Probably Daydreaming

Yaz • She/Her • 24 • 18+

[cr0wcaller]

📖 KAKASHI HATAKE | SMAU | assorted boyfriend texts

a/n: requested by a lovely anon, i hope you like these!! this forced me to finally give kakashi a proper place in my modern au so that's nice

content: kakashi x gn!reader boyfriend/husband texts, modern!au

All rights reserved. Please do not repost, copy, translate, plagiarise, or feed my work into AI. Reblogs are deeply appreciated; reposts are not permitted.

[laymegentlytorest]

Hold up ma show is on✋

[paperellina]

best buds papa kuna + papa toji being the proudest dads at the ballet recital .✦ ݁˖

soft music is playing, parents whispering, everything all neat and polite and delicate. its the kind of place that would kick them out on sight if they so much as breathed too loud.

and right in the middle theres both of them.

two huge men slouched into chairs that are definitely not made for them, their knees too wide, shoulders too broad, both looking like they accidentally walked into the wrong building and decided to stay anyway.

tojis got his arms crossed, eyes locked on the stage like hes watching something important. next to him, sukunas leaning back in his seat, one arm hooked over the back of the chair, looking bored out of his mind.

"..how longs this thing goin' on for." toji mutters under his breath, scratching his jaw.

sukuna huffs quietly. "too long."

the moment the announcer calls their daughters' names, everything shifts.

both of them straighten at the same time, attention snapping forward. the music changes, soft piano notes filling the room as two tiny figures step onto the stage, dressed in matching little ballet outfits, hair tied up neatly, hands clasped together for just a second before they separate.

toji leans forward immediately, elbows braced on his knees, his eyes locked on the stage. "…there she is." he murmurs, something warm creeping into his voice without him realizing.

sukunas already nodding, a low hum of approval leaving him. "tch. look at them. perfect."

their daughters move carefully through the routine, small steps, tiny spins, a little wobbly but trying so hard its almost so painful to watch. the rest of the audience stays quiet, watching politely.

but toji doesnt.

"cmon, baby. you got it," he says under his breath, but its not actually quiet. his voice carries just enough in the still room that a few heads turn. and sukuna doesnt help.

"higher," he mutters, like hes coaching from the sidelines, eyes narrowed in focus. "lift your chin."

a couple of parents glance back at them, mildly annoyed. but they clearly do not give a fuck.

on stage, the girls move into their little partnered spin, hands grabbing each other clumsily before turning together. one of them stumbles slightly, and both men tense.

tojis hand grips the edge of his seat. "..steady-"

she catches herself, and finishes the turn.

toji lets out a sharp breath, shaking his head once like hes just watched something life threatening. "…atta girl," he mutters, pride thick in his voice.

sukuna huffs, clearly impressed despite himself. "told ya shed do it."

when the music ends and the girls hit their final pose, the room fills with polite applause, but both toji and sukuna are louder. way louder.

tojis already on his feet, clapping hard, a low whistle slipping out before he can stop it. "thats my girl!," he calls, not caring who hears.

sukuna stands too, slow but deliberate, clapping with heavy, firm movements, a rare grin pulling at his mouth. "perfect," he says, loud enough to carry.

people stare, but they still dont care

on stage, the girls beam, little chests puffed up with pride, eyes immediately finding their dads in the crowd. and the two biggest, gruffest men in the room keep standing there clapping like nothing else in the world matters.

taglist: @@jjakeysheart @rkivesvs7 @c6choso @shea354 @kiwicherry04 @choco-chipp @tojibunnyy @tojisgdgirl @xoxocherrybabyy @dearwyn @pigtaileddolliee @tojiful @heartcandyslxt @lisabelhyhn @chaeisrichnow @chewiebee @tojisfiancee @retiredpanda @bbvvvy @princesplatano @jaehyunsleftnut @lightandfuryauthor @fysalia @alinacoke @ssrist @bl1ndv3lvet @lisa200976 @vheartsfushi @amarislovesmcdonalds @1ana22 @cherrieslovess @arcanehellokittyforlife69 @lov-3-x @str4wb3rrylife @whoiskaykay @hiromisbb @tojioppshotta @yumyumyu @yvesapple4 @733164 @peonysecret @pr1ncessthug @magicalpeenpoo @unknownowlbokutoswifeyy

© 2026 paperellina - all rights reserved. do not plagiarise, translate, or feed into any form of ai.

[laymegentlytorest]

Oh my lord they’re perfect

[kaiiswrld]

groupchat texts w older bf toji & his son megumi

[laymegentlytorest]

Never knew i needed this till now. Got me all in ma feelings and sht

[princessxmin]

HIS EYES ARE LIKE ANGELS !

⋆˚꩜.ᐟ : including — cutesy hcs! [౨ৎ] synopsis: alucard tepes as a lover [♡₊˚ ♕]: her highness's decree: if it wasn't obvious alr I have a thing for soft spoken intelligent, gentleman-like men.

‧₊˚⇢♡ a gentleman doesn't even begin to describe just how sweet he is to you.

considering Alucard was already well-mannered and more than polite before meeting you, once he falls for you (becoming immediately smitten), he's somehow even more so.

His tone becoming impossibly more gentler when talking to you, opening doors for you, pulling your your chair out for you, positioning himself in front of you at the first hint of trouble (even if you're a fighter/magic wielder).

‧₊˚⇢♡ attentive to every facet of your being.

he's very conscious of himself to ensure he isn't just staring at you but you do make it quite hard not to. Whenever you play with your hair in deep thought, the way your smile always meets your eyes, the way you silently gaze into the distance when you reminisce.

It's all so..mesmerizing—you are mesmerizing.

So while it pains the dhampir to have to tear his eyes away from you at times so as not to make you feel uncomfortableit is very tempting to not want to see every expression your beautiful face makes.

‧₊˚⇢♡ calls you "beloved", "dearest" "flower", and "my love."

Alucard is such a naturally affectionate man once he's in love that pet names become second nature to him. However, it still is so cute how he was slightly hesitant to call you anything initially usually referring to you by name—until it just slipped out.

Your breath catches for a moment, looking up at the blond from your place beside him on one of the library's plush velvet settees.

The castle is quiet around you, save for the occasional crackle from the fireplace and the soft rustle of pages turning. Warm afternoon sunlight filters through the tall windows, painting streaks of gold across the bookshelves and illuminating the dust motes drifting lazily through the air.

You'd spent the better part of the afternoon curled up together.

Your book long forgotten in your lap as you leaned comfortably against his shoulder, your head nestled against him while he read.

It was one of your favorite places to be.

Close enough to hear the steady rhythm of his breathing.

You were tracing absent patterns along the edge of your page when Alucard finally spoke. "Would you like some tea, my love?"

The word leaves his lips so naturally that neither of you seem to process it at first.

Your eyes widened slightly and you could feel Alucard stiffen slightly besides you. His gaze lowering from the book in his hand to where your head is resting on his shoulder. An adorable, light blush creeping on his pale cheeks. "Forgive me," he says quietly, setting his book aside perhaps a little too quickly. "I did not mean to presume."

The bashfulness in his voice is almost unfairly sweet, so you straighten slightly, lifting your head from his shoulder to shake your head with a soft smile. "You didn't. I don't mind you calling me that—it's sweet."

For a moment, Alucard simply looks at you. Golden eyes searching your face as though trying to determine whether you're merely being kind. When he realizes you're sincere, some of the tension leaves his shoulders.

Barely noticeable.

"I'm glad," he says quietly. His voice is softer now, the afternoon sunlight catching against the pale strands of his hair as he looks at you, and you're suddenly struck by how unfairly beautiful he is.

Especially like this.

The realization makes your smile widen slightly. "Can I call you something too?"

His brows lift. "Something?"

You nod.

"You wish to give me a pet name?"

"Well, yes."

You tilt your head. "If you're going to call me things like my love and beloved, I think I should get one too."

A quiet laugh escapes him then. "I suppose that is fair."

‧₊˚⇢♡ guides you with a hand at your back through crowded towns, unfamiliar roads and in more sketchy parts of wood

Whether you're walking through a crowded marketplace, entering a room, or simply moving through the halls of the castle together, Alucard always seems to find his place just slightly behind your shoulder.

One hand resting lightly at the small of your back.

Never possessive. More so a subtle, discreet gesture. One that many don't notice on first glance.

Like no matter where you are, he'll make certain nothing reaches you first.

₊˚⇢♡ is constantly making sure you're comfortable.

Perhaps it's because he's spent so much of his life caring for others, and caring for you is not much different nor a chore. Though it's probably because the sweet way you breathe a 'thank you Adrian,' or 'you're always so kind thank you my love.' Has him quick to whatever you need to hear those lovely again.

If you're cold, a cloak is draped over your shoulders before you can mention it.

If you're tired, he's already suggesting you rest.

If you're hungry, he's quietly finding a source of food for you.

Half the time, you don't even realize something was bothering you until he's already taken care of it.

And when you thank so softly like the angel you are?

He simply smiles.

‧₊˚⇢♡ always reaches for you in his sleep.

Alucard sleeps lightly by nature. Years of solitude and danger made certain of that. Yet slowly but surely, after sharing a bed with you, over time it's been increasingly easier to sleep soundly next to you.

Primarily because you fall asleep holding his hand.

You always knew that he carried a weight most people could scarcely imagine. The loss of his parents. His complicated love for his father. The loneliness. The years spent wandering with burdens that were never truly his to carry.

You knew there were nights his sleep wasn't peaceful.

So when you'd first begun sharing a bed, you'd made a habit of reaching for his hand before falling asleep. Not because you were afraid to sleep alone. But because you never wanted him to face even his nightmares alone ever again.

The first time you'd done it, he'd looked almost comforted yet confused. Glancing down at your intertwined fingers before looking back at you. Yet he hadn't pulled away.

And after that, it simply became part of your routine.

Until one evening, months later, as candlelight flickered softly across your shared chambers, Alucard spoke just as you were settling beneath the blankets.

"My love?"

His voice was unusually hesitant.

You immediately looked up from where you'd been adjusting the covers. "Yes?"

For a moment, he seemed almost uncertain.

Golden eyes lowering briefly.

Then—

"Would you be comfortable with..." He paused, clearly searching for the words. "Me holding you while we slept?"

A warm smile glaced your lips as your nodded, "Of course, sweetheart."

Once settled into bed, Alucard's arm settled carefully around your waist as though he were handling something precious. Slowly relaxing into you only after you had done so yourself, and once he did, it was almost as though he could finally breathe properly.

Now, months later, Alucard rarely even realizes he's doing it.

You'll wake in the middle of the night to find yourself tucked securely against his chest. One arm wrapped around your waist. His hand resting over yours. Sometimes his face buried lightly in your hair.

Other times, when nightmares try to find him, you'll feel it. The unconscious way his fingers search across the mattress. The way he reaches for you even while asleep.

Seeking warmth.

And the moment he finds you, his body relaxes. The tension leaves his shoulders. His breathing evens out once more.

♡ princessxmin please do not alter, copy or translate my work !

[laymegentlytorest]

And then they wrote in detail what it would be like to be loved by Adrien😖

[honeybunroll]

MDNI

sleepy mornings with Alucard. just laying in bed together, him behind you with an arm curled around your waist to draw you closer to his body. being half vampire he's not entirely freezing to the touch, but he does tend to run slightly cooler than the average person. it makes it all the more difficult to get up in the mornings when he's glued to you and soaking in the body heat you give off.

he tends to nuzzle at the nape of your neck as well, nosing along and inhaling the scent of your skin because to him that means home and safety. you're his anchor in the chaos of his life, a constant that he can rely on.

he treats you ever so gently because of that, often waking you up to the ticklish sensation of his lips pressed over the back of your shoulder, trailing feather light kisses across your skin as he tries to coax you to awareness. occasionally you'll feel the hard press of his fangs against your skin.

when you first got together, he was still rather hesitant about his more vampiric side. he knew what he was of course and knew how to use the abilities that side gave him, but never would he have even dreamed of pressing his fangs against someone's skin or teasing the points of them over someone's pulse point.

and yet with you he doesn't hesitate. he playfully flashes his teeth at you, making like he's going to bite you. he'll even go as far as to lightly nip at your nape, turning your skin pink as you finally open your eyes to blink at him blearily.

[bibbysstuff]

EMERGENCY C0MMlSSl0NS‼️‼️‼️

My friend is unfortunately unable to pay their rent and need $200 by TODAY or else they'll get kicked out!

My ko-fi c0mmissl0ns are open if you want to help me raise money for my friend, it will be greatly appreciated

Examples of my recent comms

[stellawish]

bad dream

how papa toji deals with gumi’s nightmares genre: fluff warnings: none. just dilf toji

Besides the occasional snoring, the sound of a baby's cry filled the bedroom

Toji's breathing pattern changed, he opened his eyes. After blinking a couple of times, he turned his head toward the baby monitor.

He groaned pushed the blanket aside. Cracking his neck, he got out of bed. As he headed toward the nursery, he rubbed his face with his hands, trying to fully wake up. The sound of the baby's cries grew louder.

He entered the nursery, illuminated only by the nightlamp. As he approached the crib, he was met with a heart-wrenching scene that made him frown.

His nine-month-old son was curled up, holding a plush cow close. Despite the crying, his eyes remained closed. Nightmares, Toji thought.

Megumi is a placid baby. While all the other babies his age were usually fussing, he was always quiet and rarely cried. Therefore, in the moments when he did cry, Toji always panicked inside.

He gently stroked his son’s damp back and tenderly said, "Hey Gumi, wake up." The baby’s cries subsided, and he opened his doe eyes, turning his head toward Toji, he blinked his tear-streaked lashes.

“Papa,” the baby mumbled, and his crying resumed, he reached out his little arms. Toji immediately picked him up and held him close to his bare chest. Megumi buried his face in Toji’s neck. “Papa,” he let out a long sob, wrapping his chubby arms around his strong neck. Toji’s lip trembled.

"'S okay, Gumi, papa’s here," Toji whispered gently. "Just a bad dream. You safe"

He stroked his son’s back and walked over to the chair. "Papa chased away the bad monsters," he soothingly said. With tender motions, he ran his hands over Megumi's head and back, reassuring him that papa’s here. He’s not alone. The crying gradually subsided, leaving only the sounds of the baby's hiccups in the room.

Gently soothing his baby, Toji recalled the star projector his colleague had recently gifted him. He’d tested it once, and Megumi seemed to like it.

Without hesitation, he stood up, still holding the sobbing baby and walked over to the drawer. After finding the projector, he returned to the chair, placed it on the table, and turned it on. "Look, Gumi," he said.

Megumi pulled away from Toji’s shoulder and sniffled. Seeing the bright stars on the wall, he rubbed his eyes with chubby little fists then turned his head and noticed that the entire ceiling and walls were covered in them.

He opened his mouth and blinked adorably. Toji smiled and wiped away the traces of tears from the baby’s round cheeks and kissed his son on the forehead.

Thank God it worked.

Gumi looked at his father and pointed his tiny finger at the ceiling look papa! Toji grinned and wiped the mucus from Megumi’s tiny face. The sensation of the rough skin made the baby scrunch up his nose amusingly.

Pressing his chubby cheek against Toji's shoulder, Megumi continued to gaze at the stars, blinking his wet lashes. His sniffles grew quieter and he started to yawn.

Toji kept rocking in the chair, gently stroking the baby's back. Megumi’s breathing gradually steadied, and his eyes closed. "Sleep tight, baby. Papa will watch over your dreams."

btw my ask inbox is open so feel free to share your thoughts about jjk!dads

and if u have any requests lmk!!🩷

so y’all really liked dad!gojo. how about papa!toji now hm??

dividers 2.

all rights reserved ©stellawish. do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

[kaiiswrld]

humbling the jjk men

featuring: satoru gojo, suguru geto, kento nanami, hiromi higuruma, choso, ryomen sukuna, toji fushiguro

[https-lovvers]

dad!sukuna with yuji who learned to walk

mornings in your house are never quiet anymore. not since yuji had learned how to run.

it starts with the sound of small, uneven footsteps padding down the hallway, followed by the unmistakable thud of something—usually him—bumping into the wall, the doorframe, or occasionally just… the floor. there’s always a pause after, like he’s deciding whether it hurt enough to cry, and then...

“mama!”

you don’t even get the chance to sit up properly before your bedroom door swings open and a tiny body launches at you with absolutely no hesitation, all warmth and energy and zero sense of self-preservation.

“good morning, baby,” you laugh softly, catching him before he can fully faceplant into you, hands smoothing over his messy hair as he climbs all over you like you’ve been gone for years instead of just asleep.

he giggles, pressing his face into your shoulder, already babbling about something you can’t quite understand yet, words tumbling over each other in half-formed excitement.

from the other side of the bed, there’s a low, unimpressed groan.

“kid’s gonna break his neck one day,” sukuna mutters, voice rough with sleep, one arm thrown lazily over his eyes.

yuji immediately perks up at the sound of his voice. “dada!”

and just like that, he’s climbing over you to get to him, tiny hands grabbing at sukuna’s shirt, knees digging into his side with absolutely no regard for personal space.

sukuna hisses quietly under his breath when a particularly sharp elbow lands somewhere unpleasant, but he doesn’t push him off. doesn’t even try.

instead, his hand comes up automatically, large and steady as it settles at the back of yuji’s shirt to keep him from toppling over.

“watch it,” he mutters, though there’s no real bite to it.

yuji just laughs, completely unbothered, and pats sukuna’s face like he’s checking to make sure he’s real. “up,” he demands, very seriously.

sukuna cracks one eye open, staring at him flatly.

“…no.”

yuji frowns. thinks about it, then leans forward and presses his entire weight onto sukuna’s chest.

there’s a pause. “…alright,” sukuna exhales, defeated, dragging a hand down his face as he finally pushes himself up slightly, still half-trapped under a very determined toddler.

you laugh softly from where you’re sitting, watching the whole thing unfold, your heart doing that familiar, warm little twist it always does when you see them together like this.

because sukuna who’s rough around every edge, who speaks in low tones and sharp words, who doesn’t have a gentle bone in his body for anyone else is so… careful with him.

he acts like he’s annoyed, like this is an inconvenience, like he’s only tolerating it out of necessity. but his hands never slip. his grip is always steady.

his eyes, when they rest on yuji for just a second too long, are softer than anything he’d ever admit out loud.

“hungry,” yuji announces, like he’s just made a groundbreaking discovery. sukuna snorts quietly. “course you are.”

you slide out of bed, stretching slightly before walking over, pressing a soft kiss to yuji’s cheek and then, just as easily, to sukuna’s temple. he doesn’t react much, just glances at you briefly, but his hand shifts, resting lightly against your hip as you move past him.

“i’ll make breakfast,” you say, already heading toward the kitchen.

yuji scrambles after you immediately, little feet pattering loudly against the floor, leaving sukuna sitting there for a second longer than necessary. he watches you go, then exhales, pushing himself up with a quiet grunt before following, slower, less chaotic, but just as certain.wq

by the time he reaches the kitchen, yuji is already standing on a chair you pulled up to the counter, watching you with wide, curious eyes as you crack eggs into a bowl.

“help,” he says, reaching for the whisk.

you smile, guiding his small hands carefully. “okay, but gentle, yeah?”

behind you, sukuna leans against the doorway, arms crossed, just watching. he doesn’t say anything. doesn’t need to.

the soft domestic noise, the quiet laughter, the way you bend slightly so yuji can see better, the way he leans into you without thinking—it all settles somewhere deep in his chest, heavy and unfamiliar in a way that would’ve bothered him once.

now, it doesn’t. now it just feels… right.

yuji suddenly turns, spotting him again, face lighting up instantly. “dada! help!”

sukuna huffs, pushing himself off the doorway and stepping forward, large hands easily covering yuji’s smaller ones as he takes over guiding the whisk. “like this,” he mutters, slower than usual, more deliberate.

yuji watches closely, completely fascinated. you watch them both.

for a moment, everything feels still in the best way possible. soft, warm, full in a way that doesn’t need words.

because somehow in all the chaos, in all the sharp edges and rough beginnings you ended up with this.

and sukuna, who never thought he’d want anything like it stands there beside you, one hand steady over your son’s, the other brushing lightly against yours, like he’s not letting either of you go anytime soon.

[selnvl]

the gentleness sukuna never named

he never thought he’d be good at this.

he’s good at many things- working with his hands, enduring long hours, surviving, protecting. he’s good at being sharp, decisive, unyielding when the world demands it. but this? the small, fragile life sleeping in the crook of his arm, breath puffing softly against his chest? this is something he’s still learning.

yuji is warm.

too warm, sometimes, bundled up in his little sleepwear, one tiny fist curled into the fabric of sukuna’s shirt like it belongs there. his hair sticks up at odd angles, soft and fine, and his mouth is parted just enough that every breath comes out with a quiet little sound that makes sukuna freeze every time, just to listen.

he doesn’t move.

his arm is starting to ache. his back too. he’s been standing in the doorway of the bedroom for a while now, rocking slightly, careful not to wake him. you’re already asleep, curled on your side, face relaxed in a way that still makes something settle deep in his chest even after all this time.

he thinks- this is it. this is the life he somehow stumbled into.

earlier, yuji wouldn’t sleep unless he held him.

he’d fussed and whined, tiny face scrunching up, arms reaching out blindly until sukuna lifted him without a word. yuji quieted instantly, cheek pressed against his chest, fingers tangling in his collar like he knew exactly where he was safest.

“traitor,” you’d whispered teasingly from the bed. “i carried him for nine months.”

sukuna had glanced at you, unimpressed. “clearly i’m more comfortable.”

you’d laughed softly, the sound still lingering in the room now, hours later.

carefully, sukuna steps inside and lowers yuji into his crib. he pauses when yuji shifts, breath hitching, but the baby only sighs and turns his head, one hand still clutching air as if he expects sukuna to be there even in his sleep.

sukuna stands there for a moment longer than necessary.

then he turns, strips off his shirt quietly, and slides into bed beside you.

you stir almost immediately, like you always do. your hand finds his chest automatically, fingers splaying over his skin.

“did he fall asleep?” you murmur, voice heavy with sleep.

“yeah,” he answers softly. “out cold.”

you hum, nestling closer. “good. he was fighting it.”

“takes after you,” sukuna mutters.

you smile against his shoulder. “that’s rude.”

he wraps an arm around you, pulling you in, his chin resting lightly at the top of your head. you fit there perfectly- always have. smaller, warmer, real in a way nothing else ever has been.

“you okay?” you ask quietly.

“yeah,” he says. then, after a pause, “just thinking.”

you tilt your head up to look at him, eyes soft even in the dim light. “dangerous.”

he huffs out a quiet breath. “he held onto me like i was gonna disappear.”

your expression gentles even more. “babies do that.”

“i wasn’t planning on it,” he says.

you don’t joke this time. you just brush your thumb slowly over his collarbone, grounding. “i know.”

mornings in your house start early.

yuji wakes with the sun, or sometimes before it, voice loud and demanding, like he has urgent business to attend to. sukuna grumbles every time, but he’s already sitting up before you can even offer.

“i’ve got him,” he says, swinging his legs over the bed.

you watch him go, heart warm in a way you never get tired of.

in the kitchen, yuji sits in his high chair, legs kicking happily as sukuna fumbles with breakfast. he’s not graceful- never has been- but he’s careful. meticulous. he cuts soft fruits into pieces small enough, tests the temperature of everything and wipes yuji’s hands even though they’re just going to get sticky again immediately.

yuji babbles at him, wide-eyed, occasionally smacking the tray for emphasis.

“yeah?” sukuna responds, dead serious. “you think so?”

yuji squeals.

“that’s what i was saying,” sukuna nods.

you lean against the doorway, arms folded, watching the two of them like it’s your favorite show.

“you know,” you say lightly, “people wouldn’t believe this version of you.”

sukuna glances back. “good.”

yuji throws a piece of banana onto the floor.

sukuna stares at it. then at yuji. “you’re on thin ice.”

yuji laughs, delighted.

you cover your mouth to hide your smile.

later, after breakfast, cleanup and a brief, unsuccessful attempt to keep yuji from crawling under the table, you sit together on the living room floor. yuji toddles between you, unsteady but determined.

he makes it three steps before tumbling forward.

you gasp. sukuna doesn’t.

he catches yuji easily, one hand scooping him up mid-fall like it’s nothing. yuji giggles wildly, thrilled.

“again,” sukuna says, setting him back down.

“you’re encouraging him,” you accuse.

“he’s gotta learn,” sukuna replies.

yuji takes a wobbly step toward you this time, arms stretching out, eyes bright.

“mama,” he says, soft and imperfect.

your chest tightens instantly. you drop down, arms open, catching him against you.

“hi, baby,” you whisper, kissing his hair. “good job.”

sukuna watches quietly, something unreadable in his expression.

later, when yuji finally naps, the house goes still in that sacred way only parents know. you sit together on the couch, legs tangled, your head resting on sukuna’s shoulder.

“he said mama today,” you say softly.

sukuna nods. “i heard.”

“he’s getting big,” you murmur.

“too fast,” sukuna replies.

you tilt your head to look at him. “that scares you?”

he doesn’t answer right away. then, “yeah.”

you take his hand, threading your fingers through his. “me too.”

he squeezes back, firm and sure. “we’ll handle it.”

you smile. “we always do.”

night comes gently.

yuji falls asleep between you on the bed, refusing his crib tonight, tiny body sprawled sideways, one foot pressed into sukuna’s ribs, one hand tangled in your hair.

“this is illegal,” sukuna mutters.

you laugh softly. “he won.”

sukuna shifts carefully, pulling the blanket up over yuji, then you. his arm settles around both of you, protective without thinking about it.

“you ever regret it?” you ask quietly. “this life?”

he doesn’t hesitate. “never.”

you close your eyes, smiling.

yuji stirs, making a small noise, and sukuna immediately stills, breath held, until he settles again.

in the quiet, with the world far away and your family warm and breathing around you, sukuna thinks- maybe this is what strength really is.

not power.

not fear.

just staying.

[laymegentlytorest]

🙏🧎‍♀️🥺 lord when’s it gonna be my turn

[bambismoon]

wicked twisted road uncle!kuna x reader

synopsis | when tragedy leaves sukuna a child to raise, you choose to stay and life changes quietly [college au]

warnings - [mdni] mentions of death + accidents | grief | just angsty but soft overall

main masterlist

❋

it wasn’t the warmth of the sun peeking in through the blinds or the ridiculous heat that radiated off your furnace of a boyfriend that woke you up. 

instead, it was the two year old that was very convinced that the world should be awake when he was. 

“up!” came the small, sleepy demand from your side of the bed. 

you cracked one eye open, room still relatively dark, your phone lighting up with a shining 5:24am on the screen. criminally early for two college students, but a norm for you and sukuna.

you spotted yuji’s small figure by the foot of the bed, padding across hardwood, socks mismatched and salmon hair sticking up in every possible direction, chubby cheeks indented with the evidence of his deep sleep. 

“mmm, hi baby…” you murmured, voice thick with sleep as watched the boy climb onto the bed without a word, knees digging into your stomach as he settled there like he belonged. 

“mornin’!” yuji chirped, patting your cheek with a soft, clumsy hand making you smile softly, despite yourself. that’s been his favorite word recently. 

you placed a hand on his little back to make sure he wouldn’t fall over before your eyes slipped shut again once more, pressing a gentle kiss to the tiny chubby hand that was still pressed against your face. 

his hands still faintly smelled of crayons and his favorite fruit snacks, familiar and comforting. 

“good morning, buddy…” you whispered, already shifting, already giving into his enthusiasm to start his day at this ungodly hour.

beside you, sukuna groaned, his large body still against yours, chest warming your back as his face dug into the side of your neck. 

his groan reverberated against your skin, rough and deep in his chest as he moved to roll onto his back, an arm thrown over his eyes, as if simply the concept of getting up was offensive. 

his voice came out scraped raw with exhaustion, “little shit loves to torture us.”

yuji turned instantly, beaming at the sound of his uncle’s voice before plopping back against your side, curling in closer as his chubby cheek rested against your stomach. 

you gently smiled, hand brushing against his soft tufts of hair, glancing at your glaring boyfriend, “don’t curse, ryo, he’s just a baby.” 

sukuna rolled his eyes, muttering a baby, my ass as you simply bit back a laugh as yuji’s big eyes watched you like you’d caused the sun to come up that morning. 

sukuna peeked through his fingers, one ruby eye glaring down at the traitor pressed so contently to your ribs and the look he gave yuji was all mock annoyance and tired affection. 

“menace.” he grumbled as his hand moved forward to run his fingers through yuji’s pink locks once before his hand rested on your hip, turning to you as his eyes went soft. always soft, only for you. 

yuji giggled once at sukuna who didn’t even do anything. nonetheless, the sound came small and unrestrained and it undid you both every time. 

“mornin’, baby.” 

your stomach fluttered at his morning voice, gruff and deep, it made you practically unravel every time. 

“morning, kuna.” 

and sukuna could say the same. his heart beat different when you spoke, as if you called to it in a different rhythm, a different sound his entire being couldn’t resist. 

you slid out from under the covers gently, lifting yuji with you and settling him on your hip as your feet met the cool hardwood floors. sukuna’s white shirt drowned your figure as you padded your way to the bathroom, yuji’s warm cheek resting against your collarbone as his big eyes watched you freshen up. 

you placed him on the counter then, allowing him to watch with giant curious eyes as you brushed your teeth and did your skincare, allowing him to babble words and somewhat string sentences that you didn’t fully understand but comprehended at the same time. 

as you began brushing your hair gently, big arms snaked around your waist, nose nudging your jaw as you blushed softly. 

“mmm, you aways smell so good…” sukuna practically inhaled you as you shook your head gently, small hands pushing against tattooed forearms that wouldn’t budge. 

meanwhile, yuji watched kuna with big wondrous eyes that mirrored his own, messy bed-head that mirrored his own and a dimpled grin that mirrored his own. 

your chest clenched with effort, affection and everything that lived in between. 

“ryo,” you murmured as sukuna finally stepped beside you, reaching over for his own toothbrush, eyes assessing yuji in his little dinosaur pajamas, “what time’s practice?” 

sukuna’s eyes met you through the mirror as you applied your lip mask, hand on yuji’s little belly to make sure he didn’t fall off the bathroom counter.

“eight,” sukuna answered through a mouthful of toothpaste as you picked up yuji once more, “y’got labs today?” 

you simply hummed in agreement, moving the little boy to your hip as you exited the bathroom to walk out the room, towards the kitchen. 

the apartment was still quiet, birds only just starting to chirp and the faint hum of cars outside filling the space between breaths. 

two bedrooms, a living room, toys always half put away and a sink that never stayed empty. contained chaos, you liked to call it. 

“hmm, what are we feeling, baby?” you murmured as yuji grinned his gummy grin at you, “eggs? yogurt? cereal?” 

“eggs!” yuji’s reply came instantly, excitement filling his little body as his hands played with the ends of your hair.

“cereal!” sukuna called from the bedroom before appearing at the kitchen doorway, his hair sleep-softened and falling into his eyes in messy tufts of pink. 

he watched you like he always did in the mornings, all quiet and unreadable, something heavy and warm sitting just behind his ribs. only for you. 

you glanced at him, unimpressed, “you’re not getting cereal.”

yuji gasped in solidarity as you smiled amusedly at the boy. 

sukuna huffed a laugh despite himself, pushing himself forward as he crossed the room, still barefoot and only clad in his black briefs. he moved towards you, arm snaking around your hip as he leaned down to press a kiss to the side of your head and your cheek before moving to your mouth, pressing a soft and slow kiss to your soft lips. 

yuji huffed gently, tiny hand pressing against sukuna’s cheek once, a little slap that didn’t faze him one bit, as he was used to yuji’s antics. sukuna still narrowed his eyes playfully at the boy, “stupid, kid. she’s mine.”

yuji frowned, “mine!” 

you rolled your eyes at the two boys, huffing before moving to get the eggs to make breakfast, “ridiculous.”

but something bloomed in your chest, tender as it warmed your heart like no other. 

sukuna grunted as you both moved around each other with practiced ease, domesticity dripping through every movement like it was craved into every space of your home and your beings.

you moved to slide yuji into his little chair, already peeling a banana to occupy him with as yuji watched with reverent focus. 

once the boy was distracted, shoving mushed banana into his mouth, you made your way back to the stove as sukuna prepared his protein shake. 

“i got practice in an hour,” sukuna stated, voice steady as you placed the pan on the stove, waiting for it to heat up, “i’ll drop him off at daycare on my way.” 

you nodded softly, cracking multiple eggs into the pan, because you knew sukuna alone would eat eight eggs himself. in this economy. 

“i have lectures and labs till twelve,” you replied gently as sukuna placed a hand on your hip to maneuver around you to the cabinet by you, “i’ll pick him up. hime said she’s free to watch him too cuz her lecture was cancelled.”

sukuna snorted, “yuji hates her.” 

you rolled your eyes with a faint smile, turning to glance at yuji who was watching both of you as if he was part of the conversation, humming to himself and feet kicking happily. 

it was true, yuji disliked utahime for reasons you weren’t quite sure about. maybe it was her consistently blank face, barely ever a trace of a smile, but really, you couldn’t be sure. 

sukuna leaned against the counter, arms crossed and eyes following you as you moved around with practiced ease and as your smaller self leaned up to reach for something too high, he was grabbing it before you could part your lips to speak. and in your rush, he’d place a hand on the corner of the cabinet to make sure your head wouldn't hit the wood. 

like second nature. everything was like second nature. 

some days, that terrified him. not because it was bad, but because it was good. 

because you didn’t have to be here. but you were. 

and thank fuck, because he wouldn’t survive without you. 

he reached out without thinking, big hands against the side of hair face, fingers in your hair and thumb stroking your brow, once, twice before you looked up from the bacon and eggs. 

and fuck, if his heart didn’t stop. 

your doe eyes looked up at him, still laced with sleep and something gentler, something benevolent that always warmed his chest with something he couldn’t name if he tried. 

he didn’t have to say anything for you to understand him, going back to the task at hand as he kept his hand on you. he had no real reason to touch you beyond habit. 

a habit that had long since outgrown itself. 

his thumb lingered at your brow, calloused pad smoothing over soft skin like he was claiming something fragile, grounding himself more than you. 

he watched as your pretty lashes fluttered, blinking up at him, the soft crease between your brows drawn by your focus smoothing over when your eyes met his. always his. 

“gonna burn the bacon, baby.” he murmured quietly before you gasped gently, glancing down at the pan as you scrambled to flip them over, huffing gently. 

“you’re distracting.” 

something eased in his chest at that. 

distracting meant present. real. here. 

sukuna stepped back with arms folded over his broad chest, leaning against the counter once more, eyes never leaving you. he counted things without realizing it. how many times your brows pinched, the way you tucked a stray hair behind your ear, the unconscious sway of your hips as you hummed along to whatever tune was stuck in your pretty head. 

he always memorized you liked that. just in case. 

yuji squealed from his chair, banana smeared across his mouth and fingers alike, “messy!”

“i see that.” you giggled, moving forward, hand brushing kuna’s bare abdomen as he moved to stand at the stove instead, with practiced ease. 

you were giggling and sharing words with the boy who grinned up at you as you wiped his hands gently, followed by his cheeks, nose crinkling when he tried to dodge you. 

“no! no!” yuji protested playfully as you shook your head. 

“yes.” you corrected calmly, like the word had never failed you once and it hadn’t as yuji conceded softly, big eyes watching you like something holy. 

sukuna watched the exchange with something dangerously close to reverence. 

you were steady, always had been. even when you were tired, even when the world demanded too much, even when you could have walked away from all of this, you stayed. 

you stayed with him. for him. 

then, eventually for yuji too. 

that thought sliced through him every time he remembered, sharp and sudden.

you didn’t need him. 

not financially. not practically. not even emotionally, all things considered. 

you stayed because you wanted to. 

and that terrified him more than if you’d been trapped. 

breakfast passed in fragments, as it always did with a chaotic two year old. 

yuji demanded more eggs, sukuna insisted he was running late while still shoving bacon and eggs into his mouth, you shoved more of your homemade sourdough onto a plate and reminded him that he couldn’t train on an empty stomach. 

by half-past seven, jackets were pulled on and shoes were found…eventually. 

yuji was wrangled into his tiny jacket, arms stiff as boards as he fought the entirety of the process. 

“cmon.” sukuna grumbled as yuji pouted, demanding that he should put on his own jacket, “you’re two. no.”

“two and big!” yuji corrected.

you bit your lip to keep from giggling at a crouching sukuna wrestling his two year old nephew to put on his jacket. 

sukuna sighed deeply, kneeled down as he guided yuji’s arms through the sleeves with surprising patience. his hands were careful, movements precise, as if yuji was something breakable even as the kid grumbled back. 

the morning air bit at your skin as you stepped out, slow as yuji padded along beside you and sukuna who’s hand ghosted your lower back through your little trench coat. 

sukuna loaded his duffel into the truck while you buckled yuji into his car seat, fingers lingering a second longer than necessary as you adjusted the straps. 

“you okay?” sukuna asked lowly, eyes assessing and noticing, always noticing. 

you glanced up, surprised, “yeah, why?”

he shook his head once, jaw tightening slightly, “just seem tired.”

“m’fine, ryo.” you smiled gently, leaning up to place a soft kiss against his jaw before moving to the passengers seat, the man’s eyes following with diligence.  

sukuna dropped off yuji first, the little boy fussy at the thought of leaving you both but you promise him you’d pick him up soon. 

then it was just the two of you in the car, sukuna’s hand warm against your thigh even through the wool of your coat, your smaller fingers playing with his hand, tracing the tattoo of your initial on his finger.

it was a warm and comforting silence that placed itself between you, both your eyes still tired but hearts full. 

campus came into view too quickly for your boyfriend’s liking. 

sukuna slowed anyway, like delay might stretch the moment. he pulled over where he always did, engine idling and hand tightening both on the wheel and your thigh as you sighed softly, unbuckling your seatbelt as he turned to look at you. 

his gaze softened, too much, all at once. 

and you knew that look more than anyone and it killed you every time. 

you hated when he looked at you like he was already grieving you, like he’d never see you after this. 

“hey,” you whispered gently, hand coming up to rest against his jaw, thumb caressing softly, sensing something beneath the quiet, “i’ll see you at home.”

he nodded once, leaning over to press a kiss against your lips, quick to deepen it further tongue peaking out to trace your bottom lip as his hands cradled your face like something precious. you pulled away gently to look at him but he merely pressed another kiss to your lips, then the corner of your mouth and your cheek. lingering and grounding, like words he didn’t trust himself to say. 

“don’t forget to eat.” he murmured against your lips, eyes still shut and pressing one more kiss to the soft plush of your lips before pulling away fully, scarlett eyes opening to gaze at you. 

you grinned gently, opening the door, “text me if practice runs late. don’t forget physio after.” 

he didn’t respond, watching you walk away until the doors of the building sallowed you whole and took you away from his eyes, where he could see you and know you were there. 

then he exhaled, slow and shaky. 

he knew he’d see you at home, he always did. 

he always would. 

❋

students buzzed past you as you entered the lecture hall that smelled faintly of coffee and disinfectant, your mind somewhere else completely as you made your way to your usual seat beside shoko. 

you placed your tote down, pulling out your ipad with a sigh as the overhead lights hummed softly, too bright for the slight headache setting in your temples. 

shoko was already seated, long legs stretched out beneath the table as she scrolled through her phone with a huff. 

“i swear,” she began, putting her phone down to fully face you, “if i see that man at the party tonight, i won’t even fucking glance at him!” 

you knew who she was talking about and you offered a simple hum in response, absenmindedly picking at your nails. 

“like actually, though!” you knew her words were futile and she’d end up right back in his bed, as she usually did, “i’m not giving in this time.”

and you hummed again, thoughtful. 

shoko finally studied you then, one dark brow lifting, “are you even listening to me?”

were you? not really. 

but her words pulled you bak into the room as you blinked softly, “yeah, yup. no giving in.” 

she stared at you for a beat too long, narrowed eyes assessing, “oh how times have changed. you don’t even know about the party tomorrow.”

you hadn’t even been to a party for a year, ever since the accident landed a one year old yuji in you and sukuna’s lap. 

something hit you then, heavy but not completely sad. something different. 

you didn’t answer your friend right away. instead, your mind slipped, unbidden, towards the salmon haired boy. boys, really. both of them.

you wondered if yuji was still fussy or if the teachers had managed to distract him with his favorite snacks and toys. you wondered if practice was already wrecking sukuna’s shoulder and if he ignored the ache like he always did. like he usually would. 

you hoped both of them would check the front pockets of their bags and see the little note you’d placed along with fruit snacks for yuji and a protein bar for sukuna. well, yuji couldn't read so you settled for a cute doodle instead.

you made a mental note to text sukuna during break. 

“helloooo!” shoko waved a hand to your face making you blink up at her, “are you good?” 

you nodded softly, “yeah, sorry. just thinking.”

shoko leaned back in her seat, eyes soft as she looked at you, “about?”

you hesitated for a moment and you hated that you did. 

because it proved that even you, deep down, in your subconscious or whatever resided deep in your chest knew that it was pointless to explain. that even though you were months younger than your friend, she’d never understand any of it. 

what were you thinking about? you were thinking about dinner. about yuji’s pediatric appointment next week. about whether yuji would go down easy tonight or fight sleep like a menace. you thought about sukuna’s eyes when he watched you walk away this morning, like you’d leave the second he blinked. 

“just stuff.” you finally settled on. 

shoko studied you then, really studied you. the faint shadows beneath your eyes, the way your fingers absently travel the edge of your desk, like you were grounding yourself. 

“you’re different…” shoko stated softly, suddenly, not unkindly, “than even a year ago today.” 

and you smiled gently, not defensive and not sad, just honest. 

you knew you’d changed. the moment the accident happened, the moment yuji was on your doorstep with social services, you knew you had a choice. 

either choose sukuna and grow up way too fast or leave and live the way you were a year ago. 

“i know.”

she tilted her head, “you miss it? you ever wish you could go back?”

you considered the question for a beat. 

you loved the chaos of it all. the recklessness, the loudness, the carefree energy that screamed youth and the absolute pinnacle of college lfe. 

and now…the chaos was still there. but different. 

it was warmer, sticky handed and couldn’t let you sleep in past sunrise. it smelled like fruit snacks and laundry detergent and sukuna’s soap. it lived in routines you never, ever thought you’d crave or grow to fall in love with. 

“no…i don’t think so.” you said quietly, “i like…knowing where i’m needed.”

shoko rolled her eyes with a small laugh, “that is such an old people answer!”

you simply shrugged with a gentle smile of your own. 

the professor walked in then conversation faded into the distance as shoko leaned closer. 

“are you ever scared?” she whispered like she couldn’t let it go, “that you grew up too fast?” 

you turned to her slowly, wide eyes soft as you considered it. 

yes, you did grow up too fast, yuji barging into your life when you and sukuna were still twenty and reckless and somewhat negligent. 

that had changed overnight. 

when the news came, when sukuna’s brother and wife had gotten into an accident and sukuna was listed as the official godparent, there was no doubt in your mind that you would stay.

but sometimes, you wished things were different. not that you didn’t want yuji, you loved the kid more than anything. but your mind couldn’t help but think about the future where yuji wouldn’t have his actual parents, where he’d grow to resent it all. you. maybe. 

you though of sukuna, twenty and carrying the weight of the world like he’d been born with it placed over his shoulders. you thought of yuji’s sleepy grin this morning, utterly unbothered by how strange and fragile life could be. 

“sometimes.” you admitted, then softer and truer, you whispered, “but i wouldn’t change a thing.”

the lecture blurred after that. you took notes the best you could with your mind drifting every few minutes. back home, back in sukuna’s car, back to the way he’d kissed you like he was anchoring himself to the idea that you’d return.

a year ago, your biggest worry was passing your finals. 

now, it was whether the people you loved were okay. 

you glanced down at your phone, the wallpaper blinking back at you. 

a picture taken just this summer at the fair photo booth. 

four pictures of you sukuna and yuji. one of you all grinning, yuji having sticky cotton candy residue on his adorable cheeks. sukuna merely had a smirk on his face as he gazed at the camera lazily. the next was all of you with your tongues out, sukuna’s tongue piercing glinting in the light as yuji’s little face merely mimicked the face you’d made. the third was softer, quieter, of sukuna holding yuji up between you, both of you placing a kiss on one of his chubby cheeks as his eyes widened, squealing at the flash. 

the last was your favorite. sukuna had softly squeezed your side, making you giggle harder than you’d meant to as both sukuna and yuji looked at you, softness and warmth in their gaze. sukuna wasn’t smiling, merely watching you like the sound of your laugh had resurrected him. and yuji was sporting a gummy grin, as if he couldn’t help but mirror your happiness. 

your chest filled, warm and sudden. 

you didn’t mind at all. 

❋

“can someone tell me why the theme is cowboy sluts?” gojo groaned as he stretched on the mat, a scowl painting his pale features, “that’s not even creative! now, cowboy pillows, that’s where it’s at. we’d see tits all ni-“

“shut up, gojo,” geto tutted with a shake of his head as he used the foam roller for his leg, utterly tired of satoru’s complains. 

frankly, sukuna couldn’t care less about any of it. 

he had mastered the art of blocking out his friends when they spoke about trivial shit like this, stuff that was once everything, now amounting to nothing. 

sukuna pulled his pump cover off, tossing it into his duffel by the bench. his hands shoved the hoodie inside, fingers softly brushing against a small folded piece of paper. 

his mouth tilted just a bit, chest constricting in the way it always did when it came to you. 

don’t forget to stretch, pls! and drink water! and come home asap. we love you ♡

his chest practically caved in with the effort of his beating heart. fuck, he loved you. 

a note that was so familiar, notes you’d been placing in his gym bags everyday since freshman year, still illicit the same lovesick reaction from him. he was pathetic. 

except the notes changed recently, a year ago to be exact. 

what was once i love you transitioned into we. we. 

as in you and yuji. 

like it was obvious, natural, second-nature. like he didn’t carry a sense of guilt from it all every second of his day. 

“yo, sukuna,” gojo called out, “why don’t you and the missus come for a change? you could use the break.” 

and the words shouldn’t have irked him as much as they did. maybe it was simply because it was gojo’s stupid ass uttering them. 

but something in his gut twisted, irritation twinged like a rock stuck in his shoe. 

like something he could constantly feel but tried to ignore for his own comfort.

because you could use the break. you could use every moment of peace he’d robbed you of the moment he took yuji in.

he couldn’t let anyone else do it, he was legally the godfather. plus, they had no immediate family but his grandfather and he was too old to care for a one year old. 

he always felt guilt for it, but he did look. he tried to find a way out, any world where you and him could just stay the way you were. no rush of responsibilities forcing your relationship out of whack. no chance that you might leave. no world where you wouldn’t pick him. 

all the while, he remembered you being in the other room with yuji, feeding him and singing him soft lullabies. he wasn't aware then that you’d already made your choice. 

that your soul had already shifted, that your mind made room and your heart opened up to the little pink haired boy that resembled the man you loved too much for his own good. 

sukuna stripped you of your youth, at least that’s how he saw it. 

“nah, man.” sukuna’s word were sharp, simple, practically holding a sign to gojo to shut the fuck up and don’t push. 

but he always had an inkling that gojo couldn’t fucking read. 

“oh come on, bro!” gojo whined, “you both haven’t been to a party in ages. and i know utahime can watch yuji today-“ 

“i said no. drop it.” sukuna’s words were low, venomous, coated with defenses he was all too aware of. insecurities and worries pointed out like a flaw he tried his best to conceal. 

sukuna didn’t gauge his reaction as he stood instead, continuing to stretch out his shoulder with a small plate, feeling the dull ache already settling deeper there. he welcomed it, got used to it. but also took care of it, because he promised you he would. 

he hated his mind. he hated his mind since he was younger but he hated it especially since his brother had passed and his life was thrusted into this abyss he couldn’t find light in. 

but he didnt have to. you were it the whole time. 

it took sukuna two months to hold yuji. it took four for him to finally change a diaper and it took six for him to finally be able to put the boy to sleep. 

and that only dug the whole that held his guilt even deeper, deeper. 

because you never complained once. 

you changed every diaper he avoided, put him to sleep when yuji cried hours into the night while sukuna laid awake in your room, chest tight and eyes unblinking. you bathed him, fed him and took him to every appointment when sukuna was too busy. 

too busy grieving. grieving his bother, grieving for yuji but most of all, grieving you. 

the whole situation fucked him up in the head. it was like a ticking time bomb planted in his home and he was never aware of when it’d go off. 

fucking sick and cruel and it made him want to throw up in anxiousness. 

when would you leave? 

because you couldn’t stay, no, you wouldn’t. 

you were only twenty two and basically a mother. you weren’t even married. 

you had been dating sukuna for three years when the accident happened. serious? yes. enough to raise a child with him? no. 

most nights he wished you’d have just left that same night the lawyers and social services had shown up. alas, you never did. 

and he wasn’t sure what was worse. if you’d have left or the torturous wait. 

“you good?” geto’s words, laced with something soft and sympathetic. 

sukuna nodded once, despising the sympathy more than anything. 

coach barked about some exercise and he was grateful for the distraction. except, you were never quite as far as he’d hoped you’d be sometimes. 

every time he stilled, every time his body stoped moving, he thought of you. you. you. 

how your hair would brush against your cheeks as you listened to the lecturer, brow furrowing as you took notes, your pretty eyes all wide and focused. he wondered if you remembered to drink water, if you’d eaten anything or just picked at some disgusting nutrition bar. 

sukuna wondered if you were thinking of him like he did you. if you always felt his absence like he craved to never feel yours while simultaneously wishing you’d grant him it. 

ryomen sukuna was a selfish man. 

because even though he knew it was right to let you go. to let you carry out your youth without the burden of taking care of a kid that isn’t yours, of skipping lectures and missing labs because yuji’s sick, of spacing out in tests because you wondered if sukuna was okay. he wished he could rid you of every single worry. 

but that would mean ridding himself of you. your eyes, your warmth, your pretty face and the way you made something in him ache in the best way. 

and he couldn’t do it. 

if you had left that night like he sometimes laid at night hoping you did, yuji wouldn’t be here. he’d be in some foster home, sukuna was sure of it. because the pain of grief would have killed him, he was sure. 

you had saved him, not yuji or divine intervention, it was you. 

the thought lodged into his chest like a splinter. 

you didn’t have to stay. but you did then and every day since. 

and when practice ended, he didn’t think of a party or an exam, he thought about getting home. back to yuji, back to you. because he had people waiting on him now, counting on him. and fuck, if that wasn’t the scariest thing ever. 

and if it wasn’t enough to keep him alive. 

❋

the moment sukuna stepped foot into the apartment, his chest stilled. 

it was overwhelmingly warm, not literally, but warmth that was so grounding, it made his shoulders sag before he could think too hard. he placed his keys in the little hook by the door, resting against your own with a soft clatter. he kicked his shoes off without looking, duffel slipping from his grip to land by the wall with a dull thud.   

his shoulder rolled once as he winced, then again. 

the sound came next, a soft babble, high-pitched and excited. the sound was punctuated by your voice, low and soothing, threaded with patience even as you scolded gently. 

“no, baby, it’s hot.” you murmured, “we look with our eyes only.”

sukuna followed your voice, as he always did. as he always would, whatever and whenever.

and there you were. freshly showered, he could smell your familiar scent, fresh and comforting. your hair was damp and sukuna’s large shirt covered the expanse of your otherwise nude body, slipping off one shoulder as you stood barefoot against the floor.  

yuji was perched on your lip like he belonged there, as if it was the only place he’d ever known. one chubby arm looped itself around your neck, gripping strands of your hair while the other was clutching onto a wooden spoon sukuna knew you’d given to preoccupy him. 

your playlist was low in the background, wicked twisted road being your chosen song of the night as you hummed softly, the rasp and chords filling the gentle quiet of the kitchen.

yuji looked up when sukuna entered, face lighting up the second he spotted his uncle, eyes wide and shining, “kuna!”

the word hit him square in the chest. 

sukuna didn't answer right away, simply standing there, observing, taking it in like a man who didn’t quite trust that if he blinked, it wouldn’t all disappear. 

his eyes were on you. always you. waiting for you to turn, too look at him so he could look at you right back. to make sure you were still here, choosing him, wanting him at least half as much as he wanted you. 

and turn, you did. your doe eyes found him immediately and something in your posture softened the moment you did. relief flickered across your face so quickly, you didn’t even notice it yourself. but he did. and fuck, did he feel it right back. 

“you’re home,” you smiled softly, warm and pretty. like the sentence meant everything. like it was a promised fulfilled. 

yuji wriggled in your arms excitedly, little shrieks leaving him as the spoon flailed dangerously close to sukuna’s face as the little boy reached out for him, “up! up!” 

sukuna’s mouth twitched, eyes rolling as he moved closer, snatching the boy up with one big hand easily before resting him against his chest. the kid squealed as he was hoisted into the air, giggling bright and loud as sukuna pressed a kiss against the tuft of soft pink, eyes gazing at you through his lashes. 

your gaze lingered on the two boys, soft, aching and reverent. 

sukuna felt it all, the way your eyes held him like he was something worth keeping, worth choosing over and over again. 

and that scared him more than anything. 

“dinner’s almost ready,” you said gently as you turned back to the stove, “made your favorite.”

of course you did. 

yuji began whining once more, apparently already tired of his uncle and needing you once more. just like sukuna. 

he watched the way yuji reached out instinctively and how you reached back just as easily, fingers brushing his small back without interrupting your stirring. 

seamless. too seamless. 

domestic in a way that felt carved rather than learned. 

he moved forward then, broad chest against your smaller frame, hand on the bare skin of your hip as you softened against him. 

“you stink,” you murmured, head tilting back to gaze up at him with wide and amused eyes, “shower before dinner.” 

sukuna smirked gently, leaning down to peck your nose, then your cheek, then leading kisses all the way to your mouth and stayed there. 

even as yuji squealed in a possessive protest, chubby hand slapping sukuna’s bad shoulder as if he knew, sukuna barely flinched. 

he deepend the kiss even more, tongue licking your bottom lip before plunging itself into your mouth with fervor. 

yuji had already given up, cheek pressing against your neck as sukuna cupped your jaw, maneuvering your face to deepen the kiss further. 

you hummed, pulling away with pink swollen lips that matched sukuna’s. he breathed against you for a moment as you tried to catch your breath, planting slow kisses across your neck and collarbone. 

“i’ll shower…” he murmured against your lips once more, kissing you deeply once more before finally allowing you turn back to the food. 

“thank god.” you murmured teasingly, shooting him a menacingly hot smirk as he shook his had. 

there were a thousand things sitting on his tongue. 

i missed you. 

i hate leaving. 

i’m constantly afraid you’ll get tired of me. of us. 

i’m scared you’ll wake up one day and realize this isn’t the life you wanted. 

he said nothing. instead, he reached out one more time, hand big against your waist it like he needed proof you were real. 

the chaos was real. of all the things said and not. 

it was tangible, sticky and loud and most days, so fucking exhausting. 

and it was yours. 

❋

ahhh a little one-shot of uncle!kuna for yall 🥹🥹 i was super inspired by the concept and loved the idea so wanted to make my own version !!

i think a drabble for it aint me babe is next!!

as always lmk what u thinkkkk

art by the super talented @/to00fu !!

[laymegentlytorest]

This broke my heart and mended it and placed a lil hello kitty bandaid on it afterwards.

[angst-lvr]

˜°•.ʟɪᴋᴇ ɢʟᴜᴇ•°”˜

Hi :p

just a cutie little short fic as promised, dad!toji, pregnant!reader, baby!megumi

I'm kinda obsessed with writing Toji, I desperately need someone to tell me to write someone else (i beg)

cw: none, fluffy fic, angst if you like squint really really hard and turn it sideways and upside down

wc: 1k

kinda proofread (im too lazy to proofread like ever)

----------------------------------

"...Toji, I'm trying to make dinner," you sigh, feeling the overwhelming warmth of his beefy arms wrapped around you, whilst Megumi rested on your hip, cheek smooshed against your neck.

Not to mention being 7 months pregnant.

Megumi's arms were slung across you, one on your chest, the other bunched against your arm, his body fully pressed against you. His little face pushed so far against you it was if he was attempting to fuse bodies with you. And he'd been on your hip for nearly an hour, a tantrum erupting every time you even thought of the idea of putting him down.

He adopted that habit from his father.

Always clinging to you.

Your little monkey, you'd joke.

Toji's head was pressed against your temple, peering over your shoulder on the opposite side as 'gumi, arms stretched around your belly, thumbs rubbing over your stretch marks. His weight rested against your back, and occasional kisses pressed across you, the main form of affection he preferred.

"But you look so good, ma..." he grumbled, his voice husky. He smelt faintly of sweat and the fancy cologne you made him wear.

"And I'm hot, my feet are throbbing, and I haven't gotten to shower in almost 2 days. I'm gross"

He hummed in acknowledgement, inhaling your skin. You weren't entirely sure if he was listening or if he just truly didn't care how disgusting you were. "Whatcha makin'?"

"Nothing for you if you can't get off me," you huffed, feeling Megumi tug on your shirt, strings of 'mama' escaping his lips, the agitation in your voice becoming greater.

You're overstimulated, with Megumi's clinginess getting worse by the day. Work was horribly draining. The heat of the stove was becoming unbearable, and Toji was the breaking point despite your love for him.

"Please," you murmured, your voice holding slightly more desperation.

That was his signal. He knew that tone.

You were on the edge of breaking.

Immediately peeling off you with a kiss in your hair, gracefully taking his son off your side despite his death grip on your tee, and whisking him away to the living room. All you could hear was the sounds of baby toys and toddler babble mixing with little giggles that made your heart squeeze.

You let your head hang slightly, your shoulders drooping. Your arms ached from the weight of Megumi, back tight and sore from your swollen stomach.

A quiet, exhausted sigh escaped you, but for some reason, you felt empty.

Cold.

You called Toji for dinner shortly after, taking that as your leave to shower and decompress. You stayed under the hot steam for what felt like hours. By the time you got out, Toji walked through the door, eyes glazing over you in his pajamas because none other would fit over your belly, sitting on the bed, eyes heavy and mood hanging low.

"You okay, ma?" He asked softly, the bed dipping by your legs, your feet being pulled into his lap, heavy hands gently working at the swollen soles.

Hair hanging across his forehead, familiar bags under his eyes, his own shoulders tense. He looked exhausted, his face more sunken than usual.

He'd been working nonstop. Granted, so had you, working your office job before coming home and having to care for Megumi whilst Toji would get home at unpredictable times.

But you knew his burnout mattered too.

You whimpered at the ache in your calves and feet. "Just tired..." you sighed, meeting his eyes, seeing the matching ache in his.

"Me too, ma. Me too."

Your hands rested on your belly; his eyes flicked down, studying your state, his head full of rampant thoughts. "Look so pretty."

Your eyebrows pinched, but you couldn't help the blush, small smiles cracking on both your lips. You felt disgusting, no makeup, hair up in a claw clip so Megumi couldn't tug it.

But he always knew how to make you swoon.

"Gumi already in bed?"

He shook his head, his hands travelling further up your thighs, dragging you into his lap. "Wanted his mama to read to him."

You sigh quietly, feeling him pepper kisses across your damp skin and hair, melting into his warmth. Your eyes fluttered shut, melting into him, settling into his thick thighs.

His hands rested against your belly, gently caressing your skin, feeling the soft kicks of your daughter.

"She been active today?" You nod against his lips, cupping his large hands, gentle fingers enlacing with his rough ones.

Soft pads travelled down the hallways, Megumi coming in, with a worried expression. Bunny plush in hand, mismatched pajamas you knew Toji picked out. Without a word, he waddled towards you, stumbled and hesitated in each step, tugging on 'Ji's pant leg.

"Mama.." he cooed, eyes sparkling with love, hands outstretched to you, all the innocence in the world in his sweet face.

Wild hair, toothy smile, puffy cheeks. The glimmer in his eyes that made your heart twist at the slightest thought of him growing up. Your baby.

Toji scooped him up, placing him against his other legs, that familar feeling filling your chest as you combed your fingers through his hair.

You turned towards your husband, pressing a kiss on the corner of his lips, right against his scar. His lips met yours for a split second. As if it was a reminder that you were there for eachother.

It felt your chest with a fuzzy feeling. The kind you got every time you saw him smile. When Megumi laughs. When they rest together on the couch.

That warmth.

No matter how exhausted you may be. How overwhelmed. How much you need to decompress or the overwhelming feeling to rip your hair out.

You knew your boys would be latched to you. Not to annoy you.

But rather to keep you grounded.

To laugh with you.

To smile with you.

To love you.

That night ended with your head on Toji's chest, his arm slung around you to keep you close, as close as you could be with your protruding belly. Megumi was passed out in his fathers other arm, cheek smooshed against Toji's pec. Small snores escaping his little lips as Toji watched, his face buried in your soft hair, his thumb gently tracing his son's back. His other hand mimicked, circles being traced on your waist.

Such soft actions for such rough hands.

But the faintest smile reached his lips, knowing he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

And you would repeat the cycle, everyday, with your small family all stuck together.

Like glue.

---------------------------------

no like seriously, someone tell me who else to write. force me to write someone else

[laymegentlytorest]

This is everything i want

[maaaari0]

Rudo as your baby — sfw, fluff.

★ Rudo had never known a mother's affection—there had never been a feminine presence in his life. He was raised solely by his adoptive father, and after losing him, he was cast out into the surface world. You, Enjin's girlfriend and a Giver, were on patrol with him when you spotted the boy amidst the rubble. You never expected your feelings for him to grow so strong once you started supervising him.

"Can we keep him?"

"He'll have to join the Cleaners soon. The kid's got talent." Enjin replied, leaning his arms on the balcony railing before bringing the cigarette to his lips.

"No... not like that."

"I'm not following you, woman." he said, raising an eyebrow. "You wanna adopt him, is that it?"

You didn't answer, but somehow, Enjin already knew. He just sighed. "My God."

★ Rudo was mesmerized the first time you ruffled his hair. His eyes widened, and he stood completely still for a moment, his stern expression slowly softening. Rudo closed his eyes and hugged you cautiously, still half-expecting rejection. When you didn't pull away, he stayed there, burying his face in your chest.

"Hey, love, have you seen—" Enjin's voice echoed through the room, but you quickly cut him off, raising a finger to your lips in a silent request. The blond stopped, a small smile forming as he saw Rudo nestled in your arms. "I'll come back later." he whispered before leaving the room.

★ The first time he called you "mom" was an accident. You were tucking him into bed, and he was already half-asleep. The word just slipped out. A heavy silence filled the room, followed by Rudo's deep embarrassment. But you just smiled, stroked his cheek, and said, "It's okay. You can call me that if you want."

He never said it again, and his cheeks still burned with shame whenever he remembered it.

★ Rudo became your "shadow." He didn't just watch you—he internalized a fierce instinct to protect you. On missions, he was always one step ahead, scanning the surroundings even though, as your apprentice, he should've stayed behind. If anyone dared raise their voice at you, Rudo would appear instantly at your side, hurling insults like a rabid dog. He didn't care what others thought of him; all that mattered was defending you.

"Say that about her again and I'll smash every one of your teeth, you bastard!" You held the boy back before he could lunge at the person, watching his arms and short feathers flail wildly. "Let me kill him!"

"Calm down, Rudo. It's alright." You then kissed the top of his head, and he stopped immediately. Rudo fell silent, drawing surprised glances from the others.

★ Rudo was still haunted by nightmares. Some nights, he'd appear silently at your bedroom door, wrapped in a teddy bear blanket, unable to sleep. You never said a word, just made space for him to lie down beside you. Enjin would grumble, cracking his eyes open as Rudo settled between the two of you. He'd raise a sleepy eyebrow, blinking slowly. You'd pull Rudo close, holding him snugly against your chest. Enjin said nothing and went back to sleep, too tired to fight his girlfriend for attention against that brat.

★ Rudo was used to having nothing, so when you gave him simple things—a warm meal, a clean shirt, or something old for him to restore—he'd freeze, unsure how to react. Little by little, you taught him that it was okay to accept kindness. He began treasuring those gifts with almost religious care, like priceless relics.

★ Rudo grew deeply worried whenever you got hurt. If you were attacked in front of him, he'd likely lose his mind and act completely irrationally. Later, in the infirmary, he'd sit in the chair beside your bed, his scarlet eyes filled with anguish and concern. He'd touch your hand, his face full of sorrow.

"Get better soon..." he'd murmur, small tears beginning to burn in the corners of his eyes.

★ Rudo misses you whenever you don't go on missions together. When he returns, he makes sure to tell you everything in detail, every little thing he experienced. He's still learning how to express himself, and for some reason, he finds it easier with you. Maybe it's your patience, or the fact that you never judge him, unlike some of the others. With you, he feels truly safe.

★ Rudo always smiles when you praise him. He gets all flustered, his cheeks tinted with a soft blush. One of his biggest goals was to make friends, and having you as his first friend felt like a huge achievement.

"Will we stay together forever?" he asked, his eyes shining with hope.

"Yes, forever," you replied, laughing softly as you tapped his hands.

Since he fell from the sky, he had never felt so whole. You made him feel welcomed, cherished. And deep in his heart, Rudo hoped to repay your kindness one day.

[laymegentlytorest]

No cuz he is literally my child. I birthed him

[seumyo]

NOTE. fem!reader

Inumaki was late. Running late, actually.

That fact alone made his stomach uneasy, panic settling deeper to his bones—which was far worse than any curse he has yet to face. This feeling gnawed at him constantly.

He sprinted down the street, his hair sticking to his forehead, scarf loose around his neck, and a paper bag slapping rhythmically against his thigh. His phone vibrated again in his pocket, and his heart clenched.

Late. I’m late. I promised I wouldn’t be late.

He skidded to a stop at a crosswalk, bouncing on the balls of his feet while the red light mocked him. His eyes flicked to the time again. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen whole minutes late for your date.

Inumaki squeezed his eyes shut for a second, breathing through his nose.

“Salmon…” he muttered, frustrated with himself.

It wasn’t even his fault, not entirely. Yuta needed help at the last minute. Then the train stalled. Then the bakery line had been absurdly long—but you loved that bakery. Loved the custard buns with the little smiling faces stamped into the dough. He hadn’t wanted to show up empty-handed.

But still. He hated being late for you.

The light turned green. Inumaki bolted across the street, nearly colliding with a couple, signing a quick, apologetic bow without stopping. He turned the corner into the small park where you’d agreed to meet, chest heaving. And then he saw you.

You sat on the usual bench you favored beneath the gingko tree, autumn sunlight filtering through golden leaves. Your legs dangling back and forth childishly, as if to pass the time, your hands resting in your lap as you watched pigeons peck at crumbs near your feet. Your hair was tied back with a ribbon today—one of the pastel ones he liked—and your hearing aids caught the light when you turned your head.

You weren’t even looking at your phone.

You never looked at your phone when you were waiting for him.

That somehow made the guilt worse.

Inumaki slowed to a walk, forcing himself to breathe, smoothing down his jacket as he approached. He raised his hand slightly, a silent wave.

You noticed him immediately. 

Your face lit up, eyes widening, lips curving into a smile so bright it felt like a physical impact to Inumaki’s chest. You stood up quickly, nearly knocking your bag off the bench, and signed with exaggerated clarity.

“You’re late.”

The words were sharp, but your smile ruined any attempt at severity.

Inumaki winced, shoulders hunching. He bowed deeply, hands moving fast as he signed back. 

“I’m sorry. Really sorry. I didn’t mean to. The train—then Yuta—and I brought you buns.”

He thrust the bag toward you like an offering.

You blinked, then laughed silently, shoulders shaking. You took the bag, peeking inside.

“The bakery buns?” you signed as you spoke. “The ones shaped like cats?”

He nodded vigorously. “Salmon!”

Your smile softened. You stepped closer, tapping his arm lightly to get his full attention, then signed more slowly, deliberately. “I wasn’t upset. I knew you’d come. You always do.”

Something warm bloomed in his chest. Inumaki thinks he should see a cardiologist soon with how often he feels his chest grow tight—as if his heart were doing backflips and Olympic-worthy somersaults. 

His ears went pink. He rubbed the back of his neck, then signed, smaller motions now.

“Still late.”

You tilted your head, studying him. Then you reached out and gently tugged his scarf straighter, fingers lingering just a moment too long. “Next time,” you signed, teasing, “I’ll deduct one bun per minute.”

His eyes widened in mock horror. “Fish flakes!”

You laughed again, the sound a soft, breathy thing he felt more than heard, and looped your arm through his. What good would it do if you didn’t tease your boyfriend over such little things?

“Come on,” you said. “Walk with me.”

You fell into step together along the park path, leaves crunching beneath your shoes. Inumaki adjusted his pace to match yours automatically, aware of how you leaned just slightly into him and how your fingers occasionally brushed his sleeve. He glanced down at you, then looked away quickly when he realized he’d been staring.

You caught him anyway.

You raised an eyebrow and signed, “What?”

Inumaki swallowed and signed back, hesitant. “You… look nice.”

You bit your lip softly, then bumped your shoulder into his. “You say that every time.”

“Salmon,” he replied earnestly. Because it’s true every time.

As you two walked a little farther, you then stopped suddenly, pointing at a small food stall near the pond. The vendor was arranging skewers, steam rising invitingly. The aroma was appetizing and definitely something you wanted to eat with him.

“Takoyaki?” you signed, hopeful.

Inumaki checked his wallet automatically and nodded. As if he’d go on a date with an empty wallet.

You ordered together, with you pointing and signing numbers while Inumaki handled the other stuff—like paying and telling the vendor to put a little spice on it, careful to speak only when necessary. When the vendor asked something else, you watched Inumaki’s face closely, reading the situation rather than the sound, and waited until he turned back to you.

“Did you say we’ll also want extra sauce?” you asked.

“Salmon.” Yeah.

Your eyes sparkled, clapping your hands with delight.

Inumaki smiled, watching your hands move as you told him a story—content, expressive, and beautiful. He loved the way you talked to him, the way your whole body participated in your words. Being with you had made him more aware, more deliberate. He didn’t rely on sound with you; he relied on attention. And it’s also nice to be able to communicate without using his safe words.

You sat on a low stone wall to eat, sharing a paper tray of takoyaki. You blew gently on one, then held it out to him.

“Open,” you told him.

He leaned in obediently, taking the bite, careful not to drop anything. Sauce smudged the corner of his mouth. You laughed and wiped it away with a napkin, fingers brushing his lips. Inumaki paused, his heart pounding at the simple yet intimate action.

You, of course, noticed this. 

Your teasing smile softened into something pleased. You signed slowly.

“Did you have an eventful day?”

He nodded. “Mentaiko.” Something like that.

You reached for his hand without hesitation, lacing your fingers together. Your thumb traced small circles over his knuckles. “You always try so hard,” you told him. “For everyone. Especially me.”

He shook his head quickly, signing back, earnest and a little clumsy with emotion.

“I want to. You make it easy.”

You blinked, clearly caught off guard, then laughed softly, ducking your head.

“That was smooth, Toge,” you signed.

His ears turned red again. “Salmon…”

You finished eating, fingers a little bit sticky, with laughter lingering between you. As you stood to leave, you squeezed his hand once. “Next time,” you started, playful again, “try not to sprint through the city like a maniac. Ok?”

He lifted his scarf to cover his mouth, then signed. “No promises.”

You hummed, leaning up to press a quick kiss to his cheek. Even through the fabric, he felt it.

Inumaki stood there for a second longer than necessary, watching you walk ahead with a carefree aura, sunlight catching in your form, heart light despite the late start.

He’d been late.

But he’d shown up.

And with you smiling back at him, hand reaching for his again, it felt like he always would.

Because showing up matters.

SEUMYO © 2026. PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[velvetghoul]

The Spark You Forgot

Reader x Yuji Itadori | 18+ MDNI

cw: emotional vulnerability, grief mentions, domestic setting, adult characters (yuji, 27), heavy kissing, suggestive intimacy, clinginess, affection, crying, mutual pining, reunion after years, slow burn turned heated, soft whimpering, needy behavior, tenderness, healing themes

The grocery market was loud in that harmless way, carts clicking, kids complaining, someone sampling grapes like they were entitled to it. You were only trying to choose apples. Only apples. And yet the stall had seven different kinds and you had been staring at them for way too long.

You sighed under your breath. “Why is this so hard…”

A low voice behind you, warm, gentle and surprisingly deep answered as if it belonged to your life.

“If you like something sweeter, try the Fuji. They’re always good this season.”

You turned.

And your heart nearly fell out of your ribcage.

“…Yuji.”

Everything in you went silent.

He stood there in a black hoodie, hood down, messy pink hair grown out, shoulders broad enough to block the entire aisle. His face was familiar and completely different at the same time, jaw sharper, eyes tired but still soft underneath, a faint healed scar beside his lip. Older. Quieter. He looked like someone who had been worn down at the edges but held together anyway.

He blinked once, twice, like he wasn’t sure you were real either.

“Hey,” he breathed. And god, his voice really was deeper. “It’s… really you.”

You stepped back to take him in and he was huge.

Not just tall. Big everywhere. Built like life kept throwing things at him and his body learned to hold it.

“You—” You pointed at him wordlessly. “You went from five-seven to what, six-three? In nine years? Goddamn, you are big!”

His ears immediately flushed red.

“I—uh—yeah. Growth spurts are weird?” He rubbed the back of his neck, exactly like he used to when he was embarrassed. “You grew too—I mean—not grew— you look… different. Not in a bad—I mean—”

He was mortified. Completely flustered.

And suddenly he looked like the sweet, awkward boy from school again, the one who saved you seats in the cafeteria and always shared his snacks and laughed too loud at your jokes.

Your chest tightened.

“I can’t believe it’s really you,” you whispered.

He smiled so tiny, hesitant, almost shy but it faded quickly, like he didn’t know if he was allowed to keep it.

“You’ve been gone a really long time,” he said softly. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

There it was—the missing spark.

The brightness that used to pour out of him effortlessly, now dim, tucked underneath something heavy you couldn’t name.

You held up an apple. “So these are the sweet ones?”

He laughed under his breath, a small, rough sound, like he wasn’t used to laughing anymore. “Yeah. Fuji’s always good.”

You tossed it into your basket. “You always had good taste.”

He froze. “That—wow. You remembered that?”

“I remembered a lot of things,” you said gently.

Yuji looked away for a second, jaw tightening the way people do when emotion comes too fast.

“I… really missed you,” he admitted quietly, almost like he didn’t mean to say it out loud.

You felt something warm bloom in your chest.

“I missed you too.”

He stared at you, the full weight of nine years hitting him in the face and for the first time all day, his shoulders loosened.

“Are you..living nearby?” he asked.

“Yeah. Just moved back.”

He exhaled through his nose, a shy, hopeful smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “That’s… nice.” And then, softer: “Really nice.”

“Do you want to walk with me? I still need to shop. You can give me more fruit recommendations since you’re apparently an expert now.”

His ears turned pink again. “I—yeah. I’d like that. A lot.”

You looked at his face for a second, almost studying him, before he pulled his hands out of his pockets. Without hesitating, he reached for your basket.

“Here, let me.”

“Oh? Sweet. Thank you.” You slipped your arm through his, warm against the thick fabric of his hoodie. “So..how’s life?”

He exhaled slowly, eyes lowering toward the aisle floor as you both walked. “Lonely, mostly,” he admitted. “I kinda lost everyone. I mean—people move, people change, people leave. I check in with Higuruma sometimes, but he moved away so… well—”

“Yeah, but you don’t see him. I get that.”

“Yeah.” He nodded once. “It’s okay. It’s just work—gym—sleep—and then the cycle goes on.”

There was no bitterness in his voice. Just exhaustion. A quiet acceptance that didn’t belong on someone his age.

Your hand tightened ever so slightly on his arm.

“I should’ve reached out to you sooner,” you said softly. “I basically just ghosted you when I got twenty-one. But I lost my phone, so your number was gone. And I thought about you often. Even four years later.”

Yuji stopped walking for half a second—just a hitch, a tiny break in his stride. When he looked at you, something warm and stunned flickered in his eyes. “You… thought about me?”

“Of course I did.” You nudged him gently, smiling. “You were one of the brightest parts of my teenage years.”

He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple shifting. His ears went even pinker.

“…I thought about you too,” he said quietly. “A lot.”

You bumped his shoulder with yours. “Look at us being twenty-five and twenty-seven. Old. Getting groceries instead of annoying Nanami.”

Yuji’s laugh exploded out of him, like sunlight cracking through cloud. “Oh god—Nanami,” he groaned, a hand coming up to rub his forehead. “We used to drive him insane.”

“He aged twenty years because of us.”

“He aged twenty years because of me,” Yuji corrected, laughing again. “You were the normal one. I was the problem.”

“You were adorable, not a problem.”

He went silent. You didn’t realize you’d said it out loud until you looked up and saw his expression—eyes wide, mouth soft, like the words landed somewhere he wasn’t prepared to protect.

“…Adorable?” he echoed under his breath.

“Still are,” you said, teasing lightly but meaning every bit of it.

His grip tightened slightly on the basket. Not too much. Just enough that you felt it.

“Can I—” he began, voice suddenly careful, almost shy. “Can I walk you home later? If that’s okay.”

You lifted your chin. “Only if you let me annoy you the whole way.”

His smile grew shaky at the edges but real.

Yuji walked beside you the whole way out of the market, the grocery bag in one hand and your basket now tucked easily under his arm. He kept adjusting his hoodie like he suddenly cared how he looked. His steps were confident—his energy wasn’t. Every now and then he glanced at you as if checking you were still there.

When you reached the street, he cleared his throat.

“So, um… which way am I walking? Unless you secretly moved into another country.”

You nudged his arm. “Relax. Just two blocks left. You’re not being kidnapped.”

He gave a tiny soft and nervous laugh.

“You could kidnap me. I wouldn’t fight back.”

You snorted. “Wow. Still desperate to impress me, huh?”

His ears immediately flushed pink.

“That’s—no—I didn’t mean—” His voice tripped over itself. “I’m just being polite.”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

He almost stumbled on the sidewalk.

The walk was quiet for a second—the comfortable kind. Then: “…I’m glad you came back,” he said quietly.

You looked up at him. “Yeah? You sound thrilled.”

“I am,” he insisted, then softened the next word. “Really.”

There it was, that faint spark again, buried in his voice, quieter but still warm enough to feel.

By the time you reached your building, he had gone fully silent. His shoulders pulled tight, like he was gearing up for a fight but didn’t know what kind.

You pushed the front door open and held it. “You can breathe, you know. I’m not gonna bite.”

“You might,” he muttered.

Inside the stairwell, you glanced back at him. “Yuji. You’re huge. And strong. And could probably bench-press my entire apartment. What exactly are you scared of?”

His face went bright red. “I’m not scared.”

“You’re terrified,” you said sweetly.

“…Maybe.”

You huffed a laugh, walking up the stairs. When you reached your door, you turned to him. “You wanna come in with me?”

There was a full second where Yuji completely froze—like a man buffering. Then, faster than you expected, he nodded.

“Yes. I don’t have anything to do, so yeah, give me the bags.”

That smile—small but finally genuine—pulled across his face. You handed him the heavier bag and he took it effortlessly.

“You’re strong,” you said, pretending to inspect him. “Gross.”

He really laughed this time—head dropping for a second like he wasn’t used to letting the sound out. As you unlocked your door, you felt him behind you shifting his weight from foot to foot, clearly psyching himself up for something. The bags rustled.

Then, in the softest, least smooth voice in existence: “Um—can I—could I… maybe… get your number?”

A pause.

“I mean—again. Since you lost it. Not because—well, yes because—but not—like—”

You stared at him. “Yuji.”

He looked at you, panicked. “Yes?”

“Oh my god, you’re adorable.” You stepped closer, plucked your phone from your pocket, and shoved it into his hand. “Here. Save your number before you combust.”

He stared down at your phone like it was a newborn he was scared to drop.

When he handed it back, your screen displayed Itadori 🍓.

You raised a brow. “Strawberry?”

“…I panicked.”

You smiled way too fond for someone you supposedly hadn’t seen in nine years. “Still the sweetest man ever,” you murmured.

His breath caught. And for the first time that evening, he didn’t look away.

He leaned back on the counter, arms crossing automatically as you organized your fridge, the plastic crinkling every time you shoved something in too hard. Your voice filled the little kitchen—light, sarcastic, telling him about old classmates, how half of them either moved, disappeared, or fell off the planet entirely.

“Everybody either left or died,” you muttered, shoving a jar of kimchi onto the shelf. “Life is shit sometimes. What can you do.”

You expected a snort. A laugh. A soft hum of agreement.

Instead—nothing.

Silence thickened behind you. Too heavy. Too still.

You froze with a carton of strawberries in your hand, head slowly lifting. Yuji wasn’t looking at you anymore.

He had turned toward the small window over your sink, jaw clenched, eyes glassy—not blinking. His shoulders rose once, sharply, like he was trying to inhale too much air at once.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping away from the fridge and toward him. “Yuji?”

He didn’t answer. Just wiped the back of his hand quickly across his cheek.

“Sorry,” he muttered—voice cracked, quiet. And damn. He really was a pretty crier. His lashes wet, cheeks flushed, mouth trembling just slightly.

You set the strawberries down and reached out, cupping his face without hesitation. His breath hitched the moment your palms touched his cheeks—like the warmth alone broke whatever was holding him together.

“You don’t have to be alone with all that, okay?”

Your thumb wiped away the tear that escaped anyway. Another one followed. Slow, heavy, rolling down the curve of his cheekbone.

He squeezed his eyes shut, like it hurt to look at you.

“…Everybody close to me died,” he whispered. “I thought you did too. After you stopped texting me.”

Your chest tightened so hard it almost hurt.

“What?—” you started.

“I waited,” he said quietly, voice shaking. “I kept checking. Every day for months. And then I thought maybe you just didn’t want anything to do with me anymore. And that was fine, it was fine, I mean—people leave—people always leave—”

“Hey.”

Your hands slid to hold his jaw gently, guiding him to look at you. His eyes opened slowly, wet and devastated in the softest way. “I didn’t leave you. I lost my phone. I swear to you—I thought about you for years.”

He blinked—one slow, disbelieving blink.

He looked twenty-seven, but for a moment he also looked like the teenager you remembered, hoping too hard, hurting too deeply.

“I really thought you were gone,” he whispered.

You brushed away the tear that fell next.

“I’m here,” you said. “I’m right here.”

His breath stuttered. Quiet, shaky, breaking open in your hands. And finally, he let himself lean forward, just barely, forehead brushing yours like he was begging for permission to fall apart.

You stayed exactly where he needed you.

“I am here. Yeah?” you whispered, brushing your thumb slowly along his jaw.

Yuji swallowed, eyes half-closed, leaning into the touch like he didn’t even realize he was doing it. He nodded—barely, but enough. The kind of nod that meant please don’t move, please don’t stop, please stay.

And you both felt it.

The distance, so small it was practically nothing, was dangerous.

You both knew it.

You both ignored it.

His breath shook as he exhaled. A tiny sniff, soft and embarrassed, but he didn’t pull back. If anything, he leaned closer. His forehead almost touched yours again, his hands trembling at his sides like he didn’t know where to put them.

Then, like a decision cracked open inside him—he leaned in.

The kiss was gentle at first. Careful. Testing. His lips warm against yours, just a press, so soft you almost wondered if he’d change his mind.

But then his hands moved.

One slid to your cheek, the other to the back of your head—big, warm palms cupping your face as if he was afraid you’d disappear the second he let go. The soft kiss deepened, grew needier, desperate in a quiet way. His breath hitched against your mouth, and he kissed you again, firmer this time, like something in him broke loose.

Like he needed this.

Your fingers curled in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him in without thinking. He let out the smallest sound—half sigh, half relief—as if he’d been holding himself together for years and your mouth against his finally let him breathe.

When he pulled barely a centimeter away, his forehead rested against yours, breath warm and uneven.

“I’ve wanted to do that since we were kids,” he whispered, voice rough. “I thought I’d never get the chance again.”

His thumbs brushed your cheeks. You didn’t know if he was touching you or grounding himself.

Maybe both.

And then—eyes soft, lips swollen from kissing you—he leaned in again, slower this time, waiting to see if you’d stop him.

You didn’t.

He just kissed you harder.

Not rough but with a weight behind it, a years-deep ache finally given permission to breathe. His fingers slid from your cheeks to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, holding you like he wasn’t sure the world would let him keep you if he loosened his grip even a little.

Your hands moved to his waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his hoodie. The second you touched him there—gentle, almost grounding, his breath hitched against your mouth. His whole body shivered once, barely noticeable unless you were this close.

“I really missed you,” he whispered between kisses, voice raw enough to break something in you.

You kissed the tip of his nose softly, making him inhale a shaky laugh. “I missed you too, Yuji.”

He blinked, eyes half-lidded, lashes still damp from earlier. Something fragile flickered across his face—hope, disbelief, relief all tangled together.

“This feels unreal,” he murmured.

You brushed your thumb along his waist, pulling him a little closer until your foreheads touched again.

“It feels like you never left,” you whispered back.

His eyes fluttered shut at that, and he exhaled a breath that sounded like he’d been holding it for years. His hands squeezed your waist gently, like he needed to memorize the feeling.

“You say things like that,” he whispered, voice almost trembling, “and I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” you murmured. “Just be here.”

He leaned in again, slower this time, softer, lips brushing yours in a way that felt more like a confession than a kiss. One of his hands slid down to your hip, warm and careful, as if he was terrified of being too much.

“And you’re really staying in Tokyo?” he asked quietly, almost childlike in how vulnerable it sounded.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The relief that washed over his face was devastating. Beautiful. Real. He kissed you again, deeper this time, but still with that aching gentleness of a man who has loved quietly for too long.

He pulls you into a hug mid-kiss, like he just needed your whole body against his and buries his face in your neck. His breath is warm, shaky, uneven against your skin, and his arms wrap around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air out of you.

“Yuji…” you whispered into his shoulder.

His voice came out muffled and raw. “I never dated anyone seriously. I just—couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You felt your heartbeat spike, your hand sliding up under his hoodie and resting on the warm skin of his waist. Slow touches, fingertips brushing, thumb tracing the lines of muscle there. He shivered. Hard.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, lifting his chin gently so you could kiss him again.

“Don’t be,” he breathed, leaning forward, pulling you back into him like he couldn’t stand even a centimeter apart. His next kiss was needier—hungrier without being rough. “I need you. I really do.”

Your smirk was immediate. “You do?”

His breath stuttered. “Y-yeah.”

Your lips brushed his again, teasing. “My bedroom’s across the kitchen.”

Yuji froze. Like completely froze. “That’s not—”

“I know.” You grinned. “It was a suggestion.”

Whatever restraint he had evaporated.

He kissed you rougher, finally letting all that buried feeling out and then suddenly his hands were under your thighs and you were lifting.

“Holy shit—!”

Your legs wrapped around his hips automatically, your arms sliding around his neck for balance. His strength was ridiculous and effortless. His grip on you was secure, careful, but so firm it made your breath catch.

You laughed against his jaw. “Where’s the shy boy?”

“Still there,” he groaned, voice strained and honest and incredibly sweet. “I am one second away from imploding. You just don’t see how much I’m blushing because you’re nuzzling my neck.”

You kissed right under his ear, slow and warm.

He nearly lost his footing. His grip tightened on your thighs, and he pressed his forehead to your shoulder, inhaling like he needed the scent of you to stay alive.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered.

“You lifted me,” you chuckled. “This is your fault.”

He huffed a shaky laugh against your throat. “I know,” he said. “And I’m not putting you down.”

His hands slid higher on your legs, warm and steady, holding you like you were something he’d waited years to touch.

He started carrying you like you weighed nothing, your bodies pressed tightly together. And the second he reached the kitchen doorway, he stopped just to look at you.

Red cheeks. Shining eyes. Lips swollen. Every emotion he’d buried for years right there on his face.

“Tell me if this is too fast,” he whispered.

“Sweetheart,” you cupped his jaw, smiling. “I suggested the bedroom.”

His breath left him in a broken, relieved laugh, then he kissed you again, deeper, needier, lifting you even tighter against him like he’d waited half his life for this.

He carried you straight through the doorway like you weighed nothing, his grip firm under your thighs. His breathing was uneven the whole way—half arousal, half panic, one hundred percent Yuji.

Then he reached your bed.

And with absolutely no hesitation he threw you onto it.

“Holy shit that’s huge!” he said, eyes widening as the mattress bounced under you.

You burst out laughing. “Yuji!”

But before he could keep gawking at your furniture like a tourist, you grabbed his hoodie with both hands and yanked him down on top of you.

He caught himself with one hand on the mattress, the other braced near your hip—hovering over you, breath warm, cheeks red.

You pushed the hoodie off his shoulders in one smooth pull, leaving him in a plain white T-shirt stretched over his ridiculous chest and arms.

He blinked down at himself, then at you. “Oh. It’s comfortable too.”

“Yuji!”

“Sorry—sorry, I’m overwhelmed.”

He said it with that honest, helpless tone only he could manage—like he was confessing to a felony. His cheeks were fully pink now, his hair falling forward a little as he leaned over you.

You tugged him closer by the hem of his T-shirt. “Come here.”

He did, instantly, like your voice was a command coded into his bones. His body settled half over you, heavy in the good way, warm and solid, his breath falling against your cheek. One of his hands slid tentatively to your waist, thumb brushing the fabric of your shirt like he was testing whether the world would end if he touched you too lovingly.

“I really am overwhelmed,” he whispered again, softer this time. “In a good way. A… really good way.”

Your fingers slid through the back of his hair, tugging gently until he closed his eyes.

“You can breathe,” you teased, voice low.

“I’m trying,” he whispered, leaning in, forehead almost touching yours. “But you’re… right there.”

You smirked. “That’s the point.”

He let out a shaky laugh, half nervous, half dizzy, and lowered himself fully onto his elbows, bringing your bodies flush.

His breath hitched. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he said quietly.

“Believe it,” you murmured, pulling him in for a kiss. “You’re here. With me.”

And when his lips found yours again, it was deeper—slow but intense, like he was finally letting himself feel everything he’d been holding back for nine long years.

You teased him, dragging your fingertips up his ribs through the fabric, and Yuji let out a noise he clearly didn’t mean to make. His whole body shivered.

And then, with one breath, he reached back and pulled his own shirt over his head.

The movement was fast, almost clumsy, like he couldn’t think anymore. The shirt hit the floor somewhere near the dresser. Yuji leaned back over you, muscles tense, chest rising and falling too quickly, blush already spreading down his neck.

He looked wrecked in the softest way.

His hand slid down your side, fingers brushing the waistband of your pants, barely touching, just enough to ask, just enough to tremble.

He looked into your eyes.

Desperate.

Hopeful.

Gentle.

“Can I?” he asked, voice low, breath uneven, his thumb stroking your hip once like he needed your answer to survive.

You nodded, pulling him even closer with your hand at the back of his neck. “Please.”

Yuji’s breath caught—hard. His whole body jerked with it, and he squeezed his eyes shut for half a second like the word physically hit him.

“Oh god…” he groaned, blushing deep scarlet. “Don’t say that.”

You smirked, dragging your fingers along the line of his spine, slow and teasing.

“Why not?”

“Because—” He dipped his head, pressing his forehead to your shoulder as he tried to breathe, his voice shaking. “Because I’m already losing my mind and you’re not helping—”

His hand slid to your waist again, firmer this time, but still careful, still asking even while needing.

He looked up at you again, eyes blown wide, pupils dark.

“You can’t just..say things like that,” he whispered, brushing his lips along your jaw—barely, barely not kissing. “I’m already… one second away from forgetting how to think.”

“Oh? So nothing changed since high school,” you teased.

Yuji choked on a laugh—half embarrassment, half hunger.

“I swear I’m trying to be decent,” he murmured against your skin, kissing the corner of your mouth softly, almost reverently. “But you’re making it really, really hard to behave.”

Your hand slid up the back of his neck, fingers threading into his hair. “And if I don’t want you to behave?”

He let out the softest, most helpless sound.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he whispered, kissing you again, deeper this time, his hand finally settling on your hip with intention. “And I’m not even complaining.”

He fumbled with your pants a little—thumb catching on the button, zipper lowering slowly, too slowly because his hands were shaking. He breathed out a tiny laugh at himself, half embarrassed, half overwhelmed.

“Sorry—sorry, I’m…God, I’m trying to be smooth,” he muttered under his breath.

“You’re doing fine,” you said softly, watching him.

He slid them down carefully, almost reverently—never rough, never impatient. He was gentle to the point of painfully sweet, his fingers brushing your skin like each inch of you was something he had no right to touch but couldn’t stop reaching for.

You watched him the whole time. Because he was still a little clumsy. Still the boy who tried too hard and blushed too easily. But also a man, strong, warm, breathtakingly kind—who wanted you enough that his hands trembled.

When he finally looked up at you, cheeks flushed, lip caught between his teeth—“You are very hot, y’know that?” you said.

He froze. Absolutely froze. Then his mouth fell open, just slightly, as if he couldn’t believe you said it out loud.

“Wh—I—” His voice cracked in the most endearing way possible. “No, I— I mean you’re— you’re—”

You raised an eyebrow. “Use your words, Yuji.”

He groaned quietly, scrubbing one hand over his face while the other stayed on your hips like he couldn’t bear to let go.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” he whispered, leaning closer again, forehead brushing yours. “My brain stops working.”

“That’s the fun part,” you teased.

He let out a shaky laugh and kissed you again, deeper, slower, all that heat he’d been holding back finally pulsing through the way he pressed his body to yours.

His hand slid up your waist, gentle but intentional.

“I’m serious,” he murmured against your lips. “You’re… unreal. And I don’t know what to do with myself right now.”

You smiled into the kiss. “Then let me help you.”

The sound he made—half laugh, half groan—was so soft, so needy, so Yuji that you felt him melt against you, every bit of tension turning into something warm and desperate.

You had no idea how it happened. (Oh, you had.)

One second he was kissing you on the bed, clumsy and overwhelmed and red-cheeked, and the next, you were both bare skin and tangled limbs, warm against warm, breathing into each other like you were trying to relearn how lungs worked.

Making out like teenagers who never got the chance to finish what they started.

Yuji kissed you like he’d been starved for years.

Messy. Eager. Loving every second.

His lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, slow and clumsy and hungry. Then your neck.

Then lower, soft, reverent kisses across your collarbone, your chest, the curve of your stomach—never crude, never forceful.

Just worshipping you in that sweet, overwhelmed Yuji way.

And every time your hands touched him, skimming along warm skin and muscle, he made the softest, sweetest sounds. Sounds he clearly didn’t mean to let slip.

Little breaths, half-whimpers, buried laughs, sharp exhales against your skin.

He kept kissing you between each one, lips brushing, cheeks flushed, eyes soft and blown.

“You’re…” he tried to whisper, breaking into a sigh when your fingers traced up his spine. “…you’re gonna kill me..oh my god…”

You smiled against his shoulder. “You’re enjoying yourself?”

“Enjoying—?” he choked out a laugh, kissing your throat again, his hand trembling on your waist. “I’m trying not to pass out.”

You dragged your nails lightly across his back—barely any pressure. Yuji shuddered, full-body, burying his face against your chest in embarrassment.

“Don’t—don’t tease me like that,” he whined, breath hot against your skin, voice shaking with laughter and something deeper. “I can’t— you’re making me—”

“Making you what?” you teased softly.

He lifted his head. And the look in his eyes was devastating.

Needy. Worshipful. A little shy. A lot undone.

“Making me feel alive again,” he murmured.

Then he kissed you, deep and slow, like he finally understood what it meant to want something for himself. And you pulled him closer, because you loved every second too.

He slid lower with a slow, shaky breath, like gravity was pulling him down your body and he didn’t have the strength to resist it anymore.

His lips trailed over your lower stomach, your skin tightening under the warmth of his mouth.

Then your hipbone. Then the edge of your thigh.

He kissed each place like he was memorizing it. Like he couldn’t believe he was allowed to touch you at all.

And then he stopped.

His forehead hovered just above your skin, breath trembling against you, his hands gripping the bed on either side of your hips like he needed something to hold onto.

“I can’t…” he breathed.

He wasn’t pulling away. He was overwhelmed. Unraveled.

Needing you so much it shocked him.

You lifted your head, looking down at him—his flushed cheeks, his trembling shoulders, his chest rising too fast, his whole body tense with wanting.

His voice came out low, raw, painfully honest.

“I’m trying to be good,” he whispered. “I’m trying to take this slow. But you’re—” he swallowed hard, eyes squeezing shut, “—you’re too much for me.”

You slid your fingers into his hair, guiding his face up just enough for him to meet your gaze. “Yuji…”

He looked wrecked in the most beautiful way—eyes dark, lips swollen, breath shaking. “…you’re so sexy I can’t think,” he confessed, barely audible.

His hand slid slowly up your thigh, warm and steady, his thumb drawing circles there like he was centering himself, grounding himself, begging for permission without saying it outright.

He leaned down again, kissing a little higher, a little slower, a little more desperate—each kiss a quiet surrender, a wordless I want this so bad it hurts.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, and a quiet groan escaped him.

He lowered his forehead to your hip, breathing unevenly.

“Tell me what to do,” he whispered, voice shaking.

Not crude. Not demanding.

Just a man who had wanted you for nearly a decade and was finally here—terrified of going too far, terrified of not going far enough.

“Please,” he added, barely a breath.

And the way he looked up at you—eyes wide, cheeks red, body trembling—God.

You sat up slowly, fingers still threaded through his hair, and he looked up at you like he didn’t know whether to breathe or beg.

Before he could overthink it again, you moved. Flipped him.

It wasn’t aggressive—just smooth, confident. You rolled him onto his back with one motion, straddling his hips, your palms flat against his chest. His breath hitched so hard it sounded like it knocked something loose in his lungs.

“Wha—” Yuji choked, wide-eyed, hands immediately flying to your thighs, holding on like he needed something to keep him from ascending. “What are you—?”

“Taking care of you,” you said simply, leaning in, brushing your mouth along his jaw.

His hands slid higher, then down again, gripping your hips like he didn’t know whether to pull you closer or just hold on for dear life.

He was trembling a little. His face was redder than ever.

But god—he wanted this. You could feel it in the way his fingertips dug in. Hear it in the quiet, breathless sound he made when you shifted your hips just slightly over him.

“Relax,” you whispered, smirking, “you’re so tense.”

“I’m trying not to explode,” he groaned, head falling back against the pillow. “You’re literally—you’re sitting on me, how do you expect me to—”

“You want me to stop?”

“No—god, no.”

You grinned, trailing one hand down his chest, watching his whole body shiver under the touch.

He looked up at you like you were both a dream and a problem.

“You’re not playing fair,” he whispered.

“I’m not playing,” you said softly.

Then, slowly, you guided him between your legs, teasing, and you sat down onto him in one slow, smooth motion that made his mouth fall open.

Yuji whimpered. Actually whimpered. His hands flew back to your hips, fingers curling hard into your skin like he didn’t trust his own reaction.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, voice breaking. “Oh my god.”

You braced yourself with both hands on his chest, heart thudding at the heat of him, at the look on his face—wrecked, shy, desperate, in awe.

“Just let me make you feel good,” you whispered, leaning over him again, brushing your lips against his.

He nodded way too fast, lips parted, brows drawn together in that overwhelmed way that made you want to break him open just a little more.

“You are,” he whispered back. “You’re gonna kill me. You’re killing me—”

You rolled your hips once, just a little and he gasped so sharp you nearly laughed. “Don’t laugh—oh my god—please, just—please—”

“Such a sweet thing,” you teased, biting your lip, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Already begging?”

“I warned you I was at my limit,” he whimpered, pulling you down into another kiss, almost dizzy with it. “I haven’t even done anything and I’m already—I love you so much I’m malfunctioning—”

You kissed him again to shut him up. And his hands clutched at you like you were the only thing keeping him here.

He was losing his mind. And not in the panicked, shut-down, empty-eyed way you’d seen in the market.

This was him again—the Yuji you remembered.

The shy, funny one who turned beet red when you teased him but still gave it back. The playful boy with too much heart. The man now beneath you who was finally letting himself feel something real.

His hands gripped you, roamed all over you, as if trying to make up for lost time.

He pulled you down into him, groaning softly into the kiss, needing you pressed against his chest like it would anchor him. His mouth found yours again and again, kissing you like he was drinking you down, slow and deep, no hesitation now, just wanting.

His hands slid over your arms, down your shoulders, along the curve of your spine. He kept moving, palms warm, fingers trembling slightly until they found your hips. Then lower. Then he gripped your ass with both hands and pulled you into him with a quiet, desperate noise in his throat.

You gasped into his mouth. He groaned, breathless, needy.

“Shit—shit, you feel so good,” he whispered, the words slipping out of him like he couldn’t hold them in anymore.

The way he said it—it wasn’t just physical. It was full of years. Unspoken things. Late-night memories. Emotions he never got to talk through when everything fell apart.

It wasn’t just about now. It was then, and before then, and everything you’d both missed in between.

And god—he was worshipping you.

Even as his rhythm picked up, rougher in the way he gripped you and dragged you closer, there was nothing selfish about it. Every movement was for you. Every shift of his hips, every gasp, every sweet noise in your ear—it was all to make you feel like you were wanted. Needed.

Loved.

“Yuji…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair as he kissed over your collarbone, your shoulder, your throat. “You’re—fuck, Yuji.”

He looked up at you, hair a mess, lips swollen, eyes so open and raw. “Don’t stop saying my name,” he whispered. “I need it. I need you.”

Your breath caught.

He kept moving, slower now, pressing up into you with deep, controlled motion, feeling every second of it, hands shaking a little as they gripped your hips tighter.

“I used to imagine this,” he murmured into your skin. “Not just the—this. You. Laughing. Touching me. Loving me. I didn’t think I’d ever get to have it.”

You cupped his face, and he melted into your hands.

One of Yuji’s arms was slung tightly around your lower back, the other wrapped up over your shoulder, hand curled into your hair like he physically couldn’t let you go.

His grip on your waist was rougher now—desperate, holding you in place like you might vanish if he blinked too long.

He was whimpering. Soft, breathless, high in his throat—those helpless little sounds he probably didn’t even know he was making.

You kissed him harder. Tongue sliding slow against his, savoring every noise that slipped from him.

Because this man was giving. All of him. Raw, unfiltered, breaking open under you.

And he wanted it to be good for you—you could feel it in every motion of his hips, every shift of his mouth, every frantic pull of his hands dragging you down to him like it physically hurt to not be closer.

“Shit—shit, you’re—” he gasped, lips dragging over your jaw, your throat, kissing you anywhere he could reach between breathless groans. “You feel insane—I can’t—fuck—”

“Mhm,” you whispered, biting gently at his bottom lip, “you sound so good for me.”

He whined. A real, involuntary, overwhelmed whine and then he devoured you again, like he had no idea what to do with himself except love you as hard as he possibly could.

His mouth found yours again, tongue deep, messy, uncoordinated from how far gone he was, like his body had completely taken over and he was just trying to survive it.

“I’m so close—” he whimpered against your lips, voice breaking, hips jerking up into you in a way that made you both gasp. “I can’t—I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come—”

You held his face between your hands, kissing him through it, tasting every sound, every trembling inhale, every breath that sounded like your name whispered in worship.

“You can,” you said softly. “I’ve got you.”

His whole body shuddered. And he held you so tight it was almost painful. Like you were the last person on Earth.

Like you were the only thing keeping him alive.

Like you were something he never thought he’d deserve but now that he had you, he’d burn the world to stay in your arms.

Yuji was still breathing hard—chest rising and falling under you, arms locked around your back, clinging like he couldn’t quite believe this was real.

“Shit,” he whispered, voice cracking. “Baby, I’m so sorry—just give me a second—I’ll make you feel good too, I swear, just—give me a minute—”

You were still laughing—soft, warm, flushed everywhere, your fingers brushing the damp hair off his forehead.

“Yuji,” you said, voice sweet but teasing, “it’s fine.”

He looked up at you, completely red in the face, lips parted, eyes still a little hazy.

“No. No it’s not, because I just—” He buried his face in your chest with a groan. “Oh my god, I saw stars. I saw a whole new planet forming. I think I saw god for a second. You—” He tilted his head back, dazed, breathless. “You feel so amazing.”

You were trying not to laugh too hard, still breathless yourself.

He kissed your collarbone, then your jaw, arms still wrapped tight around you.

“And you smell so good. Like something warm and sweet and… fucking safe. Like I never wanna leave. Like I wanna put my face in your neck forever and never go to work again.”

“Oh my god, Yuji—”

“No, shut up, I’m being honest,” he mumbled into your skin. “I don’t care if I just embarrassed the hell out of myself. I’d do it again.”

You grinned, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m overstimulated,” he whined. “Let me be dramatic.”

You laughed again, curling against his chest. He exhaled hard, still clutching your waist, still pressing lazy, dizzy kisses to your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” he added suddenly. “Like unfairly pretty. Like it’s kind of illegal.”

You arched a brow. “Yuji, are you high?”

“On you, yeah.”

You collapsed into his neck, half-laughing, half-gasping, and he held you tighter. “I’m serious,” he whispered, softer now. “You’re everything. And I still can’t believe you’re here. With me.”

You kissed his cheek, then the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Well… from that day on, something in your life shifted—quietly, unmistakably.

And Yuji became inseparable from you.

Not in a suffocating way. In a “my body knows where you are at all times and follows you naturally” way.

In a “I sleep better with a hand on your waist” way.

In a “I didn’t mean to move in but I guess I did” way.

He was clingy—so much needier than he ever allowed himself to be as a young man. Warm arms always finding your waist. Forehead always leaning into your shoulder. Hands brushing yours whenever he passed you something, just so he could feel your skin.

He apologized for it at first. And you laughed every time, kissed his cheek, and said, “Good. Cling harder.”

He did.

And slowly, like sunrise creeping over the horizon, his spark came back.

The quiet man with tired eyes began to laugh again. Loud. Goofy. Unrestrained.

The boy who once hid behind apologies now slid across the kitchen floor in socks while cooking breakfast.

He danced when he brushed his teeth.

He talked to neighborhood cats like they were old friends.

He smacked his forehead on doorframes because he got too tall and forgot to duck.

Bit by bit, you saw the Yuji you remembered.

Bit by bit, you saw the man he had become.

And you loved both of them.

He became the kind of boyfriend people warned you about. Not dangerous—just too sweet, too loving, too attached.

All yours.

And after a year of being his, of mornings tangled together, of evenings on the couch, of him coming home tired and finding you and suddenly not tired anymore, something small and familiar happened.

You were at the market again. Standing in front of the fruit stand.

Staring at apples you still couldn’t decide on.

And then his voice behind you: “Fuji ones are sweet this season.”

You didn’t even have to turn.

His arms slid around your waist from behind, warm and sure, pulling you gently back into his chest.

He kissed your cheek once, then again, lingering a little longer the second time.

“Hey,” he mumbled against your skin, voice deeper now but soft just for you. “You drifted off. Thinking about me?”

“Always,” you said.

He hummed, squeezing you tighter, chin resting on your shoulder as if it belonged there. “Good. Because I was thinking about you too.”

You held his hands where they rested over your stomach, interlacing your fingers with his.

“Same fruit stand,” you said with a smile. “Full circle.”

“Yeah,” Yuji whispered, swaying you gently side to side. “But this time you’re not getting rid of me.”

“You never gave me the chance.”

He laughed bright, loud, that resurrected sound you cherished more than anything in the world.

He kissed your temple. And whispered something softer, something just for you: “Thanks for coming back.”

Your throat tightened. Your smile did too.

“Thanks for letting me find you again.”

He squeezed your waist in return.

Life didn’t suddenly become perfect. It didn’t magically erase loss. But it became something bright again.

Something warm.

Something shared.

With him.

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

you made it to the end... still hungry? ⇢ my masterlist’s full of treats.

[moviecritc]

touch starved!nanami kento at the beginning for your relationship (non sexual physical intimacy)

touch starved!nanami kento who flinched the first time you reached for his hand after five dates and a few attempts. he apologized too many times and asked you to do it again, making the promise that he wouldn't flinch ever again.

touch starved!nanami kento who finally let your fingers lace with his without a single tremor, but you felt the way his palm trembled for a full minute afterward, like a man learning to breathe again. he stared at your joined hands in the dim light of the train station, thumb brushing your knuckles in slow, reverent circles, as if memorizing the texture of someone else’s skin.

touch starved!nanami kento who started finding excuses to be near you in crowded spaces. the grocery store aisle too narrow, the cinema row too tight, the café booth bench that forced your thighs to press together. each time he’d tense, then exhale, then lean into the contact, like a cat pretending it hadn’t been the one to seek warmth.

touch starved!nanami kento who flinched again, softer this time, when you tucked a stray lock of hair behind his ear during a late-night study session. his apology was a whisper against your wrist. you answered by tracing the shell of his ear with your thumb until his eyes fluttered shut, shoulders dropping like a man unlearning vigilance.

touch starved!nanami kento who began timing his arrivals so you’d walk through doorways together, your arm brushing his. he never asked for more, but you noticed how he’d slow his stride, letting the moment stretch, letting the accidental graze of elbows or hips linger until it wasn’t accidental anymore.

touch starved!nanami kento who, after a mission left him bruised and hollow-eyed, stood in your doorway at 2 a.m. and didn’t speak. you opened your arms. he stepped into them like a question, forehead dropping to your shoulder, hands hovering at your waist until you guided them there. he held you so carefully, like you were the first real thing he’d touched in years.

touch starved!nanami kento who started falling asleep on your couch during movie nights, head tipping onto your shoulder mid-scene. the first time, he jolted awake, mortified. you simply threaded your fingers through his hair and tugged him back down. by the third time, he was out cold within minutes, breath warm against your collarbone, one hand fisted loosely in the hem of your shirt.

touch starved!nanami kento who learned the weight of your head on his chest was a language he’d been starving for. he’d read aloud —reports, recipes, the back of a cereal box— voice low and steady, just to feel the vibration of your hums against his ribs. when you traced idle patterns over his heart, he’d stumble over words, clear his throat, try again. never told you to stop.

touch starved!nanami kento who bought a bigger umbrella on purpose. rain became an excuse to crowd under the same small canopy, your shoulder tucked under his arm, his fingers splayed across your upper back like he was counting vertebrae. he’d apologize for the drizzle on your sleeve and use it as reason to pull you closer.

touch starved!nanami kento who, one morning, woke before you and didn’t move. you were sprawled across his chest, one of his arms pinned beneath you, gone numb hours ago. he stared at the ceiling, pulse calm for the first time in memory, and decided pins and needles were a small price for the privilege of being your mattress.

touch starved!nanami kento who, after the first time you stayed over, woke to find you had kicked off all the blankets in the night. he lay perfectly still, sheet pooled at his waist, watching the slow rise and fall of your bare back in the grey pre-dawn. when you rolled toward him, still asleep, and draped an arm across his ribs. he didn’t breathe for a full ten seconds, just felt the weight of your forearm like a brand he never wanted removed.

touch starved!nanami kento who started leaving the bathroom door cracked when he showered. not an invitation, just a quiet confession: I’m here, I’m real, I’m learning how not to hide. the first time you wandered in, toothbrush in mouth, and leaned against the counter in nothing but his discarded dress shirt, he forgot the soap in his hand. water drummed on his shoulders while you talked about breakfast plans. he answered in monosyllables, eyes fixed on the way the shirt hem brushed your thighs.

touch starved!nanami kento who discovered skin-to-skin was a dialect he’d never been taught. after a long day, you’d both strip to underwear in silence and crawl under the covers. he’d lie on his back, rigid, until you pressed your cheek between his shoulder blades. then the exhale: long, shaky and more than grateful. you’d count the knobs of his spine with your lips until his hand found yours over his sternum and pinned it there.

touch starved!nanami kento who bought thicker curtains because morning light on your bare shoulder was a religion he hadn’t earned yet. he’d trace the slope of it with one finger, cataloguing freckles like coordinates, learning the topography of someone else’s sunrise. when you stirred, he’d freeze. then resume reverent, as if movement might scare the moment away.

touch starved!nanami kento who learned the exact temperature of your shower and started joining you without asking. for the way water sluiced between your shoulder blades and he could stand behind you, forehead to your nape, hands resting on your hips like they’d always belonged there. you’d pass the shampoo; he’d wash your hair with the same precision he used tying his tie, thumbs kneading your scalp until your knees buckled and you leaned back into his chest, trusting him to hold you upright.

touch starved!nanami kento who, during a heatwave, gave up on clothes entirely. the apartment became a small country of bare skin and open windows. you’d read on the couch, legs tangled with his, his head in your lap while you carded fingers through his damp hair. he’d trace the waistband of your underwear—never lower, just the elastic. until the fabric warmed under his touch and he could pretend the line was a promise instead of a wall.

touch starved!nanami kento who flinched the first time you saw the scars. jagged lines across his ribs, a burn on his thigh. he reached for a shirt, you caught his wrist, pressed your lips to the worst of them, held there until his hand unclenched. after that, he stopped hiding. you’d fall asleep with your calf hooked over his, scar tissue against smooth skin, two histories learning to share the same bed.

touch starved!nanami kento who started a ritual: every night, lights off, he’d lie on his stomach and you’d straddle his hips and work the knots from his shoulders with oiled hands. he’d muffle sounds into the pillow, then turn his head so you could see the way his eyes fluttered shut when your thumbs dug under his shoulder blades. when you finished, you’d stretch out along his back, chest to spine, and he’d reach back to hook an arm under your knee, keeping you there until morning.

touch starved!nanami kento who, one storm-rattled night, woke to find you shivering. he pulled you flush against him. front to front, legs braided, your face tucked under his chin. and realized he was crying. not sobs, just silent tracks down his temples into your hair. you kissed the salt at his jaw and whispered nonsense until his grip loosened from desperate to devotional. he fell back asleep with your heartbeat against his sternum, counting it like rosary beads.

touch starved!nanami kento who now reaches for you in the dark without thinking, hand sliding under your shirt to rest on the warm plane of your stomach, thumb stroking the soft skin just above your navel. he no longer apologizes when you startled awake. he just waits, patient, until you melt back against him and thread your fingers through his. the flinch is gone. what remains is a man learning, inch by inch, that touch can be a homeland.

nanami kento masterlist a/n: this ended up being way more poetic as i wanted to be but ANYWAY i might do touch starved headcanons of all jjk characters

[laymegentlytorest]

Yall pls help me find this satosugu x reader fic🙏🥺 I remember it being about how satoru and suguru got turned into mini pocket sized versions of themselves and basically how reader has to take care of them till the turn back to normal. PLEASE IF ANYONE CAN FIND THIS FIC I BEG😭😭🙏🙏