Yuji’s always been warm—always smiling, always moving, always full of life—the perfect example of a “golden retriever boyfriend”. You’ve been dating for about six months now, and anyone could tell how much life he’d breathed into your previously dull days.

The living room is dim, the TV casting shifting blues and yellows on the walls. A half-eaten bag of popcorn sits between you, abandoned during the movie. Outside, rain taps lazily against the window, blurring the world into streetlights and puddles. It’s the perfect kind of night—warm blankets, soft lighting, and Yuji beside you, radiating heat like a human space heater.

You know Yuji isn’t great at sitting still. He’s always moving—bouncing on his heels, tapping out rhythms, throwing an arm around you like it’s second nature. But now, in the quiet of your apartment, he’s different. Still fidgeting, still him, but… hesitant.

He shifts beside you, his knee bumping against yours. Then again, adjusting the blanket, sighing dramatically—like he’s waiting for you to notice.

You suppress a smile. Oh, he’s suffering.

Yuji Itadori, the human embodiment of sunshine, is now trying to ask for affection. It’s endearing, and ridiculously amusing.

You pretend to be absorbed in the movie while Yuji practically vibrates beside you, caught between patience and need. Finally, without warning, his arms wrap around your waist—firm, desperate, unrelenting. He pulls you into his chest like it’s the only place you belong. The couch dips beneath you both, and you barely get a chance to react before you hear it—a sigh, a soft whimper against your neck.

“Mhm… not close enough,” he mumbles, tightening his hold like he’s afraid you might disappear.

You laugh softly, but it only makes him squeeze tighter. He lifts his head just enough to meet your gaze, his usual bright smile softening into a pout, eyes flickering with uncertainty.

“This is okay, right? You don’t mind if we cuddle a bit…?”

As if you could ever say no to him.