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n0cturnnymph · 4 days ago

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⋆˚࿔ DOUBLE OR NOTHING — toji fushiguro

SUM. After countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

CONTENTS. 4.9k words. 18+ content, MDNI. non canon compliant/au. porn with minimal plot. fem wife! reader. marriage problems. divorce talk. angst (?). cunnilingus. fingering. unprotected p in v. spanking. doggy. missionary up against a wall (???). pet names (mama, wifey, etc.)

A/N. sorry for reposting this one sm. this was one of the first toji fics i’d written (if it’s not obvious) LOL. anyways i do think i’ll make a ex husband fic w him (eventually) 🤞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick.

Tick tock.

The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

#im horny and crying #nymph recs

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n0cturnnymph · 9 days ago

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SECOND CHANCES

aisle five

the faithful meeting with the single dad next door and their children

c.w: angst, fluff, romance, slow burn, bit of an age gap (28 and 36), mention of miscarriage, divorce, grief

CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2

a/n: this was rough and i was at ends trying to think of scenarios at grocery stores. i will get better at writing, i promise! thank you to everyone who commented to be tagged<33

SATORU GOJO You were in the cereal aisle, on your toes, fingers just barely brushing the box you needed, when a small voice chirped,

“My daddy can get it down for you. He’s unusually tall, but kind of useless.”

You froze mid-reach, glancing down to see a little girl, big-eyed, hair a little messy from the day, staring up at you with the grave seriousness only children could muster. She thumb-pointed behind her at a man strolling casually toward you, sunglasses indoors, pushing a cart filled almost entirely with snacks.

“Useless?” the man repeated, hand to his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “Excuse me, princess, who opened your juice box this morning?”

“You almost spilled it,” she said without missing a beat. Then, as if to dismiss him entirely, she turned her attention back to you. “But he is tall. He can help.”

The man sighed in mock defeat, but his long arm shot up effortlessly, plucking the box you’d been reaching for. He handed it over with a flourish, bowing slightly.

“Your knight in shining armor,” he said, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, “tragically underappreciated in his own household. Isn’t it sad?”

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, murmuring softly, “Thank you.”

He tilted his head at you, a grin spreading slowly and lazily. “Anytime. I’m always rescuing damsels in distress.”

“Over cereal?” you asked, raising a brow.

“Over anything.”

His daughter rolled her eyes so hard you almost laughed again. Tugging on the cart, she muttered, “C’mon, daddy, we don’t have time for this. We still need ice cream.”

Gojo ruffled her hair, then shot you another grin, shameless, boyish. “See what I mean? No respect. Not even a thank you kiss on the cheek.”

“No!” the little girl squeaked, covering her face with both hands.

This time, you did laugh, soft and sudden, making his grin brighten like he’d won something. He lingered a beat longer than necessary before finally letting his daughter drag him down the aisle, his voice carrying as he teased, “You’ll miss me when I’m gone!”

SUGURU GETO You were halfway down the snack aisle when the weight of your cart shifted. Frowning, you glanced down and saw a familiar red and gold package of chocolate chip cookies nestled among your groceries. And right beside it, a box of strawberry cream-filled Hello Pandas.

You blinked. You didn’t put those there.

The mystery solved itself a second later when you caught movement from the corner of your eye. Two girls, different shades of brunettes, grinning, were sneaking alongside your cart with all the stealth of kittens. One of them darted forward, plunking down not one but two more boxes of cookies.

“What–” you started, surprised, but their giggles gave them away before you could finish.

“Oops,” Nanako said, not sounding sorry at all.

“Mistake,” Mimiko echoed, clasping her hands behind her back as if that made it less noticeable.

Before you could decide how to handle two kids hijacking your shopping trip, a shadow fell over your cart.

“Nanako. Mimiko.”

The voice was warm but carried just enough weight to make both girls wince. You looked up, and your breath caught. The tall man striding closer with his own cart, his long black hair tied in a neat half-up bun. There was no mistaking who they belonged to.

The twins pointed at each other in perfect unison. “Her idea.”

Suguru Geto sighed, shifting the basket in his hand. “We’ve talked about putting things in other people’s carts.” His dark eyes slid to you then, a flicker of apology in their depths. “I’m sorry. They get enthusiastic.”

“It’s fine,” you said quickly, though your lips curved without meaning to. “They have good taste, at least.” You nudged the cookies with your finger.

Nanako perked up. “See? She likes them!”

“Can we keep them?” Mimiko added, all innocence.

Suguru only shook his head, gently steering them away from your cart. But as he passed, his gaze lingered on you a moment too long, an unreadable softness in his expression before he looked away.

You stared down at the half-filled cart, the cookies and bright pink box of Hello Pandas still sitting there, and you didn't take them out for reasons you couldn’t explain.

KENTO NANAMI You were distracted by the rows of tea when you felt a small weight against your legs. Startled, you glanced down and froze. A little girl had wrapped herself around you, face pressed into your thigh as she murmured in a trembling voice, “You’re back. You took too long.”

Your breath hitched. Something inside you splintered at her words, the relief, the fear laced through them. She thought you were her mother.

For a moment, you couldn’t move. The ache in your chest was unbearable, as if your own child’s ghost had brushed against you. You bent slightly, hesitant, hand hovering just above her head.

“Shizue.”

The voice was steady, deep. You looked up to see a man approaching, blond hair combed neatly, a suit jacket draped over one arm despite the casual setting. His expression softened as he reached down, coaxing the little girl into his arms.

“She’s not—” he paused, noticing your stricken expression, then inclined his head in apology. “My apologies. She must have mistaken you for her mother.”

You managed a slight shake of your head. “It’s alright. She just surprised me.” Your voice cracked on the edges.

Nanami murmured something soothing against his daughter’s hair, but she didn’t relax immediately. Her lips wobbled, trembling with unshed tears, and as he turned to leave, one tiny arm stretched out, fingers opening and closing as if still calling for the mother she thought she’d found.

Your throat burned as you stood frozen in the aisle, heart splintering at the sight, until they finally disappeared behind the shelves.

TOJI FUSHIGURO You’re browsing the dessert aisle, debating between two brands of mochi, when you suddenly feel something small bump into you.

You look down just in time to see a black haired, chubby-cheeked toddler stumble back from the impact and plop straight onto his butt. His face crumples, fat tears already spilling down his cheeks as a wobbly sob bursts free.

Instinct takes over before you even think. You crouch, smoothing a hand over his soft hair, gently coaxing his little face. “Hey… hey, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” you murmur, using your sleeve to dab his tears. “Where’s your mama or papa, hm?” His cries quiet a fraction, though he still trembles, clinging tighter.

“Found him!” a small voice calls. A girl, maybe five or six, runs up with relief. Behind her is a tall man, broad-shouldered, carrying a basket one-handed. He looks more exasperated than panicked.

The girl beams. “That’s my brother, Megumi.”

The father stops in front of you. His sharp green eyes flick from his sniffling son to where your hand rests on the boy’s head, your face bent kindly toward him. For a second, his expression softens, almost unreadably. “Kid’s a runner,” he says gruffly, crouching to scoop the boy into his arms. Megumi squirms, still reaching for you, cheeks blotchy and wet.

Toji notices, and something flickers across his face, something he buries under a sigh. “…Thanks. For watchin’ him.” You shake your head, offering a small smile. “He’s sweet. Just scared.”

Toji huffs, lips twitching like he might smirk. Then, as if to cover it, he straightens and mutters, “Sweet, huh. That’s one word for him.”

He leads them away, basket in one hand, his daughter’s hand in the other. Megumi cranes his head back toward you, tiny fists still reaching. And before they turn the corner, Tsumiki gives you a little wave, shy but warm.

You wave back, your chest tightening at the simple, innocent gesture, and yet it lingers with you long after they’re gone.

SUKUNA RYOMEN You meet him in the vegetable aisle. Six-month-old Shion is in one arm, wailing so hard her little fists tremble, while Sukuna glares down at the tomatoes like they’re mocking him for not knowing which to grab or how many. It’s too many things at once.

You’re standing just a step away, hand hovering over a head of lettuce, too awkward to move closer, too aware of his struggle. But before you can overthink it, the words slip out.

“Do you… want some help?”

His eyes cut to you, sharp and guarded. After a beat, he jerks his chin in a slight nod. You gently take Shion, cradling her against you, rocking her with practiced ease. The crying softens, the kicks quiet. Soon, she’s resting her cheek against your chest, little breaths hot through your shirt.

And that’s when it hits, the unbearable thought of what it might have felt like to hold your own child like this. Your heart twists, but you force your expression steady, letting Sukuna finally choose his tomatoes.

When he looks back, there’s something unreadable in his gaze. He watches the baby breathing peacefully against you, then says gruffly, almost surprised, “You’re good at that.”

The words cut deeper than they should. You manage to say a quiet, kind “Thank you” even though inside it feels like splintering glass.

Sukuna doesn’t push. He carefully takes Shion back and mutters, “Thanks,” before moving on.

CHOSO KAMO You’d only meant to duck into the store for a bag of flour, quick in and out. But as you turned into the baking aisle, you spotted a teenager standing there with two bags of pancake mix in his hands, brows furrowed like he was facing the most complicated life decision.

“Don’t bother buying the brand names. The store brand is much better,” you said softly to the teen frowning between two bags of pancake flour. The words slipped out before you thought twice, and you winced. “Sorry, didn’t mean to overstep.”

But the boy turned to you with a bright grin. “No, that helps. Thanks. I couldn’t decide which to pick.”

Before you could say anything else, he was already rambling. “My older brother tried to make pancakes from scratch last week and messed them up. Burnt, totally inedible. So now he sent me here for backup.” He lifted the bag of flour like it was a mission completed.

“Yuji.”

The voice came from the end of the aisle. You both turned to see a tall man walking closer, a basket hooked in one arm. His long, dark hair fell loose around his shoulders. With his sharp features and heavy-lidded eyes, he initially looked intimidating until his gaze landed on Yuji and softened.

“She helped me pick,” Yuji explained quickly, gesturing to you.

Choso gave you a quiet nod, strands of hair slipping forward as he shifted. “Thank you,” he said simply, voice deep but sincere. His eyes lingered on you longer than necessary before he returned his attention to Yuji. “Let’s finish the rest of the list.”

Yuji slightly bowed down as they walked off, leaving you in the aisle with the faintest warmth in your chest.

SHIU KONG Halfway through the fruit section, you realized you had a shadow.

A tiny one.

Every move you made, she copied. When you tapped a watermelon with your knuckles, she waddled after you and did the same, her little hand making the faintest hollow thunk. You squeezed an apple for firmness; she squeezed one too, face scrunched up in serious concentration. And when you lifted a peach to your nose to smell it, she practically buried her face into another peach, inhaling so hard you had to bite back a laugh.

At some point, she’d even started tugging on your sleeve, holding it lightly like you were her partner in this shopping adventure.

“Is it ripe?” you asked gently, crouching to be eye-level with her.

She held up the peach like it was a treasure. “Yes. This one smells yummy.”

You smiled, ready to tell her she’d picked perfectly, when a low voice interrupted.

“There you are.”

The little girl instantly lit up, spinning around. You saw a tall man strolling closer, a basket hooked in one hand. His sharp eyes softened as soon as they landed on her, though when he glanced at you, there was a flicker of quiet assessment.

“She wasn’t bothering you, was she?”

“Not at all,” you assured him quickly. “She’s been helping me shop.”

That earned you a nearly hidden smile, the faintest twitch of his lips. “Helping, huh?”

The girl shoved the peach into her father’s hand. “Look! I picked the best one.”

Shiu’s gaze lingered on her, then on you, and though he didn’t say much, the curve of his mouth, the unspoken thanks in his eyes, was enough.

HIROMI HIGURUMA The produce section was crowded, but quiet in that low hum of grocery store rhythm. You were absently sifting through apples when a soft gurgle caught your ear. A baby in a nearby cart was cooing up at you, tiny hands flailing. The sound tugged something deep in your chest, and before you knew it, you were smiling, small, wistful, at the little one’s delight.

Then a small, steady voice piped up beside the cart. “You lost your baby.”

You blinked, surprised to see a little girl watching you with wide, serious eyes. She couldn’t have been older than eight, but something was knowing about the way she studied you.

“My dad had those same sad eyes,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “When my mom left us.”

Your throat closed up. “I’m sorry,” you managed in sympathy and disbelief.

“She kissed another man,” the girl said softly, not accusing, just remembering. “I saw it. I told my dad. After that, she didn’t come home anymore.”

The words landed heavier because she didn’t mean them to hurt; she was only telling you the truth, like children always do.

And then he came. A tall man with heavy, drooping eyes that mirrored hers. Hiromi’s expression softened when his gaze landed on her, though his voice carried a quiet apology as he said, “That’s enough, sweetheart.”

Then, glancing at you, he inclined his head, polite but reserved. “I hope she wasn’t bothering you.”

“She wasn’t,” you said quickly, despite your heart twisting from her words.

She looked up at him, lips wobbling just slightly before she nodded, and let him steer the cart forward. He glanced back at you once, a silent apology in the weight of his eyes, before guiding her away.

ATSUYA KUSAKABE Walking down the aisle, you spotted a little girl wobbling on tiptoe, straining her arms toward the chocolate spread like it was the holy grail. She stumbled back, nearly losing her balance, and you hurried over, steadying her shoulder.

“Need a hand?” you asked, plucking the jar down and crouching so you could pass it to her. She lit up, hugging it against her chest like she’d won a prize.

You stayed nearby, glancing up and down the aisle for her parents while making small talk to keep her distracted. She told you about how chocolate spread was the best thing ever and how her dad sometimes burnt toast, but promised to get it right this time.

“Got the spread?” A low, easy voice cut in, footsteps approaching. You turned to see a man walking closer, a basket hooked in one arm, a lollipop stick poking from his mouth.

“Papa!” she chirped, holding up the jar proudly.

Kusakabe gave you a grateful nod, shifting the lollipop between his fingers. “Thanks for helping her. She’s resourceful, but not exactly tall.” He glanced at the jar, then at you.

You smiled at the two of them before parting ways, letting the quiet chatter of the store swallow you back up. But your steps slowed, the image of her bright eyes and proud little smile replaying in your head.

Would your child have been sweet like her if things had been different? Would they have tugged at your hand, begged for chocolate spread, and introduced you to strangers with that same fearless innocence?

You shook the thought away with a sigh, fingers curling around the handle of your basket. Still, you couldn’t help glancing down the aisle one more time. The little girl was already skipping beside her father, holding the jar like gold, while he walked along behind her with the lollipop in his mouth and a soft, tired patience in his expression.

A slight ache settled in your chest. Maybe it was silly. Perhaps it was nothing. But somehow, running into them made the store feel a little warmer.

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