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starmapz · 2 months ago

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what you know - ch15: aftermath || r. sukuna

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

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

❦ cw ; mdni, 18+ only. contains explicit sexual themes and content. use of alcohol. use of cannabis. use of nicotine/cigarettes. angst. hurt/no comfort. hurt/comfort. minor injury. family trauma. smut. slow burn. anxiety. panic attacks. mentions of difficulty eating. legal drama (likely with inaccuracies). tags will be updated as series continues.

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

❦ words ; 25.9k.

main masterlist || series masterlist || previous chapter || next chapter

Your breaths come quickly as you exit the courtroom, gaze drawn to the ground to avoid the prying eyes of onlookers. Tears stream down your face as quickly as you can wipe them, leaving streaks of mascara in their place.

Trailing after Sukuna, you pause at the large wooden doors past the security check, sucking in a sharp breath. Holding it for as long as you can, you desperately attempt to wipe away streaks of makeup as you compose yourself the best that you can. It wouldn’t be a stretch to say that you’re barely holding it together, but you need to remind yourself of something.

Whatever state you’re in, Sukuna’s doing worse.

No matter how scared you are for Sukuna and his brothers, your friend is experiencing it tenfold.

With a shaky breath, you swallow the lump in your throat, blinking away what you can of the remnants of your tears before pushing through the heavy wooden door.

The early spring air relieves only a modicum of the anxiety gripping your chest. Without the dull walls of the courthouse bearing down on you, you had expected the claustrophobia to lighten, but it only worsens when you spot Sukuna.

“That fucking bitch!” He roars, physically shaking as he pushes his hands through his hair, disheveling the strands. “FUCK!” He screams, gritting his teeth so hard it sends a jolt of pain straight to his head.

Keeling over, he lets out a shaky breath as he claws at his chest. He takes a moment to catch his breath before he explodes once more, ripping a box of cigarettes from his pocket and sending them flying across the parking lot. They collide with a van at the edge of the asphalt, falling to the ground as bent cylinders scatter across the ground.

Your heart shatters at the sight of Sukuna balling his hands into trembling fists as something between a pant and a panicked sob parts his lips. The muscles in his back rise and fall quickly, trembling just as his fists do. Finding your footing, you wipe at your tears once more as you slowly approach him from behind.

Before you can offer any comfort, he bursts once more. “What the fuck am I-?” His voice breaks as he stares into the distance, screaming out another “FUCK!” as he reaches into his pocket for whatever hits his fingers. Blinded by the pain of his anger and drowning under the weight of his anxiety, his movements become mechanical. Fingers brushing the cool metal of his lighter, he doesn’t register what he’s doing as he prepares to fling it through the air like he had so many moons ago.

A metallic gleam catches your eye as you finally find it in you to step in and stop his pained rampage. Your hand wraps delicately around his wrist seconds before he can send the lighter flying through the air.

Whipping around to face you, his eyes burn with emotion unlike anything you’ve seen in him before. White-hot fire burns and sparks behind foggy crimson irises as he turns to face you, his lip curled as if he’s ready to spew venom at whoever might touch him, but the flames sputter out when he’s faced with you. You’re not quite sure who he expected, given his lawyer has loose ends to tie and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Kaori wouldn’t care to be there for him.

But it’s you.

The one and now only constant in his life.

Confusion, uncertainty, and fear all fight for a place within the man’s hollow chest as he struggles to grapple with the weight of a decision that’s flipped his life on its head.

Failure.

It echoes deep in the recesses of his mind, serving as a reminder of everything he’s tried so desperately not to be. All these years, all the effort he’s put into making a life for him and his brothers, and he’s amounted to no more than what everyone has always seen him as. A delinquent. A failure. A man who’s spent so long trying to prove himself only to be beaten down into a husk of himself.

Your lips move, but he doesn’t hear you, stagnant as his eyes stare straight through you. Gone is the cunning history major with all his flirtations and bravado. Gone is the man who scoffs in the face of those who doubt him. The man who stands in front of you now, his pulse racing beneath the tips of your fingers, is completely and utterly unrecognizable.

If it weren’t for the defining tattoos and striking pink hair, you might even think you’d found some distant twin of the man you’d grown to love.

With another gentle squeeze of your hand to attempt to grab his attention, you say his name with more conviction. His eyes snap to you suddenly. Distant, but he hears you. He’s listening. “Don’t throw that,” you say softly, giving his arm a small tug.

Slowly, he begins to lower his arm, becoming more aware of his surroundings. It’s just you and him in the parking lot right now, though he hardly remembers getting here. Confusion riddles his mind as your words sink in and he finally pulls his arm free, holding his hand out before him to stare at his lighter.

His thumb brushes the engraving on it, leaving behind an eerie prickling feeling on the pad of his thumb. His chest heaves, jaw ajar as he struggles with air. He can only stare at the name, which was once dear to him as a reminder of the family whose surname he doesn’t share, but still belongs to. Now, it’s a reminder of everything that’s been torn away from him.

He inhales sharply, shutting his eyes as he clasps his hand around the device. Now conscious of his own decisions, he finds himself wanting to whip the lighter into the ground anew. He wants to erase every remnant of the name ‘Itadori’ from his life. He wishes his father never took her name when they got married.

“Sukuna, talk to me,” you plead, doing what you can to get his attention, but he’s trapped in his own world once more.

His breaths grow more harsh, scaling in anger until every exhale is a huff and every subsequent inhalation sounds downright painful. Unable to catch his breath, he finds himself stumbling to the edge of the stairs to cling onto the brick guardrail on either side, bracing himself on his forearms.

With three more unsuccessful attempts to call his name, you take a step forwards, placing your hand gently on his upper arm. “Kuna?”

Sukuna sucks in a breath at the sound of his brothers’ nickname, dropping his forehead onto his arm as he struggles to breathe.

Sukuna. His surname, and the name he’d chosen to go by after his father died. His father had chosen the name Ryomen for him, and he’d never been able to break that association once Jin had passed. The pain dulled with time, but that name, that part of him, remained permanently scarred. Now his chosen name stands as nothing more than a testament of what once was, too.

What’s left of him, if he does away with the damn lighter? If he does away with the silly nickname his brothers call him because both Ryomen and Sukuna are a mouthful?

It shouldn’t matter, he knows he shouldn’t let it get to him so much, but his very identity is ingrained so thoroughly into his family that he’s not so sure what he stands for anymore.

The name ‘Ryomen’ hasn’t even bothered him for a while now, but the pain of losing Jin feels like an open goddamn wound again. One in which he’s peeled the scab off so many times that there’s no blood left to spill. It only leaves behind increasingly deeper scars that don’t heal.

When Sukuna doesn’t respond again, you quell your own concern and anxiety as best as you can, wiping your silent tears once more before stepping closer. You take another deep breath as you slide your hand down from his upper arm until you find his hand. Slipping your fingers beneath his, you carefully pull the lighter out from his hands and tuck it back into his pocket given that your skirt doesn’t exactly have any.

“Please, talk to me,” you plead, unable to do anything but watch as Sukuna’s muscles tense and he pushes to his feet suddenly.

“How the fuck did she get away with this shit?” He barks suddenly as though he’s come to his senses, staring out at the parking lot. When he whips back around to face you, though, he’s as lost as he was while keeled over the railing. “Four fucking YEARS!” He roars, balling his hands into fists. “For fuck’s sake, I-” He pauses, clutching at his chest as he pants and heaves to catch his breath.

“Sukuna, plea-” you try to step in again with a hand to his shoulder, but it’s as though he barely registers your presence.

“Can’t fucking breathe, why can’t I fucking-” he cuts himself off, wrenching his hands painfully through his hair as he shrugs your hand off of shoulder. He pulls desperately at his tie, ripping it away from his neck and shoving it into his pocket. He proceeds to unbutton the top two buttons of his dress shirt, but it doesn’t help the lingering feeling of suffocation.

His chest heaves at a pace that does his lungs no favors as his hands drop from his shirt, hanging at his sides. His eyes are red-rimmed and glossy, and you can’t bear to let him choke himself in his own frustration anymore.

“Sukuna,” you breathe, stepping in front of him and taking a hold of his forearms.

Your steady grip grounds him enough that you manage to catch his gaze as he stares at you, though you don’t miss the way that something akin to pain glimmers in his eyes. “So fucking frustrating, I can’t fucking breathe-” he grumbles mindlessly as your thumbs soothe circles into his arms.

“I know,” you whisper in reply to his grumbles, stepping forward to pull him into a hug. Your arms wrap tightly around his middle as you rest your cheek on his broad chest. His heart is pounding so fast against your ear that you fear it might just escape its cage, but what’s more startling is just how shallow his breaths have become. Threatening to pull him under, his anxiety seems to be getting the better of him, even managing to dim the flames of his anger as his body trembles and gasps with each breath.

Sukuna’s arms remain frozen in the air, his gaze flitting wildly around his surroundings before finding purchase on the sight of you, clinging to him.

Tilting your head up to look at him, you run your hand up and down his spine soothingly in an attempt to ground him.

And by some miracle, it works. His arms wrap around you tightly, clinging to you as though you might slip through his fingers at any moment. With his attention now fixated on you, you adjust the speed at which your fingers trail up and down his back to match the speed of your breathing.

“Breathe with me.” With his attention now drawn to you, you begin the familiar routine that draws Sukuna back down to earth. You don’t need to instruct him when to take his breaths, knowing he can feel the rise and fall of your chest that follows the lead of your gentle hand.

Much like every other time that your presence has soothed him from a place he doesn’t know how to come down from, his body gradually stills. Air fills his lungs as his breathing slows to a reasonable pace.

Exhausted, his chin falls to the top of your head, his entire body weary as you take on more of his weight than you anticipated and nearly stumble backwards. You catch yourself just in time as he buries his face into the top of your head. Along with the warmth of his breath, you feel the heat of silent tears streaming down his face, too.

Swallowing hard, you’re grateful his suit has him in multiple layers so that he can’t feel the stains your own tears are leaving on his chest. You may owe him a trip to the dry-cleaner’s, but that’s a worry for later.

The silence bears down on you both, pressing in on every side like walls closing in on you. It seeps into the embrace you find yourself in, leaving doubt and uncertainty in its wake, but for the first time in months, it’s not because of your strained friendship. You can’t be certain that the rift is gone, but the unbearable silence is caused by something new, something you had been sure the trial would alleviate.

Fear. Your own, but even more so, Sukuna’s. It’s probably why he can’t bear the quiet, and speaks up.

“What the fuck am I supposed to say to ‘em?” he mutters into the crown of your head, muffled by your hair. His voice is so quiet, so despairing, that you barely recognize his tone.

With a sniffle, you shake your head within his grip. “I don’t know, Kuna.”

His muscles tense in your hold, though you can’t be sure why.

“I failed again,” he mumbles hollowly, his fingers curling into the fabric of your clothes tightly.

Again? You’re not sure what exactly he’s referencing, but you squeeze him back regardless. “It’s not your fault,” you assure him. He may have gotten emotional multiple times throughout the trial, but any judge with a brain would recognize that he simply cares. As far as you’re concerned, Kaori manipulated every piece of the process in her favor. Surely if Sukuna appeals, he can play his cards right and get a fair trial.

You have to believe that for him, because the kids deserve better than a mother who’s never been present.

“I could’ve…” He hesitates, searching for something more that he could have done, but the fact is that as far as he sees it, his fuck-ups began years ago.

He could have been a better kid. He could have been a better friend. He could have been a better brother.

His chest heaves out a long sigh laced with frustration. “I shoulda done more.”

“Stop blaming yourself,” you scold him gently, pulling back a bit to look up at him. He stands upright enough that his weight is relieved from your shoulders, his gaze avoidant. You know he just doesn’t want you to see his reddened eyes rimmed with downright weariness. No matter how many times you’ve been there for him while he’s vulnerable, he still doesn’t want you, or anyone to perceive him as weak.

“It’s my job to look after them,” he mumbles blankly, devoid of any real emotion as he pulls back out of your grip to lean against the brick railing of the stairs once more. His chest heaves as he continues to catch his breath, but it’s steadier now, grounded in reality.

“You have to stop blaming yourself, Sukuna.”

His shoulders visibly tense. Taking a deep breath, he rolls them back and scowls deeply at the concrete beneath his feet. He wants to listen to you, he really does, but his brain isn’t seeing eye to eye with that desire. Every fault, every argument, and every regret resurfaces all at once. His jaw clamps tightly shut as he shakily inhales in an effort to push away even just one of the memories desperately gnawing at the edges of his psyche for a taste of his fear.

“What happened today isn’t your fault and I know- I know that you know that,” you keep your voice low, attempting to keep it level, but it betrays you, cracking mid-sentence.

The falter in your speech catches Sukuna’s attention and for the first time since he left the courthouse, he gets a good look at you. He’d been so lost in the narrow passageways of his mind that he hadn’t noticed that you’re barely holding it together too, only managing to keep yourself in check through sheer will.

His heart drops at the sight of the mascara that streaks down your cheeks. You’ve obviously wiped a fair bit of it away but the evidence is there.

All at once, it becomes painfully obvious that an answer he’d been seeking for the past month is staring him straight in the face.

He’s always known you love his brothers. You wear your heart on your sleeve and their love wrapped in purple and red twine on your wrist.

But he supposes if he’d ever stopped to really think about that, that maybe there’s more to that. Because you don’t love them in the way that a babysitter would. You don’t love them in the way that you would care for a friend’s siblings.

You love them like they’re your own family.

Because after months of looking after them and months of spending time with Sukuna himself, the two of you became best friends and he isn’t sure he ever really had the time to stop and notice that fact himself before driving a nail through your heart two months ago.

You loved him then, and he thinks you might love him now.

In fact, he knows you love him now.

What a terrible fucking moment for him to realize something that holds so much weight in the unsteady balance between you.

Because whether he knows or not, there’s another question left unanswered.

Why does Sukuna care so much about knowing if you still love him?

He’s not sure.

There’s an answer somewhere deep within him that he needs to bury with every other emotion if he plans on making it out the other end of this miserable week alive. It’s an answer he’s not ready to face, even if he knows, deep down.

How can he face those feelings, after all, when he did this to you? He failed Yuji. He failed Choso.

He failed you.

He attempts to take a step back, stumbling when his heel hits the brick railing. Steadying himself with his hand on the brick, he stares at the overcast sky. The sun hasn’t been visible for even a mere second the past couple of weeks, almost as though the world was warning him of his impending failure. Sukuna thinks it may as well rain, while it’s at it. Really drill it in just how much he lost. Just how miserable he deserves to be.

Failure hangs over him, the bold lettering facing him no matter which way he turns. He shuts his eyes, praying the suffocating feeling will go away, but it seems to press down heavier on him the longer he stands there. Rubbing his eyes harshly, he blinks his eyes open in time to see the front doors of the courthouse swing open to reveal Kaori and her lawyer.

“Oh, you are still here. Ryomen, I just wanted to say-”

To your shock, Sukuna seems to lock in at the sight of his step mother, his eyes darkening as he pushes off of the brick railing and stands upright. In two long strides, he places himself between you and her, much like he did in this same situation last week, only now there’s no security, and even Sukuna’s lawyer isn’t here to stop him.

Your viewing angle of the conversation isn’t ideal, but you don’t move given that you don’t particularly care to be around Kaori anyway. You know Sukuna’s just trying to keep you safe.

And if you’re being honest with yourself, you don’t really want to stop him either.

“I don’t give a damn what you have to say,” he growls in a voice so devoid of any warmth it sends a shiver straight down your spine. “I hope you fucking burn in hell, Kaori,” he snarls in a tone so grating that you swear it could shake the very ground you stand on.

“That’s not an appropriate way to speak to your m-”

“FUCK YOU!” He roars, pointing his finger in her direction with a fire that you still have no desire to quench. “Don’t give me any of that bullshit. You’ll be in for a rude fucking awakening when you realize your kids fucking hate you.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Mr. Cahn places himself between Kaori and Sukuna before your friend can sink his teeth into his step-mother’s throat. Unimpressed, Sukuna scoffs, but steps down, crossing his arms over his chest. “Your lawyer needs to speak with you, Mr. Sukuna. She’s inside,” he explains, shaking his head in disapproval as he leads his client away from the courthouse.

Sukuna’s slicing gaze follows Kaori for a moment before he lets out a deep sigh as his anger lowers to a simmer in the pit of his stomach. His eyes are still ablaze when you finally step forward to watch Kaori discuss something with her lawyer before she casts you a glance as she gets into her car.

Turning to face him, you suck in a breath, attempting to wipe at your cheeks again, only smudging your disheveled makeup further. “You, um-” you cut yourself off as your phone starts vibrating in your coat pocket. Peeking at the screen, Kento’s name flashes back at you. “- Sorry, um-” Shaking your head, you turn your attention back to Sukuna. “I feel like you should ask her about an appeal. You deserve a fair trial.”

Sukuna blinks slowly, that familiar distant look beginning to settle in his gaze as his anger and anxiety both level themselves out. As his hands fall to his sides and weariness cradles his eyes, he nods. He may be downright exhausted with low spirits, but Kaori hasn’t put his flame out quite yet.

He’ll fight for what he loves.

Your phone begins to vibrate once more in your pocket just as Sukuna’s turning away.

“I’ll wait here,” you tell him as you hit the green button on your phone. Your friend nods as he trudges back inside. “Hello?”

“Hi. Are you alright?” Kento’s voice is tinged with worry. Even in the midst of a tense and stressful situation, you find a small smile pulling at your lips.

“Yeah, thanks Ken. The- um- the trial just happened. Sorry, I would have mentioned I wouldn’t be there for lunch, but it was pretty last minute,” you explain, chewing on your lower lip.

“I see,” Kento hums on the other line. “You don’t sound pleased,” he adds gravely.

Your raspy voice must be all he needs to deduce what happened. “... No,” you agree, “I’m not.”

Silence permeates both sides of the line. Your eyes trail the parking lot blankly. A crow puffs its chest out at another larger crow as they both fight over morsels of some sort of food despite there being two pieces. In the end, the smaller bird takes off with both pieces of food shoved in its beak as the other bird stomps around the asphalt.

“I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Sighing softly, you shake your head although he can’t see the movement. “No, I don’t think so.”

“Right. Well, if you change your mind, let me know.”

“I will, thanks Kento.”

He hums affirmatively before the line cuts out. Your hand falls to your side with your phone firmly clutched in your grasp. You slide it back into your coat pocket as you stare back out at the sea of cars.

Although the day’s been overcast, you’d sworn on your way here that the sun peeking through the clouds was a sign to keep your head up. Now, it just seems like the sun is taunting you.

Taunting a world that could have been.

How many times would Sukuna need to reset his entire life? To start from square one and rebuild to a point that he’s content?

To your knowledge this will be Yuji’s first time experiencing something of this degree. Will he change like Sukuna has in the past couple of months?

Or Choso?

How will Choso cope without Sukuna when he’s barely coping with Sukuna’s support?

Taking a seat on the front step, you find yourself staring down at scattered and bent cigarettes and lean down to pick them up, shoving them all into the cigarette box sitting amongst them. Just as you gather the last one, an exasperated ‘fuck’ rings out behind you.

Sukuna looks frustrated once more as his feet lead the way straight to you.

“Can you appeal?” You query.

“Yeah. She’s gonna gather more evidence to see what we can do. We’re gonna talk to Cho’s teacher too,” he growls, his annoyance really coming through as he recalls the testimony that sealed his fate. “I’m supposed to see the kids every two weeks for visitation, but…”

You tilt your head.

“I fuckin’ guarantee it’s not gonna happen.”

“You can fight it if she doesn’t,” you point out, hopeful that the visitation schedule will give both Sukuna and the boys some sort of piece of mind given that you hadn’t expected the judge to grant visitation.

“Princess…” Sukuna sighs, avoiding your gaze in defeat. “I don’t have the money to fight for custody and visitation.”

Your brows knit together as you nod. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He hums, pushing a hand through his long hair. His nose wrinkles at the feeling of gel coating the strands mixed with the sweat of his panic and anger. Attempting to shake the miserable feeling of perspiration and just plain dejection that coats his skin, he brushes his hand off on his suit jacket.

“Are you gonna be okay telling your brothers?” You query, watching his face contort in misery and discomfort.

“Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” He grumbles.

“Yeah…” you whisper, barely audible. “And Uraume?”

As though he hadn’t even considered that Uraume is still watching the kids, he sighs heavily. The weight bearing down on his shoulders presses harder than ever and for once, Sukuna wants to let it win.

He wants to fall to the ground and give in. To let the pain crush him.

He wants to let go.

Sensing the dread that Sukuna can’t shoulder on his own anymore, you take his hand, clasping your fingers like he had at lunch the other day. “Hey,” you shoot him your best reassuring smile as you step into his view. “It’s okay.”

His chest rises and falls as he stares blankly at you. His eyes are lidded, heavy with exhaustion as he regards you.

“Did you want to drop by my place to take a shower first?”

With a long inhalation, Sukuna nods. “Yeah. I think I need that,” he agrees, squeezing your hand back before pulling away to drag his hands over his face.

He lets you lead the way to your car, getting in the passengers’ seat and staring out the window. He leans so heavily to one side of the chair that you have half a mind to think he might have fallen asleep, but the moment you pull into your parking spot, he’s out and following you up to your apartment as though the distant look in his eyes isn’t ever-present.

He follows you wordlessly into your home, discarding his shoes at the door as he follows you to the washroom. His movements are painfully limp, so dead-tired that he’s running on fumes as the results of the trial catch up with him.

As you leave him to shower, he twists the tap until it won’t go any further, stripping as he waits for the water to warm up before letting the hot water sear his skin. It doesn’t rid him of the guilt that plagues him, nor does the way he scratches harshly at his chest. The reddened stripes across his skin tingle beneath the hot water. He grits his teeth at the feeling, leaning both hands against the shower wall as he lets the stream wet his hair.

It may not relieve the burdens that make his skin crawl, but at least the sweat and hair gel pool at his feet before slipping down the drain.

It’s a start.

Shutting off the tap, he hops out of the shower, drying himself off and wrapping the towel around his waist. With a swipe of his forearm, he rids the mirror of fog, leaning over the sink as he stares at the man before him.

If the man staring back at him from the judge’s glasses this morning was foreign to him, he doesn’t know what to describe the person in the mirror right now.

His skin is gaunt, his eyes lidded and weary as dark circles weigh them down. His overly long hair hangs down over his forehead and into his vision as he hunches over the sink. It’s the eyes, though, his eyes, that have never seemed quite as unfamiliar as they do now. They’re dull, lacking in all of the things he prides himself in.

Something wet hits his knuckle and he watches as the liquid from his hair drips down the side of his hand onto the porcelain beneath. Meeting his own gaze again, he blinks as he’s forced to drag a finger across his cheek to smear the evidence of his tears.

Strengthening his grip on your sink, he pushes upright and pulls his clothes from earlier back on, leaving only the suit jacket aside. He doesn’t bother tucking anything in, it’s not like his brothers or Uraume haven’t seen him in a worse state.

When he leaves the washroom, you’re sitting on the couch with a concentrated scowl as you nosily scan the internet for any signs of a Kaori Itadori. Your search comes up short, leaving you with no explanations for the questions that continue to plague you.

Your gaze rises as Sukuna’s languid movement catches your attention. Your lips part at the sight of his reddened eyes, but you don’t dare point it out. You inhale as you prepare to say something, but he gets to it first.

“Mind driving me?”

“Oh- um- yeah, sure.”

He only grunts in reply.

–

Given Sukuna’s detachment, you almost expected him to say no when you offered to come up to his apartment for support. Some part of his subconscious must be clinging to you like a lifeline whether he realizes it or not, because despite saying he’d be alright, he took your hand.

He didn’t even seem to question you following him up to his apartment even as he unlocked the door.

Dropping your hand, he pushes into his home, dropping his keys on the side table as six pairs of eyes all stare back at him. His blood runs cold at the sight of two puffy-cheeked little boys staring back at him with so much misplaced hope in their eyes.

The room closes in on him, stealing the breath from his lungs again. He coughs abruptly, feebly clearing his throat as he casts a glance at Uraume. Their eyes say it all, the kids have told them. They don’t even seem all that hurt, with understanding gleaming within their eyes.

He’s not sure he deserves it.

Worse still, is the way that they straighten when Sukuna doesn’t immediately speak. They know.

The silence bears down on him as he forces himself to be strong, to be what the kids need him to be.

“Hey,” he hoarsely greets the three of them, kicking his shoes off. He takes a hesitant step forward, “can you kids go to your room for a bit? I gotta talk to-”

“You lost?” Choso interrupts.

Always too smart for his own good.

His pupils shrink to mere pinpricks, his chest rising and falling in frantic breaths as he stares between you and Sukuna. This sends his little brother into a panic as well, the salmon-haired boy jumping to his feet as he lacks the maturity to understand the situation, but recognizes the tonal shift of the room.

Tears well immediately in Yuji’s eyes as he frantically tugs at his brother’s sleeve. “What’s happening?” He murmurs repeatedly, confused as Choso pulls away.

The tension rises in the room as Choso wraps his arms around his middle, shrinking into himself. Yuji erupts into tears at the lack of response from his brother, and for the first time that you’ve ever been witness to, Sukuna’s composure breaks around the kids.

His head falls, a shaky breath parting his lips as he can hardly bear to look at the brothers he feels he’s failed. His hands ball into fists at his sides, the tang of iron flooding his mouth as he bites down harshly on his lower lip. The taste grounds him, reminds him of the weight his presence holds for the two bawling kids in front of him.

The moment of broken composure is fleeting and before either you or Uraume can process the scene in front of you and react, Sukuna steps into the familiar role he’s carved in the kids’ lives pushing his emotions down. He steps forward, steeling his expression. He takes a breath to steady himself as he kneels in front of the children, pulling them each into him with one arm.

Yuji buries his face into Sukuna’s dress shirt, his loud wails muffled by the thin material. Choso’s arms wrap around Sukuna’s shoulders as the boy clings to his older brother with silent tears. Sukuna’s poor shirt has seen enough tears for a lifetime, let alone one day.

Exchanging a look with Uraume, they beckon you over to the kitchen.

Keeping your voices down, Uraume pipes in first. “How are you holding up?”

“Um-” you pause in thought, casting a glance at Sukuna. “I’ve been better,” you admit, your eyelids heavy. “I didn’t think he’d…” You trail off, as though finishing the sentence somehow makes it seem more real.

The overhead light flickers a number of times, capturing your attention as Uraume sighs heavily. “I just wish he’d let more of us know before it came to this,” they state with a grimace. “Is it just you?”

You shake your head. “Kento knows.”

Shock passes across their features. They blink a number of times, before scrutinizing you with a scowl. “Kento Nanami?”

“His friend is in the law program,” you loosely explain, though it’s enough of an explanation to make sense to Uraume. “It also made Kento want to punch him less,” you shrug, forcing a smile.

Uraume returns the smile, though they note it doesn’t meet your eyes. They cast a glance back at Sukuna and the boys before quietly evaluating your disposition. Uraume isn’t entirely unlike Kento in that way, ever observant and painfully on the nose when it comes to those they care about.

Lacking any subtlety, you attempt to wipe at the mascara that you probably should have removed when you visited your house, but Sukuna had asked to be driven home so quickly that you didn’t have time.

The main difference between Kento and Uraume?

Uraume lacks the decorum that Kento has, and can be painfully blunt. It may be what Sukuna needs, but you’ve got enough bluntness in your life from the man himself.

“You don’t look so good.”

At least they have a polite way of telling you that you look like shit.

Sighing, you lower your head into your hands. “Thanks,” you mutter.

“Go wash up,” they tilt their chin in the direction of Sukuna’s washroom. “I’ll keep an eye on them.”

Nodding thankfully, you slip away into the washroom. The sterile overhead lighting brings back memories of Sukuna sitting pitifully on the floor, hunched against the tub.

Your eyes linger a moment too long on the floor near the tub, the image of his desperate gasps as he clutched at his chest appearing a bit too vividly in your mind.

But maybe that’s because you only just got him back down from that very same headspace.

It’s cruel, really. To put him through so much. Ever stoic and aloof, you never could have known when you first met him just how much he really struggles. Then again, you recall a time where he wasn’t struggling nearly as much. At that moment, it strikes you that this isn’t normal for Sukuna. He’s the type of man who bottles up his emotions and shoves his problems down, but he figures them out. He has the ingenuity and resourcefulness of a man with twice his experience, while keeping the facade of mysteriousness to anyone on the outside looking in.

But within a few months, that all faded.

Everything faded, in favor of a man attempting to accomplish a herculean task alone.

The upside, you suppose, is that the task isn’t sisyphean.

Swallowing down the lump in your throat, you turn your attention to the mirror, turning the tap to warm water as you wipe away the remnants of mascara staining your cheeks.

No matter how battered and bruised he is, Sukuna always gets back up.

And so do you.

Satisfied with your appearance, you make your way back out of the washroom, finding Sukuna now on the couch with both boys crying into his shoulders. His eyelids are heavy as his stare hangs distantly onto the coffee table in front of him.

Uraume is in the kitchen making three mugs of tea and two mugs of what you assume is hot chocolate when you emerge into the living room. Tossing the tea bags into the trash, they set the first mug of tea on the coffee table for Sukuna, before handing one over to you, keeping the last for themself.

“Chamomile,” they state, loud enough to be heard over Yuji’s broken wails even as Sukuna attempts to calm him with hesitant shushes.

You mumble a thank you, pleased as the warm liquid soothes your raw throat.

Sukuna stares at the mug blankly as he holds the two kids, reminding himself of your words from earlier when Choso was struggling.

“He just needs you to be there for him. You don’t have to say anything.”

And what would he say, anyway? Sorry he failed again?

It’s not like he can even reassure the kid that he’ll still see them since he was granted visitation, because the reality is that he doesn’t believe Kaori will honor that. It doesn’t mean he won’t try, but he has a suspicion that Kaori will head back overseas as soon as she’s able to get the boys out of the country, leaving behind everything they know and love.

Shutting his eyes, he lets the kids bawl, lets them get it all out. Hell, he thinks he’d be crying too if he had anything left to give.

That leaves you and Uraume to do little more than watch. It’s gut-wrenching to see their family so torn up, and you get the feeling that the rest of Sukuna’s week will be equally as draining as the past twenty four hours already has been.

You frown as neither boy’s sobs die down, but right now you’re not what they need. You can’t step in and calm them down, they’re exactly where they need to be. They’re exactly where they want to be.

Sitting at the table towards the back of Sukuna’s apartment, Uraume keeps up a quiet conversation with you to keep your own mind off of the situation. It’s hardly a matter of moments before your stomach is growling, betraying the fact that you’d forgotten breakfast and at this point the sun’s nearly reaching the end of its journey across the afternoon sky.

“Why don’t we go get food?” Uraume offers, casting a glance at Sukuna and the boys. “I think he’d appreciate it,” they add in a softer tone.

With a nod, you let Uraume lead the way out to the familiar chicken joint you last visited with Sukuna months ago. After placing your orders, you take a seat at one of the booths in the back corner to wait.

“How long have you known?” Uraume queries.

Reading between the lines and assuming they’re referencing the lawsuit, you sigh. “He told me last year at Satoru’s after-finals Christmas party.” Coincidentally, that’s also the first time you were here with Sukuna.

“So he’s known for a while,” they comment, piecing together what they’ve learned throughout the day.

Nodding, you examine their features. They don’t seem hurt by the revelation that Sukuna’s kept something so big from them. Their fingers tap a number of times on the table as they contemplate something.

“Did he pay for the lawyer?”

You nod.

Rolling their eyes, they mutter “dumbass” under their breath.

Your head tilts at their reaction curiously.

“Atsuya is well-off. Very well-off. Had he asked for help, Atsuya would have had no issue paying.”

“Like he’d ask for help,” you scoff lightheartedly.

Uraume cracks a smile, sitting upright. “I suppose you have a point.”

The sounds of the diner fill the air as you continue to wait on your order. A coffee machine whirrs to life as someone takes a seat at the counter. Their foot kicks at the base of the counter, the rhythmic sound serving as a distraction from your thoughts.

“How are you faring, really?”

Your meek smile fades as you consider their words, fiddling with the receipt between your fingers. You’ve spent so long focusing on the well-being of Sukuna and the kids that you haven’t really had the opportunity to stop and consider your own emotions. The momentary pauses in the washroom between stressful events and the short-lived silence of the world at night hardly give you a chance to unwind these days.

How are you?

Chewing on your lip, you feel your resolve shattering. Tears well in your eyes, but you don’t bother hiding them for once. As they slip past your lashes and down your cheeks, you shake your head in reply.

“I don’t know,” you whisper honestly, sucking in a breath as you wipe at your cheeks.

Uraume’s brow pulls together in sympathy. “You still love him, don’t you?”

Did you even tell Uraume about that, or is it that obvious?

Making a line of small rips across the top of the receipt between the tips of your fingers, you chuckle wryly. “I don’t know,” you repeat yourself, deflecting the question. Your deflection is all the answer that Uraume needs. They offer a sympathetic smile, passing a napkin across the table. “I don’t know, I feel sort of dumb if I say yes,” you admit through tears as you take the napkin from them to dab under your eyes.

“You’re not stupid for having feelings,” they shrug. “Sukuna’s a good guy-” they pause, sighing as they add “- he’s also an idiot and he pushes away everyone he cares about,” they shake their head, “but what happened between you both tells me that he cares about you a lot.”

Worrying your lower lip between your teeth, you continue to tear the receipt, a pile of small pieces of paper gathering beneath your hands.

“Look at what happened with him and Toji,” Uraume points out. “I think you know as well as I do that Sukuna feels bad, he’s just too stubborn to do anything about it.”

You nod slowly. “What about you, then? Has he ever pulled anything like that with you?”

Uraume scoffs. “He used to, all the time. I’ve known a lot of people like Sukuna though, so I think it just doesn’t affect me anymore.”

“I don’t know how you do it,” you sigh, arranging the pile of shredded receipt pieces into a little fish shape. “I think it’s just hard when I’ve seen the other side of him, you know?”

“You get used to it.”

You glance up at Uraume at that, catching a hidden meaning to their words. Their eyes speak of something deeper, but you don’t push. Clearly they’re not referring to Sukuna with that statement, but whoever it is that they used to know that was similar to him.

With an understanding smile that doesn’t meet your eyes, you rest your chin on your knuckles, your elbow leaning against the table.

“For what it’s worth, I do think you’re right about Sukuna.”

Your gaze rises again and you watch as they lean back in the booth in thought.

“I don’t think he ever wanted things to get this far. With you, or Toji. Any of us. He’s a complicated person.” They raise their hand, running it through their hair. “So, no, I don’t think it’s wrong for you to still have feelings for him, even after the fight.” Running their tongue over their lower lip. “And I don’t think it’s wrong for you to miss his brothers,” they add in a softer tone. “They’re family.”

Reminded of the situation waiting for you back at Sukuna’s apartment, you turn your attention back to the fish-shaped pile of receipt shavings. Pushing your finger through it, you inhale shakily.

“I think he’s gonna appeal,” you mumble in an effort to cover up the evidence of your tears.

“That’s good,” Uraume agrees, smoothing their baggy jeans beneath the table. “I don’t know much about their step-mom, but Choso sounded pretty torn up for the past couple of hours,” they state worriedly.

“Yuji doesn’t even know her.”

Uraume grimaces. “She’ll take care of them. They’ll be okay, even while they’re gone. Sukuna will get them back.”

You nod, but salty tears won’t stop now, running down your cheeks at record pace. Between shaky breaths, you use the napkin Uraume handed you earlier to attempt to dab away the evidence of your sadness, but they just keep coming.

“Oh honey, is everything alright?”

You dab more at your tears, sniffling as you raise your head to find the sweet older waitress who served you and Sukuna months ago in the early morning hours.

“Oh, let me get you some tea.”

“No no, it’s alright!” You insist, shaking your head as you offer an unconvincing smile to the kind woman.

“I insist, on the house!”

Before you can protest, she’s running back around the counter to pour some hot water into a mug and toss in a little tea bag. She runs back over to set it back on the table.

And god that’s just too sweet and it makes you want to cry even more.

“Thank you,” you murmur.

“You two take care, okay? Your order is just about ready.”

You can’t even manage another thank you as she makes her way back behind the counter and a sob wracks your body.

“I should have tipped her more,” you mumble, waiting for the tea to diffuse before taking a sip.

Uraume chuckles, pulling some cash from the wallet in their pocket. “I’ve got it.”

“Everyone is too sweet,” you laugh in return between the cries, thankful at least that the energy in the air is overall positive. Even Uraume seems confident that Sukuna’s appeal process will go well.

It’s hard to hold the same confidence when you’d been so sure that Sukuna would win in the first place and it wouldn’t get this far, but you cling to their positivity regardless.

“How are you doing so well?” You query, sniffling as you dab at your cheeks. “Aren’t you close to Yu and Cho too?”

“I am,” they confirm, “but if you’re holding Sukuna together, someone needs to hold you together, right?”

Meeting their eyes, you see the underlying sadness that no longer hides behind their kind smiles.

“Who’s gonna hold you together, then?” It comes out as a whisper, but you know they heard.

They blink quickly as tears gather along their lash line, but their control is better than your own. “I’ll be fine,” they affirm.

“You know, it would make me feel better about crying if you also cry,” you point out.

Uraume laughs, but liquid gathers in their eyes once again, spilling over their cheeks as they allow themself to indulge in the moment with you. In truth, it’s nice to have someone like Uraume here when you’re so used to holding yourself together for Sukuna’s sake.

The waitress returns a moment later with a couple of bags of food, setting them on the edge of the table for you.

“You poor sweethearts, let me know if I can get you anything else.”

Uraume thanks the waitress, wiping at their tears and nodding reassuringly at the kind lady. Once the waitress has retreated, you grab another napkin, dabbing at your cheeks again. Uraume follows suit, burying their face in it.

“If what Choso said is true, I’m worried,” Uraume admits, their strong facade faltering in favor of the vulnerability that they so easily hide. “Sukuna never told me why they ended up in his care, but I never got the impression that this would happen,” they mutter, lifting their face from the napkin as their tears dissipate.

You breathe out a sigh, nodding. “Whatever he said is probably true.”

Uraume’s lip curls downwards at the thought. “I see,” they hum, staring at the bags of takeout. They allow a moment for the air to clear of sniffles and the tension to pull back from the table as you both attempt to mentally reset before returning to Sukuna. The last thing he needs right now are his two friends crying into his meal.

As the sounds of the rumbling coffee machine and the sizzling of the grill in the back overtake your collective sniffles and sobs, Uraume pushes to their feet.

“We should all have some food,” they insist, grabbing one of the bags. “Let’s go.”

With one sharp final breath, you steel yourself as you nod and push all the shreds of receipt into your used napkin. You thank the waitress, tossing the paper out on the way to the door as you begin the walk back to the apartment.

It’s made in relative silence as both you and Uraume take the opportunity to breathe in the early spring air. It’s still cool out, the breeze ruffling your hair as you walk in tandem. Birds sing overhead, the sounds of feathers in the wind serving as a distraction as your eyes follow a small brown songbird. Some sort of finch, likely, that lands and pecks at the remains of what looks to have been a fry. Its little head tilts side to side as it contemplates the taste before flying off.

Your gaze sticks to the skyline where the bird disappears as the sun falls behind a cloud. Maybe it was always a pipe dream all along, but in your head you’d pictured a time where you would be able to take Sukuna’s little brothers to the park while Sukuna worked. Maybe you never should have envisioned that from the start. Between the stability that your friendship with Sukuna lacks and the fact that they’re his little brothers and not your own, maybe it was always too much to hope you might be able to see the two of them grin as you hand them ice cream on a warm and sunny day.

Caught up in your own little world, you hardly realize that you’ve come to a halt before Sukuna’s apartment. Uraume dials up to his unit to no reply as you exchange a glance.

“You didn’t happen to grab his keys, did you?”

Shaking your head, you reach forward to dial the number again.

Nothing.

“I’ll call him,” you offer.

The tone repeats as you await his reply, praying something hasn’t gone wrong. When he picks up seconds before his answering machine would have, you breathe out in relief.

“I fuckin’ hear you, I’m trying to get the buzzer,” he replies abruptly to your call. Between the shuffling on his end and Yuji’s muffled whines and cries, you’re barely able to make out what he said. “Just give me a- c’mon Yu, it’s alright- give me a momen-”

The call cuts out before he can even finish his sentence. Pulling the phone back from your ear, you stare at it in confusion. “Um, dial the buzzer again?”

Uraume nods, dialing up again. On the final buzz tone, the door unlatches and you head up in silence. Taking a moment to pause before the door, you both mentally reset to the best of your abilities.

It seemed Sukuna hadn’t bothered to- or been able to- lock the door as you push your way in once you’re both ready.

The scene you’re met with strikes horror through your heart like a bullet. Yuji is wailing, wrapped in a blanket on the couch as Sukuna attempts to peel Choso’s hands from his dress shirt.

“C’mon brat, I’ll be right back. I just wanna change,” Sukuna grumbles tiredly, running on fumes as irritation dances around the edge of his tone. Each time he manages to free one of Choso’s hands, he latches back onto his brother the moment Sukuna reaches for his other hand.

“You can’t leave us,” the little boy panics through tears, “don’t leave us, please don’t leave us.”

Yuji’s sobs increase in volume as you exchange a look at Uraume. Handing them the second takeout bag, they take it to the table as you make your way over to Sukuna and Choso. Uraume is behind you shortly as they attempt to soothe Yuji.

Sukuna locks eyes with you. Concern, frustration, and sadness all linger within the crimson of his irises but most of all, he looks like he just needs a moment to himself. His movements are weary with the weight of exhaustion and whatever fight he has in him to peel Choso from his shirt dwindles by the second in favor of guilt, but he just needs a moment to himself so badly.

“Hey, Choso,” you gently greet him. The little boy eyes you through tears, his grip on Sukuna remaining firm. He doesn’t answer, his chest rising and falling unevenly as he refuses to let go of his older brother. “Why don’t you come get some food?” You encourage with a sympathetic smile.

“‘M not hungry,” he murmurs, his voice small as he tugs on Sukuna’s shirt in an attempt to get the man to sit.

“Cho, c’mon-” Sukuna gruffs, although he doesn’t want to yank himself from his brother lest he make things worse than they already are.

Which is saying a lot, because he’s pretty sure this is about the worst things have ever been.

So to think that this might not be rock bottom is something he doesn’t want to consider.

“Maybe you aren’t, but I bet your brother is,” you offer, casting a glance at Sukuna. “Come hang out with Uraume and I for a bit, okay? Kuna’s not going anywhere.”

“He’s leaving us,” Choso mutters, eyes wide with fear.

Kneeling down to his height, you offer your best smile. “You’ve got time with Kuna still, sweetheart,” you reassure him. “And you know what he told me?”

Glancing between you both, Choso’s fingers loosen their grip a minute amount as he whispers “what?” between shaky breaths.

“He told me he’s gonna fight to get you back.”

Choso whirls back around to Sukuna, searching for a response. He can’t afford to hesitate to reassure his brother, even if he has his doubts that he’ll ever get a free trial. With that in mind, he nods curtly.

With Sukuna’s response, Choso’s grip relents just an inch more. “And you know what else, honey?”

Choso turns back to stare at you.

“He’s got my help, and Uraume’s.” You point a thumb back to Uraume who’s soothed Yuji’s sobs into sniffles and small gasps.

Choso stares past you to Sukuna’s friend, his grip relaxing enough that Sukuna could back away if he chose, but he stays in place. The last thing the poor kid needs is to feel as though it’s Sukuna who’s pulling away, when the tattooed man is the only constant that still remains in Choso’s life.

Jin’s gone, Kaori’s gone, only to return like a fly they can’t get rid of, Toji’s gone, their house has changed, their financials have changed. Even you had been gone for a month, though the kids don’t need to know that.

Sukuna is the one thing that’s always been the same. You don’t doubt the fact that he’s likely all Choso feels like he can cling to for some sort of sense of normalcy.

“Come have some food,” you encourage with a smile. “We got some chicken and fries for you both,” you coax, offering your hand out to him.

With a final glance up at Sukuna, Choso takes your hand and lets you pull him to the kitchen table. Yuji and Uraume are shortly behind you as you unpack the food.

Sukuna lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, slipping into his room for a reprieve.

When he emerges, he feels ages better, as though the suit and slacks had some sort of negative air, something to hold over his head. Shedding himself of them, he feels miles more comfortable in a pair of black sweatpants and a shirt with the sleeves torn off and the Alien logo across the front. It’s clearly well-loved, the print cracked and fading from years of use.

He slumps into his chair at the table, pulling the last unopened takeout container towards himself. He doesn’t think twice as he bites into the chicken sandwich, grateful to finally get some food in his stomach.

The unexpected side-effect of eating a full sandwich in just a few bites is that he damn-near hurls when Yuji speaks up.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he mutters meekly. “I don’t-” he sniffles, dipping a fry in ketchup. “I don’t get it.” He dips the same fry in ketchup again, his brow pulled together in confusion. “Did we do something wrong?”

With the way Sukuna’s face drains of color, you take it upon yourself to answer, even as you feel tears fill your eyes. You don’t let them break the seal though, keeping those emotions as tucked away as possible. “No, sweetie. You didn’t do anything wrong. Nothing that’s happening is your fault.”

Yuji, still confused, continues dipping the same fry in ketchup. “Did Kuna do something wrong?”

Sukuna tenses at your side. Chewing hard on your lower lip to prevent your tears from spilling, you shake your head. “No, no one here did anything wrong.”

Sukuna wishes he believed you. He wishes the circumstances of this lunch- dinner- whatever it is, could be celebratory, but the mood is sour, somber.

“You’re just gonna go stay with your mom for a little bit while Sukuna takes care of some things, okay?” Uraume offers in that familiar reassuring smile they’re always able to offer. You wish you had their resolve, but your body betrays you. “It’ll be fun,” they add. “Like a field trip, and Choso will take care of you, right Cho?”

Choso’s hand trembles as he nibbles on a fry. “Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes flickering between the adults in the room as he gathers the meaning behind Uraume’s words and reassures his little brother.

“But… Kuna can’t come with us?” Yuji asks, dipping his fry in ketchup again.

“I’ll try, Yu. Your mom doesn’t like me,” he admits honestly.

“Why?”

Grimacing, Sukuna wearily shakes his head. “I’ll tell you when you’re older,” he mutters, dropping the subject as he leans back in his chair.

The rest of the meal is otherwise silent as each of the boys continue to pick at their food, their appetites lacking. Uraume excuses themself shortly after to attend an evening class, and Sukuna takes the chance to follow them to the door to talk.

“I shoulda told you,” he mumbles, keeping his voice down. The apartment is quiet enough that his voice would carry if he raises his voice in the slightest.

“It’s fine, Sukuna. I don’t expect you to tell me everything, though I wish you would have reached out if you needed a hand,” they admit as they pull on their jacket.

To be fair, he did reach out when he needed a hand. Unfortunately the day he needed a hand was, well, today, which solves no problems. That’s just Sukuna being stubborn.

“You don’t need to tell me everything,” they add tentatively, pausing as they throw their bag over their shoulder. “But Toji deserves to know.”

Sukuna averts his eyes from Uraume, guilt squeezing his throat. “Yeah,” he rasps quietly, offering nothing more.

Toji’s broken words cling to his memory.

“He was more of a father to me than my parents ever were and you know that!”

With a deep sigh, he crosses his arms over his chest, defeat weighing heavily on his lungs as his breathing becomes labored.

Shit, he’s done it again.

If Jin was like a father to Toji, had he never stopped to consider that Choso would be like a little brother to him? How many hours had the little boy tagged along on their adventures and sat at skateparks or basketball courts with them?

With every question, his brain conjures another image of Toji including little Choso in their adventures. His hands were too small to hold a ball and Sukuna and Toji’s skateboards were a bit too big for Choso to learn on. Hell, Jin would have killed them for even letting the kid step foot on a board without a helmet, but they didn’t have one for him.

Still, Toji found ways to include Choso, just as Sukuna did. He was their scorekeeper and hype man for basketball, grinning happily as Toji would hoist him up onto his shoulders and run around the court after each basket. Choso would grin and giggle in glee, always cheering for Toji. He’d even managed to put together a little chalk set for Choso to play with while they skated. Sukuna recalls some of the older kids making requests and including the little boy, encouraging his artistic skills.

Toji was always better with Choso than Sukuna ever was. It came as a shock given both men were rough around the edges and they’d both sworn they would never want kids of their own when they got older.

But Toji was always great with them.

Now, the thought makes Sukuna want to wretch.

With a frown, he finally meets Uraume’s gaze again.

“Think about it,” they urge him.

Oh, if they only knew.

“And Sukuna? Try to give them a good last few days with you. Don’t let this be the way they remember their time with you,” Uraume adds, casting a glance past Sukuna at a very somber table as you clean up and attempt to encourage the kids despite your own glaring sadness.

“Right,” he hums in agreement.

“Let me know if you need anything. I’m sorry it came to this,” they sigh, grimacing in earnest. “Don’t give up. They need you.”

Sukuna follows their gaze, watching the way you do your best to feign enthusiasm, ruffling Yuji’s hair. You do what you can to let them know they still have time, but Sukuna can see the underlying sadness behind your eyes and if he can, so can Choso, maybe even Yuji. He appreciates your effort, regardless. He’s not sure how well he could manage what you’re doing.

“Right,” he mutters again. “Thanks.”

Uraume offers a bleak smile as they leave. Sukuna shuts the door behind him as the late afternoon sun sets over the horizon and evening approaches quickly. He’s not sure how you manage it, but you keep yourself together while quietly encouraging the boys to play video games, helping them get past some Sonic level they were stuck on.

Or, at least trying to.

Both boys are sitting on the floor with you, the coffee table pushed aside to make room. Yuji is sitting in your lap, giggling as he mashes the A button for you and sends Sonic off every ledge. You let out a mock gasp each time, playing along with Yuji’s little plan and even find Choso calms down, leaning against your shoulder.

The moment allows Sukuna some sense of relief, giving him time to mentally go over the trial. He evaluates each and every thing that went wrong, but for every detail he finds that he could have done something different, it’s always counteracted with some lie he’s sure Kaori already practiced.

Leaning back in the corner of the couch behind you, he stares up at the ceiling. His chest clenches as a the level you’re playing changes and the apartment grows silent during the loading screen. No sniffles, no gasps for air, the first moment of genuine silence since he’d broken the news to his little brothers.

He usually craves the silence after a long day, but now it strikes dread into his heart. He’ll need to grow accustomed to that silence, and that’s not something he’s prepared to face.

He sits quietly, watching the way you interact with his brothers and offer them reassurance so effortlessly. His heart picks up its pace as you laugh when Yuji sends your character off a ledge again.

You’re so good with them.

You’re so good with him.

His jaw tenses as his eyes travel the length of your face, settling on your eyes, set on the screen. You’re struggling to hold yourself together, but you’re doing it so willingly for him and his brothers. You’re being the beacon of support they all so desperately need, even Sukuna himself, as much as he hates to admit that he needs help.

You don’t even blink twice about skipping class, about the study time you’re missing out on, or bearing the weight of Sukuna’s shattered mental health. You’re just there.

Without realizing it, he’s openly scowling at you. He has the answer he needs as to why you’re doing all of this for him, but he can’t help but feel like it’s still not enough.

It’s not enough to think that you do this purely out of love for him and his brothers. Why do you bother when Sukuna doesn’t reciprocate those feelings?

He grinds his teeth as his stomach flutters so dramatically that it feels like it’s doing a damn flip. Shuffling uncomfortably, he pushes aside his thoughts and focuses on the screen, finally able to zone out as you hold the controller over Yuji’s head. Yuji giggles as he clambers over you, but you’re able to cross the finish line before the little boy can sabotage you.

Sukuna can’t say how long he zones out, but it’s dark when you suggest a movie as Yuji tiredly begins to hunch over in your lap. Twisting to get a look at Sukuna, you’re not shocked to find him staring at you with a lidded expression. The dark circles beneath his eyes feel especially accentuated in the dim blue lighting emanating from the TV.

“Can we watch Ice Age?” Yuji requests through a yawn.

“That’s up to your brother.” You nudge Choso, who shrugs. Though he’s been somewhat responsive today, it’s clear that he’s not all there right now.

“Go sit with Kuna,” you encourage them both, getting to your feet to set up Ice Age. Making your way to the shelf beside the TV, you peer back at the three brothers as Sukuna grunts. A bittersweet smile makes its way to your face at the sight before you.

Yuji crawls into Sukuna’s lap, kneeing him in the stomach in the process, but before Sukuna can mutter out a ‘watch it, brat’, or something similar, Choso settles at the man’s side, resting his head on Sukuna’s shoulder.

The brute’s eyes soften as his words die in his throat. He lifts his arms to encircle the boys, slumping back into the cushions again. Fatigue overtakes his expression as quickly as you can pop the DVD case open with a click! and get the movie started.

With the movie on a lower volume than usual, Sukuna’s asleep before Scrat the squirrel finds his acorn.

Which is impressive, given that it’s maybe twenty seconds into the movie, but between the comforting weight and reassuring warmth of his little brothers still safe with him, it’s all he needs to find peace. Even if it only lasts for the hour and twenty one minute run-time of the movie.

With Sukuna’s gentle snores piercing the air every few seconds, Yuji whispers a sweet “night, Kuna,” but he’s not far behind.

You can barely bring yourself to pay attention to the cartoon antics of the characters of the movie, yawning yourself every time you catch a glimpse of the three brothers. It’s sweet, but their fear isn’t lost on you. The way Choso clung to Sukuna earlier, you can only imagine how painful it’ll be to really be forced to let go.

They don’t deserve this pain.

Swallowing hard, your vision grows blurry as liquid clouds your vision.

Your eyes widen in surprise when Choso whispers your name, barely audible over the TV even at a low volume. You had no idea he was awake, his eyes closed each time you would catch a glance at them. Swiping at your tears before they can fall, you quietly reply.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Do you really think Kuna can get us back?”

Your heart shatters at the sound of Choso’s doubt. You’d convinced the boys that Sukuna would win this time around. You’d spent so long reassuring them that he would, that you’re not sure your words carry any weight anymore. Yet Choso still seeks your guidance.

“I do,” you reply with all the certainty you can muster.

Satisfied with your response, he blinks with a drowsy nod. “I’ll miss you,” he mumbles, his head falling back against Sukuna.

Choking on the sobs you need to hold back, you bring a hand up to your mouth. “I’ll miss you, too.”

Choso’s already asleep (for sure this time, if his ajar jaw is anything to go off of) by the time you say it, and thank god for that as the dam breaks again. They’re not your family, you keep reminding yourself, but it doesn’t matter. You love them like they are.

Your quiet heartbreak penetrates the air as you keep your eyes on the movie. Somehow the little found family of characters hardly manages to soothe your frazzled nerves as you find yourself comparing each of the characters to the people in the room. Does that make you Sid the Sloth? Shit, probably. But somehow that doesn’t stop the tears.

The credits roll, leaving the room pitch black as you take deep breaths to even out your breathing. The DVD player clicks a number of times before sending the movie back to the title screen, playing the same few scenes on repeat. The loop only seems to last a minute or two, but it allows you to get your bearings.

Casting a glance at your phone and the multitude of ‘are you okay?’ texts from Kento, alongside a couple from Uraume, you figure it’s late enough that you should head out. After all, you have classes and work tomorrow and the last thing you need is the stress of being a third day behind on everything.

You have your own life that you can’t afford to slack on. With a deep breath, you get to your feet, careful not to disturb the pile of sleeping brothers. Brushing your clothing off, you gather your belongings and set everything at the door before returning to the couch, contemplating waking Sukuna up.

His head is leaning back on the back of the couch, which will undoubtedly leave him with a kink in his neck.

But god they look so sweet. They look like a happy family, to anyone who doesn’t know.

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you tap your fingers along the glass momentarily before opening the camera to snap a very dark, barely visible photo. Your phone does what it can to brighten and make sense of the image, but there’s something so real about the dark and fuzzy image that brings a small smile to your face.

Shoving your phone back in your pocket, you turn to creep away when a grunt makes you jump.

“Headin’ out, princess?” Sukuna’s voice is gravelly with sleep, low and husky in a way that would set your senses alight in different circumstances. Now that tone carries with it the weight of loss.

“Yeah, um, the movie’s over. I have class and work tomorrow.”

“Right,” he grunts, yawning as he attempts to adjust his sore back. “Shit, these two’re getting heavy,” he grumbles.

You offer a bittersweet smile, watching as he attempts to crack his neck, only to manage to muss his hair out of place until a large tuft covers his vision. Unable to move his arms, he attempts to blow it out of the way, leaving him with a mildly frustrated scowl and a very disheveled appearance.

He huffs, giving up as he’s forced to peek through his overgrown hair up at you. “Thanks for comin’ today.”

“No problem, Kuna,” you whisper in return, taking a ginger step towards the tense man. His piercing gaze doesn’t leave you as you hesitantly reach forward. You pause before you touch his hair, your outstretched fingers giving away your intentions, but when Sukuna doesn’t react, you proceed to card your nails through his hair and brush it out of his vision.

You pull back quickly when his stoic expression remains unchanged, his thoughts painfully hidden behind a mild look.

“Your- um- hair’s gotten long,” you comment to fill the mildly uncomfortable silence.

“Mm. Haven’t really had time to cut it,” he replies evenly as Yuji flips in his sleep.

“I like it, it suits you,” you state, chewing on your lip absently.

Sukuna’s grateful for the darkness as heat creeps up the back of his neck. He keeps his gaze aloof, but he knows his cheeks would betray him if the lighting were the tiniest bit brighter.

He’s not sure when your compliments started heating up his neck and cheeks, but he hates it.

This isn’t Ryomen Sukuna.

But then again, he’s not so sure he knows what makes him him anymore, anyway.

So what’s one more thing to add to the pile?

Quietly clearing your throat when he doesn’t react, you begin to turn, excusing yourself. “I should go. Call me if you need anything, though.”

“Mhm. I owe you one.”

You pause before you can turn towards the door, raising your brow.

He blows air from his nose, as amused as he can manage. “Thanks.”

You offer him a smile before heading towards the door, pulling your shoes on and your coat over your blouse. “Sukuna?”

“Mm?”

“I’m really sorry.”

He blinks once, followed in quick succession by several more as he averts his gaze to the coffee table. His brow pulls together, but he doesn’t know what to say in response. He wants to hate the pity. From both Uraume and from you, but he can’t bring himself to. The Sukuna he’s used to feels out of reach now, a stranger residing in his own body.

“I know you’ll figure it out, though.” It’s the best you can offer in his silence.

He hums.

“See you at work tomorrow.”

“Probably not,” he grunts, pointedly jutting his chin out towards his brothers.

“Right. Um- text me?”

He hums once more.

“Goodnight, Kuna.”

–

As expected, Sukuna doesn’t show up to work the following day. He must have given Maya a heads’ up because every time someone is missing without notice since the disappearance of the original graphic designer, she tends to freak out.

It’s tough to focus with the image of Sukuna and his brothers all passed out on the couch burned into your mind. Even as you edit a young adult novel, an evil step-sister type character makes you want to leap through the page and tear her throat out as though she’s Kaori.

You can’t decide if that’s a dramatic reaction or not.

You don’t hear from Sukuna for most of the day, until late at night when he finally replies to your inquiry of how they’re all doing. You can practically envision him laying in bed, eyes half-lidded as he struggles to stay awake while he texts you.

10:49 PM Kuna || ok. theyre like koalas clinging to me

Under any other circumstances, that would bring a smile to your face, but their fear can be felt through the screen. It resonates deep within you as you reply.

10:51 PM You || And you?

Sukuna doesn’t reply.

Friday is radio silence as well, until the late night hours roll around. You wouldn’t usually be awake at this time, able to focus on your studies more in the morning, but playing catch-up on two days’ worth of studies while struggling to focus has you racing to work through your textbooks.

Your phone buzzes, and it would seem your friend has finally replied to your question from the previous night.

1:03 AM Kuna || tired

You stare at the word, the meaning bleeding through the screen. He’s worn out, running on fumes. You’re honestly surprised he’s managed to hold himself together so well over the past couple of days. Not because he isn’t strong, but because the circumstances he’s fallen into aren’t fair and no one should be expected to be as strong as him or his brothers.

1:06 AM You || I’m so sorry, Kuna

Sukuna doesn’t reply.

Mid-day Saturday, you crack your window open, grateful that the snow has melted and it’s warm enough to let some fresh air into your apartment. Sunlight streams through the window, warming your skin and bringing a sense of life to your work. Studying doesn’t feel quite as dreary when you can enjoy some natural light at the same time.

Stretching your arms over your head, you let out a sigh, deciding to take a break from classwork. Unlocking your phone, you instinctively check your messages with Sukuna, like second nature. He still hasn’t replied.

Frowning, you stare out the window at the sun beaming down on grass outside. It’s still too early in the year for signs of regrowth and greenery, but even the yellowed grass and leafless trees feel full of life with birds flying overhead and children laughing in the distance.

Your shoulders fall at the thought of Choso and Yuji, who might be out among the laughter if their life hadn’t recently taken such a dramatic turn.

Maybe you need a little sunlight yourself to keep your thoughts in order.

Pushing to your feet, you put together a light makeup look, toss on a jacket and make your way out the front door.

The feeling of warm sunlight on your skin is refreshing after such a long winter. You weave your way through the apartment parking lot until you reach a walking path that curls down into a ravine basked in sunlight.

The pavement beneath your feet curls further into the ravine and the further you walk, the more serene it grows. The laughter and the hum of engines becomes distant until it’s all a distant memory. Finches sing overhead while a squirrel peers curiously at you from its perch on a branch that hangs over the path.

For a moment, it allows you to forget. To forget about grades and scholarships, to forget about internships and impending job applications, and to forget about the trials that plague your dear friend. Both metaphorically, and physically.

But peace can only last so long when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

Expecting to see Shoko or Kento’s names, you raise your brow when you’re met with the sight of neither.

2:17 PM Kuna || you busy

2:17 PM Kuna || ?

You don’t hesitate to reply.

2:18 PM You || Nope! What’s up, Kuna?

2:19 PM Kuna || fucking exhausted

2:19 PM Kuna || can you watch the kids for a couple of hours

2:20 PM Kuna || i need a nap

Frowning, you turn on your heel to head back up to your building. You don’t bother heading to your floor, hopping straight into your car with an easy ‘On my way!’

Your screen flashes before you pull out of the parking lot with a quick thanks from Sukuna, and it’s not long before you’re at his door, knocking.

“Can you get that, Cho?” you hear Sukuna’s muffled voice on the other side of the door. There’s some shuffling before the little boy quietly opens the door, peering up at you uncertainly until he realizes it’s you. His form relaxes as he lets you swing the door open, following him inside.

His hair is a disheveled mess, sticking up in every which way, but he’s okay. He doesn’t seem entirely distant, maybe just a bit detached, which isn’t entirely unlike how Sukuna looks. The oldest brother sits at the kitchen table with Yuji on his lap, teaching the man how to make a friendship bracelet.

“Then- then-” Yuji pauses, contemplating the next step as Sukuna pulls a few strands of twine together somewhat clumsily. “Um- pull this piece,” he points at Sukuna’s left hand, “over this one.” Sukuna’s hands almost feel too big for this activity, but he’s surprisingly calm as he follows his youngest brother’s instructions. “Oh- wait.” Yuji holds the bracelet out a bit. “Um- I think I messed up.”

You half expect Sukuna to sigh, rolling his eyes with some comment about Yuji being a brat, but he simply undoes the last step without a word.

When the door shuts behind you, he casts a glance at you and you realize why.

There’s no life behind his eyes. His chin is covered in stubble, more than you’ve ever seen on him. His shirt is covered in holes and obvious tear and snot stains that you can only imagine are from Yuji. His hair is just as unkempt as Choso’s, and his chest rises and falls so evenly and slowly it almost seems as though he’s already asleep sitting up.

His head sways slightly as he looks you up and down. The sunlight filtering in through the patio window highlights just how pale his skin is as he blinks a number of times. Tears form in his eyes not from sadness, but from his complete and utter lack of sleep over the last few days, more so than usual. He yawns, nudging Yuji to grab the boy’s attention.

The youngest Itadori peeps around his brother’s broad form to catch a glimpse of you, bounding down off of Sukuna to give you a hug.

“Hey, sweetie,” you greet him, obliging his request to be held when he puts his arms out. “Hey, Cho,” you greet the middle brother as well, who’s fiddling with a piece of string as he blankly stares at Sukuna.

He knows. He knows Sukuna’s at his limit.

Letting out a breath, you make your way to Sukuna’s side, peering over his shoulder as he sets down the bracelet he was working on and harshly rubs his facial features.

“Looks good, Yuji and Choso are teaching you well.”

“Mhm!” Yuji agrees, leaning down to point at the half-tied bracelet. “He’s using my favorite colors, see!” He insists. It matches yours, red and black, though it’s designed with a different style of stripes.

“Good choice, Yu,” you agree, attempting to adjust him in your arms as he leans over a bit too far.

“Your brother stole the piece of string you wanted me to add,” Sukuna states dryly, pointing lazily at Choso who’s in his own little world as he stands still near the door where you left him. “Go bother him,” he instructs, mostly just to get a moment to yourselves.

Yuji practically leaps from your arms, stumbling as he lands on the kitchen tile and surely disturbs their neighbors in the apartment below, but Sukuna doesn’t have the energy to care.

“Are you okay?”

Sukuna drags his hands down his face again. “I feel sick,” he admits quietly.

He looks it, too, but he doesn’t need to hear that from you. Raising the back of your hand to his forehead, you’re actually shocked to find he’s not. At least, he isn’t running a fever.

“Go get some sleep,” you murmur softly, dropping your hand. “I’m gonna take them out for a bit.”

He sighs deeply, his muscles relaxing as he pushes out from the chair. “Thanks, you’re an angel,” he rasps.

Barely audible, yet it hits your heart like a semi-truck. Shit, he needs to stop finding such sweet titles for you that make your heart flutter every time he uses them. It’s not fair, even if he doesn’t know it.

As Sukuna drags himself to his room, leaving you staring after him with a steady hammering in your chest, Yuji barrels into you. “Where’s Kuna going?”

“He’s gonna get some sleep,” you explain, ruffling Yuji’s hair. You glance down at what you think are Yuji’s pajamas, making a motion towards the boys’ rooms. “Why don’t you two go get ready? Let’s go out to the park.”

Yuji gasps excitedly, bounding off without a second thought as Choso stalls behind you.

“Cho?”

He hesitates. “I don’t wanna leave Kuna.”

Shit.

“Hey,” you kneel down to his height. “We’re not leaving him. We’ll come back. He just really needs some sleep, sweetheart.” You know Choso already knows that, but the reassurance sets him a bit more at ease. “It’s really warm out, I think some fresh air will make you feel better.”

Choso’s dark hazel eyes examine your expression for a moment as he nervously runs his hand up and down his opposite arm. “Kuna will still be here,” he breathes out as reassurance for himself more than you.

“That’s right.”

“Okay,” he agrees, slowly making his way back to his room.

Letting out a breath, you make your way to the table, taking a look at the friendship bracelets that the brothers were making. Twine is strung along the table alongside a book with instructions. There’s a purple bracelet that seems complete off to the side, though it’s much too small to fit on any adult wrist, and a half-finished red one with a matching pattern where Sukuna was just sitting.

Taking your lower lip between your teeth, your brow pulls together.

Sukuna’s making friendship bracelets for his little brothers.

Gingerly reaching for the book, you skim the instructions, flipping back a page to look at the first page for the pattern. The pattern in full makes a few diamonds along the length of each bracelet, which the book details as symbolizing an unbreakable bond. Your lips part as the words settle like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

Your fingers minutely tremble as you flip through the book, searching for the stripy pattern that matches your own bracelet.

Inspiration.

Shutting the book abruptly, you shut your eyes and let out a breath to mentally reset before you allow tears to break through the barrier you’ve barely kept up over the past few days.

It’s just a children’s craft book, surely it’s all just made up.

But that doesn’t matter, does it? Not when the boys believe it.

Chewing harder on your lip, you let the book rest gently on the table again, flipping until you reach the page it was open to originally.

Running your fingers through the pile of tangled string beside the book, you smile as you realize the red and purple string has nearly run out. Pulling your fingers from the mess of string, you quirk your head to the side when you find it’s covering something.

Beneath the mess is a pile of mail, three unopened envelopes all addressed to Sukuna. Or, well, Ryomen. Unsure if the boys buried them and if Sukuna’s even seen them, you gather them in your hands to set them aside- just in case.

You drop them on the counter with a small plop! They bounce once, settling slightly askew as the bottom envelope, thicker than the rest, slides out slightly. Red text across the front catches your eyes as you spot ‘URGEN’ in bold red text. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what the last letter would be.

Reaching out, you hover over the mail for a moment as your curiosity nearly gets the better of you, but it’s not your place to look. Hell, you shouldn’t be snooping on your friend. He’s got enough going on.

Re-adjusting the pile, you shuffle the envelope back in place despite the concern that chews relentlessly at the lining of your stomach. As Yuji and Choso re-emerge from their room, you will the thoughts away, focusing on trying to make sure both brothers have a good day.

They both look a bit more put-together now with brushed hair and teeth. Yuji is in a T-shirt for a show or game of some sort that you don’t recognize, while Choso wears a black sweatshirt.

“Yu, grab your basketball and let’s go!”

His eyes widen as he finally gets the chance to use his Christmas gift now that the snow has cleared. He races towards you, excitedly letting you wrap his coat around him as you lead the way out the door.

It doesn’t take long by car to reach the spot you have in mind. You can’t say you know the area around the college too well, but you do know of one park in particular.

And maybe it’s a little bit selfish to bring the kids here, but it’s also the only park with basketball courts you can think of.

Two bus stops past your work sits a massive skatepark with graffiti covering every surface and four basketball courts with worn concrete just outside the fence protecting the half-pipe. Just behind the courts is a small playground with a swing set and a fairly elaborate set-up for climbing with a big curly slide painted yellow.

Giving Yuji’s shoulder a nudge, you watch as he runs over to one of the empty courts, bouncing his basketball a few times as he gets the hang of dribbling. Sukuna won’t let him practice in the apartment, so this is a thrill for the little boy, who giggles and runs around when he sends the ball flying across the concrete on accident.

“You know,” you start, peering down at Choso’s lack of enthusiasm, “I’ve heard you used to join Sukuna out here.”

The brunette returns your gaze, his expression aloof. Shit, sometimes he’s too much like the ex-history major. “I guess,” he agrees.

“I think your brother would love that right now.”

Choso wraps his arms around himself as he watches his little brother clumsily dribble the ball. He’s quiet for a long while as the sun beats down on him, warming his skin with its rays. Birds sing and crickets chirp in the fields that extend on either end of the park, interrupted only when Choso’s raspy voice finally cuts through.

“I don’t really want to. I don’t feel good,” he admits.

Nodding slowly, you set a hand on his back as you lead the way to the empty swings, which let you keep an eye on Yuji while you talk to Choso. “Why not, sweetie?”

Swinging his feet out in front of him, Choso swings back and forth a small distance. You follow suit, bringing you back to a simpler time.

“I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t wanna see my mom again,” he whispers, his voice breaking as he shakily gasps for air. Wiping at his tears, he keeps his head down.

Your lips part as you feel Choso’s doubt and pain zipping through the air like lightning. You recall Sukuna yelling at Kaori that Choso asked for multiple Christmases whether she would be home. How long had it taken before it really settled in? How long had it taken for such a young kid to realize that his own mother wasn’t coming home?

Staring up into the sky, you take a deep breath. “You remember what I told Yuji the other day?”

Choso kicks his feet again, continuing to wipe his tears on his sleeves. “It won’t be like a field trip or vacation,” he mutters, staring at his black sneakers. “She doesn’t care.”

His words leave you stcuk between a rock and a hard place and even if you’re just as sure as he is that you’re wrong, you have to try to reassure him. “She must care. We wouldn’t be here if she didn’t,” you point out, trying to see the positivity behind her fighting so hard for her children. In reality, you would argue that the reason you’re here is because she doesn’t care, but you can’t tell Choso that.

He eyes you, a tear slipping down his cheek. “You think?”

“I have to,” you admit, shedding light on your own doubts. Choso’s smart enough to see through lies, you don’t need him believing that adults always lie. Especially not someone he’s placing his trust in. “You know, I think you could have a lot of fun with it.”

He eyes you again, something between curiosity and suspicion pulling his brow together.

“It’s gonna be a lot different, but I bet you could make some new friends and you’ll get to meet lots of fun people and play with a bunch of different toys.”

“I don’t want different toys or new people,” he retorts, wiping another tear.

“Maybe not, but I bet you wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it wasn’t for meeting new people.” You make a point of throwing a thumb back in your direction. “I was a new person once.”

Choso’s nods slightly in agreement as he sniffles.

Before you can continue, a shadow casts long over the both of you. You wrench your gaze up to the figure blocking the sun as they smirk.

“Well if it ain’t my favorite brat and my biggest fan,” Toji grins overhead, a basketball tucked under his arm.

Lifting a hand to block the sun as Toji shifts, you pout up at him. “Since when am I a brat?”

“Since ya started hangin’ out with Ryo,” he snorts.

“I never even knew you before then!”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

No wonder those two were so close.

“Are you playing basketball?” You query.

“Nah- well, kinda,” he replies, spinning around as he searches the park for someone. When he spots who he’s looking for, he beckons them over.

Two girls around Choso’s age come into view, both with stark deep green hair. One wears glasses with her long hair up in a ponytail while the other has a chin-length bob-cut. They both bound up to Toji as the girl with glasses wastes no time swiping the ball from under his elbow.

“Hey-” he huffs, but the girls are already running and giggling as they head towards the courts where Yuji’s still practicing dribbling. Sighing, he shakes his head. “My little cousins,” he explains, pointing a thumb back in their direction. “Fuckin’ handful.”

You smile at the heartwarming interaction. “They’re kids,” you shrug.

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his neck to either side, grimacing when it cracks loudly. “How’s my biggest fan doin’?” Toji turns his attention to Choso, who looks up from his shoes.

“Hi, Toji.”

“Hey, kiddo,” he greets the little boy, his brow twitching at the sight of reddened eyes and puffy cheeks.

“It’s a tough day,” you explain in an effort to spare Choso.

Toji hums, his scar pulled taut. “You still play ball, kid?”

“Not really,” Choso mutters. “My brother does.” He points towards little Yuji chasing a kid-sized basketball.

“Oh yeah? You wanna show me?”

Choso glances at you, as if looking for permission. You motion with your chin towards the court. Gingerly, Choso hops off the swing and pads after Toji, jogging to keep up with the man’s long strides.

“Maki! Mai! C’mere!” Toji calls to his cousins, motioning for them to pass him the ball. Choso calls Yuji over, who bolts over excitedly when the middle brother finally joins him. He blinks up in awe at Toji as the man introduces himself and his little cousins. You can’t hear any of the words being exchanged, but Yuji positively beams and holds his basketball out excitedly to the group.

You smile, your heart as warm as the sun on your skin at the sight of even Choso’s little smile. It doesn’t take long before Toji’s coaching them in two teams, cutting in to help teach the ropes to Choso and Yuji where they need it.

Maki manages to get a basket for her and Yuji’s team, high-fiving the little boy with a proud grin. They creep ahead in points of Choso and Mai’s team, each time celebrating with raised arms and cheers.

Mai breaks away from her sister, tossing the basketball over Maki’s head to Choso. The brown-haired boy hesitates for a split-second, glancing to Toji for encouragement, who nods. Taking a breath, Choso holds the ball out to the side to keep it away from Yuji, spinning in place as he dribbles somewhat clumsily to the basket. He pauses near the hoop, tongue sticking out the side of his mouth before jumping and shooting.

The ball hits the rim, rolling around the side before slipping into the net. Choso’s eyes light up and you grin from your place on the swingset as Mai cheers and high fives him, followed shortly by Toji who jogs over with a grin.

“Way to go, kid.” You can just barely make out Toji’s words of encouragement from the opposite end of the park.

As the day continues, they swap between different games, although the girl with her hair up in a ponytail- Maki- seems to consistently pull ahead. You know Yuji loves sports, but it’s surprising to see just how easily the five-year-old is able to keep up with Choso and the two girls. He doesn’t quite have the height to be sinking baskets, but Toji gives him a hand anyway.

As the sun crosses the sky, you migrate to a bench courtside, sharing the children’s glee as Toji hoist’s Yuji onto his shoulders so the boy can, somewhat more fairly, try to sink a basket.

Your attention is drawn to your phone as it vibrates in your pocket.

5:19 PM Kuna || whered you 3 end up

5:20 PM You || Your favorite park :)

5:20 PM Kuna || go figure

5:21 PM Kuna || brat

Two times in one day you’ve been called that now. Rolling your eyes at your phone, you smirk as you reply.

5:22 PM You || Come show me your art!! The kids are having a great time

Along with the message, you snap a photo of Yuji concentrating on the basket in front of him as he tosses the ball with all of his might from atop Toji’s shoulders. It bounces off the backboard, slipping through the net with a satisfying fwip!

It takes Sukuna longer to reply.

5:26 PM Kuna || you called toji?

5:26 PM You || He was here with his cousins by the time we got here

5:27 PM Kuna || ah

You grimace at his lack of enthusiasm, but you suppose it makes sense. He’s running on maybe two hours of sleep and if he does choose to join you, he’ll need to gear up to have a chat with Toji. It’s not exactly anyone’s ideal situation.

Still, he does pull through. A half hour later, he trudges across the skatepark, casting his disinterested glare in the direction of someone who nearly hits him with a scooter. His hood is up, his airpods in his ears, and his hands in his pockets as he approaches the courts.

Pocketing his earbuds, he lets out a sigh as he chooses to ignore the sight before him, hiding his face from his ex-best friend and taking a seat beside you.

“Thanks,” he sighs, “I was fallin’ asleep sitting up.”

“I noticed,” you comment with a raised brow, examining his expression. He still looks downright exhausted, but he’s not swaying, so that’s a plus. “Have you not been sleeping?”

With a shake of his head, he lets out a frustrated breath. “Yu’s been wakin’ up early and Cho’s been havin’ nightmares,” he states, with no need for further explanation. “I can count on one hand how many hours of sleep I’ve gotten since-” he pauses, furrowing his brow. “- Wednesday? Fuck, what day is it?”

“Saturday.”

“Christ,” he breathes, dragging a hand down his face. “One day left. Still gotta pack, too.”

Your heart sinks, gazing over at Yuji and Choso as they pass the basketball between one another. Beneath the golden hours of warm rays beaming down on them, the moment seems almost picturesque. They look so happy, it’s so easy to forget that this is the last time you’ll see them.

For a bit.

You inhale sharply as you mentally remind yourself that Sukuna will get them back. You can’t have doubts, there’s no room for them.

Lest you all fall apart.

“It’ll be okay,” you assure him, reaching out gingerly to rest your hand over his as it sits on his thigh. His irises flicker down to your hand as he moves his thumb up to brush the side of your palm. “Do you have a meeting with Ms. Harte soon?”

“Wednesday,” he mutters, his gaze raising to focus on the court in front of him. The four kids are playing some variation of ‘HORSE’ while Toji stands off to the side. If his frown is anything to go off of, he’s noticed Sukuna already. “Well, shit.”

Pushing to his feet with a drawn-out sigh, he pushes his hood down and drops your hand back at your side.

“Be right back,” he mutters, crossing the court and ruffling both of his brothers’ already messy hair as he makes his way to Toji. They both call out some form of ‘hey!’, which transforms into gleeful giggles and smiles at the realization that it’s Sukuna.

Stepping past the court to where Toji is standing with arms crossed over his chest, Sukuna finds himself hesitating. “Hey,” he starts uncertainly, “I was a dick-”

“No fuckin’ shit,” Toji interrupts, earning a glare from Sukuna.

“Don’t push it,” Sukuna hisses, crossing his arms over his own chest.

“Don’t push it? Don’t push what, Ryo? Ya didn’t fuckin’ tell me-” Toji pauses, momentarily glancing at the kids when he finds Mai’s gaze trained on him. Lowering his voice, he continues. “- you didn’t fuckin’ tell me Jin died, you asshole.”

“Fuck, I know,” Sukuna growls, “can you shut up for a second and let me talk? Christ,” he huffs, shaking his head as Toji disdainfully frowns. “Look, I fucking know. I fucked up, okay? I should have said something but when their mom didn’t answer-” he begins explaining, throwing a thumb over his shoulder. “- I just had too much goin’ on and I didn’t think it through.”

Toji’s sharp emerald gaze follows the direction that Toji points, flickering between the two kids and back to the exhausted brute standing in front of him.

“I don’t-” Sukuna pauses, dragging his hands down his face and back up through his hair to keep it out of his eyes. “I don’t know what happened,” he admits with a dry shrug. He knows his excuse is shit. He knows he fucked up. He feels like shit.

He’ll feel even worse when he tells Toji this is his second last day with the kids and he also omitted that information until now.

“I just didn’t tell you, alright? I didn’t wanna go out or see anyone, I didn’t wanna tell anyone what was going on.”

“I get that, but come the fuck on, man,” Toji raises his arms in an exasperated shrug. “You know what Jin meant to me.”

Sukuna averts his gaze, trailing along the cracked concrete beneath his feet.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s the best he can offer. He doesn’t even really expect Toji to accept his apology.

Toji sighs, scratching at the dark stubble dotting his chin.

“Look,” he starts, unimpressed, “I fuckin’ get not wantin’ to talk to anyone, but you were my fuckin’ brother. Jin was like-”

“I know!” Sukuna barks, attempting to compose himself with a roll of his shoulders. “There were lawyers there constantly, I had to fuckin’ sell the house, I had to learn how to change diapers-” he pauses, throwing his shoulders up in a shrug. “It’s a shit excuse, I just didn’t have time to think about others. I’m a piece of shit, whatever. Not like that’s new.”

“Christ, Ryomen,” Toji continues to frown, looking him up and down as he evaluates just how shitty Sukuna looks, even now. “So what, I’m s’posed to accept your apology n’ act like nothin’ happened?”

Frowning, the salmon-haired man just shrugs. “Do whatever you want,” he grumbles. “I appreciate the phone, though.”

Toji’s eyes narrow a smidge, irises flickering to and fro as he contemplates Sukuna’s words. “Y’re welcome,” he gruffs, shaking his head in an effort to move some hair from his eyes as the wind whips across the court. “Dunno if I’m willing to let that go, but I’ll try,” he sighs.

It’s different. It’s not what Sukuna wants, but he doesn’t deserve forgiveness. Omitting Jin’s death is a lot more serious than most of his other transgressions.

“You oughta thank your girl, though,” Toji grunts, nodding his chin in your direction as you cheer the kids on across the court. “‘Cause she must be rubbin’ off on me to be willin’ to give y’r ass a break.”

Sukuna follows the tilt of Toji’s chin to you.

He already knows he owes you a lifetime of favors, what’s one more?

As the breeze dishevels Sukuna’s already mussed hair, he stares out across the court at Toji’s little cousins who he hasn’t seen in years passing a ball around to Yuji and Choso. It’s so painfully normal and it’s what the kids should have. It’s what they deserve.

“I guess before you decide if you’re gonna give me a chance,” Sukuna inhales sharply, shutting his eyes. “I’m losin’ the kids.”

Shifting to face Sukuna again, the man’s brow knits. He runs his tongue across his lower lip, lingering on his scar. “What?”

“Kaori stuck me with a lawsuit. She won.”

“You’re kiddin’.”

Sukuna blinks his eyes open again. Yuji laughs gleefully in the background as Maki tosses the ball to him. It rolls off the tips of his fingers, rolling along the ground as he chases after it.

“Fuck, man,” Toji clasps his hands together, resting them on his head as the revelation settles in. He turns to face the court alongside Sukuna, watching the scene unfold as Yuji tosses the ball back towards Choso. He scowls as his gaze rests on Choso. “Y’know that kid was like a lil brother to me?”

“I know.” There’s nothing more to be said.

“Christ, Ryomen.” Toji’s hands fall down to his sides as he shakes his head. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this shit?”

Sukuna shrugs. “Didn’t tell anyone.”

“Nah, just Shoko n’ Kento.”

Shit.

“Didn’t have a choice, Toji.”

“Bullshit!” Toji roars, shoving a figure pointedly at Sukuna’s chest. “Bull-fucking-shit. Maybe you didn’t have a choice with them, but you did with me. N’ you made your choice,” he hisses, dropping his hand as he frustratedly turns away from his friend, needing a break from simply seeing him. “Anythin’ else while we’re here?” He asks, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Dad asked about you a lot,” Sukuna begins hesitantly. His father’s words had echoed in his mind so frequently that he’d never quite been able to grapple with the fact that he’d kept them to himself all these years. What better opportunity than now, when he’s six feet under in guilt? “He wanted you to know he was proud.”

Toji stands ram-rod straight, scowling at the asphalt. “Shit,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his forearm over his face. He sucks in a breath, turning away from the court and Toji.

It’s not enough, Sukuna’s shitty apology. He knows it isn’t. Toji has enough on his plate between school, football, and his strained relationship with his family, and Sukuna isn’t making that any better. He’s a shitty friend.

“‘M sorry.”

Toji just shakes his head, exasperated. “What the fuck even happened, really? All those years, everythin’ we went through, it meant nothin’ to ya?”

Sukuna just shrugs, too drained to argue. “I fucked up.”

Toji huffs, dragging his hand down his chin. He pauses for a moment, running his tongue over his teeth before turning on a dime and ramming his fist into Sukuna’s shoulder. He didn’t put his full strength into the punch, but it had enough power to leave Sukuna irritated as he stumbles a step back, catching himself before he topples over.

He glares at Toji, who just shrugs as he scratches his shoulder. “Made me feel a lil’ better,” he grumbles. “Just- stop bein’ a fuckin’ dumbass, okay? Gettin’ real sick of it.”

It’s not forgiveness, but he can live with that all the same.

“Yeah,” the tattooed brute mutters, rolling his arm out. “Trying not to.”

“Good.” Toji turns to face him, taking a step forward to lower his voice, dangerously so. “‘Cause me, Uraume, Atsuya, and y’r girl don’t deserve that.” He backs up, crossing his arms over his chest. “I ain’t holdin’ back next time.”

“Yeah, yeah. And she’s not my girl.”

Toji’s brow raises. “I just told you not to feed me bullshit.”

“I’m not.”

“You wanna hold hands, then? Since that’s somethin’ you do with people y’re just friends with?” He deadpans, holding his hand out mockingly.

“Shut up,” Sukuna grumbles, smacking his hand away.

Amused, the raven-haired man snorts. “Whatever, man. Keep lyin’ to yourself.”

Toji has every reason to suspect Sukuna will make a big deal out of that, but when he turns to find the ex-history major’s reaction, it’s blank. His eyes are trained on you across the court as Yuji puts his entire weight into dragging you onto the asphalt, much to your dismay.

“I’m not good at basketball like Toji or Kuna,” you insist, giggling in embarrassment.

The two men watch in silence as you try to sink a few baskets, missing the first couple of shots entirely before being able to consistently hit the backboard, but never sink a shot. The kids chase after the ball with each miss to toss it back to you, continuing to encourage you.

“It’s okay that you’re really bad!” Yuji insists brightly. “You’re good at other things.”

Toji snorts at the backhanded compliment.

“Yu, that’s rude,” Sukuna scolds.

“He gets it from you,” Toji mocks, much to Sukuna’s dismay.

But you’re laughing at the hilariously blunt way Yuji phrased his version of a compliment, so Sukuna can’t be too upset.

“Sorry,” the little boy mutters, walking up to you for a hug.

Suppressing your laughter, you rub his back. “It’s fine, sweetie. You wanna know a secret?”

His little fingers curl into your jacket as he clings to you, nodding.

“You’re right. I’m really bad at basketball.”

He grins, content as you encourage him to show you the right way to sink a basket.

The two men are forced to watch as your form somehow gets worse as you mimic Yuji. Your shots get progressively further from the basket until you’re outright missing again, hot with embarrassment given your painfully large audience.

“Use your wrist!” Toji calls, making a motion with his wrist.

You watch the motion, attempting to mimic his advice and getting a bit closer, albeit still missing. Mai tosses the ball back to you as it rebounds off the backboard straight towards her.

Pulling your lip between your teeth, you focus on the basket, narrowing your eyes in concentration. Just as you’re about to shoot, you’re caught off-guard by a nudge to your shoe. Squeaking in surprise, you stand upright, turning to find Sukuna directly behind you.

“Right idea, wrong execution,” he says plainly. “Turn back to the net.”

Blinking, you follow his instructions.

He nudges the inside of your shoe with his foot from where he stands a small distance behind you. “Feet shoulder-width apart. Bend your knees.” He circles to the side to get a look at your form. “Focus on the square on the backboard, then do what Toji showed you with your wrist.”

You nod slowly, mentally going over his words as you recenter yourself and stare in concentration at the backboard. Leaping into the air, you watch as the basketball soars through the air and hits the backboard, circling the rim before tipping away.

“Close,” Sukuna catches the ball as it rebounds, dribbling it once before tossing it to Choso, who immediately tosses it back like they’ve done this before. He dribbles it once more before passing it back to you. “Here,” Sukuna instructs, stepping behind you. The warmth emanating from his body feels more like fire as every nerve and hair on your body stands on end at the strangely intimate position you’re in with him as he nudges your feet slightly apart.

Your face is positively burning, and you can’t bear a glance at Toji, who’s smirking on the sidelines.

“When you shoot,” he instructs, his arms wrapping around to guide yours as he simulates a shot with his hands resting over yours. He guides you through the motion without actually letting go of the ball. “Make sure you shoot from here,” he instructs, holding the ball straight above your elbow. “Not here,” he adds, mimicking where you were holding it.

Nodding, you keep your vision forward, chewing your lip raw with the amount of fluttering and flipping your stomach is doing. Sukuna backs up an inch, giving you space to breathe properly now that the scent of smoke mixing with his cologne isn’t invading your senses and clouding your thoughts.

Running over his instructions in your head, you send the ball flying again, missing once more, though you were close again as it tumbled from the rim with little speed. Throwing your head back in frustration, you groan. “It’s fine, I’m okay being bad,” you shake your head as Sukuna prepares to toss you the ball.

“Give it one more go,” he encourages, bouncing it on the asphalt as he passes it back to you.

You grimace, but get back into position, bending your knees and hopping as you send it flying through the air. The ball bounces off the backboard, falling into the net as though it comes to you effortlessly.

“Atta girl,” Sukuna smirks, catching the ball in one hand as he locks his arm around your middle, much to your dismay as he picks you up and flips you to face the kids. “See, just takes some practice.”

You know he’s just making a point to the kids, but it feels as if he’s trying to show them just how flustered you are as you cling to his forearm for purchase. “Put me down,” you gasp, squeaking in surprise as his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your waist, though by now you know it’s no use. You’ve been the victim of Sukuna’s manhandling enough to know he’s not letting go until he feels like it.

Yuji excitedly cheers for you while Choso and the two girls grin. “Me too, Kuna!” Yuji insists, reaching his arms out to be lifted into the air with you.

“Not me,” you try again, flailing your legs and even kicking his shin on accident, but it still doesn’t seem to affect him. You swear he thinks you’re a sack of potatoes.

Sukuna uses his spare hand to toss the ball back towards Choso, who dribbles it in place upon catching the ball. Sukuna leans down to the best of his ability with you writhing in his arms as he lets his youngest brother wrap his hands around his bicep, standing back up as the little boy dangles from his arm, laughing and cheering as he kicks his feet out.

Even Choso has a little smile on his face at the sight of Yuji laughing so freely.

It’s the way things should be.

Even if that means Sukuna’s manhandling you.

He sets you back on your feet as Yuji hops down onto the ground, running back to Choso. Taking a couple of steps forward, you put some distance between you and Sukuna, practically praying for a breeze that might cool your warm cheeks and neck. You don’t dare look back at the smug expression you’re sure he’s sporting, smoothing your outfit as you turn away.

“Not too bad,” Toji comments, jogging up to you to give you a pat on the back. Your eyes widen briefly at the amount of force he used, though you assume he’s just used to doing such a thing to his team members. People with a bit more muscle mass.

“Thanks.” As you turn to face him, you catch Toji eyeing Sukuna with a frown, unable to read his otherwise neutral expression.

“Kid’s got a point though,” Toji adds with a smug grin as he nods towards Yuji. “Don’t quit your day job.”

“I told you I was bad,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Oh hey, can you watch the kids for a moment? Sukuna owes me a favor.”

Raising a brow behind you, the salmon-haired man takes a step forward at the sound of his name.

“I gotcha,” Toji nods.

When you grab Sukuna’s wrist, he doesn’t argue, following after you compliantly.

“Alright, King,” you tease with a mischievous gleam in your eye as he falls into step beside you. “Or should I say, The King?”

Groaning, he rolls his eyes, making a show out of huffing in irritation. “That why you brought them here?” He grumbles, pulling his wrist out of your grasp.

“Nope, I just didn’t know where else there were basketball courts,” you smile innocently. “I’m not from around here, remember?”

“Right.” He can’t even really be upset with you though when you’re beaming at him with a little tilt of your head. Your thumb subconsciously rubs circles into his tattooed wrist, and for a moment, everything seems to fall away.

The world seems to mute itself, putting his responsibilities and exhaustion on pause as he finds himself staring at your lips. He knows they’re moving. He knows you’re talking, but he can’t hear a word as everything he’s been running from seems to flood his mind at that moment.

His lips part as his heart accelerates rapidly. Can you feel it? Through the pulse point in his wrist? Do you know that you’ve made Sukuna reconsider the lens in which he views the world and try to be better for his brothers, for himself, but also for you?

Is that what his feelings have been this whole time? Is Toji right, that Sukuna is lying to himself? Does he already see you as his girl?

But that leaves him with a bigger, more daunting question.

Does he deserve that luxury?

He swallows hard, averting his gaze as the ringing in his ears melts away, leaving behind your continuing dialogue.

“- it’s convenient, though.” You pause, casting a glance back at Sukuna. “This is the tunnel, right?”

Sukuna’s expression is a mystery in itself as he blinks at you as though he’s seen a ghost. “Hm?” He gazes at you blankly, taking in his surroundings as though he’s just getting his bearings. “Yeah. Uh, this is it.”

Your brow furrows at his strange reaction, but you let it go, dragging him into the tunnel.

Though it’s currently void of skaters, the entire tunnel is made up of a funbox with ramps and pipes all over the ground. Every inch of smooth concrete is covered with art of all different styles and colors, trailing up the walls where it begins to taper off towards the top of the tunnel where it’s harder to reach.

“How did you even get up there?” You ask, craning your neck to search the ceiling for his tag.

“Uh-” he chuckles as he scans the ceiling as well. “Toj’ n’ I tied a rope up there-” he points towards the top of the tunnel where the bridge above has a railing. “I swung down, and Toji had another rope that he dragged me around with.”

With your jaw ajar, you stare at him in wide-eyed horror.

“Relax,” he snorts, “I wouldn’t do it again. We were kids, seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“This is why men die younger than women.”

“Probably,” he agrees with an amused scoff.

There’s only the occasional tag here and there across the ceiling as you slowly make your way through the tunnel, until you come to a piece that is undeniably what you’re looking for. A steady grin spreads across your lips as you come to a halt under the tag, dropping your grip on Sukuna’s wrist.

Scrawled across the ceiling is ‘THE KING’ in sharp and bold red lettering with black outlines. It almost resembles a graffiti logo for one of the metal bands he often has on his shirt with seemingly random branches and lines jutting out from each letter. Off to the left is also a surprisingly charming little ‘+ Toji’ and a small face beside his name.

“It’s really good!”

“Don’t patronize me.”

“I’m not.” Whirling around to face him, your eyes shine as you grin. “I mean it, it’s really good.”

“Thanks, princess,” he mutters, a very noticeable amount of pink dusting his cheeks as he scowls at nothing in particular.

“It does scream edgy teen, though,” you giggle.

“There it is,” he gruffs, rolling his eyes. “I was a teen.”

“An edgy teen.”

“Oh whatever, prom queen,” he grumbles, kicking at a pebble by his foot as he shoves his hands in his pockets.

You giggle, and along with that comes a sense of relief that you aren’t still upset over the outcome of your fight and his use of that name. He can’t help but smile.

As your laughter settles, you look back up at the tag. “How didn’t you get paint all over yourself?”

“Oh, I did.” He takes a step towards you, pointing towards the edge of the tag where it seems as though something got in the way of the spray can. “That line is from my sleeve. My dad was pissed, it was all over my hair.”

“Sounds like you were a handful.”

He hums in agreement, turning his attention to you as you pull out your phone. Narrowing his eyes, his lips quirk into a frown. “Don’t,” he warns.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you mumble, attempting to hide your smile as you open the camera app.

“Don’t.”

Raising your camera towards the ceiling, you squeal as Sukuna attempts to grab your phone. Jutting your hand out to the side to dodge his grasp, you duck away and quickly snap a photo.

“Give that to me, brat.”

Sukuna takes a long stride towards you, using his height advantage to grab a hold of your wrist. You swap the phone into your other hand, but your friend’s one step ahead of you, grabbing your other wrist in his free hand. His hands are big enough that he can hold both wrists together in only one, much to your dismay, as you watch him snatch your phone and delete the image while holding your hostage.

“Wait, please, I won’t even show anyone!” You insist.

He raises a brow, unimpressed. “What, you’re just gonna stare at it for fun by yourself?”

Shrugging in his grasp, you grin mischievously. “I was thinking more like I’d use it to tease you.”

“Not happening.”

He shoves your phone in the pocket of your jacket, dragging you out from the tunnel by your wrists. Even with both of your arms held in one of his large hands, he’s careful not to cause you any harm.

“Killjoy.”

“Whatever, princess,” he grumbles, but you’re privy to the little smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

The sun’s rays are beginning to fall beneath the horizon, and between the night beginning to envelop the world and Sukuna’s own fatigue, he makes a motion for Choso and Yuji to wrap up their game as he releases your arms when you get back to the courts. Yuji pouts, begging for another few minutes.

Once his time is up, he takes Sukuna’s hand as you say your goodbyes to Toji.

“Will we see them again?” Yuji asks.

Sukuna wants to say yes. He wants to think he’s mended enough that Toji might give him a shot at fixing what he broke, but that’s not even the problem.

“Once you’re back from your mom’s…” he exchanges a glance with Toji, who shrugs. “Maybe.”

Yuji’s smile fades. “Oh yeah,” he mumbles, dragging his foot along the ground.

“Hey,” Sukuna kneels down. “Ya still got a day with me, okay?”

Yuji nods, continuing to pout. “Okay, Kuna.”

As Maki and Mai begin complaining about being hungry, Toji grabs his basketball, tucking it under his arm. “We’re headin’ out. See ya around.”

“Us too,” Sukuna agrees. “See you,” he grunts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Mind driving us home, princess?”

The car ride is fairly silent as your stomach churns. You’re fairly sure Sukuna can hear it grumbling from his place in the passenger seat, but if he does, he doesn’t say anything.

You continually glance back at the boys, the uneasy feeling of this being the last time you’ll see them for a bit sitting like a lump in your stomach. They don’t need to think that way. You don’t want them to.

Normally you wouldn’t get out of your car when dropping them off, but this isn’t quite the same. Hopping out of your seat into the parking lot, you help Yuji out of the vehicle, letting him hold your hand as you round to the other side where Sukuna and Choso are.

Kneeling down to Yuji’s height, you smile as you hold out your arms. “You have fun at your mom’s, okay?”

Yuji crashes into you, holding onto you tightly. “I don’t wanna go.”

“You’ll have so much fun, okay?”

He sniffles as you feel a tear dampen the thin material of your jacket. “Okay.” Pulling back, he peers up at you behind emotional eyes. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, sweetie.” You force a smile, proud of yourself for keeping your own sadness at bay as Choso slowly approaches you. “Hey honey, come here.”

Stepping forward, Choso gingerly wraps his arms around you, burying his face into your shoulder.

“I don’t wanna go,” he whispers truthfully, leaning his weight more and more into you with each second. His voice carries a tone of resignation that wasn’t there when you last saw him, as though he’s come to terms with the decision in spite of his words. “I really don't wanna go.”

You rub his back gently, hugging him tightly. “I’m gonna help Kuna with that, okay? You look after your brother. We’ll be like a team, even if we’re far away.”

Choso just sighs. “I’m not a kid anymore, you don’t have to pretend like that for me.”

Well that’s heartbreaking.

“I’m not pretending, Cho. I mean it. We’ll all look after one another and Kuna and I will fight for you two, okay?”

“Promise?” He whispers.

“Pinky.”

“I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, Choso. Stay strong, okay?”

He pulls back, immediately hiding his face in his sleeve as he wipes away what he can of his fear and sadness. “Um- okay.” He sniffles, staring at you for a long moment when he drops his arm from his face, as though he’s trying to commit you to memory.

When you tilt your head at him, trying to get a read on his thoughts, he seems to come back to the world and backs up until he bumps into Sukuna. Craning his neck to find his oldest brother watching with a somber expression.

Chewing on your lip, you inhale sharply as you force a smile. “You two have fun, okay?”

Yuji nods, though Choso doesn’t reply.

You hide your tears as long as you can, but the floodgates finally break when you pull out of the parking lot.

–

Sukuna swears the world mourns for him as he stares up at the ceiling. He’s not sure how early it is, but the sun only casts enough light to faintly make out the outline of his ceiling lamp as it casts a barely visible shadow and his alarm hasn’t gone off yet. The birds have taken some sort of oath of silence as far as he can tell, and he hates the way the quiet leaves him with his thoughts.

As it stands, yesterday had already served as an ample challenge. Getting two young boys to pack bags and box up their belongings through tears is a task and a half.

And that’s not even mentioning the fact that he’d had to tell them to leave a lot behind. At the end of the day, he knows Kaori, and he knows that things like their Gameboys would end up mysteriously disappearing. He just needs to remind himself that this won’t be forever, just as he reminds them. He won’t let it be forever.

Sitting up, he throws his legs over the end of the bed, hunching over as he leans his elbows on his thighs and stares down at his feet. Letting out a long breath through his nose, he rests his face in his palms.

Everything seems to move in slow motion around him, or maybe it’s the nausea that comes along with five consecutive sleepless nights filled with a churning in his gut.

Dragging his hands down his face, he holds his breath, willing his stomach and head to work with him. “Fuck,” he mutters, pushing to his feet as he makes his way to the washroom.

Flicking on the light, he blinks as his eyes adjust to the sterile lighting, staring at his reflection in the mirror.

“I’ll get them back,” he whispers to himself, but the person looking back at him doesn’t seem convinced. He’s done so well at suppressing his emotions since the trial to keep his brothers at ease but he finds it bubbling to the surface now that reality is settling in.

Sucking in a breath, he stares down at the sink, letting it out shakily. His stomach convulses as his alarm goes off in the other room.

Two hours.

Two hours until they’re gone.

His knuckles go white as his grip tightens on the sink. It feels as though he moves in slow motion when he turns the tap on to cold water and splashes it in his face. Blinking quickly, he lets it drip from his chin for a moment before wiping his face. He wets his hands again and drags it through his hair, pushing it back off of his forehead.

Shutting the tap off, he heads back to his room, pulling on a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt. As much as he wants the comfort of a hoodie and sweats, he can’t leave any kind of negative impression on Kaori. He can’t give her more ammo if he’s planning on bringing her back to court.

Grabbing his phone, he shuts off the alarm, checking his notifications. A couple of emails, a low battery warning given that he’d forgotten to plug his phone in, and three texts. Two from you, and one from Uraume.

He opens the message from you first.

6:03 AM Princess || Hey Kuna, are you okay?

6:07 AM Princess || I’m here if you need anything

He takes a seat on the edge of his bed, reading over the words a number of times. He’s not sure how long he stares at the words. It’s as though each time he tries to read them, they just don’t register.

Rubbing his hand over his eyes, he scowls as he focuses on the words. Glancing up at the time, he figures you must have woken up early just to send him a text, but some part of him feels that this process is better left between him and his step-mother. He doesn’t want you involved and he doesn’t want to make this harder on the kids when they’ve already said their goodbyes. As it stands, he was shocked they handled it somewhat well.

He thinks you just do a better job at reassuring them that you’ll see them again than he does.

6:14 AM Sukuna || im okay. thanks princess

He sets his phone aside again, raking a hand through salmon strands as he stares blankly at the photo of him with his brothers and father on his dresser. The corner is torn, showing the back of the frame where Kaori had been standing. He’s never been able to get the full picture out of his head, no matter how hard he tries. Now, it seems to taunt him.

The wounds she’s caused will always remain on him as scars.

Pushing to his feet, he makes his way to the living room. There are four boxes, two duffel bags, and two backpacks set up and ready at the front door. It had been a hassle to get them to even pack anything beyond the backpack and duffel bag, they’d fought with him the entire time on what to bring and what to leave, but it mostly came down to what Sukuna trusted Kaori with.

That being said, it’s also hard to convince a five-year-old to leave some of his favorite things behind because Sukuna doesn’t trust the boy’s mother.

He makes his way over to the table, where two woven bracelets sit, along with two photo frames. His lips turn down at the sight as he drags his finger along the bottom of one of the frames. Picking it up, he stares intently at the photo he’d printed.

Halloween, two years ago. Yuji is in what might be the scariest Sonic costume he’s ever laid eyes on, while Choso is a vampire, though his sweet smile would indicate otherwise. Sukuna, as unimpressed as ever, has Yuji on his shoulders and Choso in front of him. Uraume had taken the photo right before Sukuna took the boys out trick-or-treating.

His eyes land on his dramatic grimace at the center of the image. Yuji had begged him to dress up, and for all his huffing and puffing, it really didn’t take much for Sukuna to fold. His costume was nothing fancy, he’d bought a cape and crown from the dollar store and called it a day, but Yuji was happy.

His terrifying Sonic grin remains one of Sukuna’s favorite memories with the two boys to this day.

And don’t even get him started on what the makeup looked like by the end of the night, once it had smudged.

Easily among the most horrifying costumes he’d seen that night.

Sighing, he turns towards the boxes at the door, tucking each frame into different boxes. Even if Kaori tries to cut his visitation, and god forbid Sukuna fails again, he prays that someday the boys will be smart enough to check the back of the frames, where he had tucked his contact information away.

And that’s even if she lets them keep the photos.

He frowns, tucking the box wings back in place as he glances at the clock.

An hour and a half left.

He blinks, heading back to the washroom to brush his teeth while he gathers some shoes and other things the boys will need that may have slipped their minds with the emotional day yesterday.

He wants more time with them, but he also can’t bear to wake them up until they need to leave. He’s not sure he can manage to keep his emotions bottled up any longer than necessary.

He busies himself until the clock hits seven thirty in the morning, and finds himself standing in their doorway for what might be the last time. Crimson irises survey the two beds tucked against either wall. Toys no longer litter the floor, mostly all tucked away, while a few books are missing from the shelf and the open closet is mostly empty.

His heart sinks, his senses all fading and leaving behind a familiar numb feeling. His ears ring, his vision blurs, his skin feels fuzzy. Everything is shrouded in a layer of fog as familiarity settles over him.

Three months after his father had passed away, the house had sold.

Sukuna had no part in it, he let the lawyers and realtors do their thing. Not like he knew what the fuck was going on anyway.

Standing at the entry to his father’s untouched room, his eyes are glazed over as he surveys the dusty surfaces. It takes him a moment to work up the courage to step inside.

He keeps to the wall, looking over the belongings scattered across the surfaces of the dressers and desks that line the wall.

Cologne, pens, a few documents, a pill bottle. Several pill bottles. Hospital records. More pill bottles.

He turns, scanning the surfaces closer to the bed.

Prescriptions. It’s all emptied prescription bottles.

Between the prescriptions, he spots the gleam of a silver frame. Reaching out, he blankly watches as a full bottle tips and a pile of white pills spill across the surface. He can’t bring himself to be bothered with the mess as his fingers brush the frame. He lifts it from its place, blowing the dust from the surface.

All these years, all of this time single-handedly taking care of Jin and he never knew he was in this photo. He’d never stopped to look at it. He’d always seen his dad in the top of the photo, but he didn’t realize his dad was holding him. Sukuna can’t be more than a few days old, just a little baby in the blurry image.

He blinks, something warm trailing down his cheek. He lifts his head, looking around blankly at nothing in particular as grief pulls him back underwater.

“Why’d you have to go?” Sukuna mutters, staring at an empty container of blood thinners. His gaze travels an inch to the right, settling on a bottle of perfume. Kaori’s. Covered in an extra layer of dust, untouched for over a year.

His brow twitches, and before he can consider what he’s doing, his lip curls into a snarl and the perfume hits the floor. It shatters, the weight of the impact sending the ringing in his ears wild.

Letting out a shaky breath, the numbness fades as everything seeps into the cracks of his carefully crafted walls, overbearing. Sucking in a breath, he recoils at the pungent smell of the room.

With gritted teeth, he sets the photo down and turns to grab a towel, heading back to toss it on the floor, soaking up the majority of the liquid. Once it’s been mostly wiped away with his foot, he gets down to his knees to finish cleaning up the floor. He scans the hardwood, pausing when something glints at the edge of his vision.

He reaches under the dresser, picking up a smooth, metallic lighter.

‘Itadori’ is carved into the side. He recognizes it from a while ago. He doesn’t know where it came from, but he remembers seeing his dad use it, back before he cut his smoking habit.

That’s probably around the time Sukuna gained the same habit. His father’s health waned, and with it went Sukuna’s mental health.

He flips the lid open, sparking a flame. He tosses the towel aside, the odor of his step-mother’s perfume no longer at the top of his mind.

Continuing to stare at the flame, he feels a lump settle in his throat, unable to swallow to shove it down. Reaching into his pocket, he finds the familiar shape of a box of cigarettes in his pant pocket and nimbly slides one cylinder out. Setting it between his lips, he lights the cigarette and sucks in a harsh breath of nicotine.

It settles in his veins, calming the tremor in his hand. He shuts the lighter as he breathes out straight up in the air. The smoke swirls above him as he slumps down onto the floor, leaning against the dresser. A drawer handle digs into his back, but he can’t bring himself to care.

He props his knee up, leaning his arm against it as he stares at the lighter.

He can practically hear his dad scolding him for smoking, let alone inside. Let alone in a house that’s been sold. The new owners will have a strange experience with scents when they reach this room, but it doesn’t matter anymore. Sukuna’s simply too tired to care.

Yuji’s sobbing starts up again out of nowhere. Shutting his eyes, Sukuna drops his head back onto the dresser with a resounding thump.

“Dunno what I’m doing, Dad. Don’t think you’d be too proud if you saw me now,” he mutters, as though maybe his father can hear him somehow through the lighter. Maybe he’s listening, watching. Disappointed, probably.

The lump grows until the feeling of something building in his chest seems to overflow. Warmth floods his eyes, overflowing and falling down his cheeks. They trail down his chin, leaving behind the evidence on his shirt.

Yuji’s cries continue and Sukuna shuts his eyes harder. “I’m such a shit brother,” he mutters, coughing as smoke fills his lungs. “I can’t do this,” he rasps, but even as he doubts himself, he pushes off of the ground, grunting as he reaches his feet. He picks up the towel, heading with purpose to the balcony to put out his cigarette and toss out the towel on his way.

Wiping his face on his sleeve, he sniffles once before making his way into Yuji’s room. Just over a year old, he’s probably just woken up hungry. Lifting the toddler into his arms, Sukuna rubs his back.

“C’mon Yu, it’s okay.” His best attempt at soothing the child in his current state of mind comes out dry. “Didn’t mean to take so long.”

Another day for Sukuna to push through. He’ll soldier on until he can’t any longer.

His lips part as he comes back to, shaking his head at the realization that he’d spaced out. His heart is beating fast, the memory causing his muscles to tense.

“Shit,” he mumbles, glancing at the clock. Twenty minutes.

He steels himself, his brow drawn together as he shakes both brothers awake. He waits off to the side with the clothes they’d set aside for the day as they begin to stir.

Choso’s movements are mechanical, Yuji is simply tired. Sukuna can’t say for sure if Yuji truly understands what’s happening, even now. He appreciates that the boy’s been relatively alright, all things considered, but he’s not actually sure if the boy gets it now.

Choso, on the other hand…

Sukuna watches as the boy takes the clothing laid at the end of his bed, moving out the door without even acknowledging his older brother.

He fluctuates between wanting to talk and being completely devoid of any emotion. It’s like he wants to take your advice, but he’s fighting his own demons, distant.

It’s a hollow feeling to watch his siblings prepare to leave. The house is silent, forlorn. The air hangs stagnant, a musty feeling clinging to Sukuna’s skin.

“Can’t I just stay here?”

Sukuna turns towards Choso. The little boy’s face has streaks of wetness down either side, his gaze pleading.

Sighing, Sukuna kneels down to his brother’s level. “You can’t. I’ll get in trouble.” He grimaces, letting out a breath through his nose as he sets his hands on either of Choso’s shoulders. “Listen, I’m gonna do everything I can to get you both back, okay? I need you to look after your brother just like I looked after you, got that?”

More tears streak down the little boy’s face as he nods.

Sukuna pats his right shoulder, pushing up to his full height again. Choso peers up at his brother, sniffling as he wipes his cheeks. Choso grabs his little brother’s hand as they make their way into the living room.

Before they can begin getting their shoes on, Sukuna makes his way to the table. “Hey,” he mumbles as he swipes his thumb across the material of the two twine black bracelets waiting there. “These, uh-” he pauses, turning to his brothers. “These’re for you.” He holds out the two black bracelets, watching the waterworks begin to flow as Choso’s unable to hold in his sobs.

As Choso rushes forward to hug Sukuna’s leg, Yuji watches uncertainly, looking to Sukuna for guidance. “It’s okay, Yu. You’ll be back before you know it,” he reassures with a weak smile. Yuji nods slowly, mumbling a ‘thank you’ as he hugs Sukuna’s other leg.

As the buzzer goes off, the brutish man’s forced to waddle to the landline connected to the front door with the two boys glued to him.

“We’ll come to you,” he gruffs through the phone, hanging up without allowing them building access. Setting the phone back down, he pats Yuji. “Go get your bags.”

It takes a moment before Choso follows suit, but eventually he helps Yuji get his backpack on before they’re both stationed at the door. Choso’s body silently trembles as they stay put while Sukuna carts the boxes down first, leaving the cardboard outside the front door without a word to Kaori or the two social workers she’s brought to tag along.

With all four boxes waiting outside, Sukuna pulls Yuji into his arms, balancing him on his hip, taking Choso’s hand. His hand is wet with the evidence of his sadness and fear as Sukuna painstakingly drags his family down to the first floor.

When they reach the outside with Kaori in sight, Choso shakes violently, pressing himself against Sukuna as he hides himself from the woman who he no longer feels any familial love for.

Sukuna scowls, fury in his eyes as he regards Kaori, but he holds his tongue. He’s here for his brothers now. This isn’t about him. He needs to make sure the social workers see only dedication.

Kaori gasps, approaching slowly as she takes in the sight of her children. “Yuji, hi sweetheart. Goodness, you have your father’s hair.”

Sukuna sucks in a breath through his teeth as the five-year-old looks between Sukuna and his mother. “Is that Momma?”

It takes Sukuna a second too long to answer, leaving Kaori the time to butt in. “That’s me, darling,” she smiles sweetly, but Yuji’s gaze doesn’t leave Sukuna.

Sighing, he nods.

Confirming Sukuna’s suspicions that he doesn’t fully understand what’s going on, Yuji’s eyes widen as he outstretches his arms. “Hi, momma!”

Kaori takes Yuji from Sukuna’s arms, hoisting him up. “Hi, Yuyu. It’s so good to see you again,” she replies with a grin, tapping his nose with her pointer finger. She turns her attention back to Sukuna, then. Choso is peering out at her from behind Sukuna with a deathly grip on the fabric of his older brother’s button-up. “And little Choso, look at you! All grown up.”

Choso mumbles out a “hi”, tugging hard enough on Sukuna’s shirt that he’s nearly choking the man.

“Come on out, honey. I want to see my baby.”

Choso doesn’t move an inch.

“Go on, Cho,” Sukuna mutters, casting a glance at the social workers watching the interaction carefully.

His heart twists as Choso cranes his neck up at his brother, his eyes flickering wildly around Sukuna’s face as he silently begs for help.

Frowning, Sukuna sighs as he lowers himself to Choso’s height, opening his arms. The little boy buries himself in Sukuna’s arms, shaking hard as he audibly sobs. The tattooed man’s eyes flicker shut as his brows knit together.

“Cho, listen to me.”

The brunette’s sobs simmer down as he pays attention to Sukuna’s quiet words, low enough to keep Kaori from hearing.

“Do you trust me?”

He feels his little brother nod against his shoulder.

“Then trust me to fix this shit.”

Choso nods again, sniffling as he hugs Sukuna harder. “I love you, Kuna.”

Sukuna’s chest tightens as his resolve threatens to break then and there, the threads he’s tightly woven fraying at the ends. “Love you too, Cho.”

The brunette boy takes a step back, shaky hands slowly unraveling from Sukuna’s now-wrinkled dress shirt. Choso’s reddened eyes flicker wildly around Sukuna’s stoic face, nodding slowly when he spots the intent and commitment behind his eyes.

He turns towards his mother, muttering out a barely audible “hi,” again as he takes her outstretched hand.

Kaori smiles as her eldest child takes her hand. “Thank you for being cooperative, Sukuna dear. I really wish things didn’t have to be this way,” her smile turns mocking as she directs her gaze back towards him.

His lip curls into a snarl. “Don’t push it, Kaori.”

“I do hope you have the time to focus on your studies now,” she offers in a fake attempt at sympathy, like every other interaction they’ve ever had.

Pushing past her comment that borders on condescending, Sukuna keeps his voice even in an effort to keep Kaori from seeing through the cracks in his facade. “See you in two weeks.” He knows visitation won’t happen, but he wants to remind her at every turn what she’s taken away from her children and step-child.

“Oh, of course, dear! See you then,” she smiles, tilting her head slightly as her eyes crinkle at the corners with the weight of her faux cheer.

Sukuna’s chest rises and falls heavily as Kaori turns to walk away while the social workers aid with the boxes.

It’s then that it seems to settle in for Yuji what’s going on. Still sitting in Kaori’s arms, he faces Sukuna now when she turns around. As his brother gets further and further from him, his concern grows.

“Kuna?” He calls, only a short distance away. “When will our trip be over?”

Sukuna shuts his eyes tightly, a pending headache settling at the edges of his mind. Of course the trip reassurance would come back to bite him in the ass. He opens his mouth, but he struggles to find the words to assure his brother when this whole situation goes over the little boy’s head.

He can only sit there dumbly with his jaw ajar.

“Dunno, Yu,” he answers, settling on honesty. There’s no reassurance left for him to give that doesn’t border on a lie. Even the idea of calling it a trip bordered on a lie to begin with, but what other option was he left with? The poor boy is simply too young to grasp the gravity of his own situation, by no fault of his own.

The little Itadori devolves into pure panic, contorting his body in an effort to get away from his mother as he screams and panics, reaching desperately past Kaori’s shoulder for his brother.

“KUNA!” He cries with such a rasp to his voice that Sukuna feels the pain it caused. “Don’t leave, don’t leave, don’t-” his voice breaks as he wails and sobs out unintelligible words.

Sukuna brings a hand up to his mouth, dragging it down his prickly chin as he watches the scene unfold. Yuji fights Kaori with every ounce of power he has as she attempts to shush and soothe him, but it’s to no avail.

“I don’t wanna go! Don’t make me!” He bawls, pushing against his mother to reach for Sukuna.

He looks to Choso for guidance, but the brown-haired boy is trembling at Kaori’s side in his own fit of tears, worsened by Yuji’s manic state.

“KUNAAAA! S’KUNA!” He calls out again, writhing to push back against the woman whose arms he’s held in. “PleASE!” His voice breaks, his vocal cords beaten to a pulp with all the crying and screaming he’s done over the last few days.

The closer they get to the awaiting car, the more Sukuna feels everything crumbling around him. The world slows even further if that’s at all possible, a cloud covers the sun. He half-expects it to start raining just to really stick it to him. Even the wildlife holds its breath as they watch.

Rooted to his place, Sukuna keeps his demeanor steady in spite of the overwhelming urge to throw up whatever sits in his stomach. His skin feels heavy, like he doesn’t belong within it. He wants to shower in hopes that it’ll rid him of the feeling.

His guilt, his fears, and his failures twist and turn in the pit of his stomach, heating him up from the inside out as if to burn him alive.

It would be a kinder fate for a hole to open up in the ground beneath him and swallow him whole. Watching his brothers suffer feels as though it’s a cruel divine punishment for every misdemeanor he’s ever committed.

“Kuna plea-ea-EASE!” Yuji cries out with each sob that parts his lips as one of the social workers helps Choso into the waiting car. Kaori has to fight against Yuji’s flailing limbs in her attempt to buckle him into the awaiting car seat.

“No! NO!” Yuji screams, pushing back against her the entire time that she attempts to buckle him in.

Both kids are barely in sight at this point, hidden behind tinted windows and Kaori herself as she struggles to buckle in her child. Sukuna’s head falls, his gaze stuck on the ground before him as all he can do is stand in place and watch, listen.

“Let me go!” He screams out, prying himself from her grip as he attempts to slip past her.

“Yuji, this isn’t appropriate behavior, honey,” she scolds. She manages to catch him before he can slip away, adjusting her grip on him so that she can lift him easier. As she hoists him into the air, his sobs and cries only continue, growing raspier by the moment.

“NO!” He screams out, writhing against her grip. He reaches out for Sukuna, whose gaze lifts to catch a final glance at Yuji when- “DAD!”

Sukuna’s lips part, his eyes widening as every muscle, every nerve, every thought, every goddamn bone in his body screams at him to move, but he can’t. His body runs cold, his blood freezing in place as the world presses in around him. His knees go weak, vision blurring. He can’t say whether it’s the blur of tears or the nausea steadily setting in.

All he knows as the car engine starts up and gradually fades into the distance is that at some point his knees gave out, and the discolored spots dotting the concrete beneath him are the tears he can’t feel himself shedding.

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❦ a/n ; hey everyone, thank you sm for reading as always <33 the support on this continues to be so wonderful and i can't thank you all enough for that 🫶

the angst just keeps on coming 😭 i won't blame anyone for calling me a monster for that last scene either, that devastated me to write

i'm posting this from out of the country so forgive me for the strange update time :)) since i'm away i also won't be able to respond to asks or comments very quickly but know that i absolutely will be reading them as they come in and they never fail to put a smile on my face <33 i'll reply whenever i have a moment, though! you guys are the best and i appreciate each and every one of you 🫶

anyway, thank you so much for the love, and i hope you all have a great day/night <33

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sv3t1ana · 3 months ago

Text

SYNOPSIS ᯓ In your college math class, you’ve always seen Choso as the quiet, nerdy guy who kept to himself. He was the one with perfect grades and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. When your midterm grades don’t reflect your effort, you ask him to tutor you.

PAIRING ᯓ Tutor! NerdCho x fem! reader

WARNINGS ᯓ SMUT MDNI, college AU, VIRGIN CHOSO, tw: calculus </3, you take his virginity, you make him call you "good girl," you make him tutor you during it, lots of consent, unprotected piv sex, eye contact, sweet ending, fluff, PORN WITH PLOT, reader is very sweet with nervous shy Choso.

WORD COUNT ᯓ 6.0k

Your head rests in your hands, drowning out the noise of pens moving, glossing over the set of calculus problems sat in front of you. At this point you don’t know why you still try. You’ve failed every assignment so far, and the midterm went so horribly you had to physically go outside and touch grass to keep yourself from becoming too depressed about it.

Most of the class either had their heads in their phone or pretending to follow along, and then there’s Choso. You noticed him immediately, he was always on task, scribbling notes, glasses perched on his nose, he looked like the kind of guy who sleeps with a textbook under his pillow. It looked like math was as easy as breathing for him, and you couldn’t comprehend why someone would actually care about this stuff.

-----

Choso noticed you on day one, your hair perfectly blown out, pink manicured nails, coffee in hand, about 10 minutes late. He noticed even sooner that you struggled, the way you’d roll your eyes and cock your head back dramatically in the middle of an in-class assignment, or when you’d pull your laptop out to check your test scores just to sigh loud enough for everyone to hear.

You were exactly his type. Well, not that he had a type per se, and not that he’s ever so much as shook hands with the opposite sex, but you were too attractive for him not to like you. When you spoke up it made his heart stutter, the way you squinted your eyes and brows furrowed in concentration made his stomach flip, the perfume you wore blessing his lungs.

He knew you were never the type of girl to talk to him. Not when he overheard you talking with your friends outside the classroom about some party.

“I’m telling you, you need to go all out for this Halloween party. It’s gonna be crazy. What are you wearing?”

“Oh, I’ve got the perfect thing. A super slutty devil outfit. You know, a skirt, corset, fishnets.”

He nearly passed out visualizing you in that outfit, how your thighs would look restrained by fishnets, a corset that would cinch your waist dangerously thin and probably make your tits pop out, but he was in the middle of class, and he already told himself he’d stop getting boners in the middle of class.

It was too much for him, why did you have such a tight hold on his heart when you’d never speak to him? It just made his self-confidence dwindle, as if he couldn’t become more of a coward.

-----

It was about three weeks out from the final, and thank god these websites existed online that could tell you what you needed to score on the final to pass the class.

Unfortunately for you, you scored a measly 11/100 on the midterm, meaning you’d need at least 90/100 to pass the class with a 70%, and hell would freeze over before you taught yourself calculus topics well enough to score that high on the final.

It was a Monday, and you were feeling the aftermath of a Sunday darty a little too strongly. You might’ve slept in a bit too much, and honestly, you didn’t care. Attendance was a grade booster, and you weren’t about to let those free points slip through your fingers. You walked into class, hair a mess, dressed in the baggiest sweatpants and the most oversized hoodie you could find.

The second you stepped through the door you didn’t miss the way Choso’s eyes widened as they locked on your disheveled state. You barely spared him a glance as you shuffled to your seat, exhaling loudly in relief that you even made it here at all.

But, of course, the universe wasn’t quite done with you yet.

You reached for your bag, only to realize, fuck, you forgot your pens and pencils.

You giggled to yourself getting out of your seat and walking over to him.

“Can I bother you for a pen?” you asked, voice smooth and sweet, flashing him a playful puppy-dog look.

Choso’s face turned pink, and he immediately froze up. “U-um, yeah, of course.” His voice cracked, and you could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His posture straightened, like your words sent a jolt of electricity through him.

His hand trembled slightly as he handed you the nicest pen in his collection, like it was a prized possession.

You grinned, “Thanks!” Then, just as you were about to turn back to your desk, you stopped mid-step and spun around on your heel, catching him completely off guard.

Your eyes locked onto him again, serious expression on your face as he nearly jumped out of his seat. “Oh, wait. What did you get on the midterm?”

He fidgeted, averting his gaze and adjusting his glasses nervously. “Oh, uh.. 100.”

He said it like it was the most casual thing in the world. You raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Okay, genius.”

-----

For the next week after that, every time you entered the class Choso was always there first, so you spared him a smile and wave.

At first, he didn’t know you were even waving at him, looking behind him like there must be someone else more worthy of your attention, just to be met with the wall of windows behind where he sat, and you were, in fact, waving to him. He lifted his hand nervously, a timid smile curving his lips, waving back as you set your drink on your desk and prepared for another grueling lecture.

It was becoming more real, finals two weeks out, and you just failed every assignment last week, it was not looking good for you.

Until, a devilish smile spread across your face as an idea popped into your head, almost a physical light bulb appearing above your head because your scheme was just that great.

You had it all planned out. Step one, wear the thinnest, tightest, most revealing top you had. Step two, ask Choso to tutor you. How could it go wrong?

-----

It was just another normal day to Choso, or at least as normal as it could be when the girl he’d spent the last few months secretly pining for had started waving at him almost every day. That had become his new normal, and it still made his heart race every time.

But that day, you walked in, and everything changed.

You wore a pair of tight jeans and a button-up short-sleeved top that was a little too tight across the chest. The last button on your shirt barely held on, the fabric straining over the curve of your breasts, and he had to swallow to keep himself from completely losing it.

“Your name’s Choso, right?” you asked, voice sweet, eyes locked on his, and oh god, you looked so cute.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered, cheeks warming.

“Well, I was wondering...” you propped your hands on your knees, bending down to his level, but with the angle you were leaning, your tits were the first thing he saw rather than your face. His eyes shot to the floor. “Would you be willing to help tutor me so I can pass this final?”

You clasped your hands together in front of your chest, bottom lip jutting out as you tilted your head, looking at him with the kind of pleading gaze he couldn’t say no to. “Pleeaseee?”

And oh god, you were begging him. He could hardly breathe, his heart pounding so hard it might’ve leapt right out of his chest.

His face was a deep crimson, ears nearly exploding off his head, “U-um, sure, I-I can help.”

You smiled so brightly that it took all of his willpower not to melt. “Great! Thanks!” you cheered, jumping in excitement.

Shit, holy shit, when you jumped your boobs were bouncing right in his face. Brain short-circuiting, he had to look away, he had to. There was no way he could survive this.

Of course you noticed. “Here, put your number in my phone so I can text you later,” you winked.

He hesitatingly took your phone in his hand, fingers trembling.

All of this. All of this in one day?

First you waved at him, then you wore that outfit, and then you said you’ll text him? It was all over for him at this point. His life was officially over.

-----

It was late at night when you texted, the first text Choso had ever got from a non-family member.

“hey Choso, when can we start the tutoring?”

He kept typing out the message, deleting it, typing it out, deleting it, damn near 15 minutes go by before he actually responded.

“I’m free after class tomorrow if that works for you. I can meet you at the library or somewhere on campus.”

Your response coming almost immediately.

“i was thinking maybe we could do it at your dorm? quieter and more focused, you know?”

At his dorm? It was almost 1:00 AM and he was already cleaning.

“Uh, yeah, that works. My dorm is fine. I’ll text you when I get back.”

You flipped over in your bed, feet kicking in the air and giggling to yourself. Ugh, you loved making boys nervous. There was just something about Choso that made you want to corrupt him, smash his glasses with your heel and make him do your homework for the rest of his life.

-----

You spent all day in your room, holding different shirt options to your body in front of the mirror in anticipation of your first tutoring session. You really did need the help, but what girl didn’t want to look her best with her new male tutor?

You were so giddy about it you skipped all of your classes for the day, this was such an important event for you.

-----

You plucked at the hem of your shirt, dragging the fabric between your fingers as Choso flips through his notes. His dorm was neat, neater than you expected. His bed was all made, desk clean of clutter, trashcan empty, it made you giggle, actually. He did all this for you.

You grinned at him, “you look nervous.”

He adjusted his glasses, deadpanning you. “I’m not.”

You raised an eyebrow, tilting your head at him and squinting your eyes. “Right. So you’re just gripping that pen like it’s your last lifeline?”

Choso glanced down, loosening his grip slightly which made you smile. “Let’s just start. What’s the derivative of 3x cubed?”

You hummed, tapping your lips in exaggerated thought. “Mmm… seven?”

“No.” He replied flatly.

You laughed, leaning forward on his desk. “You’re cute when you’re annoyed.”

Choso paused for half a second, and you didn’t miss the way his jaw tenses.

He exhaled through his nose, ignoring your comment. “Try again.”

You stretched back in your chair, throwing your arms over your head. “God, this is so hard. My brain just doesn’t work like yours, y’know?”

Choso stares at you, expression unreadable as he flips to a new page in his notebook and scribbles something down, sliding it toward you.

You glance down. A problem is written out step by step, clear, easy to follow. For all his awkwardness, he’s patient. You expected him to break first.

“You know, Choso, I think you might actually be a good tutor.”

He quirked an eyebrow, “that was kinda the point.”

The first tutoring session played out like this, your impatience clashing with his steady calm, laced with sharp-edged banter. In the end, you did pick up a few things, one of them being that your new favorite pastime was making him tremble.

When the session finally wrapped up, you stretched, shirt riding up just enough to make his gaze snap to the desk. “Alright, I think that’s enough for today. I’d say I earned a lot,” you mused, voice thick with fake amusement.

Choso swallowed, not knowing if you meant calculus or something else entirely. “Uh, yeah. Just keep practicing.”

You shot him a lazy smile, telling him how good of a tutor he was and letting his name roll off your tongue. You knew what you did to him.

Later that night you sat in bed, laptop open and textbook in front of you, shooting him a text.

“why is math even a requirement for me. be fr rn. i just tried to do one problem and just stared at it for five minutes before giving up. i am beyond saving.”

“You are not beyond saving. You just need more practice.”

“nerd. okay but seriously, how do you not struggle at all? i bet you could do derivatives in your sleep.”

“I mean, probably. It’s just simple pattern recognition.”

“well the only pattern i recognize is me bombing every exam.”

“That’s why we’re tutoring, right? You’ll get it.”

“you have so much faith in me, it’s almost cute.”

Choso stared at his screen for way too long, rereading your words like they might change if he blinked enough. Cute. Him cute? Well, almost cute. But still. Cute.

“You’re not as hopeless as you think. Just need a better way to approach the problems.”

“aww lol u really care huh? so sweet :)”

He immediately regretted everything.

“Just get some sleep.”

He hesitated before sending another text. He really, really shouldn’t do it.

“Good night.”

Stupid, why would he send that?

“goodnight, Choso <3”

He hadn’t even realized he was holding his breath until he let out a shaky exhale. His heart hammering in his chest, fingers gripping the phone so tightly he thought it might crack.

He cursed under his breath, forcing himself to set the phone down. But he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. His thoughts racing, a chaotic swirl of “she’s teasing” and “she’s just being nice” then “no, she’s probably messing with me.”

But what if you weren't?

His heart skipped as he tried to lie still, the faintest tremble in his legs and hands betraying his calm exterior. He squeezed his eyes shut, sweat beading on his forehead, heat creeping up his neck, skin burning with embarrassment.

You idiot. Why did you say anything?

The words “good night” had felt like an eternity before he hit send, and now that it was done he couldn’t help but question everything.

He grabbed his chest, clutching it like he could contain the frantic rhythm of his pulse. Was he too forward? Too weird?

God, this is so stupid.

But he remembered how you smiled earlier, how you looked at him like you wanted to keep going. That thought alone was enough to make his heart beat faster. He groaned into his pillow, clenching his fist around the sheets, unsure of how much longer he could survive this.

-----

Today was your second tutoring session with Choso, looking forward to it because you knew the chaos you were about to stir.

It wasn’t just the subject that had you on edge, it was the way he made you feel when he tried so hard to maintain his composure, and how cute he looked when you knocked him off balance.

You picked out a low-cut top that left just enough to the imagination. The black fabric clung to your body, outlining every curve, and the thin straps only accentuated the subtle shift in your posture as you moved. Paired with denim shorts that were just a liiitle too short for your liking.

Oh you were definitely going to enjoy this.

When you arrived at his dorm, he greeted you at the door, eyes widening just a fraction as they flicked to your outfit. His face flushed and he nervously cleared his throat.

“Hey,” you greeted, casually walking in and trying your best to act nonchalant, the little smile tugging at the corner of your lips betraying you. “So… what are we doing today?”

His voice was a little too strained. “Uh, w-we’re going over limits and derivatives,” he darted his eyes around the room. “You, uh… you ready?”

You couldn’t help but notice how stiff he was, how his posture was unnaturally rigid like he was trying not to make any sudden movements. His eyes kept flicking up and down between your face and anywhere else on your body, his gaze lingering too long on your chest, hands twitching at his sides.

You raised an eyebrow as you took a seat, smiling at him so warmly you looked like a beautiful renaissance painting. And Choso tried so hard not to look at you directly, his fingers shaky as they reached for his textbook.

You leaned forward, making sure to get just a bit closer than necessary, your bare knee brushing against his as you settled in. You watched how he stiffened, body going tense as if he were holding himself together by sheer willpower.

“You look distracted,” you quipped, and oh, you just looked so pretty, sitting so close to him, hair framing your face perfectly, long lashes fluttering in his direction like you didn’t know what you did to him.

He blushed again, immediately averting his stare. His words stammered as he tried to focus. “N-no, I’m not distracted! Just trying to make sure I can explain this correctly.”

You bit your lip, savoring the moment. Watching him squirm under your teasing felt way too good. You really liked this.

“I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You said it with a mischievous glint in your eyes, turning your body to face him more directly and leaning in, hands in your lap so your arms accidentally pushed your boobs together. “I think I’m distracting you.”

You could practically feel the sweat beading his hairline. His voice cracked when he spoke, “No! I’m fine, I-I can do this.”

He cleared his throat again, turning the pages of his textbook with a little more force than necessary. Without thinking, you reached your arm forward, one of your elbows accidentally brushing against his arm as you reached for the textbook.

You don’t know if he actually gasped or you just fantasized that.

His hand landed clumsily on your thigh, just below the hem of your shorts. His fingers were warm, thick, long, you could feel his pulse beneath his skin, fast and erratic. His eyes were wide, mouth agape staring at his hand like it just committed a heinous crime. You had to fight to keep your expression neutral, but a part of you want to grab his hand to keep it there as he drew away.

“Uh!” He stammered, yanking his hand away so quickly it felt like he burned himself. “I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean- I wasn’t-”

You smiled, leaning back casually. “It’s fine. Really,” you said, your voice sweet like honey. “You can touch me anytime.”

As if his blush couldn’t get any deeper, his mouth opened to say something but the words seemed to fail him as he returned fumbling with the pages of his textbook. Hands even more jittery than before.

You sighed, humming to yourself, taking in the sight of his discomfort with an unrelenting smile. He’s so cute when he’s flustered.

The tutoring session stretched on longer than either of you expected, filled with more awkward moments and persistent tension. But despite the longing glances and missteps, you could kind of understand unit 1. Progress. A small victory.

----

It was the morning before your final, and your bed felt like the only thing worth living for. The world outside was bustling and you couldn’t care less. You tossed and turned, half-heartedly kicking off your blankets and throwing your pillows across the room as if it were the source of all your problems. Maybe if I break the pillow, you thought in a daze, I’ll magically forget I have to study.

The snooze button was your best friend but it wasn’t doing you any favors today. You were stuck in a loop of staring at the ceiling and wishing for the sweet release of sleep, but even then, your mind couldn’t settle. Your brain refusing to focus on anything other than the thought of seeing Choso later. It shouldn’t have been that exciting, but you were feeling a little giddy. Maybe it was his nervous, earnest energy, or how adorably flustered he always got around you. Whatever it was, you had to admit: you were looking forward to tutoring today… just not the actual studying part.

As you got yourself ready for the day, your phone buzzed, and it was a message from Choso.

“Ready for tutoring?”

You stared at it for a while. You really didn’t want to study. But the thought of seeing him so pliant, of making him fidget like he always did, was enough to pull you out of your pit of dread.

-----

You barely looked at your notes, instead keeping your gaze on him. You pouted, jutting out your bottom lip, not bothering to hide the irritation building inside of you.

“I don’t wanna do this,” you groaned, slouching and folding your arms. “Can’t I just not? I mean what’s the point?”

Choso hesitated, looking at you from the corner of his eye. “I- well, I think it would help if we just focused a little longer. You’ve made progress.”

But that didn’t help your mood. You puffed out your bottom lip even more. “Ugh, no. I don’t wanna,” you whined, catching his eyes with yours, watching him fumble with the pen in his hands.

You extended an arm, resting your hand on the nape of his neck playing with the stray hairs that fell from his buns. “Come on, Choso. Tell me I’ve been a good girl today. I deserve it for actually showing up.”

He froze, breath hitching. There was a moment of silence before he pushed his glasses up. “I-I… You’ve been good,” he mumbled.

You tilted your head at him, still twirling his hair between your fingers. “No, I’ve been a good girl, right?”

His lips parted, looking at you shyly when you began tracing circles on his upper back with your nails, causing a shiver to visibly run through his body. “Yes… you’ve been a- a good girl.”

You smiled softly at him. “Thanks, Cho, but I really don’t wanna study today,” you said, voice melodious.

“You’re welcome,” he murmured, cut off from whatever else he was going to say when you stood from your chair, throwing a leg over his lap and straddling him.

“W-we need to study,” he said, expression pure as he looked at you, he really had no choice to, you took up his entire vision, nonetheless sat on his lap. Your breasts were squished against his hard chest, your erect nipples poking from your shirt, which he saw you wore no bra.

“Chooo,” you said in a sing-songy voice, bringing your glossed lips inches away from his. “If you really wanna study that bad then fine, but I deserve a reward.”

“A-a reward-”

You brought your lips to his in a sweet, delicate kiss, testing the waters. He halted for a beat before returning the kiss, not knowing exactly what he’s supposed to be doing and accidentally using way too much teeth.

You couldn’t help but giggle, wrapping your arms around his suspiciously broad shoulders, momentarily breaking the kiss. “Jeez, you work out or something?” You asked, leaning back to eye him as your hands traveled his shoulders, squeeze his biceps, caress his chest.

“U-um,” he didn’t have time to respond before you kissed him again. This time, your lips parted to lick his, grazing your teeth over his bottom lip before bringing it into your mouth to lightly bite it. He groaned in response, instinctively bringing his hands up to rest modestly high on your back.

You hummed into his mouth, retracting your hands to guide his, helping him to find purchase on your ass. “You can touch me, Cho,” you said gently, moving your hips higher on his lap.

He nearly whimpered feeling your body weight on his erection, involuntarily squeezing you as your hips grind on his, planting wet kissing along his jaw and neck.

You laughed to yourself, he was so adorable like this. He had no idea what to do, no idea how to kiss, where to put his hands. It was so precious, and it made the heat in your center burn even more.

“Take my shirt off,”

“A-are you sure? I mean, we need to-”

“Pleeeaseee, Cho?” You gave him that pout again, that look with wide, sad eyes that he couldn’t resist. Your existence just made this a losing game for him, and his palms were already sweaty peeling the fabric off your body, letting out a shaky inhale at the sight of your pert nipples, rotund breasts that were just begging him to touch.

“You- you’re beautiful,” he said under his breath, unable to take his gaze away from your bare body before him, he could tell your skin was delicately soft without even touching it.

“You really think so?” A brush spread across your cheeks, your arousal soaking your panties watching him completely awestruck. “You can touch them, it’s okay.”

He cupped your breasts with either hand, kneading them and letting the tissue pillow between his fingers in his grasp.

“Put one in your mouth,” your voice was so sweet, so sugary guiding him through the normal bouts of foreplay.

And he did just that, lowering his head to meet your breasts and sucking so tactfully like you were a precious heirloom that’d break if he was too rough.

“You can be more rough, I’m okay, I promise.” He looked up at you questionably, before he used the flat of his tongue in long strokes over your nipple, taking his time to relish in this moment, savoring the taste of your skin on his tastebuds. He used the tip of his tongue to toy with your nipple, drawing shapes on it which only made you arch your back into him, threading your fingers in his hair.

He just kept going at it, switching between them making sure they both got the same love before you had to tell him to stop, the teasing stimulation making you so antsy sitting on his clothed cock.

You removed his shirt next, revealing his chiseled chest and abs, your mouth watering at the sight. You licked stripes up his neck, sucking on his pulse points and biting as he melted under you. You’d give him a bite, smooth it over with your tongue, plant kisses on it, then give him a hickey.

By the end of this he’d be littered with them, marked as yours.

Your bare breasts on his skin was making him feral, he never in a million years thought this was how he’d spend the end of his sophomore year in college. He thought he’d have to pay someone in order to lose his virginity, probably spend the rest of his life alone as his awkwardness made it impossible to talk to women. But here you were, half-naked and gyrating your hips on his erection. Let alone a woman as beautiful as you, someone he fell in love with the moment you opened your lips for him.

“Should we study, Cho?” You ask, looking up at him from where you left traces of yourself on his body.

“Uh, s-study?” His breath was nearly gone, lost in thought about how he had to be the luckiest man in the world to somehow sign up for the same math class as you.

“Yeah,” you planted a kiss on the corner of his mouth. “We can start studying now,” you began getting off his lap, and he was trying to devise a plan on how to get through a tutoring session with the ache in his pants, that was until you slipped your shorts off, panties landing on the floor with them.

Oh.

When you straddled him again, your slick arousal was already forming a spot on his pants.

“U-um,” he stuttered, pushing up his glasses. His blush started at his appled cheekbones, ending somewhere his happy trail ran under his pants. Somewhere you were so desperate for. “I thought, you wanted to-”

“We’ll study,” you said, caressing his muscled form, using your nail to trace down his chest, then his abs. “Is it okay if I unbutton your pants?”

He bobbed his head up and down almost frantically, his mouth drooling at you fully naked, fully naked on top of him. He pinched the underside of his leg to make sure this wasn’t a dream, his head had been spinning from the moment you touched him.

You deftly unbuttoned his pants, unzipping and letting him shimmy his way out of them. You palmed the very large erection over his boxers, running your hands up and down his length. His head dropped forward, having to suck in breaths to avoid whining like a virgin when you haven’t even touched skin yet. Your fingers were so delicate yet your grip on him was firm, working him over the cloth that covered his most sensitive area and toying with his leaking tip, letting a wet spot appear under the waistband of his boxers.

It was then that you popped his cock out, eyeing the veins that ran up and down his length, his nearly crimson tip, swollen in hopeless desire for release. His balls were so tight, you massaged them with one hand as the other started jerking him slowly, almost painfully. You brought your lips to his again, absorbing all of his whimpers in your mouth and kissing back with addiction.

He tasted sweet, his luscious lips and wet tongue saccharine on your tastebuds. He was so addictive. A man so flexible under your insatiable presence, you removed his glasses and pushed his bangs out of his face, beautiful chestnut brown eyes that looked at you with so much love and desire.

You lifted your hips, “I’m gonna put it in now, okay?”

He nodded intensely, eyes locked on yours with his brows barely pinched together when you teased his tip, running it between your slick and spreading your wetness all over. He was practically pleading you with his eyes, not able to say a word as he let you take the lead.

You sunk down on him slowly, letting him feel all of you and the way your tight walls stretched for his thickness so perfectly, it was like you were made for him.

“Ngh- what is it- fuck- that we need to study?” You asked, breathless, dumbstruck when you bottomed out, his tip poking your cervix as you sat, unmoving.

He stilled for a moment, hesitating in the other-worldly pleasure your pussy offered. You broke him out of his spell when you skimmed your thumb lightly over his cheek, bringing his attention back to reality.

“I-integrals,” he spluttered. “You need to learn- mmh- integrals.”

You started moving your hips slowly mid-sentence, an unhurried tempo so you could watch how he breaks for you.

“Mmm, start explaining it.” You grabbed his hands that gripped the armrests of his chair, bringing them back to your ass, his grip tightening immediately, squeezing the fat firmly with his rough hands.

“Integrals are- hah- the opposite of- hngh-”

“Mhm? Opposite of?” You were sweating, willing yourself to keep a languid tempo and not fuck him how you wanted. He was a virgin after all, and one that was so smitten with you, you loved dragging it out, loved the attention he gave you.

“Th-they’re the opposite of- of derivatives,” his grasp on you only tightening, it was aching, throbbing inside you as you tenderly lowered your hips each time, slowly feeling him getting harder and harder, it was a battle with himself not to cry out.

You leaned in close, your hands cradling his face like he was some delicate artwork, “you’re so big inside me,” you brought your lips to his. He was in a total state of catatonia, your walls milking him with each descent, a puddle of your arousal and his pre drenching the curls at his base. “Aren’t you, Cho?”

You just held his face in your hands, he was so angelic when he was fucked out, bangs sticking to his forehead that you move out of the way for him, skimming your thumbs over his cheeks, a sheen of sweat coating his face.

“A-and,” he began, the grasp he had on your body frantic as he took in more of you, filling his palms with your curves and spreading you wide for him in attempt to feel more. He loved you so much in this moment, he wished he could live inside your skin. “They’re the- the total- mmpf- accumulation over an interval.”

“You’re so sexy when you- ugh- explain things,” you sped up the tempo slightly, just barely, but enough to heighten the carnality, enough to tighten the coil in your abdomen. “Give me an example.”

He was completely hunched over, his head resting on your shoulder as you worked your hips. He was barely able to form a coherent thought let alone do math.

“U-uh, an example?” He huffed out.

“Mhm, give me an example baby.”

“The integral of- haah- x is x squared over 2.” His face was contorted, lips sucked in, brows pinched tightly, nose scrunched as he wallowed in the pleasure, how you only seemed to get more wet the more time that passed, his multiple releases of pre making your entrance so slick, so easy for you to slide up and down his length.

“Cho,” you looked at him with big eyes, grasping his forearm. “Cum with me, touch me here,” you brought his hand to your clit, showing him a circling motion with his thumb.

“Here?” he asked breathlessly, almost jumping out of his skin at the thought of making you cum with his fingers and cock.

“Yes, mmm, just like that, more pressure,” you coached him.

His thumb was circling your clit now, adding the pressure that you pleaded for. His other hand rested lovingly at your back, and you bounced rapidly on him, your thighs slapping his with each fall of your hips. Your hands gripped his shoulders for support, his muscled physique flexing under you as he climbed closer to climax.

You both reach your breaking point at the same time, maintaining eye contact over clouded vision. Your walls milked him for all he had and more, body quivering as you bellowed deeply, all of the stress and tension leaving your body being stretched by his thick length, no choice but to hit your g-spot because of his size. He worked you through it, urgently rubbing you with his thumb while he squeezed his eyes shut, twitching violently inside you releasing his rich seed, no doubt entering your womb.

You both came down from your high together too, foreheads resting as you caught your breath, his dick refusing to go flaccid as you sat still on it.

“Cho,” you looked up at him, tears pricking your eyes and smudging your makeup. “I want to be with you,” you pleaded.

He looked at you so worryingly yet so tenderly, he put a hand at the back of your head, bringing you to his chest so he could hold you close.

“I want to be with you too.” He added.

-----

You took the final the next day, then found yourself sitting on Choso’s dorm room floor with the final grades one click away. Your finger hovered over the screen before finally tapping, the number appearing in bold.

38/100

Silence.

Choso, ever the supportive boyfriend, started gently, “it’s okay, babe, I’ll help you study next ti-”

“LET’S GOOO!” You shouted, pumping your fists in the air like you’d just won the lottery.

He flinched at your sudden outburst, staring at you like you’d completely lost your mind. “Wait, what?”

“I did better than last time!” You grinned, spinning to face him.

His brows lifted in disbelief, mouth opening then closing. You still failed terribly.

Before he could find the words, you launched yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck. “You can still tutor me!”

He let out a small, helpless laugh, arms instinctively wrapping around your waist. He sighed, pressing his hands tighter.

“I’ll always tutor you.”

A/N: i'm just sitting here giggling at this because choso really is a horrible tutor. like reader girl already had no hopes, but he just let her ride him instead of studying the DAY BEFORE the final... but this is smut, and the integral of x is actually (x^2/2)+C

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