MY BABY BOY NEEDS LOVE AND ATTENTION

fanfic titles be like “we have not touched the stars (nor are we forgiven)” and then you look at the tags & the first one is “anal fisting”

He's that one mother in the crowd

Snoozing on down time

This was inspired by a story written by the precious @sukunasteeth

Please check it out!

*still manifesting this relationship quality and dynamic*

i just know yuuji religiously checks up on you after shibuuya.

he’s the one to come home & break the news to you. everyone else figures you’d rather hear it from him, & he does too. he comes immediately to you and kento’s shared apartment, still in his old clothes but he had the decency to wipe the blood & grime off of his face. solemnly brings his fist to the door to knock twice, knowing he had no choice but to give you the horrible news.

& you kind of already knew before yuuji even got there. kento always kept you updated, shooting a quick text in between exorcising curses. answering your “how’s it going” texts with a thumbs up emoji at the least.

however when you got that “you made life worth living. i love you” text from him, you already knew that was his way of saying goodbye. he just didn’t want to actually say it.

but you were so strong and mature, one of kento’s favorite traits of you. so you knew yuuji delivering the news to you would be harder on him. after all, he’s the one that called you and kento “mom & dad”. he’s the one who came over every sunday for family dinner. he’s the one who helped kento paint the living room a different color to surprise you.

so when yuuji does bring his fist up to knock, you immediately swing the door open greeting him with a sad smile. a look in your eyes that showed yuuji all too well that you already knew.

& the boy immediately shivers as a deep breathe he didn’t even realize he was holding escapes his lungs, letting out such a defeated sound. he immediately looks down and shakes his head, unable to look at you- almost as if he failed you.

however he did everything but fail you, and you let him know by wrapping your arms around the boy, finding the back of his head to craddle it. although much younger, his tall frame leans over into your shoulder as he lets the tears & whines leave his body. you silently cry with him, both of you doing your best to comfort one another.

“he was so proud of you, you know?” you whisper, applying more pressure to the comforting circles you were rubbing on his back, “he still is”.

you both stand in silence for a few minutes longer, coming to terms with the horrible reality that kento nanami was no longer physically with you, but now permanently resides in your hearts.

“thank you for coming, yuuji. i wouldn’t want to hear the news from anyone but you”

& the months after that are dreadful. you soon realize your strong personality could only hold you for so long. it gets hard to eat. bathing feels like a chore. you switch from being insolent to sorrowful. & you try to keep it together, but yuuji notices.

you are who he calls ‘mom’, afterall.

so he still comes by even when you send him a passive aggressive text saying you want to be alone. he brings you food and makes you eat it in front of him even if you say you already ate (he can tell when you’re lying). & he listens as you curse at whatever gods for taking your husband away from you. he understands when you break down and tell him you don’t know how to live life without kento.

& he doesn’t try to sell you dreams by telling you it’ll get better. he doesn’t try to make you see the bright side. no, he lets you grieve because, yeah, it’s not fair. no, you don’t deserve that, neither did kento.

but he keeps coming around to let you know that you’re not alone. to make bearing this burden a little easier.

& some more months go by, and yuuji hears the first real genuine laugh from you since the incident when he’s explaining a scene from this comedy movie he recently watched. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table, books strewn across the wood as yuuji came over needing help on a ridiculous assignment gojo assigned. & you both think that maybe things will start to feel better soon.

especially with kento’s framed picture looking down at you both from the wall adjacent.

yeah, things will get better soon.

———————————————————————-

omg i dont even know why i wrote that like why am i crying

Mash Burnedead x Reader (Mashle: Magic and Muscles):

Sometimes, Mash can't take his eyes off you. He's so focused on you, like your every move has him hypnotised; he looks at you like there's no-one else in his world. He wants to show you the garden in which his love grows, a love that's nurtured by your smile.

Your voice trickles like honey into his ears, and he swears he can hear it even when you go quiet. And then his eyes chase your lips, like he wants you to keep talking, to keep him hooked on this warm, fluffy feeling.

It was like one day you were a friend, and the next day something changed, like you came to him in a dream, and then he woke up in love.

You're in a rivalry with Lemon, who is invariably jealous when Mash shows that he prefers you. He called you pretty once and it was (Y/n): 1, Lemon: 0. She thinks you're tearing her fictitious little family apart, with deceit as your mother tongue.

But Mash trusts you. He'd put his life in your hands.

He didn’t know that love was made of a bouquet of emotions, and that one person could make him feel so happy, so protective, so comfortable. He's the first to stand up for you, and he'll be there when you cry.

He doesn’t know if you love him back, because you've never said it. But he's so dense that the eloquence of a thousand poets couldn’t tell him how you feel. He won't know unless you tell him it's love.

To Mash, you already feel like a couple. He hasn’t asked you out, nor said he loves you, but he's sure you're together. His heart is yours, and he thinks about you all the time: "I wonder what (Y/n)'s up to." "I wonder if (Y/n) would like this?" "I wanna hear their voice."

He doesn’t understand the nuances of love, but he wants to be your partner. You're his special person. He wants to do the things that lovers do, to take you on dates and spend time alone with you. But you'll have to teach him what comes next.

You make every day so bright, and he loves his life much more with you in it.

He doesn’t need to be the world's hero, when it's enough just being yours.

My Patrons <3 really liked the Sukuna portrait sketch so I turned it into a page.

(censored AND cropped so i can keep my blog... more on x and Patr3on, links in pinned)

I’ll rip in hands and teeth and take a bite

synopsis: you challenge satoru to last 24 hours without touching you.

miyan’s notes: satoru you silly goose how could you even think you’d last???

contents: fluff, humor, teasing, light suggestiveness, satoru being miserable because he is a pathetic loser who lives to touch you

it starts with a dumb argument over who’s more clingy.

“you’re like a human magnet,” you say, flicking his forehead as he slouches over you on the couch. “you can’t go five minutes without touching me.”

gojo scoffs, resting his chin on your shoulder. “you’re one to talk. you get cold once and suddenly my body’s a personal heater.”

“that’s survival,” you reply coolly. “you, on the other hand, get withdrawal symptoms if we’re not physically attached.”

he pulls back, just slightly, to pout. “i’m affectionate.”

“you’re clingy.”

“pfft—i can totally go a whole day without touching you.”

“you’re not gonna last.”

gojo’s expression is scandalized. he places a hand on his chest like you’ve just wounded him. “excuse me?”

you shrug, arms folded. “you act like you’ve got god-tier self-control, but you can’t pass by me without touching me, poking me, flopping onto me like a giant cat—”

“not a cat,” he interrupts. “a majestic snow leopard, maybe.”

“still needy,” you reply, trying not to smile. “let’s test it, then. twenty-four hours. no touching me. at all.”

his eyes narrow. “you trying to kill me?”

you raise an eyebrow. “you said you’re the strongest, didn’t you?”

his expression shifts—eyes narrowing like he’s just been challenged to a duel. “fine. i’ll prove it.”

you blink. “seriously?”

he grins. “dead serious.”

hour 1 — 12:04pm

you find him in the kitchen, frowning at the fridge like it personally offended him. he doesn’t greet you with his usual backhug or whiny “babe~”. instead, he just says, “hi,” like a normal person.

you narrow your eyes. “you okay?”

he sniffs. “perfect. totally fine. unbothered. thriving.”

you take your time walking past him to grab a drink, brushing a little closer than necessary. his jaw tenses.

“you’re evil,” he mutters under his breath.

you sip your juice, smirking. “self-control, satoru.”

hour 3 — 2:14pm

he’s pacing around the living room, tossing grapes into his mouth and missing every other shot.

“you’re wasting perfectly good fruit,” you say.

“i’m burning nervous energy,” he replies, flinging another grape too high and catching it with his mouth at the last second. “you don’t realize how often i touch you. like—i go to tuck your hair behind your ear, or bump my foot into yours on the couch, and then i remember. the curse.”

you stifle a laugh. “it’s not a curse.”

“feels like one.”

he walks over to you, leans over dramatically until his face is inches from yours, and breathes, “you’re lucky i’m strong.”

“you’re lucky i’m not keeping score for how many times you almost touched me.”

hour 5 — 5:03am

“okay,” he says, bursting into the room with too much energy. “new plan. i have my infinity on, right? so technically i’m not touching you—”

“no.”

“what if i wrap myself in a blanket first?”

“still no.”

“what if you touch me?”

you squint at him. “are you begging?”

“i’m bargaining.”

you pat his head as you walk past. “stay strong, baby.”

he melts slightly under the touch before realizing. “wait—you touched me!”

you grin. “i never said i couldn’t.”

hour 6 — 6:00pm

dinner is suspiciously quiet.

you chew thoughtfully while gojo picks at his food, glancing at your hands resting on the table. you know he wants to hold them.

you twirl your fork and ask, “so what’s the hardest part so far?”

he groans. “you.”

“me?”

“you’re just so—soft and warm and mine. and now you’re sitting there looking all cute and i can’t even hold your stupid little hand.” he slumps back dramatically in his chair. “i feel like i’m mourning.”

you laugh. “mourning my touch?”

“yes. it’s tragic. i’m gonna die. shoko should do an autopsy on me tomorrow.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“and you love it,” he says, flicking a grain of rice at you.

you flick one back. it hits his cheek and sticks.

you both lose it.

hour 9 — 9:22pm

you’re curled up on the couch with your legs tucked under you, scrolling through your phone, when you feel a stare. a heavy, unblinking, yearning stare.

you look up. satoru is lying upside-down on the other end of the couch, watching you like you’re a limited edition dessert behind a glass case.

“you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

he groans. “you’re just so huggable. i don’t even want to do anything else, i just wanna lie on you like a warm weighted blanket.”

you close your phone and raise an eyebrow. “just lie?”

“okay maybe a lil kiss too,” he admits.

you grin. “well too bad. rules are rules.”

he rolls off the couch with a dramatic thud.

“you’ve ruined me,” he says to the ceiling, voice meek and void of life.

you walk over to crouch over him. “how?”

“i used to be a strong, independent man. now i can’t go a single day without your hand in mine.”

you snort. “you sound like a victorian woman writing a letter to her lover at war.”

he groans and covers his face. “please come hold me.”

hour 11 — 11:32pm

you’re brushing your teeth when he walks into the bathroom, shirtless, hair damp from a shower, a towel slung low on his hips.

you stare at him through the mirror. he stares back.

“you’re cruel,” he mutters. “you did this on purpose.”

you spit out your toothpaste, trying to keep a straight face. “what, you’re allowed to walk around half-naked, but i stretch once and it’s a war crime?”

“i’m suffering.”

“you’ve got thirteen hours left.”

he points at you with his toothbrush. “when that timer ends, i’m kissing you until we both forget our names.”

hour 12 — 00:03am

you’re in bed now, side by side, separated by a solid five inches of mattress space.

“how am i supposed to sleep when you’re right there and i can’t even wrap an arm around you?”

you sigh. “…fine.”

he perks up. “fine what?”

“i’ll let you imagine holding me.”

“i’ve been doing that all day.”

you snort.

he rolls over to face you, sighing so dramatically you almost laugh.

“…do you miss me?” he whispers.

you raise a brow. “i’m right here.”

“no. i mean, like—physically. touch-wise.”

you pause. and yeah. you kinda do. he is so full of love and your favourite thing to do is accepting that love in any form he gives it to you.

“…a little,” you admit softly.

he groans. “don’t say that. i already spent five minutes hugging my pillow and pretending it was you.”

you giggle, then roll onto your side. “you’re being very strong though. i’m proud.”

he closes his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips. “say that again.”

“i’m proud of you,” you whisper.

“…nghhgghghgh,” he moans, pulling the blanket over his head. “stop being cute. it’s killing me.”

hour 16 — 04:11am

you wake to soft murmuring. gojo’s talking in his sleep.

“…love you…mm…’s not fair…no touch…”

you blink blearily and shift. he’s curled around a pillow again, lips slightly parted, brows furrowed.

you almost feel bad. almost.

he reaches out instinctively, hand finding empty space.

“…baby?” he mumbles, still mostly asleep.

you whisper, “still here, toru.”

he sighs and smiles, dozing off again.

your chest squeezes a little. maybe you underestimated how touch-starved he gets. how physical affection isn’t just habit—it’s how he grounds himself. how he knows you’re safe, right there with him.

you scoot closer. not touching. but close.

he sleeps better after that.

so do you.

hour 21 — 9:01am

you wake up to see gojo sitting on the edge of the bed, hair wild, eyes bloodshot, sipping coffee like he’s seen war.

“good morning?”

he turns slowly. “did you know i dreamt about touching you? that’s how bad it’s gotten.”

you stretch with a yawn, your shirt rising up slightly.

he averts his gaze. barely.

“heartless.” he mumbles.

hour 23 — 11:03am

you’re both just sitting on the floor at this point. not talking. not moving. not doing anything but waiting for the final countdown.

he’s staring at the clock like it holds the key to salvation.

“you doing okay there, champ?” you tease.

“one more hour. one. more. hour,” he chants under his breath.

“you really couldn’t handle this being a regular thing, huh?”

he whips his head toward you, horrified. “don’t even joke about that. if you ever pull this again i will literally dissolve into sparkles.”

hour 24 — 12:04pm

the second the timer goes off, he pounces.

you squeal as he practically tackles you into the couch cushions—arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck, sighing like a man finally breathing fresh air.

“oh my god,” he groans into your shoulder, breathing you in like oxygen. “finally. finally. i’m whole again.”

“thank god,” he mumbles, lips brushing your skin. “i thought i was gonna die.”

“you’re so pathetic,” you giggle, but your arms find their way around him too.

he pulls back, just enough to look at you. his eyes are soft, the blue in them glowing faintly in the dim room.

“i could never live without you, baby,” he murmurs, and then he’s kissing you—slow and deep, fingers sliding up your back like he can’t get enough.

he pulls back just enough to cup your cheeks and look into your eyes. his voice is a little softer now, more sincere. “i missed you. so much. never doing that again.”

you kiss him. and he kisses you back like he’s making up for every second he went without you.

you smile against his lips.

“eyes on me” and “that’s my girl” and “there she is” and “that’s it, sweetie” and “it’s okay, angel” and “let go. give it to daddy, baby.”

hello?? are you trying to marry me or send me to my grave?? cause you’re about to do both.