#And it DESERVES to be appreciated as such

[guygonefearfishing]

Can you make a thread here? Or does it not work that way, sorry I don't know much about Blue sky.

I remember seeing a "post your transmasc characters in this thread" transmasc positivity post on Bluesky and I almost wanted to participate until all the fear welled up inside of me and I ultimately stepped back.

[starmapz]

what you know - ch8: hysteria || r. sukuna

❦ ryomen sukuna x f!reader [college au] [ongoing series]

❝ you've heard his reputation and you've seen first-hand the way he's late to class if he even bothers to show up. paired with him for the most important project of the year, you choose to give him the benefit of the doubt- but maybe that's more than he deserves when your perfect grades depend on him, or maybe there's more to the aloof and irritable sukuna than meets the eye. ❞

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. implied injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety (attacks). tags will be updated as series continues.

❦ additional tags ; college parties and themes. sukuna ooc warning as this is a realistic take on modern sukuna. reader is fairly preppy and implied to be smaller than sukuna, but he's 6"11.

❦ words ; 17.7k (oops).

❦ a/n ; please note the tags have been updated.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

Although not particularly cold throughout the holidays, a frigid air settles over the city shortly after the date turns to the new year. As usual, Gojo held his annual frat party that you’re required to be at by virtue of being his friend, though you end up being one of many single party-goers who dips into a corner as the clock strikes midnight. The idea of a stranger’s lips wandering to yours doesn’t sit well in your stomach and although you asked if he would attend, Sukuna had promised his little brothers a celebration, just the three of them. Not that you would kiss Sukuna anyway, of course-

Yuji had apparently never celebrated the new year, too young to understand previously, though based on the photo in your email inbox, he didn’t get to celebrate this one either. A blurry photo taken from the camera on Sukuna’s laptop, pointed down at Yuji sound asleep in his lap while he and Choso had MarioKart running in the background had been the telltale sign.

You can’t blame him for not having a phone, but sometimes you do wish you could text rather than email. Especially with your friendship seeming to blossom as of late. It took a bit of nurturing to get to this point, but Sukuna seems to recognize his faults and actively tries to work on and better himself. Regardless of his often-irritable demeanor, you appreciate the effort on his part.

Snowflakes settle in your palm as you hold it out in front of you on the walk to the lunch hall. Settling back into the flow of having classes early in the mornings brings with it a dreary haze that hangs over the student body, yourself included. Not a single soul seems to be well-rested, apart from one person.

“Good morning,” Kento greets you with a warm smile, running a hand through his golden locks.

“Morning, Kento,” you greet him in return, your attention trained on the snowflakes melting on the warmth of your skin. “How was it, going back home?”

“It was relaxing,” he replies, a frown pulling at his lips as he takes in your dazed expression. “I’m sorry you weren’t able to join us.”

“That’s alright! I really did appreciate your offer to pay for my tickets, but it didn’t feel right,” you shoot him a smile, though quickly return your attention to your hand.

Auburn irises flicker down to your palm, trying to figure out what’s holding your interest so adamantly. “I understand, although it really wouldn’t have been a big deal.”

“Really, it’s fine, Nanamin. Satoru, Suguru, and Sukuna all had me over and I talked to my parents a bunch,” you assure him, finally dropping your hand and wiping the condensation on the front of your coat.

“Sukuna?” He asks, his brows raising, though it’s more of a rhetorical question as he’s already aware he’ll be doing Sukuna a favor at some point in the new year.

“He’s put in a lot of effort to make up for what happened.” Your tone is somewhat clipped, coming out unintentionally defensive.

Nanami’s gaze flickers to your face, catching the minute knit of your brows and tension in your shoulders. “I should hope so. Either way, I wasn’t making any accusations. Simply an observation.”

You sigh. “I know, sorry. I think I’m just a bit exhausted,” you chuckle, shooting him an apologetic smile. “I can’t believe we’re already back to it. The break felt so short.”

“I agree,” he hums as he opens the door to the lunch hall for you. With a grateful smile, you slip past him and head towards your regular table. Looks like you won’t be the first to arrive this semester. You and Kento are the last to arrive, taking your seats and beginning to pull out your lunches as you get back into the swing of lunches on campus.

Just as you pull out some leftover pasta, Sukuna takes a seat beside you. He looks worse for wear, even more exhausted than you. His sleep schedule is always atrocious, so you can only imagine what it would look like without classes.

“Hey, Kuna!” You grin as you greet him.

In usual Sukuna fashion, he leans over the table on his elbow, resting his chin against his palm. “Princess.” He yawns quietly, his eyes briefly fluttering shut.

“Long day?” You ask, amused but sympathetic.

“Long fuckin’ day,” he agrees, his chest rumbling in faint laughter. “Y’know, you usually don’t look as tired as I-”

“Hey hotshot, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Gojo blurts out suddenly, interrupting Sukuna.

With a deadpan expression, the tattooed man’s jaw clenches in barely-masked irritation. Of all days, Sukuna could only have hoped Gojo would keep his mouth shut today, unable to deal with his bullshit in this state. “The hell did I do?” He rolls his shoulders, as though prepping for a fight. 

Can’t these two get along just for once?

“You were on my balcony at the end of finals party, and let some couple fuck on my bed!” He points an accusatory finger at Sukuna’s chest, his nose scrunching in disgust at the mere thought.

Slowly, you bring a hand up to cover your mouth in realization. As you glance at Sukuna, you’re surprised to see his expression has relaxed somewhat, a smug smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “What, you think I broke in to let some other couple fuck?” Sukuna sneers, practically reveling in the way Gojo scoffs. “I didn’t do it on purpose, asshole.” He tilts his head towards you, crimson eyes filled with amusement. “Why don’t you tell him?”

You can tell from his tone he’s enjoying this way too much. “Um- well-” you wince as Satoru’s expression falls, dramatic betrayal written across his face in bolded marker. “I may have unlocked your room to get some air and… kinda didn’t lock the door behind me.” You mutter the last portion into your hand, a sheepish shrug the best you can offer him.

“It was you?” He whines, lip curled in utter disbelief.

“And to think he blamed Sukuna this whole time,” Suguru butts in, amused.

“I saw him leave the balcony!” The frat boy counters, turning his attention back to you. “I had to stay on Suguru’s floor while my mattress got cleaned,” he gripes.

“I can’t even imagine my floor was that much cleaner,” Suguru quips teasingly, a mischievous glimmer in his golden eyes.

Satoru jabs him in the side before turning his attention to you. “You owe me. No, you double owe me because I had you over for Christmas dinner too!” He waggles his spoon at you, before dropping it in his soup with all the dramatic flair he can muster.

“I’m so sorry, Satoru! I promise it was an accident.” You offer your best apologetic smile.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, sighing. “It’s fiiiine. Just… buy me drinks next time we go out or something.”

“I’d like to think I should be compensated for dealing with Satoru’s whining,” Suguru chimes in, entertained by the whole ordeal.

Shaking your head at the raven-haired man’s blatant teasing, you giggle quietly, your elbow lightly brushing Sukuna. He’s still leaning over the table, close enough to feel his breath fan your arm with each rise and fall of his chest.

“After consulting my bank account, I can get Suguru one drink, and Satoru two,” you offer.

“Deal!”

“Deal.”

Sukuna shakes his head, shooting a final glance at Satoru that doesn’t hold the amusement he regarded you with before his full attention shifts back to you. “Just gonna throw me under the bus like that, huh?” He gruffs. Beyond the tired glaze that paints his eyes is a mirthful gleam, reserved only for you as he observes the way you sheepishly chuckle.

“My bad,” you scratch at the back of your neck, your cheeks heating up as his arm brushes yours. “I was gonna jump in, I swear!”

“Mhm.” Sukuna lets out a long breath, leaning back comfortably over the table and putting some distance between you. Just as he begins to zone out, lost in thought over the lawsuit, he sits up straight, his attention drawn to Kento. “Did you find a time to meet with- uh- Kento?”

“Oh!” You gently nudge Kento at Sukuna’s reminder. “Can you and your friend meet up on…” you glance back at Sukuna to fill in the blank as his schedule is much more packed than yours usually is.

“Friday. After four.”

Kento spins to face you, his watchful gaze doing a once-over of Sukuna. “I can get back to you on that. It should work for me, but I’ll need to speak with him.”

You grin. “Great! If that works, can we meet at the cafe across from the Science building?”

Kento nods. “I’ll let you know this afternoon. I believe I share a class with him.”

The two men on either side of you exchange another tense glance, letting the uneasy atmosphere dissolve as they mutually redirect their attention elsewhere. Sukuna leans forward on the table, resting his chin on his crossed arms, his eyes watching with mild interest as you take a bite of your leftover pasta.

Just as you’re about to offer him a bite, your lips purse in surprise as two men you don’t recognize take seats in front of Sukuna. It only clicks who they must be when Uraume takes a seat on Sukuna’s opposite side. You shoot them a warm smile as the salmon-haired man’s head lifts.

You can’t tell what’s going through Sukuna’s mind as he grunts out a “what are you doin’ here?”

The man sitting on Gojo’s left, who’s currently receiving a deeply displeased glare from your snowy-haired friend, has black hair that falls straight over his forehead and a scar on his lip. Beside him is a man with spiked brown hair and a toothpick between his teeth. His lips seem to be drawn in a perpetual frown. He speaks up first. “We haven’t seen you since the party.”

The man with the scarred lip smirks. “That, and Uraume was mentionin’ your girl wanted to meet us.”

Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration, a deathly glare burning his friend for calling you his girl. He introduces you, making a point of calling you his friend, before pointing out Toji, with the scar, and Atsuya.

With a grin and deeply warmed cheeks, you point out each of the members of your friend group. Haibara and Shoko are as sweet as ever, while Geto and Nanami are kind. Gojo, on the other hand, seems frustrated with the arrival of the group, in particular Toji, which you suppose makes sense if the man’s got a penchant for being a pain even by Sukuna’s standards from what you’ve heard.

In spite of Toji’s immediate overbearing teasing, he seems nice enough, and with their arrival, Sukuna becomes slightly more talkative. He’s slowly coming out of his shell around you, which you’re grateful for.

“So,” Toji begins, mischief dancing across his emerald irises, “how in the world did ya manage to get through to this asshole?” He questions you, jabbing a thumb towards Sukuna at your side.

You giggle, not missing the way Sukuna’s jaw clenches. “Not easily.”

“I’ll say. I’ve known ‘im since we were kids and I’m still not part of his Christmases,” he scoffs.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a fuckin’ dick, I’d invite you,” Sukuna scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“You could always invite Sukuna, could you not?” Uraume points out to Toji, who scoffs, his expression deadpan.

“Oh yeah, who wants t’ come to the Zenin Family Dinner? Drop on by, we got my fuckass uncle, my asshole grandparents and Naoya. Who wouldn’t wanna join?” He jeers, sarcasm dripping from each and every word.

“Is that the ‘Naoya’ you punched?” You ask, keeping your voice low for only Sukuna to hear as you lean towards him.

“Mhm.”

“‘Sides,” Toji begins, “your dad used to invite me every year, dunno what I did to get uninvited.”

Oh.

Oh.

He doesn’t know.

Sukuna’s leg bounces absentmindedly under the table at the mention of his father, his gaze averting to a nearby wall in an effort to keep his reaction neutral.

“You know, I could host something next year,” you offer in an effort to divert attention away from the topic of Sukuna’s father. To your horror, the table goes silent. The tension coming off of Satoru and Toji in waves is palpable, and you’re beyond grateful for Shoko, Kento, and Uraume, the first three at the table to chime in.

“Sounds like fun.”

“I would join.”

“That sounds lovely.”

You let out a sigh of relief as gradually, the rest of the table begins to agree, even the two men who seem to continually be at odds with one another. You have half a mind to wonder how that even happened given that Satoru’s usually the one to get under others’ skin, not vice versa.

As conversation begins to return, Sukuna quietly mutters a “thanks” in your ear that sends a shiver straight down your spine before burying his face in his arms as you finish your meal. The tension in the air doesn’t fully dissolve but at the very least, Satoru and Toji choose to simply not acknowledge one another.

With a glance at the time on your phone, you begin packing up once you finish your lunch. A couple of others at the table check the time as they take notice of your actions, using the opportunity to pack up as no one wants to be late on the first day of class. With nothing to pack up himself, Sukuna swings his bag over his shoulder and mumbles a “see ya,” heading for the door before you can stop him.

Even with how far your friendship has come, it seems some things never change.

With a sigh, you turn back to the table. “It was nice to meet you, Toji and Atsuya,” you smile politely.

“Likewise,” Atsuya agrees with a tired smile.

“‘Course. Had to meet the woman Sukuna’s been ditchin’ us for.” Toji shoots you a shit-eating grin, something you don’t dare read into as your face warms at the mere thought of being the person Sukuna seems to always choose.

“See you all later,” you call out to the broader table, met with a chorus of goodbyes. “Text me, Sho!”

Hurrying out the door to your next class, you zip up your coat as you make your way through the frozen wasteland that separates you from Literature History. At least the weather had relented somewhat from the beginning of December, offering a more mild bite that didn’t seem to seep into the very fiber of your being.

Still, it’s a hell of a lot colder than it was before the new year.

With a huff as you cross the barrier into the building where your next class is, you let the warmth envelop you, grateful for the shelter from the bitter wind outside. Winter had only really begun to settle over the city in the last month, but you’re ready for spring to arrive. Even if it means more finals.

Sighing at the thought of starting the entire dance over again- class, studying, finals, not to mention your required internship- you push through the door to the lecture hall, briefly pausing at the bottom of the class to search for a familiar face.

And god fucking damn it, the way your eyes light up when you spot Sukuna could practically make him dizzy. He’s careful that his crimson stare doesn’t give away the strange way his chest tightens at the mere sight of your beaming smile, keeping his expression indifferent as his gaze trails your path.

You jog up the stairs until you find a place beside him, grinning as you slide into the seat. “I was gonna ask what your next class was, but you left so fast,” you comment, getting settled as you pull out your laptop.

“Mm,” Sukuna watches your movements, his eyes trailing your manicured nails. Pink. They almost match his hair.

Why is he even thinking about this?

“Didn’t wanna be late,” he excuses his actions, finally meeting your eyes.

Your bottom lip sticks out in an exaggerated pout. “At least walk with me when we have class together.”

He lets out a long breath through his nose. “Yeah, alright, princess,” he teases, unable to help his smirk as he settles back into familiar territory with you and the strange flutter in his chest eases.

The professor walks in, writing her name in large font across the whiteboard at the front of the room as she begins her introduction to the class.

“Y’know,” Sukuna leans closer, his voice lowering so as not to disturb the other students. “Apparently the prof’s a huge conspiracy theorist.”

“Really?” You ask, interest gleaming behind narrowed eyes.

“Mhm. Supposedly she believes Shakespeare never existed.”

“Like, she believes the anti-Stratfordian theory?” You ask, tilting your head. That’s not an unreasonable theory, to believe that many of the plays typically associated with Shakespeare were perhaps written by another famous playwright or author under a pseudonym that happened to match the name of a living man.

“Nah. ‘Parently she believes he never existed,” Sukuna shrugs.

“But- he did. Maybe not the one we know, but there’s proof of his birth and death records. He has a grave,” you point out.

“I know that,” he smirks. “I heard she rambled about that theory and Dickens’ death for an hour last semester.”

You blink twice. “You’re kidding.” Groaning as quietly as you can muster, you drag your hands down your face. “I can’t afford to have another history professor who rambles. And the Dickens theory isn’t even interesting,” you tack on in a grumble.

“You’ll be fine,” Sukuna chuckles, amused at your reaction. “Literature’s your thing, ain’t it?”

“Well… yeah, but you know how I am with names, dates and faces.”

“And you know how to study for that,” he points out, nudging your shoulder. “‘Sides, you’ll have-”

“If something is so interesting that you feel the need to interrupt, Mr. Sukuna,” the professor’s voice booms around the lecture hall as all eyes land on the pair of you. Sukuna keeps his cool, which you’re thankful for as you pale and shrink into your seat. “Then I would suggest you come up here and share with the class.”

He doesn’t bother to reply, simply giving a wave of his hand for her to continue. It’s not exactly the polite response you would have given, but with a final glance between you both, she turns back to the broader class to continue the lecture.

Sukuna eyes you from his peripherals as you slowly relax back into your seat when you’re no longer the center of attention. If you bristled so much from just being called out, he can only imagine the pain you went through when he left you hanging last semester. He frowns to himself at the thought, his attention never fully given to the professor as much as he tries.

His mind wanders between the introduction to Elizabethean and Jacobean literature and the way your nails tap against your keyboard as you type up notes. As the class drags on and his mind drifts further and further from the lecture, he leans back in his seat and roughly drags his hands over his face.

He’s exhausted beyond belief, frustrated with his schedule for this semester, frustrated with Toji for sticking his nose in Sukuna’s business, irritated with himself for not paying attention for something he’s paying a lot of money to attend, and to top it all off, he knows he has a long day ahead of him.

It’s not like it’s a first, most days are long in his world, but today he’s all the more frustrated and it’s wearing him thin.

So caught up in his thoughts, he doesn’t even realize the room is shuffling until your laptop shuts beside him, the dull snap bringing him back to reality. As you slip your laptop into a sleeve and delicately place it in your bag, he follows suit, tucking his laptop into his backpack and throwing his coat on.

He even supposes he’ll wait for you this time around, given that he has some time before picking up his brothers for once.

You pause in front of him, zipping your jacket up as you type out a message on your phone. “Looks like Friday works for Kento’s friend.”

Sukuna nods, his brow knit. “I’ll need to bring Cho and Yu. Uraume’s got late classes this semester and our neighbor’s away this week.”

You pause for a moment as you consider what that means. “You’ll need to tell them.” Your tone is somber, your voice quiet. He almost doesn’t hear you over the bustling of students exiting the lecture hall.

He nods slowly, a muscle in his jaw ticking. One might even argue he’s too aware of that fact. You can physically see gears turning in his mind, a question sitting atop his tongue that he doesn’t want to voice.

“What’s wrong, Kuna?” You query gently, tilting your head to look up at him. The tattoo along the length of his jaw stretches along his skin as he grimaces.

“D’you have another class?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t wanna talk about it here.” With a large hand on the small of your back, he directs you out of the hall and back into the cold, his palm lifting from your warmth to run through his tousled locks.

If only he knew the way your stomach flipped from such a simple touch.

Regardless, he probably should have asked if you had any plans for the afternoon, rather than simply dragging you off campus and towards his brothers’ school, but the thought is lost on him. Luckily for him, you might be a little too understanding of the man who unknowingly holds your heart, so you don’t say a word as he silently leads you in a direction that you recognize.

Really, you could have at least gotten your car instead of trudging through the cold.

Before you can protest, Sukuna finally finds the words to voice his thoughts.

“What if I’m lookin’ at this the wrong way?” He gruffs, tense and raw with emotion that isn’t often something you associate with him.

It takes a moment for his words to sink in, but you can’t quite tell where his meaning lies. “What way is that?”

“Been thinkin’. I mean, she’s their mother, right? What if they’re better off with her? What if they wanna go with her and I’m puttin’ up a fight they don’t want me to win?”

It hits you like a ton of bricks. The impact nearly pushes the breath from your lungs and causes your stride to falter. If Sukuna notices, he doesn’t slow down and it takes you a moment to catch up, his words still sinking in.

“Wait- What?” You splutter, grappling with the severity of his grievance. He keeps his pace up, not even sparing you a glance. “Sukuna, wait-” You tug on his forearm, tearing his arm from his pocket as he pauses to look at you finally.

Distant. He didn’t hear you.

Blinking twice, you pull him to the edge of the sidewalk to keep his attention on you and away from the noise of the city around you. The lights, the people, the cars, it all seems to encroach on you and muddle your thoughts, you can only imagine the mileage his mind is currently making.

Certain that you have his focus now, you repeat yourself. “What are you talking about? You know they need you.”

He sighs, an air of irritation settling over him as he stares at the brick to your left. “They need a guardian, doesn’t mean they need me. Been thinkin’ maybe they’d want to go with her. With their mother.”

You pause, considering the question for yourself for a moment. You can sympathise with wanting what’s best for them, but it doesn’t sit well with you that he doubts himself so much when you can see what he means to those kids.

“You need to tell them what’s going on anyway, so I think it’s worth asking,” you agree. It’s the right thing to do regardless of the outcome. “But,” you add in a gentler tone, offering a kind smile, “they’ll choose you.”

His eyes snap to you, a tense set to his musculature. “What makes you so sure?” He almost sounds offended.

“They love you, Sukuna.” His brow twitches, his mouth opening to protest, but you continue. “You told me you couldn’t get a hold of their mom when your dad passed, right?”

He nods tensely.

“What kind of mother does that?” You point out. “Imagine how that would make Choso feel.”

You pause, letting the thought sink in. Sukuna doesn’t reply, absently cracking a knuckle.

He’d been so caught up all those years ago in the loss of their father and his own grief that he’d hardly considered that Choso’s grief had likely been twofold. The child had lost his father just like Sukuna, but he’d also had to deal with the loss of his mother. Not only that, but it was more like the active rejection of his mother, because the reality is that Sukuna tried hard to get a hold of her. Looking back, he knows he was in no way ready to parent his brothers and it was rocky at the start. He should never have let Choso sit at his side in tears as he tried every method he could to reach her.

Sukuna had always accepted that Choso got quieter as simply a part of his grief. The little boy had always teetered on the shy side of things, but Sukuna wonders now if there’s more to that. If his silence is a result of sitting alongside his frustrated and grief-stricken older brother as his mother chose not to reply.

When Sukuna’s silence extends, you do your best to guide him from the dark recesses that his mind attempts to take him to. “Would Yuji even remember her?”

Shit. Sukuna’s all Yuji’s ever known. If he doesn’t remember their father, there’s no way in hell he remembers his mother.

Sukuna drags a hand down his face. Coming to terms with the gravity of his own mistakes is one thing, but they don’t even begin to match up to the rejection of their mother.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath, taking a step back to pace in front of the wall. Giving him the space and time he needs, you simply watch as he huffs and sighs. Fiddling with your neatly manicured nails, you wait patiently for him to organize his thoughts, only to frown when he shoves his hand into his pocket and pulls out a cigarette. In one smooth motion, he flips his lighter open and smoke trails like rippling water up into the cold air. He leans against the wall, leaning his head back against the brick as he exhales smoke into the overcast sky.

The nicotine calms his jittery mind enough to allow him the space to function within the claustrophobia of his thoughts. Inhaling deeply, he pushes off the wall and returns to you finally, looking up to exhale smoke away from you.

“Uraume’s right, you know.”

Any other time, Sukuna would have let that slide, knowing it was meant to be a cheeky little quip about his vice.

But today’s a bad fucking day for him.

“So I’ve been told.” There’s enough bite to his words that you’re actually a bit surprised at his choice of tone, but even looking back on that drunk night fumbling through apologies, this is the most stressed you’ve ever seen him. His face is gaunt, pale with dark shadows beneath his eyes, and as you take in his outfit, you realize he’s wearing the hoodie he usually throws on after his showers.

If you were to wager a guess, he’s probably wearing last night’s clothes. He doesn’t attempt to hide the tension that grips his muscles and claws at his brow, either.

It’s clear that the thoughts he’s been sharing with you are ones that have been plaguing him as of late. He’s likely been grappling with the idea of telling his brothers about the lawsuit since you last saw him at Christmas. But that’s the thing about Sukuna, he would never ask for help. It’s a miracle he wanted to talk at all.

You let his snappy tone slide, giving him the benefit of the doubt that it’s not intentional. After all, he did ask you to come out here in the cold with him to talk.

Well, maybe ‘asked’ is the wrong word, but he made it clear he wanted you here to talk.

Still, the tension that hangs between you isn’t the usual alluring tension that draws you to him. It’s not uncomfortable, but you would certainly prefer the usual silence with him. It hangs between you in the delicate balance of Sukuna’s startlingly fragile tenacity, which only serves to sympathize you to him in spite of his loose temper.

Sukuna taps a finger on the edge of his cigarette. The ember tip falls to the ground in a pile of ash, melting a small crater of snow at his feet. Choosing not to acknowledge the rigidity that strains the quiet air, he casts a glance at his watch and nods in the direction of his brothers’ school.

“Don’t wanna be late,” he grunts, smoke escaping from the corners of his lips. With one final inhalation, he tosses the cigarette on the ground and stomps it out, turning on his heel to lead the way to the school.

You chew absently on your lip, trailing slowly after him.

The snow crunches beneath your feet, your mind grasping at the conversations of the people passing you by in an effort to fill the dead air. It’s suffocating being in Sukuna’s presence when he’s made a point of having you near, while simultaneously being bull-headed as he holds you at arms’ length.

“They ask for you a lot.”

You take a couple of long strides to catch up with him, thankful that he breaks the ice. Fiddling with the woven bracelets that are still tied to your wrist, you smile. “That’s really sweet. They’re good kids.”

Sukuna casts you a glance. He can see uncertainty in your eyes. He’s not stupid, he knows it’s his fault. But some stubborn part of him holds something akin to a grudge against you for pointing out something he knows is bad for him.

He’s got bigger problems than his nicotine addiction.

When Sukuna doesn’t reply, you swallow nervously. “You’ve raised them well, Kuna.”

Piercing irises snap towards you, flitting between your eyes. “‘M not so sure about that.”

“Aren’t you proud of them?” You push, tilting your head.

Sukuna’s chest clenches. He averts his gaze, grimacing. “‘Course.”

“Then why wouldn’t you think you raised them well?”

“I’m not what they need,” he replies simply.

Your gaze narrows, lips pursing in confusion. “They need a roof over their heads and food on the table. You’re good to them, Sukuna.”

He sighs heavily. “They need someone more attentive. Someone who can be home and dote over them.”

“Dote?” You parrot, the corner of your lip twitching up. “I’ve seen you dote.”

He scoffs. “As if.”

“What do you call your gifts to them?”

A crease forms between his brows. “That wasn’t doting. It hardly meant anything.”

“I don’t believe that for a second, and I don’t think you do either,” you tease, prodding his shoulder and chancing his patience with you.

He scowls down at you, huffing.

You giggle quietly, your breath visible in the air before you. Quieting down, you nudge him gently. “You know just how much those gifts meant to them. You’re exactly what they need, Sukuna. And I think you’re what they want, too.”

Sukuna falters, catching himself quickly enough to play it off like he tripped. Somehow, that’s the less embarrassing option here, he thinks.

“Maybe.” It comes out weaker than intended, and he’s grateful that the steps up to the front of the school offer an escape from the conversation. He may have started it, but like most other difficult conversations he dragged you into, he usually finds himself reluctant to continue them.

Something about how well you know his brothers, how well you know him, shakes him to his very core and he’s not willing to touch that thought with a ten foot pole.

To his relief, the bell rings and a teacher guides a class of young, bright-eyed children out of the school to reunite them each with those meant to pick them up. As Yuji crosses the school’s barrier, she points the two of you out and the little boy goes barreling towards you both.

“Kunaaaaa!” He cries out excitedly, attaching himself like a koala to his older brother’s leg. Sukuna grunts, lifting him into the air as he easily keeps his balance. The little boy giggles, his eyes opening to look at his brother, when he spots you.

Hopping from his brother’s arms with wide, excited eyes, he leaps into your arms as you extend them to him. “You’re here!” He cheers, arms wrapped around your neck in a tight hug.

You giggle, doing your best to hold the boy up as he clings tightly to you. “How was school, Yu?”

“It was great! We’re learning about the oceans and sharks, and-”

As Yuji excitedly tells you about his day, Choso dips through the doorway, his eyes scanning the steps for Sukuna. As he spots both of you, a small smile makes its way to his lips and he jogs over with his hands pulling at the straps of his backpack.

Sukuna ruffles the boy’s hair, who smooths it down in response, a gleam in his eyes as he waves at the sight of you beside his brother. You smile back at him, unable to wave with the youngest Itadori in your arms. Sukuna begins leading the way back towards his apartment, listening to Yuji’s ramblings.

“- did you know that seals eat penguins? I could never eat a penguin, they’re so cute. I think seals should eat something else.”

“You think so?” You giggle at Yuji’s adamant statement.

“Mhm,” he hums, nodding his head. “They should just eat fish and get along with the penguins. Like you and Kuna.”

Your brow raises and you cast a glance at Sukuna, who’s also now staring at the pink-haired boy with mild interest.

“What do you mean ‘like me and Sukuna’, sweetheart?” You ask curiously, your heart doing a flip.

“You’re like a penguin because you’re really cool and nice and Kuna’s like a seal because he’s a meanie but he’s also cool. I think if seals were more like my big brother, they’d get along with penguins. Like you guys.”

Kids are wild.

You laugh as Yuji explains himself, your tone sitting somewhere between genuine chortles and something to fill a silence that might otherwise be awkward. “Tell me more about your brother being like a seal,” you urge, knowing it’ll ruffle Sukuna’s carefully preened feathers.

Yuji stares up at the clouds in thought. Your arms are beginning to tire, but you’ll hold him as long as you can, even if you know you’re holding up the walking pace. “Ummmm… well, some seals have spots and Sukuna has some on his shoulders, but he’s more stripey, like a tiger-”

“They’re not stripes, brat,” Sukuna hisses, but Yuji continues on without a care in the world.

“- and seals eat a lot and so does Kuna-”

“Alright, I’ve heard enough.”

Undeterred, the little boy continues. “- and apparently seals are really good parents, just like Kuna. I know he’s our brother, but he’s the best parent ever.”

It hits Sukuna like a shot through the chest, piercing clean straight through his heart and leaving behind a bloody hole. His jaw is heavy set as he does what he can to mask the way his little brother’s words affected him. The last thing he needs is a worried twelve-year-old and an ‘i told you so’ from you.

Because it’s then that it strikes him that you’re right.

Time and time again, you prove to him just how much he means to his brothers and each and every time he’s left balancing precariously on a cliff as he does what he can to hide the way his feet damn near betray him at the edge. It’s not like he has any reason to be upset with you over this, but to be known is to be seen, and that’s not something Sukuna’s accustomed to.

He has no issue with being the campus’ mysterious and hot ‘bad boy’, as much as the title serves to make him roll his eyes. It’s little more than a generic title given to him for surface-level facts and rumors.

To have you call him out so clearly, to be so utterly correct time after time when it comes to him and his family… He’s not sure how he feels about that. It stirs something deep within and he grits his teeth as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

Sukuna’s brow is deeply furrowed, his steps falling heavily on the snow-clad sidewalk. Ever observant, of course you caught the way his jaw trembled subtly when he heard his brother, but the moment was gone before you had a chance to consider it. Now, he just looks frustrated, even more so than usual.

It seems the new year brought with it the realization of just how close the court date is, and how horribly underprepared he is.

“Is that so?” You question Yuji, although your gaze never leaves Sukuna, brow knit in concern for him.

“Yeah! He’s the coolest!”

“He is, isn’t he?” You reply softly, shooting a look at Sukuna, who scowls at you both with an expression you can’t place.

You have to set Yuji on the ground fairly soon after, and ask Choso how his day was. The walk is spent listening to both brothers chat about their days as Sukuna is otherwise silent. Arriving at Sukuna’s front door, he tells the kids to head inside and wait for him in the lobby, waiting until they’re two doors away to talk to you.

“Will you be alright?” 

Something akin to offense passes over his eyes. It’s clear that no matter what you do, everything is getting under his skin today, so you think it’s best to leave. Besides, this is something he needs to do on his own.

“I’ll be fine,” he grits, continuing to scowl down at you. Even as frustrated as he is, his gaze softens as he stares past you and realizes you’ll need to walk back to your car on campus. “Email me when you get home,” he mutters, turning on his heel and leaving you standing out in the cold without another word.

Before he can shut the door behind him, you hesitantly take a step forward, catching the edge of the door. “Let me know if you want to talk.”

He stares at you for a split-second, contempt burning behind red irises that has you frowning at him, hurt that he’s been so short with you today. As though he realizes the same, the furrow to his brow lessens and he hums, nodding.

If that’s the most you’ll get out of him, so be it.

He turns back towards the lobby, passing through the second set of doors and following the kids as they lead the way up to the apartment. Choso reaches for Sukuna’s keys and unlocks the door, pushing through the barrier into their home. Yuji immediately goes running off to drop his bag in their room.

“Hey! Once you’re done I need you both back on the couch,” he calls after his little brother, his shoulders so tense it physically pains him to roll them back.

He can see Choso’s unease immediately, eyes wide and worried. Fuck.

Choso timidly sets his bag down in front of the couch and takes a seat at the edge of the cushion, fiddling with his fingers, the nails chewed raw. Sukuna had never noticed his brother developed that habit.

Yuji bounds excitedly to the couch, oblivious to the weighty air in the room. Choso bounces slightly as his little brother hops on the couch and plops down.

With a deep breath, Sukuna kneels down to the boys’ level, glancing between them.

“I heard from your mother,” he starts. Excitement overtakes Yuji’s expression, while Choso stiffens, his gaze anywhere but on Sukuna. “She’ll be in town soon.” He’s beating around the bush, he knows that. But how the hell do you tell two children about a lawsuit?

“Can we see her?” Yuji asks in awe.

“Lemme finish, Yu.” Sukuna takes a seat on the coffee table as his knees begin to get sore. The old wood creaks beneath his weight, not intended to support him, but it does nonetheless. “She wants ya both back.”

Sukuna pauses, letting both boys process his words.

Choso’s lips are pursed, his hands fiddling uncertainly in his lap.

“Like, we’ll all go live with her?” Yuji asks, his head tilting curiously.

Sukuna shudders at the question. If only it were so simple. “No. Just you and Choso.”

“She’s not Kuna’s mom,” Choso mutters.

In truth, Sukuna’s done a bad job of explaining their family to Yuji, making the assumption he’s too young to understand. Maybe he’s right, but it seems Choso’s willing to tell him the portions that Sukuna doesn’t want to touch.

“But… Kuna’s our brother too,” Yuji protests, frowning.

Sukuna sighs, a pang in his heart. “Listen,” he starts, running a hand through his hair, “if she takes you, I won’t get to be a part of your life. If that’s what you want-”

“No!” Yuji cries out, interrupting Sukuna’s question. Choso’s fidgeting hasn’t stopped, but he has yet to say a word.

“Gimme a moment, Yu. If that’s what you want, that’s fine. I’ll let her take ya-”

“Kuna? Why do you keep saying ‘take’?” Choso finally finds his voice, eyes teary as though he already understands.

Sukuna’s lips press into a thin line, his leg bouncing as he contemplates his reply. The coffee table creaks relentlessly beneath him.

“Your mother doesn’t think I’m fit to take care of you. She’s-” he cuts himself off, running his tongue over his teeth in his mouth. “She’s tryna take you back, legally.”

“Legally?” Yuji parrots, his lips pursed.

Sukuna averts his gaze, looking for answers anywhere within the apartment, but he’s met only with a dull silence and Choso’s quiet sniffles. It’s clear he understands, and Sukuna wants nothing more than to assure him that he can win the legal battle, but the bitter truth is that Sukuna doesn’t want to lie to them.

And he’s not so confident that he can win.

“Yu, d’you remember when we watched Mrs. Doubtfire?”

Slowly, the little boy nods.

“D’you remember the part where the mom and dad are in a big room with a judge and he takes away the dad’s custody?”

Yuji blanks, nodding, although it’s clear he still doesn't fully understand.

“Well, custody is who gets to take care of kids. Right now that’s me. She wants it to be her, and neither of us get to decide that. It’s up to the judge,” Sukuna explains, trying as best as he can to offer an unbiased explanation.

“Tell her no!” Yuji cries out.

Sukuna bites down on his cheek, his brow furrowed. “I don’t get to, Yu. She’s forcing me to show up in front of the judge.”

Ever so slowly, Choso stands up off the couch, trailing closer and closer to his older brother until he’s leaning into Sukuna’s side, silent tears trailing down his cheeks and soaking into Sukuna’s shirt. Yuji seems to be starting to understand, now standing at the edge of the couch as he adamantly stands his ground as though the lawsuit is a personal attack to him.

“No! No, I don’t wanna go without you!” He proclaims loudly, his eyes beginning to water.

Sukuna can only frown as he watches the boy grapple with something he doesn’t understand.

“I don’t-” sniffle, “- I don’t wanna!” His tears now freely fall as he barrels at full force into Sukuna as well, crying into his side. He pulls both brothers closer, his exhausted gaze set straight ahead. “Please, Kuna, please!”

The apartment is filled with Yuji’s bawls and babbles, while Choso silently clings to him. The coffee table creaks beneath the three of them with every movement, threatening to give out at any moment.

“I won’t,” sniffle, “go, p- please don’t make me go! I don’t want to,” he sobs, “I don’t want to, I don’t want to!”

Denial after denial, it’s all that fills the apartment for longer than Sukuna knows what to do about.

“I don’t-” a sob wracks Yuji’s tiny body, “- even know her. I don’t remember her,” he bawls. Sukuna squeezes him as an acknowledgement, though he’s not sure what comfort he can offer. “Why can’t you come with us?”

Sukuna bites down harder than intended on his lower lip. “Your mother doesn’t like me, Yu.”

“But you-” he gasps for air between sobs, “- you’re the best.”

The taste of iron fills Sukuna’s mouth as he swipes his tongue over his lips. His chest feels as though it could implode as he tugs his two brothers tighter against him. Yuji tightly grips Sukuna’s hoodie, his little hands tugging with the full force of a five-year-old.

“I’m gonna fight for you both, okay?” He assures.

Choso sniffles, pulling back just enough to look up at his brother. “You want us?”

If Yuji saying he was the best parent earlier was a shot through the heart, this took out whatever was left. The question barreled straight through him like a train, leaving nothing behind but pieces for Sukuna to pick up. Each piece serving as a mistake in the way he’d raised the boys.

He knows all too well that this question comes from a place of insecurity, and while Choso’s mother may have laid the seed, Sukuna watered it. 

It was never intentional, he would never want Choso to feel that way, but Sukuna remembers the moment he likely solidified Choso’s insecurities all-too-well.

Three letters. Seven emails. Forty eight calls.

Make it forty nine.

“Fuck!” Sukuna slams his phone down on the table that was once his father’s.

The house that surrounds them feels foreign without his life.

Choso stares at the wood grain of the table, his eyes tracing the way it swirls. He’s long grown numb to Sukuna’s anger, especially over the past couple of weeks. He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word.

He sat alongside Sukuna through each call. Through all fifty nine attempts to reach his mother, each one further solidifying Sukuna’s fate.

Sukuna, barely able to be considered an adult, is a guardian. By all accounts, he’s a parent.

Sukuna, who works for a cannabis dispensary. Sukuna, who never wanted a second family to begin with, who never wanted this responsibility, who never even wanted brothers, let alone kids, now bears the burden of fatherhood.

The legs of his chair scrape the wooden floor as he stands abruptly, running a hand over his face as he paces a small distance from the table.

He makes his way to the sink, turning the faucet to cold water and splashing it over his face. With dripping hands, he grips the edge of the counter and leans over the sink and his stomach churns and bile threatens to upend.

It wouldn’t be the first time since his father had passed away that his stomach had decided to empty itself.

With his jaw slightly ajar and his chest heaving, he pushes a wet hand through his hair, pushing himself back to his full height.

He wipes the water from his face on his sleeve, shaking his head in an effort to free his vision from his hair. His father had been so sick that Sukuna hadn’t had the time, nor the money, to bother with a haircut, or even shaving. His stubble, that of a boy barely considered an adult, is still uneven and leaves him looking as disheveled as he feels.

His eyes trail the length of the kitchen, which morphs into the living and dining room area, until they land on Choso.

The healthcare system had taken every last penny his father had left behind, and without the support of Choso and Yuji’s mother, he’s at a loss of where to go from here. Even disregarding money, he had to look up how to change a diaper. How sad is that? Looking up Youtube tutorials on what to do?

It’s not like he hadn’t looked after his brothers before, but his father never left him alone long enough to need to worry about that sort of thing. Now it seemed that changing a diaper was the least of his problems.

He teetered constantly somewhere between pissed off and lost and had no one to fall back on, something that became painfully obvious when he’d contemplated going to the hospital when his chest tightened so much that breathing was a forced effort. In the end, he’d been able to do little more than clutch desperately at his chest as he laid on the floor of the bathroom, the cool tile the only reprieve from his lonely agony.

He could reach out to Toji. Hell, he should. But when his father got sick, Sukuna pushed him away. He pushed everyone away. He thinks he’s more comfortable alone now, even if that leaves him staring at his little brother without a clue of what to do.

Choso hasn’t said a word to him since the whole ordeal occurred. The grief had taken its toll on Sukuna’s body and attitude, but it had completely silenced his brother. Although he still stuck around Sukuna, somehow still wanting to be around the grief and anger-stricken man, he never said a word.

The oldest brother cares. He cares a whole lot about his two siblings. Even if this isn’t what he ever wanted, even if he wasn’t prepared to handle the burden of two young kids. Even if he didn’t want siblings to begin with, Sukuna grew to care.

It doesn’t change the fact that he’s filled with contempt towards their mother for shoving the two boys onto him like this.

As he stares at Choso, a stark contrast to himself and their baby brother who both resemble their father, he sees her staring back at him. Choso and Yuji’s mother.

He shouldn’t have done what he did next.

He should have thought about his reactions.

He would change everything about how he acted towards his little brother in a heartbeat if he could.

But Sukuna, mentally, was on another plane as his lip curled in disdain. “Won’t fuckin’ answer,” he mutters, more to himself although he looks straight at his brother. “Some fuckin’ mother you’ve got, kid.”

As if on cue, Yuji begins crying from another room.

“Fuck!” Sukuna cries out again, trudging angrily across the kitchen to the toddler’s room.

Just in time to make sure he doesn’t see Choso’s tears.

Sukuna’s sure that moment replays in the boy’s head constantly. He sees it every once in a while, the seed of doubt that Sukuna watered that day, along with every other day before and following. He would give anything to take back how he acted. But what the hell does one expect from your stereotypical troubled teen who doesn’t know how to cook, hardly cleans, and has no one to talk to?

What the hell was Sukuna meant to do when he’d thrown up the previous night’s dinner and laid on the floor until he woke up in a sickening daze early the next morning to Yuji crying?

He hopes, prays, to whatever god on earth will listen, that he can make up for it. Make up for all the mistakes, all the problems. Make up for the ways he’d failed his brothers.

“I do, Cho,” he answers, the first certain thing he’s managed to say since they’d arrived home. “Promise.”

Choso’s grip tightens as his face collides with Sukuna’s side so hard he thinks the poor kid’s gonna bruise his nose.

“I love you, Kuna.” Choso’s voice is so quiet that Sukuna hardly makes out what he said over his little brother’s sobs.

Yuji parrots the middle brother, though his words come out a choppy mess behind his tears. “I- love-” sniffle, “- y- you, Kunaaa.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he gruffs, grimacing. He stares at the couch, his eyes flickering between the three indentations that have formed over the last three years. The material is significantly more worn on his side of the couch, the least worn in the center where Yuji likes to sit. In the back of his mind, something akin to guilt rears its ugly head and he continues his thought before he says something he regrets.

Or, more specifically, before he doesn’t say something and regrets it.

“Love ya both too.”

–

It takes a long time, but Sukuna manages to quiet both brothers down. As a treat, he buys them chicken from Strip Joint, which they were about as thrilled as two devastated young kids could be.

He’s not sure exactly how soundly they’ll manage to sleep, but he’s thankful when Yuji passes out fairly easily after a long afternoon of relentless tears.

Shutting his door behind him, Sukuna sighs as he’s finally able to catch his breath for what feels like the first time today.

He collapses onto his bed against the headboard, running his hands over his face.

Pulling his hands back, he stares at his palms, warm and wet.

Tears.

Is he so worn thin that he can’t even feel his own tears?

Shit.

He wipes his tears on the sleeve of his poor hoodie, which is covered in Yuji’s tears, snot, and spit, Choso’s tears, and now Sukuna’s too.

He pulls it up over his head, pushing his hair back out of his face. It’s getting long again, but Sukuna doesn’t have the time to deal with it.

He hopes to god that his previous transgressions from all those years ago don’t repeat themselves simply because Sukuna’s at wit’s end.

He scratches uncomfortably at his chest, desperate for a shower, anything to take his mind off of the shitty day he’s had. Undressing, he wraps a towel around his waist and walks down the hall to climb into the shower, splaying his hands on the tiles as hot water runs over his body, cleaning him of the dirt and grime that plagues his body, alongside some of the tension in his muscles.

He blinks his eyes open as water trails down his hair, falling in a steady stream down his chin.

The day feels like a blur.

His chest tightens as his muscles relax, a familiar feeling that he fears will leave him laying on the bathroom floor again.

It hasn’t been that bad in years. He didn’t think it would ever be that bad again.

Pushing himself up, he runs his hands through his hair, pushing it back and wiping water from his eyes as he finishes showering. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he slips back into his room, inhaling sharply as his chest seems to compress against his lungs.

Too tired to bother with the outside world, he slips under the covers without a second thought. He doesn’t bother to check if you made it home safe. He doesn’t bother to set out his clothing for tomorrow. He doesn’t even bother to set an alarm. He simply shuts his eyes and hopes to god that he can get a full night’s rest.

Unfortunately, that’s not in the books for Sukuna.

–

Much to your dismay, you don’t see Sukuna again until Friday, four days later. It took him nearly twenty four hours to get back to your message about being home, or the subsequent one the following day upon realizing he wasn’t at lunch, nor in class.

sukuna.r@gmail.com - Tuesday, 5:29 PM im fine. cho didnt sleep. been a long day

You had grimaced and offered condolences, but at the end of the day, you suppose there isn’t much more you can do when he’s not looking for help.

That doesn’t mean Shoko didn’t have to drag you out to the mall and convince you not to show up at his door regardless. Thankful for her distraction, you indulged in getting yourself a new sweater and celebrated the fact that oh my god, your history prof from last semester was suspended for his (terrible) teaching methods?? If only the school had done that one semester earlier.

Then again, maybe you wouldn’t be nearly as close with Sukuna if that were the case.

Maybe that would have been for the best.

But the tightness in your heart tells you otherwise as you sit alone in your Literature History class.

It’s funny, that without Sukuna’s distraction beside you, you’re somehow finding it harder to focus without him in the chair beside you. Absently typing at your keyboard, you stare at the screen, your eyes trailing the notes you’ve been taking. They mostly make sense, but your brain must be working on autopilot, because you haven’t processed a single word the professor said.

Rubbing the crease between your brows, you do your best to tune in, chewing on your lower lip and narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do you any good.

The door at the front of the class loudly swings open and Sukuna barges in without a word, trudging straight up to your seat with his hoodie up.

“Class started twenty minutes ago, Ryomen.”

From your angle, you see the snarl on his face, you see the way he practically whips towards her with a world of stress in his eyes and the anger to match. But whether he chooses to take the high road, or simply decides it isn’t worth it, he manages only a measly “yeah. Whatever.”

He should consider himself lucky he isn’t sent away for that, but with only a disappointed grimace, the professor chooses to carry on.

“You’re here,” you whisper, as quietly as you can manage so as not to get him in further trouble.

He sighs. “Finally managed to get them to class today.”

“They haven’t been going to school?”

“Couldn’t get ‘em to,” he mutters, keeping his head low behind his laptop screen as he slumps back in his seat.

You glance at him, a sympathetic frown adorning your lips, but you keep quiet to avoid getting called out by the professor again. Sukuna keeps unusually quiet and withdrawn throughout the entirety of class, packing up as quickly as he came.

He’s on his feet and charging down the stairs before you have so much as a moment to with him.

“Ryomen! A word.”

You watch with dismay as Sukuna whips around angrily to the professor, grumbling out a less-than-thrilled “what?” as he reaches the last step near the door. “Make it quick. I got somewhere to be.”

You grit your teeth, watching with horror as the professor’s brow raises in disbelief at Sukuna’s attitude.

“Mr. Sukuna, if you don’t want to be here, you’re more than welcome to drop my class. You’ve made it very clear that this is not your priority, and-”

Sukuna drops his bag to the ground with a thud, as the students who haven’t already slipped out, including yourself, all watch the interaction in trepidation. “Yeah, you could say it’s not,” he growls. “I got other shit going on.”

“I can sympathize with that,” the professor replies. You have to applaud her patience with the man. “However, I have a class to teach. Whether you choose to show up or not is on you, however I’ll ask that you please don’t distract other students by arriving late.”

Sukuna’s jaw clenches, visibly biting his tongue to keep himself from saying something he’ll regret. “Yeah. Sure,” he dismisses, turning to grab his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and slams the door ajar with his shoulder, barging out without another word.

You traverse down the stairs and chase after him, jogging to catch up to his long strides.

“Sukuna!” You call just before falling into step with him. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” he hisses, shooting you a glare. He falters when your expression recoils appropriately to his prickly reply. Sighing, he runs a hand down his face. “I’m fine,” he repeats, less edge to his tone this time.

“Oh. Okay. Um, are you still good to meet with Kento and his friend?”

“Yeah,” he mutters, clipped.

“That’s good,” you agree, nodding as you search for common ground, something Sukuna might be a bit more receptive to. “Did you want company while you pick up Choso and Yuji?”

He casts you a glance, his expression unreadable. “Up to you.”

He’s not making this easy.

“I wouldn’t mind seeing how they’re doing.”

He doesn’t even bother with a reply this time, he simply shrugs.

“Okay, um, I’ll come with you then,” you mumble hesitantly, gauging his reaction, but he remains silent, pulling ahead to walk in front of you as he heads for the doors and turns in the direction of his brothers’ school.

The silence no longer carries a familiar warmth, or even the relative discomfort from earlier in the week. It hangs over you like a fog now, uncertainty tucked within its blanket. Sukuna hardly seems to notice you’re there, never turning to acknowledge you nor straying off his path. Each time you contemplate talking, the words die in your throat at the sight of his tense jaw.

At least it’s warmer today than it was on Monday.

Standing at Sukuna’s side as you arrive at the school, you quietly examine his face. His eyes are sunken and heavy and his shoulders hunched as though the weight of his burdens are hardly being held up anymore. His eyes are glazed in a way that tells you his dismissive attitude towards you is because he isn’t all there, not present even within his own body.

Clearly the talk with his brothers has had adverse effects not only on them, but him as well.

Hesitantly, you reach out in hopes to ground him, setting a hand near his wrist, where the tips of your fingers graze his skin as they breach the edge of his sleeve. His eyes sharpen as he stares down at the contact of your hand.

Sukuna is accustomed to the way that your skin always seems to sear him. He’s chalked it up all this time to lust, but as the contact of your skin, so soft and gentle, just barely brushes his, he second-guesses himself for a split-second. As if on auto-pilot, he can only watch as he pulls his hand from his coat pocket, flipping it to brush the tips of his fingers against yours. Offering a comfort he isn’t familiar with, one that keeps him present, he fiddles with your fingers as you simply observe his face.

“Are you okay, Kuna?” You keep your voice low, your tone gentle as you take a step towards him, letting him run his thumb over your knuckles as he pleases.

It takes a moment, but he meets your gaze, really meets your gaze, for the first time today. His eyes fall again to your hand as he avoids your question. “They didn’t take it well.”

You nod slowly. “I didn’t think they would,” you admit with a tight-lipped smile. “The nightmares…?”

“None of us have slept.”

“I…” You grimace. “Can tell.” You gently squeeze the tips of his fingers that continue to fiddle with yours.

His chest rumbles in something akin to a laugh, though it lacks humor. “I figured goin’ back to school would do ‘em good, maybe help with sleeping. Cho wasn’t thrilled.”

“He’ll be alright,” you assure Sukuna, the school bell sounding from behind you. His fingers pause for a moment, before he drops his hand back to his side.

Yuji is one of the first kids out the door. He seems to be managing, although his usual energy is certainly dulled. He runs at full force straight into Sukuna, who picks him up with ease as the child clings to him.

“Missed you, Kuna.”

Sukuna hums, gently nudging the boy with his shoulder. “Look who’s here.”

Yuji lifts his head, flipping it around until his gaze finds you. He calls your name happily, though it’s still dulled from the usual excitement that surrounds him. His arms reach for you and Sukuna plops him down on the snow to let him run straight for you.

“Hey sweetheart,” you greet, kneeling before him to let him hug you. Reeling back, you gently brush his hair from his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m okay.” He pouts, shaking his head. His hair falls back over his forehead again, so you brush the stray pink strands from his eyes once more. “I miss my brother.”

“Hey,” you coo softly. “He’s not letting you go, honey. We’re going to meet one of my friends for some advice, okay?”

Yuji’s head tilts. “Huh? Advice for Cho?”

You mirror him, brow furrowed. “What’s going on with Cho?”

“He doesn’t wanna play anymore,” Yuji pouts, staring down at the snow under his little feet as he rocks side to side. His little cheeks are red, whether from the cold or unshed tears, you aren’t sure.

With a grunt of effort, you pull the little boy into your arms. He clings to you, burying his head into the crook of your neck as you turn to his older brother. “Is Choso okay?” You query, concerned.

“I’ll let you judge for yourself.”

You turn to the door where Choso emerges, his appearance ghostly. His movements are mechanical as he makes his way up to you and Sukuna. He shoots a glance up to you, but doesn’t acknowledge you otherwise, staring blankly off to the side as he waits for Sukuna to lead the way.

“Hey, Choso.”

Silence.

You frown, precariously balancing Yuji in one arm to reach down and gently run a hand over Choso’s hair. He blinks a few times, meeting your gaze. Although the boy traditionally looks tired, his eyes are devoid of warmth. He’s running on empty, completely gassed, and you can understand suddenly why all three of them had no desire to show up to classes.

“You know what I think this day calls for?” You shouldn’t be shocked to find that none of the three brothers reply, but Sukuna at the very least gives you his attention. “How do you three like cinnamon buns?”

“I like them,” Yuji mumbles into your shoulder, gripping your coat.

Well, at least one of them will give you an answer. If that’s the best you can get, you’ll take it.

“Great! You can get whatever treats you’d like, alright?”

Your enthusiasm is met with silence. This is one of those moments where it becomes glaringly obvious who raised the two boys.

Simply to fill the silence, you inquire with Yuji how his day went, plopping him onto the ground when he becomes too heavy to carry. He gingerly reaches for your hand, squeezing it as he talks about his day and a book his class has begun to read.

Yuji begins to drag your hand, falling further and further behind as he grows tired, practically trying to clamber onto your back as you stop to wait for a crosswalk.

Taking notice, Sukuna reaches down to pick up his little brother. “C’mere,” he mumbles as he lifts the child over his head until he’s sitting soundly on the man’s shoulders. You smile softly at the sight. They may not share a mother, but you’d hardly believe it. They’re like twins, only born several years apart.

Yuji idly tugs at Sukuna’s hair as he sits atop the man’s shoulders, a good six feet taller than where he usually stands. His older brother swats at his hands with a grimace, staring ahead as the boy settles and leans his torso on the back of Sukuna’s head.

You keep an eye on Choso, who begins to trail behind the closer you get to the cafe. You’re a good thirty minutes early, but you don’t think it’s a particularly good idea to have the kids listening into the legal discussion either way, so this will give you a chance to grab a table just for them.

Sukuna ducks as he walks into the cafe, ensuring he doesn’t smack his brother’s head on the doorframe, while you trail behind to wait for Choso. When his eyes meet your feet in front of him, they slowly trail up until he finds your gaze. It twists your heart, to see how blankly he stares at you.

“Hey honey. If you don’t want to talk, that’s totally fine, but I just want you to know I’m here.”

His eyes flicker between yours.

Kneeling down to his height, you smile softly. “Do you remember when you found that paperwork and I told you that your brother would talk to me if he needed help?”

Choso blinks a couple of times, and for a moment, you think that’s the most you’ll get from him, but he finds it in himself to nod.

“Well, he did come to me for help. We’re gonna meet my friends at the cafe in a bit and they’re gonna help your brother. He’s fighting for you. We’ll figure things out, okay?”

He nods again, taking a meager step forward before finding his way into your arms. You hug him back tightly and rub his back.

“Thank you.” It’s quiet and hoarse, you can tell he hasn’t spoken in a while. But it’s a step forward, and you’ll take it.

A knock on the glass grabs your attention and you pull back a bit to look up at the cafe window above you. The picture of stoicism, Sukuna stares down at you from within, pointing behind him with his thumb.

‘Got us a table,’ he mouths through the glass, before turning back towards the interior. You don’t catch a word he says, narrowing your eyes as you try to make out what he’s trying to tell you.

“He got a table.” Choso mumbles, the tiniest hint of a smile on his face as you turn back to him.

“Is he, like- really bad at that?” You ask, smirking as you point a thumb in the direction where Sukuna was moments ago.

Choso nods, his smile turning up sliiiiightly more.

“And here I thought it was just me,” you grin, standing back up and leading the way to the back of the cafe where Sukuna’s got two tables reserved, one with four seats, and a smaller one with two. He must be on the same wavelength as you, having deliberately chosen a table with enough distance to keep the conversation private, while still having the kids nearby.

He pulls a stack of very ripped and wrinkled papers from his bag, setting them face down on the table as Choso crawls into a tall chair beside his brother. With an arched brow, you set your hand on the paperwork as you take a seat beside him, asking a silent question.

“You can read ‘em if you want.”

Flipping them, your eyes first skim the tape that holds each page together, then the contents themselves.

“What happened to them?”

“I was pissed.”

Clearly. But you keep that thought to yourself. You skim the contents of the legal documents, nails tapping against the faux wood grain table rhythmically.

Case No. 2493

Social File No. 34785-98

Next Court Date: March 23rd.

In The Matter of Choso Itadori and Yuji Itadori.

Turns out, it only takes four sentences before you’re frowning at the page, the legal jargon a little bit beyond you. Of course, it’s not entirely illegible and you’re thankful you’re an English literature major, but the jurisdiction codes and notes are a bit beyond any English diploma.

“This is… a lot.”

“You’re tellin’ me,” Sukuna mumbles, glancing at his watch. “We got some time, you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks Kuna.” Keeping your head buried in the paperwork as you try to dissect an ounce of what the documents say, you chew on your lip as Sukuna drags his brothers to the counter before stepping off to the side to await his order.

With your head down and brow furrowed in documents, you don’t notice Kento standing opposite you with a decently sized box from your parents.

“Good afternoon,” Kento greets you, punctuating the sentence with your name. Your head whips up with a smile as you greet the two men. Standing beside Kento is another tall man with tousled short brown hair, sunken eyes, and a prominent nose. He’s wearing a t-shirt and jeans, with a blazer over top, which is about what you would imagine a law student wears. “This is Higuruma,” he introduces the man.

“Hiromi is fine,” he chuckles, surprisingly informal for someone leaning in to extend his hand to you.

Shaking his hand, you flash him a grin. “Nice to meet you,” you greet him, imparting your name. “I can’t even begin to tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“It’s not a problem,” Hiromi chuckles kindly, taking a seat kitty cornered from you while Kento sits across from you. Hiromi has an air of tiredness about him that’s not entirely dissimilar to that of Sukuna.

Sukuna returns just in time, a tray of cups held high above the ground to prevent a certain young boy from dangling off his arm and spilling them.

That same young boy happens to be dangling off his other arm, though it hardly seems to weigh the man down as he easily holds both the boy and the bag of treats up. He mumbles something to Choso as he sets the tray down, making a motion for the boy to look in his backpack.

Kento and Hiromi watch in barely-masked shock as Sukuna gently directs the kids to a smaller table in the corner, handing them the bag of sweets and a cup of hot chocolate each. Choso tucks a couple of coloring books and markers beneath his elbow as well as they leisurely make their way to the little table in the corner.

With a heavy, tired, sigh, Sukuna takes a seat beside you, pulling the last two cups out and setting one in front of himself and one in front of you.

“Oh, I don’t-”

Ignoring you outright, Sukuna speaks up. “Woulda gotten you both somethin’ but I don’t know your orders,” he gruffs to the two men opposite him, his jaw tightening at the painfully obvious shock and hint of guilt that gleams in Kento’s eyes.

“That’s… Quite alright,” Kento clears his throat, introducing Hiromi and Sukuna to one another before passing you the box of belongings your parents had sent with him. Hiromi extends his hand again, though Sukuna’s not so eager to take it. It’s all a bit formal for him.

“So, I assume this has to do with legal questions,” Hiromi chuckles wryly as you take a sip of your drink.

Your exact order.

Sukuna remembered.

Sukuna hums, sliding the papers across the table without a word. Hiromi coughs once at the sight of the ripped papers, stifling a laugh at the unsightly state of them. It fades almost immediately as his eyes trace the Times New Roman that litters the page.

With a sigh, he runs a hand through his hair, leaning over the table.

“Right. Before we start, I need to make something clear. What I’m doing right now is illegal as a student, so you can’t breathe a word that I was here,” he states firmly, hollowed eyes flickering between the both of you.

“I’m good at keeping secrets,” Sukuna mumbles, amusement pricking the edge of his tone.

Hiromi glances back at the kids, catching his meaning. “They’re yours, then? Legally, I mean?”

“Yeah.”

Hiromi sighs again, nodding. “I see. Give me a moment to read these.”

“In the meantime, can I get you both something to drink?” You ask politely.

“Coffee, black, please,” Hiromi replies, leaning over the table on his elbow as he tilts the first page read over a rip, casting the glare on the tape elsewhere.

“That will be fine for myself as well, thank you,” Kento smiles kindly. He waits until you’re out of earshot to speak to Sukuna while Hiromi reads. “She cares about you a great deal, you know.”

A muscle in Sukuna’s jaw ticks. He had a feeling this was coming, though he’d hoped you simply wouldn’t leave his side. He can only avoid his mistakes so long, it seems.

“She’s a good friend.”

Kento’s reaction gives nothing away, his observant expression looking for a break in Sukuna’s aloof features, any sign that he’s the shallow asshole Kento had taken him for. When he doesn’t find it, he nods slowly.

“She is. She deserves that same treatment back.”

Sukuna’s lip twitches, bordering on a snarl that he only holds back out of courtesy of the blonde doing him a favor. “I’m aware.”

Kento sighs, his posture relaxing in his seat as Sukuna bites his tongue, matching Kento’s sigh with a striking glare. “Listen, I believe that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, and given how close she is to both of us, I’d prefer to be on friendly terms.”

“Mm.”

Gathering that Sukuna isn’t one for words, Kento continues. “I see now that there are…” he pauses, his eyes sliding to the right where the two kids are quietly coloring. “Extenuating circumstances behind what happened and I may have misdirected my anger. So, I apologize.”

Sukuna quietly observes Kento’s surprisingly sincere apology, nodding slowly. “I appreciate you lookin’ out for her.”

Sukuna doesn’t exactly verbally accept the apology, but that’s not uncharacteristic of him. Besides, he can’t exactly hold a grudge against the man who’s helping him in a legal battle. 

“Of course. Let it be known, however, that if you hurt her again, I will not take it so lightly.” Kento adds grimly.

Sukuna huffs. “‘Course.”

“Great.” Kento extends a hand as an act of good will.

“Can we cut the formalities? They aren’t really my deal.”

Kento cracks a smile, nodding. “Sure, Sukuna.”

The sounds of the cafe make for a relatively comfortable silence in spite of Hiromi’s obvious discomfort of the conversation happening over his head. The sounds of the coffee machines, clinking of glasses, and slamming of fridges help to make the environment a little easier on the three men.

“Alright,” you plop down in your chair once more, “two black coffees.”

Both men thank you as you settle beside Sukuna.

“How are the kids?” You quietly ask, leaning back to glance at them.

Sukuna shrugs. “Coloring Spider-Man probably. They seem fine.”

“Alright,” Hiromi taps the stack of unkempt papers against the table, grabbing a pen from the pocket of his blazer and a stack of sticky notes from his pocket. Somehow that’s just so law student that you find yourself with a lopsided smile as you watch. “I’ll need a bit of extra info, can I ask some questions?”

Sukuna slides back in his chair, grimacing to hide his disdain for needing to share his personal life. “Shoot.”

“Right. So, I’ll need the relationships of everyone involved in their lives. Parents, grandparents, and siblings.” He positions his pen to take notes.

Sukuna, begrudgingly as ever, sighs. “Kaori and Jin Itadori are their parents, Jin passed away three or so years ago,” he begins, his leg tapping beneath the table. You’ve noticed he seems to do that whenever the subject of his father comes up around people he isn’t comfortable with. “I’m their half-brother. Father’s side.”

Hiromi nods, writing away with his pen.

“No family remaining on the father’s side apart from myself. They got an uncle and aunt on the mother’s side, as well as a grandfather, I got no contact or names for any of ‘em.”

Hiromi glances up, his eyes sliding towards you. “And your girlfri-”

“We’re friends. She looks after ‘em sometimes,” Sukuna interrupts, keeping his gaze straight ahead. You’re grateful he does, your cheeks absolutely alight with heat. Pulling your hands politely into your lap, you fiddle with your fingers.

Sensing he may have hit a sore subject, Hiromi scratches the back of his neck. He tugs at the collar of his shirt, returning to his notes. “Right. How’d you end up with custody to begin with?”

“Their mother moved for a job before Yuji turned one. When I reached out when our father passed away, she didn’t respond.” Sukuna keeps his replies short and simple, only divulging what he needs to.

Hiromi pauses for a brief moment to stare at Sukuna, as if in disbelief. Kento’s expression matches, but he quickly clears his throat to keep the conversation going. “And the contact with their uncle and aunt? Grandfather?”

“They ain’t my family. I don’t have contact. Lawyers tried, no answer.” He shrugs.

Hiromi jots down more notes, pointing the back of his pen towards Sukuna. “That’s good for you, by the way.”

Sukuna nods slowly, though he’s unable to let his guard down regardless.

“What methods of contact did you use?”

Hiromi clicks his pen a number of times and Sukuna crosses his arms over his chest. “Email, mail, and phone.”

“Was she in communication before Jin passed?” Hiromi queries, leaning over his notes.

Sukuna pauses, narrowing his eyes in thought. “I think so. I don’t have Jin’s phone anymore.”

Hiromi hums, scratching his jaw as he takes down notes. “I see. Are the kids…” he pauses, swinging the end of his pen in the direction of their table, “aware of this?”

Sukuna visibly tenses. “Yeah.”

Gingerly, you slide your leg closer until it’s sidled next to him. Although he doesn’t react, his bouncing leg slows to a halt, as does the subtle shaking of the table. You smile to yourself that you’re able to bring him the comfort he stubbornly refuses to ask for.

“Did she come to you first before sending these over?” Hiromi asks, making a motion towards the legal documents.

Sukuna shakes his head.

“Right. That should do it for the petitioner’s side,” Hiromi hums, tapping the back of his pen against his notes. “Let’s talk about you and your brothers.”

“My favorite subject,” Sukuna grumbles.

Hiromi offers a sympathetic smile. “I get it, believe me. I’m a pretty private person, too. Now, what’s your major?”

“History.”

Hiromi’s brow raises. He seems somewhat surprised, though he doesn’t voice it. “Got anything lined up for when you graduate?”

“No.”

“I assume you’re working as well.”

Sukuna grits his teeth, fed up with the overly personal questions. “Yeah. I’m a mechanic and I stock shelves.”

Hiromi leans on his arm as he jots that down. “You’re a busy guy,” he mumbles, met with Sukuna’s glare at the unhelpful commentary. Hiromi seems unphased, chuckling. “Sorry, my bad. Do you own or rent?”

“I rent an apartment.”

“Three bedroom?”

“Two.”

“Got it. Alright,” he sighs, running both hands through his hair and leaning back in his chair until it’s precariously balancing on the back two legs. With a thud, the chair slams down onto the floor. “Sounds like a fairly standard case. There’s a number of things here that’ll work in your favor, but-” he pauses, wording his statement carefully. “Trying to win a guardianship case against their biological mother isn’t something I would call easy.”

Sukuna nods.

“Let’s go over the basics. She’s trying to claim them as her right as their mother, but she’s also claiming you’re unfit for guardianship on two counts, lack of funds and irresponsibility. That means you’ll need to prove otherwise on both counts, while also convincing them that the right place for the kids is with you,” Hiromi states, shuffling the opening page aside to briskly scan the second page. “At the end of the day, the judge will choose what’s right for the kids. The mother will have a bit of a leg up on you since she won’t have to fight any claims of ill-doing.”

Sukuna frowns. That doesn’t exactly bode well for him.

“You’ve got some good things going for you, though. You should have a record or be able to pull a record of your contact with her. Having two jobs, although not ideal, has its merits as well. Your brothers are clearly both healthy and I assume you’ve kept them in school as well and you’ve had them for three years now, that’s a strong argument.”

“There’s a ‘but’ somewhere here,” Sukuna frowns.

“There… is,” Hiromi agrees, running another hand through his tousled hair and disheveling it further. He leans forward, picking up the stack of legal papers. “I’m assuming the reason she took a job overseas in the first place is for money. She’s paying for a good lawyer,” he points out, setting the paper back down on the table and sliding towards Sukuna. “They’re expensive for a reason, and they’re not just the best in the city. They have national renown.”

Your heart sinks at the sound of that. “So, pro-bono…?”

“It’s certainly an option,” Hiromi avoids your gaze as he replies, something that doesn’t sit well with you. “Legal clinics and pro-bono are meant more for standard cases-”

“You said this was standard,” Sukuna contains his growl, his voice strained. His leg presses hard against yours, his anger contained with all the strength of a bottle cap.

“It is, on paper. The problem here that I’m concerned about is her choice of lawyers.” He taps his pen on his notes as Sukuna drags his hands over his face in exasperation. “They aren’t… exactly known for losing.”

“Fucking... Just fucking great,” Sukuna gripes, leaning over the table on heavy shoulders. He downs what’s left of his coffee, pressing a thumb into the crease between his brows.

“I would be willing to bet that she purposely chose to spring this on you before the kids are old enough to testify.”

“Choso isn’t old enough…?” You query with a frown.

Hiromi slides the legal papers back towards himself, looking over the listed birth date. “No, he’s one year off, and even if he was, you would still need to convince them he’s mature enough.”

“Fuck,” Sukuna sighs, his chest tight. “So my odds aren’t good then, are they?”

Hiromi watches his words as he scratches the back of his neck. “Uh, they’re not ideal. I’d say two to one, but not impossible. You do have a lot going for you.”

“What do you think he should do?” You ask softly.

Hiromi sighs. “Your best bet will be to really lean in on the fact that you’ve had them for three years because she never replied. Call your cell carrier and get phone logs if they’ve kept them, grab any copies of letters sent, pull up emails, anything you can to prove you reached out.” Hiromi pauses, setting his pen on the table as he takes a sip of coffee. “Pull up every record you have that proves the kids are in good health. Things like vaccination records will go a long way. If you can get your employers to write letters detailing your work ethic, that’s worthwhile too. Anything to prove you’re fit.”

Great. His employers get to know about his brothers. Everyone gets to see into Sukuna’s personal life.

Just fucking great.

Sukuna leans hard against his hand, roughly rubbing his eyes. “Sure,” he huffs, swinging a hand through the air. “Why the fuck would she be doing this in the first place?” He leans back suddenly, whipping his hand through the air in exasperation. “Three years ago it wasn’t her fuckin’ problem, so what changed?”

Hiromi flips to the third page of the documents. “If I were to guess, she wants the government grants for childcare.” His eyes skim the second paragraph on the page, pausing as he thinks over what legal code the paperwork is recalling. “I assume you get that right now with two dependents.”

“Yeah, it pays my fuckin’ rent. She’s got money, though, what the fuck changed?”

Sukuna’s clearly running out of patience, to no fault of Hiromi’s, but he’s completely unphased by him. Whatever type of law he’s going into, he must be accustomed to this kind of behavior.

With a tight-lipped smile, Hiromi shrugs. “All I can do is guess. I don’t know.”

Sukuna rakes a hand through his hair. “So, what the hell do I do about the pro-bono thing?”

“I have some contacts that I can recommend that might give you a break on the cash side, but yeah. I’d recommend against going the free route. I really don’t think you’ll have a foot to stand on if you do that.”

Sukuna stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the tile flooring. It echoes loudly around the little cafe, pulling all attention towards him, but he pays it no mind. His brow twitches, crimson eyes filled with distress. “How expensive are we talkin’?”

Hiromi frowns sympathetically. “Two months’ rent I’d guess, though they may cut you a break but it’ll depend on how long you spend with them.”

Looking between the kids and Sukuna, you can see the questions rising from them as their brother holds the cafe’s attention. In an effort to keep everyone calm, you brush your fingers gently against Sukuna’s wrist, your nails dragging softly over his wrist tattoo. “Take a seat,” you urge him, pointedly tilting your head towards his little brothers, who are both staring at him with wide eyes.

Sukuna inhales sharply, taking his seat again. “Is that the high or low end of your guess?”

“High,” Hiromi tries to assure him.

“Great,” Sukuna growls, his anger directed at no one in particular.

“Is there anything else we should know?” You query quietly in an effort to keep the conversation from Choso and Yuji.

Hiromi taps his fingers on the table in thought. “I get it, Sukuna, I really do, but you need to have the patience of a god in court.” Sukuna’s teeth grit on instinct. “A judge won’t take kindly to a mouthy defense. Only speak when spoken to. Got that?”

Sukuna scoffs with all the dramatism of a man falling apart at the seams. “Yeah. Whatever.”

“Thank you, Hiromi. This is a huge help, really.”

He offers a kind smile. “It’s no problem, really. But remember, you got this info online or something,” he chuckles, taking a sip of his coffee. “I’ll have Kento send you some of my contacts.”

“Thank you. And no problem, this was nothing more than a helpful websearch,” you giggle, checking on Sukuna in your peripherals. He’s staring at his little brothers, the sound of clinking metal muffled by his pocket as he opens and shuts his lighter.

You give him a nudge, pulling him back to the present, if only for a moment. “Mm. Thanks, Hiromi.”

Hiromi, clearly sympathetic to what Sukuna’s going through, smiles. “Happy to help. Thanks for the coffee.”

You say your goodbyes and gather the kids’ belongings and the box from your parents, offering Sukuna a ride home. It’s chilly and getting dark, and the last thing you need is for a man not in his right mind to try to walk two scared kids home.

Fuck, what a situation he’s in.

He accepts your offer with a nod, letting you lead the way and chat with the kids as he trails behind.

The ride is quiet. Even by Yuji’s standards, it’s painfully quiet. He points out some street art of a monster with a crown that he likes, but it seems to be the most even the five-year-old can manage. Their whole family is emotionally drained.

Even by your standards, you’re running on empty at this point. There’s only so much emotional strain you can handle and between the concern that had distracted you all week and a long day of walking on eggshells around Sukuna, your social battery is running low too. There’s only so much you can handle when the man in your passenger seat has nestled his way into your heart and left an irreparable hole in which only he could fit.

Your heart can only handle so much distant love.

It became increasingly clear over the past week that his absence was making your heart grow fonder. Although you were apart for a while after Christmas, his continual emails sated the part of you that craved him so desperately. Without that, a chasm opened and swallowed you whole, unable to fight it for even a moment.

Still, even in the bone-weary silence of your car, being surrounded by Sukuna and his sweet little family holds a temporary bandage around the pieces of your heart. It’s flimsy at best, fleeting as it begins to unravel with each disheartening snap and gripe that comes from Sukuna, but you can’t blame him when his entire world is caving in around him.

Hell, you can’t even begin to worry about the pain the squeezes your heart when he’s barely holding it together beside you. Usually the face of stoicism, yet his well-put-together seams are cracking, revealing his facade not just to you, but to everyone.

Sukuna’s door swings open the moment you park as he stumbles on his feet as though your vehicle had been claustrophobic. He sets a large palm on the hood of your car to steady himself, dazed.

Pushing down the uneasy feeling building in your chest, you keep calm as you lift Yuji out of the back seat and watch him run over to Choso, getting on the tips of his toes to whisper something into Choso’s ear.

Rounding the car, you try to grab Sukuna’s attention, the look of helplessness on his face catching you off guard as he makes a point of hiding from his brothers. His grip on your car is unyielding, his knuckles white from the effort of holding himself upright.

“Keys?” You whisper quietly. He blinks a couple of times, his chest rising and falling startlingly quickly as he fumbles in his jacket pocket with his spare hand. “I got it.” Gingerly reaching out, you slip your hand into his pocket, careful to pull out only his keys and not his lighter.

Jogging up to Choso, you smile reassuringly. “I just need to talk to your brother. You two go upstairs for me, okay? Lock the door behind you.”

Choso nods, pausing to peek past you at his older brother. There’s a silent question in his eyes that he won’t voice. Whether that’s a trauma response or that he knows you understand, you can’t say for sure.

“He’s okay, don’t worry sweetheart,” you reassure him, ruffling his hair.

He puts his trust in you with a half-hearted attempt at a smile and grabs Yuji’s hand to lead the way into the building.

The sun has mostly set over the horizon at this point, casting dark purple hues over Sukuna’s tattooed cheeks. He hunches over the hood of your car, leaning his body so heavily over the vehicle that it dips under his weight. He exhales shakily, dragging his hands down his face.

In your best effort to comfort him, you gently rub his back. His muscles are taut beneath the down of his winter coat, his back rising and falling just a bit too quickly for your comfort.

“Sukuna?”

He forces himself upright, raking his fingers through his hair.

“Fuck!” He barks, taking a step away from you to pace along the side of your car. His mind is a jumbled mess and he doesn’t know how to make sense of the thoughts that seem to relentlessly batter him, leaving him with a heaving, tight chest, searing anger, and something he can’t put a name to.

Anxiety.

“Sukuna?” You try again as his pacing grows erratic.

“Fuck, I don’t fucking-” he stammers, fists balling at his sides as he struggles not to launch the closest thing to his hand into the wall. Again. He doesn’t need to break his lighter twice in only a couple of months.

You take a step towards him in an attempt to disrupt his pacing course, but he simply turns on his heel in the other direction.

“That fucking-”

“Sukuna!” You jog around to face him, gripping the open front of his black coat and stopping him abruptly.

“What?” He snarls breathlessly, pulling back against your grip.

You don’t relent, keeping him in place although you know he has the strength to tear himself from you if he wanted.

“Can you breathe, Kuna?”

He tugs against you once more, gripping the top of your vehicle. It’s cold on the pads of his fingers, a sharp contrast to the blazing heat his body is overproducing. He doesn’t, can’t, reply to you, but you don’t need him to, the answer is written plain as day for all to see.

He’s panicking.

He’s spiraling downwards harshly and his anxiety is taking along with it the strong front that Sukuna has worked relentlessly to maintain. His own body is forcibly breaking down the walls he built not only to keep himself safe, but also his brothers.

His body is begging you for the help he’d never ask for, lest he suffer alone.

“It’s okay if you can’t,” you soothe, your voice low and gentle as he leans against your car. “Sit down in the back of my car,” you urge sternly, attempting to tug him towards the back door.

He forcefully pulls back out of your grip. “I’m not my fuckin’ kid brothers, don’t fucking treat me like them,” he hisses, fire swirling beneath the surface of his eyes. It’s a meager attempt to mask his distress.

You frown, unmoving as you contemplate how to help someone who doesn’t want your help. Someone who doesn’t want pity or sympathy, who wants only respect and nothing less.

It doesn’t matter how much respect for him you have when looking back at him he sees only sympathy in your eyes.

“Please, can we talk? It’s cold out here, just sit in the back of my-”

“For fuck’s sake, what the fuck is there to talk about?” He yells, whipping his hand through the air. He reels back, rubbing the heels of his palms against his eyes. “I can fucking handle things, stop sticking your nose in my damn business,” he hisses in a strained tone, rubbing at his chest in discomfort.

Your eyes trail down to watch the way he clutches at his shirt and pulls the collar from his neck as though it’s choking him, his lips slightly parted as he struggles to breathe. “Sukuna, I know you can handle things. Just listen to me, okay?” His eyes snap to you. “Have you had a panic attack before?”

“I’m not havin’ a fucking panic attack, christ, just- gimme some fuckin’ space,” he backs away from you, walking over to his apartment building’s exterior and rummaging through his jacket pockets in search of cigarettes. He pulls out a small cardboard box, flipping it open with shaky hands and muttering a curse under his breath as he comes up empty. He tosses it at full force into the building, leaning his head against the wall a moment later as his vision grows white at the edges.

“Sukuna,” your tone is firm as you come up behind him. “Please sit.”

By some miracle, he flips until his back can slide down the wall and he’s finally sitting, his gaze fixed nowhere in particular behind you.

Letting out a sigh of relief, you lower yourself down to your knees to sit in front of him. Thank god. Even as the cold snow melts beneath you and seeps into the warmth of your pants, chilling the skin of your knees, you push through. Setting your hands on his forearms, you rub soothing circles into them.

“Here, are your hands cold?” Sliding the tips of your fingers along his arm and raising goosebumps with your touch even through the barrier of his jacket, you gauge the temperature of his hands, nodding to yourself. “They are cold… here-” you lift his hand up to cool the back of his neck, which is overheating even in the below freezing weather. “I think that should feel good.”

It shouldn’t piss him off as much as it does that you’re right. It does help, leaving him completely at your mercy, as Sukuna himself doesn’t understand how to quell this feeling.

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He doesn’t react, but his crimson gaze falls to your chest, studying the rise and fall. You direct him by repeating a gentle “in… and out,” moving your thumb along his arm in time with your own breaths and instructions. He closes his eyes as the pain in his chest eases and he’s able to catch his breath.

Continuing to soothingly run your thumb along his arm, you carefully reach up to brush his sweat-slicked hair from his forehead. He stiffens briefly, but quickly relaxes without bothering to open his eyes.

Your heart twists at the intimacy of the situation, but it’s neither the time nor place to concern yourself with your own emotions.

You can handle the way your own chest tightens as Sukuna’s finger twitches and brushes your wrist, settling against the warmth of your skin.

You don’t dare interrupt the peace, giving him the time he needs to find his grounding. It takes him a few moments, but he moves his hand from the back of his neck, settling it on his knee. His gaze fixes on something in the distance as he takes a long, exhausted breath.

To your surprise, his arm that you’re still rubbing circles into flips and his thumb and fingers wrap around the circumference of your forearm. With a lopsided smile, you squeeze his arm back.

“Talk to me.”

With the sun completely set over the horizon, the only light that illuminates Sukuna’s face is that of the light over his apartment building. It glows faintly, flickering every so often with a golden hue that paints the broken expression on his face in such a way that even in this dire situation, he looks ethereal.

His gaze travels upwards as the light flickers again, the golden hue glimmering against the packed snow beneath your (very cold) knees. “I can’t afford a lawyer,” he mutters shamefully, his brow furrowed.

You contemplate your next words very carefully given Sukuna’s nature. “What can I do?” To help?

“Nothing,” he scoffs, his eyes not leaving the point where his hand connects with your arm. Even with a jacket between you, your presence brings him comfort. “I’ll figure shit out like I always do.”

“You don’t need to do this alone, Kuna.”

The glare he shoots you is sharp. “I can manage.”

“Manage until- until what? You have another panic attack?” Although your tone is still gentle, there’s a prickle to your words.

“I didn’t have a fuckin’-”

“Bullshit!”

Sukuna blinks. He can’t remember if he’s ever heard a curse leave your lips. There’s a fiery determination lit beneath you that he won’t quench with his distilled anger.

“You’re allowed to need help, Sukuna. It doesn’t make you weak.”

His grip on your arm tightens, almost uncomfortably. He doesn’t know how to take your words and his vexation is only growing. “I’ll need to take more shifts,” he mumbles.

“I’m here. If you need someone to watch the kids,” you offer.

His chest rises and falls heavily as he exhales slowly. As if coming to some sort of conclusion, he frowns. “You’re too kind, princess.” His tone is uncharacteristically weak and painfully distant. He squeezes your arm once, before dropping it to pull himself up off the ground. He brushes snow from his pants and coat and picks up the empty cigarette box crumpled on the ground. “I’m gonna head inside.” His gaze turns down to your knees as you follow suit and stand before him. “Go warm up and dry off.”

“Are you sure you don’t need-”

“I’m fine.” He assures you, turning towards the door without so much as a goodbye, but he thinks twice on this and pauses before he can enter his building. He examines your frown as he fights an internal debate. His sharp gaze traces your movements as you swipe your tongue over your lower lip and bite down on it.

He’s caught up on a strange inkling in his mind that doesn’t really make sense to him, but he gives pause to it.

Your lips look like a goddamn invitation. He’s not thinking about your body, or the way your skin sears him when you brush his hand. It’s something entirely else that he wants to act on, and all you’re doing is standing there, the picture of uncertainty as you fiddle with your fingers and chew on your lips.

Your god forsaken lips.

“Sukuna?” You meekly question, tilting your head.

He swears you could have the world if you truly wanted with just a tilt of your head.

It’s a shame Sukuna knows he doesn’t belong in your world. You’re too kind, you always have been. You’re like the syrup they drizzle over cheesecake, or the decorative sprinkles that top that shitty whipped cream that bakeries love to use. The sugar-free kind that doesn’t quite taste right and you’re not sure why they even bother with it, so they add the sweetest sprinkles to compensate.

Once again, Sukuna thinks about how you’re the sun, and he’s nothing more than a distant star sputtering out on the horizon. He doesn’t consider that every star is a sun to someone else.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. “Was just thinkin’. Thanks for organizing today, gave me a lot to work with.”

And with that, he’s pushing through the door before you can even tell him that he’s welcome.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter - coming soon

❦ a/n ; OOPS ALMOST 18K CHAPTER. honestly it just didn't feel right to end it before the discussion with higuruma and sukuna's reaction to it, so here we are. forgive me for the angst :((( i love these babies sm and it physically hurt to put them through this 😭 the support for this series has been so overwhelmingly lovely and heartwarming, i really can't thank you all enough. seriously, y'all are the sweetest and the comments and asks i've received about this series brighten my day every single time 🫶 anyway, ily all and i'm sorry 😭

❦ taglist ; OPEN. please comment here or on the masterlist if you would like to be tagged. age MUST be easily visible on your blog.

@yenayaps @rinachains @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @kasukuna @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

@clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @coldluminarykoala

@ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears

@tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts

@lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

@axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

writing & format © starmapz. art © 3-aem. dividers © adornedwithlight & cafekitsune

[y2kas13]

Can She Stay? (Paige B. x reader)

Paige b. x dads best friend's daughter!reader

Summary: Paige goes with her dad to his best friend's house meets his daughter and quickly becomes close.

cw: fluff, rizzler paige lol, spicy but no smut, reader isn't given a set race or weight just mentions of curly hair and being on the 'thicker side' but nothing too defining y/n used srry

a/n: (I wrote this months ago and never knew how to finish so I’m gonna post it how it is if you wnat a continuation I definitely will) I'm actually from and live in CT so I'm gonna use the name of a college from here for realism its not important tho so don't worry lol thank you for tuning in to my poll for those who interacted this is technically my 2nd fic on Tumblr but my other one sucked and flopped 😭 so hopefully this is better. I appreciate interaction!

Paige was a go-getter, constantly up and running ready to take on the day and do what needed to be done.

Needless to say, she didn't want to get out of bed and go with her dad to sit around and listen to old dad jokes for the next few hours.

She loves her dad, but after weeks of training and hard work, she wants to mindlessly scroll on her phone and eat some well-deserved junk food.

"Come on Paige it'll be fun I promise it'll be worth your while. watch you'll have so much fun you won't wanna leave! now come on Paige!" Hearing her dad have so much enthusiasm trumps her feelings of wanting to stay home. She changes out of her pajamas into black loose-fitting sweatpants and a white crop-top she puts her slides on and gets in her dad's car and falls asleep.

Feeling the car come to a stop makes her open her eyes and see that they are presumably at her dad's friend's house. She rubs her eyes and stretches to wake her up. She hops out of the car and walks up to the door after her dad.

Before her dad can even finish knocking a man who looks the same age as her dad opens the door. "Bob! there you are old timer hurry up the game is coming on." He ushers them in and both Paige and her dad hurry inside.

Paige takes in the living room while her dad and his friend playfully banter with each other. Before Paige can open her mouth to say anything she hears soft footsteps coming toward the living room which causes her to look up.

"Dad, what's all that noise?"

Paige sees probably one of the prettiest girls she's seen in a while. Beautiful curly hair held out of her face by a simple headband, she's wearing a simple blue crop top similar to her own and the smallest pair of black pajama shorts she's seen in forever.

The feeling of the girl's eyes also looking her up and down causes Paige to finally stop staring and look away. "Come here baby let me introduce you!" The pretty girl steps further into the living room to stand by both dads which causes Paige to follow without even thinking. The girls' dads introduce them to each other, "This is my daughter Paigey she plays basketball at UConn she's a little star." Bob says with obvious pride in his voice which causes Paige to slightly blush and look down waving him away playfully at the nickname. This elicits a small giggle out of the girl which makes Paige smile a little harder and look up at the girl seeing that she's already looking at Paige. "This is my baby she goes to Southern and she's the student council president at her school." Pride is also evident in his words, the baby name makes the girl turn away in slight embarrassment.

The TV in the living room starts playing a loud sound alerting the dads that the game they were awaiting is finally starting so they offer that the girls should go hang out together in the girl's room. They head towards the girl's room.

"So baby huh?" Paige says with a small smirk on her lips, the name used making her laugh.

"Oh whatever Paigey," The girl rolls her eyes playfully and sits on her bed, "I have a real name you know." Paige looks around the room taking in the aesthetically pleasing room with light grey walls dark hardwood floors and posters of all her favorite shows and artists on her wall.

Paige sits down at the small dark wooded vanity now looking at the girl perched on the bed, "Care to share then princess?" the nickname princess causes the girl to spring up and look at the blonde girl at her vanity

She shares her name with Paige to which Paige compliments.

“So student council president huh? You’re a smart girl aren’t you.” Paige says with a smirk but there’s no condensation or malice in it.

The curly haired girl nods making her curls bounce and flop in her face slightly. “Yep school has always been my thing I’ve been best at.”

Paige gets up from her vanity and walk over to the bed. She looks the curly haired girl in the eyes and moves some of the hair that fell in her face. “Maybe you should come by my school and see me do what I’m best at.”

[enkays-den]

Enkay Watches the Imp and Skizz Podcast #127 (featuring @joehills)

First of all, if you are not watching Joe Hills on either youtube or twitch, DO IT!!!! He's streaming pretty much every day and the conversations are always so interesting and he has the best little windows into the workings of Hermitcraft. Folks will pop by and have super interesting conversations with him! He's one of my favorite hermits and I think his unique way of experiencing minecraft, life, and hermitcraft is something that deserves more eyes on it, because I know people are sleeping on him.

First off, THIS is how you show up to the Imp and Skizz Podcast! Classy, on brand, and unique!

I love Impulse's little nest of pillows, he's so cozy nestled in there, holding his mandated amount of water like a security blanket

I love that the reason they wanted Joe on was to talk about the coup SPOILERS: they never even touch on it

joe's dad being a logician makes so much sense tbh

"a creationist universe where god wants you dead and i play minecraft like a greek hero idiot" is such an amazing way to talk about super hostile maps

HOW IS IT THAT JOE AND SKIZZ BOTH HAVE EDGAR ALLEN POE ANECDOTES OFF THE DOME

Joe having his wedding taking place during the recess of a vehicular manslaughter trial feels so strange and yet so Joe

JOE HILLS FULL NAME DROP?????

"YOU'VE GOTTA BE JOE KING" okay he mentioned on stream that there was a joke that maybe two people would get and I will proudly claim to be one of the two.

"fighting to become an artist" is so validating to Skizz's journey so far. It's gonna be his year anniversary of being a hermit soon and im gonna get emotional about his path this last year

Joe WOULD put on the Scottish Parliament sessions as background noise, love that

"I don't trust any platform with my art. I'm the one that makes the art and the audience is the one that appreciates my art" "I need to be as platform/brand agnostic as possible" "next time Amazon does something terrible to the unions" 👏👏👏

CHEERS REFERENCE, SKIZZ'S SITCOM BRAIN IS ACTIVATED

talking about his streams like a bar and like,,,,, he's so smart about the role of creators and fandom and i just appreciate joe so much

it's funny that they're shocked about the relationships can be formed within fandoms when like,,,,, that's how they met tango

((also if we talk regularly and read this i love you guys <3))

skizz, the worst chat reader ever i love you

i need hermitcraft standup. please. custom texture snowballs as tomatoes or flowers to throw

thinking about a younger skizz using a tape recorder to record his 'genius ideas' and quotes he likes and annoying the crap out of his friends

YES JOE AND SKIZZ TALKING ABOUT THE SCIENCE OF COMEDY AND THE STRUCTURE, THEY'RE SUCH AN INTELLECTUAL DUO

I'm glad that we got to hear Joe's JFK impression

COURT CASE TALK!!!!!!!!!!!!

"Bdubs will only let Doc win if it's funnier for doc to win, because that's how guilty doc was"

Joe quoting Sun Tsu and then going on the stand and said "Your Honor, Your Highness, my client is a baby" in an asymetric star trek dress, that's the Joe Hills Difference

"DELICIOUS" skizz i love how schadenfreude you are

"FIVE DIAMONDS PER F TIER BOOK???" impulse my favorite wet cat

"I'll make one sale every two months" and also implying that the shopping district has property taxes

the delivery on "two. some people say four" was SLICK

TUMBLR MCYT SEXYMAN POLL MENTION

"tumblr defines sexyman to mean 'most bizarre, cryptid, creepy thing' " not wrong there.

"well scar is obviously going to win the sexyman competition"

"once i found out that it's for weird, cryptid energy, I knew "oh nevermind I'm gonna win this"

joe hills is my favorite weird guy and he deserved to win

cleo as our nonbinary icon placing third place in the tumblr sexyman poll

All in all, fantastic podcast, and not long enough imo. I hope Joe gets to be there in person one day like he originally envisioned, and there's just an untapped well of information that could go into future podcasts

Reminder that you should subscribe and follow Joe!

BONUS, edited by me, please credit if you use it, I HIGHLY ENCOURAGE you to use it (original screencap under cut):

[casualmidnights]

I feel like this song doesn’t get the appreciation it deserves

TAYLOR SWIFT — 'Fortnight' (feat. Post Malone)

[ireverie]

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ jake, jay, jungwon x (f) professor!reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, they’re all twisted but jay is mean asfk, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ jake, jay, and jungwon are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. part 2/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jay, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

jake was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jay chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jay fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, jake approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jungwon grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

jake snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jay laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” jake replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jungwon crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. jake was sunghoon’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jay’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jay’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jay was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jay said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jungwon been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted sunghoon. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because jake seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse sunghoon had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, sunghoon was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students. 

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jungwon didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, jake yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched jake sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jungwon was fixed to your perky chest and jay was watching jake situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“jake, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand. 

“that’s too bad, baby.” jake wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jay was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

jake’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with jake’s dad of all people, he became furious. 

neither you or sunghoon were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, jake saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, jake actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jungwon chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jay’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. jake wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jay wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jungwon’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while jake was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jungwon sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when jake pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

jake and jay’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, jake moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jay was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

jake was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jay commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want jake to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed. 

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “jake, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jungwon crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of jake with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of jake’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jungwon for dear life.

jake continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jungwon to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

jake finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jungwon’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jungwon took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in jake’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when jake moved, jay came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jungwon abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jungwon to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jungwon!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jungwon unabashedly more or less ate jay’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jungwon didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jungwon liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jay’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jay’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jungwon, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jungwon saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” jake said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jungwon was.

jungwon frowned, but moved out of the way. not because jake told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed jake returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jungwon spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

jake positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

jake snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. sunghoon would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. jake, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jay’s leftover cum facilitating the process. jake was girthy like sunghoon too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “jake, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jay nudged jungwon, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jungwon chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jungwon approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. jake grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.” 

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but sunghoon’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jungwon finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jay crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jungwon push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, jake’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything sunghoon could do, jake was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know sunghoon, not like you thought. the dark side jake had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why jake was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” jake said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jungwon exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” jake replied, completely degrading. 

jungwon chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jay said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks. 

between jake’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jungwon was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” jake said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jungwon quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell jake how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, jake.”

jake smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” jake said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jungwon had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jungwon’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jungwon’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while jake’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jungwon’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt jake’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jay said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread jake’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jay, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jay snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jungwon frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jay groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jay was pressing you against the desk harder than jake had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jay didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jay had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jay’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jay had to wallow in it more than either of them.

jake and jungwon were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jay couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jay would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jay wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jay would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jay hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jay continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jay.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jay squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain. 

“pathetic if you ask me,” jake added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jungwon snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal. 

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jay chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jungwon chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” jake said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jungwon retorted. 

jay quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

jake blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jay grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move. 

jake hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jay groaned. 

jake glanced to jungwon, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jay’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jay finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jay turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

TAGLIST: @ribbioniki, @yunakj, @vvenusoncasual, @lovingvoidgoatee , @iloveu-143, @bigwforjay, @hooniehon, @adoredbyjay, @cloud-lyy, @firstclassjaylee, @captainsaposts, @tinycatharsis

[dreamstation]

[17:18] "Jaemin,“ you say, words turning into a whine. "Stop it.”

You pout when your words do nothing but draw a teasing laugh out of him. The polaroid in his hands has him smiling like a fool, showing off that beautiful smile you adore. Nevertheless, you groan, hiding your face behind your hands in regret. Jaemin brings the photo next to your hidden face, smile still intact, eyes darting back and forth as if comparing you to the photo. You grab at it, but Jaemin quickly pulls his hand back, shaking his head. “Nope, nope, absolutely not.”

Waving the photo around, he says gleefully, “I’m keeping this. Just so that you’ll never get the chance to burn it.”

Falling back onto the bed, you huff, eyeing him with narrowed eyes. He chuckles again, brushing his newly dyed hair back before carefully setting his camera to the side. Your eyes flock back to his face, wandering up from his upturned lips to his joyful eyes. His gaze doesn’t falter as your eyes meet.

“Please, stop smiling at me like that.” You murmur, covering your eyes with your arm. Putting your arm down slightly, you peek at his moving figure, kneeling on the bed and crawling his way toward you. He plops down on your side, an arm and leg thrown over your body, head propped up on your chest, still smiling proudly. You purse your lips in annoyance, and you take note of how his eyes drift down to them. “I’m not sure what will happen if you keep doing that.”

“Oh? And what exactly,” he asks, his voice low and soft, his tone unhurried, “might happen?”

You pause, taking in the proximity between the two of you. His figure draped over yours, he tilts his head in curiosity, eyebrows raised. A wry smile settles on his face, and you chuckle fondly, bringing a hand up to ruffle his hair. Your hand settles down to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing it comfortingly. His lips fall into a slight pout when you don’t answer, and you squeeze his cheek gently, lips curving into a smile.

“Just – something…” You mumble, shrugging, turning your gaze up to the ceiling. 

He shimmies his body a bit higher, in height with yours, and raises his hand, still holding the Polaroid you took just moments ago. You take in all its details; his one hand wrapped around your shoulder, pulling you close, his other hand outstretched to take the photo. With the exhilaration rushing in your head from all the enjoyment, you turned the moment he pressed the button, pressing a kiss on his cheek. The photo captured his reaction perfectly. Eyes slightly blown wide, lips parted in surprise. 

Jaemin turns his head towards you, but your eyes don’t leave the photo still raised by his hand. He pulls his hand down, and you turn to face him, cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“We kinda look like a couple, don’t you think?” Jaemin whispers, his face painted with a soft smile.

You mirror his expression shyly, smile turning bashful. You look away. “Yeah… kinda.”

[will-0-w]

mdni - vampire sylus, fem!reader, loss of virginity (reader first time), soft!dom sylus, praise, slight hints of blood, p in v, unprotected, small size kink, nicknames such as ‘sweetie’ and ‘kitten’ used, word count 1.6k, it’s a long one sorryy

Today was it, you thought. Today would be the day that which you took Sylus’ are your relationship a step further and tread onto undiscovered waters. Those undiscovered waters being finally getting more intimate with him, and also letting him take your virginity. You trusted him fully and truth be told, you wouldn’t want anyone else but him.

So here you were one evening at his place having been given a couple days off from the Hunters Association. Sylus sat next to you on his bed, immersed in some book he picked up earlier. You shifted nervously in place, fiddling with the edge of your silk night gown which barely covered half of your thighs.

“What is it, sweetie? You’ve been restless for the past hour.” He muttered, not even looking up from his book as he placed his hand on your thigh, it was meant to be a gentle and soothing gesture but only seemed to rile you up more. The contact of his large palm spreading across your skin sent a scorching sensation down to your core.

“Well.. I was thinking that maybe we could..” It was supposed to be an easy sentence yet you couldn’t get it out. “Maybe what? Come on kitten, spit it out.” He mused. “I want to take the next steps of our relationship further.” Now that made Sylus’ head perk up, crimson eyes locking with yours.

Sylus knew exactly what you meant, he had been anticipating the arrival of this day. As his lips curled up into a slight smirk you could see the peak of his sharp fangs poking out. “I thought you’d never ask, kitten.” You lowered your head, gaze fixed on your hands in your lap. The sound of a book shutting filled the room as he placed it on the bedside table, “You don’t look so excited though, why is that?” Sylus’ long fingers gripped your chin gently, lifting your head to meet his gaze once again. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself to tell him.

“I’m still a virgin..” The apples of your cheeks flushed a bright red. Now that, he was not expecting. “Oh.” That simple, short answer left you feeling slightly discouraged but the way his eyes softened told a different story. “That’s alright sweetie, I’ll take my time with you. A beauty like yourself deserves to be ravished.”

In an instant he was on top of you, pressing his soft lips to yours. The kiss started off gentle and slow, his hands roaming your body until it started to get more desperate and passionate. His tongue tracing the seem of your lips, asking for entrance to which you complied. Both of your tongues clashed together in a wet fight, he groaned into your mouth as he pulled away with a pop.

“You taste so sweet.” Sylus leaned down to capture your lips in another kiss before trailing down to your jaw, then your neck until he reached the valley of your breasts, those tantalising crimson eyes looking up into yours. His gaze sent shivers down your spine, it was a look full of love and warmth yet hunger bubbled under surface. If he could, he’d devour you on the spot. Reaching up for the straps of your night gown, you let him slip them down your shoulders with ease. He pulled the flimsy fabric down the curves of your body, a deep and appreciative groan rumbling in his throat. “So beautiful, so divine.”

Once the article of clothing was off, he trailed more kisses down your torso getting closer and closer to where you needed him most, practically aching for him. He came face to face with your panties now, a small wet patch staining them from your arousal. “My, my is my kitten this wet already?” He grinned as he traced his fangs along your lower belly, sighing in pleasure as you looked down at him.

Sylus moved back up your body coming to face you again, his lips planted kisses along the skin of your neck, occasionally biting small hickeys into the flesh and licking the smooth skin to ease the slight pain. That’s when you felt his own arousal poking against your thigh, he felt heavy and warm. He lifted his head and looked down at your smaller frame under him, eyes glinting under the warm light of the room. Sylus loved how small you were compared to him, like a precious doll that should be handled with care but you were far from that. You were a fierce and skilled Deepspace Hunter, in no need to be handled with care.

Removing his robe with deft fingers, his muscular frame was now on full display making your breath catch in your throat. Your gaze traveled over his chest, to his lower abdomen where his cock stood hard and aching, angry red tip glistening with pre. You gulped at his size, would that even fit? Sensing your worries , Sylus reassured you softly with gentle words.

“I’m going to need to prep you on my fingers, alright?” You nodded at his words before he slowly pulled your panties down your smooth legs and threw them onto the floor, joining your night gown. As the cold air hit your bare cunt, you shivered and felt embarrassment at how wet you were just from mindless kisses.

His long fingers trailed down your stomach to your pussy lips, running a singular digit through them, slick already coating his finger. “You’re so wet, sweetie.” He easily slipped his finger past your entrance and into your fluttering walls, they clamped around his finger sucking it in. The feeling caused a gasp to escape your lips and you quickly clamped a hand over your mouth, he tutted in disapproval and reached his free hand to remove yours. “Let me hear how good I make you feel, don’t hide your sounds from me.”

With that in mind, you let soft mewls or moans fall from your lips as he moved his finger inside you. “Do you think you can take another?” You nodded as he slipped a second finger in. “Good girl, taking my fingers so well.” He thrust them in and out, curling up inside, making you arch your back up as your head fell onto the plush pillows behind.

As he picked up the pace, you felt something bubbling in your core, reaching for that intense feeling but feeling it fleeting away as Sylus removed his fingers, sensing you were close. “Not yet, sweetie. I want to see you fall apart on my cock.” You whined at the loss of contact.

Moving back over you, Sylus traced the tip of his cock head against your folds. “Are you sure you want this?” Were you sure? Of course, you thought. “Yes, please Sylus I need you.” That was all you had to say before he slowly pushed his tip past your fluttering entrance, the delicious stretch bordering on painful and pleasant. He only got half way in before your hands were clawing at his forearms, “Too much?” He asked, concern filled his tone as he saw your pained expression. “I’ll take it slow alright?” He coaxed himself all the way until he was fully sheathed in your wet warmth, just staying there until you gave him the go ahead. “I don’t think I can hold myself back, sweetie.”

After a minute the painful stretch subsided and pleasure filled you to your very core, Sylus took that as a sign to start moving slowly and languidly, driving his hips into you. It was a gentle pace to get you used to the feeling and after a couple minutes of testing the limits his hips were slamming into you, causing you to cry out and dig your nails into his shoulders, the crescents of your nails taking shape on his skin. His name fell from your lips like a broken prayer. It was so much causing you to clench around his length. “Sylus—“ You mewled.

Groaning above you he rasped out, “I know sweetie, I know. But you can handle it, cant you?” He praised you endlessly with, “You’re doing so good for me, taking it so well.” Rolling his hips up into your fluttering hole, reaching all the right angles, making your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head as you felt that same sensation in your lower belly as before when he used his fingers.

“Are you close, sweetie?” He could feel you nearing your orgasm, his own soon approaching as his thrusts grew sloppier and uncoordinated. Burying his face into the crook of your neck, he sank his fangs into the flesh, drawing blood. The metallic taste of your blood filled his mouth and senses as he drank up as much as he could, leaving his mark on you. He loved how you tasted and it was enough to send him over the edge of release, groaning loudly into your ear as he spilled his seed deep inside you.

As your own orgasm approached you let yourself go, clamping onto his cock as you reached your high, your own climax flowing through you. As your juices gushed all over his length you saw white as his name fell from your lips in cries of pleasure. It took you a couple minutes to come back to your senses, you felt boneless and spent as Sylus collapsed next to you, pressing soft kisses to your forehead and neck. “You were amazing kitten.” Curling up into his chest, his strong arms wrapped around you in a protective embrace as you both dozed off into a dreamless sleep, a faint smile on your lips.

[luxerians]

The Last Mask (09)

Hwang In-ho/Oh Young-il/Player 001 x Reader

Chapter 09 - Purpose

Story Masterlist

NEXT : Chapter 10

PREV : Chapter 08

For a moment, you felt yourself drifting, caught between sleep and wakefulness. Or maybe you were already asleep. But then, after what felt like twenty minutes, you heard movement. Someone stepped cautiously on your mattress, careful not to touch you, and Jun-hee’s voice broke the quiet.

“Mr. Seong, I need to use the bathroom.”

“It’s too dangerous to go by yourself,” Gi-hun replied immediately.

You stirred, sitting up slowly with groggy eyes. “I’ll go with you.”

“It’s okay, big sis,” Jun-hee replied, sounding a little guilty for waking you.

Shaking off your drowsiness, you carefully got up from the mattress.

“I needed to go to the restroom too, actually,” you said which was a lie. You just wanted to accompany the pregnant Jun-hee.

Jun-hee hesitated for a moment before nodding. With that, Gi-hun stepped aside, giving you both room to pass as you headed toward the door to the ladies’ restroom.

“Oh, we can go together,” a voice chimed in.

You and Jun-hee turned to see player 149 – the mother – walking over with a wide grin. She moved toward you two with a relaxed stride through the open area of the dormitory. Both you and Jun-hee bowed your heads politely as she joined you.

The three of you reached the restroom door, and Jun-hee knocked softly. When there was no immediate response, she knocked again, a little louder this time. Finally, the circular window on the door slid open, revealing a triangle-masked guard who peered out at you all in silence.

“We need to use the bathroom,” stated Jun-hee.

“No,” the guard answered solemnly. “Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”

Jun-hee added, “Please. I’m not feeling very well.”

The guard repeated, “No. Entry and exit are restricted at this time.”

Player 149 rushed to move in front of Jun-hee, deciding to talk to the guard herself. “Look. Mr. Triangle, even though you’re wearing a weird mask, you’re still human, aren’t you? In the outside world, you might have a sister like them and a mom like me. When ladies say they need to use the bathroom, it’s for reasons they can’t tell you.”

You and Jun-hee rapidly nodded your head.

“If you can’t understand that, you shouldn’t even call yourself human,” said the mother. “You really shouldn’t.”

Suddenly, the guard closed the window without a word, shutting the three of you out.

The mother’s voice broke the silence, frail and filled with emotion. “Listen. Ever since I entered my 60s, I’ve had bladder control issues. I can’t go out without wearing a diaper, but I couldn’t bring any of the things I need here. Do you really have to make me wet myself?

“Imagine if I was your mother, Mr. Triangle. You wouldn’t do that to your mother. I came here because of my son’s debt. I should at least get to pee when I want, shouldn’t I?”

Her voice rose as she cried out, “What did I do in my previous life to deserve—”

Before she could finish, the door swung open, revealing a triangle-masked guard holding their weapon. The mother’s face lit up with gratitude as she grinned appreciatively.

As the three of you stepped past the door, another presence approached from behind. You turned to see player 120.

“Can I come too?” she asked the guard directly.

Jun-hee gave her a long stare but the mother quickly spoke up. “Oh, that’s okay. She’s a woman. Her name is Hyun-ju.”

She’s the one I was hiding behind during Red Light, Green Light. So her name is Hyun-ju, you thought.

The four of you were guided by another triangle guard to the ladies’ restroom. Along the way, the mother walked close to Jun-hee, gently asking about her family and if her parents might be worried about her.

Jun-hee’s reply was distant. “I don’t have any. I have no parents.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and uncomfortable. The mother’s concern didn’t waver. Once inside the restroom, she turned to Jun-hee again. “If you need help with anything, just let me know.”

Jun-hee hesitated before she said, “It’s okay.”

She turned and entered the cubicle. You couldn’t help but notice that Jun-hee seemed comfortable with you but kept a distance from player 149. Her earlier words played in your mind, and you figured she’d never experienced a mother’s love. Having someone act so caringly toward her must have felt strange, maybe even overwhelming. It was no surprise she’d pull away.

“Is she sick or something?” Hyun-ju asked lowly, glancing between you and the mother.

The mother stepped closer to her and whispered, “She’s pregnant.”

Hyun-ju’s jaw dropped, her gaze snapping to Jun-hee’s cubicle. The mother added, “I think she’s almost due.”

She then turned her attention to you. “Did you know?”

You nodded. “She told me and the others. We took her in instantly.”

The mother sighed, a look of relief crossing her face. “I’m glad. I can see you and the other guys have been taking good care of her.”

Her tone shifted, growing more urgent. “If you notice anything wrong with her, like she’s sick, unwell, or if her water breaks, please let me know. I’ve handled childbirths a few times in the past.”

You smiled warmly and nodded. “I will.”

The mother returned your smile, hers even warmer, before she headed into a nearby cubicle. You glanced at Hyun-ju, who was still staring at Jun-hee’s cubicle. Her expression was hard to read, but you couldn’t help but think she looked a little shocked, maybe even guilty. Perhaps the thought of voting for O, knowing there was a pregnant girl among the players, was weighing on her.

After finishing your business, you stepped out of the cubicle and noticed Hyun-ju at the sink, washing her hands and face. You joined her, standing side by side as you began to wash up as well.

The silence between you felt heavy, even though you were only inches apart. You wondered if she was distant because of her recent experiences after transitioning. It seemed like she only trusted the teammates she’d worked with during the Seven Legs Hexathlon. Maybe she was wary of you too.

Player 149 emerged from her cubicle and went to wash her hands. As she finished, her gaze shifted toward Jun-hee’s cubicle.

“Is she still in there?” she asked.

You and Hyun-ju both nodded. “Yeah.”

That’s when you realized Jun-hee had been in there for quite a while. Concern began to settle in. Stepping away from the sink, you watched as the mother approached the door and knocked gently.

“Miss? Are you alright?” she called. When there was no response, she knocked again, her tone growing more worried. “Are you okay in there? Is something wrong?”

You moved closer, your concern deepening. The mother pressed her ear against the door, listening carefully. Then you heard it. Faint sobs and quiet whimpers.

The mother slowly pushed the door open. From where you stood, you couldn’t see Jun-hee clearly, but the sound of her crying was unmistakable now that the door was ajar.

Player 149 hurried inside, her voice full of concern. “Oh dear. What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Is your belly hurting?”

You stepped forward until you were standing just outside the door. Jun-hee sat on the toilet, her posture slumped. It seemed like she’d finished her business long ago but had stayed in the cubicle. Her quiet sobs tugged at your heart, and you frowned, deeply worried for her.

“Oh, no. Your baby must be coming,” the mother assumed, crouching in front of Jun-hee. She gently placed a hand on her belly while rubbing her shoulder comfortingly. “Listen, tell me where and how it hurts.”

Jun-hee kept her gaze fixed downward, her tears falling freely. Her pale face was flushed from crying, and she didn’t look up at the mother. Her voice came out in a broken whimper. “I’m scared…”

Your chest tightened at her words. You could tell this wasn’t about labor. She wasn’t due to give birth. She was terrified. For herself, for her unborn baby. The fear of dying in this game while carrying her child finally exploded the moment she got a moment of privacy.

The mother leaned forward, wrapping Jun-hee in a full embrace. Finally, Jun-hee gave in, leaning into her comfort, her sobs muffled against the mother’s shoulder. The older woman began consoling her softly. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay.”

Your heart warmed at the sight of Jun-hee finally giving in to the mother’s affection. You didn’t dare to intervene because she needed this. She needed a mother figure to soothe her fears and worries. Jun-hee might have never experienced a mother’s love before, but now she finally had it.

Aside from that, watching Jun-hee cry so openly, held tightly in the mother’s arms, stirred something deep within you. Your eyes began to brim with tears. The scene made you miss your own mother terribly. The longing to see your parents, to embrace them, overwhelmed you. The thought of being so close to never seeing them again, to never telling them everything you’d always wanted to say, hit you like a wave. And then there was Ji-yoo. Small and fragile, so much like Jun-hee.

If you die in this game, who will take care of Ji-yoo and your parents?

A tear slid down your cheek before you even noticed. You quickly wiped it away, hoping no one saw. From the corner of your eye, you caught Hyun-ju walking closer. She stopped a few steps away, her expression one of quiet astonishment as she watched the mother and Jun-hee.

Once Jun-hee had calmed down, her face still red and streaked with dried tears, she and the mother stepped out of the cubicle. Without hesitation, you pulled her into a tight embrace, holding her close to your chest. Her pregnant belly pressed gently against your abdomen.

Jun-hee accepted your embrace and began sobbing again, her quiet sniffles muffled against your shoulder. Beside you, the mother reached out, patting Jun-hee’s back and your shoulder in a soothing gesture.

“Everything will be okay,” you murmured softly, brushing Jun-hee’s hair with your fingers. “We’ll prioritize you no matter what. You have a mother here who’s so worried about you. You have me. And you have a bunch of caring uncles. We’ll protect you and your baby.”

Jun-hee sniffled, nodding slightly into your shoulder, her grip on you tightening as if to draw strength from your words.

The four of you exited the restroom together. You kept one arm around Jun-hee’s shoulders as you made your way back into the darkened dormitory. The mother walked alongside you while Hyun-ju lingered awkwardly behind. Her concern was evident but she was hesitant. She seemed unsure whether Jun-hee would accept comfort from her.

Gi-hun, still on watch, noticed you immediately. His wide, bewildered eyes followed your small group as he got up from his seat on the floor.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked, his voice laced with worry.

The mother rested a gentle hand on your back, helping guide you and Jun-hee toward your sleeping spot.

“It’s nothing,” she reassured him, her tone calm but firm. “The little lady here was just overwhelmed. But I’m sure you and the others will take good care of her.”

The mother stopped beside Gi-hun, her gaze following his as he watched Jun-hee. You helped Jun-hee lie down on her mattress, pulling her blanket up to her chest as she gently rested her hands on her belly. In a soothing voice, you told her, “Go to sleep, Jun-hee. Let’s do our best tomorrow.”

Jun-hee’s teary eyes met yours, and she nodded without speaking. Turning to her side, she closed her eyes, her breathing gradually evening out.

The mother nodded approvingly, placing a reassuring hand on Gi-hun’s back. She then said softly, “In that case, I’ll head back to bed now.”

She turned to you, her tone serious. “If anything happens to her, tell me immediately.”

You stood up from beside Jun-hee and stepped closer to the mother. Offering her a warm smile, you replied, “Yes, I will. Thank you for everything.”

“It’s nothing,” she said with a light wave of her hand. “Good night, then.”

You and Gi-hun nodded as she turned and walked toward her bed. Hyun-ju followed behind, likely because her spot was near the mother’s.

Gi-hun turned to you before he nodded to your spot and said calmly. “Go back to sleep. I’m still keeping watch.”

You nodded and settled onto your mattress, watching as Gi-hun returned to his spot, blocking the only path leading into your group's sleeping area. He sat with his back hunched a bit, his eyes focused on the darkened dormitory.

You were about to lie down when your gaze lingered on his back. Questions churned in your mind, ones you’d been wanting to ask but never found the right moment. His solemn, brooding demeanor had always made you hesitate.

But now, with the dormitory quiet and the others asleep, it felt like the perfect time to finally ask.

“Gi-hun,” you called softly, making sure to use his ssi honorific. He turned his head, glancing at you over his shoulder with a look of mild surprise, likely wondering why you weren’t asleep. Crawling off your mattress, you settled next to him, crossing your legs as you spoke. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

His solemn expression softened slightly as he nodded. “Yeah, what is it?”

You hugged your knees to your chest, hesitating before continuing. “I’m sorry if this brings up bad memories, but… what was your last time here like?”

Gi-hun’s eyes widened, and he stared at you, unblinking. He seemed caught off guard, as though the question had taken him somewhere he didn’t want to return to.

Trying to explain yourself, you added, “I want to know because… you seem very distant. Like you don’t want to be close to anyone here. But at the same time, you’re always trying to save everyone.”

He looked away, his gaze dropping to the floor. His face took on a somber look that made your chest tighten. For a moment, you regretted asking. Quickly, you tried to backtrack. “Or… you don’t have to tell me. I’m just curious. Maybe you could just tell me what games you played here?”

Gi-hun stayed silent, and you couldn’t tell if he was sad or simply unwilling to answer. The weight of his unresponsiveness made you frown slightly, a pang of disappointment settling in your chest. Perhaps the bond you thought was forming wasn’t as strong as you’d hoped. Despite his offer to help with your debt, his walls were clearly still up.

Forcing a small smile, you turned your gaze forward and tried to lighten the mood. “It’s fine. I shouldn’t have asked. Good night, Gi-hun.”

“I had a few friends here,” he said suddenly, his voice breaking the silence. You turned to look at him, surprised he’d decided to speak. His gaze remained fixed on the floor as he continued, “When I was here last time, I made friends. We were a group. We ate dinner together. We got to know each other’s names. We tried to survive as a group.”

His voice grew quieter. “But in the end, it didn’t matter. This place makes you choose between yourself and everyone else. And no matter how much you want to protect someone, it’s never enough.”

He paused, taking a deep breath, as though trying to steady himself. “We played Red Light, Green Light first. Then Dalgona. After that, Tug of War, Marbles…”

His voice faltered, and his hands twitched slightly.

You waited, sensing there was more he wasn’t saying. Finally, he added, “By the end, it was just me and one other person. He… he was my best friend. But the last game…”

Gi-hun trailed off, his gaze fixed on the floor as if the memories were playing out there in front of him. You waited, giving him the space to continue. After about ten seconds, he finally spoke again. “This place turns everyone into something they’re not. It doesn’t matter how strong your friendship is. The games are designed to break it.”

“You said everyone here died except you as the winner,” you pointed out cautiously. “But I thought you could leave with a share of the prize if the majority votes for X.”

“In my time playing here, there was no such thing as a voting process after each game,” Gi-hun explained, his tone steady but heavy. “We had the same Clause Three in the consent form, but if we left, we got nothing.”

Your eyes widened in disbelief. “What? You wouldn’t get a share if you left?”

Gi-hun turned to you, his expression serious as he nodded. “Yeah. After Red Light, Green Light, a lot of us voted to leave, and we did. But we got nothing. I was desperate, so I came back. Turned out, everyone else came back too.”

“So…” you stared off into space, processing his words. “They updated this game’s rules. Leaving with a share of the prize money is actually a new thing.”

Gi-hun nodded solemnly. “Yeah. And I have a feeling why the overseer of this game made that change.”

You leaned in slightly, curiosity burning in your chest. “Why?”

Gi-hun’s eyes flicked to the large TV screen above the double doors. “He wanted to prove to me that it’s not the games’ fault that the players die. It’s the players themselves. They’re the ones who choose to stay in this game, no matter how much they earn or how high the stakes get.”

Silence fell between you as his words sank in. The weight of his statements settled heavily in your mind, stirring even more questions. But you held them back, not wanting to push him further.

“Who is… the overseer of this game?” you asked carefully, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gi-hun kept his gaze fixed ahead, his expression unreadable. “The one who controls this game. I’m sure the guards call him Captain.”

“Gi-hun,” you pressed, staring at him with a mix of curiosity and concern. “How do you know so much?”

He turned to you, his solemn eyes meeting yours. “I came back here for a reason. I will do whatever it takes to prove to this ‘Captain’… that the world has changed.”

You blinked at him, taken aback by the weight of his words. “Have you met this Captain?”

“Not directly,” he replied, his voice growling with restrained fury. “But he saw us like horses. Trashes, he said. We are just mere trashes to him.”

You turned your gaze away, your stomach churning at the thought. That’s all you are to them? Trash? The word made you feel small and insignificant. But then you caught the faintest sigh from Gi-hun, and when you glanced back, he was already staring at you.

“What?” you asked curiously.

His features softened slightly, and you felt a faint warmth radiate from his expression. It was like watching a heavy storm give way to the first rays of sunlight, momentary but impactful. You tilted your head to the side and blinked your eyes innocently.

“You know,” he began, his tone less severe now, “you remind me of someone.”

Your curiosity piqued. “Who?”

He leaned back slightly, his gaze distant as if recalling a memory. “A friend I met in my previous game. His name was Ali. He was kind, selfless, smiling. And strong. I almost died on my first Red Light, Green Light.”

He stretched his right arm out, forming a fist as he demonstrated. “I tripped on a corpse and stumbled, but he held me up by my collar. We froze like that. If it weren’t for him, I would have died.”

You watched him silently, noticing how his face softened at the memory. There was a quiet warmth in his expression, a rare glimpse of something lighter amidst the darkness. He retracted his arm and rested his forearms back on his raised knees.

“He must have been a kind guy,” you said softly.

“One of the kindest I’ve ever met,” Gi-hun replied. “He trusted too easily, though.”

You tilted your head slightly in innocent curiosity. “Is that why I reminded you of him? Because I trust too easily?”

Gi-hun turned to look at you, a faint smile forming at the corners of his lips. “No. It’s because you’re all smiles and helpful, even in this dark place.”

He paused, his smile fading slightly as he added, “He didn’t make it. But he showed me that even in the darkest times, there’s room for kindness.”

His words struck a chord, and a smile naturally formed on your lips. His own smile widened. What you didn’t realize was how much you reminded him of himself – back when he was bright, optimistic, and full of hope. In you, he saw a glimpse of the person he used to be.

Unbeknownst to the two of you, another presence loomed in the shadows. From his sleeping spot under the bed, Young-il lay awake. He had heard every word as he remained utterly still. The soft hum of the dormitory masked his presence, leaving you and Gi-hun oblivious to the silent observer just a few spaces away.

“Now go to sleep,” Gi-hun urged, his smile fading slightly. “If you want to keep watch later, you’d better get enough rest beforehand.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied playfully as you turned and crawled back to your mattress. “Good night.”

Gi-hun let out a soft sigh, the kind that hinted at exhaustion or maybe a bit of awkwardness from acting friendly after being so solemn for so long. Still, he muttered, “Night.”

Settling onto your mattress, you pulled the blanket snugly to your chest. Out of habit, your gaze drifted to your left where Young-il lay. The small, single-bed-sized mattresses meant everyone was fairly close, but his presence felt especially near.

Young-il was lying straight on his back, his forearms resting on his abdomen, his eyes closed. Even in sleep, there was something about his posture that made him seem oddly alert. It was like he was always ready for something.

You quickly looked away, turning to lie on your side, your back now facing him. Shutting your eyes, you tried to quiet your thoughts and focus on falling asleep.

A gentle shake stirred you from your sleep. A large hand rested lightly on your shoulder, nudging you awake. Then came a voice, calm and steady, calling your name:

“Sorry to disturb you, but if you’re too tired, it’s fine. I can cover your shift.”

You stirred, groaning softly as the sting of sleepiness hit you. Reluctantly, you opened your eyes, blinking against the dim light. Turning your head, you saw Young-il kneeling beside your mattress, his hand still resting gently on your shoulder. His gaze was calm but insistent, waiting for your response.

The fog of sleep clung to you, making it feel as though you’d been dragged out of a deep, comforting slumber. Your first thought was to tell him you were too exhausted to stay up. But then you remembered why you’d volunteered in the first place. What kind of person would you be if you backed out now?

Forcing yourself upright, you groggily rubbed your eyes, still struggling to shake off the weight of sleep. Young-il leaned back slightly, giving you space as your blanket slipped down to your thighs. You glanced around, trying to orient yourself. You then noticed Gi-hun already sleeping under the bed on your right side.

“Go back to sleep,” he said softly, patting your shoulder. Before you could respond, he grabbed your blanket and pulled it back up over your chest with an ease that felt strangely natural.

“I’ll handle your shift,” he continued. “And I’ll tell the others I didn’t wake you up on purpose.”

You shook your head groggily, your words coming out slow and slurred. “No… I want to keep watch.”

Young-il’s lips curved into a faint smile, but he didn’t argue immediately, simply watching as you fought against your sleepiness to fully wake up. He stepped back slightly and nodded. “Alright. You should wash your face first. That’ll help wake you up.”

You crawled off your mattress, moving to the spot where you had sat beside Gi-hun earlier. As you did, Young-il stood up to follow.

“It’s fine,” you said, rubbing your face to will yourself awake. “The triangle guard won’t let me into the bathroom.”

“I’m sure they will,” Young-il said, his tone calm but confident. You glanced at him, curious about his certainty. Had he been to the men’s restroom at night without any trouble? The last time you went with Jun-hee, the mother, and Hyun-ju, the guard only let you pass because of the mother’s relentless cries.

Massaging your face, you muttered, “I already went earlier with Jun-hee. The guard won’t let me pass twice.”

“They will,” Young-il said again. “Come with me.”

Before you could protest, he straightened and walked toward the middle of the dormitory’s clear area. You watched him, confused, before finally pushing yourself to follow.

“I said it’s fine,” you drawled, catching up to him. “I don’t want to deal with the guard again.”

Young-il didn’t respond. He continued toward the door to the women’s restroom, stopping in front of it and waiting for you to join him. When you finally reached his side, you sighed and said, making sure to use his ssi honorific, “Young-il, if the guard denies us, let’s just go back.”

He knocked firmly on the door. At first, there was no response, just like the last time with Jun-hee. He knocked again. After a moment, the circular window slid open, revealing the expressionless mask of a triangle guard.

“She needs to use the restroom,” Young-il said evenly. “Let her in.”

The triangle guard didn’t respond right away. Instead, he stared at you both, the silence stretching uncomfortably in the dim dormitory.

A few seconds later, the triangle guard slid the window shut without a word. Young-il turned to you and gave a small nod, a silent gesture to wait. You couldn’t hide your confusion. Why didn’t the guard deny you outright like before? You thought.

A few seconds passed, feeling much longer in the tense quiet, before the door creaked open. The triangle guard stood there, flanked by two more guards holding their guns. Young-il glanced at you, his expression calm but firm.

“Go,” he said simply. “I’ll keep watch for you.”

You hesitated for a moment, then nodded and stepped inside. As you moved past the guards, just before heading further in, Young-il’s voice came again and this time, it sounded commanding. “Guard her.”

You turned to look over your shoulder, catching the way he stared intently at the two triangle guards stationed near you. His tone carried weight, as though he wasn’t just making a request but giving an order. You furrowed your brows in mild confusion, unsure why he did that out of the blue.

One of the guards turned without a word and started walking ahead, motioning for you to follow. The second guard remained behind you, positioning themselves to ensure you were completely covered on both sides.

Perplexed, you trailed the lead guard. The door shut firmly behind you, leaving Young-il outside as the two guards guided you deeper into the women’s restroom.

After finishing your business and splashing cold water on your face at the sink, you exited the bathroom. As before, the two triangle guards flanked you, one leading and the other following closely behind. Their silent presence felt heavy, yet you felt the most protected person in this place. When you reached the dormitory, the same guard who had let you in earlier opened the door for you, stepping aside as you walked back in alone. The door clicked shut behind you, and the faint hum of the dormitory’s dim atmosphere returned.

You made your way back, spotting Young-il sitting in the only path to your group’s sleeping spot. His gaze was already fixed on you. You lowered yourself onto the spot beside him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them to make yourself comfortable.

“If I’d known the guards wouldn’t deny you bathroom access earlier, I would have woken you up,” you said, glancing at Young-il. “When Jun-hee, the mother, Hyun-ju, and I went earlier, the guards denied us entry. Twice.”

Young-il’s gaze stayed fixed on you, his expression attentive as you continued, lowering your voice, “The mother had to yell, ‘What did I do in my previous life?’ to finally make them let us in.”

A soft laugh escaped Young-il, his shoulders shaking slightly at your recount.

“At least it worked in the end,” he replied, his tone light. “But if you or the others ever need to go at times like this, wake me up. I’ll handle it.”

You offered him a small, sincere smile. “I will. Thank you.”

But then your smile faltered, and you averted your gaze. “Hopefully, this morning will be the last game. I don’t want to stay here any longer.”

Young-il nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful as he looked away. “You’re right. Let’s stay together, win again, and hope the majority votes to leave next time.”

You nodded in agreement. “I hope so too.”

The conversation tapered off, leaving a stillness between you. The air seemed thick with things unsaid between you two. It felt as though any words spoken now would either break the tension or make it worse.

You exhaled softly, stealing a glance at him. His profile was illuminated faintly by the golden glow of the piggy bank above, highlighting his composed expression. You turned your gaze back to the floor, trying to quiet your mind as the dormitory settled into its uneasy rhythm.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed him glance at you. Your gaze shifted toward him, and your eyes met. He gave you a small smile, but then his eyes briefly dropped to your lips before he quickly looked away, fixing his focus on the floor.

The silence between you stretched for a moment before he spoke. “You must be surprised.”

You raised your eyebrows. “What?”

He lifted his gaze to meet yours again. The close proximity made the exchange feel heavier, almost intimate.

“About what Gi-hun said. About my wife,” he clarified. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

Oh, this topic.

You forced a smile and shook your head lightly. “Oh, it’s fine. I kind of assumed you were married already. You’re kind and mature, so it made sense. Turns out I was right.”

Young-il’s gaze dropped to the floor, his expression unreadable. You kept your eyes on him, watching closely. His reaction told you everything you needed to know. So it was true. He has a wife waiting for him at the hospital, you thought. The confirmation solidified your earlier decision: distancing yourself from him was the right choice. It was for the best.

“She was sick,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was calm but carried a weight that made you hold your breath. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he continued, “Acute cirrhosis. She needed a liver transplant, but we found out she was pregnant.”

Your eyes widened, and your face fell as his words sank in. He kept going, his tone growing heavier. “When the doctor suggested terminating the pregnancy, she refused. She was stubborn… She wanted to have the baby, even if it meant risking her life.”

You stayed silent, letting his words wash over you, as he went on. “When her condition worsened and no donor appeared, I borrowed as much money as I could to find a solution. But it was not enough.”

You turned your gaze away, unsure what to say. His voice softened but didn’t lose its seriousness. “I was desperate. A criminal heard about my situation and offered me money. I borrowed from him. But my work found out and saw it as a bribe. They fired me. I’d devoted my whole life to that job. It was one of the few things I truly loved.”

You frowned deeply, feeling an ache in your chest for him.

“Then I was invited to a program,” he said, his voice dropping even lower. “It promised money, so I joined. I was gone for a few days. By the time I won… by the time I came back with billions, my wife was already dead.”

Your eyes widened in shock as you turned to him, struggling to process his words. That’s when you noticed his eyes, glistening with unshed tears. They never fell, but the weight of them was undeniable.

“I have no purpose in life after the death of my wife,” he continued, his voice low but steady. “I disappeared from everything I once knew. There were so many times I became angry. Angry at the world. Angry at the people who fired me. Angry at those who didn’t step up to donate a liver. Angry at myself for leaving her when she needed me the most. Angry at everything.”

The room felt heavier with every word he spoke. You listened intently, unable to look away as he continued.

“There were times I wanted to end it all,” he admitted, his tone raw with emotion. “But I knew… I knew if I did, she’d hate me for it. She’d drag me to hell herself if it meant making me pay for giving up. So I lived. Barely. I was just a husk of a man, wearing a human skin that didn’t fit anymore.”

He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Eventually, I made a choice. I decided to go back to the program that gave me those useless billions. The place where I last had purpose in life.”

The realization hit you like a crashing wave. Everything he had said suddenly clicked in your mind. You stared at him, your voice barely above a whisper. “Correct me if I’m wrong… but is that program… this game?”

Slowly, he lifted his gaze to meet yours. The tears in his eyes caught the dim light, making them shimmer as he gave a single, solemn nod.

You gawked at him, thunderstruck. The implications swirled in your head, one question louder than the rest: So he was a previous winner? Just like Gi-hun? A winner who came back to play again?

“I was a winner of this game in the year 2015,” he said, as if reading your thoughts. His voice was steady but carried a note of vulnerability. “I didn’t tell Gi-hun. I never told anyone this. I don't want to be seen as the winner or a hero. All I want is to do these games and… find the slightest bit of purpose in life.”

You swallowed hard, your chest tightening. In a soft tone, you murmured, “I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Life has a way of… pushing you into corners you didn’t even know existed.”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Still, what you’ve endured… it’s more than anyone should bear.”

His lips curved into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And yet… in these games, I found something.”

You tilted your head slightly, curiosity building in your chest. You did not have to say anything. Your need to know was palpable on your face.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he turned his gaze to you, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“A purpose,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your heart thudded against your ribs as he continued, “I thought it was impossible. That after everything I’ve been through, after losing my wife, I’d never feel it again. But now…”

He paused, and for a moment, you were certain the air between you had shifted. “I’ve found something worth protecting in this world.”

He didn’t elaborate, but the way he stared at you said more than words ever could. His gaze lingered, carrying an unspoken weight that sent warmth creeping up your neck. You opened your mouth to speak but couldn’t find the words. The realization struck you like a soft wave.

He meant you.

But then, you looked away. You didn’t want to misinterpret his kind gestures or sweet words as something deeper. If he truly meant more, you wanted him to say it outright.

“Young-il,” you began softly, your voice barely above a whisper. “If you… if you mean what I think you mean, you’d have to tell me. I can’t just assume.”

He shifted closer, his voice low but steady. “I want to take care of you… not just as a friend, but as something more.”

Your breath hitched, and you dared to meet his gaze. There was no hesitation in his eyes, only gentleness that made you turn vulnerable.

“I know,” he continued, “that this place is hell. It’s not the kind of place anyone should be finding hope. But you… you’ve brought hope. Hope that the world has given me a gift.”

You didn’t know what to say, the weight of his words settling over you like a heavy blanket. “Young-il…”

“I’m not asking for anything you’re not ready to give,” he interrupted softly. “But let me protect you. Not because we’re stuck in this place, but because… I care about you.”

His confession lingered between you, sounding heavy and raw. A part of you wanted to push him away, to insist that the circumstances were too dire for anything like this. But another part of you, the one that had felt the flutter in your chest every time he spoke to you or looked your way, wanted to believe him.

“It’s sad,” you murmured, your voice trembling slightly, “that we met in a place like this.”

His lips curved into a faint smile. “It is. But if it weren’t for this place, I would have never met you.”

You smiled, a faint blush creeping to your cheeks. “I suppose that’s one good thing about all this.”

His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he looked away. You couldn’t help but feel a quiet sense of happiness. In this moment, you were glad. Glad that he had trusted you enough to let his guard down. Glad that he had let you see the side of him he kept hidden from everyone else. Glad that he had taken off his last mask… right?

He turned his eyes back to you, holding your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. You didn’t look away, meeting his stare head-on, feeling the weight of unspoken words between you. His eyes flickered down briefly, landing on your lips. Without thinking, your gaze followed suit, lingering on his for a moment too long.

The air felt charged, the space between you shrinking without either of you moving too much. Slowly, he leaned in. You did the same, your heart pounding louder with each inch you crossed.

“Please, don’t.”

Both of you flinched, the trance broken by a muffled voice. Turning quickly, you spotted Jung-bae sprawled out on his mattress, muttering in his sleep.

“I’m sorry, Mom. I’ll stop betting on horses,” he mumbled, his face scrunched in a dream-induced grimace.

The sheer absurdity of the interruption had you stifling a laugh. Your shoulders shook with quiet amusement as you looked away.

Unbeknownst to you, Young-il’s expression darkened as he glared at the sleeping man, a mix of annoyance and disbelief flashing across his face.

Then your laughter reached his ears, breaking the tension in the most unexpected way. Young-il turned back to you, his features relaxing as a chuckle bubbled out of him.

“Talk about timing,” he said, shaking his head, his voice tinged with humor.

“Impeccable,” you replied, your grin widening as you stole another glance at Jung-bae, who remained oblivious, lost in his dreams.

The near-kiss moment replayed in your mind, your cheeks growing warmer each time the memory surfaced. You looked away, staring anywhere except Young-il. You couldn’t bring yourself to look directly at him, afraid he might notice the blush creeping up your face. The more you thought about it, the more embarrassed you became.

Without realizing it, you yawned softly, breaking your train of thought. The sleepiness hit you suddenly, but you tried to brush it off. Young-il, however, noticed immediately.

“You should go to sleep,” he said gently.

You glanced at him, flustered, and shook your head. “What? I’m not tired.”

Young-il tilted his head slightly, giving you a knowing look. “You’re not fooling anyone. You should rest. There’s no point in keeping watch if you’re barely awake.”

“I’m fine, really,” you insisted, trying to sound convincing. “I already washed my face.”

But Young-il wasn’t buying it. “Washing your face doesn’t mean you are not tired. Go rest. I’ll do it.”

You opened your mouth to argue again, but his steady gaze and calm persistence left you struggling for words.

“But… I don’t want you to cover my shift,” you murmured.

“I actually don’t want you to keep watch,” he admitted softly. “I woke you up so I could explain about my late wife. We don’t have much privacy so I thought keeping watch with you will be the perfect time to tell you.”

Before you could ask anything, Young-il reached out with his left hand and gently tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers brushing against your cheek. The simple gesture sent your heart racing, and your blush deepened. The touch was fleeting, but it left you momentarily speechless.

Feeling your resolve crumble under his gaze, you nodded shyly and crawled back to your mattress. As you pulled the blanket over yourself, you could still feel the lingering warmth of his touch. You couldn’t help but smile in delight, though you tried to hide it from him.

As soon as your head hit the pillow, a wave of exhaustion swept over you. Slowly, your eyes began to close, and the world around you blurred. This time, though, there was a warmth in your chest. A small smile formed on your lips as sleep claimed you, wrapping you in its gentle embrace.

NEXT : Chapter 10

PREV : Chapter 08

Story Masterlist

Please feel free to leave comments and feedback about my story, the characters, the "you", and practically anything! I love reading your comments, especially long ones! What do you think about you consoling Jun-hee, your talk with Gi-hun, the fact that Young-il was listening the whole time, then Young-il helped you go to the restroom. Next it was his turn to talk with you, and also about Jung-bae's impeccable timing. What do you think about these?

Leave a comment on the masterlist post to be added to the taglist.

[signanothername]

Hey, so i saw your answered asks about how you portray platonic relationships as just as deep and valuable as romantic relationships, and I just want to say I really appreciate it.

As a cupioromantic, though I do really desire a relationship like that it has only ever been because there's so much more that is societally acceptable to do with a partner than a friend. I want to hug my bestie more often, hold hands with them all the time and give them kisses. I want to say 'I love you' to them and have everyone understand that it is strictly platonic. But unfortunately that isn't how the world works. (As emphasis, I even got bullied off of reddit once pretty much because I made a post about getting a gf and everyone kept telling me that I wasn't actually aro)

I honestly don't even know what I'm saying anymore. It's not like you drawing skeletons being hyperaffectionate without sexiness or romance involved will change the world. But it has certainly changed mine. I feel more comfortable and validated in my identity than ever before. I just want to say thank you for that.

(You don't have to respond btw, I understand it might be awkward. I just really need to get this out. Sorry-)

Ah yes, the world continues to be arophopic and people being rude and making assumption about relationships that doesn’t concern them as per usual 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

Idk what’s hard about looking at two people being extremely affectionate and instead of thinking “wow they’re romantically involved” they think “wow they have a happy relationship whatever it may be”, it’s not that hard not to make assumptions and accept something as ambiguous until it’s explicitly stated

But alas, the human nature continues to not surprise me with its usual insensitivity

I’m sorry you had to endure that bullshit, you absolutely are a valid Aro and you absolutely can be in a relationship and still be Aro, never let anyone tell you otherwise <3

Not all Aros want to stay alone in a house, having a stable connection with someone, wanting to grow old with someone, isn’t inherently romantic in nature, and you can absolutely desire that stable connection and still be Aro af

But I’m genuinely glad my portrayal of these skelles made you feel validated, you deserve to feel validated <3333

Here’s some more affectionate skelles for you <333

[navybrat817]

A United Front AU Masterlist

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

AU Summary: Glimpses into the life of Bucky Barnes with you, his better half. He doesn't always believe he deserves you, but you know better. And at the end of the day you two will always be a united front.

AU Warnings: Smut, feels, slight angst, established relationship, more warnings to come.

A/N: Who wouldn't want to marry Bucky Barnes? I hope you lovelies enjoy this AU! Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

One-Shots, Ficlets, and Headcanons

🩷 - Dinner Plans

💞 - Mr. and Mrs. Barnes

💞 - Handsome and Beautiful

💞 - Knock You Down a Peg or Two

💞 - Back Off, He's Mine

💞 - On His Mind

Asks and Nonsense Ramblings

🩷 - Imaginary Ficlet - Versace on the Floor

🩷 - Who said "I love you" first?

💞 - How would Bucky handle an agent hitting on you?

💞 - Holiday Plans

🩷 = Before marriage

💞 = After marriage

Love and thanks for reading. ❤️

[randomfangirlof]

At first the reason why I gravitate to fanfics was because of curiosity of what else can happen. But, as time goes by, I've seen and learned that one of the most creative types of people write fanfics and my heart aches because they are not appreciated the way that they should be.

I used to be shy when it comes to engaging with writers (and I still am), I prefer sending private messages before than reblogging or commenting with my old account (mainly, because I am paranoid that people will judge me about my niche) however my one of my closest friends who started writing fanfics way back then and writes for a living now confided to me how much she missed the days her engagement with her readers. To be honest, one of the reasons why she started full-time writing instead is because of the low engagement as well.

So, please, please, please to all fanfic readers out there. Our fanfic writers deserve to know how much you love their work or even feedback that can help them be better in what they do.

A writer friend told me something that broke my heart a little bit today; they're going to quit publishing their fanfic.

My instant thought was that they had been trolled or attacked or that something terrible had happened in their life because this person is so passionate about their writing. It wasn't any of that. Engagement with their works has been going down, as it has for many of us. Comments are like gold dust a lot of the time, and just looking through the historical comment counts on old fics on ao3 demonstrates this trend very clearly. It was not simply the comments dropping off which caused them to decide to stop posting, however.

My friend came across a discord server for their fandom (I should point out here that their fandom interest and mine diverged a couple of years ago, we stay in touch but don't currently read each other's posts because I'm not into their fandom and they would rather gouge their eyes out with a wooden spoon than read anything Star Wars) and specifically to share fic in that fandom. They joined, because we all love a good fic rec, only to discover that their latest multichapter fic, which has almost no comments and very few kudos, is being hotly discussed in this server as one of the best stories ever. Not one of these people has bothered to say this to them on the fic. When they asked, none of participants could see the point in telling the author of the fic they apparently loved so much that they love it.

This discovery has absolutely destroyed my friend's love of sharing fic. They share because they love seeing other people's enjoyment, and fic writers do that through comments and kudos/reblogs/likes because we don't get paid. There is no literary critic writing a blog post/article about how amazing the story is for us to copy and keep/frame. There is no money from royalties. All we have are the words of the people reading our works.

Those people on that server could have taken five minutes of the time they spent gushing about how amazing my friend's story was to other people and used it to tell the one person guaranteed to want to hear that praise how much they loved it. They could have taken a moment to express their opinion to the person who spent hours upon hours plotting, writing, editing, and posting those chapters. Instead, they deprived my friend of thing that keeps them sharing their writing, and in the process have killed their love of it. My friend now feels used and unmotivated.

I won't be sharing a link to their fic, they said I could share their experience but not their identity. I know they plan to post one final chapter. I know they intend to express their hurt at being excluded from the praise for the thing they created, and I know they intend to announce that as a consequence they will not be posting for a long while, if at all.

So please, I beg you, don't hide your love of a story from the writer. It's just about the only thing we have.

[thewertsearch]

@hussianphilosopher submitted: Sally - longtime lurker, first time poster, big fan. I'm perpetually amazed by how thoughtful you are about Homestuck and how well you understand it for a first-time reader (you might be surprised how many people watch Cascade and don't actually understand that the Green Sun was just created, much less immediately put together everything Doc Scratch said and did that led up to it!). The high point of the liveblog for me was the whole arc of you being confused about how predestination in Homestuck worked, because, essentially, you had already figured out that the alpha timeline existed before the alpha timeline was introduced. You were confused about the story for a while because you understood it too well, too quickly! As someone who engages with the story similarly to you, on both the character level and the deep story/analysis level, I want to make what is a pretty contrarian argument these days: that the Epilogues are A. good, and B. canon. They're a tough read for sure, but I think someone who reads the story as deeply and pays as much attention as you do will really appreciate what they're trying to do. The Epilogues were also the last time that Hussie was directly involved with the story, and I think if you read them now it's very clear that the story is the culmination of ideas he was thinking about from very early in Homestuck (He said for years before the comic finished that he planned some kind of epilogue). The whole "dubiously canon" concept was part of a failed experiment on his part to try to step away and empower the fandom - the people who actually worked on the comic in that era always treated it as canon and referred to it as such. I consider the Epilogues the final canonical chapter of Homestuck - at a bare minimum I think it should be thought of as Hussie's take on a post-Homestuck fanfic, and I think it deserves attention. Of course I also think the story is good and interesting, which a lot of people don't, so, it's all a matter of opinion, but, as someone who's been following your liveblog and respects your reading of the comic a lot, I wanted to at least throw my hat into the ring on the subject. Incredibly excited to see what you make of act 6!

I really appreciate this honest, impassioned, genuine defense of the Epilogues. It's not the only one I've been sent, either - and quite a few of the others have also cited my analytical style as a reason why I might get more out of them than I realize. I can't pretend I'm not at least a little intrigued.

I've been thinking a lot about Homestuck's tie-in material while drafting my response to this message, and after some serious consideration, I've decided that I'm going to change my planned approach to the Epilogues.

I originally planned to read it in a more casual, less analytical manner, and potentially transition to a full liveblog if and only if I'm sufficiently engaged. Instead, however, I'm going to do the opposite, respecting the faith its defenders have in it by giving it the complete liveblogger's treatment from the very beginning.

I reserve the right to transition back to a casual read if I'm not enjoying myself, of course! But, rest assured, I'll only do that after giving the Epilogues a real, good-faith college try.

[burningembers91]

Performance of a Lifetime - Choi Su-Bong (Thanos) x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Not Who I Want to Be

The Beauty of Vulnerability

Fuscia Pink Kisses

Synopsis: On the night of a huge performance, a figure from Choi Su-Bong’s past returns, threatening to unravel everything he’d fought so hard to achieve.

A/N: oh man, I am putting our boy through hell. But I swear, it’ll all end happily for him and the Reader.

The sun was streaming through the windows of the apartment, bathing the cream walls in a golden hue. The floor to ceilings windows offered a panoramic view of the city, with views of the River Han clearly visible from the master bedroom and living room. Choi Su-Bong turned you, his stomach tied in nervous knots.

“What do you think?” He asked, taking your hand in his as he tried to gauge your reaction. “Do you like it?” He’d spent weeks trying to find the perfect place, an apartment where he could start afresh. It was so important that you liked the place as much as he did; he wanted this to be your home too, a sanctuary for the both of you.

“It’s beautiful,” you smiled, admiring way the sun glistened on the gently flowing river. You were so high up, the people on the ground looked like ants, scurrying along the pavement as they headed about their day. The apartment was huge, complete with 4 bedrooms, 3 bathrooms, a home cinema and a large kitchen. “It’s quite big, isn’t it?” You mused, wondering why he’d chosen such a huge place for just him.

“I thought maybe you could use one of the rooms,” Su-Bong smiled. “Maybe as a yoga room, or a library; whatever you want. I want this to be your home too.”

It had been 3 months since he’d told you his real name, 3 months since he bared his soul to you in a way he never had before. Life was starting to look up, and he desperately wanted to begin this new chapter with you.

“Do you mean that? Really?”

You took another look around, viewing the apartment again with different eyes. This would be your home too, the living room alone bigger than your current apartment. There was space for you to grow together, and Su-Bong had purposely picked out a place with multiple bedrooms. He hoped one day the apartment would be home to the family you made, tiny little feet pattering along the hardwood floors, maybe a pet dog who curled up on the sofa between you in the evenings.

“What do you say, Senorita?” He whispered, snaking his arms around your waist as he pulled you into his body, both of you watching the world go by down below you.

“Yes,” you smiled, reaching your hand up to touch the faded pink tips of his hair. “I’d like that very much.”

The papers were signed, and later that day you recieved the keys to your new place. Su-Bong wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve this luck, but life had taken such a huge turn since meeting you. He’d been signed to a new label, one who appreciated his new style of music. They took him seriously, really listening to his ideas and questions. He was slowly gaining a new legion of fans, ones who appreciated the softer, more mature genre of music he now made. You stood by him every step of the way, your unwavering belief in him still taking him by surprise. He’d started therapy, hoping to get to the underlying causes of his drug and alcohol issues. Some days were still tough, but he had so much to live for now; he’d be a fool to throw it away.

Su-Bong had been invited to attend an awards ceremony that night, to perform for a live crowd of 20,000, plus the audience watching from home. It would be his first concert performing sober, and as he got dressed, he struggled to zip up his jeans, his hands shaking.

“You look handsome,” you smiled, watching him from your position in the doorway. You could see he was struggling, could see that tonight was more than just a performance for him. It was the official launch of his rebrand, the first time he would be signing, not as Thanos, but as Choi Su-Bong, the man you’d fallen in love with. “Let me help you.” You helped him with his shirt, fixing his hair for him as he smiled down at you. His hands still shook, but you kept him anchored. He didn’t know what he’d do without you. You looked beautiful in that same pink dress you’d worn on your birthday, the one that brought him to his knees every time you put it on.

The venue was already swarming by the time you arrived. Cameras flashed, people screamed his name, and you held tightly onto his hand as your battled you way through the throng of paparazzi and fans. Su-Bong’s mouth was impossibly dry, his ears ringing with the screams, his eyes blinded by the flashes from the cameras. How the hell had he managed to do this before? He’d never been fazed by crowds, had relished in the chaos that came with them. The drugs had been his crutch, elevating him to a place where he didn’t feel fear and anxiety. But tonight, tonight he was terrified, the bile rising in his throat as he was shown to his dressing room. You didn’t let go of his hand as you walked, sensing his discomfort.

He wasn’t the only performer there tonight, and backstage was just as chaotic as outside. He recognised a lot of the other guests; he’d gotten high with a quite a few of them. Through the crowd, he spotted another familiar face. Someone who had clung to him for 3 years straight, always pushing a camera in his face to get a selfie to upload, always hanging around in the hopes of finding drugs and fame. Su-Bong realised with a mixture of guilt and shame that he’d never learned that man’s name, had never bothered to find out anything about him. He was clinging to another rapper now, some other poor soul whose life was dictated by a false persona. He felt the panic begin to rise, felt a tightening in his chest. Oh god, was he having a heart attack? Were all his years of substance abuse finally catching up to him? He gripped your hand tighter, clutching his chest with his free hand. You were less than 10 feet from his dressing room, he just had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

You knew something was wrong, had instantly seen the colour drain from his face. He was sweating, his skin looking almost wax-like.

“Su-Bong? What is it? What’s wrong?” You sat him down in a chair, grabbing a bottle of water and urging him to take a sip.

The room was spinning, the panic rising inside of him like a tidal wave. He couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t focus on anything properly.

“I think you’re having a panic attack,” you spoke softly. “I need you to take a sip of water and then I need you to focus on my face. Can you do that?”

Su-Bong forced himself to take a drink, to focus on your eyes, so filled with concerned.

“Take a deep breath for me,” you instructed, “and then let’s find ten things in this room that you can see.”

He forced himself to play along with what was clearly a distraction technique. He picked out a chair, a sofa, a pack of cookies among other things. He felt his heart rate slowly decrease, felt the rising sense of panic gradually ebb away. He’d never had a panic attack, had never felt so helpless and terrified in his life. It was like a really bad trip, a waking nightmare.

“Will you be ok?” you asked, as the two of you sat on the sofa, Su-Bong’s head on your chest. “If you don’t want to do this, we can go home.”

He almost said yes, almost retreated back to the safety of home, away from the cameras and the screaming fans. But he couldn’t do that. If he ran away, he’d be letting so many people down; he’d be letting himself down.

“No, I’m ok,” he assured you. “It was just, a lot of these people are from my past and it just got on top of me. I’m good though, I promise.”

He wasn’t sure how he made it out onto that stage, but somehow he did. He could see the bright pink of your dress in his peripheral vision as he sang, could see you standing backstage, mouthing along to words you knew just as well as he did. Everyone in the crowd was screaming his name, singing along to the words with you. He didn’t know why he’d been so scared, this was the greatest performance of his life.

He spun you around backstage after his set was done, smothering you in kisses as he held you close.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered to you. He’d been invited to the after party, but for once, Su-Bong wasn’t interested in partying. He wanted to unpack his furniture in his new place with you, wanted to climb into bed and hold you close. You were laughing as you made your way back to the dressing room, still on cloud 9 from the performance.

He stopped just short of the room, spying a figure standing outside the door. He hadn’t seen the man standing before him for almost 10 years, not since the night he left. He was older now, his face sagging and eyes jaundiced from years of alcohol abuse. The man in front of him, who had pushed young Su-Bong into a life of substance abuse in a desperate attempt to numb his pain, smiled at him as he approached.

“Son,” his dad smiled, holding out his arms to him. You stopped short, looking up at Su-Bong, your eyes wide.

“Dad,” was all he could say, his voice strangled and hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you son,” his dad said, head hanging in shame, although he wasn’t sure this man had ever felt shame in his life. “I need your help.”

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

AITA for wanting my crush's attention?

I'm not the asshole but everyone insists I am so here we go, I guess. So I (25M) have had a crush on my teacher (40s? M) ever since I was 14 - he's the kindest, gentlest and most intelligent man i have ever met in my life, so of course I have a crush on him (everyone does!). He's as close to perfection as anyone can get without being a deity, so elegant and poised that even just being around him is enough to make anyone's heart soar.

Don't even get me started on his looks, he's absolutely ethereal, I don't think there are enough words, least of all accurate, to describe just how his eyes glimmer, like ripples of water illuminated by the sun, the softness of his hair that puts the finest silks to shame, the radiance of his kind smile that feels not unlike the feather-like touch of a loving mother... in other words, he is the epitome of beauty. I could stare at him for the rest of my life and I would need nothing else.

Anyway, some things happened, we had a falling out (well, I was the one that fell) but that's not the point. The point is that everyone is super obsessed with him and he's paying attention to them all, and a lot too. It's crazy because these people clearly don't appreciate him like he deserves, so I don't see the point in giving them so much of his time.

This really got on my nerves a lot and I grew tired of fighting for his affection - like anyone would! So my judgement got a bit cloudy, that's normal, I felt abandoned!

To make a long story short I almost blew up the world. AITA?