby.

His face didn’t change from the looks of anger however. You offered a bashful smile before settling your knees into the leaves and twigs on the woodland floor, sweatshirt covering the sweetest part of you.

“Don’t do that again,” he scolded, even going as far as to point a finger down at you.

“I’m sorry, daddy,” you replied, gently pressing a kiss to the heel of his palm. “I thought you were right behind me.”

“We’re not doing this. Not here.”

“But the camera’s already rolling… Be a shame to turn it off now.”

Watching you bat your eyes up at him while toying with the drawstring on his shorts was more than enough to get him to fold, but he was still hesitant. It was such an open and public space. Anyone could stumble into the woods and catch you two in the act.

Anyone could catch you…

“Make it quick,” he huffed.

You giggled happily, yanking his shorts to his ankles and allowing his semi-hard cock to spring free.

You hummed, giving his balls a gentle squeeze and tug while stroking his velvety shaft.

“Kiss it,” he said. “Yeah, that’s it babygirl… O-oh, fuck.”

Your tongue darted out to trail along the pulsating vein on the side of his dick, until you reached the bead of precum nestled on the tip of his head.

You pulled your head back, forcing Joel to watching the string of his precum stretch from him to you.

The last thing he expected was sex in the woods, but now that your were on your knees sucking him dry with a camera being held a few inches away it suddenly made sense why you insisted on recording.

Wanna make memories my ass, he thought, blissfully so as you were giving him full access to your tight throat.

“Hold it, hold— fuck. Right there, baby.”

He whimpered as you swallowed around him, big hand reaching to stroke and rub the side of your face, wiping away a few stray tears.

You pulled your head back enough to take a few breaths before repeating the act of deepthroating, going as hard and fast as you could handle for a while before forcing him all the way back in again.

Your cunt clenched around nothing, juices trickling down your thighs as your knees slowly buckled from the pain of twigs digging into your flesh.

He suddenly pulled out of your mouth, seemingly panicked with the rush of an orgasm, shouting, “Ohshitohshitohshit.”

You coughed, attempting to reach for his cock again but he stopped you.

“Fuuuuuck!” He finally moaned as two long, thick ropes of his cum shot onto your face and hair.

You grinned and grabbed a hold to stroke him, hoping for more to come out.

He let out a strained groan, relaxing his abdomen and letting the remaining cum leak out of his tip onto your tongue and the ground.

“Already?” You asked softly while you gave his hard shaft kisses and licks.

“That,” he hissed, “was buildup from you teasing me all day.”

He stepped out of his shorts and sat on top of them, pulling you into his lap.

“Ah!” You laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Those shorts were deeper in your ass than I was last night,” he retorted.

“Mmm, that’s not teasing,” you whispered, pumping his length slowly. “That’s giving you a preview.”

He tugged at your jaw hard, pinching your cheeks, using his index finger to smear the white streaks that were on your face.

“Time for the show then, hmm?” He hummed.

You did your best to smile, nodding against his strong hand.

“That’s right, daddy,” you answered compliantly.

He was patient while you got yourself situated, ass facing him, wet pussy grinding against his pelvis.

Joel tugged at your left cheek to spread you for the video, watching your holes pucker and clench eagerly as you teased yourself before finally sinking down onto his warm cock.

A long drawn out moan left your mouth as he stretched you out. Joel smacked the red bruise he left on you earlier and pinched the same spot right after, forcing you to yelp and stumble in the squatting position you were already struggling to maintain.

You reached back to smack his stomach but he only laughed, sitting up a little to give himself a better view.

He held the camera out enough to get the two of you in the frame as you started bouncing on top of him.

He threw his head back, certain he wouldn’t last long enough to for you to get off.

He’d just have to make it up to you.

Because your pussy swallowed him perfectly, the slight curve of his dick hitting the spot he knew was your favorite.

Your ass clapping against the soft peak of his belly was surely loud enough to echo within the trees, and a mixture footsteps and laughter could be heard not far away enough to give Joel the sense of security he usually required.

No doubt people passing by without headphones in their ears could hear your annoyingly high pitched moans, or the obnoxious clapping of skin to skin as you rode the older man relentlessly.

Joel’s free hand found your clit and he shove the camera between his legs for both a close up shot of you soaking his cock with your juices.

Joel tried to think about something, anything to stop the threat of cumming too soon, but all he could focus on was how deep your pussy felt, and how it was all his.

“This pussy belong t’me?” He growled beneath you, smacking your sensitive clit when you didn’t give him an answer.

“Yes, daddy! Yesyes—fuuuck!” You shouted, head bobbing as you bounced even higher and harder.

He gripped your hips hard enough to keep you still before thrusting up into you, forcing your moans to be louder and longer.

You could feel that tingle underneath your clit, the one that threatened to release itself if Joel’s forceful thrusts didn’t stop.

You became clumsy, falling forward and accidentally knocking the camera over, but work was the last thing on your mind.

You begged for Joel to keep going— “Don’t stop please! Don’t fucking stop, Joel!”

“You gonna cum? You gonna soak my cock pretty girl?”

With bent legs and trembling hands you tried to meet his thrusts halfway, forcing him to thrust even deeper into to you.

“I’m gonna—fuck!” You leaned back and used your hand to rub your clit painfully fast, that tingling now releasing itself.

“What? You’re gonna what?!” He encouraged, smacking your thigh to coerce the words out of you even more.

“I’m gonna cum, Jo— I’m gonna fucking…! Cum!”

An uncontrollable gush of liquids flooded between your bodies, the intensity of the orgasm overbearing your body through the gummy walls of your cunt and the small vessel beneath your clit.

You cried out at how overwhelming it all was but  not doing anything to stop it, wanting Joel to feel as much of your orgasm as you could give him.

Your pussy was throbbing, clenching tighter with every throb his cock forced you to endure; you wondered if he had anymore cum left to fill you up with.

As you squirted all over him he found himself on the brink of bliss. His body was planted firmly into the ground by now, letting your juices pool in the curves of his body.

He tried to stop you long enough to film it, but you were so dazed and set on making him finish he couldn’t get more than a strained grunt out before finally cumming inside of your swollen cunt.

His nails indented crescent moons into your waist, cock straining against your walls.

Joel nearly choked from breathlessly moaning your name, back and neck arching off of the cold ground. His eyes were screwed shut from the overstimulation as you eagerly bounced on his cock despite the burning in your joints.

It wasn’t until you finally stopped that Joel felt he could breathe again; his eyes slowly opened, he was immediately greeted with the smile on your face.

“You certainly made a mess,” he chuckled upon noticing the mixture of cream and squirt everywhere.

“You love when it’s messy,” you chirped.

“Mmhm,” he hummed after sitting up slightly.

He opened his mouth to say something else but he hesitated, taking the prolonged silence as a sign to keep his thoughts to himself and opting to just reach for the camera instead.

“Lift slowly— Slower,” he instructed.

You raised your hips up slow, just like he said, feeling that burning stretch one last time until his dick was finally out; you heard him moan and praise you as his cum slowly leaked from your hole down your lips, dripping onto the peak of his belly adding to the mess.

“Look at that,” he groaned, using his fingers to spread your lips. “You’re so fuckin’ amazing.”

Using one hand to spread one of your cheeks you looked back towards him and said, “Leave some in for the hike back.”

He used two of his thick fingers to stuff the little amount of his load back inside of you, biting his lips in an attempt to contain himself when your hips twitched at the delicious burn.

Soon after, you decided it was time to clean up and start the dreadful journey back to the car.

“Your knees gonna hold up, Grandpa?” You teased once you both were back on the trail; you were both unphased of the judgmental looks you received from a couple that was nearby. Even if they didn’t hear anything, your flushed faces and sudden appearance from within the trees was telling enough, but you couldn’t care less as of now.

Neither could he.

“They’re gonna have to,” he replied as he gently tugged your arm so that his lips touched your ear. “I’m gonna need them to bend you over later.”

“Oh, Joel, I will definitely be taking you up on that.”

DILF takes care of me when I get horny on the hike ;)

643K Views  |  96%  |  2 Days Ago  |  ♡ 3,354

Comments

user1 need a slut like that 😍

user2 fuuck this made me so wet

user3 first this bitch lets two brothers fuck her worthless ass at the same time (gross on so many levels) and now she’s fucking in the dirty ass woods ??this slut is disgusting and a waste of oxygen

         ⤷  yourusername if you keep talking dirty to me like that i’m gonna have to fuck your brother in the woods next to relieve myself 

[harryspet]

well kept [3] r. cameron

[warnings] dark!ceo!rafe x reader, size difference, billionaire!older!rafe, shy!reader with low self-esteem, reader is a person who stutters, boss x personal assistant, heavy abuse of power, emotional/mental manipulation, DUBCON, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: Pls reblog and let me know what you think! Thank you so much for all the feedback so far :)

word count: 4.5k

In which it's your first day working from home with Rafe and you have a new lesson to learn.

well kept masterlist

The Cameron residence was fifteen minutes outside of downtown Charlotte and situated in a large neighborhood where hills and huge oak trees hid all the houses. You didn’t really see his house, only what you could tell was large pond, until the driver was at the end of the mile-long driveway.  When you did, you felt woefully underdressed. Assuming that being inside all day meant you could opt for something casual, you’d chosen a cream knit dress. 

Following Rafe’s instructions, you sent him photos of each outfit you tried on, but he hadn’t told you which ones you could return. It was another blow to your confidence. You began to doubt whether he’d even been serious, but the fear that he might mention it the next day kept you from taking any chances.

Stepping out of the black Escalade, your eyes widened as you took in the architectural masterpiece before you. The house was a striking blend of traditional and modern styles, with a light-colored exterior contrasted by dark shutters framing the windows. A stone chimney rose from the roof, and the three-car garage with wooden doors added a rustic touch.

After your car drove away, a tall and impeccably dressed staff member named Anthony guided you up the stone-paved driveway. From your cheat sheet, you recalled that he was the House Manager. Rafe required a full team: Anthony, two housekeepers, a private chef, a driver, a gardener, and now you—his personal assistant. The inside of the house was as intimidating as the exterior. The expansive foyer featured high ceilings and a grand staircase that curved up to the second floor. To the left, you caught a glimpse of the formal dining room. Each room you passed was more impressive than the last. Anthony informed you that there were six bedrooms and eight bathrooms.

“I don’t usually work on Fridays but Mr. Cameron wanted me to give you a tour of the house and show you the ropes of house management. It’ll be important for you to be able to oversee the staff when I’m absent and understand the scheduling.”

Once again, it was all too much to take in. Today was your fifth day working for Rafe, and you’d barely survived until now. 

“I want to clarify that what happened yesterday stays between us. That includes Eleanor. Okay?”

That was all he said about his outburst. There was no apology for groping you, for pinning you down on his office couch, or for taking your virginity. If you were to tell the story, you’d have to mention how your body had betrayed you—not once, but twice. But you had said no. You didn’t want to use the word that described what happened to you. You didn’t want to think about it at all.

And it didn’t happen again—not over the next three days. He continued to be harsh, forcing you to apologize for every small mistake, even those you weren’t aware of.

As you followed Anthony through the expansive kitchen, you couldn't help but marvel at its sheer size and sophistication. The kitchen was a chef's dream, with gleaming marble countertops that seemed to stretch endlessly, state-of-the-art stainless steel appliances, and custom cabinetry in a rich, dark wood finish. An oversized island dominated the center of the room.

At the far end of the kitchen, massive glass-paneled doors stood, offering a glimpse of the world beyond. The porch was furnished with elegant wicker seating with plush cushions. The space was perfect for elegant parties, with enough room to accommodate at least a dozen guests.

Beyond the porch was a stunning infinity pool stretched out towards the horizon. As you walked closer, to the right, you took notice of a garden. You spotted the gardener, Tyler, who Anthony had mentioned earlier. In simple clothes, the young man blended easily into the scenery. 

“This is where Mr. Cameron will typically entertain his guests,” Anthony said, 

The beauty of the outdoor space was undeniable, but so was the control that permeated every aspect of it. You wondered what hand Rafe played in how spotless it looked. You could almost picture him, his jaw clenched and eyes blazing with a harsh intensity, if even the smallest detail were out of place. It was easy to imagine him demanding that every leaf, every petal, every stone be exactly where it belonged. 

Did his staff ever make mistakes? Did he make them beg him forgiveness like he did with you? 

“Shall I show you the study? It’s approaching seven-thirty.”

You nodded, a small smile on your lips. He was kind but part of you didn’t want him to hear your voice shake or your face contort into an uncomfortable position as you struggled to get your words out. 

There would be enough struggling today, you knew that. 

Surprisingly, Rafe’s home office was more quaint than you expected. Dark wood panneling decorated the walls as well as floor-to-celing bookshelves. As you made your way around the room, you took note of the picture frames containing images of what you believed to be his family. Here, it seemed he had a heart. The four of them stood on a dock, sun shining down, and his arms were wrapped a young girl with dark brown hair. His smile was genuine and there was darkness lingering in the blues of his eyes. 

Other than the bookshelves, the room only contained his desk, a set of leather couches and a coffee table. The smaller room still managed to exude sophistication but it was far less imposing than you expected. 

The room almost felt intimate as sunlight trickled in through light colored curtains. You were standing behind his desk, glancing out his office window which faced towards the nearby pond. Beside it, sat a gazebo, although you couldn’t imagine Rafe enjoying it. You wondered if he lived here alone as you saw no traces of the other three people in his family photo. 

“Boo,” You yelped as you heard Rafe’s deep voice. 

You placed a hand over your beating heart as you looked toward where he stood in the doorway. Having been deep in thought, you hadn’t heard the door opened. He knew that much which explained the amused look in his eye.  

Everything flooded back at the sight of him. The air had already left your lungs. You felt his body pressing down on yours, warm breath against your ears, and that pain between your legs. 

The door clicked shut, making you flinch.

“Good morning,” he said, his gaze fixed on you.

It hit you then, you hadn’t greeted him like you were supposed to.

You were taken aback by his appearance. He was wearing gray sweatpants and a plain navy t-shirt, a stark contrast to your heels and carefully applied makeup. You weren’t sure why you were expected to dress up, especially when he looked so casual.

“G-Good morning, Sir,” You crossed the room, his eyes locked on yours. You remembered where he liked you, near the door, ready to greet him and present yourself to him. You hated how your voice always betrayed you, how weak it made you sound. Your only saving grace was that you’d already memorized his schedule for the day, having spent the entire commute looking at your laptop. You recited it to him, including the midday Zoom call he had with Kelce and Topper.

Topper, you had learned, was Eleanor’s husband. Rafe hadn’t ever touched her but the way Eleanor always answered your questions with vague responses made you suspect that her relationship with Topper mirrored your own with Rafe. She hadn’t warned you but now you were suspecting that was because Rafe seemed to always get what he wanted, no matter who got hurt in the process.

You froze the moment his hand reached out to touch you. His fingers curled around your side, hovering just above your stomach but dangerously close to your breasts. His grip was surprisingly gentle as his thumb grazed over the fabric of your dress. You stiffened as his other hand mirrored the first, sliding across to the opposite side of your body. “Eleanor picked this,” he murmured, his brows knitting together as his gaze slowly traveled down your figure. A jolt shot through you as his thumb brushed over your nipple, sending a wave of panic coursing through you.

“Y-You don’t like it?” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper. 

He clicked his tongue, “Turn around for me.”

You did as he said, “Doesn’t do enough for your figure,” Your heart panged in your chest, suddenly feeling self-conscious of your own shape, “Are you wearing the panties I sent you?”

All you could do was nod. Rafe never commanded you to wear the panties everyday to work but you didn’t risk it. Luckily, they were all comfortable despite the lace and cheekiness. 

“Pull up your dress,” He said next. 

You’d spent the last three days in a fog, trying to make sense of the situation, trying to understand why your body betrayed you. When you were younger, you always asked the universe why you couldn’t speak like the way all your friends at school did. Now you asked the universe why Rafe’s voice made you want to clench your thighs together. Why you had felt empty ever since he’d finished inside of you. Why you wanted to try again, to experience that intimacy again without so much fear. Your life was so simple before but now it felt like it was too late to turn back. 

Your thoughts were too jumbled. Rafe cleared his throat and you realized you were just staring back, “I’m not gonna fuck you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Please-”

He rolled his eyes, “Don’t make me ask again.”

You squared your shoulders. “I’m nnn-nn-not comfortable—”

“Just do it.”

You reached down to the edges of your dress, slowly pulling the fabric to your waist. It was nothing he hadn’t already seen and yet you were shaking, “Turn around. Face the other way.” Like a robot, you obeyed. You’d chosen a light pink color today. 

“Good,” You felt him against you. He pulled your hair back over your shoulder and leaned down against your ear, “Maybe I should make you walk around naked while you’re here, hmm?”

You bit down on your lip, wanting to contain the protest that was about to leave your mouth. You wanted to lean into his touch, to embrace the comfort that would accompany the torture. He brushed past you just as you tilted your head back, “Go make me a coffee,” He commanded. 

He made his way behind his desk and you reached down to move your dress, “Did I say to pull your dress down?”

“N-No, Sir,” You moved your hands quickly to your sides.

“I could make you walk around like that, couldn’t I?” He asked, leaning back in his chair.

He tilted his head and you realized you needed to answer. You gave him a painful look. You could say no but what would it cost you, “I . . . I don’t know,” He wasn’t satisfied by your answer, clearly. It was torture to force the words out, “Y-Yes.”

“Right answer,” He said, “Pull down your dress, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help but see the irony in the fact that despite that you upgraded to a salaried job, you were still making coffee for the rich and spoiled. The opulent kitchen had an even fancier coffee machine than his office. Your movements as you prepared his steaming mug of coffee were precise despite the turmoil in your mind. 

Searching for solutions, your mind landed on the idea of trying to assert your competence. Sure, you could make a great cup of coffee but the whole point of getting a real job was so that you could have real skills to market yourself. You could be perfect at this job, anticipate his every need, and you could more than an object to look at. 

You re-entered his office quietly after realizing he’d begun his first meeting of the day. Carefully, you set his coffee down on the edge of his desk. He was always so intense, so completely absorbed in his work, and that unwavering focus made you even more anxious. Maybe that’s how you should be, more composed, projecting an air of confidence.

Unsure of where you should settle, you made yourself comfortable on one of the leather couches. You checked your email on your laptop, finding several reminders from Eleanor. You found yourself frustrated by how she picked and chose what information to share with you but you balanced those feelings with the fact that she was often your saving grace. 

She gave you a list of tasks including arranging for a delivery of documents that needed to be signed by Rafe, confirming his dinner reservations for the night, and proofreading the notes you took from yesterday’s meetings. You told yourself by the end of the next week, you’d be able to handle things by yourself, and you wouldn’t have to lean on her so much. You’d have a day, eventually, where Rafe didn’t point out anything you did wrong. 

“I was thinking-” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence. You were so focused that you hand’t realized his meeting had ended. He folded his hands over each other, his eyes on you, “From now on, I want you to wear what I pick for you each day.”

“How …y-you’re not happy with what I’ve been choosing?”

“It’s not about not being happy. Now I have more of an idea of what I like on you,” His voice was smooth and authoritative, “You want to reflect my taste, my standards, yeah?”

You mustered the courage to ask your next question, “Can I-I dress a l-little less … formally when I work at home with you?”

“Less formally?” He tasted the words on his tongue, “You mean, like more casual?”

“Yes, Sss-sir. Like more comfortable.”

“We could experiment with that,” His tone was deceptively light, “On my terms though. Yeah?”

You nodded and were grateful that he hadn’t reacted lightly. He seemed to enjoy that you were asking him for permission.

“You’ll have to wear something different tonight though, for dinner. Eleanor is coming by towards the end of the day to bring you your outfit and take you to get your nails done.” 

“Oh,” Your eyes opened wide, “I-I thh-thhought it was more of a personal-”

“I won’t keep you out forever,” He said, “You got plans or something?”

You shook your head quickly, “No, Sir.”

Rafe worked through lunchtime, so you brought him the meal prepared by his chef, Stevie—an elegant older woman with blonde hair. She had made a pesto pasta salad that looked like it belonged in a gourmet magazine, despite your protests and insistence on eating your own packed lunch. Only after delivering the meal did Rafe grant you permission to take your break elsewhere.

You settled on the outdoor patio by the pool, enjoying the peacefulness of the space despite the distant, steady hum of a lawnmower. For a moment, you didn’t feel out of place. Your dress, though apparently unflattering to your figure, was worth a small fortune, and the gourmet lunch you were now enjoying was a far cry from the PB&J you’d packed.

Thirty minutes later, after finishing your lunch and enjoying a lengthy chat with Stevie, you reluctantly headed back upstairs. Hearing Rafe still on the phone, you decided to explore a bit more. His office was situated in the private wing of his house, and as you meandered through opulent corridors, you couldn’t resist sneaking a glance into the master bedroom. It was cozier than you had anticipated, with tall gray walls that gave it a masculine feel and a plush bed draped in navy linen blanket that created a snug, cocoon-like atmosphere.

Rafe ended his call a minute later and the afternoon wore on. You settled into a rhythm, completing the various tasks that you’d added to your own to do lists and ones he’d assigned to you. You spent some time organizing files in his office. His gaze burned into you, even more when you were turned around, and surprisingly, you were starting to get used to that unnerving feeling. 

He waited for you to make a mistake but you used a hundred-percent of your effort to make sure that didn’t happen. 

The clock inched towards the evening, and the day grew even more quieter, more intimate. “I was looking over your notes from yesterday’s meeting with the board members. I highlighted some sections for you to read back to me,” He waved you over, his voice gruff after a long day of talking. You joined him behind his desk and you moved to lean over and get closer look, but he placed a hand on your hip. The gesture was firm, possessive, leaving no room for hesitation. With effortless strength, like a wolf guiding its prey, he maneuvered you onto his lap, settling you on his thigh. You felt the power in his grip, the unspoken control, and all you could do was comply.

“Rafe–” You started, an desperate attempt at a protest. 

“Start with the first section,” He commanded, his grip tightening. 

“I’ve been working on proofreading them–”

“Sweetheart,” He warned, not needing to add that you were making him angry. You could feel it, the heat coming off of him. 

You took a deep breath and slowly tried to read each sentence. Even if you didn’t have a sentence with a small typo, you still stammered over several of your words. He slid the chair closer to the desk and you yelped. 

“See right here,” He pointed to the screen but that only pressed him into you. You breathed slowly, trying not to hyperventilate, “This whole section needs more detail. I don’t want to have to ask more information.”

You were taken aback when Rafe actually began to instruct you on what you were meant to do. He spent at least ten minutes walking you through each sentence, explaining how to word your report, and deleted all the unnecessary details you added. He was surprisingly patient. 

“Now, your turn,” he said finally, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, you thought he was letting you up, but the pressure of his hand on your waist told you otherwise. “Fix it.”

You swallowed, hesitating as your fingers hovered over the keys. Ever keystroke was amplified in the quiet room. Doing your best to actually use your brain, you carefully made the changes he suggested. He watched you closely, his hands first placed on your hips but soon one wandered between your thighs. 

“Good,” He said. You could do it again, you thought, and not be so scared. His touch was teasing, a reminder of what he could do to you, all the pressure that built inside of you a spilled over. You could impress him, you could be beautiful, and not turn into a crying mess when he was inside of you. You could be more than a fragile thing to be broken.

Each word was a small victory. It was a battle you thought you could win until his fingers slipped inside your panties and his other hand grabbed a handful of one of your breasts. It was unbearable, and as he made small circles, you found your fingers slipping clumsily over the keys. 

You pressed your palms into his desk, your body tilting forward. A frustrated sigh left your lips, you couldn’t contain it, and Rafe’s chuckle rumbled from behind you, “Do you ever touch yourself like this? Be honest with me this time.”

“Y-Yes,” You whispered. 

“How do you do it?” He pulled you away from the desk, pulling your torso against his, “You use a toy?”

“J-Just my fff-fingers,” You admitted. 

“Like this? How do you like it?” Carefully, he switched between different approaches. He rubbed circles over your clit, smaller ones and then slower, bigger ones. Then he stroked you up and down, fingers slipping easily into your warm hole as he wandered lower, “You put those little fingers inside of you?”

“Rafe, please.”

“Tell me,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Or I’ll stop.”

"I-I don't usually put them inside… ," you confessed, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I always use my pillow…”

He hummed against your ear. "See how much better this is when you cooperate? You can be such a good little assistant when you try."

You nodded, unable to speak, and let the feeling consume you. He brought you right to the edge, you were seconds away coming undone, but his movements slowed. Before you could register the feeling as disappointment, Rafe was hoisting you off of his lap. 

Moving with sudden determination, your feet were suddenly off the ground and Rafe was carrying you out of the room in his strong arms, “Rafe!” You clutched his shoulders as he carried you down the hall.

You turned your head as he nudged the bedroom door open with his foot, the heavy thud of the door slamming shut reverberating through the room. With a swift motion, he laid you gently on the bed. The softness beneath you was just as you had imagined, but the thought barely registered. You shot him an incredulous look, your face flushed with a mix of pleasure and frustration.

He leaned over you, grabbing a pillow from behind you and placing it in front of you, “Show me.”

You shook your head instantly and moved to crawl away. Somehow, you could let all of his other sleazy behavior slide by but this was an insane boundary for him to try to cross. He’d already been inside you and yet this was a thousand times more intimate. 

He grabbed ahold of your thigh, “You’re so close, sweetheart. I know you want it,” He challenged you, “Probably feels like you need it.”

“Please,” You tried, your voice threatening to crack. His hands found your hips again, slowly positionin you over the pillow. The soft fabric brushed against your most sensitive spot, the familiar sensation making you bite down on your bottom lip, “Rafe.”

“You saying my name like that just makes me want it more,” Balancing on his knees, he grabbed ahold of your face and leaned in to kiss you. You felt the intensity of his desire, how much he wanted this, and it left you dizzy. 

When he pulled back, he looked over you. Your hips started moving in a familiar motion despite your embarrassment. You trembled from the vulnerability, the pounding in your chest, but you chased that high he gave you. It ignited your fire again, and since you didn’t have the full force of his touch anymore, you focused your eyes on him, “Good girl,” He said again and you whimpered, “Look at me just like that.”

You rolled your hips harder, faster, imagining his kiss, his touch, as the tension coiled tighter inside you. His gaze never left yours, his words a constant stream of encouragement and control.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” 

His words all jumbled together. 

“Just let it happen.”

“I want to see your face when you cum, sweetheart.”

“You look so desperate.”

“So needy.”

“You’re gonna make yourself cum, huh?”

“Just because I told you too.”

“Such a good girl.”

“Look at you.” 

The words pushed you over the edge, finally, and you were able to let go. He watched as you rode out that wave of pleasure and his hands found your body again, his grip grounding you. “Fuck,” You heard him say but you couldn’t respond. 

You were too overwhelmed to respond, your mind unable to fully process what had just happened. All you knew was that you felt good, embarrassed, and strangely satisfied that you'd pleased him, all at once. 

When you manage to look at him again, the doorbell rang. 

Eleanor navigated through the upscale nail salon, a palace of white and silvers, with ease, like she was a regular, and this was just an extension of her universe. You imagined this place as an escape for her, from both Rafe and Topper. She secured side-by-side seats near the back of the salon and you followed her lead as she set down her purse and removed her sandals. Her movements were fluid and assured. 

“Have you thought about what color you want?”

“Oh, um, n-no,” You tried to make yourself comfortable in the pedicure chair, “What d-do you think Rafe would like?”

“Maybe something pastel. You can’t go wrong with a soft pink.”

“Is that what you’re getting?” You asked, unassured, as you glanced around the luxurious setting. It wasns’t like other nail salons you’d been to where the technicians and customers talked at whatever volume they liked. It was quiet and each technician wore matching black uniforms. 

“I’ll tell them you want ballet slipper on your nails and white on your toes.”

You nodded, grateful for her guidance, “Thank you.”

As your pedicures began, the warm lavender-scented water soaking your feet, two technicians took their places by your sides, working silently as they filed your nails. 

“How are you holding up?” Eleanor asked.

“Fff-fine,” You said, “I’m trying to . . . t-to understand him, I guess.”

“You’ll go crazy doing that,” She laughed lightly, flashing a look that said “poor you”. 

“How d-did you meet Topper?” Her face tightened at your question, “I mean, y-you didn’t say.”

“I’m from the same town as them, Rafe and Topper. Not really the same town, my parents didn’t have money growing up. But I worked at the country club they all went to. That’s how I met Topper.”

“And you started dating?”

“Something like that,” She made a small shrug, “I owe everything I have to them.”

You nodded, sensing the weight of her words despite the lack of detail. Another piece to the puzzle you were trying to put together. Maybe the two of them had an attraction to girls struggling to get by.

“It’s not so bad, is it?” She asked and it made you pause.

Your instinct was to mirror her shrug, but you hesitated, wondering if you could trust her with your thoughts. If anyone could understand what you were going through, it had to be Eleanor.  “I-I just ffff-ffeel like I’m doing everything wrong.”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’ve only heard good things.”

“A-About me?” She nodded and your lips parted in shock. 

“Yes. I know you feel uncertain right now, but I think you'll be glad if you can stick it out. Topper… he’s a bastard, but he takes care of me. Rafe likes you too. Maybe he doesn’t know how to show it, but…” She paused, her eyes flickering with something you couldn’t quite place. “He’s filthy rich. That would be enough for me.”

In that moment, her brutal honesty felt almost like reassurance. You weren’t sure if Eleanor truly grasped the extent of Rafe’s inability to show affection, that his pleasure came from humiliating you, from making you cry. Just as you couldn’t fully know what she endured with Topper. Her words weren't necessarily comforting but at least they felt real.

Please reblog WITH your thoughts on the chapter to be added to the taglist for the story :)

[bbwcasey]

It feels strange and vulnerable to write something this personal here, but maybe that's why I’m doing it. Maybe because I feel like you all are the only ones who might truly understand the storm inside me—the anger and sadness that’s just really hard to put into words.

I've briefly mentioned my aunt before. She was my rock when my dad was deployed and my mom was working long hours. During that part of my childhood, she was the one who raised me. At her heaviest, she weighed over 700 pounds, almost 800. Over the years, I’ve been careful not to share too many details about her, because sadly, some of you struggle to respect the clear boundaries that should exist here.

She died on Monday. And she died in a way no one should ever have to. My heart is absolutely shattered.

She had been living in a bariatric care facility for over a decade—bed-bound, very limited mobility. For as long as I can remember, that was her reality. I watched it unfold slowly, starting in high school when she lost the ability to walk, when taking care of her became a shared effort between me, my mom, and my Yiayia. We loved her, we cared for her the best we could. But, as time passed, her needs became too great, and she was moved into the care of professionals. At least, that's what we thought.

But the facility failed her. They failed her in the most basic of ways. She needed a 4-person assist just to be bathed, just to go to the bathroom—and that wasn’t always available. Sometimes it was because of understaffing. Sometimes it was pure negligence. And that neglect led to infections. One of them turned into necrotizing fasciitis—a flesh-eating bacteria. That’s what killed her. That’s how she died. Suddenly. Painfully. Needlessly.

I am furious. And I am heartbroken.

It messes with my head in ways I can’t even explain. I’ve spent so much of my life obsessed with the idea of being that big, fantasizing about being absolutely massive, and now, here I am, mourning my aunt who lived that reality. I don’t know if she ever felt the way I feel about it. I don’t know if the things I think about were part of her experience. Honestly, I don’t want to know. Don’t make this weird. It’s not about that.

But I do know she was involved in NAAFA, long before I was even born—back when the lines between what we now call body positivity and fat acceptance were just starting to be drawn. So, there’s this overlap, this strange connection that I can’t quite reconcile in my head. I’m not scared by what happened to her, but I am devastated by it. I don’t want this for anyone, and it’s hard to see the reality of what we talk about here through this lens. It’s hard to hold space for all of it.

I don’t know how to wrap this up neatly because there’s nothing neat about this. I’m grieving. I’m angry. I’m confused. But mostly, I’m just sad. Sad for her. Sad for me. Sad for a world that lets people like her slip through the cracks because they were deemed too much—too much to care for, too much to handle, too much to love.

But she wasn’t. She wasn’t too much. She was just enough. She was everything. And I miss her.

I hate that I feel the need to add this disclaimer, but before anyone starts chirping and taking things out of context—no, this doesn’t change anything for me, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m still here, still the same weirdo who loves being fat and getting fatter. It’s just… complicated. I’m sad. It’s sad. That’s all.

[bigfatbimbo]

Silly request but imagine helping Bill "groom" his triangle self. Gently wipe him with a cloth. Carefully dip it in the little space between the bricks, can't leave that zone unclean! Alternatively, a classic soapy bubble bath. Silly straws included, what the hell, he's probably drinking the bath water and listing the chemical ingredients back at you while you gently rub him clean. Fun times

The Bug Collector

1.1k words,, Bill Cipher x reader

a/n — Procrastination killed my soul during this, I think it turned out okay, though! Sorry for typos, your girl is tired.

warnings — SFW, post!weirdmaggedon, as ‘fluffy’ as you can get with Bill cipher, he is his own warning, kinda toxic relationships, fluff and bill being pathetic

summary — Reader assists a recently fallen Bill Cipher in self care, despite his general all-mighty asshole-ness.

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, a water-tight barrier most commonly known for muscle attachments, and its use to shelter and protect the insects gushy insides from its harsh environment. 

The exoskeleton of a triangle was for mostly for aesthetics, as the underneath was far more horrifying than anything in the harsh environment around it. Or so the triangle claims.

You dipped a soapy sponge into the bucket in front of you, as bill propped his feet up on the bathtub. 

“You conquer worlds and destroy planets, but yeah, why not draw the line at cleaning yourself.”

“Please, what better way to make use out of my new human pet— partner, than this?” He corrected loudly and purposefully. Then looking to the side, he mumbled, “And besides, kid, you have no idea how hard it is to clean between the bricks. Euck— So many blind spots.”

The first part was a throwaway reminder that he had far more power than you in this dynamic, something you’d picked up on Bill casually doing in his time with you. 

Being roommates with a butt-hurt demon, given the ending of weirdmaggedon, allowed you the privilege of being more cautious than previous humans were with Bill. For example, you’ve taken to keeping track of his repeated habits and patterns. 

On of which, just so happened to be reminding you how small you were compared to him. 

You jabbed the sponge in-between on of the bricks, “Ow!” He narrowed his eye at you, “Watch it, pal. I’m starting to think you’ve never cleaned a triangle before.”

“I’d hate to give that impression.” You softened your hold on him, “Delicate work, I always say.”

And it was delicate work. After his defeat, he’d been roughed up a surprising bit, powers even weakened. 

Weakened.

“Not too delicate,” he shot you glance. Guess he’d heard that thought process. 

Although, most days he’d seemed to be in a thought process of his own. Weird.

You cleared your throat, “How often does this even need to be done?”

He blinked, “Well, let’s see. Once every—“ he waved his hand around “—few hundred years. Very high maintenance, do not recommend it.”

High maintenance, yeah. At this point, Bill had taken to talking about some other topic, you hadn’t been really listening, something about intergalactic food joints.

Every once and a while he’d bring up something that happened with one of his ‘henchmaniacs’ before getting slightly irritated at the lack of presence in his life now, and changing the subject. 

Bill was interesting to study, you couldn’t lie. His eyelashes curled away from each other, like the mangled legs of a recently dead spider. His hands were very present when he talked, like most people of business. His body flicked side to side slightly at certain moments. 

You became more gentle naturally, taking care of every crevice, and for some reason Bill becomes gradually quieter.

“Something wrong?” You asked, not stopping.

Bill blinked, “Eh, been a minute since i’ve had a human servant. Maybe, I was thinking of other things you can help with!”

You sigh, “Yeah, because i’m your servant. As if.” In your mind, your thinking do the fact he was your roommate, in your house, eating your food. 

“Hey, don’t get all butt-hurt. You’re all ants to me, buddy, nothing to be ashamed of!” His eye flicked back and forth between you and the room.

Then you stop scrubbing, “Bill, I might as well be your landlord.” You know he can read your thoughts, so you make a point to justify yourself. Already weakened from his failed apocalypse, anything other than vague respect for you would land him homeless. Most likely, his response to this would be killing you, but there’s only so much he can do afterwards. 

He’d have a place to stay, but with no electricity or heating, and in his damaged physical form he actively does need those things. And trying to get a new human would be a hassle, and unlike you, no guarantee they’d let him stay there without calling the authorities.

“Yeesh,” Bill remarks, “Buzzkill… You are still a bug compared to me, though—“

You drop the sponge in the bucket, “I think you’re done.”

He looks taken aback when you pull away, “What? Come on, over the bug comment? Jeez, buddy—“

“No I mean you’re actually done,” you gesture to his body, now shining and slick with soap suds. “I got everything, there’s nothing else to do.”

You go to turn around before you feel a small hand grabbing for the back of your shirt. 

“Wait, wait!” He breathes, eye farting from side to side, “… You have to dry me off first.”

He looked slightly panicked, like if you stopped taking care of him now, you’d leave and never come back. Your thought process earlier couldn’t have helped. 

The way he scurried and gasped for you was reminiscent of panicked earwig and a rock is lifted up. The comparison should have grossed you out, but it kinda just made you feel a little bad.

If he was paying attention to your thoughts, he didn’t show it. This would have usually given you the impression he’d wanted you to be thinking the way you were, but he seemed a little wrapped up in his own head. 

“Come on, kid. Don’t tell me you’re gonna kick me out because I asked you to dry me off. One last thing and then you don’t even have to talk to me the rest of the night! Sounds like a good deal, right?” 

His slightly desperate looking sales pitch was met with a sigh, you picked up a dry towel and began to pat the soap suds off of him. His body slowly breathed in, making it look like he was sighing, but no noise came out.

You wondered then if he was actually touch-starved, but cut your thoughts there because this time he had nothing better to do then pay attention to what you were thinking. 

“Ouch, i’m not that desperate, pal.” But he was.

His exoskeleton was dry, but you didn’t stop patting him down. His eyelid shut slowly, and the spider-legs on them curled into each other once more. 

The exoskeleton of a bug was practical, but one of a triangle seemed to simply be for aesthetics. 

However, on some rare occasions, it possesses the same desire for love as human bodies. Only, when very desperate, of course.