“gumii!” the moment you spot him across the courtyard, your face lights up.

megumi barely has time to register before you’re wrapping your arms around his waist “hi love.” you murmur against his chest.

a few students stare, but you ignore them as usual.

megumi sighs, though there’s no actual annoyance behind it. his hand moves to your back automatically. “hey.”

you grin at him “did ya miss me?”

“you saw me this morning. we woke up together.”

“so that’s a yes!” 

“noo.. that’s not what i said.” 

“sure, megumi.” the faint pink dusting his ears tells you all you need to know. 

most people only see the cold side of megumi. they don’t see the side of him that walks on the closest side of the road, the side of him that lends you his jacket when you complain about being cold just once, or the side of him that takes care of you on nights when your happiness fades into tears.

they don’t see how he stays up with you in the cold hours of night just to hold you together piece by piece. 

 because that side of him is reserved to you only. 

his hand slides down to squeeze yours once. “you done causing a scene?”

“never ever.”

for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts. “i figured.” 

“but you love me so much anyway.. right?!”

“ehh..” he jokes.

“baby!” you swat his chest softly. 

“i was just kidding.” he squeezes your hand once more and leads you through the courtyard, walking home with you.

you hum softly before suddenly gasping, stopping in your tracks. “oh my goodness!”

megumi’s eyes immediately blow with concern. “what?”

“i forgot to tell you.”

“tell me what?”

you grab both of his hands, bouncing slightly on your feet. “we’re pregnant!” 

“huh? you serious?”

“no! LOL! a new sushi place just opened near our apartment!” 

megumi blinks a couple of times before shaking his head. “who says lol outside of texting?”

“your girlfriend, duh.” you say it like it’s the most obvious thing ever, because it is.. “ but that’s besides the point! new sushi, babe!” 

megumi guides you across the street as you ramble on about this new place. two fingers subtly pushing against your lower back, nodding respectfully to the other passersby. 

“slow down, bunny. did you even look at the reviews?” he asks, palm now flat against your back as you continue walking and talking. 

“noooo, but that’s the point in trying new things! don’t you get it?”

he stays quiet for a moment and thinks “.. not really.”

“ugh, boooriing.” you tease, eyes rolling before settling on his face. “gummy, we should go tonight.”

“tonight?”

“yes! date night!” you squeak.

“we had a date night three days ago, i have to study for course exams.”

“okay so do i, but like.. live a little.” you say dramatically, squeezing his hand tighter.

but he already knows where this is going, because your determined look says you’re not taking no for an answer.

“please?” you say, giving him your best puppy eyes.

“no.” 

“please.”

“nope.” 

that’s not his answer, he never says no.

“pleeeeease?”

“you’re being annoying.” he jokes.

“…but am i annoying enough to get sushi with?” you wink.

you look away from his face, from the floor, from your mind for a second and realize you’re already outside of your apartment door

megumi sighs heavily, tilting his head back towards the sky. you smile because that’s always a good sign. “i heard they have cute mochi desserts,” you don’t give up.

silence follows. 

“and private booths.”

a whole beat of silence.

“and couples get a free dessert if they post a picture together!” you giggle, dragging him inside after fiddling with the keys for two long minutes. sometimes you agree that megumi has too much patience. 

“absolutely not.” he follows, shutting the door behind him and wriggling out of his jacket immediately. 

you smile and get closer, burying your face in between his pecs. “mm.. does this mean you’ll go with me?”

megumi looks down at you. at your hopeful expression, at your cute smile, at the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement over something as simple as trying a new restaurant with him.

his expression softens enough for you to notice. “what time?” he says, helping you out of your coat.

your face lightens up even more. “you will?”

“i never said no.” 

“aww! baby you’re the best!”

before megumi can stop you, you’re already peppering kisses all across his cheek, he groans, ears red as his arm stays firmly wrapped around your waist. “be ready by six thirty. giving you two hours. kay? i’ll be right here studying,” 

you leave one last, dramatic kiss to his cheek and let go of him completely. “yes captain!” you scurry off and start getting ready. 

at six twenty-four, megumi knocks at the bedroom door and opens it when you don’t answer. he sees you sitting at your vanity upon entry, hands occupied with a makeup brush and a highlighter stick, a silk robe covering your date night outfit. 

“hi baby!” you smile with all teeth, blowing him kisses through the mirror. 

“six twenty-five, slowpoke.” he reminds you.

“heeyyy, this is the last step of my routine! you gave me till six thirty, remember?”

“yes, y/n. i remember.” 

you finish fast and remove your robe, grabbing your purse and pausing suddenly, patting yourself down. 

“whatt’d you forget?” megumi asks, already beside you and adjusting your bodice.

“lipgloss!” you reach for it but his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you. 

“i like when your lips are just colored.. i always end up wearing your lipgloss home anyway.”

“good.” you smile and apply it, puckering up sweetly. megumi huffs before kissing your lips, smirking just a little bit when he pulls away.

you hand megumi your purse and follow him outside. the drive is loud with you in the car, singing along to every song in you and megumi's shared playlist—which you made… because your boyfriend is megumi fushiguro.

he parks smoothly and helps you out of his car, thumb squeezing and circling your hip as you walk into the restaurant together. the place is packed on opening night, but megumi finds a private booth near the emergency exit, his favorite spot.

you both place your different orders, megumi watches as you excitedly place yours, occasionally glancing at him between words just to make sure he’s interested in the menu. 

when your food arrives, you take trillions of photos and videos, teasingly calling megumi to get his face in frame and obviously, posting him all over the place. whether it be a photo of his hand holding yours on the table, or his face, or his annoyed face because you won’t stop sticking your phone in his face-face. 

three hours into the night, megumi’s carrying you to the car with your heels in one hand because you’re wine drunk and too full to move on your own. the pleasantly mellow high makes you feel more romantic than usual, megumi chuckles at the feeling of you kissing and nipping at his neck.

“there, there…” he pats your head as he sits you down in the passenger seat, lowering it slightly so that you’re comfortable. “that okay?” 

“nnn-yess!” you giggle, throwing your feet onto his dash.

he spares you a quick side glance before focusing on the road. “did you like the new sushi place?” one of his hands moves to your thigh, rubbing soft, warm streaks up and down. “hm?”

“yes baby! i looooooveeed it.. see?” you smile almost theatrically, drunk and dazed in such a fuzzy high. 

he gets you two home quick, megumi carries you up the stairs and into your apartment. taking his time and peeling off your clothes, wiping away your makeup, bathing you in warm water and massaging your collar bones with body scrub.

you sigh and lean into him, falling asleep in the bath. megumi dries you up and lays you in bed immediately, stripping himself of anything other than his boxers and laying down beside you after a long shower. 

his fingers skim your pretty forehead as he pulls the blanket over you. your boyfriend snaps a quick photo of you sleeping in his bed and posts it on his story with the caption reading, “knocked out immediately. lol.” 

megumi sets his phone aside and kisses your cheek carefully, pulling you flush against him and burying his face in your hair.

“mm.. goodnight princess” he grumbles, listening to yoiur breathing.

the room is dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. outside, the city is quiet. Inside, the atmosphere is settled. he eventually closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep as the evening’s fatigue catches hold of him too.

morning light slips through the blinds in golden pale strips, you’re the first to wake up and inevitably, the first to be hit with an aching thirst. 

you wince just a little, stretching your limbs and trying to untangle yourself from megumi—but even in sleep, his grip is impossibly strong.

“mm.. megumii” you whine, fingers brushing his hair, face impossibly close to his. 

he stirs, getting off of you to sit up and rub his eyes. you take that chance to slip out of the bedroom and go grab some water, but instead, two strong arms wrap around your waist again. 

you slide a shirt over your pretty panties, the fabric pools at megumi’s arms that are still around you. 

“where are you going? he murmurs against you, eyes closed, cheek squeezed into your back. 

“just getting some water.. do you want some?” you ask sweetly, cute nails brushing his arm softly in the way he likes. 

“mmhm.. what do you say?” 

you pretend to think for a minute, shooting him a look of feigned annoyance before gripping his hand. “goodmorning baby.”

“goodmorning girl.”

you giggle and go to the kitchen, pouring two cups of water and skipping back to the room, spilling some on the floor and on top of that, you forgot to close the fridge.

“whoa baby, no one ever taught you not to run with glass in your hands?  what about scissors?” 

“we really need to keep a thinner curtain in the kitchen.. it’s so dark in there.” 

“my girl’s still scared of the dark?” megumi’s expression catches the physical tension of stifling a laugh. 

“that’s not funny and you know this already. it scares me to an extent.” 

the fridge beeps suddenly and you leap back in bed, clutching his forearm. 

silence falls as you both process the sound. “.. you left the fridge open.”

“i can hear it. will my boyfriend do me a favor and go close it. hmm?”

he thinks for a moment and then he carries you by the waist, manhandling you out of bed. “go face your fear.”

“nope.” you move impressively fast, trying to belly flop back in bed but his big arms hold you out. 

“i’ll come with you!” he yells over your stammering and stands up, gently waking you to the kitchen. “see? not so bad is it?” he whispers, but to you it feels like a millennia away from the fridge. 

megumi walks faster and closes the fridge, throws you over his shoulder casually and walks back to your bedroom. . 

you laugh and swing your legs, scratching his bare back softly. 

megumi doesn’t even bother setting you down. “this is kidnapping, gummy.” 

“mhm.”

“i’m calling the police.” 

“..you left the fridge open.”

“but that isn't a reasonable cause for this!” 

“it’s the entire reason you’re up here.”

you huff and give his shoulder a tiny bite. “ow.”

“you deserved it.”

“i don’t think so.” 

he finally lowers you onto the mattress, but before you could flop backward dramatically, his hands stayed around your waist.

“no running with glass.”

“i know.”

“no sprinting through dark kitchens. where you can easily fall and hit your head and—“

“i knooow.”

your grin softens and you bump your forehead against his. “how about breakfast. your girl is hungry.” 

before you can even say anything else, he leans down, pressing a quick kiss against the corner of your mouth. 

you immediately chased another one, and more after that. his jaw, his beauty marks, his chin.. all polluted with kisses from his favorite girl.

“baby…” he mumbles, trying—and falling—to sound annoyed.

“what?”

“you kiss me too much.”

“that’s not possible.” 

“you’ve kissed me like eight times.”

“nine.” you giggle and kiss him more. “ten.” 

he catches your chin gently between his fingers and kisses you, slow and patient. long enough that all your teasing dissolved into a little hum against his lips. 

you wrap your arms around his neck, swaying from side to side. “you love me sooo much! don’t you baby?” 

he rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “yeah.”

you cup his face so carefully it makes him want to smile. “i love you too. but i’m hungry.”

“no morning classes today. we could take the dogs for a run and get some breakfast. how’s that sound?”

his thumbs rub lazy circles against your hip beneath the oversized shirt that definitely belongs to him. he lets you decide. 

you bury your face in his neck. “carry me to the bathroom. let’s go before the cafes close.” 

he rubs your back and lifts you, setting you down on the bathroom counter and handing you your toothbrush, already rinsed with white toothpaste squirted on top.

you both brush together, you occasionally whipping out your phone and snapping photos of your shirtless boyfriend with his toothbrush in his mouth and a rare smile only you get to see. 

you finish brushing and hop off the counter, getting dressed in some leggings and a large shirt, tying your hair up in the easiest style possible, and putting the dogs on a leash. 

shiro jumps on you as soon as he sees you, kuro marching straight to megumi. 

“kuro baby! mommy wants some love too!” you get on your knees and put your arms out for him, and he moves into your embrace. 

“fierce protectors by the way.” megumi jokes, grabbing their leashes and opening the door for you.

you smile at him as you pass him at the door as if he were a total stranger. megumi makes no comment though, just holds you against him while walking to the cafe. 

the cafe is warm in the way small neighborhood cafes always are. 

the windows are fogged slightly from the morning chill outside, the smell of espresso and buttered pastries filling the air while people chatter softly around them. 

shiro is curled beneath the table after their walk, kuro lying against megumi’s timbs with his head on his paws. 

usually you’re talking, about the dog wearing rain boots outside, about the old couple across from you and megumi sharing one slice of cake, about how the barista drew a little heart in your latte foam. 

about literally anything. and while megumi’s mind won’t get off of you being so quiet, he’s also trying to take in how beautiful you look. and your mind.. your mind drifts back to a conversation you had three weeks ago exactly.

outside this cafe, your own friend told you that you’re “too much” and that you, “need to leave megumi alone because he’s clearly tired.” 

today you just stir your drink, megumi decides to say something after exactly four minutes. “you don’t like it today?”

you blink. “hm?” 

“the latte, bunny.”

“oh!” you force a little smile. “no, it’s good.” 

he watches you over the rim of his coffee. “you sure? we can add more sugar, anything you want.”

“mhm. i’m sure.”

another silence. you break your croissant into tiny pieces instead of eating it. 

megumi leans back. he’s seen you cry, he’s seen you sick, he’s seen you laugh so hard you snorted juice out of your nose. he knows every version of you and yet, this quiet one is unfamiliar. 

“did i do something?” 

your head shoots up. “what?! no!” 

“then what’s wrong?”

“nothing.”

“liar.”

his voice is far from accusing, just certain. “you’ve been weird since we sat down.” 

you look away toward the window. outside, someone laughs loudly with their friend. your fingers tighten around your mug. “can i ask you something?”

“you just did.”

“seriously, megumi.”

“i’m listening.” 

you stare into your coffee, voice unusuallyy small now. “am i..”

the words suddenly feel stupid, childish and embarrassing. but megumi waits. 

“am i too much?”

his eyebrows knit together immediately. “what?”

“you know..” you laugh weakly. “too loud, or too clingy?”

silence followes. 

“someone said,” you mumble. “that i do too much around you.”

you don’t even look at him.

“they said you always look tired, that maybe you just put up with me because you’re nice.”

you pick at your sleeve. 

“and i know they shouldn’t matter, but..” your voice gets quieter. “i started thinking; what if you’re secretly exhausted by me?” 

you swallow dryly. the cafe suddenly feels very loud. the clinking dishes, the espresso machine, someone laughing nearby. you cant bring yourself to meet his eyes. “sorry.” 

nothing.

then you feel sudden warmth, engulfing your hand and a thumb brushing your knuckles. 

your tears fall immediately into your lap. concern replaces megumi’s sleepy calm almost immediately. 

“look at me.” 

you do. his face is completely serious. “who told you that?” 

“it doesn’t matter.” 

“it does.”

“i just don’t wanna make it a thing.”

his jaw tightens. “fine.” 

his fingers brush yours, palms squeezing your hand occasionally. “listen carefully.” 

you nod. 

“when have i ever pretended to like something?” 

you blink softly. “never.”

“i don’t.” 

he squeezes your hand again, bringing it up to his nose, kissing your knuckles softly. “if i don’t like someone, they know.” 

you can’t help the tiny laugh. “yeah, i know.”

“so why,” he asks quietly. “why would you think i’d fake loving you?”

your eyes begin to sting. “i just.. you don’t seem to get tired.”

“i do.” 

“i know, but-”

“no.”

he shakes his head. “i get tired of crowds, noise, classes, people asking stupid questions. maybe besides itadori. and you.”

“i don’t ask stupid questions.” you say.

he brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “i’ve never gotten tired of you.” 

your lip trembles. “really?” 

he looks almost offended. “you think carrying you around, making you breakfast, getting up close and intimate with you, staying awake with you when you can’t sleep…”

megumi tilts his head. “you think i do all that because i tolerate you?

you find it impossible how much megumi loves you despite being so good at containing it. “no..”

“i do it because i love you.” 

your eyes finally meet his again. 

“i like hearing you talk.”

“even when i ramble?” 

“especially then.” 

“but interrupt you all the time, i steal your things and i kiss you a lot..” 

“you do all those things. and if you suddenly stopped, i’d think something was wrong.” 

a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “i’m sorry.”

“for what?” 

“i don’t know why it got to me.” 

“it got to you because they were talking about someone you love.” 

he brushes the tear away with his thumb. “and because they were talking about you.”

you lean into his hand instinctively. 

“do you know waht i see?” 

you shake your head.

“i see someone who gets really excited over sushi, the person who waves at strangers.. laughs with them, the girl who cries during dog food commercials and snuggles kuro.”

you laugh through another tear. 

“you make every place feel like home, baby.” 

he says it so simply, like it’s just a fact. no hesitation and no embarrassment. “i don’t want less of you.” his thumb brushes beneath your eye again and your shoulders finally sag. 

“i want all of you.”

you smile despite yourself, looking down again. “even when im embarassing?” 

“i’ve carried you out of a restaurant while you were wine drunk and trying to kiss my neck.” 

you stay quiet, still smiling, a bit bigger now. 

“you post me all the time too.” 

“that’s not embarassing. besides, you posted me sleeping.” 

“that’s fair.”

you laugh properly this time, a sound that makes something unclench in megumi’s chest. 

“you’re really romantic for someone who pretends he isn’t.” 

“no i don’t pretend.” 

you roll your eyes and give him such a funny look he can only agree with you.

“fine but only a teeny bit.”

your smile grows with each passing second. it becomes bigger until it’s the smile he recognizes.

he moves his chair next to yours and pulls you closer, kissing your hair. a comfortable silence falls between you, and nearly after a full minute of stillness, you lift your head. 

“baby?” 

“hm?” 

“that little strawberry tart in the display case..” 

he closes his eyes. “here we go.” 

“can we split one?” 

a tiny sigh escapes him. “we were already going to.” 

your entire face lights up. “we were?” 

“i ordered it ten minutes ago. in a to go box. hot.” 

you shower him with kisses, he knows you oh so well.

SATORU GOJO —

gojo knows what he is doing. he is only fully convinced it will go the way he has been anticipating. 

it probably won’t. 

your daughter is already giggling in his hands, tiny legs kicking as he lifts her slightly in the air. 

“okay,” he says, focused for once. “watch this. this is gonna be cool.” 

she squeals, approval granted, legs curling slightly.

gojo adjusts his stance, eyes narrowing behind the glasses. it won’t be a throw—not really. it’s more like a controlled drop. 

he’ll just stop her midair. easy for a man like satoru. 

he lets go and for a split second, everything aligns. then, nothing. no catch, and no pause. 

just a soft thump. 

gojo’s brain goes blank, your daughter blinks up at him from the floor, stunned, not even hurt, yet, just stunned. 

“huh..” he breathes. 

then her face starts to scrunch.

“oh, no- no, no.. wait!” he drops instantly, scooping her up. “that was— you were supposed to..”

her lip trembles.

“i’m sorry, sorry, sorry.” he whispers as if she understands a thing about what he is saying, or of what just happened. “i miscalculated.” he whispers quickly, bouncing her. “just don’t cry, please don’t cry babygirl.” 

he’s too late. a sharp wail fills the room, and from the kitchen.. everything goes quiet. 

“satoru?” your voice, laced with worry, the soft sound of a kitchen towel rubbing against your hands, and then your fast footsteps. 

he freezes. “everything’s fine!” he calls, way too fast. “we’re just doing advanced techniques, mama!” he says, too loud, trying to outdo your daughter’s cries. 

you step into the doorway and your eyes go straight to the crying infant in his arms. then to him. “what did you do.” 

gojo swallows. “..maybe I overestimated myself. no, that’s not even possible. i just—”

the baby cries harder. 

you step forward, arms already spread out. “give her to me.” 

he hesitates, but only for a second. “she was supposed to stop. i was gonna teleport her to the bed.” he murmurs as he hands her over. “like… you know..”

you stare at him. “you tried to teleport her? our daughter? our ten month old daughter?” 

“but when you say it like that-”

“i am saying it like that because that’s exactly what you were going for.” 

you give him a look and he winces, then leans in anyway, gently brushing her hair back. “I’m sorry.. that one's on me.” 

his hand trails down to your hip, squeezing gently. 

a pause follows, short, awkward. then you whisper, “no more experiments.”

“yes ma’am.” he says quietly. “that’s fair..”

later, it is quiet. gojo lays beside you, struggling to keep his hands to himself.

“baby.. pleasee.” he murmurs, moving closer.

it is his tenth.. no, eleventh time asking. you fold your pillow so that both sides cover your ears. “it’s been a long day, toru. go to sleep”

“you’re still mad about earlier? i didn’t mean to drop her..”

you turn now, eyes wide in the sharp, warning like manner that gojo has feared since you met. “but you did.”

“come on, baby. you know i didn’t mean to. at least she didn’t land on her head, right?” he gets closer, fingers brushing your side.

your breath hitches despite yourself, eyes trailing down his body and landing on the hard, defined outline of his dick.

you swallow, cheeks hot, trying not to let him see just how much you want him despite your anger. but gojo grins knowingly, his hand slipping under the sheet to your thigh.

his thumb traces gentle circles there, testing just how close he can get. you clench your thighs instinctively. “fine.” you breathe.

“aw, i knew my pretty wife wouldn’t hold-”

your hand tracks from his chest to his mouth. “shh.”

“yes ma’am.”

KENTO NANAMI —

nanami has everything under control, as always. 

your son is steady, small hands raised and gripping the edge of the desk, little legs wobbling but determined. 

“i’ve got you. we need to perfect this so we can show your mother.” nanami says, voice softer than usual. “just one step.”

the plan is simple; help him stand, snap a photo, keep it until you’re done with training so that he can show you. 

a small milestone, safe and documented. 

your son looks at him, then nanami lets go. the baby takes one wobbly step forward, then another. kento’s breath catches. 

“that’s it..” he says quietly, a hint of awe slipping through. “come here. come to dadda.” 

your son wobbled toward him. three steps, four, and then his foot caught. a tiny stumble, then a thud. 

nanami moves immediately, shaking his head, taking his son gently. “sorry, i’m sorry.” he whispers rapidly, as if he’s apologizing to you. 

your son’s face crumples anyway. 

“it’s alright..” he sighs, his grip tightening slightly, cradling him closer. “i shouldn’t have let you try that alone.”

a cry breaks out and footsteps approached quickly. 

“ken?” you enter and see your son crying in his arms. your eyes flick to the desk and then back to him. “…what happened?”

“he walked to me,” he said quietly. “i thought i could catch him before he fell.” 

your expression shifts, surprise and then concern. “he walked?” you whisper. “and you did not wait to practice this with me?”

kento shuts his eyes for a second, they’re low when he opens them again. “..yes, and i failed to support him properly.” 

you step closer, taking your baby. “he just fell,” you say, too gentle. “that happens.” 

nanami stays quiet for a second, throat dry. “please, don’t talk like that.. i’d rather hear you scream.” 

your sons cries soften against you. nanami watches, something heavy in his expression. 

“i’m sorry..” he murmurs. not just to the baby.

later the house is quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes after a long day—soft, dim, wrapped in low light and the steady rhythm of a sleeping child down the hall.

you’ve just finished getting ready for bed, sitting at the vanity, fingers absentmindedly working through the last steps of your routine. 

the master bathroom door opens behind you. nanami steps out, hair still damp, a towel slung low across his waist.

“he asleep?” he murmurs, stretching behind you.

your eyes meet his in the mirror. “mhm..”

“you’re still mad?” he whispers loud enough for you to hear. 

you don’t answer, you just resume your nightly routine. he sighs heavily, one hand dragging down his face. 

he crosses the room sheepishly, grabbing for your shoulders and pulling you against him gently. “i’ve been thinking about you all day. forgive me, please.”

you are about to stand, turn away and get in bed, but then you feel his erection pressing tight against your back.

“i’d like to apologize properly now, darling.”

“kento—” you gasp, hands flexing where they rest against your vanity.

“shh” he says, leaning down and nibbling your ear softly, fingers tracing your jaw. he leans in, pressing gentle wet kisses against your neck.

you lean in because of course you do, it’s your husband.

TOJI FUSHIGURO —

toji isn’t trying to be dumb, because, to him, he isn’t.  at least it sounds efficient, two babies, one workout. 

your twins are perched on his back, giggling as he lowers himself into another push up. 

“hold on,” he mutters. “don’t start sliding. i’ll never hear the end of it.”

a tiny laugh escapes your son, encouragement. your daughter slaps his back repeatedly, giggling along with her twin. 

“mhm,” he groans. “real funny.” despite his words, the corner of his mouth twitches, scar stretching. 

another push up, and then another, and then a shift. there was too much weight to one side and his advance faltered. 

both of the twins roll off. at first, toji freezes, then he glances at them and laughs, trying to play it off—trying to distract them. 

their faces distort. toji’s eyes shut as if he’s only praying they won’t make a fuss. “you’ve gotta be kidding me.” 

the babies blink up at him, lips trembling—then, in perfect sync they weep. 

“oh, don’t-” toji mumbles, hands reaching out for them. “not both of you..” 

way too late, and from where you were, silence falls. his eyes shut again at the sound of your footsteps. 

“toji?” you appear and freeze. both babies crying, toji sitting there with one already in his arm, reaching for the other. 

“what did you do?” 

“they rolled.” he says.

your stare sharpens and he tenses visibly. “you dropped both of them?”

“they rolled,” he repeats, more firmly. 

you step inside and pick up your son. “they were on your back, weren’t they?” you say, noting the red marks on toji’s shoulders. 

“maybe..”

they cry louder and toji clicks his tongue, clearly irritated.. but not at them. “they’re fine.. didn’t hit too hard.” 

your daughter stops crying the moment you take her and turn away, just like that. toji goes still behind you. “…seriously?” he mutters.

you don’t even look at him. “what?”

“i had her handled.”

“mm,” you hum, swaying gently. “looked like it.”

he clicks his tongue, but there’s no real bite to it. just slightly bruised pride. by the time both babies are finally asleep, the house settles into a quiet that feels earned.

you stretch once, then move into the kitchen. you barely get started before you feel him again. toji doesn’t announce himself—he’s just there, close and warm, one hand braced against the counter beside you, the other settling at your waist.

“you know,” he starts, voice low, “they stopped crying real fast when you picked ‘em up.”

“mhm.”

his thumb brushes lightly against your side. “feels like favoritism.”

“that’s because you used them as gym equipment.”

“they were participating.. and helping.”

you snort. “they can’t even hold their heads up properly.”

“they held on just fine.”

There’s a pause. Then his hand shifts—slower now, more deliberate.

“you didn’t look this calm earlier,” he murmurs.

“I wasn’t,” you reply. “you dropped both of our babies.”

“they rolled.”

“you dropped them, ji.”

“…semantics.”

you try to step away, but he keeps you close—not forceful, just enough to turn you slightly back toward him.

“be careful,” you warn. “I’m cooking.”

“yeah,” he says, glancing down briefly. “I can see that.”

there’s a pause, then he speaks again. “you always get like this after?”

you narrow your eyes. “after what?”

“handling everything.” his mouth tilts faintly. “all calm and in control… kinda unfair.”

“toji.”

“what?” he says, completely unbothered. “just an observation.”

“you’re not subtle.”

“never said i was.” he leans closer, voice dipping just enough to make your focus slip. “should i start doing push ups with them more often?”

you elbow him immediately. “don’t you dare.”

he laughs under his breath. “if we have another,” he adds, like it’s nothing, “i won’t use them as gym equipment.”

you stop completely. “what?”

“i said,” he repeats easily, “if we have another, i’ll adjust.”

you turn slowly, staring at him. “If we have another?” you cross your arms. “you just dropped two today.”

“they rolled, baby. I'm telling ya.”

“you dropped-” you cut yourself off with a sharp exhale. “and so your solution is more?”

a hint of a grin tugs at his mouth. “i said i’d learn.”

“that’s not reassuring.”

“it should be.”

you turn back to the stove, shaking your head. “Incredible.”

there’s a quiet pause behind you, then his hand returns to your waist—slower now, less teasing.

“besides,” he murmurs, “you handled them pretty well.”

“they’re babies. i’m their mother. its the job.”

“yeah,” he says, thumb brushing lightly again, “but you make it look easy.”

“flattery’s not fixing this.”

“wasn’t trying to fix it.”

you glance back at him and this time, he’s looking at you steadily, not joking.. not entirely.

“…you’re serious,” you say.

“about not using them as weights? yeah.”

“that’s not the part i  meant.”

“why not? why not another?”

the question hangs. you turn fully now, folding your arms. “becayse we already have two.”

“aand?”

“and that’s enough, they’re newborns.”

he tilts his head slightly, considering it, not dismissing, just thinking.

“maybe it’s enough,” he says.

“toji!”

“what?” he murmurs, softer now, hand still resting at your side. “just saying.”

there’s no pressure, just that same quiet certainty, like the idea doesn’t bother him at all.

like maybe, he’s already thought about it.

you hold his gaze for a second longer, then turn back to the stove—though your focus isn’t nearly as steady now.

“you can cook your own dinner,” you mutter.

a low chuckle sounds behind you. “yeah,” he says. “we’ll see about that.”

SUGURU GETO —

suguru knows exactly what he’s doing. he thought it would be harmless, teaching your one year old son how to play ball…

your boy sat in front of geto, fascinated, watching the basketball in his hands. 

“alright,” geto smiles, bouncing the ball lightly. “watch closely.” 

the ball hits the floor and comes back up, a simple dribble, smooth and controlled. 

your son giggles and geto’s smile softens. “see? like this.” 

he dribbles again, but your son reaches forward too suddenly. 

the timing breaks, the ball bounces wrong, and taps right into him. 

not hard, but hard enough, your son loses balance, tipping backward. 

thump 

geto’s heart drops 

“oh!” he’s there instantly, picking him up. “i didn’t think you’d— im so sorry.”

your sons face twists. geto holds him closer. 

“no, nope. its okay!” he bounces your son gently in his arms.

“suguru!” he hears you coming from your bedroom, every one of your steps suddenly exaggerated and loud in his head. “why’s he crying?! i cant enjoy one moment with the girls without you turning boy time into a mess!”

you walk in only to see his nervous expression and your baby boy, writhing in his arms. you take him gently. 

“what…happened?”

“i was trying to teach him how to hoop!” he blurts out. “he fell, baby im sorry..” 

“suguru you are going to watch five little monkeys with this boy every night until he falls asleep. and if he doesn't.. you're going to put it on loop. do you understand?”

“no! i’ll do anything.”

“nope. you will watch it.”

later that night, you and the girls peek through the hallway door and see geto on the couch with your son, baby sprawled on his chest like he has nowhere else to be, little fist in his mouth as he rewatches five little monkeys for the fifth time tonight.

you snicker as quietly as you can but your husband isn’t an idiot. he knows you’re watching.

you move fluently through the forest, having already memorized and seen everything there is to it. neteyam is beside you, moving swiftly, occasionally glancing at you sideways—just to make sure his mate is okay. 

everything happens too fast, you see a herd, twelve syil passing calmly.

then, the loud stomps of a different creature, everything shifts—the pyil are gone, birds soar away in a quiet, cold breath.. 

“watch out, baby.” neteyam murmurs, left arm subconsciously drifting towards you. 

and then you feel it, the hard stomp of a creature right behind you. you’re blasted further into the forest by the shock wave of a large, mother thanator. 

neteyam is thrown to the far right. who does she see first? you. who does she come after first? also you. you try to rise but there’s too much pressure on your quadriceps. 

the beast charges so fast you can hardly see her.

a sharp twang breaks the silence that feels like your last breath, three arrows right in her neck. she falls, eyes still open, body too weak and too limp to fight any longer. 

you finally let a strangled sound rip out of you, hands resting on your legs where you feel the most pain. 

neteyam wastes no time, kneeling beside you and scanning your body, examining your injuries. his fingers brush over your thighs and ankles, fingers rubbing against the dirt and soil that now coat your legs. 

“we need to get back. to my grandmother. did you break anything? can you feel your legs?” 

he starts asking too many questions at once, all you can do is nod as neteyam repeatedly asks whether or not you can feel your legs.

he stands, slipping on arm under your waist and the other under your thighs, holding onto you as if it were your last touch, lips brushing your hair as you bury your head in his chest.

“it’s okay baby.. i’m gonna get you home and we’re gonna be okay. yeah?” 

you nod, fingers curling in the fresh braids dangling at his shoulder.

“good. keep working your fingers, try moving your feet. you hear me?”

“yes..” you whisper. “teyam.. it hurts.” 

“i know love—talk to me, tell me what hurts.” 

“my legs.. everything.” 

“we’re almost there. kay?” 

you just nod against him. it feels like an eternity before you finally arrive at the village. 

the settlement is not clear of villagers, people watch curiously as neteyam rushes past with you in his arms, straight to mo’at. they see how ugly your legs have gotten. 

jake’s heart burns where he watches from the side, praying silently that you don’t lose your legs. 

when you arrive at mo’ats kelku, she works immediately, examining your legs, testing your blood, filling the room with healers smoke and forcing herbs down your throat. 

neteyam doesn’t stray far, watching nervously, pacing around worried. 

days pass, people come to visit, neteyam sleeps beside you every night, holds you in his arms—most nights he can’t sleep, wishing it had been him. he gives you baths, brings you water, cooks your food.. but nothing feels enough. 

comes a day in which you’re healed, but your legs are still weak. you’ll need some time before getting back on your feet for hunting and fighting again. 

neteyam is with you every step of the way. 

he steadies you when you stumble on your feet, places a large palm on your lower back when your legs tremble, sometimes he even carries you when your legs feel too heavy. 

one afternoon, you’re sitting still on your mat in your hut, neteyam comes in from a short hunt and sits beside you immediately. 

his long arm wrap around your waist and pull you flush against his side, thumb rubbing slow circles on your hip. 

“you’re so good to me, neteyam.” you smile.

but ever since he approached you with your wallet in hand, it feels like everywhere you go, armin is there. scribbling in his stupid textbook and following eren around like a puppy.

maybe it's because nobody ever notices him around campus, and now that his existence has been made known to you, he's more present. and for reasons you do not dare name, your stomach twists every time you catch him staring.

later that day, you’re in the library with your friends, searching for a book you need for a project, you bend slightly, having finally spotted the book, and reach for it immediately, thats before armin walks past and his thigh brushes against your ass.

you stand straight immediately, looking up at him angrily. “what are you doing, spazz?”

“im just walking past, sorry.” he says, fixing his glasses and walking away fast.

“what’s his issue?” your friend whispers, handing you the book.

“he's an idiot.” you murmur, handing in your library card and leaving with your friends.

another day, you’re in the lounge room, and your friends catch you staring at armin. “you know, for someone who hates him so much.. we catch you looking way too much.”

“he’s reading a book. while everyone else talks around him. it’s almost impressive.”

one afternoon, after all the day's courses have been completed, people are throwing parties, especially the theta chi frat guys. and as one of the most sought over women in uni, of course you're invited!

you stroll up about fifteen minutes late and your presence is known immediately… who happens to be the first person you see when you walk in? armin. surrounded by his jock friends and of course, all he’s doing is watching them talk while he alternates between drinking and reading.

at some point you're standing in the living room, chatting with some friends, dancing and drinking a cup of beer. suddenly, someone bumps into you with a gasp and you feel the freezing, wet sensation of liquid spilling all over you and staining your dress.

“what the fuck?!” you exclaim, whipping around to see none other than armin. your eyes roll around immediately and he cowards back awkwardly.

“i'm sorry!” he squeaks, using his forearm and attempting, pathetically so, to clean it off of you himself. “i'm sorry! look, i have the perfect idea! come with me.”

“no im not ‘coming with you’ i cannot be seen with a loser like you, armin!” you whisper harshly, not noticing that he’s already dragging you upstairs.

“come on… sit down” he says quietly, gesturing towards the bathroom vanity.

“why? so you can mess with my outfit even more?”

somewhere in between your harsh words and constant grumbling, armin finds a perfume bottle and a blowdryer. “this’ll fix it, i promise.”

“make this quick.” you murmur reluctantly, watching him spray perfume on your side and plug in the blow dryer.

he looks kinda cute actually, ears red, glasses nearly falling off his nose before he finally uses one finger to put them back in their rightful place, pink tongue poking out in concentration as if this isn't the easiest task of all time.

you catch a glimpse of his tongue piercing and suddenly the loser you’ve hated since highschool is just flat out hot.

“almost done..” he whispers, breath fanning against your side. armin finally takes a look up at you, only to meet your hooded eyes and tiny smirk.

“what?” he says awkwardly, almost shyly. shifting his weight and turning his attention back to your side.

“you just look very cute.. that's all.”

he stands up straight, quicker than you can say ‘cute’ and his face is flushed completely. “you bully me every day! what do you mean i'm cute?”

“yeah, cause you're a loser… but you’re a cute one.”

your hands move slowly up his chest, hovering before landing on his soft cheek and pulling him closer. His breath catches and he looks down at you.. at your lips. “you’ve probably never been this close to a woman, have you?” you whisper sweetly.

“y- yes! yes! of course i have!” he swallows fiddling with his hands as if he’s trying to find a place to put them. your eyebrow raises and he sighs, “no.. i haven’t–but its okay, right?”

“mm, yeah.. i guess so.”

he frowns slightly, hand finally moving to your side, trembling slightly. “there’s still beer on your dress.”

your hand moves to your back, feeling at it, searching for the zipper.

“hey! hey! what are you doing?!” armin gasps, fixing his glasses again.

“what? i'm just taking my dress off.”

he stares at you for a few seconds before taking a breath and calming down.

“let’s go to one of the bedrooms?” you ask

“you know i live here, right? i'm a part of the fraternity too..”

“no, i actually couldn’t even imagine you in a frat.”

he shakes his head, taking every word seriously. armin leads you into his room and you get a view of his astrological posters, books, and globe lamps. “do you like it?” he asks.

you don’t answer, dropping onto the bed and finally allowing your dress to slip off.

armin stays silent after that, watching you with flushed cheeks and a new hunger in his eyes. you take his hands and move them to your bra. “do you know what to do from here?”

he nods gently. “i’ve heard my friends talk about it and stuff.”

“yeah?” you say, unclipping your bra, eyes never leaving his.

armin holds his breath, helping you out of your bra and palming your tits immediately.

you watch his eyebrows twitch as he squeezes them, maybe he lied. you take his thumbs and brush them over your nipples, gasping to demonstrate how pleasurable it is.

“did you like that?” he murmurs.

you just nod, and so he takes it from you.. gaining confidence and flicking his thumbs over your hardened peaks over and over again.

armin smiles at your reactions, your whimpers, and pinches one lightly.

he finally sits beside you and kisses you, slow at first, then you take over and slip your tongue into his mouth.

your tongues dance and you can feel his piercing sliding against your tongues’ flat dorsal surface.

you break the kiss and lay down, pulling him by his wrists into the valley between your legs, armin kisses you gently again, hands exploring your body hesitantly.

he finally reaches your core, circling your clit through your panties, teasing your entrance softly.

“armin..” you whisper, pushing his shoulders and guiding him down.

he quickly shoves your panties to the side and just examines your bare, wet folds for a second… “wow.” he whispers, breath warm against your pussy.

“go ahead,” you shift, sliding closer. “taste it.”

armin's smile is soft, and he obeys quickly, tongue slicing through your folds, tasting and swallowing your slick.

he moans, hands kneading your soft thighs, glasses pressing against the round fat of your pussy.

“take those glasses of, nerd.” you say, quite harsh but right now you don’t even care.. you need him fully.

armin whimpers into your mound, taking his glasses off and giving them to you.

you bite the temple tips of his glasses and watch him eat you out greedily. you take a look at his lenses and notice small drops of water on them, then you look back down at armin and realize that he's crying.

crying literal tears. while he eats your pussy.

“armin.. why are you crying?” you murmur.

he sniffles but keeps going, whimpering quietly. “you’re so rude to me…”

you frown slightly, feeling sort of guilty now. “you’re doing so good, how’s that? i’ll reward you after..”

he looks up from in between your legs, tongue still flicking against your sensitive bundle of nerves. “okay.. yes.”

“gooood” you moan, fingers curling in his hair, legs trembling, hips bucking until you finally cum on his tongue.

armin slurps it up like a man starved, squeezing your thighs and thanking you breathlessly.

he teases you by circling your swollen clit with his tongue piercing. “armin..” you moan softly, “you don’t mind if i take care of everything myself, do you?”

you stand carefully, sliding your last piece of clothing—your panties—off and staring down at him.

he shakes his head, lips parted.

“okay.. do you want your glasses? so you can see me better?”

he nods this time, taking them and putting them back on, eyeing you desperately.

“okay.” you whisper, cupping his face and kissing him once more.

he moans into the kiss, hips bucking, hand palming his cock through his jeans.

“unt-unt.” you say, taking his wrists and moving them to your waist. “you said you’d let me take care of everything.”

“yes.” he nods, whimpering despite himself. your fingers hook into his waistband, other hand unzipping his jeans and pulling them down.

he’s in his boxers and a collared shirt now, panting.. pathetic. he watches as you unbutton his shirt and pull it off of him.

armin’s six pack is more defined than you’d imagined, but you’re not complaining.

your hands explore his body, tracing his abs and circling his pecs… “you can take your boxers off now.” you whisper.

he moves quick, tearing them off and spreading his legs invitingly, eyebrows furrowed in pain.

his dick is so hard it’s twitching, leaking precum. it bounces against his stomach as soon as his boxers come off. the tip is swollen and red, so needy for your touch.

you scoff, smiling softly at him. “you need me that bad, armin?”

he nods, swallowing loud, whimpering for you.

“well alright then..” you shift closer, brace your hands on his shoulders, and take your seat right on his leaking cock.

he moans so loud that you have to stick two fingers in his mouth as you bottom out completely.

“ah! mmmm..” he whimpers, hands gripping your ass now.

you roll your hips and bounce gently, feeling every vein and twitch of his cock.

“nghh—slow.. please!” he moans, looking down and watching your pussy swallow him.

you feel his heart hammering against your palm and move faster, clit dragging against his pelvis with ever roll of your hips.

his body jerks, strangled moans ripping out of his throat, sweat dripping down his intricate abs.

“don’t.. ahnn.. don’t stop! mmphh.”

his hips buck, thighs trembling uncontrollably beneath you.

he moans repeatedly, whimpering everytime he loses his breath.. poor armin can’t even speak anymore.

his hips suddenly begin moving as fast as you, chasing a high only you can grant him.. he shoots thick ropes of come into you, whole body trembling, fingers now kneading gentler, trembling cutting off.

you pant and look down, only to notice the complete mess you’ve made of his lap and bed sheets, armin helps you up, watching his juices drip out of you.

you lay beside him immediately, kissing down his neck, throwing one leg over his thighs.

“did i do good?” he whispers.

“so good.. such a good boy.” you kiss him again, fingers twisting his blonde locks.

he smiles, happy he made you feel so good.

you cross your arms tighter, “you were supposed to bring him back at seven.” 

“it’s seven thirty.” he says. 

“exactly.”

toji looks exhausted in that infuriatingly unreadable way of his—hair messy, clothes wrinkled, eyes shadowed like he hasn’t slept properly in days. there’s a tiny dinosaur sticker stuck to the sleeve next to his wrist. 

probably gumi’s.

“you could’ve called.” you say. 

toji shrugs one shoulder carefully so he doesn’t wake him. “phone died.” 

“convenient.” 

there’s a long pause before you decide to speak. “did he eat dinner?” 

“yes.”

“what did he eat?” you lean against the door frame. 

toji glances down at megumi automatically, expression shifting by instinct alone. softer. “he wouldn’t touch the vegetables. had noodles instead, then he stole half my fries.” 

“that’s only because you let him.” 

“he looked at me, what can i say?” 

you roll your eyes despite yourself. “he’s three, toji. that’s all he has to do.” 

“works every time.” 

you can’t help the way your mouth twitches, just faintly. but toji notices.. he always does.

“give him here,” you murmur.

toji doesn’t move right away, just shifts his weight to his to his other foot and clandestinely sniffs megumi’s hair.

it’s not that he’s refusing, it just always takes a second too long when it comes to handing your son over, for the both of you.

he shifts the boy slightly in his arms, careful in a way that doesn’t match the rest of him. 

“you sure?” he asks.

it’s almost mocking on the surface, almost.  but there’s something quieter underneath it, as if he’s not actually challenging you—just confirming.

“unless you plan on standing in my doorway all night,” you say, already holding your hands out. 

that does it for him. 

toji steps forward and transfers megumi into your arms with surprising care. the boy barely stirs, only tucking his face deeper into your shoulder as soon as he recognizes the shift in warmth. 

his grip on toji’s sweatshirt loosens, then, at the last second, his fingers snag the fabric again like he’s changed his mind.

toji pauses. “…he’s got a stealthy grip,” he mutters.

“i see that.”

you gently work megumi’s fingers free one by one, careful not to wake him. when you finally succeed, his hand flops against your chest and stays there, warm and heavy.

toji flexes his empty hand like he’s not sure what to do with it now.

“goodnight, ji.”

he freezes for a moment, just staring directly at you with the same eyes you were so used to seeing at the very crack of dawn. every day.

he just backs out of the apartment, turning when he’s half way through the door. “g’night” he mumbles under his breath.

toji walks out of the complex with heavy, tired footsteps that sound louder than they should in the quiet. you ease the door shut behind him; it clicks softer than usual. then you shift your weight and cross the living room, moving toward the floor to ceiling windows that overlook the space outside. from there, you get a clear view of where toji is heading.

he’s just going to his car, then straight home. it’s what you tell yourself—but there’s also no doubt in your mind that he could be seeing other women.  

you sigh heavily, eyes drifting to megumi in your arms. just the mere sight of your son lifts your heavy spirits. 

you take him to your bedroom and place him carefully on the bed. megumi makes the smallest sound when you lower him onto the mattress. A sleepy little huff through parted lips, brow pinching for half a second before relaxing again. 

“there you go,” you whisper instinctively, smoothing the dark hair off his forehead.

he smells like outside air, baby shampoo, and faintly of grease from fast food fries. very on brand for time spent with toji.

you tug his tiny sneakers off first and line them neatly by the bed. one of his socks is halfway folded around his ankle, the knees of his little pants are dusty. 

boys 

your fingers pause when you notice the tiny plastic dinosaur still shoved into his jacket pocket. 

you pull it free carefully, green.. missing one eye, megumi’s favorite toy lately. 

the corner of your mouth softens, then your eyes drift to the window without meaning to. the parking lot below is still visible between the slats of the blinds. 

toji’s car hasn’t moved. you stare for a second, then two more. 

megumi shifts behind you, turning onto his side with a sleepy mumble, and your force yourself away from the window long enough to pull the blanket over him properly. 

maybe he’s checking something on his phone.. 

maybe he’s fallen asleep,

or maybe -

your jaw tightens slightly, you walk back toward the window anyway. the car is still there, engine off, dark inside. 

something unsettled curls low in your stomach before annoyance quickly smothers it. 

you slip your feet back into your house shoes and quietly leave the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. the apartment is dim except for the kitchen light you forgot to turn off earlier. 

by the time you make it downstairs, irritation has already rebuilt itself nicely. 

the night air hits cool against your skin as you step outside the complex. toji’s car windows are fogged faintly at the corners. 

you march over and rap your knuckles sharply against the driver’s side glass. 

a beat later, there’s movement inside. toji startles awake instantly.

he blinks once, processing, then rolls down the window slowly. “hey..” he says, voice rough with sleep. 

you stare at him; his seat is pushed back farther than usual. one arm still rests over his stomach. there’s a crumpled kids napkin stuck to his shoulder. 

“you fell asleep.” 

he rubs a hand over his face. “no shit..”

you roll your eyes because of course you do. who is he talking to? “you were gonna sleep in the parking lot?”

“to be fair,” he mutters, looking you up and down.. “wasn’t really planned..”

“you should’ve gone home.” you lie. 

there’s a pause, then, he says, quieter this time, “yeah.” 

your irritation flickers strangely at the rims. 

up close, he looks worse than before. exhaustion sits heavy beneath his eyes now that he’s not actively holding himself upright through it. his hair is flattened awkwardly on one side from the headrest.

there’s a long silence before you speak again. “when’s the last time you slept properly?” 

toji gives you that one look that that immediately answers the question. 

you exhale through your nose, “not good.” 

“well i’m alive aren’t i?” 

“barely.”

his mouth twitches faintly at that, too tired for a real one. 

you cross your arms tighter against the cold. “you can’t drive like this.” 

“i’ve driven worse.” 

“that’s not comforting, toji.” 

somewhere nearby, a gate rattles softly in the wind. then toji leans his head back against the seat and shuts his eyes for just a second too long. 

that decides it. “come upstairs.” 

his eyes open again immediately. “what?”

“you heard me.” 

“you don’t have to do that.” 

“i know.” 

he studies you carefully, like he’s trying to figure out if this is a trap. 

“you can sleep on the couch.” you add flatly. “don’t make it weird.”

a quiet scoff leaves him “wasn’t planning to.” 

“good.” 

neither of you moves. then, eventually, toji sighs low under his breath and reaches for the keys. 

“kay.” he murmurs.

the apartment is quiet again by the time midnight settles in.

the kind of quiet that makes every little sound feel louder than it is—the hum of the refrigerator, the echoing squeak of the smoke detectors, the soft rustle of sheets every time megumi moves in your bed.

toji is asleep on the couch. at least, you think he might be.

you tried not to look at him when you handed him the spare blanket earlier. tried not to notice the way his eyes followed you around the kitchen while you filled a glass of water for him. tried not to notice the way he fit back into this apartment despite everything.

as if he’d never left at all.

you’re halfway asleep yourself when thirst finally drags you out of bed.

the apartment floor is cool against your feet as you shuffle toward the kitchen. the hallway light is off, leaving only the dim glow over the stove illuminating the room.

and there he is.

of course, toji stands shirtless by the sink, one hand braced against the counter while he drinks straight from a glass. his sweatpants hang low on his hips, dark hair messy from the little sleep he got when he’d just arrived.

you stop short. he glances over.

neither of you says anything until- “you own shirts,” you mutter.

“ta sleep? not really.”

your eyes betray you for exactly one second before flicking away from his chest.

toji obviously notices. the corner of his mouth pulls slightly as he sets the glass down. “thought you were asleep.”

“so did i.” you move around him toward the cabinet, deliberately leaving space between your bodies. the apartment suddenly feels much smaller than it did an hour ago.

you grab a cup, but toji won’t move out of the way.

“you’re crowding the sink.” you say categorically.

“you came to my sink.”

“it’s my apartment.”

“mm.”

the sound vibrates low in his throat, lazy and amused. so annoying.

you fill your cup anyway, hyperaware of him standing beside you. heat rolls off his skin in waves, warm and familiar enough to make your chest tighten unexpectedly.

you hate that you still remember things like this. the shape of him in low light, the scar near his shoulder,

…the way he always smells faintly like clean soap and cigarettes no matter how hard he tries to cover one with the other.

“you’re staring.” toji says quietly.

your grip tightens around the cup. “you wish”

“hm.”

you finally look at him then, mostly because you’re irritated enough to. he’s already looking directly at you.

sleep softened him a little, took the sharpness out of his posture. but his eyes are still heavy in that same unreadable way that always makes you feel like he knows more than he says.

the tension shifts subtly but immediately

toji’s gaze drops briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. your stomach flips hard enough to annoy you.

“don’t.” you say softly.

“didn’t say anythin.”

“you don’t have to.”

neither of you move as the silence drags on, the air feeling thick suddenly. your gaze drops to the floor, your mind flooding with thoughts of when weekends meant everything to all three of you—you, toji, and megumi.

times when weekends were more than curt, deadpan conversations and custody exchanges..

back when weekends meant staying up too late with laughter echoing through the apartment, some animated movie forgotten in the background as megumi drifted off halfway through your marathons—leaving you and toji slipping away together in hushed, stolen moments.

your thoughts unravel before they can go any further as from down the hallway, a tiny, sleepy voice sounds; “mama?”

you step back immediately like someone snapped a wire between you. toji looks away first this time.

“i got him,” he says, already pushing off the counter.

“toji-”

but he’s already moving down the hallway barefoot and half asleep, snatching lazily at the back of his neck as he disappears toward your bedroom.

and against your better judgment, you listen.

a few seconds later you hear megumi’s tiny relieved whine followed by toji’s low, gravelly murmur.

“yeah, yeah.. m’here.”

you linger in the kitchen longer than you intend to. your water has gone untouched in your hands, condensation dampening your fingers while the sound of megumi’s sleepy babbling drifts faintly down the hallway.

toji answers him in low hums instead of actual words.

‘mm.’

‘really..”

‘did she?’

the familiar cadence of his voice pulls at something deep in your chest before you can stop it.

you tell yourself you’re only checking to make sure megumi settles back down. that’s all.

the bedroom door is cracked open slightly when you reach it. warm lamp light splits through the gap in a thin stripe across the floor.

you peek inside quietly

and your heart betrays you instantly.

megumi is sprawled across the middle of the bed sideways, blanket kicked completely off his legs. toji’s laying beside him on top of the comforter, one arm tucked behind his head while the other rests over megumi’s tiny stomach to keep him from rolling off the mattress.

megumi’s poking aggressively at toji’s cheek.

“an’ then mama said no more candy.” he explains very seriously.

“cruel,” toji murmurs.

megumi nods solemnly. “very cruel.”

“oh, to survive such hardship at your age.” toji sighs dramatically.

a sleepy giggle bubbles out of megumi.

your chest aches. toji looks different like this. not sharp edged or guarded. just tired and warm and soft around megumi in a way barely anyone ever gets to see.

megumi continues rambling without pause, words slurring together from exhaustion.

“and at school yesterday ‘michi spilled glue an’ mrs. tanama said bad choices an’ then…” he yawns so hard his whole face squishes “mama makes the dinosaur voices wrong.”

toji’s eyebrow lifts. “she does? do tell.”

you narrow your eyes from the doorway automatically.

megumi nods with the seriousness of a tiny judge. “t-rex not sound like that.”

“huh.” toji huffs at his son’s broken way of speech, adjusting his position in bed so that he can finally sleep.. 

you should walk away now, but instead you lean slightly against the doorway. “oh, and you’re apparently a dinosaur expert now?”

megumi’s sleepy face lights up immediately. “mama!” 

before you can react, he’s pushing himself upright on wobbling little arms. then he points decisively at the empty space beside toji. 

“get in, mommy.”

you blink. “gumi-”

“family cuddle.” 

the words hit the room softly. toji goes still for just a second. 

megumi, oblivious, pats the mattress harder. “come on!”

you cross your arms automatically. “you should be sleeping.” 

“you too.” megumi counters instantly.  

toji snorts quietly under his breath, so you shoot him a look that says ‘don’t encourage him.’

megumi is still waiting expectantly, eyes barely open now but stubborn enough to hold out forever if necessary.

you hesitate, again.

maybe that hesitation is your first mistake because megumi is not happy. his tiny mouth turns downward. “mama..”

toji exhales softly through his nose, eyes fixed on the ceiling now like he’s deliberately staying out of it.

but then, he speaks quietly. “he won’t sleep if he thinks you’re leaving”

your eyes flicker towards him and his expression stays unreadable. 

coward.

you sigh heavily like this is a massive inconvenience to you personally. “fine. move over.” 

megumi cheers weakly like he just won the lottery and needs to be quiet. 

toji shifts without complaint, moving closer to the edge of the bed. the mattress dips under your weight as you climb in carefully beside megumi, keeping what you tell yourself is a reasonable amount of distance between you and toji.

megumi destroys that plan promptly. 

the second you settle, he flips dramatically across both of you like a tiny exhausted bridge. 

one hand lands on your shoulder, the other grabs a fistful of toji’s hair. “there.” he murmurs proudly.

toji looks over megumi’s messy hair toward you. 

“this is your fault.” you whisper. 

“mhmm.” he sounds too tired to argue properly.

megumi squirms happily between you both for another minute, all soft kneading hands and loud giggles as both of his parents’ warmth engulfs him. 

he mumbles half finished stories that slowly stop making sense. “an’ then dinosaur got school too momma..”

“yeah?” toji murmurs, eyes closed. 

“mmhm…” his words get slower and softer until they finally dissolve into sleepy breathing. 

megumi’s cheek is smushed against your shoulder now, one tiny foot thrown over toji’s arm.

you stare up at the ceiling while toji still faces megumi. the room feels unbearably warm. 

“he missed you this weekend.” toji mutters. 

your throat tightens a little so you glance over. toji’s still looking at your son when he says it. 

“kept askin’ when you’d come home.” 

home.. not your apartment or daddy’s place. but just home. you swallow carefully. “he likes being with you. it’s all he can talk about for days after the weekends.” 

he finally looks at you, quiet. “yeah.” he says softly. 

there’s something dangerously gentle in his face now. sleep worn and open in a way you haven’t seen in a long time. 

it makes your chest hurt. megumi shifts between you both with a tiny sleepy sigh. 

toji looks down automatically and smooths a hand through his son’s hair. 

before you can stop yourself, your eyes soften too. toji notices, of course he does, he always does. 

the next morning starts slowly. warm sunlight slips through the blinds in pale stripes, catching lint and dust in the air while megumi sleeps face down between you and toji like he personally fought a war overnight.

one of his legs is still thrown over toji, this time on his stomach. 

toji’s awake first, you notice because every time you open your eyes, he’s already looking at you. not even subtly. 

“creepy,” you mumble sleepily.

“morning to you too.”

megumi snores softly into your pillow. you push yourself upright carefully, stretching your arms over your head before remembering exactly who’s still laying beside you. 

toji watches the realization hit your face and his mouth twitches. 

“don’t even start.”

“i wasn’t gonna say anything.” he protests. 

“you keep thinking out loud! without even saying anything.” you yell-whisper.

“probably”

you roll your eyes and start climbing out of bed. “you’re staying today.”

that catches his attention at once. “to babysit?” 

you pause halfway to the door. “you say that as if he isn’t your child.”

“only to survive this attitude.” 

“hm.” 

he props himself up on one elbow now, dark hair slicking down in every direction. “where’re you going?” 

his biceps flex slightly in his current position, eyes focused completely on you. 

you busy yourself fixing the blanket around megumi. “out.”

“with?”

“someone.” toji goes quiet, not dramatically or angrily, just still.

you can feel his eyes on your back when you turn away. “you got a date?” 

you shrug your shoulder casually, too casually. “second one.” 

“with the same guy?” he asks, body tensing further because second sounds worse somehow.

“yes, toji.”

he lays back against the headboard slowly. “second,” he repeats, “must be serious. huh?”

“it’s not a crime.” 

“didn’t say that it was.”

“have you been seeing anyone?” 

toji scratches lazily at his jaw and says, “yeah. of course.” 

your stomach twists despite yourself. “oh.” you hate how small it sounds. 

his eyes stay on you carefully now, watching every little reaction like he’s trying not to and failing anyway. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing.” you smooth megumi’s hair back a little too precisely. “you’re allowed to.”

“yeah, who said i wasn’t?” toji’s gaze narrows slightly. “you askin’ because you care or because you’re nosy?”

morning light makes him softer around the edges again, sleep still heavy in his face, megumi’s leg resting across his stomach like your son claimed him sometime during the night and never let go.

there’s a faded crease on his cheek from the pillow. you remember waking up next to that face for years.

that’s the problem.

“i was making conversation,” you say coolly.

“bullshit.”

“watch your language in front of him.” 

“he’s knocked out anyway.” he murmurs, but complies. 

“she worked at the gym.” he says finally. 

you blink. “hm?”

“the woman.” his tone stays causal, but barely. “you asked if i was seeing anyone.” 

you immediately regret asking. “worked,” you repeat lightly, because apparently your mouth enjoys self sabotage. 

his eyes flick toward yours. “don’t start with that.”

you stay quiet and move around the room now, digging in your closet in search of a dress. you pull a pretty red one, slightly revealing—nothing too much, but nothing too little. 

“i just need you to stay here a little longer tonight.”

“how long?”

“not sure yet.” 

“mm.” 

you risk glancing over finally. his expression gives you absolutely nothing which annoys you more than if he looked irritated.  

“you don’t have to sound so excited for me.” you joke, but only silence follows. 

toji stares at you before scoffing slightly. “i’m just thinking.” 

“about?” 

he just stares at you. you know he’s not gonna answer.. so you head for the doorway before he can say anything. 

“d’you like him?” 

“that’s kind of the point of dates,” you answer after a second, aiming for lightness and missing by a mile.

toji exhales once through his nose. “didn’t answer the question.”

you glance back then.

he’s still half buried in your bed, hair a mess, one massive hand absently resting over megumi’s leg where it’s thrown across his stomach. morning sunlight cuts across his face in warm stripes, catching the tiredness still lingering beneath his eyes.

you look away first. “he’s nice. easy to be around”

toji was all late night whispered arguments in the kitchen, hidden emotions, tense car rides at two am, and wet, breathed apologies in your neck. he was anything but easy. 

and yet there was still warmth buried under all that steel. 

whether it be a hand resting at the small of your back in crowded rooms, his jacket dropped over your shoulder before you could even say you were cold..

he’s quiet for a second, just watching you too closely. “sounds boring.”

your eyes roll before you can stop them. 

“maybe he is nice, if he’s letting you go on a date wearing that.” 

your jaw drops slightly before you catch it. “it’s not even that bad. i’ve worn several dresses just like this one.” 

“trust me, i know.” he murmurs before reverting his gaze to megumi. 

an awkward silence presses into the room, the only sound being megumi’s soft breathing and your quiet hands rummaging through your makeup bag, pulling the products you need from it and walking to the bathroom with your dress and towel in hand. 

“i’ll stay then. don’t be out too long, woman.” he adds a pinch of humor, it falls flat. 

“don’t wait up.” you tease back despite yourself, shutting the bathroom door just to stare at your reflection in the mirror. 

you twist the shower handle harder than needed, steam beginning to curl upward almost instantly. the apartment plumbing groans softly in protest somewhere in the walls while you set your things down along the counter.

you busy yourself quickly, peeling off your clothes and stepping beneath the hot water before your brain can continue being annoying about it. 

warmth rushes over your skin immediately, easing some of the tension sitting stubbornly between your shoulders.

the bathroom feels warm, and by the time you get out of the shower, the mirror is fogged completely. 

you wrap your towel around yourself and wipe a clear streak through the steam with the side of your hand. your reflection stares back immediately, hair damp, cheeks warmer than they should be, focus annoyingly divided.

you lean closer to apply skincare mechanically, then makeup, forcing your focus elsewhere.

concealer, mascara, dark soft blush. you even add a touch of eyeshadow, eyeliner too, matching the slightly dark undertones of your dress. 

you look stunning, you are stunning. 

you slip out of the bathroom slowly, hands braced against the door, guiding it shut. megumi is awake now, sitting cross legged over toji’s abdomen. 

the sound of the bathroom door clicking shut shifts both of their attention towards you. megumi’s face lights up with a smile the minute he sees you. 

“mama beautiful!” he giggles, bouncing slightly on toji’s abs, he stands suddenly and rushes to the edge of the bed, you step forward instinctively to catch him before he falls.

“thank you my love” you coo, kissing his little chubby cheeks. 

“mama where’r you goin’?” 

“mommy’s going out with a friend, gumi.” you smile, bouncing him in your arms slightly but playfully. megumi wraps his arms around your neck and kisses your cheeks now, mimicking what you’d done before. 

toji watched with angering soft eyes, scratching his abs absently, pants tighter in the way that only tells you he’s been staring at your dress. 

you avert your gaze to megumi as he plays with your hair. “mommy?” he whispers, loud. 

“yes, baby?” you whisper back. 

“daddy is looking so much at you mama”

a laugh bubbles out of you before you can stop it, toji stands briskly, moving to take megumi from your arms. 

“alright, that’s enough. you need to get ready for your extra day with daddy.” he tickles megumi’s side softly and holds him in his forearm. 

his eyes skim your chest one more time before he takes gumi to your bathroom and preps their toothbrushes. 

you can’t help the smile that keeps forming, you grab your purse and make a stop for the salon before your date. 

the smell reaches you before you walk in—acetone, hairspray, the soft steam of a hot comb, and nail polish. 

a few minutes later, you’re seated at one of the manicure stations with your hands soaking in warm water while the nail tech eyes your dress approvingly.

“ooo,” she grins knowingly, “you got a date tonight?”

your mouth twitches. “something like that.”

mmhm,” she hums in the universal tone of women who absolutely do not believe vague answers. “what color we thinking?”

you glance down at the rows of polish bottles lined up beneath the counter. reds, pinks, glossy nudes, glittery champagne.

your eyes settle on a deep wine-red polish with a subtle shimmer under the light.

“that one.”

“pretty,” she says immediately. “dangerous color.”

you snort softly. “is it?”

“oh definitely. sweetheart, men lose all sense over dark red nails.”

the irony nearly makes you laugh out loud.

because somewhere back at your apartment is a six foot something problem with dark hair and tired eyes who’d stared at your dress this morning like it personally offended him.

───

the date starts fine, perfect, even. food comes fast and delicious, your date is polite, well dressed—funny enough to keep conversations going without effort. 

the restaurant is nice too. soft lighting, expensive wine tiny portions pretending to be art. for the first hour, you almost relax. 

somehow the conversation shifts, harmlessly so, that’s just how it starts. family, past relationships, marriage.  

your fingers tighten instinctively around the stem of your glass. the last thing you are ashamed of is having a son. megumi is your favorite person, your reason to slip out of bed in the morning.

the same way toji once was. 

but going on dates and trying to be with different people, that’s where it becomes a problem. single mothers will never be seen for the work they put into raising their children independently

you decide honesty is better now than later or never. “i was married before,” you admit carefully. “i have a son.” 

the man pauses, not long but long enough. “oh,” he says. and immediately, something changes, you know that tone. you’ve learned to recognize it instantly. 

‘oh’ can mean a hundred things… but this one means disappointment. 

“he’s young?” he asks. 

“four.” 

your date nods, slowly leaning back in his chair. “that’s… a lot.” 

your chest cools slightly. “he’s worth everything. i love him very deeply.” 

“sure” he says quickly. “i just mean, personally i don’t think i could date someone with that much baggage.” 

the word slips out from his mouth too easily. baggage. you just stare at him and he keeps going anyway. 

“especially with the divorce thing too.” 

your fingers twitch around the glass, fighting to not slap this man across the face. 

“divorce says a lot about women.” he says casually. “no offense.” 

you swallow hard. “i don’t think it’s that simple. it can say a lot about men as well.” 

“maybe not,” he shrugs. “but i think children deserve stable homes, two parents together. you know? people give up too easily now.” 

something sharp twists low in your chest, suddenly you feel exhausted. the restaurant noise blurs around you. the man keeps talking, you’ve already stopped listening. 

by the time you get home, your makeup feels wrong and heavy on your skin. your heels ache, your chest aches even worse.

 the apartment is quiet when you step inside, dark except for the hallway light. megumi’s already asleep, next to toji, who’s still awake on the couch. of course he is. 

he’s sitting in gray sweatpants and a black shirt this time, one arm stretched across the back cushions while muted tv light flickers across his face.

a half eaten bowl of popcorn sits abandoned between them both, his eyes lift immediately when the door opens. 

the second he sees you, his posture changes, subtly, sharply… you look away before he can ask anything. “i’m home,” you murmur uselessly. 

then you head straight for your room, fast. you barely get the door shut before your throat tightens painfully. god. you feel stupid, humiliated. 

your fingers fumble clumsily at the zipper of your dress, it catches halfway down your back. 

“are you—“ your hands shake harder. the stupid zipper won’t move. 

a knock sounds gently against the bedroom door, you freeze. “..yeah?” 

the door opens slowly, toji steps inside quietly. one look at your face and his expression darkens immediately. not angry at you, never that. just angry. 

you turn away quickly. “i’m fine.” 

“mm.” his voice stays low. “dress says otherwise.” 

you huff out something halfway between a laugh and a broken breath. the zipper catches again. 

toji watches silently for a second before stepping closer. “lemme help.” 

your hands fall away automatically, he moves behind you carefully. warm fingers brush the bare skin of your back as he finds the zipper. 

the contact alone nearly undoes you. toji pauses slightly, probably feeling you tense. then, slower this time, gentler, he eases the zipper down inch by inch until the tightness around your ribs finally loosens. 

the dress slips slightly loose on your shoulders, neither of you speaks. toji’s hands rest briefly near your waist. “what happened?” he asks quietly. 

you stare at your reflection in the mirror in front of you. “at dinner i told him i was divorced. and a mother.” 

toji’s jaw tightens immediately. “and?” 

“and apparently that makes me damaged goods.” 

the words sound uglier out loud, toji goes very still behind you. “he said that?” 

“basically .” 

silence follows for a brief moment until toji speaks again. “he’s stupid.” 

your eyes burn instantly. “i try so hard to balance both my own life and megumi’s. i just wanted something good.” 

“you don’t have to do that anymore, i mean it.” his voice is rougher now, certain. 

you finally turn slightly toward him. “toji, he looked at me as if-” your throat tightens again. “as if having megumi ruined me somehow.”

toji takes personal offense to that. his eyes widening slightly before calming down again. “he’s a fucking idiot.” he says flatly. 

you shake your head quickly, embarrassed by the tears threatening now. “i shouldn’t even care.”

“but you do.”

you look down “…mhm.”

the room goes quiet, and toji reaches up slowly. his knuckles brush beneath your eye before a tear can fall properly.

the touch is impossibly gentle. “listen to me,” he murmurs.

your breath catches. 

“there’s nothing wrong with you.” his thumb brushes your cheek softly. “y’hear me?”

your heart hammers against your ribs violently because you believe him. that’s the problem, toji’s eyes drop briefly to your mouth.

then back up again, you should step away.

instead you whisper, “toji…”

he exhales slowly through his nose like he’s holding himself back by force. he can’t take it… the way you’re looking at him, basically naked with just a loose dress on—warmth spread across your face in different hues.. he pulls you against him, eyes locked on your lips. “tell me no.” 

that’s the second problem, you could never say no to toji. so your fingers curl lightly into the front of his shirt instead. and that’s all it takes. 

he kisses you carefully at first. then your hand tightens against his chest and something in him snaps softly loose.

his mouth moves against yours deeper this time, warm and familiar enough to make your knees weaken instantly.

you remember this. the way he kisses like he’s starving. like he’s trying not to be.

one of his hands slides carefully to your waist while the other cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing your cheek again.

you kiss him back harder before you can think better of it.

a quiet sound leaves his throat, your forehead bumps his when you finally pull apart for air, both of you breathing unevenly.

toji keeps his eyes closed for one second longer than necessary, then opens them slowly. he’s still close enough that his breath warms your lips.

he turns you around carefully, kissing your shoulders and urging you onto the bed, he sits beside you, his mouth finding yours again slower this time as if he’s relearning something he thought he lost.

your fingers slide into his hair instinctively, damp strands catching between them as he shifts closer on the bed. the mattress dips under his weight, one of his hands braces beside your hip while the other remains against your leg, steady and warm.

the room feels impossibly quiet around you both.

toji kisses the corner of your mouth once, then your jaw, “you smell nice,” he says against your cheek.

you let out the smallest laugh. “thank you. i think it was the salon. smelt like lavender lotion.” 

“still counts.”

his hand slides slightly higher along your thigh before stopping deliberately, giving you every chance to pull away if you want to.

your forehead falls briefly against his shoulder, exhaustion finally catching up to you now that someone else is holding the weight for a second.

toji goes still immediately.

the teasing disappears from him like a switch flipped. his hand smooths once up your back.

“tired?” he asks quietly.

“mhm..” 

“you should’ve called me.”

your eyes close briefly. “ji…”

“i mean it.” his voice stays low and even. “woulda picked you up.”

you pull back just enough to look at him, and his expression softens in that dangerous way again—open, sleepy, honest around the edges.

his hand slides carefully to your waist and he gently guides you forward until you’re laying across the mattress properly.

“c’mere.”

“toji-”

“relax,” he says quietly, already tugging the comforter out from underneath you both. “you look like you’re gonna pass out sitting up.”

you narrow your eyes suspiciously, but let him maneuver you anyway.

he turns you carefully onto your hands and knees only long enough to pull the tangled blanket smooth beneath you, large hands steady at your hips so you don’t lose balance.

when he’s done moving to the closet and placing one of megumi’s useless baby blankets in there, he turns to see you still in that distracting position, voluptuous lips glossy and swollen, hair ruffled from his hands being tangled in them earlier… 

body rocking back and forth slightly, just craving his attention. he groans softly, moving too quick, shoving your dress off eagerly.

he tosses your dress aside fully, cupping your ass cheeks where they’re presented to him on the bed, round and fat. slowly, he traces his callused thumb along your skin, making you shiver.

his shirt is pulled off, revealing a collection of faded scars that always seemed to catch your attention.

you press back into his hand, needing toji’s rough attention as your breath catches.

toji smirks, leaning close to bite a trembling patch above your hip.

he spreads them, breath hitching sharp, shoving your panties aside to spit a nasty, clear string right between your cheeks, watching it drip down as his other hand tightens possessively around your waist.

you whimper when he slides his thumb lower, toying with your slick as his grip grows firmer.

“toji—“ you whine, back arching further as he leans forward, lips brushing your spine while his hot breath sends sharp tingles across your sensitized skin.

“good girl, arching so good f’me…” he slaps one cheek sharply, nails digging into the plump fat.

you jolt under the sting, a ragged moan slipping out, but his hand doesn’t falter as he nudges your legs wider.

he flips you suddenly, large hands cupping your breasts with fervor, his knee pushes between your legs and spreads them wide, creating a space for him to lean over you.

he unclips then tugs your bra off and takes one nipple between both his thumb and index fingers, lips sealing around the other.

he wastes no time, sucking firm and twisting, pressure that sends heat straight between your thighs, making your hips arch instinctively.

he grunts low when your fingers curl in his hair, his own hand flying down to your soaked panties.

he slides his fingers under the thin fabric, teasing your entrance with slow, deliberate strokes as his mouth keeps working your nipple.

you writhe beneath him, small pants escaping your airway. “please toji!”

your words are cut off by his own lips, tongue fighting its way into your mouth. “shh, you want our son to hear you?”

you shake your head frantically, fingers curling into his shoulders—manicured nails shaping round crescents where they squeeze.

“then be quiet f’me, hm?” toji circles your clit in firm, tight circles. a sudden gasp escapes your throat, earning you a sharp slap to your fat, dripping cunt.

you whimper quietly now, dragging your words and slapping lightly at his flexed shoulders. “jiiii!—ah!”

“you want this dick?” he spits, “talk to me, baby.” his voice softens slightly, two fingers sliding into you smooth and immediately gathering your slick.

“mmmm! mhmmm— i want it toji… i want it so bad! please.”

“let me feel this sweet pussy first, mkay?” he curls his fingers in search for your sweet spot.

the minute your fingers tighten around his shoulders and you catch your lips in between your teeth, he pumps his fingers without stop, your legs suddenly feeling weightless and feet hovering off the bed.

your back arches beautifully, pulling a deep groan out of toji, his other hand flies back to your nipple.

he can feel you—and hear you—losing your mind on his fingers, incoherent babbles and weak hands telling what your mouth can’t seem to form.

his fingers halt cruelly when he feels your legs trembling, spongy walls fluttering around him, pulling his fingers out and licking them clean of your juices.

you whine louder, unable to keep yourself together, your thighs slide against one another, craving any kind of friction.

he palms himself, watching you squirm and beg for.. anything.

you hook your fingers around his waistband, tugging it weakly. he looks down at your hand and then down at your face..

“please, ji.. please, baby?”

he tugs his sweat pants off briskly, cock bouncing out thick and hard, pulsing with need. he spreads your fat labia, teasing your entrance with his chubby tip.

“fuck, i missed this pussy.”

he pins your wrists above your head with one hand, looking down at your face.

“look at my while i fuck you.”

you comply because of course you do, who doesn’t wanna look at toji’s face when he’s reveling in pleasure?

he lines up with your entrance, watching you whimper under his dark eyes, “mmmm!” you whine, hips bucking desperate.

he thrusts into you roughly, filling you completely. “f-fuuuck, i forgot how tight you are.” he starts moving at a punishing pace, other hand squeezing your breast.

”ngh! oh my— ah! tojiii!”

the noises he manages to pull out of you are nasty. you can feel every inch of him stretching your tight walls, he smirks at your moans, grabbing your chin and gently making you face him again, a contradiction to his usual rough treatment.

he thrusts harder, aiming for your sweet spot before suddenly folding you in half, knees against your chest in a gratifying mating press.

you gasp, eyes widening for a fraction of a second, pussy sucking him in every time he angles himself right where you need him.

“this is perfect for breeding you again. i’m gonna stuff this pussy til’ it takes.” he snaps his hips forward with each word, balls slapping against your ass, the sounds echoing in the hot, sex scented room.

“ima— mmm’gonna fill you up until you’re pregnant with my child again. you’ll be so round and full with my seed.” he pounds into you mercilessly, determined to make good on his promise.

your moans echo in the room, desperate. your eyes roll back slightly at the intensity of his pleasure.

the sounds of skin slapping against skin fill the room, mixed with his deep grunts.

he swallows your whimpers in a deep kiss, hips driving into you. his hips stutter as he feels his orgasm approaching. “m’close.. gonna fill your womb”

his words are what really make you lose it, whole body trembling around his heavy cock, pussy pulsing and gripping his veiny dick.

he watches your bouncing tits. “so beautiful, even better when they’re full of milk.” his hands squeeze them again, remembering the last time you breastfed.

“you’re such a good mother. so nurturing, i wan’ see you like that again.”

his thrusts become erratic, cock twitching inside you. your moans are loud, raspy and desperate at this point.

your juices keep dripping out of you and drenching his abs and pelvis, but he won’t stop until he fills you with everything he’s got.

with one last deep thrust, tip kissing your cervix, he releases ropes of thick cum with a guttural moan, releasing all his seed into you.

“take it, take every drop.” he whispers breathlessly.

you nod, it’s all you can manage, completely fucked out and exhausted under your ex husband.

he stays connected, ensuring nothing leaks out. he collapses on top of you, his cock softening but staying inside.

“you’ll give me another son, right?”

“i’ve always wanted a daughter.” you whisper, fingers twisting his hair.

he brushes yours with his thick fingers, thumb sliding against your cheek gently. “mm, maybe.”

he pulls out carefully, one hand cupping your mound to keep his seed inside you.

you whimper at the sensitivity and sudden pressure that comes upon you.

“you’re never gonna see another man again, hm?”

“no… i only want you. only love you.”

“good girl… i love you.” he kisses your temple carefully, hands forgetting everything but your tired body.

he holds you against him, breathing slower as your heartbeat steadies, warmth spreading between both of you as exhaustion settles in.

night wraps gently around the two of you, the silence filling the room. suddenly, the baby monitor on the nightstand crackles, breaking the peaceful haze.

you both freeze, listening as a small, urgent cry rises from the monitor. he sits up groggily, grabbing his boxers before heading down the hall to the living room.

you slip into your nightgown and clean what you can from the bed, adjusting the comforter over the bedsheets and grabbing a few more blankets, you tie your hair up in a loose pony tail, waiting for toji to come back, with gumi.

a few seconds later, he returns holding a swaddled megumi, who’s blinking wide eyed under the lamplight.

“mommy!” he exclames, tears drying as he’s held close by his father.

megumi slowly settles in toji’s arms, his small fingers still gripping his father’s bare shoulder before loosening bit by bit. his breathing is uneven at first, then starts to calm as the warmth sinks in

you sit beside them and brush megumi’s hair back. “it’s okay. you’re safe now,” you whisper softly

he blinks up at you for a moment, still half-asleep, then leans fully into toji’s chest again, cheek pressed against skin as his body relaxes

toji glances at you, wordlessly offering megumi to your arms as if inviting you to soothe him.

“come here, gummy.” you whisper, holding him against you and rubbing his ribs soft.

toji wraps both arms around your waist, head snaking over your shoulder and pecking your temple, then megumi’s.

you are settled into bed a few seconds later, megumi asleep between you and toji, toji’s eyes never leave your face.

you slowly realize that this is exactly what you’ve needed. toji’s hand finds yours beneath the blanket, squeezing tenderly as if anchoring you both.

all you need is your little family right here in this moment, safe beneath the dim lamplight, together again.

idk baby megumi loves dinosaurs and his mom

toji would never be like this im straight fantasizing but that’s the point i hope you like it

art on pinterest

He sits behind her, washing her unbraided hair, fingers careful, separating and working through each small knot, each trace of sand and dirt gathered from the day.

Your daughter, dramatic as ever, jerks away more than once, protesting that he’s being too rough, that he’s not careful enough.

Neteyam exhales softly, the sound somewhere between amusement and resignation, leans forward, and steadies her with a light hand on her shoulder. 

“Daddy, too rough. You’re hurting me.” she murmurs. 

“You say that everytime.” He says, though his voice is already softer now, more cautious as he tries again. 

She huffs and leans forward, watching you section all kinds of herbs into different bowls. “Mama, you do it.” 

She says it as if it is an expectation—you glance at Neteyam to see his expression, it is not quite that of hurt or anger, only the quiet realization that things really have changed. 

You shift your weight to your right foot, glancing for a brief second at the herbs in your hands, then looking at her once again. 

“Momma is pretty busy. Daddy can finish, just this once.” You try, softly so she won’t fuss and leave altogether. 

She goes still for a moment at that, lips pressing into a thin line as she considers whether it’s a battle worth fighting. 

Neteyam doesn’t say anything else, he doesn’t rush her, he doesn’t sigh again, just waits with the same quiet fear… patience he’s always had with her—hands resting lightly in her hair, careful not to pull. 

“Fine” she mutters at last, though the word is heavy with reluctance. 

You hide your smile by turning slightly back to your work.

Neteyam resumes, slower this time. His fingers separate each strand as if they might break, easing through the tangles and trying not to tug. When she flinches again, it’s a habit. not real complaint. 

“see?” he murmurs. “Not so bad.” 

She doesn’t answer right away. Her eyes flick toward you again, watching, measuring as if checking whether you’re going to step in anyway. 

but you don’t, of course not.

After a while, her shoulders loosen. the tension leaves her little by little, like she’s forgetting she was upset in the first place. She leans back, just slightly, only until her head brushes against his chest. 

Neteyam pauses for the briefest second, surprised, before continuing. There’s something softer in his expression now, something that wasn’t there a moment ago. 

“You missed a knot.” she mumbles, though there’s no childlike bite left in her voice. 

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I didn’t.” 

“Yes you diiiid.” 

“Did not.” 

She tilts her head stubbornly, pointing somewhere vaguely near her temple. “There.” 

Neteyam humors her, carefully working through the exact place she indicated. “Better?”

A small pause. “…yeah.”

You glance over then, unable to help yourself. She’s relaxed now, leaning into him fully, eyes half lidded with comfort. And Neteyam is still focused, still careful, but there’s a faint smile tugging at his mouth. 

Children grow. They pull away in little ways, choose one parent over the other without meaning to. But they circle back too, in moments like this.

Your daughter shifts again, blinking slowly.

“Papa?” 

“Mm?”

“You’re doing good now. Don't stop.” 

This time, when Neteyam smiles it actually reaches his eyes. 

— ➹ ‎

Your daughter slips away though, the moment her hair is finished, already halfway out the doorway before either of you can say anything. 

“I’m going to play!” she calls, not really waiting for permission.

Neteyam watches her go, hands still half raised like he might have caught her if she stayed another second longer. 

The space is quieter. You finish sorting the last of your herbs, brushing stray leaves from your palms before wiping them clean. 

For a moment, you just watch him. How he's sitting there, shoulders a little heavier now that the task is done, the warmth of it gone with her.

Then you step closer. Your hands settle on his shoulders, thumbs pressing gently into the tension there—father, husband, warrior, hunter—sometimes it’s too much, but Neteyam couldn’t be happier. 

He exhales, leaning back into your touch without hesitation. “You always wait until she leaves to be nice to me,” he murmurs.

You huff softly. “I am always nice to you.” 

“Mm. Not like this.” 

His head tilts slightly, just enough to glance back at you, a hint of something playful creeping into his expression despite the lingering quiet in his eyes. 

“Maybe we should have another,” he adds, almost too casually. “One who still thinks I am their favorite.” 

You snort under your breath, squeezing his shoulders a little firmer. “So that is your solution?”

“It is a good solution,” he insists, though the corner of his mouth lifts. “Start over. This time, I do not let you steal all the attention.”

You lean down slightly, your voice softer now. “You say that as if you wouldn’t give in immediately.”

He doesn’t deny it, instead his gaze drifts back to the doorway where your daughter disappeared through.

“She used to look for me first, that’s all.” He says quietly. 

Your hands still. 

Neteyam’s fingers rest against his knees now, absentmindedly tracing patterns against his skin. “When she was small, she would cry if I left the room. Always reaching, always calling. She was papa’s girl” He pauses, jaw tightening just slightly. “Now she barely notices.”

“That’s not true,” you say gently.

He shakes his head, not sharply, just enough to show he doesn’t quite believe it. “It feels true.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice. Just something softer. Something that almost sounds like loss.

“She goes to you for everything,” he continues. “Even when I am right here.”

You shift your grip, one hand sliding from his shoulder to rest against his chest as you step around him. “She’s six,” you remind him. “She changes her mind every other day about who her favorite is.”

“She hasn’t changed it back.” he mutters.

That pulls a quiet giggle out from you, but you soften it quickly, brushing your fingers along his jaw, making him face you.

“She leaned into you,” you point out. “You felt that.”

His fingers tap against his knee, a nervous habit he’s had around you since you were younger.

“She asked you not to stop,” you add.

The tension in him eases just a fraction. “I did notice.” He admits.

You smile, just a little. “Good. Then stop acting like she’s already grown.”

He huffs quietly, one hand coming up to rest over yours where it sits against his chest. His thumb brushes over your knuckles.

“She is growing,” he says. “Too fast.”

There’s something in the way he says it—like he wishes he could slow it down, hold onto every version of her just a little longer.

You lean closer, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.

“And you’re still her father,” you murmur. “That doesn’t get replaced.”

He turns his head slightly at that, just enough that your faces are closer now, his gaze lingering on yours.

“…we could still have another,” he says again, quieter this time, but there’s a teasing warmth underneath it now, less about loss and more about something shared.

You roll your eyes, though your lips curve. “You’re not letting that go?”

“No.”

His hand tightens gently around yours. “s’not a bad idea,” he adds.

You shake your head, but you don’t pull away.