summary: your night of relaxation with megumi is rudely interrupted by a nightmare
from 7 a.m. to 7 p.m., you and megumi had been fighting curses nonstop. with the second years away on an assignment with gojo, the workload had practically doubled. ijichi had spent the entire day driving the two of you from one location to another, and by the time you finally made it back to your shared dorm, you felt like you were seconds away from collapsing.
the second you stepped through the door, you dropped your bag onto the floor, kicked off your shoes, and dramatically flopped face first onto the carpet.
megumi stared at you for a second.
"what are you doing?"
you let out a groan into the floor.
"i'm tireddddddd."
your voice came out muffled and whiny. normally, that would've annoyed him. if it was anyone else, he probably would've told them to get up and stop being dramatic. but it wasn't anyone else.
it was you.
while you continued laying there like a fallen soldier, megumi quietly picked up both of your bags and put them away. a minute later, you suddenly felt yourself being lifted off the ground.
"hey!"
"come on."
"what are you doing?"
"getting you off the floor."
you huffed.
"i was comfortable."
"you were laying on hardwood", he deadpanned.
despite your complaints, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and let him carry you into the bedroom. after some convincing, the two of you took turns showering. by the time you were done, you felt at least a little more human. you pulled on one of megumi's oversized hoodies and a pair of pajama pants before stepping back into the room, your hair still damp from the shower and smelling faintly of vanilla.
megumi was already sitting against the headboard with a book in his hands. his hair was still slightly wet, dark strands falling over his forehead. under the soft glow of the bedside lamp, he looked unfairly handsome. (he’s so beautiful 🥹🥹)
you sat down at your vanity and started your skincare routine. every so often, you'd catch him glancing up from his book. the first time, you ignored it. the second time, you smiled to yourself. by the fourth or fifth glance, you couldn't help but call him out.
"why do you keep looking at me?"
his eyes immediately dropped back to his book.
"i'm not."
"yes, you are."
"am not."
you caught the slight pink tint creeping onto the tips of his ears and laughed quiety.
once you finished brushing your hair and putting away your skincare products, you climbed into bed beside him. the second you settled under the blankets, his arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you against him. it was so automatic that neither of you even acknowledged it.
he buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking a slow breath.
"you smell good."
you immediately laughed.
"that tickles."
instead of moving away, he only pressed closer.
"you're so clingy when you're tired."
"no m’not."
"your face is literally in my neck."
he mumbled something against your skin that you couldn't quite make out, making you laugh even harder.
eventually, the exhaustion from the day caught up to both of you. wrapped up in each other's arms, you drifted off to sleep almost instantly.
a few hours later, sometime around four in the morning, you woke up with a gasp.
your chest felt tight and your face was damp with tears. the nightmare had felt so real. in it, you and megumi had been fighting curses again just like earlier that day, except this time he hadn't made it back. one second he had been standing beside you, and the next he was gone.
before you could even fully process what was happening, megumi was already awake.
"hey."
his voice was thick with sleep, but all of his attention was immediately on you.
"what's wrong?"
you tried to answer, but another sob escaped first. megumi sat up without hesitation and pulled you into his arms.
"hey, hey. talk to me."
you buried your face against his chest.
"i had a nightmare."
"yeah?"
you nodded.
"we were fighting curses again and... you died."
the words came out broken between sniffles.
"you were just gone."
megumi's expression softened instantly. he tightened his arms around you, one hand rubbing slow circles against your back.
"it was just a dream."
"it felt real."
"i know."
"it really scared me."
for a moment, he didn't say anything. he just held you tighter, letting you cry until you started calming down. when you finally looked up at him, his expression was softer than anyone else would ever get to see.
he brushed a tear from your cheek.
"i'm right here."
you stared at him.
"okay?"
you nodded.
"i'm not going anywhere."
another tear slipped down your face.
"i promise."
"you promise?"
for the first time all night, a small smile appeared on his face.
"pinky promise."
you let out a tiny laugh and hooked your pinky around his.
"i love you, gumi."
his smile grew a little.
"i love you more."
before you could argue, he pulled you back against his chest and tucke d the blankets around both of you.
and this time, when you fell asleep, it was peaceful.
because he was still there.
exactly where he'd promised he'd be.
authors note: another request done, tysm to the anon who requested it! i think ill only get through 2 today, im feeling very motivated though with all of the support so tysm! also sorry for the corny one liners at the end ik its kinda repetitive but i feel like it leaves the story on such a good note like closure yk but anyways!
⋆˚꩜｡ going down on megumi fushiguro in the backseat
contents: oral (m!rec), kinda nonchalant gumi
ask | smut prompts
you couldn't bring yourself to pull your eyes away from megumi's fingers wrapped around the steering wheel. people on the road were pissing him off today more than normal, his grip so tight his knuckles started to turn white. his jaw was clenched and you could tell he was trying to keep his composure right now.
what would his fingers feel like tangled in your hair? guiding your head along his aching dick, taking him all the way in until his orgasm brings him some stress relief.
megumi briefly turned his head to look at you, watching your face as you were clearly lost in thought. clearing his throat he asked, "what's on your mind?" his expression conveyed worry, worry that he didn't need to be feeling.
with a playful grin you respond, "you should find a place to pull over and i can show you." his face went red as he processed what you were asking. a very obvious bulge appeared through his pants, betraying his better judgment.
luckily there was an empty parking lot up ahead that megumi quickly pulled into, parking his car in the far corner away from the street. he pressed a quick, yet hungry, kiss to your lips before the both of you scrambled into the back seat.
the palm of your hand pressed into the rough fabric of his jeans and you could almost feel him throbbing under his clothes. megumi grabbed your neck, pulling you close enough to smash his lips into yours.
pulling away, you whisper, "let me help you out with that stress of yours..." you lick your lips and hungrily pull him back into you. his hands can't pick a place to settle, roaming the expanse of your body. with a quiet moan he brings his hands to your tits, kneading the soft skin over your bra. megumi always loved your tits, he was absolutely weak for them.
you continued to palm him over his pants and he slowly started to buck his hips up to meet your movements. he was becoming more erratic, his neediness showing. dull stinging pulsed through your mouth as he nipped at your lips through the kiss, swiping his tongue over the bites after in an attempt to soothe the ache.
"please." megumi's voice was a low growl despite the urgency he felt. you smirked at him, pressing down harder on his strained cock, "please what? tell me."
his eyes softened as he looked into yours, "touch me. i want– need to feel you." he shifted in the seat, trying to alleviate the tension between his legs.
you brought your lips to his ear, "where? tell me where to touch you, baby."
his breath hitched in his throat, embarrassment momentarily rippling through his body. the skin of his hands felt rough against yours as he guided your hand down to his dick, "right here."
your hand slipped under the waistband of his pants and you gripped his hard dick, slowly circling the tip with your thumb. pre-cum had beaded along the top of the head, you spread it around before slowly pumping him.
megumi shivered as soon as you made contact with him, he was so worked up and he felt as if he could already cum.
it would be cruel to tease him any longer.
you made quick work of removing his pants, watching his cock eagerly spring out and gently slap against his stomach. megumi let out soft moans as he was fully exposed to you.
his cock was rock solid and felt heavy against your tongue as you licked up from the base to tip, taking him between your lips after. drool spilled out of the corners of your mouth and dripped down his length. the excess of spit made it easy to stroke the remaining inches of him that didn't fit into your mouth.
megumi's hands flew to your hair, tangling into it as he guided your movements. "fuuuckk– you're so good at this." his mind had already gone blank from the pleasure. the sounds that came from deep inside him were released freely, he had no means to restrain them when he felt so good.
you added a twist in your wrist movements with each pump of your fist. his hips subconsciously lifted off the bed, his dick pressing into the back of your throat until you gagged.
"i'm so— so sorry. shit. keep going."
you hummed in response, the added vibrations driving him ever closer to his climax. without warning you slowed your movements, taking time to kiss and lick his sensitive tip each time your head rose away from him.
megumi squirmed around under you, he was pent up and frustrated. "baby, please don't do that. i need to cum, please." he wasn't usually the type to beg but right now he couldn't help himself. you gave no indication that you heard his words and continued to softly suckle his tip. each time your tongue passed over the underside of the head he would let out a loud groan, frustration and burning pleasure building up in his body.
his fingers tightened their hold on your hair, pushing you further down his cock, "i'm so sorry, it's just– so damn good." worries about hurting you settled in the back of his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to think about them.
your mouth was impossibly warm around him, and your eagerness did nothing but turn him on. it was crazy to him that you actually wanted to make him feel good like this.
his body began to tense up as his orgasm rapidly approached. he loosened his grip on your hair and grunted loudly, "fuck, gonna cum." he choked on his words, moans slipping out past them.
you sucked him in with a newfound fervor, all that mattered was making him cum. megumi's eyes glazed over and his lips fell open, his mind completely blank. his head lolled back with deep noises echoing out from his chest.
warmth flooded the back of your mouth as he released, his cock twitching as he pumped ropes of cum into your throat.
he pulled you up and prompted you to crawl into his lap as he wrapped his arms around you. "was that too much?" he whispered, his voice low and full of genuine concern.
his chest was still heaving while his body recovered from his orgasm. your lips felt soft as they pressed against his cheek, "not too much. i loved it. i love seeing you feel good."
megumi's thumb brushed across your lips and he pulled you in for a loving kiss, tasting himself on your mouth. he pulled away with a soft laugh, "i do feel better now honestly." his stress had melted away and all that was left was the love he had for you.
i just wanna thank you guys so much for 100 followers! this is a huge milestone and i’m so grateful for the support you guys have given me, especially being newer to the writing community 😇😇 I LOVE YOU GUYSSS
thinking of doing smth fun for 100 followers special to stay tuned 😉😉😉
summary: a sleepless night turns into something deeper, something you’ll remember forever.
cw: fluff !!
you and megumi had been dating for about a month. things were pretty smooth sailing, it was both of your first relationships, so things hadn’t been progressing super fast. but you never minded. you liked going slow, experiencing everything with him little by little.
it was around 2am, and you had been tossing and turning all night, fighting for your life trying to get even a little bit of sleep. after what felt like forever, you grabbed your phone and texted your boyfriend.
success.
you grin to yourself, quickly throwing on a hoodie and sweatpants, tying your hair up into a messy bun (megumi’s favorite, even if he’d never admit it out loud)
about five minutes later, there’s a soft knock on your door.
you almost trip over your own feet getting to it.
“hiiii,” you say, opening the door with a smile that’s way too excited for 2am.
megumi looks at you for a second, his expression softening almost instantly. “hey. you ready?”
“mhm,” you nod, stepping out and quietly shutting the door behind you.
your hand finds his without really thinking about it, and he laces your fingers together.
you walk down the hallway together, everything quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. the moonlight filters through the windows, casting that dim glow over everything, and you glance over at him.
he somehow still looks perfect.
it’s unfair. how can someone look so perfect at 2am??
you both make your way outside, the cool air hitting your skin as you head toward the park.
it’s peaceful, like the whole world is asleep except for you two.
you sit down on one of the benches, your shoulders brushing.
“couldn’t sleep?” he asks, glancing at you.
you shake your head. “not at all.”
he hums softly, leaning back slightly. “me neither now.”
you smile a little. “sorry.”
“i didn’t say it was a bad thing.”
that makes your chest feel warm, depute the chill of the night air.
you sit there for a bit, talking about random things, what you ate for breakfast, how much you dreaded your classes tomorrow, who you guys think will the world cup.
your voices stay quiet, like you don’t want to break the smooth calm of the night.
every now and then your hands brush again on the bench, and this time neither of you move away.
you catch him looking at you.
he looks away right after.
you grin. “you keep doing that.”
“doing what.”
“looking at me like that.”
“i’m not.”
you laugh softly. “you are.”
he exhales, running a hand through his hair, clearly a little flustered now.
“…you’re staring too.”
“yeah,” you say, smiling. “but i’m allowed to.”
he gives you a small look at that, but doesn’t argue.
there’s a quiet pause after that, not awkward, just comfortable silence, something you and him seemed the thrive in.
then he says your name.
you turn toward him. “yeah?”
he hesitates, like he’s thinking too hard again.
“can i ask you something.”
you tilt your head, smiling. “you just did.”
he huffs quietly, no real annoyance behind
it, just a little nervous.
“can i kiss you?”
your heart does a small flip, and you blink at him, a little surprised. “what?”
megumi wasn’t usually this direct. if anything, he always waited, watching for the smallest signs from you, making sure he wasn’t rushing anything or making you uncomfortable.
now he’s the one looking unsure.
his face starts to turn pink, eyes flickering away for a second. “i’m sorry, was that—”
you don’t let him finish.
you leaned in and kissed him.
it’s quick at first, soft and a little shy, like you’re both figuring it out at the same time.
for a second he freezes, clearly caught off guard, but then he relaxes, melting into it as his hand lightly steadies against your arm.
it doesn’t last long, just enough to make your heart race.
he pulls back slightly, still close, like he’s not sure if he should move or stay.
“…oh,” he breathes.
you smile, a little shy now too. “you talk too much.”
he lets out the smallest huff, but there’s a faint smile there this time, his nerves easing just a little.
“i didn’t think you’d actually do that.”
you tilt your head. “you asked.”
he looks at you for a second, softer now, before his hand shifts just slightly closer to yours.
“can i try again?”
your smile grows.
“you don’t have to ask this time.”
authors note: thank you so much to @stqrgumi for giving me this idea I LOVE YOU!! all credit to him 😉 i hope you guys enjoyed this cute awkward story
summary: your boyfriend megumi comforts you on one of your off days.
cw: megumi x !insecurereader, fluff
the feeling hits you, suddenly. you’re sitting on megumi’s bed, your phone in your hand, but you’re not even scrolling anymore. the screen goes dark for a second and your reflection stares back at you, and something in your chest sinks.
you don’t like what you see.
it shouldn’t matter this much, but it does, and the more you look, the worse it feels, like every little thing is suddenly too noticeable, too wrong. your grip tightens around your phone before you quickly lock it, like that’ll make the feeling go away.
it doesn’t.
megumi notices before you say anything.
he’s next to you, close enough that your shoulders are touching, and he tilts his head slightly when you go quiet. “hey,” he says softly, nudging your arm, “what’s going on?”
you shake your head too fast. “nothing.”
he doesn’t move away.
“don’t do that.”
you frown a little. “do what?”
“say ‘nothing’ like that,” he replies, quieter now. “you’re not fine.”
your chest tightens, and you look away from him, fingers picking at the sleeve of your hoodie. you weren’t even planning on saying anything, but it slips out anyway.
“i just don’t feel pretty.”
the words hang there, heavier than you expected.
megumi goes still for a second.
“what?”
you shake your head, already wishing you could take it back. “it’s dumb, forget it.”
he turns toward you more fully now, his hand coming up to gently stop yours from fidgeting, something he knew you did when u were nervous, “no. don’t just brush it off.”
you hesitate, then look down again. “i don’t know, i just… hate how i look right now. like everything’s wrong.”
your voice is quiet, small, like you don’t even want to hear yourself say it.
there’s a pause.
then his hand shifts, careful, and he lifts your chin just enough to get you to look at him.
“look at me,” he says.
you try not to, but you do.
his eyes are softer than usual. “you’re wrong,” he says.
you let out a weak breath. “that’s not—”
“no,” he cuts in, . “you are.”
your brows pull together slightly, and you look away again. “gumi—”
“i mean it,” he says, quieter now, his thumb brushing lightly under your eye when you won’t meet his gaze again. “i don’t know what you’re seeing, but it’s not real.”
your throat tightens.
“it feels real.”
and he doesn’t argue with that statement.
instead, he moves closer, his arm wrapping around you and pulling you into him without hesitation. your face presses into his chest before you can stop yourself, and his hand comes up to the back of your head, holding you there.
“i know,” he murmurs. “but that doesn’t make it true.”
you grip his shirt a little tighter, your voice muffled. “i just… feel ugly.”
his hold tightens immediately.
“don’t say that,” he says, softer but more serious now. “not about you.”
you sniff a little, shaking your head against him. “but it’s how i feel.”
he exhales slowly, like he’s trying to choose his words just right. megumi was never good at this kinda stuff, but he was willing to try for you. he leans down just enough so his voice is closer to you.
“then listen to me instead for a second, okay?”
you don’t answer, but you also don’t pull away either.
he takes that as a green light to continue.
his hand comes up to move a strand of hair from your face, studying your expression.
“you’re pretty,” he says, like it’s common knowledge. “you always are.”
you squeeze your eyes shut.
“even right now?”
he huffs quietly, almost like he can’t BELIEVE you’re asking that.
“yeah,” he says. “especially right now”
your chest feels warm at his sweet words. you stay tucked against him, your grip loosening just a little.
he presses a small kiss to the top of your head.
“you don’t have to believe it right now,” he adds quietly. “just… don’t talk so down on yourself, okay?”
you nod slightly against him.
“…okay.”
he doesn’t let go after that.
instead, he keeps you close, his hand still moving through your hair, slow and steady.
and even if the thoughts don’t disappear completely, they don’t feel as loud with him holding you like that.
authors note: i hope you guys enjoy this!! i also hope you’ve been having an awesome 4th of july weekend i know i have! this was also an anon request so tysm to whoever recommended it! im slowly but surely trying to finish most of these up. 😇
summary: you do the “i wanna go home” tiktok trend on ur bf, megumi!
cw: megumi x !reader, fluff
it was a normal night at megumi’s place. neither of you had plans and just ended up tangled together on his bed with a show playing in the background.
you weren’t really watching it, though.
you were on your phone, half laying on top of him while you scrolled through your tiktok feed, the glow lighting up your face as he absentmindedly traced slow patterns along your side. his other arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you close.
every once in a while, he’d press a small kiss to your shoulder or your neck, not even thinking about it.
“you’re not even paying attention,” he muttered quietly.
you smiled a little, eyes still on your phone. “i am.”
“you’ve been scrolling for like ten minutes.”
“shh,” you said, lightly nudging him with your elbow. “this is important.”
he huffed softly, but didn’t argue, he just adjusted his hold on you so you were more comfortable against him.
then you saw it.
you paused, watching the video again, a small, sneaky smile creeping onto your face.
“what?” he asked, glancing down at you.
“nothing,” you said quickly, already locking your phone and setting it on his chest. “just saw something.”
he narrowed his eyes slightly, like he didn’t believe you completely.
you shifted a little, resting your chin on his shoulder.
“i think i’m gonna go home early.”
his hand stilled.
“what?”
you kept your voice casual. “yeah, i’m kinda tired.”
he lifted his head, looking at you properly now with those deep blue eyes, his arm tightening around you without him realizing.
“did i do something?”
you shook your head. “no.”
“then why are you leaving?” he asked, confused.
“i don’t know,” you shrugged lightly. “just feel like going home.”
he stared at you for a second, then sat up slightly, pulling you with him because he still hadn’t let go.
“i’ll take you,” he said quickly. “or you can just stay. you don’t have to go.”
you bit back a smile, trying to stay serious.
“gumi—”
“just stay,” he added, his hand sliding up your back. “you can just sleep here if you’re tired.”
you couldn’t hold it in anymore.
you busted out laughing, wrapping your arms around him.
“you’re so cute gumi i love you”
he blinked at you.
“..what?”
“i’m not going home silly,” you said, smiling. “it’s that one tiktok trend, i was just kidding.”
he stared at you for a second, completely unimpressed.
“…that’s not funny.”
you laughed again, leaning into him.
he sighed, but his arms came right back around you, pulling you close again.
“don’t do that again,” he muttered.
“why not?” you asked softly.
he hesitated for a second.
“i thought you were actually leaving.” he said, looking a little sad.
your expression softened instantly, your hand coming up to play with his hair.
“i’m not going anywhere, promise.”
he didn’t answer, just tightened his hold on you, his face tucking back into your neck.
after a moment, he pressed a small kiss there.
“good,” he murmured.
authors note: this trend is sorta old but i feel like it’s so cute! megumi is definitely the type to be super clingy when he’s alone with his partner. also tysm for 50 followers! i never expected to have this many so i just wanna thank you guys!
𝓲𝗻 𝘄𝗵𝗶𝗰𝗵 ♰ six years of tension snap when satoru’s jealousy finally explodes, leading to a heated argument that turns into a desperate, messy hookup where he makes it very clear you’ve always been his.
✿ ◞◟) gojo satoru 𝓍 female!reader
𝓬𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 18+ [ MDNI! ], explicit sexual content, porn with plot (but its mostly porn lmao), best friends to lovers, jealousy, satoru is down bad, lot of kissing, handjob, big dick!satoru, biting, begging, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, unprotected sex (p in v), creampie, missionary + doggy style, praise, dirty talk, satoru is pathetic.
gojo satoru had been your best friend for six years, and in that time, you'd learned to accept certain things about him.
one — he was obnoxiously handsome. not in a way that felt fair or earned, but in the kind of effortless, god-cheated way that made waitresses forget his order and strangers stop him on the street to tell him he should model. satoru had white hair that never seemed to have a bad day, lashes so long they cast tiny shadows on his cheeks, and eyes so blue they looked like someone had turned up the saturation on just him while the rest of the world stayed normal.
two — satoru had very, very loud opinions, especially about anyone you dated.
you'd noticed the pattern about a year into your friendship, when you'd casually mentioned a guy from your psych class who'd asked for your number. satoru had been sprawled across your couch, stealing your fries, and he'd gone still for a second before tilting his head and saying;
"him? really? he's got weird eyebrows."
you'd blinked at him.
"his eyebrows are fine."
"they're asymmetrical," satoru had said, like that was a real crime. "and he laughs like a seal. you really want to listen to that for a whole date?"
you'd gone on the date anyway.
the guy's eyebrows had been perfectly normal, and his laugh had been genuinely nice, but satoru's comment had stuck in your head the whole time, making you hyperaware of things you never would have noticed otherwise.
that was his gift, or his curse, you hadn't decided yet.
since then, there had been others;
a very sweet and cute guy from your economics discussion group who satoru had dismissed as "way too short for you" (he’d been five eleven). a sweet philosophy major who satoru had claimed "smelled like soup" (he hadn't). a theater student who satoru had said was "obviously using you to get over his ex" (that one had actually been true, and you'd hated admitting satoru was right).
each time, satoru had been there, lounging in your space like he belonged there, making comments that ranged from mildly annoying to borderline cruel. and each time, you'd rolled your eyes and gone on the date anyway, because that was just how satoru was; opinionated, dramatic, a little bit of an asshole.
but satoru was also the one who showed up at your door at 2am with takeout when you failed a midterm.
the one who let you cry on his shoulder after the theater student broke your heart, the one who remembered how you took your coffee and which side of the bed you slept on and the name of your childhood stuffed animal.
so you let the comments slide, mostly.
but this time was different.
this time, his name was jaehyun, and you'd met him at a house party two weeks ago — the guy was in grad school for architecture, had kind eyes and a quiet laugh, and when he'd asked you out for coffee, you'd felt that little flutter in your chest that you'd almost forgotten existed.
you'd mentioned him to satoru casually, the way you always did, expecting the usual eyeroll and some stupid comment about jaehyun's haircut or his shoes.
what you got was something else entirely.
"jaehyun?" satoru had repeated, his voice doing something very strange — going flat in a way it never did. "what kind of name is jaehyun?"
"a perfectly normal one," you'd said, not looking up from your phone. "he's in grad school. architecture. really sweet."
"architecture," he had echoed, like you'd said jaehyun collected human teeth. "so he draws buildings. cool. very exciting."
you'd glanced up then, frowning.
satoru was sitting across from you at the campus coffee shop, his long legs stretched out under the table, one of his legs pressed against yours in that way he always did — like he needed to be touching you to exist properly. his sunglasses were pushed up into his white hair, and his expression was carefully, almost aggressively, neutral.
"what's your problem?" you'd asked.
"nothing," he'd said, too fast. "no problem. i'm thrilled for you. jaehyun the architect. hope he designs you a very nice house."
you'd stared at satoru for a very long moment, waiting for the usual punchline. but he'd just smiled — that big, fake, toothy smile that meant he was annoyed about something and pretending he wasn't at all.
you'd let it go. you were used to satoru being weird.
but over the next week, his weirdness escalated into something you couldn't ignore.
it started small; satoru started showing up at your apartment unannounced, which wasn't new — he'd always done that, letting himself in with the key you'd given him after he'd climbed your fire escape twice in one week. but before, he'd text first, or at least announce his presence with a dramatic "honey, i'm home!" as he walked through the door.
now, he just appeared.
you'd be doing dishes, and suddenly there he was, leaning against your doorframe like he'd been there the whole time. you'd be studying at your desk, and satoru’s chin would appear over your shoulder, his chest warm against your back, asking what you were doing in a voice that was way too low for the question he was asking.
and god, the touching.
satoru had always been touchy. you'd known that about him from the beginning — the way he'd sling an arm over your shoulders, rest his hand on your lower back when you walked through crowds, drape his legs over yours when you sat together on the couch.
he was a physical person, and you'd never minded, because it was just satoru.
but this was very different.
now, satoru’s hand found the small of your back every time you stood next to him. his fingers brushed your wrist when you handed him something. when you sat on the couch together, he pulled you against his side like you might float away if he didn't hold you down, his arm tight around your waist, his thumb tracing circles against your hip.
and it was always casual, always easy, like he wasn't even aware he was doing it.
but you were aware.
painfully aware, every time his thigh pressed against yours, every time his breath ghosted across your neck when he leaned in to look at your phone, every time his fingers lingered on your skin a second longer than they needed to.
you didn't say anything. because what would you even say? 'hey, why are you touching me so much?' that sounded crazy. he was your best friend, and best friends touched.
but then came the comments…
"so when am i meeting jaehyun?" satoru asked one afternoon, sprawled across your bed while you got ready to go out.
you weren't even going out with jaehyun — you were simply going to a study group — but satoru had shown up forty minutes ago and hadn't left.
"you're not," you said, digging through your closet for a hoodie. "we've been on two coffee dates. it's not serious."
"but it could be," satoru said.
it was not a question, and his blue eyes tracked you across the room, and you felt them like a physical weight.
"maybe," you said, because you didn't know yet.
jaehyun was nice. jaehyun was safe. but jaehyun didn't make your heart race in that annoying, confusing way that made you want to scream.
satoru made a sound in the back of his throat, something low and very dissatisfied.
"jaehyun wears new balance sneakers," satoru said, like he was delivering a closing argument. "new balance! do you really want to be seen with a man who wears new balance?"
you turned to look at him.
"you're wearing crocs right now."
"crocs are ironic," satoru said, completely serious. "new balance is a cry for help."
you threw a pillow at him. he caught it without looking, grinning, and you tried to ignore how your stomach flipped.
the worst night, the night everything broke, started like this;
you had a date, a real one.
jaehyun had texted you earlier in the week asking if you wanted to go to that new ramen place downtown, the one with the hour-long wait and the broth people wrote blog posts about. you'd said yes, because you'd been wanting to go, and because jaehyun's texts made you smile, and because you were trying very hard to be normal about all of this.
you hadn't told satoru.
not because you were hiding it, exactly, but because you knew damn well — you knew — what would happen if you did; the comments, the touching, the way he'd look at you with those too-blue eyes like he was trying to communicate something you didn't have the vocabulary to understand.
so you kept it to yourself.
you got dressed in your room, you picked out a black dress that made you feel so pretty, you did your makeup carefully in the bathroom mirror. your hair fell prettily in waves around your shoulders, and you added a necklace — something delicate, something that caught the light.
you casually were just reaching for your black coat when the front door opened.
"satoru," you said, and your voice came out strangled.
your best friend stood in your doorway, and for a moment, neither of you moved. his eyes swept over you — the dress, the makeup, the necklace — and something flickered across his face; something fast and dark that he smoothed over before you could fully read it.
"going somewhere?" satoru asked, and his voice was light, but his jaw was tight.
you should have lied. you should have said study group, or grocery shopping, or literally anything else, but you'd never lied to satoru before, not about anything that mattered, and you didn't know how to start now.
"i have a date," you said. "with jaehyun."
the silence that followed was deafening.
satoru didn't move; he simply stood there, one hand still on the doorknob, his body blocking the doorway like he could physically prevent you from leaving. his white hair was slightly messy, like he'd been running his hands through it, and he was wearing that black sweater you liked — the one that made his shoulders look impossibly broad.
"jaehyun," he repeated flatly.
"yes," you said, and your voice came out smaller than you intended. "jaehyun. the architect. the one i told you about."
"i know who jaehyun is," satoru said.
he completely stepped into the apartment, finally, and pushed the door closed behind him. the click of the lock was weirdly loud in the quiet room.
"i just thought you would have better taste."
the casual cruelty of it stung.
you felt it in your chest, sharp and hot, and suddenly you were so tired — tired of the comments, tired of the games, tired of the way satoru touched you and looked at you and made you feel like you were constantly missing something obvious.
"what is your problem, satoru?" you asked, and your voice cracked in the middle.
satoru blinked. "what?"
"you heard me."
you turned to face him fully, your coat completely forgotten on the couch. your hands were shaking, so you curled them into fists at your sides.
"every single time i mention someone, you have something to say. their eyebrows are wrong, they're too short, they smell like soup—"
"the soup thing was valid—"
"it wasn't!" you shouted, and satoru's mouth snapped shut. "it wasn't, satoru. and now it's jaehyun, and you won't even give him a chance. you show up at my apartment without warning, you won't stop touching me, you look at me like—"
you stopped, breathless, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat.
satoru was watching you with an expression you'd never seen before. his usual mask — the arrogant smirk, the lazy confidence, the annoying playfulness — had slipped away entirely. underneath was something raw. something hungry.
"like what?" satoru asked, and his voice was low. rough. "like what, sweetheart?"
you shook your head, stepping back, and your legs hit the edge of the couch.
"this isn't fair. you can't just—you don't get to act like this every time i try to move on. you don't get to be jealous when you're the one who—"
"jealous?" satoru laughed, but there was no humor in it. "you think i'm jealous?"
"i know you are," you said. "everyone can see it, satoru. suguru sees it. shoko sees it. i'm pretty sure my neighbor across the hall sees it, and she's half-blind."
satoru's jaw tightened.
he took a step toward you, then another, until he was close enough that you could smell his cologne — something clean and warm, like cedar and vanilla. his hand came up, and you flinched, but he just tucked a piece of hair behind your ear, his long fingers trailing down the side of your neck.
"and what if i am?" he murmured. "jealous. what if i can't stand the thought of you going out with him tonight? what if i've been going crazy for weeks, watching you text him, hearing you say his name—"
"then you should have said something," you whispered, and your voice broke on the last word.
satoru's hand slid to your jaw, tilting your face up so you had to look at him. his eyes were almost desperate, searching your face like he was looking for something he needed to survive.
"i'm saying something now," he said. "i can't watch you with anyone else. i can't do it. i've tried—god, i've tried—but every time you smile at someone who isn't me, i want to tear something apart."
your breath caught. "satoru—"
"so if you're gonna be with someone," he continued, his thumb brushing across your lower lip. "it's gonna be me."
the words hung in the air between you, heavy and electric.
you could feel the heat of satoru’s body through your dress, could see the way his chest rose and fell with each uneven breath. his hand was still on your jaw, gentle but firm, like he was afraid you'd disappear if he let go.
"what about jaehyun?" you asked, and it came out breathless.
satoru's eyes darkened. "fuck jaehyun."
and just like that, he kissed you.
it wasn't a soft or gentle kiss, no, it was so desperate and hungry and a little bit angry, like satoru had been holding this back for long years and the dam had finally broken.
satoru’s mouth moved against yours like he was trying to prove something, his hand sliding into your hair, tilting your head back so he could kiss you deeper.
you made a little sound — something between a gasp and a moan — and satoru swallowed it. his other hand found your waist, pulling you against him until there was no space left between your bodies; he was warm and solid and everywhere, and your brain had stopped working entirely.
when he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing hard. satoru’s lips were swollen, his eyes dark, and there was a flush creeping up his neck that you'd never seen before.
"tell me you don't want this," he said, his voice rough. "tell me to stop, and i will. but if you don't—"
you kissed him again, because you couldn't not. because six long years of insane tension and longing and denial had been building to this moment, and now that it was here, you couldn't imagine doing anything else.
satoru groaned against your mouth, his hands sliding down to grip your hips. he walked you backward until your legs hit the couch, and then he was lowering you onto the cushions, his body covering yours, his weight pressing you into the fabric.
"god, i've wanted this for so long," he murmured against your neck, his lips brushing your pulse point. "so fucking long. you have no idea."
"then show me," you said, and you felt him shudder.
he pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes roaming over your face like he was memorizing it.
"when i'm done with you," satoru said, and his voice was low and dark and full of promise. "you're not gonna remember jaehyun's name."
and then he kissed you again, and you stopped thinking about jaehyun entirely.
satoru's mouth was hot and insistent, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that made your toes curl inside your boots. he kissed like he did everything else — like he was competing for something, like he needed to win. but there was desperation underneath it, a trembling kind of hunger that made his hands shake slightly where they gripped your hips.
you kissed him back just as hard, your fingers tangling in his soft white hair, pulling him impossibly closer.
satoru made a sound — something low and wrecked — and his hips pressed into yours instinctively; you could feel him already, hard against your thigh through his jeans, and the knowledge sent a rush of heat straight through your core.
"bedroom," satoru murmured hungrily against your lips, and it wasn't a question.
you nodded, breathless, and then he was pulling you up off the couch, his hands never leaving your body. one palm flat against your lower back, the other cupping the side of your neck, his fingers threading into your hair. satoru kissed you the whole way down the hall — deep, messy kisses that made you stumble backward, trusting him to guide you.
he did. of course he did.
satoru’s body was a wall of heat in front of you, and his hands were everywhere; your waist, your ribs, the curve of your ass through your dress. he squeezed once, experimentally, and when you gasped into his mouth, he did it again, harder.
"fuck," he breathed, and you felt the word more than heard it.
your bedroom door was open, and he walked you through it without looking, his attention entirely on your mouth, your jaw, the spot behind your ear that made you shiver when he kissed it. the backs of your knees hit the bed, and you fell backward onto the mattress, pulling him with you.
satoru caught himself on his forearms, hovering over you, his hair falling forward into his eyes.
for a second, he just looked at you, like he couldn't believe you were here, beneath him, your dress riding up your thighs and your lipstick smeared across his mouth.
"you're so pretty," satoru said, and his voice cracked in the middle. "god, you're so pretty. i'm gonna lose my mind."
then he sat back on his heels and pulled his sweater over his head in one movement.
you'd seen satoru without a shirt before — pool parties, beach trips, that one time his dorm ac broke and he'd walked around campus in nothing but shorts for a week. but this was different; this was close, and private, and his skin was flushed pink across his chest, and you could see everything.
satoru’s shoulders were absurdly broad, tapering down to a narrow waist that made your mouth water. his chest was defined but not bulky — it was lean muscle that shifted under pale skin as he moved, and there was a thin line of white hair trailing down from his navel, disappearing into the waistband of his jeans, and satoru’s arms were roped with veins that stood out when he flexed.
he caught you staring and smiled — not his usual cocky grin, but something softer, almost shy.
"like what you see?"
"shut up," you said, and reached for him.
satoru came down willingly, his body pressing you into the mattress, his skin warm and smooth against your palms. you ran your hands over his shoulders, down his back, feeling the way his muscles jumped under your touch.
he was all heat and tension, and when your nails dragged lightly down his spine, satoru groaned and buried his pretty face in your neck.
"you're gonna kill me," he mumbled into your skin.
you kissed his shoulder, then his collarbone, then the hinge of his jaw. your hands slid down his sides, over his ribs, and when they reached the button of his jeans, you didn't hesitate.
satoru went rigid.
your fingers fumbled with the button, then the zipper, and then you were reaching inside his boxers, and—
oh!
satoru was ridiculously big.
well… you'd known he would be, somehow — everything about satoru was excessive, after all — but fucking hell, feeling him in your hand was completely different. he was thick and hot and already leaking, and when you wrapped your fingers around him, his whole body shuddered.
"sweetheart," satoru gasped, and it came out as a whine, so high and so desperate.
his hips jerked into your hand involuntarily, and he dropped his forehead to your shoulder, his breathing ragged.
"fuck, fuck, please—"
you stroked him slowly, your thumb spreading the wetness at the tip, and satoru made a sound you'd never heard from him before. it was broken and insanely needy, and satoru was shaking — actually shaking — his long fingers digging into the mattress on either side of your head.
"please what?" you asked, and your own voice was rough.
he lifted his head just enough to look at you, and his eyes were glassy, pupils blown so wide there was almost no blue left.
"please don't stop," satoru whispered. "please. i've wanted this for so long. i've thought about your hands—god, i've thought about your hands so much—"
you squeezed gently, just a little firmer, and his sentence cut off in a choked moan.
satoru buried his face in your neck again, his breath hot and uneven against your skin, and you felt him pulse in your hand; his whole body was tense, thighs flexing against yours, and you could feel how close he was — the way his stomach kept twitching, the way his hips started moving in small, desperate little thrusts into your fist.
"if you keep doing that," satoru said, muffled against your shoulder, "i'm not gonna last."
you didn't answer, you just kept going — steady, intentional, your grip adjusting to the slickness now, your thumb pressing into that spot right under the head on every upstroke. you wanted to see satoru fall apart; you wanted it more than you'd ever wanted anything.
and then he did.
it wasn't loud, that was the thing.
satoru’s breath hitched, held, and then released in a long, shuddering exhale against your neck. his whole body locked up for a second — his back arching just slightly, fingers twisting in the sheets — and then he broke.
you felt it in your hand first; the pulsing, the warmth spilling over your fingers, the way satoru’s hips stuttered and stopped. then the rest of him followed; his forehead pressed harder into your shoulder, almost like he was hiding. his arms trembled on either side of you. a sound came out of him — soft, wrecked, more breath than voice — and you realized his free hand had moved to grip your hip, not guiding you, just holding on.
you kept stroking him through it, slow and gentle now, and satoru whimpered and tried sooo hard to squirm away from the sensitivity even as he pushed into your touch at the exact same time. satoru’s face was still buried in your neck, and you could feel how warm his cheeks were, how damp his lashes were against your skin.
for a moment, neither of you moved.
satoru’s breathing was uneven, hitching every few seconds like he was still coming down, and your hand was a mess, and you didn't care at all.
finally, he lifted his head.
satoru’s face was flushed, his lips parted, his hair a disaster. he looked at you like he'd never seen you before — or maybe like he was seeing you clearly for the first time.
"your turn," you said, and your voice was steadier than you felt.
he blinked slowly, like the words had to travel through fog to reach him, then something completely shifted in satoru’s expression — something dark and determined settling over his still-soft features, a spark of that familiar satoru intensity cutting through the haze.
"my turn," he agreed.
his still trembling hands easily found the hem of your dress, and he pulled it up and over your head with an impatience that made you laugh — a breathless, surprised sound that turned into a gasp when he bent down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to your stomach.
satoru worked his way up slowly, kissing every inch of skin he uncovered, his lips hot and wet and reverent. when he reached your bra, he looked up at you, asking silent permission. you simply nodded, and he reached behind you to unclasp it with fingers that trembled even more.
the bra joined your dress on the floor.
satoru sat back on his heels and stared at you; his blue eyes traveled down your body — your breasts, your stomach, the lace edge of your panties — and his expression was almost painful to look at; like he was in awe, like he was in pain.
"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was hoarse. "i don't—i can't—"
"toru," you said, and your own voice was shaking. "please."
that broke whatever trance he was in.
satoru lowered himself over you again, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that was softer this time, almost tender, and his hand slid down your body, over your ribs, your hip, until his fingers brushed the waistband of your panties.
he pulled back just enough to look down, and then his fingers were hooking into the lace, but he didn't pull them off. instead, satoru pushed them to the side.
the air hit your wetness, and you felt exposed and seen and so incredibly turned on you thought you might combust. satoru's breath caught when he saw you completely, and his pupils swallowed the very last of the blue.
"all this for me?" he murmured, his fingers hovering just above where you needed him.
"y-yes," you said, and you meant it more than you'd ever meant anything. "always for you."
satoru’s eyes flicked up to yours, and something shifted in his expression; something soft and fierce and terrified all at once. then he looked back down, and his middle finger slid through your folds, gathering your wetness, circling your clit in a way that made your hips jerk off the bed.
"fuck," you gasped.
"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and focused. "that's it, sweetheart. let me hear you."
he circled your clit again, slow and meticulous, watching your face. when you moaned — loud, involuntary — his lips curved into a smile that was almost smug, but then you moaned again, and his smile faltered, replaced by something hungrier.
"you have no idea," satoru said, his finger still moving in lazy circles. "what this sound does to me."
he pushed two fingers inside you without warning, and your back arched off the bed.
it was so good — way too good — the stretch of his long fingers, the curl of them inside you, the way he found that spot immediately like he'd been studying a map of your body for years. his thumb pressed against your clit, and he started a rhythm that made your vision blur.
"right there?" satoru asked, and his voice was strained.
"y-yes—yes, don't stop—"
and satoru didn't stop.
he fucked you with his long fingers like he really meant it, his palm slapping against your clit with every single thrust, his blue eyes never once leaving your face; he watched every expression, cataloged every sound, and satoru’s own breathing was ragged, his hips pressing into the mattress like he was fucking it just to keep himself sane.
"you're so wet," he said, almost to himself. "god, you're so wet. is this because of me? because of what i said?"
you couldn't answer — you couldn't form any words — so you simply nodded, your hands desperately gripping the sheets, your hips rocking against his hand.
"say it," satoru demanded, his fingers curling harder. "say you want this. say you want me."
"i want you," you sobbed. "i want you, toru, please—"
he added a third finger, and the stretch was almost too much, the pressure building in your core until you couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do a damn thing but feel. his thumb pressed harder against your clit, rubbing in tight circles that matched the rhythm of his fingers, and he leaned down to kiss your chest, your collarbone, the side of your breast.
"cum for me," he murmured against your skin. "cum on my fingers, sweetheart. i want to feel it."
you shattered.
it crashed over you in huge waves, your whole body convulsing, your nails digging into satoru's shoulders as you rode out the pleasure. he didn't stop — he kept his fingers deep inside you, he kept his thumb on your clit, working you through every aftershock until you were trembling and oversensitive and crying his name into the quiet room.
when you finally stilled, satoru pulled his fingers out slowly, carefully, and you watched through half-lidded eyes as he brought them to his mouth.
he licked them clean.
his eyes never left yours as he did it, his tongue sliding between his long fingers, tasting you like you were something precious. he made a sound — low and satisfied — and when he was done, and held his fingers out to you.
"your turn," he said, echoing your words from earlier.
you took his wrist and guided his fingers to your mouth; you sucked them in, one by one, tasting yourself on his skin. his breath hitched, and his hips jerked against the mattress, and you felt powerful in a way you'd never felt before.
when you let go, satoru’s fingers were slick with your spit, and his eyes were almost black.
"f-fuck," he whispered. "fuck, sweetheart. i need—i need to be inside you. please. i can't—"
he was shaking again, his composure crumbling completely, his body vibrating with need above you. you could feel him through his jeans, hard and aching, and you wanted him so badly it was a physical pain.
"then do it," you said. "do it, satoru."
he fumbled with his jeans, pushing them down just enough, and then he was there — pressing against your entrance, the head of his huge cock nudging at your wetness, both of you breathing too fast.
"look at me," he said, and his voice was raw. "i want you to look at me when i finally make you mine."
his voice cracked on the last word, and something in your chest splintered; this wasn't just sex, you could see it in his eyes — blown wide, glassy, stripped of every layer of sarcasm and swagger he'd ever worn. satoru looked terrified and hungry and so in love it was almost painful to witness.
"toru," you whispered, and his name felt different in your mouth now.
"i know," he said, and he sounded almost sorry. "i know we should talk. i know we're gonna have to figure out what the hell we're doing tomorrow. but right now—"
he pressed forward, just barely, the head of his cock catching against your entrance, and you both gasped.
"—right now, i need to be inside you. i need to feel you cum around me. and i need you to watch me fall apart while i do it."
you nodded, unable to speak, and satoru pushed in.
just an inch — slow, so slow — and your body stretched around him, full and burning in a way that made your eyes water. satoru was so much bigger than his fingers, thicker and hotter, and the pressure was almost too much. you felt every millimeter, every pulse of his cock as it slid into you, and the sound he made — god, the sound — was something you'd never heard from him before.
it was a broken moan, high and desperate, like he was the one being split open.
"fuck," satoru choked out, his forehead dropping to yours, and his breath was hot and uneven against your lips. "f-fuck, baby. you're so—you're so tight—i can't—"
his hips stuttered, and he pushed deeper, another inch, and your nails dug into his shoulders. the stretch burned in the best way, your body adjusting to him, and you could feel every ridge, every vein, every tiny shift of his hips.
"m-more," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "please, toru. i want all of it."
satoru made a sound like a wounded animal, and then he pushed forward in one long, slow thrust until he was buried completely inside you.
you both stopped breathing.
he was everywhere, filling you completely, stretching you in a way that bordered on overwhelming, his hips flush against yours; you could feel him throbbing inside you, could feel the way his whole body trembled above you, his arms shaking where they caged you in.
"oh my god," satoru breathed, and his voice was wrecked, absolutely destroyed. "oh my god. sweetheart. you feel—i can't—there aren't words."
his eyes were squeezed shut now, his jaw tight, and you watched a bead of sweat roll down his temple. he looked like he was in pain. like he was holding on by a thread.
"toru," you said, reaching up to cup his face. "look at me."
his eyes opened, and what you saw there completely made your heart clench; satoru looked dazed, almost drunk, his pupils so blown there was only a thin ring of blue left now, his lips were parted, his breathing ragged, and when you ran your thumb across his cheekbone, he turned his head and pressed a kiss to your palm.
"you're gonna be the death of me," satoru murmured against your skin. "you know that, right? i've been imagining this for six years, and it's still—it's so much better than i ever—" he cut himself off with a shaky exhale. "i'm not gonna last. i'm sorry. i'm so sorry, but i can't—"
"then don't," you said. "move, toru. please move."
well… he didn't need to be told twice.
satoru pulled out slowly — agonizingly slowly — until only the tip remained inside you, and then he pushed back in, just as slow, just as deep, his eyes never left yours, watching your face as he bottomed out again, and the expression on his face was one of pure, reverent awe.
"that's it," he whispered. "god, that's it. you're taking me so well, sweetheart. so fucking well."
he did it again, and again, each thrust was slow, deliberate, like he was trying to memorize every sensation; the drag of his huge cock against your walls, the way you clenched around him, the little sounds you made every time he pushed back in. his hands roamed your body — your waist, your ribs, your breasts — touching you like he was afraid you'd disappear.
"you're so beautiful," satoru said, and his voice was thick. "i've wanted to touch you like this for so long. you have no idea how many times i've jerked off thinking about you. thinking about these sounds you're making right now."
satoru’s hips snapped forward a little harder, and you moaned at that — loud and unfiltered — and satoru's eyes rolled back for just a second.
"yeah," he breathed. "yeah, like that. i want to hear you. i want everyone to hear you. i want jaehyun to hear you and know—know that you're mine."
the possessiveness in his voice should have scared you, but instead, it made you clench around him, and satoru groaned so loudly you felt it vibrate through his chest.
"you like that?" he asked, his pace picking up slightly. "you like it when i get jealous? when i talk about how you're mine?"
"fuck—yes," you admitted, because you couldn't lie anymore.
not with your best friend inside you, not with his skin against yours, not with the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.
satoru's smile was sharp and hungry.
"good. because you are mine. you have been since the day you let me climb your fire escape."
satoru kissed you then — it was deep and messy, his warm tongue sliding against yours in a rhythm that matched his hips. he was fucking you slowly but deeply now, each thrust pushing you up the bed a little, and you wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer.
that changed everything.
the angle made him hit something inside you — something that made stars burst behind your eyes, and you cried out against his mouth, and satoru swallowed the sound, his hips stuttering before he found a new rhythm; faster, harder, still deep, but no longer gentle.
"there?" satoru gasped, pulling back just enough to look at your face. "is that the spot? right there?"
you couldn't answer, you could only nod, your hands fisting in his white hair, pulling him down so you could bite his lower lip. and satoru moaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward so hard the headboard banged against the wall.
"oh—f-fuck, sweetheart," satoru panted. "you're gonna make me come so fast. i can't—i've been waiting too long for this. you feel too good."
his hand slid between your bodies, and his thumb found your clit, and you nearly screamed.
he circled it in tight, fast motions, exactly the way you needed, and the combination of his enormous cock hitting that sweet spot inside you and his thumb on your clit was too much. the pleasure built so quickly it was almost painful, your whole body tightening like a coil about to snap.
"that's it," satoru murmured, his voice low and dark and completely gone. "cum for me again, sweetheart. i want to feel you cum on my cock this time. i want to feel you squeeze me while i'm inside you."
his thumb pressed harder, his hips moved faster, and he was looking at you — watching every micro-expression on your face with an intensity that should have been overwhelming.
but all you could feel was him. all you could hear was the sound of his breathing, the wet sounds of your bodies moving together, the little whimpers that fell from his lips every time you clenched around him.
"i'm close," you managed, your voice breaking. "oh my god, toru, i'm so close—"
"yeah?"
satoru was practically fucking you in earnest now, his composure completely gone; his hair was a mess, his face flushed, his lips swollen from your kisses.
"you gonna cum for me? gonna soak my cock, sweetheart? i want to feel it. i want to feel you—"
you came.
it surged through you without warning, your whole body arching off the bed, your nails raking down satoru’s back as you convulsed around him. satoru groaned — a deep, guttural sound that seemed to come from somewhere primal — and his hips kept moving, kept thrusting, working you through every second of your orgasm.
"oh, fuck," he gasped. "oh, fuckfuckfuck, sweetheart—you're squeezing me so tight—i can't—i'm gonna—"
satoru pulled out just enough that you felt the first pulse of his release, hot and sudden, and then he pushed back in and buried himself to the hilt as he came inside you.
his whole body shook, his arms gave out, and satoru collapsed on top of you, his face buried deep in your neck, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself into you. he made sounds you'd never heard him make — broken, desperate sounds, almost like sobs — and you felt each pulse of his cock, each wave of his release, hot and filling.
"g-god," satoru whispered against your sweaty skin. "god, sweetheart. i love—i—"
he didn't finish the sentence, maybe he couldn't, maybe he was too far gone.
you held him, your fingers threading through his sweaty hair, your legs still wrapped around his waist. his cock was still inside you, softening slightly but not pulling out, and you could feel his cum leaking out around him, warm and wet.
for a long moment, neither of you moved, neither of you spoke, the only sounds were your breathing, slowly evening out, and the distant hum of the city outside your window.
satoru's hand was tracing patterns on your hip, lazy and absent, and you thought maybe he'd fallen asleep. maybe you'd get a moment to process what had just happened.
then satoru shifted.
his hips rolled forward, just slightly, and you felt him twitch inside you.
"satoru," you said, your voice hoarse.
he lifted his head, and his eyes met yours; they were still dark, still blown wide, but there was something new there now. something hungry and determined and a little bit feral.
"i'm not done," satoru said, and his voice was rough. "i'm not even close to done."
he pulled out slowly, and you felt the loss of him acutely — the sudden emptiness, the trickle of satoru’s cum that slid down your trembling thigh. but before you could mourn it, he was flipping you over, pulling you onto your hands and knees, his hands gripping your hips.
"i've been thinking about this position for years," satoru murmured, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade. "thinking about how deep i could get. how loud you'd be."
you heard him spit into his hand — you heard the wet sound of him stroking himself — and then he was pressing against your entrance again, already hard, already ready.
"toru," you said again, and it came out as a pathetic whimper. "i'm still sensitive—"
"i know," satoru said, and he sounded almost apologetic. almost. "but you feel too good, sweetheart. and i'm so fucking obsessed with you. i can't stop. i don't want to stop."
he pushed in, and you both moaned.
it was different from the first time; you were still so wet, still so stretched, still so full of his cum, and satoru slid in easier now, way deeper, until you felt him in your stomach.
satoru paused for a moment, letting you adjust, his forehead pressed to the back of your neck.
"baby, tell me when," satoru said, his voice strained. "tell me when you're ready."
you took a breath, then another, the sensitivity was fading, replaced by a familiar ache, a familiar need.
"now," you said. "move now."
and he did.
satoru started slow again, but this time it was different.
this time, he was savoring; his hands completely roamed your body — your back, your ass, your hips — and he leaned over to press kisses along your spine. his huge cock dragged against your walls in a way that made your eyes roll back, and he was murmuring things against your skin; things you couldn't quite understand, things that sounded like praise and worship and desperation all at once.
"you're so perfect," he breathed. "so perfect for me. this pussy was made for me. you know that? made for my cock."
satoru’s pace quickened, his hips slapping against yours, and the sound was obscene — wet and loud and relentless. he reached around and found your swollen clit again, rubbing in tight circles, and you sobbed with the overstimulation of it.
"too much?" he asked, but he didn't stop. "or not enough?"
"m-more," you gasped. "more, toru—please—"
he gave you more.
satoru fucked you harder, faster, deeper, his grip on your hips so tight you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. his breathing was ragged, his moans were loud, and he was talking — talking constantly, a stream of consciousness that was half dirty and half desperate.
"look at you. taking me so well. you're so wet. so fucking wet. is this all for me? tell me it's all for me."
"it's all for you," you said, and you meant it.
satoru groaned loudly, and his hips snapped forward even harder, and you felt a second orgasm building — faster this time, sharper, pushed along by the overstimulation and the sound of his voice and the way he was fucking you like he needed you to survive.
"cum with me this time," he said, his voice breaking. "i want to feel you cum while i'm filling you up again. i want to feel you squeeze every drop out of me."
his thumb pressed down on your clit, and his hips lost their rhythm, becoming sloppy and desperate, and you knew he was close, and so were you. so close—
"now," satoru gasped. "now, sweetheart—"
you came together.
it was messy and loud and overwhelming, your body clenching around him as he spilled inside you again, his hips jerking erratically as he rode out his orgasm. you collapsed onto the bed, and he followed you down, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his cock still buried deep inside you, still pulsing.
neither of you moved.
satoru’s breath was hot against your ear, his heart pounding against your back, and you could feel him — getting hard again, still inside you, still not pulling out.
"one more," he murmured, and you could hear the smile in his voice, even through the exhaustion. "just one more. and then maybe we can talk about how i'm in love with you."
you laughed — a breathless, surprised sound — and satoru kissed your shoulder, your neck, the curve of your jaw.
"i'm serious, baby," satoru said, his hips rolling forward again, slowly. "i've been in love with you for years. and now that i've had you like this—"
he pushed deeper, and you moaned.
"—i'm never letting you go."
satoru’s hand slid under you, finding your clit again, and you realized he actually meant it.
[ SYNOPSIS ] — After a brutal mission, Megumi Fushiguro says something that confirms your deepest fear that your voice is a burden. You shrink yourself into silence for weeks until a chance encounter with Yuuta Okkotsu finally lets you spill everything you've been holding in. When Megumi sees you having fun with Yuuta, his own insecurities convince him he was losing you. w.c: 6.7k
[ PAIRING ] — megumi fushiguro x talkative!reader
[ TAGS ] — THIS FIC IS A REQUEST!! fem!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, internalized self-doubt, self-esteem issues, jealousy issues, YUUTA MENTION!!!, platonic friendships, insecure megumi. art by: @/11101AM
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The silence in Megumi Fushiguro’s apartment had never felt like a weapon before. It had always been a soft, comfortable thing. The quiet of shared space, the peace of two people who didn’t need to fill every moment with noise. But tonight, the silence it felt different.
Megumi had come home late, later than usual, his shoulders hunched and his jaw tight. You’d watched him shrug off his jacket, his movements jerky and exhausted, and your heart had clenched with sympathy. You knew he’d had a brutal week. A mission had gone sideways, leaving him with a concussion and a civilian casualty that wasn’t his fault but weighed on him anyway. Then there had been the endless debriefings, the paperwork, the sidelong glances from the higher-ups who always seemed to be waiting for him to fail. You’d seen the dark circles under his eyes deepen with each passing day, watched him pick at his food without eating, and felt him toss and turn beside you in bed long after the lights went out.
So you’d done what you always did. You’d tried to help. You’d made his favorite tea, the ginger one that stung the nose and warmed the throat. You’d set out his comfortable clothes, the soft sweater with the frayed cuffs he loved. And when he’d sunk onto the couch with a bone-deep sigh, you’d settled beside him and started talking, hoping to pull him out of his head, to distract him from the darkness you could see swirling behind his eyes.
“I was thinking about time today,” you’d begun, your voice soft and meandering, the way it always was when you were trying to soothe him. “Not like, clock time, but geological time. Did you know that if you compressed the entire history of the Earth into a single year, humans wouldn’t show up until like, eleven-forty PM on December thirty-first? And the entire recorded history of human civilization would be the last few seconds before midnight? It’s wild, right? All of our wars and art and love and everything, just this tiny little blip. And it made me think about how when you’re in the middle of a bad week, it feels like it’s going to last forever, but in the grand scheme of things, it’s not even a fraction of a fraction of a—”
“Can you just be quiet?”
The words weren’t loud. They weren’t even particularly harsh. But they stopped you cold, your mouth still half-open around the next syllable, your hands frozen mid-gesture. You stared at him, waiting for the punchline, the softening of his eyes, the small quirk of his lips that meant he was teasing.
It didn’t come.
He wasn’t looking at you. His head was tilted back against the couch, his eyes closed, and there was a furrow between his brows so deep it looked carved there. The words hung in the air between you, ugly and final, and for one bizarre, disorienting moment, a single thought cut through your shock: This isn’t Megumi.
The thought was so strong, so visceral, that your eyes darted around the room, half-expecting to see the shimmer of a veil, the telltale distortion of a curse’s technique. Because this couldn’t be real. Your Megumi—your sweet, quiet, secretly tender Megumi who let you put face masks on him and once sat through a three-hour documentary about nudibranchs because you’d said they looked like tiny sea dragons and you loved them—your Megumi would never, ever say that to you. This had to be a curse. Some vile, parasitic thing wearing his skin, twisting his voice, using his exhaustion as a doorway in.
You didn’t realize you were holding your breath until your lungs started to burn. Your hands were trembling in your lap, but you kept them still, kept your face as neutral as you could manage, while your mind spiraled through every exorcism you’d ever studied, every curse you’d ever encountered. You searched his face for some sign of the supernatural, some glint of something that wasn’t him.
Megumi’s eyes opened, and you searched them desperately. But all you saw was exhaustion. Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhaustion, and underneath it, a flicker of irritation that made your stomach drop.
He must have seen something in your expression—the wide-eyed horror, the desperate scanning—because his brow furrowed further. "Nothing is wrong, I just… I can’t right now. I need quiet. Please.”
Please. He’d said please, like it was a reasonable request, like he hadn’t just taken the thing you were most vulnerable about—the thing you’d been terrified of your entire life—and confirmed it was true. You talked too much, you shared too much, you were too much, and the one person you’d trusted with all of it had finally gotten sick of pretending otherwise.
You didn’t remember standing up. You didn’t remember walking to the bedroom. All you remembered was the click of the door closing behind you, the sound of your own heartbeat thundering in your ears, and the slow, creeping horror of a new thought slithering into your mind.
What if he’s been holding this back for our entire relationship, and tonight he just… slipped?
You pressed your back against the bedroom door and slid down until you were sitting on the floor, your knees drawn up to your chest. The tears came hot and silent, and with them, the spiral.
Because the thing was, it made sense. It made terrible, perfect sense.
You’d always known you talked a lot. You’d been told so your whole life—by teachers who moved your desk to the back of the classroom, by friends who slowly stopped returning your texts, by family members who smiled tight smiles and said, “Don’t you ever run out of things to say?” You talked when you were happy, when you were nervous, when you were sad, and when you were excited. Talking was how you processed the world. It was how you connected, how you loved, how you breathed.
And Megumi… Megumi was so quiet. He spoke in glances and small gestures, in the brush of his fingers against yours, in the way he’d make you tea without being asked. You’d always thought—hoped—that your talking was the yang to his yin, that you filled the silences he didn’t want to fill himself, that he liked it, that he liked you.
But what if he didn’t? What if every story you’d ever told him, every random observation, every excited ramble about sea slugs or cloud formations or the socioeconomic implications of ancient Roman plumbing—what if every single word had been sandpaper against his nerves? What if all those little hums and nods, the ones you’d interpreted as listening, had actually been him just… enduring?
You thought back through your entire relationship, and the memories shifted and warped before your eyes, taking on a sinister new shape. The time you’d spent forty-five minutes explaining the plot of a book he’d never read, and he’d just sat there, silent. You’d thought he was being a good listener. What if he’d been wishing you would stop? The time you’d made him watch a video essay about the history of buttons, and he’d fallen asleep halfway through. You’d teased him about it, thinking it was cute. What if he’d been so bored, so exhausted by your endless stream of words, that his body had just given up?
Every memory became evidence. Every silence became a verdict. And you, who loved him so much, realized with a sickening lurch that your love might have been a burden. That the very thing you’d been offering him—yourself, unfiltered and enthusiastic and overflowing—might have been the thing he’d secretly wished he could escape.
You didn’t sleep that night. You lay in bed, still and silent as a stone, listening to Megumi’s breathing on the other side of the mattress. He didn’t reach for you. He didn’t say anything. And that, too, felt like confirmation.
───
The next morning, you woke up with a new resolve. If Megumi needed quiet, you would give him quiet. If your talking was a burden, you would set it down. You would become smaller, neater, easier. You would be the girlfriend he deserved, not the one he’d been saddled with.
It was the hardest thing you’d ever done.
The first day, you caught yourself a dozen times. You’d open your mouth to tell him about the weird bird you’d seen outside the window, and you’d snap it shut again. You’d pick up your phone to text him a thought that had just occurred to you, and you’d set it back down. Every suppressed word felt like a small death, a little piece of yourself that you were burying alive.
But you did it. For him, you did it.
“Morning,” you said when he stumbled into the kitchen. One word. Neat. Contained. You placed his coffee in front of him—black, no sugar, the way he liked it—and turned back to the sink.
Megumi grunted in response, rubbing his eyes. He didn’t seem to notice anything different. Why would he? This was probably what he’d always wanted. A quiet morning. A peaceful coffee. A girlfriend who didn’t assault him with trivia before he’d fully woken up.
The second day was harder. You saw a dog on your walk home that looked exactly like his Divine Dog, a big black shaggy thing with soulful eyes, and your first instinct was to take a picture, to send it to him, to say, “Look! It’s your son! He’s working at a café now apparently, very distinguished!” You had your phone out, the camera app open, before you remembered. You put the phone away. You walked home in silence. And when Megumi asked, “How was your day?” you said, “Fine,” and nothing else.
The third day, the fourth day, the fifth day—they all blurred together into a haze. You’d never realized how much of your life was made of words until you had to swallow every single one. You’d never realized how lonely silence could be until you were drowning in it.
You didn’t have a lot of close friends. It wasn’t that people didn’t like you—they did, or at least, they seemed to. But friendships required maintenance, and you’d always poured so much of yourself into your relationship with Megumi that there hadn’t been much left over. He’d been your person. The one you texted at 2 AM when you had a thought that couldn’t wait. The one whose shoulder you shook when you saw something beautiful or weird or funny, because sharing it with him was what made it real.
Now you had no one. The thoughts piled up inside you, a tower of unsaid words growing taller every day. You started a journal, but it wasn’t the same. The journal didn’t hum in the right places. The journal didn’t roll its eyes fondly or call you an idiot with that particular soft inflection that meant I love you. The journal was just paper, and you were so, so lonely.
Megumi didn’t notice.
Well, that wasn’t entirely fair. He noticed something. He noticed that you were quieter, but he chalked it up to mood swings. You’d always been emotional, up and down, sunshine and rain. He figured you were going through something personal—maybe family stuff, maybe hormones, maybe just the general weight of being a sorcerer in a world that never stopped needing saving. He’d ask, “You okay?” and you’d say, “I’m fine,” and he’d accept it, because Megumi was not, by nature, a person who pushed.
A small, petty part of you wanted him to push. You wanted him to grab you by the shoulders and say, “You’re not fine. You haven’t told me a single fact about marine biology in five days. What’s wrong?” But he didn’t. He just drifted through the apartment like a ghost, and you drifted with him, two silent ships passing in a fog of your own making.
Weeks passed. You got very good at being quiet. You learned the precise number of words required to get through a day without arousing suspicion: “Good morning.” “Do you want dinner?” “I’m going to bed.”
And through it all, the thoughts kept coming. They never stopped. Every moment of every day, your brain was churning out observations, questions, connections, jokes, stories. Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? Did you know that the moon is slowly moving away from the Earth? Did you know that I love you so much it’s killing me not to tell you? The words pressed against the inside of your skull and you had nowhere to put them.
Until Yuuta.
───
You’d gone to the sorcerer headquarters to drop off some paperwork for Gojo—a favor you’d agreed to in the morning. You were walking across the training grounds, head down, already composing the text you wouldn’t send Megumi about the interesting moss pattern on the path, when you literally ran into someone.
“Oh! I’m so sorry, I wasn’t—” You looked up into a pair of kind, worried eyes, and your brain short-circuited. “Yuuta?”
Yuuta Okkotsu smiled at you, that gentle, slightly awkward smile that made him look like a startled puppy. “Hey! It’s good to see you. I feel like it’s been forever. How are you? How’s Megumi?”
And something in you, something that had been wound tight for weeks, just… snapped.
“Did you know,” you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them, “that there’s a species of jellyfish that’s biologically immortal? It’s called the Turritopsis dohrnii, and when it gets injured or stressed or just old, it can revert back to its polyp stage and start its whole life cycle over. It’s like hitting the reset button on your own existence. Scientists are studying it to see if there are applications for human aging, but honestly, I think the jellyfish is onto something. Imagine if every time you made a horrible mistake, you could just turn back into a baby and try again. Megumi would probably appreciate that, right? A do-over button for relationships? ‘Oh no, I’ve been a terrible boyfriend, time to become a polyp!’ Though I guess that’s not really fair. He’s not terrible. I’m the terrible one. I’m the one who talks too much. That’s literally what he said. Well, not literally, but implied. He said, ‘Can you just be quiet?’ and I’ve been trying, I really have, but it’s so hard because I have all these thoughts and nowhere to put them and I can’t tell him because he doesn’t want to hear it and I don’t have anyone else because he was my person and now I’m just—I’m just full. Do you ever feel full? Like you’re going to burst if you don’t say something, but if you say something, the person you love most in the world is going to look at you with that exhausted, annoyed expression, and you’ll die a little inside? No? Just me? Okay. Okay, I’m sorry. I’m doing it again. I’m talking too much. I should stop. I’m going to stop now.”
You stopped. You were breathing hard, your heart pounding, and you realized with a distant sort of horror that you’d just verbally vomited all over Yuuta Okkotsu, a man you barely knew, a man who was probably just trying to be polite and was now trapped in a conversation with a lunatic.
But Yuuta didn’t look trapped. He looked… concerned. And interested. And maybe a little bit sad.
“The jellyfish thing is really cool,” he said quietly. “Tell me more about that.”
You stared at him. “What?”
“The immortal jellyfish. How does it work, exactly? Does it remember its previous life, or is it a blank slate every time?”
It was like someone had opened a floodgate. You couldn’t stop yourself. You didn’t want to stop yourself. You told him about the cellular transdifferentiation process, about the way the jellyfish’s cells could change from one type to another, about the implications for regenerative medicine and the philosophical questions it raised about identity and consciousness and what it meant to truly die. And then, because he was still listening, still nodding, still asking questions with genuine curiosity in his dark eyes, you told him about octopuses and moon phases and the time you’d gotten lost in a museum and accidentally attended a lecture on medieval grain storage, and it had been the most fascinating hour of your life.
You talked for two hours. Two solid hours of uninterrupted, uncensored, gloriously rambling. You told Yuuta things you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding in. You told him about the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm, and the way Megumi’s hair fell over his eyes when he was concentrating, and the dream you’d had about flying whales, and the theory you’d developed about pigeons being government drones, and—
And through it all, Yuuta listened. He didn’t endure. He listened. He laughed at your jokes. He gasped at your revelations. He leaned in when you got to the good parts, and he shook his head in wonder when you finished a particularly convoluted tangent. He was, you realized with a pang, everything you’d been missing. Not a romantic prospect—you were too in love with Megumi for that, even now, even after everything—but a friend. A real, true friend who didn’t seem to mind that you talked too much. Who maybe even liked it.
“That was incredible,” Yuuta said when you finally wound down, your throat hoarse and your heart lighter than it had been in weeks. “You’re like a living Wikipedia, except way more entertaining. Megumi’s a lucky guy.”
The mention of Megumi’s name was like a splash of cold water. “I should… I should probably go. I’ve taken up enough of your time.”
“You didn’t take anything,” Yuuta said firmly. “I offered. And honestly?” He ducked his head, a little shy. “It was nice. I enjoyed learning so much, and if it made you feel better, then I am even more glad. So thank you. For talking to me.”
Something in your chest cracked open. “You’re welcome, thank you too for hearing me.” you whispered. And you meant it.
───
The afternoon sun was slanting through the trees of the training grounds, casting long, golden shadows across the grass, and Megumi Fushiguro was worried.
Something was wrong with you. He’d noticed it in the small things—the way you’d stopped texting him random facts in the middle of the day, the way the apartment had become so painfully quiet, the way you’d answer his questions with one-word responses and tight, brittle smiles that never reached your eyes. He’d told himself it was a mood swing, or stress, or something personal that you’d share when you were ready. He’d told himself to be patient, to give you space, to be the steady, silent presence you needed.
But today, the worry had sharpened into something sharper. You hadn’t answered your phone. Three calls, straight to voicemail. You were supposed to drop off paperwork for Gojo, a simple errand that should have taken an hour at most, but three hours had passed and you still weren’t home. Megumi had tried to ignore the cold knot forming in his stomach. He’d tried to reason with himself—maybe your phone died, maybe you got caught up talking to someone, maybe you just needed time alone. But the image of your face that morning, pale and drawn and so terribly quiet, had pushed him out the door.
He found you on a bench near the old training fields, a secluded spot dappled with light and shadow, the kind of place you used to drag him to for “cloud-watching dates” where you’d spend an hour narrating the lives of the cumulus sheep and their stratus shepherds. The memory hit him like a punch to the chest, a reminder of everything that had been missing, everything he’d somehow let slip away.
But you weren’t alone.
Yuuta Okkotsu was sitting beside you on the bench, his body angled toward you in a posture of complete, undivided attention. And you were talking. You were talking the way you used to talk to Megumi, your hands flying through the air, your face alight with an animation he hadn’t seen in weeks, your voice carrying across the grass in a bright, effervescent stream that made his heart seize in his chest.
"—And that’s why I’m convinced pigeons are actually government surveillance drones,” you were saying, your voice breathless with laughter. “I mean, think about it, Yuuta. They’re everywhere. They never migrate. They have that weird red eye thing that looks exactly like a camera lens. And have you ever seen a baby pigeon? No. You haven’t. Because they’re not born. They’re manufactured.”
Yuuta laughed—a real, genuine laugh, warm and surprised—and Megumi watched him shake his head in wonder. “That’s the most unhinged wild I’ve ever heard,” Yuuta said, but his voice was fond, almost admiring. “I love it. What else do you have? What’s your take on squirrels?”
“Oh, squirrels are just tree spies,” you said immediately, and you launched into another tangent without missing a beat, your whole body leaning toward Yuuta like he was the sun and you were a flower desperate for light.
Megumi stood frozen at the edge of the treeline, hidden in the shadows of a large oak, and watched.
He should have walked away. He should have announced himself, or texted you that he was there, or done anything other than stand there like a ghost, eavesdropping on a conversation that was never meant for his ears. But he couldn’t move. His feet were rooted to the ground, and his eyes were fixed on you, on the way you sparkled, on the way you came alive in a way you hadn’t around him in weeks.
Look at her, a voice whispered in the back of his mind, cold and insidious. Look at how happy she is. Look at how she’s glowing. You haven’t made her look like that in weeks. Maybe ever.
He tried to push the thought away, but it clung to him like a curse, sinking its claws into the softest, most vulnerable parts of his heart. He watched Yuuta lean in slightly, his dark eyes soft with genuine interest, and something bitter and acidic rose in Megumi’s throat.
Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.
Yuuta Okkotsu, the prodigy. The special grade sorcerer who had overcome a curse born of love itself. The one everyone admired, the one everyone trusted, the one who was unfailingly kind and gentle and everything Megumi knew, deep in his bones, he could never be.
He’s perfect for her.
The thought was a knife twisting in his gut. Yuuta was everything you deserved. He was affectionate. He was emotionally available. He probably knew how to say “I love you” without choking on the words, without hoping his actions could speak loudly enough to drown out his silence. He would never snap at you after a hard week. He would never make you feel like your voice was a burden. He would listen—really listen, with his whole heart, the way he was listening now—and he would make you feel seen, cherished, adored.
And what did Megumi do? He grunted. He nodded. He made tea and hoped you understood that the steam rising from the cup meant you are my whole world. He was a coward, a man made of silences and shadows, and he’d always known, somewhere deep down, that it was only a matter of time before you realized you deserved more.
This is it, he thought, and the cold certainty of it settled over him like a shroud. She’s found someone who can give her what I can’t. Someone who can listen. She’s going to leave me.
He watched you laugh again, your hand reaching out to touch Yuuta’s arm in a gesture of easy familiarity, and something inside him cracked. You used to touch him like that. You used to look at him like that, like he was the only person in the world who mattered. And he’d thrown it away. He’d thrown it away with two stupid, careless sentences, spoken in a moment of exhausted weakness.
“Can you just be quiet?”
The memory of that night crashed over him like a wave of ice. He remembered the way your face had crumpled, the way you’d frozen, silent and terrified, before retreating to the bedroom without a word. How you’d looked at him like he was a stranger wearing a familiar face. And he’d been too tired, too wrapped up in his own misery, to follow you. He’d let you go. He’d let you think, for weeks, that your voice was a burden, that your beautiful, bright, overflowing self was something to be endured rather than cherished.
And now here you were, blooming under someone else’s attention, because he had starved you of his own.
She deserves this, he thought, and the resignation was so heavy it made his knees weak. She deserves someone who doesn’t make her feel like she has to be small. Someone who doesn’t need weeks to notice she’s dying inside. Someone like Yuuta.
Yuuta said something that made you laugh again—a full, unrestrained, head-tilted-back laugh that Megumi hadn’t heard in so long he’d almost forgotten the sound of it. The joy in it was a blade, and it cut him to the bone. He wanted to be the one making you laugh like that. He wanted to be the one you leaned toward, the one you touched, the one you trusted with your wild theories and endless curiosities. But he’d forfeited that right, hadn’t he? He’d pushed you away, and you’d found someone else to fill the space he’d left.
If you love her, you’ll let her go. The thought was noble, self-sacrificing, the kind of thought the heroes in your stories would have. But Megumi wasn’t a hero. He was a jealous, terrified, broken man who couldn’t stand the idea of losing you, even if it was exactly what he deserved.
He watched Yuuta stand up from the bench, saying something that made you smile and nod. You stood too, and for one horrible, heart-stopping moment, Megumi thought you might hug him, might press yourself against Yuuta the way you used to press against him. But you didn’t. You just waved, a cheerful, grateful wave, and Yuuta walked away, leaving you alone on the path.
Megumi should have waited. He should have let you walk home, should have given himself time to compose his thoughts, to find the right words, to be calm and rational and mature about this. But he’d spent his whole life being calm and rational and mature, and look where it had gotten him. Standing in the shadows, watching the love of his life light up for someone else because he’d been too stupid, too silent, too scared to tell her how much she meant to him.
He stepped out from behind the tree.
You saw him immediately. Your head turned at the sound of his footsteps, and the smile—the beautiful, radiant smile you’d been wearing for Yuuta—froze on your face and then slowly, painfully, died. It was like watching a door slam shut, and Megumi felt the impact in his soul.
“Megumi,” you said, and your voice was flat. Neutral. Nothing like the bright, bubbling stream he’d just been eavesdropping on. “What are you doing here?”
He opened his mouth to say something reasonable—“I was worried about you,” or “Your phone was off,” or “Let’s go home and talk about this calmly”—but what came out instead was: “So that’s it, then. You’re going to leave me for him.”
Your eyes widened. “What?”
“Yuuta.” Megumi’s voice was shaking, and he hated it. He hated the way he couldn’t control it, the way all the fear and jealousy and self-loathing he’d been swallowing for weeks was spilling out of him like poison. “I saw you. Just now. You were so happy, talking to him. You were so… you were yourself again. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. So I get it, okay? I get it. He’s better than me. He’s everything I’m not. And you deserve someone like him.”
The words hung in the air between you, ugly and raw and desperate. Megumi watched your face cycle through shock, confusion, and then—slowly, devastatingly—understanding.
“You were watching us,” you said quietly.
“I came looking for you.” He couldn’t meet your eyes anymore. He stared at the ground, at the grass, at the ants marching in a neat line across the path. “You weren’t answering your phone. I was worried. And then I saw you with him, and you were talking the way you used to talk to me, and I just… I knew. I knew you’d finally realized I’m not enough.”
“Megumi—”
“Do you know what I was thinking the whole time I watched you two?” The words kept coming. His hands were shaking at his sides. His chest was so tight he could barely breathe. “I was thinking, ‘Of course. Of course it’s Yuuta.’ Yuuta is kind and gentle and he probably never forgets to tell you how much he loves you. He probably listens to every word you say and tells you you’re brilliant and doesn’t just grunt and hope you understand. He’s affectionate and he’s sweet and he’s exactly what you need, and I’m just… I’m just me. I’m dark and quiet and broken, and I’ve always known, deep down, that someday you’d wake up and realize you could do better.”
He finally looked up at you, and the expression on your face made his heart shatter into a thousand pieces. You were crying. Silent tears were streaming down your cheeks, and you were looking at him with something that wasn’t anger or confirmation—it was heartbreak. Pure, aching heartbreak.
“Oh, Megumi,” you whispered.
He couldn’t stop. Everything he’d been holding in for years was pouring out in an uncontrollable torrent. “He’s better for you. Everyone knows it. Gojo, Nobara, probably even you. Yuuta is the kind of person who deserves someone like you—someone bright and warm and full of life. I’m just the guy who told you to shut up when you were trying to help me. I’m the guy who didn’t notice you were dying inside for three whole weeks because I was too wrapped up in my own head. I’m the guy who can’t even say ‘I love you’ without feeling like I’m going to choke on it. So go ahead.” His voice cracked, and he felt the hot sting of tears in his own eyes, tears he’d been fighting for weeks, for years, for a lifetime. “If you’re going to leave me for him, just do it. I won’t stop you. I won’t fight. I just… I need to know.”
The silence that followed was deafening. Megumi stood there, trembling, his heart laid bare in the ugliest possible way, waiting for the axe to fall. He’d said it. He’d said all of it—every fear, every insecurity, every dark thought that had ever whispered in the back of his mind. And now you knew. Now you knew exactly how fucked up he was, exactly how little he thought of himself, exactly how terrified he’d been from the very beginning that you would leave.
You took a step toward him. Then another. And then you were right in front of him, your hands reaching up to cup his face, your thumbs brushing away the tears he hadn’t even realized had fallen.
“You absolute walnut,” you said, your voice thick with tears. “I’m not leaving you for Yuuta.”
Megumi blinked. “You’re… you’re not?”
“I’m not.” You tightened your grip on his face, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m not in love with Yuuta. I don’t want Yuuta. I want you, you emotionally constipated disaster of a man. I have always wanted you.”
“But you were so happy with him,” Megumi whispered, and the words came out small and broken. “You were laughing. You were talking. You were… you were yourself. And you haven’t been yourself with me in weeks. I thought… I thought you’d finally found someone who could make you happy.”
Your face crumpled. “I haven’t been myself with you because you told me to be quiet,” you said, and the words were gentle but they hit him even harder. “You told me to be quiet, and I thought… I thought you’d been holding that in our whole relationship. I thought every story I’d ever told you, every random fact, every ramble about clouds or sea slugs or whatever—I thought you’d just been enduring it. I thought my voice was a burden to you, the person I loved most in the world. So I tried to be less. I tried to be what I thought you wanted. And it was killing me, Megumi. It was killing me because I have all these things I want to tell you, all these thoughts and ideas and questions, and I couldn’t, because I was so terrified you’d look at me the way you did that night. Like I was exhausting. Like I was too much.”
Megumi felt the ground tilt beneath him. Everything you were saying—it was so much worse than he’d imagined. He’d thought you were pulling away because you’d outgrown him. He’d thought you were preparing to leave because you’d found someone better. But the truth was so much more devastating: you’d been trying to stay. You’d been contorting yourself into someone smaller, someone quieter, someone you thought he wanted, and it had been destroying you. And he’d been so blind, so self-absorbed, that he hadn’t even noticed.
“I talked to Yuuta today because I was desperate,” you continued, your voice breaking. “I’ve been drowning in silence for weeks, and he was there, and he listened. That’s it. That’s all it was. He was a life raft in the middle of an ocean I’ve been trying not to drown in. He’s not you. He’ll never be you. I don’t want a life raft. I want my person back. I want the man who makes me tea without being asked and lets me put face masks on him and sits through documentaries about nudibranchs even though he’s probably bored out of his mind. I want you, Megumi. Just you. But I need you to talk to me. Actually talk to me. With words. Out loud. So I don’t have to guess what’s going on in that beautiful, overthinking brain of yours.”
Megumi stared at you, his heart pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat. “You want… me? Still? Even after everything?”
“Even after everything.” You smiled, a watery, trembling smile that was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I’m still mad at you, by the way. Very mad. ‘Can you just be quiet?’ What kind of thing is that to say to the love of your life?”
“I’m sorry.” The words came out in a rush, desperate and sincere. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I was exhausted and I was taking it out on you, and that’s not an excuse, it’s just… it’s the truth. I was drowning in my own head, and you were trying to help, and I pushed you away because I’m an idiot who doesn’t know how to accept love. I should have apologized the next morning. I should have apologized every single day for the past three weeks. I should have noticed. I should have seen that you were hurting and asked you what was wrong instead of just… assuming.”
You shook your head, still holding his face in your hands. “Don’t blame yourself. I know you love me, Megumi. But sometimes I need the words too. Sometimes I need you to tell me, out loud, that I’m not too much. That my voice isn’t a burden. That you like listening to me.”
“You’re not too much.” The words came out fierce, almost angry in their intensity. “You’ve never been too much. You’re exactly enough. You’re more than enough. Your voice is—it’s the best part of my day. Every day. When you talk to me about clouds or jellyfish or the socioeconomic implications of Roman plumbing, it’s like you’re chasing all the shadows out of my head. I’m not bored. I’m never bored. I’m just… quiet. I’ve always been quiet. But that doesn’t mean I’m not listening. That doesn’t mean I don’t love every single word.”
You were crying again, but you were smiling too, and Megumi realized with a jolt that these were good tears. Relief tears. The tears of someone who had been holding their breath for weeks and was finally, finally allowed to exhale.
“I’m sorry I compared myself to Yuuta,” he said quietly. “I just… I saw you with him, and you looked so happy, and I thought… I thought maybe he could give you something I can’t.”
“He’s not you,” you said simply. “And I don’t want someone who isn’t you. Yuuta is sweet. He’s kind. He’ll probably make some other rambling disaster of a person very happy someday. But he’s not my person. You are. You’ve always been my person.” You paused, and a mischievous glint flickered in your tear-bright eyes. “Now, I have approximately four hundred more facts to tell you, and I’ve been holding them in for three weeks, and I’m pretty sure my brain is going to explode.”
Megumi let out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob, and he didn’t kiss you—not yet. Instead, he pulled you into his arms and held you as tight as he could without breaking you, burying his face in your hair and breathing you in like you were oxygen and he’d been drowning for weeks.
“Tell me,” he whispered against your temple. “Tell me everything. I’m listening. I swear I’m listening.”
“Did you know that wombats have cube-shaped poop?”
He laughed, a real laugh, startled out of him by the sheer absurdity of it. “…What?”
“It’s true! It’s so they can stack it to mark their territory without it rolling away. Nature is amazing and also deeply weird, and I have so many more where that came from. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready,” he said, and he meant it. He was ready to listen. He was ready to learn. He was ready to spend the rest of his life proving to you that your voice was the most precious thing in his world, that your words were never a burden, that he would never, ever make you feel small again.
He pulled back just enough to look at you, to take in the way the setting sun caught the tears still drying on your cheeks and turned them to gold. “I love you,” he said, and the words didn’t choke him the way they usually did. They felt right. They felt necessary. “I should have said it more. I love you and I love your voice and I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to be quiet.”
Your smile, when it came, was the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. “I love you too, you walnut.”
And then you kissed him, and he kissed you back, and the silence between you wasn’t a weapon anymore. It was a soft thing. A comfortable thing. A thing you could share together, without fear.
Later, you would walk home together, your hand in his, and you would tell him everything—the immortal jellyfish, the medieval grain storage, the flying whales, the specific shade of gray the sky turned before a storm. He would listen to every word, and he would ask questions, and he would make the right hums in the right places, and he would silently vow to spend the rest of his life being the kind of partner who deserved the gift of your voice.
But for now, there was just this: the two of you standing in the golden afternoon light, holding each other like you’d found your way home after a long and lonely journey. The sky overhead was doing that thing you loved—turning that specific shade of gray before a storm—and you’d tell him about it later. You had time. You had all the time in the world.
taking care of . ..𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ Fushiguro Megumi ་༘࿐ after he comes home from a long mission (washing his hair)
— fluff / comfort (pre-established relationship)
Megumi’s body felt too heavy to respond on its own. After such a tiring mission all he wanted was your comforting embrace. He didn’t say a word before his knees hit the floor with a loud, painful thud. You hurried over, cupping his face with both hands and gently lifting it until his tired eyes met yours. His emerald eyes were so tired he couldn’t even keep them open for long. “Meg…” you whispered softly, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs.
You had never seen him this exhausted — he wouldn’t allow himself to be, let alone show it in front of you. But after almost an entire week off to a mission, he just wanted you. No facades, no pretending to be strong. Not with you.
“I missed you,” he murmured, his voice quiet and unsteady as he lifted his arms just enough to wrap them around yours, holding on as though it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“I missed you too.”
You answered back, your hand moving from his cheek to run it through his messy black hair. It was undoubtedly unkempt and oily, which was rare, given that he would always take care of it. Yet he hadn’t had the strength to do so for days.
“It’s dirty,” he said, lowering his face just slightly.
But you didn’t mind. Instead you took his calloused hands into yours.
“Can you stand?” you asked softly.
He nodded and tried, his legs wobbling as he leaned against you for support.
He tried to take another step, but his legs felt heavier than usual, and he nearly fell again, yet this time you were there to catch him.
“I’m sorry,” his voice came out low, an ashamed whisper.
You shook your head, only to hold him tighter. And he didn’t question it as you guided him into the bathroom.
“I can wash it myself.”
“I know,” you gave him a warm smile, kneeling beside the cushion. “Let me.”
For a moment he stayed still, but he didn’t have any strength to argue with you. Not when you smiled so tenderly at him. So he lowered himself beside the tub, his back resting against it.
“Lean back for me.”
He leaned his head back against the edge, his eyes immediately closing almost on their own. You took the detachable showerhead, letting warm water run through his hair.
Your fingers gently combed through his hair beneath the warm stream of water. Then your fingers worked shampoo into his scalp. His shoulders, tense from days of fighting, loosened beneath your touch.
He let out a heavy exhale as you washed his hair. Little by little, his body relaxed beneath the soothing care of your hands.
“Feels nice,” he muttered, and you could almost catch a glimpse of a smile on his lips.
His head gradually grew heavier against the edge of the tub, his breath growing deeper and quieter.
“Megumi…?”
He didn’t reply or budge. You gently shook his shoulder, and only then did he stir, letting out a quiet hum in response.
“Mhm?”
“Nothing,” you said as you rinsed the conditioner from his hair.
“What is it?” he asked, opening one eye.
“I thought you fell asleep.”
“I was about to.”
“Oh.” You stopped for a second, “sorry.”
He let out a low chuckle, closing his eye again. “Don’t be.”
You washed away the last bit of product, giving him one last slow scalp massage through his spiky black hair.
Then you took a towel, guiding him upright as you gently dried his hair. Suddenly his hand wrapped gently around your wrist, stopping you mid-motion.
His weary eyes met yours, his soft, tired gaze drifting to your lips. He left no room for hesitation as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours without warning.
He kissed you softly, almost as if he were melting into the softness of your lips. His fingers never left your wrist, absentmindedly tracing slow circles against your skin, your hands cupped his face, pulling him closer.
His lips parted just enough to deepen the kiss. It was slow, unhurried, almost sleepy, as though he didn’t have the strength for anything more, and even so he lingered there, reluctant to pull away.
After a long moment, you finally pulled away, only far enough for him to rest his forehead against yours. Your hands still on his face as he held onto your wrists. “Thank you,” he whispered, planting another soft kiss against your lips.
And for a second it was only the two of you, sitting on the cold bathroom floor. And he finally let himself be taken care of, even if just for a little while.
—
i’ve been gone for a little while, i’m sorry </3 i’ve been dealing with writer’s block and life stuff… but anyway, i still constantly think about megumi and the overwhelming need i have to comfort him, so this ended up being a little self-indulgent haha. woopsies
ok guys now that my comments are on curtesy to a super kind person letting me know pls feel free to comment on any of my post!! i love hearing from u guys and ill try and reply to every single one!
when i think too hard about jjk and how sad and tragic it truly is i genuinely get so sick to my stomach like. this fandom is LITERALLY a prison bro. i went into it thinking it was happy and like no it’s not im not ready for megumi to get taken over by sukuna im not ready for choso to die im not ready for fucking GOJO to die like. i know it’s all coming and when i saw the trailer i genuinely got sick like i don’t wanna watch anymore is it just me or…
summary: ur bf megumi helps you curl ur hair for date night!
cw: megumi x fem!reader, fluffy fluffy
“we’re gonna be late,” you said, standing in front of your mirror while trying to fix a curl that refused to cooperate.
megumi leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you for a moment before answering, “we’re already late.”
you glanced at him through the mirror. “that’s not helping.”
“just saying.”
you turned back to your hair with a small sigh. “i just need a few more minutes.”
he pushed himself off the wall and walked over, stopping right behind you. “you’ve been saying that for fifteen.”
“megumi,” you warned, but there was no real annoyance in your voice.
he stood there for a second, then spoke a little quieter. “do you want help?”
you blinked, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “you? help me curl my hair?”
he shrugged slightly. “how hard can it be?”
you let out a small laugh. “okay, go ahead. don’t burn me.”
“i won’t.”
he picked up the curling iron carefully, with the same consciousness that of someone handling a small infant would have, “what do i do?”
you turned slightly, guiding his hand. “take a small piece, wrap it around, and hold it for a few seconds. like this.”
he followed exactly, his movements slow and focused. “like this?”
“a little smaller,” you said, adjusting his fingers. “yeah, that’s better.”
he nodded and wrapped the strand again, concentrating harder than he probably did during missions. you smiled to yourself at his intense focus.
“okay, wait a few seconds.”
“how many?”
“like five.”
he actually counted under his breath.
“now let it go.”
he did, watching as the curl fell into place. he looked at you through the mirror.
“that’s it?”
“that’s it.”
he glanced back at your hair, then reached for another piece. “hold still.”
“i am holding still.”
“not enough.”
you laughed quietly, letting him work. his hands were careful, almost hesitant, like he didn’t want to mess anything up. each curl came out a little better than the last.
“you’re taking this very seriously,” you teased.
“i don’t want to mess it up.”
“you’re doing good,” you said, trying to reassure him.
he didn’t respond, but you caught the faint pink on the tips his ears as he finished the last section.
after a minute, he stepped back slightly. “i think that’s it.”
you turned toward the mirror, checking your hair, then looked back at him with a smile.
“you actually did really good.”
he shrugged, trying to play it off. “i told you.”
you set the curling iron down and stepped closer, smoothing a small piece near your face.
“thank you,” you said, reaching for his hand. “now we can go.”
he glanced at the clock, then back at you. “we’re still gonna be late.”
you smiled, tugging him toward the door. “it’s fine.”
he let out a quiet sigh but didn’t pull away, his fingers tightening around yours instead.
“if we miss our reservation it’s your fault,” he muttered.
you laughed, pulling him along anyway.
“you’re the one who did my hair.”
“…yeah,” he said, rolling his eyes playfully.
you glanced back at him.
“worth it?”
he looked at you for a second, then gave your hand a small squeeze.
“worth it.”
authors note: i literally thought of this on the toilet after curling my own hair and i was like wow this is awesome sauce🥹🥹 i hope you guys enjoyed! i will also try and get to some of the request u guys have sent in!
boyfriend!megumi and his overwhelmingly cute, bubbly girlfriend.
𖦹 sfw! you and megumi have very different personalities but that never stopped you two from hitting it off :: including college megumi
you and megumi have complete, polar opposite personalities. where he’s quiet, stoic, and constantly looks like he’d rather be anywhere else than surrounded by people.. you're all smiles and excited waves, always talking about whatever’s on your mind, whether anyone asked or not. you make friends everywhere you go, somehow finding something to love in every person you meet.
megumi is not exactly what people would call approachable, which is why nobody understands how you two ended up together.
not that you care.
“gumii!” the moment you spot him across the courtyard, your face lights up.
megumi barely has time to register before you’re wrapping your arms around his waist “hi love.” you murmur against his chest.
a few students stare, but you ignore them as usual.
megumi sighs, though there’s no actual annoyance behind it. his hand moves to your back automatically. “hey.”
you grin at him “did ya miss me?”
“you saw me this morning. we woke up together.”
“so that’s a yes!”
“noo.. that’s not what i said.”
“sure, megumi.” the faint pink dusting his ears tells you all you need to know.
most people only see the cold side of megumi. they don’t see the side of him that walks on the closest side of the road, the side of him that lends you his jacket when you complain about being cold just once, or the side of him that takes care of you on nights when your happiness fades into tears.
they don’t see how he stays up with you in the cold hours of night just to hold you together piece by piece.
because that side of him is reserved to you only.
his hand slides down to squeeze yours once. “you done causing a scene?”
“never ever.”
for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifts. “i figured.”
“but you love me so much anyway.. right?!”
“ehh..” he jokes.
“baby!” you swat his chest softly.
“i was just kidding.” he squeezes your hand once more and leads you through the courtyard, walking home with you.
you hum softly before suddenly gasping, stopping in your tracks. “oh my goodness!”
megumi’s eyes immediately blow with concern. “what?”
“i forgot to tell you.”
“tell me what?”
you grab both of his hands, bouncing slightly on your feet. “we’re pregnant!”
“huh? you serious?”
“no! LOL! a new sushi place just opened near our apartment!”
megumi blinks a couple of times before shaking his head. “who says lol outside of texting?”
“your girlfriend, duh.” you say it like it’s the most obvious thing ever, because it is.. “ but that’s besides the point! new sushi, babe!”
megumi guides you across the street as you ramble on about this new place. two fingers subtly pushing against your lower back, nodding respectfully to the other passersby.
“slow down, bunny. did you even look at the reviews?” he asks, palm now flat against your back as you continue walking and talking.
“noooo, but that’s the point in trying new things! don’t you get it?”
he stays quiet for a moment and thinks “.. not really.”
“ugh, boooriing.” you tease, eyes rolling before settling on his face. “gummy, we should go tonight.”
“tonight?”
“yes! date night!” you squeak.
“we had a date night three days ago, i have to study for course exams.”
“okay so do i, but like.. live a little.” you say dramatically, squeezing his hand tighter.
but he already knows where this is going, because your determined look says you’re not taking no for an answer.
“please?” you say, giving him your best puppy eyes.
“no.”
“please.”
“nope.”
that’s not his answer, he never says no.
“pleeeeease?”
“you’re being annoying.” he jokes.
“…but am i annoying enough to get sushi with?” you wink.
you look away from his face, from the floor, from your mind for a second and realize you’re already outside of your apartment door
megumi sighs heavily, tilting his head back towards the sky. you smile because that’s always a good sign. “i heard they have cute mochi desserts,” you don’t give up.
silence follows.
“and private booths.”
a whole beat of silence.
“and couples get a free dessert if they post a picture together!” you giggle, dragging him inside after fiddling with the keys for two long minutes. sometimes you agree that megumi has too much patience.
“absolutely not.” he follows, shutting the door behind him and wriggling out of his jacket immediately.
you smile and get closer, burying your face in between his pecs. “mm.. does this mean you’ll go with me?”
megumi looks down at you. at your hopeful expression, at your cute smile, at the way you’re practically vibrating with excitement over something as simple as trying a new restaurant with him.
his expression softens enough for you to notice. “what time?” he says, helping you out of your coat.
your face lightens up even more. “you will?”
“i never said no.”
“aww! baby you’re the best!”
before megumi can stop you, you’re already peppering kisses all across his cheek, he groans, ears red as his arm stays firmly wrapped around your waist. “be ready by six thirty. giving you two hours. kay? i’ll be right here studying,”
you leave one last, dramatic kiss to his cheek and let go of him completely. “yes captain!” you scurry off and start getting ready.
at six twenty-four, megumi knocks at the bedroom door and opens it when you don’t answer. he sees you sitting at your vanity upon entry, hands occupied with a makeup brush and a highlighter stick, a silk robe covering your date night outfit.
“hi baby!” you smile with all teeth, blowing him kisses through the mirror.
“six twenty-five, slowpoke.” he reminds you.
“heeyyy, this is the last step of my routine! you gave me till six thirty, remember?”
“yes, y/n. i remember.”
you finish fast and remove your robe, grabbing your purse and pausing suddenly, patting yourself down.
“whatt’d you forget?” megumi asks, already beside you and adjusting your bodice.
“lipgloss!” you reach for it but his fingers wrap around your wrist to stop you.
“i like when your lips are just colored.. i always end up wearing your lipgloss home anyway.”
“good.” you smile and apply it, puckering up sweetly. megumi huffs before kissing your lips, smirking just a little bit when he pulls away.
you hand megumi your purse and follow him outside. the drive is loud with you in the car, singing along to every song in you and megumi's shared playlist—which you made… because your boyfriend is megumi fushiguro.
he parks smoothly and helps you out of his car, thumb squeezing and circling your hip as you walk into the restaurant together. the place is packed on opening night, but megumi finds a private booth near the emergency exit, his favorite spot.
you both place your different orders, megumi watches as you excitedly place yours, occasionally glancing at him between words just to make sure he’s interested in the menu.
when your food arrives, you take trillions of photos and videos, teasingly calling megumi to get his face in frame and obviously, posting him all over the place. whether it be a photo of his hand holding yours on the table, or his face, or his annoyed face because you won’t stop sticking your phone in his face-face.
three hours into the night, megumi’s carrying you to the car with your heels in one hand because you’re wine drunk and too full to move on your own. the pleasantly mellow high makes you feel more romantic than usual, megumi chuckles at the feeling of you kissing and nipping at his neck.
“there, there…” he pats your head as he sits you down in the passenger seat, lowering it slightly so that you’re comfortable. “that okay?”
“nnn-yess!” you giggle, throwing your feet onto his dash.
he spares you a quick side glance before focusing on the road. “did you like the new sushi place?” one of his hands moves to your thigh, rubbing soft, warm streaks up and down. “hm?”
“yes baby! i looooooveeed it.. see?” you smile almost theatrically, drunk and dazed in such a fuzzy high.
he gets you two home quick, megumi carries you up the stairs and into your apartment. taking his time and peeling off your clothes, wiping away your makeup, bathing you in warm water and massaging your collar bones with body scrub.
you sigh and lean into him, falling asleep in the bath. megumi dries you up and lays you in bed immediately, stripping himself of anything other than his boxers and laying down beside you after a long shower.
his fingers skim your pretty forehead as he pulls the blanket over you. your boyfriend snaps a quick photo of you sleeping in his bed and posts it on his story with the caption reading, “knocked out immediately. lol.”
megumi sets his phone aside and kisses your cheek carefully, pulling you flush against him and burying his face in your hair.
“mm.. goodnight princess” he grumbles, listening to yoiur breathing.
the room is dark, save for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. outside, the city is quiet. Inside, the atmosphere is settled. he eventually closes his eyes, drifting off to sleep as the evening’s fatigue catches hold of him too.
morning light slips through the blinds in golden pale strips, you’re the first to wake up and inevitably, the first to be hit with an aching thirst.
you wince just a little, stretching your limbs and trying to untangle yourself from megumi—but even in sleep, his grip is impossibly strong.
“mm.. megumii” you whine, fingers brushing his hair, face impossibly close to his.
he stirs, getting off of you to sit up and rub his eyes. you take that chance to slip out of the bedroom and go grab some water, but instead, two strong arms wrap around your waist again.
you slide a shirt over your pretty panties, the fabric pools at megumi’s arms that are still around you.
“where are you going? he murmurs against you, eyes closed, cheek squeezed into your back.
“just getting some water.. do you want some?” you ask sweetly, cute nails brushing his arm softly in the way he likes.
“mmhm.. what do you say?”
you pretend to think for a minute, shooting him a look of feigned annoyance before gripping his hand. “goodmorning baby.”
“goodmorning girl.”
you giggle and go to the kitchen, pouring two cups of water and skipping back to the room, spilling some on the floor and on top of that, you forgot to close the fridge.
“whoa baby, no one ever taught you not to run with glass in your hands? what about scissors?”
“we really need to keep a thinner curtain in the kitchen.. it’s so dark in there.”
“my girl’s still scared of the dark?” megumi’s expression catches the physical tension of stifling a laugh.
“that’s not funny and you know this already. it scares me to an extent.”
the fridge beeps suddenly and you leap back in bed, clutching his forearm.
silence falls as you both process the sound. “.. you left the fridge open.”
“i can hear it. will my boyfriend do me a favor and go close it. hmm?”
he thinks for a moment and then he carries you by the waist, manhandling you out of bed. “go face your fear.”
“nope.” you move impressively fast, trying to belly flop back in bed but his big arms hold you out.
“i’ll come with you!” he yells over your stammering and stands up, gently waking you to the kitchen. “see? not so bad is it?” he whispers, but to you it feels like a millennia away from the fridge.
megumi walks faster and closes the fridge, throws you over his shoulder casually and walks back to your bedroom. .
you laugh and swing your legs, scratching his bare back softly.
megumi doesn’t even bother setting you down. “this is kidnapping, gummy.”
“mhm.”
“i’m calling the police.”
“..you left the fridge open.”
“but that isn't a reasonable cause for this!”
“it’s the entire reason you’re up here.”
you huff and give his shoulder a tiny bite. “ow.”
“you deserved it.”
“i don’t think so.”
he finally lowers you onto the mattress, but before you could flop backward dramatically, his hands stayed around your waist.
“no running with glass.”
“i know.”
“no sprinting through dark kitchens. where you can easily fall and hit your head and—“
“i knooow.”
your grin softens and you bump your forehead against his. “how about breakfast. your girl is hungry.”
before you can even say anything else, he leans down, pressing a quick kiss against the corner of your mouth.
you immediately chased another one, and more after that. his jaw, his beauty marks, his chin.. all polluted with kisses from his favorite girl.
“baby…” he mumbles, trying—and falling—to sound annoyed.
“what?”
“you kiss me too much.”
“that’s not possible.”
“you’ve kissed me like eight times.”
“nine.” you giggle and kiss him more. “ten.”
he catches your chin gently between his fingers and kisses you, slow and patient. long enough that all your teasing dissolved into a little hum against his lips.
you wrap your arms around his neck, swaying from side to side. “you love me sooo much! don’t you baby?”
he rests his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. “yeah.”
you cup his face so carefully it makes him want to smile. “i love you too. but i’m hungry.”
“no morning classes today. we could take the dogs for a run and get some breakfast. how’s that sound?”
his thumbs rub lazy circles against your hip beneath the oversized shirt that definitely belongs to him. he lets you decide.
you bury your face in his neck. “carry me to the bathroom. let’s go before the cafes close.”
he rubs your back and lifts you, setting you down on the bathroom counter and handing you your toothbrush, already rinsed with white toothpaste squirted on top.
you both brush together, you occasionally whipping out your phone and snapping photos of your shirtless boyfriend with his toothbrush in his mouth and a rare smile only you get to see.
you finish brushing and hop off the counter, getting dressed in some leggings and a large shirt, tying your hair up in the easiest style possible, and putting the dogs on a leash.
shiro jumps on you as soon as he sees you, kuro marching straight to megumi.
“kuro baby! mommy wants some love too!” you get on your knees and put your arms out for him, and he moves into your embrace.
“fierce protectors by the way.” megumi jokes, grabbing their leashes and opening the door for you.
you smile at him as you pass him at the door as if he were a total stranger. megumi makes no comment though, just holds you against him while walking to the cafe.
the cafe is warm in the way small neighborhood cafes always are.
the windows are fogged slightly from the morning chill outside, the smell of espresso and buttered pastries filling the air while people chatter softly around them.
shiro is curled beneath the table after their walk, kuro lying against megumi’s timbs with his head on his paws.
usually you’re talking, about the dog wearing rain boots outside, about the old couple across from you and megumi sharing one slice of cake, about how the barista drew a little heart in your latte foam.
about literally anything. and while megumi’s mind won’t get off of you being so quiet, he’s also trying to take in how beautiful you look. and your mind.. your mind drifts back to a conversation you had three weeks ago exactly.
outside this cafe, your own friend told you that you’re “too much” and that you, “need to leave megumi alone because he’s clearly tired.”
today you just stir your drink, megumi decides to say something after exactly four minutes. “you don’t like it today?”
you blink. “hm?”
“the latte, bunny.”
“oh!” you force a little smile. “no, it’s good.”
he watches you over the rim of his coffee. “you sure? we can add more sugar, anything you want.”
“mhm. i’m sure.”
another silence. you break your croissant into tiny pieces instead of eating it.
megumi leans back. he’s seen you cry, he’s seen you sick, he’s seen you laugh so hard you snorted juice out of your nose. he knows every version of you and yet, this quiet one is unfamiliar.
“did i do something?”
your head shoots up. “what?! no!”
“then what’s wrong?”
“nothing.”
“liar.”
his voice is far from accusing, just certain. “you’ve been weird since we sat down.”
you look away toward the window. outside, someone laughs loudly with their friend. your fingers tighten around your mug. “can i ask you something?”
“you just did.”
“seriously, megumi.”
“i’m listening.”
you stare into your coffee, voice unusuallyy small now. “am i..”
the words suddenly feel stupid, childish and embarrassing. but megumi waits.
“am i too much?”
his eyebrows knit together immediately. “what?”
“you know..” you laugh weakly. “too loud, or too clingy?”
silence followes.
“someone said,” you mumble. “that i do too much around you.”
you don’t even look at him.
“they said you always look tired, that maybe you just put up with me because you’re nice.”
you pick at your sleeve.
“and i know they shouldn’t matter, but..” your voice gets quieter. “i started thinking; what if you’re secretly exhausted by me?”
you swallow dryly. the cafe suddenly feels very loud. the clinking dishes, the espresso machine, someone laughing nearby. you cant bring yourself to meet his eyes. “sorry.”
nothing.
then you feel sudden warmth, engulfing your hand and a thumb brushing your knuckles.
your tears fall immediately into your lap. concern replaces megumi’s sleepy calm almost immediately.
“look at me.”
you do. his face is completely serious. “who told you that?”
“it doesn’t matter.”
“it does.”
“i just don’t wanna make it a thing.”
his jaw tightens. “fine.”
his fingers brush yours, palms squeezing your hand occasionally. “listen carefully.”
you nod.
“when have i ever pretended to like something?”
you blink softly. “never.”
“i don’t.”
he squeezes your hand again, bringing it up to his nose, kissing your knuckles softly. “if i don’t like someone, they know.”
you can’t help the tiny laugh. “yeah, i know.”
“so why,” he asks quietly. “why would you think i’d fake loving you?”
your eyes begin to sting. “i just.. you don’t seem to get tired.”
“i do.”
“i know, but-”
“no.”
he shakes his head. “i get tired of crowds, noise, classes, people asking stupid questions. maybe besides itadori. and you.”
“i don’t ask stupid questions.” you say.
he brushes his thumb across your knuckles. “i’ve never gotten tired of you.”
your lip trembles. “really?”
he looks almost offended. “you think carrying you around, making you breakfast, getting up close and intimate with you, staying awake with you when you can’t sleep…”
megumi tilts his head. “you think i do all that because i tolerate you?
you find it impossible how much megumi loves you despite being so good at containing it. “no..”
“i do it because i love you.”
your eyes finally meet his again.
“i like hearing you talk.”
“even when i ramble?”
“especially then.”
“but interrupt you all the time, i steal your things and i kiss you a lot..”
“you do all those things. and if you suddenly stopped, i’d think something was wrong.”
a tear slips down your cheek before you can stop it. “i’m sorry.”
“for what?”
“i don’t know why it got to me.”
“it got to you because they were talking about someone you love.”
he brushes the tear away with his thumb. “and because they were talking about you.”
you lean into his hand instinctively.
“do you know waht i see?”
you shake your head.
“i see someone who gets really excited over sushi, the person who waves at strangers.. laughs with them, the girl who cries during dog food commercials and snuggles kuro.”
you laugh through another tear.
“you make every place feel like home, baby.”
he says it so simply, like it’s just a fact. no hesitation and no embarrassment. “i don’t want less of you.” his thumb brushes beneath your eye again and your shoulders finally sag.
“i want all of you.”
you smile despite yourself, looking down again. “even when im embarassing?”
“i’ve carried you out of a restaurant while you were wine drunk and trying to kiss my neck.”
you stay quiet, still smiling, a bit bigger now.
“you post me all the time too.”
“that’s not embarassing. besides, you posted me sleeping.”
“that’s fair.”
you laugh properly this time, a sound that makes something unclench in megumi’s chest.
“you’re really romantic for someone who pretends he isn’t.”
“no i don’t pretend.”
you roll your eyes and give him such a funny look he can only agree with you.
“fine but only a teeny bit.”
your smile grows with each passing second. it becomes bigger until it’s the smile he recognizes.
he moves his chair next to yours and pulls you closer, kissing your hair. a comfortable silence falls between you, and nearly after a full minute of stillness, you lift your head.
“baby?”
“hm?”
“that little strawberry tart in the display case..”
he closes his eyes. “here we go.”
“can we split one?”
a tiny sigh escapes him. “we were already going to.”
your entire face lights up. “we were?”
“i ordered it ten minutes ago. in a to go box. hot.”
you shower him with kisses, he knows you oh so well.
okay so boom I'm obsessed with this its been worked on for decades pls enjoy bai
he always brings his earphones everywhere he goes, he has a CD collection, and he's even learnt the basics to some instruments - though he's most confident in guitar. when you were getting to know each other in the early stages of your friendship, it's something you both bonded over regularly. sharing recommendations, gifting physical media, and even having little jam sessions in his dorm.
he'd be strumming some melody on his guitar, and you'd be reading a book laying on his bed while quietly singing a tune to it. you'd always claim to be a horrendous singer, but megumi insists he loves it when you sing along anyway.
your friendship developed deeper, and you started to hang outside of jujustu high - going to live music gigs together. local bands in small venues were your favourites, but some bigger venue concerts made their way in there too.
when you started dating, he began to write song lyrics for you. not in the superficial pop music kind of way, but more in the slow and heartfelt way. he's always been reserved in his feelings, but having a way to write them down and share them with you in arguably one of the most raw and intimate ways possible is so special.
it takes a lot for him to open up and be this vulnerable with you, but his voice is so rich and smooth, warm and cosy, that you swear you could listen to him sing for the rest of your life - and never get sick of it. he makes sure to save all the drafts of his songwriting, stashing them in the draws of his desk within his dorm room where music became your little haven.
masterlist ♡
-> writing credits to @dorotheeasrce - do not copy, impersonate, or feed to ai! ｡𖦹°‧
hii my loves sorry for being so inactive these past 2 days! i am at a family event so i will probably be slow posting for a couple days but i just wanna thank you guys so much for all of the support! i seriously never imagined my works getting even over 100 likes and now ive surpassed 400!! thank you so much i love you guys!
