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silkscream · 2 days

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triple seven

ੈ✩ megumi fushiguro x reader

ੈ✩ synopsis: megumi thought it was for the best when he ended things with you. boy, was he wrong.

ੈ✩ tags: fwb, pining, teasing, mentions of virginity loss, sub!megumi, bratty and dom!reader, masturbation, vaginal sex, riding

ੈ✩ wc: 3.8k

ੈ✩ a/n: this started out as something completely different and then i lost the plot bc i wanted to see megumi squirm. unedited. oopsie

“Megumi.”

He winces when you wave your hand in front of his face, snapping his attention back to earth. He was staring at your legs and zoned out. Again.

“What’s with you?”

“Sleep-deprived,” he mumbles. He’s not wrong.

Megumi has been having trouble sleeping lately and it’s only partially your fault. Most of it is pent-up energy. Sometimes his usual malaise would wax and wane, other times it would linger and grow into a different beast entirely. He felt like he was constantly on a short fuse lately, and it didn’t help that Gojo was teasing him more and more about you.

Not to mention that the thought of you alone would keep him up. The two of you hadn’t fucked in a month — the last time (to Megumi’s chagrin) he had sex at all. He liked you enough to kiss you and considered you a closer friend than most. Months ago, he wanted to get the whole losing your virginity thing over with, so you volunteered. And it was good.

Fuck, it was great. He couldn’t get you out of his head and he hated it.

He knows it’s something more. He refuses to admit it. After his first time, he’d meditated for days over it — did you pity him? Were you just easy? Did you like him? He wasn’t sure if you had any previous relationships. Something small and shriveled inside of him wanted to disappear, hoping that he was special for getting your attention. You were the first person to take him apart wholly, the first to make him come undone. Willingly.

And you kept coming back. Two months and he was full of you, a parasite that he couldn’t get out of his system.

His gaze fixates on the curve of your bare shoulder. Your collarbone. You’re wearing a tank top and sweatpants and he wants to curse you for it. He feels like he’s fucking sixteen.

“You should get some sleep, then,” you say with concern. “You don’t have to stay, y’know.”

“No!” he says a bit too quickly. “I’m– I’m fine. Just… distracted. Sorry.”

You narrow your eyes, sizing him up. It makes his heart skip.

“Something’s bothering you. What is it?” you tilt your head.

He could spill his feelings into word vomit. He could. But he refuses to. He wouldn’t be able to deal with the consequences. The humiliation. You only slept with him for so long to throw him a bone — it wasn’t like you were into him. He has to keep telling himself this, to talk down the slow-cooking heat in his gut that taunts him. It made him break things off in the first place. He couldn’t take it, was averse to this odd softness that fluttered in his chest every time you smiled at him.

After a particularly intimate night, one that ended with the both of you cuddling — he wasn’t someone who cuddled, for Christ’s sake — he panicked and made a dumb, boyish excuse to break things off. I don’t want anything serious. I don’t want to lead you on. You, being an angel, were very agreeable while Megumi’s heart felt like a fucking dumpster fire. Devastatingly so.

You’re usually sincere. Blunt to a fault, but he likes that about you. He admires the fire in your eyes when you say exactly what you mean, not caring about what others think. He likes how your eyes light up when you argue about anything, even something trivial, because you know you’ll win with your wit alone. He likes —

Fuck. He likes you.

Megumi swallows a lump in his throat and it feels like an oversized pill. One for a reality check. His heart is pounding and his palms are sweating and you’re looking at him very expectantly, waiting. He doesn’t have an answer for you.

Unbeknownst to him, you already have an idea.

“Megs,” you chuckle, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“Don’t call me that,” he scowls.

He can’t help the uncontrollable blush rising on his face. He’s always hated his paleness for this reason. There are light bruises where there shouldn’t be because he doesn’t usually lose fights, but he was so distracted during his sparring match with you this afternoon that he’d humiliated himself. You pinned him down like it was nothing and he was hard as a rock all the way to the locker rooms.

“What? Megs?”

He feels his irritation rise.

“Yes. It’s annoying.”

You scoff.

“You always do that,” he says, narrowing his eyes.

“Do what?”

“Scoff like that. Like you don’t take anything I say seriously.”

You frown and it makes him feel guilty.

“I never said that. Why are you so moody all of a sudden?”

“I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. What’s wrong? Are you mad I beat you in training today?”

“No!” he grits. “And that wasn’t – you just caught me off guard!”

“Ha. Okay, asshole.”

Megumi glares at you, left eye twitching. He would always get into petty arguments like this, especially when the two of you were still fucking. It would end with him restraining you — you let him, often taunted him until he did it, because you knew he was a control freak. He hated that he could feel his pants tighten at the memories conjuring in his mind while you sat there, brow raised and challenging him. He wanted to pin you down.

He blinks, deciding to glare at the floor instead. He shouldn’t be thinking about sex while he’s fighting with you. Was he even fighting with you? He was annoyed. Annoyed and frustrated and ready to strangle you if you pushed him further, which he sensed you were about to do just because you could.

“Seriously, what’s up with you?” you pout. “You won’t even look at me.”

“God. Shut up.”

“Thought you liked my mouth wide open,” you taunt.

That one pisses Megumi off. You were always so carefree, so crass, not bothering to care about anything that came out of your mouth whether you meant it or not. Megumi didn’t hate it, exactly, but he found it ironic that it bothered him when he’d grown up so abrasive. All jagged edges, the middle school bully. And yet, he was always quiet and stoic and calculated now. He wouldn’t dare say something so… vulgar.

He clenches his jaw and refuses to look at you. Again, his gaze falls on your bare skin. He wants to mark it up, sink his teeth in you to show you a lesson, but he knows you’d probably like that, the brat you are. Maybe you’d let him just once – you’re goading him anyway, right?

“Are you trying to push my buttons on purpose?” he scoffs. “I’ve had a shitty day and you’re not helping.”

“Then just talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” he huffs. “Doesn’t matter anyway.”

You roll your eyes.

“What?”

“What?” you repeat innocently. He was seeing red and you knew it. It was secretly refreshing to Megumi that you never backed down from him, didn’t care that he would be mean. You could always be meaner.

“Don’t mock me.”

“Jesus. I thought we were studying. Now you’re acting like Nobara when she’s on her period.”

“I just feel… frustrated, okay?” he says. “I don’t know.”

He braces himself for what you’ll say next. Probably roll your eyes again, call him bitch boy.

“Haven’t found anyone else to suck your dick yet?” you mutter.

“Excuse me?”

You stare at him, your gaze descending slowly. It’s only then that Megumi realizes he’s hard.

“Fuck you,” he replies. He doesn’t know what else to say.

“Bet you wanna.”

“No. We’re not. We’re not doing that anymore, remember?” he says bitterly. His body is humming with need, suddenly desperate now that you’ve clocked his arousal, but he won’t let you know.

“Yeah, but you want it,” you snort, rubbing his thigh with your hand. He shivers at the contact and curses under his breath that maybe Itadori or Gojo will demand his presence for no reason so he can get out of your room without trying.

He stares at your fingers drumming a pattern on his pant leg. Long fingers, manicured nicely from your girl trips with Kugisaki. There’s a ring on your middle finger that he won you a month ago from a claw machine. Silver-plated plastic, if he had to guess, but the signet is still shiny. Triple sevens engraved for good luck.

“You still wear that?”

You look down at your hand. “Oh, this? Yeah. It’s probably the only ring I own.”

Megumi takes your hand and examines the way the plastic glistens when the lamp on your bedside table hits it right. He hums, almost satisfied.

“Why?” he blurts out.

You blink at him. “Uh, I don’t know. One of the few gifts I’ve gotten that I can wear, I guess. It’s cute.”

He exhales and nods slowly. He curls your fingers into a fist and sets your hand down.

You cough awkwardly, eyeing his crotch. “You’re, uh—”

“Shut up,” he mumbles.

“I can help. It doesn’t have to mean anything.”

Megumi doesn’t realize how close he’s leaning in. He could bump noses with you if he leans in just a few inches. He could taste your breath if he wanted. He clears his throat, not protesting when your hand grazes his thigh again and moves upward.

“Fine,” he mumbles.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he breathes.

You scan his face, looking for a sign of hesitation. When you don’t find one, you kneel on the floor, your body in between his legs as you pull down the zipper of his pants. You palm him gently and watch his reaction.

“F-Fuck,” Megumi gasps.

“Sensitive,” you mumble, moving your head to hover against his thick length. He nearly chokes when you descend with your tongue swirling at his tip.

He blinks down at you, eyes wide at the revelation that you’re on your knees for him. He takes a fistful of your hair and tugs gently.

“Wait, wait–”

You pause. “What?”

“Um.”

“You don’t want it?”

“Of course I want it. I just don’t — I don’t wanna use you like this,” he mumbles.

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. You don’t — you don’t have to. Really. I can deal with it myself.”

You narrow your eyes, pumping him slowly. “Yeah?”

He gasps sharply, his entire body tensing up at the sensation.

“Fuck, don’t — I can take care of it. I’ll just — I can go,” he mutters, his voice strangled. “I don’t need – nngh –”

You let go of him. “Okay.”

He whines as you let him go, his hips suddenly bucking up in an aborted attempt to get you to touch him again.

“No – wait,” he gasps, closing his eyes as he gets himself back under control. “Don’t… don’t do that.”

“You want to take care of it yourself, don’t you?”

He lets out a frustrated huff, the expression on his face almost pained.

“I can’t,” he murmurs, meeting your eyes. He’s desperate, you notice. His green eyes are pleading. He’s never been like this before. “I won’t be able to do it. I’ll just end up thinking about you.”

Your eyes widen. “You still think about me?”

Megumi’s face is struck with panic, realizing his confession. He can’t take it back now, not when his cock is hard and leaking and you’re right in front of him. He gives you a withering look and grips the sheets beneath him.

“Say it.”

He lets out a frustrated sigh and nods. “Yeah. Yeah, I think about you.”

“How often?” you breathe, rubbing his thigh.

“All the time,” he strains, his eyes glued to your face. “Even when I ended things, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I felt fucking crazy. I still do.”

You swallow, leaning back onto your pillows. “I’m here now. You can look at me.”

“I don’t want to just look at you,” he grumbles. “I want — ugh.”

“You want what?”

He grits his teeth, too prideful to beg for your touch, though he knows he’s already too far gone with how much he’s given away. He needs you, aches for your fingers wrapped around his cock, for your mouth. He feels stupid for denying it and he doesn’t know how to convince you to help him without sounding like a desperate idiot.

He mumbles unintelligibly, leaning forward to reach for you, but you take his wrist and gently press it down to the mattress in rejection. His eyes flicker with worry.

“What are you doing?” he exasperates.

“Focus on yourself.”

Megumi blushes. Pink permeates his pale flesh like diluted blood. He must sound so needy, so pathetic when he hasn’t even gauged what you want. You’d offered to take care of him, but he’s still panicking about whether you meant it.

You were always more comfortable about sex, and it’s not like you had a crush on him. You just had more experience. It was why you bothered sleeping with him in the first place, he reminds himself.

“I–”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, smiling softly. “I can see you’re aching. Keep going. I wanna see you.”

He almost whines as his shoulders tense up at your words. Megumi is walking on a thin tightrope and he isn’t sure if you’re there to reassure him or ready to push him off the edge. Either way, he is aching for it. For anything, for you.

“You’re enjoying this. You’re taunting me.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

He looks at you, huffing out an exasperated breath as he contemplates what to do. He needs to relieve himself, but he wants you to do it. He doesn’t want to give in and start stroking himself despite your encouragement — it makes him feel like a stupid little doll.

“I– I want to touch you,” he mutters.

“Touch yourself first.”

He lets out a noise between a groan and a scoff. His hand wraps around his shaft, but he doesn’t move. He gasps lightly when you grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him, leaving him to pull off the fabric until he’s completely bare.

“You’re just — going to watch?” he chokes out.

“Yeah.”

“You’re crazy.”

“And yet you’re still this fucking hard,” you scoff.

He groans at your words. Your attitude had always turned him on, despite how annoying he found it. He liked you defiant, bratty. This side of you is a completely different realm entirely.

“Stop… staring at me,” he rasps as he slowly strokes himself. “It’s weird.”

“What, is my face distracting you?”

“Yes.”

You roll your eyes and begin to strip. “Fine. Don’t look at my face then.”

His breath catches as your bare skin is revealed with each pull of fabric until you’re completely nude. He’s seen you naked so many times before — he doesn’t know why it feels like the first time right now. He can’t help but watch you intently, mesmerized.

When you smirk, he huffs and averts his eyes. “You’re the fucking worst, you know that?”

He gasps when you lean over his lap and spit on his cock. The drool coming from your lips is such a filthy sight that he could probably come just from seeing it. He shuts his eyes tightly for a second.

“Go on, baby,” you coo.

Megumi lets out a frustrated breath, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he pumps himself.

“Why are you just watching?”

“I wanna see what you look like when you miss me.”

The grin on your face is so fucking sinister that it almost makes him nervous. Mostly it turns him on. He doesn’t even know why he’s complying – it’s not like you’ve fucking tied him up. He could stop this sick little game right now and pin you to the bed and overpower you. Maybe fuck you until you’re red all over and panting. But he can’t find it in himself to do anything other than what you want.

He’s aching and desperate. Why are you punishing him, anyway? Sure, he could be a bit of an asshole, but it’s not like he broke your heart any more than you broke his by fucking existing and looking like that —

Your hand rubs his bare thigh gently and he moans. He moans from the contact like a bitch and you laugh.

“Damn,” you chuckle. “Someone missed me.”

“Shut up,” he mutters. “You know I – fuck – you know I missed you. I wanna touch you instead, fuck –”

“I know, baby,” you coo. Your hand is so close to where he wants it and his brain short-circuits.

“You don’t have to just watch,” he pleads without trying to sound completely pathetic, but it’s hard when he’s rigorously stroking himself, affected by your mere presence. He feels like he’s going to explode.

Your hand slowly inches towards his cock and he involuntarily bucks his hips up. He lets out a strangled groan when he realizes that he’s so, so close. Your touch feels so far away. He feels like he might start crying.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” you praise him.

He bite backs a moan and grits his teeth. His knuckles are bone-white as he squeezes his cock. “I’m not your — ugh — sweetheart —”

“Yeah, you are,” you tease. “You’re my baby, aren’t you?”

He whines as his hand moves even faster on himself. His other hand clenches around the sheets of the bed, grasping at nothing.

“Yeah,” he admits, breathless. “I’m yours – fuck – I’ll be anything you want if you just… let me touch you. Please –”

“You’re doing so well on your own, baby.”

“Fuck, stop talking,” Megumi groans. “I need you. I’m gonna lose my mind if I don’t feel you —”

“I’ll let you kiss me, how about that? But you can’t touch me.”

He whines again hysterically, though he knows there’s no room to argue with you. He leans in. You laugh before you step forward and tower over him. You grab his chin roughly to kiss him. He makes a low, strangled sound as he leans in, aching to touch you but mentally berating himself. He knows you’d swat him away and stop kissing him if he tried anything.

You break away from the kiss but keep a hand around his throat. He whimpers at the loss of your mouth, easing into a gasp when he feels the squeeze of your fingers around his neck. His gaze is longing as he looks up, mouth parted.

“Keep going, baby. You’re close, aren’t you?” you whisper.

“Please,” he gasps, hips bucking up as if expecting friction from anything other than his own hand. He’s never needed anything as much as he’s needed you at this moment. It burns hot in his gut and up to his head, making him lightheaded. “Please let me touch you… wanna feel you…”

“Shh,” you coo, kissing his cheek. “You can come, can’t you? You’re almost there.”

He nods and closes his eyes. “I need–”

“You need me? You want me, yeah? Show me.”

“Fuck, I need you,” Megumi pants. “Want you so bad. I love you. Please, please –”

Your eyes widen at his admission. Megumi is so delirious with want that you almost don’t recognize him – you know that he would usually blush at a confession like that, especially one he didn’t mean. But he still looks at you with dark eyes, silently begging.

You kiss him deeply and he moans. His other hand holds you firmly, snakes into your hair to get a good grasp of you so you can’t move away from his mouth. The hand on his cock moves at a brutal pace, his breaths coming out in ragged grunts. Fuck, he needs you so badly it hurts.

“Don’t cry, baby.”

“I can’t help it,” he says, voice breaking. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable before. His breath is trembling as his body shakes. “I need you, I need you, please…”

You grab his wrists forcefully and sink down onto him. His eyes widen at the feeling of your cunt around him. It’s too good. It feels like a fucking dream, how warm and wet you are, and he knows he’s had you so many times before, but it still feels like the first time. He’s been denying himself this pleasure and now you’ve given him heaven.

“Fuck, fucking love you, love how you feel,” he rambles, barely intelligible for you to understand clearly. You’re clinging to him, bouncing on his cock until his eyes roll back. He doesn’t even realize the tears pricking the corners of his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m gonna come,” you gasp.

“Me too,” Megumi grunts, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he moves you back and forth on his cock. He’s struggling to make coherent sentences, coherent thoughts. He can feel your approaching orgasm and groans when you finally tighten around him.

The sounds you make when you come push him over the edge. He spills inside of you, his head pounding blood from his ears from the dizzying rush that comes. It’s all too much. He lets out a strangled gasp as he digs his fingertips into the skin of your waist as if he’s afraid you’ll fly away.

You slump into his chest, arms around his neck tightly. The air is filled with your mutual heavy breaths, air warm with carnal tension. He doesn’t have the guts to look at your face, but he doesn’t have it in him to let you go.

Megumi lifts his head and exhales into your mouth. You’re so close to him, noses touching, and he has to resist the urge to kiss you. He buries his face into your neck instead, craving the smell of your sweat, of dryer sheet sweetness. Even after such an intense release, he wants more. Wants to trap you in his arms so that you can never leave him again, tape your mouth shut so you don’t argue with him. He doesn’t want to explain himself.

You hum, cheek grazing the outline of his jaw in a cat-like embrace. Megumi closes his eyes.

“You said you loved me.”

He says nothing. His body stills.

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it,” you whisper.

“What if I did?”

You lift your head to look at him head-on. Your expression is unfathomable. A familiar face that he wants to grasp in his mind, keep forever, though he isn’t sure if you’re about to slip away.

“Then the feeling is mutual,” you mutter.

“Then... then I do mean it.”

Your mouth quirks up, almost into a smile, in between a sneer. “If you’re lying, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not lying,” Megumi gruffs. “And if I was such a coward that I said otherwise, I’d let you kill me.”

You laugh, then. It’s like flowers blooming, like his heart growing too big for his chest.

“I’ll hold you to that, baby.”

#megumi x reader #megumi x you #megumi fushiguro x you #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro smut #jjk smut #juijutsu kaisen smut #jjjk fanfiction

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britneyshakespeare · 2 years

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it is weird being an aromantic asexual who is incidentally attractive. like. i just came back from a concert with my friends who have known me for years and know that about me. some of the very few real-life friends who know that about me actually and i only told them relatively recently. regardless. the only reason i had bothered to bring it up w them is that they had seen me in SO many situations that telling them “i’m asexual” was if anything just clarification. just confirmation, like, don’t worry. it’s not an inability to attach to others or whatever. if you can’t tell. like they’d seen me be pursued by quite a few people in our time as friends and at some point it seems like a curious thing if i only ever seem to feel negatively about anyone who’s attracted to me, ever, no matter who it is. and they were understanding and i knew they’d be. yeah.

we were talking on the way back about bucket list concerts we’d still like to see. we saw stromae which was a really big one of mine (my fucking boy btw, i had an amazing time). i mentioned that i don’t have very many, as i’m rarely the person to be like “yeah, let’s go to a concert” unless i have people i know i wanna go with. like i’ve been meaning to see the jonas brothers w my sister and sisters-in-law ever since they came back because it’d be a fun thing for us since we always listen to them together.

but i would genuinely love to see super junior someday, like just for myself, wherever whenever if i was just able to get transportation (i don’t drive). i’ve loved suju for years but i got really back into them in 2020 in the pandemic as a sort of nostalgia comfort thing (but also the music they’ve put out in recent years is like, literally the best in their discography, they just keep getting better w age). and i had to go on this tangent to explain it, right?

in the first months of the pandemic, there was something weird happening to people psychologically. some kind of end-of-the-world loneliness. i mentioned that i had like 5 or 6 different people in my DMs at the time interested in me. not all of them men. and the friend who was driving said “you know, diana, if this were literally anyone else talking, i would think that this is some enormous humblebrag—”

and i like. didn’t even think about it that way. i was just trying to make my point that i had a serious thought in 2020 of like, when the world opened back up, just doing one (1) seriously manipulative thing in my life and convince one of those men who was thirsting for me to buy me tickets to super junior and go with me. it was hypothetical. this hasn’t happened and all but certainly will not. i would not feel good taking advantage of someone’s feelings like that.

but i had to go on a tangent even before that because i was like. oh my goodness. i didn’t even realize that was a humblebrag. i’m sorry. i’m just telling a story.

#the politics of being a pretty young woman #tales from diana #i also wouldn't have felt comfortable telling anyone that anecdote about myself if they had known less about me than my friends i was with #so i guess i wouldn't be in danger of humblebragging. but sometimes i think i do? by mistake.#like when i talk about my social life in the past i always mention no one openly liked me in high school. not one person.#it very much affected how i saw myself. bc bullshit. young girls. male approval. y'know.#but in retrospect now i'm better able to tell when a boy had some kind of crush on me so i might mention it like 'he thought i was cute'#and one time a different friend i had. but one who i have also told im asexual (im trying to do that more) said to me #'you know for how unpopular you say you were in high school it seemed like a lot of ppl liked you'#i mean. yes? it's complicated. i was most certainly not popular i can tell you that.#i was more of a 'hey goob nice binder' 'hey goob wanna hang out at my house after school?' [narration: they all hated me...] kinda kid.#i probably kept myself from making friends wo realizing it but also lots of cliques i would've liked to be part of very much ignored me.#i was hot on the margins. a truly underrepresented social archetype... except that's literally every teen movie so maybe not.#i didn't have a big win in the final act that's the difference.#also before the concert we were talking about one of our other friends who is just. so fuckin funny.#like we were all talking about how much we love him. and they said they had been talking about who in the group chat we're in #has the most 'pull' and im like. pull?#like who could pick up the most ppl successfully. hypothetically.#both of them ranked me high :^) i was like. thank you.#they asked me to ponder on the topic myself and try to come back to it but i think im just confused by the concept of 'pull' itself #stromae has pull. that is all.

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