Like It Part Iii.

like it part iii.

megumi fushiguro x reader, college au

your dorm was quiet, save for the low hum of R&B drifting from your laptop speakers—soft, slow, the kind of music that filled the silence without crowding it. the only light came from the gentle glow of your desk lamp and the faint, silvery spill of streetlight seeping through the blinds. the air carried a hint of vanilla, subtle and sweet, mixed with something warmer—something unmistakably you.

megumi sat cross-legged on your bed, textbook balanced on his thigh, trying to focus on the words in front of him. you were beside him, lying on your stomach, feet swaying lazily behind you as you flipped through your notes.

on the surface, it looked like you were studying. technically, you were. there were highlighters. post-its. a psych quiz in the near future.

but the real test?

keeping his eyes on the page and not on the way your shirt slipped off your shoulder when you shifted. or the way you chewed on your pen cap when you were concentrating. or the occasional brush of your hand against his that sent lightning up his spine.

he’d been in your room for maybe fifteen minutes, and already his nerves were coiling tighter by the second. not because you were doing anything wrong—you were relaxed, casual, completely at ease. like this was just another night. like this was normal.

but nothing about this felt normal to him.

your presence was a constant pull—your soft laughter when you mispronounced a vocab term, the way your leg brushed his now and then, deliberate or not. and the scent of you, clinging to the sheets and the air, was making it hard to breathe.

“so, this part of the chapter is about electromagnetic induction,” megumi said, tapping the page with his pen like it could ground him. like it could calm his racing heart. “super easy.”

shifting into a sitting position beside him, your lips tugged into a smirk. “says the walking textbook.”

he gave a small shrug. “it’s not that hard once you break it down. faraday’s law—basically, a change in magnetic field causes a current.”

he pointed to the vocab word in the textbook lying open in front of you, trying to keep his voice steady. but when he glanced over to see if you were following along, his breath hitched.

you weren’t looking at the book. you were looking at him.

your lips slightly parted, eyes fixed on his face with a softness that made his chest tighten. it wasn’t just curiosity—it was focus, interest, intention.

megumi immediately looked away, the tips of his ears turning red.

you looked too damn enticing.

the way your eyes lingered on him like he was the most interesting thing in the room, it was enough to short-circuit his brain. he could talk all day about physics, about laws and fields and forces, but right now, the only current he could feel was the one sparking between the two of you.

and it was getting harder and harder to ignore.

he tried to focus—really, he did. cleared his throat, forced his eyes back to the page, even muttered something under his breath about “lenz’s law”—but the words blurred.

“megumi,” you said, voice soft, almost coaxing.

he glanced at you again, hesitantly this time—and you were still watching him. like you knew. like you’d caught on to every subtle flick of his gaze, every stiff inhale, every time his voice wavered.

“yeah?” he asked, trying—and failing—to sound casual.

you tilted your head, eyes flicking from his lips back to his eyes. “you’re kinda bad at pretending you’re okay.”

he let out a breath of a laugh, low and tight. “am I that obvious?”

you smiled, scooting just a little closer. “a little.”

silence settled between you for a moment—thick and charged. his fingers twitched beside yours, aching to close the distance. and when your leg pressed more firmly against his, megumi finally looked up to look at you.

really look at you.

“look, I don’t know what this is,” he admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “but I don’t want to mess it up.”

your gaze fell to his lips.

“you won’t,” you mumbled as you leaned in and connected your lips to his.

and it was like everything in the room faded—the hum of the music, the open textbook, the faint city sounds drifting in through the window. all of it blurred at the edges, swallowed by the feeling of you. the warmth of your mouth, the way your fingers curled gently around his wrist, grounding him.

he kissed you back slowly, almost reverently, like he was still trying to convince himself this was real. that you wanted this. that you wanted him.

and you did.

he could feel it in the way your body leaned into his, in the way you deepened the kiss, like you couldn’t help it. like you’d been waiting, too.

you gently pushed the textbook off the bed, letting it thud softly onto the floor, then shifted forward—slow and deliberate—as you crawled into his lap, straddling him.

megumi’s hands instinctively found your hips, his grip tightening as you settled onto him. his breath hitched—sharp and audible—like your weight alone was enough to unravel him.

your own hands slid up his chest, fingers bunching slightly in the fabric of his hoodie as you pulled him closer.

and he kissed you back like he’d been starving for it, like he finally let go of whatever was holding him back. his hands roamed up your sides, feeling the warmth of you through your clothes, anchoring himself in the rhythm of your body moving against his.

when your hips shifted just slightly, a quiet groan rumbled from his throat, his forehead dropping to yours as he tried to catch his breath.

“you’re gonna kill me,” he murmured, voice low, strained, completely wrecked.

you smiled against his lips. “that’s not the plan.”

but the way you rolled your hips again, slow and purposeful?

it sure felt like one.

your name left his lips in a whine, soft and desperate—his voice cracking under the weight of it.

his hands gripped your hips tighter, fingers digging in as if he could anchor you in place, stop you from driving him any closer to the edge. but even as he tried to still your movements, his body betrayed him—hips twitching upward, chasing the friction you were giving him.

“please,” he breathed, forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut tight. “if you keep doing that —”

he didn’t finish the sentence. couldn’t let you find out how pathetically close he was to busting in his pants. just from dry humping you.

then, as if the universe had decided to show him mercy, you slid off his lap.

he exhaled sharply, body still trembling, grateful for the space—for the moment to collect himself.

but that relief was short-lived.

because you didn’t move away.

you kept sliding—down, between his legs. your hands running lightly along his thighs as you settled on your knees in front of him. and the moment your eyes lifted to meet his, wide and purposeful and so damn sure, his jaw fell open.

“wait—what are you…?” his voice came out strangled, barely a whisper.

but he already knew what you were doing.

and the realization alone nearly undid him all over again.

your fingers toyed with the hem of his hoodie, dragging it up just enough to expose the band of his sweats. megumi’s breath hitched, his entire body going still—like if he moved, he might shatter.

he stared down at you, wide-eyed, lips parted, completely speechless as your hands slipped beneath the fabric. the heat of your touch against his skin made his stomach tense, made his thighs twitch under your grip.

“y-you sure?” he breathed, though the words barely held weight—his voice weak, shaking, like he already knew he wouldn’t stop you if you kept going.

you looked up at him, a gentle smile tugging at your lips, and gave a quiet nod. then, leaning in, you kissed him once more—slow and lingering—before trailing lower, your mouth brushing against the sharp line of his hip.

megumi’s head fell back with a low groan, one hand flying up to grip the edge of your comforter, the other carding through your hair.

he was screwed. completely, totally, hopelessly screwed.

and god, he never wanted anything more.

your kisses trailed lower, slow and deliberate, like you were savoring every inch of him—every twitch of muscle, every shaky breath. megumi’s hands fisted the comforter tighter, knuckles white, his chest rising and falling in quick, uneven rhythm.

when your fingers dipped beneath the waistband of his sweats, his hips jolted slightly—his breath caught in his throat.

“shit,” he whispered, voice raw, eyes squeezing shut. “you’re gonna kill me.”

you only smiled, dragging the fabric down just enough to free him—his breath catching in a strangled gasp as cool air hit overly sensitive skin.

he looked down at you again, eyes dark and full of disbelief, desire, and something softer—like awe. like he couldn’t believe you were real.

and then your mouth was on him.

the first touch of your lips made his whole body tense, a guttural moan ripping from deep in his chest. his hand flew to your shoulder, gripping it like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality.

“f-fuck, please—” he stammered, the sound of your name barely making it out of his mouth.

it was too much. too good. too you.

and he knew, without a doubt, he wasn’t going to last.

the way your lips wrapped around him slowly, deliberately, like you had all the time in the world—made megumi feel like his sanity might start to slip.

his thighs tensed beneath you, breath staggering as he tried to hold on to something, anything. but your mouth was warm and wet and perfect, and every flick of your tongue, every slow pull, dragged a sound from him he didn’t even know he could make.

he looked down at you through hooded eyes, completely undone by the sight—your lashes lowered, cheeks hollowing just slightly, your hands steady on his hips as you took him deeper. you looked so focused, so intent on him, like you wanted to memorize every reaction, every shiver, every curse that tumbled from his lips.

“god,” he breathed, voice wrecked. “you—fuck, you feel so good.”

he tried to hold back. tried not to fall apart too fast, but the pressure was unbearable, his muscles straining as pleasure twisted tight in his core.

your name left his lips again, barely more than a whisper.

“I’m not gonna last,” he warned, voice breaking.

but even as he said it, his hips bucked once, shallow and shaky, and his other hand slid from the bed to your hair, not to guide—just to feel. to anchor himself in the reality of you.

because if this was a dream, he never wanted to wake up.

but with both hands in your hair now, you took that as a sign he wanted control. so you gave it to him. peering up into his eyes, you let your hands fall behind your back.

he didn’t know how to react at first, but his body took over. his hips rolled forward in slow, tentative thrusts, careful, almost shy. not wanting to hurt you.

then you let out a muffled moan—and he broke.

a curse slipped past his lips as his grip in your hair tightened. his pace shifted, thrusts deeper, more desperate, using your mouth to chase his own pleasure.

megumi was unraveling.

his head tipped back, eyes squeezing shut as he tried to hold on for just another second, another breath—but you made it impossible. every swirl of your tongue, every soft sound you made around him, pushed him further, faster, to the edge.

“shit, I’m gonna—” he gasped, body tensing beneath your touch, but it was too late.

his hips stuttered, a broken moan catching in his throat as he came, full and hard, his entire body locking up beneath you.

the pleasure hit him like a wave—sharp, dizzying, too much and not enough all at once. his chest heaved, heart racing as his hand slid from your hair to his side, suddenly too weak to hold onto anything at all.

you slowed, gentle now, letting him ride it out until his body relaxed completely, slumping back against the side of the bed like every bone in him had melted.

he looked down at you, eyes hazy but full of adoration. for you.

“…c’mere,” he murmured, voice rough, still breathless.

he caught your wrist gently and tugged you toward him, guiding you both from the floor onto the bed and pulling you into his lap. his arms wrapped around your waist as you settled over him.

that look came over him again—that soft, stunned expression like he couldn’t quite believe this was real. like he didn’t know what he did to deserve this moment, to deserve you.

“what did I say about staring?” you huffed.

a sheepish grin tugged at his lips, but his eyes never left yours. “can’t help it,” he murmured, voice low and honest. “you’re breathtaking.”

your breath hitched, the sincerity in his gaze making your heart stutter. so instead of answering, you leaned forward and kissed him—slow and sweet. his hands gripped your waist a little tighter, anchoring himself to you like he was afraid you’d disappear if he let go.

when you pulled back just enough to speak, your noses still brushed. “you’re such a sap.”

“only for you.”

and when he kissed you again, it was deeper. warmer. like a promise—one he didn’t know how to say yet, but was desperate to show.

his hands slid from your waist to your ass, gripping tight as he began to move you against him—slow, deliberate, chasing friction that quickly turned into frustration.

because nothing was happening.

he stilled, breath catching in his throat. shit.

too sensitive. too spent. his body was still reeling from earlier, and no matter how much he wanted you—and he wanted you, badly—his dick wasn’t cooperating.

panic flickered behind his eyes, but he masked it quickly, shifting gears before the moment could break. because even if he couldn’t fuck you properly, he was still going to give you everything.

“lay down,” he murmured against your lips, voice low, commanding.

your breath hitched, a bright flush blooming across your cheeks. “I — look, I…”

you stumbled over the words, lips parted, eyes now avoiding his.

the sudden shift in your energy caught him off guard, and he stilled immediately. his hands loosened their grip as he searched your face, but the way your eyes darted away from his made it hard to read you.

so gently, he raised a hand to your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek as he tilted your face toward his—giving you no choice but to meet his gaze.

“what’s wrong?” he asked, voice soft but steady, concern laced through every word.

you hesitated, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. “I don’t know,” you said quietly. “I just—I—you make me feel really good, megumi. and I guess… I can’t help but feel like I don’t make you feel the same. kind of feel like I’m not good enough, not gonna lie.”

he stared at you, stunned—jaw slack, breath caught in his throat.

what?

the words hit him like a punch to the chest, knocking the wind right out of him. you—you—thought you weren’t good enough?

before he could protest, you continued.

“I just — I was so drunk last time and I feel like I made such an idiot of myself - “

“are you serious?” he finally breathed, eyes wide with disbelief. “you have no idea what you do to me.” he shook his head, still reeling. “you’re everything.”

a blush bloomed across your cheeks as you dropped your gaze, quickly hiding your face in your hands.

megumi didn’t let you stay hidden for long though.

he reached for you, gently wrapping his fingers around your wrists and peeling your hands away from your eyes. his touch was soft, patient, like he was handling something fragile.

“last time was perfect,” he murmured, voice low and full of conviction. “you were perfect.”

your eyes met his again, wide and unsure, but the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—made something inside you unravel.

your lips connected to his. there was no urgency, no expectation. just warmth, steady and consuming, the kind that wrapped around your ribs and settled deep in your chest.

when he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his thumbs brushed along your cheeks. “tell me what you need,” he whispered.

your breath hitched, and your hands found their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “I need you.”

a wave of emotion passed over him—sharp and sudden, like it caught him off guard.

it wasn’t lust, not entirely. it was deeper. he felt it in his chest, in the tightness in his throat, in the way his grip on you softened like he was holding something precious. because he was.

you needed him.

not just his touch. Him.

he guided you back gently, laying you down against the pillows, his body following yours, settling beside you rather than over you—no pressure, no weight, just presence. his hand traced soft lines along your stomach while his mouth explored yours. learning you all over again.

you exhaled, a sound that was part relief, part want.

he dipped his head to your neck, pressing slow kisses there, savoring every reaction he pulled from you. every sigh, every quiet inhale, every push, every pull.

megumi’s lips ghosted over yours again, slower this time—less about hunger, more about connection. his hands moved with the same careful intent, gliding over your sides, your waist, learning every curve like he was mapping sacred ground.

your body reacted to him like it had been waiting—arching into every touch, chasing his warmth, clinging to the steadiness of him. and he gave it all freely. not just his body, but every unspoken word, every ounce of tenderness he’d never known how to express until now.

he kissed your shoulder, then your collarbone, dragging his mouth lower with reverence. when his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your sweats, he paused, eyes flicking up to yours, silently asking.

you nodded, breath trembling.

then his hand slid between your thighs—slow, deliberate—like he was savoring the moment as much as you were. his fingers moved over the thin fabric of your underwear, gentle at first, just enough to tease, to coax a soft sound from your lips.

megumi watched you closely, eyes fixed on your face, soaking in every shift of your expression. the way your brows pinched. the way your lips parted. the way your hips arched ever so slightly into his hand.

“shit, baby, you’re so wet,” he murmured, awe laced into every word. “just for me?”

you nodded, unable to find your voice through the heat blooming in your chest, your stomach, your core.

his fingers slid beneath the fabric, brushing against your warmth—bare and slick and ready. you gasped, and his name spilled from your mouth like instinct.

he groaned low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your skin as he kissed your chest, your sternum, the space between your ribs—every inch.

and then he started moving his fingers.

curling them upward into you.

your body reacted before you could even think—hips rolling into his touch, breath coming faster, hands fisting in the sheets.

“so pretty,” he whispered, mouth grazing your skin.

and with the way he touched you—how patient, how sure, how devoted he felt—you knew you weren’t going to last long.

each stroke of his fingers was measured, purposeful—like he was learning you second by second, and loving every moment of it.

your head fell back, a soft moan slipping from your lips as his thumb found your clit, circling slow and steady. he watched you like he was mesmerized, every twitch of your body, every rise and fall of your chest.

“that’s it,” he murmured, kissing the edge of your jaw.

the pressure built with every breath, every whispered word, every flick of his fingers. your thighs began to tremble, your hips losing rhythm as the pleasure overwhelmed you.

“megumi—” you gasped, voice breaking.

“i got you, baby,” he replied, firm and quiet.

and you came—hard, breath catching in your throat, back arching as everything else faded away. all that remained was him—his name on your lips, his hands on your skin, his eyes staring at you in awe.

you clung to him through it, fingers digging into his shoulder as wave after wave crashed through you—hot and overwhelming and impossibly good. your breath came in shaky gasps, your whole body trembling beneath his touch.

megumi held you through it all, never letting go. his hand slowed, gentled his movements as you started to come down, his mouth brushing soft kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your temple.

but just as your heartbeat started to steady, he moved again—his fingers plunging back inside you, slow and purposeful. your breath hitched violently, stolen right from your lungs as your body seized all over again.

your hips jolted, a sharp gasp escaping you as your body, still sensitive and undone, tried to process the onslaught of sensation.

“megumi—” you breathed, your voice barely a whisper, laced with both need and disbelief.

he didn’t stop. his eyes never left yours, dark and focused, like he was memorizing every flicker of pleasure that crossed your face. “one more,” he murmured, voice low and rough at the edges.

the way he touched you now—slower, deeper—had your legs shaking. you could barely think, couldn’t do anything but feel. the pressure was building all over again, even stronger this time, stoked by the way his thumb pressed against your clit in lazy, perfect circles.

your head fell back against the pillows, a broken moan slipping from your lips.

“so pretty, baby,” megumi breathed, the words slipping out before he could stop them—raw, reverent. and the way your body responded, clenching tight around his fingers, grinding down against his palm—it drove him wild.

“you need more?” he murmured, voice thick with need.

you nodded, fast, desperate—your eyes glassy, lips parted, completely undone beneath him.

“what do you need?” he asked, quieter this time. his fingers maintaining their pace.

your hand rose to his face, trembling fingers brushing along his jaw before trailing to his lips. you didn’t speak—but you didn’t need to. the look in your eyes, the soft stroke of your fingers, told him everything.

a slow smirk curled on his mouth. he knew exactly what you were asking for.

and he didn’t make you wait.

he pulled his fingers from you with a deliberate slowness, the wet sound making your breath hitch. then he was shifting downward, settling between your thighs like he belonged there. his hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he kissed the inside of your thigh—then the other. each press of his lips was maddeningly slow, worshipful.

when his mouth finally found you, your whole body jolted.

a cry tore from your throat as his tongue slid through your folds, soft at first, then firmer, more focused. he groaned against you, like the taste alone was enough to ruin him. his hands pinned your thighs apart, keeping you open for him as he lost himself in you—devouring you with slow, devastating precision.

“megumi,” you gasped, hands flying to his hair, anchoring yourself to him.

he didn’t answer—not with words. just with the roll of his tongue, the way he sucked and licked until your legs were shaking again, until your cries turned into pleas, until you were right on the edge. until your grip in his hair tightened, fingers trembling as another wave built deep in your core—hotter, higher, impossibly intense.

and he still didn’t let up, tongue moving in steady, precise circles, as if he wanted to unravel every last piece of you.

“please,” you whimpered, the word barely audible between your gasps. it wasn’t even clear what you were begging for—release, relief, more of him. all of him.

megumi groaned against you, the vibration shooting straight through your body. one hand slid up, splaying across your stomach, grounding you as your hips bucked beneath his touch.

“you gonna come, pretty girl?” he murmured between kisses, his voice low and hoarse.

you nodded frantically, unable to speak, every part of you strung tight.

and then he pushed two fingers back inside you—deep and slow—curling them just right while his tongue focused on your clit, relentless and perfect. your back arched off the bed, a cry ripping from your throat.

that was it.

you broke with a sob, coming hard against his mouth, your whole body trembling as the pleasure crashed through you—white-hot and endless. megumi held you through every second, never backing down, mouth and fingers working you through it, coaxing every last tremor from your body.

by the time he finally pulled back, your chest was heaving, your limbs weak and boneless, your skin covered in a sheen of sweat.

he crawled back up your body, eyes on your face now, pupils blown and mouth glistening with you.

“you with me?” he asked softly, fingers brushing your damp hair back from your face.

you gave the faintest nod, still breathless, lips parted as you struggled to steady your heartbeat. your body felt weightless, like you’d drifted somewhere far away and were only just beginning to return.

megumi didn’t expect it when, with a burst of fading strength, you tugged him down into the pillows with you. he followed easily, letting himself be pulled into your warmth, settling beside you as if this was where he belonged.

you draped a leg over his waist, your bare skin brushing his, and his hands instinctively found your body again—one arm wrapping around your waist, the other splaying over the curve of your lower back, pulling you flush against him.

the low hum of the music wrapped around you both like a second blanket, soft and slow, matching the rhythm of your breathing as it calmed. megumi’s fingers traced idle circles on your lower back, his touch gentle now—so different from before, like he was memorizing the shape of you in silence.

your hands threaded through his hair, playing absentmindedly with the strands, tugging just enough to make him hum in response. his eyes were half-lidded, drowsy but locked on you, drinking you in like he still couldn’t quite believe you were real. that this moment was real.

“nice playlist,” he murmured, his voice raspy, content.

you smiled lazily. “made it for you.”

that turned his cheeks pink. “careful,” he whispered, brushing his nose against yours. “you keep doing things like that and I’ll start thinking I matter to you.”

your breath hitched—not because of what he said, but because of the way he said it. light, teasing. but there was a weight behind it, a question tucked between the syllables.

you pulled back just enough to look at him, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone.

“you do,” you said, simply.

he stilled beneath you.

his jaw flexed, like he was trying to hold something back—an emotion too heavy to name. his hand at your back tightened, just slightly, anchoring himself to you like he needed the contact to believe you.

“yea?” he murmured.

“mhm,” was your simple reply. simple, but held weight.

simple, but it was everything. it sank into him, filled all the hollow spaces he’d tried so hard to ignore. made him feel like he could finally exhale.

“never thought i’d get to have this,” he admitted, eyes dropping to your lips. “you.”

your heart thudded against your ribs, aching at the vulnerability in his voice. you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “well you do. you have me.”

he kissed you then—slow and deep, full of everything he hadn’t said out loud.

when he finally pulled away, it wasn’t by much. he just held you there, breathing you in like he could tether himself to you that way.

then he shifted slightly, tucking you closer against his chest. his arms wrapped around you tighter, strong and sure, his hand sliding up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes. you could feel his heart beating beneath your ear, steady and reassuring, lulling you deeper into the warmth of him.

and he stayed like that, rubbing gentle circles against your spine, even as your breathing grew heavier, slower.

even as your body melted completely into his.

even as sleep finally pulled you under—safe, protected, and loved, right there in his arms.

“dude. you’re glowing.”

megumi didn’t look up from his coffee.

yuji leaned across the table, eyes narrowed, arms braced like he was preparing for interrogation.

nobara sat beside him, picking at her croissant with barely contained glee. “he came in wearing the same clothes from yesterday. and he’s in a good mood. that never happens. like—ever.”

“I’m always in a good mood,” megumi said flatly, sipping from his mug.

“you’re usually in a tolerable mood,” nobara corrected. “but today? you smiled at the barista. smiled, megumi.”

the raven haired boy rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t quite suppress the upward twitch of his lips. “you two are being way too extra about this.”

yuji let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “so something did happen!”

megumi sighed and leaned back in his chair, letting the coffee cup rest between his hands. his gaze flicked toward the window—calm, unreadable. “nothing you need to know about.”

nobara raised a brow. “that’s not a no.”

“it’s also not a yes.”

yuji thumped his fist lightly on the table. “c’mon, bro, just spill. you finally get with her and now you don’t have anything to say?”

megumi gave him a look that could have frozen lava.

“okay, backing off.” yuji raised both hands in surrender but couldn’t hide his grin.

nobora leaned forward, resting her chin in her palm. “you know we’re just happy for you, right?”

megumi’s expression softened—barely. “I know.”

“then why not tell us?” yuji butted in.

megumi’s gaze dropped to the table.

because it’s mine. and i’m not ready to share it yet.

as if nobara read what he was thinking, she told yuji to back off.

and he listened. didn’t push after that.

eventually, the pink haired boy launched into a story about a broken vending machine near the auditorium that stole his last $5, and nobara explained how she was going to murder her econ professor. but megumi sat quietly, the edge of a smile still lingering on his face.

a certain memory from last night flickered in his mind—your hands in his hair, your breath against his skin, the way you’d whispered that he had you.

yea. he wasn’t ready to share that yet.

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The sheets beneath her stir as the first light of day seeps through the thin, worn curtains, casting an almost mournful glow across the room. The sun’s touch is gentle, but it’s a reminder of another morning, another routine she knows all too well.

This feels familiar. Too familiar.

She has lived this moment countless times—each one an echo of the last, a rhythm of anticipation and careful avoidance. She knows the weight of the silence, the delicate pause before she turns over.

And when she does, she meets his eyes.

Those green eyes.

They’re always the same. The way they linger on her, taking in every curve, every freckle, every scar that marks her—his gaze tracing the map of her body like it’s something sacred, something precious. She feels bare, exposed, but there’s a strange comfort in it, a quiet surrender.

His hand, gentle, almost reverent, reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. The gesture is simple, yet it shakes her in a way she can’t quite explain. Her breath catches as if bracing for something she’s not quite ready to face, as if she knows, deep down, that whatever happens next will hurt.

"Morning," he whispers, his voice thick with the weight of unspoken things.

She smiles, but it’s not the smile of someone who’s truly at peace. It’s the smile of someone who knows the cost of each word, of every touch.

“Morning.”

The sheets are pulled tighter against her bare skin, the softness a fragile comfort in the quiet, uncertain space between them.

For a fleeting moment, the room softens, bathed in the muted orange light of early morning. The world outside fades away—the ticking clock, the distant hum of life beyond the walls—all of it dissolves, leaving only them. Two people in one bed. Not quite lovers. Not quite strangers. Something undefined. Something fragile and yet impossibly real.

“I want to be with you, Yn,” his words break the stillness, and though they’re spoken with the sincerity of someone who has nothing left to hide, they land heavy between them.

The light in the room seems to dim, as if the weight of his confession has cast a shadow over everything. The ticking of the clock grows louder, more intrusive, and she feels the rhythm of time moving against her, as if reminding her that this moment—like all the others—will soon pass.

“I’m just… not ready, Megs,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper, her heart heavy with the truth of the words. She can feel the sting of them as they leave her mouth—words she never wanted to speak, yet always knew she would.

He winces, like her words are a wound. The nickname hangs in the air between them, a reminder of all the things they’ve never said. It’s a name that feels too close to something they both fear.

“We can take it slow,” he says, his voice almost desperate now, like a plea disguised as an offer.

She doesn’t respond immediately. She opens her mouth, but the words don’t come. Her mind is spinning, caught between what she wants and what she knows she can’t have. Before she can find the clarity, she needs, the bedroom door swings open, and the familiar sound of footsteps interrupts the fragile moment.

“Woahhhh, clothes, please,” Nobara’s voice rings out, laced with her usual irreverence, as she strides into the room, her eyes already covering her face in mock horror as she heads straight for the closet.

“Nobara, it’s literally my room,” Yn mutters, her voice thick with exhaustion.

“Okay, damn, whatever happened to being civil,” Nobara replies, as if she couldn’t care less, already rummaging through the clothes in the closet.

Yn sighs, shaking her head, and despite herself, a reluctant smile plays at the corner of her lips. The moment between her and him slips away, as it always does, swallowed up by the noise, the chaos, the distractions of life. And in that silence, she’s left wondering if the real truth is the one she’s always too afraid to face.

"Oh breakfast is ready by the way," she says, as she finishes up with whatever she was fishing out the closet. She pauses for a moment and lets out a sigh, her eyes flicking toward the door. "I’m just... relieved you two worked it out. I can’t stand the thought of her going back to Sukuna again." She shoots them a smile before she shuts it behind her with a firm, deliberate click.

A thick, suffocating tension settles over the room, hanging in the air like smoke. The weight of unspoken words presses down on both of them, and suddenly, that familiar, uneasy feeling claws its way back—not just in her stomach this time, but in his as well. It coils in their chests, binding them together in an uncomfortable silence.

“What does she mean, again?” His voice is distant, almost hollow, as he stares at her. There’s a blankness in his eyes, but she can see the storm brewing beneath the surface.

She pauses, the words swirling in her mind, but they refuse to form.

“You slept with your ex?” The question falls from his lips with an unsettling calmness, as though he’s already resigned to the pain it causes.

“...Well... yeah,” she admits, her fingers instinctively scratching the back of her neck. It’s a nervous gesture, one she wishes she could take back, but it’s too late now.

“We were never exactly... together,” she tries to explain, as if offering that detail might somehow make it less of a betrayal.

But he doesn’t seem to care about the details. His face hardens, eyes narrowing as the words sink in. “But what happens when we are?” he demands, his voice tight with something between anger and hurt.

"What happens when it’s real?"

Her throat tightens, her heart pounding in her chest. She doesn’t have an answer. She’s never had an answer.

He doesn’t wait for her to speak. The words come fast, like an accusation she’s too afraid to answer. “Are you gonna go back to him every time we argue?”

The question hits her like a blow, the weight of it settling deep in her bones.

It hurts.

She’s always prided herself on being tough, on keeping the hard things from breaking her. But this—his voice, sharp and cold—cuts deeper than she’s ready for. It finds the cracks in her walls and tears them open. For the first time, she feels exposed. Vulnerable. And it makes her want to run, to flee from this moment before it can consume her.

She swallows, trying to steady herself. “And what about you?” she counters, her voice trembling despite her best efforts. “What are you gonna do? Humiliate me in front of all your thousands of fans? Air out all our business for everyone to see?”

Her words come out harsh, a bitter retaliation, but they feel like the only defence she has left. She’s trying to protect herself, trying to lash out before he can wound her any further.

But as soon as the words leave her mouth, she realizes how pointless it all is. In the heat of the moment, they’ve both become something they never wanted to be—two people fighting, two people unravelling. And the deeper they dig in their heels, the further apart they’ll fall.

She doesn’t know if either of them has the strength to put it all back together.

“That’s not the point, Yn.” His voice is low, edged with frustration, as he stands up from the bed. His movements are deliberate, almost stiff, as he gathers his clothes from the floor. Every motion is a careful retreat, a silent act of distancing himself from the words they both know are about to tear them apart.

Yn watches him, her chest tightening, her patience wearing thin. “Oh, then tell me, Megumi. What’s the point?” Her tone is laced with venom now, each word dripping with sarcasm as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Go on, I’m waiting. Enlighten me.”

He stumbles slightly as he tries to pull his pants back on, his fingers trembling just enough to betray the calm exterior he’s trying to hold on to. When he finally turns to face her, his eyes are hard, but there’s a flicker of vulnerability beneath the anger—an ache he can’t mask.

“It’s the fact that you keep doing the same shit over and over again,” he says, his voice thick with frustration. He rubs his temples with his right hand, fingers digging into his skin as if trying to erase the pain building inside him. “It’s like I’m invisible until it’s convenient for you.”

Yn feels the sting of his words, but it’s not enough to make her back down. She’s already out of bed, a shirt hastily thrown over her, unsure if it’s her own or his. It doesn’t matter. She could be wearing nothing at all, and it wouldn’t change the suffocating weight of this conversation.

“Megumi, what the fuck are you even saying?” Her voice wavers between anger and hurt, each word a shard of glass she’s trying to throw back at him. “Last night, you said you’d wait forever if that’s what it took. And now? Now you’ve ‘slept on it,’ and suddenly you’ve had some sort of fucking epiphany? Everything’s changed?” She scoffs bitterly, shaking her head. “Unbelievable.”

He flinches, but he doesn’t back down. “No. What’s unbelievable is you thinking that leading me on is just some checkbox to tick off in your mind,” he says, his voice rough. “Like I’m some fucking game you can pick up and put down when it suits you.”

The accusation hangs in the air, thick with all the things they’ve both left unsaid. The silence between them pulses with tension, the weight of their words pulling them further apart.

“Just because we do relationship things doesn’t mean we’re actually in a relationship, Megumi,” she snaps, her voice low but sharp, her hands clenched at her sides. The words feel empty as soon as they leave her mouth, but she forces herself to stand tall, even as her heart cracks.

He shakes his head, his jaw clenched tight. “And that’s your problem, Yn. You won’t let it be real. You won’t put a label on it because you’re scared. You’re terrified of what happens when it actually matters.”

She feels the sting of his words like a slap, but her pride won’t let her show it. “I’m scared?” She laughs bitterly, a hollow sound that rings out in the silence of the room. “Who’s the one practically begging for a relationship in my fucking bedroom right now?”

The moment stretches out, heavy and charged with everything they’ve both kept inside. For the first time, Megumi is silent. His mouth moves, but no words come. They stand there, across the bed from each other, like two people lost in a storm, too proud to admit they’re both drowning.

Then, finally, he sighs—a long, weary sound that seems to carry all the weight of last night.

“If I told you I loved you right now,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, “would you say the same?”

Yn’s heart stops for a beat, and for a moment, she can’t breathe. The question hangs in the air, as fragile and raw as anything either of them has ever said. Her chest tightens, and her throat constricts, but the words she needs to say—want to say—don’t come. She opens her mouth, but nothing escapes. The silence between them stretches, unbearable and all-encompassing.

“That’s all I needed to hear,” he mutters, his eyes downcast as he collects the last of his things. The finality in his movements feels like a wall being built, the space between them suddenly too wide to bridge.

And then, without another word, he walks out. The sound of his footstep’s fades, leaving nothing behind but the echoes of a conversation that was never meant to be this way.

Yn stands in the quiet aftermath, her body frozen, her mind racing. The weight of his words lingers in the stillness, thick and suffocating. She wants to scream, wants to ask him to come back, to say it wasn’t real, that this wasn’t how it was supposed to end.

But the room feels emptier now. And the silence between them feels like a wound that neither of them knows how to heal.

In the end, there are no answers. Only unanswered questions and heart breaking in ways she doesn’t know how to fix.

Make that two.

—

“Oh my god… so he actually put the condoms on the register right in front of you?” The blue-haired girl laughed, nearly tipping out of her chair from how hard she was giggling.

“Yeah… haha,” Yn replied, the laughter sounding forced, hollow in her ears. She hoped Miwa didn’t notice the way her smile didn’t reach her eyes, or how the pit in her stomach seemed to deepen with every passing second. The tension was unbearable.

Miwa, still oblivious, laughed louder, her carefree amusement filling the space between them. She had no idea that Yn was carrying something far heavier than a simple awkward moment. That she hadn’t told her about the morning after.

The words were still so vivid in Yn’s mind, like a photograph she couldn’t look away from:

“If I told you I love you, would you say the same?”

They kept playing on a loop, unbidden, repeating with an intensity that only seemed to grow with time. Each time they hit; it was like a small shard of glass piercing her heart all over again.

The sound of Miwa’s laughter slowly faded as she caught her breath, the moment stretching long and tense. Yn could feel her pulse in her ears, the weight of her regret thickening the air around her.

The song she’d been playing on air was ending, and before Miwa could notice the change in her, Yn hit the controls in front of her, quickly unmuting the mic, almost mechanically.

“And that was Crush by Ethel Cain, up next is Love Me Anyway by Chappell Roan!” she announced, her voice smooth despite the storm brewing inside her.

The opening notes of the song filled the air, but the lyrics hit her harder than any sound could.

As the first notes of the new song filtered through the speakers, Yn could feel each word like an arrow lodged in her chest. The lyrics, so raw, so painfully accurate, seemed to speak to her very soul.

“Sometimes I forget, wasn’t always this way…”

“It’s hard to admit, I was the one to blame…”

She wanted to turn the song off, and shut it out, but she couldn’t. The truth was unbearable, but it was also undeniable. She knew what she’d done. She knew how much it had cost her. Megumi had loved her. Not in some fleeting, casual way, but in a way that she had never experienced before. He had been real with her. Vulnerable. And she had let him go.

The weight of that mistake pressed on her like a physical force. Her chest tightened, the pain so raw, so real, it felt like she might choke on it. She could have fought for him. She could have tried harder. But instead, she’d walked away, choosing fear over something real.

The thought felt like a physical blow, one that stole her breath for a moment, leaving her feeling hollow and ashamed. She had let him slip through her fingers, let him walk away because she wasn’t brave enough to let herself love him the way he had loved her.

She hadn’t just lost him. She’d lost her chance at something that could have been everything. And now, all she could do was replay the moment, over and over, until it felt like she might break under the weight of it.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself, the word tasting bitter in her mouth.

I fucked up. I fucked up so badly.

extras!

• megumi definitely has something undiagnosed about him….

• bpd??? autism?? ocd??? speculate your theories in the comments NOW

• oomf said 500 days of summer coded and i RAN with it

• the party girls def heard them from the kitchen and they were just silently staring at eachother while ynmegumi were arguing LMFAOOO

• when they heard yn’s door open they quickly became occupied with something else hashtag awkies

• megumi got back home mad as hell

• no he did not punch the walls.

• he instead turned on ribs in the fetal position on his bed and listened to it on loop for 3 hours (tzc☃️)

• yuji was on tiktok live and u could just hear it in the background very faintly

• yk i had forgetting about the whole maneater station until a certain oomf starting with r and ending in ee rhymes with pee commented about it.

• Thank You Ree💕💝💘💗💖💞

• i missed miwayn hours BAD

a/n: i don’t know which was worse. writing this or the after effects of consuming expired laxatives. maybe both… HAPPY SJAP WEEKEND! sorry it’s a bit later than usual but we ball. sunday AND monday posts coming still🙂‍↕️ im not bailing on you guys again. i’ve been drained af. and i think im getting sick again. and i have to be up in 4 hours. everyone comment hashtag grateful so i can wake up and not want to kill myself❤️

taglist: @shokosbunny @satoryaa @prozacprinc3ss @essjujutsu @therealsatorugojo @yeehawslap @gojodickbig @dawnisatotalqueen @j2upiters @nappingnai @lalalasillybilly3000 @totallytatum @3cst4syy @lysaray @saltypuffin1040 @aozui @makeshiftproject @kurtcobaingirlie @kokoiinuts @dashingaurries @slvttycorpse @cuupidsss @mochroialainn @tenjikusstuff4 @ichcocat @laughingfcx @sugurubabe @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @tyigerz @yoyo-yui @megoomies @yizmiu @jasminasblog22 @marst4rz @guitarstringed-scars @kalulakunundrum @lovefrominaya @beepbopzlorp @itsdragonius @meguemii @chilichopsticks @starantulas @1l-ynn @sluttkuna @rcveriees @solaqes @starrysho @sukunaspillow @evry1luvssm @syxoki

*if i can't tag you please change your tag settings otherwise i will remove you from the list!

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albeitz

1 year ago

when theyre so incredibly meant for each other any other ship with them is just wrong

Tags

klance hilson huntlow kavetham satosugu dipcifica hannigram madohomu eremin eimiko akiangel nana hachi steinspirit beiguang soul and maka espresseleine

1K notes View Post

albeitz

6 months ago

ten habits to adopt for a beautiful life 💭

+ curated shopping: rather than over-consume in fast fashion and trends, buy fewer, high-quality items. frequent vintage shops, boutiques, or markets where you can find unique, timeless pieces.

+ focus on wellness and exercise: consider activities that are beneficial for the body and calming for the mind, such as yoga, pilates, or long walks in nature. choose activities that allow you to connect with your surroundings and maintain balance.

+ mindful eating: prioritise healthy, whole foods and cooking meals from scratch. organic produce, artisanal products, and perhaps even locally sourced ingredients could be staples in your kitchen. eating is a mindful practice, enjoyed at a leisurely pace.

+ cultural engagement: regularly visit museums, art galleries, and theatres, or participate in cultural events that inspire and enrich their creative spirit. value learning and exposure to the arts as a way to keep life vibrant and intellectually stimulating.

+ reading and continuous learning: develop a well-curated collection of books, including classic literature, philosophy, and art, and dedicate time regularly to reading and reflecting on what you've learned.

+ minimalist technology approach: stay up-to-date with necessary technology, but maintain a minimalist approach to its use. limit screen time, avoid social media distractions, and instead prioritise face-to-face interactions or hands-on activities.

+ intentional socialising: carefully cultivate your social life, with a focus on deep, meaningful connections rather than frequent, casual interactions. you likely enjoy hosting intimate gatherings at home, where you can experience conversation, ambiance, and connection.

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albeitz

1 month ago

do you think yuji ever tried doing the hot thing where you put your fingers in their mouth to suck on and megumi got freaked out cause sukuna ptsd

Tags

jjk itafushi jujutsu kaisen yuji itadori megumi fushiguro jjk yuji sukuna fushiita jjk megumi megumi x yuuji

87 notes View Post

albeitz

10 months ago

he doesn’t know why by fleet foxes is about stsg by the way

Tags

jjk gojo satoru jujutsu kaisen geto suguru satosugu jujustsu kaisen x reader gojover gego fleet foxes

31 notes View Post

albeitz

10 months ago

the night before he left

Tags

i am going to GET YOU

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albeitz

7 months ago

a bag of potatoes

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albeitz

5 months ago

meet the residents . . . !

yn yln — apt. 444 ; 11th floor.

( art deco by lana del ray // pressed flowers // knowing it's for the better // glitter on the floor )

runs the super freak tattoo shop and routinely cries over the two headed calf as if it were her own child. has a pinterest board named "poems that made me cry on my kitchen floor" and when she has a bad day, scrolls through it to make it worse.

has a cat called coochie and the name has been subjected to many, many, many debates held by her social circle and her only argument has been that it is synonymous with pussy.

would've happily dated sukuna had he not called her baby ugly and lowkey felt it when yuji said that sukuna and her act like a bitter divorced couple who never even dated.

has an nth number of tattoos and piercings and doesn't remember how she got most of them and at this point, she's scared to ask. (she isn't allowed to drink more without supervision anymore because she almost got a face tattoo the last time they all went clubbing.)

sukuna ryomen — apt. 609 ; 12th floor

( ivy by frank ocean // wilted flowers // pink dye // finding escape in escaping )

runs the flower shop, "i'm so thorny." and has never elaborated why he named it that. he thinks it's hilarious. yuji thinks it's fucking stupid.

hates the girl who owns the tattoo studio below his shop in the commercial block, because a. her demon cat ripped apart his expensive as FUCK dahlias, b. his (half) nephew works at her studio and he cannot stand that betrayal and c. he's tired of explaining that he actually runs the flower shop while that witch with pink bows in her hair is the tattoo artist.

deep, deep down he wants that fucker of a cat to like him so bad but he once pspspspspsps-ed at it and it hissed at him and he's been bitter ever since.

really hates his nephew giving out free flowers every time she stops by their floor; the fact that he keeps those ugly fuckers in stock is completely unrelated.

satoru gojo — apt. 382 ; 9th floor

( christmas kids by roar // getting to know someone again and again // clear blue skies // violet nail polish )

part time model who has way too much free time and makes it everyone's problem. he's temporarily (nanami is working on making it permanent) banned from the building common area without supervision because one very bad day, gojo was bored.

is filthy rich and isn't humble about it. everyone hates having him as their pick in the building's secret santa which is mandatory — thank you, utahime — because he's impossible to shop for solely because of how expensive his daily stuff is.

no one mentions the Thing he has going on with suguru, mainly because they value their peace of mind but it very much is a Thing. everyone is sick of their Thing.

he's also coochie's dad (he sent yn increasing unhinged texts until she agreed to co-parent) but yn refuses to call him anything but a deadbeat because she walked in on him and geto making out and it wasn't even 9 a.m.

suguru geto — apt. 193 ; 9th floor

( smoke signals by phoebe bridgers // broken lighters // if you go, you have to stay gone // purple skies )

is an artist and he's so fucking good at it. has his own art gallery a few blocks away and his paintings are so targeted yet so open to interpretation and he has his own little fan base consisting of girls in their 20s and art students and people seeking god.

has to have a required amount of alone time or lay in bed at least once during the day or he starts to follow through with the various threats he has made. (once gojo tried to annoy him but setting alarms on geto's phone to go off every 5 minutes and the next day, gojo was seen wearing a bucket hat that seemingly stayed glued to his head. everyone bet on it being a bald patch.)

has a few piercings that he got done by choso and lets yn decide which one he's gonna wear whenever he changes them.

watched the haunting of the hill house and the haunting of the bly manor with the girls and nanami and cried.

utahime iori — apt. 396 ; 10th floor

( falling behind by laufey // alone with their loved ones in the past // cherries // pink and white )

owns the café on the upper ground floor, "we have coffee" and runs it like the navy. the sign outside the glass door says "these freaks are banned" along with a photo of gojo and geto and another picture of gojo with bright blue sunglasses and geto with a neon green wig.

met yn and shoko in university and they've all suffered through the horrors i.e the 20s together.

loves jewellery and gets matching stuff for her girls, yn, shoko and yuki, whenever she can. her favourite the set of matching pendants all four of them have; a kiwi (shoko); a cherry (yn); an orange (yuki) and a strawberry (for herself.)

once brought in nine kittens and managed to keep them hidden for two weeks because they all escaped and she has been mourning them ever since. prime number 2, 3, 5, 7, 11, 13, 17, 19 and 23 have their own photo album in her phone.

shoko ieiri — apt. 103 ; 10th floor

( last night's mascara by griff // expired makeup // fluorescent lights // forever being eleven years old on that playground with no friends )

teaches biotechnology at the local university and is easily the most liked professor over there. calls off classes because she saw a cat and got lost trying to pet it or because she took too much ibuprofen and can now hear colours; there's no in between.

once went to a couples counselling session with utahime to see how long it would take for the counsellor to realise that they weren't together. the session was over in an hour and a half and they had been advised to talk about their problems and communicate their feelings explicitly. yn has not let this go.

knows the most about everyone in their circle and she's mad at someone, she just casually drops the most insane piece of information and watches everyone argue. everyone likes her.

tried to confess to utahime but she just replied with "thank you!" and shoko doesn't think she can get drunk enough to dissect that interaction or confront her again.

yuki tsukumo — apt. 288 ; 11th floor

( arabella by arctic monkeys // silver jewellery // never existing until someone asks you how you are // animal print )

joined yn's studio because the ad said "hot people with decent drawing skills required + we have a cat" and was hired on the spot after she drew yn a perfect five-pointer star.

tried to bake cookies for her friends one day and managed to cause a blackout. ino still hasn't forgiven her because his essasy was due at 11:59 and his computer crashed and it did not submit; yuki thinks it's his fault for starting to write an essay at 11:27.

has multiple piercings, mostly in her ears and yn and her facetime every morning to decide her earrings for the day.

tattoos yn all the time along with choso. cherries, hearts, stars, dinosaurs, flowers, anything she can think of. her favourite is one with a small cherry shaped like a heart; just like the one on her own middle finger.

choso kamo — apt. 492 ; 12th floor

( strawberry wine by noah kahan // handwritten letters // missing the sunset by a few minutes // choosing to stargazing but it's cloudy )

works at the super freak tattoo shop and has been solely responsible for all the plants around the studio; his personal favourites are christofern, salad and prick.

his texts to yn include photos of plants followed by "look (o゜▽゜)o☆", "yuji asked u to stop by the shop because he has a new combo of flowers for you :D"; "sukuna just called coochie something from pandora's box btw can we slash his tyres ?? !!!!!!!!" and variants.

has a tiny crush on yuki but thinks that yuki and yn have a thing because they're always calling each other very affectionate names and choso thinks that he connected the dots.

sukuna yelled at him for two hours when he learnt that choso started working at the studio part-time and choso went back the next day with cacti and sheer willpower and made his position permanent. choso's mantle photo was placed on the side table by the couch that very evening.

kento nanami — apt. 307 ; 11th floor

( too sweet by hozier // beige and blue // time passing isn't an apology // blueberries )

works in finance. truth be told, no one from the circle knows exactly what his job is or his designation, they just know that he's very serious about his job and that he truly hates someone named "matthew" because of the phrase he often says, "matthew for the love of god — !"

cried when he spent four weeks tutoring ino for his physics paper and he got 3/100.

gojo hangs out so much at his office that they had to put a sign that said "no gojo allowed inside"; the said sign was promptly ignored and nanami had to visit the hr department because of some very interesting words thrown around in his office when he saw jack frost's cousin swirling in his chair.

has only one tattoo but will never ever disclose where it is and what it is.

hiromi hiruguma — apt. 203 ; 11th floor

( lover's grip by them & i // love letters // forced to be the one who got away // banana bread )

has his very own law firm and his office is on the same floor as yn's studio in the commercial block. it's both his worst nightmare and the best thing because the only other choice was next to sukuna's flower shop and he Cannot have that.

his number is saved as "sexie lawyer," "sex c attorknee" and variants in everyone's phone and he has given up on trying to change that.

has a group chat with nanami, shiu and kusakabe and all of them talk so much shit about their work and the other tenants. one time, they were so in deep figuring out the truth behind the divorce of apartment 105 that hiruguma had to make them sign an nda.

since his office is on the same floor as yn's studio, she sometimes hangs out there when she doesn't have any clients and he doesn't have any cases and they watch buzzfeed unsolved.

takuma ino — apt. 338 ; 6th floor

( cherry wine by grentperez // splintered skateboards // but i miss you like a little kid // temporary tattoos )

works as an intern in nanami's company but he might as well be working at the tattoo studio with how much time he spends there. he has his own small desk and a chair in their backroom and he nearly cried when he first found out.

once pulled the fire alarm because he forgot the papers nanami asked him to get and he'd chew on glass before disappointing his mentor. nanami had to make it very clear that he's allowed to forget things but he's not allowed to pull the fire alarm for the hell of it.

he once intentionally placed bread crumbs outside kusakabe's apartment and then procured a few ducks to give the older man a surprise because he insulted ino's hello kitty tank top.

once fell down 28 stairs because there was a double rainbow and he had already downed three red bulls. he regrets nothing.

atsuya kusakabe — apt. 299 ; 6th floor

( softcore by the neighbourhood // fog in winter mornings // i am not a violent dog, i don't know why i bite // cocktails with tiny umbrellas )

no one knows where he actually works; it could either be with nanami or with hiruguma or it could be somewhere entirely different. (it's actually with shiu and toji, he's the head of their marketing department and he has not intention of the others where he works lest they bother him there too like they do at hhis apartment.)

surprisingly likes coochie and takes her to work with him if shiu doesn't have her already. she's their mascot and he'd never admit it to anyone but she has her own small desk with toys and her own name cards.

got forced to dress up for halloween by ino for the party and showed up as the grinch, only to find out that it was just a normal get together and he was only one in costume — he has hated that kid ever since; his hair was green for two fucking weeks.

his most played song on spotify last year was symphony no. 7 in a major, op. 92: iv. allegro con brio by beethoven and shoko gave him so much shit for it that he never ever asked for aux again.

shiu kong — apt. 692 ; 7th floor

( into it by chase atlantic // chevy corvette // always borrowing grief from the future // sunlight on water surfaces )

owns a security firm that he built from the ground up and is probably the most laidback guy ever. babysits coochie when yn goes out and is secretly coochie's biggest fan.

comes from old money but never tells anyone about it outright. casually mentions stuff like "the old manor" or "the private school i went to" and then proceeds to drop the most insane lore when asked about it.

lives in the apartment complex only because he was bored in his penthouse on the other side of the city and watching yn and sukuna argue has got to be the most fun thing here. he once saw sukuna spray yn with water and then proceeded to watch yn push him into the lobby fountain. no, he did not intervene.

has been babysitting megumi since forever and the teen has his own room in his apartment. toji is jealous because his kid actually enjoys shiu's company while he just gets called "shit clown" by his own blood.

toji fushiguro — apt. 375 ; 6th floor

( party monster by the weeknd // half finished whiskey // something other than time that heals all wounds // headlights on the ground when it's drizzling )

works right under shiu at his security firm and does not treat shiu as his boss at all. shiu threatens to fire him every hour but never does. no one is surprised why.

has a fun ton of money due to his job but he's stingy as FUCK. megumi pretended to not know him once when toji had a breakdown over which cereal to take home with him while standing in the aisle.

lives in the apartment right below shiu and calls him when he's out of creamer for his coffee and has shiu pour it from above. yn, who lives right under toji's unit, is sick of them.

will literally never answer his phone, so if someone needs something, they have to either ask someone on his floor to ring his bell (continuously) or go to yn's apartment and throw stones up at his fire escape. (shiu banned them from his apartment after ino fell out the window and on the fire escape; on a completely unrelated not, ino is now banned from standing/sitting/laying down/dilly-dallying/attempting to catch pigeons near any window without adult-er supervision).

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albeitz

5 months ago