I Went Out And Bought A Christmas 2021 Miku HAHA

Reblog if you're not homophobic

Every url that reblog’s will be written in a book and shown to my homophobic dad. 

Wriothesley can hear your loud stomps from a mile away as you furiously speed-walk to his office door like a bloodhound trailing a scent. Even if not for that, the way that you bang your fist on the door is enough to grab his attention.

"WRIOTHESLEY." Comes booming in from the other side of the door. It's thick wood. He wonders how deaf he would have gone if the door hadn't protected him. The door (the thick, supposedly impenetrable door) rattles on its hinges like a screen in a hurricane when you try to kick it again. "DID YOU EAT MY DONUTS."

It's not even an accusation at that point. It's practically a declaration of war.

"WRIOTHESLEY!" You yell so loudly a group of gardes turning the corner down the hall scramble back the way they came. "Open up, jackass!"

Wriothesley, knowing he cannot escape the consequences of his actions, merely settles deeper into his chair as he drinks his tea. His last meal. Drink. Similar thing.

The door keeps rattling as you yell profanities at him, until one of his traitorous gardes approaches you hesitantly, saying not a single word but offering up the spare key to his office with shaky hands, head low and aggressively avoiding eye contact.

"Oh!" you say, demeanor switching immediately, losing the intimidating glint in your eye as you gingerly take the key. You smile kindly. "Thank you very much!"

Then you turn back to the door, the threat of violence in your eye as you wield the key like a weapon of war, inserting it into the keyhole and twisting it with a dark finality. The garde wonders if they should fear for their superior's wellbeing.

Wriothesley looks up from his newspaper as you close the door ominously behind you, somehow maintaining a blasé facadé even while staring down certain death.

"Well?" you prompt him, eye twitching like a stressed villain from a kid's cartoon show. You round on him in an instant, too quick for him to escape. Somehow, he keeps up his poker face. "Care to explain where my donuts went, Duke of Meropide?"

"I didn't eat them," He deadpans, staring you right in the eye. He pointedly does not acknowledge the white powdered sugar on his face.

"There's white powdered sugar on your face."

"Ah. So there is."

Another cartoony villain eye twitch. "Want to try that again?"

"...I love you?"

"And I love you. Last chance, though."

And he folds like a lawn chair. Wriothesley knows this is a fight he can't win. Even Neuvillette would tell him it's best to just kick the bucket and plead guilty at this point. He sighs breaking eye contact first like a wolf with its tail between its legs.

"Okay, I'll buy you another dozen of them."

You cross your arms, staring at him. He sighs.

"Another two dozen."

You soften just the slightest bit, coming close to perch on his lap and lean into his space. Instinctively, his arms come to wrap around your middle, pulling you against him.

"And?"

Wriothesley leans forward too, enough for your foreheads to touch. You can feel the breath of his sigh against your lips.

"And you have my sincerest apologies for taking your things. In my defense, I thought they were mine at first.”

“Apology accepted,” you say, satisfied, and peck him quickly on the lips. Before it can turn into anything else though, you’re springing up from his lap. Ignoring the disappointed furrow in his brow and the way his arms have still not moved from their position holding you earlier, you take his hand and pull him up from his chair with such startling enthusiasm and surprising strength that it has him stumbling for a second. You pull him towards the door regardless.

“C’mon, you’re making good on that apology right now, Wrio! Hope you finished your work!”

And no, technically he hasn’t finished his work. But he already knows that you’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and that pushing that work to tomorrow wouldn’t hurt. Probably. Whatever— it’d be worth it.

So he just sighs and gives the palm resting in his a squeeze and let’s himself be pulled along. You squeeze back.

“As long as you let me have a few. Those were pretty good.”

NSFW!! 18+ ONLY !!

「 CWS : 」 GN reader w/ ambiguous body. Wrio likes to please. size kink (less on the reader's size, more on how big Wriothesley['s dick] is). Slight dacryphilia. Love ♡. Praise. Creampie.

Wriothesley who lives for hearing you sob in pleasure when he stretches you out on his cock. He loves to hear you gasp his name with tears streaming down your cheeks, lips parted and skin warm under his fingers. Who laces his fingers with yours and presses kisses to your knuckles with one hand, all the while he fucks himself hard and deep inside you.

Wriothesley who loves to see you fall apart with his name on your tongue. Who lives for seeing your eyes roll back into your skull whenever he thrusts so deep, he thinks that his shape might be carved inside of you forever. Each time you gasp his name brokenly, a mantra of pleasure form your mouth, he just fucks into you harder, rougher, desperate to see just how much he can mess you up. All while he whispers sweet words and declarations of love in your ear.

Wriothesley who praises you for being so good for him, for taking every single inch of his cock like a good little sweetheart, even though you're so damn tight that it takes three fingers to stretch you out beforehand. Even though he knows you're half-way dumb on his cock, he still likes to ask you who's making you feel good, whose cock you're being stretched out on, and he preens whenever you never fail to whimper his name.

Wriothesley who fucks his whole length inside you and holds it as deep as it can go,just so that you can feel the stretch— feel the way the head of his cock bumps against that one part of you and has you whining and whimpering that he's too deep, but you never try to push him away and you even pull him closer against you with your legs around his waist. And his heart fucking soars when you squeak, "'love you, Wrio," without him even having to ask.

"Mhm, that's right baby— you're so good for me, yeah? Letting me stretch you out like this, taking every inch even though my cock is too big for you. You want more, baby? Want me to cum inside of you, hm? Want me to fill you up and keep you warm? Well, whatever my sweetheart wants, my sweetheart gets."

I'm such a big Junpei girly i have a whole cardboard cutout an的everything but HIS LOVE LANGUAGE IS SO GIFT GIVING. LIKE omfg. He doesn't really keep up with trends so he's always a little confused when he's getting you gifts, but hey i mean he's got the spirit and thats all that matters because at the end of the day the best thing about dating him is seeing the same stupidly awkward grin he gives you as he offers you the gift and the way he lights up when he realises it was indeed something you liked.

I have something else coming out soon, but i had this stuck in my brain for a while since i got hospitalised again and i was imagining what different characters would bring as get well soon gifts. Maybe i'll write something separate about that too LOL

First fic i've ever written has been posted ! Give it some love ^^!

An angel disguised in pink!

Aged up! No curse AU!Megumi Fushiguro x Jirai Kei! Reader

Summary : Megumi just turned 21, and has already received an invite from Gojo Satoru - to go drinking. It's Gojo, after all. He's seeing faces he vaguely remember from college, but fresh faces were uncommon, even in a Gojo party. You, dressed like an angel in pink, piqued his interest.

WARNINGS : people getting DRUNK, you can tell i've never been to a party and drank, mentions of addiction to host clubs, a smudge of angst maybe if you squint really hard, mostly fluff though

Word count : 1.4K (it's so short!!)

AUTHORS NOTE!!: Hello everyone... I started writing this like yesterday and wasn't aware today was his actual birthday..... ALSO this is my first time writing and i'm not 100% in my english..!! I'm not familiar with posting on tumblr as a whole, so with the layout and all that, i'm not quite familiar. Please give me some leeway with that kind of stuff. also, my laptop kind of broke while i was trying to post this, so im typing this from my touchscreen ipad. It's a little annoying, but oh well..

This was also LIGHTLY inspired by @lokissweater 's mlb megumi... i know its not anything close to their levels of writing, but i was kinda inspired to write megumi for my Landmine reader from her and how she writes Megumi.

I talked too much, i'll just let you read it already ^^"...

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The club Megumi found himself in wasn’t particularly big, but it buzzed with energy. The space was packed with familiar faces—classmates, acquaintances, and a handful of people he’d crossed paths with at one point or another. As soon as he’d turned 21, Gojo had dragged him along to this club, boasting about it being owned by one of Geto’s many “connections.” What Gojo failed to mention was that it was a private party. Not that it mattered much; Megumi realized he wasn’t exactly out of his element.

Most of the crowd blurred together as people he vaguely recognized, but there were a few exceptions. Two were Shoko’s friends, chatting animatedly by the bar. The third was a girl—you—whom Megumi didn’t recognize at all. The strobe lights bathed the room in eye-numbing neon green, but even through the haze, the soft pink of your blouse stood out.

You caught his gaze from across the room, and when your eyes met, you offered a small, awkward smile accompanied by a polite nod. Megumi’s eyes widened in surprise, his cheeks warming with the faintest blush—thankfully hidden by the poor lighting. Still, he managed a curt nod in return, stiff and reserved as ever.

Nobara, watching the interaction from her spot by the bar, smirked to herself. She’d invited you along partly because she knew you enjoyed the club scene, but mostly because an idea had begun forming in her head. You… and Megumi… Yeah, that had potential.

While most of the party (including a very drunk Gojo and Shoko) had taken over the dance floor, Megumi stayed firmly planted at the edge of the chaos, arms crossed. He sighed, his gaze flicking between the reckless dancing and his untouched canned beer.

Adults.

Gojo, currently in a drunken dance battle with Itadori, was reason enough for Megumi to swear off drinking tonight. Witnessing the sheer level of intoxication his mentor had achieved was enough to keep him sober.

Lost in thought, Megumi didn’t notice you approach until he felt the chill of a bottled green tea press against his arm. He startled slightly, turning to find you standing beside him, a tentative smile on your face.

“Figured you might want this. You didn’t touch your beer all night,” you said, holding out the tea.

For a moment, he just blinked at you, caught off guard. Then, taking the bottle, he muttered a quiet, “Thanks. Uh…”

“Oh, right. Um, I’m Y/N.” You dug into your pink MCM bag before pulling out a similar bottle of green tea for yourself.

“So… you’re not a fan of alcohol?” you asked, idly adjusting the lace on your skirt.

Megumi shrugged, taking a sip of the tea. “Not when Gojo’s around. Someone’s gotta stay sober enough to drag him home.”

“Fair enough. He does seem… like a lot.” You cast a concerned glance at the “honored one” himself, doing the Worm on the floor.

“That’s putting it mildly,” Megumi said, the corners of his lips lifting subconsciously. For the first time, he felt like he was actually enjoying himself that night.

A comfortable pause settled as you both observed the other guests.

“You’re… friends with Nobara, right?” Megumi turned his attention to Nobara, who was on the dance floor with a cocktail in hand, her face flushed red from the alcohol she’d ingested, and a feather boa draped across her shoulders like something out of a ’90s movie.

“Yeah. She dragged me along tonight. Said it’d be fun. And I just figured I’d come over and say hi since you looked kind of… out of place.” You laughed softly, his plain shirt and baggy jeans a stark contrast to the vibrant, flashy outfits in the room.

“Is it that obvious?” he asked with a small sigh, running a hand through his hair he hadn’t cared to style.

“A little. You’re the only one here who looks like they’d rather be anywhere else.”

“I’m just not big on crowds. Or neon lights. Or drunk people.”

Another moment of silence passed as you nodded in understanding, observing the dance floor growing even more chaotic.

“You seem like you’re enjoying this,” Megumi said, cocking his head toward the unfolding disasters (Geto spilling his drink onto a very pissed-off Nanami).

“I, uh, I’m used to the nightlife. I used to frequent a lot of bars and nightclubs.”

Megumi raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Used to? You don’t anymore?”

You hesitated for a moment, swirling the green tea bottle in your hands. “Not as much, no. I… got addicted at one point, I guess. I was filling a void in myself. But I realized it wasn’t healthy.”

Megumi’s expression softened, his usual guarded demeanor giving way to curiosity. “Addicted?”

You hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. Not just clubs—host clubs, mostly. I’d go out all the time, spending way too much money just to be around people who’d tell me what I wanted to hear. For a while, I thought it was fun, but… I guess I was filling a void. They hook you in, you know? They leave you alone, and when you start getting desperate, you spend more.”

He frowned slightly, tilting his head. “Host clubs?”

You glanced at him, gauging his reaction, and let out a small laugh. “Yeah, I know. It’s not the most… admirable thing. But when you’re feeling empty, it’s easy to get addicted to the attention. They make you feel special, even if it’s just an act.”

Megumi took a moment to process your words, his gaze steady but without judgment. “What made you stop?”

You smiled faintly, your expression a mix of self-awareness and vulnerability. “I realized it wasn’t real. I was paying for affection, not earning it. And honestly? It wasn’t making me happy—it was just a distraction. So I quit and started focusing on myself. It’s not easy, but… I’m trying.”

He nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “That… takes a lot of self-awareness. Most people wouldn’t even admit they were doing it to fill a void.”

You looked at him, surprised by the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks. I’m not sure if it’s self-awareness or just running out of money.”

That earned a soft chuckle from Megumi, and for the first time that night, the tension between you eased.

“What about you?” you asked, shifting the focus. “You don’t seem like the type to… well, pay for attention.”

He leaned against the wall, thinking. “Not really my thing. I guess I’ve always been more focused on the people I already care about.”

You nodded, impressed by his grounded perspective. “Must be nice. Knowing you’re enough without needing to hear it from someone else.”

He glanced at you, his expression softening. “I think everyone needs to hear it sometimes. Just… not in that way.”

A quiet moment passed between you, the chaotic energy of the club fading into the background.

Finally, you broke the silence with a teasing smile. “So, if clubs aren’t your thing, what is? What would you do for fun?”

“Honestly?” Megumi said, his lips quirking in a rare smile. “Probably stay home with a book or go to a quiet park. Somewhere peaceful.”

You grinned, leaning closer. “A book and a park? You’re a walking cliché.”

He rolled his eyes but didn’t seem annoyed. “And you’re not, Miss ‘Host Clubs for the Guys’?”

“Touché,” you said, laughing softly. “But hey, if you ever get curious, I can recommend a few places.”

“Pass,” he said, shaking his head, but the amusement in his voice made it clear he wasn’t dismissing you.

“Your loss,” you teased, taking another sip of your tea. “But seriously, thanks for not judging me. Most people wouldn’t be so… understanding.”

He looked at you, his expression earnest. “Everyone’s got their reasons.”

Your chest tightened slightly at his words, and you found yourself smiling in a way you hadn’t in a long time. “You’re a lot deeper than I expected, Megumi.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, but there was warmth in his tone.

And just like that, the club felt a little less overwhelming, and the two of you felt a little more connected. Fein by Travis Scott played in the background of the packed bar at 1:23 a.m. Gojo and Geto slumped over each other groggily as the alcohol took its toll. Itadori darted around, still inexplicably full of energy, while Nobara stood barefoot, heels in hand, complaining to Maki. 

Somehow, amidst the chaos, this moment felt peaceful.

︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

(I hope everyone liked this... I probably will write a continuation or maybe make it a series when i have the time to.)

what a waste... 🌊

Junpei doodles because I love him so much and I too am a horror nerd

AAAH my poor baby junpei.....

“you can talk to me. i promise i won't judge you, no matter what.”

the simplicity of his love.

Softie!Megumi x Reader

summary: everyday life with Megumi

WARNINGS: downbad Megumi ꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

Word count : 500 (I.... somehow wrote exactly 500 words...? I think essay writing's been starting to have it's toll on me (╥﹏╥)....)

a/n: I haven't posted in a few months, so please take this that i scrapped together in an hour as a apology. It somehow feels so much better than the one I spent hours on, though.....

I've been diagnosed with a few blood issues, so I've been in and out of the hospital for a while. I'm on more meds, but I'm now back to writing again....!!!! Thank you for your patience!!!!!

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Despite the fact that he’s almost always busy, he still goes to the florists’ every month. He’s been there so much, in fact, that to make it easier for him, the old lady that worked there would always leave the flowers he always bought outside, so he wouldn’t need to trudge all over the store, trying to find those damned pink flowers you liked so much. 

He bids farewell to the old lady again with a curt nod, making sure to leave an extra big tip this time.

He gently plucks a single flower out from the bouquet and makes sure to drop it into a vase by his bed once he gets home so that he knows to buy you new flowers once the one in his vase starts to wilt. 

He won’t admit it, but whenever he starts to miss you, he gazes upon that singular stalk sitting in his blue vase. It starts to remind him more and more of you, the way that the flowers bloomed and even the way the flower smelled - you’re constantly plaguing his mind. 

He loves you, and he loves you so much.

You’re the only flower he cares for, the most beautiful, the most delicate,the most precious, your touch is like a heavenly blessing to him and your eyes have that soft feel to them.

He’d be lying if he said that it wasn’t starting to affect him. Your scent is starting to linger in his house, in his living room, on that book you’d grabbed absentmindedly while he was in the shower, on his pillows and sheets you had insisted “felt way softer”. He looks at you with that same soft gaze, one that was filled with love and respect.

He didn’t appear to others as a softie, because that was only for you to see. A special side of him that he had kept behind closed doors, doors that only you can open.

Period pain? He’s already shown up to your door, drenched from the rain, bags of painkillers, snacks and heating pads in hand. 

You’ve called him at 1am again, muttering something incomprehensible about your nightly cravings of mac and cheese? I know, he says over the phone, voice still groggy. He tells you about a whole bowl he left in the fridge while he was at your house. 

You got sick? He leaves behind everything that he had been doing, and rushes to your apartment with medicine from the pharmacy and homemade chicken noodle soup. He raises a spoonful of the soup and you swallow it all, nuzzling your face into his hand. He sighs, feeling how warm you are, but doesn’t protest. Everything is silent as he gently runs his fingers through your hair, watching it ripple like a waterfall. No words were being exchanged, but the concern in his eyes spoke more than words could’ve ever.

“Ughh. I love you so much.”

“....you’re just trying to stall from taking your medicine again, aren’t you…..?”