#sorry if some of them r ooc

[deus-ex-mona]

i miss her…

[dovewingpkmn]

So I found Hop…

He’s okay with me talking about this, by the way. He was trying to take on two Team Yell grunts at once, and I jumped in of course! We dealt with ‘em.. and then we.. talked.

..We have a lot more in common than we realized.

AND NOW WEN’RE EVEN BETER FRIENDS :D

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ it's a gift (you keep those) ]❜

ft. logan howlett x f! reader — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ giving him a plushie that reminded you of him┊1k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: fluff, crushes, probably ooc but he’s so cute & wade is hard to write for, written for dp&w logan so idk if he got gifts in xmen, i forgot about laura, they are in touch and have a wonderful father-daughter relationship, i’m so sorry, edited

➤ author's note: i have so many thoughts but too incompetent to write

logan’s never sure who will appear when he opens the door as wade’s quite the extrovert, either vanessa or one of his many other friends whom he’s now become somewhat acquainted with, but he certainly wasn’t expecting to meet the familiar eyes of the cute neighbor who lived a few doors down. he nervously scratched the back of his head, suddenly becoming aware of his shabby appearance, “uh, are you looking for wade?”

“no, i was actually looking for you!” god, your smile is so bright, it’s blinding. he normally hates perfume of any sort as it’s so overpowering to his heightened senses, but the one that you wore smelled so lovely like always. is that a new shade of lip gloss you’re wearing? it really suits you. (why on earth is he noticing all of these details out of the blue? he needs to snap out of whatever spell you put on him after being introduced when he first showed up and only interacting in passing since then).

“looking for me?” he repeated, in disbelief, trying his best not to allow his surprise to slip into his voice. considering he isn’t from this dimension and not the most agreeable person to be around, he had no friends of his own yet and hasn’t been visited by anyone since he got here. a beat of panic struck him, thinking that he was in trouble for something and you came to complain. he really couldn’t think of any other reason you were here for him even though you were so cheerful.

you were carrying some shopping bags with you, dropping them on the ground before reaching into one and pulling out a large fuzzy plushie of a gray cat hidden under layers of glittery tissue paper, “i saw this cutie when i went shopping with my friends and thought it looked like you!” you held it out for him to take, looking so proud of the stuffed animal.

he hesitated for a second before accepting it, trying to take in the fact that you were reminded of him in your day-to-day life. it made his heart flutter, and he found himself dumbfounded by the feeling. he was frequently teased by his roomate about his little “crush” on you, claiming that it was oh so obvious and that the sooner he accepted it, the better, but he never realized until now how pathetic he was when it came to you. was the wolverine really getting butterflies like a fucking schoolgirl in his old-ass age? thank god no one was home right now to bully him about it, he would never hear the end of it.

“it does not look like me,” he scoffed playfully after a quick examination.

“no, it definitely does! it’s a big, grumpy kitty—” you took a step closer to hold it with him, pointing at all the similarities you observed, although it was clear you were exaggerating for laughs. “see the little frowny face and ears? it could be your identical twin separated from birth! willy mentioned that you act like a cat most of the time, and i think it fits perfectly!”

the smile he didn’t realize was plastered on his face faltered at the last piece of information, grateful that you didn’t notice. that idiot has been talking about him to you? he might as well forget about any chance of getting with you, because knowing how he yaps without a filter and loves to play matchmaker, you probably think he’s a freak of some sort. “only good things, i hope…”

you giggled, the sweetest sound he ever heard. “of course, he’s really fond of you… well, maybe a bit too fond, but you already know about that!” you opened your mouth to continue the conversation or say something else, but your phone started ringing and you excused yourself, looking a little shy as you grabbed up your bags. “i’ll talk to you later!” you sounded so excited about the prospect of it before leaving, your voice and footsteps becoming fainter as you walked back to your place.

“wait, you didn’t take back the cat—”

“it’s a gift! you keep those!”

“oh… right…”

he lingered for a moment, unable to say much in response since you left in such a rush. when was the last time someone gave him a present? staring at this brand new item, he still couldn’t see the resemblance in any way, but knowing that it was a gift from you gave him a rare feeling of happiness which returned every time he looked at it from then on among his few possessions. 

“oh my goodness, what is this adorable thing?!” wade exclaimed when he saw it sitting on the couch where logan slept, picking it up to gawk at before tossing it up in the air and catching it before it hit the floor. “ooh, let me guess, it’s a gift from her, isn’t it?” 

the mutant groaned at his mocking tone. “put it down before you ruin it with your grubby hands,” he commanded, snatching it from his grasp (rough enough to make his point clear, but carefully enough not to tear it apart). his roommate didn’t even bother pretending to be offended like he usually would as he was simply overjoyed that his “ship” was coming true. “it doesn’t mean anything, don’t make it weird.”

“it doesn’t mean anything?! how can you say that when it’s going to be the first gift you give to your first child together—”

“first what??”

“nevermind, what are you gonna name it?��

“i have to name it?”

“have you never owned a stuffed animal before? you have to name it! how heartbroken is she going to be when she asks what you named it and you say that you haven’t done that?! she’s gonna think that you don’t value her gifts!” you would think the world was going to end if he didn’t do so if you heard the way he was speaking.

“fine, i’ll name it…” he looked deeply into the toy’s soulless eyes, noting how soft the outer material was against his calloused hand, “... fluffy…”

“that’s such a shitty name—”

“shut the fuck up, it’s been decided.”

[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. mutual pining. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic (attacks). mentions of difficulty eating. vomit. 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

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.

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❦ 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 😭

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

[eepy-cookies]

Characters: Shadow Milk Cookie x G/N! Reader Content Warning: Angst, Hurt/Comfort Spoilers for Beast-Yeast episode 8 of the finale Disclaimer: If the characters are ooc, remember that this is made for fun. (ngl its been a while since I type a fanfic, but I am still rusty on that so bear with me, plus I found a post on twitter that SMC could also be Blue Moon Cookie but its just a guess.)

After the defeat of the jester that got away...

There was a memory in the distant past, WAY before he himself was created. Surely you have heard the tale of the first five cookies that were made before they become the beast cookies, a cookie one of the beast fell in love but...

The witches had to hide a terrible secret that if a cookie has the most missing incomplete ingredients, that said cookie is sick and cannot live until old age.

??? Cookie: "Um... Are you sure that there is a way to create a cure?"

??? Cookie: "There is a possibility I believe, as a fount of knowledge I will find the cure. But if I kindly ask"

(I remember the first meeting we have (Y/N) Cookie, it pains me to know this...)

That unfortunate cookie named (Y/N) Cookie has an incurable illness, due to the Witch's mistake, The Fount of Knowledge was desperate to find the cure for (Y/N) Cookie, the very first friend who greeted the pre-corrupted beast in a kingdom that was now long gone. One of them falls for that unfortunate cookie, their kindness, patience, and confidence they had charmed him even if he was at his lowest. He knew the pain in the future and yet, he yearned for more.

They both get along well, it was peaceful for them. He never felt any happier just being by their side, but not all happiness last much longer.

One day he was about to give (Y/N) Cookie a gift, a love letter that will never be opened and read.

???: "(Y/N) COOKIE?!" ???: "PLEASE WAKE UP!"

He stood there shocked, (Y/N) Cookie was on the floor struggling to get up. He knew (Y/N) Cookie was sick and yet their own health is getting worse by the minute, in a act of desperation he decided to look further into knowledge casting a spell on (Y/N) Cookie to keep their health in check, but as the years go by madness took hold of him and decided to cast a spell on them.

???: "My love...I am sorry...."

Madness CLEARLY took a hold of him.

Shadow Milk Cookie: "I can't afford to lose you! So I will make you as one of my puppets! Hehehe... HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

And yet...

Tears fell from his face, he drops down to his knees leaning closer to them.

He can't do it.

He can't harm the one he love dearly.

Leaving only behind a kiss on the forehead, and the unread love letter in their hands. He casted the spell that would last much longer in hopes to find a cure while he is away. After all he will just lie to himself that he killed them, it's no big deal.

----

Pure Vanilla Cookie: This must be the place.

Wizard Cookie: A coffin? Why this place?

Gingerbrave Cookie: !!! Look a cookie is inside!

Strawberry Cookie: Are they...still breathing?!

Pure Vanilla Cookie watch as the sleeping (Y/N) remained in the coffin, sleeping peacefully. To which he now understands why Shadow Milk Cookie was trying to preserve some of his energy, casting a life lasting spell was taking a toll on him even if he was sealed.

Pure Vanilla Cookie: I hope this spell allowed you to wake up...

With no other explanation another spell was casted, pure healing magic was casting on (Y/N) Cookie. Pure Vanilla Cookie witnessed this tragic memory, and yet he had to secretly admit, he is evil but his capability of magic was greater far from what he had imagined.

But all that's left was silence, and yet...

Everyone: !!!

??? Cookie: ...W....Wh....

Gingerbrave Cookie: Look their awake!

Pure Vanilla Cookie: (Y/N) Cookie..... are you awake?

(Y/N) Cookie: ...H...hung.....r..y...

Strawberry Cookie quickly pull out an extra supply of royal bear jellies and gently feed (Y/N) Cookie as the others watch in concern. In the corner of Pure Vanilla Cookie's soul jam they aren't the only ones who witness a miracle that was tragic yet so real.

---

Arriving at a safe in (Y/N) Cookie was put on a wheel chair carefully eating the jelly soup one of the cookies made, they themselves were confused knowing that they would pass on and yet here they are somehow alive, still sick but still living, as if someone was carrying the burden off from their shoulders.

(Y/N) Cookie looked at the letter that they kept and had not opened and kept it close to them at all times. They need to know what happen, what year is it, and most importantly...where are their only friends?

...

..

.

That night when everyone is asleep, (Y/N) Cookie wheeled their way to the balcony watching the stars holding the letter close to their chest. Wondering where did their friend go, glancing at the letter that was remained fresh despite how many years has passed. They opened the letter carefully just to give it a read.

But before they can actually read it...

??? Cookie: ...(Y../N) Cookie?"

That recognizable voice from behind, (Y/N) Cookie looked to see that what was once the one they knew was in a different appearance of a jester. They were supposed to feel fear and yet...

(Y/N) Cookie: ...Are...you.... Blue Moon / Blueberry Milk Cookie?

He walked closer to see if they are actually alive, (Y/N) is still sick but cannot walk properly. Their hands reached out to him, gently touching his cheek. His face was unreadable and yet...

Shadow Milk Cookie: Are you....awake? (Y/N) Cookie?

There was no voice is mischief or anything, just pure vulnerable voice he has left of them. (Y/N) Cookie nodded as he kneel on the ground gently yet carefully hugging (Y/N) Cookie hiding his face to their chest. (Y/N) Cookie gently hugged him back remembering the usual scent that they personally love.

His own body shaking which (Y/N) was crying in turn, wondering to themselves what happened to him when they are asleep for SO very long?

[iqxatlantic]

heyyyy love your fics <333

can you do sugar daddy Kaiser who's always been rude and rough with reader but one day when he realises he's falling in love with them he's really gentle, asking how they feel and praising them? if possible can you do fluff along with nsfw???

ahh hii anon!! thank uu i appreciate ur words <33 anywayss i love the plot ohh gosh ygs r so creative omg

"And all I wanna do is stay with HER"

ft. michael kaiser . sugar daddy! kaiser . ooc! kaiser lol... . ness is in the story omg! . is ness ooc! too... . yes ness is ooc asw . character development.? . eventual smut . sex gulp... . piv ! . afab! reader . mistreated! reader ... . fluff asw . unreliable narrator

wc: 1.0k

"she's annoying." kaiser grumbled, taking a sip of wine. ness looked at him, "[name] cares about you that's why." the magician tried to lighten the mood. clearly, it didn't work.

"she just wants fucking money." he retorted. ness frowned, "can't you look at it in a positive way.? at least she's trying. take a look at all the others you've had."

that sentence had kaiser reflecting for a bit. "huh. i suppose you have a point for once, ness." the prodigy felt himself get a little flushed. "you're treating her so rough, how often does she even ask for money.?" ness continued. "don't be so harsh man! she's trying..."

the emperor tsked. "if she's so 'perfect' you take her then." he grumbled. jeez this guy is really helpless man... ness looked at kaiser disgusted for the first time.

"keep acting like that and she's bound to become who you think she really is." ness thought as he picked himself up and left kaiser to his thoughts.

later within the night, kaiser found himself scrolling through your photos after sending you some money (oh need that.) it hit him you were gorgeous. pretty face with a kind heart.. he was going to go insane.

the more he scrolled the more he admired your beauty. you radiated an aura that he just couldn't place his finger on. perfection was a word too vague to describe it.

shaking his head, he set his phone down. hands on his head, he was wondering. what the literal hell was he doing.? all he's ever done was treat you like shit because he had such horrendous experiences with others.

i mean, you were like the others. you were just there for the money... and attention i guess. but there was something more to it. he was just to blind to see it. (tf r ur glasses for mihya bro.)

it was late — hella late. 2:32 A.M.? there's no way you'd come over right? so what the heck were you doing at his door in a matter of moments?

kaiser opened his door, surprised. "you — you actually came?" he asked, somewhat in disbelief. "i'm right here aren't i, dumbass.. plus you called." you shrugged.

the satin on the bed somewhat wrinkled as the both of you sat down. "um, so why'd you want me to come ove-" you were quickly interrupted by an apology. "[name], liebling. i'm sorry. i'm sorry for my behaviour, how i treated you. scheiße, i'm so fuckin' sorry."

he held your visibly smaller and softer hands. his hands feeling quite the opposite. you were kinda a dumbass, "wha — michael huh...?" you shook your head giggling, "what are you apologizing for?"

his gorgeous blue eyes stared into yours. "don't act coy with me, [name]. you don't need to forgive me. i'll do whatever for your forgiveness. please. do you want more money? gifts.? flowers..? wha.. god. what do you want?!" kaiser asked desperately.

you looked at him with a deadpan expression. god, has this man ever been treated alright.? "mihya, i don't really want anything. yea i mean i love money i mean — who doesn't love money. but i'm not here solely because of money." you sighed.

"yes, you have money is definitely a positive trait but, you have more to it. money isn't the only thing that makes you lovable." you continued to ramble. his hands released yours. you were caught in his embrace.

"mihya.?" you whispered. kaiser knew how scary it was to love someone. the amount of devotion you must give. the time and effort. one wrong move? it could all crumble.

his embrace got tighter, you were tensing a little bit up. was he gonna beat you like what the heck is goin' on?! he knew you were always running away from love, 'cause your daddy never gave you enough :((

hey, same for him as well, no? "meine liebe." kaiser breathed, "let's try again together. i'm done with the 'you deserve better' bullshit. i have the choice to be better and i'm taking it."

he loosened his embrace on you, hands on your shoulders. you met his gaze. all it could scream was blue of desperation. not going to even lie, most dedication you've seen in your whole life.

you were still skeptical — hell, i can't blame you! you've been mistreated all the time by partners, getting taken advantage of... what change is this rich and attractive man going to do? he has the money, the women ugh... thinking about it made your head hurt.

"what do you say, liebling. let me show you.?" he leaned in, mumbling into your ear. hah! as if you'd believe what he said and give him a chance.

kaiser would be lying if he said he didn't regret making up with you earlier. he'd be lying if he said he didn't miss you. hell! every bit of fiber within him missed you! his lips on yours, oh gosh. he's going crazy. :c

a little while after what was supposed to be a sweet make out, he found himself aligning his tip to your slit. you had glossy eyes as you stared back up at him. he had you pinned onto the bed...

"are you sure?" he asked stroking your stomach, his hands then tracing your curves. "fuu-uck. you're perfect." he mumbled. you nodded in response.

as he buried his length into your warmth he swore he got sent to heaven. "sh-shit.. scheißescheißescheiße...! please you're made for me..." he continued, his lips once more pressed onto yours.

nah, at this point his cock was stretching your opening... it hurt. kaiser broke off the kiss as he groaned, "you take me so damn well.. i'm sorry for being so horrid to you."

you were practically crying, was it cause the sex was good? cause of kaiser? you didn't know! "m-hya.." you sobbed out so sweetly. it was kaiser's last straw.

your walls were sucking his member in man..! how could he not..? your noises could kill him oh gosh! one last thrust and his length was kissing your womb :c "i'm sorry meine liebe, i-" the emperor didn't even get to finish his sentence as he finished in you <3

he pulled out just to push his fingers back in. admiring your form and expression. maaaan, kaiser couldn't ask for a better girl >< dawn came, so did kaiser, 'cept he n you came multiple times :3 kaiser could make it better. all he needed was just one more day with ya.

— ©iqxatlantic / isaisliterallyhim, 2025

tags !! : @twijaxx ♡, @kyvkc

a/n: hey guys.. hey anon.. guess who's finally back heh... my writers block actually fried me so bad its diabolical man.. yes i lost motivation half way along w the plot tbf i had this in my drafts for 2 weeks or smth... i'm so sorry if this wasn't what y'all wanted ill cook for the future ones ;-; not proofread btw good GAWDDDD if kaiser was my sugar daddy man.. money and hes hot YES PLSS (no im nawt shallow but tuition fees are booty bro yall cant blame me.) yes this is all yap ALL MY NOTES ARE YAP OK </3 but um.. yay ilygs a lot mwa mwa <3

[yzashaven]

2023 KINKTOBER︰10﹒01 / 10﹒02

꒰ —♡ B R E E D I N G ﹒ PART 2 ꒱

EVENT MASTERLIST !

FEATURING ! childe, tighnari, gorou, wriothesley x fem!reader

WARNINGS ! ofc breeding!!, "accidental" use of aphrodisiac, mating press, use of handcuffs, bottom-not-so-bottom gorou, ooc idk

NOTE ! yza posting late again... SORRY LOVE YOU GUYSSS i've been trying to balance my sleep sched with school so i've been doing and resting okay lately! ANDDD THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD...... also short.... anyway

event taglist— @yukiitaooo @scara6 @peakalatus @kanaedd @returningluv @im-the-ruler-here @scarafixation @kateybuggi @hanni7 @asimpforpeople @ju1yyyzzz @saturnsapothecary @alexiassleeping @cheeze-noo @supercoolusernameomg @shining_dhei @uchihaeirin @black-rxse @3herri-berri @anon-eu @gojoswife201 @abeitriz @chlebek1 @mechanical-lily @breadybuu @dawning-bliss @poisonedmoonl1ght @scaraismybbgreal @nothingfuninthislife @hellithides @eunchaeluvr @doumastip @pandash @cuntz0ne @zomzomb1e @bitchylillyrose @apocalypticchimera @wolfiafan10 @zxdksimpo @kikosaidbye

—CHILDE

oh, him? another family oriented man, of course daily breeding is a must!! he is straight up addicted to the feeling of your walls surrounding his cock, and when you're cumming? even better.

"just a little bit more, baby~" childe says for the umpteenth time; it seems like he's just making up excuses now to keep releasing ropes of his cum inside your cunt, making you whimper at how sore your body is from the overwhelming amount of pleasure being given to you by him. his body weight holding you down in a tight mating press on his luxurious bed, "feels good, yeah?" he continues his merciless and rough pace, snapping his hips against yours in the perfect rhythm. "you need more, don't you? tell me how bad you need me to fuck you senseless—to breed you full of my seed~"

—TIGHNARI

experiment purposes... and maybe also for pleasure. an experiment including breeding and pushing your limits with the addition of a few drug testing as well to see the possible side effects of a few herbs he's using to create a new medicine. don't mind if i include some overstimulation here too <3

"this is okay, yes?" tighnari's fingers thrust in and out of you at a slow pace, creating a wet sound with each movement due to his cum that was deep inside your pussy, mixing with your own, prior to the encounter from earlier. "still aroused, huh? that drug seems to be a rather strong aphrodisiac then, hehe~" you whine from all the built up pleasure as the sensitivity of your body increases with each passing contact you have with one another. he then abruptly pushes back deep inside you, letting the fluids overflow from the sides, coating his cock in the sticky, white liquid, "let me help you sooth yourself~"

—GOROU

hear me out when i say that he's already extremely sensitive after a few rounds, and by that i mean around 3 or 4 rounds, and it'll take less time to reach that point when you focus on his ears or tail throughout the session :3 btw you're on top for this one but not the one in charge

"d-don't... sensitive..." gorou whimpers softly as your fingers tangle themselves in his hair, ever so often making contact with his ears that twitched slightly upon feeling the warmth of your touch. his hands grab onto your hips and guide you up and down his length, "oh, already so full~" he comments upon seeing how your thighs had your mixed fluids of arousal dripping down them; he then flips you over, laying you down with your legs spread wide just for him as he began to thrust deep and relentlessly, "god—you feel amazing, and you look so damn pretty... all for me~"

—WRIOTHESLEY

handcuffs. yes. he is just so in love with the idea of having you completely at his mercy below him as he breeds you full of his seed, with no choice but to take all that he has to give you. slightly rough wrio !! <3

"fuck, fuck...!" wriothesley curses as he empties out yet another load inside your pussy, the 5th creampie and counting. you weakly moan under him as your body spasms a bit due to how used your body was after hours of continuous fucking. "gotta make sure i breed you right~" he says and slams back inside you, earning a loud whine to leave your lips as you tug on the thin metal that restrained your hands just above your head, "just a few more, alright? shit—your cunt just feels too addictive not to fill up~"

[jinxsequin]

hiii!!! was wondering if you could write like a modern!au w powder/jinx, maybe them in uni?

ALIGHT ✧.*ೃ

| modern au!powder x fem!reader

| wc: 6.5k

| content/warnings: uni/college au, men dni, brief mention of violence (?) unintentional, fluff, kissing, mentions of anxiety & alcohol, maybe ooc powder, slightly weirdly paced writing, caitvi mentioned (couldn't help myself sorry), reader referred to as a girl, no mention of y/n, r & powder are both losers <3

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Begrudgingly trekking down to the floors of the flat to escape the deafening sounds of the fire alarm, you joined the others on the field who had actually bothered getting out in the dead of the night for what was definitely the 5th practice alarm of the month. You’d almost not given in, the warmth your blankets had provided you too precious to lose. But the blaring of the alarm was unforgiving, and despite your efforts to block it out, the damage had been done - you were awake. 

You stumbled clumsily onto the field, slippers being your swift choice of footwear was beginning to prove ineffective. The mix of people murmuring in the dark,  complaining, some yawning hit your ears as you struggled to navigate the crowd of bodies. The field being pitch black wasn’t helping, but right as that thought had passed through your head, the blazing rays of a torchlight rendered you blind, the sight actually leaving your eyes for a solid minute. “Hey!,” you croaked out, squinting through the pain to see where it had come from. The culprit jumped in surprise, torch flying out of their hands and hitting the same affected eye with a whack. “OUCH,” was all you were able to yell, a hand instinctively clutched over the affected eye. As if the aching from the first incident hadn’t been enough, the throbbing pain pulsating in your eye now made you sure you were going to wake up with a nasty bruise.

“Oh fuck, I’m SO sorry, oh my god,” the voice of the offender rambled out, hands coming up to your shoulders in panic. Though the pain hadn’t subsided yet, you moved your hands from your eyes, opening them curiously to catch a glimpse of the owner of the voice. Your breath caught in your throat. Bright blue eyes flicked over your face, rosy lips turned down into a concerned frown. Choppy tresses the same colour as her alluring eyes, save for a singular pink streak, framed her freckled face. She was so breathtaking, the predicament you had found yourself in was slowly being forgotten.

“Hello, are you good? Do you need medical help?? Oh god, what have I done?” the panicked rambling forced you back to reality. 

“I’m-It’s fine. It was an accident,” you managed to huff out, her hands sliding away from your shoulder as she stepped back. Her gaze still ran over your face, thoroughly examining you with a guilt-ridden expression. Your right eye was still burning with pain, but you couldn’t even really be that mad at a face like that. Though, you did make a mental note not to ever bother acting accordingly with the fire drill again - leaving your bed had only caused an embarrassing interaction with a very attractive woman. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” The girl wasn’t letting go easily, eyebrows drawn in concern as she observed you trying to play it off, admittedly failing. You wished the ground would just open up and swallow you, this whole spectacle reducing you to a mumbling mess.  

“I’m fine,” you forced yourself to speak with a cheer to your voice, facing the girl with a smile you prayed to whatever powers were listening was normal. “Look, doesn’t even hurt anymore,” you pulled your hand away from your face, instantly mentally facepalming for your choice of unconvincing words. The girl raised an eyebrow in incredulity, but nodded reluctantly. “I’m so, so sorry, again.” 

You chose not to speak, opting for a shake of your head and a tiny smile. As if the gods above had decided your suffering was finally enough, the guards of the building had given the green light, announcing it was safe for everyone to finally go back in. You sighed in relief, shuffling as quickly as you could to get back into your bed and pretend this was just a dream. 

Alas, your wish wasn’t granted - when you got in the elevator packed with several other people, who should at the last second sliver through the metal doors but the same blue-haired charmer from before. Her eyes briefly flashed in recognition as she took her spot besides you. Not daring to look, you watched out of the corner of your eye as she looked you up and down, a small smirk on her lips at your bear-covered pyjamas. You closed your eyes abruptly, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively. Your cheeks burned, and you swore you heard a faint giggle from her as she caught sight of it. Motherfucker. 

As soon as the elevator dinged, you hurried out, your room suddenly not being close enough. You finally reached it, hastily pulling your keys out to unlock the door. 

“Oh hey, would you look at that,” the voice spoke cheerfully. You whipped around to meet the mischievous eyes of the girl standing in front of the room right across from you. “Looks like we’re neighbours, pretty girl!”

Your eyes widened at the boldness of the nickname. “Goodnight,” you uttered simply, pretending to ignore her taunting chuckle in response as you turned around and slammed the door behind you. You crashed onto the bed, throwing off your slippers and burrowing your head in the pillow. That was definitely a dream. 

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

It was most definitely not a dream. The morning after, the remnants of the impact ached, but for the most part you were unscathed. You shook off any distracting thoughts of the girl from last night, setting about having a productive day catching up with university work you’d been procrastinating. It was nearing the end of the afternoon when the knock came on your door. You looked up from your laptop screen, scanning your phone for any texts. None, and when any of your friends came over they always dropped a text beforehand to let you know. Your hands found your temples, massaging to alleviate the aching. Maybe attempting to study with the pain wasn’t the best idea, you thought as you stared hard at the door, as if willing hard enough would make the person behind it go away. It wouldn't - they knocked twice again, slightly louder this time. You sighed in relent and crossed the room, opening the door to whoever was behind. 

And who else was it but the girl who’d plagued your thoughts all night. “You,” you breathed out, staring in surprise. You hadn’t meant to sound so contemptuous, regretting it when the girl’s confident gaze faltered for a second. She quickly recovered, holding up a plate. “Hi. I made cupcakes,” she grinned, gaze steadily scanning your face. 

You stood back, wordlessly inviting her in, not knowing what else to do. She looked around for a place to put them, deciding your desk would do. She turned back to you watching her actions curiously, then moved towards you quickly. You barely held in your yelp of surprise as her cool hands came up to your face, fingers running under the skin underneath your eye. Your eyes fixed on her concentrated gaze, struggling to get any protest out, the proximity striking you dumb. “What are you doing…” you finally stumbled out, voice just a tone above a light whisper. She stepped back abruptly, hands dropping to her sides as she smiled nervously. “Thank god, toots, no damage done. How are you feeling?” 

Your hand briefly ghosted over where her hands had just been. You’d already thoroughly examined the injured area in the mirror the moment you’d woken up, thankfully no mark had been left somehow. You shot her a look as she flopped down onto your bed, looking up at you expectedly. Resigning, you joined her on your bed, facing her. 

“I’m completely fine,” your gaze flicked over to the sweet treat she’d set down on your desk, “thanks for the cupcakes though, you didn’t have to do all that,” replying genuinely. She smiled amusedly, waving a hand as if it was nothing. “Consider it an apology.” You returned her smile, the thoughtful gesture was a complete contradiction of her feigned nonchalance. 

“So what’s all this,” she was holding a page of your dog-eared meticulously taken notes, trying to make out the words scribbled across it. 

You rolled your eyes at her antics, “well I was studying.”

“Oh! What do you study?”

“Psychology,” you answered, shuffling the notes out of her reach, all plans of studying disturbed. “You?”

“Mechanical engineering. Different worlds then, huh?” she mused amusedly, shifting her position so she sat with her shoulder to yours. 

“You could say that,” you replied, still not adjusted to how comfortable she had made herself next to you. The wildly different degrees and schedules answered your question of how you’d never seen her around despite how close she lived. But here she was, dropping into your room like you were best friends, and with cupcakes - not that you were ungrateful, just completely stumped.

She watched you closely, puffing her cheeks and blowing the air out as she figured out her next proposal. “So….what are we doing this evening?”

“We???” you shot back, though your lips curled up despite yourself. 

“Yes, we,” she rolled her eyes lightheartedly, getting off your bed and walking backwards towards the door, “be ready in 15 minutes. Gonna show you the best sight you’ve ever laid your pretty eyes on,” she sang out. 

“I don’t even know your name!” you called out. 

“It’s Powder!” her voice laughed back, voice fading as the door swung shut. You barely had time to process what had just occurred before you remembered the time limit she’d given you, pulling yourself to hurriedly get ready.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Ever since the day Powder had, by definition, dropped into your life, you’d become immeasurably close. Despite your slightly rocky start, from the night she’d shown you the hidden rooftop where you could observe the city’s twinkling lights for miles, you’d grown a bond that was undoubtedly unbreakable. 

Of course, it wasn’t immediate. Though you’d absolutely taken a liking to Powder, perhaps even from the moment she’d hit that torch over your eye - putting yourself out there wasn’t really a thing for you. You much preferred to stick to your own small circle of friends, the familiarity calming your nerves. But then Powder had come along, the very picture of candidness, spontaneity and openness - everything so unfamiliar it surprised you how much you craved more when you were apart. Though Powder was never away for too long. 

Thinking back to the first evening you’d hung out, how she had her head thrown back, laughing at something insignificant you’d said. Calming down and nudging your shoulder with hers, so casually throwing out “I think we’re going to be good friends, you know,” watching you as you stared back at her, smiling softly. She’d been so playful the entire evening, wary of your resistance, but you truly felt the genuinity her words conveyed for the first time that night and it set your body alight, enveloping your body in that warm fuzzy feeling you constantly seeked in her absence. If only she knew how open your heart had been towards her from the beginning, regardless of your anxious demeanour. 

You could barely remember a memory from the past six months that didn’t include her somehow, it was as if she’d become entwined with your very being. Library visits, movie nights, exploring a new place in town, concerts, occasional parties, everything was done with you by her side. Contrary to before, you found yourself saying yes to things that you’re sure would have astonished past you. Of course, she never pushed you to do things entirely out of your comfort zone, much preferring cuddling at your side staying in if the two of you weren’t up to something particularly adventurous. Powder was your greatest weakness, it was increasingly hard to do anything but agree with her. And your massive crush on her certainly didn’t ease that impulse. You’d, of course, been aware of that from the moment you laid eyes on her. Many times, you’d fallen victim to the false belief that it didn’t exist anymore, then she simply lean into your personal space with her charming grin and the truth would come crashing down on you once again. You’d reached a point of acceptance now, convincing yourself you were content with how things were. Admittedly, though you’d definitely consider each other your best friends respectively, somewhere the line between friendship and the unknown had become fuddled, and you were currently residing in the limbo that was characterised by fleeting, uncertain tension.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

Powder lay sprawled out across your head, tossing something - likely one of your poor calico critters - in her hands, throwing it into the air and catching it repeatedly as you worked away at your desk. Summer break closely approaching unfortunately meant an influx of exams, and though Powder had already finished all of hers, you still had one left, the timing particularly cruel as the start of the holidays were only 2 days away, simmering on the horizon.

“When will you be done? I’m getting boooored over here with no attention,” she drawed the words out, haphazardly opening your bedside drawers. 

“The same answer you got when you asked last, you big baby,” you replied, flipping through your textbook. 

“Wrong answer!” Mimicking an incorrect buzzer sound. “C’mon, trinket, you’ve been studying for this one for weeks now. How about you give that brain of yours the rest it deserves?” She remarked, glancing at the back of your head as you exhaled softly. “And I mean that shit, you’ve been muttering study notes in your sleep.”

“I have absolutely not,” you turned around in your chair abruptly, wide-eyed. Powder simply raised an eyebrow in response, teasing grin on her face, and you turned back round, resting your forehead on your hands.

“Okay, you’re right,” you spoke, your voice muffled. “One more page.” Powder huffed at that, but counted it as a win ultimately. 

“Also, I’ve witnessed you, with my own two eyes, do chemistry problems for fun, I don’t wanna hear it,” you teased back, straightening up in your seat. 

“Touché, toots.” She closed the drawer, glancing around the bedroom she’d grown accustomed to curiously, before sitting up and staring at the back of your head again.

“Why haven’t you packed up? Leaving it to the last minute doesn’t sound very much like you,” she asked, face scrunched up in confusion. 

You paused in your seat at that, pen frozen in its place. You didn’t dare turn around for fear of being read instantly, a power Powder had annoyingly acquired very early on into your friendship.

“I’m not going home,” you simply replied, picking up your pen again and hovering it over the page, though your train of thoughts had long dissipated. 

Powder’s question as to why stopped in her throat, the memory of you mentioning your complicated family situation flashing quickly through her head. She simply nodded though your back was still turned, tinged with guilt at bringing up bad memories for you unintentionally. 

“Well, there’s one big final party tomorrow, the night after your exam,” she spoke up again after a few beats of silence, the question hanging in the air.

You turned around to face her, your turn to raise an eyebrow at her lightheartedly.

“Way to end this year with a bang?” she practically pleaded, “I live all the way across the country, this’ll probably be the last thing we do before we come back for next year.”

The thought hadn’t even had the chance to cross your head before this, and hearing it now from her made something in your chest twist a little. The next few months without being attached to Powder at the hip were going to be surreal to say the least, a wave of the imminent loneliness crashing over you as you sat before her now. You managed a small smile, meeting her anticipating gaze. “Sure, Pow.” 

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

To say parties were not your forte was an understatement, but the buzz of the shot you’d taken 10 minutes ago was starting to hit you now as you downed another. Powder had been swept into conversation with a few friends that greeted you cheerfully and roped you into their chat, very familiar with you at this point, but the lack of alcohol in your system was beginning to make you doubtful about being here in the first place. So you’d slithered away, making your way into the kitchen, taking in the surroundings, people packed into every corner, the bass of the music matching the beat of your heart, the bloodstream running through your veins. 

“Sulking in a corner so early in? Can’t have that, toots, can we?” came Powder’s voice, a lilt in her tone as she wrapped an arm around your shoulder, bringing her face close to yours so you’d hear her over all the noise.

“Are you forgetting I sat an exam this very morning, and still made it here?” you remarked playfully. 

“Oh shit, yeah,” Powder’s expression quickly turned serious, concern flickering over her face though your words had been lighthearted. She hadn’t had a chance to ask about it, getting ready before arriving had only consisted of excited chatter. “How did that go?” 

You shook your head in response, “let’s not,” you whined lightly.

“My brave soldier. I’m proud of you,” Powder’s grin reached her eyes. You made a face at her words though the giggle escaping your throat betrayed you as you picked up a third shot. Powder’s eyes widened slightly. 

“And tipsy already, without me???” she said mock-exasperatedly.

You shrugged slightly. She was exaggerating, she’d taken a couple when you’d first arrived, but the effect hit you a lot sooner than it did her. 

“You were pretty busy over there,” you opted for, and raised the glass to your lips. Powder’s eyes dropped to your mouth for a second before swiftly taking the glass out of your grip, holding it to her own lips and tipping her head back slightly as she drained the glass. That fuzzy feeling intensified as you watched in awe, eyes unblinking as the heat of her shoulder wrapped around you suddenly became too much to bear. 

“Dance?” She abruptly asked, a hint of a light smirk on her lips.

“Dance?” you quizzed back, incredulously, though that glint in her blue eyes told you she was serious, determined to get her way. 

“Oh come on, you won’t refuse me a dance will you, when we’ll be apart for so long,” she replied, a hand draped against her forehead dramatically.

“It’s not like we’re going off to war, Powder,” you shook her head at her antics, smiling widely. 

Powder snorted at your response, before wrapping her hand around yours, squeezing tightly as she led you through the packed crowds of people dancing wildly. 

Settling in your own space, she danced freely, the movements coming to her naturally as just about everything else did, in your eyes at least. You followed her movements, though the combination of alcohol and the heat from the close bodies was slowing you down significantly. The bleary feeling increased as the two of you continued, your head fuzzy from the shots and the loud bass music blaring through the speakers, Powder moving dangerously nearer. Somewhere in the haze, some emotional switch was turned on in your body, your heart twisting and writhing in your chest at the mere thought of being apart from her for just a second. How on earth would you survive months without her? Your movements slowed down to almost a halt as you were caught in a trance, watching as her blue tresses slipped free from her half pinned hairstyle, cheeks flushed, the signature charming grin spreading across her face as she wrapped her arms across your shoulders, pulling you into her. 

The sudden contact broke you out of your haze, nervously chewing at your lower lip as your gaze ran over Powder’s suddenly very fixated stare. Her eyes dropped down to your lips at your involuntary action, staying there for a beat before they looked up to meet yours, though you were mirroring her action, glancing at her rosy lips before darting up to meet her questioning eyes. She held your gaze for what seemed like a painstakingly long amount of time, wordlessly searching for an answer before you nodded desperately. You met her halfway as she closed the distance, pressing her lips to yours in a kiss that seemed to speak a thousand unsaid words. You reciprocated immediately, any previous expectation of this moment crumbling away beyond comparison as she tightened her grip on the back of your head, pushing you even deeper into her embrace. When you eventually parted, her eyes immediately met yours, attempting to read you but you wrapped your arms around her hastily, deciding the vulnerability was too much, hiding your face in her shoulder. She held you tighter, the touch a middle ground between intense and tender, all thoughts of the implications and consequences melting away. The way she was holding you made such things feel so insignificant, as if nothing mattered outside of where you were right now.

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

The coloured scenes of Fantastic Mr. Fox reflected off the white walls of Powder’s bedroom as you fixed your gaze on the screen of the TV, currently pressed into her side as her arm lay casually across your shoulders, fingers occasionally lightly tapping your arm, betraying her current nerves. It was the day after the party, and though what had occurred hadn’t been brought up by either of you, the weight of it lingered like a brewing thunderstorm after a heatwave. When you'd got the text from Powder asking you to swing by, you'd paced your bedroom several times, worried that the topic would be what had transpired the night before. It wasn't, she had just asked because it was the last night she'd be here, set to leave early the next morning. The air was still charged, you’d both somehow silently agreed to not acknowledge it, you personally attributing a lot of it to the fact that today was the last day before summer break. The bags and half packed suitcase strewn across the floor of the room was a constant reminder of what was looming on the horizon, but you tried your best to ignore the surge of emotion and focus on right now, the feeling of Powder’s arm around you. You felt sick at the thought that no matter how much you both pretended nothing happened, or that it was a drunken, spontaneous action not holding any meaning, that blurry line of your connection had spiralled out of control, and that nothing would ever be quite the same.

The sound of Powder calling your name broke you out of your brain spiral, focusing your attention back on to the movie playing. You hummed in response, assuming it was another observational comment on the movie. 

“Come with me.” You whipped your head away from the screen and turned to Powder, finding her already staring at you, eyes wide with her objective. “Come home with me,” she repeated when you stared in silence.

“Pow, what do you mean? I can’t do-”

“I’ve already talked about it to my family. I don't want you to be here alone for the rest of the holidays,” she quickly cut you off, rambling. 

“You don’t need to pity me, and I don’t want to be a burden,” you replied, heart in your throat. 

Powder shook her head, eyebrows furrowed together. “You’re not a burden,” she replied firmly, “and it’s not pitying. I want you to come home with me.”

The words caught in your throat at her response, the surge of sentiment washing over you at her sheer generosity. “Thank you, Powder. I appreciate this, so much,” you settled, smiling softly though anxiously hoping at the same time she understood how genuine your thankfulness to her was.

Powder breathed out as if in relief, before shooting you a small smile. “I’m so glad.” She paused, laughing at something in her head. “I am gonna have to warn you about my sister though…”

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

The drive back to Powder’s hometown had been pleasant, though long. The music from the stereo played quietly throughout, sometimes you’d pass conversation back and forth but for the most part you watched your surroundings or slept, absolutely exhausted from having stayed up the entire night before, hurriedly packing your things and making rearrangements.

“It’s like you’re moving in,” Powder had remarked teasingly when she saw the amount of stuff you’d packed. 

“It’s called being prepared, we don’t all live as spontaneously as you,” you’d retorted back lightheartedly, while she began loading the bags into the car, insisting she could do it all by herself.

The nerves that had been building along the journey melted away the moment you’d stepped into the home. Vander, Powder’s adoptive dad, had hugged her immediately upon sight as she yelped playfully, her coat not even fully removed. “You’ve gotten taller since I’ve seen you kid,” he jested when he stepped back.

“It’s always the same joke with you every time, old man,” she’d quipped back, biting back the laugh as her gaze shifted to you at the side watching the interaction fondly.  A nervous expression flashed across her face briefly before she took the chance to introduce you.

“It’s nice to finally meet you,” you finally spoke up, smiling. Vander paused for a second before copying the same action from before, hugging you too. 

“Nice to meet you too, kid.” He tapped your shoulder, smiling. “Heard a lot about ya.”

You finally felt at peace, all worrying thoughts of somehow making a bad impression vanishing the longer you conversed with Vander and Silco, who had joined the three of you for dinner in honour of Powder’s return for the summer break. The best part was being able to watch Powder so at home with them, alternating between serious conversation and jesting. She was so loved and content, the warmth spreading and seeping into your bones, that fuzzy feeling making you feel fulfilled again. 

Once the post-dinner spectacles were over and the exhaustion began to take over, Powder had showed you up to the bedroom you would become familiar with over the break. You were currently going over the funniest moments of the evening, stifling your giggles in fear of waking anyone up as you entered the room. 

“Well, it is a pretty ridiculous story after all,” you laughed as Powder flopped onto the bed, tossing a monkey plushie off the side as she patted the space beside her, beckoning you. You were referring to Silco’s reaction when you were recalling the story of how you’d met and befriended each other, Vander shaking with laughter despite seemingly having heard the story already.

“I think it’s actually more ridiculous how quickly you let it go, actually,” she retaliated. 

“I wasn’t going to,” you replied, playfully punching her shoulder, “I just got…distracted.”

“Distracted, huh?” she hummed as she leaned in closer to you, smirking, “so you’ll just let anyone hit you over the head with a torch as long as they have a pretty face?” 

“Only one,” you shot back, hoping she couldn’t hear how wildly your heart was beating underneath your confidence. 

Powder smiled at your unexpected response, watching as you broke the eye contact, choosing to sweep your eyes across the decorations lining her room. “I thought I’d screwed it up, you know, I’d seen you around a few times before that.” You looked back at her, eyebrows furrowed together as you were about to question what she’d meant, but she shifted on the bed, moving to lay under the duvet cover.

“I’m sorry about this room,” she spoke up, suddenly feeling insecure about her younger self’s taste. 

“Don’t, I love it,” you breathed out, smiling fondly as you gazed at all the sheer amount of decorations and trinkets that lined almost every surface of her room, paper stars dangling from the ceiling, imagining teen Powder adorning the room with them.

She smiled tiredly, lifting the duvet cover so you could join her. “Thank you so much for this again, Powder, you didn’t have to do this,” you said, eyes slowly losing the fight to stay open as you settled under the covers next to her, meeting her gaze. 

“How many times, toots, I wanted to. Besides, I don’t think I would have survived break without you anyway,” she joked, though her grin was genuine. “I thought today might be a lot for you, so I tried to break it up a little,” she huffed out a laugh, though you picked up on her nerves as you listened attentively. “Vi and her girlfriend Cait invited us out tomorrow, though only if you’re okay with that,” she looked to you, gaze shifting from where she’d been fidgeting with her fingers. 

“Powder,” you lay your hand lightly above her fingers, stilling the movement, “I love your family. Of course I’m okay with that.” 

She moved her hand so her fingers were interlaced with yours, squeezing them together. “I’m really glad you’re here.” 

Your pulse was still racing when you laid down later to finally sleep, back faced to Powder’s back in your usual sleeping position. You squeezed your eyes shut as if to will yourself to calm down and actually sleep ahead of tomorrow, Powder on the other side of the bed blissfully unaware of the effect she had on you. 

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

“And I think you’re going to really get along with Cait,” Powder was filling you in on details as you walked into the restaurant. You’d of course heard plenty of stories from Powder before, so none of this was new, but it was endearing how she rambled on in attempts to alleviate any anxious feelings. You simply nodded with a smile in response, watching as her eyes darted around the room, finally landing on the table where they had already taken a seat, waving briefly before turning to you. “Ready?”

“Ready,” you affirmed, welcoming the feeling of her hand wrapping around yours as you strolled towards the table. You watched as Powder greeted the two and vice versa, before their gazes shifted to you inquisitively. You introduced yourself, shaking your hand over the table as you and Powder took your seats across them. You passed conversation as you waited, already deciding you really liked them as the waiter made their way to the table.

“Well, it is certainly nice finally meeting the girlfriend, we’ve been convinced Powder was like, gatekeeping you from everybody or something,” Vi snorted as she raised her glass slightly. 

Cait’s head whipped to the side to shoot Vi a sharp look as Powder melted into a mess beside you, though you hadn't noticed a single thing, your hearing having left you after the word ‘girlfriend’. You tried your best to compose yourself, you’d been midway through a sip of your drink when Vi had unexpectedly piped up, the choking sound that had left your mouth particularly undignified - and you were now miserably aware of the waiter to the side cluelessly asking you if you were ready to order. Powder glanced at you, then pointed at two random things on the menu in despair, words similarly failing her.

Vi watched the scene in confusion, eyebrows knitted together in bewilderment as Cait took over the ordering before turning back to you with an entertained grin. The look on Vi's face was so similar to Powder’s, it took everything in you to hold back from bursting into laughter at the comparison.

“In other words, we’re both very glad to meet you. Any friend of Powder’s is a friend of yours,” she spoke genuinely. 

“It’s nice to meet you too, I’ve heard so much about you both,” you smiled back. 

“All good things, I hope!” Vi finally chimed in. You simply shrugged playfully in response, though you swore you heard Powder mutter something about ‘not after this’ under her breath. 

You waited for a pause in the conversation before leaning closer to Powder, letting her know you were just going to the bathroom quickly. She nodded, getting up so you could make your way out. She gripped your wrist just as you were about to leave, making you turn back to look at her questioningly. 

“Please, don’t leave me with them for too long,” she whispered desperately. You snickered lightly in response, promising you wouldn’t before leaving. 

“For their sake,” she added under her breath as she sat back in her seat, shooting a scowl at Vi across the table.

“What the fuck was that about before??” Vi blurted out, gaze alternating between Cait and Powder confusedly.

“She hasn’t asked that question yet,” Caitlyn responded, amused as she watched Powder groan frustratedly into her hands. 

“WHAT? Are you kidding? How??” Vi shot out exasperatedly. 

“They haven’t talked about it yet,” Caitlyn replied, a giggle escaping her lips as the sheer ridiculousness of the conversation. 

“Yes, we don’t all move as fast as you guys,” Powder snarked, pinching the bridge of her nose. 

“Okay, that’s nonsense - you said you were going to ask for her number before you ended up hitting her eye,” Caitlyn teased in retaliation. 

“I told you that in confidence!”

“You told us you both already kissed too!” 

“Hold on, hold on, there’s way too much too much to unpack here,” Vi clutched at her head, “and why do you know way more than me about this?” She turned to Caitlyn quizzically. 

“Right, stalker,” Powder narrowed her eyes playfully. 

“I prefer observant,” she shrugged, before pointing a finger at Powder, “besides, you told me all this over call plenty of times.”

“You just had to open your mouth, sis,” Powder huffed out, though there was no bite in her voice as she shot Vi her 100th glare.

“Put it this way, Pow, I just made things a whole lot easier for you,” Vi smirked as Powder looked around the restaurant, eyes landing on you as you emerged and began to walk back to the table. 

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

“Are you kidding?? That’s so many plans, I’m barely going to have you to myself at this point,” Powder grumbled playfully, laying her head on your shoulder as you both sat propped up against her pillows. Caitlyn and Vi had made an array of plans to hang out over the summer, you’d hit it off very successfully with them and the thought of winning the approval of Powder’s loved ones warmed your chest as you chuckled at her protest.

“You’re going to be there for all of them, Pow,” you rolled your eyes as you shook your head. 

“This was their plan all along, trust me,” Powder sighed though she was smiling too as her gaze fixated on your face. She was similarly delighted at how well you’d all got along, her heart warming at the thought. You continued your idle chatter, both waiting for the sleepiness to wash over you. 

“And Vi totally cheated in that last round - there’s no way she got a strike all of a sudden,” Powder snickered, still salty over the two of you losing to Cait and Vi in your impromptu bowling game. 

“Sure, Pow,” you giggled, “we’ll get ‘em next time,” you said, stifling a small yawn. Powder’s eyes flickered at the action, pulling your arm to lay down properly. 

“That’s enough, toots, time to sleep!”

“I’m not tired, I wanted to talk more,” you whined sleepily, though you let her tug you down next to her. 

“As much as I want to, we have all the time to do that. You need to sleep right now, I have more stuff planned for us tomorrow and I don’t want you to be grumpy for it,” she smiled amusedly as she faced you, lying down. You pouted mockingly in response, her simply tapping your cheek lightly before turning around. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered back, giving in as you turned around too. The events of the evening ran back through your head as you closed your eyes. Your mind drifted off to the fiasco before you left the table, her memory lighting up the bulb in your head as you’d almost completely forgotten it. You stifled a giggle, reminiscing as you heard Powder’s soft breathing from behind you. 

“Girlfriend, huh?” you spoke quietly into the silence, unable to hold yourself back. You’d said it teasingly, not expecting a response - and it didn’t look like you were going to get one, taking the silence as an indication that the girl beside you had already fallen asleep. You froze as the sheets ruffled as Powder sat up in the bed, looking down at you wordlessly. You mimicked her movement, sitting up next to her as you turned to face her. You were expecting a smirk, her usual confident steady gaze, anything but the vulnerable, anxious look painting her face as she fought herself to keep eye contact with you. 

“I was going to ask you soon, I swear, I just didn’t know if you felt the same, but then we kissed but we didn’t talk about it and-” she rambled breathlessly, words spewing out uncontrollably. Your hand placed on her cheek stopped her train of thoughts briefly, gaze dropping from your hand back to your eyes. Your face flushed furiously, the beat of your heart threatening to spin out of your chest altogether as you nodded slightly. 

“I wanted to kiss you long before that, I just wasn’t sure…” she carried on, words stumbling out now. 

“Powder,” you stopped her going on another anxious rant, her eyes fixated on you as you spoke, “I’ve felt the same since the first time we met,” you confessed softly. 

“I’ve been plotting on you since I first laid eyes on you,” Powder managed out, grinning back at you. Her gaze flitted between your lips and your eyes as you leaned in closer to her apprehensively. 

“Are you going to stop talking and kiss me already?” you laughed, teasing. 

Powder didn’t waste a second before closing the remaining distance between you, her soft lips working against yours as if they’d been made for this very purpose, smiling into the kiss as you tugged her closer by the hand still cupping her face. She snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against her as she deepened the kiss. The first time had been great, but God if this didn’t feel a thousand times better, unrestricted, the uncertainty and intolerable tension vanquished - and both of your feelings reciprocated. It set your very insides alight as you pulled back for air, briefly, before you were pulled back in, Powder pressing kiss after kiss to your lips as if to make up for lost time. It was much later in the night when you lay down to finally sleep, Powder’s heart steadily beating pressed to your back as her arms held you tight, close to her. She pressed a sleepy final kiss to the crown of your head before finally closing her eyes, content enough to stay like this forever with you in her hold. As you were both finally drifting off, she suddenly opened her eyes, as if remembering something urgent. 

“I didn’t even ask the question!”

You snorted, turning around in her arms to press a kiss to her cheek. “Yes, I will be your girlfriend, you absolute dork.”

✧.*ೃ⁀➷

a/n: first req done !! hopefully met your expectations though this was definitely supposed to be a drabble i just got entirely carried away <3 also wrote this when i have two exams to be studying for (guess my degree!) calico critters are actually called sylvanian families in europe, but i figured barely anyone would know what i was talking abt 😭 anyways enjoy, pls let me know ur thoughts and feel free to send more requests ♡

(gifs by cafekitsune)

[unintentionalseductress]

Why does everyone portray Caleb to be 'dark romance, zade meadows' coded? :/

Yeah he's got yandere traits to wanna keep her forever and for himself but he never implies that he'll hurt mc- instead expressing a fierce desire to protect her, so why do ppl write ffs Abt him being manipulative? Making him have 'rough jealous s*x' in which he's spewing a bunch of hurtful things just to manipulate mc to his liking?

I guess it's because of the initial show of possessiveness in his trailer, but literally every love and deepspace guy is possessive so why portray him so darkly?

I like that you portray him more realistically to his character and not so ooc because that's what it feels like most of the time

Hello there anon! I'm glad you think my portrayal of Caleb feels more realistic than some other interpretations. I really don't know where this concept of comparing Caleb to Zade comes from since Zade literally r**es the MC in that book and I simply can't picture Caleb doing that?

This might be a much longer response than you'd expected and I'm sorry, but I've been taking little notes as I went through Caleb's memories, anecdotes, and myth. I feel like most of the people that are portraying him in this sadistic way simply didn't read all the material and just clicked through to get the diamonds.

So let me start by saying, all the other 4 LI's met MC quite recently, meaning they had no say in her life and weren't there when the Chronorift Catastrophe occurred. They met her as an adult, when she'd had time to put herself together and act like a rational grown woman.

Caleb met her at the worst time in their lives as a child until Josephine adopted them. They trauma bonded and after all they've been through together, they're extremely possessive of each other. Not just Caleb, but even the MC as well. She's just as paranoid and possessive about Caleb as well, and this is evidenced in their memories which I will delve into shortly.

But imagine being so close and growing up with this person that you think you know like the back of your own hand. She and Caleb appeared to be quite close up until the explosion. Now MC had to deal with the loss of her second family, and possibly the love of her life. Yes, I said it. The love of her life, because after going through the memories, there's nothing that can be said to change my mind that these two weren't in some kind of relationship before Caleb's death.

Now Caleb is back. MC is wary of him, she's scared to be possessive of him like she was because she knows what it's like to lose him. Caleb has no idea where he stands in her life, and inside it's because he knows he fucked up. He realizes he wants her back, the same woman who was just as obsessed and possessive of him like how he was with her and he has no idea how to fix it.

Caleb imo slides into the tip of the yandere iceberg because of that scene in the main story where he says he'll rebuild their house in Linkon and they can move in together etc. To me, that's the effect of the chip (more to be discussed about that below), and also him literally breaking down because MC said his worst fear to his face; she doesn't need him anymore. How do you recover from having the one person you've loved for most of your life look at you with so much hate and say they don't need you? (reminded me of Sylus a little bit when he's told MC is disgusted by him) For him to be truly yandere, he would have locked her up then and there but he doesn't. He backs off, allows her to get back to her life unharmed, and he keeps himself busy with work. That doesn't look like true yandere behavior to me.

NOW. MYTH EVIDENCE. The part with the chips. The chips seem to exacerbate certain feelings that already exist and take them to the extreme, hence why people who are chipped are very emotionless and almost have a robotic character to them, perhaps to avoid the pain of being emotional. In his myth, we find Caleb actively fights the chip, and it puts so much strain on his body that he falls unconscious or goes into fits. I think that 'yandere' scene is because the chip and his body are at odds with each other. Even MC when she chips herself, finds herself being manipulative of Caleb, trying to make him think of memories that were only half-truths. They're both obsessed with each other, and without the chip, it was fine, but with chip, things get crazy.

Also, I think it's safe to say, Caleb hasn't shown yandere tendencies towards MC in the past pre explosion, beyond telling her to be careful during missions or to let her know when she got hurt. He wasn't upset because she wasn't staying at home, he's upset because she's hiding things from him (like when she lied about getting scratched by a cat pre explosion).

NOW ONTO THE MEMORIES. Because omg, there's so much evidence in the memories that Caleb realizes his limitations in his ability to care for her. In their bond memory Rain's Embrace, when MC is asleep on his shoulder, Caleb literally says something along the lines of "I promise not to be so overprotective of you." He says something similar in Endless Summer and Exclusive Aftertaste, stating he knows his tendency to protect her isn't good for either of them.

And to show how possessive MC was of him. In the memory Longtime Yesterday, we find out Caleb was super popular in college and many girls tried to befriend him by giving him bento boxes. His friends teased him saying "Miss Apple" helped him avoid having to accept the bento boxes. MC literally sulks all the way back to the airport and when Caleb asks her what's wrong she goes, "You have a Miss Apple," like that was a perfectly plausible explanation. Miss Apple turns out to be a hairtie that Caleb took from MC that has apple shaped beads on it and he wears it (presumably on his wrist) all the time, which drove away unwanted attention from other girls. MC was so upset prior to hearing this, and Caleb reassures her that he doesn't want anyone else's attention but her's.

In Borrowed Promise, which occurs when MC is still in high school, Caleb is visiting from college and MC has a fight with a friend who is a girl (important). Caleb notices she's unhappy and takes her to a fair of sorts to cheer her up and she tells him she's worried someone may not like her anymore. Caleb tries to act nonchalant but you can tell he's thinking MC has a boyfriend or a crush and he goes "their loss but oh well you're not for everyone." It's at this point she tells Caleb it's a girl and he's dumbfounded but his relief is evident.

And my favorite, Stage Observer. MC is helping Caleb empty his dorm since he's about to graduate from college and she finds an envelope tucked away in one of his books with cutesy apples on the surface. She mistakenly thinks this is a love letter and then gives a very confused Caleb the cold shoulder for the rest of her visit. Then on his graduation day, she softens and helps fix his tie as he's about to give his valedictorian speech. During this time, she admits she's scared about him finding someone else and he says he worries about her meeting someone else too, but he's happy having just her and grandma in his life. In his speech, Caleb talks about how people go through their whole looking for meaningful connections with people but he's fortunate to have found the one person he knows he can count on. Afterwards, MC runs to him and gives him what I think is their first kiss. And why does she do this? She says, "I kissed you so you can't have a girlfriend now!" Caleb is confused and then she finally admits seeing the envelope. Well guess what? It turns out the envelope actually holds a good luck charm she had sent Caleb but the cover got ruined so Caleb replaced it with the apple envelope. He teases her but the ending implies they now know how they feel for each other and that was the start of a more romantic relationship between them.

So there. MC is just as possessive and obsessed with Caleb as he is with her. He knows that and it's because he's so in tune with these feelings that to him, his actions don't seem out of line, because that's how he expects her to be with him as well. I think like the other boys, his love is limitless, he literally says, "I love you more than you realize" in his myth. He's struggling with mental health and trauma and I think people just want to downplay him for various reasons without delving into the complexity of his character, or the incredible history he has with MC, not from a past life, but in this very real, present one. He was there with her during a time when she didn't know a Xavier, a Rafayel, or a Sylus (maybe Zayne since Caleb mentions him).

There. It feels good to get this out. I will end this by saying, sure, Caleb qualifies as a dark romance, maybe a mild yandere, but definitely, nothing along the lines of Zade because I genuinely don't think he'd want to hurt MC by doing something that could hurt her or violate her consent.

I'm open to more discussion on this. And a reminder about my usual policy; if you have nothing nice to say, scroll on by.

[sqgeism]

Wanted to request maybe hsr men with a partner that's their exact opposite?

* pairing(s) : various hsr men (i actually do all of them i promise) x reader

* prompt : opposites attract, amiright?

* authors note : so you may have noticed a bit of a.. redesign.. in my layout 🙏 but hi requester!! here u gooo ♡ cleaning up my requests sweep sweep. also thank you for 200 u guys r crazy omg.

* brief warning : blade is blade, sssadism if u SQUINT RLLY HARD.

(my love for gepard rlly shows in this im sorry. HABSGJABA 😭😭!!! some r rlly long.. ooc.. or short.. sbsndhsks HANDGSHWS i love gepard IM SORRY HES PRETTY BOY)

DAN HENG appreciated his silence and alone time, you however, could not go 5 minutes without his supervision.

While he liked to plan and execute said plan perfectly, you were reckless and went into anything head-first with worrying about the possible failures later.

And because of this, Dan Heng was protective over you. He was a gentleman after all, and he would do the same for March 7th back then, so it's no surprise he'd do it for you now. Especially with your tendencies to get yourself into unnecessary fights.

It aches his heart, you know? Having to see your wounds and bruises as he patches you up. But you've made a compromise to give him the equivelant amount of kisses equal to the bandages he put all over you. (and there were A LOT)

Even if you make him worry 24/7, he'll still love you. It's not bad to have a chance of pace after all.

JING YUAN is a man with many routines, calm and collected, with many worries on his shoulder.

You were more outgoing, a trailblazer who rode the express and were the one helping people with their worries.

He was always surprised with how helpful you really were in your first meetings, not that he doubted your abilities, but didn't expect someone to be able to do his asks as well as you did.

What didn't surprise him was how he fell for you, the way your heart was always pure and gold, and you lived a life to protect and help others.. he admired you. You were his inspiration, his muse, to be a General with that kind of care for his people.

When you two decided to date, Jing Yuan had to get used to your impulsive actions. He was always used to doing the same thing everyday, but with you? He found himself doing 50 other things before the next part of his schedule.

Not that he minded, he likes the excitement, and he really really likes you.

GEPARD, the Silvermane guards leader, falling for his sisters co-performer.

He LOVED to watch you perform or practice, Serval always saw him with such a love-struck smile, head resting on his hand as he sat and watched his sisters and you practice. She'd tease him about it afterwards, calling him loverboy and such, but he never confirmed nor denied her teasing about him liking you.

Sometimes the guards would hear him humming your part of a song or the general tune of a melody you play, considering how much he watched you, it was no surprise that you were stuck in his head like a popular song.

He quite literally, loved you like a love song, because it's ALL he ever listened to. He'd be in bed, white shirts and shorts, his arm covering his eyes as he listens to the CORNIEST love song and smiles while doing so because he thinks of you.

When you two started dating, he was quick to realize your differences. He was a leader, an intimidating figure, and had goals and missions he swore on his life to constantly follow and pursue even outside of work hours.

You on the other hand, unless you're onstage, you're pretty shy. Not really standing out in a crowd when you're in your civilian clothing, and you liked it that way. Almost like you lived a different life from your almost idol-like persona.

Gepard did find it incredibly cute though, how you'd have an explosive personality infront of a crowd. But with him? You were at the mercy of his soft kisses and his chuckles as your face turns warm from fluster.

SAMPO was the COMMON ENEMY between the Overworld and Underworld.

Okay, maybe a bit of an exaggeration. But YOU?? Natasha's sweetest nurse and sibling?? with the likes of HIM??

He was a liar, seemingly the type to decieve people who put their trust in him, only to repay them randomly out of nowhere with random treasure maps or save them from tight situations. It seemed like any suspicious activity was ALWAYS tied to him.

You, on the other hand, worked with your sister in her clinic. Often times praised for your kindness and patience, how amazing you were with children and people in general. Nobody would've expected that you fell for him, hell, he didn't expect it either.

But you saw that somewhere, in that heart of his, he truly did care about his friends and loved ones. Somewhere buried in his rather annoying antics, were the intentions of someone who was just worried for the others well-being. He proved it to you when he caught you crying in a dark alley, wiping your tears as you were so tired and overworked. He listened to you for hours on end, and he got to see a side of you that you didn't show to people, and vice versa. You saw the side of him people thought they'd die to see exist.

WELT YANG was always rather serious at times, with his status and achievements, people expected it of him.

You were his closest companion, one of the few he had left from his journey, but you were also his partner. Despite being just about his age, you were so calm, so gentle. Compared to his seemingly stern nature.

You loved plants and flowers of the such, always telling Welt about the newest one you learnt from a new planet on each expedition through the galaxy. You warmed his heart with how you spoke, explaining each and every plant with such detail. He loved it whenever you spoke, 'music to his ears', he'd tell people. Anyone would be enamoured with your voice and way of speaking, he admired your intelligence, but more importantly, he admired you.

BLADE.. with Kafka's partner in crime?

Kafka can't say she's surprised, hell, she'd love you too. But the pairing was rather odd.

Blade was monotone, cold. His stare as sharp as daggers, and could care less about those he hurt.

You, on the other hand, found immense joy in hurting others. A wicked smile on your face whenever you're permitted to do so towards anyone who dare stand in their way.

Whenever you two would kiss, the difference once again shows. You're clearly enjoying it, but Blade's expression is blank. But I guess don't judge a book by its cover? As the kiss he initiated is passionate and intimate, he's enjoying it I promise, he just doesn't show it.

Either way, you're both stuck babysitting Silverwolf most of the time. Oh well, more time with him.

[pomefioredove]

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ kudos and enemies to lovers

type of post: fic characters: rook additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, this is ooc I just thought it was funny, rook writing rpf is morally questionable I KNOW. he's a freak author's note: the fanfiction site is made up

"completely ooc. vil would never say this"

Rook Hunt has been staring at the anonymous comment for hours.

He's come back to it five times, taking breaks only to rest his eyes when the harsh glare of the computer screen becomes too much.

It's not so uncommon for him to fall for so little; in just seven words, this anonymous hate had captured his full attention like a rabbit in a snare.

His gloved finger brushes over the enter key.

What to say? How could he possibly express himself in only a few hundred characters, in the comment section under a fanfiction of fifty thousand?

How he wishes they commented from an account... not only could he DM them, he may also have some idea of who they are. What sort of person would know Vil Schoenheit better than him?

No one. That's who.

"Dear Reader: I am sorry to hear you did not like my writing. However, I am inclined to believe I know Vil Schoenheit a modest amount better than you. Merci. -R"

Rook smiles. Eloquent, graceful, but firm. A gentleman like him would never start a fight.

Only finish it.

His curiosity finally put to rest, he responds to the other comments, thanking his usual commenters in detail.

When he scrolls back up to the top, there's something new:

"I sincerely doubt that. and fyi, you couldn't beg vil to be friends with neige"

Ohoho. Those are fighting words, he thinks. A smile creeps across Rook. Well, if it's a fight they want...

"Dear Reader: You doubt it? And how so? -R"

He refreshes the page again and again, hoping for an answer each time. This is the most stimulation he's had all week.

Now, who could this mysterious commentor be? A jealous fan, perhaps? A bitter critic?

Then:

"I was sitting next to him not two hours ago and he'd never say that"

Rook's smile widens. Of course. He should have guessed. The typing quirks, the misspelled words, even the voice in which each comment is written...

Now, he has you right where he wants you.

"Naughty naughty, Prefect. Does our Roi du Poison know you frequent the Vil Schoenheit x reader tag? or have you been keeping secrets again~?"

This time, he doesn't refresh. He knows you won't respond. Rook gets up from his desk and leaves his dorm, knowing just where to find you at this hour, and...

"Bonsoir, Trickster," he lets himself in your room.

As expected, there you are, looking beautifully flustered and vulnerable with your Crowley-approved phone in hand.

His smile sharpens. "Beautiful night, non?"

"I can explain,"

"Ah-ah," he tuts, sitting at the edge of your bed. "Do not be ashamed. I'm not a tattletale... not when I don't have to be."

His voice has a dangerous edge to it, and you give him a suspicious look. "What do you want?"

Rook lets the silence drag on, making you more and more impatient, more nervous, as if he were about to ask for something dangerous.

"Rescind your comments and leave a kudos on my work,"

You blink.

"...That's it?"

"Oui," he says. "...Unless you had something else in mind?"

You sigh. Now it's your turn to drag out the silence.

"...Let me edit your next fic,"

And, subsequently, it's Rook's turn to be surprised. He hadn't been expecting that. How... bold.

He smiles.

"...Ah... a tempting offer, I admit. I am working on something new. Perhaps we should discuss it over dinner?"

You think... and then: "I'm free Friday,"

"Then Friday it will be," Rook says, standing from your bed.

"Until then, mon petit critique~"

[runawaybridee]

"wanna spend the day together? just us." - s. gojo

requests r open!!!

659 wc, lowk wrote this during class, idk this might be ooc but wtv

satoru gojo is the sweetest lover ever. sometimes you feel as though you don't deserve him. more often then not, really.

satoru knows this. he's constantly reassuring you, even more so this valentine's season. seeing all the couples together, looking so happy. you and satoru are happy, it's just been.. difficult lately.

he's had endless missions. you've had a couple of your own, but since he's the strongest it means that they rely on him to go after most special grade curses. you were stuck at first grade, even though you very much qualify for special grade.

you just miss your boyfriend, and you're a bit insecure since your last partner.. well, your last partner was an asshole. never gave you attention, not like gojo does. sure, they didn't have the kind of money as your current boyfriend, but they never even paid for dinner!

gojo is freaking out. you've been more distant. instead of the usual wide smile he's greeted with, it's just a small hum of acknowledgment. there's no dinner on the table, not even takeout. he doesn't ask you to cook for him, you just did it.

now, it's different. you just snuggle into his embrace and stay quiet.

did he do something wrong? is it his haircut? oh god, you're totally going to break up with him. this is it! he always knew he'd die alone--

your voice snaps him out of his thoughts. "satoru?" he looks at you. "yeah? what's up, pumpkin?" he smiles when he sees your face scrunch up at the nickname. you huff, "i asked you a question."

"oh, sorry. what was it?" he grins wider, "which one smells better?" you're holding two perfume bottles, asking him which smells better.

he brings one up to his nose and hums softly, then the other one and chews on his lower lip. "this one." he holds up the peach-scented perfume.

"okay," you say softly. he wraps his arm around you, tugging you closer. you hesitantly lean into his chest, closing your eyes.

you wake up to an empty bed, again. gojo is probably on a mission. you sigh to yourself, standing up. you waddle over to the bathroom to wash your face and pee.

once you're done, you smell something sweet.. souffle pancakes?

you walk into the kitchen and see your sweet boyfriend over the stove, attempting to make the perfect pancake. "'toru?" he lifts his head, smiling at you.

"morning, pumpkin!" he says happily, "made you some breakfast!" you furrow your brows in confusion, your boyfriend is not a cook.

"how long have you been up?" you ask, "i dunno! two hours?"

"babe, you have work. why are you making breakfast?" he huffs, rolling his eyes. "who even cares? the elders can't punish me." you blink at him.

"c'mon, don't you wanna spend the day together? just us!" you stare at him, feeling the tears brimming in your eyes.

his eyes widen, "oh! don't cry, i'll--i'll go to work!" he rushes over to wipe your eyes. you sniff, "no.. no, don't.. please don't go."

he wraps his arms around you. "okay, i won't.. i'm right here, baby." he scratches your back gently. you hiccup, "i just miss you, that's all.." you say quietly.

he nods, "i know.. i miss you too." he presses a kiss to your forehead, "i don't want my girlfriend to be sad, okay? so, smile f'me."

if anyone else would've said this, you probably would've punched them. but you just press a kiss to satoru's cheek. "i love you." "i love you, pumpkin."

you don't have to know that shoko was the one who told him to stay home today, at least not right now.

this was supposed to be finished yesterday but my room was so nasty I had to clean it 😔

masterlist , taglist

[love-bitesx]

: ̗̀➛ PROTECTOR. hobie brown x reader

summary: spider-man makes a point of walking y/n home every night, but after befriending them as hobie brown as well, his feelings get complicated. words: 3.5k REQUESTS OPEN ! warnings: non-explicit sexual harassment (a man is very creepy to reader), reader isn't gendered! but be aware, author is female, so possible afab bias, i tried my hardest i swear. all characters are adults :) author is british so this is my interpretation of his silly little slang from what ive experienced hehe also divider credit: cafekitsune a/n: may feel a little ooc, but in my headcanon, when he's pining the way he is for reader, he's so soft. also, spider-man and hobie r completely different personalities u cant tell me otherwise. first time writing hobie so pls give me opinions ty. enjoy!!!!!

“is it home-time already, darlin’?”

there he was. the familiarity of routine washing over you, turning your head to see him propped up against the brick, spikes on display and guitar pick flipping in between his clothed fingers.

“spider-man, my hero,” you sighed and clutched your non-existent pearls, a smirk on your lips.

“you know i hate that,” kicking off from the wall of the pub you just clocked out of, he stuffed his hands into his patched up jacket, his bouncy stride meeting yours on the pavement.

“i know,” you smiled, allowing your bag to fall from your shoulders and into his outstretched hand, as always.

it had become a routine, over the course of a few months, that the one-and-only spider-man would escort you home from work in the late hours. at first, it didn’t seem real. why would he decide to spend valuable time most days walking you home, when he could be out fighting whatever darkness lurks in the shadows? you’ve asked him, almost every time, but he always gives the same, vague answer;

“who else is gonna keep you safe, love?”

his legs were longer than yours, by a mile. so he had to slow his usual pace for you. naturally bouncy, his booted feet tapped against the pavement like a kick drum, and you wondered whether that was the radioactive blood in his veins, or his natural energy.

laughter flittered through the dark streets as you caught up, it had only been a day since you last saw him, but being a crime-fighting, fascist-killing superhero, there was quite a lot to pack into a 24 hour day.

he bounced off the walls of passing buildings, recreating his fights with the air that hung between you both, throwing in some exaggerated punches here and there, to elicit an extra giggle or two from you. you almost got lost following his animated recreations, but he kept an eye out for the roads ahead. he’d memorised all the paths leading to your apartment.

it had all started a few months prior, after a particularly long shift at work. constantly over the span of a few hours, this guy would not leave you alone. no matter how many times you refused his advances, a smile on your face, masking the unsettling pit in your stomach at the sight of his grin. drink, after drink, after drink, he ordered just to stare at you the whole night, crude gestures and words thrown your way.

you’d gotten used to it, working at a pub in the depths of london, it wasn’t ever unusual to get unwanted advances. but something about this guy, you couldn’t shake it. ~

“what time do you finish, ay?” his accent was thick, you placed him somewhere up north.

“i’m not sure,” you muttered back, forcing a smile.

“oi, come on! ‘course you know what time you finish,” his words were slurred, and his eyes hadn’t left yours once, “was thinking we could ‘ave some drinks together, tha’s’all.”

“sorry, i can’t tonight, i have to be up early tomorrow,” you giggled, and if he wasn’t so drunk, he’d definitely have picked up on the nerves lacing your words.

“come on,” vowels drawn out, he made an attempt to stand up to meet your height, the proximity of him sending a shock of fear to your heart, until a strong hand clapped against his chest, the force almost sending him backwards.

“pack it in, dickhead, they said ‘no’,” a deep, almost calming voice spoke, contrasted completely with the stern, threatening tone of his words.

you looked to meet your protectors gaze, and it almost stunned you. he was tall, taller than you, for sure. dark, smooth skin with an aura of pure mayhem, silver piercings protruding from his face. adorned with a ripped, skin-tight plain top and denim vest, littered with badges, patches and just about any accessory known to man.

his eyes were what really held you. a heavy look, dark brown with the most unique feeling of strength and power that you’d ever seen. you could’ve easily gotten lost.

deciding you’d stared at him long enough, though, you broke the eye contact, diverting it back to the man who looked a humorous combination of terrified and offended at the same time.

“‘s alright mate, we were just talking, back off, yeah?” his liquid courage built up, ignorant of the taller man’s hand still pushing against his chest, ring-clad hands seeming to leave an imprint.

“think it’s time for you to leave, mate,” he spat back, mimicking his slang.

a moment of silence followed. you’d fully expected the drunken creep to swing a punch, or at least bite back, but under the weight of the taller man’s stare, he seemed to lose all fight he had in him. with a final murmer of something you couldn’t quite hear, and unsure you really wanted to, he stumbled backwards, slipping into the crowd.

“thank you,” you broke the silence, to which the man shrugged.

“he was a pig,” he brushed it off like nothing, and you couldn’t help but smile at his attitude. raising his newly free hand, he stretched it towards you, tight in a fist.

“hobie, hobie brown,” he greeted, and his accent completely erased the ‘h’ from his name.

“y/n l/n,” you smiled, accepting his offer and spudding him, the cold metal of his rings against your knuckles. you couldn’t help but grin at the oddity of his presence.

hobie kept you company for the rest of the night, ranting about his thoughts and opinions of various important subjects, ranging widely from drinks of choice to the existence of capitalist propaganda in modern media, all of which you hung onto every word of.

it wasn’t long until he’d managed to book him and his band into a few slots on the pub’s makeshift stage that stood empty on the other side of the room, smiling to himself at how authentically excited you seemed to hear his music.

when he left, his vacancy was immediately obvious. the booming pub feeling oddly silent without him.

after closing up for the night, you grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, switching the lights off with one hand and fiddling with the keys in the other, shaking the door to double check you locked it well enough. body aching from being on your feet all day, you yawned, stepping autopilot into the darkness. the night air was chilling, causing you to wrap your jacket tight around your body. cursing at yourself for not bringing another layer, or pre-ordering a taxi home.

“oi,” you heard from your right, turning quickly to the familiar call.

stumbling on the pavement, the drunken creep from earlier pointed towards you.

shit.

you hadn’t expected him to actually wait for you. it’d been hours since he left, he was insane. what was he thinking?

grabbing the keys from your pocket, you gripped them in your freezing hands in defense.

“where’s your little friend, huh?” he spat, clearly enraged by hobie’s interruption earlier. he stepped closer, and you stepped back, trembling as you tripped slightly on the pavement.

“ay, is this twat bothering you?” a voice called from above.

wait, above?

craning your neck up, you made eye contact with possibly the last person you expected.

“spider-man?”

and from that night, he’d met you every time. waiting outside the pub doors, no exception, to walk you home.

“hey!” spider-man’s upbeat calling snapped you instantly back to him, jumping slightly as you finally noticed he was directly in front of your face, white eyes narrowed on your demeanor, “where’d you go, huh?”

“sorry,” paying him an apologetic smile, “just thinking.”

“wanna clue me in, darlin’?” his tone was playful, but the soften of his masks expression felt genuine.

“just thinking about the day i’ve had,” you lied, unsure whether his spidey senses could tell. not that it was rare for you to think about how you met, but you didn’t want to bring it up again. if he could tell, he didn’t let on.

“whataboutit?” he sped up, slipping back to your pace and slinging his lanky arm over your shoulders, basically hanging onto you as you walked. he liked walking with you like this. it made him feel powerful, like he was keeping you extra safe.

“hobie’s band played again!” you exclaimed, and if he’d been paying attention, he would’ve seen the way your face lit up at the memory. unfortunately for him, his eyes were trained on webbing a chocolate bar from a passing vendor. god knows why it was still open, but he was glad it was.

“hobie, again, huh?” taunted spider-man, punching your arm playfully with the fist that gripped the newly stolen snickers bar, “starting to think you’re replacing me, love.”

“never,” you teased back, elbowing his side, hearing the jingle of his badged vest, “hobie’s just…”

ears pricking, he clung onto the words you were speaking, anticipating possibly hearing something he didn’t want to.

“he’s just so cool,” you breathed with a smile, and he almost verbally sighed in relief, stopping himself in order not to rouse suspicion. he smirked under his mask, “just got this feel about him, so easy to talk to, and he’s so talented! you know, i’ve almost learnt all the lyrics to his songs.”

his heart just about exploded. in fact, he thinks he could pinpoint the exact moment it did.

he played off his burning cheeks, clearing his throat and incredibly glad his mask hid his flustered expression.

“you should come see him, you know,” you looked up at him, and though you knew his answer was ‘no’, it was worth a try, “i can hide you in the back if you don’t wanna be seen.”

“come off it, love,” he dismissed, avoiding your gaze, but his back was tingling like pins and needles under the warmth of it, “i’m not keen to meet the man stealing you from me.”

“fuck sake,” you laughed and pushed his arm off you, brushing off his playful flirting.

his confidence was excelling. the friendship you had formed over the prior months had stemmed from his childish charm, and it hadn’t faltered once.

“well, here i am,” you brought your pace to a halt, hovering in front of the door to your apartment building.

“i’ll miss you tonight,” he fell against the wall, eyes stuck on you. you couldn’t see it, but you could feel his smirk.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, i finish at 11,” you stepped towards him.

“i’ll be waiting,” he kicked off from the bricks, raising his hand to ruffle your hair, much to your protest, before practically disappearing in front of your eyes.

you were left grinning to yourself, much like every night.

“what’s up, bruv?” hobie’s friend elbowed him harshly in the ribs, causing him to rip his eyes from you.

“nothing,” he huffed, but by the lack of sustenance and playfulness in his reply, his friend was less than satisfied. hobie was a carefree, reckless guy with a constant spurt of irony, and seeing him with a sullen expression and no bite back, was worrying.

“come off it, hobie,” another one piped up, sitting across from him with an empty pint in one hand and cigarette in the other, pointing the latter in his face. he huffed, “you’ve been slumping for like 3 months now, and you’ve only been writing sappy love songs.”

the table snickered, and even hobie’s lips curled into a smirk. his friend was right, he wasn’t even nearly like his usual self. he blames you for that.

“who is it then, huh?” his friend pushed, cigarette still hanging in front of hobie’s face, ash crumbling off the end, “has our ol’ hobie brown got himself a partner?”

“oi, you know i hate labels,” he smirked again, knowing he was lying. not that he didn’t usually hate them, but he couldn’t avoid the fact that every time you made your way to the front of his mind, he was urged to call you his. his partner. his person. his love. just his.

he always did hate consistency, anyway.

“another round, guys?” your voice ripped him from his thoughts, your scent somehow drifting above the sticky smell of beer and cigarettes, he pinned that down to his spider abilities, but he’d be a fool to ignore that he had simply just memorised the aroma.

“please, darlin’,” hobie’s friends chirped up, grinning at you thankfully. he cursed the burning feeling in his chest.

“i could do you guys a deal,” you smirked playfully, and he looked up to meet your eyes. you looked beautiful tonight, like usual. he was fucked.

“if you lot give us a song, it’ll be on the house,” you smiled hopefully, taking note of their usual orders just incase they agree.

“sounds like a plan,” hobie reached his hand out to you, open for a handshake, to which you took. soft hands falling into his calloused ones, he couldn’t help but notice how nice it felt.

turning away, you left to get their usual set up sorted, feeling him still watching you, to which you threw him a smile over your shoulder.

it wasn’t unusual at all. his eyes would always find you. at the table with his mates, his gaze would swim through the crowd to yours. even on stage, lost in the moment with himself and his guitar, it was you he always found his eyes trailing back to. it wasn’t like the other men in the bar, it wasn’t predatory desire or lust, but it was warm. it was safe.

he had three options, really; confess himself to you as hobie brown, coming clean about the way he felt about you, the warmth in his heart that spread across his spine whenever you smiled at him, eventually having to come clean about his alter-ego. he could confess as spider-man, to which he’d have to come clean about his actual identity. or option three. stay silent and suffer in his own pity. bite his lip and pretend his heart wasn’t yearning for you.

but, he prided himself in being able to speak his mind without hesitation. confident in his word, suffocated in his silence. he would always say: if he ever bit his tongue, to kill him there and then. well, here he is; begging for mercy at the barrel, his tongue bleeding from keeping his heart locked in his chest.

he was fucked. well and truly.

“anything special happen today?” spider-man nudged you, taking a worried note of your unusual quietness recently. it was the same night, he’d picked you up like normal, and hopped along beside you.

“the band played again,” a swelling smile bloomed on your lips, “other than that, not really.”

your voice was hollow tonight. easily mistakable with your naturally soft tone, but to his trained ears, it didn’t feel right.

stopping immediately in his path, his bouncy steps ceasing, you quickly copied him. confusion slipping behind your eyes.

“what’s up?” you questioned.

“you know you wanna tell me,” he stepped around you, arms falling over your shoulders from behind, heavy with his full weight. something about the mask, it gave him a confidence with you that he’d quenched as hobie.

you sighed and rested your head back against his chest, taking him by surprise. there was something intimate about the way your eyes were closed, body resting against him. your brain was hectic, he didn’t need his spidey senses to see that.

“there’s just…” you spoke, eyelids feeling heavy as you opened them, looking up to see him. head split in two, you were unsure if you even wanted to say it out loud, “there’s this guy.”

it was almost cruel how fast his heart dropped, plummeting like a boulder into the pit of his stomach. body stiffening, his head was spinning so fast he didn’t even have the conscience to mask it.

“i just can’t get him out of my head, it’s so stupid,” if your wistful look wasn’t answer enough, the outpour of dissonance he could feel from your body told him it was serious.

“not another fella tryna steal you from me,” he chuckled, but his voice was weak, vulnerable. you hadn’t heard it like that before.

untangling yourself from his weighted grip, you leant against the wall of the building you were stood in front of, staring up into the night sky. there was something so embarrassing about admitting a silly little crush.

“not another one, technically,” you spoke softly, a hint of a smile tickling your lips at the thought of him, he stepped closer, “i’ve already told you about him.”

and he stopped dead in his tracks. mind racing a million miles an hour, picking apart every word you said. was he stupid? was he reaching? seeing something that wasn’t there? he was the only one you’d spoken about, but surely not, right?

shifting closer again, his body begun to feel the heat radiating off you, barely an inch between you both. he towered you, as always, the spikes on his jacket and mask hitting the streetlights perfectly, giving him an orange glow. you bought yourself to look at him, and though you couldn’t see the eyes beneath, you felt his gaze.

insufferably close, closer than you’ve ever been, you could feel your heart in your chest. a tension that you hadn’t quite felt before, bubbling in the air between you.

“say his name, love,” his voice was low, lower than normal, and a twinge of familiarity hit your chest hearing the deeper tone, one you couldn’t quite pinpoint. chills dripped down your spine at the new found feeling.

gulping, you could feel his name in your throat, struggling it’s way out.

“hobie.” your voice was barely above a whisper, but considering he almost had you pressed against the brick, he heard every syllable. and god, did it sound good.

“again?” he croaked, just wanting to confirm, needing to hear it again, needing to hear you say it, relish in every beat.

“hobie,” you repeated, louder this time, more conviction in your chest, “i like him, like a lot.”

he went silent. dead silent, barely moving. heat radiated from him, and you could’ve sworn in the vacancy of sound that you could hear his heart pounding against his chest. reaching up, your hand trembling slightly, you placed it there. on his chest, feeling the material of his suit, the humanity of his heartbeat. he melted into it.

“are you o—“

“i need to tell you something.” he interrupted you.

it was your turn to be silent, eyes heavy with intrigue, begging him to continue.

without a word, his ring-clad hand ghosted your skin, drifting past the air between you and to the base of his mask, sliding along his neckline for the seam, and dragging it up over his face, revealing the man within.

your heart stopped, a thousand things flashing through your head, through your heart, surging in your bloodstream. you didn’t even know what to say, what to think, how to comprehend it.

“hobie?” your voice was small again, shrunk beneath the look in his eyes, the desire.

embarrassment waved through you for a moment, a sudden panic of the earlier confession, your chest pounding at the possible rejection.

he didn’t even leave the thoughts enough time to fester, however, because his hand that was holding his mask was suddenly flush against your jaw, the material falling softly onto your neck. thumb trailing the comfort of your cheek, revelling in the feel of your skin, warm against his hands, he leaned forward.

his lips were on yours, without a word. gentle, but rough. the tension escaping through the feeling of him pressed into you, desire leaping out of every shared breath. his other hand fell to your waist, and yours stayed firm on his chest, bunching the fabric in your hand to bring him closer. he obliged, of course, and the kiss deepened. his head spun.

pulling away for breath, you kept your eyes on his lips, disbelief swimming around your brain, colliding with the need to kiss him again.

“y/n,” his hand brought your eyeline to his, “i like you, too.”

you couldn’t help but smile, relief washing your body out.

“like, a lot.”

he kissed you again. and again.

a/n: hope u enjoyed!! pls let me kno if ur did, this is my first time writing for him <3 thanku!!!

[scp230kinnie]

:3 IT'S ME AGAIN HEYYYU

SOOOO HYUNSU, BOTH MONSTER AND HUMAN SIDE'S REACTION TO A READER WHO'S NORMALLY SHY BUT WITH A MONSTER SIDE THAT'S ALL OVER HIM.

Like the monster side literally adores him and likes to annoy his monsters.

And also the monster side being a bad bitch in general cause we slay.

Again, feel free to ignore.

IM GONNA MARRY YOU FOR LEAVING ALL THESE LMFAO WHOEVER YOU ARE

Back from my five hour long hiatus (nap) and now back to my day job

SPOILERS FOR SEASON 2/3 OF SWEET HOME

Cha Hyun-Su x half monster clingy reader

Idk vro that’s the best title ur getting

Probably ooc but I don’t care

Starting with general if/when you turned hcs, and will gradually get into the main plot

Once he saw the signs of you turning into a monster he was extremely worried

He didn’t know if you’d be able to control it, like him, or if you’d turn fully into a monster like most of the people he’s seen before

And because he’s seen so many people turn and die painfully, he wants to make sure you don’t

Once he saw that you were able to control it, even at least a little bit, he was so relieved, and wanted to do everything he could to help you

He knows that since you’re a monster, (I’m not calling them special infectees fuck right off😭) you can’t really get hurt/die for the most part

But he still likes to keep you at a safe distance just to make sure his monster side doesn’t accidentally hurt you

(Not too far tho :3)

He always knew you were shy, so he knew that trying to teach you to control it would be a little bit difficult

That was, until you were in your monster form.

In your monster form, you were a lot more clingy towards him, which came as a stark contrast to your usual shy, closed off demeanour.

Not that he minds, he just finds it to be kind of a surprise

In his human form, he’s not scared of you accidentally hurting him or something as a monster

In his human form, he loves to let you cling to him

It reminds him that you’re still you despite the infection

This man can protect himself for sure. But let’s say you and him are doing whatever, maybe walking around, you’re both in human form and a (hostile) monster shows up.

His immediate thought is to protect you, because even though you can turn into a monster yourself, he forgets.

He goes to protect you, his monster side takes over (cause let’s say one of his desires is protecting you okay hear me out)

And then you, wanting to protect him, or show that you can defend yourself, or who know why , turn into your monster form and fend off the monster in some badass way

God damn. Maybe his human side is surprised but the monster side, if bro was out and saw that. You earned respect

The monster side of him has seen you before the transformation. All shy or whatever. He is also quite surprised when you turn and all of a sudden you’re all up on him

At first his monster side would probably push you away a little bit like “wtf is bro doing who are you”

Sometimes his monster side is a lil emo and has to be a lone wolf or something, but when you show up as a monster and follow him around and doing to him eventually he realizes you probably won’t stop until you turn back

His monster side pulls the whole “how pathetic and weak” thing when you cling to him, and you just go right ahead and let your monster self argue that

No matter how much you adore him as a monster, you can and will win a fight/argument against him

Maybe sometimes he lets you win. So what, a win is a win?

When your human side is out and you’re back to your shy self, both sides of him kind of miss your monster side

He likes feeling loved

—————————————————————

Um so sorry if this sucks

Hyun-su is the definition of this tweet

Tips on how to stop HEALING piercings from falling out r greatly appreciated thanks

Everyone should leave sweet home requests yes yes I do most if not all characters

[darlingdaisyfarm]

Please can you write something with Bill? 🥺 I would really like him in your writing style

✮⋆˙ twinkle twinkle little star (Bill Cipher x reader)

author note: hii, so this is my first time writing Bill Cipher (if we’re not counting smut LOL), so if he feels a little OOC, I’m so sorry in advance :((

“You’ve got no idea how small you are. A little ant, crawling on the rim of a soda can, thinking the universe stops where the metal curves. But you’re lucky, babe. You’ve got me to show you the truth.”

You never should’ve made that deal and you knew it.  

You should've known better than to trust him.

“Love” wasn’t the word for it.

At first, it felt. . .  flattering. Who wouldn’t be seduced by the idea of being special in the eyes of something so vast, so incomprehensible? But Bill wasn’t the type to love, not in the way you understood it. 

He didn’t love you, not the way humans did. Bill Cipher didn’t do love. You were his curiosity, obsession, a bright, burning light in his endless void. 

He called you his little star, but very soon it turned into his pretty, breakable toy. And you hated how the words made your skin prickle, how his attention felt like sunlight filtered through glass, so beautiful and searing, but dangerous if you stayed too long.

He never asked you to love him. That would imply some sort of equality, wouldn’t it? Something mutual, balanced, tender. No, Bill Cipher wasn’t a man or a demon. . . or a whatever he was, who traded in such mortal trivialities. Love? What even was that, anyway? A chemical spill in the brain? A pathetic excuse for self-destruction? Hilarious!

Instead of your love, Bill demanded your existence. Every breath, every thought, every fleeting moment of fear or fury or fascination, it all belonged to him, as surely as the stars belonged to the sky. And wasn’t that the whole point? To take something so ordinary, so inconsequential and remake it in his image?

Bill didn’t love you. He consumed you. 

He didn’t care about your happiness or well-being, but he cared about your essence and your potential. 

The stars were his obsession, and now you were too.

When he first spoke to you about the them, he said, “you humans love to romanticize the heavens, don’t you? Gazing up with your sad little eyes, dreaming of escape, like you’re anything more than dust stuck in a whirlpool. But you, sweetheart, you could be a star if you wanted.” 

And it sounded too tempting.

***

With fear and trepidation, you realised that you would like him to appear more often in your life. You felt lonely and empty without that singular eye which was so damn alive in ways human ones could never be. When Bill Cipher looked at you it felt as if the fabric of the universe peeled back, and for the first time, someone truly saw you.

“You’re different,” he whispered once and his voice sounded like molten gold. “They’re all rats in a maze, but you’ve got potential. You could shine, dear.”  and you believed him.

Maybe that’s why, when he first tore the sky apart and dragged you into a void of glittering stars, you didn’t scream.

Because Bill doesn’t show you space, he shoves you into it. 

It was fucked up, all of it. 

The way he could snap his fingers and peel the world apart like wallpaper, exposing the writhing void beneath it. Bill doesn’t do anything halfway. One moment you’re standing on Earth, listening to him wax poetic about infinity; the next, you’re drowning in the universe itself. 

“Look what I can do. Look what I’ve seen. And now, you get to see it too!” Bill said excitedly meanwhile all you could do was only stare, slack-jawed, as galaxies spun like pinwheels with their light painting you in hues of silver and violet.  

Bill’s laugh cuts through the silence like static on a dying radio. “Beautiful, isn’t it, dear? A front-row seat to the cosmic symphony! And guess what? You’re the lucky guest of honor!”

“Fuck,” you whispered in awe, not even daring to blink.

Bill laughed at you again. “Exactly, baby! Fuck! That’s the kind of reaction I’m talking about! Do you get it now? While all these other ants were busy bumping into walls, I saw this. This!”

His eye spun toward you, unblinking, watching you from head to toe. He watched you both worshipful and utterly unhinged because for him you were part of those infinite constellations he adored, he watched you like you were the only thing that mattered in a universe of infinite distractions.

“You could be one too. A star.” Cipher spoke.

You didn’t ask what he meant back then, only laughed. “Stars burn out, Bill.”  

“Yeah, but they make one hell of a show first.” 

But how sad that stars didn’t just shine, they exploded.

***

It wasn’t all chaos and destruction, not at first. There were soft and tender nights, when the storm of his mind calmed just enough to let the starlight through.

Bill Cipher didn’t have lips to kiss, but he had power and he wielded it for you when he felt like it.

One of the clearest proofs of his power was that night by the lake.

You remember it, the night the moons danced just for you. 

Bill hated water, loathed its constraints, its rules, but he was levitating beside you anyway, watching as you waded deeper. You floated on your back, staring up at the night sky, feeling the silence, enjoying it. His eye gleamed in the darkness, lighting you up, taking you in like a masterpiece he didn’t know how to ruin just yet, but there was unusual softness in his voice when he snapped his fingers. 

And the moons, now two of them, impossibly large, swelled and glowed with light. And then the lake shimmered, the ripples reflected the radiance until it looked as though you were swimming through liquid silver, no. . . melted pearls in their beauty.

And it took your breath away.

“You like it?” he asked in a casual tone. “I can make it brighter, if you want. Or darker. Or gone.” 

And as if reading your mind, Bill snapped his fingers once more and the two moons shone even brighter.

“Better now, right? It’s for you, sweetie,” he said, leaning on his cane. “The moon, the stars. . . hell, the universe.”

You hated how beautiful it was. How much it felt like it was for you. But back then, you felt loved. Or at least, something close enough to it.  

***

Bill was everywhere. In your mind, in your shadow, in the air you breathed.

But love with Bill was never meant to be gentle, it meant to be a trap. A game played in his favor, in which you were destined to lose. It started small, quiet, too quiet to notice and react, his words cutting deeper, his charm was imbued with a poison. He didn’t just want you near; he wanted to own you, to reshape you in his image, to pull you apart until there was nothing left but the star he claimed to see in you.

He didn’t just want your attention, he demanded it, craved it with a desperation that was feral. And when you tried to push back, tried to claim even the smallest piece of yourself, he didn’t take it well.

One night, after you’d dared to argue with him, to tell him no, he burned with a rage that lit up the sky. His form glowed red, large, his voice so loud and low that made the ground tremble beneath your feet.

“You think you can defy me? You think you can just walk away? Newsflash, sweetheart: you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. And you’re not going anywhere.”

He grew restless. Obsession turned to cruelty. When he spoke, it was no longer about the stars you could see, but the ones he wanted you to become. His anger was cosmic, vast and unrelenting, and it terrified you.

“You’re wasting yourself here,” he snarled one day, his triangular form flashing red again as he hovered above you. “These people, this place, they’re nothing. I could make you mor—”  

“W-what are you even talking about, Bill?” you spat, though your voice trembled. “I’m human, Bill. I can’t—”  

“Bullshit! You can. You just won’t. And that’s what makes you pathetic. You think you can leave me? Do you even know what I’ve done for you? What I’ve shown you?”

You stared at him, trembling, but still defiant. “You’ve shown me a prison with a prettier view.”

And Cipher only laughed. “Prison? Sweetheart, I’ve given you the fucking stars! You’d be nothing without me. Nothing.” if he had a mouth, it’d be that disgusting crazy wide grin.

You wanted to run. But how do you run from someone who can rewrite the very ground beneath your feet?

***

You remember the terror of Weirdmageddon because you were at the center of it all. Not by choice, never by choice, but because that’s what he wanted. And what Bill Cipher wanted, he took.

But when it was over, when the Pines family managed the impossible, when Bill was defeated, erased from Stanley’s mind, when they unraveled Bill’s madness, tore him apart, and your world snapped back into place, the silence felt. . . deafening. 

You didn’t see Bill fall, not directly, but you felt it, you knew it was over, the sudden, aching silence where his presence used to be.  

The world felt smaller without him, quieter, duller. And you hated yourself for noticing.

You should’ve been relieved.

But instead, you stood in the ashes of his world, staring up at a sky, at the empty space where his chaos had once burned so brightly.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t laugh. 

And you remembered the stars. But Bill taught you that stars were always meant to burn out.

You remembered the way his voice softened when he talked about them, how excited and happy he sounded, the way he’d show you galaxies as if they were flowers he’d plucked just for you. You remembered the way he watched you, like you were the only thing in all of creation that mattered.

Even now, after his fall, you hope he remembers the galaxies. . . or if he’s just another forgotten star, lost to the void.

And you wondered if, somewhere, in some forgotten corner of the universe, he remembered and saw stars too.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

- anon

https://www.tumblr.com/gh0stsp1d3r/756767107351543808/aemond-just-loves-to-pull-your-hair-an-were?source=share

just was doing my daily skim of tumblr and refreshed the "Aemond Targaryen x reader" tag and oh!! when i came across your little headcanons/drabble (please bare w/ me🙏 i forget what form of writing that's called) i immediately liked and came to request when you left that note at the end asking for request of his "fine ahh" so i've come up w/ an idea x

Aemond and his hands, specifically his fingers, how would he react to fem!reader having a fascination w/ them (after seeing him play w/ that coin, picking up the marble ball and coin!! moving his hair out of the way...)? like reader staring at and day-dreaming about his long, slim but just enough girth, fingers and her always wanting to hold onto his wrists or intertwine her fingers w/ his and compare the size of their hands?? maybe an oral fixation w/ how reader sucks at his fingers, swirling her tongue around as they lay heavy on the wet muscle?? dom!Aemond might be easier to write for (canon!character wise), but for this request if you're able to do switch!Aemond that'd be appreciated x

maybe some fingering, consensual!voyeurism (reader watching him masturbate as he drags his deft fingers up & down his length, forming an o shape with his hand as she controls when he's allowed to cum – edging and overstimulation?? – and he's letting out small, breathy gasps and slipping in and out of high-valyrian), just realised how slutty this is omg?? sorry!! i just prefer adding detail so writers like you have an easier time writing out requests because i understand how annoying writers block is x

ℋ𝒶𝓃𝒹𝓈

A/n: OH MY ANON YOU READ MY MIND BECAUSE THIS IS AMAZING AND I LOVE EVERH SECOND OF IT. I wanna kiss ur brain right now. His hands r so 😩 ily for this request.!

Warnings: hand kink, oral fixation, a lil bit ooc but whatever, switch!aemond, switch!reader, male masturbation, overstimulation, sub! aemond my love . Also im terrible at writing sub characters so pls forgive me !!

MASTERLIST

divs by plutism + strangergraphics

Your secret fascination with his hands had been going on for as long as you could possibly remember. No matter what he did, you found yourself staring at them.

As Layrs Strong sat with you and your husband, you found yourself positioned across from the man, and next to your husband. Aemond held a stone ball in his hand, the king's marker, as he leaned back in his seat, rolling the stone ball between his digits.

Your eyes were practically glued onto his hands, watching his fingers roll the ball around, the important discussion that they were having already tuned out in your mind.

And when he fidgeted with the coin, your gaze was fixed on his hands and fingers. It seemed like he couldn't stop fidgeting with the coin, constantly twisting and turning it, taking it wherever he went.

His gaze lifted, and a small smirk played on his lips. He had been feeding into your captivation, idly spinning the coin between his fingers, relishing in the way your eyes were glued to every subtle motion his hand had made.

Even when he did something as simple as moving his long hair out of his face, you found your gaze moving from his face to his veiny hands.

He noticed it, of course he did. He knew you like no other did at this point.

He first saw it when your own hands were always intertwined with his, always feeling the need to be close, you told him. But he suspected it was for another reason.

He saw it with your delicate touch on his wrist, your fingers lightly grazing his skin.

His suspicions were confirmed when you placed your hand on top of his, subtly comparing the difference in finger lengths without uttering a word about it. A faint smile appeared on his face as he interlocked his fingers with yours.

Now, he was just playing with your obsession. It was utterly adorable in his mind.

As he sat on the bed, his fingers flippjng to the next page of a book. Meanwhile, you had just got out from a bath, clad in a delicate nightgown draped over your body.

You walked over to the bed, he glanced over at you. He smiled softly, you gave him a small smile back, moving and going underneath the covers. Your gaze fell once again, onto his hands, turning the pages every once in a while. He noticed this, sly smile on his face as he shut the book with one hand.

He sighed, moving to sit up. You quirked an eyebrow at him, confused. He turned to you, looking at you with his head tilted to the side.

“I can see you’ve become rather fascinated with my hands,” he spoke, his words making your eyes widen and your mouth fall agape.

“What?” You questioned, and he couldn’t suppress the chuckle that came out of his mouth when he saw your eyes look around the room, nervously avoiding his question.

“Don’t play dumb, wife.” He spoke, his voice low, looking down at you. You swallowed, thinking for a response before his hand gripped your jaw gently, rough hands on your soft skin.

His thumb traced over your bottom lip, you looked up at him as you opened your mouth. He had a smug smirk on his face, putting his thumb that was on your bottom lip into your mouth. His hands suddenly left your jaw, and he replaced his thumb with his index and middle finger, your hands going to grip his wrist.

With a smile still on his face, he thrusted his fingers in and out of your mouth, enjoying the gagging he heard when he hit the reflex. His fingers stopped for a moment, and you swirled your tongue around his digits, him letting out a satisfied hum as he pulled them out of your mouth.

He tugged off his boxers, thankful that he always decided to sleep in nothing but them.

He looked up at you again, his fingers moving to his length, letting out a shaky exhale when his hands began to tug at his cock. You had a smile on your face now, putting your hands over his that tugged on his cock.

He let out a low moan, you running your fingers over his hand gently, as he jerked himself off. He leaned over to kiss you. His lips left yours, and he nuzzled his face in your neck, tracing his nose on your jaw.

He let out gasps, and his breathing was getting shallow. You knew he was about to cum, which is why you whispered to him.

“Stop.”

His eyebrows creased with confusion, and he released a noise that sounded like a whine. He looked up at you again, moving from his spot in your neck, his movements stopping, your hand still on the back of his hand, tracing every vein there was.

You looked back at him, and he exhaled through his nose, knowing what you wanted him to do.

“Y/n.” He muttered, voice sounding like a plead. “Please, Kostilus, my love.” He breathed out, his breath hot against your skin.

You smiled, satisfied with his words. You nodded, and he let out a sigh of relief, his hands moving up and down on his length again, kissing along your collarbones, your other hand on the back of his head, running a hand through his soft, silky hair.

“Kirimvose. Kirimvose, love.” He mumbled against your skin, his native language sounding so beautiful coming from his mouth.

You let go of his hands, watching his deft fingers move up and down his length, letting out low groans and grunts of pleasure every once in a while. His head tilted back, and you swear he’s never looked as beautiful as he does now.

His head turns back to you, mouth agape. He looks at you, and you already know what he wants.

You put your hands back on top of his, speeding up his pace. “Cum for me.” You muttered into his ear, that was all he needed. He came all over his stomach and abs, panting heavily and groaning, letting out quiet curses. His hand moved off, but yours did not.

He looked at you again, gently trying to push your hand away, as he was overstimulated from your touch. It had him crying out, the odd feeling.

He cried out your name, when he felt his cock hardening again, and the pressure already back.

Kostilus- please

Kirimvose- thank you.