slene maive

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 work 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 🫶

❦ 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!

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