KINKOTBER 2023

Sunlight.

DEAD!Megumi x Grieving! Reader

summary: In the wake of Megumi's death, you're left haunted by the quiet moments you've shared, the unspoken words, and the last goodbye that never came. Clinging to the memories of a love that felt unfinished, replaying the moments you wish you could have held onto forever. Grief, in all its silence, becomes a space you learn to inhabit, where the echoes of your lost connection linger just out of reach.

WARNINGS: (mentioned) character death, depression, ANGST!!!!!!!, heartbreak

Word count : 1134 words (I thought it would be short, but i just kept going with it and here we are....)

a/n: First time writing something super angsty!!! I hope you all enjoyed it... I think I did really well! (˶˃ᆺ˂˶) ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶

You didn’t say much that morning. But that wasn’t unusual. You never did.

You stood by the door for a second longer than usual. Glanced back at me. And in your eyes—just for a moment— there was something soft. Something final.

I should’ve noticed. Should’ve asked why you weren’t wearing that fake bored look you always put on before missions. Should’ve stopped pretending I was too busy to get up and kiss you goodbye.

But I didn’t. I waved. Lazy. Distracted. Said, “Don’t die, dumbass.”

And you huffed a laugh. That almost-smile. Then turned and left.

No last words. No “I love you.” Not even a real look.

Just the soft click of the door closing.

And now I keep replaying that moment, over and over, like if I stare at it long enough, I’ll see something I missed.

A message. A sign. A warning.

But there’s nothing. Just you, fading into the morning light, shoulders squared like always, like you were walking into something you’d already accepted.

You always were like that— quiet, distant,

I know now— you were protecting me. Not just from the mission. From the goodbye.

Because if you had said anything real, anything final, I would’ve shattered right there.

But you knew me. Knew I needed to believe you'd be back. So you gave me silence. And left all the words unspoken.

Now I cling to them. The ones you never said. The look you gave me like it might’ve been enough. The quiet care folded into every goodbye you never made a big deal of.

I never got to say it back. But I hope you knew. Hope my half-wave meant please come back, and my lazy grin meant I need you, and my stupid parting words meant I love you more than I know how to say.

I hope you carried that with you. To wherever you are. Wherever you went.

Because I still carry you— in the silence. In the warmth that lingers. In the things we never said but always meant.

Some days, I still set a place for you. Not a real one. Not forks and plates. But a space—next to me, in the quiet. In the pauses between songs. In the second half of a sentence I never finish anymore.

I don’t think people vanish. Not really. You’ve just… sunk beneath the surface of everything.

You’re in the smell of summer pavement after rain. In the echo of a laugh I hear once and never again. In the way I turn, sometimes, too fast—thinking you're there. And the second after, when I remember.

You would’ve hated how soft I am now. How small I’ve gotten. I used to be louder around you. Stranger. Braver. Real.

Now I just exist. Sleep. Wake. Float.

Some days I still wonder what you were thinking. Before. When the silence started pressing too hard, when the light got too far away.

Did you know I would miss you like this? Like a phantom limb? Like an entire future collapsing in slow motion?

I still dream of you. Not as a ghost. Not as someone gone. But as you were—messy, warm, your sharp eyes, good with the dogs, awkward.

You always knew how to ruin me with a smile.

And when I wake up— when the dream folds shut like a book I never finished— there’s that moment. Where the air remembers you.

Where the world almost feels like it did before.

And I just lie there. Quiet. Staring at the ceiling like maybe you’ll come back with the morning light.

You don’t.

But I keep waking up anyway.

If I could stay in a moment… Yeah. I think I would.

But only that one. The one that slipped past like sunlight on water— brief, warm, gone before I could hold it.

It wasn’t anything special. Just your laugh, maybe. The way your voice stumbled when you were too tired to filter your thoughts. The way we both said nothing, and it still meant everything.

I replay it sometimes. That soft little second in the blur of days. You looked at me as if I were made of light. Me pretending I didn’t notice.

But I did. God, I did.

And now it’s fading.

Like all beautiful things do—too fast, too quiet, too soon.

I try to keep it. Bottle it up, hide it away, memorize the sound of it. But it slips. It always slips.

And maybe I was never meant to keep you. Maybe we were always going to be this—just a blink between lifetimes. Something bright and impossible and almost.

But still, I find myself reaching— in dreams, in quiet hours, in the soft hush of early morning— hoping, maybe, you’re doing the same.

Just for a moment. Just one.

You and me. Caught between the seconds. Still turning, still drifting, Still almost real.

I woke up like usual,

flipping to my side, and you’re still not there.

If I could’ve said something that mattered… Yeah. I think I would have.

But it all happened so fast. Too fast to hold. Too fast to save.

One minute, you were laughing like the world couldn’t touch you. And then— just air. Just a silence too big to fill.

People said it was peaceful. That you didn’t feel a thing. But I think they said that for me, not for you. Because I felt it. The echo where your voice should’ve been. The coldness in places you once warmed.

You were gone, and the sky didn’t change.

I hate that.

I hate that the world kept spinning, like you were never here at all.

But I remember.

I remember the exact shape of your presence— the way time curved when you smiled, the way your fingertips lingered a second too long, like you were always about to say goodbye but never quite did.

Maybe you knew. Maybe you knew.

And maybe I didn’t want to believe it.

Now, I go back to where you still exist— the songs we shared, the notes you left, the way your name looks written in my handwriting. 

Your jacket still lingered of your scent.

Your toothbrush is still hanging in my bathroom cabinet.

It’s like you’re going to be back, but I promised myself.

I can’t keep deceiving myself with lies like those. 

You’re not going to be back. Not to collect your toiletries,

And even more so not to collect the memories we’ve shared together. 

And so I replay it— the moment before you left. The last laugh. The last word. The last time you looked at me like I was something worth staying for.

The world spins, but I stay still. In the memory of you. In the breath before the end. In the place where I almost kept you.

College AU with Bad Boy Wriothesley as your boyfriend who picks you up from your classes in his big expensive bike that has all the other students milling about shooting intrigued and intimidated (and impressed) glances at.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who leans against his bike while he waits for you, all intimidating from his full-black outfit, the scars and the spiky hair, but who immediately breaks out into a smile when he sees you coming towards him.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who brings fried chicken and boba and stays with you whenever you have to stay late at the library to study or to do your work. He even gives you his leather jacket so that you don't get cold because of the AC.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who carries all those big books from the library plus your bag, despite your protests. When you insist that he lets you carry some of it, instead he transfers all of the things to just one hand so he can hold your hand while you walk.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who buys you a leather jacket that matches his so that you're protected and warm whenever he takes you out for late-night bike rides.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who brings you out for a late-night ride on the road that runs along the shoreline, so you can admire the way the moon glitters on the waves.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who feels his heart swell by three sizes when he feels you melt against his back, feels your breath against him and how your arms squeeze tighter around his middle like you're giving him a warm hug.

Bad Boy Wriothesley who vows to do this again with you, as many times as you'd like, as long as you keep holding him like this.

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.”

"Wrio."

"Mm."

You try to shake his shoulder, the task made infinitely more difficult by the fact that his entire body weight was crushing you to the bed. All those stupid muscles he has (and that you normally admired quite a bit) betraying you into staying for just a bit longer.

"Wriothesley," You hiss, still trying to nudge the sleeping man off of you.

"Oh, pulling out the government names now, are we, sweetheart?" The bastard murmurs into your shoulder, voice raspy from sleep. His cheeky grin brushes the skin and makes goosebumps erupt on your flesh.

You try to fight him off now, less worried about startling him now that he's clearly awake and clearly making a point to not move. If anything, Wriothesley's arms curl tighter around you, making you wheeze. For the second time in the span of five minutes, you curse him and those stupid muscles of his.

"Wrio, get off me, you ass," you growl, squirming in his hold, but he just chuckles. "I told Sigewinne I'd make pancakes with her. You're going to make me late!"

His head pops up then. Bleary eyes meet yours, and you're close enough to see how the color shifts between grey, blue and green in the light of the room. You've always had trouble pinpointing the exact shade of his eyes and now is no exception. The shift of colors has always struck you as beautiful, has always managed to capture your attention.

"How cold-hearted of you to want to leave me over a stack of pancakes. I should have you thrown in prison for that."

You snort, managing to uncurl on of his arms from around your body, getting to work on the other. "As if–– we both know you're gonna snatch some of them up, dearest."

"Well, I won't deny it."

The moment you get free of his hold, you roll out of the covers and the bed, dodging Wriothesley's grip with practices ease. He playfully scowls at you from under the sheets, looking like a maligned puppy.

As you walk out the door in your pajamas, you blow him a kiss that he catches with one hand. You laugh. "I'm eating your share if you take too long to get up, dearest!"

Just before you lose sight of him, you catch sight of the middle finger he flashes you from under the covers as well as his soft, fond smile.

AU where Yuji and Junpei live past 20(this is a nightmare show). Yuuji has ear piercings and failed his driver's test 5 times.

Masterlist !

⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ YOUR LOVE IS SO ORDINARY.. ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅

≧ ≦ JJK masterlist ≧ ≦ PLACEHOLDER masterlist

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More coming soon ^^

Fighting against it

You had decided to try to put up a fight this time, even though truthfully you enjoyed it. As the specialized tentacle pressed against your lower lips you closed your legs tightly. It stretched and reached for your somewhat hidden pussy. Tentacles grabbing either leg. You tried to raise both legs, but it held your left leg down and allowed your right to go up. Pussy open in a different way than just spread legged. The specialized tentacle slid deep inside you, stretching you on it's thickening length until it was about the size of your forearm. The rest of its length was swollen with internal lumps in a series down it. Each knot swelling the girth of the tentacle to a third again its diameter, skin stretched and distorted around them. You could feel the thin tip of it pushing against your cervix, pressing, probing, pushing inside that hole too. It slid in easier than you imagined it might. You could feel it swell inside your cervix, opening you in ways you had never been opened. Something creamy and white was dripping out of you around the tentacle. You weren't sure what it was, but you felt compelled to keep it inside you. Your fingers wrapped around the tentacle and pushed the thick fluid back in your body. Every drop back where it belonged; inside you. It rippled inside you. The creature's come had always had an aphrodisiac effect when it has used you before, but this was different. Before, it had made you desperate to please it; your body working harder for it than any human lover. Trying to impale yourself with it, choking on it, fucking it hard with your ass and pussy. Trying to get it deeper inside you. This time though it made you feel loopy, easy to open. Your mind too. Simple and greedy for it, unconsciously thrusting your body at it. The bulges in it began moving now. You could feel them enter your pussy, sliding up inside until it rested against your cervix and slowly started pushing inside it as well. Another gush of fluid ran down your leg and you felt it push past your cervix. The next one arrived shortly after. After the fourth one you could see your belly swelling. You could even see the tentacle sweeping back and forth inside you, depositing egg after egg. It felt good to have it so deeply inside you and you lost count of how many eggs were in you. It was like being fucked slowly but being full of cock the entire time. So many eggs were in you that you could see dimples on your belly. You could push them around with your hands but you really just wanted to feel the foreignness of being completely filled.

Smol miku doodle

New Megumi writing coming very very soon… its quite short, but it will be a good work ^^

Oh also, i recently got into BSD again. I’m not fully finished with the manga, so no spoilers please!!! ( ´ཀ` )

Very huge Sigma fangirl at the moment….. maybe akutuagawa too. I may consider writing for them in the future…

Ah, right. The Megumi work thats coming soon will be kind of a new writing style, which is why it will be short. Please tell me if you enjoy it though, I appreciate when people leave comments.꒰ᐢ. ̫ .ᐢ꒱

Thank you for reading!! And the accumulated 300 likes..

More Childe brainrot. Childe x fem!reader. Teasing. Thigh riding. Fingering. Praise. Degradation. Pet name princess used.

You guys really seem to like my Childe smut. He has been heavy on my mind lately.

Childe always enjoyed when you sat with him in his office while he finished mission reports and other ins and outs for the Fatui. When you told him that you'd made yourself cum with your fingers your clit while you thought about him nearly sends need feral.

He had one arm wrapped around you, holding you back against him while he rutted his hardening cock against your backside. His other hand would grope it's way down your body before dipping between your legs.

First he'll whisper in your ear in Russian all the things he wanted to do to you, translating it into English. His tongue would flick hot against the shell of your ear, his teeth nipping playfully at your ear lobe.

His fingers would push your panties aside, the pads of his fingers rubbing and teasing your clit until you whimpered and squirmed against him.

Childe laughed softly in your ear, amused at how desperate you were getting for him. "I'm sorry, princess. You are going to have to wait for me to fuck you. I'll keep your satisfied in the meantime, don't you worry," He gave your throbbing clit a few soothing rubs, making you squirm more against him.

"How about you get yourself off on my thigh?' He suggested, patting his thigh after he sat down in his chair. You peeled your drenched panties off, and straddled his thigh. Bracing your hands on his shoulders, you glided your cunt along his thigh. The fabric of his pants rubbing against your clit made it throb more.

The closer you came to cumming, the louder you moan as you desperately brought yourself to orgasm, soaking his thigh as your head dropped onto his neck. Childe guided your pace with a hand on your hip, bouncing you on his thigh while you chased your high.

"What a good girl," He purred, smirking at you while he groped your ass, "now you've distracted me enough," He lifted you off of his thigh. Childe laughed again when he saw your face crumble. "Turn around and bend over, I told you I was going to keep you satisfied, didn't I?"

Childe proceeded to work on his paper work with one hand, stuffing your cunt full of his fingers with the other hand. He enjoyed looking over to see your fucked out expression while he made you cum over and over and on his fingers. Your face would be pressed against his desk, your cheeks flushed and drool coming from your mouth. "What a slut my princess is. You were absolutely soaking through my gloves."

Childe pushed two fingers into your mouth, pressing suddenly on your tongue to make you cough so he could put a third finger into your mouth. He took out his leaking cock, pumping his hand along it while he watched his fingers pump in and out of your mouth.

He guided you to straddle him, slowly lowering you down onto his cock. The more it sank inside of you, the stronger it throbbed. The feeling of your cunt clenching tight around his cock was too much for him to bear. Growling, he dropped you all the way onto his cock, making your back arch as you cried out for him.

Sitting back in his chair, Childe rested his hands behind his head, watching you bounce on his cock, rubbing your clit. "What a cute little slut you are. You are desperate to cum on my cock, yeah?" His hands found your hips, holding you still while he fucked his cock deep inside of you.

"Childe, Childe, Childe!" You chanted, breathless from his intense pace. "I'm gonna..gonna.." You trailed off, your fingernails digging into his shoulders. Tears of pleasure burned in your eyes, falling down your cheeks the tighter your orgasm built up.

Childe smacked a hand across your ass, making you yelp. Your body trembled trembled as his cock kissed your sweet spot, nearly making your body fall limp from the intensity of the pleasure. "Is my princess going to cum again?" He groaned, holding onto you tighter. He let out a loud, husky moan as his cock emptied inside of you.

It didn't take much convincing to get you cock warm him after you squirted on his cock, quivering from overstimulation while you begged him to fuck you dumb again.