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𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠

request; Hello I was wondering if you could do a Liam Mairi x reader where involving the side-effects of having bonded mated dragons pair so they absolutely go feral with eachother while using the prompt "That's it, fuck, that's a good girl."

synopsis; you and liam discover the trouble with mated dragons when you wind up in his bed. hidden feelings threaten to come to light.

pairing; liam mairi x fem!reader

warnings; smut (18+ only), p in v, soft sex w feels

word count; 2.6k

Reaching out blindly until your hand snags against the soft fabric of Liam’s sleep shirt, you take a shuddering breath as a surge of arousal locks you on the spot, every muscle coiling tight when you press your forehead to the wall and tug him closer. His thighs are bare and they flex when he stumbles towards you, bracing himself by means of a hand either side of your head, corded biceps caging you in when a ragged pant rips through you and you grit your teeth.

“Easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is strained, the veins that wrap the lengths of his forearms like vines protruding from the creamy skin. You suppress a pathetic little noise that bubbles from the base of your throat, tipping your head back as Liam’s hand makes contact with the skin there. “Shh, shh.”

“Li-“ you whisper through gritted teeth. “I need you to tell me to go away. I can’t- can’t control myself.”

“No-“ he says, quickly – too quickly, desperation lining his every syllable. You’re all too familiar with the feeling, the panic that seeps into his voice at the prospect of you leaving in search of another man’s bed. He’s not too proud to beg you. “No. Stay, please.”

The thought of you leaving is near unbearable now he’s close enough to touch you — feel you. Close enough to smell the shampoo in the wisps of hair that fall around your flushed face, close enough that the scent of you cloys in his nostrils and throws all inhibitions out the window.

His body presses against yours and the contact sets every nerve ending you possess alight. You tremble when he glides steady fingers - much steadier than you’re feeling right now - over your half-bare shoulder where your t-shirt has slipped downward, coming to a halt over your skittering pulse. His head falls forward into the juncture of your neck.

“Fuck.” His voice is rasping, barely there in your ears as Deigh does something Áine particularly likes and a crusade of need slams through him.

You thread your fingers through the blond tresses that tickle at your skin, pointedly ignoring the obvious disparity of your bodies, how his dwarfs your own, the way it makes your head spin with the need to get closer, to claw your way into his skin and feel every inch of him.

“Liam,” you whine softly, arching into him as those thick arms twine around your waist, pulling your torso flush to his own. He squeezes you, hands slipping beneath the t-shirt you’re clad in, palming and groping at every bump and ridge, every hill and valley of flesh he can reach. He ventures lower; your fingers tense where they still lay in his soft hair, and when his palms flatten and tap firmly at the backs of your thighs, you know what he wants.

You oblige the clear instruction, pushing yourself up from the balls of your feet until you’re in Liam’s arms, legs looped around his waist and ankles crossed at the base of his spine. Your back hits the wall as he surges forward to nose at your jugular. His lips part, tongue flicking forward to lave at your balmy skin. As his head dips, trailing a hot, wet path of half moons in the wake of his lips, you shudder.

“I know, my girl. I know,” he coos, sympathetic. His words slur and jumble, each sound melting into the next as though he’s drunk from the feel - the taste - of you alone.

The pet name would be enough to have you melting with affection under usual circumstances— now, it’s enough to have you whining, craning your head to slant your lips hungrily over his own, uncaring if it’s messy or filthy or downright sinful. Your only mission is to feel him, to get closer, to roam every inch of him with your ravenous tongue and teeth and lips— greedy for his touch.

If anyone were to walk in they’d certainly blanch at the sight; you pinned against the wall closest to the door of Liam’s room, his eager fingers splayed over your ass as you breathe into each other’s mouths. You’re unconsciously grinding down into him in quick, fervent bursts, and he reciprocates the movement appreciatively, letting you slide down the cold wall until the thick length of him presses to your wet cunt— hindered only by the fabric of his boxers and the lace of your panties.

The material is almost translucent, soaked through with your arousal. Liam coos something sympathetic that you can’t quite decipher for the fog that clouds your every nerve ending, for the hand that slips between your bodies until his thumb is rubbing tight circles into your swollen clit through the ruined fabric. Tears burn at the backs of your eyes and you tremble round him, the pleasure everything you need and somehow nowhere near enough, all at once.

“Shh, shh,” he murmurs. “‘ve got you, angel. ‘S okay.”

You gasp wetly against his kiss-bitten lips, the only warning you give as you begin shuddering against him, your climax ripping through you before you even have time to think. Everything is so sensitive, every brush and graze of his skin against your own amplified tenfold— it’s too much but still, you greedily accept everything he’s willing to give you, teary eyes trained to his throat that works around a swallow as he watches you cum with heavy lidded eyes. Babbling around a sob, you part your lips from his in favour of sinking down into the juncture of his neck, your hot cheeks searing against the cooler skin that greets you like a soothing balm.

“That’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”

“Liam,” you hiccup, grabbing large fistfuls of his t-shirt, the flimsy material the only thing that separates you from miles of toned skin and muscle. That lopsided grin cracks across his face, a dimple cratering onto the centre of his cheek as his teeth flash in an amused smile; his chest heaves, even more so when you slip your hands underneath his tee to palm at bare skin.

Setting you down on shaking legs, his hand encircles one of your wrists and tugs, leading you until you’re perched at the edge of the bed. He turns, elbows flaring wide as he pulls at the neckline of his shirt and drags the material over his head in one fluid motion. The planes of his back are bared to you, each individual muscle rolling and moving with one another as though they’re cogs in a well oiled machine. You want your mouth on every inch of that skin– no corner, no crevice left untouched.

And then he’s on you, prowling with a predatory glint in those cerulean eyes as his pupils swallow the bright hue of his irises; all he sees is you– the way you shrink and tremble at the fervent way he surveys you.

A wide palm slips beneath your own tee and curls around your ribcage, frantically rising and falling with every laboured breath. He shucks the fabric upward to expose your soft breasts to the cool air of the room, and watches with rapt fascination as your nipples harden into peaks under his attention.

You shift until you’re propped up on your elbows to allow him space to discard the item of clothing, complying when he nudges you until you’re flat against the mattress, legs hooked over his hips. Your head turns, face burning at the wolfish way his eyes rake over you, a great contrast to the flattened hands that scrub sweeping lines over the tops of your thighs to soothe your nerves.

“Don’t hide from me, angel,” he murmurs, folding at the waist to smear a kiss against the curve of your jaw. His next words are a rumble against your skin that seep into your pores, into your very bones. “If it gets too much for you, all you have to do is tell me. And we’ll stop. Okay?”

His cadence is low and rasping, and the feel of the bridge of his nose pressed to your cheek sending a wave of affection through you that knocks the breath from your lungs. You nod.

“Words, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” you croak.

“Good girl.”

Your pussy aches with a sharp throb when he reaches down to press his thumb back to your swollen bundle of nerves; you whine, hips canting up into his touch unconsciously as he slips the wet material down your legs and discards them somewhere behind him.

He presses a kiss to your tummy, your knee, your ankle, and then pushes your legs up and back until they’re folded atop your chest. You gasp when his warm breath fans over your bare sex.

“Liam.”

“I know, angel,” he grunts. His voice patters out into breathless silence as you part your thighs, splaying a hand across his thrumming pulse to wrench him upwards and towards you. He doesn’t resist, putty in your hands. Absolutely, wholly yours.

“Please,” you whisper; his nose brushes yours. “Need you.”

He parts your lips with his own, slaking his hunger on you. He revels in every noise he pulls from your slick lips, every whine and gasp and plead for him to give you what you want. He swallows them all greedily and when - and only when - he’s decided you’ve begged him prettily enough, does he free his weeping cock and line up with your entrance.

He sinks in slowly, every thick inch of him splitting you wider than the previous. He’s thick, cock twitching against your cunt as the flushed head practically begs to be buried inside of you. The colour bleeds from your knuckles as you clutch his biceps, leaving crescent moon indents in the wake of your cruel touch; he hisses, and when he’s fully sheathed inside of you, he sweeps down again to press wet, ardent kisses to your face and neck. He hooks your legs up against his hips, pulling back to rock back into the tight clutch of your cunt with slow, rhythmic movements.

He hits every spot inside of you without trying, the spongy head of him rubbing continuously over a particular spot you haven’t discovered yet; it has you keening, sobbing out a broken moan against his balmy cheek as he coos gentle praises against the shell of your ear.

His entire focus is fixated on him desperately trying to not blow his load at the first feel of your cunt clasping him, breathing deeply through his nostrils as he props a forearm either side of your head.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he gasps, picking up his pace as your enthusiasm starts to peak, your shaking fingers tangling in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Your body arches beneath him, head tipping back when a soft whine spills from your swollen lips.

The lewd sound of slapping skin and heavy breathing encases your senses, drives you further to that edge that you’ve been aching for since you entered the room.

He’s so beautiful like this it sets you alight with adoration— and arousal: blond hair mussed and falling over his eyes, face flushed as he dips down to brush his nose with your own, plush, pink lips parted into a gasp when you clench around him.

“‘M so close, Li,” you croak, tightening your fingers where they’re carding through his hair.

“I know, angel. I know.” Deft fingers slide between your bodies as he works over your clit rhythmically— sweeping movements that alternate between tight circles and up and down motions as he places pressure on that bundle of nerves.

A sweet, quiet little gasp spills from your lips, and Liam doesn’t miss the way you tense, clinging to him harder as you shatter.

He coaxes you through it, movements never slowing as you ride out your peak, whining against his lips when he swallows your sounds with his mouth.

He doesn’t stop until you’re squirming and writhing beneath him, kicking your legs feebly to push him away; he shudders at the movement, back bowing in the centre until he’s spilling into you with a groan. He braces himself with his head buried in the juncture of your neck, arms hooking around the base of your spine to hold you flush to him.

You both collapse in a haphazard mound of limbs and you roll onto your side to face Liam, his cheek still pressed to yours. He brushes the bridge of his nose along the length of your cheekbone, his smile imprinted into your skin as you hum and needle your way closer into his chest.

You don’t know what to say— neither does he. This silence is comfortable regardless, the gentle, lulling energy encasing the pair of you in this bubble.

He brushes a stray lock of hair from your sticky forehead, smearing a kiss along the crown of your skull. Your lashes flutter, body soft and lax against his own as you greedily seep up his warmth. You’re weightless, your head pleasantly blank when he pulls the blankets over you, pressing a final kiss to your cheek before he’s pushing himself out of the bed and to the bathroom.

There’s some shuffling and then emerges seconds later, clad in a clean pair of boxers and clutching a t-shirt for you to take. You’re still how he left you, laying on your side and dozing, cheek smushed against the back of your hand.

“C’mon, angel,” he murmurs, hooking an arm beneath your shoulder to hike you upright, handing you the tee; you rub at your heavy eyes with the backs of your fingers, swiping the fog away. He settles himself between your legs to clean you up, swiping a tissue between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that, Li,” you croak. “‘M okay, I’ve got it.”

You make to loop your fingers around his wrist to halt his movements, but he only tuts and swats your hand away with a smile. Affection rises in your chest, hot and fast and blinding.

“I’ve got you, my girl.”

There’s that name again. My girl. You’re melting, sure you’re nothing but a pile of mush following those two little words; he surveys you with those cerulean eyes, laced with nothing less than adoration.

“Liam,” you whine, protesting.

“Oh, hush.” He presses a kiss to the curve of your kneecap before pushing the blankets back over your legs.

You pull the oversized tee he’s pushed into your hands over your head appreciatively, resisting the urge to bury your face into the fabric and inhale at the scent of him that cloys the room, that swirls around your face in tantalising tendrils.

You love him, you realise. The admission isn’t terrifying as you thought it would be, but rather a calm wave that washes over you and grants you a newfound clarity. You want this all the time with him. You want everything.

The bed dips as he returns to your side, an arm around your waist until you’re both propped against the headboard, your face resting in the dip of his collarbone. You feel his cheek pressed to the top of your head.

Your chest feels as though it might cave in at any moment, the sheer volume of love you hold for this boy too much for your body to hold onto. You brush your lips against his shoulder, blinking slowly in your haze. The rumble of his laugh carries right down to your bones.

“You’re beautiful,” you mumble, already half-asleep.

“You’re more beautiful,” he whispers back as though it’s a secret. Private words shared between the pair of you, for no one else to hear.

You’re asleep before you can respond, draped lazily over his torso. He shucks the blankets up until they’re covering you right up to your shoulders. Your nose scrunches unconsciously.

Fuck, he loves you.

I am so sorry, but uh...

I can’t fix him but I could fuck him.

·:¨༺ the secret language of flowers .

i - seed. masterlist. next>>

word count : 8K pairing : autistic!megumi fushiguro x audhd!reader content : as a burnt out uni student, you finally get your dream job in a quaint bookstore - and find out your strangely reserved classmate works in the florist opposite you. note : header art by @hinamie used with permission. this one's for the nd girlies - i see u 💞. taglist open!

“‘mayhaps the blossom will demand of its lover: what is our love in the face of marching time, except that we deteriorate side by side?’”

you look at maki expectantly.

“so?” maki says. the rickety reception desk groans alarmingly under her weight as she leans forward on her elbows. sunlight streams thickly through the window behind her, catching glimmers of dust and glinting off your hardcover collection’s stenciled lettering, before gently skimming the dark green of her short-cropped hair.

“so, it’s morbid - not romantic, as it’s advertised. and sayerd always writes overly flowery, too - all purple prose and no substance.”

“and what do you want me to do about that? you’re the literature major. bring it up with your professor or something.” maki yawns, and stretches her arms above her in a remarkably feline manner. “i think you just hate that sayerd talks about inconsistency. entropy. things ending.”

“joy is ephemeral and happiness is a construct,” you sigh dramatically.

maki rolls her eyes and pushes away from the desk to prowl around the small shop, trailing her fingers along the covers of books lining the cramped shelves. “you think too hard about these things, babe. live in the moment. enjoy life while it lasts.”

“the fact that it isn’t going to last is what makes enjoyment impossible.”

“you’re impossible. drop the literature major and try for philosophy instead.”

you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “with all the trouble this unit is giving me, i just might. i’m sick of this whole back and forth…”

maki’s voice reaches you from behind a row of shelves. “i thought they let you switch tutorial times? when you told them it was because of your new job?”

“i did get switched, from the week after next - to wednesday afternoons.”

“oh, your one day off… that’s too bad. you should work in the restaurant with me - and yuta, too - it’s not terrible.”

you snort. “i’m not giving up my dream job to third-wheel.”

“yuta and i are not a couple.”

“which is what makes it even more unbearable! if you actually got together i wouldn’t have to put up with half as much… yearning.”

you snicker to yourself as maki splutters wildly, rendered incoherent by her indignation. in your opinion, the fervid nature of maki’s denial is enough proof alone for her feelings towards yuta okkotsu; maki wholeheartedly disagrees. the conversation derails from there, ending in maki playfully slamming the door on her way out as she abandons you to face the rest of your shift alone.

with the energy and passion that maki brings, there’s always a feeling of dust settling when she leaves - an exhalation of sorts. it tends to intensify when you’re actually in a dusty bookstore. 

you glance at your phone; there’s two hours before you can go home. you’ll be lucky to get a single customer in that time. for the rest of the shift, it’s just going to be you and your thoughts. you lean back in your chair and follow one glinting dust mote after another, tracking their slow dances until they disappear into shadow. 

this is my dream job, you remind yourself, but the silence that usually wraps around you like a blanket feels oppressive rather than comforting, and the cosiness of the bookshop is suddenly suffocating. you’d never expected that the solace of being alone with your thoughts would ever feel… well, lonely.

this is what i want. isn’t it? the mantra doesn’t fit quite right, doesn’t entirely disguise the restlessness you usually set aside. you drop your head in your hands, suddenly overwhelmed. sure, this is anyone’s dream job - working in a cute secondhand bookstore with all its messy charm and untidy piles and rows of tenderly loved books elegantly showing their signs of age - but you’ve never been able to enjoy the experience. 

there’s a rhythm engraved into you like a second heartbeat: where next? where next? where next? you’re certainly not paid enough to comfortably support yourself in the long-term, not when you only come in on saturdays and thursday afternoons. you can’t stay here forever. what’s the point of being here now, then? why not leave?

why are you never content?

‘live in the moment,’ maki had said. but when you look around, all you can see are all the things you should have done, and everything you need to do to fix it. restack the books you knocked down yesterday. turn in the assignment you’ve gotten an extension for, when you’re only two weeks into the semester. call your mother and try, yet again, to forgive her. try to go back in time and change things; carry your regret forward with you. fix your life - your life that’s barely even started.

when did existing become so impossible?

one step at a time. it’s the only way you can face tomorrow.

you clear your desk space and bring out your laptop and notebook, laying out your stationery in a neat row beside it. you might as well use the time to study; two weeks into the semester, and you already feel like you’re falling behind.

your melancholy mood lasts the entire weekend. you’d probably have been a nuisance to hang around, if anyone was there to interact with you in the first place, but having only one close friend comes with a toll; maki had gone to visit her sister and won’t be back until later in the month.

you struggle through the third week of the semester, turning in your quizzes five minutes before their deadlines and skipping a few lectures in favour of lying in bed and staring at the ceiling. you fall asleep during thursday’s evening shift at the bookstore. on friday, halfway to your mandatory lab after finishing one of your workshops, you stop in the middle of the footpath and let the flow of harried students part around you like a jagged stone in a river. i can’t do this, you realise. even though you’ve got another class afterwards you turn around and head straight towards the bus terminal. it’s like the fatigue has settled into your bones; your head lolls against the window of the express bus as you stare blankly at the landscape blurring past, in a daze so deep you barely manage to rouse yourself when the speakers announce the stop to the university’s student accommodations. your saturday morning shift at the bookstore is entirely uneventful, and sunday is ruined by a needling phone call from your mother.

you haven’t had time to process the last week let alone heal from it, and the new week is already upon you.

now that the tutorial for your literary studies unit has been moved to wednesdays, you’re forced to drag yourself on campus every day. it’s not the commute that’s the problem; you’re living in student accommodation, so you’re pretty close by. but more than ever, you’re acutely aware of how little time you have to yourself. what’s most frustrating is how carefully you planned your classes to make sure you came in as few days as possible, only to have your entire timetable thrown into chaos with a single rearrangement. not only that, but wednesday feels like a write-off to you; your only class is the tutorial from 3-5 pm, and you’re going to be too tired when you get back to do any substantial work. you genuinely cannot think of how your situation could get any worse.

the fifth or sixth time a student passes you in a hurry, throwing you an uneasy glance, you realise you’ve been scowling at nothing and endeavour to smooth out your brow.

“god, i’m losing it,” you mutter to yourself as you enter the elevator, which elicits a laugh from the man who comes in after you, a skateboard tucked under his arm.

“aren’t we all?” he says lightly, pressing the button for level 3 as the doors slide shut. it’s at that moment you realise you’ve entirely neglected to properly situate where your new classroom is.

“do you happen to know where g31 is? i got moved to a different room…”

“g31?” he takes off his beanie and rakes his hand through his messy brown hair. “if i’m not mistaken, that should be on level two. right from the elevators and around the corner, past the student printers… somewhere around there, i think. one of my classrooms last year was g29, so…”

you thank him gratefully as the elevator shudders to a halt. beyond walking with maki to her undergraduate engineering workshops, you’ve rarely frequented level two, but you’re sure it won’t be too difficult to find your way around.

“level: one,” the automated voice announces coolly, and a handful more people enter, crowding you to the back. in the midst of the commotion, the skateboard guy is nice enough to press the button to level 2 for you since you’re unable to reach it yourself.

“good luck!” he calls as you exit onto the second floor, and you catch a glimpse of him throwing you a double thumbs up with an enthusiastic smile before the elevator doors slide shut.

“g31,” you murmur. you swivel in your spot to orient yourself then strike out in a random direction, fully confident in your navigation skills. five minutes later finds you right back where you started and immeasurably confused. level two is decidedly different from the rest of the building in both layout and student traffic; at this time of day, it’s nearly empty, and therefore devoid of anyone you can ask for assistance. you’ve got your map out, and you can see the little blue circle that tells you where you are, and the classroom named ‘g31’- but understanding how to get from point a to point b is beyond you.

g31 turns out to be behind a sliding glass door on the other side of the building that opens up to a larger space. you’re seven minutes late and at first glance, the small classroom looks completely full, the round tables completely occupied. your tutor is a well-dressed man with his dark-blonde hair neatly parted; he looks like the type of instructor who cares very much about punctuality, and that thought alone is enough to make you want to turn back. you would, if the room’s walls weren’t made of glass, meaning that you’ve already made eye contact with a few students inside as you’ve been standing here. you grit your teeth and pull the door open and march to the middle of the room, scanning for an empty spot and trying not to look overly desperate, counselling yourself towards confidence. the tutor, thankfully, hasn’t deigned to glance in your direction as he turns to the whiteboard and begins to write.

the empty seat closest to you is next to a young, sleazy-looking man with his long silver hair bound down his back. something about him and the way he’s grinning at you makes you distinctly uncomfortable, even though there’s nothing obviously malicious about him. but if there’s one thing you’ve learned, it’s to trust your gut instinct. so you cross the room as fast as possible and drop into the second free chair, swinging your bag onto the ground next to you and pulling your laptop out. you’re so engrossed in settling yourself as swiftly as possible that you accidentally knock your elbow into the person next to you as you pull out your drink bottle.

“damn, sorry,” you say, turning your head, and then you’re staring into the most beautiful emerald eyes you’ve seen in your life, some shade of rich forest green with a depth and purity to them you didn’t think was humanly possible. well - you’re staring into his eyes; the dark-haired man next to you is looking past you rather than at you, as if you’re beneath his notice, and his face is entirely expressionless. your natural instinct is to feel a level of affront; he hasn’t even bothered with any sort of reply or reassurance to your apology, and instead has already turned his attention back to the pipe cleaners he’s twisting into strange shapes with his slender fingers. but at that moment you can’t help but notice his eyelashes, thick and slightly curled at the ends, and you realise the extent to which you’ll forgive beautiful people of their social blunders.

the tutor calls your attention back to where it should have been in the first place, and you do your best to follow along and take notes. the readings for this week are based around ‘frankenstein’ by mary shelley; professor nanami is approaching it from an interesting perspective of morality, particularly the concept of repugnance and the role it plays in defining a person’s values. he’s an engaging tutor, logical and precise but quietly supportive, nudging each person along as they map out their point of view to best help them communicate their own arguments. unlike your other tutors, he also leaves ample time for discussion and debate within the smaller table groups, gently prompting deeper thinking as he walks around the room.

it’s made even clearer to you that the people on your table have known each other for three weeks already; they share a rapport that has them easily bouncing off each other, joking with each other in witty asides. it’s less that you’re intimidated by them and more that you’re simply unable to match the pace of the conversation. you have plenty of thoughts to contribute, but by the time you’ve managed to articulate them, the conversation’s already moved on. miwa, a cheery girl with her hair dyed a delicious shade of blue, is sweet enough in her own way; she makes basic attempts to include you, but todo’s booming voice easily dominates the conversation, overriding whatever you were trying to verbalise, and more often than not he steers it completely off topic. kamo is the only one who seems to have genuine contributions which he periodically adds in pointed interjections.

unsurprisingly, their easy chemistry doesn’t extend to the dark-haired man on your right. you’d wager your initial impression was a neat summary of everything you need to know about him. the space in front of him is empty; no laptop, no drink bottle, nothing to indicate he’s taking notes of any kind - in fact, nothing to indicate he’s paying attention at all. as far as you’re aware, he hasn’t said a word; his entire focus seems dedicated towards the pipe cleaners in his hands. during a ten-minute break halfway through your session, he doesn’t deign to stretch his legs or get a drink of water as other students have done; instead, he’s pulled his headphones on with the sound up so loud you can, if you concentrate, make out ‘island in the sun’ by weezer on repeat. what with his easy dismissal of any attempts to draw him into conversation and his inscrutable expression, he makes you feel more than a little off balance, but you’re determined to set it out of your mind.

todo sits back to take a breath after finishing a dreary monologue about some idol called takada, and you eagerly jump on the break in conversation.

“we’ve almost got enough points for each side of the argument.” your marker hovers over the neat list you’ve drawn up on the whiteboard table. “was there anything you wanted to add, uh…?”

you glance at the green-eyed man, but before he has a chance to respond, todo’s leaning over the table and slapping a large hand onto his shoulder.

“don’t mind megumi, he rarely has much to contribute,” todo says genially.

megumi shrugs off todo’s hand with unmistakable irritation. “frickin’ stop that.”

todo only leans back into his seat, grinning widely. you glance between them, struggling to interpret the undercurrents of this interaction. miwa looks faintly uneasy at todo’s behaviour but resigned to her silence; clearly, it’s not the first time the two have clashed. kamo is scowling, but you’re not sure who his affront is directed towards.

megumi’s hands are twisting the pipe cleaners with fervour, in jarring, sharp movements. nothing in his face shows any sign of distress, but the speed with which his left leg is twitching - up and down and up and down - reeks of agitation. you’re reading and rereading your group’s measly list to no avail; the constant movement in your peripheral vision has got you on edge and completely unable to concentrate.

“we’re missing an argument against repugnance,” you manage. you’re not addressing anyone in particular, but even so, you’re surprised when megumi speaks up.

“i think i have one.” he enunciates with a quiet clarity, and something in the rhythm of his voice is strangely compelling. “i found it interesting that though frankenstein’s - creature - was initially characterised as kind and intelligent, it was nonetheless ostracised due to its appearance, which is an entirely superficial judgment - and reflects how those who don’t conform to inane societal norms often face unjust rejection. it’s argued that this is the role of repugnance; because the people in the novel naturally felt inclined to shun him, this must be morally correct, or at least it should act as a basis for a moral guide. i don’t believe repugnance should guide ethics; rather, it disrupts morality by fueling prejudice.” 

he pauses to gather his thoughts for a moment; you stay completely still, as if fearing the slightest movement will disrupt his flow of thinking. “prejudice comes from fear of the unknown; fear of the unknown stems from ignorance. true ethics should not be based on something so fragile as a lack of understanding in the natural differences between mankind.”

there’s a stunned silence. todo’s blinking rapidly, looking as if every word has flown over his head. you glance down at what you’ve managed to write down: ‘repugnance = prejudice’. it doesn’t nearly capture the quiet intensity or the depth of reasoning that megumi delivered his argument with.

“wow, megumi,” miwa says finally, with a nervous smile. “that was really… well, i didn’t expect - i mean, coming from you…”

she falls silent, realising a little too late that she’s dealt irrevocable damage to the situation. the air almost seems to solidify around you all.

“coming from me?” megumi says. there’s a strange cadence to his tone, a well-paved rhythm borne from an emotion you’re struggling to identify.

“i only meant that it was nice to hear you participate,” miwa says quickly.

“was it?” he says icily.

“that’s not what i—”

“ah, megumi, don’t make our miwa upset,” todo says easily, throwing his arm around the back of miwa’s chair. he glances around the table, meeting all of your eyes individually and nodding sagely as if you’re all in on some kind of joke. “look at her; she’s all pale.”

you’re not entirely sure what you’re witnessing, but it’s clear it’s not leading to anything good. you clear your throat and attempt to steer the conversation to safer territory. “let’s get back to—”

“if you have a problem, just say it,” megumi snaps, eyes ablaze.

todo raises his hands pseudo-placatingly. “we all just thought it was nice to finally hear your voice.”

it’s patronising, the way he says it, and he somehow manages to make his tone an insult, even though his words are superficially kind. you’re not privy to the significance of his words, but you can see it in miwa’s sharp intake of breath, and in how kamo rests his chin in his hands, eyes trained on megumi with keen amusement. 

you follow his movement and turn to megumi, only to find he’s completely retreated - face blank, eyes shuttered -  in a way you can’t put words to but you know all too well yourself, because you’re fairly sure that’s how you look when you go nonverbal. his hands are still, clenched into tight fists, half-twisted pieces of pipe cleaner caught between his fingers. at the weight of your gaze he seems to come back to himself and begins to sweep up the pipe cleaners and dump them in his pocket. you only realise what he’s doing once he stands up, swings his bag over his shoulder, and leaves the room without another word. 

you’ve more than had enough. “what the hell was that about, todo?”

“alright, sweetheart, take a breath. i’ll admit it looks bad, but - you weren’t here for the past few weeks.” 

there’s that strange significance again, as if you’re supposed to instantly discern his meaning from the gaps between his words - like if he sketches around it enough, you’ll grasp the outline. 

“just—” you start, but miwa breaks in.

“you know what we’re talking about,” she implores, looking at you with pleading blue eyes. “megumi’s just… i mean. you know.”

“weird,” todo supplies. “he rarely talks - not in person, not in the group chat either. and i wouldn’t care if it wasn’t for the participation grade we need from everyone for the project. but telling him that in week two was probably the biggest mistake i’ve made because he finally opened his mouth a bit.” he laughs bitterly; there’s the unmistakable ring of truth in his voice. “and megumi has this special talent where he manages to make everything a competition: pointing out the tiniest mistakes, nitpicking at everything, and generally not giving anyone a moment’s peace, as if every small slip up needs to be thrown into the spotlight. i tell him no one gives a damn, or that he’s being a jerk, and then he gets as upset as if he wasn’t the one mimicking miwa under his breath for the past five minutes, and he’ll refuse to talk for another hour. or he’ll just up and leave, all high and mighty like he’s the one who was wronged.”

kamo slides neatly into the gap in conversation. “you can hardly blame us; it’s very tiring to interact with that sort of person. it’s irritating and unnecessarily patronising, and overall adds no benefit whatsoever.”

“i think we can agree that not every conversation should be to prove a point,” miwa adds. “and… i guess that’s why todo said what he said, because that was honestly the first time megumi’s come out with something… thoughtful.”

doubts assail you. your classmates don’t look like they’re lying, but then again, a lot of what they’ve said is up to interpretation; you’d know that better than another, being autistic yourself, though you very much ignore that part of your diagnosis - adhd feels a lot more socially acceptable. you could bring that up now, but unlike megumi, you’re good enough at masking that most people don’t instantly pick up on your neurodivergence - and you’d like to keep it that way.

you’re saved from making a choice either way as your tutor drifts over to your table, brows pulled together in concern.

“everything okay here?”

todo gives him a double thumbs up. “one hundred percent-o. we were just talking about… how repugnance equals prejudice,” he reads off the table with shocking confidence.

“was megumi okay? i noticed he left the class.”

you cut in before todo can open his stupid mouth again. “not really.”

“yeah,” says todo easily, “he got overwhelmed and headed out.”

professor nanami’s sharp gaze sweeps over the table; a sudden certainty grips you that he’s aware of more than he’s letting on. but he says nothing, just nods slowly and moves on to the next group. you’re left sitting there feeling sick to your stomach. maybe you should've spoken up, but what could you have possibly said?

the rest of the tutorial crawls agonisingly on, and it’s a relief when you emerge into the amber sunlight. you’ve never seen the bus terminal this busy; then again, you’ve rarely stayed on campus until five pm. the bus to the off-campus student accommodations has already pulled up by the time you reach the stop, so you have to struggle through thick knots of people to reach the doors. it’s fairly crowded, but you manage to settle into a spare seat near the back with your bag in your lap. it’s only when the bus shudders to life and pulls into the main road that you look up and realise megumi’s sitting in the aisle across from you, headphones around his neck, thick locks of dark hair falling into his emerald eyes that are near-glowing in the golden light. your eyes follow his side profile - the sharp angle of his jaw, the curve of his cheek, the slope of his nose - before you wrench your gaze away, realising you’re staring. he’s in conversation with a pink-haired boy next to him - or perhaps more accurately, he’s mostly doing the listening, but he seems more attentive than you’ve ever seen him.

you end up hanging out with maki on friday after all. you explore the sports sector of campus, a side of the university you’ve rarely been to, and sit on the empty bleachers, leaning against each other and swinging your legs as she vents her frustration about her complicated family drama. it’s awful enough that you buy her boba on the way back, and she lets you try her newfound favourite brand of ramen in return.

your thursday and saturday shifts at the bookstore go by as usual, except rather than catching up with your growing piles of assignments, you opt to binge a new anime instead, bringing along some snacks for the fun of it. on saturday you only have to pause your show twice; once for a customer and the second time for your coworker inumaki, who'd left a jumper here last night. he salutes and signs a sarcastic have fun as he leaves.

as expected, come monday you’re sorely regretting your decision. only the thought of seeing megumi again on wednesday gets you through the start of your fifth week of the semester - though you utterly refuse to consider the significance of your newfound enthusiasm.

wednesday 3 pm rolls around speedily enough, and for the first time you turn up early to a tutorial. you steal a few different coloured markers from the still-empty tables around you and doodle patterns onto the whiteboard surface as you wait for the rest of your table members to appear. kamo arrives first, swinging his bag over his shoulder wordlessly and dropping into his seat, giving you nothing more than a nod; miwa follows shortly after with a decidedly warmer welcome for you - a smile and wave, and a query on how your week has been so far. and finally - finally megumi walks in, two minutes before the scheduled start time, head bowed over his phone.

“hey, megumi,” you say cheerily as he takes the seat next to you.

given the happenings of last week, you’re not exactly expecting a reply, so you’re surprised when he responds - albeit a beat late.

“hey.”

his response is brusque and preoccupied as he pushes his bag out of the way under the table, but it’s better than nothing. progress.

the positive: it doesn’t look like todo’s showing up today; your prayers have been answered. the negative: professor nanami has fallen ill. your replacement is a tutor who teaches the same class at another time, and god. professor higuruma has a lot of knowledge, but an undisputable tendency to lecture where professor nanami used to discuss. the other students seem engaged enough but it’s simply too much for your adhd brain to handle. you spend most of the time switching between your coloured markers, creating swirling patterns and mandalas and the occasional fictional character before erasing them to start afresh. sometimes doodling helps you concentrate, but today you’re not even bothering to catch a word of what the professor’s saying. you can just read the slides later, anyway.

it’s near the end of class when you’ve switched to doodling flowers that you notice megumi’s eyes on you - or, more accurately, on your handiwork. you expect him to lose interest after a few minutes but his gaze is surprisingly unrelenting, tracking the sweep of your marker with unerring accuracy. you put up with it for a while, but after some time your hand falters. you’ve always hated when people watch you do something; it's a great recipe for overthinking.

“i don’t even know what i’m drawing,” you mutter half to yourself, hoping to shift a bit of his attention.

“the petal shape is similar to a hibiscus.”

“what?”

he’s staring directly at you, and you notice there’s flecks of blue in his eyes, too, alongside the emerald. blue like the deep richness of a cloudless sky on a summer's day.

“i said, the petal shape is similar to a hibiscus.”

“oh?”

“you said you didn’t know what you were drawing.”

“oh. thank you.” you glance down at your scribbles and assume he’s most likely correct - not that you know anything about flowers in the first place, so you're just going to have to trust his opinion.

you look up again, intent on continuing the conversation, but he’s already turned away like he never spoke.

you refrain from messaging maki about your interaction; for once, you’re not quite sure you want her opinion. you're sure to get some variant of, “he's always like that; he hyperfixates on flowers; you're really not special.”

instead, you try to put megumi out of your mind and spend the rest of the week locking in, as you like to say. to your surprise, you manage to get a few assignments out of the way. it’s not enough to let you relax, but at least you feel like you’re not spiralling anymore. you also make the decision to change your saturday shifts to just past midday rather than early mornings, which certainly helps to put you in the mental space to study. usually once you’d finished a morning shift, it'd felt like the day was practically over.

so it’s during golden hour as you’re locking up the bookstore and stepping out that you happen to look up and catch a glimpse of megumi fushiguro as he disappears into the open door of the florist across the road. 

what?

i shouldn’t. i really shouldn’t, you tell yourself as you cross the street and come to an ill-timed stop outside the florist’s. it’s a quaint shop, small but tasteful, with the gold lettering of its name curling against a pastel blue. but what takes your breath away are the flower arrangements on display in the window. it’s like the world slows down around you. at first glance, you can't explain what makes the bouquets so entirely compelling; there doesn't seem to be a logical answer. you're no expert, but you've never seen these specific species paired together in such a way. but as you continue to inspect them, jaw slack, a pattern slowly emerges, more based on vibe than anything tangible. there’s a raw beauty to them, a planned chaos rather than the mechanical arrangements you’ve gotten so used to seeing. colour, shape, height, texture, size - all play an indescribable role. 

it’s beautiful.

“hi! can i help you with anything?”

you startle wildly, stumbling backwards a little. as you gain back control over your rapid heartbeat (and the rest of your body), you’re certain that voice is strangely familiar. and sure enough, the pink-haired boy from the bus is smiling at you from one of the shelves near the entrance, an apron hanging loosely off his frame, holding what looks to be a pot of soil in his gloved hands.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you,” he says apologetically.

“i thought florists would only sell bouquets,” is somehow the first thing out of your mouth, to your utmost horror. the peculiarity of the situation has thrown your brain off-balance enough for your major functions to bypass a lot of your necessary filters.

he’s a little taken aback, but to his credit he answers readily enough. “i don’t really know how other florists work, but we do bouquets and potted plants as well. were you looking for something in particular?”

“no, no, that’s okay, i was just - i thought i saw someone i know come in here…”

you’re aware that you’ve started to wring your hands together like a distressed countrywoman and force yourself to stop. you’re no stranger to having bad ideas, but you’re sure this one is breaking some sort of record.

“someone you know?”

“yeah, uh… megumi?”

his brow furrows. “megumi? as in… megumi?”

“well, i assume so.”

you stare at each other for a moment.

“uh, maybe i was mistaken—”

“how do you know megumi?” he says at the same time. something has changed; he’s shifted imperceptibly to fill the doorway and his hands have tensed around the pot. you’re not sure why he’s suddenly perceiving you as a threat and push down the urge to step backwards.

“from uni?”

the boy assesses you; you shift nervously on your feet, feeling the need to elaborate.

“he’s in my literature tutorial - wednesdays at three - we’re in the same group for the project…”

“oh. i see. megumi’s most likely in the back, then.” his shoulders drop, tension leaking from his body. “here, i’ll show you through. i’m yuji, by the way.” 

you give him your name as you follow him through the narrow doorway into the small store. the first thing that hits you is the layered scent; you have an urge to bottle it up. you stop for a moment simply to breathe it in.

the layout is simple but eyecatching: simple round tables are covered in pots of flowers in a beautiful array of colours. larger, leafier plants are nestled on the floor around them in rich greens. there are smaller plants hanging from the ceiling in those aesthetic baskets you’ve always loved. but your eyes are most drawn to the bouquets lining the shelves against the walls, instantly recognisable as the work of the same person who made the bouquets on display - probably megumi. you recognise his touch in the song by weezer playing softly in the background, though you’re not sure of its name.

“sorry if i was a bit - you know,” yuji says, depositing his pot on a table as he walks past and peeling off his gloves. “pushy. it’s just not every day people come around asking for megumi, and when they do, it’s rarely something good.”

“that’s happened before?”

“yeah,” he says grimly as you follow him through a door behind the counter. “you know how megumi is - always manages to get on people’s bad side. right, megu?”

you find yourself in a cramped, dimly-lit room. the cluttered shelves are lined with baskets, vases, twine, ribbons, and other tools you don’t recognise, and stacked boxes - some opened, some new, some with potted plants littering their tops - are tucked into the corners of the room.

megumi’s crouched on the floor, brow furrowed in concentration, several half-full vases in front of him. as you watch he tuts and shifts some flowers - tied together with some sort of wire or twine at their base - from one vase to another, then sits back on his heels to get a different angle. he moves with an easy confidence, a few strands of spiky black hair stuck to the back of his neck, and swipes at his face with the back of his thick gloves, leaving a smear of dirt across his forehead. it’s the most relaxed you’ve ever seen him.

“right, megu?” yuji repeats cheerfully.

“what?” megumi doesn’t look up, nose scrunched at the vases.

“i was just saying, you’re always getting on people’s bad sides.”

“oh? well they’re always getting on mine.”

he looks up, then, and sees you. there’s an instant shutting off, like part of him retreats; a stranger has invaded his safe space. 

his voice is cool, but not unfriendly. it’s more a genuine query than an interrogation when he asks, “what are you doing here?”

“i thought i saw you come in, and thought i’d just… i didn’t know you work in a florist’s.”

“well. now you do.”

there’s a short silence. megumi turns back to his flower arranging, evidently dismissing you.

“are you making bouquets?”

he barely darts a glance towards you. “obviously.”

“so did you arrange the ones out the front? the ones in the display window?”

yuji crosses his arms, leaning against the wall. “he makes all of them.”

“all of them? do you get paid extra, then?”

“our manager’s quite stingy, so megu does it for the fun of it.”

“it’s not fun, it’s frickin’ stressful. look at all this crap. i’m not even given a proper budget for this.”

“well, however fun or stressful, i think your bouquets are beautiful. and that’s saying something because i’ve never really seen the point of giving flowers as a gift.”

yuji looks aghast. “why not?”

you shrug, unconcerned. “they’re so expensive, and after all that, they don’t last; they die so quickly.”

“so does the joy of receiving flowers and the beauty it brings to your home not matter to you at all?” yuji says, eyes wide.

“i believe there’s something else to be addressed here,” megumi breaks in. “how can you say you’ve ‘never seen the point’ in a worldwide human tradition?”

“it’s not that deep,” you say dismissively.

“an interesting way to refer to five thousand years of rich history,” he snaps. “if you’re so ignorant, perhaps you should consider not saying anything in the first place.”

“megu,” yuji says softly.

megumi pauses, and visibly inhales. “sorry,” he mumbles. he looks as if he has more to say, but ducks his head instead and turns away, wringing his hands obsessively.

“megumi’s quite passionate about flowers,” yuji says, filling in the sudden silence. “he’s really smart; he knows a lot of stuff about it.”

his tone is relaxed but his eyes are hard as he watches you. you’re not offended; it warms your heart a little. for some reason, you have an urge to out yourself: i know that feeling. i’m not a threat. i’m just like you. 

it’s a strange feeling. you’ve never told anyone about your autism diagnosis, not even maki; you’ve barely let yourself think about it. there’s just too much stigma to unpack, both in society and in yourself. and if you can pass as functional, what does it matter anyway? if your only breakdowns are out of sight, or with a completely straight face? 

to you, you’ve always been made to feel like adhd is more ‘okay’. people generally believe it means you just fidget a lot and have issues with focusing, and even though it’s a lot more than that, their assumptions aren’t wrong, or harmful.

autism, on the other hand…

echoed words are dredged up from the depths of your mind, words you thought you’d long pushed down. “don’t give me that. you’re my daughter. i know everything about you and i know you’re not a r-tard.” your mother’s sobs. “you were never like this before. god, what changed? what did i do to deserve this?” on the phone to her friend, “i’ve failed as a parent, that’s all there is to it.”

it’s there, it’s all there in megumi, body half-twisted away from you to try and hide the twisting movement of his fingers, a stimming he can’t control. but he can’t hide it, any more than he can hide the rest of him from the world, and you hate that he’s made to feel - that you’re both made to feel - that you should be hiding in the first place. the last thing you want is for him to feel like he has to mask in front of you, because if it’s tiring for you, it’s exhausting for him. but then there’s yuji with his steady protectiveness, always on the lookout, and his quietly supportive presence is almost too much for you, because when have you ever experienced something like that? me too, me too, me too, you want to weep.

but you can’t.

there’s just too much shame.

instead, you move forward and lower yourself to the ground next to megumi, crossing your legs. “so.”

“so?” he doesn’t look at you.

“so, tell me about this five thousand year rich history. like you said… i don’t actually know anything about flowers. so maybe i should learn something first before dismissing them.”

“are you mocking me?” he says bluntly.

“no.” 

his eyes dart to yuji behind you and back. then he sighs and shifts his position, tucking his feet underneath him and with an admirable effort he stills his hands and folds them neatly in his lap.

“if i start talking, i might not stop.”

“fine with me.”

he sizes you up for a moment, then shrugs. “in short. giving flowers as a gift stretches back to thousands of years ago. earlier human civilisations like the ancient egyptians used them in religious ceremonies as offerings to the gods and to their dead, as did the greeks and romans. and each nation has specific species of flowers that hold cultural significance to them - like in india, it’s marigolds and jasmine. but the marigolds came to india from mexican culture. it’s all connected. and then you’ve got the middle ages in europe where plant symbolism was becoming more frequent, which continued through the renaissance and the victorian era and developed into floriography.

“i don’t think anyone notices, but i try to put symbolism in all my bouquets specifically using floriography, beyond just looking pretty - which is, of course, an entire field on its own. but ever since i was young, i’ve never really agreed with all the symbolism the victorians assigned to some flowers - i just don’t think it matches, especially if you take into consideration the hardiness of the flowers, or their texture, or their shape - or other things i can’t really explain. things the victorians didn’t think about. so i’ve made my own version - my own secret language of flowers, i guess. it’s nerdy and stupid, but who gives a frick. my version is better. even if no one’s heard of floriography in the first place, and therefore wouldn’t bother to care about my twist on it.”

“honestly, i think that’s pretty cool. i haven’t heard of floriography, but i’ve studied a bit about the victorian language of flowers before. it’s always present in literature as a metaphor, isn’t it? like the cliche of roses symbolising love, and daisies innocence.”

his eyes brighten. “literature being a representation of the state of humanity - and flowers always having relevance in expressing that - and then the intrinsic link towards humanity and constant pursual of beauty—”

“and finding meaning in that beauty, no matter how short-lived it is,” you add.

“yes, exactly - the transitory nature of beauty.”

“speaking of daisies before - i’m sorry, this may be a bit of a side tangent but i remembered daisy from ‘the great gatsby’ as another example - oh, and there’s myrtle too - but i’ve heard nick’s last name is also…?”

“caraway represents rationality, faithfulness, maturity - i’ve heard the blooms can also represent hidden passion, but i don’t entirely agree with that.”

“but then daisy likens nick to a rose, if i remember correctly - i read it last in year 10 - which feels like a contradiction?”

“that’s exactly the point. it’s all in the dissonance - it’s a representation of daisy’s superficiality and shallowness, and of her projecting feelings of warmth and charm and glamour - it’s letting the reader know that daisy doesn’t know crap.”

“i never realised that. perhaps i’m overdue for a reread.” you’ve never thought to have any specific interest in flowers before, but your conversation with megumi has certainly piqued your interest.

“perhaps you are.”

you twist around. “what about you, yuji - have you heard this before?”

he looks amused. “not about ‘the great gatsby’, no, but in general, yes. i haven’t actually read it. classic literature is too much for my adhd - i’m more graphic novels. unless it’s sci-fi, or horror, or sci-fi horror - i absolutely eat that up in whatever form.”

adhd? “me too, yeah,” you say before you can stop yourself. “i mean. not the sci-fi part, though i do read sci-fi as well, i just meant - i have adhd. too.”

it feels strange saying the words; the most you’ve ever done is typed it out. it’s stupid, but you get a sudden shiver of nerves across your body. it’s a fairly big moment for you - but the general reaction is comparatively anticlimactic.

“but you still manage to get through fat ass books?” yuji whistles, impressed. “good for you.”

“i mean, mostly. unless i can’t. it depends. ‘anna karenina’ was hard, even though i really enjoyed it. i was mostly motivated by levin and kitty’s developing relationship, actually. i’m currently into high fantasy, but it changes a lot.” you’re sweating for some reason, and wildly grasp at straws to take the attention off you. “megumi - what type of books do you read? do you have a specific genre?”

“nonfiction.”

“what types of nonfiction are you into?”

he shrugs. “autobiographies, memoirs, natural science… general science journalism, too. i don’t really mind. anything but high fantasy.”

“i could give you some recommendations.”

“no thanks.”

“you’re missing out.”

“i’m glad.”

you laugh at the firm certainty in his voice. “well, if you ever change your mind, i’m at the bookstore across the road thursday and saturday evenings - you could come in and i’d sort you out.”

the words fly out of your mouth before you consider their greater implications. this meeting and conversation was entirely by chance; and no matter how many interests you share, you’re still not much more than strangers, or very loose acquaintances. megumi was nice enough to infodump on you, but you’re not sure that holds any significance. hell, if a complete stranger came up to you and asked you to elaborate on your special interest, you’d do it in a heartbeat. megumi hasn’t been cold, but he hasn’t been particularly warm either - passionate, but distantly so. 

but you’ve extended an invitation of sorts, to something more. friendship? maybe?

or maybe you’re simply delusional.

you’ve built up a lot around megumi, you realise. in a way, he’s symbolic to you; he represents parts of you that you try to ignore, and somehow you’ve managed to attach that heavy lore to him. there’s already a relationship between you in your head, a magical connection, but when you step back and look at it objectively you realise that’s exactly what it is - something in your head. 

and it’s certainly not fair on him, either. he didn’t exactly ask to be the recipient of your buried childhood trauma that you’re projecting onto him. at some level, you’re only seeing what you want to see.

it’s a clinical evaluation, but it’s something you’re used to doing, because if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s picking apart your relationships with other people. it’s akin to a bucket of cold water over your head, and the small backroom of the florist’s is suddenly claustrophobic rather than cosy.

“i’m good,” megumi says in response to your offer. there’s no malice behind it; in fact, it’s entirely polite. 

polite, and distant. as he’s been this whole time.

“i should get going, actually,” you manage.

“alright.” 

“i’ll see you on wednesday, then?” you try.

“probably.”

“good chat - thanks for stopping by!” yuji smiles. easily as that, you’re dismissed.

you glance over your shoulder as you leave the room, but megumi’s attention has already shifted back to his flower arranging, and he doesn’t spare you a second glance, as if you were never there.

you try to unpack it on the bus home. you think by understanding him, you’ll understand yourself. you want to relate to him, so you know someone can relate to you. you want a relationship with him, so badly, because you’re trying to fulfil your need to feel wanted and understood no matter your flaws. you’re not even thinking of him as a person; he’s just his autism, and yours as well.

but it’s too much. it’s all too tightly woven for you to begin to unravel. maybe you’re overthinking it; maybe it really was just a simple conversation.

“it’s not that deep,” you mutter again, this time to yourself.

i really am a mess. you’re grasping at straws. you’re throwing yourself after any bit of human connection you can get. it’s laughable. it’s tragic.

god, it’s lonely.

you rest your head against the cool glass of the window so no one can see you crying.

a/n - well! part one is finally here. i rlly put a lot of myself into it ijbol. also yes the smau is formatted badly shut up and take it !!

taglist - @strxbxrrylover, @all-skedaddle-and-no-bop

tattoo artist!draco who is very attractive and covered in tattoos. He has a snake on his arm.

tattoo artist!draco who you go to for your first tattoo who makes you feel comfortable and calm.

tattoo artist!draco who can’t help but think you’re stunning.

tattoo artist!draco who is very gentle when giving you your tattoo.

tattoo artist!draco who convinces you to get more tattoos just so he can see you again.

tattoo artist!draco who is the only one allowed to tattoo you. You’re his regular.

tattoo artist!draco who finally has the nerve to ask you out. you say yes of course.

tattoo artist!draco who has a bad boy reputation but is only sweet to you.

tattoo artist!draco who tattoos your initials over his heart after you’ve been dating a long time.

Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi Megumi

look at this sl*t (affectionate)

when brennan lee mulligan said “everyone you love will find someone that matters more to them than you” and when sleep token said “i might break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody” and “i reach for you on faith alone and i’ll be full of the love you want no matter what forevermore” and when lorde said “in my head i do everything right” and when phoebe bridgers said “and when broken bodies are washed ashore who am I to ask for more?” and when noah kahan said “i thought i had something and that’s the same as having something who am i to complain?” and when

i take back anything bad i said about the black hair 😵‍💫

vessel’s hands.

Coiled up

CHOKEHOLD

[My Socials] | [Prints]

Being a girl is pt.2: deciding you’ve read enough fics for the moment and swiping out of the app just to re-open tumblr or open wattpad/ao3

Being a girl is: wanting to go to bed early but deciding to just get on tumblr/wattpad/Ao3 for a little bit and then end up finding a fic series that you really like and read until well past your usual bedtime then keeping on because it’s already past your bedtime. Then being mad when you wake up in the morning because you overslept your timer.

Jude and Cardan - The Cruel Prince

Artist: @frostbite.studios

Megumi is a thigh man. You can fight me on this idc. (Nah I’d win)

In the beginning of your relationship before you guys had done anything intimate. When you were sat down, in his car, or just over in his room. He’d always have his big hand slowly rubbing your thigh. It became a recurring gesture that he never really caught on to, but you did.

So one day when you’re in his dorm, on his bed, with your thighs on each side of his face you pop the question.

“Hey gumi?”

He hums, his hand mindlessly rubbing your thigh as he reads his book.

“Why do you like my thighs so much?”

That halts his movement against your thigh, he tried to peer up at you but concluded he probably looks stupid from his position. So he gets up and is now sat in front of you with your legs still spread.

“Dunno, they’re just nice I guess.” He’s blushing, avoiding all eye contact with you.

“That’s it hm?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing tone.

“They’re soft, I like squeezing them.”

“More than my tits and ass?”

“Yes.”

You smirk at his reply and he huffs, returning to his position with his book and a flushed face.

Megumi is a thigh man, of course, he loves when you wear those mini skirts or thigh highs, it gets him so fucking worked up.

He’s over the moon when you let him fuck your thighs, asking shyly if you could keep on the stockings and skirt. He loses all self-control, whining and nipping at your neck. “S’good” and heavy groans leave his mouth as he finally cums on your plush skin.

He loves it when he eats you out and your thighs practically suffocate him to death. He’d die a happy man if that was a way to go. The moment your thighs encase around his head he’s humping his mattress like a bitch in heat, moans vibrating on your cunt.

Megumi fucks you in a mating press, his big hands on the back of your thighs, gripping the flesh and folding you in half as he fucks his fat dick in you.

Once he’s in between your legs he can’t help but litter the inside of your thighs with marks.

One time when you were wearing a skirt you didn’t notice that Megumi had left marks from the night before. Nobara questioned if you were okay, to which you quickly lied and said it was from training.

If it was anyone else Megumi would kill them for looking down there. He pops a vein when he sees Yuuji trying to look at what Nobara is talking about. Despite being a little irked he stands behind you and wears a smug smirk, a rare sight for the three of you.

When it’s just the two of you again, behind closed doors you confront him.

“Megs! Why didn’t you tell me?” You pout and he softly smiles, pulling you to straddle him, you can already guess where his hands are.

“Sorry, kinda forgot.” He mumbles, leading your lips to his.

“You gonna let me give you some more?”

He’ll always be a slut for your thighs♡~

The way Oli's bond calls North the "dark one" and Nox the "damaged dark one" like even Oli's bond looked at Nox and went my god does that boy need therapy

So, I found these perfumes inspired by JJK characters and it's very very funny to me that Megumi has "fruity" notes in its composition (Megumi Fushiguro I know what you are), plus woody and leather go well with it.

Another thing is that I've read Yuji being described with citrus scents in several fanfics and seeing this confirmed by this brand makes me very excited. Citrus fruits suit it, I think.

cw: nsfw. fem! reader & afab!reader minors dni (block my nsfw tag) ageless blogs dni

thinking about 20-year-old megumi who looks so much like his dad that of course the boy has girls staring at him everywhere he goes. he’s got the same brownish green eyes as his dad, the same dark hair, and the same face—and it doesn’t help that his stoic personality is like a flame to a swarm of moths. he’s tall, well-built from his years of training, and essentially a carbon copy of toji—maybe a little bit of gojo, too, because he’d been raised by the eccentric white-haired sorcerer.

“you look so much like your dad,” gojo says every chance he gets. he shivers and then scowls st the memory of toji.

everyone else claims he looks like gojo—only because he’s so pretty that it makes sense to be compared to the man who had raised him and not the sorcerer killer.

but what everyone doesn’t know is that megumi isn’t a carbon copy of toji or gojo. he’s got one thing that sets him apart physically and it’s his hands.

megumi’s hands are gorgeous. his fingers are long and a little thin. they’re a bit veiny too, which makes you drool even though you hate to admit it. he’s got piano hands and you shamelessly stare at them whenever he taps his fingers on surfaces. his cuticles are always moisturized and his nails are trimmed—he claims it’s because his shadows need to be accurate in order for him to summon them, but you know he’s just secretly into self care.

he lets you paint his fingernails black, admiring the way your tongue sticks out in concentration as you try to not get any nail polish on his skin.

when he holds your hand, he’s always rubbing patterns into your skin. it’s like he can’t physically touch you without savoring you as much as he can! his hands are everywhere—your hips, your arm, tucked on your lower belly for some odd, perhaps primal reason.

he likes to move you out of the way (you’re usually unaware of your surroundings when he’s with you because he’s just so safe to be around!) by gently pulling you to his chest with his smooth fingertips, his hand being large enough to nearly cover your entire side.

when you cry, he brushes underneath your eyes with his thumb, wiping off your salty tears before kissing you. his hands are large enough to cup your face and cover it at the same time, which he likes to do when you’re acting a little difficult.

megumi likes to wrap his hands around your neck, not ever squeezing enough to cut any airflow—he just likes the way his fingers look when they’re gripping your smooth skin. he likes trailing his fingertips over each of the possessive bruises that he tends to leave on your sensitive skin. it’s like a reminder to him (and you) that you’re his.

you love the way his hands look when they’re digging into your skin, squeezing your plush thighs as he greedily laps up your release. your cunt spasms at the sight of his fingers wrapped tightly around your thighs. “n-no more! ‘s too much, gumi! can’t—!” he only caresses your skin and forces your legs apart with those pretty hands of his, holding your soft thighs apart. your skin dips around his fingers and the view is so pretty that you have to squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t release all over his face again.

your favorite sight—and his too—is when his long digits are pumping in and out of your cunt. you’re breathless and mewling his name, watching as his fingers break you down into mush. “cum for me, baby, i know you can do it. such a greedy girl sucking my fingers right in, hm?” sometimes he wishes he could see the way his fingers curl inside your body, pressing up against the spots he knows has you shuddering for him. after you finish from his fingers alone, he loves to slowly pull his them out, admiring the glistening slick coating them. “see this, baby? just from my fingers, you sensitive little thing. do you like my hands that much?”

you love megumi’s hands. that’s one thing about him that’s strictly him—you wouldn’t change it for anything in the world.

hello!!:3 i love your bunny reader x megumi and x yuuji fics<3

would you consider yuuji x kitty reader?🤍

hello thank u !! <3 uh huh sure , she isn't yuji's kitty tho xx

yuji x kitty hybrid girl. nsfw cw ; strip teasing ! pussy eating :p dick suckin' , 69 ! aged up characters 21+ wc: 1.2k hybrid fics

"Are you sure it's okay?"

"Mmhm," you nod sweetly, "my owner said it's fine... for you to touch me."

He bites his lip and continues undoing your shirt.

"Only Yuji, though," you add with a little smile, making him blush as his big fingers and thumbs fumble with your tiny buttons.

You see him getting frustrated so you stand up and start stripping for him.

You're not in heat right now, so you're feeling more under control of your urges and you think you might be able to tease him a little.

So you tug off your top and reveal your pretty bra, exposing your body to him. All that remains on your gorgeous frame is your underwear and a tiny skirt.

Yuji leans forward on the sofa, smiling from ear to ear and checking you out from head to toe.

Your skirt zipper comes down and you tease it off, slowly revealing a matching thong that's wrapped snugly around you like you're his present. There's even a little bow at the front.

You give him a twirl and you hear a gasp from his mouth.

"O-oh, sweetie... you look hot!"

You look down over your body with quiet confidence, your cheeks heating up under his intense gaze.

"Turn around, kitten, let me see your ass again."

He gets his hands on you and swivels you around gently, bringing your body closer. He covers your plumpy ass in big, wet kisses, sucking and licking. Your tail starts twitching and it slinks around Yuji's chin, guiding him further down between your legs.

"Oh," he gives you a cheeky grin as he presses on your back, getting you bent over perfectly, "want me here, kitten?"

"Mm, mm," you nod and pull his face closer with your tail.

"So impatient, sweetie," he coos and sinks his tongue in, unable to deny you for even a second. And he watches you grip your thighs as you let out a loud and satisfied moan.

He tongues you really messy, moving his head from side to side and thoroughly enjoying all of your cute noises. Kitty girls just sound so fucking adorable he can't get enough. So he starts nibbling your folds, which you seem to like too, then he suddenly bites and you let out a shrill "meow!" leaving you totally embarrassed and trying to escape his strong hands.

"No, no kitty, hang on," but he's not done yet, "come back here."

He lies down flat on the sofa and grabs your hips, pulling you where he wants you.

"Up here, come on."

Your knees are either side of his shoulders and you slam your hand to your mouth when he tugs you down. You land on his chin hard, and you can feel the prickles of his stubble rubbing you as he opens his mouth and starts eating your pussy in this new position. He has much better access to your clit now, which he plays with relentlessly, sliding his tongue around the little pearl, making you squirm all over his face. And he loves every second, especially when you start moving your hips.

"Grind on my face, kitten," he pants his sweet encouragements, "fuck my face, please~"

He begs you and you start moving some more, sliding up and down his chin, taking his tongue in and out of your creamy pussy.

He shoves his tongue particularly deep and your body falls forward, your hands landing either side of his hips. Now you realise, when your face is inches from his stomach, that Yuji is all pent up too.

"Yuu~ a-are you hard?"

"Yeah, baby," he replies, sounding a little strained, with your ass in his hands, "'m hard, really hard-"

"You... want me to..." you trail off and paw at his crotch through his loose shorts. He groans and moves his head up and down between your legs.

"Yeah, yeah, pl-" but he barely has to ask before you're slipping his giant, swollen cock out and licking his gorgeous tip.

Now, with your lips around his darkened head that looks like it's about to burst, he starts moaning into your pussy and telling you that you're a good fucking kitty and he wants you to suck him.

"Suck me, put it in your mouth plea- please~"

He's not even trying to be patient with you anymore. He's too far gone and his brain is melting down into mushy, horny thoughts. All he needs is to get his dick wet and have your cream on his tongue. Nothing else really matters.

So when you take him in your mouth and start bobbing up and down, just like he asked, he grunts and starts fucking you deeper with his tongue. He goes wild down there, grabbing your cheeks and making the hottest, deepest noises from his chest that you've ever heard from the sweet man. He sounds like an animal. He licks and sucks your clit till your body hums with your long awaited orgasm. He flicks you with his tongue, guiding you through what feels like an eternity of pleasure. You ride it out on his face and your body goes all slack and relaxed, which he takes advantage of, bucking his hips to get his cock a little deeper.

You recover and compose yourself again, restarting your regular rhythm and taking him down your throat, where Yuji quickly learns that you have no gag reflex.

"Kitten, h-how, how are you doing that-"

You're doing that because it's how your owner trained you to suck dick. If he's going to have a perfect kitty girl who wants his attention, he wants you to know how to do it right.

And Yuji is amazed at your skills, as you take him right to his base, breathing through your nose and closing your eyes with concentration. His face is still buried in your pussy but he's just sliding his tongue in and out lazily, barely able to think.

"Nobody's sucked me like that before- fuck-"

You guide him down your throat till his hips are stuttering.

"C-close- baby- sweetie, oh, oh! Fuck me, I- I'm gunna- gunna---"

His pelvis comes right to your face and you hum and drink him up, every drop pouring straight down your throat. You ease yourself off slowly, gently. Seeing how flushed his cock is makes you smile, and it flops down but barely reduces in size now he's done.

And you turn around to see his face covered in the most adorable pink blush. His eyes are all hazy and half lidded and he bites his lip when he feels your hands run under his t-shirt. He strips it off and pulls you down to rest your body on his, getting his arms around you and whispering sweet thank yous in your ear all night. Flicking on the TV, he lies right here with you until your owner arrives to collect you.

You're sleeping soundly on Yuji's muscly torso by now with his hands wrapped around your back, and when Megumi sees him shirtless and you in your underwear, he cocks an eyebrow at his friend and assumes you must've had a fun evening. 

yuji | m.list

go-go dancer!

i’m your go-go dancer, credit card romancer!

megumi fushiguro x next door neighbor! reader

author’s note: this the longest fic i’ve written in years LMAO.. been deliberating this concept since september

word count: 10.7k

MDNI! all characters are 18+

major inspo: midnight answer by @/hellokittyheat on AO3, go-go dancer and lolita (demo 4) by LDR.

warnings: megumi is sooo sexually frustrated, masturbation, oral (m + f receiving), unprotected sex, double creampie. reader has nipple piercings

listen along:

when megumi fushiguro moved out of gojo’s house at age twenty-one, he did not expect that he’d wind up in this kind of situation. 

he felt like a pervert, wishing that his new neighbor had something darker than sheer curtains. he hadn’t even met you yet, and he’d already seen far more of your body than he should. still, he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight from the first floor next door. it was like you were teasing him, constantly running around the house in nothing but a lace bra and panties. 

he watched curiously as you threw clothes across the room, obviously irritated as you picked out your outfit. you tutted in annoyance at the lack of options, before finally settling on yet another tiny black skirt. 

you considered it to be drab, uninspired even. megumi however, was raising a brow at the tiny scrap of fabric you were shimmying over your hips. he stood in front of his window, clearly entertained as he watched you bend over in front of the mirror. 

you shrugged your shoulders, content with the way it flattered your ass, at least. 

unaware that you had an audience, you rushed to throw on a low-cut top and find your shoes before you ended up being late. 

if you had known, you probably would’ve risked missing your shift just to see the priceless look on your hot neighbor’s face. 

the front door of your apartment slammed shut as you made your way to the car. he could hear every shuffle of your slippers against the pavement, and he couldn’t help but wonder where you disappeared to every friday and saturday night in such a hurry. 

perhaps he’d ask you, someday. 

if he ever got the guts to talk to you in the first place. 

the first time you introduced yourself to him, he had started to question his own judgment when it came to what he knew about you. you were so kind, and more reserved than he expected. your crimson lips lifted into a gentle smile as you spoke your name, asking for his shortly after. the soft, melancholic melody of your voice met his ears, and it sent a jolt of electricity through his spine. 

it was a far cry from anything he could've expected from peeping through your window. he felt guilty for assuming anything of you, especially when you greeted him with a smile and a plate of warm cookies. 

nobara and yuji thought it was the funniest shit they’d ever seen, watching his cheeks burn with shame as he closed the front door with baked goods in hand. 

it hadn’t helped that you were wearing a low-cut tank top and the tiniest shorts he’d ever seen. he’d spent most of his adolescence relatively sheltered, and he’d never paid the women in his life much mind. 

that all changed a few days later when you practically pulled his face into your cleavage, spinning him around in a crushing hug after he pulled your cat out of a tree.

you had become a consistent presence in his life since you first introduced himself to him, and he now found himself regretting taking those cookies out of your hands on that fateful day. a gentle breeze of vanilla wafted through his nostrils in the gentle spring wind as you spun him around in circles enthusiastically. 

something had changed, he just didn’t know what. you were less withdrawn than before, almost like you had grown comfortable in his presence within a few days. his assumption was mostly true, save for one piece of information. 

you had started to like seeing the blush dusting over his cheeks whenever you spoke to him. you liked it a little too much, it seemed. any intention you had to keep to yourself went quickly out the window when you realized you wanted to know as much as you could about him. 

you couldn’t help but try to get him to open up to you, or look at you for just a moment. 

so as of late, you had been playing it up just a little. you could’ve sworn he saw the hearts dancing around in your irises every time his dark eyes met yours. 

him coming to your rescue in a time of need was just the icing on the cake of the situation. 

you were so grateful for his help, so thankful that he’d been there to save the day. your tone was syrupy sweet as you showered him with gratitude, pressing his arm between your breasts as you led him towards his front door. 

he’d fallen into your trap, he just didn’t know it yet. 

“god. she’s really laying it on thick, isn’t she?” nobara and yuji chuckled amongst themselves. yuji shrugged his shoulders, before picking up your purring calico. 

“can’t help that megumi’s oblivious.” was his reply, followed by another less-than-subtle jab to his friend. “that boy couldn’t take a hint if it saved his life.” 

“that’s a fucking understatement.” nobara mumbled under her breath, waving to the pair as they approached the doorstep. “do you think she’s in over her head?”

“dunno.” he whispered back, scratching gently into your cat’s soft fur. 

they watched you thank him profusely with stars shining in your eyes. meanwhile, megumi was trying really hard to keep his eyes from falling to your tits. 

the entire situation resulted in an onslaught of teasing and laughing as soon as they crossed the threshold of his apartment. 

“your face is red.” his peach-haired friend mocked, plopping himself down on megumi’s sofa. 

“thanks for pointing that out, dickhead.” he frowned, causing nobara to burst into another fit of laughter. 

for a man who was known for being oblivious, even he knew what he was falling into. he didn’t really want it to end, either. however, he was worried about the potential escalation if he didn’t keep himself in check. 

perhaps you were just fucking with him, and it would come to an end when you got bored. there wasn’t any way in hell that you were being serious, right? 

he hoped that this moment would be the worst of it, but he’d soon be proven wrong. 

as spring turned to summer, he started to regret moving out in the first place. it was excruciating to watch you sunbathing in the grass, wearing nothing but a tiny red bikini. you had to be doing this on purpose, he realized. he just didn’t have any proof, and it was driving him insane. 

“megumi!” you called out innocently, beckoning him towards you with sunscreen in hand. fuck. he was so screwed. “i need your help!” 

he let out an audible groan as he crossed into your yard, already knowing what you were going to ask him to do. 

“can you get my back?” your question caused megumi to flush all over, and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. of course he’d be willing to help his friend, even if he thought you were doing this purely to drive him to the brink of insanity.  

you rolled over onto your stomach, your ass on display for him as he tried to keep himself focused. the dark haired man squeezed the tube of sunscreen, warming it up with his hands before his fingers began to move over your back with unnecessary caution. 

you let out a small gasp when his hands pressed into your lower back, rubbing the lotion into your soft skin. he could feel your breathing pick up as his hands traveled up your spine. calloused fingers pressed into the knots woven into your shoulders, then gently passed over your shoulder blades. 

he was trying to be respectful, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from darting downward. he had to keep tearing his eyes away, and he sighed in relief when he finally accomplished your request. 

he rose to his feet, trying his best to keep his thoughts innocent as you offered a sweet and honest “thank you!” 

he watched you relax into the plush towel laid out across the grass, and nearly stumbled over the ledge of the concrete on his way back to his front door. he turned himself back around, focusing too closely on the ground to keep himself from tripping. 

he didn’t know how much more of this he could take. 

he had been avoiding treading outside after that moment, petrified that you’d appear next to him to taunt him with more of your innocent teasing. 

he couldn’t bear to look at you, overwhelmed with guilt from every time had imagined your cute little smile while he had his dick in his hand. things had gotten too out of hand too quickly, and he didn’t know how to deal with the feeling of attraction to you blooming deep within his gut. 

the next time he caught sight of you, it was approaching three a.m. on a saturday morning. he looked over the railing of the porch, watching your car pull into the parking space across the street. he raised an eyebrow when you got out of the car, not missing the clicking of your platform heels against the pavement. he’d seen you in a lot of revealing outfits, but this time was.. different. he spotted the subtle shine of glitter all over your skin and nearly started drooling when you stopped in front of the door to take off your shoes. 

you leaned down to remove the buckles and he watched in horror as your skirt crawled up the back of your thighs. the seam of the fabric barely covered the swell of your ass, leaving him at a loss for words.

once again, it felt like you were teasing him to death without even trying. 

he wondered where you had been for the last few hours, as he hadn’t seen you leave. you looked tired, but not intoxicated in any way. 

peculiar. 

still, he didn’t pay it much mind as he walked back inside his apartment. megumi looked up at the clock, and let out a groan as he read the time. 

so much for getting up early tomorrow. he frowned, kicking off his slippers as he crawled into bed. 

he went to bed that night dreaming about you bent over in front of him, skirt pulled up over your hips with his hands fisted into your hair.

his beauty sleep was interrupted by the sound of a lawn mower revving next door, and he let out a groan as he pulled his pillow around his ears. 

of course. he sighed, scrunching his nose in annoyance as he stared up at the clock. 

after a few moments of grumbling, he finally pulled himself out of the comfort of his plush bedding. a loud yawn reverberated off the walls of the hallway as he shuffled his way to the kitchen. 

he glared out the window as he filled up the coffee pot with water, only at that moment realizing that the loud noises from the mower had ceased. 

megumi grimaced when he saw you chatting with his sister on your front lawn. she must have dropped by to see him, and couldn’t keep herself from saying hi to his cute neighbor. she’d undoubtedly tease him for it later, and he closed the curtains with a frown. 

around ten minutes later, he heard a knock on his front door. when he opened it, tsumiki’s face was stretched into a large shit-eating grin. 

“i met your neighbor.” were the first words out of his sister’s mouth, not a ‘hi’ or ‘how are you?’ he let out a big sigh as she continued. “she’s cute. really cute.”

“i know what you’re trying to do, and the answer is no.” 

“seriously? you haven’t had a girlfriend in what, ever? and you're telling me you’re not even going to try?” her questioning earned her a frown, followed by a scoff. 

“that’s none of your business, tsumiki.” 

his eyes widened when his sister looked out the window, and a smirk appeared on her face. it was obvious she’d taken notice of the way that his window lined right up with yours. 

“hmm.” was all she replied with, and she took a seat on the couch. “how’s gojo?” she asked, changing the subject that she knew megumi wouldn’t budge on. 

“he’s fine. reeling with separation anxiety, but he’s fine.” satoru had a horrible case of empty nest syndrome, wondering what he did wrong for his adult, adopted children to leave him alone in his gigantic apartment. “you should go see him, he misses you.” 

“absolutely not. he’ll try to convince me to move back in with him. he needs a distraction or something.” tsumiki groaned at the idea, even though she had the utmost respect for the man who had taken them both in. 

instead, she traveled to the kitchen to heat the meal she’d brought for her brother. 

the duo sat in silence, snacking on leftovers as the tv drawled on in front of them. it was nice to have his sister there, even if she spent most of their time together probing him with uncomfortable questions. 

a few hours later, the eldest had left him alone in his apartment once again. 

he rose to his feet and made his way to the kitchen, looking over at the mountain of dishes piled into the sink. he turned on the faucet and took a moment to mull over his sister’s questions from earlier. dishware clinked against the metal of the sink as he contemplated her words. 

he supposed she had a point. what was he waiting for? he’d never given anyone the time of day, let alone had them consuming his thoughts when they weren’t around. you had a particular knack for making him nervous, and he didn’t know how to kick his habit of becoming a stuttering mess around you. 

the thought of you alone sent a blush over his cheeks. his large hands reached to turn off the running water. he took a few steps closer to the dining room table, and his eyes darted towards the open window. 

he couldn’t keep his curiosity at bay and slowly pulled open his curtains to see what was happening across the way. 

you were sitting on the countertop, phone pressed to your ear as you swung your bare legs back and forth. you were having quite an animated conversation, he could tell. he watched you roll your eyes, contemplating words that he couldn’t hear. 

you paused for a moment and hopped off the counter to open the fridge. he sucked in a breath when you leaned forward, giving him a perfect view of your ass. 

“holy shit,” he muttered, putting his hands over his eyes before pulling his blinds closed. 

he was in over his head, and he didn’t know how to deal with your growing presence in his mind. it was almost like his brain was his own personal prison, trapped in a cell and forced to watch an endless reel of the precarious situations you’d put him in. 

the next few days were absolute torture, and the summer heat had made his already building frustration so much worse. you spent hours of the day in the bright sunshine, working up a sweat as you tended to the lawn. your choice of attire made him drool from his seat at the kitchen table. against his better judgment, he got more comfortable in his chair as you leaned down to pull weeds from the garden. 

he wasn’t the only person who was stopped in their tracks when you bent over. across the street, an older gentleman was being pulled by his dog as he stood mesmerized by the sight. 

you looked over your shoulder, catching sight of his dark hair through the window. you snickered to yourself, arching your back as you dug further into the dirt with your hands.

he was playing right into your hands. 

you wiped a bead of sweat off your brow, rising to your feet a few moments later. you made sure to lean in megumi’s direction as you reached for the bag of lawn debris, making him regret sitting down in the first place.  

the next day, he had the misfortune of going out to grab the mail. he hadn’t made it very far before he caught sight of you, causing him to flush.

large sunglasses framed your face as you pruned the shrubs in front of your door, and you gave megumi a small wave when you spotted him on his porch. 

“good morning!” you chirped, a large pair of trimmers in hand as you pulled your glasses up to look at him. it wasn’t anywhere near morning, but you could tell that he had just woken up. his hair was still messy from hours of rubbing against the pillow, and you gave him a little smile as you admired his sleepy features. 

“morning.” he choked out in reply. he tried to keep his eyes off you as he wandered to the mailbox, but he was failing in every sense of the word. 

“any plans tonight?” you called out to him with a grin as you watched him attempt to sneak back into the house. 

“going out with some friends. do you have plans?” he didn’t know if he wanted to know the answer to his question, but he proceeded to ask it anyway. he shamefully had your weekend routine damn near memorized, but had yet to figure out where you went after her car door slammed shut. 

“nope, just working. i’ll see you later?” that caused him to raise an eyebrow, followed by a couple lazy nods of the head. 

he was too busy contemplating your words to think of a reply. he didn’t really have the chance to, either. he looked at the time, groaning to himself as he walked back inside. 

it was already pushing three in the afternoon by the time he managed to pull himself out of bed to grab the mail in the first place. 

he was going out in an hour, and the apartment was trashed. his stomach grumbled angrily, and he let out a sigh as he walked towards the fridge. a frown fell over his features as he stared at the bottle of chili sauce accompanied by nobara’s forgotten wine. he found himself fortunate enough to find some chicken in the freezer, but the lack of vegetables was proving to be rather disappointing. 

great. he grumbled to himself as he closed the fridge with a slam. the cabinet didn’t have much either, save for a couple packets of noodles. he really needed to go grocery shopping, but hated the grocery store more than anything in the entire world. 

so instead, he reached for a pan and went to work browning the chicken. he was thankful that tsumiki had brought a collection of seasonings for him after his first week living alone. at least he had something to offset the taste of freezer-burnt poultry. 

after a while of glaring at the pan, he was finally getting somewhere. he reached for a pot, and filled it with water. unfortunately, he’d filled it up just a tad too much. he groaned at the puddle on the floor, and dropped the pot on the burner with a defeated look on his face.

a towel was thrown onto the ground with a huff, and he grimaced at the feeling of cold water hitting the plush fabric of his socks. he was soaking wet from the collar of his shirt down, and he still had the puddle to attend to.  

the chicken wasn’t anywhere near done, and now he had to change to top it all off. he turned down the stove a bit, and shuffled to his room in an attempt to find something to wear to the club later that night. 

when he returned to the pan about twenty minutes later in a new set of clothes, the chicken was still nowhere close to being golden brown. with a roll of the eyes, he abandoned his post for a moment to turn on the television. 

even then, it wasn’t very entertaining for him. a few minutes passed, before his curiosity got the better of him. he could hear the slow rhythm of the song that he knew was your favorite from across the way, and couldn’t keep himself from walking towards the window.  the curtains were pulled aside to reveal you dancing along to the music booming through your apartment. 

your hips swayed in tandem with the music, and he watched curiously as you stretched your arms up. he watched you bend down to touch your toes, and he watched your body relax as you stretched out your sore muscles. 

it had appeared he had gotten too distracted by your preparations before your shift, as he had completely forgotten about his dinner still cooking on the other side of the room. 

his eyes darted toward the stove when the smell of something burning wafted through his nostrils, and he ran towards the pan in an attempt to save his dinner. 

thankfully the chicken was only partially charred, and he pulled it away from the heat just in the nick of time. he let out a sigh of relief, which was interrupted by yet another distraction from outside. 

“fushiguro! you better have your fucking pants on!” his head snapped towards the door at the loud booming of his friend’s voice, and the door swung open dramatically to reveal a grinning yuji. 

“you’re early.” megumi commented, voice flat as he switched the burner the pot was on. the shorter man took a step closer to the counter, and his grin widened when he spotted the food cooking on the stove.

“looks like i made it just in time.” he chuckled, before moving towards the small table across from the kitchen. “is something burning?”

“not anymore,” was the only reply yuji got. 

the noodles didn’t take very long, and soon the pair were sitting across from each other with a hot meal in front of them. 

they fell into a comfortable silence that didn’t end up lasting very long. 

not when yuji was always too observant for his own good. the tv drawled on behind them, though it was almost impossible to watch it even if they wanted to. the glare from the window had blocked out almost the entire picture.

it was one of megumi’s pet peeves, and that was what caused yuji to finally break the silence megumi had been previously enjoying. 

“huh.” the tone in yuji’s voice was curious, and his friend’s head snapped up to find him staring out the window. “your blinds are open.” 

“what?” megumi looked confused, even though he shouldn’t be. his blinds were usually closed, especially on sunny days like this one. it was a small detail to pick up on, but he didn’t want his friend to put the rest of the pieces of the puzzle together. he took a sip of his broth, eyeing yuji down as he awaited his response. 

“nothing.” the reply megumi got was halfhearted, barely hiding a snicker as yuji finished off his bowl of noodles. 

his closest companion had taken a good thing and thoroughly ruined it. the silence was now incredibly discomforting to be in, even for just a minute. megumi hurried to scarf down the rest of his meal, before rising from his seat. 

“nobara’s gonna kick our asses if we’re late.” was his excuse for suddenly rising to his feet, not that his friend was dangerously close to figuring out that he’d been watching you through his window for months. there’s no way it could be that reason. 

“chill, i gotta fix my hair first.” yuji grinned, noticing how desperate megumi was to change the subject. “nobara’s not even gonna be ready by the time we get there.” 

“i don’t understand why you couldn’t do that at home.” the taller man huffed, taking a peek out the window the moment he heard footsteps heading toward the bathroom. 

yuji had promised tonight would be fun. megumi hated clubs, but he had been convinced to go out just once. it seemed that his next-door neighbor was heading out for the night as well, if the tiny dress you were wearing was anything to go by. 

an odd choice of attire to be wearing to work, if he’d say so himself. still, he didn’t think about it too hard as he threw on a black sweater and got ready to leave. 

“i don’t understand why we have to go to nobara’s so early. the club doesn’t even open until like eight.” yuji grumbled, reaching for megumi’s phone charger as he settled into the passenger seat. 

“she said we have to go to the mall first. something about needing an outfit.”

“fuck, and you said yes? we’re gonna get stuck there for the next four hours.” another loud groan met his ears as he pulled out of his apartment complex. 

and they were, indeed, stuck at the mall for nearly four hours. megumi’s car was stuffed to the brim with shopping bags by the time they were done, and they still weren’t even ready to head out for the night. 

a quick pit stop to kugisaki’s was entirely necessary, as protested by the woman herself. the trio shuffled boxes and bags to her apartment, grumbling the entire time as they braved the treacherous walk up the stairs. 

yuji supposed it was only fair to start the party there. he was already raiding her liquor cabinet before he proposed the idea to the rest of his team. 

the words left his lips with a smirk, and he waved around the bottle of cheap booze in his hand to emphasize his point. the same smirk fell over nobara’s features, and she nodded enthusiastically as she reached for two shot glasses. 

megumi found himself wishing he could participate, cursing himself for saying he’d be the designated driver. his mind was plagued with thoughts of you, and a drink would’ve probably been able to help him forget that. 

still, he let the pair have their fun. a small chuckle left his lips as he watched them grimace at the burn of the liquor. nobara gave him a goofy smile, followed by a thumbs up as she ran to her bedroom to change her clothes.

finally, at about eight forty-five, the trio made their way to megumi’s black buick. the sun had already set far into the sky, and megumi let out another sigh as he turned on the engine. 

the car ride down to the bar was filled with loud singing from yuji and irritated grumbles from nobara as she hurried to change the radio station. they struggled to find parking, resulting in them walking through residential streets to get to their destination. he hadn’t expected it to be so busy, but they found themselves weaving through crowds of people to even find a table. 

the music was far too loud for his liking, and pinks and purples shined through his vision as he finally looked up toward the bar. something had caught the attention of countless patrons, who were tripping over each other with credit cards in hand. 

upon closer inspection, he began to understand what everyone was fussing over. the first thing he saw was your tattoo, which he recognized immediately. as his gaze traveled up your long legs, he couldn’t hide the shock written over his features. 

he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

in a moment, it felt like you were the only dancer scattered across the stage. 

he sat, frozen in his seat as he watched the men around him foam at the mouth as they scrambled to order shot after shot. hundreds of people filled the room, but his eyes kept falling back on you. dozens of strangers were ogling your figure, watching your tits bounce with every sway of your hips. 

you seemed to be enjoying the attention, basking in the fluorescent lights as you continued to move in rhythmatic circles. you kept moving along to the beat of the music, a sultry smile on your lips as suits and ties bowed at your feet. you had a bottle in hand, heels clicking against the wood of the bar as you danced around glasses with ease. 

the expensive tequila in your hand was merely a prop, but it didn’t keep the patrons around him from ordering round after round in an attempt to impress you. a manicured hand came up to fondle one of your breasts teasingly in rhythm with the words of the song playing. 

his jaw dropped when the light reflected against the metal of your nipple piercings, clearly visible through the thin fabric of your dress. he fought the urge to put his head in his hands, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight in front of him. 

you were obviously a lot more interesting than he originally thought you were.  

“oh, that’s your neighbor.” nobara confirmed his suspicions, a smirk on her face as she watched you drop your ass down to the floor. “you should go see if she’ll give you a private dance or something.” 

“nobara!” that caught his attention, and his head whipped around to grimace at her. 

“what? i’m just saying. it’s obvious you have a thing for her.” ever the instigator, the red-haired woman was not going to back down. yuji nodded along with his friend’s words, and he looked at the pair disappointed. 

megumi didn't move an inch for your entire set, utterly mystified as he watched you dance around the bar. it felt almost as though the stage was meant just for you, pedestaled above the wide varieties of expensive liquor. 

he only snapped to reality when he watched you leave the stage, and he caught your head of hair turning out the back door. yuji hit his shoulder rather abruptly, encouraging him to do the one thing he didn’t want to do. 

he took a deep breath and followed you outside. he turned the corner into the nearby alleyway and found you hiding between couples pressed against the side of the building. he took a few steps closer, recognizing the outfit he’d watched you leave the house in. 

he realized how little he knew about you when he watched you light up a cigarette, leaning against the wall with a long exhale. you looked over at him then, dark eyeshadow framing your eyes as they flashed with recognition. your cheeks turned pink, and you bit your lip with a roll of your eyes. 

your cover was blown. there was no point in keeping up the innocent act now.

it wasn’t often that you told people about your weekend plans, and that was for good reason. you just hoped he wouldn’t act like many other people have before.  

“hey, megumi.” you started casually, flicking ash onto the concrete. 

“hey. wasn’t expecting to see you here,” was his reply. megumi wasn’t a man of many words anyway, but you had shocked him into almost complete silence. he was struggling to get every other syllable out of his mouth, but he couldn’t deny how curious he was about you. 

“ha, i get that a lot. are you having fun?” you looked almost completely unphased, besides the light dusting of rose dusting your cheeks. 

“you could say that. you look good.” his words caused your dark lips to curl into a small smirk. 

“thank you, you’re not so bad yourself.” you replied to him in a breathy tone. now, you were definitely doing it on purpose. you just couldn’t help yourself when he looked so handsome with blushing cheeks. 

“you think so?” he was looking a little sheepish, barely able to keep his thoughts innocent with you flirting so blatantly. 

“i know so.” your reply sent a flush to his poor, overwhelmed face. he watched you lean down, effortlessly putting out the cigarette on the bottom of your heel as you turned to walk back into the club. 

“enjoy the show.” you mused, brushing his shoulder lightly as you passed him. 

and he did enjoy every moment, relishing every sway of your hips until yuji was begging him to take them home. he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol the entire night, but he felt more dizzy walking out of the doors of the club than he did after drinking half a bottle of cheap liquor. 

nobara was too buzzed to notice the longing in megumi’s eyes as they walked back to the car, but yuji wasn’t. he held back a laugh as he wobbled his way down the sidewalk next to his usually stoic friend. 

traffic wasn’t terrible, thank god. nobara didn’t have enough energy left to fight about music choices, allowing yuji to blast whatever garbage he wanted as they drove down the highway. 

after a quick detour to nobara’s apartment complex, he finally managed to trudge his way towards the warmth of his bed. unfortunately for him, every parking spot around the block was taken. he groaned, pulling into the only available space and turning off his car with a huff. 

he was almost in the clear.

the only thing that stood in his way was a treacherous walk to his front door. 

with yuji only two doors down, it made getting home in one piece a whole lot easier. that however, would not keep yuji from prodding him for information, just like his sister would. they were so similar sometimes that it scared him. he knew the look in his friend’s eyes before the words even left his mouth. 

“you’re into her.” megumi was hit with boundless accusations as they walked through the damp grass, starting with that one. 

“no, i’m not.” he countered, choosing denial as his tactic for the situation. 

“yes, you are. you’ve got a major resting bitch face, and i didn’t see it once. you were staring at her like a doofus the entire night.” now that he was pointing it out, megumi supposed it was true. he’d been less angry recently, more sexually frustrated than anything else.  

“that doesn’t mean shit, yuji.” he bit back, not trying to have this conversation ever. he wasn’t looking to admit anything close to liking you, choosing to ignore the fact that he couldn’t stop thinking about you even now. 

“really? so you’re telling me you don’t enjoy the fact that she’s always around, shoving her cleavage in your face?” yuji had yet another point. this one earned a rather large scowl. 

“that was one time.” 

“i bet if you asked nicely, she’d do it again.” his friend smirked as he reached his doorstep, and the angry expression made its way back to megumi’s features. 

“shut up.” he mumbled, throwing yuji the middle finger as he turned away to head home. 

it was already far too late for his liking, and he retreated to the warmth of his bedroom within moments of opening the front door. he needed to clear his mind of any and all obstacles that would prevent a good night’s sleep, including the movement of your tits that was now burnt into his memory. 

his head hit the pillow, hoping he’d get a shred of sleep before someone managed to ruin it.  

the clock read just after three a.m. by the time he reached for his phone, as he had been tossing and turning in bed for the last three hours. he rose to his feet, scanning the mess he had left in his room before heading to the club. 

he wondered if his friend was still awake. maybe he’d be willing to help him clean up the gigantic mess he left earlier. 

much to his surprise, yuji responded to his text rather quickly. but that still left one glaringly large problem. 

megumi frowned, piling his clothes into a basket as he made his way to the complex’s shared laundry room. he was so frustrated that nothing was helping, and he couldn’t forget about the metal pierced through his neighbor’s tits. he groaned, turning the corner when he heard the loud rumbling of the washing machine. 

he wondered who was up so late on a saturday doing laundry, but he supposed that he couldn’t judge. he nearly fell over when he saw who was sitting on top of the spinning machine. 

he had to be dreaming.

your eyes were pressed closed, soft gasps leaving your mouth as the laundry rumbled underneath you. a dirty novel was long disregarded next to you, and he wondered what you were thinking about. you let out a low whine as you shifted your hips, lips swollen from biting them in an attempt to keep quiet. 

you were having a hard time keeping your balance over the rumbling machine, struggling to keep your moans hushed as you barrelled closer and closer to release. he watched your hands travel underneath your shorts, reaching for your neglected clit.  

he nearly jumped out of his skin when his basket made contact with the wall, and your eyes shot open at the sound. you stared at him, equally horrified and aroused as he stood cemented in the doorway. 

the pair shared a moment of excruciating silence. your lips parted to speak, but the words died in your throat as you took in his shocked expression. 

before you could address the situation, megumi started to feel his pants getting a little tight. he turned on his heel abruptly, cheeks burning as he shuffled his way back to the apartment. 

the phone in his pocket chimed, and he typed out a rushed response to yuji as he swung his front door open. he couldn’t have his best friend seeing him in such an embarrassing state. 

he had tried to forget your lewd expression, but he couldn’t get the tent in his pants to go down no matter how much he tried. 

guilt burned at his insides as he freed himself from the confines of his pants. his length slapped against his torso, practically begging for some attention. 

he didn’t know how to handle what he had just witnessed. carnal need had started to crawl it’s way up into his chest, and his eyes fluttered closed as he tried to get comfortable on his bed. 

megumi hissed as his hand pressed against the head of his dick, which was already hot to the touch and oozing from the tip. he imagined your tongue running across his shaft, plush lips wrapping around him. he began to rock his hips with the movement of his hand, daydreaming about fucking into your warm mouth. he’d fallen victim to his desire, letting small gasps leave his lips with every stroke of his hips. 

he let out a low growl as he heard a knock on the door, interrupting the movement of his hand. he pulled his sweats back up over his hips, still sporting a gigantic erection as he swung the door open. 

“yuji i told you that you need to fuck off for like twenty minutes, i swear to god-“  his words came to an abrupt halt as he realized who was at the door, and you smirked as your eyes scanned him up and down. 

“hey, neighbor. are you going to invite me inside?” you asked, taking notice of the rather blatant tent in his pants. 

“uh… i guess. i’m kind of in the middle of something-” he flushed, trying to save some semblance of decency. his dick throbbed as you leaned towards him, giving him a full view of your cleavage. 

“i can tell.” he cursed inwardly at your words, trying to ignore the gigantic smirk across your face. “do you need some help?” 

“w-what?” he choked out, the tips of his ears burning. he wasn’t expecting you to be so forward.

“there’s no need to be coy, megumi. i’ve seen you watching me through your window.” you snickered and leaned against the doorframe. 

you’ve got to be fucking kidding. he let out a groan. of course you’d seen him, now you were never going to let him live it down. 

“what were you thinking about?” you continued, watching him deflate in front of you. your curiosity had gotten the better of you, and you took a step closer to him as he struggled to get out his reply. 

“nothing.” 

“doesn’t look like nothing.” you countered, raising a brow as you looked him up and down once again. “were you thinking about me?”

“no.” he grumbled, closing his eyes in frustration. he was trying to keep his eyes off of you, but you were making it damn near impossible. the entire situation was your fault, and now you were at his door making it even worse. 

“are you sure about that?” 

he was convinced you were just teasing him. you couldn’t possibly be serious, could you? 

“you’re doing this on purpose.” he choked out, still not looking at you. he was trying to ignore the loud thumping of his heart in his chest with every word that came from your mouth. 

“doing what on purpose?” your question was sweet and sugary, laced in feigned innocence as you continued. his eyes opened, offering you a glare that didn’t appear too genuine. 

“i’m just trying to help.” you took a step closer to him, and he faltered for a moment. 

“you’re serious?” he asked, and his cheeks burned as he looked down at you. 

“why wouldn’t i be?” was your retort, and he let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding in. 

“what are you waiting for, then?” 

you raised a brow at his response, curious as to where the sudden determination had come from. the nervous look on his features gave you pause for a moment, and you supposed you should probably take it easy on him. 

“you’re quite confident all of a sudden, aren’t you?” you mused, lips inching towards his. “i wonder if you’ll be able to keep up.”

he didn’t bother to give you a response, only a huff of annoyance as he brought you in for a harsh kiss. one arm wrapped around his neck and the other trailed down to palm him through the thin fabric of his sweatpants. you felt him let out a hiss against your lips at the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his length. 

his tongue explored your mouth as you pulled him towards the couch, and you pushed him down lightly as you leaned over him with a smirk. he let out a groan when you sat down on his lap, and you let out a laugh as you brought his lips back to yours. 

the thin fabric of your shorts rubbed against his hard length as you pulled him closer, and you could feel his breathing pick up pace underneath you. your hips slowly began to grind against his, and your efforts earned you a sharp exhale between his kisses.  

his lips didn’t leave yours until he was out of breath. he huffed against your lips as your hands began to wander underneath the soft fabric of his sweater. 

you pulled away to look at the mess you made of him, content with the dazed look painted across his face. his eyes were too focused on your tits spilling out of your shirt to notice that you were pulling his up and over his head. the black sweater was thrown to the floor in haste, and you brought a kiss to each of his flushed cheeks. 

“you’re so cute.” you mumbled dreamily, almost too quiet for him to hear. he offered you a crinkle of his nose in return for your teasing. 

“am not.” the protest was emphasized by a raise of the brow, and he pulled the neckline of your tank-top down to free your breasts. he let out a groan at the sight, bringing one hand up to squeeze the soft flesh in front of him. 

“sure. whatever you say..” you rolled your eyes at his behavior, letting him fondle your chest curiously. long and delicate fingers began to squeeze and grope at your skin. 

an idea crossed your mind as his hands rubbed against the barbells adorning your nipples. your lips met the skin of his neck, and he shivered at the feeling of your tongue swiping over the soft flesh. soft kisses began to travel lower and lower, causing his eyes to widen. 

his hands left your skin when he felt you pulling away, not expecting for you to drop to your knees in front of him. another soft kiss was pressed to his happy trail as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. a shock of electricity shot through his spine when he felt you pulling down the elastic of his sweatpants. 

his dick sprang free in front of your face, and you took a moment to marvel at the sight in front of you. while average in size, his girth was rather impressive. you could feel yourself salivating as one of your fingers ran along the tip. you brought that same finger to your lips, humming appreciatively at the sight before wrapping your hand around the base. 

if you weren’t so absorbed in your own little world, you would’ve seen the shocked expression spreading over megumi’s flushed features. he felt your hand pass from base to tip a couple times, and he let out a groan. that caught your attention, and you met his stormy blue irises with a pout on your lips. 

“you okay up there, ‘gumi?” you teased, running your hand up and down his shaft gently as your warm breath fanned against his skin. 

“sorry i’ve just.. never done this before.” he replied quietly, trying to level his breathing as he averted his eyes from you. 

“that’s okay, just let me know if it’s too much.” your tone was gentle and kind, much like the first time you two met. his eyes met yours again, confusion written all over his features. 

“what do you- oh…” he gasped out, and a shiver ran down his spine as he felt your lips wrapping around the tip of his dick. he was trying not to keel over, knuckles turning white from his harsh grip on the side of the couch. obscene slurping noises filled his ears, and he looked down to find your eyes staring right back at him. 

he had to avert his eyes to keep himself from cumming right then and there, but his eyes kept falling back to you no matter how much he tried. 

you wanted him to see it all, feel it all. 

he didn’t know if he’d be able to last if you kept it up. a hand fell over his eyes in an attempt to keep himself from looking, but one lick of your tongue along the underside of his dick was enough to have him peeking through his fingers. 

you look so cute with your mouth full, he mused. it was embarrassing how quickly he was coming undone in the wetness of your mouth, and he was trying not to let out a whine as you swallowed down more of his shaft. 

something deep inside of him told him not to let it end here, and he gently tapped your cheeks with a loud and whiny huff. you released your lips with a pop, saliva dripping from your lips as you pulled away. 

“everything okay?” you asked, concern lacing your features as you held onto his thighs. 

“yeah.. just need..” a loud groan reverberated off the walls of his living room as you bit down on the skin of his thigh. 

“just need.. what?” you teased, batting your big doe eyes up at him from your position on the floor. “tell me what you want, ‘gumi.” 

“i want you. i need you.” he replied breathlessly, pulling you in for a sloppy, desperate kiss. he grabbed your hips harshly so he could pull you back onto the couch. 

you could feel his toned chest against yours as he leaned over you. he swallowed hard, contemplating his next words. 

“show me how to make you cum.” the words were more akin to a demand than a plea, but you couldn’t deny his curiosity. his hands reached for your shorts, pulling them to your ankles with ease. “wanna hear you scream.” 

your eyes widened, and you gave him a nod as you reached for one of his hands. you led his fingers down to your panties at an excruciatingly slow pace, and his hand left yours to take matters into his own hands. he pulled them off with a huff, staring into your eyes as he tested the waters. 

he raised a brow at you, reaching to pull your thighs apart as he sat between them. “you’re just teasing me now.” he grumbled at your antics, taking note of your actions from earlier as he leaned down to run his tongue along your slick folds. he lapped up your juices eagerly, passing over your clit repeatedly as he explored between your legs. 

he got more comfortable between your thighs, palming the flesh of your ass tightly and spreading your legs further apart. a soft moan left your lips when his tongue settled on your clit. he urged forward, desperate to have you whining and begging in his hold. 

a tempo was found with relative ease, and he grinned into the flesh of your thighs as you bucked your hips against him. 

a soft hum left his lips in approval when he heard you gasping underneath him. he supposed he had to be doing something right, considering how you were reacting to every swipe of his wet tongue. 

he continued his ministrations, now more confident in his ability to please you. a long finger prodded at your entrance curiously, feeling you dripping with desire from just a few minutes underneath him. 

gasps quickly turned into moans as one of his long digits sank into your plush walls. the sound made him look up to find you flushed from the neck up. 

he wanted to see just how far he could take it. 

his middle finger joined his index, and he developed a slow rhythm that had you shaking within minutes. every positive response was only inticicing him further, and his eyes glazed over in determination as the pads of his fingers passed over your g-spot. 

you had to admit, he was a quick learner. 

the moment that he heard the first pitched “fuck.” leave your mouth, he became determined to hear it again and again. 

he grinned against your clit as he felt your muscles clenching around his fingers. loud moans met his ears as he picked up the pace. he had you seeing stars far too quickly, and he had no intention of letting up until you were begging him to stop. 

the kitten licks to your cunt had become harsh sucking motions, and his tongue swirled around your clit with a certain precision that had your toes curling and your legs shaking. 

you let out a broken cry as you came on his fingers, but he still hadn’t stopped the motion of his tongue. he drank up every whine that left your mouth as you shook with overstimulation. 

he was just teasing you now, relishing in the way your thighs clenched around his head as you gasped and writhed under him. you supposed it was his revenge for the months of teasing, and you found yourself relenting as you pulled his lips away from your abused clit. 

“what? too much for you?” he smirked, and you lowered your eyes at him as you pushed him back against the couch. 

“not even close.” as soon as he heard the tone of your reply, he knew he was in for trouble. his eyes widened as you pulled yourself into his lap, straddling his hips as you leaned in to bring your lips to his. he groaned into the kiss as he felt his length rubbing against the soft skin of your stomach. 

your lips left his for only a moment to test his resolve even further.

“have you had enough yet?” you teased, causing him to wrap his hands around your hips. your lips pulled into a smirk as you pulled yourself up and wrapped one hand around his dick. 

he let out a groan when he felt the tip rubbing against your wet folds, which turned into a whine when his dick made contract with your entrance. shaky fingers dug into the flesh of your ass as you eased down on his length. 

“holy fuck.” he gasped out, earning a smirk from you. he felt you wiggle your hips against him, and he could feel every muscle in his body crying out for release as he finally bottomed out inside of you. 

“what? too much for you?” you found yourself parroting his response from earlier. something darkened in his eyes the moment that the words left your mouth. 

his grip on your ass tightened, and you watched the muscles in his arms strain as he pulled your hips up. you wrapped your hands around his neck as he pushed you back down. a shaky gasp left your mouth as you started to rock your hips in tandem with the movement of his hands. 

manicured nails scraped against the skin of his shoulders with every stroke of his hips. your hands fell to his chest, pushing back against him in an effort to rut yourself in time with his movements. he pressed forward, capturing your lips with his in the midst of your passionate embrace. his kisses began to travel down to your neck, turning into bites over the course of a few minutes. his breath caught in his throat when he felt your walls squeezing him, and he couldn’t help but try to elicit more reactions from you.

you let out a sharp gasp when he started sucking on your skin, leaving bruises growing in his wake. he pulled away a few moments later, taking in every small detail of your blushing face.

your lips were swollen once again, matching the same shade from earlier. this time, he was the reason you were struggling to keep yourself quiet. he couldn’t get enough of it. 

it was growing impossible for him to keep himself composed with your tits bouncing in his face every time you moved your hips. in an effort to keep the moans from spilling from his mouth, his lips wrapped around one of your perky nipples as he rocked against you. his tongue lapped against the metal piercing, shortly followed by a gentle bite. 

his efforts earned him a pitched moan, and he felt the muscles in your thighs twitching as he held onto them tightly. the couch creaked with every harsh thrust, mixing with the moans that were reverberating off the walls of the apartment. he was sure he’d get a noise complaint in the mail the next day, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. 

he paused when he felt your hips falter, raising a brow as he watched you struggle to keep up with the movement of his hips. 

“and you were worried that i wouldn’t be able to keep up.” it was almost like megumi was gloating, but you couldn’t be too mad at him. after all, you loved the way his dick was hitting deep inside of you. the movement of his hips came to a halt, causing you to let out a whine as the head of his dick brushed against your g-spot. 

“shut up and fuck me, megumi.” you croaked out, lowering your eyes at him in an effort to get him to do something, anything.  

in an instant, his strong arms were pulling you from his lap. your mouth opened to protest, but the words never got the chance to leave your mouth. all it took was your back hitting the cushion of the couch to hush any complaints from you.  

he smirked at your silence, hiking one of your legs over the side of the couch and holding onto the other by the crook of the knee. he spread you apart once again, and slid himself back inside of you with a long sigh. the new position made your eyes resemble saucers, and you let out a cry as he started moving his hips again. every thrust pressed hard against your g-spot, and you were seeing stars behind your eyelids every time your eyes fell shut. 

“look at me.” he demanded, grabbing onto your chin and pulling it up towards him. your eyes snapped open, meeting his azure ones. he felt you clench again, causing his smirk to turn into a cheshire grin as he picked up the pace of his hips. 

every thrust was hitting so deep inside of you, and you could hear the harsh sound of skin slapping reverberating off the walls. you were so close to the edge – barely holding on as he continued to push himself into the dripping wetness between your legs. 

the muscles in his arm strained once again, and he pushed your knee up further towards your head. his grip on the inside of your knee tightened, signaling that he was just as close to release as you were. his free hand found its way to your clit, and you let out another loud whine.  

that was ultimately your undoing, and all sense of decency went out the window as you scratched into the skin of his back. you brought him in for a harsh kiss, and he let out a loud groan against your lips as you tightened around him. 

you came so hard that you felt dizzy, still holding onto the kiss for a moment longer. the feeling of your insides constricting on him made it almost impossible for him to pull out, and he was so distracted that the thought didn’t even cross his mind. 

well, not until after you felt thick ropes of his cum filling you with warmth. 

“fuck.” you both said at the same time, eyes wide as you shared a moment of realization. you both silently came to the conclusion that it would be a problem for tomorrow, and he pressed a kiss to your cheek as he finally slowed the movement of his hips. 

his grip on your thighs loosened for a moment, and he looked down on you softly. he took a minute to catch his breath, eyes darting over the growing bruises all over your skin. 

“c’mon, the couch is uncomfortable.” he grumbled, lifting you up by the thighs and taking you to his bedroom. you let out a giggle as he carried you towards the bed, and your head hit the pillow with a soft plop. a smile came over your features as you pulled him down with you. his body pressed against yours for a moment, before he moved to settle behind you. 

large, veiny hands made their way around your midsection. he held you close, pressing his back to yours and running soft kisses along your shoulder. you melted into his touch, offering him a pleased hum as you settled into the mattress. 

you looked back at him adoringly, gaze softening even further as his hair tickled your forehead. kisses turned to bites once again, and you let out a small laugh when you felt his hard length pressing against you. 

“sorry.” he grumbled, and you looked at him curiously. you turned around to face him with a soft grin plastered over your cheeks. 

“don’t be sorry. i just think it’s cute.” you replied, pressing a kiss to his temple as you pulled him closer. 

“not cute.” he corrected, and you rolled your eyes. you pulled one of your legs over his hips, giving him a knowing look. he felt his dick rubbing up against your entrance, still dripping with his cum. 

you offered him a gentle kiss as you slid your folds against the tip, before slowly pressing him inside. 

“fuck. i don’t think i’ll ever get tired of that.” he gasped out, holding onto your hips as you slowly began to rock against him. you offered him a shaky laugh in reply to his hushed words. 

the bed began to creak underneath you, and his hips started moving along with yours. it wasn’t long before the bed frame was smacking against the wall, guaranteeing a complaint from the neighbors the next day. 

he didn’t have much concern for it in the moment, too occupied with the way that you were pulsing around him. his large, veiny hands found purchase fondling your tits, squeezing and rubbing the supple flesh with his calloused fingers. 

you weren’t going to last very long if he kept it up like this. especially with one of his hands leaving your tits to run across your clit. 

“fuck, you feel so good.” his deep, gravely admission met your ears as his head fell against your shoulder. 

you squeezed around him again, basking in the meticulous rhythm of his hips. that caused him to bite down on your shoulder as a warning. 

“can’t be doing that.” he huffed against your skin. an unexpected groan left his lips when he felt you clenching him again. “fuck, i’m gonna—” 

one particularly harsh thrust had you coming undone right along with him, and you let out another pitched whine as his fingers continued to circle around your clit. 

you rode out your high together, before his movements finally came to a halt. 

you felt him relaxing into your chest with his face pressed between your breasts. finally worn out and more than content, megumi felt his heartbeat slowing as the smell of your perfume wafted through his nostrils. his eyes began to flutter closed, comforted by the warmth of your skin. 

you were exhausted, but you couldn’t keep the smile off your features as you wrapped your arms around him. your eyes fell shut, listening to the slow drum of his heart as if it was a lullaby meant just for you. 

megumi let out a loud yawn, and opened his eyes. to his disappointment, the space on the bed next to him was empty. he could still smell your perfume wafting through the air. 

a small frown settled over his features as his feet met the cold floor of the hallway, but he froze in his tracks when he saw you making coffee in the kitchen. 

“what’s with the frown? did you think i left without saying goodbye?” you smirked, looking him up and down as you leaned against the kitchen counter. 

you made a fucking mess of him, you could tell. his head of normally messy hair was sticking up in all kinds of places, and it was the worst case of bed-head you’d ever seen. your lips pulled into a smile as your gaze fell down to his neck, admiring the love bites scattered across his clavicle. 

he took a step closer to you, rolling his eyes as he offered his reply. “i was hoping you didn’t. i wasn’t done with you yet.” 

“oh, yeah? can’t get enough?” you snickered and pulled him closer to you. he puffed out his cheeks at your playful words. his cheeks were still flushed, and you loved how responsive he was to your teasing. 

you were enjoying the sight in front of you when the front door opened, revealing a very smug yuji. 

“i fucking knew it!” he yelled, pointing a finger at his friend in an accusatory manner. the taller man frowned, shutting the door in his face before turning back to you with a sheepish smile.

ignore it and you will still have the best year ever bc you deserve beautiful things

This is my new favourite headline I've seen all year lmaooo

I need people to stop buying into the idea that "small business" = "ethical business." Many small businesses are wonderful, and absolutely deserve your support, but plenty others aren't. If you're genuinely concerned about where you spend your money, you have to do your due diligence even if a business isn't a mega-corporation.

The lady who owned the small business I used to work at was horrible to work for, gave free coffee to cops, treated us all like shit, and got pissed if you didn't worship the ground she walked on for giving you a job. I would never work for her again, and if someone asked me if they should apply to work for her, I'd tell them to run for the fucking hills. The turnover rate was atrocious when I worked there, and I wouldn't be surprised if she still burns through employees at an unholy rate.

Small businesses are just as capable of worker abuse as big businesses, and they frequently get away with it because people refuse to believe that their beloved Mom & Pop Shop is run by rancid assholes who think Jeff Bezos has the right idea about how to run a business.

Small business owners CAN be better! They CAN be pro-worker and pro-union! But it's not inherent, and small business owners can be some of the most abusive pieces of shit you've met in your life.