jjk men carrying you to bed without waking you
synopsis: you try to stay awake for them… you don’t quite make it.
contains: fluff,fluff, FLUFFF, they’re soft for you idc
a/n: ik, ik i haven't been posting, but trust i got like 5 things sitting in my drafts 🩷
satoru gojo
he sees it instanly.
the tv is still on, murmuring to an empty room— except you're there, curled up small on the couch, blanket slipping, phone barely hanging on between your fingers.
gojo stops in the doorway.
"...you waited for me?"
it's the softest he's sounded all night.
he shuts off the tv with a flick, then kneels beside you, brushing you hair gently away from your face. you don't wake—just lean into his familiar touch.
he huffs a quiet laugh.
"could'nt fall asleep without me, huh?"
he lifts you with practiced ease, arms wrapping around you as you instinctively curl into his chest. something in him melts at the way you fit there.
when he sets you down, he doesn't step away.
not right away.
he presses a slow kiss to your forehead.
"next time," he murmurs, tucking the blanket around you, "just call. i'll come home."
suguru geto
the apartment is still when he walks in.
too still.
geto toes off his shoe, expecting to find you asleep in your room, only to spot you curled up on the couch instead, the lamp beside you casting a gentle glow over your face.
he stops in his tracks.
you must've been waiting for him.
his expression softens immediately, something tender and a little guilty settling behind his eyes.
"hey..." he murmurs, knowing you won't wake.
he kneels beside you, brushing a loose strand of hair from your cheek. his fingers linger, slow and careful, like he's afraid to disturb you.
then he gathers you into his arms.
you stir faintly, your hand curling weakly into his shirt before relaxing again.
"i've got you," he whispers.
by the time he settles you into bed, his movements are practiced, quiet, full of care. he pulls the blanket up around you, adjusts your pillow, the leans down to a soft kiss to your forehead.
"don't wait up next time," he says, though the small smile tugging at his mouth gives him away.
he knows you will.
choso kamo
he tries not to make a sound.
really tries.
but when choso steps inside and sees you asleep on the couch, he stops completely.
you look so small like that.
curled up, clearly waiting for him.
his brows knit together, worry softening his expression.
"...you stayed up for me?" he whispers to no one.
he approaches with slow, cautious steps, unsure if he should wake you. but the peaceful look on your face keeps him still.
so he doesn't.
he gathers you into his arms instead, lifting you with tenderness he rarely shows out loud. he notices everything—the steady rhythm of yor breathing, the way you head naturally finds his chest, the warmth of you settling into him.
you shift, pressin closer.
he freezes.
then lets out a quiet breath.
"...you're okay," he murmurs, almost to himself.
when he lays you down, he tucks the blanket around you with careful precision. adjusts it. checks again.
his hand rests on your shoulder,
not moving.
just guarding you in the quiet.
toji fushiguro
/p>
the tv's still buzzing when he comes in.
figures.
toji barely gives it a second look—until he spots you.
out a cold on the couch, blanket slipping off, clearly having tried. to stay awake for him.
he lets out a low breath.
"dumbass."
but it's soft. almost fond.
he nudges your leg lightly. nothing.
"...really?"
he hesitates for a moment, then bends down and lifts you—careful, steady, nothing like the rough edge he shows everyone else. one arm under your knees, the other bracing you back.
you curl into him instinctively.
he goes still.
"...yeah. thought so."
he carries you to bed, sets you down, and pulls the blanket over you. it's quick, almost careless—but he lingers anyway, eyes tracing your face in the dim light.
"...don't wait up."
a pause.
"...unless you want to."
ryomen sukuna
he catches it the second he walks in.
of course he does.
you're sprawled across the couch, fast asleep, clearly having tried to wait him out. he stops, eyes narrowing just a fraction as he takes in.
"...you really passed out waiting for me?"
his voice is flat, unreadable.
a low scoff follows.
"pathetic."
and yet—
he moves toward you anyway.
he stands over you for a moment, gaze lingering, then slips his arms beneath you and lifts you with effortless control. the motion is smooth, deliberate—too careful for someone who pretends not to care.
you shift, your face brushing faintly against him.
he goes still.
"...annoying," he mutters, though his grip only settles more firmly around you.
when he sets you down, his voice stays sharp, but his movements betray him. the blanket is pulled up, smoothed out, adjusted with precise care.
his fingers hook under your chin, tilting your face enough for him to look you over.
"don't start making this routine brat."
but he doesn't turn away.
not yet.
kento nanami
nanami gets home later than planned.
much later.
he loosens his tie as he steps inside, ready to apologize—until he sees you asleep on the couch.
waiting.
he exhales, the sound soft and weighted.
"aw honey... you should've gone to bed."
it's barely spoken,
he sets his briefcase down, rolls his sleeves up, and approaches with quiet care. his hand brushes your arm, gentle and warm.
you don't wake.
so he lifts you.
slowly. steadily. like he's afraid to disturb the moment. you lean into him without thinking, and his hold shifts to support you fully.
"i'm sorry," he murmurs, voice low.
when he lays you down, he moves with practiced gentleness—blanket pulled up, pillow adjusted, everything made comfortable.
he pauses beside you.
then leans in and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.
"next time," he says quietly, "don't wait up."
another breath.
"but i'm grateful you did."
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