Woah Lost Media

megumi’s pissed— pissed with a big, capital p. he’s bothered a lot; irritated and agitated with people daily, no stranger to fingers curling into a fist either at his sides or to the top of someone’s head. but right now, in the cold of your room, he’s pissed.

“take this shit off.” he won’t dare lift his hands himself because if megumi is a man of anything it’s principle. you laugh— louder than a giggle but nonetheless muffled by your pursed lips— and shake your head.

“no can do, nutmeg.” and now he’s really mad.

“don’t call me that.” he’s itching, his normally protruding hair flattened, his palms clammy, his breathing shallow.

“c’mon, why are you so miserable all the time?” it’s a slow drawl, a whine that he has to force himself to ignore. “can’t you show a little joy? maybe even some jubilance? or dare you say it might kill you?”

your name comes out stern, calculated and pointed in a way he knows will get to you, and simply, he repeats himself.

“take this shit off.”

megumi fushiguro is not a big believer of tradition. he has never obsessed over a birthday— although he did buy you a singular cupcake and candle on yours— or stressed at the thought of marriage. he’s not big on anniversaries and he couldn’t care less about a baby shower or bachelor party, so naturally holiday’s mean nothing to him.

you on the other hand are, in his own words, a nutcase. you’d met him two weeks before the christmas prior and insisted you get each other small trinkets. on valentine’s day you gave everyone you knew a card, on easter you mastered the art of making your very own chocolate, on halloween you bought a costume that he refused to wear.

and now, here you are again; snow on the ground outside and a small, and frankly sad, tree in your room symbolizing not only the biggest day of your year but an absolutely grueling year of knowing you.

you sit in front of him, criss cross, with a goofy little grin on your face. he can’t help but think it’s utterly disgusting that that’s doing something for him. regardless though, he stands his ground.

“if you don’t take this off right now i’m not talking to you for a week.” you laugh for real this time, shaking your head with more energy than before.

“well we both know that’s a lie. i’d probably drop dead if you did that and then, overwhelmed by guilt, you’d turn into an even weirder and sadder old man.”

“i’m not old. take this shit off.” atop his head sat a truthfully horrific santa hat. it couldn’t have cost more than two dollars, assortment of dim led lights on the trim. he can’t help but think of how many little, lice ridden kids must have tried this on. but he still won’t budge.

“you know you can just take it off yourself, right?” he does know that— obviously— but again, he has beliefs. he has pride. it has absolutely nothing to do with the fact you’re looking at him like he’s heaven on earth or the matching hat smothering your own hair. it has nothing to do with you at all.

he shifts, leaning his body weight onto his left side as he presses his hands into the plush of your bed to lift himself up. he makes a little show of it, slow and meticulous as he barely raises himself.

it would be so easy to avoid this situation. it would be so simple to shake his head or yank the hat off or have stopped you from putting it there to begin with.

megumi’s pissed, but it’s not with you.

“i’m serious. it’d actually be nice to have a moment of quiet in my brain.” megumi is furious, livid and squirming in his own skin. he’s absolutely, unequivocally angry.

he’s angry because he can’t figure out why for the dear life of him there’s a tightly wrapped gift tucked in the bottom of his bag, or why he knows the nearly exact color hex of your eyes, or why he’s hummed— hummed— the song ‘war is over’ twice this week.

you grumble, butt hurt and annoyed now too, and you reach over as fast as you can and snatch it off of him.

“there,” and now megumi’s even more upset because that upset him and his head feels cold and empty now. “happy now?”

and before he can think, before he can be as calculated as he always is, it slips.

“no.” and in that moment something shifts. it’s both of you, just a little bit towards each other, it’s the tension that’s now (and always has been) in the air, it’s the way your hat slips a little to the side.

“well i just can’t win with you, can i?” the— his— hat lays loose between your fingers, your voice quieter than he thinks he’s ever heard it.

megumi wonders time to time if he’s a coward. he knows he’s strong, he knows he’s just in his opinions, he knows he fights. but sometimes he freezes and sometimes he panics and sometimes he can’t look you in the eye.

maybe it’s time for him to be brave. he leans into you, closer to you, breathing you all in and, brushing your fingers in the process, he takes it back from you.

suddenly it’s warm again. suddenly you’re matching again. suddenly he feels close to you again.

“there.” for once, it feels like christmas to megumi. “happy now?” and it feels like he’s got a gift in front of him.

apanda Lore real

do you ever think Gojo floats while sleeping 💤

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ you’re both breathing too hard already—and megumi hasn’t even taken off your panties yet.

the dorm is small. quiet. too quiet. just the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, the faint chirp of crickets outside, and somewhere across the wall, the unmistakable muffled laugh of yuji watching something dumb on his laptop. one thin wall away.

and still—megumi’s fingers are trembling as they trail up your thigh. his breath is shaky, warm against your neck. his voice barely a whisper.

“…you sure?”

you nod. you’ve nodded five times already, but it doesn’t stop the way his eyes flick up, searching your face like you might shatter under him. his hair falls across his forehead in soft, messy strands. his cheeks are pink. he’s trying to keep calm—cool, collected—but his cock has been twitching in his briefs since you kissed him like you meant it.

you hook your arms around his neck, your voice barely audible. “yes, ‘gumi. i want you. please.”

his name from your mouth makes his whole body twitch. like something snaps inside him.

he kisses you again—harder this time. tongue deep, needy. hands sliding up your bare thighs, dragging your sleep shirt up over your hips. he groans into your mouth when he sees what’s underneath: just the sheer lace of panties that barely cover anything.

“fuck,” he hisses. “you came here like this?”

you smirk, flushed and breathless. “i thought maybe you’d get the hint.”

he growls low, a sound you feel in your belly.

and then he’s pulling them down, his knuckles brushing your soaked folds. you flinch at the cold air, thighs clenching, and megumi pulls back just enough to stare—really stare.

“jesus,” he mutters, dark lashes low, eyes fixed on your cunt. “you’re dripping…”

“megumi—”

“you have to be quiet,” he warns, voice low and rough as his fingers slide through the slick between your thighs, stroking your folds slow. testing. teasing. “i mean it. yuji’s right there.”

you bite your lip. “then don’t make me moan.”

he huffs a laugh, smug, and presses a finger into you—slow. you arch, a tiny gasp slipping out before you can stop it. it’s tight. he groans when he feels the way you squeeze around him.

“so fuckin’ tight,” he whispers, kissing your jaw as he pumps gently. “gonna feel like heaven when i’m inside…”

your hips rock forward—needy, desperate—and he pulls his fingers free, watching your slick coat them, shiny in the low dorm light. he licks them clean. you watch. eyes wide.

then—finally—he pulls his cock out.

you gasp.

he’s big. thick. hard, flushed a deep red, the tip already leaking. you feel your stomach flip, a twist of nervous heat and excitement and ache.

“gonna go slow,” he promises, leaning over you, pressing the head to your entrance. “tell me if it’s too much.”

you nod. and then—

push.

he slides in slow, inch by inch. the stretch is real—burning, deep, your body resisting at first. you grip his shoulders, face buried in his neck as he groans—long and guttural—feeling your walls suck him in.

“shit,” he hisses. “you’re—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—so good.”

you’re panting against his throat, biting down a moan when he bottoms out. he doesn’t move yet—just kisses your temple, strokes your waist, lets you adjust while your whole body tries to memorize this feeling.

then—slow thrust.

you whimper, louder than you mean to.

megumi freezes. covers your mouth with his hand immediately, whispering hot against your ear.

“shhh. you have to stay quiet, baby. you don’t want yuji coming over, do you?”

you shake your head, eyes wide, tears pricking from the pressure. from how full you feel.

he starts moving—slow and deep, hips rocking into you gently, his hand still over your mouth to catch every ragged breath. his cock drags against your walls, thick and pulsing, and you can’t help the way your legs wrap around him tighter.

“you feel s-so good,” you whisper against his palm. “so big, megumi—”

he growls. “you’re killing me.”

he fucks you slow, quiet, deliberate. each thrust deeper, more confident. the sound of your bodies joining is filthy—wet, soft slaps as his cock sinks in over and over.

you start to tremble—your orgasm creeping up fast, tight in your belly.

“i—i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he whispers, lifting your leg, angling deeper. “cum for me. but be quiet.”

you bite your fist. your thighs shake. and then you’re cumming—hard, spasming around him, whole body tensed as you fight the scream burning your throat.

he groans—loud—and buries his face in your shoulder as he spills inside you, cock throbbing, cum spilling deep, hot and thick.

he stays there. breathing heavy. still buried deep.

and from across the wall—

“…the fuck was that noise?”

yuji.

you both freeze.

then megumi grins against your skin, cock still twitching inside you.

“…worth it.”

the night before he left

real exchange i overheard between two of my bosses. ????

Every week on Tuesday I post Todo for no reason except that I like him and that I have to commit to the Bit until I grow old on a porch together with it

Jjk flight attendants

all yaoi has a brokeback mountain au its the man on man archetype

“I’m expecting great things from you”