Tumgik
#i had fun writing these
blue-howlite · 1 year
Text
Being their significant other headcanons, Dislyte edition.
Feat. Li Ling, Falken, Yun Chuan, Long Mian.
Author note: the first three were requested, the other was added by me for fun. The request for Falken asked for a shy reader but I'm doing really general headcanons here. Buuuuut... Yes I did change his headcanons a bit to fit the request. Also I wrote all this in the most gender neutral way possible, so anyone can enjoy it.
Twigger warnings: none? Maybe Long Mian being the most possessive man on Earth, but it was expected. Oh you can imagine some nsfw situations if you really try, but nothing mentioned here was meant to be nsfw.
Li Ling
You got in a relationship with this walking- floating menace. I'm not going to ask how.
He probably started floating around you a lot, showing off his powers to you until you asked him out because you thought he was flirting. He was not, but now he's glad you thought he was.
Anyway here we are!
First off, let's bust a myth. You know the "If there's something I can't stand is dumb rules"? Well, that doesn't really apply to you.
He might tease you sometimes, but he will never, ever cross your boundaries.
He respects you and you're one of the few people that can make him behave.
And this leads to another of his quotes.
"If you have something to say, you better have the power to back it up", right?
Well, he's your power to back it up. Doesn't matter if you're a normal person, and Esper, if you're in the Union or not, if you have a problem it is now also his problem and he'll back you up.
Yes this did lead to some accidents a few times but it's alright, the other person was always left alive.
Now the important part.
Six arms.
You think he's not going to use them?
No matter where you two are, his hands are always on you. Maybe one is on your shoulder, or on your waist, or holding your hand.
Anyway, if you're not comfortable with that he'll respect you. As I said earlier, he's respecting your boundaries, no matter how hard he wishes to squeeze you in a hug.
But he will lift you up at the most random times with his extra arms. And carry you around like a backpack. Like if he has somewhere to be and he wants you to be with him he won't talk, he'll just take you with him. You'll get used to it.
He isn't really possessive nor gets jealous easily. Probably because no one would dare try anything with you since you're with him. Bonus if you're strong enough that your fame alone is what keeps others from approaching you, Li Ling likes strong people.
Cuddles? Yes please. I feel like since most of his physical contact with others is through punches he's actually very cuddly. And he gives bear hugs. No I won't elaborate.
You're not a fan of physical contact? Cool, then you can do activities together! Maybe he can teach you how to cook meals typical of Tangton, or his family recipes! (Good luck if you're not a spicy food person.)
Pet names? He'll probably use your name more often, but "Babe" and "Sweetheart" are also good options.
And if you try to give him pet names he'll probably go 'uno reverse' and use them on you instead.
He's such a menace.
But he's your menace.
Falken
It all starts with you, who somehow you caught his attention, through an action or a particular feature you have, and now he's thinking about it. But what does Falken do when he thinks? He zones out.
So the first time you catch him staring at you and he doesn't even look away, you'll probably panic a little, thinking you did something wrong. He's an Union Commander after all, if he stares at someone there must be a valid reason, right? So you gather your courage and ask him what's wrong.
When he realizes that he's been staring you can bet he's embarrassed. Like a lot. He usually stares at things or animals, not people. And he'll notice you're a bit agitated now.
Him apologizing for making you uncomfortable is a great conversation starter though, he'll explain why he was staring and so you'll start talking. You become friends.
And soon you start dating. I'm positive Falken has some experience with love and so he recognizes the feeling that makes him zone out whenever he sees you, so he'll confess.
He's very focused on his work, but he keeps his life balanced so that he has time both for his duty as an Union Commander and as your boyfriend
Sometimes he might take some things for granted, like you enjoying PDA or physical contact. Please tell him if he crosses any boundaries, he'll be sure not to let it happen again.
That doesn't mean he'll take you for granted though. He loves you and cherishes you, he just needs help learning about you.
Which is something he really enjoys by the way.
If you happen to tell him about an interest or a preference of yours he will commit it to memory, even if it doesn't seem important at the moment.
If you have trouble speaking up for yourself he'll make sure to be by your side and help you. Not help you as in speaking for you, rather encouraging you overcoming your shyness and speaking for yourself.
Of course if you're actually unable to he'll just do it for you, but you can bet he's going to help you get better at it later.
It's not that he sees shyness as a bad thing, but he knows that sometimes it can get in the way and be an issue for you. He's okay with you being shy, as long as it doesn't stop you from being respected.
He doesn't get jealous but I see him as a bit possessive. Not possessive as in "you're mine", more as in "you're precious to me and I want to cherish and protect you". Like you're his but that's not the main point to him.
Oh you can count on him if someone makes you uncomfortable though. Guys/gals/hoes trying to hit on you? The "Eye of Horus" is on them and if stares could kill that person would be six feet under already.
Pet names? "Love" is the one he uses the most, "Dear" is for when he's back from a mission or he's tired after a long day of work.
He'll let you give him any pet name you want, as long as they make sense and aren't excessively ridiculous.
He just loves you and wishes to always be there for you.
Yun Chuan
Ohhhh boy, another menace. But a sweet menace.
So, how do you get the scary dog privileges? Well, the moment Screamer understands Yun Chuan is into you, that's when the fun starts.
Screamer is his wing man you can't tell me otherwise. He will get in your way so that you stumble on him and his master can catch you in his arms when you fall. He'll jump on you, pushing you against his master. Yun Chuan will apologize to you a lot about it but Screamer won't stop it, until one day his master finally confesses to you.
And you got the scary dogs privileges!
Yun Chuan will take you to befriend the Jagalions, that's for sure. Even if you're not a fighter he will teach you how to train with them and interact with them. Let's imagine that Jagalions don't trigger allergies so that even the allergy people can enjoy this.
Now, what about boundaries?
Of course he respects them. The funny thing is, he might even over-respect them.
He'll always ask if you're okay with anything, be it holding hands or kissing you. Especially in public, he will ask every single time for permission.
It's not that he doesn't like it, he loves giving you affection, he just wants to make sure you're comfortable with it.
He likes hugging you though. He is the master of bear hugs. Hugs in general. He will lift you from the ground while hugging you, no matter your size or height.
And about that.
This man is the best when it comes to body positivity. Like he will love your body for you and teach you how to love it as well.
Of course if you decide to work out he will take you to the Jagalions with him and you'll train together, but only if you're doing it because you want to, not because you feel pressured to.
No but like for real, doesn't matter if it's about a skin, hair or eye condition, or your weight, Yun Chuan will make sure you know he loves you as you are.
Possessive. A lot. In the "They're mine" way. If he's not with you then Screamer is. But he's also shy about it, he'll never admit to it. He's just making sure you're always safe, that's all. Even if you're a powerful Esper you might need assistance, right? Don't mind Screamer getting literally between you and whoever you are talking to, he's just making sure you're alright!
Rather than pet names he likes short versions of your name. He's not very good at pet names.
You can give him any pet name you want. He doesn't really get them but go ahead, have fun with it! But prefers when you call his name 100% of the time.
He might be awkward at times, like if for some reason you show a lot of skin (even though this man is barely covering his own shoulders), but it's just because he loves you and he doesn't want to hurt you in any way.
Long Mian
Because he likes collecting Miramon and creatures he deems unique, he's probably been watching you for a while and his first thought was to freeze you and put you in his collection room.
But! Then you made a different expression from the one you were making a moment ago! Maybe he could freeze you with that.
Your pose changed too! Oh no!
Once he realises that you have too many expressions and different poses, he decides to give you a few days and watch you, in order to decide how you would look best as an ice statue. He even starts talking to you, to see up close your facial features and watch them change with every expression you make.
He gives you a few more weeks, thinking that he needs to choose carefully.
And this plan backfires. He realizes he won't be able to hear your voice if he freezes you. And he likes your voice. He likes talking with you. He likes you.
This annoys him to no end, and he won't admit that he fell for you. But he still desires you, he wants you to be his.
After explaining to him that he can't force you to live in his collection room, you somehow agree to start dating. This way you're his and he'll still get to talk to you and spend time with you. Perfect solution, right?
...
He doesn't know how a relationship works. If it was up to him, you'd never leave his side, but you'll have to teach him that sometimes you have other things to do or that you need space.
He'll see you as something he owns and has to protect for a while at the beginning of the relationship. It will take an active effort from you to make him see you as an equal and not a collection item.
He'll come around I promise, he just needs time to understand his feelings and the fact that he does indeed love you.
Once he figures it out though, you're done for, because he will realize that others as well might develop feelings for you. He will make sure they know you are his beloved. Your neck is now covered in purple bruises and bite marks, he didn't mean to hurt you but don't you look beautiful like this?
Work on boundaries, he'll respect them once he understands why they're important for you. Which might take some time.
It's not that he will just do whatever he wants, he knows what 'No' means. He just won't bother asking, you'll have to say it first.
Loves you a lot though. The fact that he can't just freeze you and call it a day means that the time you two have is far more precious than what he has with the pieces in his collection. He treasures you, really.
He will make sure you know he loves you. Long Mian is self aware, he knows he often acts cold, but he doesn't want you to mistake his coldness for lack of love in your regards. So he always smiles a bit more with you and often tells you that he loves you.
Sometimes he'll just come up to you, kiss you, then go back to whatever he was doing.
He is touch starved, fight me.
He doesn't just like cuddling, he's addicted to it now. He just needs your body pressed against his, your warmth against his cold touch.
Did I already say he loves your voice?
Talk to him when you're together, sing if you want, read to him, just let him hear you. Whatever he's doing just let him hear your voice, let him know that you're here.
If you're sleeping he will come and lay his head on your chest to hear your heartbeat. He just needs to know that you're alive and well.
Pet names for you? Anything which he can put "My" in front of. "My love", "My dear", "My treasure", and so on.
For him? Just call him by his name. But if you really want to make him lose it (in a good way), put "My" first. Play his own game on him. He'll love it.
It is a complicated relationship and making it work requires a lot of effort from both sides, but it's worth it.
244 notes · View notes
ohposhers · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
This started as a shitpost and then I just kept going anyway AU where Floyd eventually forgives Veneer and they end up becoming besties a few years down the line and have girls nights ugh [NOT SHIP ART!!!] aaand Bonus doodle of when they take the curlers out or some shit dont look at me man
Tumblr media
4K notes · View notes
wardingshout · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Zelda goes mushroom girl
3K notes · View notes
cleric4vampire · 5 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
wyll.y.am ravengard, I love you so
everyone loves to put him in gold (rightly so) but my personal style is lots of silver jewelry + heavy eyeliner so that's what I gave him. also roses because he's so damn venusian
2K notes · View notes
umblrspectrum · 2 days
Text
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
i love learning cursive just to write text for exactly one character
1K notes · View notes
vacantgodling · 4 months
Text
ngl i get that people hype up hating writing for the bit but like. idk. yall i Do actually really like writing. it is so satisfying and fun and rewarding and i get to look back what i made over and over again and get joy every single time.
yes writing is hard but if you hate it more than you love it im kinda like. idk. find another hobby?
2K notes · View notes
solarmorrigan · 4 months
Text
I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!
[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]
-
Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.
“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.
“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.
“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.
He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.
“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”
Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”
Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.
“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.
This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”
Steve snorts. Is he okay?
Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”
Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.
Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.
And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”
It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.
He couldn’t.
He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.
So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.
But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.
“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”
Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.
“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.
Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.
“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”
Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”
“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.
“I guess,” Steve mutters.
“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”
Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.
Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.
Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.
“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”
At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.
“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”
But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.
“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”
“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”
“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”
Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”
In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”
Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”
Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”
“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.
“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.
And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?
(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)
(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)
“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.
“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”
Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”
“Sort of?” Munson presses.
“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.
“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”
“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).
“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”
Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”
“Ah,” Munson says.
“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”
“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.
Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”
“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.
“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”
“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”
Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”
“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.
“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”
The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”
“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”
Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.
“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.
He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.
“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”
That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).
“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.
“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”
“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.
“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”
Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.
“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”
“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?
“What?” Steve asks.
“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”
“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”
And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”
“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”
“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.
Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”
“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”
Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”
Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”
Steve blinks at him. “What?”
“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.
It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.
On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.
“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.
Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.
“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.
“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.
“Hm.”
“What?”
“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”
It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.
“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.
Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.
He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?
Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.
He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.
The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.
After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.
“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.
“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.
When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.
“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”
Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”
“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”
Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.
(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)
“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.
If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.
He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.
“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”
Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”
“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”
“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”
Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”
“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”
“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.
Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”
“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.
His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”
“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.
“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.
“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”
Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.
“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”
Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”
Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.
Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”
Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.
“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.
“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”
Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”
And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.
And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.
2K notes · View notes
omtai · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
got too crazy last night & made a fake Gerard Fangoria cover... 🧛‍♀️
📸: Jess Gleeson
1K notes · View notes
toruslvt · 3 months
Note
heyyy so what do you think of afab reader who is a prostitue x mafia boss sugar daddy pookie pookie bby sukuna (wow that was a mouthful) ty! (⁠✿⁠^⁠‿⁠^⁠)
mdni. no pronouns!, daddy kink, size kink, he just uses his hand to keep you upwards ( no choking ) ( during → ) mirror sx, suku has tattoos hell yeah, there's actually some character development here I'm proud ( from being a dick to not so much )( he's so in love ), n he's low-key possessive<3
Tumblr media
Sukuna’s daily visits to the city’s most luxury club —under his possession of course— wasn’t something new, with pretty girls perched on each one of his sides, tiny dresses and way too over-touching hands. he didn’t mind them though, neither he gave a fuck about them, the only thing Sukuna felt was amusement, amusement of allowing each girl to think they had a chance with him.
Tumblr media
the sleeve tattoo on his right arm peeks from under a perfectly fit cuff, adorned by a golden watch that glimmers under the golden light as he leans forward to take a sip of his whiskey, a soft click of his tongue and a swirl of his finger is enough for his bodyguards to take said girls out, an endless rotation in which you took part.
but you’re not his favorite, —or at least, that’s what he told himself— no, Sukuna doesn’t partake in favoritism, if his guards escorted you to his private suite more times than they would to any other girl, who never lasts inside the room longer than 10 minutes, no one will admit it. it’s an inside gossip, they say the boss is in love, Sukuna admits he’s in love with the tight squeeze of your cunt, in love with the pretty moans you let out, with how eager you are to please his most wicked desires, he wants to keep you to himself, to adorn you with the most expensive jewelry, but certainly that’s not love, right?
the necklace he chose definitely compliments the beauty of your skin, and jingles oh so prettily when he’s pounding into you from behind, “aw, look at you” he mutters in your ear, almost imperceptively due to the loud sticky sound of his heavy balls smacking against clit, one of his hands rests on your neck, arms flexing and muscles bulging under the dark ink of his intrinsic tattoos, making you watch your own fucked out image in the golden rimmed mirror, clenching and keening at the sight of his large hand holding your dainty neck, “i knew this color would suit you” he smirks, meeting your eyes through the reflection for you to mewl.
your vision almost blurs from the intensity of Sukuna’s merciless thrusts, forcing your body to jolt up and down at the same time his back and thighs muscles clench at the way your cunt sucks on his cock, so tight it’s imposible for him not to make a mess right underneath your meeting bodies.
“say ‘thank you, daddy’” Sukuna urges, switching his thumb to resting on your collarbone to parting your lips slightly, rubbing on your tongue and inner cheeks.
“t-thank you... ah, daddy! ngh!” you manage to moan through whimpers, by this point your eyes are filled with tears, unable to see the lewd sight in front of you properly, yet Sukuna forces your eyes to remain still.
a slight change of angle in his hips and the man is able to see how your face contorts from pleasure, fucking you hard with soft ‘ah, ah’ s coming from your puffy lips. “that’s right, baby, only daddy gets to see you this ruined, only daddy can fuck your tight cunt” Sukuna grunts on your neck, cock bullying your tiny pussy at the same speed one of his thumbs rubs on your clit, urging your orgasm to coat hil whole.
“m’ cumming!” you get to squeal, earning a chuckle from him at the way your walls clamp around his cock, pulling him impossibly deeper as he continues to fuck his fat cock into your spasming cunt, allowing his eyes to travel through the expanse of your trembling body and slick oozing from your hole, making a puddle on the sheets right underneath your thighs.
Sukuna’s orgasm doesn’t take long in arriving, with a huffed “you’re fuckin’ mine” and making sure to be buried as deep into your pussy before filling the condom with his cum, maybe he’ll give his darling a creampie later on, for now, you’ll have to conform yourself with daddy’s black card.
he still won’t admit you’re his favorite, the girls are long gone and now it’s just you, sitting prettily on his lap with a strong arm around your waist, a smirk no one has ever seen before is now present on his face, but don’t get him wrong, Sukuna is still as ruthless and cruel as ever, but that doesn’t mean he can’t have a little more space in his heart for you.
2K notes · View notes
l3viat8an · 4 months
Note
Out of the demon brothers who’s most likely to take playfighting super seriously and who treats it more like a game? or maybe a little sexy ;)
I know I’ve talked about play fighting with the boys before but that was more rambling so I tried to make hcs this time!!
Little bit suggestive in a couple of parts but mostly silly hcs!
Lucifer knows his strength and he’d hate to accidentally hurt you (again) he’s the oldest too so he kinda thinks it’s beneath him 🙄 If it’s more his attention you’re after he’d rather just give you kisses.
That being said; if you can get Lucifer in a really good mood he’ll just chuckle, raising an eyebrow while watching you try to hit his chest. Not like you can actually hurt him- You’ll probably get bored quick and it’s only then that Lucifer moves. Grabbing your waist so he can turn you around and slap your ass- if you say anything he’ll just play it off, saying it’s how he wants to play~
Mammon oh you wanna fight?? Then get ready to fight!! he take it soooo seriously and it’s a good excuse to manhandle you just a little bit!!-
Mammon doesn’t work out for nothing ‘n of course he likes to show off for you! He carries you to your bed and even throws you around a little, laughing the whole time!
He’s fully convinced he’s in a wrestling match and even yells some silly slogan he just made up. Of course he still pays attention to every little thing you do, he’d never forgive himself if he actually hurt you while messing around.
Levi doesn’t really play fight- and if you hit him, he thinks you hate him- he’s more into tickle fights where you’re rolling around tangled up together and laughing!!
Tho there is a chance he’ll randomly bite you, it’s like cuteness aggression takes over and seeing skin = bite you in his head!!! ‘n this could absolutely happen mid tickle-fight!! You’ll feel his teeth nip at your neck / arm / shoulder / wherever he can reach, really. He just likes to bites you. you make him happy? He bites you. It’s simple really. Any excuse is a good excuse to cover you in his bite marks.
Satan also takes it way too seriously- he doesn’t want to hurt you! And he doesn’t really have a good reason for why he takes it so seriously….he just likes to play-fight with you.
You couldn’t beat him in a real fight anyways- but like this he can pretend and let you ‘beat him’ !!There’s also something really hot about the way you pin him to the floor, and smirk down at him while triumphantly shouting “I win.” in that moment all he wants to do is sit up and kiss you-
Asmo the first time he almost cries that you absolutely can’t hit his face!!
But after that he’s a little intrigued, and he can’t lie it is fun to toss you around a bit- ‘n more often then not it’ll turn into something a little hotter~
he’ll looks at you with a little smirk on his face and let you throw a punch or two at him. But before your blows can land you’ll hear Asmo’s little giggle as he grabs your wrists, pulling your hands up to his face and kissing each of your fingers before pulling you into a hug, whispering that if you really want to fight……you’ll have to fight naked~
Beel There’s no way either of them will fight back- even if it’s for a joke he’s too afraid he could to hurt unintentionally.
Beel is too big and worried about his size. He thinks whenever he’s touching you, it should be to make you feel good or make you feel safe. Not to play-fight, but if he ever did try it he’ll probably just kinda poke your cheek or just hold his firsts up while he lets you try and hit him. Don’t worry, your firsts feel more like taps to him.
Belphie loves to tease you, joking that ‘there’s just no way your little human punches would hurt him.’
But he’ll still let you try, his favorite part is when you do hit him and he lets out an involuntary ‘oof’ the huge, goofy, grin on your face almost makes him want to smile too-
He’ll get you back tho!- Belphie will full on tackle you as he starts to tickle you until you have to beg him to stop. But he just laughs tickling you a little longer.
1K notes · View notes
wispscribbles · 5 months
Text
Tumblr media
❄️ Remember to bring blankets for your recon mission ❄️
1K notes · View notes
lonicera-caprifolium · 4 months
Text
Tumblr media
a Christmas meal to go with @mirjam-writes' absolutely gorgeous fic--
Be Still My Soul (link ✨️)
Tumblr media Tumblr media
1K notes · View notes
sugarcoatednightshade · 5 months
Text
thinking about how Humans Are Space Orcs stories always talk about how indestructible humans are, our endurance, our ability to withstand common poisons, etc. and thats all well and good, its really fun to read, but it gets repetitive after a while because we aren't all like that.
And that got me thinking about why this trope is so common in the first place, and the conclusion I came to is actually kind of obvious if you think about it. Not everyone is allowed to go into space. This is true now, with the number of physical restrictions placed on astronauts (including height limits), but I imagine it's just as strict in some imaginary future where humans are first coming into contact with alien species. Because in that case there will definitely be military personnel alongside any possible diplomatic parties.
And I imagine that all interactions aliens have ever had up until this point have been with trained personnel. Even basic military troops conform to this standard, to some degree. So aliens meet us and they're shocked and horrified to discover that we have no obvious weaknesses, we're all either crazy smart or crazy strong (still always a little crazy, academia and war will do that to you), and not only that but we like, literally all the same height so there's no way to tell any of us apart.
And Humans Are Death Worlders stories spread throughout the galaxy. Years or decades or centuries of interspecies suspicion and hostilities preventing any alien from setting foot/claw/limb/appendage/etc. on Earth until slowly more beings are allowed to come through. And not just diplomats who keep to government buildings, but tourists. Exchange students. Temporary visitors granted permission to go wherever they please, so they go out in search of 'real terran culture' and what do they find?
Humans with innate heart defects that prevent them from drinking caffeine. Humans with chronic pain and chronic fatigue who lack the boundless endurance humans are supposedly famous for. Humans too tall or too short or too fat to be allowed into space. Humans who are so scared of the world they need to take pills just to function. Humans with IBS who can't stand spicy foods, capsaicin really is poison to them. Lactose intolerance and celiac disease, my god all the autoimmune disorders out there, humans who struggle to function because their own bodies fight them. Humans who bruise easily and take too long to heal. Humans who sustained one too many concussions and now struggle to talk and read and write. Humans who've had strokes. Humans who were born unable to talk or hear or speak, and humans who through some accident lost that ability later.
Aliens visit Earth, and do you know what they find? Humanity, in all its wholeness.
1K notes · View notes
emmyrosee · 1 year
Text
Kuroo Tetsuro was put on this earth to have children.
Before your little twins were even a thought, he’d look longingly at young couples with kids, watching with the most dazed expression. He was always the first to smile at infants, wave at toddlers, and if the accompanying parents seemed to welcome his affections, he’d ask the young children questions.
So, the gods blessed him with twins. And 9 times out of 10, he’s the most thorough father you’ve ever known, and he’s so quick to know which child needs what, when, and why.
Right now, however, is the 1 out of 10. And it’s funny.
“There’s a tiny human at the end of our bed,” he whispers against your head, the raspiness of his voice rumbling against your temple.
“I sincerely hope you mean one of our children.”
Your joke makes Tetsuro laugh, slowly sitting up to peek at the cutest intruder in your doorway.
“Good morning, baby,” he mumbles, thick fingers pressing into his eyes to rub the sleep from them. You smile at your daughter at the foot of your bed, sleepily gazing at your little girl. “How’d you sleep?”
“Good, dadda,” she mumbles around her pacifier.
“Yeah? Where’s your sister?”
“Sleepin’.”
“She’s still sleeping?” He says, yawning softly, an arm wrapping around you to pull you closer. “How come you’re not still sleeping?”
“Bluey!” She squeals excitedly, pointing at the tv in your room.
This, has your husband’s eyes furrowing. His body shifts slightly, and his eyes dart to span over her tiny frame.
“You want to watch Bluey?” He asks, and you cock your brow up at him in confusion for his confusion.
“Uh-huh!” She crawls onto the foot of your bed with a finger extended to the big screen, “Bluey, please?”
“What’s wrong?” You whisper, grabbing the remote and clicking the tv so your tiny child is occupied.
Tetsuro leans over, pulling you close, enough to where his warm breath spans over your face.
“I don’t know which one that is,” he whispers, and you let out a soft snort.
“You really don’t know?”
“I know Hanako likes Bluey, but Hanae’s favorite pair of pj’s is the one that’s being worn right now.”
Your eyes flick back down to the figure at the bottom of your bed, who indeed, is wearing Hanae’s favorite green pajamas (Hanako’s are yellow), but is watching Bluey like no one’s business (Hanae immensely prefers paw patrol).
And in his defense… they are twins.
Looking the same is kind of what they do.
“What about her eyes?” You whisper back. Hanae has eyes like her fathers, while Hanako’s are more akin to yours.
“Couldn’t get a good look, it’s too early!”
“Pacifier color?”
“Baby they switch those regularly, you know better than to ask.”
Chewing on your lip, your eyes shift over your child’s excited eyes watching the tv. It’s true, if they weren’t identical enough, now they have to go and switch the few things that make them different.
“Who are you?” Tetsuro asks to no one, though it does make you giggle.
Then, you smile and slowly sit up, patting your husband’s chest lovingly. “Hey stinky,” you call, and you watch her messy black hair swish as she turns to face you. “Who do you like to hang out with more, uncle ken or uncle ko?”
The tiny human beams around the pacifier in her mouth, “uncle ko! ‘Cause he plays pirates with me in ‘da pool!”
You and tetsuro look at each other and grin.
Hanae.
Hanako was absolutely whipped for her uncle kenma.
“We should see him soon, shouldn’t we?” You ask, watching as Hanae bounces excitedly.
Tetsuro rolls his eyes as he sits up, “not before we see uncle Kenma, he’s already pouty that you like uncle Koutaro more, and I gotta hear about it.”
“Of course she likes him more,” you tease, slipping out of bed to start the day. “Hanae is practically attached to Koutarou’s leg; she told us she was going to marry him one day, remember?
“Gonna marry Uncle Kou one day!” Hanae chirps. “N’ Hanako’s gonna marry Uncle Kenma, ‘nd we’re all gonna marry Uncle Kei, and-“
“Do not do this to me so early,” Tetsuro groans, patting the bed for the little girl to snuggle with him. She does, with a happy little noise and a quick scurry close to him, and you can only watch with a smile as they watch Bluey together in the rays of the sun before shuffling off to make breakfast.
6K notes · View notes
criticalrolo · 1 year
Text
I had a post a while ago about making sure your dnd character WANTS to be an adventurer a while ago, something else I’ve been thinking about is the importance of making a dnd character that WANTS to be in a group and have some sort of relationship with other PCs. the Group Nature of ttrpgs means lone wolves just aren’t feasible. if you really want to play a lone wolf or antisocial character at the beginning then I highly recommend telling your dm and the others players that you plan on forming bonds along the way and growing out of that mindset. otherwise why are you playing dnd, a group activity that involves cooperation and building relationships? Just Write A Book if you don’t wanna be in a group
5K notes · View notes
ywuji · 1 month
Note
Omg so like I want to hear your thoughts on perv!Megumi like finally after so long of Gojo teasing him for being in college for two years at this point and being single, he’s finally procured a pretty girlfriend who’s unfortunately (for her) so naive and sweet??🩷💕 Idk I got shy but I know you’ll do something good with this lol
ik i told u id post this after my wips but i started on it n i couldnt stop i liked the idea too much LOL im sorry for being so confusing D; tysm for the ask though!!! :o i rlly enjoyed writing this!!! (n don’t be shy ahjwhs you’re so lovely T_T♡)
perv!megumi !!! please i feel like he’s the type to be a pervert that’s kinda embarrassed n self aware about himself—especially bc gojo kept teasing him all those years n he was kinda just jacking off to whatever x-rated video that came up first (i feel like perv!megumi is highkey into hentai too but he’s taking that to the grave!!)
n when gets a pretty little girlfriend who acts so cute and who he loves so much, when he gets hard he can’t help but let some of that side of him slip out from time to time...
i think he’s also the type to take lots of pictures,, like pictures while you sleep, peeking through your door while you shower, in clothing store changing rooms while you change, upskirt pictures… he’ll make you his little model!! some of them you know about but some of them you don’t, he’s so lewd.
it’s not just pics of you he takes, it's some of himself too. i feel like one of the things he’d love to do to you is when you tell him to come with you to some random uni event, n he’ll randomly disappear in the middle of it, only to go to the bathroom to take pictures of his hard leaky cock to send you with some casual caption like he didn’t just do that ?!?! he’s crazy (more under the cut)
it’s not megumi’s fault he’s so in his head about you, he still just doesn’t really know how he managed to get someone as pretty and doting as you are as his. 
he sometimes feels guilty for being so obsessed with you—your body clad in pretty little outfits that you show off to him with a twirl, the way you’ll always show him your shiny new sparkly nails when you get them done, how he’s always the first one you’ll pick to talk to about something new you’ve found to love—it’s all that seems to be on his mind recently.
maybe it was gojo’s accidental doing, those feelings of guilt. unintentionally planting a little growing seed of shame in him the first few times he started teasing him for not having a partner yet at his ‘big age’, borderline lecturing him with the ‘when i was your age’ stuff—maybe that was the logical reason why he felt so attached to you, the reason he couldn’t help getting fully erect even when he only saw as much as a pair of your flung-away panties lying at the edge of your bed when coming to your room one day.
but when he recalls back to those nights where you’re innocently cuddled against him, watching whatever movie, a quiet ‘megumi?’ leaving your lips as a sign to tell him you’re falling asleep, and he finds himself shifting in his seat, carefully adjusting your head to let you rest comfortably on him, pressing a soft kiss to your hair as he strokes it and tells you a ‘sleep now, angel’, he knows that’s not the reason.
nevertheless, he’s always been worried about it, thoughts of ‘am i doing too much?’ or a ‘would she not like this?’ clouding his mind. but for every single thought like this he has, he’ll always have two more memories where he’s coming up to you, his sweet-faced little girlfriend, waiting for him with open arms and open heart. and to him, it means more than the world.
and as his cheerful sweetheart girlfriend, you’ve never really minded of course.
you know he’s at least a little perverted, asking to take those pictures of you trying on your new swimsuits, or bras, or skirts, or those times when he pulls out after spilling his load into you, and the first thing he does after making sure you’re okay is to go face-to-face with the trail of cum seeping out of you to snap a few photos.
honestly, you’ve gotten used to it at this point. you just take these moments, seeing what you do to him, as a way of reassuring yourself that he really does just love you that much. and he really does. really!! :(
no matter how innocent or dirty the context, he’ll let you know whenever he gets that warm little feeling in his chest.
“i-i love you,” he pants, head coming up from sucking marks on your neck, languid thrusts coming to a gentle stop as he peers up at you with flushed cheeks. it feels like he’s admitting it for the first time again.
when you stare at him with his same love-drunk look, brows furrowed and eyes pleading, whispering out an “i love you too, gumi”, he’ll pause a moment to study your expression before gently raising you further up the bed, hooking his hand under your leg and repositioning it around his waist.
he’ll drop down to press a kiss to your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder and picking up the pace again, now only determined to make you cum.
when he thinks of times like these, despite what you’re doing together, it’s innocent in his head.
a time where that’s not so much the case though is when you persuade him to come with you to some uni exhibition event, looking up at him with hopeful, doe-like eyes and as many ‘pleeeaaase, gumi’s and ‘please, guuuum’s as you could muster—cause it’s not like he could say no to that, right?
at first he put up an act of feign stubbornness. but eventually he agreed—only when he knew you’d excitedly hug him and press your soft chest to his as a thank you for it though.
he’d tour the hall with you, watching you gaze in awe at everything with your cute, simple curiosity, occasionally pointing out little things in the pieces he liked. before the artist began their talk though, he got up from his seat, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek before muttering a “‘m g’na go to the bathroom.”
in an empty stall, he’ll sit atop the lid and pull down his jeans, freeing his stiffening cock from his underwear. he quietly groans as he pumps himself a few times, a slow trickle of translucent white leaking down from his tip.
he silently curses, throwing his head back, thinking about how you let him flip up your pretty skirt before you left, letting him take a peek at your cute ass in the frilly panties he bought for you.
he reaches for his phone, fumbling to send a picture of the sight to you, adding a casual caption of something like ‘hi pretty girl’ or ‘u look so pretty today, angel’.
he pauses, realising that maybe you won’t see it for a little while. he’s imagining you so obediently listening to the artist speaker to notice the ping of his notification—he enjoys that thought too, but he can’t say why.
he’s careful not to thrust up into his fist, not wanting to make too much noise, but it’s futile—he’s too hard staring at the lewd shots of you saved in his secret hidden album—the way you act so innocently, the way you have no clue what the true extent is of what you do to him. he can’t help but let a few breathy whines slip.
he won’t let himself cum though, thinking he’s too good to be letting himself release over some scrunched up, bathroom tissue when he’s got his own pretty little girlfriend waiting for him a few halls down.
he sighs. cleaning up and tucking himself back into the band of his briefs, leaving the stall and washing his hands, walking back out like nothing happened.
907 notes · View notes