#Nosy Noisy

[homefryboy]

*narrator voice* ah, the internet aka the dillydale wide web (dww). where the mr. men and little misses get to demonstrate how they're somehow even worse at socializing online than they are in person

(commissions open)

[womanfredvonkarma]

Most assuredly I would be a man of the cloth had I been assigned the right gender for the task. They make fat stacks, yo.

[ayakoito]

20 °C+ nights are my absolute favourite 🙃

[topsyturvy-turtely]

Weird people are the best kind of people actually 😌

well then i must be one of the best of the best! 😂🤪🤸

[lae-zels]

not me pushing my bday party to march 12th (month later) bc destiny 2 DLC comes out early next week 💀

[norikuna]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[witherby]

When Bruce brought Mousy in, they had that new baby smell. The baby smell that always seems to be on few months babies. Which is exclusively why weekly cuddle huddles now exists in the manor. Just one day/half day in a week with the whole Batfam +Alfred huddled around in the living room under a giant pillow fort and they just relax and play with Mouse before eventually taking a short group nap to calm down a little bit from all the stress of vigilantism from the week.

-🍨

That's so sweet and cute. Allow me to show you what it looked like before they established the weekly cuddle huddle.

The Littlest Wayne: New Baby Smell

"The baby's gonna have a nose-shaped dent on top of their head if you keep doing that."

Bruce lifts his head just enough to press his cheek to the top of your tiny head instead, then settles back down into the couch. Tim rolls his eyes.

"How good even is the smell? They're a baby," he says, opening his hands. "B, my turn. Give."

"Hmm. Fine, but remember to support the head. They don't have any well-developed neck muscles yet."

Tim scoops you up and sniffs your face. Then he does it again at the crown. You make a low, curious noise, but otherwise don't care.

"What the hell, this is amazing." Tim turns and walks out of the room with you.

"Tim!" Bruce calls, offended. "Hello? Give me back my baby?"

"My baby now." Tim keeps walking and Bruce gets up and follows him until they're both in the day room. The teen sinks into the much more plush couch cushions and gently presses his nose to your head. "What do they do to babies to make this happen?"

"Google it. I'll hold them while you do," Bruce says, reaching for you again. Tim ducks away from his hands. "That was rude. Don't you have anything else to do today?"

"Cleared my schedule," Tim says. "I'm totally free. Don't need to do a thing but this." He sniffs you again. "Babies are so weird. Hey. Hey you. Yeah, hello, open your eyes. Hi! You're silly and weird and smell great. Do you know that?"

You squint, nose crinkling in irritation. Why is your warm bed being so noisy? You are tired. Silence, warm bed.

"You're bothering them. Give me the baby," says Bruce.

"You're bothering them. Go annoy one of your other kids. I'm getting my brotherly bonding in."

"Bothering? I love bothering people," Jason says, strolling into the room. "What are we doing?"

"Why are you here?" Tim asks.

"Cause I'm also nosy. Answer the question, Replacement."

After some gentle wheeling (read: Jason threatening to go declare himself alive just to make their already hectic schedules ten times worse), they tell him. Dick, who was passing by, hears this and peeks his head in, too, and it's not long before you're being passed around like a bong at a campfire so your family can get a hit of that new baby scent.

Damian finds his whole family another hour later, curled up in a big, careful pile around you and dozing.

"Ridiculous," the assassin mutters, whisking you away to be placed back in your crib. "Don't they know that smell is strongest at your head because it's coming from your brain, which you can only detect because your skull hasn't fully hardened yet? If you smell good, your parents won't want to abandon or kill you in favor of raising your stronger kin, thus greatly increasing your chances of survival. Classic evolutionary biology."

He lowers you back down into the crib. Instinctively, your tiny hand finds its way around his finger and grips it tight. Damian thumbs over the back of your hand for a moment, quickly checks over his shoulder, then leans down and sniffs your head.

"Bye," he mutters, gently prying his hand free and leaving you to rest.

[tinyglitterrose]

i love that new poll function

[teratosfavouritesnack]

~ Dirty Hobby ~

roommate!werewolf x afab!reader - roommates to lovers, sexual frustration, (slightly) dub-con, dry humping/frottage, thigh job, impact play, cum play, degradation kink if you squint

3,4k.

Writing stories is a lot of fun. It's a passion for you, something you enjoy doing in your spare time, but you also see it as a way to release emotions that would otherwise weigh on you. Typically, you prefer romance although your stories always end up being far spicier than anticipated. That may reveal something about you, specifically that you need a good fucking, but staying at home all the time and never socializing with anyone doesn't pair well with being sexually active. Last time you let a not-fictitious being fuck you must have been not less than 80 stories ago; 5k words each, mind you.

The only non-fictitious being you interact with on a daily basis is your roommate, Alexis, also known as the 'good boy'. You call him that on occasion simply because you love the way his long fluffy tail eagerly wiggles back and forth, in stark contrast to the grimace he always gives you in answer to your playful mocking. He's also a 'good boy' because he never caused you any trouble in the six months you've been sharing a flat. He is clean, not nosy or noisy, and rarely invites people over, which is a huge plus for you.

Another major benefit of having Alexis as a roommate is that you basically have a living, breathing prototype for the protagonists in your works of fiction. Perhaps it sounds weird, but you've used him as the base of the love interests in your romances more times than you probably should have... Does that imply that you're in love with him? No! Well, not exactly. You could say you are attracted to him. You enjoy his presence, his massive presence, as well as his grave but sweet voice, his kind eyes, his long snout that screams 'pat me! pat me!', his long muscular arms that could so effortlessly sweep you up and...

Anyway. You like the dude. As in, he's a good friend who also happens to be very good to look at. You've done your best to separate him from the dozens of characters he has inspired thus far, and you'd like to keep it that way. Separate. Luckily, he is unaware of your… recreational activity. And he'll never know about it.

However, while your mind has managed to make things feel acceptable and not as odd as they actually are, what your body does is a very different story. Writing erotica has an undeniable impact on the writer, especially if you're describing fantasies you've indulged in far too many times before. What that entails for you is that you're aroused on a regular basis. And the fact that the character from your stories is walking around the house, chatting with you and parading around the very assets you fawn over in your wildest dreams makes it even more difficult for your body to remain partial... Makes things all the more wet, to be precise. Yes. Sometimes it's so uncomfortable that you have to take care of it right away, cleaning up and changing your underwear before returning to your chores. Other times, you just get on with your day despite your damp panties. You're used to it by now, so it's not a major issue for you…

It's a major fucking problem for your roommate, though. You have absolutely no idea. You can't even begin to imagine how challenging it is for a werewolf like him to ignore the scent trail you leave behind wherever you move inside the house. It's actually maddening! A torture! If he didn't know you better, he'd assume you were doing it on purpose just to drive him nuts. He tried to remain unaffected, to suppress his urges, but weeks after weeks after weeks, your scent became all he could smell inside the house, inside his own bedroom; even the food tasted like you! He considered moving out, to avoid the risk of doing something he would definitely regret. He does not want to hurt you, of course. It could be a situation beyond your control or a health issue. What does he know? What he knows is that he can't handle it anymore! He can't focus on anything else but your sweet mouthwatering fragrance that makes him hard all the fucking time. He ought to do something about it. He needs to! Before he loses his mind completely.

He's oh so very close to losing it when he barges into your bedroom one evening while you're tapping away on your keyboard, as usual. The sudden bang of your door being forced open makes you jump on your seat, and your eyes instantly snap to him. They widen in shock at the sight of his disheveled state; his shirt is unbuttoned all the way down to his hips, his belt unfastened and the zip of his jeans is halfway down, making his enormous bulge stand out even more. You divert your gaze from it as soon as possible, locking eyes with his instead. But his gaze is no better. His pupils are dilated, and he stares at you as though you're a piece of raw meat. He has never looked so feral before.

“A-Alexis?”

He growls in response, his legs twitching as if he’s ready to pounce on you, but instead he moves his clawed hands to his head and runs them through his ruffled fur in a calming gesture, one you’ve seen him do before whenever he got a bit too fired up.

“I can’t take it anymore-” he rasps, taking a deep breath before fixing his piercing stare on you again. “Whatever it is, you need to take care of it. As soon as possible.”

His words don’t make any sense to you. What should you take care of? Did you forget to take out the trash today? What day is it? No, it’s a tuesday, it’s his turn-

“Did you hear me?”

His voice genuinely rattles you, you’ve never heard him sound so upset before. You must have really pissed him off somehow.

“I’m sorry, I have no idea what you’re talking about-” 

He doesn’t seem to hear your answer though, for he starts to move his snout back and forth, from one side of your room to the other, sniffling as if something has suddenly caught his attention. A deep puzzled frown emerges on your face as you watch him step further inside your room, scoping his surroundings like a hound searching for a bone, until he comes to a halt in front of your wardrobe and slams it open without asking for permission.

“What are you doing?”

He ignores the hint of apprehension in your voice and starts to rummage through your clothes so carelessly that you fear he will tear them all to shreds. 

“Alexis! What the heck-!”

He growls in frustration, his clawed hands finding purchase on the cabinet door frame, causing the wood to creak under his grip. You can't see his face since he's still buried deep inside your wardrobe, but you can clearly hear his frantic sniff sniff sniff as he obstinately pursues the source of the smell that apparently irritates him so much he turns into a literal beast. 

You’re unsure whether to approach him in this state or just wait for him to put an end to whatever’s happening, but before you can come to a conclusion, Alexis crouches down with a satisfied huff and pulls back from the wardrobe with…

"My dirty laundry…?"

You give him an odd look as he drops the basket on the floor in front of you. Is this the source of the smell that bothered him? But there's no foul odor coming from it, at least not one that you can smell. There's not much inside after all, only a towel and...

Your eyes widen as Alexis reaches out with his hand and grabs a pair of dirty undies from the basket, instantly sending your face blushing with heat and your stomach flipping in embarrassment.

"Wha-! P-Put that back!" You stutter, clearly flustered, attempting to steal your underwear from his grasp, but he quickly moves them out of your reach, bringing them to his nose and taking a good sniff. Your face turns even more red at the sight.

"This." he growls, peering down at the fabric, his gaze fixated on the still damp patch sitting in the center. "This is the problem."

You're too mortified to argue with him about it, so you quickly blurt out, "I'm washing it right away, okay? Now give it back!" as you reach out again, only for him to jerk his arm away a second time.

"No. You do not understand. It's not just today," he says, clutching your underwear in his palm and piercing you with his golden eyes. “It’s everyday. Everywhere. I can only smell this.”

Oh.

Oh.

So… all this time… he could smell your…

Shock roots you to the spot. You’re left gaping at him, lips moving yet no sound comes out of your mouth. You had no idea. You didn’t even think about it. If you knew, maybe you could have refrained from writing so much, every damn day… You could have gone to a cafè instead of staying at home… Or you could have at least been a tad more careful-

"What's got you so worked up every fucking moment?" he asks, huffing in exasperation and looking around your room as if seeking the root of your problem, until his gaze settles on your desk. "You're always on your computer, tapping on that damned keyboard. I can hear you from my own room. You've got a long distance relationship or something?"

"I…I’m sorry. I d-didn’t mean to uhh… upset you?” You fumble over your words, struggling to find an appropriate response to this ridiculous and surreal circumstance, while simultaneously stepping back in front of the computer to hide it from his observant eye. "This won't happen again... Alright?"

His brow raises in interest, ears perking up and golden eyes peering into yours. You're sure he can tell how nervous you are. Gosh, you know now he must also be able to smell how shamefully aroused you are at the chance of being caught, your secret dirty hobby being exposed.

"Whatcha hiding, mh?" he taunts, taking a step closer, amusement and vexation mixing in a lethal combo. He cranes his neck to look behind you, but you're too close to the screen for him to catch a glimpse of it. "A secret lover? I'll grant you permission to let them come over. Maybe that will help you."

You're physically shaking with both dread and excitement, your wide eyes locked on his face, your hands reaching out to shove him back. Your stomach flips as you realize your palms have made contact with the fur on his chest and heat instantly pools in your abdomen when you spot the dilation of his pupils; they get so wide his golden irises almost disappear.

Before you have any chance to avoid it, he has you imprisoned against his body, his palm wrapped around the back of your neck, burying your face in his chest while he bends over to your computer. Your complaints are muffled by his fur, and your hands clutching at his sides are merely giving him a massage. There's nothing you can do against him. He is too big and strong... and warm, and soft, and he smells like fresh grass after rainfall. Oh, it’s even better than what you imagined…

You feel his muscles tense up around you just a moment before a loud bark of hearty laughter erupts from him, rumbling in his chest against your cheek and pulling you out of your reveries.

“Hunter’s Moon! That’s what you’ve been doing all along?” He pulls you back by tugging at your hair, his eyes full of mirth - and maybe a hint of mockery - as he stares down at you. “That’s what makes you so wet all the time that I can’t fucking breathe?”

“T-That’s not-!”

You're so ashamed that you'd rather combust into millions of particles and disappear right now. But there's also that wicked part of you that is pleased to hear you've had such a profound effect on him with your scent. The same side that relishes the way he's holding your hair, looking down at you, and laughing.

“You want a beast to fuck you?”

The way he spits out those words makes you shudder, and all you can do is stare up at him, astonished. His other hand moves to your face, grazing the outline of your cheek with the back of his clawed fingers, making your taut body shiver even more, your stomach doing somersaults. He can certainly feel it. He can see the desire wallowing in your wide shiny eyes. And it excites him. 

“Oh, sweetie. You could have just said so.”

And with that, he has your heart bursting downright out of your chest as he twists you around and bends you onto your desk, your fingers grasping the edge, your head almost colliding with your computer's screen. His hand pushes on the small of your back, causing your body to arch and your bottom to stick out. You feel his erection push against your jeans, directly against the crack of your ass, as he bends over you, his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear.

“Who would have thought you were so naughty…” he whispers slowly, voice laced with amusement. "Writing about werewolves ravishing you…" His free hand creeps over your hip and slides towards your belly. "Destroying your little human holes…" His fingers creasing and raising the thin fabric of your tee as they dig into the soft flesh of your abdomen, steadily crawling lower. He laughs again, blowing warm air into your skin when he notices you whimpering quietly and trembling under his touch. 

“Isn’t that what you write about, mh? Why don't you read it for me?"

Your eyes widen, and you meet his amused look with a shiver that runs down your spine and lands between your thighs. He gives you a wolfish grin before nudging your head with his snout and turning it towards the screen. "C'mon. Read it."

You can't think clearly, let alone focus on the text on the white screen. Your heart is racing and the heat in your lower abdomen is becoming unbearable. If only he moved his fingers lower to offer you just a little relief...

“Start from the line that says how the beast rips your pants apart… That sounds like fun.”

You’re panting so hard already and he’s barely touched you. You have to swallow a couple of times to clear your throat and moisten your dry mouth before you’re able to speak again. But even then your voice comes out shaky and subdued as you start reading your own wicked fantasies out loud.

“...he groped the round sphere of her ass, massaging her flesh as if to prepare her for what was about to come-”

You yelp as you feel both his palms land on your ass, groping you over the fabric of your pants.

“Keep going. Don’t leave me hanging…” he croons teasingly in your ear, giving your cheeks a squeeze as an incentive.

You take a shuddering breath and then exhale, hoping to calm your frenzied heartbeat - as if that’s possible in a situation like this - and resume reading from where you left off.

“...a loud gasp of shock escaped her lips when his hands pulled at her pants and ripped the fabric apart as if it was made of paper-”

And with that, your pants are gone too, leaving only a few bits of fabric hanging around your thighs. You don’t even care about your clothes right now, you just want him to take you. You need him. You want him so badly. 

His claws run along your panties, purposefully missing the wet spot sitting right at the center. Your legs weakly buckle in protest.

“What about these? What happens to her soaked panties?”

“Ripped apart as well.” you answer forthwith, pushing your ass back to seek more friction and thus sending him laughing at your eagerness.

His fingers coil around the fabric's edges, yanking at it as if ready to tore it, only to let go and snap the elastic band against your skin.

"Nah. I think I'll keep them on for now," he muses, his voice still cracking with amusement as if he's thoroughly enjoying torturing you and driving you insane.

Your indignant cry rapidly turns into a shocked gasp as you feel something long and hard shove against your panties-clad folds. When you look down, your jaw falls at the sight of his huge throbbing cock stroking against your cunt back and forth, its dark pink skin already glistening with your juices dropping through your drenched underwear.

"So wet…" he croons, nestling his face in the crook of your neck. His moist nose brushes against your boiling hot skin, giving you chills. "So wet for me."

He keeps moving against you, maddeningly slowly, making you quiver with both pleasure and desperation. Breathy whimpers and moans fall from your parted lips, mirroring the rhythm of his thrusts.

"A-Alexis… please…"

You’re begging him to fuck you. He knows that. It's so obvious. It pleases him greatly, yet he won't let your precious little cries deter him from his own plans. His movements almost come to a halt as his warm, wet tongue slides out of his mouth and licks the side of your neck.

“You’ve driven me mad for months.” he growls in your ear, frustration once more edging his tone. His hands eagerly reach for your thighs and push them together to squeeze his cock between your soft flesh. You moan in response, surprised and satisfied by the additional friction, although still frustrated by the emptiness you feel inside you, with your walls clenching desperately around nothing. 

“Now it’s my turn.”

A jolt of pleasure strikes your core as his arms wrap around your middle and he starts to buck his hips against your ass at a punishing pace, rocking your whole body with such force that you’d be slamming against the desk if he wasn’t holding onto you like a vice.

You whine and mewl ever louder, the knot in your lower belly tightening at an alarming rate. Your hands grasp onto his strong arms, fingers tangling in his fur, while your head bobs feverishly upon his shoulder.

“A-Alexis… I-I'm- I’m!”

His moist nose taps on your neck, tongue lapping at your skin, as his cock keeps on bullying your poor swollen folds. The fabric of your underwear is so wet at this point that it's almost as if it's not even there; you can feel him entirely, rubbing your small bundle of nerves with every thrust.

"Already?" His laughter vibrates through your writhing body, heightening the friction between your thighs.

You try to hold back, a little offended by his derision, wanting to last a bit longer, but with a harsh yank of his hand, he pulls your panties to the side and finally seals your fate. Tendrils of pleasure ignite from your core, sending you spasming sharply in his grasp,your cunt gushing cum on his length.

He growls in your ear, tightening his hold and lifting you off the ground while chasing his own high. Feeling you contort in ecstasy and soak his cock has excited him viscerally, and it's only a matter of minutes until he follows you, shooting his sperm into your panties and mixing his juices with your own. You're both left panting, breathless, and light-headed, your bodies buzzing with the last shreds of bliss.

Alexis adjusts your underwear, cupping your cunt to ensure you feel his cum smear across your tender flesh. You whimper lazily in response, turning your head to glance up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. He meets your gaze with his own glazed look and smiles, that wolfish smile that inspired oh so many stories.

You need more. You want him. You want to feel him inside you. This was not enough. Not enough to satisfy months and months worthy of fantasies and soaking panties.

As if sensing the need within you, Alexis raises his hand to your hair and caresses it with newfound affection.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll give you plenty to write about..." he teases and grins at the way your eyes seem to lighten up at his words, only to see your face fall a second later as he adds: "In due time."

He gives you a playful smack on the ass and then walks out of your room, snickering.

"Whatcha having for dinner?

🪷. You can leave me a tip on ko-fi if you want to support me

[just-some-user-hunny]

Grey ghost as your dragon ...

. Grey ghost was a considerably shy dragon.

Although shy may not be the right word to describe him, more like introverted and prone to avoiding people. He isn't particularly fond of the ruckus that humans make. They're so noisy, and nosy.

. Cattle would disappear in the hours of daylight, often in days of heavy fog and engulfing dark clouds. All common folk know to herd in their livestock on particularly cloudy/foggy days as to dissuade the grey ghost from paying them a visit.

. Befitting his name, he hides in the clouds. shrouded with silver and dark shadow as he soars silently upon the wind like a haunting phantom, the beat of his wings like a windstorm or hurricane.

. He's a very silent flyer. Arguably the quietest dragon out of all of them. He drifts and skulks like a ghost.

. His wildness is that of a bird of prey. Poised and exact, silent and puffed with pride. If he were to bond with you, you'd get to delve more into his guarded personality. He's mostly withdrawn, but he certainly wouldn't mind your company.

. Humans, to him, are both predator and prey. He's seen what they are capable of, seen how the dragon-lords have captured and saddled his kind. At first he would be very hesitant of you, shying away and flying off whenever he was given the chance, but no matter how often he hid from you, he was never too far. You'll swear you can see him on the corner of your eye whenever your sights are set to the sky. You'll hear the beat of his wings as he'd silently cruise in the sky over your head, watching you. Observing you.

. Bonding with this wild dragon would take patience and delicacy, but once you were granted his precious trust? Oh he would be all over you.

. His leathery pale wings are worn from constant flight, so he would love whatever pampering you'd give him. Soothing Salves upon the aching muscles of his wings, cleaning his silvery scales around his face, or simply allowing him to sleep with his head nestled close to you or in your lap, he'd be a happy dragon. Humans have always been off limits to him, so he's exploring this side of humanity. The goodness. The kindness. The pack bonding that they seem to hold for anything and everything. You're his experience.

. He loves flying with you. He'd not even mind the saddle, almost eagerly letting you fasten the dragon-saddle upon him as he impatiently awaits for you to clamber on so he can show you how high he can soar. Be warned however- he's going to test you. See how high or fast you can tolerate his dance in the air, how much courage his little human has, and how worthy they are of riding him.

Be mindful to hold on tight to the reigns, you're going to need it.

. He'll take you over deep oceans, vast forests and treacherous mountains. He'll take you to the stars and the moon, fly you as close to the heavens that you can possibly reach your whilst within in your mortal body. He especially loves flying through billowing storm clouds and rainclouds. The rush of wind under his wings, the fresh cool rain on his scales, and the claps of thunder that makes his heart skip a beat. You may return from your flights a little drenched and shivering, but it'd be so worth it.

. He would probably not tolerate the dragon pits. He hates the confinement, and the thought of being cramped in there with other bulky dragons. All growling and huffing and bellowing fire, stepping on tails and talons. He's a solitary creature. Grey ghost likes the company of himself and you.

. Instead he would find a perch nearby. A cave perhaps, or a nice spot near the shoreline. He likes the bubbling seafoam and the glittering silver fish in the water.

. He loves seeing you every morning. When you leave the castle grounds, there you will find him. perched upon a cliffy hillside, or perhaps near the tide pools- his dark silver scales shimmering with seaspray. Your greetings are often reciprocated with a huff or a bellow of smoke, before he nestles his neck and wing down for you to climb upon his back.

. If you are bonded with him, it is possible you share a common interest. Perhaps you harbour some introverted tendencies, or maybe you are a little shy and anxious. You could also just want to go against the grain and do things at your own pace and style, whatever the case, you will both see a part of yourselves in one another. He gets it- he understands. Loud noises, gossip, prodding words and eyes- they're all too much. He'll take you to the tranquility of the clouds and stars, and he'll be your greatest strength and protection- just like you are his greatest peace and joy.

[brawngp2009]

THE PRINCE OF THAILAND: galex Crazy Rich Asians AU.

When Alex asks George if he wants to go with him to Thailand for his cousin's wedding, he immediately agrees. But there are reasons why a humble vet with bleach-fried hair keeps the distance from his huge, noisy and nosy family. And George is about to experience it first-hand.

@hypersoft-fest week 5: romantic comedy.

[read a little bit of lore below the cut]

George, an aspiring event-planner/art enthusiast, meets Alex, a vet, when he takes his parents' dog to the clinic. Alex gives George his phone number, and George assumes that he wants to ask him out, but turns out Alex has a bad habit of caring too much and he gives away his personal phone number almost to every client. However the misunderstanding leads to the first date, which leads to many more.

Eventually George meets Alex's friends: Yuki, a business-school dropout turned chef; Zhou, a young and talented fashion designer and influencer; and Lando, a travelling sports photographer specializing on Formula One. Alex, Yuki and Zhou went to a posh International School together and know each other for a very long time. Alex and Lando met when they were both in the university looking for a roommate.

After dropping out of business school Yuki opens a restaurant "Toro Rosso" with Pierre Gasly, who oversees administrative side and staff, while Yuki is in charge of the kitchen. The restaurant becomes very popular, booked and busy. Alex takes George there for one of their first dates to impress him, and it works.

Lando has a bit going on with Oscar Piastri, a Formula One driver and WDC contender, where he posts only extremely bad and blurry pictures of Oscar on his F1 photography instagram to which Oscar always replies with dead-pan "Thank you very much. The best photos ever👍🏼". Other drivers' pictures are normal, good even.

On the days, when the restaurant is closed Yuki invites Alex and Zhou in, he sets up a small table in the kitchen for his friends to try out his new recipes.

Zhou is on his way to a big breakthrough in the fashion industry, Alex and Yuki regularly wear his street-wear designs. Through Alex Zhou meets Lando and George and they plan Zhou's first solo fashion show together.

[narcissistshandler]

request:

reader jokingly puts a bell on miguel o’hara since he approaches so quietly he tends to startle you and the other spiders. he tolerates it because the humor improves work morale

little did he know that the bell will be jingling all night as you fuck him mercilessly

𝗛𝗜𝗦 𝗦𝗜𝗟𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗕𝗘𝗟𝗟

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 male reader x miguel o'hara

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 top!amab! reader, bottom! miguel, public blowjob, anal sex, saliva used as a lubricant, consensual suffocation, breath play, implied reader being a spider. minors dni.

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 my archive of editable images of miguel is over, accept this random edit then. I used a lot of words that I don't know very well, so please let me know if I've used something wrong

It was hard to hear anything but the unbearable jingling of the silver bell reverberating through his sensitive hearing; the little ball of iron inside the round shape swayed with fairy clinks where it was attached to the leather strap that tightened around his neck. A joke, had been how Miguel interpreted the unusual gift you said laughing that it was to know when he approached. A lame joke, but still, he let you close the noisy choker around his neck and accepted the kiss you pressed against his lips pursed in annoyance.

During the day, when the spiders shared laughter and a fun that Miguel didn't understand at the gift you gave him, Miguel hadn't paid attention to how the choker tightened his neck, how it accompanied the rise and fall of his throat ─ that he only noticed when you had him on his knees in a blind spot inside the Spider Society tower, and at the risk of being overheard by all nosy and curious spiders, pressed your cock deep into his tight throat until Miguel gasped and struggled for breath, bell rattling violently. The choker felt like your hands squeezing his neck.

After that, the ringing of the silver bell brought a faraway look that no one understood to his face, no one but you. He was remembering that moment, remembering your cock straining his mouth and the sounds you made each time his fangs grazed your cock, the danger of the act that was enough to make you both come, quickly. He found himself unable to get rid of the accessory.

And Miguel was aware of your eyes fixed on his neck as he spoke. Hypnotized. And he would be lying if he said he didn't know what was coming next.

The bell sounded like a drum as you smacked him against the front door of the apartment before Miguel could even close it. You demanded his attention, ravaging his mouth with symbolic violence and sweet urgency, tearing the civilian clothes Miguel wore until they were mere scraps of rags lying on the floor. All this so you could get your hands on his bare skin, map out the scars, the muscles firm and strong and his cock already eagerly hard for you.

You always seemed to want him so badly that it never ceased to amaze him.

You grabbed his bare thighs and lifted him into the air, pressing his back against the rickety door. As if he weighed nothing. Your strength would always surprise you, not because there wasn't someone stronger than Miguel or unable to take him down with pure physical strength, but because you never used your strength to hurt him, you treated him as something fragile and that should be taken care of.

And when the hurried stretching of his hole left him panting and clinging to you, silently begging for more through his grunts and moans and gasps, you kissed him and using only saliva to facilitate penetration, you slid your cock inside him.

The slide knocked the breath out of Miguel's lungs, the friction undiminished by the makeshift lubrication leaving him feeling every delicious inch of your cock opening in his flesh, demanding space.

Lips against his, even though you weren't kissing anymore and the hand that wasn't holding him high, closing around his neck just inches away from the choker, you started fucking him hard against the door. The bell reverberated with a loud bang, swaying along with your movements in and out of his ass and that was all Miguel could concentrate on: the stretching, the burning still there, the sound of the damn bell.

Miguel's eyes rolled back, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks and he searched for air, desperately gasped for oxygen ─ and you didn't have to look at his face to know it, the divine image of open mouth and spittle running down his chin; you could feel his throat rippling under your grip, heartbeat fluttering beneath your fingers. The leather strap there, close to your hand, seemed to become tighter, reflecting the pressure imposed by your fingers.

Miguel was shaking now, talons drawing blood from your shoulders, legs gripping around your waist, unable to move, unable to get away from the deep thrusts he could feel in his stomach or the bell that deafened his senses. He couldn't breathe.

White filled his vision and Miguel gasped as the oxygen suddenly handed back to him, the thud of his head hitting the door a distant sound. Maybe he came, maybe he passed out for a few seconds in your arms, but it didn't matter, he knew you were far from done with him.

[cutehoons02]

Draw me and you, to escape the emotions

*pairing: Artist frat? emo boy Hyunjin x Popular fashion student

*trope: Grumpy x Sunshine a little bit Enemies x Opposites attract

*tags: fluff, desperate boy, loves to touch you, jealousy, smut, hot drawings, rivals student to lovers? a lot of tension (pets name: Barbie, Princesses)

*synopsis: Hyunjin loved to draw anything, but for a couple of months her mind and drawings always represented the fashion design girl, what would happen if this girl found a hot drawing composed between her and that artist with whom she has shared lessons?

comments are apprecited

*word count: 5k (English is not my first language) my masterlist🩵

REBLOG IF YOU ENJOYED

Hyunjin was an emblem of Y/n, he was his opposite in everything, he was quite cynical with people, he was slightly introverted and always stayed with his group of friends, he knew that he hated all popular and frivolous people, was always dressed in slightly mono color clothes and loose jeans but one thing that he loved Y/n of him were his hair slightly long, The lack of lightheartedness that he had when he was slightly made up with eyeliner or dark eyeshadows and his nails colored in black or with drawings made by himself.

"When will you stop watching him and go talk to him? Don’t tell me that one of the most popular girls in the art and fashion design course is intimidated by the artist loser emo boy?" You watched your best friend Winter as she checked out some shades to use for the next sketches.

"I’m not intimidated by him, but i know what he thinks of me. To him i am just a frivolous fashion student who has entered this course only thanks to my parents' surname and that o have a perfect life. I see how he looks up or how he teams me from head to foot when i walk into the courtroom"

Winter started to laugh slightly because for the first time, she saw her best friend definitely intimidated by making friends with someone or just talking to a guy, and it was not like her at all because Y/n was full of friends and people around him.

“You’re definitely intimidated by him Y/n, you can admit it I’m your best friend and you can also admit that you care, and not only you are interested in his art but also his beautiful face or how his hands hold a pencil or drawing paper and admit that you would like those hands to touch you, i’m leaving because i have History of Fashion. Good luck with the art drawing course or maybe i meant good luck with your favorite emo artist!"

Y/n looked up and loved Winter but since he realized you might have a little crush on Hyunjin every moment was good to make fun of and get you upset.

When you entered the art drawing room it was already almost full, your eyes looked where there was a place and black eyes watched you badly, Hyunjin could not stand you because now you were laughing and you were disturbing his artistic you were too noisy and thought that everyone should love or idolize you, when he looked at you you had as always something colorful in your outfit and in hand you had a notebook full of colored sketches and dresses with fantasies too eccentric to be real. He watched you approach his empty table and sighed loudly when with one eye he saw all your colored pencils leaning next to his drawing board and a perfume too sweet for him sinned his nose, He knew you would talk to him because every time you sat with someone you started being too nosy for his taste so took his headphones but while he took his design to put on something of KISS heard your sweet voice talking to him.

"Hey, you’re Hyunjin, right? I know you’re not part of the fashion design course..." did not even finish talking when an appetizing answer came out from his lips

"Congratulations on the deductions Barbie, what made you think? the fact that i don’t wear a sweater from i don’t know how many dollars or bracelets that will cost more than the rent i pay every month"

You looked at yourself as you were dressed and you swore to have worn a bracelet Van Cleef but a slight smile crept into you when you saw him put again the headphones away, maybe he wanted to continue the conversation

"Oh, so you are one of those classic artists who dresses slightly monochrome but somehow tries to get out his artistic vein by making up as now that you wear a light black eye shadow in the eyelids and that he paints his nails obviously black to make think to people that you are a tormented artist and that you express only your pain and nothing interesting?"

You leaned slightly into the chair to see his sketchbook and there were sketches of human figures with slightly sensual perspectives of their bodies, Suddenly closed his notebook and for the first time curdò you slightly with a grin and raised slightly his overtone where he had a piercing.

"Surely o design more interesting things than mannequins without expressions or emotions with clothes that we ordinary mortals can not afford even in another life. Can you please stop invading my art space, i don’t have time to waste with a princess, or maybe the name Barbie represents you more!"

He wanted to piss you off but you were used to people who made fun of you or teased you because of your choice of studies

"Wow, you seriously have a sharp tongue prince of darkness, it’s not that you need to compensate more, or maybe you know how to use it only to intimidate people"

"Rest assured that this language I do not only use to speak but also to do other things with it that princesses like you should not even know. Do you always need all this attention from others or is it a bonus for me?”

"No today is special, o wanted to attract the attention of the emo boy in the class and maybe learn something from your art to do as you said my portraits look more human!" Hyunjin was surprised by your statement for a few seconds but you couldn’t learn anything from someone like him, you were two worlds apart and all this exuberance would fly away when you went back to your fashion class.

"If you think you can learn something from me you’ve just in the wrong bench, come back to your stylist friends"

The professor came into the classroom and for your bad luck or good fortune he had in mind to make a project of his students and when you heard what he was talking about you would come back with lots of ideas.

"This project you guys will do in pairs composed by a student of Fashion Desing and the other by a student of Art, the art student will draw slightly sensual anatomical representations, and the Fashion Design student will express with his drawings sketches with clothes or lingerie that fit well to the sensual forms of the human body. The project will be based on the confidence that an artist must also express to his stylist and on the ability to relate between two worlds so close but at the same time distant between human figuration with emotions and expressions to a mannequin designed only to wear a dress."

You immediately sundown towards Hyunjin with a little smile and watched carefully his hands touch from the nervous his hair slightly long and puffed when he saw your small grin on your lips

"Well, i think we should work together Emo boy for a while, how about you give me your number so we can agree on where to find us."

"We don’t need to exchange numbers, I’ll come to your office on Thursday afternoon and find out because otherwise I won’t help you with anything and tell the professor that you didn’t take this project seriously."

You saw yourself leaving the classroom Hyunjin and sighed, what the hell had you got into because you did not choose another bench? You just wanted to become maybe her friend and understand her drawing style not become her guinea pig for her grumpy attitude during the lessons and project.

Thursday came too early for Y/n’s taste, next to her was Winter in their fashion art studio they shared together. " Y/n Rest assured, he told you in class that he would come to start the project in your studio, for now, you are not so famous and rich to have 2/3 studios spread around the city, so take a deep breath, and yes yourself with him."

"I can be myself as long as I want, she doesn’t like me or maybe even worse she hates me."

"But stop, it’s just paranoia you get. If he hated you, he would ask the professor to change her partner and then a beautiful mix could come out between you two. You might discover some cracks that he has if you buy so cynically with everyone and he could understand that you are not a frivolous girl who only thinks about money or clothes, but that you have real feelings and that you always feel overwhelmed by being perfect with everyone"

When you heard these words, you immediately shined Winter, and you and she came from two completely different worlds. She was not wealthy but had the moral and loving support of her family in everything she did instead you were too rich but your family always expected that I was the perfect girl of the family but at the same time they didn’t care much to spend time with you, for them there were only the businesses and the good publicity that reflected your surname.

A light knock intruded you from that moment of vulnerability and Winter walked out the back door of the studio and gave you an extra thumb to make sure things between you and Hyunjin went well.

When you opened the door in front of you there was Hyunjin with a small tail holding his long hair tight, dressed in a black tank top that made his slim but sculpted abdomen and a grey cardigan, of the washed jeans that made her long legs stand out and in the face as always she had light black eyeshadow shaded and wore earrings shaped as a ring; It was everything your parents or relatives didn’t want to have to do with but you found it so attractive and real for your taste.

"Can i come in or will you keep doing a full x-ray with your doe eyes of my Barbie body?" You feel your cheeks turn slightly red and move to let him into your studio

"I wasn’t taking any x-rays with my eyes Hyunjin, i was just surprised to find you at my door, in thought you wouldn’t come any more or that you would ask the professor to change partner" You saw Hyunjin getting dangerously close to you and I slightly lower my head to get to your height.

"Why should i ever ask the professor to change partners if I’m dealing with one of the most intelligent students in fashion design, Or maybe you’re not, and how people say your parents besides buying this study bribe the professors to get you high marks?" You sighed, knowing that he would bring it to your attention to tease you or make you weak in his eyes.

"No one in my family has corrected the teachers, you can ask people who do not stand me that I am always meticulous in all the projects or tests I do. I love what I study and it seems a waste of time not to prepare me or get bad grades if what want to do in life is to be a Stylist”

Hyunjin looked at you slightly surprised and nodded.

The study of Y/n was too full of colors for his taste and slightly messy and this thing definitely bothered him; if he had to draw and concentrate on a project the classroom had to be meticulously clean and tidy. It was full of lights with strange shapes and a variety of colored fabrics that he did not even know existed but at heart seemed a familiar and cozy place to be a studio of two students novice to the world of fashion.

"Don’t tell me that for you it’s too colorful or messy this studio because here I create my artistic masterpieces!" Hyunjin sighed because for him the "masterpieces artists" were the paintings of Monet, the various artistic styles like Cubism, French/German Expressionism, or Futurism not the mannequins with I do not know how many layers of stuffing.

"We have a different artistic concept and masterpieces artists me and you, let’s try to make this project come out a nice work, Barbie"

"You are too rigid and authoritarian Hyunjin, I am so disappointed that for you these mannequins can not express art, we are surrounded by art. You and I are works of art too, only that nobody draws us, I would pay gold to be born in those times when painters or sculptors were not afraid to paint or immortalize a scene or a person" Hyunjin sat down in the little chair that was around the drawing board and looked with a small smile at the exuberance of the little Barbie who had in front of her embracing a dummy without identity.

Who knows how it is to have those slender braids around my body or how they would fit perfectly to my neck while you tried to flip him...

You and Hyunjin began to agree on what to make and what clothes and robes he could create for the bodies he designed, You watched carefully as the long-haired boy drew, and I stood still and with my mouth slightly open to see how carefully and accurately and respectfully he drew the human body, But the thing that made you turn your nose a little was that in those two drawings the figures were anonymous, you could understand the expressions they made but they looked like two faces completely equal.

"Why in both these designations do people have no face? You said that the mannequins had no expressions and a true soul but also these two bodies seem to be mannequins but only represented with more human looks and slightly more sensual"

"I never found a subject that was worth drawing with more details, but if you want I can draw a face while just adding lips, eyes, and eyebrows"

His response was always well controlled and did not release any emotion but in what sense no one in 24 years of life had ever inspired him? You wanted to tease him slightly so you got a brilliant goddess but that led to a series of events that you would never expect in your life.

"What if I was your subject? I’m 100% sure you could do better than that Hyunjin with your drawings and I would be perfect"

"I knew you were self-centered but are you asking me to represent yourself in my designs? I have never represented any of my friends or family and you want to pose for me and be the muse of our project? You watched Hyunjin slightly embarrassed and nervous for asking him that thing but what would have been wrong if you were the two drivers of your performances this idea of yours had to tell her at another time because you had already brought up a bomb.

“Oh, my Hyunjin, I didn’t mean to be your muse but as the first model, you could represent me and then another person."

"I’ll think about it Y/n, meanwhile in these days, he throws down some clothes, dressing gowns, and lingerie for the project. I don’t want to see pastels or paillettes or glitter in your projects" You raised your eyes to the sky and smiled at the boy next to you

"You’re so boring, Hyunjin, but I’ll change your mind about fashion and make you understand that we designers need art just as much as you artists do."

Another week had passed when you and Hyunjin started having a two-day weekly routine where you met in your studio, Hyunjin began to tolerate the way you laughed or responded to his frosty jokes, how you moved around the studio while taking the various pictures or making him discover colors and fabrics he had never seen in his life, How you were excited to talk about fashion or how you were always amazed by the way she drew or put your ideas in her notebook. He found your style and your clothing slightly bold and too colorful for his tastes that went from black to white, to beige and a few times to bordeux; was slightly fascinating how you didn’t care what other people thought of what you were wearing but she would never admit it out loud.

Without noticing when he had free time and drew to clear his mind began to represent you in his sketchbook, the first drawing he made was of you sitting while you were coloring your sketch but slowly his drawings became slightly more and more. While kissing a demon with a human appearance with dark and long hair, you sit in a sensual pose with white lingerie and slightly pastel shades that you had created for yourself where he captured all your energy and spelllessness.

That afternoon you went for your first time in his studio because Winter had to be alone with her crazy ideas to create a dress for a theatrical show, then you found yourself inside the small studio of Hyunjin; was completely different from your studio but it represented absolutely his soul and his artistic vein.

Hyunjin thought it was a serious joke of fate, you had already started sewing lingerie for a couple of days and even the prototype of your dress that had to fit your body.

"Would you mind if I tried on lingerie and then the dress? so you could throw down a sketch of the harmonious part of my body with only the underwear and later of my body wearing the prototype of the dress" Hyunjin felt slightly warm and gathered with an elastic his long hair in a light ruffled tail

Hyunjin must have liked your lingerie and the robe you had created together not your body

“No, no there’s no problem in fact before we finish with the prototypes better if it is so then I can draw you and you start sewing and finish the work" Annuist and went to the bathroom to put on the lingerie and the robe in white silk with some shades of pastel blue, you felt very beautiful but you were seriously afraid that Hyunjin didn’t like me

when you came out of the bathroom Hyunjin was sitting and looked at you with a look that you had never seen before your was maybe a look of admiration for your body or maybe it was just petrified from the good girl vibes that you emanated dressed only in a robe in thirst white nd pale blue and a blue bra with tiny panties. where he would have wanted to put her dirty hands of artist with her black nails that would contrast with the sweet good girl you were.

When you put the dress on you didn’t like it at all as it made you feel it was too short and tight for your standards "Could you draw my skirt slightly lower while drawing me? If you want I’ll show you how I would like it, maybe i mismeasured and made it slightly short, and also the top of the dress I don’t like as much as I wear because it’s too tight." Hyunjin dropped his professional pencil on the table and came closer to you, always keeping the right distance to respect you and not make you feel uncomfortable but it was days that he dreamed of potteri touch even with a finger that skin always perfect.

"Where should i place your skirt Y/n?" You made a sign to pull it down a little bit and with his big hands Hyunjin slowly pulled your skirt down a few centimeters and unintentionally put a hand on your thigh a slight redness intruded in your cheeks, you looked at him carefully almost kneeling to make you fall in a less succinct way the skirt and when he stood up he looked at you attentively but to your great surprise his hand remained still in your thigh and after a few seconds began to draw light circles and felt little ones The thrills grow around you. "I seriously hope you missized this skirt because i would never have let you leave this studio dressed in such a short skirt where other men would be allowed to look at you."

Hyunjin’s other hand placed itself on your side and pulled you slightly to itself, your breast lightly hitting her sculpted chest and lowering itself at the height of your face to look at you.

“I, uh yes, seriously mistook the measurements maybe at that moment I was distracted"

You felt his hands go slightly up in your thigh but they never went near your underwear because Hyunjin was literally an asshole and wanted to hear you beg to have his hands inside your panties.

"If I remember correctly when you took the measurements you were with me, what made you so distracted that you made a mistake of your simple body measurements Y/n?" You felt his breath tickle the lobe of your neck and watched it come closer to your face.

"I don’t know what made me distract Hyunjin" the Korean boy slowly laid his meaty lips on your neck and pinched you slightly inside your thigh, a slight cry of surprise and frustration came out of your mouth and you felt him laugh. "I don’t like bad girls especially those who lie Y/n, if you want to have only a small part of me at this moment try to remember what made you distract at that moment" slowly feel his fingers stop near your panties and sighed, Where was the Y/n full of security and never intimidated by anyone?

"You distracted me, Hyunjin, your big hands distracted me, your locks that fell wildly into your face, your big lips distracted me and..." You didn’t finish listing the things that distracted you that you felt his soft lips touching yours, To your great surprise the kiss was initially a shy exploration, your lips that met and explored for the first time with delicacy but at the same time passion. Time seemed to stand still, every thought dissolved in that sweetness that gradually intensified. The kiss became deeper, but never intrusive. You barely sighed at him and you put your arms around his neck to bring him closer to you.

When Hyunjin just walked away, with eyes always looking for yours to make sure everything was okay, you gave him a little smile. Then, with a sudden gesture, he laid his lips on your neck uncovered just under your ear. The warm breath touched your skin, and small pleasant chills flooded both your body and Hyunjin’s.

The kiss on the neck turned into a series of small touches, until he stopped at one point, exerting a slight but constant pressure. Closed your eyes, and you felt his breath become slower, deeper. You felt that unmistakable feeling, a combination of sweetness and a hint of pleasant intensity, as it left you a mark, a little sucker of possessiveness that made the boy in front of you groan in turn. It was nothing intrusive but for Hyunjin it represented a lot of "You’re my Barbie, remember that".

It was exactly 4 days since you last saw Hyunjin and every time you thought about him your cheeks were painted red or you thought about how good it felt to hear him moan, I put my hands on your head and a slight cry of frustration came out of your lips.

"Wow, you’re completely fucked up by that guy if, for the first time in 3 years of college, I’ve never seen you dressed simply with a gray sweatshirt, and sneakers without your beloved jewels, the only thing that represents you is that skirt." You watched Jake sit down in front of you and put hot caramel milk on your face

"I hate it, I’ve never felt so vulnerable in my life and besides it’s not at all in my sexual ethics to let me do I had to look in the house I don’t know how many shades of foundation so that my parents didn’t discover me with a purple and green bite that seems to have been made by a vampire and not by a human being" Jake started laughing and without being seen he looked around and saw that some table away there was Hyunjin with 3 other guys who were part of his group who were watching him

"Well every time I see him he gives me not vibes as a human being but as a demon with his long hair and those black shady eyeshadows that enhance those big eyes, I don’t know what you find so interesting in him but be careful, okay? I’ll keep quiet but you know there are moles in here and if they see you with "weird" people, your parents will find out immediately"

"It would be a bad thing if my parents found out that I kissed Hyunjin and had him make me a hickey and almost caress me." you watched Jake make a sign with his hand and his smile become more and thin until you felt a scent that you had learned to recognize from the distance of mint and spices, what did you do wrong to deserve all these shit figures with Hyunjin?

“Barbie is seriously surprised that you talk about these things, especially with a male, but shares arrived late to class if I had not come to pick you up and by the way, the lesson has been canceled so come to my house" You stopped suddenly when you felt that the lesson had been canceled but especially when you heard the words home

"It’s not better to go to my studio or I know look at your drawings in the library, what do you care about what do I talk to people is not as puritanical as you think I am, Hyunjin" You passed him and went into the corridor that led to the library but Hyunjin took your pulse and started walking in the university exit until you found yourself in front of a Mercedes

"I chose to go home because I forgot my sketchbook there and then we never went to the library to do the project, princess don’t tell me you’re afraid of being alone with me!" Watched you drive Hyunjin and you asked how it was possible that even doing such a trivial thing was attractive, that day he wasn’t made up he had only his usual piercing in the eyebrow and fake nerd glasses. It was strange for you to see him so naturally but even that fake version of "good guy" was beautiful in your eyes.

"When you stop taking full x-rays with those doe eyes, I know I’m attractive but I didn’t think you were so desperate by me" A little embarrassed laugh came out of your lips

"I’m not at all desperate for your presence, I just noticed that you weren’t made up and that for the first time, I see you with fake nerd glasses. You should wear them more often or maybe not, you already have a myriad of girls drooling on you!" You didn’t realize you said the last sentence until Hyunjin turned his head to your side and gently fixed a small rebellious tuft from your face to your ear and felt your ears turn all red with embarrassment

"I didn’t think that underneath the little princess was jealous of me and the other girls who asked me out."

"I’m not jealous, Hyunjin" stopped at a traffic light Hyunjin stretched slightly to get close to your face and blew you close to your lips "Remember what I said the last time we met, I don’t like lying girls."

Hyunjin’s apartment was really too clean and tidy to think that an artist lived there but in contrast, there were some of his drawings attached to the wall, modern works of art, and some picturesque paintings. You felt surprised and safe in that house and Hyunjin had given you permission to snoop around his world while he was cooking dinner, He had even given you permission to go and see his room and the shadow of his dog followed you all around wiggling his tail full of fur. Her room was slightly basic except for some sketches and some drawings scattered around the desk but the silver sketchbook full of paillettes made you slightly crooked nose, He hated with all his heart pallets or glitter what was doing something like that in his room?

You didn’t want to rummage through his private things but it was too hard for you not to look at that notebook so without thinking about it you opened the front page and in front of you there was a demon version of Hyunjin who kissed and embraced a girl and that girl with your big surprise it was you, You thought you were just imagining so you flipped through the notebook and in another sheet there was you sitting on horseback on Hyunjin where you kissed and he had a hand inside your jug that you had missized.

"Wow, this is interesting, to say the least" A slight redness formed in your cheeks and all over your body until you heard the voice of Hyunjin.

"What are you looking at?"

Hyunjin hoped that you had not found his paper full of sequins where he drew you and was slightly pale when he saw you make him sign that you had in hand that object full of pallets

"Don’t know, they look like very detailed drawings of you and me. I would say also quite explicit and then I would be the one who is desperate for your presence, it seems to me that the most desperate between you and me is you Hyunjin" saw him turn red from embarrassment and take a hand in his face

"Wait, wait. You didn’t have to look there! They were... they were just drafts!"

You slowly reawakened, showing a drawing where you were represented with a sensual pose while wearing the famous white and blue robe

“This seems like a draft? I would say that you put a lot of passion in detailing my... best profile but most importantly you have drawn my body harmoniously without sexualizing it too much"

Hyunjin came up to you and looked at you slightly sad "I’m sorry, i didn’t want you to find him so randomly, i would have shown it to you is why he was leaning so in plain sight on my table. If you feel uncomfortable or if you’re angry i can throw it away or if you don’t believe me we can set it on fire together" You looked at the man in front of you and lightly caressed his cheek “I’m not mad at you Hyunjin, no one in my life had managed to catch something of me and you have succeeded with these drawings"

Hyunjin held his breath when Y/n put his hand back on her cheek, his eyes slid into her features. and at that moment she was the one who felt she was not him, she was so different from him and came from two different worlds yet at that moment she felt unable to oppose.

His hand moves along his chest, drawing a slow and delicate path, almost to test the boundaries. He observes her, the breath becomes deeper, and when she comes to kiss him, she does not withdraw. Their lips meet in a kiss that is initially mild, almost shy, but soon becomes more intense, a perfect interweaving between his hidden desire and her security.

His hands, uncertain, rest on her shoulders, looking for a foothold. She moves away slightly, the smile is always present as she looks at him.

"You can touch me, you know. Where did the guy from last time go?

There’s nothing wrong with that."

He looks down for a moment, then, with a small smile, lets his fingers trace a light line along her arm, discovering how natural it is to touch her, How much he had wanted to do it since the first time he saw her with her self-centered clothes and her sparkling personality. She, encouraged by his timid audacity, moves on him, bringing their bodies even closer.

"I never thought something like that would ever happen with you, when i first saw you, i wanted to stay away from you because i know I’m not what your parents would want for their princess. As their lips seek each other again, the tension between them melts into something deeper, an intimacy born of the balance between his delicacy and her passion.

Omg i hope you enjoy this story🩵

[luulapants]

So the tricky thing is that after you master the art of minding your own business (if you see someone stealing no you didn't, ignore those noisy teenagers, stop gossiping about so-and-so's drug use), you gotta next master being nosy (helpful version).

İt's tricky because you HAVE to be proficient in the first one first. If you skip ahead you'll end up being nosy (dangerous version).

But like. If you're gonna meaningfully community build you gotta move past minding your business. The car out of gas in the middle of the road is your business - go help push. The guy having a psychotic episode downtown is your neighbor - go sit with him until he calms down. The person that got pulled over is your responsibility - be a witness until the cops are gone. The neighbor who never cuts their grass is your people - go ask if you can mow for them.

But again the first step is to learn to not gawk at humans having problems long enough that you realize they're not actually hurting you.

[golden-afternoon]

Yeah I was working on another actual fic but uhhh the 'Nari brainrot took over so uhhh here take me going insane over him and rambling about what comes to my mind. Kay? Kay.

Warnings - nsfw, mating cycle talk from a person who only has google by her side, absolutely not proofread having gone straight from brain to paper, and just know there is a solid chance I'll have more to say about this in the future.

Tighnari, by his very nature, is a very compartmentalized person. His own problems stay within himself to be dealt with later when he is done and everyone else's needs are already attended to. Always concerned with helping others and keeping things in order, even to the point of staying up into the early hours of the morning, less concerned with himself than those around him. If he’s ever struggling with anything at all, he will do absolutely everything in his power to keep anyone from knowing about it, much less something as personal as this.

In the early months of the year, especially as Lantern Rite nears, Tighnari becomes withdrawn. Quieter, more distant. The Forest Watchers have been talking for forever back and forth swapping theories and rumors in not so hushed tones.

“I heard Master Tighnari lost a family member around this time of year.”

“Really? I heard he just reeeeally hates any kind of festivities especially Lantern Rite because it's so noisy, even when not in Liyue.”

“I dunno, maybe he's just sensitive to the cold?”

Unlike the usual case where he was quick to nip such chatter in the bud and tell off the Rangers for gossiping, he remains entirely silent on the issue, otherwise carrying on as usual. Setting up excursions, documenting his findings, helping and guiding wherever he was needed…

Until he just can't stand it anymore. With hardly a word, save perhaps to Collei to ask her to care for things in his absence, he retreats, hiding himself away in his hut, barricading himself in completely so no nosy Rangers have any reason to loiter around.

He hates it.

He understands it's natural and it's going to happen and blah blah blah, but it was such a nuisance to his life he would give anything to not have to put up with it. The worst of it usually lasts a week or two before he can at least carry some semblance of normalcy and feel willing and able to return to work, but while he's in it, it drives him insane.

Some years it's so bad that he can't even focus on anything other than the absolutely filthy thoughts that plague his mind, his hands shaking so hard he can't even hold a pen long enough to attempt any sort of work. Even like this he just doesn't feel right not being productive especially when he's always running around here and there the rest of the year, why should this be any different?

Head slamming into his desk with a groan, a flush curling up his cheeks and neck. Eventually he has to crack, begrudgingly caring for the needs that grow and grow and grow and become nigh insatiable during his rut.

It starts out almost clinical, looking to just take care of a symptom of an illness almost. Face flushed, lips curled into a deep frown, he sits at his desk, fisting his cock with precision, hoping to get it over with as fast as possible by hitting everything just right.

But no. After dealing with this for years you think he would have known by now that just once isn't enough, yet he still hopes year after year. It only gets worse. Over and over and over again until he's just sore and it hurts. Until he can't keep jerking it lest he make his own skin turn raw. By this point he usually finds himself in his bed, ears flat and face buried into some blankets to muffle the pathetic whimpers that left his lips as he kept grinding his hips into the pillows over and over and over and over, chasing even the slightest modicum of relief.

And most of the time, as annoying as it is, it was completely fine for him to just be stuck imagining some faceless, nameless mate beneath him as he struggled to sate these urges. However, if Tighnari has a bit of a crush… Well, he'd be in for a rude awakening if he hadn't already acknowledged his feelings for you.

I could see poor Tighnari getting almost ill as he realized the cute moans he was imagining sounded a little too much like your voice. Everything freezes for a moment, his stomach lurching both from the realization and the sudden loss of friction when he faltered. He tries so hard to brush it aside, chastising himself for pulling you into his filthy mind right then. But it doesn't stop. Your face, your voice, your skin. Everything. Everything stays in his mind and he cannot stop it. He feels such overwhelming shame about it, but… he does eventually give in and just let whatever fantasies take root, especially since it seems to ease the feelings when he does.

But when he sees you after the worst of it is over and he leaves his hut, guilt grips around his heart and memories of those fantasies rush into his head, leaving him turning on his heel to avoid you at all costs, honestly risking you thinking he hates you with how intensely he's ignoring you.

It's even worse because Tighnari considers hiding in his hut again for even longer as usually he was fine when the worst of it passed, he could resume his duties, but with you around, he could feel his hands shaking, the intense urge to find you wherever you were and pin you down immediately was so strong it scared him a little. Sometimes it caught him off guard too, like he would catch your scent on the breeze and while in his rut, he would genuinely get so horny so fast he's gotten lightheaded, having to catch himself on whatever was nearby so he didn't go crashing down.

If he hated his rut before, the shame of all this made him absolutely loathe it.

Maybe one day you can find a way to make it a liiiiittle more bearable for him ♡

[cloudimahi]

Idc if you think that my script is cringe or that I scripted an entire scene of holding my s/o's hand for the first time is too much for a reality that I won't be in most of the time. It's called having a love language and wanting to appreciate the small things that you never got to notice because of how nosy and noisy the environment you live in is

If you think that it's weird for someone to script lying down in bed hugging their s/o while they listen to music and/or talk and it's raining outside with the low lights barely showing any corner of the room then you're someone who likes to disrespect people's emotions, if you're basic or too much, you're nosy for judging someone's script

You're literally judging people for wanting to heal something or experience something new no matter how small or big it is. if you do that shit then please don't interact with me, thank you