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One of Sukuna’s arms is draped over your waist, holding your back tightly to his chest as though even in sleep he won’t let you go. His other arm is tucked beneath his head. His breath fans your neck, his face nuzzled into its crook. His legs are tangled haphazardly with yours.

He hasn’t moved a muscle since you awoke, and you don’t dare wake him. If anyone needs rest, it’s him.

Truthfully, you don’t mind doing nothing if it means cuddling with him.

You can’t say for sure how much time passes before he begins to stir. Every twitch of his finger or adjustment of his legs is followed slowly by a long inhalation. The kind that tells tales of a great storm and how it’s finally been dispelled.

He groans, only half-awake as he shifts the arm under his head to wrap you in a protective barrier. His hips press into your ass, morning wood grinding against the plush skin.

Smiling, you finally peer over your shoulder. His gaze is mere slits, as though the sun is a personal affront to his bubble of peace. His pupils betray the fact that his mind is elsewhere, though.

“Morning, princess.” His voice has been scraped over sandpaper, rough with the grit of a man who slept over twelve hours.

“Morning, sleepyhead.”

He grunts, his breath falling over your skin in soft wisps. “What time is it?”

“Mmm,” you hum decisively, trying to lean forward to peer at his clock, but he pulls you back the moment you inch away.

“Nevermind. Don’t care that much,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck.

Giggling as he wraps you in his limbs, heavy and loose, you relish the feeling of his lips on your bare skin. Every movement is languid and unhurried. For once, he has a lifetime to learn you. A lifetime to kiss every inch of your skin. A lifetime to worship the curves, scars, and marks that make up the woman he loves.

The pace of his movements stutters as he blinks at his own thoughts. His lips ghost your skin as they part, grappling with a realization that came so naturally that it scares him.

Would it be so absurd to think that what he feels for you is that strong already? On one hand, you’ve been official for under twenty four hours, but on the other hand…

How many months has your Gamecube been here? What about your toothbrush?

How many times have you dropped everything to show up for him when he couldn’t get through to his brothers?

How many times have you walked through his apartment like it’s your own, one of his shirts hanging loosely from your frame like you were his from the start?

You became home before Sukuna even realized that ‘home’ doesn’t always come with four walls.

He’s never put a title to those thoughts. Not really. He can blame a lack of time, he can blame how stupidly dense he was– and both are certainly factors– but truth be told, he’s never considered what word could possibly suit the way you make his palms sweat and his heart leap.

Love is a word Sukuna never associated with romantics. The love he shares with his family– his siblings and father– that was never the same as whatever Kaori and Jin shared. Whatever that was, Sukuna learned quickly that it was one-sided.

Now, the word feels foreign on his tongue. Truth be told, it scares him. His heart seizes at the thought that love could be something not just familial, but romantic. Something shared. Undying. Real. The kind of things fairy tales are based on, only real and tangible and here in his arms.

But as you crane your neck to curiously look back at him, your lashes fluttering sweetly as a quizzical quality swims in your eyes, it settles something within him. “Is everything alright, Kuna?”

He hums. He’s not sure it’s a word he’s ready to breathe yet, but it tastes of the freedom and dreams he told you about on your date last night. So he’ll hold it close to his chest, savor the feeling for himself until he’s ready to share something so sacred. “Yeah,” he clears his throat of a modicum of its morning grit. “‘M great,” he murmurs peacefully, resuming his movements with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

It’s infectious, and before you know it, you’re grinning.

“How’d you sleep, princess?”

He shifts, his lips moving to gently suck on the skin at the base of your neck as he pushes up on an elbow. You hum in delight, tilting your head to give him space. “Better than I have in ages.” With lidded eyes, you peer back at the man whose lips graze your throat. “You seem like you slept great, though.”

He lifts his head, contemplating once more what time it is. Now a bit more alert, he squints as he peers towards the window, gauging how high the sun is in the sky. He must have slept over twelve hours. Nightmares didn’t grace him, even the insomnia that his withdrawals brought on was kept at bay by the peace of having his girlfriend at his side.

“Guess I did,” he confirms, resuming the path of his lips down your neck until he reaches your shoulder. With every sultry mark and kiss he leaves on the expanse of your collar, you feel his morning wood twitch. The way he rolls his hips against the plush of your ass isn’t exactly subtle when he’s that big. “You look fucking gorgeous,” he whispers into your skin.

You grin as warmth blooms in your chest, grinding back against him. He groans, his fingers cementing to your hips as he stills you. “Kuna,” you breathe his name in a questioning tone.

He lifts his head from your neck, giving you his full attention with a gruff hum.

In spite of already sharing your first time together, you still find your nerves bubbling up as you pull your lower lip between your teeth. Flipping beneath the blankets to face him, you drink in the sight of the blankets settling low enough on his hips to bare every tattoo and scar you traced last night as the band of his boxers peeks out. He has one arm propping him up, while the other one traces shapes along your skin.

His attention is pulled to your expression, lips pursed and eyes swimming with adoration as your fingers begin a trail at the scar on his shoulder. His muscles tense as you trace a path down his abs, briefly glancing at his appendicitis scar, before following his happy trail to tentatively brush your fingers over the elastic of his boxers.

Peering up at him from beneath your lashes, you search his expression. Somewhere between rested and lustful, his chest rises and falls heavily. His hairline has the faintest hint of sweat already beginning to bead where the strands stick. His jaw is set, tense as he watches your every move with the expression of a man starved.

“Can I?” You softly murmur, grazing your finger along the line where elastic meets skin.

He shudders. His adam’s apple bobs. “Fuck,” he groans, strained. “I still won’t last–” He cuts himself off with a heavy exhale, his expression twisting into an embarrassed scowl.

“That’s okay,” you assure him with a kind smile, shifting to bring your other hand up to graze his stubbly jaw. His lashes flutter as you stroke his cheek, before he decidedly nods.

“Okay. Yeah,” he breathes, tilting his head to kiss your palm. “Fuck, please.”

Sliding your hand over the waistband, you stroke him slowly over the cotton, watching his jaw slack and his eyes roll back as you provide the friction he’s been chasing. His fingers curl into your hip as his cheek rests in your open palm that remains on his jaw.

Discreetly wetting your hand with saliva, you tentatively slip your fingers beneath the waistband, wrapping your palm around him. You already know he’s thick, you’ve felt as much, but with your fingers wrapped around him, your throat goes dry.

Sukuna sucks in a breath at the sensation, warm and wet that envelops him. His abdomen is already clenching, and his boxers are already stained with precum when you start a tentative rhythm, a slow up and down motion that steals his breath. Letting out a broken cross of a moan and a groan, his every breath becomes hot and heavy.

“Fuck, princess,” he grunts, his brain coming to a startling halt when it comes to forming coherent sentences. Pleasure courses through his body, his limbs shifting between completely loose and tense as he focuses on the movement of your cute little hand.

With a heavy exhale, he swallows hard as he casts a glance at your expression first, your lip pulled between your teeth as you learn him. His gaze slips down to your hand. Your nails are cutely done up and look so delicate wrapped around him. He twitches at the mere thought, already close.

The grip he has on your hip is near-bruising as you feel him jerk twice. Your voice is saccharine and sultry as you watch his eyes screw tight. “Feel good, Kuna?”

Another twitch. He groans. “Fuck– it does. Don’t stop,” he gruffs, his voice strained and husky.

Your thumb brushes over his cheek again, soft. Fuck, he won’t last much longer.

Your mind flashes back to the way your boyfriend melted at the first sign of praise. Brushing his cheek again, you keep your voice low. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re doing good.”

It completely disarms and sends him over the edge all at once. His body tenses as he throws his head back, his hand flying to your wrist as his orgasm hits him in waves, covering your hand. The brute’s chest heaves as he comes down from the heady and sudden climax, his stiff grip on your wrist slowly loosening with every pulse of his high.

When he finally releases his grip, you pull your hand back slowly, the proof of his orgasm painted across your skin.

His eyes crack open in response to a brush of your thumb over his cheek again. His pupils are crimson-rimmed, a haze passing over them as he regards you with adoration. “Thanks, princess.” There’s a sultry rasp to his tone that has your eyes crinkling at the corners.

You look pretty like this. Hair disheveled from a night in his arms, your makeup completely smudged and long forgotten. You still have an afterglow from the night before that fuels Sukuna’s pride a little too much.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

His gaze flickers down to the hand you don’t seem super sure what to do with. “Here, I got you.”

You open your mouth to protest, but he’s already on his feet, rolling his shoulders out as he makes his way to the washroom. When he returns, clean and tucked back into his boxers with a wet cloth and dry towel in his hand, he’s gentle as he wipes your hand down. You pout up at him, cross-legged on the bed as he sets the towel down over the spot on the sheets with the evidence of his climax.

“Why won’t you let me take care of you?”

He eyes your pretty pout, smirking as he wipes your fingers. “You did take care of me.”

“I don’t mean–” you sigh, shaking your head. “I should be the one cleaning you up.”

He pauses, looking your hand over before tossing the cloth in a hamper across the room. “Princess,” he gruffs insistently. “You’re my girlfriend. You think your nickname means nothin’?”

“You called me that way before I was your girlfriend,” you point out.

He hums his agreement. “Doesn’t mean you aren’t my princess. Gonna treat you like one.”

You’re unable to fight the wide, shy smile that breaks out on your face. Sukuna grins, a glow to his expression that’s unfamiliar but suits him. The kind of shine you seldom see from him, but you’ll cling to it like something sacred.

“Speaking of being my princess,” he purrs, prowling over you. As he crawls towards you on the bed, his massive figure presses you back into the mattress. Falling back from a sitting position onto your elbows with a giggle, you face him again. The fog in his gaze settles, leaving room for the light that follows. He lowers himself down to his forearms, cradling your face in his hands as he slots his lips over yours.

His kisses are as languid as your morning has been, focused solely on you. His chest rumbles pleasantly as you glide your hands up his chest, folding your arms behind his neck. His tongue glides across your lower lip, seeking entrance as he relishes in the feeling of your tight embrace around him and subtle smile.

His eyes are still shut when you pull back for air, his forehead resting on yours. “What, um–” you pause, left breathless, “what were you saying about me being your princess?”

He smirks. “Dunno. Just wanted to kiss you.”

Bubbly as ever, you giggle beneath him, cracking your eyes open to his still-closed crimson pair. Slowly, they blink open, mirthful.

“Sap,” you tease.

“Mm. I know,” he wrinkles his nose in jest, as though the mere idea is a travesty. “Can’t imagine we’ll have many mornings this quiet, though.”

“I’m okay with that too,” you murmur, pulling him back down for a kiss to his cheek.

He hums again, capturing your lips. “Such a fuckin’ angel,” he murmurs between breaths, a four letter word slowly entwining itself around his very being with every moment he spends with you. “Y’know,” he says between kisses. “Could always spend a bit more time together.”

The sultry lilt to his tone tells you where his thoughts lie. “Don’t you need to pick up the kids?”

He lets out a long breath, burying his face into the crook of your neck as he takes a moment to enjoy the peace before replying. He settles a modicum of his weight atop you, holding himself up just enough to make sure he doesn’t crush you.

You melt into him. Sun basks the room in warmth, settling across you like a blanket. The world outside feels distant, caught up in your own little bubble. Time takes a day off to allow you both some much-needed space to simply be.

Your hand threads through salmon strands, nails gently raking over his scalp. Neither of you moves for a while, even as his arms ache and your neck begins to get a kink at the odd angle you’re laying at, nearly hanging off the edge of the bed.

One of your phones vibrates on the nightstand, serving as a reminder that time doesn’t truly stop for anyone. You stir in his arms, but he pushes up on his elbow, reaching over you to check his phone first.

Noon. “Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand back through his hair. He has a few messages from Toji, half expecting each one to be a complaint about how much of a handful Yuji is, but to his surprise the messages leave him amused.

The first message is a photo of Choso cooking, with the caption ‘why the hells he a better chef than me’. A breath leaves Sukuna’s nose, something akin to a laugh.

The second message is a photo of Yuji with gum in his hair. If he weren’t in such a good mood, the brute would have frowned, knowing fully well his little brother is about to return with a patch of hair missing.

The third one is a photo of a nice looking breakfast, eggs and toast, accompanied by the caption ‘ok wtf’. He snorts, flipping the screen towards you. Tilting your head to get a better view, you scroll through the messages, a grin slowly spreading at the sight of them.

“Cho’s gonna be a great chef someday.”

Sukuna hums his agreement.

“And Yuji’s hair will look just like yours now.”

He flashes you a glare as your mischievous grin widens. “Brat.” Without warning, he plops his full weight down onto you, met with an ‘ough’.

“Kuna–” you gasp as you press against his shoulders with all your might, unable to help the laughter that bubbles in your chest.

“Apologize.”

“Please, Kuna–”

“Nuh uh. Apologize.”

Your hands slip against his shoulders as you fail to push him up at all, wheezing as laughter and your boyfriend both work against you. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please!”

At last, Sukuna lets up with narrowed eyes. You suck in a breath, staring at the ceiling as you throw your arms out dramatically. Sukuna just stares with a smirk. “Done bein’ a brat yet, princess?”

You nod, pouting at him.

“Good,” he mutters, leaning down to kiss you. “Can’t have three brats walkin’ around the damn place all the time.”

“Dick.”

“Mhm.”

He pushes up to sit on the edge of his bed, shooting Toji a quick message.

“Do you need to pick them up soon?”

He glides a hand back through his hair. “Yeah, I told Toj I’d pick ‘em up in the afternoon.” He tosses his phone aside, craning his neck to face you, still laying at the edge of his bed. Brushing hair from your forehead, he adds, “we’ve got time for breakfast first.”

Sitting upright, you beam at the handsome man as sunlight traces his sharp jaw. In spite of all of his edges, he looks softer now under the gentle glow of early afternoon. “Do you have eggs? I make a great omelette,” you offer.

“Princess.” Your boyfriend shoots you a pointed, albeit warm look. “Stop tryin’ to outdo me.”

“I’m not–” You try to protest, but you’re swiftly interrupted by his thumb and finger closing around your cheeks, squishing them together.

Staring intently at your pouting face, he smirks. “Sausages and eggs work for you? I don’t have much to go in an omelette.”

You nod your approval.

Getting to his feet, he releases your cheeks and pulls you up with him. “Why don’t you go get ready, n’ I’ll take care of breakfast. Or, uh– lunch, I guess.”

When you re-emerge from the washroom– smudged makeup gone and hair no longer in disarray– in the t-shirt and sweatpants you stole from him last night, Sukuna is just finishing cleaning up the kitchen. The smell of hot food wafts through the apartment, luring you straight to the table.

Crimson eyes fix you from over his shoulder. His gaze slowly roams down your figure, satisfaction coursing through him at the sight of his clothing engulfing you. Cute.

“Come eat,” he urges you, flicking water from his hands into the sink and wiping them on his sweatpants. He pulls a chair out for you like everything about treating you like a princess comes naturally to him. He supposes when one look at you makes his heart skip that it serves as a pretty good reminder of how lucky he is.

And how happy you make him.

How life doesn’t feel like constantly trying to make it through another day just to start over again. How he looks forward to seeing smiles on the faces that make his days easier.

Catching him staring from the seat beside you as you take your first bite of your eggs, you tilt your head. “Is everything alright?”

He sucks in a breath, pensive. “Yeah… Yeah, it is.” Picking up his fork, he juts his chin out at your food. “How is it?”

“Great, thanks Kuna,” you grin between bites.

“Mhm. I’ll make sure I have omelette ingredients next time.”

The side of Sukuna that’s truly at peace, this domestic and mild version of him– complete with all the huffing and snark you still expect– it brings a smile to your face. His words from last night still rattle in your chest, not quite settled. That this– you– are his dream.

You smile softly. “As long as you let me help.”

His gaze slides towards you, glimmering blissfully. “Deal.” His face twists suddenly though, as he recalls a time you practically tossed bread crumbs across his floor. “If your recipe has fuckin’ bread crumbs in it for some goddamn reason though, we’re skipping them.”

“Wh–” you try to protest, a vision of food flying everywhere brought to the front of your mind. “That wasn’t my fault, you scared me! I didn’t hear the door unlock.”

“I wasn’t tryin’ to sneak up on you,” he teases, finishing his food much faster than you. As he moves to put his dishes away, you admire the trails of tattoos that race down his shoulder blades, accompanied by newly acquired streaks of red. Pulling your lip between your teeth, you conceal a small smile at the satisfaction of Sukuna being marked as your boyfriend.

You suppose it’s only fair given how covered in little bruises and bites you are. He painted you like a damn canvas.

“No complaints?” He eyes you over his shoulder, a brow raising at the realization that he caught you staring. A slow smirk crawls across his lips as he wipes his damp hands on his sweats again. “Cute,” he murmurs, kissing the crown of your head. “‘M gonna go shower. Make yourself at home.”

–

After an encounter with the journalists outside the front door that left Sukuna tightly clutching you to him as they asked invasive questions, you finally pull up at Toji’s place. Your boyfriend still bears a grim frown in spite of your insistence that you’re fine. He supposes it’s just another day dealing with the wreckage left behind by his step-mother, but it still irks him.

Sukuna makes his way to the door, typing a code into the keypad of the school-owned residence like he’s been here before. He leads the way up to the seventh floor, turning corners until he reaches a chipped off-gray door. He raps his knuckles over the wood, his other hand entwined with yours.

You can hear the rattling of excited cheers behind the door, followed shortly by the football player’s appearance and greeting as Sukuna hands his car keys over. Before he even greets you, he gets a shit-eating grin on his face with one glance down at your intertwined fingers.

“Finally grew some balls, Ryomen?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Sukuna grumbles, much to the delight of his friend, who barks a laugh as even you struggle not to at least smile.

“Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna Kuna!” Yuji chants from behind Toji, tugging on the raven-haired man’s shirt. Opening the door wider, Choso lingers further back as Yuji bursts out to hug Sukuna. Relief floods you to see that the young brunette boy’s eyes are bright as he also puts two and two together at the sight of your hands.

Most importantly though, he looks like he had a good time.

Slowly but surely, his wounds are mending, just as the rest of your group recouperates.

“Hey, Yu,” Sukuna greets the youngest, ruffling his hair as the little boy clings to his leg.

“Kuna! Kuna, I gotta show you!” The boy’s mind moves at a mile a minute as he rushes suddenly back past Toji and Choso in search of something.

Sukuna’s brow raises in amusement as he watches the little boy bolt back into the messy apartment. You can’t say for sure whether that’s just Toji or if Yuji wreaked complete and utter havoc. Both are very real possibilities.

Sukuna’s attention turns back to Toji. “They give you any trouble?”

“Nah. This little man can cook, though.”

Choso’s cheeks redden as he shuffles from foot to foot.

“Yeah, he’ll go places,” Sukuna agrees warmly.

The little boy’s cheeks are completely roseate as he smiles down at the ground now, silently thrilled.

Everything about the interaction fills you with an emotion that words don’t do justice. Pride, joy, and relief all flood your chest, each one in a battle with the last to take the crown for what you feel the most, never to find a winner. Seeing Toji and Sukuna take shots at one another while Yuji tears through the world with all the glee that only a five-year-old can muster, all while Choso grins to himself? It’s a sight you won’t soon forget.

Your hand tightens around Sukuna’s, garnering his attention as he admires you.

Toji follows Sukuna’s gaze, addressing you. “He treat ya well?”

“Yeah, we had a great time. Thanks for watching them, Toji.”

Toji shrugs it off, leaning against the doorframe. His arms cross over his chest as Yuji proudly holds up a friendship bracelet not unlike the ones still wrapped around all of your wrists.

“You’re gettin’ good at these,” Sukuna comments, pulling his hand from his pocket to hold it out.

His little brother reels back, as though offended Sukuna might even assume it’s for him. “Don’t touch! Just look!”

His expression contorts as he glares at his blunt little brother. “Who’s it for, then?”

Whipping around to face Toji, the little boy proudly holds it up to him. Toji’s brows raise. “For me?”

“Yeah!” He pridefully holds out his wrist and the little collection of bracelets worn by people closest to him.

Toji’s devil-may-care attitude contorts as the equally emotionally dense man to your boyfriend is suddenly faced with the kind of thing that ties him not just to the little boy, but to Sukuna. He swallows, caught off-guard as he glances back at Sukuna, standing upright.

The veins in Sukuna’s temple bulge as he watches Toji, once his closest friend– hell, his brother– reel. Held within their silent exchange is the kind of emotion that can only be understood by two people who grew up together. Your boyfriend holds your hand up, showing off your wrist. “You’re in it for life,” he offers, as though he fears the football player may refuse.

Finally, Toji huffs out a laugh. “For life, huh?” He smirks, offering his wrist to the little boy so reminiscent of Sukuna himself. “Lock me in, kiddo.”

Through your peripherals, you can just barely make out the relief, and almost disbelief, that floods Sukuna’s features as he averts his eyes, sucking in a breath. You squeeze his hand in reassurance, stepping closer to brush your arms.

“Lookit that,” Toji grins, holding his wrist up. “I’ve never looked better,” he boasts, ruffling the bubbly kid’s hair. Yuji is all beams, practically ready to burst with how pleased he is with himself.

“Go get your stuff packed up, Yu.”

“Okay!” With an excited bounce, the little boy races back into the apartment, sharing the instruction to get packed up with Choso as Toji turns back towards you both. With his arms crossed back over his chest, he flicks his wrist a time or two as he gets used to the latest addition to his arm.

“The new coach’s gonna kill me,” he chuckles. “Bracelets ain’t exactly easy t’ get approved.”

“Oh yeah, congrats Toj,” Sukuna smirks, clapping a hand down on his friend’s shoulder.

Toji’s still grinning, about as bashful as a guy like him can get. “Thanks, man.”

“New coach?” You pipe in, peering between the two men who are suddenly making you feel very short.

The football player scratches at the back of his neck. “Got scouted. Haven’t really told anyone aside from Ryo and Satoru, yet. Still kinda wrappin’ my head ‘round it.”

“No way,” you gasp. “Congrats, Toji!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he coyly brushes you off, “I haven’t signed yet, so keep it on the DL, yeah?”

Clasping your free hand around Sukuna’s bicep, you nod. “Fine, but you better hold at least a celebration of some sort once it’s official.”

“Roger,” he slyly salutes, his attention drawn to the bundle of energy that just about barrels into his leg with a hug. “Hey, kiddo. You have a good time?”

Yuji nods affirmatively. “Next time we stay over, can we– um–” he pauses to give his mind a moment to catch up to his mouth. “Play more basketball?”

“‘Course, as long as your brother’s up for it,” Toji agrees, eyeing Choso, who warmly nods.

“Someday I wanna be big enough to dunk it like you, uncle Ji!”

Sukuna stiffens, but Toji finds his footing quickly, lifting the little boy up into his arms for a bear hug. Sukuna’s chest rises and falls faster, Toji and Yuji’s conversation lost in the ringing. You can see the inadequacy crawling back up his throat before he can even identify it himself. Always one step ahead of him, you drag his hand clasped in yours up to your chest, settling his palm over your heart.

Although its pace is still fast, it’s steady, and the pounding pulls him out of the thoughts that threaten to choke him.

You shoot your boyfriend a lopsided smile as he blinks and rolls his shoulders out. Swallowing around the lump in his throat, he slowly drops his hand from your chest as he casts you a grateful glance. His fingers are still intertwined with yours, a pensive expression caught in the crease between his brows.

He swears you’re his guardian angel. Your wings come in the form of cute knit sweaters and your halo is made up of dainty jewelry, but he’s come to recognize that you must have fallen from heaven, because you’re too good to be true. You’re certainly too good for him.

But… you’re still here. And he’s already pinched himself, this isn’t a dream.

His lip quirks up, just a bit. Enough to call it a smile. It lightens the weight on his shoulders, just enough to leave space for gratefulness to soar within the cavity of his chest. He knows he still has work to do on the front of his friendship with Toji. It’s not perfect. He forgot the energy drink he promised him. But like everything else in Sukuna’s world, it’s on the mend, and that’s all he can ask for.

“Alright, c’mon,” Sukuna beckons both of his brothers along with you as Choso hugs Toji next.

You can’t help but smile as Yuji bounds ahead, followed shortly by Choso. There’s something far too sweet about just how gentle the two scariest looking men you know are.

“Thanks again, Toj. I’ll grab you that energy drink next time I see you.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, man,” the raven-haired man waves a hand nonchalantly through the air. “Can ya take a look at my damn car codes ‘r whatever, though? I dunno what the fuck you’re talkin’ about.”

Sukuna snorts in amusement. “Yeah. I’ll bring some shit over next week.”

“Cool. I’m gonna go fuckin’ nap,” he points back over his shoulder, earning amused chuckles from you and Sukuna. “‘M happy for ya both, though.”

“Thanks Toj. See you at Satoru’s?”

“I’ll be three drinks in by the time you even get there,” Toji snorts. “You’ll be playing catch-up.”

“Kunaaaaa!” Yuji calls from the end of the hall.

“Gimme a sec, brat.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, though it lacks any signs of real irritation. As Yuji runs circles around Choso at the end of the hall, the brute turns back to Toji. He pulls away from your grasp to lean in and hug his friend. “Appreciate you,” he mutters.

Toji pats his back. “‘Course. They’re always welcome ‘round here.” He pulls back, his arms folding over his chest. “Shit, if y’wanna send Choso for dinners, I won’t ever fuckin’ complain.”

Laughter breaks through whatever tension remained stuck to Sukuna. “I’ll let him know.”

“Alright, catch you later.”

You’re pulled into Sukuna’s side by the waist as he leads the way down the hall. Approaching Yuji with you tucked to him so closely has the little boy stopping to owlishly stare at you. “Are you his girlfriend?” Before you can even ask, he points to you, facing his older brother. “Is she your girlfriend, Kuna?”

Once again falling into the familiar back and forth of being humiliated by his extremely blunt little brother, he presses a thumb to his temple. “Yeah, Yuji. She is.” He casts a glance at the doors surrounding them. “Inside voice.”

“I’m not being loud!” He insists loudly, his lips drawn into a little pout.

Sliding his hand from his temple down his face, Sukuna shakes his head. “Yu,” he warns.

The little boy’s shoulders fall in a little pout. For as unaffected of a man as Sukuna likes to pretend he is, it tugs at his heart strings. He sighs. “Just until we’re outside, yeah?”

That immediately sates the little boy, who hops back towards the elevator with a “kay,” as though it was all an act in the first place. Sukuna’s eyes narrow at the realization that a five-year-old might have learned to play him, breaking into a full scowl as he finds that your shoulders are shaking because you’re laughing too.

How the hell did he end up being the one constantly under fire?

With a huff, he gives your waist a playful squeeze. It pulls a yelp from you as you scramble to get away from the ticklish sensation. Brushing your– or his, you suppose– shirt down in an effort to compose yourself. With a brief glance at your boyfriend before exiting the elevator, you smile at the sight that he’s already watching you. In spite of his mild expression, there’s a loose feeling to the way that he carries himself that makes you smile.

“Tell me all about your time with Toji,” you urge the bundle of energy once you’re out the door as you make the trip back to Sukuna’s.

Yuji– the very same one who just got scolded for not using his inside voice– hesitates. He glances back at his older brothers, then to you with a pleading pout.

You frown. Unfortunately, you recognize the pout as the same one he wore when he admitted to being told he talked too much. Even weeks after winning, it seems as though Kaori and Noritoshi still haunt you.

“I wanna hear every single detail,” you grin in an effort to assure him that you meant what you said when you told him Noritoshi was wrong. It also keeps your scowling boyfriend’s anger from boiling over as he doesn’t pick up immediately on what’s going through Yuji’s head, or he’s not paying attention.

Yuji perks up immediately. With very emotive hand gestures, he excitedly tells you about the big blanket fort that Toji set up for the two brothers, only to end up as the first one asleep in it. He tells you all about how Toji has every movie, which Choso informs him is just Netflix, and they watched two Pokemon movies.

The concept of Toji in a blanket fort watching super powered animals talk to one another is definitely one for the history books.

You suppose he and Sukuna have that much in common. They really are both a couple of saps in their own right.

“I heard Cho made some great food,” you add, casting a glance back at the little boy a couple of steps ahead of Sukuna. Before you even meet his gaze, he’s already sheepishly fiddling with his fingers, a little smile spread across his lips.

It’s sweet. To see a return to a familiar dynamic between the brothers. Maybe even a stronger one, as you catch Sukuna softly smiling too. Pride shines within his sharp gaze brighter than any scowl, hands in his pockets as he trails a short distance behind.

“Mhm!” Yuji enthusiastically agrees with you. “He made us an amazing spaghetti and meatballs!” He bounds up and down cheerily, clutching his little backpack tightly to his shoulders. “And– And–! He made us eggs too!”

“And toast,” you comment. “Toji was super impressed.”

“Yeah!” Yuji cheers, widely grinning. “Choso’s the best chef!”

Choso’s as red as a tomato, but his wide smile gives away just how bashful he is. “It was nothing, really.”

“Dunno, you’re gettin’ better than me,” Sukuna smirks, catching up to the kid in two long strides. “We’re gonna be having Michelin star meals soon.”

“What’s a Michelin star?” Yuji inquires.

“It’s basically an award for having really good food,” you explain in the simplest terms.

“Then Choso gets ten!” He insists.

Ruffling his hair, you chuckle to yourself. “I think three is the max.”

“Nope! I just decided. He gets ten!”

“Yuji…” Choso laughs along with you, sheepishly playing with a loose string on the hem of his shirt.

“There are some restaurants that have them don’t need ‘em, that’s for sure,” Sukuna snorts. “Maybe you can put on your best Mission Impossible gear for Cho if you’re pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down,” Sukuna smirks.

The youngest brother’s brows stitch together as he lets the meaning of Sukuna’s words marinate, only to come up blank. “What are you putting down?”

The eldest barely conceals his amused huff. He brings a hand up to his chin, dragging it over his smile. “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

The little boy throws his head back with a frustrated groan. “You keep saying that and I’ll never be as old as you!” His hands plop down at his sides dramatically as you burst into laughter, facing away from Sukuna as though it might help his bruised ego.

“Quit calling me old, brat,” he growls, his scowl shifting pointedly to you. “He’s calling you old too, y’know,” he points out gruffly.

You shrug it off. “Yeah, but it wasn’t meant for me, which makes it funny.”

“Not a single one of you on my side, huh?” He eyes Choso, who’s also quietly laughing to himself. With a click of his tongue, he buries his hands back into his pockets. His eyes roll, his gaze trailing off to the side as Yuji doesn’t hesitate to launch into telling you the full plot of one of the Pokemon movies, getting sidetracked every time he spots something of interest, when something occurs to him.

“Can we go to the park?” He reaches for your hand in an effort to tug you down the block away from your current destination when he spots a playground in the distance.

“That’s up to your brothers,” you turn back to face them on the empty street corner.

Sukuna shrugs nonchalantly, with nowhere to be and nothing pressing to attend to. “Cho?”

Glancing between the three of you, the boy nods.

“YAY!” Yuji cheers, tugging you by the hand in the direction of the playground when he suddenly gasps. “Tag! You’re it!” Dashing away, you’re left with no other choice but to chase after him. You peer down at your extremely oversized clothing that suddenly feels like a hazard to you with how much material pools at your ankles, but you give chase regardless.

Sukuna watches in amusement as his little brother screams when he spots you coming. With a sidelong glance, he juts his chin in your direction. “You gonna go play?”

Choso blinks, watching you struggle to maneuver the playground in clothing far too big for you. Ignoring his brother’s question, he stares straight ahead. “You asked her out.” It’s not a question, just a fact.

Crimson eyes flit around the little boy’s expression, mild and aloof in the kind of way Sukuna has mastered. He supposes Choso really did pick that up from him. Unable to read the threads that make up his brother’s thoughts, he nods. “Yeah.”

For a long moment when they reach the edge of the playground, where asphalt turns to gravel, Choso remains silent. It stretches on long enough that Sukuna grinds his molars, working the muscles in his jaw. And then– “I’m glad. I like her.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Yeah. Me too,” he agrees, a puff of air leaving his nose as he admires you as you laugh heartily and throw yourself down a slide after Yuji. “She’s important to me.”

Choso cracks a smile, craning his neck to face his older brother. “Me too. She’s pretty cool.”

With his hands still tucked in his pockets, Sukuna kicks out a foot to nudge his little brother’s shoe. “You’re pretty cool too, Cho.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

With a lopsided smirk, he shrugs a shoulder. “You’re pretty cool too. Most of the time.”

Sukuna glowers at his little brother, but it doesn’t contain a fraction of fire. “Watch it. I’ll take it back.”

Choso laughs. It’s not full-bodied, it’s not the kind of exclamation that screams of a put-together family built on a solid foundation. But it wisps through the air like the cadence of healing. It’s the sound of two brothers, both still young, both still going through life for the first time, figuring things out together.

Sukuna smirks. “Go play,” he urges the boy again as his laughter dies down.

Choso ducks away from the hand that threatens to dishevel his hair. “I’m not five anymore.”

“Nah, but you’re only twelve once. Go make the most of bein’ a kid.”

Go make the most of a time long past for Sukuna.

With a little shove, Choso turns to walk backwards for a moment, smiling at Sukuna as shoes crunch over gravel. He turns on his heel and dashes back after you and Yuji.

With a drawn out breath, Sukuna makes his way to a worn wooden bench on the perimeter. He sinks down onto the creaky planks, carved with obscenities and initials over years of use. Pools of sanguine watch the three of you with an expression that’s almost serene. Yuji dashes up the slide away from Choso, each boy grinning while you lean over a railing above.

You, with no makeup, no jewelry, and clothing that dwarfs you so much it almost gives off the impression you don’t know how to dress yourself. A breath leaves his nose at the thought, his gaze sliding towards the horizon as the sun makes its way across the sky, still high in the early buzz of afternoon. Though he supposes he’s never been able to take his eyes off of you for long.

He adores your style. He adores the knit sweatshirts and cute shorts with matching flats. He adores the way you experiment with your makeup and hair if you know you’re meeting up with him. He adores that everything about you is saccharine, from your style right down to the way you taste.

But he equally adores the moments that remind him that you’re not just some dream or fantasy that he can only ever long for. The candid way your skin creases when you smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. The way your hair sticks out when you wake up. When your makeup smudges in the rain.

Your laughter is a melody he can’t get enough of as Yuji leaps at you in an effort to tag you.

It makes his heart clench.

You give chase to Choso, who chuckles as you and Yuji bolt away from him once he’s been tagged. His head whips between each of you, before turning to Sukuna, still spaced out and sprawled over the bench. Slowly, he approaches his older brother. With bright eyes, he extends his hand, resting it on Sukuna’s shoulder. The man’s brow raises questioningly. “Tag.” A beat. “You’re it.”

Sukuna’s gaze glides languidly towards the playground. To you, curiously peering at him, and Yuji, grinning widely with an expectant stare.

A slow smirk spreads across Sukuna’s lips that has Choso backing away with a smile.

“You’re gonna regret that!” He barks, dashing to his feet as he chases after Choso. The boy picks up his pace as he heads straight for you and Yuji, falling into a fit of laughter. And this time? It’s not something reserved, it’s genuine.

With the advantage of longer legs, Sukuna catches up to Choso with little effort, throwing him over his shoulder. “Who’s it now, brat?” He grins as Choso laughs and squirms in an effort to get away. Leaping to the top of the playground with heavy steps, Sukuna drops Choso to his feet and bolts in the other direction.

Skidding to a stop beside you, he watches both boys laugh as Choso gets his bearings and takes the slide back down.

You give Sukuna a nudge with your shoulder. “I told you that you know what you need to be for them when it counts.”

His cheeks take no time to dust in a pale rose, his demeanor softening just an ounce. He doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t need to.

Instead, as Choso dashes towards you, a sly grin spreads across Sukuna’s features as he shoves you towards the middle brother. Yelping in surprise, you shoot Sukuna a glare as you’re the next one to give chase.

It makes life feel simple again.

He knows he can’t exist in this bubble forever with no hardship whatsoever, but for once Sukuna’s pretty sure he can make it out the other side of whatever comes his way with his head above water. He just might need a little help from time to time.

And as the dust settles, both in his life and from the gravel beneath his feet as he bolts after Yuji, he thinks he’s okay with that.

–

It had only been three days since becoming official, but Sukuna had already been putting in an effort to show just how much your trust and adoration mean to him.

In his own way.

From what you can tell, he’s come to terms with the fact that he isn’t a traditional candidate for a partner. He’s stopped with the antics that don’t quite suit him, there’s no overdressing or fancy meals anymore, but he does bring you lunch at work when you get all of Yuki’s old projects dumped on you as she moves up the ladder too.

Though Sukuna mainly works from home with the kids back this summer, he still doesn’t fail to show up for a minute or two to drop off something homemade for you.

Being as much of a gossip as she is, the moment Sukuna heads out, Yuki is hounding you with questions.

Between her and Shoko, you don’t hear the end of questions about how your date went and how Sukuna asked you out. Kento may be more aloof, but in spite of his quieter demeanor and more polite approach, you know he’s just as curious. He may not act like it, but he’s a stickler for gossip too.

Aside from them and Toji, you decide to keep things on the low until Satoru’s big party.

The kind woman across the hall offers to watch the kids, and to Sukuna’s delight, she offers to watch them early, letting him come visit you as you get ready.

Sprawled across your bed, his gaze hasn’t once left you, warm with adoration. “I like that dress,” he comments as you try on a white dress dotted in blue flowers. The neckline dips between your breasts, tied together with a cute bow.

“You said that about the last one.” You smile over your shoulder at him.

“I liked the last one too.”

You roll your eyes but your smile gives away your giddiness.

“I think I’ll go with this one.”

Sukuna, who just threw on a muscle shirt and a pair of baggy jeans and called it a day with his usual jewelry, watches with amusement as you move along to choosing your shoes. “Do you do this before every event?”

Holding out two pairs of shoes to him, one pair of flats and one pair of heels, you nod. “Mhmm! Shoko usually sits where you are.”

“Cute,” he hums, pointing to the pair of flats.

“Really?”

“They look comfier. Don’t want my girl drunk and tripping in heels.”

Your eyes crinkle at the corners as you beam at him. “That’s thoughtful.”

“It’s practical. Don’t want you walkin’ around barefoot or askin’ for my shoes when they’re twice your size.”

“They are not twice my size,” you shake your head at his dramatics, holding up a flat to his foot dangling over the edge of your bed.

“They’re close enough,” he snorts as you pale at the sheer size difference. “You know what they say about a guy with big feet.”

Your cheeks warm as you shoot him a wide-eyed stare at the implication behind his sultry tone and lidded gaze. Quickly recovering, you fix him with a playful glare, harmlessly tossing the flat at him. His arms raise to deflect the meager toss, snickering as you turn on a dime to face your closet again.

“You are such a guy sometimes.”

“Too much?” Although he asks, the knowing look on his face contradicts him.

“... No,” you sigh as you clasp a necklace over your collar. “Can I have my shoe back?”

Tossing it back your way, you catch it and turn to face the mirror. Satisfied with your appearance, you twirl to face your boyfriend. His gaze lowers to watch the skirt of your dress flare out, amusement playing on his smirk when he meets your eyes once more.

“Gorgeous.” A beat. “Ready, princess?”

Your cheeks are warm as you reply. “I think so!”

Sliding off of your bed, he steals a kiss and lets you lead the way out the door. The walk to Satoru’s is filled mostly with little details about your days. How Sukuna’s coworker keeps forwarding things to him that have nothing to do with him and doubling down on it every time only to be proven wrong. How it’s a wonder Yuki gets anything done when she spends most of the day gossiping.

It’s entirely mundane in the kind of way some people might dread.

It’s entirely peaceful in the kind of way Sukuna has grown to love. The kind of stability that gently cradles his sharp edges and dulls them into something akin to freedom.

The house is already teeming with party-goers when you arrive. It has to be a majority of the graduating class, all crammed into one house that will undeniably have the cops called on it with the amount of young adults laughing and drinking on the lawn alone.

Silver streamers hang from the roof with a banner that reads ‘congradulations’ in bold font over the house’s usual greek lettering. Coolers are laid across the lawn with a combination of beer and seltzers tossed into them, sweltering in the evening sun’s warmth as the ice slowly melts.

Eyeing the banner as Sukuna ducks into the doorway, he snorts to himself at the thought that you and Kento must have chosen it.

Glancing over your shoulder at Sukuna, you lead the way through the crowd to the back where your friends usually gather. His hand finds your waist, sticking close to you through the crowd of sweaty bodies until you reach the backyard. He keeps his head down as much as he can to avoid drawing attention, though it’s difficult when he’s a head above most of the party-goers.

Streamers and pieces of confetti litter the tree overhanging the fire at the back. It’s far too warm for a fire, but your friends are huddled around it regardless, spirits high. Bass steadily pumps through the yard from within the house, sweaty bodies swaying mindlessly to the pop beat. You thread through them with Sukuna in tow, gathering the occasional curious stare at the drop-out that either doesn’t phase him or he ignores. When you reach the outer edge of your group, tapping Uraume’s shoulder, they perk up at the sight of you.

“There you are!” They lean in for a hug immediately, their cheeks warm with the early buzz of alcohol. They follow suit with Sukuna as the group greets you with smiles and waves. “Here, Atsuya disappeared a while ago, you can have his chair.” They drag theirs to the side to make room for you. “Hold on, I can get a chair for you too, Sukuna.”

“Oh!” You glance over at your boyfriend, mildly watching the situation unfold. Exchanging a glance with him, he catches your drift quickly. “That’s okay, don’t worry about it,” you smile at Uraume.

“Are you sure? I can totally–” Uraume cuts themself off at the realization of the disgustingly cute exchange you’ve just had as Sukuna’s lips curl into a smirk. He brushes past you, manspreading in the lawn chair as he offers you a seat on his lap. He’s not oblivious to your giddiness either, it’s cute as hell.

“I know I’m sure,” he smugly grins. “What guy wouldn’t want his gorgeous girlfriend in his lap?”

Satoru’s head whips around like he’s just heard one of his frat brothers call for a round of shots. “You’re official?” He stares with the kind of eager expression that befits only the most dramatic and gossip-loving person you know. Which is a feat given that he’s up against Yuki.

Your grin betrays you before you can even reply, feeling Sukuna’s grip on your hip tighten as you nod.

“Oh fuck yes! All the more reason to celebrate, we gotta get you some drinks!”

Settling back against his seat as conversation flies across the room, he wraps his arm around your middle as you settle back against him. Drinks are in your hands and the night is in full swing before you know it. The sight of the ex-history major whose lap you’re seated on draws the occasional whisper, but Sukuna pays it no mind and keeps your eyes away from the unnecessary attention.

Plans for the future are slung around left and right, secured positions and interviews on the horizon already, when the question is thrown your way. Yu’s eyes glisten happily as he awaits your answer.

“Well I already have a job, so I guess the next question is where I’m gonna live,” you chuckle. “My lease is up at the end of July,” you explain.

“Oh yeah, you’re in one of the off-campus spots the school promotes, hey?”

You nod. “I guess I probably should have started looking a bit ago but it’s been a long month,” you laugh. Sukuna’s grip on your waist tightens subtly, but he doesn’t say anything.

“At least you have an extra month, Ken and I have to be out of the dorms in a week,” he grins, completely unbothered over having nowhere to live. “If you’re planning on staying nearby, maybe we can all look in the same area.” Beside him, the blonde’s brow raises skeptically as he mutters something about responsibility and already having leases lined up, but Yu’s attention is solely on you. He’s always been the type to go with the flow anyway.

“Yeah I don’t wanna be far from Kuna, Sho, or work,” you agree. “It’d be nice to stay close to everyone.” Your boyfriend hums in delight behind you.

“Hold on, I’ll make a group chat and I can send you the places I look at. What about you, Sukuna?” Yu pulls him into the conversation.

He shifts his legs beneath your thighs, sucking in a breath. “Dunno, really. Still getting used to shit as is.” His hair falls over his forehead as he shakes it at the mere thought of what his year’s looked like. “Got a couple of jobs right now, but one’s a two year contract. Once it’s up, I was thinking I might go back to school.”

Those listening in all perk up. “In history?” Uraume prompts curiously.

He hesitates. “Haven’t really gotten that far,” he admits, the crack of flames drowning out his voice. “I kinda wanna finish my history degree since I only have a semester left, but–” His gaze lifts, hesitantly trailing across the curious eyes fixated on him. He may not know everyone in the group equally, but you visibly see him break a wall down as he lets go and speaks his mind. “Think I wanna go back and do art.”

“Art history?” Yu queries, unaware of much of Sukuna’s talent.

“Visual fine arts.” His voice is low, the admission something he’s kept so close to his heart that this is truthfully the first anyone is hearing of it. He glances up at you, smirking. “Now that I work in design, I wanna improve.”

A chorus of approval rings out across the group. The brute even cracks a smile when Uraume gives him a supportive nudge. He settles back into the chair, pulling you back with him.

“When did you decide that?” You curiously peer at him.

He shrugs as though it isn’t something he’s been turning over in his mind like a precious relic. “Around your grad. Been thinkin’ back to crossing the stage in high school and how different things are since then,” he sighs, toying with the hem of your dress. “Used to think I just graduated n’ went to school for my dad, but now I think I actually wanna do it. I think… He’d be proud.”

Brushing your fingers along his jawline to draw his attention to you, he’s met with your overwhelmingly tender expression. “I think so too.”

His gaze softens. “It’s not gonna be my focus since I already like my job, but–” he cuts himself off with a shrug. “I still wanna do it. Improve my skills n’ all that.”

Leaning in to peck his lips, you nod. “I can help with your brothers.”

“Fuck, you’re always such an angel,” he grins, pulling you back in for another quick peck. The warmth emanating from his chest seems to increase tenfold and were he not such a private person, you’re positive he’d be pressing you into the chair right now. You can’t help but giggle at the thought, pushing against his chest for leverage to sit upright again.

“It’s good to see you opening up to everyone.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Though he brushes you off, his smirk betrays him.

As the night goes on, the extroverts in your group come and go, always returning to the fire that’s completely unneeded even as it draws closer to midnight. Heat permeates the air almost uncomfortably, but even as sweat draws on the brows of each of your friends, you all find the fire like a beacon.

The introverts stay closely grouped together. Sukuna, who falls somewhere in between– happy to follow Toji shot-for-shot, while simultaneously returning to your side to check in and recharge when he needs a moment– makes his way through the party like he never left. Still, there’s something renewed about him. He’s not here to forget anymore. He’s not here to drink until he forgets his misgivings, nor is he here to find someone to follow home, only to up and leave the moment he’s satisfied.

He’s keeping to himself and your friends, his head thrown back in laughter as Kento wrinkles his nose when he accepts a shot, unbeknownst that he’s about to swallow Jägermeister. Sukuna’s not drinking to forget, he’s drinking to be social. He’s drinking because a lightweight orange ball that’s hit the floor too many times to count just landed in the cup in front of him and Toji’s swaying beside him. He’s drinking for fun, and nothing else.

At some point, you find yourself in the kitchen with Shoko, lazily smiling as you eye the beer pong table across the room. Sukuna and Toji are on their second game against Satoru and Suguru. The previous one had Satoru winning by one drink and Toji was not about to let that slide, dragging your poor boyfriend into another round of chugging beer that’s cheaper than the crappy streamers that barely cling to the walls.

Shiu, Atsuya, and a couple of Suguru’s friends all crowd around, alongside some envious eyes that you know all-too-well are eyeing up the four men. It’s hard not to when the richest man on campus is practically yelling at your boyfriend for cheating purely because he has long arms. It certainly draws a lot of attention.

“Birthday cake or pink lemonade?” Shoko queries as she sets two half-empty bottles of vodka beside the soda she pulled out.

“What?” You wrinkle your nose at how sickeningly sweet they sound, buzzed enough that you have to squint at the writing across the bottles in order to focus on them. “Flavorless or at least like, peach or something.”

“Girl, I looked,” she groans. “This is all that’s left for vodka, unless you want tequila, rum, beer, or a spritzer.”

Your lips press into a thin line, deep in thought when Satoru begins yelling again. He draws the attention of more party-goers– yourself and Shoko included– as multiple pairs of eyes are drawn to the dramaticism being thrown around by the fratboy.

Who lost at beer pong at his own grad party. Again.

So, really, what else were you expecting other than a show?

Sukuna rolls his eyes, and though you can’t make out what he says, the way he points to Satoru’s last cup of beer is enough of a tell. Even Suguru is visibly recoiling at the attention being drawn, practically shoving the cup towards the white-haired man. His shoulders fall in relief when his friend pouts and finally accepts defeat. As the party rages on, Shiu makes his way over to Toji and Sukuna, the three laughing as they egg on Satoru across the table.

“He sure knows how to make a scene,” Shoko chuckles as she eyes a double shot in her cup.

“If he didn’t, I’d think someone had replaced him.”

Shoko pauses, hiccuping as a laugh bubbles from within her chest. “Guess if we ever need to check for aliens, I know who to call.”

“Just put him in front of a crowd, if he doesn’t take over like he belongs, it’s not him,” you agree, laughing heartily as you glance back over at the scene. Your heart catches in a moment of brief betrayal at the sight of the very same blonde from the party early last winter approaching Sukuna. Your motion stills as you watch the scene unfold, wide-eyed and momentarily stunned into silence.

Your boyfriend turns as she clings to his bicep, recoiling when he realizes it’s not you. A wave of guilt washes over you for even allowing the thought to fester when he indignantly yanks his arm from her grasp. His lip pulls into a curl as he undoubtedly throws some harsh words at the poor girl who likely doesn’t even know he’s taken, and you’re reminded briefly that the Sukuna that faces you, and even the one that faces all of your friends is just that. The version of him that you see is reserved for those close to him only.

“Damn,” Shoko laughs over your shoulder, clearly watching the scene unfold as well. “Sometimes I forget he used to be like that all the time.”

His shoulders rise and fall in a visible huff across the room, before a thought seems to cross his mind, and he scans the party. His eyes befall you in seconds, something akin to concern flashing through those hazy crimson irises. Smiling warmly, you dispel his worries with a sweet wave, watching the tension in his shoulders release as his eyes crinkle at the corners.

For a moment, the room narrows to just the two of you in a silent exchange of shared radiance. Even as Toji’s arm slings over Sukuna’s shoulders, his attention is glued to you for long enough that his easy smile becomes a full grin, morphing into a laugh as he’s physically dragged away by Toji.

Shoving a sugary drink into your palm, Shoko grins as she sidles up beside you. “Don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy. You two’re a bunch of saps.”

The heat in your cheeks harshens, but you don’t bother hiding your grin. “It’s nice to see him like this.”

“Sure is,” she agrees, eyeing you. “Nice to see you like this too, though.”

With a shake of your head, you down some of the (entirely too sugary) vodka soda in your hand, involuntarily wrinkling your nose. “This year hasn’t even been that bad,” you insist, brushing her off.

Her brow raises. “Girl, I was starting to think you’d have permanent worry lines to match his grumpy ones with all the shit the Kamos put you through. That whole fucking thing with your scholarship had me ready to hunt her down.”

Laughter bubbles up in your chest. “I don’t think Kuna or I would complain, for what it’s worth.”

“I’d be more worried if you did complain,” she laughs, leading the way back to the fire where Kento and Uraume await you. As they welcome you with wide smiles, the warmth of the flames reaches deeper than just skin.

Laughter surrounds you on all sides. Somewhere in the distance you can hear Toji and Sukuna getting up to antics that your boyfriend likely thought he would never have again. Satoru and Suguru never fail to be the life of the party, boisterously taking their places– or more aptly, Satoru’s place– as the center of attention. Yu and Atsuya make their way over to your group by the fire.

It’s bittersweet to think that this is your last hurrah before you trade in textbooks and studying for editing and overtime. Get-togethers like this will grow more few and far between and schedules will undoubtedly get busier, but with such a strong bond tying you all together, you’re more than certain that you’ll all make time for one another.

You crack a fond smile as you settle into your chair, grinning as the back of the old fabric seat shifts with the weight of your boyfriend’s beefy forearms. “What’re you thinkin’ ‘bout?” He murmurs, eyes lidded from the effects of two rounds of beer pong on top of matching Toji’s pace.

With a glance around the fire, you lean your head back to meet his gaze. “Just that this might be the last time we see everyone like this.”

He follows your line of sight, taking in the picture of everyone sweltering around the unneeded fire. Satoru and Suguru squeeze past him and dramatically plop down in their original seats as though the night is finally taking its toll on the duo. Toji isn’t far behind, practically seated on top of Satoru after noticing a lack of seats.

“Nah,” he decides finally, smirking. “You’re as stuck with these losers as you are me.”

“Who’re you callin’ a damn loser?” Toji scoffs, his finger swaying as he juts it out at Sukuna.

Your boyfriend’s hands raise into the air, shrugging with a shit-eating grin. As the two go at it, you fall into the familiar back and forth that always seems to befall the boisterous personalities in the group, but it serves as a reminder that Sukuna’s right. No one sitting around the fire will be out of reach anytime soon.

–

Sukuna’s toothbrush tangles with yours as it clatters into the ceramic cup atop the vinyl counter housing the sink of his new (to him) three bedroom condo. He stares at it briefly, before his gaze flickers to the third addition to what has always been nothing more than a toothbrush holder. He’s pretty sure it’s your mascara, a pink plastic tube settled among the bristles like it belongs. So what the yellow and blue tube laying across the vinyl countertop beside it are… well those he’s not sure at all.

Those aren’t the only pieces of you that have migrated to his home in the month since you helped him move. Your laundry has mixed with his, your shampoo and soap sitting on the shower’s ledge like it’s always belonged. Your hair product sits beside the gel he uses. A blanket is draped over his bed that’s too cutesy to be his, covered in little cartoon bears. A collection of little things that don’t fit in the organized disarray of his home, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. He finds himself liking the way each addition draws his eye, reminding him of the woman he fell for.

He finds himself getting lost in thought when he considers what a home could look like with you. His Metallica tour poster framed on a wall alongside something abstract and pale pink you picked up from a local artist. The heat-changing Scream mug that Choso saved up to get him alongside your beige mug that looks like a knit sweater and two cups of apple juice. A world of darkness and sharp edges moulded together with one of light and corners soft to the touch. The thought has him holding you closer every night, given something to look forward to, no matter how far in the future his mind is thinking ahead.

“Kuna?”

“Mm?” His gaze swivels to you, sprawled out on his bed with something paused on his laptop.

You peer over at him now that he’s turned marginally in your direction, his shoulders no longer blocking the piece he’s working on at his drawing table. “Whatcha working on?”

He flips his tablet towards you. “A new brand guide for the Fintech.” His screen is a mix of logos, letterheads, and email signatures for the company he’s been working with for the last couple of months.

“Those look great,” you beam.

“Thanks princess,” he hums, returning to his work. “How’s your show?”

“It’s good,” you hum, a thoughtful lilt to your voice telling your boyfriend that something’s on your mind. He turns to face you fully, setting his tablet aside as he gives you his attention. “Is something on your mind?”

He figured you wanted a kiss. Staring blankly at you, he sits upright, casting a sidelong glance out the window. The moon kisses your skin as it floods the rooms, much higher in the sky than he had expected.

“You seemed pretty zoned out,” you explain your thoughts, leaving the floor open for him if he wants to talk.

With a long, slow inhale, his attention settles back on you, curled up in his blankets. The sight of you is so inviting that even deadlines can’t hold him back as he pushes out of the chair, setting his laptop aside to pull you into his embrace. With your presence steady against him, he exhales softly.

“Kinda had somethin’ on my mind for a bit,” he admits, crimson gaze sharply evaluating your reaction as you tilt your head. “Cho asked about our dad a couple of weeks ago.” He lets the statement hang in the air for a moment, allowing you to grasp it before he continues. “I think a lot of our dad is gone for him. I think–” he hesitates, unsure where he’s going with this statement.

He thinks– what? That Jin’s nothing more than a ghost to the little boy these days, caught between the strange reality that his older brother is his guardian and his younger brother knows nothing beyond this life? That Sukuna’s the only one left to remember the man who raised him? That losing that piece of his life scares him?

The reality is that it’s more than just fear. The thought lingers in the corner of his mind, tasting the shadows with its forked tongue as though it lies in wait to swallow Sukuna whole. It’s a heavy weight to bear the memory of someone so dear and impactful completely alone.

Where once he thought he’d healed, he’s realized now all he had truly done was shove it all down– the fear, the pain, the grief– like a weed he would continue to pluck. When he caught his own reflection in the knife his step-mother held as she tore his wounds open again, that’s when he realized he hadn’t healed at all.

And that’s only a portion of his fears. He still grapples with the fact that Yuji is everything Jin embodied, and yet he doesn’t recognize his father at all. Yuji knows Sukuna as his father, and that’s a whole other situation he’s still unpacking.

Is all that’s left of Jin truly the memories of a man still putting himself back together and two recovering kids who know his ghost?

Your hand on his chest draws him back to the present. “Take your time.”

His brow draws to a pinch. “I think I’m kinda all that’s left of his memory.” Voiced aloud, it’s enough to make him wince. “Dunno, it’s just been sitting weird with me, I guess.”

You nod slowly, searching for comfort, an answer– anything that might help. Nothing about life comes so easily, though. The silence is heavy, though you allow it to be. Its weight isn’t necessarily bad, even if it is difficult, as Sukuna works through his emotions in a healthy manner.

“Choso was young, but even if he doesn’t remember much, I don’t think that means you’re the only one left to remember him.” It feels a bit like an oxymoron, and Sukuna finds himself narrowing his eyes skeptically at you. “Just because Choso doesn’t remember everything doesn’t mean that Jin didn’t have an impact on him,” you point out, your thumb brushing his jaw ever-so-gently. “I didn’t know your dad, so I can’t say, but I’m sure you see a lot of him in Choso. Yuji, too. Even if they don’t remember specific moments, he’s still with them in different ways.”

Pulling you closer to his chest with strong arms, you feel him inhale, long and slow as he processes your words. He cradles your head against his chest, muffling your next words on accident as his fingers thread through your hair.

“There’s other ways to keep his memory alive, too.”

He shifts beneath you, crimson gaze evaluating your words.

“Have you ever visited him?”

“Visited… my dad? Not since the funeral.”

“Maybe visiting would help,” you shrug, pushing back on his chest to face him. “You could tell the boys stories about him, share the memories you have. Talk to him, maybe. It might help with…” you shrug. “Closure, or just getting things off your chest.”

The thought sits between you for a long time. Presented with smoothed edges and delicate petals, its underlying grief softened by your support. He sucks in a breath, nodding slowly. “Might be good for Cho n’ I.” He turns the thought over in his mind. “I don’t think Yuji would get it.”

“Maybe not, but learning about his birth dad doesn’t change what you are to him. He might like to know more.”

His adam’s apple bobs. His shoulders lift and fall. His thumbs rub small circles into your waist. “Would you come with us?”

You shift to get a look at him, catching a glimpse of his troubled expression. “Of course, if you want me there.”

“I do.”

He never could have imagined how small someone of his stature and bravado would feel, faced with the cemetery he’d chosen.

He’s never been here. In spite of choosing it, he never saw the plot himself. The proximity was always important to him since he told himself he would visit, but he never got to a point where he felt prepared.

Hell, he’s not even sure if he’s prepared now. He may finally be healing rather than bandaging the open wound, but it doesn’t make it easier. How is he meant to excuse five years without even visiting once? Guilt pools deep in the pit of his stomach, one that he only casts aside when he looks down at Choso, barely half his age and visibly nervous.

As you pull Yuji from the car seat Sukuna bought now that you’re together, the eldest offers his hand to the little boy shifting from side to side. Choso blinks, raising his line of sight to his tattooed brother.

“Y’alright?” Sukuna gruffs as the little boy takes his hand.

The brunette nods, a question raised to the tip of his tongue. “Is dad buried here?”

Sucking in a breath, Sukuna nods. “Somewhere in here, yeah.”

Processing that information, Choso blinks as he looks over the rows of headstones. “I didn’t know he got buried.”

There it is. That pang again, bitter guilt settling sour at the back of his throat. “Yeah. Sorry, Cho.”

Although the boy doesn’t respond to his brother’s apology, he’s perceptive as ever as he narrows his attention on his older brother. “Are you okay?”

The question hits just as heavily now as it did when he would ask at only seven years old. The difference now is that Sukuna is okay and he knows how to navigate things now. Mostly. In spite of the swirling guilt and fear in his stomach, he cracks a smile and ruffles Choso’s hair. The little boy ducks away with a mild scowl as his older brother replies. “Yeah, I’m good.” Sucking in a breath, he reminds himself that this doesn’t have to be sad. He’s here to share stories from his father’s life, to share the warmth Jin imparted upon all three of his sons. “You good, Cho?”

Choso peers up at Sukuna as he fixes his hair, pushing it back out of his face behind his ears. “I’m good, too.”

With Yuji on your hip, you make your way around to the brothers, proud of the progress they’ve both made.

Their recoveries are long and winding, and they both struggle with sleep still. Choso’s reservations aren’t difficult to read and there are still days where you and Sukuna abandon your dates in an effort to comfort the boy. Sukuna’s struggles are quieter. He gets that distant look in his eye every so often and there are days where routines are forgotten within the fog of his mind.

But as you watch the eldest ruffle Choso’s hair, that signature brotherly scowl taking its place on the boy’s face, you know that they’ll continue along their paths. Slowly but surely, they’ll find their ways with your support and that of all of their friends.

As Sukuna cranes his neck when he catches you in his peripherals, his gaze drops to Yuji in your arms, his expression relaxing.

It’s not just those two slowly finding their ways either. Yuji still hasn’t fully come to terms with the fact that an adult could willingly lie to him. He’s noticeably quieter around those he doesn’t know, but he’s finding his confidence again too.

You’re proud of them, all three of them. You’re proud of yourself, too. Your own confidence has grown tenfold and you find yourself much more sure of things these days. Some might say you spend too much time with the stubborn and boastful tattooed man you’ve grown to call home, but there’s more to it than that.

Over the past year, everyone you’ve chosen to surround yourself with has built up your certainty in the respect you know you deserve. You’re still the same sweet woman who gives everyone the benefit of the doubt– as there’s often more to one than meets the eye– but you don’t let anyone take that kindness for granted.

“Ready?” You face the two boys.

Your boyfriend nods, trying to pat Choso’s head again, only for the boy to duck away once more. You stifle your laughter at the sweet sight as Sukuna leads the way towards the back quarter of the cemetery.

Summer is in full swing. The grass is long and lush, just beginning to show evidence of the recent dry spout. A faint breeze rustles it, blades shifting against well-maintained stones that sit among it. It’s a gorgeous day, the kind that feels as though the world, too, is ready to celebrate the memories of the man who raised Sukuna.

Your gaze travels across the variety of headstones as the brute searches the rows for a familiar name. They range in height, size, and simplicity, with some sporting designs and carvings, while others are more simple, but both remain elegant. Moss creeps into the crevices of older stones, betraying their age, though they’re broadly well-kept and legible.

As Sukuna and Choso silently traverse the plots, you chat with Yuji behind them.

“Can we invite Nobara to my birthday?”

“Anyone you want, honey.”

“So we can invite my whole class?”

Sukuna flashes you a concerned glance at the concept of nearly thirty kids potentially running around his condo, even if he does have more space now. To his dismay, you smile at the little boy sweetly. “Of course we can.”

“Oh! Oh! And Toru, Toji, and Rume?”

“We can invite them too,” you assure him. “They’re all pretty busy though, so just remember they might not be able to stay the whole time.”

“I know, but Toru said he likes dinos so he’ll love the theme!” He insists.

Sounds about right.

“As long as Satoru is gone before the cake comes out,” Sukuna grumbles ahead of you, the amused lilt to his tone giving away his complete lack of disdain.

“Why?” Yuji tilts his head quizzically.

“He’d eat the whole cake,” the eldest gravely delivers what might be the worst news an almost-birthday-boy could hear.

Yuji’s face drops into a pout. “Why? That’s mean.”

“It is,” Sukuna agrees in a faux forlorn tone. “He’s addicted to sweets, though.”

Yuji bounces back quickly, going over the details he wants for his sixth birthday when at last Sukuna and Choso come to a stop ahead of you. The youngest trails off from his spot in your arms, twisting to get a look at what everyone stopped for. You set him on his feet, stretching out your arms after carrying him for so long. You’ve only known him for under a year, but he’s already gotten so much bigger that your heart twists at the thought.

Sukuna takes a seat first, settling cross-legged in the grass. “C’mere,” he holds a hand out to the youngest brother whose face is knit with concentration as he tries to sound out the name on the headstone in his mind. In spite of his visible confusion, he takes his brother’s hand, sitting in his lap while you and Choso take a seat on either side of him.

Sukuna’s silent for a long time, his expression pulled into a thoughtful scowl. Yuji, somewhat restless in Sukuna’s lap, doesn’t understand whose grave he’s sitting at, if his expression is anything to go off of, but he seems to have a grasp of the general idea of where he is and that he’s related to whoever the space belongs to.

The silence stretches on for a long time, scarcely interrupted by anything aside from the occasional noise from the road in the distance or a bird chirping overhead. There’s weight to the stillness surrounding you, but you shoulder it with your boyfriend, supporting him with a gentle palm on his back. His form rises and falls slowly beneath your hand, and with one final long inhalation, he shifts to pull something from his pocket.

You had suggested bringing flowers, but he’d decided on something else. A small candle rests in his palm when he shifts to sit upright once more. It’s a warm vanilla scent, the kind that makes you think of baking and a house filled with family.

Yuji makes no complaints as the eldest leans over him to place the candle in front of the grave. His hand finds the chest pocket of his button-up shirt, pulling from it the familiar lighter he continues to carry with him every day, even since he quit smoking. His thumb brushes the engraved name, and you see now why he opted for a candle over flowers as he lights it.

With the lighter sitting beside the candle and the scent of vanilla warming the wind, your boyfriend sucks in a breath. “Hey, Dad.” His voice is hoarse with that sort of gravelliness that suggests tightness in his chest. “It’s Yuji, Choso, and uh– Ryomen. And I wanted you to meet my girl, too. If you’re out there.”

You can hear his hesitation, his struggle to speak so openly without ever receiving an answer. Regardless of his beliefs, there’s something freeing about putting thoughts out in the open, no matter how difficult.

“Wish you could be here to see ‘em grow up.” He pauses briefly, casting a glance at you as he introduces you by name. “She’s an angel. Still not sure how I deserve her, but I ain’t taking her for granted.”

Your hand slips from his back as you lean into him to give him your support. Your head rests against his shoulder, your presence grounding him as you silently show your appreciation for him.

“You’d love her, I know it.” He lets the thought hang for a moment, casting a warm glance in your direction. His attention shifts as he leans back somewhat to face Yuji’s mild perplexion. “Has Cho told you much about your dad?”

Yuji shakes his head, glancing sidelong at Choso as though uncertain. This whole ordeal must be confusing when for much of his life, Sukuna has corrected him time and time again that he’s simply a brother, though that never seemed to click for the little boy. In Yuji’s mind, Sukuna’s his parent. His dad. You don’t know what he thinks of Kaori’s relation to him these days, but you can imagine his experience with her might leave him with resignations about Jin.

“Jin was your dad. Your first one,” Sukuna opts to try to explain it to the boy, coming to peace with the idea of being Yuji’s dad and older brother. This seems to sit easier with Yuji as he turns to face the headstone, a short and sleek one that reads simply ‘Jin Itadori, devoted father’. It’s elegant in spite of its simplicity. “He used to say I was his clone, but you look even more like him,” he gruffs, ruffling Yuji’s hair. The little boy’s features are far rounder than Sukuna’s, closer to the images you’ve seen of Jin.

“Jin…” Yuji tests the name, staring back at the headstone. “Jin and Kaori are my mom and dad?”

Sukuna nods slowly. “They were. Now you’ve got me, though.”

Yuji peers up at Sukuna, over to Choso, then sidelong to you. He blinks at you for a moment, immediately tacking your name on to Sukuna’s statement as well.

Sukuna doesn’t reply immediately, craning his neck to see you already staring up at him, your cheek pressed into his shoulder. When you don’t deter Yuji’s statement, Sukuna slowly nods. “Yeah. Her, too.”

Reassured of his place in the world, Yuji shifts to face the headstone again. Whether he understands the weight of loss is a mystery, but what he does understand is the warmth in shared memories. “What was he like?”

The tension leaves Sukuna’s shoulders as he falls back on familiarity. “A lot like you n’ Cho,” he begins warily, gaining confidence slowly but surely as he continues. “He was always happy, no matter what. Loved to chat like you,” Sukuna nudges his little brother, earning a smile. “He was real thoughtful and’ kind like Cho, too.”

There’s a gleam in Choso’s gaze as his brother speaks. He averts his eyes quickly, quietly bringing his hand up to his cheek in a betrayal of his quiet tears.

The eldest is no expert in feelings or comfort, but he pulls Choso into him. The little boy’s shoulders quietly shake, though Sukuna never makes a point of calling it out. If Yuji notices, he chooses to leave Choso in peace.

“He was a history teacher,” Sukuna continues.

“Like you!”

“Since when am I a teacher?” Comes the familiar snark you’re used to when it comes to the siblings, breaking up the bittersweet emotions of the day. Even Choso shakes his head in amusement.

“Oh,” Yuji’s lips purse, left in a little ‘O’ for a moment. “Just the history part,” he decides.

Sukuna hums, letting out a breath. “Yeah. I took after him in that way. We didn’t have a lot in common, but he still got me. He was a great dad.”

“Did he like basketball?” Yuji tilts his head thoughtfully. “Or football? Or hockey?”

Sukuna chuckles, giving the question a response in the form of a wave of his hand. “I think the three of us took up most of his time, but he watched Toji play whenever he could. I’d see him watching a game every now and then on TV too.”

Just like that, you all fall into a steady back and forth. Tears are shed every so often by Choso and you feel your eyes welling up as Sukuna shares stories of moments from when Choso was so young he could barely speak.

He tells them about the time he put tinfoil in the microwave and nearly lit the house on fire if it weren’t for his father. He tells them about a time where Toji tried (or succeeded, you suppose) to jump from the roof and broke his ankle. He can’t give a reason as to why Toji ever thought that might be a good idea, but you suppose given what Sukuna told you of his scars, that checks out. He tells them about how Jin was more than willing to drive Toji to other cities for games that Toji’s parents wouldn’t take him to. How he was the kind of person who always put Sukuna first, and Toji by extension.

He tells them about what it was like to hold Choso for the first time. How scared he was to be an older brother, because by that point he’d become somewhat of a delinquent. He leaves out the reasoning behind that, but you know. He tells them about how picky Choso used to be. The kind of pickiness that would leave his father defeated and letting his child eat cereal for the third meal in a row because Choso would bawl.

Choso shakes his head adamantly, unable to remember a moment of this, but Sukuna insists upon its reality.

He tells them about how equally unprepared he felt as a teenager holding Yuji for the first time. How the youngest felt worlds away, so many years younger, but Jin looked at the three of them like they were his world and he was just the moon to revolve around them.

He tells his brothers the memories he holds most dear, and finds himself holding onto his them tightly as even Choso recalls a few stories.

Choso finds his confidence too at some point, wiping his tears and swallowing his fear. He talks about learning to read with Jin, learning to ride a bike, and Jin accidentally allowing his five-year-old to watch Aliens by falling asleep with the TV on. Sukuna’s brow furrows as he regards his little brother, immediately quizzing him on whether or not that’s the night Choso snuck into his room to sleep on the floor.

Choso shrugs with a meek smile, moving on to a memory of being scolded alongside Sukuna for– well, truthfully, he doesn’t remember. Sukuna’s head hangs as he recalls the incident, and that it wasn’t Choso’s fault at all. No, the poor kid had accidentally dragged the edge of his too-long pants through dripping wet graffiti art and tracked it all across the house, oblivious to it.

It’s a relief to see the brother laugh about it so many years later.

As years upon years of resentment and guilt are put out in the open, leaving behind room for true healing, the sun settles along the horizon. It casts pink and orange hues along low-hanging summer clouds that drift listlessly overhead. The clouds have an almost salmon-colored appearance that nearly matches Sukuna and Yuji’s hair– and Jin’s.

As stories leave room for silence and reminiscing, Sukuna sucks in a breath, patting Choso on the back. “You still wanna learn to make Chicken Parm?”

Choso eagerly nods.

“Right. Why don’t we do that?”

Pushing up off of the grass, Choso gets to his feet, offering a hand to Yuji. Before joining them, you lean up to Sukuna, lips close to his ear. “Do you want a moment with your dad?”

The ex-history major hesitantly glances at the headstone, his eyes falling to the near-burnt-out candle and the lighter sitting beside it. Decidedly nodding, you take Yuji’s hand and lead them away to give Sukuna space.

Though you can’t hear what he says, you see him pick up the lighter and tuck it back into his pocket as he speaks quietly. You keep a steady eye on him as you quiz Yuji on details for his birthday party and ask if Choso would like to invite someone too. Just as the brunette mentions someone from his class, Sukuna blows out the candle, taking it with him.

The tattooed man falls back into step with you as you all head back towards your car. Yuji asks Choso about his friend, giving you the opportunity to talk to your boyfriend.

He holds the candle up sheepishly. “He’d kick my ass if I littered,” he chuckles, a bittersweet tone to his rough voice.

Quietly observing the fresh lines of wetness he’s tried to wipe any signs of from his cheeks, you softly reply. “Somehow I get the feeling he wouldn’t.”

With a chuckle, he nods. “Yeah, you’re right. The slap on the wrist still would’ve sucked, though.”

“Nothing’s worse than parental disappointment,” you agree.

Your boyfriend snorts, shifting the candle to his opposite hand to thread his fingers between yours.

“How do you feel after today?”

A muscle in his jaw works as he contemplates how he is feeling after such an emotional day. “Tired,” he admits truthfully as the day catches up to him now that you’re headed back to the car. The day’s been emotionally draining for him, you’re certain. “But… good.”

Your boyfriend’s never been one to give away how he feels so openly, often having to read between the lines. You suppose it’s why you’re quietly observing him now. His gaze is dulled with the tiredness he admitted to, but his shoulders and entire demeanor seems lighter. Like a weight he’s shouldered for the past five years has finally let up, leaving room for him to tend to wounds long-overdue.

So… good seems fitting, overall.

You smile warmly, sliding closer as you keep pace with him. His hand instinctively drops your hand in order to encircle your shoulders and pull you closer. “That’s good,” you hum, leaning into his personal space further if it’s even possible. “Because I can help with the pasta but I have no clue how to make battered chicken.”

His face falls into a scowl at the realization that he’s signed on for a long night of cooking when he’s emotionally worn down before the sun fully sets. Not to mention breaded chicken means cooking oil, and his brother is still twelve, which means… He huffs, raking a hand back through his hair. “So be it,” he grumbles at your side.

“We can work together.”

His shoulders loosen. “Thanks, princess.” He lowers his lips to the crown of your head, at ease as you grin up at him. It’s that brilliant smile and the never-ending chatter of his little brothers (well, Yuji) that reminds him how endlessly lucky he is. The very same three people that bring him happiness.

“Ryomen suits you, you know.”

“Hm?” Your boyfriend is snapped back to reality at the sound of your voice. “I always thought it felt too formal.”

“Is that why you went by Ryo?”

He shakes his head. “Toji chose it. Ryomen was hard to pronounce when we were like four,” he snorts. “Guess it caught on.”

“You know,” you muse, “I was never really sure if you liked when I called you that.”

You catch crimson-ringed pupils curiously examining your expression as you speak. “I didn’t mind it.”

“What about now?”

He glances down at the grass underfoot, watching it flatten beneath each step. “Dunno. Think I kinda like it when it’s you.”

He hums when you press more of your weight into his side, promptly squeezing you tighter. “Good to know, Ryo,” you tease, pleased to spot his smirk in spite of the weariness of the day clinging to his muscles.

As the rows of headstones shift into longer blades of grass and a variety of unkempt weeds, you bask in the warmth of mid-summer. Although the sun is setting, the warmth remains in the air, enveloping you on all sides. Well– that, and your bulky boyfriend acting as your personal heater.

As your phone vibrates in the pocket of your dress, you pull it out to glance at the message, your steps faltering as you lift it to take a look.

Sukuna’s gaze flickers between his brothers down the path and you, pausing a step ahead when your sudden stop catches his attention. “What’s up?”

You’re silent for a moment as you pull up the text you received, your face falling with every word. With another glance over his shoulder to check on his little brothers, your boyfriend strides towards you, stopping a breadth away. Your gaze rises from the screen, briefly settling on the unfair way that his dress shirt strains against his chest.

Blinking yourself back to reality, you fix him with a frustrated pout. “The landlord for the place I really wanted just told me they went with someone ‘more stable’,” you groan, throwing your hand in the air to make quotation motions with your fingers. “Like, are you kidding?”

Sukuna hums, something between acknowledgement of your frustration and agreement that you’re about as stable of a tenant as someone could get. He steps forward, cradling you against his chest with a hand on the back of your head and one running soothingly up and down your back. Your muffled groan in his chest has him smirking. “How long do you have to find a new one?”

“Eight days,” you mumble, still muffled. Pulling back to take a breath and look up at him, you grimace. “I think I’m gonna have to move into Shoko’s dorm for a bit.”

His expression blanks for a second, before twisting into a scowl. “Shoko’s dorm?”

“Yeah, I’ll just sleep on the floor until I can–”

“The fuck am I, chopped liver?”

His delivery has you struggling not to laugh, resting your forehead on his chest briefly. “Kuna, we’ve only been dating for a month and a half, I can’t ask that of you.”

His brow raises. “What, so my friendship isn’t worth shit?” He sarcastically gruffs, his lip curled in a mocking snarl.

“You know that’s not what I mean!” You playfully shove his chest. He doesn’t budge, unless you count his snarky expression smoothing into a grin. “I did think about that, but…” worrying your lip between your teeth, you examine his expression for a moment.

Something thoughtful gleams within the cerise pools of his eyes as they flicker back and forth between yours, awaiting the rest of your sentence.

“There’s just a lot going on right now. You just moved, your second job is still pretty new, the boys go back to school soon and we haven’t been together that long,” you offer your reasoning. “I didn’t wanna add me crashing with you for a bit to your plate.”

“Princess.” He says it like all of the very valid reasons you just listed mean nothing to him. “You’ve been at my place almost every day this week anyway. Your clothes are all over my fuckin’ dresser and there’s three tubes of makeup with my toothbrush.”

“Sorry,” you wince, “I can–”

“That’s not a bad thing.” He leans closer to you, his brow pulled tight, the look he gets when he’s serious. “I like it that way. Come crash at my place n’ if you find a place you like, great, if not,” he shrugs.

He likes the way his brothers’ belongings make his place feel more like home. He wouldn’t mind adding yours to the chaos as well. He enjoys the comfort you bring to his calamity.

It takes a moment for his words to settle, the thoughts hanging loose in the air like dust mites. The gravity of them hits you all at once. “Are you asking me to move in?”

Again, his shoulders lift and fall. “I know it’s kinda soon, but you’ve been livin’ in and out of my place for a few months before I asked you out anyway with my overnights n’ shit.” His jaw ticks as he clenches and unclenches it, giving away a modicum of his nerves. “You don’t have to, you can get your own place if you want, or if this is too much then just ignore my dumb ass.” His cheeks are tinged in a faint pink as his foot intentionally scuffs the grass beneath him, pulling up debris along with it.

Stunned into silence, you brandish a wide-eyed stare as you face your man. There’s such a boyish quality to him with his hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, the flush to his cheeks and the pull to his brow you’ve grown used to. It’s so sweet you can’t help your eager grin.

“Alright.”

His head whips up to stare at you. “Alright?”

“Yeah. I’ll stay with you, and if I don’t find a place, then,” you shrug, mirroring his original actions. Everything about the interaction feels dorky. Like two people so in love that it only feels natural to want to be together so soon.

“You don’t have to,” he quickly backtracks as though he might scare you away. Like this is somehow the scariest thing he’s ever proposed to you.

“I want to.”

“You’ll never have a gourmet meal again, you know. Chicken fingers and pizza are kinda our staples.”

You laugh wholeheartedly, eyes crinkling at the corners as you tilt your head at him. “I think I can manage.”

Sukuna’s expression softens as he stares at you, a lopsided smile still plastered to his face that’s so sheepish it almost doesn’t belong. “You’ll never be safe from whatever plagues Yuji brings into the house.” He tacks on more baggage, each warning serving as a wall you slowly tear down.

“I have a pretty good immune system.”

His gaze averts briefly. “You’ll know every fuckin’ word to Ice Age.”

“I’m pretty sure I already do.”

“Even the–”

“Kuna.” You interrupt him softly, stepping forward to cup his face with your hands. Your thumbs brush the apple of his cheeks as you feel the way his jaw clenches under your palms. He swallows hard, his lips pulling into a thoughtful frown. “You’re not gonna scare me off.”

He lifts one hand from the pocket of his slacks, his long fingers wrapping gently around one of your wrists. He holds you for nothing more than purchase.

“Like I told you before, I knew what things would be like before we ever started dating. I know you put your brothers first and I know that means we won’t always get to go on dates or have fancy dinners.” Your brow pinches as you fix him with your narrowed gaze. “You know that. Why are you trying to scare me off?”

Had you blinked, you might have missed the split second where his fears flashed within his eyes, quickly covered by that hardened expression he’s trained over the years. His jaw tightens as he stares down at you, unable to offer any real explanation. He supposes in spite of actively working to better himself, he still doesn’t see himself as enough.

His brain acted on self-sabotage before he could think twice about it, as though that might somehow do him any good. His brow pulls tightly together, a huff leaving his chest rising and falling heavily.

Dragging his attention back to you by shifting your hands just enough to tilt his head up to you, you offer a kind smile. “Stop doing that. I told you I love you for all of you, not just a part of you. That includes your family.”

He blinks once, twice, then straightens, inadvertently pulling his face from your palms as he stares at you with saucer-wide eyes. Crimson pools swim with shock as his pupils dart across your face. He watches as you freeze, suddenly coming to the realization of what you said.

“Sorry, I, um– It’s probably too early to be saying that, I–”

“You love me?” His voice is a low, deep gravelly tone that makes your chest flutter amidst the waves of concern washing over you.

“I, um–” You hesitate, searching for anything to look at beyond the intensity of his sanguine gaze. “Yeah,” you admit quietly. “I have for a while. I mean, even before we started dating, all the hugs and hand holding and–”

He saves you from any further explanations by tugging you towards him by the elbow. You collide with the expanse of his broad chest, your words harshly cut off as your fingers curl into the material of his dress shirt. He’s never been one for words, opting instead to tilt your head up with a hand on the back of your neck, the other wrapped firmly around your middle.

He pours the words that don’t come naturally to him into the way his lips move against yours, and the soft hum he lets out when your lips part for him. He tastes of morning routines, distinct notes of coffee and mint laced within the kiss in spite of it being near evening. You melt into it, savouring the taste of his adoration, of something more, as he holds you close.

When he finally pulls back, you feel his lips part, brushing yours. His eyes flutter open, rife with the day’s emotions from mourning and remembrance to new beginnings and nerves, but shining through his dark circle-rimmed gaze is something more. “I love you too.”

You can feel his heart racing beneath your fingers, just as you’re sure he feels yours. Your pulse could give his a run for its money, both fighting for a place on the podium. The sound of the words falling from the lips he just kissed you with has you sucking in a breath, a bubbly laugh escaping you.

He grins, that same boyish charm crossing his face as he kisses you again. “I think we’re still doin’ shit completely outta order, princess.”

Your laughter grows as you nod your agreement. “I think usually the ‘I love you’s are supposed to come before you ask me to move in.”

“Yeah, well…” He shrugs, but his smile doesn’t fade. “I also kissed you before we went on a date so what the fuck ever,” he gruffs in a grumpy tone he uses to cover up his giddiness as his thumb brushes your jaw.

“I guess that’s–”

“Kunaaaaaa!!” Yuji’s voice interrupts from across the remaining field where the grass and path converge into a parking lot. “Hurry up!”

“Patience, brat!” The brute throws over his shoulder with a frustrated grunt as though it isn’t the two of you keeping the kids waiting.

Giggling at your standoffish boyfriend, your fingers curl around his hand, giving him a small tug in the direction of the kids. “Shall we?”

He huffs, taking your hand and pressing what might be the grumpiest kiss on earth to the top of your head. You know he’s just emotionally drained and running on the fumes your love provides, but there’s something sweet in the way his frustration is never any more than surface level with the three of you. He knows to pick his battles now, even if sometimes he picks them wrong. Still, he rarely picks them with the three of you.

“What took you so long?” Yuji groans, tugging incessantly on your car door as though it might make you fish your keys out faster.

“Stop, Yuji,” Sukuna chides, frowning when Yuji does the opposite, practically hanging off of your car door’s handle. “Brat. Stop.”

You exchange a glance with Choso, stifling your laughter at the oldest and youngest, practically always at odds with one another.

When Yuji smiles triumphantly as though he’s won their little scuffle when the door opens, you glance over at Sukuna once before getting in the car. Defeat is written within the creases of his irritation, but there’s a noted difference in the way he still seems at ease compared to when you first met him that softens your smile.

He catches your stare, and although his expression doesn’t change, the corner of his lip briefly twitches. You catch the fire kindled behind his eyes in the moment before he starts arguing with his brother again over the car seat the youngest hates. It’s the kind of flame you always knew was there, but getting to see it for yourself in his day to day?

That’s the greatest gift you could ask for.

–

“Girl, what am I supposed to do without you?”

Your brows raise at Yuki through the screen. “Work?”

“You’re the most fun person in the office and you’re still no fun,” she groans, pouting.

“I’m only gonna be gone for one day!” You insist, shaking your head at her dramatics. You should really introduce her to Satoru, Suguru, and Toji. The four of them would be a wrecking ball out on the town, in the best way you can imagine. “You literally won’t even notice I’m not there.”

Slumping back in her chair on-camera, she twirls a pen between her fingers. “I’m so jealous though, for real. It’s so nice out, you picked the perfect weekend to take an extra day.” Haphazardly letting her pen hit her desk, she sits upright again. “Are Sukuna’s little brothers excited?”

“You have no idea,” you laugh. “Yuji hasn’t stopped talking about it all week. They’ve never been camping before and Yuji’s never had a vacation like this.”

“Oh my god, that’s too cute. His first big vacation!” With stars in her eyes, the blonde grins. “You just know he’ll remember this forever.” She sits upright suddenly, a hand splayed in front of her laptop. “Wait, did you see the headlines about that Kamo asshole?”

You laugh. “You should have seen Sukuna. He was called back to court to testify against Kamo and his wife and you would actually have thought the world was ending.”

Yuki’s eyes go saucer-wide. “And you didn’t think to tell me? I can’t believe they pulled that.” Before you can even reply, she’s going on again. “Wait, why wouldn’t he wanna go testify? I mean he’s like, probably the reason they’re getting divorced and have to serve a sentence.”

“I wanted to tell you!” You insist through laughter, gesturing insistently with your hands before the screen. “We had to keep everything quiet. And honestly, I think he’s just had enough of courts and lawyers for a lifetime.”

She groans. “That’s fair, it’s so stressful. Poor guy.”

Nodding your agreement, you cast a glance over the screen towards your home office door where a pair of deep brown eyes are curiously peering at you. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Lucky,” Yuki sighs. “I should get back to work anyway. See you Tuesday, have fun girl! Oh, and tell Sukuna thanks for fixing my car!”

“Will do, see you later Yuki!”

As the call ends and you shut your laptop, you lean forward over your desk. “What’s up, Cho?”

He pushes his head through the door, his hair pulled up into the buns you taught him how to style. Over the two years since you and Sukuna began dating, Choso’s confidence has grown exponentially. Not unlike the oldest, he’s still quiet, but he’s bright-eyed and starting to find his way just short of fifteen years old.

He’s taken after Sukuna in a lot of ways, his interests leaning towards the more artistic side of things. Punk music is a staple to be heard from down the hall, particularly Green Day if the shirt hanging from his shoulders is anything to go off of. He even started cooking classes last year and at this point you’re willing to say he might even be better than you at some dishes.

“Hana wants to know if I can go out for a bit?”

“Go ahead honey, just be back by six.”

He’s already darted from the room, the door swinging open behind him as he throws an “okay!” over his shoulder.

Smiling warmly, you note the time. It’s not too long before Sukuna should be back, so you figure it’s a good time to get some preparation done for your trip.

The kitchen is a bit of a mess with a cooler off to one side, the freezer held shut with tape after Sukuna bought two bags of ice for said cooler, and a variety of food he didn’t want to forget spread across the counter. As you take in the sight, you realize he must have done a majority of the preparation before you even woke up today, because even the sleeping bags and tent have already been pulled out.

You smile to yourself at how thoughtful your boyfriend continues to be. More often than not, you find yourself wishing he would actually let you help, but he always insists on taking the brunt of the chores. He never gives much more of an explanation than a shrug and the insistence that it’s still less work than he’s used to and that’s thanks to you.

Still, you’re sure to grab the things he might have forgotten– marshmallows, graham crackers, and chocolate are a must, as well as flashlights, extra blankets, and camping chairs.

Thank god you rented a small camper to fit everything.

With everything set out, both boys out with friends, and time to spare before Sukuna gets home, you settle atop your bed to read for a bit.

You can tell the moment Sukuna walks through the door. It shuts with relative quiet, but he kicks his shoes off haphazardly and his steps are heavy as he makes his way up the stairs in search of you.

Peering over your book as you await the brute’s appearance at your bedroom door, you smile before he even comes into sight. The years since you’ve met have been kinder to him. His muscle remains, but he’s softer around the edges. Dark circles don’t haunt him like some sort of cartoon villain that never seems to be truly defeated, and his shoulders rest more evenly these days.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t a big old burly cat with how tired he still seems to be. The sight of your smile has his lidded and mild expression relaxing into something almost serene as he tugs his glasses from the bridge of his nose. Folding them, he sets them on the desk at the entrance to your shared bedroom, collapsing forward on the edge of the bed. His head rests on your stomach, arms wrapped around your thighs with a long sigh of relief muffled by your hoodie.

You giggle at the sight, setting your book aside as you thread fingers through strands of pale pink hair. He hums in delight, shifting his face so that his cheek rests on your stomach.

“Long day, Kuna?”

He lets out another sigh, his eyes fluttering shut contentedly as your fingers continue rubbing small circles into his scalp. “Spent most of the day doing figure drawing n’ color theory,” the art major mumbles.

“I can tell,” you giggle, gently scratching dried paint from his cheek. He twitches under your touch, cracking an eye open as he smiles. “Yuki said thanks for fixing her car, by the way.”

“Mm. Tell her thanks for the time off. Maya, too.” You can feel the gentle rise and fall of his shoulders against your thighs, fairly sure he would have a nap right now if he had the time. “Where’re the brats?”

“Choso left to hang out with Hana not that long ago and Toji has Yuji at his team’s practice. They should be back soon and I told Cho to be back by six.”

“Right, Toj’s practice is today,” he murmurs, yawning. “How could I forget?” He snorts to himself as he recalls Yuji practically rattling with excitement at the idea of sitting on the sidelines of Toji’s practice. He can only imagine what the kid would think of seeing a league game from the sidelines, particularly now that Toji’s not a rookie anymore after having been fortunate enough to get a contract with the local team.

Your agreement comes in the form of a chuckle, making your boyfriend smile.

“Thanks for setting everything out this morning, Kuna. You didn’t need to do that.”

He holds up more of his weight on his elbows, blinking his crimson gaze open to examine your expression. Still weary, he leans his cheek against your inner thigh. “Wanted to.”

“What if I wanted to?”

He smirks. “You weren’t awake. Sucks.”

Shoving his forehead, you watch with glee as his smirk turns to a grin. He crawls over you, caging you into the mattress. Recognizing his shit-eating grin, you hold his biceps as though you might be able to prevent the inevitable. “Kuna, wait, please–”

“Cute,” he presses a chaste kiss to your lips. “But nah.”

Contorting yourself to press against his chest and attempt to use your knees to block him, you use all of your might to try to keep him away from you, but he’s too strong. “Wait, wait wait wait please–” His hands find your sides as he tickles you relentlessly, thrown into a fit of laughter that you can’t do anything about.

“Thought you knew my girl shouldn’t have to lift a finger, hm?”

“Kuna– Please ohmygod–” You plead, relentlessly pressing against his biceps, though it’s all for naught.

“Too much, princess?” He mocks, chuckling as you nod through your laughter. He finally lets up, letting you collapse into the mattress, panting as your laughter subsides.

“You’re a dick,” you groan.

“Mhm,” he agrees warmly, pecking your cheek before pushing upright onto his feet.

As you stare at the ceiling, he makes his way around the room, moving back and forth from the closet as he checks to make sure he has everything he’ll need. As you let your poor abdomen recover after his vicious attack, you help him work through a list to make sure he has everything, when he abruptly turns to you after searching for something.

“Is that my hoodie?”

“Mhm!”

“Give it back.”

“But I like it.”

He huffs. “Fine.”

The front door rattles open shortly after, followed by shrill laughter that saves you from any further grumbling over stealing his favorite hoodie.

You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when you hear your name and Sukuna’s both called one after another repeatedly, growing louder as the youngest Itadori approaches your bedroom.

“Don’t just barge in–” Toji gruffs behind Yuji, but it’s already too late. He bursts through the door to find Sukuna staring over his shoulder from the closet with a raised brow while you wave at the intruders from your spot on the bed. “Shit, sorry.”

Unlike Choso, Yuji has taken after not just Sukuna, but Toji and Satoru too. For better or for worse, he’s got all the bravado of Sukuna and Toji, with all of the energy of Satoru. He looks up to the three of them (and you) so much that a good majority of his interests are bits and pieces of each of you. Sports, skateboarding, and your keenness for crafting are all pieces of himself moulded around each of you. He’s also gotten so much taller that you can only imagine how tall he’ll be once he’s Choso’s age.

You’re fairly certain both of them will be taller than you before you even know it.

“It’s all good,” you brush Toji off, the poor man variably soaked in sweat from the summer’s heat alongside his practice. “How’d it go?”

Yuji pridefully holds up a scuffed football, running towards Sukuna to show him. “Look what uncle Toji gave me!” He exclaims, grinning from ear to ear.

Holding his hand out to take it, you watch as Sukuna’s mild expression twists into a telltale scowl when Yuji pulls it back before his older brother can grab it.

“I said look!”

“What’d we say about sharing?” Sukuna growls at the youngest, holding his hand out expectantly.

The little boy pouts, holding the ball close to his chest before relenting. He places it gingerly in Sukuna’s hand, scuffing his feet against the carpet when Sukuna huffs and flips the ball in his hands to get a better look at it. It has the official league logo plastered across one side, granted it looks as though it’s been scraped hard across metal. Realistically, it probably has.

“That’s cool, Yu,” Sukuna relents, his anger fading though his voice has kept its rough quality. “You thank Toji yet?”

“Mhm!” Yuji nods proudly, glancing back at Toji. Toji nods his approval, arms folded over his chest as he leans against the doorway.

“Good,” Sukuna gruffs, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Now go get your shit ready, we’re leaving soon.”

“Stop swearing!” Yuji yells as he goes bolting past Toji with a quick hug before he races down the hall to his bedroom.

Sukuna shakes his head in exasperation. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, you giggle at the whole interaction. “Thanks for watching him, Toji. I’m caught up on work now so it shouldn’t be too bad by the time we get back.”

“Good shit. Here’re your keys,” he tosses the house key back at you. You nearly fumble it, but just manage to catch it before it drops to the blankets. “I’m dyin’ for a shower, so I’m gonna head out. You two have fun, yeah?”

“Thanks!” You call cheerily.

“I’ll see you out,” Sukuna follows shortly behind his best friend, a sight that still makes you smile.

With Toji gone and Choso returning shortly with a bright grin, you gather everything you need and load it into the camper as your trip enters full swing. Yuji chats through most of the drive while Choso stares out the window, ear buds narrowly keeping him from falling asleep in the back of the rental camper van. Sukuna hums every so often, though he remains focused on the road, his hand firmly planted on your thigh as his passenger princess.

Your destination is as lush and green as ever, the chatter of a nearby creek pleasant to your ears as Sukuna pulls into the lot you reserved. It’s one of the smaller plots, big enough only for a single tent and a car, but you’ll manage with the camper. The upside is that it’s completely isolated from the rest of the grounds.

Trees tower over you on all sides, giving way towards the back of the lot where the creek is undoubtedly tucked into the brush. There’s a spot that’s evidently been cleared of debris for a tent to be set up, while rocks loosely sit around a patch of ash and soot in the center of the lot.

“This is so cool!” Yuji exclaims excitedly, running off towards the sound of running water without so much as a glance back.

“Hey! Don’t go far!” Sukuna barks, a knot tied to his ever-present scowl as he slides open the side door of the van. “Cho?”

Like the amazing brother he’s always been, the fourteen-year-old follows after the youngest quietly, keeping an eye on the troublemaker. The art major lets out a forlorn sigh, shutting his eyes briefly. “That kid…” He mutters to himself.

Sidling up to him, you teasingly smooth out the crease between his eyes with a thumb. You suppose you earn the swat of his hand and further crease when he scowls at you, laughing as you fail to dissipate his frustrations. “They’ll be fine,” you assure him.

“Knock on wood,” he mutters, leaning forward to sort through your belongings in search of the tarp and tent.

“You were like that once too, I’m sure. Worse, probably. You had Toji instead of Choso,” you chide.

His movements pause momentarily, something reminiscent flashing through his eyes.

“See, you know I’m right!”

He cracks a smile, resuming his movements. “Alright, alright. They’ll be fine, you’re right.” Still, he’s half-expecting Yuji to return soaking wet after running through the creek or something of the sort.

He takes charge in clearing a patch of dirt for the tent and draping out the tarp while you pull out the chairs and food for the night’s dinner. As everything comes together, you notice with amusement that he seems to be struggling to put the tent up.

“Do you need a hand?”

“I got it,” he gruffs stubbornly.

He may be more reasonable and willing to ask for help these days, but he’s still that fiercely independent man you came to know. He’s still the man who figured things out and single-handedly entered parenthood and came out the other end in mostly one piece, no thanks to Kaori.

He’s still grumpy when he’s awoken from a nap, he scoffs when Satoru attempts to get a rise out of him and immediately strikes back with a witty retort, and he scowls down at his little brothers when he finds them (and every surrounding surface) covered in flour.

The difference is that he knows his limits now. He knows what he can handle on his own, but he also knows now that asking for help doesn’t hinder his independence or pride. He knows he can count on you and his friends to watch his brothers when he needs to be in the office or classes. He knows you’ll be there at three sharp to pick them up from school and he’ll happily return the favor with a nice dinner when he can.

You insist he doesn’t need to each and every time, but it’s not about that anymore. It’s not a case of Sukuna owing you, it’s gratitude. His ability with words is still nil, so he shows you that he’s grateful in other ways. He cooks, cleans, and he’s meticulous in not letting you overwork. He’s spent too much of his own life in that state to be willing to allow you to overwork yourself. He’s figured out how to convey his emotions in his own way.

Despite his insistence to do everything on his own, you quietly step in and help so that neither of you are overworked. You’re a team, and although Sukuna tries to take on more, you take care to do your part too and take care of the man who loves you so dearly he hates to see you lift a finger.

Stepping towards him, you pick up the instructions your boyfriend has (very typically) tossed aside and chosen not to read. Flipping through them, you point to the end of the pole he’s holding. “I think you’re missing a piece. It doesn’t have enough segments.”

His face scrunches up in confusion as he stares at the mess of parts around him, tossing the body  and stakes aside in search of another piece to attach to the pole. He huffs at the sight of one piece of the end of the pole tangled up in the body of the tent, managing at last to put it all together. You hold the material out in order to help him get it upright, letting him nail it into the ground while you gather the sleeping bags and your suitcases, leaving the boys’ bags in the van where they’ll be sleeping.

“Kuna Kuna Kuna, look what I found!” Yuji comes bolting through the trees straight towards Sukuna holding something suspiciously knife-shaped.

Your boyfriend fixes him with a horror-stricken stare at the sight as Choso runs out from the woods with an equally concerned expression.

“What the hell is that?” Sukuna queries, stepping forward cautiously.

“It’s a sword!” Yuji triumphantly claims, holding it towards the sky like a hero.

The dread on Sukuna’s face as he carefully snatches it away by the blade is like none other.

“Hey! That’s mine!” Yuji yells as the knife is held out of reach while the eldest examines it.

“Christ, no. You can’t have this back.”

“I found it first!” Yuji insists.

You can see the moment transpiring before it even happens. Poor Choso is doubled over after chasing after his brother and Sukuna is so busy examining the weapon that he doesn’t see Yuji on the verge of a breakdown.

Though he cries far less now, some things never change.

“Kuna, give it back!”

“No, brat, this is dangerous.”

Making your way over just as tears begin to prick at Yuji’s eyes and sniffles permeate the air, you kneel down before the seven-year-old. “Hey, your brother just doesn’t want you to get hurt,” you soothe, rubbing his arm gently.

Like the good brother he is, Choso makes his way over, too. Though he’s taken after Sukuna, one thing is for certain when it comes to the older Itadori. He’s far more emotional than your boyfriend. You get the feeling he got it from Jin, but he’s not unlike you in how he learned to handle it and his emotional intelligence, and you can’t say you aren’t proud of the progress he’s made.

“Do you wanna make the fire pit with me?” Choso offers when your soothing doesn’t seem to get through to Yuji, who wipes at the tears on his face.

“I want my sword.”

Choso nods in understanding. “We’ll need firewood. We could make one out of sticks.”

“Sticks aren’t as cool,” the youngest insists.

“Yeah but you know the knife you found was scary. We can’t play games with that.”

This makes the gears turn in Yuji’s mind and he pauses in thought, sniffling. Wiping his face with the back of his hand, he decidedly nods. “Okay,” he agrees.

“Thanks, Cho,” you murmur with a grateful grin.

Choso smiles softly, offering his hand to his little brother as he guides the boy over to the spot where the ash and soot dictate the perfect place for a fire pit. As the boys busy themselves with the fire pit, you make your way over to Sukuna, still holding whatever the hell Yuji brandished a ‘sword’.

Sukuna’s grimace remains in place as his attention is pulled from the near-meltdown to you, and back to the knife.

“What did he find?” You curiously ask.

Holding the blade carefully out to you, your expression twists in horror. “A fucking rusty knife with a piece of hose for the handle,” he mutters, holding out exactly that. The handle is duct taped on and it seems dull at best, but it’s still horrifying for a seven-year-old to proudly hold towards the sky.

“Oh my god.”

“Mhmm. I’m gonna go throw this shit away,” he mutters, making his way towards the communal area of the campground.

As the boys create a firepit and wander around in search of firewood, you continue setting up. Your boyfriend helps when he returns, and before long everything is set for a fire just as the sun begins to set over the horizon.

Collapsing in the two-person camping chair with a contented sigh, you lean into the material. The boys have been gathering twigs and small logs for the fire for some time and you have a decent start to the fire, but no substantial wood. Sukuna takes it upon himself to gather some, shedding his shirt to your absolute delight as he makes his way over to the area where you’re allowed to chop trees.

When he returns with sweat-slicked muscles and tattoos that gleam under deep orange and pink hues, you chew on your lip as your gaze hungrily drags down his torso. Two years couldn’t possibly change the effect he has on you. Every time you see him shirtless is like the first and you find yourself giddy at the sight with warm cheeks. The difference is that you don’t avert your eyes anymore.

Sukuna loves every second of the attention, smirking as he catches you watching him wipe the sheen of sweat from his tan skin. He purposefully makes a show out of it, flexing his biceps as he never once lets his eye contact drop.

With a shy grin, your attention is simultaneously pulled back to Yuji excitedly calling Sukuna’s name once more. Exasperation twists his smirk into something more forlorn as he anticipates something crazier than a knife, only to find Yuji now holding a husk of corn out to him.

Something between relief and amusement has your man blowing a breath out from his nose. With a lopsided smirk, he pulls his shirt back on and ruffles his brother’s hair. “That’s cool, Yu. Where’d you find it?”

“On the ground! Can we cook it?”

“No,” Sukuna grimaces. “Not if you found it on the ground.”

“Why nooooot?” He whines.

The eldest sighs, redirecting Yuji’s excitement to the hot dogs you’ll be roasting over the fire now that everything is prepared. With newfound excitement, Yuji returns to Choso’s side with a wide grin, proudly holding the husk of corn out.

Plopping down beside you in the couples’ chair Sukuna very unsubtly bought for this trip, he lets his head fall back, letting out a long breath. “This shit’s exhausting,” he mutters.

Curling into his side, you smile as his arm wraps around you instinctively. The kids are running around opposite the fire and although Choso has outgrown many of the games he and Yuji used to play, he’s still the first to happily indulge his little brother’s wishes. It’s heartwarming to see the way he took on the role of the older brother over the years.

“It’s all about relaxation now that we’re all set up though,” you assure him.

“Yeah, until Yuji finds another knife.”

Your laughter dances through the air in tandem with the breeze and a smile comes easily to the art major. Lifting his head, his gaze slides down to you, warmly watching your lips curve into a gorgeous beam.

It feels like a lifetime has passed since you barged into his life. You never hesitated to extend your hand out to him when he scarcely deserved it, never failing to bite the hand offering such kindness.

Some part of him still fears that, years later. That his growth was all for naught. As though all of that ferocity and fear might take root once more and sting you like nettle, leaving behind scars to stare back at him every time he starts to think he might be the man he wants to be for you.

But there’s another, grander part of him that knows better. That for once, finally, he’s realized that maybe he doesn’t shine as brightly as you do, but he’s found a place within your solar system. At some point he fell into your orbit and while he can’t put a name to what he is, he knows every piece of the solar system is equally important now.

You can put a name to it, though.

Sukuna is the moon. Always there, whether you can see him or not, and just as reliable as the turn of night. He makes waves in your world, crashing against anything that dares to bring you down.

You balance one another. Chaos meeting order in a collision that fills your time with fun and relaxation in equal parts. But truthfully, there’s more to it than just that. Because he shines a light on those around him, too. He’s the kind of person who shines the brightest when he’s helping others, even if he’ll never see it that way.

You see it in Yuji’s smiles as he reaches for his older brother’s hand. You see it in the way Choso’s mild expression cracks into something thrilled upon being offered a fist bump. You see it in the quiet reverence he stares at you with when he thinks you don’t notice. His scowls may hide the light from others, but you see how bright your grumpy boyfriend truly is.

He buries his face into your hair, his breaths warm as they cascade over the crown of your head. “Y’think they’ll have fun?”

“They’re already having fun,” you point out, directing his attention to the two laughing boys darting through the trees like they own the wilderness.

His lips twitch upwards as he allows himself to relax, watching over the flames that lick the darkening sky. “Feels like just yesterday Cho was telling me I was mean.”

You tilt your head thoughtfully, pulling out from under his chin to get a better look at him, though you can’t recall a time where Choso called Sukuna mean to his face. “When was that?”

He hums as the memory comes to mind. “Guess you weren’t there. Can’t say I remember exactly what I said, but he was right n’ I deserved it. You’d left and I went to chase you in your car, but before I did, the kid told me I was mean.”

You let out a breath at the thought. You can’t say you know exactly what he’s talking about either, but it doesn’t sound out of character for when you first met the three brothers.

“It was the first word he’d said to me in…” he shakes his head and shrugs at once. “Fuck, I dunno. Three or four days, probably.”

“Right, after he found out about Kaori?”

“Mhm.”

You nod your understanding. “I really hope we never see her again.”

“Well, we’ve got three years, at least.”

Three years’ prison sentence. It doesn’t feel quite long enough for the fracture Kaori caused her own family, but between that and the divorce from Noritoshi leaving her with nothing, you’re just grateful to know life turned around to bite back for her misdeeds.

“Choso’s gonna be taller than me soon, I swear.”

“Soon?” Sukuna teases, shifting to sit fully upright to really drive his point home.

“He’s not taller yet!” You insist, tugging him back to your side by the collar. His chest rumbles as he snickers at your reaction, retaking his place as your cushion. “Do you think he’ll be taller than you?”

“Nah. My dad always said he was confused how I ever got so tall. Probably some genes on my mom’s side.” 

“Have you thought more about reaching out to her?” You query, approaching the subject carefully. Though Sukuna’s grown more comfortable speaking on difficult subjects, he still has the tendency to bottle things up and can be touchy, although he rarely gets truly angry these days.

He inhales, long and slow. “Yeah. But I’ve got all I need here.” He shakes his head, his focus trained on the crackling firepit before him. “I know there’s the possibility she won’t be like Kaori, but–” He shakes his head, his fingers curling into the plush of your waist. “I’d rather never know than know and have it be another mess.”

He’d spent so much time calculating the possibilities, weighing the pros and cons, but his mind always came back to you and the kids and the effect things could have if they were negative. Things are good, and he doesn’t need more than that. Maybe he can rekindle that relationship someday when the kids have moved out, but for now he’s got everything he needs.

“Whatever you choose, I support you,” you cheer from beside him.

He hums, content. “Thanks, ang–”

He’s interrupted by Yuji calling out to you both. “I’m hungry!”

“Come get hot dogs, then!” Sukuna calls back, grunting as he stands up to get everything set up. He takes his spot once more beside you as you all begin roasting hot dogs with Choso opposite you and Yuji in a kids’ chair opposite Sukuna positioned around the fire.

“Yuji’s gonna burn his hot dog,” you nudge the art major, who’s closer to the boy.

“Let him,” Sukuna replies, too smugly to be the response of a father, but rather a brother. “Needs to learn his lesson somehow.”

You give him a look, though at the end of the day, who are you to stop the brothers from bickering? If he wants to watch Yuji burn his own dinner and chuckle to himself, you’re not about to give him a hard time for playing the role of a conniving older brother.

The kid’s hot dog gets dangerously low to the fire as you chat about an upcoming movie Choso’s been wanting to see, and you’re forced to watch the base of the hot dog begin to singe. It rises steadily up with Yuji not noticing at all, until the whole hot dog is practically inedible.

Well, not practically.

You’re not letting him eat that.

Even if he tries.

Which… He might.

With a shit-eating grin, Sukuna nudges the leg of Yuji’s chair with his outstretched foot, jutting his chin out towards the roasting hot dog.

The whole thing is on fire when he brings it up, horror-stricken. “My hot dog!” The youngest pouts as his older brother stifles a laugh. “Kuna, fix it!”

“Fix what?” He snickers, “that shit’s destroyed.”

“You’re the adult, you’re supposed to make sure this doesn’t happen!” Yuji insists in the prideful way only a seven-year-old can manage.

Choso smiles in exasperated amusement as Sukuna ‘helps’ by taking the roasting stick from Yuji and dragging it over the rocks at the edge of the pit in order to pull the ashy food from it and let it burn in the fire.

“There. Now go get a new one.” He holds the stick back out to his frustrated brother with a challenge in his gaze. Laughing when the youngest lets out a little ‘hmph’ as he makes the walk of shame back over to the table you set the hot dogs on, you simply shake your head at the two who never fail to make a problem out of everything.

The night closes in on all sides with s’mores and scary stories courtesy of your boyfriend that you’re sure will cause more problems than it solves, but the warmth of the fire and the blankets you wrap around yourselves is worth every moment. Sparks flutter through the air, twinkling as brightly as the stars overhead.

After getting the boys settled in the camper and putting out the fire, you make your way over to the tent across the campsite in your own quiet corner. The top of the tent is clear, allowing you to see the stars overhead. You would be willing to bet Sukuna chose it on purpose just as he did the chair, always indulging your romantic whims.

Or maybe he’s just a romantic too under all of those layers of scowls and scorn.

He lifts an arm for you to curl into his side tucked under the sleeping bags, cozy in the heat of his bare chest.

“What the fuck? Why are your hands so cold?” He mutters, hissing as you wrap yourself in him. “Get those off of me.”

You giggle, insistently pressing yourself closer to him. His muscles tense beneath your freezing touch as he squirms away from your koala grip.

“Brat,” he murmurs, beginning to adjust to the cold. “‘S not even cold enough for this shit.”

“I just washed them,” you murmur through a yawn.

“Convenient,” he gruffs, staring up at the stars overhead. Rolling his shoulders, he lets out a long breath, shifting in an effort to get comfortable between your freezing hands and the firm camping mattress. It narrowly keeps you off of the pebbly ground, though Sukuna cushions much of that discomfort for you. You would protest for his comfort, but you know he won’t budge.

His hand settles atop your head, fingers threading through your hair. He feels your lashes flutter against his bare chest as he pulls you in, your quiet contentment making his lips twitch up. Glancing down at you in his arms, his fingers curl into the strands of hair tangled around his digits. He holds you tightly, a reminder of his promise to himself.

One to never let the nettle take root again. He won’t let it sting you, won’t let the jaws of the stray he once was clamp down on you. He’ll provide. For you, for his brothers. He’ll take care of you. He’ll be the man you deserve, while never being expected to be someone he’s not, for you accept him with his rough edges.

“Do you still remember much from your astronomy class?”

“Hm?” His gaze slides up to the night sky behind a thin layer of mesh overhead. His eyes trail lazily between the flickering lights, far brighter out here than the city could ever dream. His hand trails down your spine, pressing softly between your shoulder blades in a lazy massage. “I remember bits and pieces,” he offers. “The stars are a bit fuzzy but I know the history behind most of them.”

Your lips curl against the musculature of his chest. You suppose it makes sense he would know the history. “Tell me about them.”

He hums as he looks over the night sky, assessing what he can point out. After a moment, he moves. “See that really bright star just off to the side?”

You follow where he points. “Is that the north star?”

“No. I don’t remember what it’s called, but it’s the eye of an eagle named Aquila. It carried Zeus’ lightning bolts.” He moves his finger between stars, connecting them into a bird-like shape.

“Why does the god of thunder need his lightning bolts to be carried?”

Sukuna’s amusement comes in the form of his chest rumbling. “In the original myths, his bolts are like weapons. They’re forged for him and the eagle brings them back after he throws them. Like a dog bringing back arrows.”

You lift your head from his chest to fix him with a disbelieving stare, pulling more laughter from him. “I feel like I’ve seen him make lightning in like everything he’s in.”

Your boyfriend shrugs. “Probably. It’s more convenient for storytelling. Most other mythos’ gods of thunder can create them.”

“Huh,” you settle back onto his chest, your breasts pressing against his skin through the fabric of your shirt in a way that has his mind reeling. He peers down at you, shifting on the thin mattress again. His feet brush the end of the tent, clearly not intended for someone of his stature.

Clearing his throat, he carries on. “Near the bottom of the eagle is the Little Dipper, it’s pretty obvious.” He points to the ladle-shape in stars.

“It’s a bear, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Does it mean anything?”

His eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Maybe. I don’t really know that one.”

“Where’s the Big Dipper?”

“Uh–” he squints at the sky. He knows it’s close to its smaller counterpart, but he can’t seem to make it out. “Dunno. It’s here somewhere, but I don’t see it.” He grimaces, scrutinizing the night sky. “I don’t see Orion’s belt either, which is one of the other obvious ones. I don’t think I’ve got any more for you, sorry angel.”

The kiss you press to his jaw is soft. The kind that makes his heart flip. The kind that has you grinning in his arms as you feel his pulse race under your head. “What’s Orion’s belt?”

“Three stars in a row. They make up the belt of the constellation Orion. He was a hunter, the constellation looks like a guy holding a bow.” His brow twitches as he recalls what he can of Astronomy, though he’s realizing it was always the mythology he cared about more and he knows next to nothing of the stars themselves. “I think one of the really bright stars might also be part of Euridice’s harp.”

“Oh! Like Orpheus and Euridice, that harp?”

He nods his affirmation with a content smile as you peer curiously up at him. You’re a picture of perfection in his arms. Without the noise pollution of the city and the lights beaming down into his apartment, his little slice of heaven feels like a dream. Here, out in the middle of nowhere under a blanket of stars and planets with the faint smell of pine that seeps through the cover of the tent, Sukuna feels his breath hitch as your eyes catch some sort of flicker in the dark.

There’s no golden shine of his lamp light that catches on your lashes or even the pale shine of the moon. You’ve been cast in pure darkness tucked within a pocket of trees, only visible now that the brute’s eyes have adjusted. You’ve shed the day’s makeup, one of Sukuna’s shirts swallowing your frame and he can faintly make out the bruise that you’ve been covering from the other day when you accidentally smacked your head against a cupboard in a flurry of putting dishes away and trying to calm Yuji down.

Everything about you is raw, and real, and you. Right down to the clumsy blemish on your temple where you collided with the cupboard door and pretended not to cry. You’re stunning in the kind of way that makes his heart clench. The way that reminds him that he has something to lose. The way that reminds him that he has something to live for.

He swallows hard at the thought as his gaze flickers across every little detail of your face.

You’re beautiful. And somehow, you’re his.

He doesn’t hesitate to pull you towards him, angling his neck to kiss you. His lips are slow but insistent, moving in the kind of way that feels like he’s drawing out the moment for as long as he can.

You glide your fingers across his broad chest, up over his shoulders as you grip the point where his tattoo disappears over the muscle. Tilting your head, your lips part for him, giving way for the soft groan that comes with his tongue brushing yours. Your breath comes out ragged as the guttural noise goes straight to your thighs.

Sliding your leg across him, Sukuna’s hands move to guide you to lay on his chest. He couldn’t care less how much you press him further into the firm mattress, his mind is elsewhere. Focused on you, you, you.

His hands roam your curves, thumbs moving smoothly over your hips. One hand glides up your spine, raising goosebumps along with it as a chill runs through you. He smirks into the kiss at the way your body always reacts to his touch, the way you’ve never been able to hide how much he affects you.

Particularly when he knows you can tell how much you affect him. The startling height difference between you has him prodding against your thigh, already hard and aching.

The hand that isn’t tangled in your hair kneads at the plush of your ass. With every curl of his fingers, he rolls his hips against you, letting out a strained breath until he can’t hold out any longer. He flips you both onto your sides, the tent filled with heady breaths as his lips move up your jaw and down your neck, paying extra attention to the sensitive skin at your collar.

His tongue drags over a spot he’s nipped, the sensation pulling a soft moan from your chest. His teeth drag over the skin, the jagged sensation of his canines ripping a gasp from you too. “Be quiet for me, princess.” His chest rumbles as he uses a leg to pull you closer, tangling your limbs. “Can’t have you bein’ too loud, can we?”

He chuckles at your disgruntled whine, pulling back to press a sweet kiss to your lips. The smell of campfire smoke is fresh on his skin as he pulls away, brushing a thumb over the material of your panties clinging to your hip.

“Let me make you feel good. Focus on me.”

As if your focus could be anywhere else when his fingers dip between your thighs before you can even reply. Your words dissolve, morphing into a soft gasp as he drags a digit over your clothed pussy.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs. His voice is low and gruff, heady with desire as he lowly whispers praise to you. “Fuck, I love you. Still can’t believe you’re mine.”

You laugh, breathy as his head dips beneath the cover of the sleeping bag, your shirt riding up as his lips graze your nipple. “I love you too, Kuna. Even after two years, you still can’t believe I’m yours?”

He stops, lifting his head to get a look at you. Sincerity and amusement blend within those ever-steady crimson pools you fell for so long ago. The prideful way he pushes his chest out is so him you find yourself smiling before he can even answer.

“Princess,” he begins, held up by his elbow folded beneath him. This new position has you pressed down beneath him, his weight warm and heavy over you like a blanket. It shields you from the warm summer night’s breeze overhead, just cool enough that your nipples peak. “I’ll be on my death bed and still won’t be able to believe it.”

“Ryo!” You quietly hiss, smacking his arm weakly. He snickers at your reaction. “Don’t talk about that while we’re having sex, oh my god.”

The shit-eating grin on his face has you quietly huffing out a laugh into his chest as he leans over you, though. “Oh fuck me for loving my girlfriend, right?” He plays, pleased when you jolt as his finger brushes the underside of your breast.

“I meannn,” you hum thoughtfully, recovering from the jolt of pleasure quickly as you play his games. “That is the plan.”

He snorts. “Too cute.” He stands by that statement when you beam at him too, your eyes crinkling at the corners in sheer delight.

Eagerly pulling his lips to you by the column of his neck, you let your hands roam his form. The broadness of his shoulders, the scar that passes over one, the way muscle bulges under the flex of his bicep as he holds himself over you. Your hands pass over the blades of his shoulders, sliding down his sides and grazing his abs. They seize under you, evidence you’ve always loved of the effect you have on him.

If that’s not enough, the boner he’s been sporting since you got under the blankets with him is now being rutted against your core, an undeniable wet patch on his boxers that matches your cute lace panties.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans as he dips back under the covers, lifting your shirt up over the curve of your breasts and tossing it aside. “And fuck, catchin’ you staring is so hot.”

“You’d make a good lumberjack,” you grin, rolling your hips up against him. He groans, a low and quiet sort of thing as his eyes flutter shut.

“‘M gonna stop you before you say some dumb shit about me being a grumpy old hermit or something,” he mutters, his hand grazing the front of your hip as his thumb slips beneath the waistband sitting at your hip. His gaze, blown and glassy, rises to meet your half-lidded expression in the silent question he always presents you with.

“Please,” you whisper, pulling him down for a too-sweet kiss that serves as a reminder of just how much of a lovebug you really are.

“Since you asked so nicely,” he teases, grateful for the night’s cover shielding his rosy skin as he rids you of your cover.

Laying on his hip as he holds himself up with one forearm, his opposite hand smooths up your inner thigh, squeezing the plush skin. You squirm under his touch, bucking your hips as he takes his time teasing you. The moment he grazes your folds, your head falls back into the pillows as you suck in a breath.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, “I’ve got you.” His lips slot over yours, swallowing your quiet moan as he covers his middle and ring finger in your slick, rubbing small circles into your clit. The sensation of the rough pad of his digit so gently moving around your sensitive bud has your head spinning as he slowly builds pleasure, giving it time to blossom and bloom through you. It spreads, warm and fuzzy as it takes root through your stomach and makes your brain foggy.

Your boyfriend knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows just how to make you twitch, moan, and scream, but nothing brings him more pleasure than watching your senses dull as you focus only on him and how he can make you feel. He pulls back with parted lips, watching your chest rise and fall unevenly when you shudder at the sensation of his fingers parting your folds.

“God,” you whine, arching into his fingers.

“Shhh, princess,” your boyfriend hushes your whimper with a kiss before shifting his grip on you. He pulls your back to his chest without his fingers ever leaving your entrance, his opposite hand covering your mouth. “Need you to be quiet for me.”

Gripping his forearm for purchase, a shaky breath tears from you when he finally dips into your entrance to the first knuckle, giving you a chance to adjust to the sensation of his thick fingers. His name slips from your lips in a moan, but it’s nothing more than a muffled gasp behind his hand.

His fingers are slow at first, putting just enough pressure behind the curl of his fingers to send sparks through to the tips of your limbs when he brushes your g-spot. Your hips inadvertently buck when he prods against it just right, his hardened length more than evident when you relax back into him.

He works you open slowly, each curl of his fingers accompanied by a pleasant wave of electricity that far outweighs the faint burn of being stretched. He guides your head back into his chest, lazily grinning as your lashes flutter when you peer up at him. Every muffled whimper has him twitching against you, the sound of your voice and feeling of your squirming like a drug to him.

He can just barely make out the sound of you crying out his name, gorgeous irises peering up at him through lidded eyes. He can feel your walls fluttering around his fingers, keeping a steady pace as he works you up to the ledge. “You gonna cum all over my fingers, angel?”

The most you can give him is a nod when your thighs begin to tremble. Between the dizzying sensation of his fingers expertly curling against your walls and his thumb brushing your clit, the knot in your stomach coils tightly.

You arch desperately into his hand, your stomach clenching as you teeter at the edge where he holds you for just a moment. You can feel his smirk against your skin with your growing whines. You plead and beg, but it’s lost between the fog in your mind and his hand over your mouth keeping you quiet, and only when your grip on his forearm tightens and leaves little half-moon indents where your nails dig in does he finally give in.

The sensation is euphoric as your orgasm crashes over you. Wave after wave has you shuddering in your boyfriend’s strong hold as he works you through it with quiet praise whispered into your ear.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he purrs, his lip curling up as you jolt when he pulls his fingers from your core. Collapsing back into him, he finally releases his grip on your mouth. Your lips part as the fog slowly clears from your mind enough that you’re smiling up at him.

“Thanks, baby.”

He hums, delighted. Bringing his fingers to his lips, he sucks the evidence of your orgasm from his fingers before leaning down to kiss you. The sweetness of his lips is such a stark contrast from the debauchery of his proud grin as he licks his fingers.

You suppose that sort of encapsulates everything he is as he holds you like you’re something precious, though. He cradles you in the sort of way that makes you feel as though the world can’t possibly hurt you, always shielded by his broad figure. You may not shield him in posture, but you can’t even begin to know the ways in which you soften the world for him, too.

“How’s my girl?”

Humming contentedly, you twist in his grip, holding yourself upright with a palm on his shoulder while you pull him down for a kiss. “I’m great, baby,” you smile against his lips. “Did you bring condoms?”

“That good, hm?” He teases. You give his arm a little smack as he snickers, leaning off of the mattress behind him to pull condoms from his suitcase. “Yeah, I brought ‘em.”

“Who’s eager now?” You counter.

“Don’t act like you’re so innocent.” As he slides back against you, your back still pressed to his chest, he grinds up against you. He catches the way your lips part and lust wisps through your gaze, proving his point. “We don’t get much time away from the brats, let me have this.”

You can’t help but quietly giggle at the way he puts it. “We’re barely across the lot from them, I’m not sure if this counts as ‘away’.”

“We’re away enough,” he gruffs as you hear him rip the condom wrapper. “‘M not exactly the most romantic guy, but we are under the stars right now and,” he shrugs as he rolls the condom down over himself and slips back against you. “Dunno. It’s cute to me.” Warmth radiates off of him in droves as he rolls his hips, grinding his length between your folds with a groan.

You keep your voice down as you moan, your cheeks warming at your boyfriend’s cute admission. “You’re more romantic than you think,” you murmur quietly, lashes brushing your cheeks as you glance up at the stars. “I’m pretty lucky, you know.”

His movements slow at your words. In the brief lull, the silence speaks volumes. You may not be able to see him, but the way his forearms tighten around you and his form protectively curls in on you tells you everything you need to know. His chest rises and falls heavily as he leans down to press his lips to your bare shoulder. It’s not the eager, hungry ones that match the debauchery of what you’re doing, but something far, far more precious.

In one of the rare moments where life slows down enough for the two of you to catch up, you let the moment hang. In spite of your eagerness, of the way you felt him twitch at your praise, you softly sigh as the weight of the world slips from your shoulders. Work, raising two boys, Sukuna’s classes and projects, for a moment it’s all a world away. It’s just you and him, two people raised in two very different ways, bound together by something so genuine and real you could only dream of it.

When he moves again, there’s less urgency. There’s a smooth rhythm to the roll of his hips, far slower and quiet in the way he gets when he’s deeper in his emotions than he’s willing to admit. You hold his forearm as he lines himself up with you, sucking in a gasp as he pushes into you. Slowly, he feeds you inch by inch, his breath warm on your shoulder.

He’s learned over the years that your body will tell him when to keep going and waits for you to adjust as he slowly glides in. Once he’s buried to the hilt, he shudders. His breath is unsteady as it cascades over your skin, hitching as you roll your hips in search of friction.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, strained as he attempts to keep his voice down. “You feel–” His voice breaks, a raw and quiet groan parting his lips as he begins to move. Something about the stars, the warm summer air on your skin and the isolation from society makes everything feel more intense. Or maybe it’s not the location and solitude, but the solace that’s found in knowing you found your soulmate.

Sukuna’s face buries itself against you as he steadily picks up pace until he’s found a steady, sensual rhythm. He doesn’t rush the pleasure, allowing it to build within you both as he hits the spot inside you that tears a moan from deep within your diaphragm. He moves quickly to wrap a hand back over your lips.

“Quiet, princess. You’re takin’ me so good,” he murmurs into your ear through his clenched jaw. His voice is low, with that strain that makes it sound as though it’s been dragged across gravel in a near-growl.

You whimper into his hand, his words sending heat straight to your core as your vision blurs when he hits the spot that nearly takes you over the edge with every thrust. You swear you see stars as he buries his face into the warmth of your skin.

He keeps his pace just slow enough to keep you at the edge, and if the twitching you can feel within is anything to go off of, him too. The hand keeping your waist flush against him slides down and grazes your clit. Your hips jerk upwards at the sensation as pleasure and overstimulation mix into something overwhelming. Your lips part behind his hand, your moan surely loud were it not for his grip tightening around you.

“I got you,” he murmurs, his lips meeting your temple.

That’s all it takes to send you into bliss. Sukuna’s hips stutter as your walls clench, clamping down around him and sending him over the edge with you. Buried to the hilt, you feel his muscles clench around you as he remains deep within you, filling the condom as you both ride out wave after wave of your climaxes.

The tent is quiet save for your pants as Sukuna releases your jaw. Your head lolls back against his peck, his warmth enveloping you. Your eyes flicker open, lidded as you stare up at the sky. Your gaze travels over the stars, passing over the eagle constellation’s eye. Aquila, the art major had called the bird.

“Pretty,” he hums behind you, a breathless quality to the word.

“Mhmm,” you agree softly, casting a glance back at him, then up to the sky.

He doesn’t correct you. He doesn’t need to, for he knows that you know. This moment, here with you in his arms, is the evidence of Sukuna’s dream having come true, and he selfishly keeps it held between palms that never knew how to cradle something with such carefulness until now.

He lets out a breath when you shift to look back at him, smiling contently.

“Mm?”

“Nothing, really. Just happy.”

He smirks. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to slow down.”

He hums, shifting to pull out of your core with a faint hiss. “Guess we don’t get this that often, huh?” He mutters as he sits up and leans over to grab a water bottle and cloth, discarding the condom in a small bag. He clearly had thought this through more than you had, the idea of sex on his mind while he packed as he wets the cloth to clean you up.

You chuckle quietly. “Between work and classes? No chance.”

Sukuna huffs out a sigh, tossing the towel aside as he pulls his boxers back up and grabs you a fresh pair of panties from his suitcase. Okay, yeah, he was really thinking about this. It’s simultaneously sweet and the kind of thing you’re absolutely gonna tease him over when the moment passes.

He settles back beside you, amusement woven through his tone. “Yeah, that and the fuckin’ Ice Age copy that I’m sick of hearing.”

“Come on, he barely even watches it anymore.”

“I hear it at least once every couple of months. That’s too fuckin’ much,” he grumbles.

You laugh, flipping to curl up against him when a twig snapping catches your attention. You both whip your heads around to it as you pull the sleeping bag up over your bare chest. “What was that?”

The sound of brush crunching has you tensing against the brute beside you as it becomes clear something or someone is walking near the tent.

Pulling the sleeping bag up as much as you can, you blink owlishly at your big strong boyfriend. “I can’t decide if it’d be worse if it was a bear of the kids. I hope it’s not the kids. I don’t know where my shirt is,” you murmur, peering around in the dark. Wherever Sukuna tossed it, it’s in one of those pockets where you swear it simply doesn’t exist and your suitcase is too far to reach if it is one of the boys.

“Here,” Sukuna quietly reaches over to drag his suitcase towards you. As you quickly dig through his clothes in search of a shirt, he crawls over to the zipped up tent entrance.

“Wait, what if it is a bear?” You whisper-hiss.

“I can handle a bear.”

“Ryomen. You cannot handle a bear.”

His head whips around in a sneer. “The fuck? Yeah I can.”

Staring at him in disbelief, you have no time to argue with him when you still need to find a shirt and he’s cautiously popping his head out to take a look. As he does so, you shuffle through his clothing quickly, pulling on the first shirt that meets your fingers.

“Huh,” he huffs in disbelief, turning back to face you. His next question is barely above a whisper. “You decent?”

You hum your approval. Shuffling to the side on his knees, he holds the tent flap open, revealing your campsite’s visitor. It’s barely visible in the darkness, but moonlight casts enough of a glow to make out the figure of a young deer. It’s just big enough to give the impression of being an adult, though it has no antlers. It stares back at you both from a short distance, completely frozen as you stare one another down.

Your lips part at the sight as its pupils reflect back at you, wide and cautious. There’s something serene in sharing this moment with a creature so different, like you’re both acknowledging respect for one another. It almost feels like a sign of some sort, though you’re not sure you could identify of what exactly.

“I could take a deer,” Sukuna muses, ruining the serenity of the moment as a laugh bubbles up so suddenly within you that you nearly choke on the sensation. Coughing scares the creature as it bounds away, leaving you covering your lips as you try not to wake the boys.

“You’re unbelievable.”

“What?” Sukuna grins back at you, letting the tent shut as he lowers his hand and zips it back up.

He crawls back into the makeshift bed beside you, pulling you to his chest. His heart beats steadily beneath your ear, the sound soothing you as your lidded eyes slowly flutter shut. “I love you, Sukuna,” you murmur, yawning as sleep settles over you like a warm blanket.

He kisses the crown of your head, humming. Sleep never takes him as quickly as it does you. He’s always left with his thoughts for a moment, no matter how exhausted he may be.

Love is something that he still learns day by day. Not loving you, exactly, that comes naturally to him, but the concept of love itself. He’d never considered himself to be someone who feels love so strongly, but every day you prove him wrong.

He still prefers a life of privacy. His love is quiet in front of your friends, albeit protective. They know better though, they see it in ways he won’t acknowledge. A brush of your waist, checking in to see how you’re doing, your hand enveloped by his, a sharp look when Satoru’s teasing grates his nerves. They see through his aloof appearance just as you do, because once you know what you’re looking for, the signs are obvious. His eyes scanning the room for you, the way he lingers once he finds you, a hand on your thigh beneath the dinner table. Subtle, but reliable.

More than anything, it’s the look in his eyes that gives him away.

Most might assume that after the honeymoon phase, that look in his eyes would settle for something more comfortable, but it never does. His adoration is woven into his very soul. It intertwines with everything that makes him Sukuna. You’re ingrained in the very way he carries himself and he never strives for anything less than perfection when he’s doing something that pertains to you.

And behind closed doors?

He’s not as quiet of a lover as one might think. He loves to tease, smirking when he never fails to fluster you. He’s vocal about how gorgeous you are and more obvious when he purposefully squeezes your ass. He loses the casual subtlety in favor of making sure you know. Because there was once a time where you didn’t and he’ll be damned before he stops worshiping the very ground you walk on.

You’re his angel. It’s more than just a cheesy pet name, it’s his truth, and he’ll never stop showing you that.

He simply wants to exist with you. Even on the nights where he works late, he’ll opt to be in a more distracting space with you and the kids and maybe even his three hundredth viewing of Ice Age, just to be a part of the life he’s grateful for.

“I love you, too.” He murmurs softly against your hair, his eyes heavy with sleep. Not just you, but all three of you. And a day won’t go by again where he leaves room to doubt that. He supposes that’s why a velvet box has been sitting in his bedside drawer for so long. He knew from the start he found the life he wants to live, and he won’t let it go anytime soon. And maybe when he purchased it over a year ago it wasn’t the right time, and maybe it’s not quite yet either, but someday he’ll find the moment.

Until that day comes, he lives in the certainty that he’ll go to the ends of the earth to keep his family and his little piece of heaven safe.

main masterlist || series masterlist || ⏮ prev || end ⏸ || husband wyk!kuna hcs

❦ a/n ; HIII everyone <33 thank you for your patience as i put together the ending for this lovely couple :') genuinely i couldn't possibly have imagined how far this series would come and i'm super grateful for each and every one of you who've read it, whether you've been following along since the beginning or are just finding it <33 i see each and every one of your comments and likes and it means a lot.

i've mentioned it once or twice but this series was meant to be a oneshot initially. i wrote it with plans for it to be 25k. how we got here... beyond me LOL. this story has evolved so much from my first idea and i'm so glad it did bc i'm super happy with the outcome.

when i first got the idea for this fic, i was listening to what you know by two door cinema club and loved the idea of the line 'i can tell just what you want/you don't want to be alone/and i can't say it's what you know/but you've known it from the start' being representative of a man who desperately needs someone to lean on, someone he can trust and rely on, but for that idea to evolve into this, i couldn't have possibly imagined LMAO

this chapter feels like the bow i always wanted to give this couple in letting the boys and sukuna heal and seeing reader and sukuna both have their dreams come true and i hope you enjoy it as much as i did writing it <33 also fun fact the one and only memory i have of camping i went with friends and found a machete with a hose for a handle duct taped together in the forest and just had to include it 🙂‍↕️

there will be more content about this fam in the future but it'll be between other projects from here on out. i have plans for a heian era fic and some more modern fics in the future, mostly for sukuna LOL. i'll keep my current taglist for this series but won't be adding anymore tags to it. let me know as well if you'd like to be removed!

for the sake of not droning on and on i'll wrap it up but i just wanna say thank you for all the support, it means a lot and seeing how dear this series is to so many people genuinely warms my heart. i never could have imagined what this would become but i'm grateful for everyone i've met through it, the experience of writing it, and all the love from you guys <33

anyway, one last time, thank you 🫶 i hope you enjoyed the final chapter of the main series! keep an eye out for oneshots and drabbles in the future 🫶

update ; hi everyone!! oneshots for this series are now available :) please check out the masterlist, or give the first one a shot here!

❦ taglist ; CLOSED. please let me know if you would no longer like to be tagged in oneshots/drabbles and other wyk content in the future!

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut @hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @mad-katsuki @timetoletmyimaginationfly @clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig @spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @vadergf @ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears @tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts @lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811 @toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @angel-loganswife @privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast @axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

He blinks, grateful he didn’t awaken you in his restless state. He brushes his finger down your upper arm, sliding his hand down to your elbow as you temporarily relieve the crawling sensation under his skin, giving him something else to focus on. He savors it for as long as he can, his gaze dragging over your form with deliberate care.

He keeps himself within that bubble until it threatens to burst, giving his mind an out from the craving threatening to pull him back into its clutches. He yearns to wrap himself around you, shut his eyes and wait for his heart to sync with yours as the waking world lets him fall from its grasp; but the discomfort sitting on the backburner lurks at the corners of his mind, and he knows this moment can only last so long.

He knew it would come, Uraume had warned him what it would be like based on the few times they’d tried to quit. An itch you can’t scratch, the constant cravings, hunger, restlessness, irritability. They hadn’t warned him about the pounding behind his head, nor the anxiety. Though he supposes symptoms likely differ.

But fuck, he could do without those two.

As the bubble bursts and everything creeps over him like a shadow, he rolls to his side in hopes that the headache might lessen.

It’s all in vain. If anything, it’s worse on his side and he rolls onto his back again, taking a deep breath. He can physically feel the tremor now. Or maybe it’s the itch, but it crawls and scuttles up to his chest with that horrific sensation that he’s choking.

Fuck, maybe he should have waited to do this until he felt more prepared. Until he was more secure in his relationship with you, and maybe he could have taken some time off.

But he’d wrongly assumed he could handle this.

Throwing the covers off, he glances back once more at you before heading into the living space and shutting the door behind him. His gaze washes over the living room; scattered blankets piled on the couch and the pillow thrown to the floor, the table pulled out from the wall with the candle now dormant and flowers awaiting the warmth of the arriving sun.

Staring out onto the balcony sends a fresh chill over his skin that has him recoiling as he’s reminded of smoking. Balling his hands into fists, he heads for the Ibuprofen cabinet in an effort to cure at least the headache. Grabbing whatever drink hits his hand first, he downs the pill and drink, wrinkling his nose when he stares down at whatever he just swallowed.

Expired orange juice.

Great.

Dumping it down the drain, he haphazardly tosses the carton atop the counter and takes a seat at the table, harshly rubbing his forehead in an effort to stop the incessant pounding.

Even as it lessens slightly over drawn out minutes, the sensation never fully dulls. Worse still, it leaves behind a dizzying sensation that he thinks might be even worse.

His morning is a slog. Slow, scattered, and distant.

Texting Uraume to ask how they dealt with it.

Cleaning up a dish.

Sitting down.

Growing frustrated.

Staring out the window.

Remembering the half-finished smokes are in the garbage under the sink.

Playing what feels like a losing game against his brain.

Putting away a dish.

Damn near losing his patience over dropping a sponge.

Sitting.

Standing.

Dishes.

Being informed that the feeling should pass in a few days.

Such bullshit.

Sitting again.

Pacing.

Going outside.

Coming back inside.

“Kuna?”

Just as he steps through the threshold from the balcony, he finds you still wrapped in the comforter from atop his bed. Your hair is a mess, your makeup is smudged across your cheeks, and your eyes are barely open.

You look like everything he could ever want in life.

“Did I wake you up?”

“I heard the door and you weren’t in bed,” you murmur, yawning into the blanket you have cocooned around yourself.

He sighs, scratching the back of his neck, but that itch never quite leaves. “Go back to bed, princess. ‘M just cleaning up a bit.”

You peer past him at the kitchen, though you don’t see any disarray for him to clean. The living room is back in order with a blanket messily folded and set on the cushions, the table has been pushed back into place and the water for the flowers has been topped up.

He’s been up for longer than he’s letting on. You know he’s an early riser, but that’s always been courtesy of the kids, who are still sound asleep given that the sun is barely peeking over the horizon and it’s been doing that earlier these days.

“Come back with me?”

Your request is soft, warm, and inviting. Your voice is thick with sleep and Sukuna yearns for the reality that lets him slip back under the sheets with you, but he knows the incessant discomfort won’t allow him that serenity.

Caught within a multitude of frustrations, it pisses him off.

He presses a thumb to his temple, tight-lipped as he shakes his head. “Don’t think I can sleep anymore.”

Clutching the blanket tighter around yourself, you drag it across the floor until you’re standing right in front of him. If your narrowed eyes are anything to go off of, you’re ready to call his bluff. Slipping your hand out from between the blankets, he recognizes the pointed shove that you’re about to give him, as though he might fall over with a little encouragement.

He didn’t think he looked that tired.

He doesn’t feel that tired.

But truthfully he’s not really sure what exactly he’s feeling.

He just knows that the last thing he wants is for the string holding him together right now to be pulled any tighter.

Grabbing your wrist before you can make your point, he huffs out a long and heavy sigh. “Angel, I don’t think I have the patience for this right now and I don’t wanna snap.”

You blink up at him, but you don’t recoil or pull back. No, because this is improvement. This is communication. You can see now that this is the sharp side of him, the one that bristles under pressure and snarls when you poke it. You’re not sure what’s brought this out, but that’s okay, because growth doesn’t happen overnight.

So… “What’s wrong?”

He inhales, his grip on your arm shifting as the tension from his body releases. His hand slides up your arm, fingers curling around your elbow as he gently tugs you towards him. Your warmth seeps into him, his shirt still cool from the early morning air as the faint smell of the city clings to him.

The harsh smell of smoke that would usually trail after him has faded, though.

And you figure you might have your answer there.

He holds you tight to his chest, his muscles rippling with each breath as though he can’t let go of the tension within them. “It’s not your fault,” he starts reassuringly, “just can’t sit still,” he grumbles in harsh contrast to the gentle nature with which he rubs your back over the thick blankets. You can’t really feel it, but the sentiment is there. “Everything is getting to me. The cars, the birds, even the fuckin’ fridge is pissing me off,” he sighs.

“Is it the withdrawal?” You query.

“I hope so,” he jokes frailly.

“I remember Suguru avoided everyone for the first few days after he quit. He said something similar,” you offer.

He nods, lowering his head and burying it in your hair. He was joking last night about getting his fix, but truthfully this is the only moment since he first awoke where the static of the world seems to stop. Maybe you are his fix after all.

“I can manage a couple of days,” Sukuna begrudgingly mutters into your hair, shutting his eyes.

Your voice has a muffled quality as you speak against his chest. “What’s it like?”

He searches for words for a moment. “Just… shitty. A little itchy. Don’t wanna do anything but I can’t sit still.” Headache. Cravings. Hunger.

“Did you get any sleep after you woke up from the nightmare?” You yawn against his chest.

“A little. Having you there helped.”

Warmth floods your chest. You nuzzle your face against his chest, earning a satisfied hum from deep within. His chest vibrates against your cheek. “I’m glad,” you murmur softly. “None of us are going anywhere, you know.”

His chest rises and falls. As much as he fears snapping at you, your presence in his arms is the steadiest he’s felt since dawn broke. “I know. Just feels like if I blink, everything will slip away.”

You kiss his chest. It’s terribly sweet and melts away another ounce of his tension. “We’re not going anywhere. None of us,” you assure him, your tone heartening in spite of the adorably sleepy lilt it also shares. “And if anything happens, you’ve got me, Toji, Uraume, Satoru, and everyone else in your corner.”

The silence that follows is neither heavy nor light. Something in between, like a bird ready to take flight. Finally, he sighs. His hand resumes its movement up and down your back. You smile against his chest as he settles.

“I can’t convince you to come back to bed?”

“I don’t wanna keep you awake.”

Your fingers curl into his shirt, your weight slumping against him. “I don’t think you could,” you admit, another yawn warming his skin through the cotton of his shirt. It sends a chill up his spine.

He squeezes you tighter. Whether he’s trying to keep you warm or trying to steal your body heat for himself, he can’t be sure. What he does know is that you’ve given him something to focus on, something that isn’t the cravings, the discomfort, or the rattling. So with a soft “alright,” he gives in and tucks you into his side as he heads back with you to his bedroom.

Rather than spreading the blanket across the bed, you invite him into the cocoon of blankets you’ve procured. Limbs tangle together as warmth washes back over you.

He supposes you were right to assume that he couldn’t keep you up. You’re asleep before there’s even a sheep to be herded, let alone counted.

Curled around you once more, your words and actions stick with him. The fact that you didn’t pull away, you weren’t hurt when he dissuaded your teasing. He didn’t fuck things up for once. For all of his irritability, for all of the jitteriness slinking deep within his bones, he went about things the right way, and there’s relief to be found within that.

Like a mantra, he repeats the moment in his mind. Your gentle understanding, the warmth of your frame around his. The way your fingers clutch his shirt and he feels like he actually has something to give, whether it be warmth or comfort. There’s security within the fact that he doesn’t feel like he’s sucking the life from you any longer.

It isn’t all at once, but gradually the crawling dulls. The buzzing outside fades. The golden strips on the wall become a distant memory. And with each passing moment, the restless shuffling of Sukuna’s limbs settles until he finds peace again.

–

Every day that follows your date, Sukuna grows increasingly thankful that you convinced him to hop back in bed with you that morning.

By the third day of withdrawal, he’s running on fumes. Insomnia follows him like an old friend. A cold sweat clings to him, his skin slick with moisture that makes every movement feel sticky. His limbs are heavy and his mind is laden with a dense fog that only seems to heighten his frustrations.

The cravings are intense. It presents like a hunger that never dies as much as he eats, only to realize it’s all a trick of the mind. He’s dying for the subtle buzz nicotine provides and his body is begging him to rummage through the trash like some sort of animal in search of scraps.

He very seriously contemplates it at the dinner table one night.

The only thing keeping him in check is Uraume’s reassurance that once you’re past the first few days, it’s all a mental game and the physical rattling dulls. That, he can handle.

It’s the ache, the sweat, the itch. The exhaustion that doesn’t give way to sleep, making his limbs drag and leaving his mind on edge– that’s what he can’t take much more of.

It all comes to a head by the end of the third day when the kids’ door slams shut not once, but twice.

The first– Yuji. The second– Choso.

He stands in the kitchen, every little sound grating him down to his last nerve until there’s nothing left. Within the nothing– that’s when the guilt seeps in.

And he can’t tell if he hates the irritability and anger of his withdrawal or the guilt that bolts him to the ground like tar more. Really, what does it matter when they both lead to the same outcome?

The guilt is sobering, though. It pulls back the curtains on his symptoms just long enough for Sukuna to realize how much of an asshole he really is. It only makes it harder to keep holding out when one hit could bring him back to the median and keep him from pulling stupid shit like this.

Especially when just the other day he felt he’d been better. He supposes recovery and growth are never a linear path, but it still pisses him off.

His real saving grace though? You.

He pulls his phone out without thinking, scrolling to your messages. The past few days since you left his apartment the morning after your date have been spent texting non-stop. A constant back and forth of little moments in which you think about one another, discussions about the kids and plans for more dates. You passed your exams with flying colors– to no one’s surprise– and have been caught up in graduation preparations (well, preparations for Satoru’s final hurrah) and signing on full-time to the publishing house.

Life won’t slow down for either of you, but fuck he wishes it would. As he stares at your latest message, nothing more than an affirmation that you’re getting cozy in bed to read, he can only pray that you have a moment. His thumb doesn’t hesitate over the call button anymore.

You pick up on the second ring.

“Hey Kuna, how are you feeling?” Your voice is light, but edged with concern. He supposes he doesn’t call often.

Laying on his back in bed, his knee bouncing with anxiety, he lets out a sigh of relief at the sound of your voice. “Long day,” he admits. It’s roundabout, but it’s an admission in its own right.

Your shuffling on the other line might be the only static that doesn’t piss him off. Maybe he’s just that desperate to hear your voice. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Yes. “No.” Not yet. “Tell me about work.”

He can’t see your eyes narrow at the strained quality his voice has, but you oblige nonetheless. “Okay, so I told Yuki this morning that I passed all of my exams, and she seemed super excited,” you begin enthusiastically. He can hear you adjust again, practically able to envision you sitting up to excitedly tell him about Maya pulling you into her office to offer you a full-time position now that you’re officially graduating.

His eyes shut, and for a moment he has something to focus on. Something grounding and real that helps him ignore the sweat pooling at his lower back. He clings to every word like a lifeline, humming along to let you know he’s listening, congratulating you as your story comes to a close.

You notice his relative silence over the matter, though you don’t take it to heart. You know his last few days have been a stark contrast to yours, but you keep reminding him how proud you are that he’s working on himself. You hope it helps.

When he doesn’t offer much on his own day, you figure he just wants to hear your voice.

“Hey, um– my grad’s on Thursday. I know you’re probably working since it’s at eleven, but I kept a ticket for you.” You don’t mean to sound so sheepish, but a part of you hopes he can make it anyway, even if you don’t expect it given his busy schedule. “You’d be sitting with Sho, if you can make it.”

“Your parents not taking your tickets?”

“No,” you reply softly, bittersweet. “They can’t make it out here for it. Shoko’s gonna record it for them.”

He hums, recalling brief mentions that your parents couldn’t make it out here when you were struggling with your scholarship. “Promise when my head’s a little more clear, I’ll see what I can do, princess. I wanna be there.”

Your smile can’t be contained. “Thanks, Kuna.”

You appreciate both his communication that he’s out of it right now and the effort he puts into responding regardless. You appreciate that he’s trying.

He still remains relatively quiet, completely still aside from the rattle of cloth that you’re positive is his foot shaking. You move along, telling him about Satoru’s final frat party bash plans and how you’ve been roped in to handling the decorations with Kento, who has no opinion on the matter. Sukuna chuckles, sympathizing with the blonde in spite of your playful whine.

But with every passing moment, you begin to realize something is off. You know your crush is out of it. You know he’s got everything and nothing on his mind all at once, but the everything portion seems to weigh him down more heavily now.

“Hey,” you keep your tone light, but offer him the floor. “Is something wrong?”

His leg is still bouncing. You can hear the shuffle through the receiver, though it’s louder now.

“...I snapped at Yuji today.”

He can’t see your frown, but he feels it. “What happened?” Your tone remains judgement-free and he swears that the pet name ‘angel’ becomes more and more fitting by the day.

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Not really. I was just in a bad fuckin’ mood and he picked a fight with Cho.” Rubbing a hand over his face, he swaps the hand his phone sits in. “They were playing a game and Choso chose the character he wanted or something.” He settles his arm over his forehead, grateful as it blocks the warm glow of the lamp. “Cho gave up the character, but he wasn’t having it for some reason.”

He sighs, but it doesn’t relieve an ounce of tension.

“I dunno. I had a headache and was tryin’ to cook potatoes, chicken, n’ gravy at the same time and I’d already told them to figure it out themselves. He started pulling my sleeve and I dropped the spoon and gravy went everywhere and–” His arm plops to the mattress in exasperation, the sharp sound audible as it seems to sum up how exactly the night went for Sukuna.

You can hear the disappointment in his voice. He knows he’s better, that he’s grown, that he tries not to let genuine anger into his home any longer. This slipped through the cracks that once seeped with smoke and now he’s left in a pool of guilt.

And sweat.

He rolls his shoulder, adjusting as if it might help the way his sheets stick to his skin. “Worst part is things were good. We just got back from Cho’s therapy and he told me he thinks he’s ready to be on his own.” A brief pause. “Figuratively. With a babysitter. He’s mad at me too now, though.”

There’s an airy hum from your side of the call. “Choso doesn’t like when you and Yuji fight,” you agree. “Were you really upset with Yuji?”

“A little.” His brow knits. “Not really. Just frustrated.”

“You think it was the withdrawal?”

“Yeah. Fuck, I think. I hope so.”

Your lips twitch, sympathy in the form of a tight-lipped smile that he can’t see. “Did you apologize?”

“No. The kid wouldn’t understand why I’m in a bad mood. It’s a shit excuse anyway.”

“He probably doesn’t understand why you were so angry with him either way. What matters most now is how you handle it.”

His crimson gaze slides across the ceiling, allowing your words to hang within the silence. He blinks slowly, tears blurring his vision when he fights off a yawn. Rubbing at his eyes, he sighs. “You’re too good at this shit, y’know that?”

“Have I ever mentioned that Kento’s mom was a psychiatrist?”

“No, but that makes a lot of fucking sense.”

You giggle on the other line. “Yeah, I think I got a headstart on this sort of stuff.”

He cracks a hint of a smile. It bears a five o’clock shadow like no other and barely hangs on by a thread, but it’s the first one he’s managed in days. With a breathy exhale in shared amusement, he drapes his arm back over his eyes. “Guess I should go talk to him.”

“Things will work out,” you assure him.

“Thanks, angel.”

“Let me know how it goes. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Mhm.”

“Take care, Kuna.”

The hard edge of withdrawal softens briefly as he exists within your world’s embrace. “You too, princess.”

He lets you hang up first, his thumb hovering over the red button for longer than he’d care to admit. The reality of stumbling through an apology feels harder without you to cushion it.

In the short time since he snapped, shame has already made itself a home within his chest. A nest made of jagged branches settled between his vitals. He doesn’t know how to rid himself of it without scathing his lungs– or worse– his heart. Particularly when every branch has a thorn that reminds him just how the little boy sees him.

The kid’s dad. A subtle reminder of something he fears he can never provide for a soul as genuine as Yuji’s.

He curls his fingers around the first branch anyway. Wiping sweat from his brow, he tears through the shame and makes his way to the door that slammed an hour ago.

Twice.

The floor creaks beneath his heavy gaited steps, alerting the boys of his presence without a doubt, but he still hesitates to rap his knuckles against the door. Sucking in a breath, he lets the sound echo within the silence of the apartment.

Without your voice to focus on, the anxiety creeps in. Particularly when he’s met with a complete absence of a reaction. Pale, his knuckles still rest against the door. His head falls, staring at the hardwood beneath his feet, scratched and worn from where their door hangs a bit too low on the hinges. He shuffles from foot to foot, restless.

Your voice no longer provides him sanctity from his symptoms, which creep up over his shoulders. He rolls them, as if to rid himself of the sensation, but it remains steady and unrelenting.

Rubbing harshly at the dull ache behind his eyes, he pushes through and knocks on the door again. “C’mon, I know you’re both in there. You can keep being mad at me, just let me in.”

Choso’s ambivalent scowl greets him after a moment. A storm brews behind his eyes, as heavy as the gravity that pulls Sukuna’s arm down when the door opens. He exchanges a glance with the older Itadori, giving his brother a chance to slam the door in his face again, but he doesn’t. He leaves it barely ajar and returns to his bed.

Across from him, Yuji is curled into the corner of his bed facing the wall. He’s tucked beneath the covers, sniffling every few moments as though he’s tired himself out. With a heavy sigh, Sukuna steps carefully through the minefield of toys that almost feel purposefully left out given the frequency of sharper objects.

The mattress dips under Sukuna’s weight. Yuji doesn’t move, the soft rise and fall of his form remaining steady aside from sniffles.

“Hey, Yu.”

Nothing. And fuck, Sukuna is starting to get why he tends to win arguments with his sharp and pointed silences.

He curses under his breath. “I deserve that.” Staring down at his hands draped over his knees, he eyes his thumb, the tremor in that one digit much stronger than the rest. It’s the only outward sign that he’s going through anything.

Well, aside from the miserable sweat clinging to his skin.

“Look, I’m–” His throat betrays him, words catching. “I’m sorry. I didn’t handle what happened right and I shouldn’t’ve yelled at you like that.”

To Sukuna’s pained relief as he struggles through an apology, Yuji shifts to eye him from over his shoulder. The little boy’s eyes are still red as though he only just stopped crying.

Sukuna tugs a little harder at the branches nestled within his ribs, letting the thorns graze him. “I was mean, alright? I want you to get along with your brother, but I coulda like– told you that. I didn’t have to snap.” He swallows hard, the words threatening to choke him. “You have every right to be mad at me.”

“I don’t like when you yell,” he finally mutters a pitch too high, muffled by his arms as he rubs his eyes.

“Yeah. Me either.”

Yuji’s still pouting and puffy-cheeked when he flips onto his back, fiddling with the tiger plush that Sukuna can now see is tucked under his arms. It only serves to further break him.

How the hell do you explain something so complicated to a five-year-old? Reluctantly, he tries anyway. “Can I tell you why I yelled?” When he’s met with a tentative nod, he continues. “I’ve been… sick, these last few days. I–”

“You don’t look sick,” Yuji interrupts, and although it comes across in that offhanded blunt way that little kids have mastered, there’s genuine concern swimming within the child’s eyes.

He nods in agreement, dragging a hand down the thickening stubble along his jaw. “Yeah, it’s a weird kind of sick.” He parses his brains for a comparison the child might understand. “Y’know when you eat ice cream too fast and your head hurts?”

The little boy nods.

“That’s kinda how I feel.” He takes a breath to continue, but Yuji pipes in.

“But you’ll get better right?”

Sukuna’s shoulders fall as his little brother’s priorities flip on a dime. No longer upset, but worried. He often wonders whether Yuji fully understands what happened to Jin, or if he understands at all, really. He doesn’t know where the line starts and ends when it comes to how Yuji views Sukuna and how Yuji views his father. He’s not sure where it blurs.

All he can say for sure is that he’s not sure the average kid Yuji’s age would be this worried over a little illness.

“‘Course, just gimme a couple of days, okay?”

Yuji nods, cautiously scooting a little closer.

“Point is, I’m feeling pretty shitty–”

“Bad word!”

Sukuna throws a scowl in Yuji’s direction for interrupting over something so menial. It lacks any real heat though, and the little boy is well aware as their more familiar back-and-forth clicks into place.

Huffing, the brute continues. “I’m feeling bad,” he sneers in reply, the tension in his muscles releasing somewhat as the little boy triumphantly smiles. “And your argument with your brother got to me more than it should’ve. I didn’t mean to snap at you like that. I’m sorry, Yu.”

Shitty apology. Shitty excuse. But it’s a step forward, right? It’s what he tells himself as the little boy crawls into his lap, arms around his middle as he squeezes with all his tiny might. “It’s okay, Kuna.”

He hugs his little brother back, his gaze hollowed as he stares at the floor. Movement catches his eye, his sightline rising to meet Choso, still staring at him from across the room. Choso may not sport a pout or a scowl, but the brute can still make out that he’s upset if his unwavering stare is anything to go by.

Sukuna frowns. “Sorry to you too, Cho.”

The older Itadori– who hates when Yuji cries– finally averts his eyes, his guard let down. He takes a moment to reply, not as immediately forgiving as the youngest. “Thanks,” he murmurs, letting out a breath.

“Kuna?” Returning his attention to the pink-haired bundle of energy in his arms, he hums. “Can I have a cookie?”

An amused puff of air leaves Sukuna’s nose. “Yeah, alright. If you agree to be nicer to Cho. He gave you the character you wanted n’ everything, didn’t he?”

Yuji pouts, averting his eyes. “Yeah…”

“So what even happened?”

“I changed my mind…”

Sukuna snorts. “Brat.”

“Hey-uh!” Yuji tugs on Sukuna’s hoodie as he leads the way to the kitchen, beckoning Choso along with the promise of cookies for both of them.

As Choso obliges, Sukuna rustles his hair. “Don’t let Yuji boss you around. He ain’t even half your age.”

Swatting Sukuna’s hand away, Choso half-heartedly protests. “I just wanted to be a good bro–”

“Yes I am!” Yuji interrupts as he bounds between his brothers, insistently holding up six fingers. “I’m almost six!”

“Almost six is five,” the oldest dryly states, grateful that the atmosphere has fallen back to what he’s used to. “And don’t interrupt Cho.”

“Okayyyy.”

Opening a cabinet and pulling down a box of cookies purposefully kept out of reach of grubby hands, Sukuna works on opening the new box. Yuji is excitedly tugging on his sleeve with both hands, the sensation of the material dragging against his skin heightening the itch of withdrawal. It’s as though the discomfort has grown tenfold and it grates against his nerves. A muscle in his jaw ticks as thorns grip his lungs and cravings crawl up his throat.

He whips his head towards Yuji when the little boy tugs hard enough to choke Sukuna, lip curled as he nearly snarls at his brother again, only to catch himself. He sets the box down, harshly dragging his hands over his face as he takes a moment to breathe. He has to tune the little boy out briefly as he comes to his senses, but he shakes his head as he stands upright.

“You’re choking me,” he grumbles out as he finally manages to pull the inner bag of the box of cookies open and hand one down to the little boy.

“Sorry Kuna!” He apologizes, entirely unaware of the man’s inner turmoil as he reaches cheerily for the cookie. He turns to bound towards the table before pausing and holding his palm back up at the older man. “When I feel sick, cookies help me.”

Yuji’s offer could melt the coldest ice. “Nah, I’m good. Thanks, Yu.” With an encouraging nudge towards the table, Yuji nods in satisfaction and hops into his seat.

“He threw up last time he had more than two cookies,” Choso points out with a wrinkled nose as he reaches up for his own cookie when Sukuna offers the box, trusting the brunette to be more responsible.

“Why do you think I didn’t hand him the box?”

Choso smiles, a near laugh parting his lips as he reaches into the box. With the treat in-hand, he exchanges a glance with his older brother. Both aloof and quiet, they’ve gained something of a silent language over the years. Within the hidden dialogue is an understanding that Sukuna is trying.

It’s not perfect. It’s messy, and at his core he’s still a grumpy brute with a sharp tongue.

But he’s trying.

And that’s enough.

–

Excitement is electric in the air around you. Chatter brims the room from back to front; students, faculty, friends, and family alike.

You always anticipated being excited for graduation, but after the past year, it feels emotional too. The kind where you hold onto every moment, committing each speech to memory because it feels like a blessing bestowed upon you.

Though that would be discounting everything Sukuna has done for you. Twisting in your seat in an attempt to see over the crowd of graduates, you try to search the stands to see if he was able to make it, but you can scarcely see over the crowd.

Putting your focus into the ceremony, you fiddle with the loose gown draping down to your ankles. For as excited as you are, it’s hard not to be equally nervous. Some cruel part of your brain seems to insist that this is a dream, too farfetched to be true when everything was nearly stripped from you.

As the ceremony draws nearer to accepting your diplomas, a buzz heightens the energy of the room as you await the signal to move towards the stage. Your nerves are more frazzled than you care to admit as the word is given and you shuffle to the side of the room.

You scan the crowd that doesn’t don caps and robes, but you can’t make out either Shoko or Sukuna. Mr. and Mrs. Nanami should be among the crowd too, but there’s so many people that it makes anyone hard to spot.

Reasonably, you shouldn’t get your hopes up, either. The kids aren’t in school anymore and your crush works two jobs. You can’t expect his presence when he’s needed in so many places at once.

Sucking in a breath, you cast a glance up at the stage facing far too many people for comfort. Shrinking back behind the row of students, you do what you can to stay out of sight from the large crowd, trying just about every method you can to rid yourself of nerves. With each long, deep breath, you just try to remind yourself that you don’t have to speak. It’s nothing more than accepting your diploma, a quick photo, and you’re off.

You just didn’t expect the crowd to be this big.

Shuffling from left to right, you suck in a breath as the stage grows closer but it doesn’t quell the jitters rattling your lungs.

It’s barely a moment on-stage. Not even a minute. Not even thirty seconds. A handshake and a photo. Most people won’t even be paying attention, all you need to do is take a breath and smile for your photo.

The back of your neck remains warm. There’s a subtle tremble in your fingers in spite of your own mental pep-talk as you make your way up the stairs.

The room feels even larger from atop the stage. The graduating class of this year stretches to the ends of the hall, while risers for friends and family feel as though they reach the ceiling. As you near the front and accept your diploma with a nervous smile and trembling fingers, you make your way to the front of the stage for your photo.

Cheers break out from throughout the crowd, catching you off-guard as you’re able to spot Satoru, Suguru, Yu, Atsuya, and Toji cheering you on from one side of the graduating class, while Kento and Uraume both cheer from another. Beyond them, another small group cheers loudly for you too. Shoko sits alongside Kento’s parents, and beside them–

He made it.

A grin breaks out on your face, the photo snapping as it captures not a meek smile, but genuine glee at the overwhelming support of friends and family.

Your parents may not be present, but you can feel their pride from afar too. You already know tears are being shed as Shoko sends photos and videos.

After the second flash, you duck your head and slip across the stage, heart still pounding as you take your seat once more. In spite of the blood pumping in your ears, it doesn’t feel quite so harrowing with all the familiar faces cheering you on.

You cheer for each of your friends in turn, and as the ceremony comes to a close, you laugh along with the rest of the graduates as you toss your caps into the air. The hats all come tumbling down as the laughter and applause settles for the casual buzz of an excited room of new alumni.

The ticketed crowd files out to wait for their respective former students, while each graduate begins the search for the cap that you all paid for. You fall into step with Kento and Uraume first, embracing them each as you greet one another with congratulations. Even Kento seems jovial today, his usual serenity blooming into a wide grin as he releases you from a hug.

“So, what plans do we all have post-graduation?” Uraume queries as you all begin the search for your caps.

“I actually received an offer to interview for a position in the finance department of the school this morning,” Kento begins, his eyes brimming with the joy he doesn’t express. “My professor recommended me for the position.”

“No way, congrats Ken!” You pull him in for another hug. “I got onboarded full-time at the publishing house earlier this week,” you boast, unable to hide a grin.

Uraume tilts their head knowingly. “Sukuna mentioned as much. He seemed pretty thrilled.”

“Yeah?” You sheepishly reply as you set a cap aside, suddenly wishing you hadn’t written your name on it so that you could just take any unmarked one.

“I’m fairly sure he cheered louder for you than my parents did for me,” Kento chuckles, nudging your shoulder as your cheeks warm over the teasing.

You laugh, unable to deny his claims when you’re equally sure it’s true. Before you can get a word out, Satoru comes barreling into your group, followed shortly by Suguru, Atsuya, and Yu. Congratulations are exchanged once more, alongside hugs.

“You found your cap already?” Uraume’s brow raises as Atsuya returns with one already on. “Fuck no. I just grabbed the first one without a name I could find. I knew this would happen.”

“Smartass,” Toji snarks at his side as the rest of you continue your search in high spirits. Chatter is thrown left and right and slowly but surely you all begin finding your caps within the pile of navy.

Fixing yours atop your head, Kento nudges your arm. “My parents would love to say hi.” He motions back towards the waiting area, your heart palpitating at the thought that Sukuna is back there too, alongside Shoko. “They sent me several questions over ‘the pink-haired man ’,” he smirks, amused. “It sounds as though they put him through a quiz once he mentioned taking you on a date.”

“Oh god.” With a hand covering your lips, you let out something between a laugh and a groan. “Yeah, we can head out.” You turn back to the group, gathering Uraume’s attention. “Ken and I are going to meet with his parents, Sho, and Kuna. In case I don’t see you before then, will you be at Satoru’s on Saturday?”

Giving you another hug, they nod. “Definitely. Congratulations again, I’ll see you Saturday!”

Catching Satoru’s attention, he waves a hand over his head. “You better be at my party!”

“Wouldn’t miss it!” You call back as you head for the door.

“Bring your man!”

A nod and a laugh satiate the fratboy as you wave back, catching up to Kento to push through the doors.

The halls outside are a mess of navy and echoing cheer as relatives try to locate their graduates and vice versa. If you weren’t on cloud nine from the high of moving on to a new stage of life, you might find it overwhelming.

“Hey!” Shoko finds you first, pulling you and Kento into a huge hug. “I’m so proud of you both, oh my god,” she breathes as you all share a moment together.

“It’s a shame you couldn’t graduate with us,” Kento’s head tilts to face Shoko.

She sighs. “Can’t believe I’m the only one not graduating this year.”

“You would be with Suguru had he not taken extra courses,” Kento offers a thin-lipped smile. “We won’t be far though, this won’t change anything.”

“I know,” she sighs. “And I’ll hold you to that. I’m not losing either of you. Any of you, for that matter.”

“Never,” you agree.

“I can introduce you to Hiromi, if it’s any consolation,” the blonde offers beside you.

“Hiromi’s really nice, I think you’d like him.”

“Guess I’ll have to take you up on that, then.” Shoko smiles. “Oh!” She perks up suddenly, turning back towards the growing crowd as more students file out. Getting on her toes, she tries to look over the heads of the crowd to no avail. “Come with me.”

Threading through the sea of navy, she leads the way towards a back corner that allows for a bit more peace and a break from the crowd. Tucked within the open corner are Kento’s parents and none other than your crush, donning a black button-up and slacks and the red tie you gifted him. His brow is curled into a scowl as you’re certain he’s still being quizzed by the couple across from him.

As you break through the crowd, his gaze flickers to the movement, staying pinned on you as the attention of the couple shifts to their son. Sukuna glances to his side in an effort to make a good impression on Kento’s parents, but upon realizing they’ve already parted from the conversation, he lets his guard down and closes the distance to you in a few long strides.

“You made it!” You laugh as his arms envelop you, lifting your feet off the ground as he buries his face into your neck in what can only be described as a bear hug. You cling to his shoulders, hands sliding down to his pecks as he sets you down.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Warmth radiates from his gaze as he smiles down at you, genuine and proud.

He wasn’t present to see you during the presentation you were forced to give alone so many moons ago, but it’s a thought he’ll never let himself live down. No matter what it takes, he wants to be there– at your side or in the crowd– to support you during those moments where anxiety clutches your chest. He doesn’t want to let you down again.

“And look at you,” he adds, bending down to your height with a smirk. “So cute in your robes.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, tugging your lower lip between your teeth sheepishly. “Are your brothers alright right now? How’s Choso doing?” You inquire.

“He’s… actually at a friend’s place right now.” Relief floods his being as the tension in his shoulders automatically dissipates at the thought. “And Yu’s bein’ babysat.”

You can’t help a smile at the thought. “He’s come a long way.”

Your crush hums his agreement. “Which is why…” He takes a long breath, standing upright as he musters up courage. “I wanna take you out. Tomorrow night, if you’re free. For a real date.”

“Our last one was fake?” You tease knowingly.

He glowers down at you, playfully trying to pull your cap over your eyes as you duck out of the way, snickering. “I’d love to, Kuna.” You beam up at him, earning a smirk. “Oh, and…” You begin, a slant to your eyebrows as you stare up at him with admiration. “Thank you for the scholarship thing.”

Lowering down to your level again, his smirk shifts to something more earnest as he brandishes his signature grimace. His palm brushes up the column of your neck, thumb settling along your jaw. “Quit thankin’ me.” His lips capture yours briefly. When he pulls back, he squeezes your cheeks until your lips form a kissy face. “We went over this.”

“I know, but–” Your thoughts are cut short when Kento’s parents call your name, beckoning you both over.

“I need to get a photo of you and Ken together,” his mother insists.

With a smirk, Sukuna steps aside as you’re showered in the closest thing to parental love that you can get right now. Kento has to step in with a chuckle in order to get his mother to stop fixing his hair, only to earn the kind of smile a proud parent gives their child who’s officially moving into the next stage of life. You’re grateful that their pride extends to you, even if it means she insists on straightening your gown and cap.

After snapping a photo of you and Kento that mirrors one you took on your first day of school years ago, she beckons to Shoko. Your best friend smiles as she slings her arms around her you both, but Mrs. Nanami is still insistently watching the spot where Shoko just came from. Sukuna’s smirk morphs to shock as he’s beckoned in as well, at the insistence of clearly being dear to you.

He averts his gaze in an effort to keep you all from noticing the rose that dusts his skin, but he doesn’t deny the request. Sidling up behind you, he rests one hand on your waist, the other briefly hovering in the direction of your friends before settling over Shoko on Kento’s shoulder.

“Alright, smile!” The flash goes off, much to all of your dismay as a photo is taken that immortalizes Sukuna’s blush. “All of you smile,” his mother insists, still holding up the phone.

You crane your neck to get a look at Sukuna, who is smiling, albeit a very subtle one.

“Hm? I’m smiling,” he dryly insists, though it brings on a scowl.

“Don’t be a grump,” Shoko insists, laughter coming over the group as Sukuna huffs.

Rather than heat, the huff has a jovial quality like he’s trying not to join in on your laughter. “I’m smiling, I’m smiling,” he insists, the honest expression captured alongside his blush for eternity.

“That one’s perfect,” Kento’s mother grins at her phone. You reconvene with her, letting her fawn over how proud she is of you and her son, showering you both in hugs. Mr. Nanami, the much more aloof of the two hugs you both as well, quiet pride shining behind auburn eyes.

Although it’s obvious she would keep you longer if she could, his mother eventually shoos the four of you away, insisting you make the most of the day. Shoko practically begs for Korean Barbeque as you reconvene with the rest of your friends ahead of Satoru’s party after all.

The buzz of the day keeps you all in high spirits around the long table as horror stories from your years in school together are exchanged. More than anything though, it makes you grin from ear to ear to see Sukuna at your side throughout the whole thing. Even when he starts going at it with Toji, fighting over everything and nothing at all, there’s a spark behind his eyes beginning to rekindle the fire within him.

–

“You sure this thing won’t crap out on me?” Sukuna skeptically stares at the dashboard of Toji’s car. The football player’s hand rests atop the car as he leans in to take a look at the amount of lights on the dashboard that flicker on upon turning the ignition.

“Your auto shop fuckin’ fixed it.”

“I don’t work there anymore,” Sukuna unhelpfully points out.

“Still, no faith in y’r old co-workers?” Toji snorts.

With a sigh, Sukuna pushes a hand back through his hair. “They don’t normally leave three fuckin’ warning lights on.”

“It’ll be fine. The old man who owns the place told me it’s fuckin’ faulty ‘r some shit,” Toji shrugs nonchalantly. “Told me to code check it every so often.”

“Do you?”

“The fuck do I know ‘bout code checking?”

With a forlorn sigh, Sukuna surrenders and opts to take Toji’s approach. Ignore the problem. “Check the fucking code when I get back,” he mutters under his breath, going ignored by his best friend. “Thanks for lending me the car.”

“I would say no problem but you’re bein’ a fuckin’ prick so bring me back an energy drink or some shit on your way back,” he sneers in reply, though there’s a shit-eating grin on his face when Sukuna fixes him with a glare.

It morphs quickly into a smirk as Sukuna rolls his eyes. “Maybe.”

Satisfied with that response, Toji claps him on the shoulder. “Go treat your girl.”

“Mm. Text me if you need a hand with the kids.”

“Nah, we’ll be good.” Toji casts a glance back at his building where Yuji had been determined to make the ultimate sleepover blanket fort mere minutes ago. “Kids’ll have me busy all night, ‘m sure.” Standing upright, he pats the hood of the car and backs away towards the door. “Don’t keep her waitin’!”

With a smirk, Sukuna pulls the car out of the parking lot. His nerves are far less prominent for your second date, though his palms still sweat against the leather of the steering wheel. For as confident of a man as he is, you break down every wall until he finds himself with sweaty palms and feelings of inadequacy. You also somehow manage to build him back up with your effortless ability to make him feel human and wanted, though.

His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he nears your complex, pushing away the thorns prodding his mind. Swallowing down his nerves, he sends you a message to let you know he’s out front, getting out in his full suit and tie get-up. He’s been wearing it a lot around you lately, opting to put on a nice watch from his father, while his chains and rings adorn his collar and fingers.

It feels a little less formal and a little more him.

Despite giving you a heads’ up to dress fancy, his heart batters against its cage as you emerge from the building. You’ve done your hair in a style he’s never seen on you, while jewelry and a clutch serve as accents to the floor-length dress with a deep ‘V’ neckline that hugs your curves beautifully.

He swallows hard, the only action that keeps his jaw from dropping to the ground.

How is it that his confidence can slip away at the drop of a dime when it comes to you?

You command a room so effortlessly and you don’t even know it.

As he steps towards you, another realization crosses his mind that has his heart hammering at the bones that keep it in place.

You match. And if he knows anything about you, it’s not an accident, either. You deliberately chose a dress in the same shade as his tie. Somehow the action manages to be painfully cheesy, startlingly sweet, and undeniably hot all wrapped up in one crimson bow.

Or– tie, he supposes.

The thought has him tugging at it, straightening the fabric as he lets out a breath to expel the nerves creeping up within his chest. Before he can tell you how jaw-droppingly gorgeous you are, you’re already sheepishly rambling, growing nervous over his unwavering saucer-wide gaze.

“Sorry, is it too much? I can change or–”

“No,” Sukuna interrupts, too quickly. He clears his throat, gaze rising from the dress he hopes to take his time sliding you out of later. His crimson gaze settles on your saccharine expression. “No, you look gorgeous like this. I mean– you always do, but–” He cuts himself off as you giggle, that telltale divot forming between his brows as he fixes you with his stare.

“Thank you, Kuna,” you murmur, peering up at him from beneath your lashes.

Your reaction settles a modicum of his nerves, regaining some confidence as he slides his palms down the sides of your torso, settling them on your waist. “You matchin’ with me on purpose, princess?”

Bashfully, you avert your gaze, confirming his suspicions. His chest rumbles in amusement and satisfaction that everyone will know you’re out together.

“C’mon, let me treat you to dinner.” With a quick peck of your lips, he wastes no time leading you to your (not so) fancy ride for the night, a rusting Honda Civic that you recognize as Toji’s.

You both welcome the conversation that settles the joint air of nervousness on the way to the restaurant as you excitedly tell Sukuna the decorations that you and Kento settled on getting (courtesy of Satoru’s fancy card) for the graduation party. Truth be told, Sukuna doesn’t see a need for any sort of decorations for a frat party, but he’s not about to burst your bubble when you’re happily chatting with him.

He pulls into a parking lot in a familiar neighborhood, not terribly far from his apartment. 

“Wait there,” Sukuna gruffs as he rounds the car to open your door. He offers his hand, pulling you into his side with a little smirk as your hip collides with the side of his thigh. Your sheepish but eager laughter does numbers for his ego as he gets to walk you towards the restaurant, a hand splayed over your hip.

Your destination isn’t in the lot where you parked, the walk only a few blocks away. It’s a welcome stretch of excited chatter under overcast late afternoon skies as you’re pulled towards a building covered with windows with a sleek black canopy over the door. You immediately recognize the restaurant, though you’ve never been able to try it in spite of its stellar reviews. Phenomenal or not, its price tag has never been something you could afford.

With a wide-eyed glance, you purse your lips. You’re not about to question Sukuna’s decisions, but because you’ve seen the menu before, you know the prices. You also know this isn’t your date’s scene, nor is it really yours. You can appreciate a fancy dinner, but this is outside of even your repertoire.

The interior is gorgeous, dark mahogany accents standing out in the lowered lights of the open entrance. A large diamond chandelier hangs from the center of the dining hall that opens to the host’s right, casting soft glimmers of gold across the black walls.

As you take in your surroundings in awe, you’re led to a table in a back corner, the dim lighting moody and romantic, while a candle flickers atop a silken white tablecloth. The atmosphere is gorgeous, it positively seeps adoration, in spite of the way Sukuna shuffles in his seat across from you after pushing in your chair.

“This is gorgeous, Kuna,” you compliment, bright-eyed and cheery.

“Yeah?” His gaze searches yours deeply, a glimmer of something you can’t place held within the intensity of his irises.

It’s in that moment that you can really make out how uncertain he is. His gaze shifts left and right, his thoughts written across his face as obvious as the ink along his jaw. He doesn’t feel adequate. You’ve known for a long time those thoughts are there and you’ve done your best to dispel them and reassure him. But in an environment like this? One he’s never even considered being able to afford, let alone walking through the doors? Those thoughts are emboldened.

There’s soup on the menu worth more than his whole suit.

But you still do what you can to reassure him. “Yeah,” you grin, swallowing your own doubts. “You really went all out.”

The tension in his jaw releases just an ounce as he hums. “Wanted to uh– show my appreciation.”

“I’m definitely feeling appreciated,” you beam.

As he leans forward, his expression softens, slowly adjusting to the environment just as your waiter makes their way over. He introduces himself, before offering a bottle of wine. He goes over the specials for the night, politely pointing them out on the menu for you. The price is hard to ignore.

Casting a glance up at Sukuna, you can just barely make out the deepening grimace on his face as he looks over the same prices. Still, he juts his chin towards you. “Your call, princess.”

Your lips part, but you’re at a loss as uncertainty pools in your stomach. You can’t order wine that’s more expensive than your rent. You don’t have it in you. The same goes for the main courses that are smaller than your fist but cost a small fortune. Decidedly turning towards the waiter, you smile politely. “Can you give me one more moment, please?”

The waiter excuses himself with a nod.

Shutting your menu on the table before you, a knit forms between your brows in spite of your smile. “You know, I never would have guessed how much of a sweetheart you are under all that grumpiness.”

Grumpiness is right when he fixes you with a deadpan frown.

Still, you giggle as you continue, masking your nerves. “This is beyond sweet of you. Like, seriously, this place is gorgeous.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you try to gauge Sukuna’s thoughts, but it’s impossible behind those fiery crimson irises. Reaching for his hand over the table, you settle a modicum of your nerves when his grip closes around you. You can only hope he doesn’t take this the wrong way.

“I really love the thought behind this, but this wine won’t taste any different to me than the wine we had at Itadori Restaurant.”

His lip twitches up at the mention of your previous date.

Grateful for the response, however minute, you continue. “And I’m sure the food is great, but I like mac and cheese too, you know?” His tension releases as you tilt your head sweetly. “I just wanna spend time with you. I really appreciate the thought, but… This is a lot of money. We don’t need to do all of this–” you motion to your surroundings with your free hand, settling it atop the menu, “if you don’t want to. Is this what you want, Kuna?”

His jaw tightens. “I just wanna make you happy,” he stubbornly replies.

“I know,” you crack a smile, “and I am. But that’s not what I asked.”

“Then, no,” he admits begrudgingly. “It…” sliding into comfort with you once again, he cracks a smirk. “Looks like they wash the walls with bleach every night.”

You grin. “It does, doesn’t it?” Giving his hand an experimental tug in the direction of the door, you lean in. “Do you wanna head out?”

His tongue runs over his lower lip. “You sure?”

“Positive,” you affirm with a nod. “The night’s young, we can find another restaurant.”

Sukuna gets to his feet, your hand still firmly clutched within his. He weaves between tables, excusing the both of you to the host with a meager apology. Leading you back out into the early evening air beneath the awning of the restaurant, he curses under his breath at the sight that meets him.

Summer showers have caught up with you, the sun peeking through dark clouds as droplets hit the ground with vigor. It shows no signs of letting up in spite of the golden rays fighting for dominance.

“Fuck,” he huffs, turning to face the direction the car is parked, several blocks away. You don’t share the dejection in the creases of his frown, squeezing his hand as you drag him out from under the awning. “Princess, your dress–” he tries to protest.

He’s met with a bubbly grin in spite of everything going wrong already, and he doesn’t know what to make of that. “My dress’ll dry, come on!”

The world is a blur as hair sticks to his forehead and neck, the white of his collared shirt showing a peek at his chest tattoos with every fresh droplet. He can’t make out whether the slick of his palms is sweat from his nerves or the rain seeping between your clasped hands. Your dress clings to your every curve beautifully still. Even with makeup smudged around your eyes, you look radiant under the sparse sunlight.

As your heels trip you up about halfway to the car, Sukuna tugs your hand to the side, leading you into the first open door before he can consider where you even are. Momentarily safe from the summer storm, he throws his head back, pushing hair off his forehead. Giving you a once over to make sure you didn’t break your ankle in the process of being pulled in here, he lets out a relieved sigh, before taking in his surroundings.

“No shit,” he breathes, some sort of irony to be found in your surroundings. Black and white tiling covers the floor beneath your feet. A bar stretches the length of the wall across from you, equally if not more worn than when you were last here, and red leather booths line the wall closest to you, stretching all the way to a jukebox in the corner. The lights from the old machine gleam over the scratched flooring in shattered neons, accentuating the classic diner’s appeal.

Strip Joint. The very reason this area was so familiar when you were making your way to the restaurant.

“Oh, come grab a seat, dears,” a familiar drawl catches your attention. Spinning to face the voice, you smile kindly at the older woman who served you free tea upon seeing your distress with Uraume, and served you and Sukuna so many moons ago; drunk, a little high, and in need of some ice cream. “Don’t worry about the mess, nothing a mop won’t fix.”

“Oh no, we’re just–” Sukuna cuts himself off with a glance down at you when your hand rests atop his chest. You tilt your head sweetly, motioning to the warm, and dry interior of a little diner that encapsulates a moment so heartwarming to the bond you share.

“Why don’t we have dinner here?”

Sukuna’s gaze flits down to your dress– soaked– but gorgeous nonetheless. “We’re overdressed.”

“So?”

He glances back up at the kind older woman, a rag in one hand as she runs lemon-scented soap over worn oak with a familiar knowing gleam in her eye. Then, he stares back at you, patient as always, with that little smile he doesn’t know how to say no to. He reaches up to brush a strand of wet hair from your temple, a breath leaving his nose as he nods.

“Thanks,” he murmurs to her with a small wave, ridding himself of the heaviness of his soaked suit jacket as he leads the way to the same booth where he sat across from you many moons ago. He drops his jacket down on the leather seat, the sound of droplets slipping to the floor unavoidable as you both slide across the cherry-red material.

The waitress, who you’re willing to bet at this point is the owner, makes her way around the counter with two empty mugs, settling them before each of you. “Can I get the two of you dears something warm?”

The air is brisk on your skin as you nod. “I’d love some tea, please.”

“Black coffee, please,” Sukuna gruffs across from you, his tattoos emboldened under the thin white shirt sticking to bulky muscle. He has a concentrated scowl on his face as he smooths the water out from the tie you gifted him. There’s a layer of frustration baked into the crease of his brow that you’ve learned to read over the past several months all-too-well.

Once the waitress nods and returns to the bar along the back, the coffee machine humming to life in the background, you grab your date’s attention with a nudge to his foot. “What’s on your mind, Kuna?”

He pauses his motions, briefly examining your expression before sighing. His forearms settle along the edge of the table as he leans forward, a stray droplet dripping from his hair down to his chin. “‘M sorry. I thought things would go well this time, n’ the food menu was priced–” he hesitates, because you both know it wasn’t priced well. “It was priced okay,” he settles on the word sourly. “You’re worth the price, I just–” he struggles with words, his nose wrinkling as he grows frustrated with himself.

Your lips press into a tight-lipped sympathetic smile. You regard him with warmth at the kindness behind the gesture. He seems to have these ideas in his mind of how everything should go, convincing himself of what the right way to do things is, as though everything about your connection hasn’t been chaotic from the get-go. As though you don’t embrace the chaos with him, hand-in-hand.

Your teeth sink softly into your lower lip as you slip from your seat, moving around the table to settle into the booth beside him. His eyes convey mild surprise, but they’re still stormy as he shuffles over to give you space to sit. The only break in the storm comes in the form of him gently reaching up to wipe smeared makeup from beneath your eyes.

“Thanks,” you breathe. “And stop beating yourself up over this,” you nudge his shoulder with your own, his warmth welcome in the air conditioned diner. “I told you, I like you for you. You’re still my best friend, you know that, right? I like that we can just talk and hang out and there’s no real expectations. I like the chaos and,” you wave a hand towards the soaked disaster you both are, “messiness.”

Coming around to your words, he nods slowly, the thorns pricking at his mind beginning to unfurl.

“I mean, come on,” you nudge him again. “We’re not fancy people. It’s really sweet of you to wanna bring me somewhere like that, but–” you shrug. “That’s not us.”

Nearly free from the grip of inadequacy, he lets out a long sigh, when his deepest fear pours from his lips before he can pluck the thorns from his mind. “No, but– you deserve the best.”

“Kuna, sweetheart,” you reach up to frame his face with your palms, your heart leaping within your chest at the way he melts as you use a pet name for him. The tension in his shoulders releases, the storm within crimson eyes dissipating as he allows himself to settle within your hold. His cheeks are mostly dry now aside from a stray droplet or two from unruly salmon strands, his skin warm beneath your palms as his face flushes under your attention.

As he allows himself to indulge in the moment, you brush your thumbs along his cheek bones, trying to find the right way to convey your thoughts.

“It means a lot that you feel like I deserve all that,” you tilt your head kindly, “but you know what some of my favorite moments with you have been?” You don’t wait for his reply. “Ice cream at midnight in the middle of a diner that sounds like a strip club. Spilling ramen all over myself and having to wear your jacket because my top was see-through. Watching you point out the planets while we look at the stars on your balcony.”

Tenderness swarms his chest, the cool air no longer touching his damp skin as he’s warmed from the inside out by your words and reassurance. “Me on my knees in the snow?”

His lop-sided grin earns a laugh from you, your palms sliding down to his chest. “God, no. That was too much,” you brush him off, your cheeks warming at the thought. You continue as his chest rumbles beneath your touch. “That, back there,” you point over your shoulder in the wrong direction, although he gets the point. “That sort of thing doesn’t last. It’s all fake, it’s just a bunch of rich people trying to impress one another and then going home and not talking to one another.”

A breath leaves his nose, amused. Finally managing to shed the thorns that had lodged themselves within his mind, he nods. “Guess so, huh?”

“And honestly, nothing would make me happier than knowing you have that money in your pocket for something for your brothers. Or yourself.” Your fingers curl into the damp fabric beneath them. “I, um– I hope I didn’t come off as rude or anything, and I know this is something that you spent a lot of time on, but I promise I’m not trying to change you or–”

“Princess.” Sukuna’s hand rests over yours. “You’re fine. I don’t think there’s a rude bone in your body and you’re right. I was tryin’ too hard to be something I’m not.”

So focused on your date that you forget about your order, you jump when the waitress returns with two mugs atop two small plates, and a small metallic teapot. A selection of teabags are laid out beside your mug as options for you to choose.

“Sorry dear, I didn’t mean to scare you,” she apologizes, her gaze both kind and knowing as she regards you both, now on the same side of the booth. “Are you ready to order food?”

“That’s alright,” you brush her off. “We need a few minutes, sorry!”

“Not a worry at all, I’ll be back in a bit.” Something about the way she carries herself has you wondering if she remembers you both, though you suppose Sukuna’s relatively recognizable. The pink hair and tattoos certainly make him stand out in a crowd.

“Scaredy cat,” Sukuna snorts under his breath. You shove your shoulder into his bicep playfully, grinning as he laughs and uses the action as an excuse to pull you into him. His warmth is beyond welcome, serving as a reminder to make yourself some tea.

As you pour the boiled water over your teabag of choice, you eye Sukuna from your peripheral. “What has you so caught up on details, anyway?” You query, taking notice of how particular he’s been over your dates and how much it’s gotten to him when everything goes awry.

He frowns, contemplative in the way he rolls his shoulders back as though bracing himself. He wants to admit to the sensation that he’ll never be enough, but there’s a serpent, bitter and venomous, wrapped tightly around his throat. It constricts his lungs and clamps its fangs down in an effort to choke the admission like some sort of cruel self-sabotage.

You watch his adam’s apple bob as he swallows hard, spitting the words out through the cracks. “I can’t get it out of my head.” His body begs for water, the expanse of a desert held within the tightness of his jaw. His gaze traverses the table, settling for coffee that doesn’t quench the sudden dryness.

Your head tilts as you watch his strained reaction. “Can’t get what out of your head?”

“I put you through so much shit this year,” he croaks, tension present in his gravelly voice. “I don’t deserve to be here with you, when–”

“Sukuna,” it’s your turn to swiftly cut him off before the thoughts can spiral any further. “Don’t say that.” You pause, searching his expression, though the storm has returned. His expression is clouded, walls that match the weather outside rising as he admits to something that’s clearly been getting to him. “I know a lot happened this year, but–”

“Don’t downplay what I did,” he grunts, raw. There’s an aching chill that spreads through his body as he prevents you from brushing off his actions.

Your lips purse as you slowly nod. “I won’t.” It’s a near-whisper, the saddened look in your eyes at his dejection worsening the ache in his chest. “But people change, you know. They grow. And I know that you know you’ve grown.” You poke a finger into his chest, garnering his attention as he sucks in a breath, denial settled on the tip of his tongue.

“What if it’s not enough?”

“Then we talk things through. We figure it out.” You shrug like it’s nothing, just another facet of life, because it is. “We’re a team, Kuna. Don’t make decisions about what’s enough when it comes to us without me.”

His shoulders fall as your words hit like a moving train. They wipe clean through him, but more importantly, they take a modicum of the doubt too. Poison still lingers, but your words are burned into his mind, serving as a reminder not to let his thoughts get to him.

The chilling ache of the evening dissipates, warmed by your sincerity. It pumps through his veins and in spite of his soaking clothing, the cold doesn’t touch him. Still not a man of many words, he simply pulls you close, burying his face into your damp strands. No words are exchanged, but he lets you know he hears you.

“Stop beating yourself up. Please.”

His chest rises and falls, his heart rate steady, though you note that it seems faster than usual. “Okay,” he yields, kissing the crown of your head. Another huff leaves his form as if dispelling the last of his uncertainty, before he pulls back to open the menu.

You follow suit, looking over options. “What are you thinking of getting?” You query.

Sukuna doesn’t look up from his menu, though the corner of his lip twitches. “Chicken.”

With a roll of your eyes, you give him a playful shove. “You’re such a smartass, you literally said that last time.”

With a lopsided grin, he lowers his menu, tilting his head in your direction. “Oh yeah, well what are you having then, princess?”

Pursing your lips, you cast a glance towards the menu. Your voice is small as you concede defeat. “Chicken, probably…”

He snorts with a light flick to your forehead as you fall into familiarity with him, only this time you have no doubts of where you stand. As you attempt to flick him back, he catches your wrists and brings them down to your lap, gentle but firm so as to not cause you any harm.

The waitress returns with an amused simper. “Have you decided what you’d like?”

“The original three-piece meal, please,” you order, glancing over at Sukuna with a subtle tug of your wrists in hopes that he isn’t paying attention, to no avail. He barely even budges, ignoring your pout as he orders.

“Extra hot five-piece meal, please.” Using his free hand, he shuts both menus and slides them towards the waitress.

He bears a smirk as she makes her way to the kitchen. The sidelong gaze he shoots at you is as warm as it is shit-eating. “Brat,” he murmurs, low and teasing.

Protest lies among your tastebuds, but Sukuna swallows it with his lips, only letting go of your wrists when you give in to him. He pulls back slowly, a victorious smirk still plastered to his lips.

Sitting upright, he sighs, though there’s an air of satisfaction to it. As though he’s finally let go of every thought tying him to uncertainty, finally at ease not just in life but with himself. You admire him quietly. The curve of his jaw, the strong angle of his nose, the mild flutter of his lashes as his gaze stares through whatever’s ahead of him. What strikes you the most about your date at this moment though, is that the crease in his brow has softened, and the circles beneath his eyes aren’t quite as dark as usual. There’s a peaceful appearance to the man that bears a near-permanent scowl.

Even without a smile, even with lidded eyes that still bear a tired expression, he seems happy. You don’t interrupt whatever goes through his mind, enjoying the moment’s peace.

That is– until he shuffles and he’s reminded that his shoes are two small ponds and the scowl returns to his face.

With a giggle, you follow his gaze down to his shoes. “Your socks must be soaked.”

“They are,” he gruffly agrees.

You poke your heels out from the base of the dress plastered to your figure. “Guess I made the right choice.”

“You almost fell flat on your ass while we were out in the rain,” he points out with a raised brow.

You part your lips to protest, but you can’t conjure any meaningful arguments in your favor when the entire reason you ended up in here was the near-wipeout. “That wasn’t the heels’ fault,” you weakly utter. “I’m just clumsy.”

Sukuna’s large palm rubs up and down your waist in teasing comfort. “At that point, just blame the heels, princess,” he murmurs into your ear. “They don’t look comfortable, anyway.”

“They’re not,” you shrug. It’s something that comes so naturally to you that you barely even think about it until your toes are rubbed raw and the balls of your feet ache. “But they’re cute.” Your gaze lights up as you launch into an explanation where you recall a time that Shoko once begged Kento to switch shoes during a fancy dinner party that her parents had begged the three of you to attend, only to hand Shoko a dress and a pair of heels that didn’t suit her fancy.

“There’s no way that guy put on heels,” Sukuna scoffs, met with your giggle of agreement.

“No, but he did wear socks for the rest of the night and carry the heels around. You know the worst part though?”

Sukuna doesn’t give you much more than a questioning hum in a reply when his gaze is pulled towards the waitress making her way over with each of your meals. You thank her in turn and begin making work of your meal.

Swallowing your first bite of food, you continue your story. “Her parents had a backup outfit in case she hadn’t liked the first one, and it still had heels. She had to buy Ken a new pair of shoes because they took his shoes and she never found them.”

“If there’s an opposite of karma, it’s that,” Sukuna snorts between bites. You chuckle in agreement as he recounts a story from before Yuji was born– finding a receipt for a new pair of Kaori’s shoes, only to return them and swap them for one size too small, just to piss her off. You laugh in tandem at the mere concept, grinning from ear-to-ear as Sukuna opens up about a time far simpler.

You lean into him, fries in one hand as you laugh into his shoulder at childhood stories. He doesn’t hold back, joining in on your glee as his form vibrates in unceremonious chortles, his cheeks faintly flushed. You can’t say whether that’s from the heat of the chicken he hasn’t had the opportunity to finish as you eagerly pull stories from him, the ardor of happy memories, or the warmth of being wrapped up in a date that encapsulates you both perfectly.

As his chuckles die down, something shifts within his gaze, wistful as it is reminiscent. “Y’know, my dad never got mad at Toj’ or I. Not really, anyway. But man, when I took his car right after I got my license when we were sixteen–” he shakes his head, a long exhale leaving his nose. “The old man was so pissed.”

“Why’d you take it?” Your head tilts quizzically as you regard him, your plate of food done as you don’t dare interrupt Sukuna’s stories. Your voice is soft, grateful to hear about his father. You can’t recall a time where your date has so openly talked about Jin outside of tear-filled moments or bitter recollections brought to life by the trial.

He scoffs, shrugging dramatically. “Dunno. Guess I thought it’d make me look cool to pick up Toji n’ a couple of friends for a movie.” He winces at the mere thought. “Y’know that ‘I’m not mad, I’m disappointed’ thing that parents do? I got that big time. Toji, too. The poor guy didn’t even know my dad said no to taking the car.”

“That’s way worse than any kind of punishment,” your nose wrinkles at the thought of your parents’ version of that. The look you would get.

“Y’know what the worst part was?”

You shake your head, leaning in.

“Got my license on my birthday, n’ my dad told me I’d need to hang in there for a gift. I told him not to worry about it, I knew we didn’t have a ton of cash and didn’t really care.” He shrugs the thought off. “The day I asked to borrow the car was payday for him, which is why he asked me to wait, I guess.”

“No,” you gasp as the dots connect in your mind.

“Yeah,” he groans, dragging his free hand down his face. He runs it back through pink locks with a sigh. “He got me a fuckin’ car and him and Kaori needed the one I took to go pick it up.”

Both of you sport twisted expressions of horror at the mere thought. “So, what happened?”

“Honestly? He could’ve been way more pissed. Should’ve been.” He shakes his head, his gaze softening as he stares down at the chicken, now lukewarm, still remaining on his plate. “Might’ve been the nicest any parent has ever been grounding their kid,” he snorts at the thought. “But uh– yeah, he grounded me. Got my car officially a month later.”

“He sounds like he was a great dad.”

“Yeah,” Sukuna murmurs, voice barely more than a gravelly whisper. “He was.”

With a small smile, you give the brute a moment as something within his expression twists, from recollection to a scowl, before he seems to come to a conclusion about something. Whatever it is, he blinks it away, finally bringing more of his meal to his lips as he moves on.

“How was your chicken?” He asks between bites.

“Great,” you grin. “Yours?”

He nods his approval, mouth full. He finishes a bite before motioning to the chicken. “Want a bite?”

“Didn’t you get the super spicy one?”

“Mhm.”

You idly chew on your lip in consideration.

“You a little bit of a wimp, angel?” He teases, nudging your thigh with his.

“No,” you bite back, pausing long enough for Sukuna to grin. “That just smells spicy.”

“Try it,” he shifts his plate an inch towards you, his gaze flickering up to the kind older woman across the restaurant helping someone who walked in recently. “I’ll get you some water, just in case.”

With a glass of water on the way, you take a bite of chicken from Sukuna’s plate. It’s flavorful beyond belief, and for a moment, you really enjoy it.

Until the pain hits.

Your face contorts as you suck in a breath of air, trying to play it cool. Much to your disdain, Sukuna is grinning knowingly beside you. His head tilts down into your line of vision. “So?”

Smartass. “It’s great,” you murmur between breaths in an effort to cool your mouth. It’s not a lie either, it is great, even if it’s as hot as the fiery depths of hell.

“Yeah?” He teases, thanking the amused waitress as she sets water down before you. He moves it towards you, which you don’t hesitate to down. It helps in the moment, but the heat returns mere seconds later.

“How do you even eat that?”

Sukuna snickers at your side. “High tolerance,” he shrugs like it’s nothing. “When the kids aren’t around, I usually get spicier food.”

Sucking in a breath after a sip of water, you crane your neck towards him. “Why not just have it around them?”

“You seen Yuji’s grubby hands? That kid eats off my plate more than his own.”

“Something tells me you know this from experience,” you laugh over the rim of the glass in your hand.

He sighs, letting his head fall back as he stares at the ceiling, recalling the incident. “We’d just run out of milk,” he mutters. “The brat was a mess. I had to order a fuckin’ carton online.”

You stifle laughter, though you’re empathetic both to Sukuna’s situation and in this particular moment, Yuji’s too. With another sip of water, you peer over the rim at the rippling liquid. “You’re a good brother, you know.”

The words hang in the air, stagnant but not stifling. His gaze is locked to the glass in your hands, though he stares straight through it, deep in consideration. After a long moment, he finally reaches for your statement with a sigh. “‘M tryin’.” He sits upright, casting a glance out the window as the sound of children laughing seems to taunt him. “Things are gettin’ easier with Cho,” he admits, “but Yuji…” he shakes his head.

Perplexed, you tilt your head. “Yuji?” They have their disagreements, sure, but everything always seemed more strained with Choso.

His jaw hangs ajar for a moment as he contemplates his reply. “Sometimes I dunno what to do with the kid. I always told him I wasn’t his dad, but–”

Right, he told you Yuji called him dad. Cried and screamed for Sukuna, his dad, as Kaori locked him in a car and drove away. “It’s not easy,” you agree. “You’re both, in a way. And sometimes you have to pick sides, I guess.”

“Hard to pick sides when I’m on both of ‘em,” he scoffs.

“Yeah,” you shrug, “but I think you know in the moment what you need to be for him better than you think.”

He blinks down at his lap. “Just hope I’m doing right by them.”

“You are,” you assure him. “Just remember that you do still get to be their brother, too,” you offer the thought. “Both of them. Not just Choso. You can still play Nerf with them,” you shrug with a smile.

He snorts. “Yuji lost all o’ the darts for those things.”

“All of them?” You gape.

“Mhm.”

“How?”

Your date shrugs, taking a sip of coffee. “They’re probably under his bed or some shit.”

“Still,” you murmur. “Impressive.”

“That’s Yuji for you.”

“You know,” you smirk, “I bet you were pretty similar when you were his age.”

Sukuna raises a brow, his lips quirking up. He sets his mug down before him. “Can’t say I remember much from his age,” he starts, “but Toj’ n’ I used to spend so much time around my dad while he was watching history shows that we would do dramatic re-enactments of the Ides of March with action figures. My dad was horrified when he found out.” He snorts at the thought, staring fondly at nothing in particular. “Apparently it was ‘too morbid’ for eight-year-olds.”

“He has a point,” you agree, but you’re still giggling cheerily at the thought of Sukuna’s father, mortified as he watches his child reenact the famous murder of Julius Caesar.

“It gave us character,” Sukuna grins.

“It explains a lot, honestly.”

Still, your date is happily laughing at your side as he reminisces on a time long past, launching into another story of how they horrified his father. There’s a little dimple in his cheek as he grins that you’ve never had the chance to notice with all his scowls and aloof stares. It suits him, and between that and the pale flush to his cheeks, you hope to see it more often in the future.

“So, y’know,” he finishes with a simpering shrug. “I was a pretty good kid.” He gives you a nudge. “What about you, princess? You always such a sweetheart?”

You breathe out a laugh. “I don’t know about that, I was still a kid,” you point out. “But until Kento moved in beside us, my parents always said I was a handful.”

Sukuna hums. “Coulda fooled me that his mom wasn’t yours.”

“Oh yeah?”

He shifts to lean on the table, his hand sliding down to the top of your thigh. He idly squeezes at the plush of your leg with no regard for how odd the material feels over wet skin. “Shoko called me your hot date,” he snorts.

“Aaaand she had a hundred questions for you?”

He grunts in reply, mild irritation woven within the lines of his expression.

The sound of your giggle causes him to lean against the table, his elbow folded beneath his cheek. “And now you know why I wasn’t a handful after she moved in,” you laugh.

“It explained a fuckin’ lot about Kento.”

“He’s somehow a perfect blend between his parents,” you agree. “But yeah, their place was a second home to me. I guess I calmed down after that. Ken and I used to go to swimming lessons and book clubs and summer camps together.”

“Book club? Cute.”

Bashfully glancing down at his hand on your thigh, you smile to yourself.

“So that’s how you decided you wanted to work in publishing,” he concludes.

“Mhmm!” You hum your confirmation. “I just wanted to read more,” you chuckle at the thought.

“And look at you now.”

When you crane your head up to Sukuna, his crimson gaze is lidded. Honeyed in the way he only ever gets towards you. You never let yourself believe it was anything more than friendship, and how foolish was that? To think that you’d ever equated his obvious infatuation for anything less than that– anything less than profound adoration– is a thought to behold.

In an effort to divert his heated affection and keep warmth from crawling up your neck to the tips of your ears, you flip the subject back on him. “Um– you know, I still feel bad that you’re giving up two years of your life for that– for me.”

He blinks, unmoving as his gaze briefly flickers to the wall in thought. “Don’t. I’m not giving anything up.” His voice is low, firm, as he reassures you.

“Don’t you have– like– dreams, or anything, though?”

“‘Course I do.” His hand squeezes your thigh gently. “Think mine are just a little different from what you’re thinking of.”

Your line of sight flickers between either of his eyes, pools of sanguine clearer than they’ve ever been as he gives you his full attention. “What do you mean?” You query softly.

The little tilt of your head you never seem to realize has such an effect on him has him breaking into a hint of a smile. He inhales softly, letting out a long breath as he enjoys the sanctity of spending time alone with you.

“Your dream was to finish school and become an editor, yeah?”

You hum in acknowledgement.

“Well, I never really had a career in mind. I kinda just took after my dad because I liked history. That and art were the only things I really could see myself studying,” he admits. Before you can ask the question on your mind, he continues. “I know my dad would have supported me no matter what I chose, but by the time I was applying to schools–” he hesitates, his jaw locking open as he speaks. “I knew. He was sick and we were a couple of months in, and–” he shakes his head.

The air has an edge that Sukuna’s certain only he feels, while you give him the space he needs to find words fitting of the moment. He swallows hard, the lump in his throat bobbing before he parts his lips again.

“You know what everyone says about art school and not making it n’ shit. History felt like it opened more doors for me to support myself,” he sighs. “Hindsight, or whatever,” he squeezes your thigh in place of waving a hand nonchalantly through the air.

You give his statement a moment to settle, shuffling an inch closer to him. Your voice is soft and steady as you quiz him further. “What about as a kid?”

He sucks in a breath. “I mean, sure, I wanted to be a fuckin’ astronaut like every other kid.”

With an airy laugh, you shake your head. “That’s cute, but I mean when you were like a teen.”

Sukuna’s lips press together tightly at the concept of being called cute, his grimace immediately twisting into a glower. He side-eyes you, but reserves any snide commentary for if you push the matter. Brushing off your choice of words, he shrugs. “Sure, I guess. I wanted to be a fucking street artist, but that’s not a job.” He pauses, shrugging as his gaze falls to his hand over your still-damp thigh. “I know it’s not street art, but I still get to work in art because of you. I don’t mind takin’ on some extra work doing something I like to see your dreams come true.”

He delivers it as though it’s natural, like he hasn’t just said the sort of thing that only seems true of a cheesy romantic movie. There’s no grand orchestral note to follow up something so sweet it rips the air from your chest, just his natural mild expression, as though even he sees it as just another day.

It sounds an awful lot like a confession of love to you, though.

“Sukuna, what–? I don’t– That’s so much,” you breathe, struggling to wrap your head around his words when your heart is doing circles around itself.

“Not really,” he shrugs, the air of nonchalance still throwing you off balance further. “I’ll have some late nights, but I quit the auto shop and I can do most o’ my work remotely. I’ll still have time for you and the brats.”

Completely at a loss, all you can do is stare. Your lips are pursed as you attempt to digest the knowledge, brows pulled together in disbelief. “I–” Still, words befuddle you. With a shake of your head, you tilt your head back up at him. “Wait, then what is your dream?”

He blinks slowly, his gaze drinking in every inch of your face. The muscles in his shoulder flex beneath the thin layer of damp polyester as he adjusts his arm to pull you closer by your waist. It’s effortless, the way he moves back into his casual position leaning over the table on his folded elbow after pulling your thigh flush to his. He slips his hand from your waist to settle along the back of the booth, running chilling lines up your spine with the tips of his fingers.

“This is.”

No flourish. No jokes. No teasing. He’s dead serious and wholehearted as he stares unwaveringly into your eyes like this isn’t yet another confession when you haven’t even wrapped your mind around the first one.

“There has to be–”

“Princess,” he interrupts the spiral you’ve started down before it can go further. “I watched my dad chase someone who never gave a shit about him for years. To have you here with me now and know the kids are safe and not with that fuckin’ monster who fucked over my whole damn family–” he shakes his head and shrugs all at once. “That’s all I could ever want.”

Your hand settles on his thigh, still grappling with his confession. In spite of the cool air still chilling against your damp clothing, warmth spreads through you at the realization that Sukuna’s found a slice of heaven. He got the push he needed to find his way in life in the form of a person, and your heart pounds wildly at the thought. Even though his fingers run featherlight along your spine, you’re certain he can feel your pulse, if not hear it.

“I’m happy,” he admits. “And I didn’t that was an option.” His brow twitches, downturning as he glowers down at your empty mug. “I figured I’d just kinda go through the motions as long as my brothers were okay and then,” he shrugs listlessly. “Dunno. Someday they’d move out, and I’d figure my own shit out then.” His gaze cements on yours, his face still contorted into his signature scowl, though he’s firm in his statement. “So, yeah. This. This is my dream.”

Even with his grumpy disposition, it’s sappy. Beyond belief. The kind of thing reserved only for the quiet moments with you where he finds safety within your presence.

You, on the other hand, are still at a complete loss. Sukuna can tell as much, between the owlish look you give him and the way you keep squeezing his leg. “What about after the kids, then? What do you wanna do?”

He continues to quietly examine your expression, reading every blink and twitch, every flicker of your gorgeous eyes across the diner’s walls as you search for an explanation as though he hasn’t laid his thoughts bare before you. Sukuna’s been vulnerable with you before, he’s given you more than the once-cold shouldered and pissed off brute could ever have dreamed; but this– here, now– is the truth, unfiltered and raw without an ounce of guardedness that you’ve grown accustomed to.

So, yeah, he supposes it makes sense that you’re a bit bewildered.

“Dunno,” he admits, sitting upright and rolling his shoulders. He pushes the hand back through his hair, staring ahead at nothing in particular. “I wanna travel. Do some of the things I never got to with my dad or in college. Sports games, concerts, see the world n’ all that.”

Your expression softens, still trying to wrap your head around everything, but falling into familiarity with him once more.

“With you, if you want.”

Something flickers within his crimson irises, a hint of uncertainty, no matter how brief. You quell the thought before he can dwell on it by drawing his attention to your hand as you squeeze his thigh. “I’d love that.”

The smirk he shoots you is lopsided, but it’s genuine. If only for a moment, his sharp edges dull and he bares his soul to you, offering his heart on a silver platter. It’s beaten and bruised, but it beats steadily still. Maybe even stronger, now.

“What’s next for you?” He grunts.

Pulled from your trance, you blink a number of times, still caught up on his sincerity. “Um–” you shake your head, “I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t expect to get pretty much my dream job right out of school.” You take a moment to consider what a future looks like for you. “I mean, there’s always opportunities to grow my career. I think someday I’d like to edit books for adults,” you chuckle at the thought of the children’s adventure novel awaiting you on Monday.

“What, sick of knock-off kids’ books?” Sukuna teases, the serious air beginning to dissolve around you.

“It’s cute and fun, and I think there’s a part of me that hopes kids like Cho and Yuji find something they love in them,” you explain your thoughts, leaning into his hand that continues soothing strokes up and down your back. “But, um– yeah. I'm a little sick of them.”

Amused, Sukuna exhales a harsh puff of air. “Alright, so you wanna edit smut books–”

“I didn’t say–”

“But what about outside of work?” He continues, pleased with himself as you throw him a little pout with narrowed eyes. He can feel heat rising along the back of your neck, a thought that makes him smirk as he teases you.

Cute. Always cute.

Brushing past his commentary, you quirk your head to the side, eyes grazing the ceiling in thought. Second dates don’t feel like the appropriate time to admit that you hope for simplicity and domesticity and that you see him in all of your visions, but he did just admit himself that he wants you to be a part of his distant travels, long after the boys move out.

Sucking in a breath, you peer up at him from beneath your lashes. “I guess I’m not really sure,” you admit, “but I’d like it if you, Yuji, and Choso were a part of it.”

Relief flickers within the cerise of his eyes, for as much as he tries to hide it with a glance away. Something about hearing you repeat his own wishes back to him feels like the last puzzle piece sliding into place. The world must agree too, because the harsh pitter patter of rain softens to something far calmer. He swallows hard, casting a quick glance back at the golden rays peeking through clouds to cast a warm glow on the slick asphalt.

“Think I speak for all three of us when I say we want that too, angel.” His voice is low, words spoken only for you when he looks back over at you. With a glance cast up and down your figure, he figures this is a good opportunity to get you back to the car without drenching either of you any further. “Why don’t we go get you warmed up?”

He calls politely for the waitress, but you catch his attention with a hand on his bicep as she makes her way over. His pupils flicker down, awaiting your reply.

“As long as the night’s not over just because of a little rain.”

He smirks. “Nah. But I’m still not letting you catch a cold, I can feel your goosebumps, y’know.”

With a glance down at the evidence of goosebumps rising along your arms, you hum your agreement. You thank the waitress as Sukuna pays and apologizes for the fact that she’ll probably need to mop. He grabs his suit jacket and leads the way back out into the brisk evening breeze.

The summer days are long and the sun– although low– still graces you with its warmth, thankfully. It almost counteracts the bitterness of the light wind passing over your wet clothing. Sukuna’s palm radiates heat as he squeezes you close by your shoulders as well, grateful for whatever small respite from the cold you can get.

Beginning the walk down the block as close as you can get to the heat he radiates, you bask in the smell of fresh grass and wildflowers sprouting within the cracks and crumbling pieces of the sidewalk. Birds call and sing to one another as the clouds shift and churn. Another bout of thunder growls overhead in the deep grays above, but your walk isn’t far.

Even with the sky warning you the storm isn’t over, you still find yourself stopping when you round the corner of the block, the tall buildings parting just enough to reveal a faint rainbow in the distance. It stretches behind the next block, sparkling as though droplets cascade down it.

Sukuna follows your gaze as you halt suddenly, his scowl softening as he finds the subject that’s captured your interest.

“Maybe mother nature’s apologizing for raining us out,” you offer.

Sukuna hums his acknowledgement, craning his neck to watch your expression. He admires the smooth curve of your lips, the lift of your brow as you examine the sky, and the endearing sparkle in your eye over something so little. He isn’t one to stop and smell the flowers or chase rainbows after a storm, but with you? It doesn’t seem so bad.

He might even get why people do it.

His grip on you tightens as a thought crosses his mind and before he can dismiss it, he swallows down any apprehension and faces his inadequacy, uncertainty, and fears head-on. The scowl he bears isn’t borne of frustration, irritation, or even any of the very beasts he faces, but rather determination as he turns to face you.

Your expression changes to something inquisitive as his arm leaves your shoulder in a cold shiver (that he swears he’ll fix as soon as he can). With a sharp inhale, he steps forward and cements his hands to your waist. His thumbs slide up and down your sides, frowning as his mind races through words that he had prepared…

Back when his plan was to do this outside of the first restaurant.

Not in the rain.

He also would have preferred if had admitted that he doesn’t feel like he’s enough for you on a fifth or sixth date, not the second.

But he supposes you have a point. Everything about Sukuna’s life is chaos, and you’ve chosen to be a part of it and embrace it.

So what the hell is he waiting for?

His fingers curl into your waist, his expression hardening as it always does when he’s deep in thought. “It’s funny, y’know,” he starts, glancing at the rainbow as though it’s suddenly caught his attention. “I had so much shit planned out, right down to the fuckin’ weather.” He blinks, his gaze trailing down to the sidewalk. “I don’t think anything I planned worked out,” he admits, though he seems a bit more confident in his admission than he did a couple of hours earlier.

You crack a smile at the ease he seems to find within your presence. You’re sure he’s completely unaware that he’s rubbing circles into your sides, completely caught up in finding the words suiting the moment.

“But you’re right. That’s not who I am, that’s not how my life goes.” He shrugs, shaking his head. Working up the courage to say what he really means, he swallows down the nerves climbing to the surface. “Shit goes wrong all the time, and I’ve fucked up a lot, but–”

“Kuna–”

“Wait, just–” he interrupts, his jaw tightening as he grapples for words. “Sorry,” he clears his throat, his gaze finally centering on your face. “Doesn’t matter how shit everything is, you’re always there. You’ve been a goddamn angel to me and–” He harshly cuts himself off to stop the claws of inadequacy from being able to get a grip on him. Picking up where he left off, he speaks with more confidence, certainty breathed through his every word. “I don’t wanna waste anymore time not calling you mine.”

Your fingers curl into his chest, your lips pursed. You swear your heart leaps from your chest and takes off, but the wide grin that spreads across your face says otherwise. Any thoughts of being cold disappear as fire erupts in your chest, erupting as it engulfs your entire body in molten thrill.

“Are you asking me to be your girlfriend, Sukuna?” You whisper, eager and gentle.

“I’d be a dumbass not to.” To your delight, his lip quirks up into a hint of a smile; uncertain, maybe even a little flustered, but hopeful. “And I’m tired of bein’ a dumbass.”

“Yes.”

Sukuna surges forward in an instant, causing you both to stumble back. All precaution and regard for being on a street corner under storm clouds is thrown to the wall as he slots his lips over yours. Everything about the way he captures you is so him. It’s messy, fiery, passionate, and filled with fervor. Whatever it was that was holding him back has unlatched itself from him as his hands roam your body as though he doesn’t know where to keep them.

One slips up your waist, cradling your back as it slides up your spine only to move to your hip and slide back up into your hair. The other squeezes your waist before moving to the column of your neck and finally cupping your jaw.

His tongue glides along your bottom lip when a stray droplet suddenly hits your forehead and you pull back with a gasp of surprise. Your boyfriend scrutinizes the droplet like it’s done him a personal offense, wiping it with a thumb before turning his attention to the darkening sky. Whatever rays broke through the cumulus long enough to grace you with a rainbow clearly decided your makeout session wasn’t meant for a public street corner.

In Sukuna’s eyes though?

Mother nature is smiting him.

One droplet turns to two, and then four, and suddenly the rain is back in full force, pelting you with large droplets.

“Oh fuck off!” Sukuna loudly exclaims to the sky, unable to withhold the frustration that nothing seems to be going right. His hair is plastered to his forehead again when he glowers down at you like a cat caught in a rain storm. The edges smooth just a bit though, when he catches you laughing, your fingers still laced between his.

You shine brighter than the strongest rays that broke through the clouds, radiant as you stand beneath the rain. Unbothered by the droplets catching in your lashes, you simply grin at the grumpy man before you, enjoying his (mostly) faux disdain.

To your delight, the sight of you laughing has him rolling his eyes with an amused puff of air leaving his nose. It’s the first domino that leads him to join your laughter, pulling you by your hands into him. He smooshes your face into his chest with a palm to the back of your head, his laughter rumbling through you like the purr of a cat.

Only once it dies down does he take the time to get a look at your soaked form. “C’mon,” he mutters. “Let’s go dry off. My place?”

With your nod, he pulls you by the hand across the street, leading you beneath any overhang and awning that he can as you make a dash for the car. It may not be far, but it’s long enough that you’re dripping all over again by the time you reach the vehicle.

Sukuna blasts the heat. Although it hasn’t warmed up much yet, you both shuffle uncomfortably against the old leather. It sticks to any exposed skin and tugs at the wet fabric of your dress, a sentiment that Sukuna clearly feels with the way his slacks stick to his thighs. With no solution to his issue than to change, he huffs and casts a glance towards you.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, Sukuna leans over the center console to kiss you again, short and sweet. Before he can pull back, you take his face in your hands, cupping his cheeks. Stubble is just barely beginning to break through his skin, a five o’clock shadow growing in already.

Your thumbs travel his cheeks, pausing briefly on the faint scar that still protrudes beneath his right eye. It turns more prominent on his forehead where it tears through his brow.

He’s beautiful. Every tattoo, marking, and dimple. Every scar, the slit in his eyebrow, and frown lines that make him who he is.

“I think I like being able to call you my boyfriend,” you murmur, concealing your eagerness by biting down on your lower lip.

Although his face remains aloof, the increase in temperature of his skin within your hold gives him away. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, leaning in to kiss him once more, though you surprise him by pecking his forehead.

His face pulls into a scowl as he steals a kiss on your lips, the hunger from your moment in the rain still lingering in the way he presses you into the seat.

When he pulls back, he adjusts himself in his seat, the tightness of his damp slacks now causing a completely different issue. You barely manage to stifle your giggle, but he catches the humorous breath you let out.

“Don’t,” he growls, pulling out of the parking lot before you can embarrass him.

The latest pop on the radio serves as a backdrop for a comfortable silence. The kind that settles like a warm blanket. Coupled with the heat that finally kicks in, you enjoy watching the trees blur by on the short drive.

“Sorry.” It slips from his lips like he doesn’t mean to say it.

“Hm?”

“That it took me so long to figure this shit out. My feelings.” The last words sound a bit like they choke him, but you appreciate his honesty. “Satoru and Toji of all people kinda had to spell out for me how stupid I was.”

“It was a bit confusing with all the handholding and hugs and stuff,” you admit, before realization hits you. “Wait, you’re getting your relationship advice from Satoru and Toji?”

The salmon-haired man snorts, flashing you a smirk. “Yeah, no wonder I suck at this shit, huh?”

You giggle at the thought of Toji offering any sort of love advice. “I don’t know, I think you’re doing pretty good right now.” But another thought has you stifling more laughter. “If they didn’t point it out first, I think Yuji would have made it pretty obvious when we watched Ice Age 2.”

With a scoff, he pulls into his building’s lot. “The little brat doesn’t know when to keep his mouth shut.”

“I think he’s pretty funny,” you tease.

“‘M sure you do,” he grumbles. He chooses to ignore you as he makes his way around the car to help you out, relieved to find that the slew of reporters has begun to dwindle. He wrings his suit jacket out a bit before draping it over your shoulders to protect you from the onslaught of remaining photographers as he blocks you to the best of his ability, still refusing any questions.

By now, he hoped they would have given up, but Noritoshi Kamo is a big enough name to really gather attention.

Making your way up the building to his door, Sukuna locks it behind you and finds the both of you met with silence, something his apartment hasn’t heard for some time. Normally, he would hate the silence, but with the knowledge the kids are safe and he’s here alone with you, it’s nice. Intimate. A pocket of time all to yourselves.

He kicks off his shoes, watching you stumble over yourself in an effort to bend down in your form-fitting attire to undo your strappy heels. Clicking his tongue at the sight, he gives your lower back a guiding press in order to lead you to his couch.

“I’ll get it wet,” you protest with a pout.

There’s an all-too-smug smirk crossing his lips at your statement. “I don’t mind.”

Playfully shoving his bicep, you conceal your shy smile with a look at the floor beneath you.

Although Sukuna’s glad you aren’t quite as meek as you were when you first met, having grown more willing to stand your ground, he’s equally glad to find that he can still fluster you. Especially given the effect you have on him.

Plopping down onto the couch, your pupils blow wide at the sight of Sukuna getting down onto his knees before you for the second time since you’ve known him. This time, the sight sends a shiver down your spine as he looks you straight in the eye with an expression that sends a wave of hunger through you. From his lidded eyes to the relaxed line of his lips that isn’t quite a smile, but something that tastes of more.

His calloused skin grasps your calf as he undoes and slides your first heel off, tossing it aside. He follows suit with the next one, before both hands settle in the ditch of your knees and he pulls you towards him. With a shocked and mildly embarrassing squeak, your hands brace on his shoulders. Your knees collide with the wall that is his abs, before instinctively parting as he pulls you to the edge of the couch, stationary between your legs.

Your dress is bunched up around your upper thighs, barely covering anything as it sends heat straight to your face. Your heart pumps loud enough that in this silence, you’re sure he can hear it.

If he does, he gives no indicator. His focus is solely on the skin of your legs, bared to him and still-cold from the moisture clinging to them. The lump in his throat bobs once as his palms glide from their place beneath your knees, sliding up to grip the top of your thighs. His thumbs create divots in your skin from subtle pressure, sending your heart leaping from your chest with the attention he pays you.

Your breath hitches when his gaze holds yours with insistence as he brings his lips down to one thigh. It’s a form of worship that’s enough to make you shudder.

When he pulls back, his hands glide up your thighs until they reach the wet dress bunched up by your hips. Pulled from his trance, he’s reminded of the reason you both turned in for the night in the first place. A muscle in his jaw shifts, and when he looks up at you, the crimson eyes that make him stand out so much have nearly been swallowed by his pupils. “Let’s go warm my girl up.”

He pats your thigh once, pushing up to full height and offering his hand. Even as you take it, your brain is still short circuiting as it tries to figure out whether that’s an innuendo or not. He doesn’t leave you long to consider it before you’re standing behind him at his closet as he pulls a handful of comfy clothes out for you.

Peering curiously at what he chose for you– a metal band shirt and the pair of sweatpants that barely fit him that he always reserves for you– you find yourself tilting your head and rotating the shirt in an effort to decipher the band’s name. It’s borderline illegible, the white streaks and strands across the black hoodie supposedly meant to spell something, though you can’t make it out.

You suppose it isn’t just borderline illegible after all.

Oddly enough though, it is in the shape of a frog. Which is cute, you suppose.

Pulling out a hoodie for himself, Sukuna snorts at your squinting expression. “You’re not gonna figure it out.”

“What does it say?”

He cranes his neck to take a look at it. “Frog Mallet, I think.”

“Oh,” you tilt your head uncertainly. “Yeah, I think I see it. Do you listen to them a lot?”

“Not really,” he shakes his head. “I’m more of a grunge metal or nu-metal guy, but they opened for a concert I saw, have a fun gimmick, and I liked the design. Thought you might too.”

“What’s their gimmick?”

“All of their songs are about frogs.”

You crack a smile at the absurdity of a metal band singing about frogs as he turns back to his closet to grab a pair of sweatpants and boxers, which reminds you of just how much you’re looking forward to warming up.

In more ways than one.

“Hair dryer’s under the sink if you need it,” Sukuna grunts over his shoulder as you slip over to the washroom. You return feeling a fair bit warmer, albeit a little bare after deciding a hair dryer would not fix your soaked bra.

In an effort to dry them, you hang up your soaked clothing and make your way back to Sukuna’s room as he pulls his hoodie on over sculpted muscle. His gaze slides towards you, his expression remaining aloof in spite of the leap in his chest. Seeing you in his clothes bears a new meaning knowing he gets to call you his now, too.

He clears his throat as you bound towards his bed, plopping down at the edge of it. Leaning back on splayed palms, you gaze up at him with the kind of smile that could melt glass.

“Warmer?”

“Mhm!”

“Good,” he hums as he collapses on the bed, relaxing against the headboard with shut eyes. His whole body decompresses, an air of peace curling around him like the wisps of smoke he’s let go of. His gaze flickers open, his head tilting as he beckons you closer with a curl of his fingers. “C’mere.”

Scooting back on the bed, you barely make it halfway before you’re caught by bulky arms and dragged over his lap. You sit stationed on one side of his thighs, your legs thrown over his lap as he cradles you close to his chest.

There’s a light thump as he lets his skull drop to the headboard. “Fuckin’ rain,” he grumbles. “I was gonna take you to a market after dinner.”

“Ooh, like a flea market?”

He lifts his head as he nods. “An art market. Figured it was the kinda thing we’d both be into.”

You pout at the saccharine thought poured into your night together, even if things hadn’t worked out from the beginning. “That would have been fun! Maybe next time? They’ll probably reschedule if they got rained out today.”

He hums, sliding his hand up your leg to squeeze your thigh. “Next time,” he agrees, shifting to steal a kiss. “But this is nice too,” he smirks against your lips, finally finding his footing to shake the sensation of inadequacy.

“I definitely don’t mind this,” you breathe, splaying your hands over his built chest as you lean in to reciprocate.

The world slows. He moves slow. You both do, in tandem as you match one another. Your breaths, your lips, and the minute shuffling of your clothes under each rise and fall of your chests are all that permeate the air.

His mind no longer swims with shortcomings, drawing blank while simultaneously flooding with wave after wave of you.

Your smile, the gleam in your eye when you’re happy, the way you laugh when Sukuna does something stupid.

Your unending support, the way you always put others first, your effortless ability to reel him into your security.

The curve of your nose, the way your hair falls into place, how everything you wear compliments you beautifully.

Your thighs.

Your curves.

He doesn’t intend to, but his jaw parts, pulling away with a hitch of his breath. The silence is thick, cut with every inhale, but it’s the look in your eyes that gets him the most.

The way desire speaks for itself in the form of blown out pupils. The heat he feels radiating from your cheeks, running warmer than he is. A simultaneous desire and bashfulness that encapsulates everything he’s come to know about you.

He grips your thigh, guiding you to straddle his waist. It’s familiar in the kind of way that should be terrifying, but with an official title tying you to one another in a pretty red bow, neither of you lets it stop you.

His lips don’t move quite as slowly when they capture yours again. There’s a newfound confidence that he was born to inhabit, one breathed into every movement. His palms settle on your hips like gravity, his grip curling into the fabric of the oversized shirt hanging from your shoulders.

He kisses you like he may never get a chance again. The grip he has on your hips grounds him, it grounds you, as your head spins when his tongue glides across your lower lip. Your lips part on instinct as the taste of him floods your mouth. It’s different than all those months ago– both in the way he takes his time learning you, and the smokey quality to his taste having completely disappeared.

He curses under his breath when you pull back for air, giving you no time to get your bearings when he pulls you back by the nape. His pulse hammers against your palm, synced to the speed in which yours races in your ears.

“Kuna,” you breathe his name like a prayer. His fingers curl into your hair as he kisses the corner of your lips in a silent reply. His eyes flicker open. The gaze you’ve grown accustomed to is eclipsed entirely by his pupils blown wide with lust. The sight sends a shiver down your spine, your thighs clenching around his waist on instinct.

He swallows thickly at the sensation. You feel him then, long and hard as every shuffle of your hips has him twitching beneath you. Your breath catches in your throat as you experimentally roll your hips down. 

Your boyfriend’s eyes roll back, fluttering shut as he lets out a breath. “Fuck,” he breathes, wrecked. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You can’t be sure whether it’s selfish or servicing that you roll your hips again, searching for the dizzying sensation of friction as a wet patch forms on your panties. He shudders beneath you, dipping his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt as his hands explore your curves. His fingers trace over stretch marks, scars, and goosebumps alike, mapping them out like constellations as he stares at you reverently.

His gaze lowers as he takes the hem of your shirt and makes a move to bring it up over your head. Your nerves rear their ugly head as he barely lifts it halfway, your fingers curling into his hoodie as you go rigid. For all the attention he’s paying to you right now, of course he notices. He stops dead in his tracks, lowering the hem as he scrutinizes your expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing–!” You insist, too quickly. Sukuna straightens, his brow pinching as he searches for answers. With a breath to steady yourself, you let yourself relax, mentally assuring yourself it’s just nerves. “It’s really nothing, I promise.”

Your shirt falls to your thighs as Sukuna cradles your face. “Talkin’ to one another isn’t a one-way street, angel.”

Letting out a breath, you nod. “You’re right. Sorry.” His thumbs brush your cheeks in reply. “I’m just nervous.”

“Mm.” You don’t get much more than a grunt in reply, as though he’s awaiting something more.

In an effort to quell the butterflies winding up within the pit of your stomach, words fall from your lips to fill the space. “I just– I like you a lot and I don’t wanna mess up, or disappoint you, or–”

Shutting you up with a kiss, Sukuna pulls back with a tight-lipped frown. “Where the hell’s this comin’ from?” But before you can even get a word in edgewise, he’s already connected the dots. It’s not exactly easy to get a reputation in college, especially when you’re not in a frat. No one gives a shit to get in others’ business when you’re drowning in exams.

He’s no stranger to the words that stick to him, bolder than his tattoos. That he’s good, big, but not to catch feelings. That he won’t acknowledge hookups after. That he’s got a penchant for being on the rougher side. That he’s a colossal asshole.

But he wants to leave that in the past, stack it up with every other terrible decision he’s been trying to make up for lately.

“You’re not gonna disappoint me.”

“But–”

Another peck on your lips. “Princess.” It’s just about the sweetest way he can tell you to shut up, though you know the words are on the tip of his tongue. He’s only holding back because every little shuffle of your hips makes it hard for him to think straight. “If you think I don’t feel the same way about you, then I need to do better. I worship the ground you fuckin’ walk on,” he gruffs, furthering the pounding in your chest.

“No, you’ve been amazing,” you murmur, cheeks heating up with embarrassment that the thought had even crossed your mind. You try to avert your eyes, but his hands hold you steady. “You’re right. Sorry, Kuna.”

“Stop worryin’ yourself over nothing. Let me treat my girl.”

If your face was warm before, it’s on fire now. “You know, you’re kind of a sap when you wanna be,” you tease.

“Mm, you’ve turned me into one.”

His grip on your cheeks loosens to let you fall into him. His eyes flicker shut as he figures you’re leaning in to kiss him, but your arms slide around his neck, your head burying into his shoulder. He blinks once, before snugly holding you.

“Y’know,” he ponders, “you’ve got me all worked up, too.”

You giggle, pulling back to look at him. “I can tell,” you hum, grinding down against him.

He huffs, his lips parting. “Brat. That’s not what I mean.” He returns his grip to your hips to stop you from shuffling around impatiently. “I’m nervous too,” he whispers, tentative but raw.

“You are?”

He shrugs, averting his gaze. Sex has never meant anything to him until now. It was a way to satisfy his needs, and that was the end of the story. But saying his thoughts like that to you right now feels entirely too vulgar, so he settles for something tamer. “You’re my first relationship. This means something to me.”

You suppose it’s never occurred to you that you might be. But putting the pieces together, everything adds up. “I trust you,” you offer. “This means something to me too.”

At the admission of your trust, he lifts the hem of your shirt again, waiting on you to give your consent.

“Go ahead,” you breathe, letting him pull it over your head and toss it aside.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his large hands roaming your curves. His gaze trails greedily across your bare skin, his hands following as he commits the sight to memory. His gaze settling on your breasts blows his pupils out further if it’s even possible, the crimson of his eyes a distant thought with every second he spends admiring the canvas of your body.

His palms round the plush of your breasts, giving them a tentative squeeze to test your reaction. You feel him twitch beneath you in response to the break in your breath, a smirk tugging at his lips. The worn pads of his thumbs slide up to brush your nipples, tearing a gasp that has him breaking into a full smirk.

For all his bravado, however, it softens, when he glides a hand up to your collar, beneath your necklace. His palm halts over your heart. Its beats stagger and leap, matching the beat of the blood in his ears. His lips purse, a chill running down his spine at the raw trust an angel like you has placed in his worn hands.

Your fingers curl into his hoodie when he pauses to admire you, giving it a faint tug, but he knows what you want. His arms cross over his front as he pulls it up over his head, adding it to the pile of discarded clothing on the ground.

Muscles, scars, tattoos, and the silver chain beneath his hoodie are bared to you, your gaze roaming down to the salmon happy trail running down into the hem of his pants. You shift your weight to glide palms down the washboard abs you’ve thought about more than you’d care to admit to him. His abdomen clenches as you do so, and whether it’s from the way your hips shifted or your fingers sliding over every peak and valley, you can’t say for sure.

He doesn’t move, watching every micro-expression with the intensity of a man starved. His patience comes as a surprise, but he’s so caught up on you that every moment is an eternity and a blur all at once. Minutes could be hours, but he couldn’t tell you if he tried.

Black ink carves stories into his pectorals, followed in a trail by your fingers until you reach his shoulders once more. The sensation of your small hands exploring the hard mass of his muscle has him shivering, actually shivering, and if he hoped you wouldn’t notice, he’d be out of luck.

A bashful smile crosses your face, equally sharing in his apprehension and eagerness. “You’re gorgeous,” you breathe.

You’re met with a raise of his brows, the wall of sudden interest to him as his already-flushed cheeks harshen. “Gorgeous?” His breath fans the bare skin between you, warm. His tone low, as sultry as it is gravelly. “That’s a new one.”

“A good new one?”

His chest rises beneath you. After a moment, he nods, finding your curious eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, good.”

“Good,” you whisper through the fluttering in your chest, pressing your weight against him to lean down and kiss him. Whatever tension remained in him finally gives as he melts within the warmth of your adoration. The world narrows, the sounds outside fading, the hum of the fridge distancing itself. It’s just the two of you, the sounds of smacking lips and the exchange of breaths.

For the first time– but not the last– sex isn’t just an act. It’s not about getting off and moving on.

It’s about connection. It’s about the way his arm wraps around your middle, holding you with the utmost care as he flips you, hovering over you without breaking the kiss. Even as you gasp, he swallows it, positioned between your thighs that spread on instinct for him.

It’s about the way he smiles. Not a smirk, or a grin. A genuine smile. The kind that matches the saccharine looks you always shoot him. It’s infectious, until you’re both smiling into the kiss.

It’s about the way every sensation and reaction is raw and real. That your nerves are shared, but soothed by the mere presence of the other.

As he pulls back, you would expect the room to feel cooler, but when his lips roam your jaw, lingering on your throat, everything heats up exponentially. Your hands fly to his hair as your head falls back into the downy pillow. A soft whimper parts your lips and Sukuna isn’t sure he’s ever heard something so intimate.

His breath shatters over your skin, the hitch evident when it falls like glass over your collar. He moves further down your body, your breaths turning to soft moans when he grazes your nipple. His gaze lifts when your fingers curl in his hair, a low grunt pulled from him as you unwittingly tug him away in the haze of euphoria.

Pulling himself back down, the flat of his tongue glides over your peaked nipple, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths beneath him. It sends sparks of electricity through your veins like lightning burning bright across a sky, shocking from limb to limb.

The way he moves, the way he learns, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced. The first touch is always experimental, but he watches you with so much intensity that it’s like he knows exactly what you want before you do.

You suck in a harsh breath as he latches onto your nipple. “Sukuna,” you murmur, light and airy as he explores your body. His tongue flicks out and circles the sensitive skin, but what really makes you jolt is the sensation of him groaning at the sound of his own name dragged from your lips. He repeats his movements over your other nipple with more urgency, not out of a lack of patience, but from need. Chasing the sound of his name sung within your moans.

As he sucks on the peak of your breast and your fingers grip his hair, his eyes shut on instinct when he’s rewarded with a louder, more sure honeyed moan of his name. He’s quick to move up your body, crashing his lips against yours in ardor.

“Say it again,” he whispers, his breath ghosting over you.

“Suku–”

He swallows the sugary whisper before you can even get it out. You latch your arms over his shoulders, fingers curling into the inked skin laid over muscle.

When he pulls away for air, his back rises and falls harshly beneath your fingers with each breath. His gaze flickers across your expression, drinking in your pleasured expression.

“Feel good, angel?” His voice has a heady quality that hits you hard. Your stomach flips as heat blooms between your thighs, instinctively tightening around his torso. He cracks a smile, something between smug and adoring, something so Sukuna, that tells you he already knows, but you nod anyway.

He kisses the corner of your mouth, something soft and sweet, before moving down the bed. He settles between your legs, the jittery sensation of bubbling nerves making themselves known when his fingers settle along the band of the rolled up sweatpants you borrowed. Reaching for the sheets, you ground yourself by gripping them.

His eyes, always attentive, flicker to your hands, cementing themselves in your gaze as you tentatively watch. “Nervous?” His words aren’t meant to tease. For once, there’s no condescension or grin, but a genuine search for understanding.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you give a nod. “Just a little.”

His thumbs rub soothing circles into your waist. Leaning forward to press a kiss just above the sweatpants, he murmurs his next words against the bare skin. “I’ll take care of you,” he assures, his breath tickling the sensitive skin. You squirm at the sensation, met with another smirk.

Giving his face a little shove at the realization he’s purposefully searching for ways to fluster you and make you squirm, you shake your head. Your smile isn’t lost on him, though.

His fingers curl around the waistband once more, silent searching permission swirling within his wide pupils.

“Please, Kuna,” you breathe as you flutter around nothing, lust outweighing your nerves.

It nearly undoes him to feel your hips shift eagerly. He doesn’t waste a moment sliding the sweatpants from your legs. He picks up right where he left off on the couch earlier, palms gliding up to your hips as he maps your body. “Shit, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous,” he huskily groans. His gaze dips to the wet patch in your panties, lacey and the very same shade of red that you chose for your dress and his tie.

Chosen to match his fucking eyes.

He swallows thickly, squeezing the plush of your thighs. His thumbs are so close to your core that you can’t help the buck of your hips. Pulled from his trance, he smirks, slow and pleased. “Cute,” he mutters, brushing a thumb over the lacey fabric clinging to your hip. “Bet you did this on purpose, didn’t you?”

You try to hide your bashful smile, but it breaks though. “Maybe. The bra matches, too.”

Sukuna’s voice is rough as he lets out an amused hum at your reservation. “Sweet girl,” he hums, hooking his fingers around the fabric clinging to your hip. With a kiss to your inner thigh, he pulls them aside, tossing them into a forgotten pile of clothes. 

You shrink slightly as he doesn’t move for a moment, admiring the sight of you laid bare in your entirety beneath him. He doesn’t let you shy away, though, strong forearms wrapping around your thighs and tugging you closer. With a surprised yelp, your hands fly to his hair again, barely given a moment to ground yourself before he lowers his lips to your dripping entrance.

“Fuck, you’re wet, princess.”

It takes your breath away from the moment he connects with you. The sensation of his tongue dragging through your folds is soft at first as he measures your every reaction. Your moans grow louder as pleasure doesn’t just bloom but blossom, unfurling in your stomach with every flick of his tongue moving between your entrance and your clit. He doesn’t waste any time seeking what has you keening for more.

Sukuna groans as he etches every tremble, jolt, and shudder to memory. The bedside lamp frames you like art meant to be kept in a museum, now selfishly hidden from prying eyes. He keeps your thighs from closing around him with strong arms, amplifying the sensation of his tongue as he eats you out fervently. His grip on you is firm as he doesn’t let you shuffle away from him, set on tasting you when he pushes you over the edge.

“Ah–” You gasp as his tongue pushes between your folds, unintentionally pushing him deeper when your fingers curl in his hair. He groans, and that has the knot in your stomach tightening. It pulls so taut that the wave of your orgasm teeters right at the edge, ready to flood over at his beck and call. “Fuck, please–” You moan, your back arching off the bed in search of release.

You so rarely swear that Sukuna finds himself smirking, smug to pull such debauched noises from sweet you. Your walls flutter around his tongue, he knows you’re close, shifting forward to nudge his nose against your clit and send you over the edge.

“Ah–! Sukuna–!” You moan his name loudly as your abdomen clenches and you see stars, your climax rolling through you in rocking waves. Your boyfriend slows his movements to work you through it with slow drags of his tongue over your slit, pulling back once you slump in his arms. His lips are slick when he runs his tongue over them, cleaning up what he can of your orgasm from his chin before peppering kisses over your inner thighs in his grasp.

He’s surprisingly gentle and patient with you in spite of the aching tent in his pants that twitches with every moan and whimper that parts your lips. Pushing up onto his forearms, he shifts his body back over you, wiping his chin with the back of his hand before lowering back down to share the taste of you.

“Taste so fuckin’ good,” he mutters between kisses.

When your lidded eyes finally flutter open as he lets you catch your breath, eyes hazy and undeniably mirthful, he grins.

“Hey, princess,” he gruffs. There’s a grit to his voice that has you biting your lip as you admire the bulky man above you. In spite of the lustful and smug aura that clings to him like the smoke he’s since put-off, there’s something charmingly eager and jaunty that fans it away as he yearns for your approval. “How was that?”

Too dazed to give much more than a nod, you smile back at him. “Felt so good, Kuna.”

“Mm.” He leans down to kiss your throat again, making use of the knowledge that it never fails to make you shudder. “Good.”

Sucking in a breath, you watch his movements stutter and his jaw lock as your hand trails low down his torso, bringing one finger to his waistline. He watches you intently, his jaw falling open as you trail your fingers over his clothed length. His eyes roll back, blinking intensely.

You’re no fool, Sukuna is almost seven feet tall and he’s all solid bulky muscle to go with it. He’s a big guy, and some part of you has always known he would be big. You’re not innocent to thinking about it. Not when he manspreads on the couch like it’s the only way to sit and wears the sluttiest gray sweatpants known to man.

Not that you’re complaining.

With everything you knew about him though, you hadn’t expected him to be so patient. To take his time worshipping you, to be so gentle when his hands know only how to be harsh.

But that’s Sukuna at his core, isn’t it? A man left to his own devices, facing the harsh cruelty of the world with a jaded lens, whose layers peel back to reveal a kindness reserved for those closest to him.

The man panting above you now– veins rippling over muscle as his chest heaves, sweat speckling the expanse of his chest– he proves that beneath snarky rebuttals and frustrated huffs lies someone even softer still than the amused banter and smirks you often share. Still undeniably sharp and a little vain, but leaving room for the vulnerability, weariness, and now something far greater. Something akin to devotion.

Still Sukuna.

But your Sukuna.

He swallows thickly, the lump in his throat bobbing as you stroke him over his sweatpants. A broken groan parts his lips. His mussed hair begins to stick to his forehead as sweat beads at his hairline. “Shit, I–”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish whatever’s on his mind when you slip your fingers beneath his waistband. He groans, his hand flying up to catch your wrist. Pursing your lips as his eyes snap shut, you tilt your head.

“Kuna? Do you not want me to…?”

He blows a breath out through his nose, long and even. Even after being eaten out and cumming on his tongue, you’re still timid to the subject of sex. Cute.

What’s not cute is the dismay tinting his cheeks red. “I do,” he grumbles, his expression unreadable as his head hangs. He releases your wrist as you softly pull back, gathering his cheeks in your hands. When his expression meets yours, he’s tight-lipped, frowning with red that reaches the tips of his ears.

“What’s wrong?”

He frowns, then huffs. Heavy, but not irritated like usual. No, his pink-tinged cheeks tell you all you need to know. Reluctantly, he grumbles his confession like it might choke him were he any louder. “‘M not gonna fucking last if you…”

You smile, soft and reassuring. “Kuna–”

He tugs himself free of your grip, but rather than withdrawing, he chooses to bury his face in your shoulder, slumping more of his weight against you. “Don’t,” he warns in a low growl.

Running your hands through his hair one after the other, nails softly raking his scalp, you do your best to quell his nerves. “I’m not gonna tease you, if that’s what you’re thinking.” You don’t get any acknowledgement from him, so you continue. “It’s normal.”

Another huff. An indignant ‘not for me’ that sounds an awful lot like a pout.

You smile softly, kissing the side of his head. “It’s flattering that you’re that into me. I promise.”

Another huff, softer now. He cranes his neck to place a kiss below your ear, lingering featherlight against your skin.

“It’s our first time together,” you offer, “we’re still figuring things out, right?”

He catches the subtle way you seek your own reassurance, still nervous yourself. He doesn’t point out, merciful to you as you are to him. His voice is muffled in the crook of your neck. “Right.”

But performance issues are something Sukuna has never struggled with, something he doesn’t know how to move past. It taunts him. He’s still hard. He aches for you. But his mind won’t move past the blockade.

“Kuna,” you breathe, soft. “Baby.” His muscles slump into you further, more of his weight pressing down against you, unbeknownst to the man disarmed by your sultry name for him. “It’s fine. I promise. It’s kinda hot, honestly. You’re doing good.”

His cock twitches once, twice, in quick succession against your thigh. You blink, the pieces falling into place that your brutish and aloof boyfriend might like the embrace of your softness and praise more than he lets on, but he doesn’t give you the time to think it through. His lips are on yours in an instant, the first kiss a silent gratitude, the second starved.

He lifts his weight again as your hands resume roaming his body. Gripping the flexed and bulging muscles of his veiny biceps, squeezing and exploring the arms he’s so often used to move you at his leisure. Manhandling you like you were his from the start. Like maybe the distance after your argument wasn’t when he started to feel a shift. Like it was well before that, and he just never knew it as anything more than lust.

Your fingers graze his pecs, passing up over the silver of his dangling chain and back down his abs. Every scar tells a story you long to know someday, but you’d be lying to say it’s what’s on your mind when the smell of sex clings to the air.

This time, when you reach his waistband, he doesn’t let up. He lets you move the waistband past his hips, as far as you can manage without breaking the kiss. He even helps, slipping them off with a hand splayed by your head to hold himself over you. You swallow his groan, pulling back yourself to switch the focus to him.

The bold font of branded boxers clings to his hips, unfairly framing him in a way that makes your stomach drop and flip all at once. You can hear the teasing already. ‘Like what you see?’ Hell, you expect it, expect to laugh and roll your eyes, but it never comes. Glancing curiously back at his expression, you find your answer.

He is smirking, you know he’s thinking it. But with a single layer of clothing between you, he’s nervous too.

“I want you,” he growls, low and heady. His gaze searches yours for permission. “Wanna feel you around me,” he rolls his hips, a muscle in his jaw working as a sharp breath passes through your lips with the sudden friction.

“I want you too.” You nod, fingers curling into his back. “Please, Sukuna. I’m yours.”

He reels back, stepping away to let his boxers fall to the floor.

Right. The thigh tattoos he’d mentioned. Matching the bands around each of his limbs. But that’s not where your focus is.

He’s undeniably long. Thick, too. Prominent veins pulse as they run up to the flushed head, curving slightly to one side. Precum has already gathered on his tip, leaking from the angry red head that jerks at the mere sight of you. Like a testament to how much he means it when he says he’s attracted to you.

When he hovers back over you, it becomes increasingly obvious just how much bigger than you he is. He towers over you in every sense, and the cock that hangs heavy over your abdomen sends jitters to the pit of your stomach.

Intently watching your expression as he leans back over you, his fingers glide through your folds. Gathering slick on his fingers as your jaw falls open, he slips a finger in your entrance, moving slowly as your stomach clenches. Any other day he’d make a comment about how he knows he’s big and isn’t about to try to push into you without first taking care to ease your tension.

Today, his thoughts scream only of you. Your pleasure. Your comfort. So he leaves the pride behind.

“Ah–” Your hand flies to his forearm, clinging to the muscle holding your boyfriend upright. The sensation of one finger slowly pushing into you is pleasant in spite of the accompanying mild sting, but his thumb rubbing steady circles over your clit is intense. Once he’s sheathed within you to the knuckle, a shiver rocks your body as the cool metal of the ring adorned on that finger kisses your entrance. “Fuck, K-Kuna.”

“Mm.” Sukuna curls his finger, a groan ripping from the back of his throat when you jerk your hips as it takes him no time to find the spot that has you clenching around him. He smirks as your nails dig into his skin, wasting no time in littering kisses across your breasts. His tongue smooths over every spot his teeth graze as he leaves a multitude of purpling marks across your skin, heightening the sensations as another finger slides in.

With two thick fingers buried deep inside and his lips marking your skin, you see stars with every curl of his fingers. His name falls from your lips like prayers for a man who’s scarcely ever seen an altar.

Your legs tremble with every skillful curl of his fingers, instinctively closing around his torso. “Hah– That feels–” You can’t finish your train of thought when your mind goes blank as he repeatedly presses the gummy part of your walls. His movements are steady, pleasure flooding you with each curl as you coat his finger in slick.

“Feels what, angel?” Sukuna spurs you on, husky.

“Feels– hah– so good, baby.”

He loves your nickname for him, he loves hearing his name fall from your lips in moans, but he adores to be called terms of endearment. There’s a hitch in his breath as he twitches against the bed, growing more and more hungry and desperate to be inside you.

He pulls his fingers from you, waiting for your pretty gaze to flutter open and meet him. Sliding them between his lips, he cleans his fingers with a pop! Smirking as your grip on his arm tightens, you feel your mouth go dry when his length glides through your folds, lubricating himself with the evidence of your lust.

Swallowing hard, your gaze flickers between the erotic way he sucks on his fingers and the sensation of the heaviness resting between you.

He makes you look small, and he’s thick to boot. You cast a nervous glance back up at him. 

His smirk softens, craning his neck down to kiss your jaw. “I’ll go slow,” he assures you.

At your nod, he lines himself up with your entrance, when a thought occurs to you. “Kuna?” Your hand splays across the sturdiness of his chest. “Condom?”

He blinks like it hadn’t even occurred to him, corners of his lips falling. “Fuck… Fuck,” he mutters, grunting as he pushes back from you.

At the bedside, he rifles through his drawer, casting a glance at you as he digs through all the junk and paperwork he’s tossed in there over the past few months. When he spots you grinning, lip pulled between your teeth in an effort to conceal it, he pauses, leaning over the bedside table on locked elbows.

“What?” He grunts.

You shrug, turning onto your side to face him. His gaze flashes down your body, sparks flying through your veins. “It’s just sweet to see you so flustered lately.”

“I’m not flustered,” he deadpans.

“Baby.”

If he wasn’t before, he is now. His cheeks take on a whole new shade of red as he stares at you with a continued frown.

“You know everything tonight’s been perfect for me, right?”

The quiet of the room stills. Something settles in the drawer but Sukuna pays the noise no mind. “Me forgetting a condom is perfect?”

You laugh, an airy sort of sound. “I mean, no, but,” you shrug, “I don’t know. It’s real. It makes the nerves and how clumsy and awkward I feel like I’ve been a little easier.”

The tension pulling his lips back dissipates. He may not reply, but the flare of exasperation settles. He pushes up from the desk, shooting you a sidelong glance as he pulls a condom from a box. “Found them, by the way,” he mutters. He tears it open with his teeth, which somehow feels like the most guy thing on earth, tossing the packaging aside and hastily rolling it down himself, though he pauses barely a quarter of the way down.

He sighs, forlorn, and blinks at you. You tilt your head questioningly, and had you blinked, you might have missed it. The faintest hint of something greater than just a smile. Like he’s choking down a laugh.

“It’s inside out,” he mutters. Embarrassment laces with humor as he fights his own laughter when you have to cover your mouth in any sort of attempt to spare him.

It doesn’t work for long. It slips out, natural and bubbly, as Sukuna hangs his head.

Like the final notch in a dam, his laughter slips loose, too. It breaks through the barricade as his shoulders rock with every chortle.

Because you’re right. For the first time, this isn’t a hasty attempt to wet his dick, but a moment of genuine nerves shared between two people so genuinely into one another that it intensifies everything tenfold. And really, what would your first time be together if not everything that embodies you both? Chaos, comfort, and a whole lot of stumbling and clumsiness along the way.

Dramatically discarding the condom in a garbage can beneath his desk, he pulls another one out, tearing it with his teeth again.

“Do you… need a hand?” You tease, grinning up at him as the atmosphere shifts with your laughter as your nerves settle at last.

His eyes narrow as he sheathes the rubber over his length, crawling back over you. “‘Do you need a hand?’” He mocks, scoffing warmly. “Fuckin’ brat.” He steals a kiss between your laughter as you practically double over, squealing gleefully when he presses his thumb into your waist just enough to tickle.

“Kuna,” you wheeze, breathless. “Wait, please–!”

He’s grinning now, his eyes crinkled at the corners in an unguarded fashion as he releases your waist. “Maybe you’ll think twice about making fun of me next time.”

Desperately trying to catch your breath, you give him a lazy one-shoulder shrug. “Maybe.”

“Done being a brat for now at least?” He queries with the faintest of warning squeezes on your waist. Your hands fly to his chest, nodding. “Good girl,” he purrs, the sound vibrating straight through your veins to your core. You clench around nothing, your hands gliding up to his shoulders and tugging him down closer to you.

“I need you,” you breathe, heat still coiling in your loin.

He meets your words with a nod. Obliging your needs, he dips a hand back down, slotting his lips against yours to swallow your moans. His thumb moves in deliberate circles around your sensitive clit, groaning as your nails graze the skin of his shoulders.

Pulling back for air, his restraint pulls taut as he shifts to line himself up with you. Lifting your head, you cling to his heavily rising and falling chest to ground yourself as you watch him sink into you with a sharp hiss. Just the tip first. The stretch is nothing like his fingers. There’s a sting first, one that he lets you ride out until it shifts into something different.

“Relax for me, angel,” he coaxes you as your muscles still give him some resistance. He licks his thumb, reaching back down to rub your clit. “Breathe.”

He must be able to read you like a book, because every time the burn of being stretched open shifts into pleasure is when he feeds you another inch. Every movement comes with a surprisingly sweet reassurance. Doing so good for me. Just a little bit more. Look so fuckin’ perfect.

When he’s buried to the hilt, your gaze flickers up to his. He’s already watching you, warmth swimming within shadows of lust– and something more. Something you’re not quite ready to put a name to, but something real.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, swallowing around the tightness of his throat. Every ounce of restraint is being poured into letting you adjust, but it snaps like an elastic pulled taut when your legs wrap tightly around his waist.

His hips stutter as he lowers himself over you. His forearms settle on either side of your head, holding himself at an angle where he can still watch you in spite of your overwhelming height difference. He’s slow first, your tight walls testing just how long he can last when he’s imagined this so many times.

You whine as he rolls his hips, feeling so full that every thrust leaves you feeling breathless. “K-Kuna,” you gasp as the last of any restraint dissolves into white-hot pleasure. “Don’t stop.” You can feel every vein that brushes your g-spot, every thrust carrying a weight that you’re certain is intentional, but his eyes are as hazy as yours. Acting on pure instinct and feeling.

It’s like nothing either of you have ever experienced. Pleasure unbound, coiling tight and ripping groans and moans from both of you. His breaths are heavy, his skin sticking to yours as sweat clings to you. He hunches down to lower his forehead to yours, the connection intensifying the sensations in a way you never thought possible.

The emotions that swirl in his eyes are so intense you can feel them dancing off your skin. Your nails drag across his skin, leaving harsh red streaks along the canvas of his back. He lets out a heavy breath between pants, every thrust intentional. It’s hot and overwhelming in spite of the slow way he chases your pleasure.

It builds slowly, like a song establishing its hook as he keeps a steady, deep rhythm. Every thrust feels as though it reaches your lungs, the overwhelming weight of him within and around you deafening you to the world.

He murmurs not your nickname, but your given name like a mantra, something you so rarely hear from him that it feels sacred.

Every twitch and jerk becomes more frequent within your walls, and he buries his face into your neck, his breath hot on your shoulder. “Been wanting this for so fucking long,” he groans, distracting himself in an effort to hold off on his climax when he already feels so close. “It’s everything I fucking imagined.” His hips still stutter, still drawing inevitably closer to falling apart, so hopelessly attracted to you. You’re everything he imagined.

“You f-feel so good, baby,” you breathe, unable to piece together a real reply when it’s the only thing on your mind.

One hand buries in your hair, cradling your head as he grounds himself. He kisses your neck over and over, his mind keening for more. More praise. More pet names. More of this. More of you.

It nearly sends him over the edge, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. “You’re mine.” It’s muffled, barely over a whisper when his teeth sink into your skin, careful not to harm you.

You cry out in pleasure, throwing your head back. His lips travel the length of your neck, kissing your throat, before crashing into your lips. Hard, heavy, fast, needy. His tongue pushes into your mouth like it’s all he knows, his hips pistoning at a pace that has you seeing stars as he pulls you back to the edge.

You tremble under him, whimpering his name until it all breaks. Wordless, the edges of your vision brighten a shade as the world spins.

His forearms tense. But what undoes him is the sensation of you clenching down on him in waves as the dam breaks once more and your arms and legs tighten around him. His hips harshly stutter as he cums with you, short and purposeful thrusts drawing out the moment for you both.

The room is a flurry of panting. Breath trying to be regained under the heady weight of sex. Neither of you move for a moment, lost in the feeling of you continuing to milk him, his abdomen seizing with every clench of your walls.

As he slowly relaxes, his weight presses down on you like a blanket of comfort. The cool sensation of his chain draped over your skin makes you shudder when he buries his face into your neck again. You stay like that for a long moment, reassured by the steady beating of his heart pressed to your sweaty chest that he’s slowly coming down from his high with you.

He shifts with a hiss of overstimulation as he lifts himself back up, a modicum of crimson visible once again in the rings of his eyes when he’s only a breadth away. He leans in, slow, gentle as he slots his lips against yours. They brush as he pulls back a hair’s length. “How’re you doing, angel?”

With a contented sigh, you nod. “Good. Really good.”

He smirks.

“You?”

He hums, unable to put an adjective to how lucky he feels, so he settles on something simpler. “Me too.”

After all, you get it.

And he was stupid for ever worrying that you wouldn’t.

He waits a beat before pulling out with a groan, sliding from the bed as you yawn tiredly. You unabashedly stare at his sculpted figure as he bends over to pick up a shirt and boxers. He pulls on the boxers, momentarily staring at the shirt before he uses it to wipe the sweat from his brow and tosses it into a laundry basket across the room.

Sitting upright, you move to swing your feet off the edge of the bed when he clicks his tongue. “Lay down,” he gruffs. “Let me take care of my girlfriend.”

You have to chew on your lip to hide your bashful smile.

He scours the floor for your panties, setting them beside you and kissing your temple. “Be right back. Stay here.”

“Can I have a pair of your boxers?”

He glances down at your panties, then across the room to his dresser.

“My panties are wet,” you pout. “Actually, they have been most of the day.”

He smiles sleazily.

“Not like that,” you reach out to lazily smack his hip, met with a snicker.

“Anything else, princess? Need water? Do you need a shower right now or somethin’?”

“Just water,” you smile at his thoughtfulness. “And my boyfriend.”

Pride swells in his chest as he makes his way out of the room to fulfill your needs.

He returns shortly, condom discarded, water in-hand, and two cloths– one damp, and one dry. Carefully, he cleans your still-trembling thighs before handing you a fresh pair of black boxers. Choosing a side of the bed, you pull the blankets up over yourself, awaiting your boyfriend as he finishes cleaning himself up, taking off his chains and rings, and discarding condom wrappers.

He pauses at the foot of the bed with a gruff “move over”.

“Oh, is this your side?”

His lips pull tight. “No. I just don’t want you near the door.”

Your lips form an ‘O’, at a loss for words as he watches you shuffle over.

His usual mild or disinterested expression has been replaced with something far warmer, albeit a bit fatigued. Though weariness clings to the circles beneath his eyes, it’s not the kind that plagues him. It’s peace. It’s the kind that allows him to gently slip under blankets with you, reaching over you to turn off the lamp like it’s where he belongs.

The blanket of darkness settles over you like an embrace as the lamp gives way to silver light weaving between the blinds. The warmth that surrounds you isn’t brought on by any amount of light though, it comes from the sensation of Sukuna’s bicep wrapping around your middle, pulling you into his chest as he lays on his back. Your leg tucks between his thighs, your arm draping across his abs.

His heart loudly beats beneath your ear, far calmer than it was when he was buried in you.

Undeniably still fast, though.

The room is still, silver tones bathing everything in a dull glow. The world outside has calmed, engines few and far between as the night draws in on all sides. Birds are dozing in their nests and the city has mostly turned in for the night. It’s just you and him, enjoying a pocket of peace, untouched by anyone else.

Your hand traces small patterns atop his pecs, rising and falling softly. You curiously explore the expanse of his torso in ways you couldn’t earlier, too drawn in by temptation. Your fingers pause over bumps, marks, and scars, mapping out stories long before you ever met him.

Your finger glides over a former tear that bites into his shoulder, pondering what sort of thing Sukuna might have gotten himself into.

Your thoughts must be loud within the silence, because he seems to read them. “I was four,” he hums, shifting to glance down at the mark he’s carried most of his life.

“What happened?”

He smirks, craning his neck towards you. Resting your chin on him, you watch him with a curious smile.

“I don’t remember it happening,” he starts, “but y’know those animals on springs at playgrounds that rock back and forth?”

“Yeah.”

“I violently threw myself off of one in an attempt to attack Toji on horseback.”

You barely manage to stifle your laughter.

“Not really sure how I landed on my shoulder. I got stitches there, Toji got ‘em on his back.” He cracks a fond smile. “My dad told me he only looked away for two seconds. He was mortified.”

“You two must have been a handful for him.”

He snorts. “Yeah. Apparently the intake nurse at the ER knew me by name.”

Your brows raise at the revelation. “You were there that often?”

He shrugs. “Broke both o’ my arms. Separately. An ankle, my nose, a few fingers…” He squints in thought. “Dunno. Other shit, too. I’ve gotten a lot of stitches. Was there for Toji sometimes, too.”

“How did you two even manage that?” You gape.

He smirks, rubbing a soothing thumb over your bare waist. “I threw myself off an ATV Toj’ stole from his family, fell in a box of Cho’s Lego, smashed a finger in a car door. Nothing that serious, just wasn’t a very careful kid, I guess.”

“Throwing yourself off of a stolen ATV definitely qualifies as serious,” you point out with an exasperated laugh at the idea of Sukuna’s poor father chasing after him.

“Not if you don’t get caught.”

“How in the world did you not get caught?”

He grins, now. “We returned the ATVs before his family found out. My dad didn’t know they were stolen, and didn’t talk to the Zenins.”

“You are so lucky.”

Sukuna takes pause at that thought. Back then, he wouldn’t have considered himself so fortunate. Toji was always running from his family, while Sukuna avoided his own house whenever his step-mother’s bright red overpriced car was in the driveway. Choso struggled to put things together until everything began to collapse and Sukuna never knew what to make of his relationship with his half-brother. That’s only the tip of the iceberg that Sukuna held up on his shoulders.

But looking back, he can finally see the moments worth cherishing. His entire childhood isn’t a smear on his record anymore. The poison is bleeding out, leaving behind a heart that beats stronger for it.

He remembers laughing with Toji as his dad picked them up from the theater after their first movie alone.

He remembers teaching Choso how to skateboard, buckling a helmet over his head in an effort to keep his dad’s worries at bay.

He remembers how proud his father was as they wandered through a museum and Sukuna curiously pieced together artifacts with the fragments of knowledge Jin had taught him at the time.

He remembers picking a cap up off of the floor at his high school graduation and handing it to his father as he wheeled him out of the ceremony. Jin’s voice, hoarse from treatment, had been fond as he teased Sukuna for having a big head.

He swallows hard as he regards the memory he had once locked away, so filled with grief he couldn’t bear its weight. For the first time, it feels… lighter. Maybe still a little bittersweet, but it doesn’t loom over him like a snake preparing venom.

Your voice pulls him from his thoughts. “What about this one?”

Your fingers trail over a scar the length of your thumb that trails across his pelvic bone. He grunts, nudging your hand away before wrapping it back around your waist. You chalk it up to being a sensitive area, unaware that he was deathly close to admitting it tickled.

Something in his expression shifts, lighter than the mild scowl he just shot you, though he masks it before you can figure it out. “Toji n’ I vaulted over a fence and I impaled myself on a nail.”

“Oh my god,” you gasp in disbelief. “Really?!”

That shift in his expression gleams now as he flashes you a shit-eating grin. “Nah. My appendix burst.”

You give his chest a light smack. “You’re such a dick,” you groan as he laughs, his chest rumbling beneath you.

“Mhm. Your dick, though.”

You roll your eyes, settling your chin back on his chest with warmer cheeks than before. “Yeah. My dick.”

“My girl,” he reciprocates the thought, his hand raising to move some stray hair from your forehead.

His fingers trail the length of your spine, gliding over skin smooth, scarred, and everything in between. He maps your stories as you tell him about the meaning of the paths that etch your skin, his gaze never once leaving as you speak. He commits everything to memory with the attention of someone cataloguing the stories away as though they’re his own.

When your voices wear thin and your eyes grow lidded, the quiet of the night slipping in around peaceful souls, you slowly find your head lowering to Sukuna’s chest. Your lashes flicker in an effort to stay awake with him, but his muscles are loosening too.

You yawn, your voice lowered under the blanket of fatigue. Cracking your eyes open just enough to see his peaceful expression, you smile to yourself, your gaze landing on the ink carved into his chest.

“What do your tattoos mean?”

He sucks in a breath, his eyes still shut as he replies. “Nothing, really.”

“You just liked them?”

He takes a beat before replying. For a split second, you think he might just have fallen asleep. “They were a rebellion or something, I guess.”

“A rebellion,” you parrot his words with a yawn. “Against… who?” You can’t imagine based on the way he talks about his father that it would be him.

“Dunno,” he admits. His mind grapples for a reason behind them, but truthfully there’s no meaning to his reasoning. “They just felt like something I could control, I guess.”

You peer up at him, though he’s still the picture of a man nearly asleep. The lines of his brow have smoothed over, his entire body sinking into comfort. “How old were you?”

“Seventeen, I think.”

You bury your face into his chest at the thought of a young Sukuna grappling with the fact that his life seemed so out of his own hands that he reached for anything to feel a sense of control. And to think it was probably booked before his dad even got sick, you can only imagine how your boyfriend handled things after.

“They let you get tattoos at that age?”

“They shouldn’t,” he huffs, half-amusement, half-seriously. “The shop was pretty careless. The artist was good, though.”

“I like them,” you smile against his skin. “They suit you.”

He yawns. “Thanks, princess.”

For the first time since the trial, Sukuna’s nightmares turn into dreams.

main masterlist || series masterlist || ⏮ prev || next ⏭

❦ a/n ; hiii my loves!! i genuinely can't believe this series is coming to a close in one more chapter :') it's been such a blessing to share this journey with you all so thanks for sticking with me on the slowest burn ever

i hope it was everything you all hoped for <33 i took a lot of time working on the smut to make it special and i hope it lived up to expectations. those two saps are so in love and such yearners but i also wanted to share that first times aren't perfect and that's okay and i wanted to capture that realism here :) they're the kind of people who get to find comfort in one another and can talk and laugh together during sex and that's the foundation that builds a lasting relationship

the same goes for their date of course!! i really wanted to capture the fact that sukuna will go to any length to make her happy, but that's not really the kind of couple that they are at the end of the day. i wanted to find a sweet way to show that they've learned to embrace the chaos and that they don't need extravagance to have a sweet date

i'll quit yapping but i'd love to hear your thoughts as always and i hope it all lived up to your hopes <33

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

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut @hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @mad-katsuki @timetoletmyimaginationfly @clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig @spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @vadergf @ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears @tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts @lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811 @toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @angel-loganswife @privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast @axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

Your heart swells to think that it’s Sukuna who found a solution, shoving the blockade aside from a road you didn’t think to approach. You’re not quite sure how he did it, but as the tape pulled aside and your dream became tangible, holding your exam schedule now feels surreal. With the final one completed, you neatly fold the paper and tuck it into your pocket, unable to stop grinning.

Slipping your bag from your shoulder, you pull your phone from the front pocket and power it on, awaiting any incoming messages.

Two from Shoko, and three from Sukuna. You shoot a quick text to Shoko to let her know your final is finished and you’ll meet her and Kento for lunch soon, before opening your messages with Sukuna.

10:43 AM Kuna <3 || hey princess

10:43 AM Kuna <3 || let me know how your exam goes

10:44 AM Kuna <3 || i know youll kill it

You smile at his encouragement.

11:38 AM You || Definitely killed it!! Thanks Kuna :)

With your phone in hand, you make your way over to your car to meet your friends. It vibrates again, lighting up with a text that reminds you of just how lucky you are when Sukuna’s name flashes across the screen.

11:42 AM Kuna <3 || thats my girl

Unable to help but grin at your phone like an idiot, you allow the butterflies in your stomach to grow and flutter like monarchs preparing for migration. He may be a bit of a dry texter, but it makes his encouragement and compliments remarkably sweet.

Your heart batters at its cage as you attempt to put together a message to thank him for helping you get to this point, guilt still pricking at your chest with every step, when he sends another couple of messages.

11:44 AM Kuna <3 || still going out with shoko and kento

11:44 AM Kuna <3 || ?

Settling on an easier reply to his first message, you figure you can thank him later, opting to focus on being free of schoolwork. Free of Kaori.

11:45 AM You || Thanks Kuna <3 yeah I’m just about to head over!

You hope he’s smiling at his phone as much as you are. Tucking your phone into your pocket as he lets you know to have a good time and text him once you’re home, you make your way to the sushi place that Shoko had chosen.

Stepping into the quaint little shop, you’re greeted by the fresh scent of fish and cooked rice. The lighting is warm and inviting, red brick decorating the walls as each booth mimics the appearance of a vintage food stall you might find pressed up against a building.

Making your way across the vinyl flooring, you peer around the slats dividing the booths at the end of the restaurant to find your friends seated waiting for you. Shoko’s head whips up at the sight of you, her usual slow drawl and drowsy expression replaced with something eager. “So?” She pushes you for the details on your final exam.

“I think I killed it,” you grin.

Getting to her feet, she hugs you tightly. “I’m so happy for you, oh my god,” she murmurs, pulling back with a grin. “Congrats girl!”

Kento regards you both warmly from where he sits across from Shoko’s spot. “Congratulations,” he adds, punctuating his cheer with your name.

“Thank you both,” you beam, slipping in beside Shoko. “Thanks for all the help with studying too, Ken.”

“Not a problem,” he hums.

A collective sigh of relief is breathed through the air as another year is finished and you and Kento can look forward to walking across the stage at graduation, while Shoko is sure to do so in the years following. Your parents may not be there, but they’ll get to watch a video and all of your friends will be there to cheer you on.

“I still can’t believe Sukuna pulled that shit off,” Shoko nudges your arm, earning a grin from you that can only be properly encapsulated with the term ‘lovestruck’.

“Pulled what shit off?”

Your eyes widen as a flash of pink strikes your vision, a devilish smirk meeting your gaze as the man in question slides into the booth across from you.

A bashful simper spreads across your lips at the sight of him. You need to chew on your lip in order to hide even an ounce of the eager grin that you’re positive you can’t shake as the three people who’ve kept you sane (and driven you mad) this year all surround you. Your heart warms as Sukuna offers a fistbump to Kento, who looks startlingly out of place as he obliges.

“Took you long enough,” Shoko quips, casting a knowing glance at your eager grin.

“You made it sound like a closer walk than it was,” Sukuna snorts, leaning over his fist.

“Maps said it was ten minutes!” She insists.

As they bicker over Shoko accidentally choosing the wrong location, you can’t help the way you check out the man across from you. Over the past couple of weeks he’s noticeably bulked up again, his skin no longer gaunt. He still looks undeniably tired, but he carries himself in a way that makes it seem like your run-of-the-mill bout of waking up a bit too early. His hair is well-groomed and styled, and for the first time in a long time, glimpses of the real Sukuna don’t just claw and slither through the cracks.

He now sports a snarky grin as he wittily replies to Shoko, one that he used to reserve for little moments in the safety of his home. Now he snorts a laugh as your friend rolls her eyes.

He’s still guarded, you can see him holding back as he tries to find his place within your friends who once threatened to knock his lights out if he hurt you (rightfully so). Now, though, his shoulders aren’t permanently tensed. He’s present, and in the moment. He’s sharing the real Sukuna more openly.

There are stresses in his life, but not the kind that press down on him from every side until the walls close in and his lungs cave. He still has a lot on his plate and for that you do find yourself unable to shake some guilt that he’s giving up two years for you.

“Alright, alright,” Shoko concedes, “I’ll triple-check next time. Just quit your complaining and order,” she rolls her eyes, shoving the menu towards Sukuna.

He shoots you a sly smile from across the table, nudging your foot. “Pick whatever you want. I’ll cover you.”

“I can cover my own, that’s alright Kuna!” You nudge him back.

“Nah, I got the check from Kaori, I gotcha princess.”

“She actually paid?” You gasp.

“Mhm. She returned some of the kids’ shit, too.”

“Only some?” Shoko frowns.

“I wasn’t expectin’ any, so–” he cuts himself off with a haphazard shrug.

Kento leans back with a frown. “I would hope she was left no other option than to hand things over given that she should be tried in a criminal investigation.”

“No kidding,” Shoko agrees. She runs a hand through long brown hair, taking a sip of her drink. “Have you heard anything about it?”

The brute nods, a more serious air to his hardened features. “It kinda went over my head, but the judge referred it to a higher court or something. My lawyer said I might need to testify but it’s gotta go through the whole court bullshit again, so it won’t be for a bit.”

The table nods with an overall solemn dust settling over the situation, though it’s blown over with a firm “good,” from Kento, who offers a smile. “I’m glad her methods turned on her.”

In truth, you hope they bite harder. You hope the next headline you see is her downfall.

“For the record, I offered to kill her,” Shoko points out with a smug grin.

Sukuna snorts, much to Kento’s disdain as he flashes her a warning glare. “Guess I know who to call if shit goes down,” he snickers in spite of the blonde’s tight-lipped frown. That’s just who your friend is, but knowing him for as long as you have, you still spot a glimmer of amusement hidden well within those auburn irises.

“Do you have any plans for the payout?” Kento moves along before Shoko and Sukuna can continue.

A flash of uncertainty swims in claret pools as Sukuna’s gaze slides to your friend. Money is still a subject that Sukuna prefers to keep to himself, weary of those around him when he’s managed so long on his own. While he’s grown capable of relying on others for some things, he remains steely when it comes to income.

When he spots no malicious intent within the blonde, you’re surprised to find his guard lowering his walls just enough to allow for a glimpse into his life.

“Paid off my bills last night,” he starts, “most of the rest is in an investment account for the kids, but I kept some aside for Christmas, birthdays,” he shrugs, fiddling with a thick black ring on his middle finger, “day to day sort of stuff.” He sucks in a breath as his attention turns to the titanium on his digit. “Think I’m gonna get a new place.”

Shoko and Kento both murmur their collective congratulations and approval over Sukuna finally having the money to let him live rather than just exist.

You tilt your head in that cute way that Sukuna’s always loved, garnering a smile from him. “Did you have something in mind for a new place?”

“I wanna give the kids their own rooms,” he admits, tapping a finger on the table in thought when the waitress arrives to gather your orders. After placing them, he picks up right where he left off. “Cho turns thirteen soon, n’ Yuji turns six in a couple of weeks, I think it’ll be good for them to have their own space. Think Cho’s needed it for a while, honestly.”

As Kento discusses good neighborhoods and open houses he’s recently spotted nearby, always on top of being the responsible one, Sukuna’s hand stretches to the center of the table. He settles it with his palm upright, expectant.

Shoko shoots you a knowing grin as your fingers slips between his like it’s second nature, as though your heart isn’t battering so hard you fear the entire restaurant can hear. His thumb glides across your knuckles before firmly gripping your much smaller hand, his calloused skin never failing to set yours alight. The way his touch has the ability to kindle a flame within your chest– and between your thighs– is something you think you’ll never grow tired of.

As Shoko pokes for details about what it was like to take your exams after petitioning, the table falls into easy conversation. Seeing your crush and one of your closest friends fit in with Kento in spite of their differences in the past fills you with a tepidness that you don’t think anything could bring down at this point.

And for once, you don’t feel like you need to watch your back, lest Kaori or anyone else try to take it from you. It’s just you and your friends enjoying life (and sushi) as it is, here in the moment.

When Sukuna slides his card out to pay not just for you, but all four of you, he’s met with protests and the opening of wallets, but he keeps a strong palm over the paper at the edge of the table, unwilling to let any of you place your cards down.

“Kuna, you can’t just–”

“Look, don’t get used to it. But for the next little bit, shit’s on me.”

Kento offers his glass in cheers, a little more his speed, which Sukuna smirks at, followed by your and Shoko’s thanks.

“Oh yeah, you guys have plans tomorrow, right? Taking her out on a hot date?” Shoko pries with a knowing expression as she nudges you.

Heat rises to the tips of your ears as Sukuna fixes you with a simper. He’s always been smug when it comes to his ability to fluster you, but you find that same heat dusting his cheeks too. “Yeah, I was gonna call her tonight,” he admits, though his attention is solely on you. “It’s a little unconventional,” he chuckles, averting that sharp crimson stare, “but I’m hoping she doesn’t mind.”

“Cuuuute,” Shoko jeers at your side, chewing on a toothpick. “Well, you can have her tomorrow then, we’re having a girls’ night tonight.”

“We are?”

“Mhm! I just decided,” Shoko shrugs, knocking her heel playfully into Kento’s shin when he attempts to protest that he planned on applying for jobs tonight. “It’s your turn to choose a movie anyway,” she points out, which satisfies him in spite of his huff.

“Fine. Can we please leave my nails alone this time?” He pleads.

Groaning, the brunette beside you throws her head back. “You’re no fun.”

Sukuna snorts. “Have a good night,” he offers, clapping a hand down on Kento’s shoulder. On his way out, he turns his attention to you. “I gotta get back to work, but I’ll text you details,” he gruffs, leaning down and letting his lips brush your forehead briefly before leaving a chaste kiss where they brushed. “See you tomorrow, princess.” Standing upright, he flashes a wave at Shoko and Kento. “Thanks for the invite.”

With hands in his pockets, he pushes out the door, leaving you a blushing mess to be teased by your friends for the rest of the night.

–

Shoko had opted to stay over to help you choose an outfit given the occasion, as you feel a sense of deja vu with her seated cross-legged clutching your heart-shaped pillow atop your bed.

“Did he give you an idea of what to wear?”

You shake your head, staring at Shoko’s reflection in the full-length mirror ahead of you. Twirling in the cute floral dress you’re trying on, you chew on your lip. “He said Choso’s still been having a hard time with anything outside of their usual schedule, so I actually think he planned something at home?” You explain.

“Poor kid. Is he seeing anyone about that?”

“Yeah, but he only started a couple of weeks ago. I think they’re trying to have him work towards feeling better gradually.”

“Makes sense. He’s pretty young to have gone through what happened. I’m sure I don’t even know the half of it.” Leaning forward over the pillow she’s clutching, she tilts her head thoughtfully. “Honestly, I think I’d love a lowkey first date. It just feels like less pressure and I hate first dates.”

Trying on a dress in a gorgeous silver hue with sleeves that flow just past your elbows, you turn to face her. “I’m still nervous,” you admit, “it honestly doesn’t feel different from a first date with someone I don’t know.”

“Not that one,” she casually breaks the conversation to turn down your dress, ignoring your pout as she adds, “I know you don’t have shoes that go with that, we’ve been over this.”

Right.

“Anyway, it might feel that way now, but you’ll feel better once you’re there.”

Changing into a cardigan with a cute frilly black skirt, you turn back to her as you button it up. “You’re probably right.”

“I like the first dress better.”

Staring down at your outfit, you tilt your head questioningly.

“It said ‘date’ more, this one’s closer to what you usually wear. And it’s just about summer, you’ll overheat. Anyway, you’re lucky. You get to skip right past all the ‘will-they won’t-they’ stuff and not knowing if they like you back. I mean, you told me he basically said he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend.”

“He did,” you agree thoughtfully as you glance at her through the mirror, reverting back to the first black floral dress you had on. “And trust me, I still went through all that anyway,” you laugh, grateful to be beyond that. “But I don’t know, I just don’t wanna mess anything up. I really like him, you know?”

“Oh, I know,” she chuckles, “but I mean the guy’s one of your best friends. I don’t think you could do anything wrong in his eyes.”

Your cheeks warm as you face the first outfit choice in the mirror again, pulling out a pair of heels that accentuate the white flowers stippling the dress. “I guess you’re right.” Trying on the shoes, you grab matching necklaces and rings, doing up the look as much as you can while still keeping it casual enough for his house. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Spinning to face her, you fiddle with the necklace you’ve just clasped around your neck. “You know Sukuna’s, um, reputation?”

“Yeah?”

“What if I’m like–”

“I’m not listening to you worry about sex with him. The way he looks at you is like– bordering on gross it’s so cute. I’m pretty sure you could admit to murder in the middle of it and he’d still like you.”

You can feel heat climbing to the tips of your ears from the base of your neck, your heart hammering as she cuts you off.

“I just don’t wanna bore him. I know he’s been with–”

Shoko smiles understandingly as you divulge a genuine insecurity. “Just talk to him. He’ll listen.”

Settling an ounce of your nerves, you nod. She’s right. Sukuna clings to your every word and you don’t know why you would think he ever wouldn’t, pushing aside the concerns you now recognize as irrational.

Leaning back against the headboard of your bed, Shoko tosses your pillow aside as she stares at your ceiling. “I’m so jealous. My sex life is so stale.”

You chuckle. “I mean, you’ve been really busy this year.”

“You’re telling me,” she groans, dragging hands down her face. Muffled, she adds, “next year is only gonna be busier.”

“Are you still into that one girl from your class?”

She groans, earning your laughter.

“Why don’t you just go talk to her?”

“I have four more years of classes with her, if I mess up now, I think I’d die of embarrassment.”

Wrinkling your nose, you offer a small nod. “Okay, fair. I get that.”

“If you didn’t, I’d call you a hypocrite,” she snorts. “You almost ready? He should be here soon, right?”

“Just about,” you eagerly look yourself over, giving an approving nod at your appearance in the mirror. Flipping around to face her, you sit on the edge of your bed. “You know what else he texted me last night?”

“Spill,” she insists, scooting closer.

“He said he’s taking steps with Choso so that he can take me out on what he called a ‘proper’ date,” you explain, making quotations in the air with your fingers. “Which,” you shrug, “I mean honestly I don’t really care what we do, I think anything he does is sweet.”

“Aw.”

“He said he wanted to take me out for our first date, but couldn’t wait any longer. He told me he didn’t want to waste any more time.”

“That’s disgustingly cute,” she chuckles, picking at her nails. “I’m happy for you, girl. I’ll admit I doubted him, but he seems like a good guy.”

“Yeah,” you smile to yourself, staring down at your freshly manicured nails, courtesy of Shoko’s steady hands. “He’s matured a lot over the last year.”

Your phone vibrates on the nightstand by Shoko’s side. She passes it to you, staring expectantly.

“He’s here,” you grin.

“Go have fun,” she matches your beam, giving you an encouraging hug as you both make your way out of your apartment, down the elevator towards the car parked out front. The engine is rumbling in the low evening light, though what really surprises you is the car itself. It’s not Toji’s, but Satoru’s.

You knew they’d grown to tolerate one another, but this goes beyond that. You’re happy to see it.

Catching movement out of the corner of his eye, Sukuna scrambles to sit up in the sports car, shoving his phone in his pocket and getting out of the driver’s seat. He wouldn’t generally classify himself as a gentleman, but when it comes to you, he won’t let you think his father raised anything less.

Stepping out into the still-warm air, he shoots a nod at Shoko as she heads for the bus, before fixating on you.

He swears in that moment that you’re an angel. Shades of pink settle among fluffy clouds overhead, hanging low in the sky. Their beauty pales in comparison to you, a soft pink tone dancing across your skin. Your dress accentuates your curves as though it was made for you, the bashful and eager gleam in your eyes sending his heart into his throat.

“Hi Kuna,” you greet your date, taking note of the fact that he almost seems to glow. He looks bulkier, healthier. Your eyes catch on the crimson silk tie that hangs from his neck. Just as you’d intended when you gifted it to him, his eyes shine when he wears it, especially with the black button-up and slacks he sports.

Or maybe they shine for another reason.

“Hey, Angel.” His voice is low, gravelly and breathy with a husky undertone. His eyes flicker across your figure, settling on your face. “You look… Fuck,” he chokes on words with a breathy laugh. “Gorgeous.”

As if his choice of pet name didn’t already knock the air straight from your lungs, the tone he uses when he compliments you nearly has your knees collapsing from under you. Diffidently, you bite your lip, averting your eyes down to the clutch in your hands.

Swallowing hard, Sukuna adjusts the watch on his wrist and closes the distance between you. The rough skin of his finger brushes your chin as he lifts your gaze. He’s kissed you before, yet it still feels like the first every time. He’s insistent as he seeks your lips, using the opportunity to guide you back towards the car. When his back hits the side of the vehicle, he drops his hands to your waist as his thumbs rub circles over the linen of your dress.

When you pull back for air, Sukuna clears his throat, though his tone still has a heady quality. “Didn’t have to get all dolled up for me, y’know.”

“I wanted to,” you shrug, “and you’re all dressed up anyway!” You insist with a bubbly giggle.

“Mm. Well, aren't I lucky?” He grins wolfishly, the kind that betrays that honeyed look in his eyes, giving away how equally eager he is. “C’mon, get in,” he insists, moving aside to open the passenger door and let you slip through.

“Such a romantic, Kuna.”

He smirks at your teasing, one shoulder lifting in a haphazard shrug. Making his way around the car, he puts the vehicle into drive. “Tryin’ to be,” he offers, a flicker of something you just barely miss hidden in crimson irises before you can acknowledge it. With one hand on the wheel, the other settles on your bare thigh, sending heat jolting through your form like a wildfire. It rages quicker than anyone could possibly put out.

You’ve seen Sukuna done up in nice clothes for a multitude of occasions, but between the scarlet tie, a thin gold chain tucked into his collar with a matching watch, and the warmth of his palm that he not-so-subtly wiped on his pants before settling on your thigh; this feels different. He looks nervous, sure, and his sweaty palm certainly betrays the look he tries to hide behind a pinched brow, but there’s a healthy lease on life that lingers within the way he moves with a bit more energy.

In spite of the way he taps the steering wheel as he pulls out of the lot, he seems more himself.

Like he’s finally allowing himself to pick up his pieces. They don’t fit the way they once did, but he finds a new arrangement for them. One with scars and gaps, but they make him stronger.

You can’t be certain if it’s first date nerves or something else, but something awkward settles in the air between you.

At least, Sukuna can sense it. He wonders if you can. Or maybe it’s the feelings of inadequacy he can’t seem to shake in the face of the one and only selfish thing he’s allowed himself the opportunity to pursue.

When you fall into easy conversation though, the tension dissolves, and Sukuna allows himself to breathe.

His spiralling thoughts will be the death of him.

“How’s Choso’s therapy been?”

Sukuna waves his head back and forth in a ‘so-so’ manner. “He’s getting there. School’s alright now, but he has a hard time with anything to do with leaving the house. Think he’s got it tied to Kaori pickin’ them up and can’t separate the two.”

“Is he okay right now?” You express your concern as you peer over at Sukuna, realizing that Sukuna is, in fact, gone right now.

He eyes you briefly before returning his attention to the road. “Yeah. Satoru’s there with ‘em,” he starts. You suppose that makes sense given the car. “His therapist wants us to work on leaving for short amounts of time where I give him an exact time I’ll be back.”

“So, twenty five minutes or something?”

His gaze flickers towards the clock. “Yeah. We may need to hang out for a little bit. She didn’t want me to be early, either.” He frowns. “My bad, princess.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “I’m just glad he’s making progress.”

Your date hums along in agreement. It’s clear there’s something on his mind, but he’s come a long way when it comes to communication. If he wants your thoughts, he’ll ask.

That, and the crowd of camera-laden reporters around his house seems like it’s of more importance at the moment.

“Are they here for you?” You breathe, wide-eyed as he pulls into a visitor stall further from the entrance of his apartment. He pulls his hand away to put the car in park, huffing at the sight of a full crowd of hungry reporters fiending for a story.

“Shit,” he huffs. “Can’t imagine a celebrity moved in recently,” he mutters, eyeing the damaged outer walls of the building that don’t exactly scream ‘celebrity’.

“How did more find you?”

You can physically see the gears turning in Sukuna’s mind as he goes over what could have happened, when they come to a sudden grinding halt. “Satoru. They must have followed him.” His grip on the gear shift tightens, his knuckles paling.

Reaching out, you offer a hand of comfort, brushing your thumb gently over his rough skin. He adjusts his jaw, suddenly conscious of the pain pulsing through the muscle as he grits his teeth.

“Fuck. I’m gonna need to look at new places sooner than I though. I just–” he rolls his eyes in frustration. “Dunno how I’ll keep them off my trail.”

“Maybe there’s like a legal path you can take or something.”

He snorts. “Appreciate the thought, princess, but if I never see a court room again, it’ll still be too soon.”

Inhaling quietly, you chuckle. “I don’t think anyone can blame you for that.” Squeezing his hand, you shrug as you offer another thought. “Just don’t give them anything. Eventually other stories will be more interesting.”

He shuts his eyes, nodding. “Guess you’re right,” he agrees. Spending a moment staring ahead and taking in the scene, he steels his resolve. “Hold on a sec,” he grunts, slowly unlatching the door so that he can slip out unnoticed. He keeps his movements slow, making his way to the back in search of something. He returns a moment later, shutting the trunk as quietly as he can manage and makes his way to your door. “C’mere,” he murmurs softly, offering a hand.

Draped over his arm is a hoodie, though you know it isn’t his. You can’t recall if you’ve ever seen your date wear a zip-up hoodie, let alone a blue one. Still, he cares more about keeping you out of the limelight as he slips it up over your shoulders, zipping it up and pulling the hood up over your head.

“My hair,” you frown, more to yourself than him.

A puff of air leaves his nose as he exhales. “You’ll live, princess,” he chides teasingly, softening as he lowers his head slightly. “You always look pretty, ‘kay?” Even as your heart does a little flip, he doesn’t wait for an answer, straightening as he locks the car and pulls you into his side. His grip is tight as his arm encircles you, fiddling with his keys.

Approaching the paparazzi, you dip your head, focusing on the burly man’s dress shoes as you’re met with an onslaught of invasive questions. Who you are, what Sukuna plans to do next, whether he thinks Kaori will return. Each one is another reminder of layers upon layers of stress that Sukuna is trying desperately to shed himself of, but the world has other ideas.

With a tap of a fob, he’s opening the door and letting you in ahead of him, shielding your body from the reporters. Seconds before the door closes, you just barely make out, “I thought that was Choso until I saw their legs.”

You gape in disbelief, whipping your head around on instinct at being mistaken for a child. Your date is still blocking you, snorting as he watches your reaction. “I don’t look like Choso!” You exclaim, meeting his gaze.

“You’re wearing a hoodie that has–” he pauses, staring down at the design on the back. “A Pokemon or something on it and you’re short,” he chuckles, a grin spread across handsome lips.

Groaning, you make your way up towards his apartment. “I’m wearing a dress,” you mumble.

“They couldn’t see your legs,” Sukuna shrugs. “I was blocking you.”

“I’m not even that short!”

Plopping a hand down atop your head, Sukuna chooses not to argue. At least, that’s what one might say were it not for the teasing lilt to his tone. “Mhm. ‘Course.”

Playfully shoving his bicep, he chuckles as he holds the door to his apartment open for you.

Of course, you weren’t expecting anything too fancy. After all, Choso still isn’t comfortable with Sukuna being gone long.

But you’re stunned into silence at the transformation his apartment has undergone. The TV and couch have been shoved aside in favor of moving the dining table to the center of the room. A bouquet of pink and white flowers sits next to a lit candle in the center of the table and you can’t make heads or tails whether that or something in the oven is what smells of vanilla.

The lights have been lowered in general, using the hall light to keep a modicum of illumination on the table, set with two plates and utensils. It’s otherwise practically spotless, outside of the kitchen itself, where Choso is tampering with food under Satoru’s supervision.

Your head swivels around to your date, lips pursed in disbelief as tears threaten your carefully applied makeup. He’s scowling, trying to read your reaction before you can even voice your thoughts. Even in the low light, you can make out the blush warming his cheeks, nerves apparent in the small shifts of his eyes as he examines you.

“If it’s too much, I–”

“This is so sweet.” You pout up at him, in disbelief that your hardened and mild friend is putting so much into romance. He never really struck you as the type, though you suppose he does look a bit out of his element right now. Still, it’s the thought and effort that mean more than you can ever say. “It’s perfect, Kuna.”

He lets out a breath, reaching forward to push the hood of your zip-up down. As though it’s an affront to him, his scowl deepens as he’s reminded that it isn’t his. “Take that shit off,” he grumbles with an envious timbre to his gravelly voice.

Chewing on your lower lip, you unzip it and slide it off of your shoulders, placing it in his outstretched hand. He huffs, pulling Satoru’s keys from his pocket as he turns towards the lanky man standing in his kitchen.

“Satoru,” he calls, tossing the sweater and keys in his direction before your friend’s even started turning in this direction. The fratboy still effortlessly catches it, grinning at the sight of you both.

“My sweater?”

“Don’t ask,” Sukuna hisses, devoid of any real heat, although there’s an obvious hint of jealousy laced within the fiber of his being that Satoru clearly picks up on. With raised brows, he just shrugs it off.

“Sweet. Well, nothing burned down. The little man’s just fixing up his outfit,” he points over his shoulder in the direction of the boys’ room. “Lemme know if you need anything else.”

Invidiousness fades in favor of something more genuine. “Thanks, Satoru.”

It’s still strange seeing them be all buddy-buddy. Even as they bump fists on Satoru’s way out, it’s hard to imagine that things flipped so easily. Regardless, it warms your heart.

“There’s a crowd out front as a heads’ up,” Sukuna warns, brushed off by a wave from the fratboy.

A clang draws your attention to the kitchen as you slip out of your heels, curiously watching as Choso sets a bowl down. His gaze flickers between you and Sukuna, unreadable when he settles on his older brother. When you search the eldest’s expression, you can’t make out what’s going through his mind either, but the little boy’s lips quirk into a small smile before he turns back to what he was doing, greeting you with a small “hi.”

Returning his quiet greeting, you give him a wave. The little boy quickly turns back to the kitchen to continue stirring something on the stove. About to move further into the apartment, Sukuna reaches out to gently tug you back. “Just… Wait a moment,” he chuckles, the blush on his cheeks deepening. It’s uncharacteristic for him, but cute as hell.

Sure enough, Yuji comes bounding back into the room in the tiniest little suit with a crooked black bowtie and slicked back hair. It takes everything in you not to coo at the sweet sight as it occurs to you what exactly is going on here.

When Yuji spots you, he’s quick to jog over to a piece of paper set atop the table and make his way over to you and Sukuna. “Hi! Welcome to, uh, the Itadori restaurant,” he waves his hand behind him. You raise a hand to cover your lips at just how sweet this whole ordeal is as Choso continues puttering around in the kitchen. “Come sit at your table!”

In (of course) typical restaurant host fashion, the little boy takes both your and Sukuna’s hands, guiding each of you to either side of the table. He drags each chair across the floor, presenting the spots eagerly before setting a menu in front of each of you.

“Thanks, Yu,” Sukuna grunts.

With a little frown, he shakes his head. “It’s sir!”

“Sure. Thanks, sir.”

He puffs his chest out proudly. “I’ll be back!” He proclaims, disappearing into the hall.

Giggling as the little boy disappears, you tilt your head at your date. “Kuna, this is so sweet.”

With a noncommittal noise, he glances back at his younger brother in the kitchen. It’s clear there’s something he wants to say over the ordeal, but he opts not to in front of the boy. “Glad you like it, princess.”

You knew from the start what being friends with Sukuna entailed, let alone dating him. He’s a package deal, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sukuna’s jaw unclenches as you embrace the unconventional date, grinning each time Yuji pokes his head around the corner, eagerly awaiting you to choose your meals. Which…

“You in the mood for mac and cheese?” Sukuna gruffs amusedly from across the table. You giggle, admiring the way the low light seems to sharpen his jaw.

“You know, I think I am,” you giggle.

“That’s good,” he hums, holding the flimsy paper menu written in crayon before him.

It’s a limited menu tonight, one could say. Your options? ‘Mac’, ‘Cheese’, and ‘Mac and Cheese’. Written in Yuji’s finest red crayon. The ex-history major won’t readily admit it, but it doesn’t just warm his heart, it melts it.

It all seems too good to be true. Seeing Choso peek back at him sheepishly while the pitter patter of Yuji’s steps can be heard from behind. You, dressed up in a gorgeous dress sitting across from him with a jovial grin.

He’ll admit this isn’t what he had in mind for a first date. Truthfully, he’d prefer to keep this particular side of his relationship with you to himself, but seeing you point to the mac and cheese on the menu as his little brother takes down your order with a big grin, he’s not too upset about this outcome.

When you look up expectantly at Sukuna to order, you catch him slumped forward on his fist, worn eyes staring at you. There’s a dazed fog clinging to his expression, accompanied by a little smile characteristic of him in little moments like these. The times where he’s able to relax and put his trust in you.

You match his smile, turning your attention back to Yuji. “He’ll have the mac and cheese too,” you murmur to the little host, who nods and runs to deliver the order to the kitchen as though Choso didn’t hear every single word.

Reaching across the table, you brush your fingers against the hand that isn’t folded under his cheek. His fingers twitch, instinctively finding a place intertwined with yours. “You seem happy,” you comment, soft and sultry as you admire the serene look on him.

He hums. “Guess I am.”

“You guess?” You tease, a sly grin spreading across glossed lips.

A puff of air leaves his nose, amused as he shakes his head. “I am,” he relents, gaze flickering towards Yuji to watch the little boy scamper across the apartment. Pools of cerise pinpoint you once more, fixing you with a surprisingly calm expression. “I am.” There’s more conviction this time, as though he isn’t just agreeing with you, but rather noticing it for himself for the first time.

It warms your heart in ways you can’t even begin to describe. It feels like the scene from The Grinch where the monster’s heart grows three sizes, only yours wasn’t small to begin with. Now you’re simply overflowing with adoration and glee, if your smile is anything to go off of.

“Feels like I’m supposed to be askin’ what you do for work or something,” Sukuna breaks the silence.

With a giggle, you shake your head. “Not much of a date guy, huh?”

He inhales slowly. “Never really had time,” he admits, reminding you subtly that he’s been a guardian since he was freshly eighteen.

“No better time than the present, right?”

He hums. “You know, it is kinda funny,” he begins. “I know your coffee order and work schedule n’ what you do for fun but I dunno your favorite animal.”

“Yeah, I guess we kinda skipped past that phase,” you laugh. “We went straight to trauma dumping.”

“Healthy,” Sukuna quips sarcastically, squeezing your hand when you laugh. “Still feel like I should know, though.”

You reply softly with your favorite animal, earning a hum on his part.

“Cute,” he gruffs. “I like tigers.” He sits upright, fiddling with a ring on his free hand. “Feels like I’ve known you a lifetime, you know.”

“Hopefully in a good way.” A hint of nerves are evident in the little chuckle that parts your lips.

He stares at you for a beat. The sharp gaze you’ve grown so familiar with has softened, showing you that side of Sukuna you seldom see. The version of him reserved for home. Not the kind of home where four walls surround him, but the kind that can only be found within a beating heart and pulsing blood.

Heat rises from the base of your neck to the tips of your ears. For once, you finally have the clarity to see what your friends have been seeing for so long. Seated across from you is a man who reveres your very existence, who stares at you like you hung the moon in the sky.

Because to him, you did. You’re not just a star like he once thought, you’re the whole damn galaxy. Brilliant and bright, and filled with color, and he’ll be damned if he can’t live in it. For once, he’ll be selfish. He can’t say he shines through the dark like you do, nor does he have the elegance or prosperity of a planet. He can’t even be sure that he has the drive of a comet barreling through the vacuum of space anymore.

Truth be told, he doesn’t know where he fits within your universe. But for once, he won’t cast himself aside. He’ll be selfish this time, he’ll seek his own happiness. But he won’t be dense, either. He knows. He knows now that he does belong somewhere within that universe, even if he has yet to put a name to the place. He’ll embrace whatever spot it is that he’s earned, for he’s not sure after everything he’s put you through why you stick by him. He’s not sure why you chose him or think he’s deserving of you.

But he considers himself the luckiest man on earth to sit across from you right now. He won't waste another chance.

“Yeah,” he breathes at last. “Yeah, in a good way.”

Unsure where exactly his mind’s at right now, you begin quizzing him on his favorite things– color, films, shows, books, music– anything that you just never quite got to know about him. He quizzes you in return, laughing as you admit that you’ve starting to grow fond of the move Ice Age.

“Even the second one?”

“Even the second one.”

“Shit. If that’s your taste in movies, we gotta work on that,” he slyly grins.

“Hey! It’s cute, and it’s like,” you gesture vaguely at the apartment, “sentimental.”

“Is it sentimental, or are you?”

Tilting your head from one side to the other, you shrug. “Bit of both.”

“Thought so,” Sukuna hums, though he’s distracted by his little brother poking his tongue out as he carefully carries a large bowl of homemade macaroni and cheese over to you first, then another to your date. It’s just as you taught the older Itadori to make it, bread crumbs sprinkled over the noodles.

The whole thing is beyond sweet.

“Enjoy!” Yuji grins, dragging Choso over to their room so they can eat their own bowls.

Chewing on your lower lip as the boys give you space, you barely suppress a huge grin. Once the boys are out of sight, Sukuna pushes to his feet, reaching into a top cabinet over the sink and pulling out a bottle of wine.

“We, uh–” he chuckles to himself at how scuffed this whole date is, insecurity creeping in that he has to brush aside. “We don’t have wine glasses, but–” he shrugs, holding the bottle out. “Figured it’d be nice. You want some?”

“Please.”

With wine in hand and your date before you, everything feels like a dream.

“Thanks for organizing this, Kuna. This is seriously so sweet.”

He sighs. “Glad you think so. It’s not exactly what I had in mind, but–” he clears his throat. “I didn’t wanna wait any longer. ‘M kinda hoping I’m done being a dumbass.” He pauses briefly. “About this– you– anyway.”

“You make it sound like you’re gonna be a dumbass about something else.”

He smirks as you cuss, even though you’re just repeating his words. “Oh yeah, I will. Just dunno what yet.” His smirk widens into a grin as you laugh, taking his first bite of mac and cheese. With raised brows, he nods his approval. “Shit, you taught the brat well.”

Nodding your agreement as you finish your first bite, you point a fork at the meal. “Has he ever told you why he wants to be a chef?”

The brute wracks his brain, but can’t recall if Choso ever did. “Don’t think so.”

“He told me that you used to make soup with him.”

Leaning back in his chair and scratching his chest, he distantly stares at the sliding door for the balcony. “Yeah, I did. It wasn’t anything fancy, but I used to make it outta whatever we had. Choso was…” he pauses, shrugging. “Eight or nine. He loved to dump the ingredients in, he’d get broth everywhere.” The smallest of frowns tugs insistently at his lips. “Things were okay when we cooked. Felt like we were a real family.”

“You are,” you point out, cocking your head curiously.

“I know. Didn’t feel like it back then, though. I didn’t make us feel like one.”

Finishing the bite of food you’ve just had, you lean back in your chair. “That’s in the past now, Kuna.”

He nods slowly with a long inhalation. Otherwise still, he seems to stare through you, as if deep in thought.

“The boys are doing so much better. They’re home, where they want to be.”

Another nod, another long inhalation. He knows you’re right, but guilt is a beast that lingers within. Insistently stuck like honey every step of the way. He’s not sure he’ll ever be rid of it, but it’s duller now in the presence of his family.

The two Itadoris carry their hearts on their sleeves. It’s easy enough to tell how they’re doing, and while Sukuna has clearly improved too, he’s a tougher read. Still guarded, even when he’s at ease. He knows only a world of keeping to himself and ensuring his brothers are taken care of. He so rarely thinks of himself at this point that he hardly knows to check in on himself.

“How are you doing, Kuna?”

He blinks, a crease between his brows as he stops to consider your question. He’s been so caught up on cleaning up after the storm that Kaori wrought that he hasn’t had time to think about himself. Somewhat stunned, he takes a moment to reply, his heart tugging at the sight of your head tilting in that cute little way that’s so you.

“Good. I’m good,” he replies with a scowl that you’re not quite sure even he believes.

“You don’t have to pretend around me, you know,” you point out, haphazardly waving your fork.

Another blink, the gears turning in his mind. “‘M not. Shit’s weird right now, but good. Kinda feels too good to be true,” he admits, quieter. Careful that his siblings don’t hear if they’re listening in.

If he’s being completely honest with himself, it’s nice to have someone look after him. It’s nice to have someone there for him when he’s always been the one providing. He supposes he’s had that for a while now, he just couldn’t accept that someone might do such a thing for him.

He was a fucking dick. He’s not sure that’s something he’ll ever rid himself of, he is a dick. He’s grumpy and rough around the edges and loses his temper when it counts the most. Endlessly putting the people he cares about the most in the middle of his fire.

You bump his heel, his long legs outstretched beneath the table. “I know what you’re doing,” you tease, although it’s soft. “Stop getting in your own head.”

His attention snaps back to you, pulled up from the depths before he can begin navigating them. “You know me so well.” With a lop-sided smile, he returns to his dinner.

“And yet I didn’t even know your favorite animal!” You retort. “Wait, is that why you got Yuji that tiger plushie?”

“In a way. That was mine.”

“That’s so cute,” you pout.

He rolls his eyes, amused. “Yeah, yeah.” He lowers his voice, glancing back to the hall where his brothers’ room resides. He can hear Yuji loudly cheering about something and continues. “Kaori got it for me when I was like twelve. I always thought it’d be nice for Yuji to have something from his mom, even if I thought she was a piece of shit. I don’t think he knows it was from her and just thinks it’s from me.” He reaches out his fork-free hand, curling his fingers around yours. His skin is rough, though his touch is soft, gentle. Always, with you. “I think it’s better that way, though.”

You share his silence, squeezing his fingers in agreement. “It’s weird to think that there was a time where she tried.”

“Oh, no,” Sukuna snorts, “she never did. The only thing she knew about me was that I liked tigers. She didn’t even ask me or give the gift in person. My dad gave me the gift. I don’t even think she wrapped it, just grabbed it.”

“God, she sucks,” you groan as you finish your dish. The sound of your fork hitting the bowl serves as a bell of sorts for your waiter, who you hear come barreling down the hall. As he arrives in the room, he slows to a casual gait, pretending he didn’t just dash down the hall.

“How was your food?”

Your date hums. “Great, thanks Yu.”

“It’s ‘sir’!” He insists with a little pout as Sukuna pushes his bowl to the edge of the table.

“‘M not calling you ‘sir’ every time.”

“I’m giving you no stars!”

Sukuna’s brow furrows as Yuji pads away with his bowl. “You don’t rate your guests, brat.”

“Watch me!”

With a dramatic roll of his eyes, the eldest brother watches as you indulge his little brother's wishes, thanking your host with a ‘sir’ as he takes your own dish. “You spoil him.”

“He’s had a long few months,” you shrug. “And he’s too cute,” you add, lowering your voice as you peer over your shoulder to watch the too-short boy dump your dishes in the sink before asking if he can get you anything else.

“We’re good, sir,” Sukuna begrudgingly growls, devoid of any real irritation. “Go play with Cho. Let him know dinner was good.”

“‘Kay!” In a flurry of pink hair, Sukuna’s tiny clone disappears back around the corner en route to his room.

Sukuna lets out a breath, clearly eager for a semblance of real time alone with you. Getting to his feet, he slides his chair around the table, shoulder-to-shoulder with you. His voice is like gravel when he speaks again, lowered for only you to hear as it grates against his throat.

“Thanks,” he gruffs, “for comin’ here for our first date, and lettin’ them be a part of it.”

“I told you, it’s sweet,” you insist.

“I know, I–” he sighs, shutting his eyes and leaning his head into yours. “It’s not just that. Means a lot that you put up with my shit.” The air stills briefly. You can hear him swallow a lump in his throat. “If I pull somethin’ stupid on you again, don’t let me get away with it.” He lifts his head, staring down at you with sincerity that baffles you.

“You know I forgive you for everything that happened, right?” You query, a knit between your brows.

He hums. “I know.” You’re too sweet to him. “Doesn’t change what I did. Don’t put up with my shit if I pull something like that again. Promise me.”

Your lips press into a thin line as you stare at him, a protest on the tip of your tongue. You bite it back, only because you know he’ll double down, taking another approach until he gets the response he wants. “I’m not keeping track of things like that, Sukuna. You don’t ‘owe’ me anything,” you begin, making silent quotations in the air with your fingers as he stares down at you from where he towers beside you. “We can’t build the foundation of a relationship on keeping track of mistakes. Besides,” you perk up a bit, “will you do anything like that again?”

He shakes his head adamantly without an ounce of hesitation. “Fuck no.”

Setting your hand on his chest, you let your fingers curl around the silken red tie that hangs from his neck. “Then we have nothing to worry about.” It only takes a little sheepish tug and shining eyes for him to kiss you.

A corded forearm moves to the back of your chair, the other keeping you firmly pressed to him when he deepens it. “Too fuckin’ good to me,” he mutters between kisses. He doesn’t let you break the kiss to reply as his tongue swipes across your lower lip to seek entrance.

He tastes cheesy, a thought that makes you smile inadvertently, but it's his smell that invades your senses. It’s intoxicating, the woodsy scent of his cologne dancing in tandem with the typical musk of Sukuna. Your fingers rest over his pulse, racing. It’s good to know you have the same effect on him as he has on you.

“What’s got ya all smiley?” Your date grunts as he pulls back, smug when he’s sure you’ll say him.

“When did things change for you?”

His expression shifts, subtle. “What do you mean?”

You’re certain he knows exactly what you mean, that he’s playing a thinly veiled game of avoiding the question. It’s not that he doesn’t want to tell you, but rather that words have never been his strong suit, and that’s a subject– hell, a story– that he doesn’t know how to divulge.

But there’s been enough avoidance between you that you just want an honest answer. “Your feelings.”

He sighs, sitting upright. Fingers toy with the fabric of your dress, bunching it up at your hip as he deliberates. “That month that we didn’t talk,” he begins, quietly examining your expression. “The kids missed you. A lot. They were always askin’ for you. Guess you know that, though.”

They (or, Sukuna, you suppose), did send a lot of emails. “Did they miss me, or did you?” You tease as your lips quirk up.

He lets out a breathy chuckle. “We all did. It was a wake up call that I took you for granted. It was hard to manage things with work and the kids and the lawsuit.”

You let the thought hang between you for a moment, drawing little circles on his chest. He leans back down to capture your lips, frowning when a splayed hand on his chest stops him. You might even say he’s pouting based on the matching pull of his brow. “I missed you too, you know.” That softens his expression quickly. “It sucked. I basically told you I liked you during our argument and,” you shrug, “you were one of my best friends. I spent so much time around you that it was weird trying to figure out what to do without you.”

He sighs, moving his hand from the back of your chair to scratch at his five o’clock shadow. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Yeah, I didn’t realize that you confessed. I was talking to Uraume about it later and they pointed out that it sounded like you did.” The lump in his throat bobs idly as he stares out into the darkening sky in the window beyond. “Guess it wouldn’t have really mattered anyway with the way things worked out.”

“Wait, you knew I confessed?”

“Yeah, I just figured the feelings were gone.”

Practically in disbelief at this point, you shake your head. “I know we hadn’t seen one another, but… Why?” You were so obvious.

He shrugs, able to smile over the ordeal now that you’re happily within his arms. “I’m a dumbass.”

Your laughter is like a song, soothing his nerves as he leans back in again. Closing the distance, he swallows the melody with his tongue. The cotton of your dress bunched between his fingers flattens as his large palm engulfs your waist, the pads of his fingers squeezing with enough strength to send his need like a shock straight to your core. Shifting from the back of the chair, his fingers brush the nape of your neck, testing the waters before his hand settles on your skin. With his thumb brushing your jaw, he tilts your head back to deepen the kiss.

Every piece of him is electric, from his taste to his smell and the feeling of his hands gripping you as though he can’t get enough. There’s a fiery ache between your thighs that has your brain stuck on the way you feel slotted against him in his strong grip.

For a moment, you’re taken to another world. Heaven.

But you’re quickly reminded you’re in Sukuna’s kitchen.

“Ewww!”

The scowl on Sukuna’s face is unmatched as he fixes his little brother with an unimpressed glare. “Dinner’s over, sir. I just drew a bunch o’ shit for you, go color.”

Yuji pouts in tandem with a colossal glower that could match even Sukuna’s.

“Wonder where he gets that from,” you murmur under your breath with a grin.

Sukuna’s palm moves from the back of your neck to cup your lips, muffling your laughter as Yuji proclaims that he wants to watch a movie.

“We can watch one tomorrow,” Sukuna dismisses the little boy.

“I don’t wanna watch one tomorrow, I wanna watch one now!” He stomps a foot dramatically, pointing at the TV that’s pushed into a corner as though it might turn on at his beck and call.

“Yuji,” Sukuna warns, clearly doing what he can to hold back his irritation, although it slips through the cracks.

“I already finished coloring, I wanna watch How to Train Your Dragon!” He protests without hesitation, pushing his older brother’s buttons.

Sukuna is many things. Patient isn’t one of them.

“You’re not gonna get what you want by acting like a brat,” he hisses, lowering his arms from around you as he gets to his feet. “We talked about this earlier, you promised to be good.”

There’s a wobble to Yuji’s lip as he stares up at his towering older brother. “I am good,” he whines, sucking in a harsh breath as the flood gates begin to crumble. Peering past Sukuna and Yuji, you can just barely make out Choso’s figure watching from the corner where the hall meets the main living space.

“Then go back to your room like you promised, Yu.”

As tears gather on his lash line and the situation grows dangerously close to a breakdown, you slip into the conversation beside Sukuna, settling a hand on his bicep when you spot the knot in his jaw. He shifts it as though it might ease the tension rippling through his muscles, but it does little to soothe his frustrations.

Sensing that something beyond Yuji simply wanting to watch a movie is going on, you decide to step in. Slipping in front of your date, you lean over, closer to Yuji’s height. “You said you finished all of your coloring, Yuji?”

He nods, though his gaze flickers away. “Yeah. All of the Sonic ones.”

Sukuna huffs behind you, clearly privy to something that you aren’t.

“So there are ones that aren’t Sonic?”

He kicks a foot out, his little bowtie slightly askew as he juts a lip out while staring at the ground. “Yeah.”

“So why did you lie then, honey?”

He’s silent as he continues kicking at imaginary pebbles by his feet. After a beat of silence, his shoulders lift and fall, avoidant of your gaze.

The little boy’s always been a troublemaker, but he’s also a good kid. You’re willing to bet there’s a reason he’s outright lying to you about something that doesn’t matter one bit. Couple that with the fact that he’s been unwilling to share and you can guess where this new tendency came from.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, still avoidant of your gaze.

You glance back at Sukuna, who’s noticed Choso as well, distracted by the sight of his middle brother lingering at the edge of the scene.

“You know,” you return your attention back to Yuji, “when something is bothering Choso, it helps him to talk about it.”

He stops his movements, staring earnestly at you. “I can’t.”

A purse of your lips. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I talk too much.”

A blink, long and slow. “Who told you that?”

“Mr. Kamo.”

White hot rage. You feel it burning in the six foot eleven brute behind you before you even cast him a glance. His fists ball at his sides, lips curling into a furious snarl directed at a man you hope to never see again.

You straighten slightly at the revelation, wondering if these little outbursts the boy’s been having are all connected to comments from Noritoshi and Kaori. There’s a lesson in trusting adults somewhere within Noritoshi’s venomous teachings, but you’re not sure where to begin in a way that makes sense to a five-year-old.

Unfortunately, with all the eloquence he can muster up, Sukuna beats you to it.

“That fucking asshole,” he hisses.

Which is to say there’s a complete and utter lack of eloquence.

Before the boy can mimic Sukuna’s words, you shoot your date an insistent look and kneel back down. “Noritoshi Kamo is a mean person and he’s wrong,” you begin. It’s clear that Yuji agrees from the little nod he gives you. Chewing on your lip, you briefly consider your words, careful what you present to the five-year-old. “Not every adult is right about everything, you know.”

“Really?”

“Mhmm. Sometimes we still make mistakes, and sometimes we just don’t know everything.”

Shifting in front of you, the little boy takes a step forward.

“It’s important that you listen to the people around you, but if anyone ever tells you something and deep down you feel like it’s wrong, you should trust that feeling. It’s called intuition.”

“In-too-shun.”

“Intuition,” you correct him with a sweet smile. “It’s that feeling in your chest when something doesn’t feel right.”

There’s a downward tilt to his eyebrows as he processes what you’re saying. His gaze is distant, as though he’s thinking through his time with Noritoshi and Kaori, and times where things didn’t feel right.

“I think I have that now.”

Your brow raises, at a loss for what the hell that means.

“You think you have what?”

“In-too-shun.”

Stifling a laugh, you slip down onto your knees to sit on the floor in front of him. “And what’s your intuition telling you?”

He peers up at you, pulling at your heart strings as he fiddles with his fingers. You can hear sirens blaring distantly outside, but they fade as quickly as they begin. “That I’m scared.”

Your amusement drops in place of concern as he takes another step towards you. “Why are you scared, honey?”

He continues to fiddle with his fingers as he twists to look behind him. Choso is still stagnant at the corner, his expression unreadable. When Yuji twists back towards you, he beckons you closer as though he has a secret to tell you. Leaning forward, you move your ear close so he can whisper to you, cupping his hands around his mouth.

“Um– Choso doesn’t like being without Kuna and um–” he pauses, pulling back as though he’s checking that the brunette can’t hear him. “I’m afraid if we spend too much time in our room, then he’ll cry again.”

Your heart snaps into a million tiny little pieces, scattering across the floor as the little boy confesses that he’s willingly taking the fall in order to keep an eye out for his older brother. Something all three of them seem to have a habit of. It’s sweet, but entirely heartbreaking.

“Did he seem unhappy?” You whisper back.

“Um– No, but–” he cuts himself off with a shrug.

Nodding, you take a deep breath to center yourself and put on a smile. “You’re a good brother, Yuji.”

His eyes shine as he meets your gaze.

“Why don’t you and Choso go get ready for bed, and once you’re ready, maybe we can work something out, okay?”

He nods, something between eagerness and genuine concern alight within deep auburn irises. The little boy just about jogs off before turning back to give you a quick hug, tugging on Choso’s shirt as he drags his brother back to their room.

Sukuna seethes as he stands tall behind you. His chest rises and falls heavily with each breath, the creases in his forehead bringing you the worry that they might become permanent given his tendency to scowl.

Resting your hands on his chest draws his attention as you slide them up to his cheeks, cupping his face. If there’s one thing you know well when it comes to Sukuna, it’s the kind of comfort he needs. Brushing your thumbs over his cheeks, a smile finds its way to your face as you feel his jaw unclench in your hold.

“It’s in the past, Kuna. All we can do now is reassure him, but they can’t hurt him or Cho anymore.”

He lets out a breath, heavy as he leans down into your grasp, a hand coming to rest over one of yours. Those sharp crimson eyes are still alight with fury as he fixes his stare on you, but it’s lowered to a simmer, and you’re certain you can put it out.

“You’re doing a good job with them,” you assure him, watching as the flame flickers. “Your lawyer covered your bases, you don’t need to worry.” Giving him a beat to settle, you let your thumbs brush over weathered skin, the scar under his right eye barely protruding from his skin any longer.

Seeing him now, you can’t help but consider how far he’s come. There was no outburst from any of the brothers. No tears, no wailing. Sukuna’s frustration with Yuji never boiled over. It stayed steady before disappearing, or maybe morphing into something else as you managed to get him to talk through his emotions.

They’re getting somewhere. All of them are, because they care. They’re all still learning to navigate life, trying to figure out where they’ve come from and where they’re going, but they’re all taking the past into account. You can see Sukuna’s growth in the way that although he still sucks with words and comfort, he’s willing to fumble his way through the fog in an effort to be what his brothers need.

Though you think the real growth is held within the fact that he’s trying to be someone not only you and his brothers can be proud of, but he, too, can.

With one last brush over the scar beneath his eye, you slide your fingers back through his hair and pull him down by the neck.

You can taste his gratitude in the way he melts into your embrace, shifting quickly from relaxation to something much more heated. His fists loosen as his palms settle on your waist with an intense grip, allowing him to deepen the kiss right where he’d left off.

He swallows your gasp when he spins you suddenly. The backs of your thighs hit the table as he smoothly slides his grip down to your ass, lifting you with ease onto the wooden surface. Your chest surges with lust, pulse racing as he leans over you. His fingers slide up your spine, slow and sensual but laced with the immense need he feels.

Before things can get too far given the near-outburst that only just happened, you try to pull back, but Sukuna is insistent with a hum of disapproval.

You giggle into the kiss, hand on his chest to stop him before your need grows.

In his case, literally.

Exasperated, a puff of air leaves his nose as he glances back towards the hall. He mutters a curse under his breath, pulling back as he tries to compose himself as though you weren’t a bit too late pulling back, on his part. He adjusts the crotch of his pants, his shirt riding up as it’s pulled from his waistband to give you a look at the band of his boxers peeking out.

Slutty.

“Keep starin’ and I’m gonna have to lock myself in my damn room while,” he grumbles, a faint hint of blush dusting the apples of his cheeks. With a breath, he sets his palms atop your thighs and leans down to be closer to your height. “What’d the kid say to you?”

“He’s worried about Cho,” you breathe, drawing little circles over the rough skin of your date’s knuckles. “He said he didn’t seem unhappy now, but he was afraid that if they spent too long away from you, Choso might cry.”

With a drawn out inhale, Sukuna leans his head into the crook of your neck. His breath fans over your back, sending a shiver up your spine as he seeks your warmth. “Right. Okay,” he mutters, remaining still in your embrace.

Slipping your arms up around him, you run your nails over his scalp in gentle back and forth motions, your fingers mussing his hair at the base. He couldn’t care less if his hair gets disheveled when the feeling has his eyes fluttering shut as he relishes in the tranquility of the moment.

“You’re a goddamn angel,” he mutters, though it’s completely unintelligible.

“Hm?” You tilt your head to get a better look at him.

“Don’t worry about it, angel,” he murmurs, kissing your neck as he stands up. The flustered expression on your face when it comes to sexual intimacy and teasing never fails to make him smirk. “So, I guess we’re watching How to Train Your Dragon, huh?”

“Guess so,” you agree.

“At least I won’t be compared to a fuckin’ mammoth this time.”

“No, but your brother might compare you to the main character.”

“I’m nothing like him,” he retorts.

“Yuji’s got a very overactive imagination though,” you tease as you make your way towards the TV to pop the disc in the player and drag it and the couch back in place. Sukuna leaves to calm down a bit before checking on his little brothers, being led by the hand by little Yuji a few minutes later. With his little tiger plush nestled between his arm and side, he plops himself down on the couch between Sukuna and Choso, trying to maneuver Sukuna’s arm so that he can cuddle into the eldest brother.

With a mischievous snort, the brute lets his arm go fully limp, forcing Yuji to use all his might to lift up his sibling’s bulky forearm. “Kunaaa!” He whines, pouting as he’s forced to take a different approach, instead slipping beneath the limb once he’s lifted it enough. “There.”

Sukuna’s chest visibly rumbles, amusement woven within cerise irises. Once his little brother has settled, he holds his other arm up as you hit play on the DVD, staring expectantly at you.

Tucking yourself under his arm, you pull your knees up to rest on his thigh and lean into his chest. His arm secures around you, resting over your hip as he pulls you close. With Yuji and Choso piled under his other arm, the possibility of a future without them feels like a distant memory. His worries slip like droplets down his skin, whisked away as he’s able to relax into the cushions, glancing warmly from side to side.

It’s domestic as hell. It feels so far out of his wheelhouse with how much he’s fumbled the last several years, but it’s finally becoming familiar.

Homely. The kind of feeling he’d be happy to wake up to every morning and return to every night.

You shift in his arms, peering up at him from under your lashes.

The night wasn’t what he’d hoped for, neither plan A, B, or C if he’s being honest with himself. But truthfully? He thinks he likes Plan D anyway. For as frustrated as he is that he can’t get you alone and take you on the date that you deserve, this feels like a taste of a future that isn’t so bitter and filled with long nights of unrest.

Settling back into the cushions, he gives your hip an affectionate squeeze before focusing on the movie.

It doesn’t come as a shock that Yuji passes out as the moon rises higher in the night sky. It casts a tranquil glow across the wall behind the TV, bathing you in its gentle embrace. It’s as if even mother nature is enjoying the peace.

Choso, weary-eyed, watches without comment as Sukuna slips away when the movie ends with the younger Itadori softly snoring in his arms. The young boy waits a beat after his brothers disappear, yawning before turning to face you. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly, lethargic as sleep threatens him to the bone.

“What for, honey?”

He straightens, his gaze flickering from the shelf of movies to the TV and down to his feet. He kicks them out in front of him listlessly, fiddling with the material of his pajama pants. “Um– I know Kuna really wanted to take you out for dinner.” His brow furrows as he searches for a way to explain himself, but you jump in first.

“Tonight was perfect, Cho. You’re a great chef.”

He scarcely moves, but there’s a tug on his lips as his eyes slide towards you. “Really?”

“Oh yeah,” you agree, smiling. “I’d say you learned from the best.”

His shoulders shake as he quietly chuckles at your comment, until he breaks out into a genuine laugh, grinning down at the ground. “You spend too much time with Kuna. You sound like him.”

You wrinkle your nose playfully. “Can’t have that now, can we?”

A click of the tongue from the edge of the room has Choso sputtering as he tries to contain his laughter. He hides his face from his older brother’s unimpressed glare, but the disdain in his expression falls quickly at the realization that Choso is laughing again.

His shoulders fall to his sides, shock written in the widened whites of his eyes.

“Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

Choso nods quietly, yawning as though his body is in agreement. Hopping from the couch, he pads over to you for a hug. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Choso.”

On his way to his room, he throws his arms around his older brother too, who ruffles his hair. “Goodnight, Kuna.”

“Night, Cho. Good job on dinner.”

His disbelief remains staunchly on his face as he watches the little boy close the door to his room behind him. At last, relief washes over him. Everything in his body decompresses as the soft glow of the TV and moon envelop you on either side.

He moves towards you with that weary expression he tends to embody, the one that never truly leaves his bones, masked with aloofness. His movements are slow as his knees sink into the cushions on either side of you, his hands caging you in as they settle on the back of the couch. If he were any smaller, you wager a bet he might collapse on top of you, but you’re pretty sure he’d crush you given the size difference.

Still, he does lower himself enough that he’s half-embracing you, and half… well, laying on you anyway. Tired, but lighter than usual. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders, you pull him in closer, enjoying the moment to yourselves.

“Don’t think I’ve seen him laugh in months,” he grunts, smiling against your hair when he flips you both so that you’re laid out on top of him, earning a surprised yelp.

Situating yourself and brushing your dress down, you nod your agreement. “I know things aren’t perfect, but you all seem a lot happier.” Pressing a finger pointedly into his chest, you add, “you included.”

“I am.” The smile he dons is contented and easygoing, nothing but warmth swirling within the pools of sanguine staring down at you, lidded. “Would be nice to get a chance to talk to you without needing to look over my shoulder for two brats, though.”

“Quit calling them brats,” you give him a playful shove to the chest, though your smile betrays you.

“They’re brats. I call it like I see it. You are too.”

“I am not!” You feign offense.

“You are.”

“And neither are they!”

“They definitely are. Yuji compared me to a fucking dragon.”

Giggling, you fiddle with the collar of his shirt. “I don’t know, I mean a dragon’s pretty cool.” In spite of Sukuna’s dramaticism as he huffs, he doesn’t protest this time. “I think he just sees you in the things around him. You’re his hero, you know.”

He drags a hand down his jaw, a parasite nipping at the pit of his stomach with the reminder that he feels undeserving. “Yeah. ‘Course.” Blinking as he turns his attention back to you, he can see you reading his expression. He knows you can make out the parasite, the unbidden creature eating away at him, so he speaks up before you can. “Night’s still young. We’ve still got wine. You wanna stay for a bit?”

“I’d love to, Kuna.”

He smirks. “I got the wine. Meet you in my room.”

It doesn’t feel so much like intruding, being in his room these days. More like an invitation to a deeper part of him. You make your way past his drafting table, parsing the art atop it. It seems as though it’s mostly related to work, which doesn’t come as a shock, though there are a number of sketches that are clearly for the kids, or at least Yuji.

Slipping your fingers from the edge of the table, you make your way to the edge of the bed, peering at a stack of Blu-rays piled on the nightstand. They’re mostly horror. You recognize a handful of the films, though one sticks out to you. Pulling it out from the stack, you stare at a yellow and orange cover with a massive spider on it. Tarantula! is sprawled across the cover in cheesy font, and when you flip it over, the film seems to be in black and white.

You recognize the cover from one of Sukuna’s hoodies, so you figure it must be one he particularly enjoys.

His steps aren’t too far behind you as he pulls the door shut behind him with wine and two glasses in-hand. “Whatcha got, princess?”

“Is this one of your favorites?” You query, holding up the cover for him. He squints slightly, smirking once he makes out what you’re holding. “It’s a good one. Cheesy as hell, in a good way.” He takes a seat beside you, setting down a glass while he pours wine in the other one. “They just let a tarantula run around in a bunch of miniatures. Kinda loses the scare factor when you look at it that way.”

“That sounds kinda fun,” you muse, looking over the back of the case.

He shrugs, setting down the first glass as he fills the second. “Here,” he hands you the glass, setting the bottle beside the stack of blue cases.

“Could we watch it?”

He peers up at you, a brow raised. “You want to?”

“Yeah.” Sipping on the wine as though it might steady your nerves instantly, you peer up at him from under your lashes. “I wanna know more about the things you like.”

He freezes midway through reaching for his wine, blinking. His heart palpates in his chest as a saying runs through his mind. To be seen is to be heard. If such a thing is true, then he feels adored right now. It’s not something he’s accustomed to, but he could get used to it.

His mouth is dry as he clears his throat, reaching for the glass he just poured himself. “Yeah,” he agrees, downing more alcohol. “If you want.” With another swig of wine downed, he sets the glass aside. “We’ll need to watch it on my laptop though, don’t wanna wake the kids.”

“Sounds cozy,” you hop to your feet, grabbing his laptop and setting it on the bed. Sukuna offers you a change of clothes, sure to specify that you look gorgeous, but he’s not sure how comfy dresses are. Taking up his offer, you get changed in the washroom into a familiar Metallica shirt and a pair of sweats, fixing your makeup in the mirror.

As you stand back to look over your appearance, it occurs to you just how lucky you are to be so comfortable around Sukuna. Under any other circumstances, you surely would be nervously checking your appearance and politely sitting with crossed legs and letting Sukuna take the lead within his own home. Glancing down at the toothbrush he bought you that’s still sticking out beside yours, you find yourself smiling over how happy this makes you.

How happy he makes you.

No wonder your cheeks hurt.

Padding back into his room, he’s stretching his arms overhead as he rolls his shoulders out, laying back on his bed with his laptop on his legs. A too-tight muscle shirt clings to his pecs, gray sweats adorning his lower half like he knows what they do to you. His gaze flickers up to you, the slow expansion of his pupils not lost on you at the sight of you in his clothes. Only now he doesn’t need to hide just how much he loves that sight.

“C’mere,” he murmurs, lifting the covers for you to crawl in beside him.

Before he can hit play as you cuddle into his side, curled up so perfectly against him that he swears you were bestowed into his life by an angel, you pipe up.

“Thanks, Kuna. Tonight’s been really special.”

He shifts to get a better look at you. “You don’t mind our date bein’ unconventional?”

“You’re a package deal.” You worry your lip between your teeth as you peer up at him. “And I happen to like the whole package.”

He raises a brow at you, smirking. “Cheeky girl,” he comments slyly. “Once Cho’s comfortable though, I still wanna take you out. Give you a real date.”

“Stop calling this date fake.” With a little shove to his side with your shoulder, you get your point across. “I appreciate that you opened up a bit earlier, though. It’s nice to know where your head’s at, honestly.”

He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, well– I owe you a lot more than what I gave you, but I’m tryin’ to be careful what I say around the kids.”

“No rush,” you lean into him further, your eyes fluttering shut briefly at the feeling of his grip on your waist tightening. “I’m happy with the way things are, we can go at our own pace. I’m not going anywhere if you’re not.”

He hums, and although words aren’t his strongest suit, you know he’s content when he sets the laptop aside briefly to pull you into his lap. He sets the laptop back atop your thighs, arms enveloping you in his ardor as his chin rests on your shoulder.

“Ready?”

As the movie plays, you find yourself giggling at the use of puppets and what may as well be nature documentary footage. Given the year the film was made, it makes sense, but it certainly takes any fear factor out of the movie.

It shouldn’t surprise you that Sukuna struggles to keep his hands still with you finally tucked into his chest. Even as you query about what a character said through the crackly old audio, his hands don’t pause as they slide from your waist to your hips and settle on either side of your thighs. His palms encompass so much of your legs that the mere thought sends heat from the base of your neck to the tips of your ears.

As if that wasn’t enough, the warmth of his breath cascades into the collar of the loose Metallica shirt hanging from your shoulders, bathing you in warmth that feels all-encompassing. It’s not stifling though, it’s welcome, sitting somewhere between a warm hug and the kind of intoxicating sensation you want to chase. His arms are strong and secure around you, but the way his touch wanders is downright exhilarating.

The brute may be known for having a tough shell to crack, but truth be told he’s an easy book to read once you get through the first barrier. It’s not hard to tell that he’s hungry for the feeling of your skin. Both because he continually runs his hands up and down your thighs, dipping beneath the shirt’s hem to your bare waist, and one far more obvious answer that’s pressed against your ass right now.

Craning your neck to look at him, you find lidded eyes staring back at you, sultry as they are tired. With your attention on him, he slides his hands up to your waist again. Dipping his fingers beneath the elastic waistband of the sweats you borrowed (which are already yours, if he’s being honest with himself), he rubs small circles into your hips.

His voice is gritty with lust, and deepened with sleep. “You drive me crazy.”

“In a good way?” You press, earning a low grunt as you maneuver your ass back against his hardened boner.

“Always,” he agrees, shifting to lean his forehead into your shoulder. “But I get the feeling you know that.”

You can’t help the mischievous giggle that escapes as he breathes a heavy sigh out. It’s nice to know that you can fluster the ever-cocky Ryomen Sukuna given that one shift in dynamics would have you heating up from head to toe. You’re almost surprised he hasn’t pursued anything, a thought that brings out nasty insecurities. You’re grateful that his face is buried in your neck at that moment, unable to make out the nerves plastered across your face.

The sensation has you adjusting in his lap again, searching for wordless comfort.

“Princess.” There’s an edge to his tone that’s dangerous. As though one wrong move might awaken something dormant.

“Mhm?”

“‘M trying to be a gentleman on our first date,” he mumbles into your shoulder.

It’s sweet. Painfully so, both in the way that it eases your nerves and the adoration swirling in his eyes when he shifts to face you again. “Kunaaa,” you breathe, a little pout crossing your lips.

He shuts his eyes tight at the sound of your breathy sigh. “Not helping,” he grumbles, clearing his throat.

“Sorry,” you giggle sweetly, hitting the pause button and setting the laptop aside so that you can get a better look at him. Every shift of your hips has him blinking like he’s seeing god trying to keep an ounce of self control as his head rises from your shoulder. “I, um–” he stares quizzically as you pause. “I want it– this– too, you know.”

His lip twitches upwards. There’s the cocky bastard you know. “Shit, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearin’ that,” he chuckles, breathy. “But I uh–” He scowls, avoidantly finding the wall more interesting than you all of a sudden. “I want our first time to be special. Not that this moment isn’t, just…” he shrugs, “y’know. The house to ourselves, a night out first.” He shrugs again.

“You know, you’re pretty romantic when you want to be,” you murmur, cupping his jaw. He leans into the sensation, huffing indignantly.

“Tell that to my dick,” he scoffs, cut off by his own chuckle when you laugh. He lets the moment ride out, watching your eyes flutter open and shine as you regard him. It makes him feel human again. Not like the machine he once considered himself, working every waking hour to make sure his brothers were cared for. He’s alive. It took a metaphorical slap in the face to accept that life isn’t always out to get him and he could have avoided that fate, but that’s the thing about being alive.

You learn.

And he’d like to think he’s better for it.

But it’s still not enough.

Because you deserve the best. He’s not sure he can live up to that, but he’ll try damn hard.

“You deserve romantic, though.” He shrugs, pivoting his head to kiss your palm. He can already hear your protest as your lips part, eyes softening. That he’s enough, that you don’t need anything special, that you knew what you were getting into, that he doesn’t owe you anything. But that’s a tough pill to swallow when he’s spent the last few years living as a shadow of a man and put you through that as well. “Please.”

It’s rare for your date to reason with so much conviction, so you give him a little nod. “Okay,” you relent softly, twisting in his lap further to kiss him.

“You gotta stop moving your hips though,” he groans against your lips.

“Sorry!”

Pulling the laptop back to your lap, you can’t tell who the remaining forty minutes of the movie are harder for. You, or him. He may be physically hard, but you can’t feel bad for him when he’s making you squirm.

His hands remain on the waistband for a couple of minutes before gliding up your body beneath your shirt, exploring as though everything he said moments ago has flown out the window, but he never quite follows through with anything. Like a cruel game of teasing he’s set up for both of you now, the bottoms of his thumbs brushing your lacey bra.

Every minute shift in his breathing can be felt as it fans across your skin. Each hitch, each heavy exhale. They all settle across your skin like dew over grass in the early morning. Like frost, it sends shivers up your spine in spite of the heat that gathers between your thighs.

Gripping the blankets over your lap, you can hardly sit still as his hands travel back down to your thighs. Despite the barrier of sweatpants, the heat of his palms sears your skin as he kneads and squeezes the plush of your thighs. As though he wasn’t the one who asked you to sit still only a few minutes ago, you can’t help the way you squirm when his fingers linger on your inner thighs.

“Kuna,” you breathe, an air of lust to your timbre that he can’t get enough of. His head tilts, lips brushing your pulse point.

He hums, a mischievous lilt to his tone.

With his intentions made clear, you clutch the blankets tighter. “Tease.”

Another hum. Your breath hitches as his lips begin working their way in a slow cadence down to the sensitive skin at the crook of your neck. In spite of your protests, you still tilt your head to give him better access. With parted lips, a broken sigh permeates the air.

“Put the laptop on the nightstand,” he murmurs, the vibration of his voice– deep and gritty– against your skin driving you wild. As you follow his lead, he maneuvers you to sit on his lap. He’s still painfully hard, his restraint barely held together by glue and tape. With your knees on either side of his thighs, it occurs to you that Sukuna is a big guy.

And that extends to all parts of him.

The thought has your skin alight– with lust and nerves.

But he doesn’t give your mind any time to wander when he’s kissing you like the damn world depends on it. The way they collide with yours, his hands dragging through your hair and over your spine, there’s a note of desperation within his actions. As though he’s committing a sin and fears he’s on his final plea.

But there’s something else, too, hidden under the fervor of his actions. A tremble, just barely noticeable, in the tips of his fingers as they slip beneath the shirt– his– hanging from your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Your words come out piece by piece, peppered between kisses.

“Hm?” He’s barely paying attention, caught up on the taste of fermented grape on your tongue.

You pull back a hair, cupping his face to keep his attention. “You’re shaking.”

He blinks, processing your words. Flexing his fingers behind you, he pulls them away to get a look at them himself. “Shit,” he dryly mutters.

Concerned, you shake your head. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s not a big deal. Don’t worry about it.”

With a disdainful tilt of your head and fall of your shoulders, you breathe an exasperated, “Sukuna.”

He flexes his fingers again, then pushes them back through his mussed hair. “I think it’s withdrawal.”

You blink, focusing on the tremor of his fingers on your waist. Even at his worst, you’re pretty sure he didn’t drink enough for it to be alcohol. Not to mention you had wine earlier. “Nicotine?” He nods. “You quit?” You query with raised brows.

Another nod. In spite of his grimace as withdrawal symptoms hit, he seems veritably at ease. “It’s not hitting you too hard?”

“Not yet,” he sighs. “I only just quit today. I could only ever afford one or two a day so I think this is just the start.”

Sliding your hands back from his cheeks to the nape of his neck, your fingers thread through the short strands there. “Can I help with the symptoms at all?”

He shifts forward, capturing your lips with a simper that doesn’t let up. “Just gotta get my fix.”

“That’s so cheesy,” you groan into his shoulder, laughter spurred on by the rumble of his chest beneath you.

“Yeah, but I figured you’d get a kick out of it.”

Your chest swells as you pull back to find him grinning at you, genuinely. The fading dark circles beneath his eyes do little to dull the stars shining within crimson aurora.

“I’ll be alright,” he assures you, squeezing your waist. “I, uh–” his gaze travels to the ceiling, in a circle and back down to the photo of him and the kids with his father sitting atop his dresser. “I can’t let everyone down again. You n’ Uraume were right to get on my ass about it.”

“I still didn’t go about it the right way. I’m sorry about that.”

“That shit wasn’t your fault.”

“I still shouldn’t have made assumptions.”

His chest rises and falls, the air between you heavy as you address your argument from a few months ago. “Thanks.” It comes out as a grumble, unintentionally.

As much as he does appreciate your apology, he blames himself heavily for the outcome of that night. He doesn’t really know how to voice his disdain for his own stupidity, nor does he know how much he even should address it when together you’ve come so far. Then there’s the fact that he knows you’ll tell him not to worry or apologize or something of the sort because even through all of his growth, you’re still too sweet for him.

Not addressing it feels equally wrong, even if he’s fumbling for words. “‘M still an asshole for that, by the way. Everything I said and did.”

“Kuna, it’s not–”

He kisses you to stop you from making his misgivings into anything less than what they are. “It is. Just accept the apology, princess.”

It’s not exactly an apology in the traditional sense, but you suppose it is for him. “Okay,” you murmur with a lingering kiss to his forehead, “thank you. And– I’m really proud of you.”

He huffs, the whole moment a little too sappy for a brute like him as warmth blooms under your lips. He may be opening up to you more these days, but he can only tolerate so much of that gooey feeling in his chest. “Alright, alright. Enough with the sappy shit. Let’s finish the movie.”

You giggle at his avoidance of all things sentimental and vulnerable, careful as you twist back around in his lap now that he’s finally not hard so that you can finish the movie. For as much as you try though, it’s nearing midnight and you’ve spent so much time cramming for finals that your body is betraying you.

Try as you might, you can only fight off sleep for so long in the sanctity of your crush’s arms. In and out as the actors scream over the blown up footage of a tiny tarantula, your world slows as sleep cradles you.

Sukuna’s crimson gaze is warm as he regards you, asleep in his arms. It’s all that gives away how he really feels as he quietly looks over your features, otherwise neutral. It feels too good to be true after everything he put you through to be the one holding you tight. As though he shouldn’t be the one to provide your security when he’s hurt you.

He knows better. He knows life isn’t black and white like that. You’ve told him that this is what you want and the rational part of him chooses to believe you and put his trust in you.

It’s the nasty feelings of inadequacy that still get to him. However much he tries to uproot it, it always seems to come back like a weed. Spreading and growing further over his heart and mind.

His brow furrows as he considers the fact that it’s venomous thoughts like these that caused him to hurt you in the first place.

Sukuna isn’t scared of much, but when it comes to you and the kids, just about every roadblock feels like the potential of a fissure opening up and swallowing him whole.

And when so much of his life revolves around you three, it leaves him feeling painfully powerless. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, to accept that he’s only human. That he can’t always be the proud and independent man he presents himself as. It fills him with fire. It burns with every lick of its smoldering tongue, but it fuels him too.

He supposes it’s why he wants to do better.

His fingers curl into the plush of your waist, shutting his eyes as he indulges in the moment of peace. He focuses on the sounds of your soft breaths in an effort to pull himself from an ocean of thoughts he isn’t prepared to face, letting out a breath as he locks away his concerns for the time being.

He contemplates waking you to give you the option to go home, but you’ve stayed the night enough that he’s confident enough that you’ll opt to stay anyway, he’ll just take the couch. As it stands, your toothbrush became a permanent addition to his house so long ago that you already live here as far as he’s concerned.

Then there’s also the matter of the journalists that could still be outside, for all he knows.

Moving with as much delicacy as someone of his stature can, he sets his laptop aside and adjusts you in his lap so that he can loop an arm beneath your knees, the other supporting your upper body. Standing upright, he settles you back down where he was sitting, pulling the covers up over your body.

He moves around the room as he cleans up for the night, checking in on his brothers before lingering beside the lamp in his room. The back of his fingers brush your skin briefly as he stands bedside. Swallowing hard as the room goes dark, he pads quietly back out to the couch to turn in for the night.

–

Kaori’s faux kindness.

Noritoshi’s idle glares.

Your tears.

His breathing picks up.

Choso’s silence.

Yuji’s cries.

The bottom of a bottle.

He gasps, flinging himself upright in a cold sweat as his sharpened crimson gaze adjusts to the low light of the early morning hours. It takes his mind a moment to catch up that he’s awake, that it’s a nightmare.

Just a nightmare.

… Right?

The idea of remaining quiet in the dead of night is thrown to the wall as he travels the familiar length of the apartment, swinging the door to his brothers’ room open. He blinks at the low moonlight washing in through the window, bathing the space in a blue so soft that one would think nothing could ever hurt the two kids both still sound asleep.

But his mind is still racing, and while swinging their door open and shutting it in a few mere moments may not wake his brothers who are long used to Sukuna puttering around at night, you sure aren’t accustomed to that.

Well, and his door squeaks.

You jolt beneath the covers as you’re alerted awake by his sudden appearance.

“Kuna?” You cautiously call out, disoriented by your sudden awakening.

“Princess?”

Sitting upright, you rub at your bleary eyes, trying to make sense of your surroundings. When your vision straightens and you’re able to make out more than just a shadow, you take in the state of the room, his room. You don’t remember falling asleep, but based on the state of the blankets beside you, he must’ve been on the couch. Curiously doing a once-over of him, it becomes increasingly clear that he’s breathing hard.

“Are you alright?” Your voice is still thick with sleep as the blankets fall to your waist.

The sight of all three of you safely within reach helps settle his heartrate, though he’s still somewhat shaken and disoriented himself. “Yeah,” he breathes, his timbre equally raspy, “yeah.”

Rubbing the corner of your eye, you glance at the clock. Three in the morning. “What happened?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it. Go back to sleep.”

Even deliriously weary, you recognize his avoidance anywhere. “Come here,” you murmur, lifting the covers to your side. He lingers in the doorway for a moment before accepting your offer, shutting the door behind him. He settles into the spot beside you, letting his guard down as you scoot closer when he sits against the backboard.

Your fingers curling into the thin material of his muscle shirt is a comfort like no other. Grounding him in the assurance that this is real. He’s not in some sort of perpetual nightmare where he’ll find all three of you gone, finding the meaning for himself in the saying ‘misery loves company’.

You hide a yawn in his chest, eyes shut as you lean all of your weight into him. “What’s wrong?”

In spite of your languid movements and dozy drawl, he’s confident you’re still listening. “Just… got in my head about shit.”

You yawn again, your breath warm as it weaves into the cotton over his chest. “Nightmare?”

A beat, then– “yeah.”

Your eyes flicker open. With saccharine irises staring up at him, the imbalance in his breathing steadies. Even with smeared makeup that he’s sure you’ll pout at him about in the morning, you still look like an angel.

“What was it about?”

There’s something intimate in seeing you this way. He supposes having earned so much of your trust and adoration is a part of it, but there’s something to be said about sharing a vulnerable moment like this with one another, both half-asleep. Caught in-between the world of the waking and that of the dreaming, you tend to see another side of people. One where walls don’t exist and thought comes second.

It leaves him feeling exposed in a way that goes beyond just sharing vulnerabilities. With you, though, he doesn’t feel the need to turn his nose at the mere thought. It’s as though you’re within a pocket of time all your own– just the two of you.

His arms encircle your middle, letting out a breath as he lowers his face to the crown of your head. His words are muffled by your hair as he speaks, a low grit to his already raspy voice. “Just woke up thinkin’ the last month was a dream.”

Your mind works an extra moment to figure out what he means. “Getting the kids back?”

His chest rises and falls heavily. “You and them.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” you drowsily mumble into his chest. “Your brothers are safe, too. I promise it was just a dream. Did you check on them, too?”

“Mhm.”

You push up on his chest in an effort to lean up and leave a sweet kiss on his throat. He grunts, running his thumb up and down your waist in a silent reply.

“I’m here,” you murmur again in assurance, followed shortly by another yawn. “Why don’t you stay?”

“You sure?”

“Mhmmmmm,” you hum with a sweet little drawl that allows him a little slice of peace. “Then if you wake up again, I’ll be here and you’ll know it was a dream.”

He has no way of knowing whether or not you can read him like that and just know this isn’t the first time he’s woken up this way, but he welcomes the kind of care you harbor for him. And just as he doesn’t let go of you as he slips down onto the pillow, he won’t let go of this feeling, either.

He’s pretty sure you pass out again before your head even hits the pillow. He pulls you closer, tucking your back into his chest. He slips a leg between yours, the weight of your limb soothing him closer to the depths his body seeks. As his breathing falls into pace with yours, his mind sheds itself of the night’s thorns and allows him to sink into a restful silence.

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❦ a/n ; hi :') it's been a while, i'm sorry for the wait and i hope it was worth it <33 i burnt out pretty hard in november and have been slowly working writing back into my life and finding joy in it again. i think i've finally hit a stride with motivation though, which has been so nice to find again.

thank you so much for all the love and support over the last couple of months, it's definitely helped me work through a lot of the burnout and motivate me and i'm so glad to finally be back.

everyone is heaaaling and kuna is a sap at heart and writing those really tender moments is so precious to me <33 i have big plans for the next chapter that i can't wait to share and i'm expecting it to be loooong so please look forward to that!!

happy holidays to those who celebrate, and i appreciate each and every one of you <33 ty all for sticking with me 🫶

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

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut @hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @mad-katsuki @timetoletmyimaginationfly @clp-84 @coffee-and-geto @candyluvsboba @favvkiki @gojodickbig @spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @vadergf @ieathairs @cinnamxnangel @nessca153 @aerareads @after-laughter-come-tears @tillaboo @thepassionatereader @erencvlt @v1sque @a-girl-with-thoughts @lauuriiiz @blueemochii @paradisestarfishh @erenxh @call-me-doll8811 @toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @angel-loganswife @privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast @axxk17 @toratsue @bluestbleu @yuji-itadori-fave @totallygyomeiswife

“I can take you guys in my car,” you offer, reaching a hand down to rustle Choso’s hair. He shakes his head, pushing his hair aside as he nods, as if he gets to make the decision. “Where did you have in mind, Satoru?”

“How about the place just around the corner from Shoko’s?”

Shoko snorts, raising a brow. “The place you passed out at?”

“Sue me, it was hot,” he rolls his eyes, childishly crossing his arms over his chest.

Shoko mirrors his eye roll with a mutter beneath her breath. “At least you’re in the right place to be sued.”

“If you’d had some water instead of acting like a child, you wouldn’t have gotten heat stroke,” Suguru points out, talking over Shoko’s quiet remark.

Satoru’s eyes narrow at both of them. “Oh my god, can we go get ice cream without this being about that one time?” He groans.

Sukuna’s brow raises, eyes sliding back and forth between the three as they bicker amongst themselves.

“You three done?” Toji steps in, met with silence and a somewhat triumphant smile from Suguru, who knows he’s managed to push Satoru’s buttons. He’s a little shit in his own right. “Great,” Toji spins around to face you. “You know where that is?” He queries, punctuating the question with your name. Met with a nod, Toji fists his keys and makes for the door, satisfied with your reply.

As Sukuna juggles Yuji and two duffle bags on top of some paperwork, you set a hand on Choso’s back to usher him to the front door as well. Making your way through security, you don’t expect what’s waiting on the other end of the heavy double doors for you.

By all means, you should have expected it. You saw them on the way in, not to mention the tight security detail surrounding your courtroom. Still, the immediate flash of cameras and sudden yelling of journalists makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach with all the weight of a brick. You freeze, every nerve in your body rattled at the attention.

“Shit,” Sukuna mumbles, having clearly forgotten too given the stress of the morning, but before he can pull Yuji’s hood up over his hair and block Choso with his body, Satoru leaps into action like the attention is natural to him.

He grins, putting on a camera-ready smile as he distracts the paparazzi with rambles of beginning to work at his father’s company and how he plans to restructure the business to shape the future. For all Sukuna knows, it could be nonsense, but… He stares briefly, his lips pursed as he scowls at the frat boy.

It’s hard to imagine him at the head of a company when hardly two seconds ago, it was being discussed that the dumbass got heat stroke out of pure stubbornness, but seeing him leap into action now, Sukuna wonders just how misjudged Satoru really is. Hell, the brute was amongst them. He can’t even really be upset with the irritating college student anymore given what the guy’s done to make up for his mistakes.

He’s not given much time to contemplate that, though, as he quickly instructs Yuji to hide his face, adjusting his stance in order to try to figure out getting both you and Choso out of here unscathed.

“Hey,” he murmurs, low enough that none of the yelling journalists will be able to get a grasp of what he’s saying. “They’re not here for you. They don’t know who you are,” he reminds you as he signals Toji and Uraume over and addresses them. “Can you block us?”

They both nod, grimacing at the barrage of questions being launched towards Sukuna.

Does this mean you won the case?

Sukuna, will Ms. Itadori be facing a criminal trial?

Mr. Sukuna, will you making a statement?

Did Kaori Itadori admit to your claims of perjury?

They all hit Sukuna hard, each one serving as a reminder that he isn’t out of the water just yet. Given the volume of journalists here, maybe he’ll never escape this new life. He can’t be sure, but he can keep you and the kids out of it to the best of his ability. He adjusts his stance to block Yuji from the spotlight, keeping his head down as he trusts Toji and Uraume to help block you and his middle brother from view on the opposite side.

“Ain’t your scene, huh?” Toji murmurs lowly as he lets you lead the way to your car.

“I don’t even like presenting in class,” you laugh nervously, searching for your car key on the ring in your hand with jittery fingers. “This is a bit much for me.”

“It’ll die down,” he assures you. “Just give it time.”

There’s a certainty you don’t quite recognize in the football player as he uses his large frame to block the flashing cameras. You can’t help but wonder what it is that leaves him with that sort of conviction, but it’s not your place. You know he shares the last name of another mogul family, similar to Satoru, but as a football player on a full scholarship driving an old beat-up car who pinches his pennies, there’s clearly a story you aren’t privy to there. Something within the depths of his cunning eyes that stare straight ahead and don’t spare a single glance at the journalists is enough to tell you as much.

“Why are they here?” Choso murmurs to Sukuna, cowering into the cover you, Toji, and Sukuna all provide. He keeps a steady grip on his brother’s suit jacket in order to make sure he doesn’t get lost as his head remains lowered.

His eldest brother frowns, rolling a shoulder back under the weight of the bags and Yuji. “I’ll explain when we’re home,” he sighs, not looking forward to the long conversation he’ll need to have to explain what happened to Choso. He’s not much of a conversationalist as is, and the little boy probably has little bits and pieces of details he’s caught from his time with Kaori that’ll need to be set straight.

As the crowd follows unceremoniously to your car, Sukuna quickly lifts Yuji into the back, guiding Choso in next before he follows them. You start the car and shift into reverse as though you’re racing the very heavens, beginning to back out of the stall. The crowd doesn’t disperse at all, even as you all duck away from the windows and make it difficult to get any news-worthy photos.

It’s not until Toji barks at them to ‘get the fuck outta the way’ that they make space and you’re able to speed off towards the ice cream parlor.

Letting out a breath, you glance back at Sukuna in the rearview mirror. His head rests against the back of the seat, painting it pink with the locks that splay out. He shuts his eyes, taking a short-lived moment to relax before Yuji launches into chatter. Although he didn’t seem fond of the cameras, he’s quick to bounce back. You can’t say the same for his brothers.

Sukuna lifts his head, giving his full attention to the five-year-old as the little boy prattles on about missing Sukuna and his room. Despite the relief that the day has already brought, you can tell the man needs a moment to breathe as he sheds his suit jacket in favor of the cooler button-up beneath. Your gaze flickers back and forth between the rearview mirror and the road, concern for him rattling within your chest.

Sukuna’s never been the type to grin and cheer when he’s happy, but you’d hoped that little glimmer of who he really is would shine through with his brothers at his side again. It’s not as though you expect him to heal instantly, but he still isn’t all there.

His brow pinches at the center, blinking as he tries to focus on his little brother. “What was that about Ice Age?” he questions, swallowing hard as he struggles to keep his attention where it should be, too caught up in ‘what ifs’. They all surround the lack of privacy he’s dragged his brothers into, festering within his chest like a leech that won’t be easily removed.

“Momma wouldn’t let us watch a lot of the movies we brought, but she liked Ice Age,” he kicks his feet out, “Cho told me not to tell her ‘cause she’d get mad at me, but- um- I only like it ‘cause Manny is like you, Kuna, and I missed you a lot-” he cuts himself off to take a breath through his rambles, “- and then Momma bought us the second one and- and there’s a momma fuzzy elephant-”

“Mammoth,” Choso cuts in quietly.

“- and Cho told me not to tell her this too because she would get mad but the momma mammoth reminded me of you,” Yuji finally pauses his thoughts. When you look in the rearview mirror, Yuji is kicking his feet and looking at you with an eager expression.

A smile creeps up on your face. “Me?”

“Yeah!” He grins, kicking his feet out faster. You cast your glance towards Sukuna, unable to read his expression. His frown is tight, but not quite as tight as his grip on the back of your seat, if his white knuckles are anything to go by.

Given his silence, you step in to keep Yuji satisfied, hoping to distract Choso from Sukuna’s strange behavior as well. “Sounds like we need to watch the movie together. What’s the girl mammoth like, Yuji?”

“She- um-!” He excitedly begins before his brain can even catch up. “She’s really, really nice and she loves her family and friends a lot and she’s nice to Manny even when he’s mean, just like you and Sukuna!”

You swipe your tongue over your lower lip before biting down on it in order to stop yourself from laughing. Peering into the rearview mirror at Sukuna, it seems he did catch that detail from Yuji, now scowling more presently. “Is that so?” You reply to the little boy, returning your attention to the road as you pull into the parking lot of the ice cream shop.

“Feel like I’m catchin’ a lot of slack for a guy who’s taking you for ice cream right now,” he grumbles as the car is put into park. He unbuckles Yuji, stepping out and pulling him down to the ground. Taking the little boy’s hand, he leaves room for Choso to step out. The brunette nervously peers around, but there are no cameras to be found.

Setting a palm atop Choso’s head, Sukuna watches Toji’s beat-up car pull into the parking lot.

You can hear the argument before the doors are even open.

“What do you mean Mint Chocolate Chip sucks?!” Satoru is practically yelling.

“Dunno. It does,” Toji shrugs noncommittally, getting out of the car and tossing an empty drink can at Satoru for him to throw out.

He catches it effortlessly, turning to the kids. “Come on, you guys’ll get it. What do you think about Mint Chocolate Chip?”

“I just like strawb’ry,” Yuji peers up at Satoru, waving his arms through the air as he rocks back and forth on the balls of his feet.

Choso shrugs. “I like it.”

Facing Toji, the white-haired menace puts a hand out at Choso as though the twelve-year-old’s vote is law. “Point proven.”

Suguru presses a thumb into his temple in spite of his small smile, falling into step with you and Sukuna. “I’m driving with you next time.”

You giggle at his disdain. “Ten minutes was all it took?”

“Two, actually. The last eight was-” he waves his hand towards the bickering overzealous men, “- that.”

Shoko, Kento, and Uraume seem equally as exhausted from their bickering as Shoko groans at them to act their age once they reach the threshold of the ice cream shop. It’s small and older, with white walls and peeling paint, and decorations that scream that they’re from many generations ago. You’re willing to bet the young girl behind the counter didn’t choose any of the decor. Still, there’s a quaint charm to it, as though the ice cream is simply so good that the place has managed to stick around this long.

The shop that was once empty now bustles with your group as each person takes turns ordering. Sukuna gives his brothers an encouraging nudge towards the counter to choose their flavors.

“I want strawb’ry!” Yuji proclaims, missing a syllable in typical five-year-old fashion. He points at the clear display where he can see a small picture of a strawberry, while Choso takes his time looking over the flavors.

“Cho?” Sukuna encourages the older of the two to choose when he rounds the glass to look over all the flavors for a second time.

“Double Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, please.”

“Christ,” Sukuna mutters under his breath at the sugar overload, making his way up to the counter. “One small strawberry, and-”

“Big!” Yuji interrupts, his little hands gripping the edge of the counter. “One big strawb’ry!”

“No, one small strawberry,” Sukuna corrects, lifting Yuji into an arm before he can protest, “and a-” he turns back to Choso, “- what did you want?”

“Double Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough,” Choso shyly repeats to the cashier. “Please.”

The woman behind the counter smiles at the two boys. “Coming right up. Can I get you both anything?” She asks, glancing between you and Sukuna. You order your favorite while Sukuna declines.

“You sure, Kuna?” You nudge him softly, capturing his gaze. “You don’t want a little something as a celebration?”

Hesitantly, he stares back at the display. He mulls over the idea briefly, about to set the thought aside, when Satoru gives him a little shove as well.

“I’m paying,” the frat boy reminds him, waggling a shiny metallic card in the air.

Sighing, he relents. “The smallest size of Espresso, please. In a cup.”

As Yuji excitedly parades circles around his two brothers, pink ice cream smeared across his face, you can’t help but smile. Even as Sukuna scolds the little boy for getting under his feet when he steps up to take his ice cream, Yuji is completely unphased, holding his ice cream up proudly to whoever will look.

Sukuna nods to Satoru in a quiet exchange of gratitude. With a grin, your outgoing friend gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder before turning back to the rest of the group as they order, leaving you to find a seat. Sukuna guides you to a booth in the corner, letting Yuji hop up first and kick his feet in the booth as he manages to somehow get ice cream everywhere.

Sukuna follows and Choso shoves himself onto the same side of the booth. The brute’s gaze trails between the three of you, before his muscles uncoil and relax. He props his elbows up on the table as he begins spooning the ice cream into his mouth at a languid pace. The gears turning in his mind are almost visible as they grind together, too many thoughts, too many emotions all crashing into him at once, and at last you see what you couldn’t read in the car.

He’s depleted. His body has put up with so much for so long, he’s got nothing left to give. He’s happy, you know he is, but now that he’s here, he needs time to recharge and just be. He needs the space to exist alongside his brothers and you and his friends and adjust to allowing himself to have what once felt entire lifetimes out of reach. He’s no longer stuck as an apparition floating in the space between his mind and body, no longer watching everything happening around him through a lens, but now that he’s present, he needs a breather.

It’s not the kind of thing that comes with a good night’s sleep or a vacation- though he could certainly use those too- but with time. Just as it heals wounds, it’ll heal this too.

Until then, you’ll be there to pick him up when he needs a hand.

And for once, he won’t stop you.

You extend your leg, giving his shin a playful nudge to remind him you’re there with him. All of you are. His eyes snap up to you, the intensity behind them fading in favor of something softer. He observes your face for a moment, inhaling quietly before scooping another mouthful of ice cream. He shifts his leg forward to brush yours, comfortably settling it between your calves under the table.

He may be drained, but he seems at ease.

Yuji scoots over, leaning into Sukuna and smearing ice cream all over the sleeve of his button-up.

Grimacing, Sukuna lifts his elbow. “C’mon, brat,” he sighs, grabbing a napkin from across the table to wipe Yuji’s face. The little boy swats at Sukuna, protesting as for a split-second he’s taken away from his crusade against the dessert in his hands and you can’t help but smile. If their looks weren’t enough, you can definitely tell that Yuji was raised by his older brother.

“Damn. You two are one and the same,” Shoko teases with a grin as she slides into the booth beside you, a cup of what looks to be espresso ice cream held between her hands.

Before Sukuna can retort with half-hearted denial, Kento takes a seat in the booth behind you, his eye trained on the stain in Sukuna’s sleeve. “Baking powder and vinegar will get that out.”

“Thanks,” Sukuna mumbles, gaze flickering between the three of you, then over to the rest of the group. “Shouldn’t you all be in class?”

Shoko shrugs. “Class can wait.” She dismisses him with a wave of her spoon. “I’m tired of going over things for finals anyway.”

Humming in acknowledgement, the brute sets down his spoon as he finishes his small ice cream. “Guess those are comin’ up soon,” he comments dryly in his best attempt to stay in the moment and convey his genuine gratitude for the fact that Shoko’s here. Not just her, but all of your friends, really.

His lip even quirks up at the corner as Toji, Satoru, Uraume, and Suguru all pile into the booth behind you. The warmth that reaches right to the tips of his fingers is unlike anything he’s experienced and a part of him fears clinging to it so tightly out of fear that he might somehow lose it again.

Yet he can’t bring himself to let go.

Conversation flows easily between both groups over the course of the hour, and as Sukuna’s attention gradually drifts off, you offer him a hand. Squeezing your fingers, he pipes in with the occasional comment or thought when called on, otherwise enjoying the reverie woven within everyone around him.

Choso doesn’t leave Sukuna’s side, though Toji and Uraume pull him into conversations as though he’s their own sibling. Yuji crawls out from under the table- much to Sukuna’s dismay- in order to tell everyone at the neighboring table the plot of his favorite movies in such detail that you’re sure they stop being able to keep track of what he’s talking about. But who are they to stop the little boy when this is the best day he’s had in a month?

Once his energy finally fades and he crawls back under the table to the spot he has beside Sukuna and nods off, that’s when Sukuna decides to call it a day. He nudges Choso out of the booth and scoops the ice cream-covered five-year-old into his arms as he faces you and Shoko from the end of the table.

He swallows hard, rolling his shoulders back in an effort to clear his nerves. “Think the kid’s battery died,” he excuses himself from the group, though you can see his battery is equally dead. “Princess, you mind givin’ us a ride?”

Shoko is forced to press her lips into a thin line in an effort to prevent herself from smirking at you as she glances back your way. Ignoring her, you nod, unable to hide the way you’re just a bit too eager.

It’s not like Sukuna minds. It’s nice to feel cared for.

In fact, he seems a bit relieved, his shoulders falling at his sides. As you slide out from the booth, Sukuna gives his best earnest thank you to the rest of the group, singling out Satoru in particular. “I owe you one,” he gruffs, “for this n’ the journalist shit.”

“Nah,” the white-haired man brushes him off, “consider us even for the whole, uh-” he waves his hands through the air. “- y’know. The shit I said.”

Sukuna forces a tight-lipped smile at the reminder, though he can’t be too upset over it anymore. “Sure. Even,” he agrees, lifting a hand as a goodbye gesture to the rest of the group.

The ride back is quiet aside from Yuji’s snores, and a quick glance in your rearview mirror tells you that Choso has drifted off against his big brother’s shoulder too. You can tell Sukuna’s not far behind, in desperate need of time to recharge.

“Are you doing alright back there?”

“Yeah. Sorry to have you taxi us around.”

“I don’t mind,” you grin. “It’s just good to see you back. All of you.”

He recognizes the meaning behind your words, meeting your stare in the rearview mirror before it flickers back to the road.

“You should take some time off,” you encourage him. “Especially now that Kaori has to pay up.”

“Maybe,” he mumbles, barely fighting off a yawn. “She’ll probably wait ‘til the last moment to pay though.”

Grimacing at that, you sigh. You know he’s right, she’ll find ways to fuck him over until her last breath if these last few months are anything to go off of.

“Do you think Noritoshi stays with her?”

Sukuna pushes a hand through his hair, careful not to disturb his brothers. “Dunno. Maybe. You see something I didn’t?” He queries.

You tilt your head from side to side in reply. You suppose you did have a different perspective on the trial and Sukuna likely couldn’t see much of Noritoshi from where he sat. “He seemed upset,” you murmur in thought. “I think, anyway,” you add with an uncertain laugh.

The brute grunts, dragging a hand over his features and rubbing his eyes. “Maybe she’ll leave me the fuck alone if she can’t use his money.”

You crack a smile as you pull into his apartment complex. “I don’t think she’ll get the upper hand on you again even if she does try something.” Putting the car in park, you twist in your seat to look back at him. “Need a hand with the kids and bags?”

He forgot about the bags, admittedly. “No,” he gruffs as he looks over the two passed out boys and two duffle bags. “I got it.”

“How many arms do you think you have?” You tease.

“Four, apparently,” he snorts, an amused glimmer stirring in his irises for a split second before he wakes Choso and fills his arms with his youngest brother and both duffle bags. He makes his way around to the driver’s side with a horribly drowsy Choso, leaning into the window as you roll it down for him. “Thanks, princess. For today.”

“I’m here for you, Kuna.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, “I know.” A crooked smile hangs on his face, shifting into something more serious as he changes the subject. “I gotta handle some shit today but I, uh,” he shifts, averting his gaze, “I owe you some explanations.” Your eyes shine like a pair of stars, gorgeous as they are sparkling with nerves when you bring your lower lip between your teeth. “I wanna do shit right,” he hesitates again, searching for words within the worn out fog of his mind. “Let me take you out.”

You nod meekly, your words light like air as you hardly trust your voice. “I’d like that.”

“Good. Good- yeah, uh-” he blinks, his palms clammy as he grips at the straps on his shoulder. “Friday after your class?” He asks, mentally dragging a hand across his face in embarrassment over just how much he continues to fumble his words. You’re simultaneously the person he finds the most comfort in and now the person who makes him the most nervous. A new development, and something Sukuna will surely be groaning over later.

“That sounds good to me, should I meet you here?”

“I’ll pick you up.”

Your brow raises at the idea, a cute little ‘o’ to the purse of your lips.

“I’ll figure it out,” he chuckles. His crimson eyes find your gaze again, the intensity within them returning as they flicker across your features. He exhales slowly, pushing past whatever layers of hesitation he still has now that he’s come to terms with his own stupidity.

Leaning in, Sukuna presses a chaste kiss to your lips. Lightning shoots from your lips to the tips of your limbs, leaving a tingling sensation in your chest as your pulse races. When he pulls back, you can’t help your grin, unable to hide your glee.

“Cute,” Sukuna mutters.

You giggle, fiddling with your nails in your lap. It’s hard not to be giddy around him, feeling considerably less confused about his intentions now that he’s set things straight. Mostly, anyway.

The sound of small hands hitting steel draws both of your attention towards Choso, who’s accidentally tripping over his own two feet into your car trying to stay awake. “Sorry,” he murmurs as he rubs his eyes.

“Go get some sleep,” you encourage Sukuna and his ‘mini-me’s softly.

He sighs, nodding slowly as he adjusts Yuji in his arms. His gaze lingers on your face long enough that heat rises to the tips of your ears and you pray he can’t tell just how shy and bubbly you’re feeling, equally nervous as he is. “I, uh, I’ll see you Friday, then?”

You nod. “See you then, Kuna.”

His heart soars in the most cheesy way at the sound of the nickname slipping from you, but for all his bravado, he can’t seem to catch the organ as it races away from him.

–

“Do you think this is too revealing?” Chewing on your lip, you do a spin in the mirror as you evaluate your third outfit of choice for the night. Sukuna’s meant to pick you up in an hour, and you’ve been struggling to decide on a style.

Posed in front of the mirror in a cute pink dress that reaches mid-thigh with a small bow on the sternum and a deep V, you turn back to Shoko who’s laying down on your bed. She looks up from scrolling through Instagram, shaking her head. “No, it’s cute. I like it.”

“You said that about the last one, too,” you pout.

She chuckles. “Girl, I’ve been wearing the same pair of Vans since we started college, I feel like you should have invited someone else if you wanted opinions about fashion.”

“I guess, but you’re my best friend,” you counter, holding up a couple of necklaces to your collar as potential accents. You settle on a thin gold chain with a small opal pendant that settles on your chest.

“Don’t let Kento hear you say that,” your friend chides with a grin. “I do like that necklace, though. It’s cute.”

“Thanks!” You beam. “And Ken’s my best friend too, but I’m not inviting him over for help with outfits,” you giggle. “I can practically hear him sighing just at the thought of sitting here and watching me try on things.”

Shoko leans back, setting her phone down as she grabs your heart-shaped accent pillow and sets it behind her head. “You’re probably right, but he still has a better fashion sense than I do.”

“Yeah but he’s too polite to tell me if something looks bad.”

“Touché,” she agrees.

“Speaking of which,” you turn towards her, holding up a pair of matching pink heels and a pair of white flats adorned with a small band of pink.

Shoko narrows her eyes as though this is the most difficult decision she’s made in a long time. “The flats,” she finally decides. “When I squint, the heels are just too much pink.”

“Why does squinting matter?” you laugh with a shake of your head.

“Your man needs glasses, doesn’t he?”

Leave it to Shoko to notice something within her field about others. “Yeah, I keep telling him to use his work insurance, he’s just stubborn.”

“Sukuna? Stubborn? No,” she replies with a faux dramatic gasp, clutching at her chest.

“Alright, alright,” you laugh off her quip, rolling your eyes as she chuckles along with you.

“Honestly it’s just nice to see you two on the same page for once. Every time he was a dick, I wanted to kick his ass but he makes it hard when he’s got so much shit going on.” She drags her hands over her face, muffling her voice as she groans. “And god the way he looks at you made it even harder to hate him, like alright loverboy, we get it.”

Amused and somewhat embarrassed, you slide over to your window to open it as the air in the room creeps up on the back of your neck, warming you right up to the tips of your ears. Despite the fact that you’re literally going on a date with him in less than an hour, your heart pounds at the thought of your friends thinking he’s a loverboy, even before this last week.

You suppose it did become obvious enough that you noticed and began questioning every confusing action, but you always pushed it down. You had to, for the sake of your fragile heart, or so you thought. “The way he looks at me?” You sheepishly ask as you busy yourself with slipping on the cute pair of flats Shoko chose.

“God, you’re sappy,” she groans. “I need to get a girlfriend.” She sits upright again, crossing her legs underneath herself and leaning forward on an elbow. “Knock on wood or whatever,” she says as she raps her knuckles lazily over your side table, “but yeah, he looks at you like you’re the one.”

Your mouth runs dry at the mere suggestion. You fix Shoko with a stare, suddenly painfully aware of just how fast your heart is racing, as if the stifling air in your room wasn’t enough. Blood pumps in your ears, louder than the cars motoring by outside.

Shoko smiles, tilting her head with a hint of mischief. “Like you hadn’t noticed, too. You asked me what I thought.”

“Yeah, but you always gave me such wish-washy answers before!”

“In my defense, he is confusing and psychology isn’t really my forté.” She shrugs it off, glancing over at her phone on the bedside table when she hears a vibration. Picking it up, she finds nothing but a blank screen. “I think your phone vibrated.”

Making your way across the room, you’re met with a text from Sukuna that has your brow knitting.

5:39 PM Kuna <3 || hey princess

5:40 PM Kuna <3 || tojis running late

5:40 PM Kuna <3 || i know i promised id pick you up but can i get you to meet me here

5:40 PM Kuna <3 || ?

“Everything alright?”

You nod to Shoko, replying to Sukuna that you’ll head over right away. He shoots back a quick ‘thanks’ as you put your phone in your clutch. “Yeah, I guess Toji’s running late so he asked if I could meet him at his place,” you shrug. “Toji must be babysitting.”

Shoko hums. “Do you know where he’s taking you?”

“No clue,” you shrug as you glance around your room. “Do you need a ride home?”

“Nah, I’m meeting Uraume and Iori at the theater in a bit. I’ll just grab a bite nearby.”

Quickly grabbing a small bag you’d made a pit stop for on the way back from school, you take one last look across your apartment, satisfied that you have everything. You make your way out to your car with a quick hug from Shoko and a promise to tell her absolutely everything at her insistence. Stepping towards your car, you take a deep breath to calm your racing heart, taking in the warm glow of the early evening sun. Golden rays stretch across the horizon, decorating everything in an auburn hue that looks as warm as it feels and brings a smile to your face.

It’s easy to find yourself rocking from side to side as you listen to music on your way to Sukuna’s, for once able to let go of your stress in order to relax and focus on just being young. It doesn’t feel like the burden of finals or your scholarship or work are weighing you down and you can just… be. It’s nice to let go and feel like you can enjoy your college life. Especially given how heads-down you’ve needed to be this year in order to succeed and keep some semblance of balance in your life.

Pulling into a visitor spot outside of Sukuna’s place, you purse your lips as you spot a woman scarcely older than you huddled outside of his place in a hoodie and sunglasses, which it’s entirely too hot for. You’ve always said you try not to judge by first impressions but… the imprint of a camera beneath the hoodie kind of gives a lot away.

In favor of buzzing up to his place, you pull out your phone to shoot Sukuna a text.

5:58 PM You || Hey, I’m here but I think that journalist is here waiting too

You scuff your feet across the ground, clinging tighter to your clutch as you do what you can to keep your face out of view of the nosy paparazzi.

What a pain.

6:02 PM Kuna <3 || youre kidding

6:02 PM Kuna <3 || one sec

Shutting off your phone, you await a sign from the brute. You suppose you shouldn’t be shocked when he shows up in a big coat with the hood pulled up. The woman a few feet from you perks up, much to Sukuna’s obvious irritation.

“C’mon,” he mutters as he pushes the door open barely a crack, pulling it shut before the journalist can get inside. Undeterred, she continues to throw questions at Sukuna through the door as he shields you from any potential photos being taken by standing behind you.

“She still won’t leave you alone?” You query, glancing back over your shoulder at him once you’re out of sight. He pushes the hood of his jacket down, shaking his head and purposefully mussing his hair.

He huffs, shaking his head as he pushes through his door and waves his hand towards the spot where he drops the keys to let you know you can set your bags aside. “She caught me with the kids goin’ out to get groceries the other day and won’t leave us alone now.”

“That’s so-”

You’re cut off as Yuji excitedly calls your name and runs up to you, holding up a big red dragon toy to you. “Look! Look! Look what Kuna got me!!”

“Got you and Cho,” Sukuna reminds him sternly. “You gotta share.”

Yuji pouts, pulling the dragon toy into his chest. “It’s mine,” he whimpers, backing away from both you and Sukuna adamantly as though you might take it from him.

Sukuna’s brow knits, something flashing in his eyes as he frowns at the little boy, choosing not to make a big deal of the situation. Casting a somewhat concerned glance at Sukuna, you find him mirroring your same thoughts. Letting it go just as he did, you plaster on a smile. “What a cool dragon! Kuna’s a great big brother, isn’t he?”

“He is!” Yuji agrees, his stubborn possessiveness over the toy suddenly forgotten. Satisfied with your reply, he runs back off towards his room, leaving you with Sukuna, who’s already shaking his head.

“He’s been like that since I got ‘em back. Won’t let me touch any of his stuff,” he frowns. “Kaori was forced to drop off the rest of the kids’ stuff at Child Services but things I sent with them were missing.”

“You think they took stuff from the kids?”

He hums affirmatively. “Educated guess,” he scoffs. “Good thing I kept the important shit back.”

“No kidding,” you agree, casting a worried gaze back in the direction that Yuji ran off.

“Hey,” Sukuna gruffs, pulling your attention back with a hand on your cheek that sends your heart soaring. He stares down at you with a lidded expression, that familiar little scowl on his face like he’s a little too focused on something. That something being you. “You look…” he sucks in a breath, searching for words that are foreign to his tongue. “Gorgeous,” he breathes, as though you steal the very air from his lungs.

But honestly? He could get used to the feeling of saying it.

Grinning, you try to pull your gaze away from him sheepishly, but he keeps your attention by cupping your other cheek as well. “Thank you,” you softly murmur, lifting your hands to rest on his bulky chest. You can feel his heart pounding erratically beneath your fingers. There’s a sort of comfort in knowing that you make one another equally nervous and giddy. “You look handsome.”

He swallows hard, glancing down at your lips as though he isn’t quite sure what he’s meant to be doing. It’s cute, given how long it’s been now since you started holding hands and outright cuddling. Smiling at the small display of nerves, you cling to the dress shirt he’s got on beneath his open coat and get onto the tips of your toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. When you pull back, it seems to set him at ease as he gently brushes your cheek with his thumb and stands upright. He straightens the bomber jacket he’s got on, adjusting the hood sewn into it.

“I meant to pick you up,” he states in what you can only assume is his version of an apology. “I guess Toji ran into some issues on the way here,” he shrugs.

“That’s alright!” You assure him cheerily. “I don’t mind. It’s nice to see your brothers, anyway,” you grin as you turn to face the spot where Yuji disappeared.

He sighs behind you, light and airy, melting into the peace you bring as he takes a step towards him. Although he shoves his hands in his pockets, you can feel the warmth radiating from him barely a breadth behind you as he calls out to Yuji and Choso.

Yuji still has the dragon toy in-hand as he runs back into the room, followed shortly by his older brother. Choso looks a little better, the dark circles under his eyes not quite as drastic as they were. It warms your heart to see him healing along with Sukuna. The brute still seems drained, but what matters most is that he’s living in the moment.

Choso greets you with a little wave and a ‘hi’, peering cautiously between your outfit and Sukuna’s. His lips twitch downwards as he shifts from foot to foot. “Are you going somewhere?”

Sukuna raises a brow questioningly. “Yeah, I told you yesterday. Toji’s coming to watch you guys. We’re going out for a bit, but-”

“You’re leaving?” Choso interrupts, slowly bringing his arms up to hug himself as though he’s realized something dire. His entire demeanor shrinks into something mousey.

“Yeah, we’ll be back in a few-”

“You can’t leave,” Choso breathes, widened eyes flipping between you. “You can’t leave us.” He takes uncertain steps away from the both of you, petrified like a deer in the headlights when he bumps into the couch and can’t shrink away anymore. “Please, y-you can’t-” he pleads, choking on the word.

Caught off-guard by his little brother’s out-of-the-blue panic, Sukuna freezes. “We’re only gonna be gone a couple of-”

Choso chokes back a sob, his entire body wracked with fear as he cowers into the couch like it might protect him from his demons. “Please,” he cries, his breathing growing erratic.

“Cho?” Yuji queries, pouting as he watches his brother spiral into panic. The little pink-haired boy looks to you for help.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you leap into action, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder and leading the middle brother to the couch to sit down. He trips over himself as he falls into the cushions, trembling.

Choso shakes his head in response, pulling his knees into his chest and burying his face in them. His knuckles go white as he clings to the fabric of his pants, gasping for air.

It’s just like at the trial, something you’d never seen from Choso before. The little boy would usually resort to isolating himself and talking through his emotions once he was feeling up for it, but it’s clear from both Yuji and Choso’s behavior that things have changed.

While they’re all doing leagues better, Kaori has left scars on each of their hearts. Traces of her mistreatment linger within all three of their minds, and her grimy claws have left Choso with a new worry.

His anxiety manifests just like Sukuna’s.

“Hey, I’m here, sweetheart. So is Sukuna. We’re not leaving,” you assure the little boy, shooting a glance at Sukuna. The eldest brother is scowling, though the look swimming within his irises is neither anger nor disdain, it’s confusion. He presses his lips together as he follows your lead and stands at the edge of the couch, doing his best to offer what support he can.

Sukuna struggles to understand his own emotions, let alone his brothers’, and he knows he has the tendency to get frustrated or shut down when either of the boys acts out. This, however, is something Sukuna recognizes. He knows the feeling of gasping for air while your chest clenches down on you. He knows the sensation of your throat closing in and your head spinning on its axis.

He’s spent too many nights alone on the floor suffering through the same thing to leave Choso alone in the dark.

Choso doesn’t answer as you offer support, peering fearfully out at you in a silent plea for help when the air he gasps for never meets his lungs. “We won’t leave, Cho. We can stay in tonight.” You rub his back soothingly in a gentle up and down motion. “I’m gonna need you to do me a favor, okay? I need you to focus on my voice and breathe with me.”

You sit with him and encourage him to breathe in and out, walking him through the steps that usually help Sukuna. While the tattooed man is a stranger to handling feelings, navigating what feels like unknown territory, this isn’t that. So he takes a step forward and squeezes his brother’s arm in an attempt to ground him.

You offer him a little smile at the gesture, keeping up your kind and understanding tone as Choso’s breathing evens.

“I’m sorry,” he forces an apology out, strained and wet from the tears staining his cheeks as he manages to take the reigns on his emotions.

“For what, honey?”

“You were g-going on a date, right?” he mumbles quietly, choking on his words mid-sentence.

Slowly, you nod. It takes you a moment to search for words that might comfort Choso. Yuji stands aside, fiddling with his toy dragon’s horns as he tries to get a grasp on what’s going on. “We were,” you admit finally, answering Choso’s question directly. You cast a glance at the younger Itadori, but he still hasn’t wrapped his head around Choso’s outburst. “But we have all the time in the world to go on dates, your big brother knows that.” You comfort him, gently rubbing his back. “Your health and comfort come first.”

Choso peers up at you, searching for any signs of deception hidden within your expression. Unable to find any, his gaze flicks to Sukuna. Following Choso’s gaze, you find Sukuna still scowling, but he nods. Whatever uncertainty still swims within the man’s chest is hidden from his little brother, masked as though he’s preparing for a stage play.

Somewhat reassured, Choso looks as small as he feels when he mumbles a tiny ‘okay.’ Still, he remains tightly pulled into himself and uncertainly eyes Sukuna’s coat, as though at any moment his brother could disappear.

“Are you okay, Cho?” Yuji mumbles and clutches his dragon tighter as he takes a step forward.

Choso nods, not trusting his voice. You can’t tell if Yuji buys it, but you sure don’t. He’s still shaking, and every movement you make causes him to tense like you’ve got your foot out the door.

“You guys must have gone shopping when you got back, right? Why don’t we stay in tonight and cook something? Would you like that, honey?” You set the idea on the table, praying all three brothers take it.

Sukuna’s silent, something penetrating his scowl that you can’t quite read, before he gives you a little nod. Following his lead, Choso and Yuji both agree as well.

“I’ll cancel with Toji,” Sukuna mumbles, shrugging his jacket off and pulling his phone from his pocket. Watching the jacket sling from his elbow to the coat rack seems to ease a great deal of Choso’s nerves.

You can’t say you feel great about the whole ordeal. It’s not that you mind postponing your date. As eager as you are to go out with one of your closest friends and take things further, you have time. If the way Sukuna kissed you is anything to go off of, his feelings for you aren’t changing anytime soon. Yours certainly aren’t either, after nearly a year of pining for him and feeling utterly frustrated with yourself for it.

No, what really creeps into your worries is the fact that a single sign of Sukuna walking out the door sent Choso spiralling downhill so quickly he barely made it back to his feet. It’s not like Sukuna wouldn’t be returning, but the mere thought of him leaving was enough to cause the little boy this much distress.

Being away from the one constant in his life for so long seems to have left its mark on Choso’s psyche. An intrinsic fear of abandonment has sunken its teeth in the little boy’s heart, laying stake on new territory.

The fact is, you don’t know how to help him through that.

As Sukuna turns away to call Toji, you manage to herd both boys into the kitchen to help decide what to make. Unfortunately while Choso’s fairly adventurous, Yuji is completely and utterly dead-set on hot dogs.

“We can have hot dogs,” Choso murmurs in defeat, staring down at his feet.

Kneeling down to their level, you face the both of them. “I can make Yuji a hot dog, but it seems like that isn’t what you want,” you point out.

Choso glances aside, fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt. “I wanna make soup.”

It’s a bit warm for soup, but you’re not about to say no to the poor little boy now that his tears have subsided. “Alright!” You grin, “soup and hot dogs.”

As Sukuna returns, there’s a small wrinkle to his nose at the concept of soup and hot dogs, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts. He’s been woefully quiet since Choso’s breakdown.

You move into action, navigating his kitchen comfortably given all the nights you’ve spent looking after his brothers. You gather a handful of vegetables, broth, and some beef from the fridge, looking over your ingredients before returning to the pantry. Your date steps up behind you, catching you off-guard as you let out a sweet surprised ‘oh!’ and grin when he hands you the corn starch you were reaching for.

Though his expression doesn’t broadly change, the way he gives your waist a soft squeeze as he sets the corn starch in your hands tells you all you need to know.

He takes the lead on stirring the soup and monitoring the one small hot dog in a massive pan while you teach Choso a better way to chop vegetables than the clumsy way he (and Sukuna) had been doing it. As the tattooed man lazily stirs the soup, he reaches up to scratch at his chest as his heart flutters and flips at the domestic sight of you and his little brother cooking. Yuji happily sits at the table, playing with the dragon toy as he waddles its legs over the table.

Sukuna never really stopped to think about his future, too caught up with making sure he can pay bills now and get his brothers to school on time.

But now the thought intrudes on him. He has yet to take you on a date, and yet here he is picturing you being the one to greet him after a long day at work. He might have scoffed at the thought a few months ago, but he allows it to simmer for a moment like the soup atop the stove that he’s forgotten to stir now.

“Careful not to burn the hot dog,” you remind Sukuna with a cheery smile thrown over your shoulder. He grunts in acknowledgement as you snap him out of his lovesick stupor and he returns his attention to the stove.

Finishing up the last of the soup ingredients, Choso dumps them and a handful of seasonings and spices into the bowl. The little boy takes over stirring and after checking on him to make sure he knows what he’s doing, you sidle up to Sukuna, whose arms are crossed over his chest.

Setting a hand on his bicep, you lean up to him, whispering in his ear. A tingling sensation runs straight down his spine as your lips brush his ear when he leans down.

“Has this happened before?”

He shakes his head, peering over at his little brother. “They haven’t been alone since I got ‘em back, though.”

Sukuna brushes your fingers with his, eyeing your small hand on his bicep with the tiniest of smirks.

“How about when they go to bed?”

He shakes his head again. “Yuji’s a little more stubborn, but no. It’s been normal.”

You suppose that’s why Sukuna froze up when Choso panicked.

What were once miniscule cracks lying within their family have become fissures at Kaori’s hand. Seeing them all so torn up lies heavy in your heart. You hope cooking together can help mend what’s broken, even if only by a fraction.

You help Choso plate the meals, serving the hot dog to Yuji while the rest of you have soup. The carrot is admittedly still a bit uncooked, but aside from that you’d like to think you’ve done a good job.

Yuji entertains the table with chatter as Choso keeps mostly to himself and Sukuna’s scowl is telling of how much is on his mind, too.

As the little Itadori brings up the topic of movies, your eyes light up. “Oh! That reminds me, you only have the first Ice Age here, right?”

Yuji nods affirmatively, staring at you with big, curious eyes.

“I have something for you.” Your spoon hits the edge of your bowl with a clink as you quickly make your way to the front door, grabbing the bag you had dropped off with your clutch. Reaching within the bag, you pull out two DVDs to present to the brothers. “I picked these up for you.”

Yuji reaches out immediately, his hot dog long forgotten as he clings to the second and third Ice Age movies. “You’re the best!” He grins, hugging you with all his five-year-old might. Ruffling his hair, you guide him back to his meal.

“We can watch one after dinner if your brothers are okay with it,” you offer. Some selfish part of you hopes- needs- Sukuna to say yes, so desperate to spend more time with him after your date got suddenly postponed. You should know by now that he would kneel to you if you so demanded.

Hell, he has.

Yuji searches his brothers for any signs of denial, thrilled when he doesn’t find any. 

You move to clean up dinner, but your hands are quickly swatted away by Sukuna. He shoots you a scowl, jutting his chin out in the direction of the couch. “Go get comfy,” he gruffs, his eyes sliding back towards the mess in the kitchen that you mostly cleaned as you went. It’s not too bad, all things considered.

“I can help-” you try to insist as the kids both take a seat on the couch.

Sukuna swiftly places a hand on your waist, squeezing with a small smirk. Although his irises are still tumultuous, you can spot his amusement as well. “Go sit.”

“Are you-”

He stops you this time with a kiss that nearly steals the air from your lungs, his lips pressing softly to yours, slow and steady as they move against you. It’s slow, meaningful, as though he’s memorizing the way your skin melds to his. “Go,” he mumbles as he pulls back, casting a glance at his brothers who are fumbling with the DVD player still, to ensure this moment is yours and yours alone.

Breathless, you nod with pursed lips, crossing your legs over one another as you plop down onto the couch, leaving space for the siblings. Choso chooses the floor, while Yuji eagerly waits for Sukuna to plop down so that he can crawl into Sukuna’s lap.

Reclining into the cushions, Sukuna lets out a puff of air. His eyes train on the ceiling as Yuji seated on his lap prevents him from much more than brushing your shoulder with his arm outstretched over the back of the couch. The minute pull at the corner of his lips betrays the frustration he’s been fighting to keep at bay all night, the reason he’s been so quiet.

The most you can do is lean into the touch of his digits against your bare shoulder and wait until the kids are asleep.

As the second movie begins the same as the first with a squirrel giving chase to an acorn before introducing each of the characters, you fall back into the couch. As the ‘girl elephant’ Yuji compared you to is introduced, you hate to say that you can understand his comparison.

But when Yuji gets up to stand in front of the screen like he’s giving a powerpoint presentation, you swear you see Sukuna’s soul leave his body.

“See, see-” he points at the character he’s comparing you to, “Ellie’s nice even when Manny’s mean.” Out of the corner of your eye, Sukuna is burning up, his cheeks such a deep shade of red that even under the blue light of the TV, you can easily tell. “And- and-” Yuji pauses, pointing at Manny again, “- he pretends to not like Ellie at the start even though- um-” he points again at the screen as though it might further prove his point, “- they’re obviously best friends who love each other!”

You have to chew on your lip in order to prevent yourself from bursting into a fit of giggles as Yuji lays out Sukuna’s emotions.

Damn. Did the five-year-old know he had feelings for you before he did?

Embarrassing.

And Sukuna knows it, because he’s quickly growling, “get back here, brat, it’s not a damn presentation.” He leans forward in an attempt to grab Yuji, who happily squeals as he dodges Sukuna’s outstretched arm. “Let us watch the movie,” the older brother grumbles under his breath, huffing when he manages to get a hold of Yuji and set the boy back down on the couch.

His hardened and frustrated expression burns into the TV as though he can’t bear to look at you, humiliated by his little brother.

Reaching over to nudge him when the movie’s captured Yuji’s attention again, you manage to silently mouth ‘it’s cute’, to him, giving a nonchalant little shrug. In truth, it’s nice to know that Sukuna’s as nervous and flustered as you are. Not necessarily because you want him to be, but because it’s nice to know his feelings for you are as strong as yours are.

And honestly? Given how much he used to tease you and make innuendos, it’s nice to not be the only flustered one between the two of you.

And you don’t feel bad about that part.

The tension in Sukuna’s muscles dissipates as he reads your lips, his gaze turning back towards the TV as he’s forced to face the music that Yuji is right.

God damn it.

He’s seen Ice Age enough times to know that he could definitely be compared to the mammoth, but of course there just has to be a character that joins the second film with that’s comparable to you.

And they date.

The fucking ‘hairy elephants’ go on a date before he gets to with you.

So yeah, consider him a bit humiliated.

Dragging a hand over his face, he’s forced to watch the rest of the movie while his thoughts are stuck only on you. You look so sweet, sitting there on his couch with your makeup done up more than usual, extra care put into your look just for him.

God, he wants to kiss you.

Every kiss he steals still feels forbidden, as though he’s crossing a line he shouldn’t be, at least until he takes you out on a date. Hell, he still needs to talk to you. That was a big part of his plan for the night, clearing the air. Yet now, he’s stewing in his own thoughts, floating along with each and every doubt and uncertainty that gets stirred into the pot, all the while he’s forced to wonder what the hell he’s meant to do to get Choso to go to school on Monday.

Then there’s Yuji not sharing… but that’s a problem for another day. He’s always been a handful, but he outgrows these phases pretty quickly.

At least he isn’t shoving slime in his ear anymore.

It’s the little things that count.

When the credits roll across the screen, Yuji bounds up to his feet, still a ball of energy as he excitedly asks what you both thought.

“I liked it!” You grin, picking up the third movie from the coffee table. “Apparently the third one has dinosaurs.”

Yuji gasps, running up to climb into your lap and see for himself.

“It was good,” Sukuna dryly comments in reply to Yuji, his mind moving a bit slower than yours given that he’s still stewing over being compared to the cheesy romance plot of the movie.

Yuji peers over at Sukuna, having completely forgotten already that he asked a question. The light doesn’t seem to go off in his head, but he does notice something else. “Kuna, are you sick?”

“Hm?” Sukuna, with that resting disinterested expression he always sports, waits for Yuji’s reply.

“You’re red!” The little boy points at Sukuna’s rosy cheeks from where he’s seated on your lap.

“It’s just warm in here,” Sukuna grudgingly replies, shooting his brother a sharp look.

Unfortunately the five-year-old doesn’t catch the look and glances at you and Choso. “No it’s not.”

Sukuna huffs dramatically, getting to his feet as he chooses to ignore the comment. “Go get ready for bed,” he points towards the kids’ room. “It’s getting late,” he adds, strained.

Yuji tries to protest and insist that he wants to stay up late since you’re here and it’s the weekend, but Sukuna’s not hearing it after the relentless teasing he’s endured. Choso casts repeated glances back at you even as he heads for their room, each one increasingly uncertain.

Dragging his hands over his face as the boys begin their nightly routine, Sukuna turns back to you with slightly mussed hair. He pushes his button-up sleeves up past his elbows, adjusting the collar as though it’s too tight, despite having two buttons undone, his muscular collar on display in a tantalizing manner.

“You know, Yuji had a point,” you tease, getting to your feet and making your way over to him. You clasp your hands together, pleased as his cheeks redden again.

Once more, he rubs his face, unable to catch a break and get his blush to go down. “I’m in a fuckin’ button-up, it’s hot,” he stubbornly defends himself, avoiding your gaze.

“You don’t need to be nervous, you know,” you point out, the mischief in your gaze stepping aside for something far sweeter.

“‘M not,” he stubbornly murmurs, fixing you with a scowl.

“Lying before you even take me on a date?” You tease.

Fuck, is it even fair when the gleam in your eyes is still so saccharine while you tease him? Where’s the cunning, the smugness? Why are you endlessly sweet like honey?

His hands subconsciously find your waist as you move towards him, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the smooth material of your pale pink dress. Ignoring your comment about his blatant bluff, he scrutinizes your kind smile as though he might find a hint of disdain. It’s like he can’t help searching for a reason that the doubts swimming in his mind might be right.

“‘M sorry,” he mutters, a hardened scowl pulling at his handsome features.

You tilt your head as confusion brims, but before you can ask anything, Choso is calling out to his older brother.

Sukuna’s hands still as doubt lingers in his gaze when he turns to face Choso. “Yeah?”

“Um-” Sheepishly, Choso tucks his long brunette hair behind his ears, peering past Sukuna at you. “Are you leaving after we go to sleep?”

If it’s possible for Sukuna’s brow to furrow further, it does. The tattooed brute shakes his head. “No, Cho.”

“Is she?” The little boy peers over at you. Sukuna follows his line of sight, crimson eyes settling on you.

It’s hard to say no when he’s looking at you with such contemplative hopefulness. “I have finals next week,” you murmur as an apology. “I can’t.”

The little boy’s shuffling intensifies, his gaze shifting around the room. “Do you have to?”

The words that you need to comfort the little boy don’t come, and you find yourself standing with your jaw agape. “I’m sorry honey, I do. I need to study.” You brush past Sukuna, kneeling down to Choso’s level. “Do you wanna talk? It seems like something’s bothering you.”

He hesitates, his gaze briefly treading across the apartment as though anything else is suddenly more interesting. “I’d like that,” he murmurs, sheepishly waiting for you to lead the way. Cocking your head in the direction of the couch, you plop down beside the little boy while Sukuna goes to check on Yuji.

“What’s on your mind?” You give the little boy a starting point to speak his mind, encouraging him gently.

Choso swallows hard, collecting his thoughts as he drags his feet back and forward across the carpeted living room floor. “I can’t get it out of my head that anytime I see you guys could be the last.”

“You know neither of us would leave you alone if we can do anything to help it.”

His fingers grip the material of his pants tightly. “I know you wouldn’t on purpose,” he murmurs, the unspoken truth of his hurt hidden between the lines.

Sukuna hasn’t returned yet from checking on Yuji, so you take the opportunity to speak to his character. “Your big brother fought tooth and nail to get you back,” you start, watching Choso turn his attention to you. “He worked non-stop to make sure he could fix things.”

“Really?” He breathes.

“Mhmm! Him and all of our friends that you met the other day made sure everything worked out.” Choso straightens, gradually coming out of his shell, so you continue. “I know he’s a pretty grumpy guy, but Sukuna loves you both a lot. He wouldn’t leave you behind.”

“Never?”

“Never,” you confirm with a sweet smile. “He was torn up about not being able to see you, too.”

Choso inhales a deep breath, nodding to himself. He stares at his feet as he kicks them back and forth. “I know Kuna was mean, but I don’t want you to leave again,” he tacks on.

You cock your head to the side, trying to recall what he means.

“I’m not dumb,” he mumbles, expression hardening in a scowl that’s so painfully Sukuna. “I know you guys fought and that’s why you didn’t see us for a month.”

You don’t see Sukuna reappear from around the corner, pausing at the entrance to the living area as you slowly nod. With a chuckle, you’re forced to give in. “You’re a smart kid, Choso,” you say, ruffling his hair. He shakes his head to keep the strands out of his eyes, looking to you for an explanation. “You’re right, Cho- mostly.” You pause as you recall the incident, “we did fight.”

Sucking in a breath, you take a moment to organize your thoughts, to keep them reasonable and understandable for the young boy.

“But you know what? We both made mistakes, and we’ve both owned up to them. Your brother and I are both putting in effort to make sure it doesn’t happen again, and if it does…” you trail off, a small smile pulling at your lips. “Then I think we can work through it. I’m not giving up on you. Not you, or Yuji, or Kuna.”

Sukuna’s lips part as he listens to you. He clutches the wall that separates the main living area from the hall, his stomach erupting with a fluttering sensation that nearly outweighs the heft of his guilt. The tension in his shoulders dissipates as he watches you comfort his brother, tender and sweet as you always are.

“You mean it?” Choso searches for reassurance.

“Of course I do. You guys are like family to me.”

You can’t say if it’ll only last the night or if it’ll help put him at ease past this point, but that seems to do the trick. He slumps against you like he’s been withholding his tiredness this whole time, his feet ceasing to kick back and forth across the carpet.

“You've always got your brothers and I in your corner,” you add, giving his shoulders a tight squeeze. “Now why don’t you go get some sleep? Once my finals are over, I promise I’ll be back.”

He nods slowly, wearily pushing off the couch and getting to his feet. He spots Sukuna standing on the precipice of entering the room, shyly approaching his brother to hug him, as well. “Thanks, Kuna,” he murmurs before scampering away to his room.

“Uh, yeah. Night, Cho.”

He glances back, watching the door close and letting out a breath. Crimson eyes blink open, fixing you with a contemplative look.

“Family, huh?”

Bashfully, you let out an airy laugh. “Yeah, um, I don’t mean to intrude if-”

“You’re not.” He interrupts you with confidence, hands in the pockets of his slacks as he makes his way towards you, taking a seat at your side. He leans back into the cushions, pushing his hands back through his hair. “‘M sorry,” he repeats his earlier statement, staring blankly at the blue light projected from the main menu of the DVD silently playing from the TV.

You peer up at him, your hands neatly tucked beneath your thighs as you kick your feet out. “For what?”

“That things didn’t turn out how I expected.”

“Sukuna,” you deadpan with a mock exasperated smile. “You couldn’t have known.”

Ruddy eyes slide towards you.

“Things were bound to go wrong after everything that happened. That’s life,” you shrug, turning to face him. Your hand slides along his knee, settling as you soothe small circles into the joint. “It’s only been a couple of days, they’ll need time to heal. You’ll all need time to heal.”

He sighs, long and heavy, dropping his head in defeat at your sound rationale. “Guess so,” he agrees, given that he’s still feeling the repercussions himself. It’s not like he can disagree. “Just wanted to do things right for you.”

“‘Right’?”

He rolls his head to rest on the back of the couch, eyeing you sidelong. “Yeah. Pick you up, take you out, walk you to the door. Flowers, or somethin’.”

The idea of Sukuna handling dating you as if it’s some sort of by-the-books puzzle for him to put together has you giggling as you squeeze his knee. “There’s no right or wrong here, Kuna. You don’t need to pick me up or walk me to my door. I mean, obviously I wanna go out,” you add with a little wave of your hand. “But I don’t want ‘right’,” you make quotation motions with your fingers.

Feeling emboldened by your words, he slides his hands to your waist, effortlessly lifting you onto his lap. The material of your dress gathers at your thighs as you straddle his waist. While you may feel mostly in control of the situation when you’re just talking, being on top of him sends lightning up your spine, sparking every nerve from head to toe and noticeably in the depths of your abdomen. Your confidence lies within words, but Sukuna’s within touch.

“What do you want, then?” He gruffs, a raspy quality to his voice that only tends to come out when he’s teasing.

Although you know what he’s implying and it sends heat tingling up the back of your neck to the tips of your ears and again to your abdomen, there’s still a lot left unsaid. “I want everything about you, Sukuna. The chaos, the confusion… the grumpiness,” his nose wrinkles as you tap it and control slips again from his fingertips to sit in your lap. “If I didn’t want that, I wouldn’t be here.”

He lets a puff of air escape his nose, exasperated as he shuts his eyes in defeat. “Guess you have a point, princess.” Victorious, you grin at him. “I’d still like a do-over on our first date, though. Ice Age isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

“I dunno, I thought it was fun. Yuji really enjoyed it,” you tease, shrugging as your hands settle on his chest.

Mindlessly playing with the material of your dress, he scoffs. “Yuji gave an entire damn presentation on why I’m a grumpy old mammoth.”

“Yeah. It was fun.”

His eyes narrow as he playfully flicks your forehead, not bothering to grace you with a reply to your quip. “Brats, both of you.”

Laughter bubbles within your chest as you clutch Sukuna’s shirt. His chest warms with the sound of your giggling, bright and jovial in a way he hasn’t been able to truly appreciate in a long while. He relaxes back into the cushions of the couch further, a content smile breaching his lips.

You shuffle on his lap in order to adjust the position of your knees, sitting back once the ache in one of them subsides. Sukuna blinks quickly, his fingers slipping beneath the material of your dress to squeeze the plush of your thighs. He clears his throat, shifting his hips as he changes the subject to distract himself from his growing need.

“About the do-over,” he repeats himself, as more of a question than a statement.

“You can have a do-over,” you softly agree, leaving a sweet peck atop his nose. “I figured this wouldn’t really be a date, even though I don’t mind if it is.”

He lets out a breath, nodding. “Thanks, princess.”

“But you aren’t allowed to feel bad about this.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he agrees, brushing you off as he casts a glance to his side. “Think I’ll just have to come up with somethin’ different if the kid can’t handle us leaving.” His jaw clenches as he shifts it this way and that. “Was just hopin’ to do something special.”

You lift your hands from his chest, sliding the backs of your fingers softly along the hard line of his jaw before settling your palms on his cheeks. The faintest feel of stubble lingers beneath your fingers as you cup his face, your stomach erupting in butterflies as his entire demeanor softens like you hold the cure to his every problem. Whatever tension lies within his body dissipates as he absolutely melts into your warmth. “We don’t need to go out for things to be special.”

He presses his lips into a thin line, swallowing hard as he searches for words. “Just… I don’t want shit to all be the same. Don’t want you to get bored.”

“Bored?” You laugh at the mere concept of being bored when talking about Sukuna. Him and his family have kept you on your toes now for so long, you can’t imagine using the term ‘boring’ with them. “There’s nothing boring about being here with you, Kuna. If anything, sometimes it’s a lot to keep up with,” you giggle.

Even he has a hard time arguing with that as his grimace falters. He fixates on your gaze as your irises gleam under the pale blue light of the TV idly standing by. It’s impossible not to notice the way you look at him.

As though he’s art. Like each stroke that makes up the man before you was intentional, yet he can’t help but feel as though he’s riddled with doubts and mistakes. In spite of that, you see more in him. You embrace who he is. Even when he lashes out under pressure, you never fault him for his errors so long as he owns up to them. The strokes on his canvas aren’t mistakes to you, they’re what makes him human.

He shudders, gripping your thighs tighter as the thought rocks him. Static buzzes within his chest, fuzzy and electric as he leans in to capture your lips. He swallows your surprised gasp, the warmth in his chest growing as your hands slide from his cheeks to cling to his broad shoulders.

His movement is soft, savoring every second of being with you as though he fears this is the last taste of you he might get. His tongue glides across your lower lip in a silent plea for permission. When you part your lips for him, his movements remain unhurried as he explores your mouth. Your tongue dances with his, both of your hearts racing in sync. You can feel his pulse beneath your fingers, the way his chest hardly rises and falls as though if he dares to pause for a breath, the moment might be over.

When his body all but screams for air is when he finally pulls back, sliding his hands further up your thighs. The pads of his fingers press into your skin as the scene feels painfully familiar to the first time he ever kissed you. His stomach churns at the mere thought, his hands growing uncomfortably clammy on your bare skin.

You catch the minute twitch of his brow, tilting your head. “Is something wrong, Kuna?”

A muscle in his jaw ticks as he clenches it, averting his eyes as though you might see right into his depths. “Just… feels like last year.”

Chewing on your lip at the reminder, you grip his shoulders tighter as you await his elaboration.

Inhaling sharply, he pushes through. “It wasn’t a mistake, princess.” He watches as you pull your lower lip between your teeth, nervously chewing on it. “I’m a dumbass for not realizing it sooner, n’ I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too. I should have told you how I felt before acting on my feelings.”

He blows a puff of air out of his nose with bittersweet amusement. “I should’ve thought about anything really before acting.” He smiles when you give him a weak shove. “Should’ve considered what you were thinking. Should’ve figured out how I felt in the damn first place.”

“How did you feel?” You query, curious where his head was at all those months ago.

He hums, gliding his tongue over his kiss-swollen lower lip. “Dunno, honestly. I chalked it up to the fact that you’re hot, but then when you left, I didn’t know what to make of how I felt.” He shrugs. “Just knew that I still wanted you around.”

“Aww,” you coo with a little pout. “That’s kinda sweet, Kuna.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grunts, averting his gaze as rose powder settles across his cheeks. “Feels stupid to look back on now. Didn’t really realize how bad I fucked up until you were already gone.” He swallows hard as each admittance comes out about as easily as swallowing rocks. “Then Uraume told me that before our fight you had a crush, but we weren’t really talkin’ at that point and I got in my head about it and figured I probably already lost you.”

You chuckle as you reminisce on all the times that you thought Sukuna might like you back but were never sure. “That… explains a lot, actually.”

“Yeah?”

“I kept telling myself that you didn’t like me back and that we were just close, but you made it hard,” you say quietly, flattening Sukuna’s shirt beneath your fingers. “The whole cuddling thing, that really threw me off.”

He squeezes the plush of your thigh teasingly. “Yeah, I know. You kept blushing.”

“Stooop,” you whine playfully, tugging at his collar.

He grins, smug. “Nah, it’s my turn. Yuji turned me into a laughingstock all night.”

You giggle at the thought. “So you admit you were red?”

Slipping his hands out from under your dress, he latches onto your waist, brushing his thumbs just above your hips with a ticklish squeeze. Something between a gasp and a shocked yelp parts your lips before you devolve into laughter. Sukuna is quick to cover your mouth with a large palm, his lidded gaze warm as he slowly brings his hand back down when your fit quiets down.

Grinning, your laughter airily continues when you rest your chin on his shoulder and lean into his embrace. He hums contentedly as you slink your arms over his broad shoulders in a tight hug. His grip on you secures as your laughter subsides, his chin coming to rest on your shoulder. The silence shared between you doesn’t hold the weight of unspoken words any longer.

For once it’s just that- silence. Comfortable and content.

Your eyes flutter shut as Sukuna’s fingers flex into your skin. His breath is warm across your bare shoulders, even and steady as the problems he has yet to face feel surmountable compared to everything he’s already been through. Especially with you by his side.

Within the darkness of the room, under the blanket of his warmth, you’re already beginning to fade when you feel his fingers running up and down your spine. It’s tingly, but soothing all the same.

So soothing, in fact, that you begin to doze off in his arms.

He can tell by the way your muscles give out entirely as you slump against him and your breathing slows. He smiles to himself, basking in the moment and not daring to bring you back to the waking world when this is everything he could ever want.

If anything, the feeling only fuels his longing for a world where you don’t need to go home every night. Maybe it’s too early to think something like that, but your bond runs far deeper than that of a pair yet to go on a proper first date.

A future with you isn’t so far-fetched.

He couldn’t tell you how long he stays that way, barely awake himself when he subconsciously presses a kiss to your temple. It’s like second nature, something he’s hard-wired to do, only for you.

Stirring, you push up on the back of the couch to a seated position, still straddling him. Blearily glancing around, you take in your surroundings, blinking at him.

“You gotta leave tonight?”

Dazed, you tilt your head in thought before groaning. “Yeah,” you mumble quietly. “My first final is Tuesday. I fell behind in that class, I need to do well.”

Sukuna hums, guilt bubbling in the pit of his stomach. He caused you to fall behind in the first place, he supposes he reserves no right to ask you to stay and further impact your studies. “You’ll nail it, princess. You always do.”

You smile sleepily at him, warming his heart. “I guess I should go before I get too comfortable.”

He hums again, withholding the urge to insist you stay.

Hesitating, you sheepishly withdraw from his warmth, flicking on the light at the front of the apartment as you gather your belongings. Sukuna’s eyes don’t once leave you, even as he pushes up from the couch and trails after you. You shoot him a smile as you pick up your clutch before turning to say your goodbyes.

“I had a good time tonight,” you beam.

“Me too, princess. Once your finals are over, you’re mine again for that date, got it?”

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you nod sheepishly as your face warms up.

“I’ll figure something out that works for Cho.”

On a more serious note, you pipe in. “Have you taken a look at therapists yet?”

“A bit,” he sighs, casting a glance over his shoulder where his brothers are asleep. “But I’ll put more time into it.” Turning back to face you, his eyes trail down your cute baby pink outfit again before a scowl strikes him. “Did you not bring a jacket?”

“No, it’s warm,” you shrug him off.

“Here.” He’s already settling his bomber jacket around your shoulders before you can even begin protesting.

“Kuna, it’s warm!” You insist, pushing back against his insistent offering. With the jacket settled already over your shoulders, he gives it a gentle tug to pull you towards him. You stumble into his chest, your mouth going dry when he leans down to murmur into your ear.

“Let me have this.”

Sheepishly nodding, you gave him a dazed smile as he stands upright once more.

“Fine.” It comes out as more of a whisper than you intended, but you’re too caught up on the handsome smug smirk on his face to worry about it.

“See you soon, princess. Good luck on your finals.” His hands find your waist so easily you would think they belong there. He leans down, unhurried as he chases one last kiss. Each and every one is still so world-altering that you’re forced to cling to the shirt hanging off of his broad and muscular frame. You don’t think you’ll ever really get used to the sparks that fly, loud and bright like fireworks, each time your lips meet.

When you pull back, you’re unable to help your smile. “Text me?”

“‘Course. See ya at the office Tuesday.”

“See you, Kuna.”

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❦ a/n ; the poor boys are all feeling the repercussions of kaori, but it's so heartwarming to be able to write them all together again :') i missed yuji being a little troublemaker. tysm for all the love as always <33 it never goes unappreciated

i'll be working on my halloween event (a smut horror event somewhat in the style of until dawn with multiple paths/endings for each of the men, somewhat inspired by the likes of until dawn with other inspiration coming from scream and other slasher and monster films) so i'll be splitting my focus across that and wyk until the end of october. please keep an eye out for it if you're interested!

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

@yenayaps @kunascutie @aiicpansion @fushitoru @gojoscumslut

@hellish4ever @cuntyji @theonlyhonoredone @catobsessedlady @timetoletmyimaginationfly

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

@spindyl @ohmykwonsoonyoung @kyo-kyo1 @officialholyagua @jeonwiixard

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

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

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

@toulouse365 @dabieater @janrcrosssing @satsattoru @moonchhu

@privthemis @captainsarcasmandsass @ryomeowie @vitoshi @kunasthiast

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

You try to shift to get a better view of him, but before you can, his grip strengthens. There’s a subtle tremor to his muscles as they flex under the demand of his embrace of you, but you don’t dare point it out. Not when the world falls away and for a moment it’s just you and him. You give him a reassuring squeeze, content to just exist in his world and help pick up whatever pieces he can’t on his own.

With a final deep breath, he releases you, exhausted crimson eyes flickering across your face. For all the weariness drawn into his features like a sketch, there’s equal parts renewed determination woven between the lines.

With life breathed back into him, he stares down at the birth certificates in his hand and immediately takes action. With Satoru and Toji still seated in his living room and privy to the new information about his court case (lord knows those two nosy men were listening in), they offer their resources as well.

To your surprise, Sukuna accepts it without much fanfare. Well, apart from the huff that you’re certain was that strange dignity of being completely self-sufficient that he clings to leaving his body. Either way, he can’t deny how helpful it is to be able to make use of Satoru’s wide network of connections, even if it comes at the cost of giving Satoru a vague and lazy run-down of the situation he’s going through with his brothers. He does grieve the lack of privacy from the lackadaisical man, but it’s a small price to pay to keep his promise to his brothers.

He has his lawyer on the phone in an instant as well, going over the new evidence as she immediately makes a move to file for an appeal, filing for an expedited process with the evidence of the kids’ very obvious distress in the photos from SXSW. You all lean in to listen as she notes that if the expedited process is accepted, things could go down quickly and they need to move fast.

Where the real issue comes in, you realize quickly, is the money. Sukuna’s pride is so deeply ingrained into him when it comes to money that it’s the one thing he just won’t budge on.

“Is this the latest invoice for the lawyer?” Satoru queries, slipping a sheet of paper out from under Sukuna’s elbow.

He pushes a hand through long pink tresses, his expression hardening. “Yeah.”

“Is it paid?”

Clearly already exasperated, Sukuna brings a hand up to his shoulder, pressing down on the muscles in an effort to ease his own tension. “It’s on a payment plan,” he grumbles, cocking his head to the side as he presses down harder on his muscle.

“Why don’t you have them send the next one to me, and-”

“No.” His hand drops, gaze flashing with something indignant as he fixes Satoru with a stare that could level a mountain.

“Alright, alright,” the white-haired man relents, putting his hands up in defeat. “Look, I’m just trying to-”

“Whatever you’re trying to do, stop.” Sukuna hisses.

You exchange a glance with Satoru, who inhales sharply, scratching at the back of his head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he sighs as Sukuna not-so-subtly passes along the reminder that they aren’t friends. Still, it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t have a point.

Toji, on the same page as Satoru, pipes in. “The hell’re you gonna do, then?” He queries with a blunt tone. “Rent’s overdue n’ lawyers aren’t exactly free.”

“Some are,” Sukuna huffs childishly, ignoring the fact that all three of you are nosy as hell to know his rent’s overdue.

Toji’s jaw slacks, his lip curling in disbelief as he narrows his eyes at the grown man’s child-like response. “Ryomen. Is your fuckin’ lawyer free?”

“No.”

“Then what the fuck’re you bringin’ that up for?” He shrugs exaggeratedly.

Sukuna’s silent under the realization of his petty reply. He sits at the kitchen table silently as he contemplates how exactly he can come up with the money before any deadlines roll around. “Just-” he sighs heavily, pressing his thumbs into his temples. “Give me a sec.” Pushing up from the table, he pulls his old engraved lighter from his pocket, throwing a nearby drawer open to grab a box of cigarettes before disappearing out to the balcony.

Leaning on your palm, you let out a breath, exhaling the tension from your body as you slump down on the kitchen table.

The silence is somewhat of a relief after the revelation that there’s hope at last for Sukuna, even if it means throwing your scholarship out the window. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. You can take a year to earn some money, go back later… you’ll figure it out. You can’t be bothered to worry about your scholarship when it’s at the expense of two terrified little boys.

The still air is broken only by Satoru, who’s leaning back in his chair with crossed arms. “You okay? You haven’t been to any of my parties in ages.”

“I’m alright,” you smile gratefully. “There’s just a lot going on,” you chuckle, brushing him off as you cast a glance at Sukuna, leaning over the balcony with smoke trailing skyward from his fingers.

“Did you manage to get your grades up?”

You nod. “Yeah, Kento had a friend in my class who helped with a presentation I missed,” you explain. “They saved my ass.”

“Sweet,” he grins. “Guess life is getting back on track.” He relaxes back into his chair, his arms crossed behind his head as he pushes the chair back to balance precariously on two legs. You can only shoot him a tight-lipped smile and hope he’s right.

With a teeth-grinding screech, the door to the balcony slides open and shut as Sukuna returns, the smell of smoke and rain billowing behind him as he takes a seat again. Running his hands over his face again, he shakes his head to reorient himself. “I’ll ask for an advance at work,” he decides gruffly.

“You know, I can just-” Satoru tries again, only to be fixed with a look that could kill. He cuts himself off again as Toji nudges his foot beneath the table. Biting his tongue, Satoru simply nods. “You think they’ll give it to you? You’ve only been there a couple of months, right?”

Sukuna examines Satoru for a moment before slowly inhaling. He nods, leaning his head to either side to crack his neck. “Yeah, they’re good for that sorta shit. I can pick up some shifts at the-” He pauses, shutting his eyes as he realizes that avenue is closed to him right now given the incident that left him with an unfortunate reminder of his mistake. “Shit,” he mutters, mindlessly reaching up to run a finger up his scar, still fresh from earlier in the week.

“Maybe you can do some overtime? You were off for a bit anyway, right?”

“Maybe,” he mumbles, “I can handle the cash part, though. It’ll be fine.”

You cast him a doubtful look, but he seems confident, and that’s good enough for you. Particularly as he looks up across the table to the list the four of you had managed to compile of people to reach out to, contacts that Satoru was calling in favors from, and strict deadlines for publications hardly forty-eight hours from now.

With plenty for Sukuna to do, Satoru and Toji decide to take their leave, with you shortly behind them.

Sukuna stops you before you can head out the door, catching you at the front entry of his apartment. “Hey.”

Your brow raises as you spin around, tilting your head in that way that makes his heart melt every time. He knows he’s weak when it comes to his brothers, but that little quirk of yours could very well tilt his whole world on its axis.

Hell, it has.

You have.

He runs his tongue across his lower lip as he feels heat rising to the back of his neck. “Thanks.” His voice is low, with a husky timbre that forces you to shuffle in place as you feel your heart palpitate for a moment.

“It’s nothing, really,” you offer him a genuine smile, an air of shyness surrounding you at his earnestness.

“It’s not nothing. I was…” he shakes his head, something between a scoff and a wry laugh parting his lips. “I was a dick.” Tight-lipped, the admission feels familiar to one of the first times you had a similar conversation in this same spot, many months ago. “I wasn’t in a good place and I made some really fuckin’ stupid choices and you-” he waves a hand through the air, motioning to just… you. “So, thanks. For covering for my ass, the birth certificate… I owe you.”

“You don’t owe me anything. Just go win.”

It’s not quite a smile that he shoots you, but it’s real, and it’s him.

–

“I think my parents are expecting me to bring someone to their anniversary party,” Shoko sighs, staring at the nutritional facts on the energy drink in her hand. She twists it thoughtfully as though the ingredients aren’t sugar and a lack of sleep.

You move a step forward as the line in the corner store gradually shortens, tilting your head at her in the early afternoon the day following the perjury revelation. “A date?”

“Yeah,” she sighs, her head falling back to stare at the ceiling. “I may have told them I was seeing someone.”

“Shoko!” You laugh, taking another step forward as the poor cashier works as quickly as they can under the dim fluorescent lighting of the dingy store. “Why would you tell them that?”

“They were threatening to set me up with someone! What was I supposed to do?” She insists with a shrug. “Do you think that cute girl from History last semester would say yes if I asked her out?”

“Sho, you can’t bring her to your parents’ house for a first date.”

“Could be a funny story,” she shrugs with a sigh, turning towards the magazine rack. “Oh my god, wait-” she breathes suddenly, leaning forward to pull out a magazine just barely hidden in the second row. Sure enough, within her palms is a copy of some celebrity magazine, plastered with the face of your friend.

How terrifying that it’s hardly been a full day.

Things had moved fast since yesterday, startlingly so, and Sukuna was quickly plastered on every news site. It’s hard to avoid seeing his face everywhere, each interview settling like a stone in your gut as you’re forced to see the public’s reaction. It’s positive more often than not, but it’s hard to avoid those that will defend Noritoshi Kamo to the grave for… some unknown reason.

You try not to let their comments get to you, but… it gets increasingly harder to read grown men defending Noritoshi and Kaori as though they’re some sort of saints.

That’s not to mention the fact that just about everyone on campus knows who Sukuna is. He’s not a man with a reputation for no reason, and the widespread gossip all leads straight to you and your friends. Stray looks at Toji, Uraume, Atsuya, and yourself do you no favors as you cower into the shadows between classes just to avoid the prying eyes. It’s not as if you’re about to divulge the information they seem to be seeking, anyway.

Still, something about seeing the story printed physically hits differently. Sukuna looks good on the cover, better than he has in a long time in the new photo. His eyes shine with determination and although his confidence is shaky at best, he wears an air of fake conviction well. He doesn’t look quite so gaunt anymore and his haircut was long-overdue, although some part of you liked the look of longer hair on him.

Still, you find yourself frowning. There’s no chance in hell that Sukuna let someone near him with makeup, so the photo has to be touched up. It’s not that he looks bad by any means, but he wears the evidence of the past few months more than ever lately.

Sukuna never can just be himself.

He’s always something. The bad boy, the perfect guardian, the underdog of the year.

Never just Sukuna.

But this is better than whatever he’d become, a shell of his former self who couldn’t bear the weight of his negative thoughts, turning to whatever could numb him like a quick dose of novocaine. It’s not ideal, but it’s progress, and you’re grateful for that.

Shoko flips through the magazine as you wait for the line to clear, skimming the contents for any new details outside of the digital article that had circulated quietly across campus, though each article is the same. Heavily mediated by Sukuna’s lawyer and sent for approval before being released, they’re all combed of any details that would make your friend look bad. Which, realistically, is important for a man whose vocabulary consist of ‘fuck’ at least once every three sentences.

“Has the step-monster said anything yet?”

“Not yet,” you shake your head as she sets the magazine back on the rack.

“What about the appeal?”

“I got a text from him like an hour ago that it’s headed to the Appeals Court and the rush request thing was accepted too. He said he won’t be there for the appeal, but if the retrial is accepted, it should be in a week or two if his lawyer gets her way.”

“What a fucking shitshow,” she sighs, placing her energy drink atop the counter finally as she has the cashier grab a box of smokes for her, paying for your drink too, despite your protests before leading the way out the door. “How’s Sukuna handling being on the front page of Twitter?”

It was bound to happen given Noritoshi’s status, but… “I mean, I think he knew he’d go viral for a bit,” you shrug. “I’ll have to see tomorrow at work.”

“Did you see the headline on that one this morning? ‘Scandal in the Kamo Household?!’ That’s so… eugh,” she rolls her eyes. “They’re making it sound like celebrity drama and not a real person’s life.”

You cast a glance back towards the corner store, cocking your head in thought. “I think he only did a few interviews, there’s no way his lawyer allowed that,” you murmur thoughtfully. “They must just be hopping on the train for the sake of clicks.”

“I saw one last night where all the comments were just talking about him being hot when one of the articles had a photo taken from his Instagram,” she grimaces, her nose wrinkling in disgust at the concept. “Imagine focusing on that with all the headlines he’s making right now.”

You can’t manage an answer as your stomach churns, unable to settle between your own disgust and a simmering jealousy that settled within your very marrow when you spotted similar comments.

Your best friend eyes the way you shift, her expression softening. “Hey,” she nudges your shoulder as she rests a cigarette between her lips. “I don’t think you need to compete with people thirst-tweeting after Sukuna.”

“I’m not-” you let out a breath at the realization of how silly it really is. Sukuna may be well-known across your campus for his reputation, but it’s just as surface-level as each of these articles is. He doesn’t care for the attention and he doesn’t let people in.

“Besides, he’d probably scare them off with his RBF if they ever actually met him,” she snorts, pulling out a lighter. 

“Sho.”

“What?” She asks, muffled as she pauses momentarily to light the dart. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she starts, pulling the cigarette from her lips as she exhales smoke over your head. “Did you forget how he ignored you for like three weeks straight when you first met? Or the arguments you were having every other week because he was being a prick?”

“He apologized for all of that!”

“I know, I don’t hold it against him anymore but that’s not the point. The point is that he chose to let you in. You really think he’d care about what anyone outside of his circles thinks?” Ash falls beneath her feet as she swings her hand out dramatically. “He’s pretty cold outside of our group.”

“You’ve got a point,” you murmur, watching your footfalls across the concrete below.

“Yeah yeah, I always do,” she grins, waving you off. “I still can’t believe you found out the step-monster committed perjury. Did Sukuna never think to check?”

You shrug and shake your head at once. “I guess not. Toji grilled him for it, but when he asked Toji when his little cousin’s birthdays were, he could answer the day but not the years either. I guess he just saw the right day and didn’t think about the year.”

“Guess that makes sense. Not like he squeezed them out,” she agrees vulgarly.

You wrinkle your nose at her choice of words. “That’s one way to put it.”

Laughter finds her easily. “Still, pretty risky move to lie on a birth certificate.”

“It almost worked,” you point out.

“Key word ‘almost’.” She casually tilts her head to the side as a crow hops along the ground, investigating a pile of rotting food. “I can tell where Sukuna gets his overconfidence from.”

You crack a smile, following her gaze to the crow picking at scraps. It’s that overconfidence that you find yourself missing lately. It doesn’t look good on Kaori, but when Sukuna cracks a smug grin, a stray strand of hair falling over his forehead? It’s charming, in a very Sukuna sort of way.

If this plays out right, it’ll be good to see that look on him again.

–

As late spring prepares to welcome summer, the sun warms your skin when you hop off the bus and make your way into the office, you find yourself in a relatively cheerful mood. The light beaming through the windows illuminates the office in a golden glow, and it seems that sentiment is alight across the office as a low chatter drones across the open air.

You wonder if the office has been like this for a while and you just haven’t noticed, too caught up in your own stress. Then again, maybe this is just the effect that impending summer vacations has on the office. Shooting a smile at the receptionist, you barely get your bag down on the ground before Maya’s in your office.

“What did you do?” She asks with wide eyes as she bursts into the room in a flurry. You exchange a glance with Yuki, who you haven’t even had the opportunity to greet, as you attempt to decipher your boss’ distress.

Can you have one normal day at work? Or even in general?

“What do you mean?” Yuki speaks up.

“Not you.” Maya directs her attention your way. “You and Sukuna, what happened? What did you do?”

Oh. Oh shit.

You knew there was a chance you’d lose your job on top of your scholarship given Kamo Corp’s involvement in both, but having not heard anything yet, you’d thought you’d gotten lucky.

Sukuna, on the other hand, you had thought was safe given that he didn’t get the job through a scholarship. Sure, Kamo may have involvement of some sort with the publishing house, but you had assumed…

Shit.

“You and Sukuna, my office. Now.”

Your blood runs cold as you look back to Yuki for help, who’s at a complete and utter loss for what’s going on. “What did you do?” She whisper-yells, leaning across her desk. You open your mouth to reply but she’s quick to follow up with another question. “Oh my god, does this have to do with Sukuna being all over magazines?”

“Probably,” you groan, flinging your head back dramatically.

“God,” she breathes, shaking her head. “I can’t believe he was going through all of that. I had no idea. I couldn’t believe it was him when I saw his name everywhere. He’s so quiet, I just figured it had to be a relative or-”

“I gotta go,” you interrupt with a tight-lipped apologetic smile.

“Right! Sorry, good luck!”

As you slip from your office towards Sukuna’s, you knock urgently and slip in before he can say a word. Catching his attention, he looks up from whatever he’s working on and leans back in his chair, the long black sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Something you don’t recognize flashes in his eyes, but he wears an otherwise neutral expression.

“Maya asked for us.”

He drops his stylus to his desk, leaning forward on his elbows. “Don’t tell me that fucker owns this place or some shit.”

“I’m not sure,” you admit, worrying your lower lip between your teeth.

The air turns tense as Sukuna huffs out a breath from behind his hands as he palms his face. There’s an uncertainty holed and locked within the small office that he wouldn’t dare show around others, something meant only to be felt by you. “I can’t fuckin’ lose this job right now.”

“You won’t,” you assure him, though through the string that seems to tether you to one another, he feels the way you waver. He knows you need this job to graduate, just as he needs it to regain custody of his siblings.

“Fuck. Fuck!” He hisses lowly, pushing up from his desk in frustration.

His stylus is a victim to his sudden movements, sent flying from the surface of the desk and rattling across the ground. He stands ram-rod straight, completely still as he stares out the window. The tension in the air hangs unmoving, you fear even letting out a breath to disturb the air, when he whirls around suddenly with fire in his veins.

“How the fuck is she still finding ways to fuck me over? What does she get from this?” He rattles off questions with no concrete answers, dragging his hands through his recently cleaned up hair. “What the fuck did I even do to her? It’s not like my fuckin’ dad’s around to know she cheated, I don’t-” He balls his hands into fists at his sides as he seethes at Kaori’s constant involvement in his life. “Why can’t she just fuck off? I thought that was what she wanted in the first place,” he hisses, not searching for answers so much as just an outlet for his aggravation.

There isn’t an answer to any of it, not really. Still, you state what he already knows. “I don’t think it’s you. You’re just in the way of what she wants.”

He scoffs. “Was gonna say she’d probably kill me if it wasn’t illegal, but she’s above the law now, so-” he shrugs dramatically, his hands falling down to his sides with a plop!

“Don’t joke about that.” You fix him with a grimace, your brows drawn together as a crease forms where they stitch.

He sighs, letting his shoulders fall as he quietly observes your reaction. A modicum of his anger fades as he finds solace in your presence, before shaking his head. “Let’s just go talk to Maya,” he mumbles, breezing past you to lead the way to your boss’ office, somewhere he’s been too much lately for comfort.

The older woman’s long black hair is slightly mussed as proof of her running a hand through her hair with the stress of whatever it is that she has to discuss with the both of you. You quietly shut the door behind you, taking a seat in the chair beside Sukuna. His leg is bouncing before the conversation has even begun, though his expression is hardened, frustration pulling the corners of his lips down.

“What did you two do to get on Noritoshi Kamo’s bad side?” Maya begins in a lowered tone. Her eyes flit between the two of you, concern stitched between her brows.

Sukuna leans back, dragging a hand down his chin. “You haven’t heard?” He mutters, not in the most chatty mood.

“Heard?” Maya parrots in bewilderment.

Sighing, Sukuna frowns. “My step-mother took custody of my little brothers from me. I guess she’s married to that fuckin assho-” He bites his tongue, shooting you a scowl when you deliver a swift kick to his shin. “Sorry,” he mutters bitterly. “She’s married to him, and I just filed an appeal. She’s tryin’ to get me fired so that I have no cash if the appeal’s accepted. Looks bad on me to not have a job,” he explains grimly.

“Sukuna,” Maya breathes in empathetic disbelief, leaning back as she subconsciously searches for a photo of her own kids. “That’s what the letter you needed from me was for?”

He nods.

“And you lost them… so that’s why you stopped leaving at three?”

Another, slower, nod.

“And then when you started staying late… God. That explains a lot,” she murmurs. “Listen, the company’s board of directors called me in for an emergency meeting today. Which never happens, so I’m thinking it’s about the incident with Reggie, right?” She starts. You lean in, though you can tell where this is headed. “Well, one of our biggest investors is Kamo Investments, so one of their reps is on the board. He’s gotten it in the rest of the board’s heads that you two are a detriment to the company and need to be fired and I couldn’t figure out why,” she shakes her head, glancing to the side as her gaze finds the photo of her own children again.

“I didn’t even think about that…” you murmur more to yourself than either of your co-workers as you consider the repercussions of Sukuna’s very public attack on Kaori's character. “Um, the reason he thought you might have seen it already is because the news is pretty much everywhere,” you fill her in. “I saw it on the magazine rack in the front of the building.”

Maya takes a moment to internalize the news, her gaze tearing away from the photo. “I’m sorry you’re going through that right now,” she offers condolences. She inhales a slow, steady breath. “Look,” she begins, neatly clasping her hands in front of her. “I let the board know I would handle the issue once I’d spoken to the both of you. I-” she pauses, clearly stressed as she organizes her thoughts.

“I get it,” Sukuna shrugs. “Business comes first.” It comes out more bitterly than he intended, but given that his only other option is to crawl back to his boss at the auto shop, he isn’t exactly thrilled with the outcome.

“No- Hold on,” she holds her hands out in front of her, an intensely concentrated expression donning her features. “We’re not a publicly traded company so we have a lot more leeway when it comes to a moral issue like this. The rest of the board isn’t pleased with the association to Kamo Investments anyway given public perception and another investor is interested in buying out Kamo’s shares if she can. This could actually work in our favor if they agree.”

Sukuna blinks, somewhat taken aback to actually be defended for once, let alone by an employer he’s hardly been with for three months, let alone taking into consideration the issues he’s inadvertently caused. He searches for words, but finds himself at a loss for the whole situation.

“The board won’t have issues with that?” You query, trying to wrap your head around it yourself.

“Kamo Investments doesn’t align with the company’s visions or values. They were our first investor, but they’re not our primary investor anymore. Their rep stepped down from his position as president three years ago and our president hasn’t been happy with them for a while,” she explains, her jaw clenching as she explains the situation. “I think if I explain to the broader board the situation, we can work on a buyout.”

“And if they don’t agree?” You push.

Maya inhales slowly. “Well, we don’t have the legal grounds to force them out of their shares, but I think once I explain the situation to the board, we should have the grounds to make a call to vote them out of their seat on the board for a conflict of interest.”

While business isn’t exactly your area of expertise, it’s a relief to hear that things sound surprisingly like they’re actually in your favor.

“If you can send me whatever relevant information you can to sway the rest of the board, I’ll do everything I can to keep you both here. I can’t say I have any desire to try to replace Sukuna’s position again, and with Reggie gone, Yuki would be overworked without you,” Maya addresses the both of you with a laugh that sings the song of just how stressed she truly is. She’s handling everything you throw at her with grace and a surprising amount of care, but it’s still shocking to have her support in the face of something that could look bad on the company.

“What about the company’s reputation?” You ask, curious about her stance less as a concerned mother and more as a CEO.

She nods slowly. “We’re a small local startup. This won’t make waves, even if Sukuna’s plastered across every magazine. It also aligns more with our values to remove Kamo Investments from the board and support Sukuna. If anything, this will be seen as a strategic play by clients who align with our values, which is the majority of them.”

You lean back in your chair, equally as shocked as Sukuna seems, if his silent scowl is anything to go off of.

“I can’t make any guarantees, but I’ll do what I can,” Maya assures you. She turns to you, addressing you by your name. “What’s going on with your scholarship? Don’t you have a Kamo scholarship?”

You wince at the minute detail you’ve kept from Sukuna over the past few weeks since the revelation of Kaori’s marriage.

Sukuna whips his head towards you, no longer sitting passively as he takes everything in. “What?”

You press your lips into a thin line. “I’ll talk to you about it later,” you keep your voice down as you reply to his barely-contained frustrated query. “I still have it for now. They haven’t said anything.”

“That’s good. Don’t let them pull the rug out from under you.”

You offer a tense smile to your boss, taking note of Sukuna’s knuckles turning white as he grips the armrest of his seat. “Thank you, Maya.”

Sukuna huffs, nodding slowly. “Thanks.” He takes a moment before coming to a realization, rubbing a thumb between his brows in exasperation. “Shit-” he mutters under his breath. You don’t dare nudge him this time now that the tension in his muscles is plain as day, rippling beneath the taut fabric of his shirt. “Is now a bad time to ask for an advance?”

Your boss purses her lips.

“I’m behind on payments to the lawyer,” he mutters, the admittance sending shame to his very core, gripping his bones.

“I-” she struggles to come up with an answer. “I’ll see what I can do, okay? Let me handle the board before I make any promises.”

Sukuna nods before the two of you are dismissed with empathetic well-wishes.

Before you can head back to your office, Sukuna is quickly dragging you back to his with a strong (albeit careful) grip on your wrist. He shuts the door on the way in, dropping your wrist in order to drag his hands over his face. “Your scholarship’s a Kamo one?” It comes out more as a statement than a question.

“It is, but what happens with that isn’t your fault,” you attempt to reassure him. It’s all for naught in the face of his frustration. He’s doing what he can to keep it at bay, but it’s clear that he’s struggling as he drags a hand down his face.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He hisses as he suppresses his frustration to the best of his ability.

“Because I can handle it myself,” you stand your ground, jaw tightening as you face his irritation.

“I got you into this mess, you need to fucking tell me this shit!” he retorts, harshly running a hand through his already-mussed locks.

“I have things under control and you have enough on your plate,” you reply calmly, though your own frustration is woven between your brows as they knit together.

“Under control?” He parrots, wild-eyed as he takes a step forward. “You’re gonna lose your fuckin’ scholarship because of me!”

“That’s not your fault.”

“If you would have just fuckin’ told me in the first place that you had a Kamo scholarship, then I-” he chokes on his words, scowling at a shelf of colorful books lining his office wall as he searches for a solution he’ll never find.

“Sukuna,” you grab his attention, taking a step towards him as his expression loosens from one of anger to concern. “You didn’t know she’s married to him. You couldn’t have done anything, even if you knew.”

His chest rises and falls heavily under the duress of his morning as he helplessly backs up until he’s able to lean his thighs against his desk in something of a half-seated position. “I shouldn’t have gotten you involved in this shit,” he mutters from behind his hands as he tiredly rubs at the dark circles under his eyes.

Exhaling slowly, you take a step to stand in front of him with a sympathetic smile. Your hand finds his forearm, his skin warm to the touch beneath your palm as you soothe small circles into it. “I have support, Ryo. I can figure it out. It’s not the end of the world. I care more that you and your brothers are safe.”

His shoulders fall as sharp crimson irises soften, falling to stare at the point that connects you, where your touch feels like fire on his already-warm arm. His shoulders fall, tension dissipating with the realization that he’s helpless. There’s nothing he can do to protect you from the claws of his step-mother.

Yet, you’re still here. In the face of your own world falling apart, you’re smiling at him.

His gaze rises to examine the little gleam of hope in your eyes, waiting for a response as though he hung the damn moon in the sky, when he’s the one who tore it down. His heart can’t seem to decide whether to wrench in guilt or pound with adoration. That feeling certainly doesn’t subside as he shifts from one foot to another, shamelessly staring at your lips.

He swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing as his anger subsides. “‘M sorry,” he mutters, barely above a whisper. “You’re right.”

You blink, somewhat surprised that the typically haughty man is giving in so quickly, his entire demeanor slumping into something akin to disappointment. Subconsciously, your thumb ceases its movement as you squeeze his forearm reassuringly. “I know things aren’t going perfectly, but my scholarship, this,” you motion broadly to the publishing house, “is good news. Kaori’s cracking under pressure.”

He nods slowly, his eyes finally rising from your lips, giving your racing pulse a break. “Right.” He lets the thought hang in the air between you, finding comfort in your presence. Letting out a breath, he leans back further on his desk as it creaks beneath his mass. There’s quiet contemplation boldly scrawled across his face, his lips parting as he searches the silence for an answer, only to break it. “Been thinkin’ about something,” he murmurs, his voice low as though he fears the office hearing.

You tilt your head questioningly.

He averts his eyes as his stomach flutters at the sight, keeping his focus on his looming question. “You ever thought about how Cho doesn’t really look like Yuji n’ I?”

You hum affirmatively, catching a glimpse of the twine bracelets still wrapped around Sukuna’s wrist. “I can kinda see a resemblance. He has your scowl,” you offer with a little smirk.

“Ha ha,” he dryly replies with a roll of his eyes before his lips pull down into a frown. “I’ve wondered since I found Kaori cheating when I was a kid…” he trails off, as if the thought is sour on his tongue. “If maybe Cho isn’t my dad’s.”

You squeeze his forearm again, considering the possibility yourself with a dour expression. It’s true that Choso doesn’t look like Jin in the same way that Yuji and Sukuna do, but he bears a very striking resemblance to Kaori and you can’t see a lot of Noritoshi in him either. At most, maybe his hair color could be attributed to Noritoshi given that both Yuji and Sukuna got Jin’s hair genes, but it’s the same color as Kaori’s as well, so it’s not a guarantee that he isn’t Jin’s either.

“Would it matter?” You ask finally.

“Hm?”

“Would it matter? If he wasn’t Jin’s?”

“Kaori could argue that Choso has no relation to me,” he points out grimly.

“I don’t think that would be smart for her. It’d be withheld information, bad faith, would prove she’d been cheating-” you shake your head. “There’s too many arguments in your favor.”

“I guess you’re right.”

“So would it matter to you? If Cho isn’t Jin’s?”

Sukuna doesn’t hesitate for a moment. “No.”

Your heart warms as you slide your hand from his forearm up his bicep as you give the muscle a little pat, keeping things lighthearted. “Then it doesn’t matter. He’s still your brother.”

Your friend scowls, but it’s laced with steely determination as he puts the thought behind him. “I promised him I’d fix this shit.”

“And you will,” you reassure him with a grin. “Kaori won’t know what hit her.”

–

The end of the week is a flurry of good and bad news, but the good vastly outweighs the bad. With each piece of news thrust Sukuna’s way, each text you receive with updates, there are moments where you can see the resilient man you’ve grown so fond of. Little moments of ‘fuck kaori i’m winning this shit’, only to be followed up a few hours later by ‘she better not pull some ridiculous bullshit like last time’.

It fluctuates moment-to-moment, but you’re just happy to be able to see him trying to glue his pieces back together, no matter how little progress he makes.

What matters most though, is that Maya managed to get him an advance, and his lawyer succeeded at the Court of Appeals. Due to the high-profile nature of the case now that Kaori is publicly involved with one of the wealthiest people in the world, a decision was made to have the children stay with Child Protective Services as the case heads back to a full trial. Regardless, his lawyer said there was no reason to worry at this point, and her confidence was doing wonders for Sukuna’s health, both physical and mental.

He was still scatter-brained and often distant, in his own little world more often than not, but with the trial looming over the horizon, he keeps himself as disciplined as he can manage on his tight schedule.

Sunday night prior to the retrial, you find yourself standing outside his building as the late afternoon sun sets, casting a pink glow across the concrete jungle. It’s something of a marvel, even deep within the apartment-heavy neighborhood. You smile to yourself as the sky shifts and changes with the flow of the light breeze and clouds overhead while the buzzer drones as you await Sukuna’s answer, only to find yourself blinking at his clipped reply.

“Fuck off,” comes an irritated grunt before the line cuts out entirely.

With pursed lips, you blink. Given that you’re showing up unannounced, who does he think you are?

You dial his apartment again, and his reply is immediate. “How many times do I need to tell you to-”

“Sukuna?”

“Princess?”

He sounds as shocked as you feel, and you can practically hear him sitting up on the other line as he scrambles through an apology.

“Shit, I swear I didn’t mean it. Thought you were someone else,” he quickly explains before the line cuts out as the door clicks unlocked.

Clutching a small gift bag tightly in your hands, you can’t help but wonder who he’s been telling to fuck off. Maybe Kaori’s been coming around, but you can’t imagine she wants much to do with Sukuna given that his face is already plastered on every street corner and she’ll be seeing plenty of him tomorrow in court.

He swings the door open like he was waiting inside for you, a scowl plastered on his face as he briefly takes in your appearance before searching past you. Perplexed, you follow his gaze, but there’s nothing and no one behind you. His weird behavior doesn’t stop either as he pulls you inside with a firm hand on your shoulder.

With the door shut behind you, his posture relaxes as he directs his attention to you with a mild expression.

Glancing at his hand on your shoulder, you face him with a shake of your head. “Are you okay? Who’s been showing up here?”

His hand slides from your shoulder as he shakes his head. “Some fuckin’ journalist. She saw me walking in on Friday and has been buzzing every few hours,” he explains. “Pain in my ass,” he tacks on in a mutter.

“Really? I know people know who you are now but I didn’t think you’d have anyone following you.” Shaking your head in disbelief, you shiver at the thought that Kaori might have stripped Sukuna of yet another thing he greatly values, his privacy.

What a snake.

He scoffs. “I guess she- or someone- found out about my reputation at the school,” he strains, jaw tightening. “She keeps showing up asking questions that I’m not fucking answering.”

Your nose wrinkles in disgust as a wordless reply.

“I know,” he agrees, sighing as he leads the way further into his apartment. “Didn’t mean to tell you to fuck off.”

“That’s fine,” you brush him off with an understanding smile. “I probably would have done the same.”

He grunts in acknowledgement, gaze downturned to the little gift bag in your hands. Glittery tissue paper pokes out of the top of the black and gold bag that you’re clutching close to yourself as you shuffle in anticipation.

“What’s that about?” He mutters, unintentionally coming across dry.

“It’s um-” you shuffle from one foot to another as Sukuna raises a brow. “- for you.”

He frowns, searching your expression for a reason.

“I just thought with the trial coming up tomorrow that it might be nice to- um-” you shake your head, a laugh bubbling up in your throat as you find yourself unusually nervous. It’s not like you’ve never given him a gift before, either, but Christmas felt different, easier. Like you didn’t need a reason. “I know it’s out of the blue, I just thought maybe it would be like… a good luck charm. Or something,” you explain in a ramble, chancing a glance up at him from under your lashes.

He’s still frowning, feeling undeserving of your kindness as you practically thrust the bag into his hands. He casts a glance at you as he lets out a breath, rustling through the glimmering tissue paper until he pulls out a maroon tie with subtle dark stripes. He swallows hard as his thumb glides easily over the material.

When he doesn’t immediately reply, you pipe in uncertainly to fill the air. “I thought it might go well with your black-on-black suit, and bring out your eyes.”

“Bring out my eyes?” He parrots with a hint of amusement as his scarred brow raises.

“Maybe that’s dumb, I don’t know,” you chuckle nervously more to yourself than him.

“I like it. Thanks, princess,” he assures you, still staring down at the material with something of a contemplative expression. His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath, his mouth going dry as he fights every instinct to hold you close and not let go.

He finally chances a glance up to you, the happy but nervous gleam in your eye sending his heart into a frenzy within his chest, battering at the cage like an animal let loose. With Satoru’s words from the other day echoing within his mind, it’s a lot easier to see just how stupid he really was to ever doubt that your blossoming friendship was just that- a friendship. You look at him like he shines so bright he could light the whole night sky when he’s done nothing but cause you problems and he thought you were just a really damn good friend.

But maybe that belief you have in him is enough. Maybe it’s that gleam in your eyes that means he can stand alongside you. He doesn’t care if he’s nothing more than a planet in your orbit so long as he can feel your warmth.

His eyes flicker down to your lips, curled up into a smile, shy in nature as you wait for a bigger reaction from him to your sweet little gift. The corner of his lip curls up into a sly smirk. “‘M gonna look like I’m in Green Day.”

You laugh, genuine and full. “I was thinking more like… Avril Lavigne in her Sk8er Boi days.”

“You’re comparing me to Avril Lavigne?” He asks, incredulous.

“Yeah, if I squint liiiiike-” you squint in demonstration to accentuate your point.

“Your eyes are closed,” he states dryly.

“Mhmm!”

Snorting, he shakes his head. “Brat.”

It’s been such a long time since you’ve heard him loosen up in such a way, since he’s so casually and easily joked around like this as he lightly flicks your forehead, that it lights up your whole world. You beam at him, thrilled to see such a reaction from him. It doesn’t matter how dark the circles beneath his eyes are, he looks handsome like this, with an easy smile plastered across his lips.

It makes your heart soar and you don’t bother catching it.

“Thanks, princess. Really.”

“Anytime!”

“You wanna come in?”

You nod brightly, slipping off your shoes as Sukuna heads to the fridge, setting the little gift bag aside. “Why’s this shit so glittery?” He mutters as he pulls his hands back from the bag and tissue paper, disdainful of the way his palms are now sparkling.

“It’s the only paper I had,” you smile innocently.

He grunts, pulling a bottle from the fridge as he hovers at the door. His black shirt is pulled taut with every minute movement of his toned chest when he twists to face you. “Want something?”

Tearing your gaze from his biceps, you nod. “Do you still keep that Iced Tea around that the kids liked?”

Sukuna smirks. “They don’t like it. I bought it for them to try and forgot about it in the fridge.”

Your gaze travels to the fridge where he’s pulling that very same Iced Tea from the back of the otherwise barren appliance. “Why do you keep buying it, then?”

“You like it.”

He says it so simply, like it’s nothing more than teasing banter between friends. His aloof expression returns as he hands you a glass, oblivious to the way your heart leaps into your throat and chokes you. “Thanks,” you whisper.

His gaze narrows slightly at your meekness, but he nods and turns back to his drink, popping the cap off on the edge of the counter. It flies up in the air, clattering in the sink. He doesn’t so much as cast it a glance before directing his attention back to you as he brings the bottle up to his lips.

“You’re drinking?”

The label along the dark bottle gleams under the glow of the kitchen light as Sukuna leads the way to his couch, plopping himself in the corner as he reclines into the cushions. “Just one,” he assures you, the corner of his mouth twitching downwards. “Promise.”

You nod. “Sorry. I don’t- I know you can handle yourself, I just-”

“It’s fine, princess. I know you’re just worried.”

You suck in a breath, nodding as you let the moment pass and take a seat beside him. You nurse the Iced Tea within your hands, the condensation cool against the pads of your fingers. “So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

He lets out a long sigh, breathing out whatever stress comes along with it. “If I never see Kaori again, it’ll be too soon,” he grumbles with a quick swig of his drink.

“I mean, it’ll be nice to be on the other end this time. She’s the one in the dark now.”

“Mm.”

Leaning back into the couch, you find yourself sliding closer to Sukuna under the divot of his weight, a warm heat climbing from the back of your neck at his close proximity. Some part of you figured after all of this time that your crush would paddle out, but time is telling a different tale.

“Do you feel ready, at least?”

Another swig. “Yeah. Sorta.” He twists the beer bottle within his hands, staring at the cheaply-made label that’s peeling at the corner. “Now that everything’s public, my lawyer was able to make a request for a background check into the judge panel.”

“Panel?”

He shrugs. “Guess there’s three now. Somethin’ about Noritoshi Kamo and the media being on our asses.”

“That’s good, right? There’s no way it won’t be fair now.”

He hums. “My lawyer seems confident.”

“And you?”

The former history major taps his pointer along the glass of his bottle, nursing the lager. “We called Cho to the stand.” His tone is low, his gaze fixed forward, staring straight ahead in that painfully familiar distant expression.

It doesn’t feel quite real to say he hasn’t seen his brothers in such a long time. Since the day Choso was born, he hasn’t been apart from them for any longer than one, maybe two days. As he got older, Choso loved to take Jin’s phone to text Sukuna during those days. Maybe that’s where the little boy had developed such dry texting habits, from his older brother.

“You don’t sound excited.”

His tongue swipes his lower lip. “I made him a promise to fix things. If I fuck up, the last thing he’ll see of me is…” He trails off. You’re right to assume he’s not all there, the strange sensation of dissociation clinging to his mind like a dog with a ball.

“Is what?” You push softly.

He blinks once, twice, but he’s still zoned out just enough to keep him hanging in the plane of another realm. He doesn’t have an answer to give you anyway. What is he meant to say? He looks nothing like the man he was when Choso promised to be brave and take care of Yuji. He’s pallid, lost some of his bulk, and has a stark and jagged scab extending from his forehead down to his cheek bone, although the latter portion is mostly healed. The mark on his forehead wasn’t quite as kind.

He doesn’t quite look the same. And he fears what his brother will think of that. Choso’s smart, far beyond his age. Forced to grow up too young, and with a keen sense that Sukuna lacks. He’s extremely in tune with the emotions of those around him, and very empathetic to them.

So for Choso to see Sukuna struggling over all of these years has been tough on him, but more than anything, the eldest brother knows that the facade he wears at the court won’t fool his little brother.

There’s layers upon layers of guilt to unpack when it comes to what the twelve-year-old has had to endure of Sukuna’s own tribulations over the years, but that’s not even what he fears most.

His little brother’s been in Kaori’s care for a month now. He’s been kept out of the limelight for the most part and the pink-haired man has concerns that there’s a reason behind the fact that he’s only seen the boys publicly once.

He’s not sure how easily he can face the reality that Choso’s mental health might have plummeted more.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” you murmur when you don’t receive an answer, snapping Sukuna out of his trance. His gaze travels slowly to his right, but he still seems to look right through you. Setting a hand on his calf seems to bring him back to reality as his pupils dilate for a split second before honing in on you. Now that you have his attention, you give his calf a light squeeze. “The ball’s in your court this time, Ryo. You’ve got this.”

He inhales deeply, throwing back more beer. “We’ll see.”

“I believe in you.”

His heart falters as he finds your sweet smile, caressing him in your warmth with only a hand on his leg.

You’re just like that.

How many times has he looked your way and watched you shine as though you’re the very sun? He remembers tripping over his own thoughts as he fought to process the seed planted in his mind that you might be someone that others revolve around. You don’t intend to be, you hardly like being the center of attention, but your gravity is effortless. You’re as bright as the sun and as beautiful as a damn galaxy, providing life and light for not just him, but his brothers too. You make it easier to breathe.

He supposes that’s why he’s found his confidence dwindling around you lately. He remembers how sweet you taste on his tongue with hints of cherry and rose infused into your lip gloss and he yearns so desperately for it. For as sure as he is that Satoru’s right- hell, even Toji agreed- he fears if he takes that leap that his luck might run out.

And he’s never exactly been a lucky guy.

He’s not what you deserve, and he wonders if that’s what falling for you means. Knowing that someone can be better than he can.

So why does it hurt so fucking bad?

He clears his throat, downing the rest of his beer and setting the bottle atop the wooden coffee table by his feet with a hollow knock. Leaning back into the cushions, he throws his arms over the back of the couch. His forearm brushes the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Cold?”

“No! No,” you chuckle. “Just thought of something.”

Sukuna doesn’t question you, letting his eyes close as his head falls against the back of the couch. “What’s up with your friend?”

“Who?”

“Uh… Suguru.”

“What about him?”

The brute’s eyes flicker open. “How the hell does he deal with Satoru all the time?”

“Oh, Suguru loves the drama that Satoru brings,” you laugh.

He eyes you from his peripherals. “We talkin’ about the same guy?”

“Oh yeah. He loves being able to be around the drama without being a part of the drama. He doesn’t really like people aside from us, but he loves knowing what’s up.”

“Mm.” He leans in and you have to swallow to keep his eye contact as carmine irises fix you with casual intrigue. “Guess I can understand that.”

“I know they can be a lot, especially Satoru, but they mean well. Satoru means well.”

He slumps back into the couch. “I appreciate what he did,” he replies simply, still wary of the frat boy.

“Have you at least thought about taking a loan from him?”

“No.” His tone is firm. You shuffle from one thigh to another as tension radiates from him. You can feel it practically burning your skin from how close you are. You attempt to scoot away just enough to leave a comfortable gap between you, but it’s tough when he’s on your cushion and it’s dipping down towards him. “I got the advance from Maya, I don’t need it.”

Although it’s a relief that Maya was able to pull some strings, you still wish he’d realize that accepting help from his community isn’t a sign of weakness. You can’t give him too tough of a time though when he’s come a long way and it’s just money he doesn’t seem to want to budge on. It’s respectable of him to want to provide for his family on his own terms.

“Did you ask any of your friends to come to the trial tomorrow?”

“Nah. Just you,” he replies, loosening up as the air shifts away from the tense question.

You cock your head to get a better view of him. His jaw shifts from side to side as he contemplates your question. “Don’t think I really have the right to ask ‘em to ditch school after everything I’ve put them all through.”

“They want to help, Ryo. Just like I do.”

“Mm, maybe, but you’re the only one who shows up at my door unannounced to ‘help’,” he retorts dryly, making air quotations with the hand that isn’t behind you.

In mock offense, you set your Iced Tea down, bringing a hand to your chest. “Are you saying I annoy you into letting me help you?”

“If the shoe fits,” he replies, eyeing you with a playful glint in his eye.

“Sukuna!”

He chuckles, shifting as he inadvertently leans closer. “Kidding, princess. You are a brat, though.” He chuckles lowly as his gaze warmly catches yours.

“And you’re a dick,” you tease, his laughter contagious despite being somewhat muted and weary.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, the action sliding his arm down until you’re actively being pulled flush to him. His chest rises and falls evenly against your side, calm finding him for the first time since the appeal was accepted. Your presence is steady and grounding, allowing him a moment to breathe before he’s forced to lock in.

And god does he bask in that silence. Hidden within the little piece of heaven you provide, like you can shelter him from the harsh weather of the outdoors.

Not that he needs sheltering, but he’s gotten a taste of your kindness, and he fiends for it now. He can still be the independent person he’s fought tooth and nail to be while enjoying what it means to have someone care for him.

Casual conversation flows easily between you, woven within talks of his arguments for tomorrow morning’s trial. Tension flows from his body as his arm falls to your shoulders until you’re effectively cuddling, and at the end of the night your heart wrenches to pull yourself from that position.

Making the smart decision to leave before your chest threatens to burst, you wriggle out from his arm, only for him to use the mass of it to stop you as he presses your shoulders down. “It’s late, I need to get some sleep before tomorrow morning.” It’s only half of an excuse, at the very least. You’re not about to divulge that your heart is eating you from the inside out.

There’s evidence on your friend, too, that he should make the most of his time to be at his best tomorrow.

“Just sleep here. I can take the couch.”

He unknowingly jabs a dagger deeper into your heart. Subconsciously, you reach up to scratch at your collar in an effort to ease the growing tension in your chest. Every single confusing action sends your sanity further spiralling as you grow less and less certain that his attraction to you is surface-level. “You can’t sleep on the couch. It’s an important night,” you insist, trying to lift his arm from your shoulders.

He presses down with equal force as you. “I’ll be fine. Sleep here.”

“I don’t have any clothes and I can’t wear yours to the court tomorrow.”

“You can go home n’ change before the trial.”

“Sukuna-”

“Stay.”

Your blood run cold as you search for meaning in something that you’ve seen in just about every cheesy rom-com you grew up watching. Maybe that’s what turned you into such a romantic, but right now it feels like your biggest weakness is being played like a violin when you can’t find any certainty behind the gravel in his voice.

Has his tone always been so husky? Are you hearing things?

You swallow hard in an effort to clear your cotton mouth. “Um-” you further hesitate, before meekly nodding. “Okay.”

You hadn’t realized just how tense he was too until you feel his build soften as he sinks back into the couch, pulling his arm back from your shoulders. “You know where everything is.”

You take the opportunity to escape and catch your breath within Sukuna’s room. Puffing out a dramatic sigh, you rub at the corners of your eyes in an effort to avoid scathing your makeup. All this time and every moment his arm brushes yours still feels like inhaling water.

If a brush of his arm sends water into your lungs, then being pressed into his side as he tightly envelops you is enough to drown you.

Physically shaking the thought from your head, you set aside your worries to the best of your ability. Sukuna needs your mind at ease when he’s so clearly wading through fire right now. Turning your attention to his closet, you pull out a Ghostface tee and a pair of shorts, making your way down the hall to change, brush your teeth, and take off the makeup to the best of your ability without makeup remover.

Re-emerging, you find him leaning against the wall partitioning the hallway from the main living area of his apartment. His head is buried in whatever he’s reading on his phone, the muscles of his jaw pulled taut.

“Is everything alright?”

He glances up from his phone, unable to help the way his eyes travel down your form, taking in the way his shirt hangs from your chest. He clears his throat, standing straight. “Yeah. Just… Reading shit.”

“About yourself?”

“Hard not to when it’s fuckin’ everywhere,” he sighs, pushing a hand back through his hair. It’s a relief that it doesn’t fall forward over his face now that he’s finally had a reason to get a hair cut. It’s nice to feel a little more presentable. “I got everything I need from my room. You can go ahead n’ get some sleep.”

“No, no! I’ll take the couch this time,” you insist. “You need sleep.”

“I like the couch.”

“I’m sure you like your bed, too.”

Your retort isn’t met with the roll of his eyes you’re expecting, but rather a huff. “Just take the fucking bed.”

“Please, I promise I really don’t-” you purse your lips as Sukuna takes a step towards you, ducking down at the last moment to lift you like a sack of potatoes over his broad shoulder.

You yelp in surprise, gripping the back of his shirt for purchase. “Sukuna!”

In response, he simply plops you down on his bed. You bounce on the mattress with a small ‘oof’ as he stands over you. “Goodnight.”

“Hey!”

It’s all for naught as he shuts the door behind him, leaving you in the familiar confines of his bedroom. You didn’t get a very good look last time you were in here to grab clothing, but it looks marginally better than when you brought him home intoxicated past the point of rational thought.

Although there’s still clothing piled along his desk and some on the floor, they’re the kind of piles that imply some sort of intention, as though some are dirty and some are clean and simply need to be put away. There’s organization to the chaos, which gives you the confidence to assume that he’s genuinely finding small shards of himself scattered in the mess, gluing them back in place.

Sighing, you sit up and smooth the Ghostface tee before sliding under the covers. Familiar hints of smoke, woodsy cologne and Sukuna hit your nose as your head falls to the pillow. He never can seem to make things easier for you. Between asking you to stay to tucking you into his side- subconsciously or not- and now picking you up and plopping you in his bed, you’ve completely run out of explanations.

The thought makes your heart stutter, but you’ve never taken Sukuna for anything less than blunt or the type to speak his mind, so if he’s interested, he’d say something, wouldn’t he? You sigh, pulling the covers up over your head as though it might block out the surroundings that further your uncertainty.

Maybe, once everything is over and he gets the kids back- this time for sure- you can have a conversation about this. You just need something to explain his behavior, whether it’s acceptance or rejection, you just need closure. You can live with just being friends just as you could last time, but you need to put boundaries in place as you get over him if that’s the case.

Today, though… Tonight… That’s the least of your concerns.

One step at a time, and tonight that step is an impending court date.

–

The living room is still bathed in shadows when Sukuna joins the ranks of the waking world. Sunlight isn’t a thought in the sky just yet, as he pushes up on his elbows to find that it’s barely three in the morning.

He falls back onto the couch as sleep pulls at the marrow of his bones, dragging him back into the comfort of a couch he couldn’t bear to admit he’s spent most of his nights on. He tries to go to sleep in his bed, he really does, but the only way he’s been able to convince his mind of a placebo that he’s not so alone in the apartment every night is to sleep on the couch.

For all the weariness that plagues him, he can’t bear to lay down any longer as his mind leaps into action, or maybe overaction, and he pushes up to open his laptop and do some last-minute preparation work for the trial in the morning.

Hunched tiredly over his laptop is exactly where you find him in the morning, though he now sports a clean and laundered black suit and matching black button-up shirt, while the cerise tie you’d gifted him last night hangs loosely from his collar, slightly askew. He looks undeniably handsome, clean-shaved with his hair gelled into place.

“Morning!” You greet him with a jittery smile as the trial looms quietly over you. Choso and Yuji may not be your family by blood, but if Kaori’s proved anything it’s that blood doesn’t always determine your family.

Sukuna perks up slightly, blinking as though he didn’t hear or see you depart his room. His eyes flicker down to your bare legs, the sight sending electricity straight to all the wrong places before he finds your eyeline once more. “Hey,” he mutters, redirecting his attention to his notes scrawled across the screen to keep himself distracted from the tantalizing sight. “You heading home?”

“Yeah, I’ll just change when I get back,” you shrug. The drive’s not long, anyway. “Sorry, I still have your other shirt and shorts, too. I’ll wash them and get those back to you!”

He looks tired as he casts a glance at the shirt you’re wearing. “Don’t worry about it,” he brushes you off, pushing to his feet to meet you at the door once you’ve finished in the washroom. Given that you had no intention of staying last night, you don’t have much to gather.

Turning back from his door as you slip your shoes on, you face him as he yawns and rubs at his bare chin over his tattoos. You can’t help a little lopsided smile as you admire the way the tie does bring out his eyes, even if it’s tied clumsily.

“Now you really look like Avril Lavigne.”

“You told me this would look good-”

“It does! You just- Hang on.” It’s like second nature as you take a step forward to fix his tie, deftly unraveling it before starting the process of tying it once more. It comes easily to you as the material glides through your fingers.

Sukuna’s lips purse as your fingers brush his chest with each movement. He’s silent as he watches the way your warm and groggy gaze blinks slowly, so hyperfixated on the slender material between your thumbs that you’re completely oblivious to his pounding heart. The movement is so painfully domestic and caring, one might even think…

He furrows his brow into a scowl as he stares down at you. The words pour from his mouth without thinking. “Can I ask ya something?”

“Mhmm!” You hum as you adjust his collar.

“I think I might’ve made a really fuckin’ stupid mistake.” 

Concern paints your gaze as you briefly glance up from your task to him, silent questioning in the way you chew on your lip.

“Last year, I told this woman that kissing her was a mistake.”

Your movements slow before you can tighten the tie, clinging suddenly to the material as the air is sucked straight from your lungs. Your entire body is against you, frozen in place as you’re unable to swallow the sudden lump in your throat. You can’t even bear to look at him when he could send your whole world plummeting down around you before you’d prepared yourself for it.

The conversation needs to happen, you know it does, but you thought you’d have a bit to prepare yourself.

“It wasn’t. I was just a fucking idiot.”

You peer up at him from under your lashes. Clarity swirls within the depths of the crimson pools anxiously examining your reaction, waiting for a sign. A hint of perspiration reflects the morning light off of his brow. When you don’t reply, completely dumbstruck as you cling to the tie you haven’t quite finished with yet, he lets out an uneven breath and continues.

“By the time I realized how stupid I was, I thought I blew it.” He averts his gaze under the pressure of your intense stare. “I shoulda thought this through, fuck-” Wiping the sweat from his palms onto his trousers, he inhales sharply. “Look. She’s the reason I’m here,” he motions loosely to his suit, “and I owe her. Do me a favor and tell her to wait for me after the trial if I’m right and she feels the same, yeah?”

You don’t trust your voice as heat decorates your face from ear to ear. You can only nod, chewing on your lower lip subconsciously as the world tenses. The birds outside the window all lean in, holding their breath for a confession long-awaited.

They’re let down as Sukuna puts on a facade of confidence, his expression hardening. “I’m heading to the courthouse early. See you there?”

You nod again, taking a breath out of necessity as your lungs and knees both threaten to give out in tandem. “Yeah,” you breathe, barely above a whisper. You swallow the lump in your throat, shakily tightening the tie around Sukuna’s collar and tucking the tail in. You take a step back, fighting the shy smile threatening your lips. “See you there, Sukuna.”

Before you leave, you swear you see his steely facade slip for just a moment as a rosy dust settles atop his cheeks.

–

You’re growing to hate this building with all the time you’ve spent here. Every brick seems to hold some sort of gut-wrenching memory within its grit, stained with the blood of so many worlds flipped on their heads.

You turn your attention hopefully to a small sparrow singing overhead, as you suck in a breath. Your heart hasn’t stopped doing backflips in your chest since Sukuna told you to wait for him after the trial, and at this point you can’t figure out whether it’s from the weight of what’s been left unsaid, or the impending trial.

Probably both.

As you cross the parking lot, your eyes go saucer-wide at the sight that greets you. It’s not a massive crowd, not the kind of thing you would see for a movie star or something of the sort, but there’s a sizeable crowd of paparazzi awaiting Sukuna. You purse your lips as you slip past the story-hungry journalists, grateful that they don’t know your relation to the man and opt to flat-out ignore you.

Security is upped with the crowd outside but once you manage to make it through, you’re greeted by familiar tall ceilings, tension hanging static in the air, disturbed only by a few bouncing legs and jittery fingers. You make your way to the reception desk, checking in before being led towards a more secluded courtroom down the hall from the one you were last in.

The clerk leads you to a seat behind Sukuna, whose eye you catch on the way in. The sight of him beside Ms. Harte is familiar. Although you can see the past month’s wear on his body and mind in the way he repeatedly runs a hand through his hair and squeezes the arm of his chair, he looks prepared. If that preparedness is a mask, then he wears it well.

Seated on the opposite end of the room is Kaori, who flashes you a heated glare. It’s then that you notice someone sitting opposite you as well. Noritoshi Kamo, seated straight in the withered wooden chair with an air of confidence practically radiating from him. A shiver runs up your spine at the slimy way he carries himself.

At the entrance to the room decorated in beiges and oak browns, the bailiff rises. “Please rise. The Honorable Justices of the Court are now presiding.”

Stark lightning crackles through the air as Sukuna and Kaori flash one another a glare while three judges walk in. They make their way to the podium, a man with not a single strand of brown hair out of place and sharp features, and two women, one with short black hair and rounded glasses, and one with graying long curls, all pristinely in place. The center judge adjusts her glasses on the bridge of her nose as she instructs the court to be seated.

There’s momentary silence as the short-haired judge takes in the sight of the court, something of surprise flashing in her eyes as she spots Noritoshi.

You can’t tell if that’s a good or bad sign.

“The court is now in session,” she addresses the room. “We are here to address case 43981, Sukuna versus Itadori, in regards to a retrial following an appeal. I, Judge Cohen, will direct the trial today.”

She takes a breath, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of her nose as she glances down at the paper by her elbows.

“I would like to remind everyone in the room that this is a new hearing. Please present all evidence as such, as we only have the information submitted to the court. You may refer to the previous trial and appeal as further evidence, however please ensure that it has been submitted to the courts as well. There will be no undisclosed evidence accepted at this time. All judgement made by the court will be agreed upon by a majority of the panel and will be solely based on what is presented today.”

She clasps her hands before herself, calmly examining the broader court.

“I would like to remind both parties to please conduct themselves with respect when addressing the court, and one another. For the purpose of this trial and the high-profile nature of this case, all records will be audio and written only. There will be no media or cameras allowed. Counsel, please identify yourselves for the record.”

With Sukuna now taking the role of the applicant, Ms. Harte rises first, offering mostly the same introduction statement as just over a month ago, though she adds to her statement given the new circumstances. “Although I acknowledge that this trial is being treated as a new hearing, it’s necessary to mention that we are back in court due to perjury on Ms. Itadori’s part,” she pauses, emphasizing the crime, “in order to ensure that Choso Itadori would be prevented from testifying. In addition to this, she has prevented Mr. Sukuna from his visitation rights with the children as submitted by the court during the previous hearing.”

Kaori’s lawyer, Mr. Cahn, follows up in a similar manner with their opening statements. In a similar manner to Sukuna’s, Kaori’s opening statement is relatively unchanged as well, aside from details regarding perjury. “On top of this, we acknowledge the claim of perjury, however there was no intention of deceit on the part of my client, nor was there any prior knowledge on her part that a clerical error was made and the birth certificate was fraudulent.”

Sukuna holds back a scoff at yet another blatant lie, frowning as he seethes. The mere sight of Kaori is already one that has his anger at a low boil, but to lie under oath again?

Narrowing his eyes, he heavily scrutinizes each judge. Could one, two, or even all three of them be under Noritoshi’s thumb again for her to so brazenly lie once again?

Is he doomed from the start again?

No. He can’t be. Background checks were done. There’s three judges. They even summoned Choso as a witness. What can Kaori possibly expect him to say in her favor? Sukuna has to put his faith in his little brother, and if it’s not what Choso wants, if maybe the eldest of the three brothers has misunderstood everything… Then he’ll leave them be.

Just the thought has him staring down at his lap, shuffling in order to better sit up.

With the opening statements coming to a close, Judge Cohen who’s taken the lead goes through familiar court rules and guidance on how proceedings will look over the next hour or so. As Sukuna is now the applicant, he’s the first witness called to the stand this time around. He takes an oath to tell the truth, shuffling in place as he greets the judges and gives a broad explanation of his role in the kids’ lives and his responsibilities as their guardian in the same vein as last time. His lawyer then rounds the table to question him.

“I’d like to begin by having you describe to the court what had you push for an expedited process today.”

“Sure. I saw my kid brothers on the front page of a newspaper. They both look scared and I don’t wanna see them go through that. Bein’ a celebrity is hard enough for an adult, but they’re just kids and Choso was already struggling. I made a promise to him that I would make things right.”

“Can you confirm what you intend to do to make things right?”

Sukuna swallows. For how many times he’s considered what it might be like in order to keep the kids out of the spotlight, he never really quite seemed to get the scope of the situation they’re in until he arrived at the courthouse today. He’d seen his face on magazine racks and had some journalist find his home, sure, but a slew of reporters somehow finding the court date and location? He hadn’t realized how deep of a hole had been dug.

It doesn’t matter. He’ll make it happen. He’ll take the shovel out of Kaori’s hands and dig them a ramp out. He’ll do it by hand if he has to, but he’s not fucking losing hope this time. He won’t lose his chance to make things right.

“I’ll do what it takes to make them happy. I’ll give them the privacy they deserve, and I won’t show them off in front of cameras. If that means transferring schools or moving away, then so be it.”

“Thank you. Mr. Sukuna, can you describe to the court your experience trying to get a hold of Kaori following Mr. Itadori’s passing?”

With the first question, the trial begins anew with testimony from Sukuna. Every glance up at the judges instills more confidence as they regard him with unbiased expressions. He doesn’t feel quite so doomed-from-the-start.

He recounts the events of reaching out to Kaori, and explains what it means to him to be the kids’ guardian. He recalls teaching himself to cook and change diapers, before taking a breath as his lawyer pushes for information he hadn’t ever considered sharing.

“Can you confirm the impact this had on you at only eighteen years old?”

He wants to say no, to hold the information close to his heart, but Ms. Harte had advised that they plead psychological damages- both to him and the children- in order to emphasize Kaori’s bad faith and ability to act only in her own personal interests. On top of that, it would allow Sukuna to catch up on bills, though that was information held under lock and key.

“Yeah, uh-” he casts a glance at Kaori, bringing a hand up to massage a kink in his shoulder. “My father, Kaori’s husband, got sick a bit after she left. He died when Yuji was around a year old of Heart Disease. I didn’t hear much from Kaori, but dad- uh-” he pauses, clearing his throat as his voice sputters out, “- Jin always said she was doin’ good and supporting us overseas.”

Sukuna’s brow twitches as he scowls down at the ground. His stomach churns as he divulges information he’d never dare to share in such a way, though he has no other choice. He shuts his eyes briefly in an effort to keep his anger to a low simmer, rather than the rage that threatens to overflow. His jaw tightens as he huffs.

“I watched him die. I heard him ask her to come back during a call a few days before it happened. I didn’t talk to her but I didn’t really care, figured she’d come back for her kids when he died.”

“You refer to ‘her kids’ as though that doesn’t include yourself, does it not?”

He frowns. “No. It never has. She made that pretty obvious even when I was a kid.”

“Thank you. Were you aware your father would pass away?”

Sukuna’s heart clenches, his voice low. “Yes.”

His lawyer nods, waving to him to continue.

“I got Ms. Itadori’s contact from his phone. She didn’t answer.” He shrugs, tilting his head to examine the cold expression on the opposition’s face. She doesn’t waver, staring proudly straight ahead. “Not me, not the lawyers. None of her family answered, either. Jin wanted me to go to school, made me promise to keep goin’ with it, so I got a job and kept studying while taking care of a one-year-old and seven-year-old.”

“How did that affect you, Mr. Sukuna?” Ms. Harte pushes.

He swallows, nodding slowly. He knew the question was coming, but it doesn’t make it easier. “I didn’t sleep much. Still don’t. I put the kids first, so I missed a lot of classes and shifts, which makes work and school tough.” He grimaces, eyes downcast as though the unpatterned floor is more interesting. “I still did alright, though. I-” he pauses, casting a glance back at you, grateful for your supportive smile. “I had help. Made it all manageable, until the trial.”

“How have these proceedings affected you?”

“It tripled my bills. I had to look at options for extra cash and ways to cut down.”

Ms. Harte nods. “How were you able to cut down?”

“I ate less. Called in a lot of favors to have friends look after the kids while I took extra shifts. I also dropped out of college.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna. Did this affect your brothers in any way?”

“Yeah. I wanted to be honest with them. They’re both smart, and Choso, the twelve-year-old,” he pauses, regarding Kaori with narrowed molten embers, “knows who Kaori is. I wanted him to know what was goin’ on. I knew he’d be scared, but he shut down. Just like when our father died, he got real quiet n’ liked to be locked in his room most of the time.”

Ms. Harte evaluates the judges behind her, who continue to listen attentively, before continuing. “Can you attest to how you were able to support Choso at this time?”

He hesitates, feeling the pressure of his own misgivings weighing down on him as he searches his mind for the practiced statement he’d gone over. He clears his throat. “Choso likes to talk through how he’s feeling. He just needs time to talk and work through things, so I gave him the space he needed when he asked and was there when he needed support. I’m not great at talking but I’m a good listener.”

Ms. Harte offers a small smile of encouragement, remaining professional as she smooths the front of her beige suit jacket. “Did this support seem adequate in improving his mental health?”

“Yeah. He’d usually come around after working through his thoughts.”

“Have you had any contact with him since Ms. Itadori took custody of the children?”

“No,” Sukuna’s lip curls in frustration as he recalls the text he received from her. Not shocking, but infuriating nonetheless. “I tried to visit them on the day we’d talked about, but she texted me to let me know it wouldn’t work. When I tried to figure out another day, she didn’t answer. It’s uh-” he shuffles through the paperwork at his elbows, pulling out a screenshot of the exchanged messages. “Here.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sukuna.” She hands over the evidence for the Judges’ ease, then proceeds to ask a slew of the same questions as the previous trial. Anything from his work ethic to his thoughts on the effects that often having a babysitter might have had on the kids. She has him tackle topics that the opposition will likely press on, such as his outburst at the Case Conference, before finishing his questioning with one last one.

“Do you wish to be their guardian again?”

“More than anything,” he mutters, vulnerability tearing into his chest and exposing his heart in a way that someone so guarded can hardly bear to express.

Ms. Harte’s lips press into a thin line, concentration playing in her eyes. She turns to address the grander room, her gaze sweeping across the three Justices of the court seated slightly above her eyeline. “No further questions, Your Honors.”

As Ms. Harte takes a seat, Mr. Cahn takes her place. Sukuna once felt unease at the sight of the opposing lawyer, now replaced with cunning rage. Sukuna straightens, purposefully making a show of being proud, and this time, prepared. He towers over the opposing lawyer, keeping a neutral expression to the best of his ability.

“Mr. Sukuna,” he starts, “I want to first begin by acknowledging that my client has nothing but respect for you and thanks you for your time looking after her children.”

Bullshit.

Sukuna has to fight the urge to roll his eyes.

Mr. Cahn’s questioning starts word for word the same as last time. “Mr. Sukuna, would you not agree that it’s important for the children to have a motherly figure in their life?”

Sukuna doesn’t back down, refusing to get backed into a corner. He’s prepared for these questions now. “They have good influences in their lives outside of a mother. I grew up without one and turned out fine,” he states plainly.

“Do you not have a vast record of misconduct as submitted to the court in your school records?”

“I do,” Sukuna admits, unwavering. “But I was a kid.” Sukuna pauses only briefly to shift his attention to the judges. “If you look at the date that Ms. Itadori married my father and the dates from the issues at my school, there’s a pattern,” he states somewhat smugly, his nerves settling as Mr. Cahn equally observes the judges.

“Are you stating that Ms. Itadori causes you to lose your temper?”

“Sure, when I was a kid.”

“If this pattern could only be recognized when you were a child, what are we meant to make of the Case Conference incident where you lashed out and were nearly removed from the courthouse?” The lawyer pushes, running a hand thoughtfully through his graying beard.

“Like I said before, that was an emotional time. I didn’t wanna lose the kids,” he states, keeping his anger under wraps and refusing to crack.

“If you believe yourself to be a good influence on the children, can you speak to your smoking addiction?”

“I smoke sometimes, but never near the kids.”

“As stated in my client’s submission of evidence, she witnessed you outside of your apartment smoking while the kids were upstairs last year, do you-”

“Objection, Your Honors,” Ms. Harte jumps in. “My client doesn’t recall this incident and there is no evidence that the children weren’t at a friend’s house or being watched by someone else if this did occur. This evidence should be dismissed as hearsay.”

Judge Cohen glances to either side. The man at her side nods, while the woman with graying curls briefly shoots Noritoshi- not even Kaori- a somewhat nervous look before nodding.

Snake.

Still, two out of three judges not under that asshole’s thumb is enough. Just the fact that the smoking incident Sukuna can’t recall for the life of him has been dismissed is leagues ahead of where he stood during the last trial.

“Objection sustained.”

“Thank you, Your Honors.”

Mr. Cahn re-composes himself, straightening as he rounds back to Kaori’s table to thumb through some files.

“Mr. Sukuna, I’d like to go over your work and school records. You have multiple counts of vandalism, trespassing, and pranks that landed you in the principal’s office.”

Sukuna shrugs a shoulder lazily, keeping his cool. “I was a kid.”

“Perhaps,” Mr. Cahn agrees, holding what Sukuna can only assume is that stupid selfie he took with Choso when he was sixteen. “However, this wasn’t that long ago,” he states, handing the photo up to the panel of judges. “This is inappropriate behavior for someone of your age, even for the time. Particularly to involve your little brother.”

Sukuna grimaces, grappling with words in an effort to find an excuse, but everything goes back to him being a dumb kid. If that’s not enough, what is?

His lip twitches into a hint of a snarl. “It’s less inappropriate than leaving two kids with no guardian.”

Mr. Cahn’s jaw ticks in frustration. “Mr. Sukuna. Please keep your inappropriate comments to yourself. As stated in the documents submitted to the court and your lawyer, and mentioned in our opening statements, Ms. Itadori fell very ill and was unable to take care of her children at the time.”

The pink-haired brute barely keeps his frustration below the surface as he sends a glare Kaori’s way. They’d never managed to find any evidence against Kaori’s illness, but he still had no reason to believe her. Opting to keep his mouth shut, he examines the neutral expressions of the panel of Judges. Surely they can see what he does, right? No loving mother would reasonably leave their children to an unknown fate, no matter how ill.

Addressing the broader court, Mr. Cahn turns the tables on Sukuna once more. “As demonstrated here, Mr. Sukuna still has childlike tendencies. He is unable to keep his mouth shut in the case of things not going his way and demonstrates clear lapses in judgement.”

What he wouldn’t give to be able to show one of those ‘lapses in judgement’ now and chew this lawyer out.

Although it seems as though Mr. Cahn is getting the better of Sukuna, you notice that the salmon-haired brute’s straightened posture remains and he doesn’t falter. There’s no minute tremble in his fingers, no desperate glances towards his lawyer. He exudes confidence that he didn’t the last time you found yourself here.

The only evidence that he’s nervous is written in small twitches of his jaw, but he refuses to back down. Not when he’s so close, and not when Choso is in the building.

For once, Sukuna swears to himself that he won’t let his little brother down. Just once he wants to be the person Choso sees him as. He rolls his shoulders back, shaking off his nerves as Mr. Cahn rounds the room to face him again.

“Mr. Sukuna, you’re familiar with the contents of the house study that took place last month, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re aware that they state that Mr. Choso Itadori appeared to be struggling with his mental health?”

“Yeah.”

Mr. Cahn’s eyes narrow, as though he expected an outburst, a retort, something that might make Sukuna’s stance of a strong and independent guardian waver. This time around, he’s met with stoic confidence over righteous arrogance, and with every crack in his expression, it grows increasingly clear that he’s not sure how to handle the man facing him, who’s had over a month to reflect on every mistake.

Every moment he lashed out, every moment he lacked a response, every mistake brought to light, he’d spent a month simmering in his own stupidity. One month of self-loathing over misdemeanors he hardly remembers. One month of tearing himself to pieces over answers he hadn’t prepared. One month of seeking any kind of relief from the ache that gnawed him to the bone.

Their perjury is the very reason that Sukuna is standing here now, keeping steady even as they tear at his stitches.

He stares down at Mr. Cahn, unwavering as he prepares for the incoming question.

“It’s clear that you struggle with your own emotions, are you unable to provide for the emotional needs of your brother?”

“Choso has the support he needs. He only struggles with his mental health because of this trial.”

Mr. Cahn’s lips part, hesitating before he bounces back. “Can you attest to the manner that you’re able to support Choso?”

Sukuna shifts in place. “Like I mentioned to Ms. Harte, he likes to talk through his thoughts. I know I’m not great with words, but I’m a damn-” he shuts his eyes briefly, “- sorry, Your Honors. I’m a good listener.”

“Mr. Sukuna, you seem to have a habit of swearing. Would that not be inappropriate in front of young and impressionable children?”

Sukuna gathers his thoughts, running his tongue over his lower lip. “I try not to swear around them.” It’s the best he can give without outright lying, and he’s not about to commit perjury.

“You try?” Mr. Cahn parrots, raising his brow. “It seems clear to me that you don’t possess the emotional maturity to provide for such young children.”

Sukuna grimaces, jaw clenched. “No parent is perfect. I’m workin’ on myself,” he admits, the burn of vulnerability searing the back of his throat. It’s sour on his tongue, but he doesn’t shy away from the taste, remaining aloof to the best of his ability.

Visibly shocked by Sukuna's calm and mature reply, the opposing lawyer runs a hand through his graying beard as he composes himself. He examines the half-brother’s expression, seeking a crevice to pry into, but there’s nothing to be found. The ex-history major is well-aware that Choso’s teacher will be brought to the stand and by all accounts it’ll look bad on him. Luckily for Sukuna, it’ll look worse on Kaori when they point out the grade that Choso is in.

Regardless, Mr. Cahn presses on. He likely feels he needs to squeeze as much mileage as he can out of questioning Sukuna given that Kaori’s argument isn’t so airtight anymore. “My client and I both acknowledge Choso’s statement during the house study that he would like to be with Sukuna, however I would advise the court to consider that Choso Itadori is young and has no frame of reference to compare this-”

“He was seven when Kaori left. That’s old enough to remember her,” Sukuna grits.

“Mr. Sukuna,” the bailiff admonishes him for interrupting.

He shuffles from side to side, squeezing his hands into fists.

“As I was saying,” the opposition continues, “Seven is young. I think many of us here can agree that we don’t remember much from those years,” he grins as he shoots the panel of judges a knowing look to win them over. “Choso Itadori wouldn’t have a frame of reference between care from different sources.”

Now that he’s finished speaking, Sukuna is quick to blurt out a retort. “When you’re twelve, seven isn’t that long ago. He remembers Ka- Ms. Itadori well. That’s why he’s been struggling.”

Mr. Cahn seems to know something that Sukuna doesn’t, as he grins, a victorious lilt to his tone. “Your Honors, if Mr. Sukuna feels the need to speak without being spoken to, I would like to submit that we dismiss the witness on the grounds of providing information beyond the scope of the case.”

Straightening, the judge directing the case tilts her head towards her colleague with silver curls, who nods approvingly.

Sukuna’s lips part, the facade cracking as he feels the tremble returning to his fingers, watching in horror as the judges contemplate amongst themselves. While the one that he knows is under Kaori’s thumb is quick to agree, the man on the opposite side doesn’t make a decision quite as easily. Small twitches in his facial expression don’t give much away, either. Finally, he shakes his head.

“Objection overruled. Mr. Sukuna, please be warned to only speak when spoken to, however this is valuable information and not outside of the scope of this case.”

He breathes out a sigh of relief, dipping his head gratefully to Judge Cohen. He doesn’t dare say a word, hoping she understands his silent gratitude.

Mr. Cahn hesitates as he glances down at his paperwork, unsatisfied with what information he pulled from Sukuna, who refuses to buckle under pressure.

“No further questions.”

The room shifts, turning on its head from solemn confidence to brazen arrogance as Kaori and Sukuna’s roles are shifted. She takes her oath before standing straight. No longer confident in her control over the situation, his step-mother is shifty. Her hands, usually clasped before her in silent self-assurance now fidget, her nails picked raw.

You can only wonder what she has to lose. Her kids can’t truly be her concern, otherwise you wouldn’t have seen them at a massive tech conference barely a week after leaving Sukuna. With such little time to adjust, that kind of behavior had to be deemed as poor judgement, in addition to the bad faith she’s already shown when it comes to her motherly instincts, or lack thereof.

So what really has her so nervous?

You cast a glance to your right, giving a once-over of the stoic Noritoshi Kamo. Even seated, he’s tall, with a stature that would suggest he sees himself above everyone here. Neatly-coiffed hair sits atop his upper lip, curled just slightly into a resting frown.

Maybe he’s just using Kaori. Maybe what he truly cares about is the good publicity and without her kids she’s nothing to him. Would he leave her? You wouldn’t put it past him, she’s not his first wife and his track record isn’t the kind you hope for in a partner.

Then again, they must have been together for almost five years at this point, if you’re to assume that the real reason Kaori moved overseas is for him. Would he really use her in such a way for five years? That seems unlikely for a mogul like him.

Could it be… Choso? Is Sukuna right? Is Sukuna’s middle brother not Jin’s at all?

You shake your head, adjusting in your seat as Mr. Cahn is invited to begin questioning Kaori. Her statements are practiced, the sort of thing she rehearsed in the rearview mirror on the way here, probably written on cue cards for the benefit of committing them to memory.

You shift your gaze back to her, scrutinizing every last detail she goes over as she begins a broad statement on her take of what happened and why she couldn’t take the kids after Jin’s death. She touches on Sukuna’s inability to contact her, as well as bringing to attention the wealth disparity between her and her step-son and going through much of the same spiel about his inability to properly look after his brothers. Much like Sukuna’s testimony, hers remains much the same as the first time you heard the ordeal, up until the end.

“I would like to mention the topic of perjury as I know it’ll come up, I had no part in the forgery of any documents. A clerical error has taken place somewhere along the line, and I believe that warrants further investigation.”

Leaning further back in his chair, your friend huffs. It’s all bullshit and anyone can see it. To your relief, the judge who’s been at the helm of the proceedings seems skeptical.

“Ms. Itadori, thank you for your debrief. I’d like to dig into the perjury as well. Can you describe the process you used in order to request this birth certificate, as well as your reason for requesting it?”

“Of course,” she agrees. “I requested both Yuji and Choso’s birth certificates shortly before falling ill. They were requested from the Government’s website, and required me to provide proof of my guardianship over my children. I received them about twenty days later by mail.”

Her lawyer nods. “You’re implying that these reprints were ordered prior to your late husband’s passing. Is this correct?”

“It is.”

“Can you describe to the court why you did such a thing?”

She sighs dramatically, the sound setting Sukuna’s entire body alight with rage. What a fucking liar. So much for swearing an oath.

“Yes, of course. Ryomen and I have never seen eye-to-eye. He made it quite clear as a child that he had no interest in allowing me to take a motherly position in his life and as my late husband Jin prepared for his passing, he planned to send all of the children’s files to me. He was unable to do so due to his illness and instead I opted to have their documents reprinted in order to ensure Mr. Sukuna wouldn’t have prevented it.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrow. His pupils are pinpricks as he stares sidelong at his step-mother, his leg shaking beneath the table. Everything about her from her condescending demeanor to her composed arrogance just pisses Sukuna off more. He can’t stand the way he felt completely in control of the trial up until this point, where it feels like all of his sound arguments begin falling apart.

Mr. Cahn presses Kaori for details. “Did Jin Itadori advise you to do such a thing?”

“He did,” she affirms. Sukuna whips his head towards her, his jaw hanging askew. She can lie all she’d like, his father would never do such a thing. “He advised me that Mr. Sukuna had been very emotional since he’d gotten sick and had advised that we begin moving all of his assets over to me. I won’t cause a stir over losing any of our assets and I’m happy that my step-son was able to make use of them, however my biological children are not assets.”

For a woman so adamantly fighting for custody, she sure does treat them like they’re assets.

“Can you confirm what method of communication you used in order for Jin Itadori to express this to you?”

“This was over a phone call on my new number, which I suppose wasn’t saved in his phone. I believe he was in the hospital at the time.”

“Thank you, Ms. Itadori. Your Honors, I’ll have you please look over Ms. Itadori’s medical records.”

All three judges flip a few pages as the sound of paper through the air is all that penetrates the otherwise silent room. There’s an echo to her voice as Judge Cohen acknowledges Mr. Cahn’s request. “Please proceed.”

“As you can see, Ms. Itadori fell ill as well, and was admitted to the hospital shortly after Jin’s passing, therefore causing her flight to need to be cancelled. Records of her flight cancellation are included as well.” He pauses to allow the judges a moment to look over the records. “This was shortly after beginning work at a new company, which required her to change cellular providers. She also moved to be closer to her office, hence the difficulty contacting her. That’s correct, Ms. Itadori?”

“Yes.”

“Please describe how you were able to meet your current husband while ill.”

She casts a glance back at Noritoshi, met with no response even as she clearly seeks his support. “Um-” She hesitates, clearing her throat. “Yes, of course. He recommended me for the position at my new company, and upon falling ill, came to visit me frequently at the hospital. We began dating after he visited multiple times per week, and got married once I was discharged. We eloped, we didn’t want to waste any time while I was feeling well.”

“And how have you been feeling since then?”

“Great, thank you.”

“Do you have any concerns that your health may prevent you from providing the utmost care for the Itadori children?”

“Not at all,” she shakes her head. “I had a particularly bad infection that caused me to experience painful symptoms long after the infection had cleared, however they no longer persist. I see my doctor regularly and have been clear of any issues since my discharge. I have those details here, as well.”

Her lawyer smiles, his self-assurance rising by the second. “Thank you. Please, Your Honors, I’ll have you take a look as well.”

Another pause. Each one has both you and Sukuna holding your breath, as though her argument might unravel within the silence, but the moment never comes.

“Ms. Itadori, do you feel you have provided a safe and nurturing environment for the children since the previous trial?”

“I do.”

“Can you describe how the children have settled in?”

“Absolutely. We recently purchased a nearby house in order to allow the children to be near their friends while they adjust to the changes. We’ll travel back and forth during school breaks, which both of them are very excited about,” she smiles, a flat look in her eyes, “and both children have their own space. Their rooms are side-by-side, they enjoy spending lots of time together.”

A lump forms in Sukuna’s throat as he scowls down at his lap. With each word, the bile in the back of his throat grows more sour.

“Yuji has really started to make his room his own. He enjoys video games and cartoons and we installed a basketball hoop for him. I’m sure he got that interest from Mr. Sukuna,” she offers a faux smile as she cocks her head in Sukuna’s direction. “Choso’s transition has been slower. We’ve enrolled him in a private school, as he was struggling with being bullied. He spends most of his time in his room, but we’re careful to give him the space he needs while always being open to talking. As my step-son mentioned, he benefits a lot from working through his emotions.”

Nausea sends Sukuna’s mind into a tilting sensation. He reaches up to hold his head in an effort to ground himself, taking long slow breaths.

He’d prepared himself for hearing about his brothers and the topic of Choso being bullied, he could face that. Something about imagining the little brown-haired boy alone in a room that isn’t his own with people he doesn’t know makes his chest compress more than he can handle. He leans forward in his chair, rubbing his face and blowing out a breath.

“Mr. Sukuna,” the judge cuts in, addressing him as he lets out a labored gasp, “are you feeling alright? Do you need us to take a small break?”

“No,” he forces out, sitting up as he rests a hand on his stomach in order to settle it.

The male judge quietly says something with a grimace to Judge Cohen, who nods. “I’d like to take a brief break to allow both groups to take a breath. I apologize Ms. Itadori, we’ll return in fifteen minutes and continue where we left off. Please rest assured that this won’t affect our judgement and is a normal procedure within the court.”

The air within the room lightens as Kaori and her lawyer chatter quietly amongst themselves. All three judges take leave at once as you carefully watch Sukuna. He hunches over again, dragging his hands over his face, then back through his hair.

“Go get some water,” Ms. Harte encourages softly with a gentle pat to his shoulder. “There’s a water cooler just down the hall.”

He inhales a long, slow breath and nods, getting to his feet. His gaze finds you, a plea swimming in otherwise stoic crimson irises. You’re up in a moment, trailing just behind him.

Stepping out into the high ceilings of the hall, you purse your lips at what you can only assume is Noritoshi Kamo’s security, two large men in full black suits, while court security lingers around the room as well. It’s hard to put into perspective just how important he (thinks he) is until you see it for yourself.

Sukuna tapers off from the security detail, finding a secluded corner to take a breath. He settles against the wall, leaning his head back on the cool surface as he recenters himself.

“Hey,” you murmur softly, ignoring the way your stomach flutters upon the promise of seeing him after the trial. It’s not the time. “You’ve got this, you know that.”

He peeks his eyes open, examining your expression. “I know,” he agrees hoarsely, reaching a hand up to scratch at his chest as though something is gnawing at it. “‘S just hard hearing about what’s goin’ on.”

You murmur your agreement, brushing your fingers along the backs of his. He cocks his head to the side, eyelids heavy as he watches the way you remain tender with him. Wearily, he lifts a hand to curl his fingers around yours, clasping your hand within his. His gaze lingers on the way your hand fits within his, like a zipper pulled together.

“Can’t believe we called her out for perjury and she’s still fucking lyin’.”

“I just wish there was proof,” you agree.

“The proof will be Choso’s testimony,” he mumbles, keeping his voice low. He leans in to further guarantee the privacy of your conversation. “Even if they bring in his teacher, it won’t matter. Dunno what they expect at this point.”

You brush your thumb along the rough skin of Sukuna’s hand. “I don’t think they ever expected you to get this far, honestly. I think their argument’s falling apart.”

Hope flickers within the depths of his dull eyes. “Y’think?”

You nod, offering an equally optimistic smile.

He inhales deeply, nodding to himself. “Right.”