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The duvet is heavy.
Warm, thick, like someone draped a cloud over him – and Yuuji welcomes the weight, settling further into the mattress, sighing into the pillow against his cheek.
The comfort chases away any lingering chill that might’ve crept in during the night, wrapping him in a haze of leftover sleep and safety. It molds to every contour of his body: the curve of his shoulders, the dip of his waist, the bend of his knees – as if it has solemnly decided, on this quiet winter morning, that Yuuji is not allowed to rise, not allowed to disturb the perfect stillness they’ve built together overnight.
It takes a long, drowsy moment for the fog in his brain to clear enough for him to notice that the weight of the blanket isn’t quite even. There’s a particular warmth concentrated along his left side: steady, alive, radiating heat in soothing, rhythmic waves. Something solid is resting flat over his lower stomach, and a faint tickle brushes the side of his neck, as well as soft little exhales that don’t meet the timing of his own.
Yuuji blinks slowly, awareness creeping in like the golden light seeping through the window curtains.
It’s not just the duvet.
It’s Megumi.
Megumi, who has somehow migrated during the night to sprawl halfway across him – one arm locked possessively around Yuuji’s middle, forearm a solid bar across his stomach, fingers curled around his hip. His head is tucked heavily into Yuuji’s shoulder, cheek pressed against the slope where his neck meets his collarbone, black hair a wild tangle spilling over the both of them.
The full length of his body is pressed close, his chest flush with Yuuji’s side. One leg is thrown over Yuuji’s thighs, knee wedged between them in a way that feels less accidental and more like deliberate anchoring. Unsurprising.
The duvet is still there, of course, trapping all that shared heat, making everything feel twice as heavy. But the real weight – the comforting, grounding part that makes Yuuji’s heart go soft and stupid, is Megumi himself. Unable to help it, Yuuji’s lips curve into a fond, private smile in the dim light of their room, the kind that starts out small but spreads until his cheeks ache a little.
He loves this, loves it more than almost anything in the world. The quiet intimacy of a morning with no obligations; the absolute mess atop Megumi’s head, some strands sticking up in defiant cowlicks, others plastered flat from being slept on; the faint, almost imperceptible snores that rumble from Megumi’s nose every few breaths – soft little hitches that he knows Megumi will deny to his dying day with that familiar scowl and a muttered, “I don’t snore, Itadori”.
Yuuji catalogues it all greedily, because it’s not often he gets the chance: the way Megumi’s lashes cast faint shadows across his cheeks, the barely-there crease between his brows that never smooths out even in sleep, the subtle rise and fall of his chest against Yuuji’s side.
It’s everything.
So he doesn’t move for a long while, just letting himself soak it in, breathing slow and measured so as not to disturb the moment.
As he lies there, his mind drifts lazily to the day ahead. They have nothing planned – no missions, no early training, nowhere they’re expected to be. Just a rare, quiet day between the two of them. Something normal.
He thinks about the coffee he’ll brew to get the day started, the rich, dark roast Megumi pretends not to like as much as he does; the way he’ll probably burn the toast for breakfast because he always gets distracted watching Megumi read the paper with that tiny, unconscious frown; the laundry pile in the corner that’s been growing for days and definitely needs tending to.
All of it feels distant, now. Unimportant under the duvet’s spell and Megumi’s warm embrace.
But biology, cruel and insistent, eventually makes itself known. The need to pee arrives politely at first, a gentle pressure in his lower abdomen – then quickly grows more urgent as the minutes pass, a steady throb that refuses to be ignored. Yuuji hesitates, weighing the comfort against necessity, lips pursing in a small, reluctant pout. After a moment of internal debate, he finally shifts; just the tiniest roll of his hips toward the edge of the bed, testing, trying to ease out from under Megumi’s arm without waking him.
It’s a big mistake.
Megumi’s arm clamps down instantly, fingers digging into Yuuji’s side as he drags him back with surprising strength for someone supposedly fast asleep. The motion is fluid, instinctive, pulling Yuuji flush against his chest until there’s no space left between them again. A low, guttural noise rumbles out of his throat, thick with sleep and edged with pure irritation.
“The hell do you think you’re going?”
Yuuji lets out a soft, helpless laugh, but melts into the touch nonetheless. “Good morning to you, too.”
Megumi doesn’t even open his eyes. His dark lashes stay fanned over his cheeks, but his brow furrows deeper, and his lips pull into a half-hearted scowl. “No. Shut up. Sleep.”
His voice is deliciously rough – gravel scraped over velvet, every syllable clipped and heavy with the remnants of dreams. He burrows closer, nose pressing into the hollow beneath Yuuji’s jaw as though he can hide there from the very concept of morning.
“I’ve been asleep,” Yuuji says softly, amusement threading through his tone. He lifts one hand, fingers combing through the chaos of Megumi’s hair, careful not to tug on any knots. “It’s gotta be almost noon. The sun’s already up.”
“Don’t care.” Megumi’s reply is immediate, stubborn, the words muffled against Yuuji’s skin. His leg tightens over Yuuji’s thighs, ankle hooking around him to lock him more securely in place. “Didn’t ask.”
Yuuji’s grin only widens. He can feel the faint flush creeping up Megumi’s ears even without seeing it – a telltale sign that he’s more aware than he’s letting on. “You’re extra grumpy today,” he murmurs, impossibly fond.
“I’m always extra grumpy when you attempt escape,” Megumi huffs out, clearly annoyed. His fingers flex against Yuuji’s side, and his voice drops lower, almost a growl. “Stay.”
“It’s not an escape,” Yuuji reassures him, scratching lightly at Megumi’s scalp in the way he knows melts him. “It’s just a quick bathroom break. Very necessary. Life-or-death, even.”
“Request denied.” Megumi’s tone is flat, final, but there’s an unmistakable hitch in his breathing when Yuuji’s nails drag just right along the base of his skull.
“Come on,” Yuuji coaxes, voice softening further, warm and pleading. “I’ll be quick. Promise. Two minutes max.”
“Last time you said that,” Megumi mutters, finally cracking one eye open – just a sliver of dark green, narrowed in accusation, “you took a shower. Then you made coffee. Then you started folding laundry. I’m not having it. Back to sleep. Now.”
Yuuji snorts, quiet and affectionate. His fingers keep their gentle rhythm in Megumi’s hair, tracing little circles along the nape of his neck, relishing the way Megumi’s shoulders loosen by fractions at the touch. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No, you’re a flight risk.” Megumi’s eye closes again, but his lips twitch just slightly, the barest hint of a smile he’s too grumpy to fully allow.
Yuuji huffs, squirming slightly to relieve some of the growing pressure on his bladder. Mustering up the most commanding tone he possibly can –which happens to not be very stern at all, it turns out– Yuuji tries again:
”Megumi.”
“Itadori.” Completely unfazed.
Yuuji rolls his eyes with a sigh and turns his head, nose brushing through the soft strands of Megumi’s hair until he can press a light kiss to his temple. “If you let me go pee, I’ll come right back and let you be the little spoon,” he offers, intentionally teasing.
Megumi’s ears burn brighter pink, visible now even in the dim lighting. He makes a deeply offended noise, the sound rumbling through his chest. “I am not little anything.”
“Fine,” Yuuji concedes, lips curving against Megumi’s flushed skin. “I’ll be the little spoon, and you can touch all over me as much as you want, guilt-free. No complaints.”
There’s a long pause. Megumi’s breathing slows as he considers the idea, and his hand, still resting on Yuuji’s hip, splays wider, fingertips pressing in. When he speaks again, his voice has dropped, still rough with sleep, but edged now with dry certainty: “Tempting. But I can touch you right now if I want to. No bargaining required.”
Yuuji’s laugh shakes through both of them; the vibration earns him a warning squeeze from Megumi’s hand. “Is that a threat or an offer?” he asks, unable to stop himself from playing along, even if just for a moment.
But it doesn’t seem like Megumi’s interested in playing.
“Stay and find out.” Megumi’s hand slides over, movements lazy, thumb brushing along the waistband of Yuuji’s boxers in a passive, possessive sweep. The touch is feather-light, but it sends heat flooding low in Yuuji’s stomach all the same. Megumi tilts his head up, lips brushing the shell of Yuuji’s ear as he adds, “Could just keep you here. Make sure you don’t go anywhere.”
Yuuji’s breath catches, a shiver racing down his spine. He can feel himself stirring, blood quickly rushing south at the combination of Megumi’s warmth, his voice, and that lazy confidence he uses to his advantage in moments like these. “You’re playing dirty.”
“Effective,” Megumi corrects, lips barely moving against Yuuji’s skin. His thumb dips just beneath the waistband, tracing the skin there with maddening slowness, fingertip brushing along the tufts of coarse hair. “You’re already getting hard. Don’t think I can’t feel it.”
Yuuji groans, half-laugh and half-helpless arousal, hips twitching involuntarily into the touch. “You’re so incredibly evil.”
“You like evil.”
With another soft groan, and a light shake of his head, Yuuji tries again, softer, his voice edging into genuine discomfort, “Please? I’m actually desperate.”
The exhale Megumi lets out is beyond dramatic, a horribly suffering sigh – the sound of someone bearing the heaviest cross imaginable. His body loosens, fingers dragging over Yuuji’s stomach reluctantly, as though every single inch of release is a personal loss. “One minute,” he concedes. “Door cracked. If I hear the shower turn on, I’m coming in there after you and dragging you back out wet.”
“Okay, okay,” Yuuji quickly agrees, pressing one more chaste kiss to Megumi’s forehead before carefully extracting himself from Megumi’s grasp. “I’ll be right back.”
The cold air hits him like a slap as he slides out from under the duvet, bare feet meeting the chill of the hardwood floor. He shivers, arms crossing over his chest as he heads to their attached bathroom, every step making him regret the decision a little bit more. The apartment is quiet except for the faint hum of the heater and Megumi’s restless shifting on the bed behind him – sheets rustling, and an unintelligible, irritated grumble that carries across the room.
Yuuji’s fast, as promised; he relieves himself, washes his hands, and splashes cold water on his face in an attempt to chase away the last dregs of sleep. When he catches his reflection in the small mirror above the sink, he can’t help the goofy smile that spreads across his face: his pink hair flattened on one side, cheeks flushed with desire, eyes bright with affection.
He looks hopelessly in love, and he doesn’t even try to hide it from himself.
Less than two minutes later and he’s slipping back into the bed – Megumi’s long arms wrapping around him immediately, pulling him under the covers with an insistent tug. Megumi makes another low, sleepy sound and rearranges them with the growing impatience of someone who has been mildly inconvenienced by the universe, and certainly intends to let everyone know about it.
Yuuji finds himself flat on his back again, Megumi half-draped over him like a possessive blanket of his own. Megumi’s face tucks into the crook of his neck, just as before, nose pressing against the pulse point there, lips parting just enough to let shallow breaths ghost over skin. His thigh slides between Yuuji’s with intentional slowness, knee nudging them apart until he’s settled perfectly, pinning Yuuji gently but inescapably to the mattress.
The duvet settles back over them, welcome and thick, sealing the warmth in once more until the air feels almost humid from their shared body heat.
Yuuji exhales a soft laugh as he relaxes, fingers threading back into Megumi’s messy hair, combing through the tangles with gentle care. “Missed me?”
Megumi’s answer is barely a word – just a muffled affirmative grunt against Yuuji’s skin, low and rumbling. His hand moves from where it had been resting on the mattress, sliding lazily across Yuuji’s side until his palm spreads flat over Yuuji’s stomach again, thumb tracing agonizingly slow circles there.
The touch is tender, comforting, an unspoken reminder: you’re here, and I’m keeping you here.
Yuuji’s heart does that familiar, ridiculous flip, butterflies fluttering weakly behind his naval. He tips his head down, lips brushing over the crown of Megumi’s head. “Thought you were going back to sleep,” he murmurs.
Megumi makes another low noise in response, negative this time, and shifts his hips in a listless, tantalizing roll. The motion presses the growing heat of his arousal against Yuuji’s thigh, unmistakable even through the layers of cotton and the lingering haze of sleep. “Couldn’t,” he mumbles, voice thick and raspy, words slurring together as though speaking is an effort he’s only barely willing to make, “Too cold without you. Needed you back.”
His mouth finds Yuuji’s collarbone, lips brushing softly at first – just achingly light presses that send little sparks skittering across Yuuji’s skin. Then his lips part, tasting, open-mouthed kisses placed along the ridge of bone, down to the hollow at the base of Yuuji’s neck. Each kiss is defined, lingering, like he’s too sleepy to do more but also too stubborn to stop.
Yuuji’s breath catches, fingers tightening just slightly in Megumi’s hair, tugging at the strands near the nape of his neck. Megumi hums in response –deep and content, the sound vibrating pleasantly against Yuuji’s skin– and his hand slides lower, fingertips tracing the waistband of Yuuji’s boxers once more. He doesn’t push under the fabric; he just rests his palm there, solid and heavy, fingers splayed wide in silent claim.
“You’re warm,” Megumi mumbles against his neck, voice barely audible, drowsy and fond beneath the gruff edge. He presses a few more kisses into the skin there, and Yuuji shivers, goosebumps rising along his arms. “Feels good. Stay like this.”
And Yuuji’s body is already responding – a familiar heat pooling deep in his gut, his erection filling steadily against the insistent pressure of Megumi’s thigh. He tips his head back into the pillow on instinct, baring his throat fully, giving Megumi every inch of access he wants. “You’re not even awake,” he teases softly, though his voice comes out breathier than he intends.
“Am too awake,” Megumi protests, defiant as always. It’s ruined completely by the way he nuzzles closer, eyes still firmly closed, brows drawn in a tiny crease of concentration. His hips roll again –slow, lazy, almost absentminded– dragging the hard line of himself across Yuuji’s thigh like he can’t quite help it. “Just don’t wanna move much.”
“Sounds about right,” Yuuji jokes, tugging at the hair between his fingers in playful encouragement.
Megumi huffs, almost a laugh – and finally, finally, his hand slips below the waistband. The movement is careful, like he’s savoring every new inch of skin revealed; his palm is warm, calloused in all the right places from years and years of training – and when it curls around Yuuji’s now fully hard length, Yuuji’s hips lift instinctively into the touch.
Seemingly pleased at the reaction, Megumi makes another noise in the back of his throat, the sound sending fresh heat down Yuuji’s chest. His thumb sweeps over the head, gathering the first slick bead of precum, spreading it in a lazy circle that has Yuuji’s breath stuttering.
“See?” Megumi grumbles, desire weaving its way through the drowsiness. “You’re already–”
“Your fault,” Yuuji interrupts, voice shaky, fingers tightening in Megumi’s hair. “You’re the one grinding on me like an animal.”
Megumi huffs again, closer to a real laugh this time, and finally begins a slow, steady rhythm with his hand – long, languid pulls from base to tip, firm but unhurried, like they have all the time in the world and he intends to use every second. His thigh presses higher between Yuuji’s legs, giving him something solid to rock against, the pressure absolutely perfect.
Thoughts of starting the day long gone, Yuuji gives in entirely; he moans quietly, one hand moving to Megumi’s back, fingers spreading wide between his shoulderblades, tracing the lean muscle there through the thin fabric of his sleep shirt. Megumi answers by mouthing at his neck again – soft, wet kisses that gradually turn into gentle sucks, teeth grazing just enough to leave faint marks that will bloom purple later.
“Want you to cum like this,” Megumi whispers against his skin. His hand twists just slightly on the upstroke, thumb pressing under the crown in a way that makes Yuuji’s back arch off the mattress. “Just – with me holding you.”
Yuuji’s breath stutters again, hips rolling up into Megumi’s grip. “Yeah,” he manages, nodding just slightly, chest rising and falling with shallow heaves. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”
Megumi’s rhythm stays unhurried, almost hypnotic – long pulls that build tension gradually, twisting at the head, thumb circling with maddening patience. His own hips keep that same drowsy grind against Yuuji’s thigh, chasing friction without any sense of urgency, breath hitching softly every few strokes.
It builds slow and sweet, heat coiling tight in Yuuji’s lower abdomen and spreading outward in waves. Every sense floods with the combined pleasure: Megumi’s weight pinning him so perfectly, the slick drag of his hand, the faint salt-scent of arousal mixing with sleep-warm skin.
Megumi’s mouth stays on his neck between kisses, breathing deep and even, lips brushing against flushed skin as he murmurs almost too softly to hear, “That’s it. Just like that, Yuuji. C’mon.”
When Yuuji’s climax hits him, it’s quiet but overwhelming – a shaky exhale that catches in his throat, body arching under Megumi’s weight, spilling shamelessly over Megumi’s long fingers and his own stomach in pulsing waves. Megumi keeps stroking him through it, painfully gentle, drawing the orgasm out until Yuuji’s thighs tremble and he’s whimpering from the stimulation. His hand clutches weakly at Megumi’s back, fingers curling into his shirt and pulling the fabric taut.
Only then does Megumi let go, half-heartedly wiping his sticky hand on the sheets before bringing it to rest on top of Yuuji’s frantic heartbeat instead. His hips give one last slow, involuntary roll against Yuuji’s thigh, then still completely, keeping him locked in place. He presses impossibly closer, face still buried deep in Yuuji’s neck.
Yuuji lets out a soft, choked laugh, still halfway floating in the aftermath, and tips his head in question. “You didn’t..?”
“Later,” Megumi mumbles, voice already threatening to drift off again. “Just wanted you first. Always want you first.”
Yuuji’s chest floods with a love so fierce it almost hurts. He wraps both arms around Megumi tightly, one hand sliding up to cradle the back of his head, fingers threading through the sweat-damp hair. “Okay,” he whispers in agreement, pressing a lingering kiss to Megumi’s temple. “Later.”
Megumi makes a small, pleased sound, something between a sigh and a hum, and his body goes completely lax – sleep calling to him more insistently now that Yuuji’s back, warm and sated and definitely staying. His breathing gradually evens out, the last bit of tension draining from his shoulders in waves.
Yuuji smiles into his hair, eyes closing as he traces mindless, soothing patterns along Megumi’s spine through his shirt – tender circles, gentle scratches, anything to keep that quiet contentment humming between them for as long as he can.
Coffee can wait, he decides.
Laundry can wait.
Everything else can wait.