#yuji modulo

So when it ended, they didn't hesitate. They married, holding onto their love before it could be taken from them too.

She chose to stay, even after knowing what his life meant. That he would not grow old beside her.

Yuji had thought about it often. The slow passing of time on her, the way it would leave him untouched. It was never something he could accept, only something he decided he would endure. For her, he would make it worth it. He would give her a life where she never had to doubt that she was loved.

He would spend the rest of her life making sure she is loved.

But that wasn't how it happened.

She didn't fade with time. She was taken from him in their early thirties, sudden and final.

Yuji had not been ready for that kind of ending.

Something in him went quiet after she was gone. The world moved, but he refused to follow. The things that once held meaning slipped past him, leaving him distant from everything he used to care about.

And the worst part was knowing this would not be the last time. That this kind of loss would follow him, again and again, until every person he had ever known was gone.

He couldn't face Megumi after that. There had been no words, no promise spoken out loud, but it still felt like he had broken something between them.

So he left.

He didn't return. Not for Maki funeral. Not for Yuta passing. Not even for Megumi.

From a distance, he watched their lives unfold and end, one after another. They had built something for themselves. Families, legacies, lives that continued without him.

He remained outside of it all, someone who no longer belonged.

It didn't matter that the people they left behind would never know him, or understand what he had meant to them.

Maybe it was better that way.

Because in the end, he kept walking forward.

And that was when he met little naive you.

You were a sorcerer. Not the strongest, not the weakest. Strong enough to survive, but not always enough to win.

Yuji knew that the moment he saw you.

And when Yuji crossed paths with you during your mission, his body tensed to the point of cracking.

He didn’t need to know your last name to know who you were. It was a presence he had grown far too familiar with during his teenage years. And while some would argue that you were a spitting image of your parents, Yuji would disagree.

He only saw one person in you.

His wife.

He knew, from the very first moment, that he should have walked away.

Instead, he stayed.

He stepped in under the excuse of helping you on your mission and lingered longer than necessary. When it was over, he still didn’t leave. He walked you back, matching your pace, stretching a short distance into something that lasted.

When night fell, he stayed again. Staying up the entire night sharing mindless conversations in the hotel. Well, it wasn’t just a conversation that passed between the two of you.

He definitely shouldn’t have kissed you when you leaned too close.

After all, it wasn’t fair to you.

You didn’t even know he was the Itadori Yuji you had brought up in a few of the many topics discussed during the night. You had been blushing the entire way back, thinking of your kiss, sparing frequent glances and small conversations.

Yuji, on the other hand, felt guilt.

He had told himself this would be his last act of goodwill towards the Fushiguro family, just for old times’ sake.

A final favor for his dear friend, for failing to protect his sister.

That’s what he told himself.

But he knew if that were entirely true, he wouldn’t have initiated that kiss.

Because in the back of his mind, he couldn’t see anyone but his first and only love.

Traveling had taken another day, finally reaching the school he once remembered every hallway of.

He should have walked away then, yet he waited for you to finish your mission report, telling you he’d walk you home since it was getting late.

He should have left it at that.

He should have stopped at your door.

He shouldn’t have gone inside.

And you shouldn’t have taken him to your bed.

Yuji could barely believe you already lived away from your family at 19.

The apartment unnerved him just a bit, especially when he noticed the photos scattered throughout your place, all neatly framed. Pictures of you with your parents, with Megumi, with Hana, and even with Nobara.

Each one was placed with care, quietly filling the space, making it clear that this was your life built with people who were still present in it in some way, shape, or form.

It was a reminder of who you really were, not someone his delusional mind tried to replace with the past.

But it didn't even matter when your lips collided with his in need, already in your bedroom before he realized.

Any crumbs of morality that had built up in the previous seconds were washed away as he melted into the rough kiss.

Your clothes were off, and soon, his were too.

His rough, calloused hands explored every inch of your newly exposed skin. He took his time, savoring the feel of you beneath his fingertips as they mapped the contours of your body.

He bent you to his will, molding you like clay in the hands of a master sculptor. Your body yielded easily to his touch, pliant and eager to be shaped by his desire.

Whether it be with your legs thrown over his shoulders as he greedily ate you out, or when you relaxed your jaw to fit his length, proving that you were no virgin.

He did it all without a single glance at your face, thinking he might just break if he does.

Still, the urge lingered.

He wanted to give in.

To meet your eyes and, just for a moment, pretend you were her, even if it only lasted the night.

Just once, he promised himself.

And then he'll stay away.

Only once.

And he will never return.

He wanted to give in.

He knows he will.

And he does.

Shoving himself to the hilt, a strangled cry tore from your throat as the sudden fullness overwhelmed you, your clit already throbbing from the various orgasms his mouth had drawn out.

 "Ahh, fuck!" you gasped, back arching off the bed, fingers scrambling for purchase on the sweat-dampened sheets.

He had you on your back, your legs wrapped around his hips, ankles locked for leverage. Your hands were pinned under his, fingers intertwined as his weight kept you from moving.

He swallowed your lips with ease, drinking in your moans and pleas.

Pretty fucking vanilla.

At least for 83-yar-old Yuji.

But not for the Yuji who loves his wife.

His thrusts were slow. So fucking slow that you had to buck your hips for the needed friction. Yuji didn't do anything about it, just continued the back and forth, melting into your pussy as if he might just cry.

He didn't want to cum just yet. Your stamina had already given out from being relentlessly eaten out. You were already done for the day, so the sooner he comes, the sooner this ends.

And wanting this to end was the last thing he could ever want in this feverish moment.

He wanted to stay like this for the rest of his never-ending life.

Maybe he could even learn to love you.

Create a small, fragile domestic life that would last only your lifespan, knowing exactly how it would end and choosing it anyway.

He could play husband with you, building a world of lies, arranging it carefully, piece by piece, until it looked real enough to believe.

It would be like decorating a dollhouse

You would be the doll. And he, the maker.

Yuji broke the searing kiss, pulling back just enough for your moans to fill the room unimpeded. His face hovered inches from yours, breaths mingling and mingling with each gasping, ragged exhale.

His forehead rested against yours, sweat-dampened skin touching, as he loomed over you, pinning you with his intense, dark gaze.

"Pleasee- sir-! Please go faster..."

Ahh, there it was. The reality, cutting through everything.

You hadn't even learnt his name, yet you had let him into your home, the place you lived in alone and unguarded.

Letting a stranger fuck you as if your body meant nothing.

It made his chest tighten, something sharp and ugly settling in as the comparison took hold, the realization sinking in all at once.

Because no matter how much you resembled her, you were nothing like his wife. Not graceful, not sophisticated. Nothing resembled her as you gave yourself now.

You were stupid and naive. Reckless in a way that didn’t suit the name you carried.

So unlike a Fushiguro.

So unlike her.

How could he have ever imagined to find her in you?

"Quit calling me sir...-!" He emphasized with the first actual thrust of his cock.

You noticed the change in his voice, but were already too fucked out to be concerned

"Hahh-! I don't know- ahh-! what to call you-!"

Your speech was broken as he thrusted deeper and harder, your thighs rippling under the force.

"Yuji."

Your eyes widen a little.

"Yu-ji-?"

His lips suck your neck purple, feeling his name pulsate behind your throat.

"Yeah, sweetheart, moan my name, will you?"

He speeds up, finally letting go of your hands to let you wrap your arms around his neck.

You're half on his lap, feeling his cock fuck deeper as his vacant hands held your hips to physically drive you closer each time.

Digging his fingers into the fat of your hips, you could already feel the bruises forming beneath it.

But you didn't care. You just did what he asked.

You moaned his name.

Like your life fucking depended on it.

"Yuji-! Hahhh-!"

You're clawing at his back, crying into his neck, feeling your legs give out with your rushing orgasm.

"Fuck-! Fuck-! Fuck-!"

Yuji moans in unison, the word 'fuck' holding him back from saying the name he truly wanted to say.

He feels your body jolt when you come, pussy spasming so hard that he almost doubles over.

Even then, he could only cruse, not knowing which name would hurt him more. Yours, or his wife's?

Either one would be a reality check. And Yuji's reality proves to be the shittiest of them all.

Soon, he comes too, filling you up with shallow strokes.

He fills you as if he wanted something out of it, like you mean something to him.

"Ohh fuckk-! babyy..."

He groans into your neck before sealing his lips on yours.

This kiss felt deeper this time, and you couldn't understand why.

Maybe because you were on his lap with him still balls deep.

Or maybe because your arms wrapped around each other in a sensitive hug as you share that kiss.

You couldn't figure it out, and a part of you—the pit that had formed in your stomach—didn't want to.

For Yuji, on the other hand, it was painfully clear.

This was the last kiss he would ever have with his wife, at least in the way his mind chose to believe it. He knew it wasn’t real, knew it never could be, but he held onto it anyway.

So he cherished it with his entire being, branding it into his memories with a subtle burn.

Your swollen, soft lips. Your running tears. Your squishy, warm walls. Your pretty tits. Your lovely ass. Your hollow throat.

Her lovely hair. Her beautiful smile. Her soft skin. Her gorgeous face. Her cute dimples. Her warm body. Her.

He cherished it one last time.

It was the better part of the morning now, nearing eight by the time he finally pulled himself from your sheets.

You were still asleep, body worn and heavy from the night before, breathing slow and undisturbed. Yuji didn’t wake you.

He didn’t want to. He didn’t need to.

Pulling his clothes back on, he steps out of your bedroom and into the narrow hallway, moving through it without a sound.

His hand lifts to pull his jacket hood over his head, but he stops at the end of the hallway.

Tea.

The faint scent of tea freshly brewed lingered in the air, warm and out of place in a house that should have been empty.

Yuji stopped mid-step.

Slowly, he turned his head.

There, at the small dining table, someone sat, a cup of tea in hand, as if they had always been there.

The cup was set down with a soft sound.

And then, they looked at him.

"You're fucking sick, Itadori."

Well fuck.

"Kugisaki."

a/n: did i just make this fic just so i could write the last scene? um yeah. does that make me a sick fuck? prolly.

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taglist :: @tomurasnextwife @sweeetlottie @sweetsformysoul @berry-marys @riikisworld @meandmyboringlife @isvgi @sassybananaweaselpsychic @sirencholia @isaswrd @megssleepygirl @thestarinlove @saturns8thring @fabutafabu @blossybee @inlovewithpsychos @femboytwinkyballsinmyass

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Y/N stood beside Nobara, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“We could just go to the arcade,” she said, almost lightly. “It’s close. And not crowded today.”

Nobara didn’t even consider it. “Nah,” she replied, adjusting the strap of her bag. “We’re going somewhere else.”

She frowned. “Where?”

Nobara glanced at her then, a small, almost amused curve to her mouth.

“An underground fight.”

The words hung there for a moment. She blinked once, then rolled her eyes, the reaction immediate, instinctive. “You’re joking.”

“I’m not.”

“What’s even fun about that?” she asked, her voice flattening slightly. “Watching people beat each other senseless?”

Nobara shrugged, unbothered. “It’s very fun, actually.”

She exhaled slowly, pressing her lips together as she looked away again, the faint screech of a train approaching filling the pause.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered.

Nobara stepped closer with a sheepish smile across her face. “Come on,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “Don’t act like you’ve got anything better to do.”

“I do,” she replied, though the answer came a second too late to sound convincing.

“Like what?”

She hesitated.

Nobara’s smile sharpened, “Exactly.”

Somewhere behind them, a train pulled into the station, wind rushing through the space, tugging lightly at loose strands of hair, at sleeves, at the edges of conversation.

She glanced at Nobara and sighed.

“…Fine.”

Nobara’s grin came instantly.

“Good,” she said. “Try not to complain too much.”

“I’m going to complain the entire time.”

“Yeah,” Nobara replied, already turning toward the stairs. “I’m counting on it.”

---

The entrance was easy to miss.

Nobara didn’t slow as she turned into a narrow passageway tucked between two shuttered storefronts, its presence half-hidden in shadow. A single dim bulb flickered overhead, casting an uneven light that made the walls look older than they probably were.

“This way,” she said, already descending.

Y/N hesitated at the top of the stairs. The air that drifted up from below was warmer, thick, carrying something sharp and metallic beneath the scent of sweat and damp concrete.

“We can still go to the arcade,” she muttered, though she didn’t move.

Nobara glanced back, unimpressed. “We won’t.”

She exhaled, then stepped forward.

The staircase was steeper than it looked.

Each step echoed faintly, the sound swallowed almost immediately by something deeper below, a low, constant noise that grew clearer the further they descended. Not quite cheering. Not quite shouting. Something heavier. Uneven.

By the time they reached the bottom, it had settled into her chest. Nobara pushed open the door without hesitation. The space beyond opened abruptly.

Heat hit first.

Then sound.

It wasn’t organized. It wasn’t clean. Voices overlapped, laughter broke out in sharp bursts, and somewhere beneath it all was the dull, rhythmic impact of something striking, again, and again, and again.

The room stretched wider than she expected, anchored by a ring at its center, enclosed by metal railings worn down where too many hands had gripped them. People crowded close to one another, shoulder to shoulder, drawn inward toward the center. There was no distance here. No polite separation. Just proximity.

“Well?” Nobara’s voice cut in, lighter than the space deserved. “Still think it’s boring?”

She didn’t answer immediately.

Her gaze drifted again, over the ring, over the crowd, over the way the air itself seemed to shift with every sound.

“I don’t like it,” she said finally, quieter than before. But that was a lie. Curiosity was blooming inside her and the amount of excitement everyone around her was showing was making her want to join in too.

Nobara only smiled.

“If you say so.”

They moved forward.

Or rather, Nobara did, and Y/N just followed.

The crowd resisted at first, then parted just enough, bodies shifting with reluctant allowance. Shoulders brushed against hers, unfamiliar and uninvited. The heat built quickly, pressing in from all sides.

They hadn’t reached the ring yet when Nobara moved slightly to the side.

A counter stood there, half-lit, cluttered with crumpled bills and slips of paper passed between hands too quickly to follow.

Nobara stepped up like she belonged.

She watched, a faint crease forming between her brows, as Nobara pulled out money and set it down without hesitation.

“You’re betting?” she asked.

Nobara didn’t look at her. “Obviously.”

She folded her arms. “On who?”

That earned her a glance. “You’ll see.”

It wasn’t an answer. And somehow, that made her more curious than anything else so far.

“Come on,” Nobara said, already moving again and grabbing her hand.

They moved deeper into the crowd.

Not quickly, there was no space for that, but steadily, with Nobara carving a path forward through sheer insistence. Bodies shifted reluctantly, shoulders brushing, voices rising in brief protest before dissolving back into the noise.

By the time they reached the front, the air felt heavier. The railing came into view first, metal, slightly worn, cool beneath her fingers when she reached for it. She didn’t realize she had until she felt the chill against her palm.

“Here,” Nobara said, satisfied, claiming the space like it had been waiting for her.

She leaned forward, already engaged, her attention fixed entirely on the ring.

Up close, the ring felt different.

Larger, somehow. Not in size, but in presence. The ropes were scuffed, the mat marked by faint, uneven stains that hadn’t fully faded. The overhead lights bore down harshly, leaving no room for softness.

Everything was exposed here.

The lights shifted.

A sharper brightness fell over the ring, isolating it from everything else.

And a voice followed.

“Alright-”

It cut through the space cleanly, practiced and controlled. The host stepped forward, movements easy, confident in a way that suggested familiarity with this exact moment.

“Let’s get started.”

The crowd responded immediately, cheers, whistles, a rising energy that seemed to tighten the air again.

He let it build, then lifted a hand slightly, not to silence it, but to shape it.

“We’ve got a good one tonight.”

A pause.

“Two fighters. One outcome.”

Nobara leaned in further, her excitement sharpening. “Finally.”

Y/N glanced at her, then back at the ring.

The host began with the first name, introducing the fighter with quick, efficient words. There was applause, scattered but present. Enough to acknowledge, not enough to linger.

She barely registered it.

Something about the way the host spoke, measured, almost teasing, made it clear there was more to come.

And then he paused again.

Longer this time.

The crowd seemed to feel it too.

The noise shifted, not louder, but tighter. Focused.

“And now…”

His voice dipped slightly, drawing the moment inward.

“A fighter you already know.”

A ripple moved through the crowd.

“A streak that hasn’t broken.”

Closer now. Sharper.

“A name that doesn’t need much introduction.”

Beside her, Nobara straightened.

“Itadori Yuji!”

The reaction was immediate.

It didn’t rise, it surged. “Yuji! Yuji! Yuji!” The name echoed, repeated, pulled into rhythm until it felt almost physical. Nobara joined without hesitation, her voice cutting through, loud and bright. “YUJI!”

Y/N blinked, startled by the sudden shift in her. “What the fuck?” She couldn’t understand the hype just yet.

The lights fractured across the ring, sharp beams cutting through the dimness, shifting too quickly for the eye to settle.

And then-

he appeared.

Yuji Itadori didn’t wait to be revealed. He ran into the light like he had no reason not to, like the space already belonged to him. There was no hesitation in his movement, no pause at the edge of the crowd. Just momentum.

He was wearing some white shorts and an unzipped white windbreaker. His arms spread slightly as he moved, not exaggerated, just enough to acknowledge the noise rising to meet him.

“Yuji! Yuji! Yuji!”

The chant returned, louder now, tighter, pulling everyone into it. Beside her, Nobara was already shouting again, voice bright, unrestrained. The sound of it cut through everything else.

Y/N didn’t join in.

Not yet.

She watched.

Up close, he looked different from what she expected. Not heavier. Not hardened in the way she had imagined. There was something open in the way he carried himself. He smiled as if he had already won. His hair fell slightly into his eyes as he slowed near the ring, pushing past the last stretch of space with an easy confidence. When he climbed in, it was fluid, practiced, one smooth motion over the ropes, landing light on his feet.

The crowd didn’t settle. It tightened. The other fighter was already there. Waiting. Broader, heavier, his stance set from the beginning. For a moment, nothing happened. They stood across from each other, the distance between them measured, deliberate.

Y/N found herself leaning forward without realizing it.

There was a shift in him then.

Subtle.

The looseness from before didn’t disappear, but it changed. Focused. Contained. His shoulders rolled once, slow, as if settling into something familiar.

The noise dulled, not gone, but distant now.

The bell hadn’t rung yet.

And still, everything felt like it was already in motion.

Then-

the sharp clang of it.

The match began.

And something in her finally tipped.

“Yujiii!”

The name left her before she could think to stop it. But it was too late and too loud for the moment it landed in, because the crowd has gone quiet.

A surge of embarrassment filled her up because it drew the attention of others.

Not everyone.

But enough.

And him.

His head turned.

It wasn’t confusion. Not quite. Just instinct, his gaze following the sound, landing on her with a brief, direct clarity. For a second, the distance between them felt shorter than it was.

Then-

impact.

The punch came fast, from the side. Clean.

It snapped his head slightly, drove him back a step, two, until the ropes caught him with a dull, jarring force. A sharp sound left her before she could stop it. Her hand tightened against the railing.

He didn’t fall.

Didn’t hesitate.

The shift was immediate.

Whatever had flickered in his expression vanished, replaced by something narrower, sharper. His footing steadied, weight redistributing with practiced ease.

And then he moved.

Faster than before.

There was no space now, no room for distraction. Each motion followed the last with precision, with a kind of certainty that felt almost abrupt after that brief mistake.

The exchange didn’t last long.

A strike. A counter. Another.

And then-

the final hit.

Decisive.

His opponent went down hard, the sound of it echoing faintly beneath the swell of noise that followed.

The bell rang again.

It was over in just a matter of minutes.

For a moment, he stayed where he was.

Breathing steadying. Chest rising and falling under the harsh lights.

Then he lifted his hand, dragging his thumb across the corner of his mouth. A thin line of blood marked the motion, but he didn’t seem concerned by it.

Instead-

he looked up.

And found her again.

This time, it wasn’t accidental. His gaze lingered just a second longer.

There was something there, small, almost private. A hint of amusement, maybe. As if he had already placed her somewhere in his mind.

A faint curve touched his mouth. And just like that, it was gone. The noise returned, louder than before. But she barely heard it. The sound returned all at once.

Not gradually, not in pieces, but in a single, overwhelming surge that filled every corner of the room. Cheers broke loose, voices overlapping, sharp and uneven, the earlier restraint dissolving completely.

“YUJI! YUJI! YUJI!”

The chant reformed itself without effort. Beside her, Nobara laughed under her breath, satisfied. “Told you.”

Y/N didn’t answer. Her attention hadn’t left the ring. He moved again. Not like before, not with that same forward momentum, but slower now, the tension of the fight easing out of his shoulders in small, almost imperceptible shifts. He rolled his neck once, then his shoulder, as if testing the absence of strain.

The referee said something but she didn’t catch it. It didn’t seem to matter. All of it felt secondary to the way the crowd leaned toward him, drawn in, reaching. He stepped toward the ropes.

And then, with an easy motion, climbed out.

Up close, the distance disappeared.

There was no separation now, no barrier beyond the railing that pressed lightly against her hips. The crowd surged forward, hands lifting, voices calling out his name not in unison this time, but in fragments.

“Yuji!! over here!”

“Good match!”

“That was insane-”

He met them without hesitation.

A hand clasped briefly in his. A fist bump returned with a soft knock of knuckles. A quick grin offered here, a short reply there, nothing lingering, nothing forced. It came naturally to him, this movement through people, this ease with their attention.

He didn’t seem overwhelmed by it.

If anything, he seemed to belong to it.

Y/N watched, her fingers still resting against the railing. There was something different about him now. Less distant than in the ring. Less contained. The sharpness had softened at the edges, replaced by something lighter, almost familiar.

He laughed at something someone said, short, unguarded, and for a moment, it felt strangely out of place with what she had just seen.

Or maybe-

not out of place.

He moved closer.

Each small interaction brought him further along the railing, until the space between them began to narrow without her realizing it.

Nobara noticed first.

She leaned forward, already prepared, her energy still bright from the win. “That was clean,” she said, voice cutting easily through the noise. “You made me money today.”

He stopped in front of her.

Grinned.

“Yeah?” he said, lifting his hand.

Their fists met with a quick, solid tap.

“Nice.”

And then he shifted. His attention moved to her. As if he had already decided to look, and was only now allowing it to happen.

Up close, he looked warmer somehow.

The faint sheen of sweat along his skin, the subtle rise and fall of his breathing, the small smear of red at the corner of his mouth, the single strand of hair falling on his eyes, details that hadn’t been as clear before now felt impossible to ignore.

For a second, neither of them spoke.

The noise continued around them, loud, insistent, but it felt slightly removed.

Then he lifted his hand. An offering, simple and unspoken. Y/N hesitated. Then she moved, lifting her hand to meet his.

Their knuckles touched.

For a moment, their hands lingered, just at the edge of contact, before separating.

The space between them didn’t quite return to what it had been before.

He didn’t move on immediately.

That, more than anything, felt intentional.

Most of the others he had greeted were already behind him, faces blurred into the crowd, voices dissolving into noise. But here, in this small pocket of space, he paused.

His gaze stayed on her.

Not heavy. Not intrusive.

Just steady.

“Name?” he asked.

The word was simple, almost casual, but it didn’t feel careless.

She blinked, caught slightly off guard. “What?”

A faint shift at the corner of his mouth, something between amusement and patience.

“What's your name?”

He didn’t repeat it with emphasis. Didn’t lean closer, didn’t press. But he didn’t look away either.

Like he expected an answer.

Around them, the noise continued, someone calling for him from further down the railing, another voice rising over it, but he didn’t turn.

For a brief second, she became aware of herself in a way she hadn’t before. The heat of the room. The closeness. The fact that he was still looking at her like there was no urgency to leave.

"Um- It's Y/N." She told him.

It came out quieter than she intended.

"Y/N..." He repeated it once under his breath, as if testing the shape of it. Then he smiled. “Got it.”

There was a small pause after that, thin, almost unnoticeable, but it lingered just long enough to feel like something had passed between them. Not spoken. Not defined.

Then the moment shifted.

A voice called his name again, louder this time.

He glanced away, briefly, then back at her. “See you,” he said, easy, like it wasn’t something he needed to think about.

And then he moved on, drawn back into the crowd, into the noise that seemed to follow him wherever he went.

She stayed where she was. Nobara looked her and then at Yuji, trying to figure out what this was all about. "Was I interrupting something?"