maeby baby!

hiii! i'm good! sorry for being inactive :/ i have been super busy with my final exams in school and doing extra stuff outside of it! i'm excited to write some more when season three comes out :3

Ily💕

he doesn't really like taking photos, and he's never smiling in any of the ones taken of him, so he had to settle for a school pic of you two, with your friends cropped out. he tells you it was a dumb picture he chose because he didn't want the regular factory homescreen anymore, and you memorialise his flustered face by snapping a photo of you kissing his reddened cheek and changing that to be his lockscreen.

Megumi with his hair sticking up all over the place bc he just woke up.

and he's your boyfriend, not your father, but you still give him that purpose new parents always gush about. so he's scared of that purpose being lost on him, he couldn't handle losing you too.

courtside, arms wrapped around you in a squeezing tight hug, he's kissing everywhere he can reach: your cheek, your nose, lips, neck. he doesn't care that everyone here to watch the game can see his affections. you're his outlet for all those pent up nerves, spectators be damned.

"we're in-" you have to pause when he plants a kiss to your lips "-baby, we're in public!"

"don't care," satoru spins you around, nestles his face in the crook of your neck. his racket drops to the ground by your feet. "you gonna cheer me on, baby?"

"you know i will," you laugh, combing your fingers through his messy white hair: it matches the polo he plays in—the one that will soon be drenched in sweat. "you'll do great, toru."

"i know," you can feel his grin against your shoulder. "got the prettiest cheerleader on my side, i have to impress them. plus..."

he pulls back and glances over the court, to where his opponent stretches. the pink haired man, who the umpire had introduced as sukuna, has eyes that are sharp and stuck on the two of you—no, on you. satoru laughs, plants a long kiss on your lips, and grins.

and you're so comfortable, legs tangled up in his as you rest on his chest. his heartbeat is sweet in your ears, the heat of his body a simple reminder that he's here and safe and wholly yours.

"i can feel you staring at me," he grumbles, eyes closed as you watch him from his chest. "go back to sleep."

"it's nearly midday," your voice is soft in return: he had a late night, staying up late into the morning hours as he watched you sleep. watching the rise and fall of your chest, feeling your gentle breath against his sleep—reminding himself you were okay. so much loss does such things to the soul.

so when you try and push yourself up, megumi is quick to pull you back down against his body and press his face into your hair. he takes a deep breath in, inhales your scent, and lets his eyes close again.

"five more minutes," he says. "please."

it’s not that he doesn’t want to touch you, to put his hands on your face like you do with his, or to hold you by the waist and pull you in closer… he just doesn’t know how. he gets in his head about it, worries that you won’t like something he does. it took him long enough to get comfortable kissing let alone making out—he doesn’t want to ruin anything.

so after a particularly heated evening in your dorm room one night, you pull back from megumi with swollen lips and glossy eyes and say “you know you can touch me if you want to, right?”

“no thanks,” isn’t the reply megumi was going for, but it’s what leaves his lips. he can still taste you on them, and it’s messing with the workings of his brain. “i mean—not no, i just… you—“

he’s cut off with you taking his hand in your own and guiding it up to the side of your face. you lean into his forces touch and hold eye contact. “this okay?”

and he has to nod, because words are lost on him when having you so close fills his heart with a warmth he had thought was only for the storybooks he’d read as a kid.