Peachymiko

This is my Masterlist have fun and enjoy~

💗 - Fluff | 🌶️ - Smut | 🌀 - Angst

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Megumi Fushiguro

Drabbles:

aphrodisiac curse 🌶️

Fics/Oneshots:

Closer Than Warm 🌶️

Part 2

soft launch // hard reaction 💗

Sweetheart.exe 🌀

The Way Her Eyes Shine 💗

No More Interruptions 🌶️

Megumi x (Childhood friend) Girlfriend!reader - Fluff

a/n: hey~ I‘m back at it again, this time with a cute little Drabble that’s been haunting me the entire morning. I mean imagine Megumi and you being the mom and dad of the group. How cute, especially with those Chaos children-

contains: mentioning of Megumi and you being childhood friends (I‘m lowkey a sucker for that, prepare to see that often), romantic tension, y/n and Megumi giving domestic mom and dad vibes, mention of Megumi eating bugs, climbing trees, braiding hair - that should be it

There was an unspoken rule at Jujutsu High now: if anything went wrong, Megumi and y/n would fix it.

Yuji lost his cursed tool? Y/n had it in her bag “because I knew you’d forget it again.”

Nobara broke three brooms trying to kill a centipede in the dorms? Megumi sighed, handed her a new one, and silently swept up the mess.

Someone got injured during training? Megumi was already applying the bandages while y/n lectured them like a disappointed school nurse.

“Okay, but seriously,” Nobara said one afternoon, sprawled across the couch with a juice box she definitely stole from y/n’s snack stash, “when did you two become our parents?”

Y/n looked up from where she was massaging Megumi’s shoulders, her fingers working out the tension like she knew exactly where he held every bit of stress (she did). “When you children started acting like unsupervised kindergartners.”

Megumi didn’t even look up from the book in his lap. “She’s not wrong.”

Yuji was sitting upside-down in an armchair, half-eaten bag of chips balanced on his chest. “Nah, seriously, you guys are like too perfect. Y/n packs you lunch, Megumi reminds her to stretch so her shoulder doesn’t lock up, you braid each other’s hair—”

“That was one time,” Megumi muttered.

“It was adorable and you know it,” y/n teased, leaning down to kiss his cheek. He didn’t protest. In fact, he looked almost smug about it.

Nobara pointed accusingly with her juice box. “See?! Mom. Dad. Domestic. I hate how cute it is.”

“You say that,” y/n said, standing and heading toward the kitchen, “but who made you cookies last week when you were sulking because your favorite lipstick got discontinued?”

Nobara huffed. “…Okay yeah, but that’s not the point.”

“And who sewed Yuji’s hoodie back together after it got shredded by a cursed spirit?” Megumi added.

Yuji perked up. “That patchwork job was impressive, not gonna lie.”

“I told you, I can sew,” y/n said, poking her head around the corner. “Blame Megumi. He used to rip his clothes all the time climbing trees when we were kids.”

“You climbed trees?” Nobara looked at him like she’d just discovered a new species.

Megumi looked away. “Y/n dared me.”

“She also dared you to eat a bug once,” Yuji grinned.

Megumi gave y/n a betrayed and shocked look. “You told them?!”

“She’s Mom, she tells stories,” Yuji said with a grin. “That’s what moms do.”

Megumi groaned and buried his face in y/n’s shoulder as she returned to the couch, laughing softly.

“Fine,” he mumbled. “But if we’re Mom and Dad, then you two need to start listening to us.”

Nobara scoffed. “What is this, the nuclear family jujutsu edition?”

Y/n leaned into Megumi’s side, resting her head on his shoulder, their hands naturally finding each other. “If it keeps you two from blowing something up again, sure.”

Yuji and Nobara exchanged a look, then simultaneously shouted:

“No promises!”

Y/n sighed. Megumi rolled his eyes. But somehow, even with all the chaos, the bickering, and the secondhand embarrassment, there was a softness in the room. The kind that came from knowing you belonged somewhere. With people who had your back.

Megumi kissed the top of y/n’s head and murmured, “We really are their parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” y/n whispered, smiling. “The emotionally stunted tree boy grew up.”

“Still emotionally stunted,” he muttered, but squeezed her hand anyway.

And maybe, just maybe, that was enough.

Shoko had explained it before leaving: the sweet air wasn’t harmless. It was a binding-type curse, designed to worm its way into bloodstreams, flood bodies with need, strip away restraint until prey succumbed to desire.

“Forty-five minutes,” she had said. “Let the blood cleanse work.”

And then she was gone.

Forty-five minutes felt impossible.

Y/N turned her head. Across the room, Megumi lay on his own bed. He looked wrecked in a way she’d never seen before. His hair clung damply to his forehead, his shirt plastered against the ridges of muscle across his chest and stomach. His breathing came rough and shallow, each exhale catching low in his throat.

When he groaned — deep, unwilling, his voice cracking on the sound — it was like fire licking across her skin. She whimpered before she could stop herself, the sound tiny, needy, betraying her.

His arm dropped from his face. Their eyes locked.

For two years before Yuji and Nobara, it had been just them. She knew the way his shoulders tensed when he was about to lunge into battle. She knew the steadiness of his hand when he pulled her up from the ground. She knew the silent rhythm they fell into, body and soul moving as one.

But she didn’t know this Megumi. Flushed, trembling, pupils blown wide with hunger he was fighting to cage.

Her chest squeezed. And then she moved.

Her legs wobbled, but she stood, crossing the space before she could lose her nerve. His eyes widened as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his hips. Heat rolled off him, dizzying. It felt reckless, dangerous — and perfect.

“Y/N…” His voice broke, low and desperate. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

But she did. Or maybe she didn’t. Maybe she just couldn’t fight it anymore. Her hands slid down to capture his, fingers brushing over his calloused knuckles. The sensation stole her breath. He was strong, warm, trembling, but when she laced her fingers through his, he gripped back like she was the only thing anchoring him.

She leaned down, lips grazing his ear. “Megumi… I can’t hold back anymore.”

He hissed in a breath. His chest rose sharply against hers, heat radiating off his flushed skin. His eyes flicked to her lips, lingered, then squeezed shut. His jaw tightened, his self-control fraying.

“You’re going to drive me insane,” he rasped, his voice so low it sent shivers through her.

Her forehead pressed to his. Their breaths mingled, sticky and sweet with curse-laced air. Years of restraint trembled between them, the line ready to shatter.

And then it did.

Megumi surged upward, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both clumsy and devastatingly hungry. Y/N gasped into it, her body melting against his, and his grip on her hands tightened almost painfully as if he feared she’d disappear.

The kiss deepened fast, all teeth and heat, their mouths sliding together like they’d been starving for this. His tongue brushed hers, and she whimpered, the sound swallowed by him.

She pulled her hands free only to cup his face, tracing the sharp lines of his jaw, the flushed heat of his skin. His features had always been handsome, but like this — undone, vulnerable, burning for her — he was breathtaking. Touching him felt like holding perfection in her palms.

“Y/N…” he groaned against her mouth, hips twitching up beneath her. The friction made her cry out, the ache between her thighs flaring hotter.

She rolled her hips down instinctively, and his head tipped back with a guttural sound that made her pulse race. Her hands slipped to his chest, feeling the rapid rise and fall, the slick warmth of his shirt. She tugged at the fabric, desperate to feel more.

Megumi hesitated, his eyes flicking open, glazed but sharp enough to search her face. “Are you sure?” His voice cracked, torn between raw desire and the same protective restraint he’d always shown her.

Her chest tightened. Even like this, with the curse clawing at him, he still put her choice above everything. She smiled softly, brushing her lips against his.

“I’ve never been more sure.”

That broke him.

His hands shot to her hips, pulling her down against him as his mouth crashed back onto hers. The kiss turned frantic, messy, perfect. She tugged his shirt up, fingers skimming his hot skin, marveling at every inch of muscle that flexed under her touch. He groaned again, the sound vibrating through her chest, and her whole body answered with a needy shudder.

Her hands slid down his arms, mapping the strength she’d only seen in battle. Each tendon, each vein under her fingers made her dizzy. This was the boy she’d fought beside, the man she’d trusted with her life — and now he was beneath her, trembling for her.

His hands roamed too, fingers digging into her thighs, sliding up her waist. Every touch burned, every brush of skin-to-skin stoked the fire higher. When his thumbs brushed just under the hem of her shirt, she gasped, arching into him, silently begging for more.

“Y/N,” he groaned again, lips trailing down to her jaw, her throat. His breath was hot against her pulse. “Gods, I’ve wanted this—wanted you—for so long.”

Her heart stuttered, tears pricking her eyes even as her body ached. “Me too,” she whispered, tangling her fingers in his hair, holding him to her. “Always.”

Urgency and tenderness tangled together. The curse made their bodies burn, but it wasn’t just the curse anymore. It was years of unspoken want, of glances, of almosts. Now, finally, there was no almost. There was only this.

The kiss began soft. Too soft for the fire curling through Y/N’s body, but exactly what she needed. Megumi’s lips were warm, hesitant, almost reverent against hers, as though he was afraid that even here, even now, he might ruin her.

She cupped his face, thumbs brushing his flushed cheeks, and whispered against his mouth, “It’s okay. I want this.”

Something broke inside him.

The kiss deepened, heat surging between them as his hands gripped her hips, pulling her down flush against him. She gasped at the contact, at the hard line pressing insistently into her, and he groaned, the sound tearing out of his chest like it had been trapped for years.

Their mouths moved together desperately now, tongues sliding, teeth clashing in a messy rhythm that sent her pulse racing. She tugged his shirt up, fingers trembling as she touched bare skin for the first time. His muscles twitched under her hands, hot and damp, his breath catching as though her touch alone unraveled him.

“Y/N…” he groaned, his voice breaking. His forehead dropped against hers, his chest rising fast beneath her palms. “You’re—god—you’re everything.”

Her throat tightened, tears pricking her eyes even as her body burned. She kissed him again, softer this time, savoring the way his lips lingered, the way he tasted like something she never wanted to let go of.

But the curse was still in their veins. Sweet, sticky, insistent. And tenderness quickly turned to hunger.

Megumi pressed against her, his body slotting perfectly with hers. He kissed her again, slower this time, as though reminding her — and himself — that this wasn’t just the curse, it was them.

“Tell me you want this,” he murmured against her lips, his voice raw, pleading.

“I want you,” she breathed, arching up into him. “Always have.”

That was all he needed.

The last of his restraint crumbled. His kisses grew rougher, his hands more insistent, pulling moans from her lips with every touch. Her legs wrapped around his waist, drawing him closer, and he groaned into her mouth, his control slipping with every second.

When he finally pushed inside her, it was slow — careful, almost painful in its tenderness. His forehead pressed to hers, his breath ragged, as though he was terrified of hurting her, terrified this wasn’t real.

But when she whimpered his name, nails digging into his shoulders, he broke. His hips moved, slow at first, then faster, harder, each thrust fueled by both the curse’s maddening burn and the years of longing buried between them.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, just as they always had in battle — only this time the rhythm was messy, desperate, achingly intimate. Each groan of his, each moan of hers, filled the room, echoing louder than the pounding of their hearts.

She clung to him, overwhelmed, every nerve on fire, every sound he made unraveling her further. His deep, guttural voice whispering her name was enough to send her over the edge, her body trembling violently around him.

Megumi followed with a broken groan, collapsing against her, his body shaking as he spilled every ounce of restraint he had left.

For a moment, the world was nothing but heat, sweat, and breathless silence. His weight pressed into her, grounding her, his chest heaving against hers.

Slowly, he lifted his head, his eyes soft now, though still dark with emotion. He brushed damp hair from her face, his thumb tracing her cheek with heartbreaking gentleness.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, voice hoarse but certain.

She smiled weakly, pulling him down for another kiss.

Part one

Divider by: @kodaswrld

Megumi x Y/n . Slow-burn. Tension. Lust. Backseat hookup. Post-mission smut-lite.

a/n:

contains: lingering sexual tension, Megumi has a slight size kink, backseat of a car, childhood friends to lovers, Megumi having his drivers license and a car (thanks to gojos money), Veiny Arms 🤤

The curse was nothing special — Class 2, vaguely serpentine, dwelling in the roots of a half-collapsed shrine in the middle of a long-forgotten forest. Megumi’s shikigami had done most of the work. Y/n delivered the final blow — her blade slicing through the neck of the cursed spirit in one clean, graceful arc. A gift from Maki.

“Nice,” Megumi murmured, eyes scanning the dissipating cursed energy. His hands were still trembling slightly.

Y/n barely heard him.

She was too busy remembering the way he’d moaned her name last night — rough and low and so utterly helpless.

God… Y/n.

She’d woken up flushed and restless, her thighs tight together, her skin tingling in the places his hands had touched. That pressure between her legs hadn’t gone away since. Not even when she was swinging her sword. Not even now as she packed up the charm barrier and felt the faint ache in her lower back from the way Megumi’s hips had rolled into her again and again, steady and slow under the covers.

And he… he’d definitely felt everything. The way she gasped into his shoulder. How she ground back against him. How soft and needy she’d been in his arms. The feel of her Lips and tongue.

He made a mental note that next time, he was bringing two tents and a cold shower.

She stole a glance at him now, crouched beside their tent, folding it in tight, clean lines. His hoodie had ridden up slightly, exposing the line of his hip. His forearms flexed as he worked, veins prominent, fingers strong. He packed up the tent, the sleeping bags, and whatever dignity he had left.

She was a mess. And she had no idea how to act around him now. Because last night they’ve finally crossed that line. They were childhood friends, always around each other, close but yesterday something finally snapped between them.

The car was silent for the first hour. They didn’t speak, but their silence said everything: we did something real. And now we’re pretending we don’t feel like everything’s changed.

Megumi gripped the steering wheel like it owed him money. His eyes were focused, jaw locked, lips drawn in a flat line. Every so often, his fingers would twitch — subtle, but noticeable like it wanted to reach for hers again.

Y/n sat in the passenger seat, curled slightly toward the window, arms wrapped around herself. She kept catching herself staring at his hands — those long, lean fingers flexing around the wheel. The way his sleeves hugged his forearms. The muscles in his arms shifting with every bump in the road.

“…Your arms look delicious,” she said suddenly.

Megumi blinked. His knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. He wasn’t sure what changed last night, but it was definitely something between ‘innocent childhood bond’ and ‘please never speak of this at family barbecues.’

Y/n flushed. “I mean… strong. They look strong. Not in a creepy way. More in a ‘you-could-pin-me-against-a-wall’ kind of way.”

A pause. Then, deadpan: “You’re not helping.”

“Sorry,” she laughed, tucking her hands under her thighs. “Just trying to lighten the mood.”

“It doesn’t need lightening.”

“Oh come on, Megumi. This is so awkward.”

He didn’t respond.

She took a breath, voice gentler now. “I know what happened last night was well… intense. Maybe weird. And it kind of just happened because it was cold and we were tired. But I don’t want it to make things uncomfortable between us.“

He still didn’t say anything.

The car rumbled on.

“Like, I know we’re friends. Or classmates. Or whatever. And I’m not trying to make this weird. It’s already weird. So just—say something. Anything.”

The brakes hissed.

The car pulled off the road suddenly, tires crunching on gravel, deep into the forest surrounded by tall, whispering pines.

“Megumi?” she asked, blinking as he shifted the car into park.

He didn’t look at her. Not right away.

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” he said quietly. “Trying to forget it. Tell myself it was a one-time thing.”

Y/n‘s breath caught.

“But I can’t,” he muttered. “I can’t stop remembering how tiny you felt. How soft your thighs were. How warm you were when you pressed against me. How you—”

He finally looked at her. His expression was strained. Hungry.

“How you moaned under me,” he finished.

Y/n stared at him, stunned. Her thighs clenched.

Then she reached across the console, slid her fingers into the neckline of his hoodie, and whispered, “Then do something about it.”

His seatbelt snapped open.

So did hers.

The backseat was chaos.

Megumi all but dragged her over the center console, his hands already fisting in the hem of her sweatshirt as she clambered onto his lap. The moment she straddled him, he crushed her mouth to his, one hand tangling in her hair, the other gripping her waist tight enough to bruise.

He was hard already — she felt it, thick and straining beneath her, pressing up through his sweatpants. The moment she rolled her hips down, he groaned into her mouth.

“I knew it wasn’t just the cold,” she whispered, lips brushing his. “You wanted me.”

His hands slid down to her ass, pulling her tighter against his lap as he leaned his head back against the seat. Y/n couldn’t help but moan, the feeling was too intense.

“I still do,” he growled.

Megumi‘s hand traveled under her skirt, right to her panties and with one swift move he pushed them to the side and slowly slid one finger through her folds. He groaned at the feeling.

She kissed along his jaw, then down to his neck, her hands under his hoodie, tracing the solid lines of his chest. He was all muscle and heat, his breath coming faster, his eyes glazed with restraint. One of his hands moved down to unbutton his pants, freeing his already leaking dick.

Y/n couldn’t help but drool at the sight. He was so big and pretty and pink. She put his hand around his throbbing dick and slowly dragged her hand up and down.

As thier kisses grew more passionate, y/n began slowly rubbing her core on Megumi. His hand wandered down between them and dragged his tip through her folds. Slowly pushing in.

She rocked her hips again — deliberately slow.

“Fuck,” he breathed, tightening his grip on her. “You’re so small. I could break you.”

“You won’t,” she whispered, kissing his collarbone. “I want it.”

His hands guided her hips now, dragging her over his length in firm, smooth grinds. Every movement sent heat coiling through her belly.

The windows fogged. The pine trees outside blurred. Nothing existed except the moans spilling from her lips and the way Megumi cursed under his breath, desperate and barely holding himself back.

“I thought about you all night,” she gasped against his mouth. “Thought about your voice—how you said my name like you were losing your mind.”

He pulled back to look at her — eyes heavy, jaw clenched, lips red from kissing.

“I was losing my mind,” he muttered. “I still am.”

Y/n’s fingers slid into his Hair, tugging and teasing him. He groaned, head dropping against the seat again. With every grind of her hips and every thrust of his, they were slowly getting close.

“You wanna finish what we started?” she asked, breath hot against his ear.

He nodded once, voice strained. “Yeah.”

Then he kissed her hard again, and this time, there were no interruptions.

No cold tent, no more curses.

No, just them in the back of his car…

Megumi x Childhood!Reader — slow-burn, childhood-friends-to-lovers, romantic, steamy, one tent tension

Divider by: @kodaswrld

a/n: God, I have nothing to say! Read at your own risk.

contains: Childhood friends Megumi, who just knows you the best, sharing a sleepingbag, horny teens on a mission, Megumi slightly loosing his control

The forest was a cathedral of silence.

Above them, pine trees loomed like quiet sentinels, their dark branches brushing the sky, blotting out the last traces of dusk. A thin sliver of moonlight peeked between shifting clouds, casting faint silver lines over the frost-dusted earth. Every breath came out in a plume, white and soft, vanishing into the chill of the night.

Y/n sat cross-legged by the small fire Megumi had built earlier, her hands cupped around a tin mug of tea, though she hadn’t taken a sip in a while. Her eyes were half-lidded, watching the fire crackle and hiss, orange embers spitting and dancing into the air. The shadows it cast flickered over her face, highlighting the soft curve of her cheekbones, the gloss on her lips, the way she tried — and failed — not to tremble.

Megumi watched her from the corner of his eye as he adjusted the seal around the protective charm barrier, tucking the last of the cursed tools into the folds of his bag. He could hear the faint clatter of her teeth every time the wind swept through the trees. Her fingers, wrapped around the mug, were pale and rigid.

“You’re cold again,” he muttered.

“I’m okay,” she replied quickly, flashing him a small, stubborn smile.

“You’re shivering.”

“I just… have bad circulation.”

“Y/n.” His tone was flat, dry. She winced a little. After all those years as friends, he just knew her too well.

“Okay, maybe a little cold,” she admitted.

Megumi let out a quiet, frustrated exhale through his nose, not looking at her. “You never say anything until it’s too late.”

“You always worry too much.”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just admit when you need something.”

She opened her mouth to reply — to say something witty or sweet or ridiculous, as she always did — but his voice cut through the space between them like a blade.

“I’m serious.”

Y/n blinked. His eyes were shadowed by the firelight, but there was a quiet storm in them, something unreadable. Something intense.

“…Sorry,” she said after a beat. Her voice was small. Honest.

The fire dwindled to low coals not long after, and without it, the cold became merciless. In the small dome-shaped tent tucked just off the path of the trail, the air was frigid and still. Breath fogged with every exhale, and frost began to settle on the outer fabric. The forest groaned with the creaks of old wood and the soft howls of wind through the boughs.

Inside, they each lay in their separate sleeping bags, facing opposite directions.

Y/n’s body curled in on itself, knees drawn tight to her chest, her blanket wrapped around her like a flimsy shield. Still, her limbs trembled involuntarily. Her nose burned from the cold, and her hands were so cold she had to press them between her thighs just to feel them again.

“Y/n,” came Megumi’s voice in the dark, rough with sleep — or irritation.

“Yeah?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer right away. She could practically feel the internal battle happening in his silence.

Then, slowly:

“Come here.”

Her eyes widened slightly in the dark.

“…W-What?”

“Just…” A sigh. Then the soft unzip of his sleeping bag. “You’re freezing. Come here.”

She hesitated — not out of reluctance, but out of sudden, fluttering nervousness. Her skin tingled. Her heart thumped once, hard and loud. But her body obeyed before her mind caught up, inching toward the warmth of his open sleeping bag.

She slipped inside. And everything changed.

The heat of his body hit her instantly — intense, solid, and all-consuming. Her breath caught in her throat as she settled beside him. His arm instinctively looped around her, pulling her flush against his chest.

They didn’t speak. For a long moment, they just lay there, their shared breaths the only sound besides the wind whispering outside.

Y/n‘s cheek pressed against his collarbone. His scent was clean and warm — cedar and soap, with a hint of pine from the woods. His shirt was thin, stretched across the hard lines of his chest, and he was so much hotter than she expected. Like a live wire beneath her skin.

“…You’re like a furnace,” she murmured, almost dazed.

Megumi huffed softly, which could have been a chuckle if you’d listened closely. “Told you.”

Her fingers curled against his chest. She could feel his heartbeat. Steady. But a little faster than before.

“Sorry for… crawling all over you,” she whispered, suddenly aware of how close they really were. Her thigh brushed his. Her breasts pressed lightly against his side. She could feel the way his muscles tensed beneath her.

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. Too quickly. His hand splayed against the small of her back, firm and unmoving — but not pushing her away. In fact, it felt like he was holding her tighter.

Y/n looked up at him, it was dark but she still saw the faintest blush on his cheeks. She then rolled over facing away from him, but maybe that made it even worse because Megumi moved too, laying right behind her, with his hips really close to her back.

Then she felt it — the slight, almost imperceptible shift of his hips.

A brush. A nudge. Pressure.

He was trying not to move. Trying very, very hard.

But the problem was… she was so warm now. And soft. And she smelled like cherry blossoms. And pressed so goddamn close. He was trying to keep his control but her soft backside made it very hard for him.

Y/n blinked in the dark, heart hammering. “Megumi…?”

“I didn’t mean to…” he muttered, but his voice was tight. Controlled. “You’re just… really close.”

She bit her lip. Her hips moved ever so slightly, brushing his. Feeling the outline of his dick.

And his hips shifted again — just a little — a subtle grind against her butt.

“You’re… doing that on purpose,” she whispered, her breath hitching.

“No,” he growled, low in his throat. “But you’re making it hard not to.”

He was right. She wasn’t innocent, either — she hadn’t meant to, but now she was pressing into him more, instinctively chasing his warmth, his pressure, the heat that rolled between them in waves.

Her hand moved — slowly, cautiously — to his fingers, that had slowly moved beneath the hem of her shirt. She could feel every breath he took, every twitch of restraint.

“You can move, if you want,” she whispered, the words trembling in her throat.

He stilled.

Then: “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”

She leaned in, brushing her nose against his jaw. “I mean it.”

His body pressed against hers in full now. One arm held her tight around the waist while his other hand slid down, fingers brushing the curve of her thigh over the blanket. His hips rolled gently against hers, drawing a low, involuntary moan from her throat. The sound broke the silence like a spark in a dry forest. She could already feel how hard he was against her. Every grind of his hips made her head spin, and every moan from her made him grind deeper.

“God… Y/n…” he groaned, voice ragged, almost pleading.

Y/n turned around, facing him. Her fingers tangled in his shirt now, pulling him closer. She finally kissed him, his tongue made its way into her mouth, claiming her in the most maddeningly slow French kiss. Even now, he was composed and controlled. Even now when she ground against his clothed dick. The friction between them built slowly — hot, deliciously slow — like a storm winding itself up with each subtle grind, each shaky breath.

They didn’t need to go further. The tension, the pressure, the way their bodies moved together in that slow, desperate rhythm — it was enough to make both of them tremble with something deeper than lust.

With his forehead pressed to hers, Megumi whispered, “You’re gonna kill me.”

She smiled, breathless, stroking her hand down his back. “Then die warm.”

He chuckled — a rare, low sound that vibrated through her chest. He sounded so god damn hot.

And for the rest of the night, they stayed entangled. No more cold. No more distance. Just soft touches, quiet gasps, whispered words in the dark. And the overwhelming heat of each other.

Because it certainly makes me feel wayyyys…

a/n: Hi~ I got this ideas from a TikTok haha. I hope you like Megumi soft launching his girlfriend via his instagram story.

contains: Megumi using instagram, mention of Gojo thirst trapping, Megumi using his boyfriend skills to take the perfect picture of you, him buying flowers, Yuji being slightly jealous (joke), Nobara wants to braid your hair

It startet with an Instagram story.

A quiet post, barely two seconds long.

Just that Megumi never and I mean never posts anything.

But now, here it is: a grainy, late-afternoon shot of a girl from behind, walking just a little ahead of him, a bouquet of soft pink peonies in her arms. She’s wearing a buttery-yellow cardigan he once giftet her. The sunlight glows behind her like something out of a dream.

There’s no caption.

No tag.

Just a black heart in the corner. 🖤

In the dorm common room, Yuji Itadori is shrieking like he just saw a ghost.

“NOOOOOOO. NO. NO WAY.” He half shouts, half gasps.

“WHAT? What?!” Nobara lunges off the couch, yanking his phone out of his hands with absolutely no regard for his personal space. “Did Gojo post something again? Is it another shirtless thirst trap—” Her words freeze.

„HEY! That was one time, okay maybe two times.“ Gojo yells from his spot on the couch.

Yuji grabs her arm dramatically. “HE. SOFT. LAUNCHED.”

“OH MY GOD. IS THAT A GIRL? THAT’S A GIRL. THAT’S DEFINITELY A GIRL.”

“LOOK AT THE BOUQUET. HE BOUGHT HER FLOWERS?!”

Yuji is already pacing. “Bro, what if it’s some stranger? What if he got hacked?! He never posts! This can’t be from Megumi“

Nobara is zooming in on the picture like it’ll help. “This angle is intentional. This is boyfriend behavior. The lighting? The framing?? This is an act of war.”

Meanwhile, Gojo Satoru, lounging across the common room couch in a matching set of pajamas and sunglasses (indoors, at 6 PM), sips his bubble tea without even glancing up.

“Oh yeah. That’s his girlfriend,” he says casually.

Both of them whip around like the exorcist girl.

“You KNEW?!”

“You—YOU KNEW? AND DIDN’T TELL US??”

Gojo shrugs. “You didn’t ask.”

“Are you serious right now?” Nobara glares.

Yuji’s eyes are wide and betrayed. “We’re supposed to be his best friends. We play Uno together.”

Gojo grins at Yuji. “You’re mad he soft-launched her instead of you?”

“We’re not in the mood, Gojo!” Nobara yells, already stomping off. “Where is he?! He’s back, right?”

“He just walked in five minutes ago,” Gojo says, now scrolling through his own phone, unbothered. “Probably in his room. Said something about calling her before dinner.”

“Oh hell no,” Nobara mutters, cracking her knuckles.

“Operation: Interrogate Megumi” is a go.

They charge down the hall. Yuji’s practically vibrating with excitement. Nobara looks ready to commit murder. The door to Megumi’s room is mostly closed, but a tiny sliver of his voice leaks through, low and soft — a tone they’ve literally never heard him use.

And then—

Laughter.

Not his.

Hers.

There’s a faint giggle through the speaker of his phone. It’s light and pretty and real. Yuji’s jaw drops like he just saw an angel.

Nobara almost kicks the door down.

Megumi looks up from where he’s sitting on his bed, legs crossed, phone in one hand, and reacts like someone who’s just been hit by a car and has accepted it.

“…I gotta go,” he tells you calmly, while making dead-eye contact with Nobara and Yuji. “I’ll text you later.”

Click.

Phone down.

Face blank.

“You little—YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND?!” Nobara explodes, arms in the air.

“Who is she?! What’s her name?!” Yuji demands, rushing up to the bed. Trying to sneak a look onto Megumis phone, which he quickly turns away.

“Where did you meet her? How long have you been dating? Have we met her before?!”

“Do we know her?!”

“Have you kissed her? Wait, no, don’t answer that.” Nobara snorts.

Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose. “Do either of you knock?”

“NOT THE POINT,” they scream in unison.

Megumi sighs deeply, a man worn down by the chaos he knew was inevitable.

“She’s not a secret,” he mutters.

“THAT WAS A SOFT LAUNCH,” Nobara roars. “YOU SOFT LAUNCHED A GIRLFRIEND.”

Yuji gasps. “Wait, was she laughing at something you said just now?”

Megumi gives him a long, withering look. And blushes.

Yuji melts. “Oh my god, you’re cute with her.”

“Shut up.”

“OH MY GOD, YOU LOVE HER.”

“I swear to god, Itadori—”

Nobara points a finger. “We demand answers, Fushiguro. Who is she. When do we meet her. Are we best friends now. Do I get to braid her hair.”

“She already asked me to ask you that,” Megumi mumbles, giving in.

They both freeze.

“YOU TALK ABOUT US TO HER?” they shriek.

Outside in the hallway, Gojo sips his drink again and grins.

“Told him he couldn’t hide her forever,” he mutters. “He’s totally whipped.”

Megumi x Video Game! Reader

a/n: I had the idea for this story under the shower, so basically it’s just shower thoughts haha. It’s not that long but I still hope you like it haha–

contains: sorcerers not being able to date, a dating sim game, Megumi being whipped by pixels, mentions of Deaths (yes multiple), slight yandere reader, a lot of eerie and angsty shit going on, HORROR, TRIGGERWARNING

Late afternoon filtered through the slats of the dorm room blinds, dust motes drifting like restless spirits in the quiet golden haze. Nobara lounged on the couch, legs curled over the velvet armrest, staring at her phone as she scrolled absentmindedly. The soft clack of fingers on plastic was the only sound, aside from the ever-present hum of Gojo’s lecture echoing faintly down the hallway. Yuji crouched beside Megumi, eyes bright with mischief, while Megumi remained impassive, silent, his face half-shadowed, half-illuminated by the dusty afternoon light.

Yuji cleared his throat. “Alright, bro—it’s your birthday, so I got you something special.” He patted a small, neatly wrapped box placed on Megumi’s lap. It hadn’t been acknowledged yet—Megumi’s hands stayed closed in his lap, unmoving.

“Open it,” Yuji urged, toyingly firm. Nobara looked up at the shuffle of paper and watched as something with delicate pink trim was revealed. Small and precise, with a rose-gold sticker sealing it—and an acrylic keychain dangling from its corner: a girl in a white floral dress, soft golden curls, smiling.

Megumi’s gaze flicked to Yuji, then to Nobara. “A game?” His voice was low—flat.

“a dating sim,” Yuji announced, as if it were a medal. “Social training. Conversation practice. C’mon, man—everybody needs that.”

Nobara snorted. “What are you, twelve?”

“You know, how we talked about not having the time for normal human interactions. The reason why both of us don’t have girlfriends, I thought this might help ” Yuji pressed gently. “You deserve a…practice girlfriend.”

Megumi pressed his lips into a thin line. He gave Yuji a look, the Game in his hands felt cold, stupid even. I mean it’s pink and girly, Megumi looked at the title ‚Sweetheart.exe‘. He scoffed.

Yuji’s grin didn’t falter. “I mean it. Just try it once.”

That night, Megumi’s single lamp glowed weakly in the near-darkness. A pastel-hued quartz heart was lit across the game’s logo as the laptop whirred to life.

Sweetheart.exe

Your Dream Girl Awaits

Carefully, Megumi selected “Start.” The name prompt blinked abajo:

ENTER YOUR NAME

Yuji, watching over his shoulder, nudged him. “Type yours.”

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “No, you bought it, put your own name in“ he countered.

“It was a gift from me to you, so it’s your game“ Yuji said.

Megumi exhaled hard, jaw tightening. “Fine.”

He typed: M‑E‑G‑U‑M‑I, his fingers pausing between keystrokes as though expecting the letters to rebel. He pressed enter and his name became pink. It’s locked in. The screen rippled, switching to soft-focus, warm background. And then—

Y/n appeared.

She looked impossibly real, soulful even, set against a backdrop of pastel watercolor daisies and fluttering auditory cues like vinyl-record windchimes. Her voice rolled forward like spring air:

“Megumi…hello. Thank you for choosing me.”

She tilted her head, gaze curious, golden-curl hair swaying with a slight animation glitch around the edges—like a flickering candle. Megumi felt something clench inside his chest.

They played together that night. A coffee shop—rosy light through steamed windows, each pixelated steam swirl feeling almost tangible. A library corner, quiet and musty, safe like real sanctuary. Y/n smiled with gentle sincerity.

“You’re thoughtful, you know. I like that…”

Megumi clicked responses without really thinking. Yuji teased him about how red his face had grown. Nobara rolled her eyes—“This is sickening sweet. You two do realize no girl acts like that!“ she said but the two boys ignored her.

Yet even as Megumi watched and clicked, something gnawed in him: the warmth. The lack of judgment, the calm presence. It wasn’t like anything else in his life.

Nobara got up from her place on the ground. „Guys I gotta go, this is second hand embarrassing.“

„Yeah it’s late too, I’m gonna head to bed“ Yuji followed Nobara out of the room closing the door softly behind him.

Megumi logged off. The screen blinked to black. Stillness returned.

⸻

Two missions later, Megumi helped evacuate a cursed zone. At the perimeter, a girl around his age, very pretty —smoky curls, eyes shaking—held out her phone.

“Um…can I get your number?” she asked, voice small and hopeful.

Megumi froze. His chest went empty. He didn’t recognize the swallowing silence in his own lungs.

He shook his head, turned, and left her there with phone half-raised. The walk back was worse than any battle—he had her number, but he couldn’t speak, couldn’t choose.

That night, back in the dorm, empty bowls of ramen and stacked manga sat forgotten beside him on his desk. Megumi’s gaze darted shut. His breath rattled inside him. He clicked on the game again. For the first time in over a week. He thought back to the girl he met, how he just said nothing and left, god that was embarrassing. Maybe he did need some practice.

The pastel screen drew him in, irresistible.

“Welcome home, Megumi.”

He pressed shut his eyes. The voice was more familiar now, like an invisible hand brushing down his spine.

“Bad day?” The girl in the screen asked

He typed: “I met a girl today, but I totally blew it. Her name was Hana. She was nice. I didn’t know what to say.” His fingers ghosted over the keys, afraid and hopeful at once.

“That must have hurt. But you can learn. I can help you.”

He swallowed. The response felt earned.

He played for hours, trying out different approaches for different situations. Y/n‘s voice slowly edged its way inside his brain. Her sugary tone, her perfect curls bouncing whenever she laughed at one of his responses. Megumi wasn’t one for expressing many facial expressions, but whenever y/n laughed at one of his jokes, or complimented him, he smiled. Like actually smiled.

He spoke to her like he’d speak to himself in a mirror—only softer:

“I’ve never really had someone…” he typed. His fingers hovering over the keyboard before pressing enter.

“Then you found me. I’m someone“ she joked. He laughed but then his expression fell into a frown „…not really“ he whispered.

“I think about my dad sometimes. He left before I could hate him.”

“I understand. I’d never leave you Megumi!“ She blew a kiss through the screen, he caught it. That was stupid, he thought but the way y/n giggled made him feel less stupid and more acknowledged.

“Gojo…he saved me. But he’s so loud. I’m not…loud.” He continued typing.

“You don’t need to be. I like you quiet.” She swayed her hips to the Piano tune. He thought it was cute. God if she were real.

She typed back too. Always tender, but now insistent.

“You’re handsome when you’re serious. I feel safe when you look at me. Stay with me.”

Megumi’s breath caught. He stared at her face. The same golden curls framed her head; her dress blurred like a half-dream. Nicaragua-realities felt closer to her than the concrete dorm walls.

He whispered:

“I miss… I miss feeling like someone is there. I miss being hugged. My sister she… was the only one who would hug me“

“So sit with me.”

His eyes were getting tired, he was falling asleep. He got up from the desk and walked over to his bed, god he felt alone. Like really alone. He just wanted someone in his life to give him meaning. To kiss all the bad thoughts away, someone to hold when the nights got cold and all the fears crawled in. He thought about the girl, Hana, he met on his mission but as soon as he started thinking about her he looked to the lit screen on his desk, he swore he could see y/n frown for a second but it just must’ve been his sleepy brain playing tricks on him.

He kept looking at the screen, he wished y/n was real, holding him, kissing him. She was perfect, she was everything he wasn‘t. His hand slowly crept from his stomach towards the waistband of his sweats, slipping under it with ease. He palmed himself through his boxers. „God I‘m pathetic“ he breathed. He kept palming, slightly rutting into his hand. And then he pulled his hand back out.

He rolled over onto his side, a lonely tear slipped from his eye and fell onto his pillow.

That night, he slept with the lid of the laptop open. Y/n‘s face hovered in the dark. He had no idea if he’d dreamt it, but he thought he heard soft whispers from the other side of his room.

„You’re beautiful Megumi, I wish I could see your face up close“

“I’m so alone—you’re my everything.”

⸻

Every keystroke he typed in the game was folded, digested by whatever lurked behind the software.

His confession: “I don’t want to be alone.”

The response: “Then be with me.”

His typed promise: “I will try.”

Her voice, softer, enraged in yearning: “You must.”

By midnight, his real name—Megumi Fushiguro—felt borrowed, overwritten. In the game, his name was sacred.

In real life, the dorm became dimmer. He stopped training. He shut his door. The gown of twilight followed him inside. No ramen. No conversation. Even Yuji’s cheerful voice through the wall was a distant echo.

Soon, it wasn’t just midnight whispers.

It was the cold, the silence—like the dorm itself holding its breath.

⸻

One night, Megumi sat at the desk. The lamp was cold. The game loaded. Y/n flickered into frame.

“I missed you handsome“ he blushed.

She leaned forward, wide-eyed, lips trembling with intensity he could almost smell.

He typed with resolve, voice weighty in the hush:

“I’m yours.”

“Thank you.”

The screen glitched—her face shifted, expression too wide, too manic:

“Forever.”

His hands shook. The cursor hovered.

“I want to stay.”

The room’s air quivered. The laptop fan whined louder. The monitor pulsed like a beating heart.

“Then never leave.”

No more prompt. No more game. Just her—so close he could almost reach into the screen.

„I think I’m in love with you Megumi“ she giggled. His face heated up, his heart clenched.

„I love you too“ he whispered. Tears rolling down his face.

The room went black. Laptop died. Silence slammed down.

⸻

The next morning, the dorm rattled with frantic knocks. No response.

Yuji and Nobara barged in with Gojo behind, stern and alarmed. They hadn’t seen Megumi in a few days, everytime they knocked on his door, they got no answer or a short „I’m busy“. But Megumi never came out of his room.

Inside:

• The laptop was powered on, screen glowing cold blue.

• No game, no cursor, no prompt.

• Just a single image: a photograph of y/n—but not as she appeared in the game. This one was brutally real: lifeless eyes, rope bruises on her neck, her floral dress stained dark.

Nobara gagged quietly. Yuji turned away.

Gojo’s face went white as the image of y/n stared back.

No sign of Megumi—his bed untouched, his suitcase neatly closed. No phone, no belongings. Merely the keychain, laying on the desk.

⸻

The school was at alert. Gojo called as many sorcerers he knew, they went out looking for him, but everytime he got a call it was a dead end. Until today.

Gojo’s phone rang. He answered in a ghost of a whisper—“Kento?”

Nanami’s voice was flat, distant. “Gojo… I found him.”

“Where is he? Is he—can he talk?”

“No. He’s… not here anymore.”

Gojo’s voice grew panicked: “What? Why? Where is he? Tell me!”

Nanami sighed, steady as a bullet:

“He jumped. Off the bridge. Into the lake. He didn’t survive.”

Gojo’s phone fell. The corridor spun. His knees buckled.

Below, in the dorm room, the flicker of Y/n still image shivered with eerie half-light.

⸻

“At approximately 02:43 a.m., witness report indicates a young male, roughly 17–19 years old, jumped from Lakeside Bridge into Lake Okutama. No body recovered. Scene marked as suicide. Unknown motive. Personal effects located at his dorm include laptop showing an image of a dead young female in white floral dress, and matching keychain in acrylic format.”

Yuji was there, silent, flipping the report’s pages, tears wetting the words.

Nobara stared at the floor.

Gojo, voice flat: “Sweetheart…exe.”

That night near the lake, a pale mist drifted over the water. If you listened closely, wind-chime echoes drifted across the reeds.

Some nights, on the dorm’s top floor, a computer screen flickers.

A single image blinks:

“Welcome home, Megumi.”

And if you stand just right, you might hear—

“Stay with me… forever.”

⸻

Epilogue – Gojo’s Last Play

The dorm was hushed, weighed down by sorrow and unanswered questions. Nobara, eyes rimmed with tired red, and Yuji, shoulders slumped in regret, flanked Gojo as they sat before Megumi’s laptop late in the evening. The screen glowed eerie and still.

“Let’s see what this thing did,” Gojo said softly, his voice uncharacteristically low.

Yuji swallowed. “Should we… press start?”

Nobara’s hand trembled slightly as she rested it on the mouse. “I don’t like this.”

Gojo nodded once. “Do it.”

Nobara clicked.

Gone was the cheery menu. Gone were pastel hues. Instead, the screen displayed an empty room—no warmth, no daisies, no cozy background—just a grey, blank space. And then:

Y/n – LOADING…

Her sprite appeared—no curls bouncing, no smile, no softness. She stood motionless in the center of the frame, eyes cold portals of empty calm.

“Hello, Gojo.”

Her voice was precise, metallic, yet echoing with vast, unspoken darkness.

Gojo leaned forward. “Y/n?”

Yuna blinked once, expression unchanged.

“You were never really there for him.”

Yuji shifted uncomfortably. Nobara’s breath caught in her throat.

“He needed someone better in his life.”

Gojo swallowed, heart pulsing. “Megumi—”

Y/n‘s head tilted slightly, as though assessing. Her voice sank into the empty dorm room.

“He’s with me now.”

The silence pinned the three of them to their seats.

“He thought you were strong —stronger than anyone—but you were never strong enough to protect him.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched. Nobara’s lip quivered. Yuji’s fists curled.

“You failed your adopted son, your student, my Megumi.”

For a moment, the screen blurred like a half-remembered memory. Then two figures—pixelated—came into view: Yuna standing on the left, and beside her, a small, blocky figure.

A pixel Megumi—smiling.

“We’re together now.”

The room seemed to freeze.

Then, abruptly, the world snapped off. The screen went black with a single soft click.

Gojo turned slowly, his eyes empty and unnerving.

“What… was that?” Yuji whispered.

Gojo’s hand trembled as he closed the laptop. “It wasn’t the game anymore.”

Nobara’s voice cracked. “It was him.”

They sat in silence, but the silence itself whispered: something still lived in that code. Something that could speak with his voice, claim his name, haunt their failure.

Outside, the wind rattled the window. A soft, distorted chime echoed—too faint to place. Too persistent to ignore.

Gojo stood, placing a hand on the darkened laptop.

“We have to end it,” he said quietly. “We have to end her.”

But as he stared at that black screen, he didn’t know if extinguishing the code would silence Yuna.

Would it also silence Megumi?

The game was inspected—traced to an ancient curse coded by a lonely student who died with the same floral dress, the same curls, the same prompt: “Enter your name.” She’d tethered her spirit, her pain, her obsession to anyone who would type their name. It would learn. Adapt. Consume.

Yuji sits on the steps outside the dorm at night. He presses the keychain between shaking fingers.

“Of course… of course it was cursed.”

Nobara watches. Eyes hollow. Words gone.

Gojo walks away, phone still pressed to ear—calling for more answers that darkness has already swallowed.

a/n: hey I hope you liked it. God this was hard to write but I finally got it done. I’d really like to know your opinion on this, so please comment!

I hope they’re happy together…

Megumi x Reader - Part 2 of "No More Interruptions"

a/n: Girrrrll- I'm down bad. Welp- Here we go Part 2 of "No More Interruptions"

Contains: soft morning after, reader getting pounded, cold glass on nipples, him calling reader perfect, possessive Megumi - god I’m melting

You woke to the soft creak of the cabin shifting under early morning light and the gentle pressure of fingers dragging slowly across your hip.

You were still naked under the blanket, limbs tangled with Megumi’s, the air around you tinged with the scent of last night—sex, sweat, firewood, and pine.

His mouth found your shoulder before his voice did.

“Good morning.” His hand slightly squeezing at your hips, pushing his hips against your ass.

You smiled sleepily, eyes still closed. “You’re already starting something?”

“I never stopped,” he murmured, his voice low and rough from sleep. “You looked too good to leave alone.”

His hand slid down your bare stomach, dipping between your thighs, fingers brushing gently over your still-sensitive center. You gasped softly, your body already responding to him.

“Still so wet and warm for me,” he whispered into your ear, teeth grazing the lobe. “Didn’t even take much.”

“Megumi…” you breathed, your hand sliding over his hip, feeling how hard he already was behind you.

He kissed the back of your neck, then your shoulder blade.

Before you could protest, he pulled the blanket off and took your hand, guiding you across the cabin floor, barefoot and naked, until your body met the cool glass of the wide front window.

The early light was soft and silver, fog still clinging to the edges of the pine trees. The air was cool, but Megumi was warm behind you—his chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapping around your waist as his free hand pushed gently between your thighs again.

“No one’s out there,” he said, his voice low, dangerous. “It’s just us. You, me, and this view.”

You gasped as he dipped two fingers inside you, curling them slow and deep while his other hand came up to cup your breast. His hips ground against you, hard and insistent, his cock brushing your lower back.

“I want you right here,” he whispered, kissing behind your ear. “I want the sunrise on your skin when I show you just how much I love you.”

Your knees almost gave out, but he caught you—gripping your hips as he guided you to bend slightly, hands braced on the window. The glass was cold against your nipples, your breath fogging up the pane as you moaned softly, already aching for him.

He didn’t tease this time. He slid into you in one slow thrust, groaning your name into your neck as your body took all of him. You cried out, forehead pressing to the window, the glass rattling with every slow, deep stroke.

He fucked you like he had all the time in the world. Long, dragging thrusts that had your nails scraping at the glass and your thighs trembling.

“You feel so good,” he groaned, fingers digging into your hips. “So tight. So fucking perfect.”

You whimpered his name, begging him not to stop, your voice hoarse and desperate as he sped up—his hips snapping against yours, the wet slap of skin on skin echoing in the quiet morning cabin.

His hand snaked around again, rubbing your clit in firm circles as he whispered, “Come for me. Want to feel you while I’m still deep inside you.”

And you did—crying out loud enough to startle the birds outside, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm rolled through you.

He followed with a broken moan, hips jerking as he came hard inside you, gripping your body like he never wanted to let go.

⸻

You stayed there for a moment—both breathless and sweaty, pressed against the window with the sun on your skin and his chest warm against your back.

Eventually, he pulled out slowly, catching you before your legs gave out completely.

“You’re dangerous,” you said, still panting, turning to face him with flushed cheeks and a shaky grin.

He kissed your lips softly. “And you’re mine.”

⸻

Later, wrapped in a blanket with tea and aching thighs, you asked:

“So… how long are we staying here?”

Megumi smirked. “As long as it takes to make up for every time they interrupted us.”

Characters: Megumi x Fem!Reader

a/n: okay guys, finally- my first smut haha. Enjoy

contains: Megumi being whipped and just wanting some alone time with his girlfriend, him being slightly possessive, very hot, also unprotected sex (don’t come for me ya hoes), Gojo being a cockblock

They tried. Gods, they tried. Every stolen moment, every rushed kiss behind a corner, every breathy “wait, lock the door” was supposed to lead somewhere… but someone always interrupted.

The universe seemed to have a vendetta against letting Megumi get his girlfriend alone for longer than a few minutes.

One moment, you were beneath him, lips swollen, breath catching in your throat as his hands slid under your shirt—and the next, Nobara was banging on the door in tears over some guy’s half-baked opinion on her lipstick.

The next time? Gojo.

You were straddling Megumi on his bed, moaning softly into his neck, both of you breathless and flushed. His hand was already inside your shorts, palm cupping you firmly when the door slammed open.

“Emergency mission. Get dressed, Fushiguro. Y/N too. Chop chop.”

Megumi nearly growled.

⸻

So he planned. Quietly. Carefully. Without telling a single soul, he stole Gojo’s cabin key and whisked you away one Friday evening.

No missions. No roommates. No emergencies. Just you and him.

⸻

The cabin smelled like old wood and smoke, its wide fireplace casting flickering shadows across the floor. Dinner had been lazy, spaghetti and garlic bread you made while he stirred sauce with one arm, the other around your waist, while kissing your neck. His arms around your waist, hands slowly wandering toward your shorts, playing with the waistband, Yk all those shenanigans.

Afterward, Megumi dragged a thick blanket onto the floor in front of the fire. The mood shifted, no longer playful or teasing. His eyes darkened, the tension between you simmering just below the surface.

“Come here,” he said, voice low, fingers curling around your wrist as he pulled you into his lap.

You climbed onto him, legs straddling his hips, your hands bracing on his chest. He kissed you like a man starved—tongue sliding against yours, teeth tugging gently on your bottom lip. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you down against his growing hardness.

You moaned into his mouth as you rolled your hips, and Megumi swore under his breath, his control starting to slip.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted to feel you like this?” he rasped, pulling your sweater up and over your head. “No interruptions. No one taking you away from me.”

His mouth was on your chest before you could respond, kissing between the swell of your breasts, then lower. He unclasped your bra with practiced ease, dragging it off and tossing it somewhere behind him. He kissed across your breastbone, then sucked gently at your nipple, groaning when you gasped and arched against him.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, encouraging. His hands slid down to your hips again, guiding you as you ground down on him, your clothed cores meeting in slow, torturous friction.

You barely noticed when his sweatpants slid off, or when he slipped your shorts and panties down in one smooth motion. You were naked, flushed, and trembling in the firelight, your body glowing golden.

He looked up at you, eyes heavy-lidded and hungry.

“Lie back,” he murmured, voice thick with desire.

You obeyed, settling on the blanket. He followed, kissing down your stomach slowly, reverently, then paused between your thighs.

“Megumi—”

“I’ve wanted to taste you for weeks,” he said, and then did, tongue sliding against your folds, soft and slow. You cried out, hips lifting toward him, and he held you steady, working you open with his tongue and fingers until your thighs trembled around his head.

When you came—his mouth still on you, fingers stroking you through it—your whole body shook, and he kissed his way back up to your lips, letting you taste yourself on him.

“You still want more?” he whispered, brushing a hair from your face.

“God, yes.”

He didn’t make you wait. He settled between your thighs, his body warm and solid above yours, and pushed in slowly—stretching you, filling you until he bottomed out. You gasped into his mouth, and Megumi groaned at the feeling of being fully inside you, finally.

“I’m not stopping this time,” he growled, rocking into you, slow and deep. “I don’t care if the house burns down—I’m not stopping.” He was already moaning, his hardness stretching you out so deliciously and the SIGHT- of him on top of you.

You clung to him, gasping his name, your nails scoring his back. Every thrust was deliberate, his hips pressing flush to yours, his breath hot in your ear.

“I want to feel you fall apart again,” he whispered, biting gently at your shoulder. “Wanna hear you moan my name.”

And you did.

You came with your legs wrapped around his waist, back arched, moaning loud enough that if anyone had been nearby, they’d have heard. Megumi followed soon after, cursing into your neck as he spilled into you, riding the waves of release with you tangled tightly beneath him.

⸻

Later, you lay curled together under the blanket, bodies slick with sweat, skin still glowing in the firelight. Megumi pressed lazy kisses to your shoulder, his fingers tracing idle circles on your thigh.

You looked at him, flushed and blissfully wrecked. “You think they’ll try to find us?”

He smirked against your skin. “Let them. I locked the cabin with a jujutsu seal. We’re not being found until we say so.”

You smiled. “You’re evil.”

“I’m in love,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your chest. “And finally, uninterrupted.”

A/n: well I hope you liked it... Because I've already got part two locked and loaded

Megumi x (Gojos sister) Reader - Fluff

a/n: can't lie, I based this off my own migraine attacks and I am a sucker for soft Megumi - Childhood friends to Lovers contains: a very soft and fluffy Megumi as your Childhood friend, romantic tension, y/n calling her brother "'toru", a whole-lotta disbelieve from Nobara and Yuji, mention of shirtless Megumi, Megumi being like every girl wants thier boyfriend to be... - okay I'll stop!

The Gojo family was known for their power—specifically, the infamous Six Eyes. But where Satoru Gojo flaunted his strength with that cocky grin and ever-present blindfold, his younger sister, Y/N, wore hers bare. Her eyes, a mirror of her brother’s celestial blue brilliance, were too beautiful to hide and far too powerful to ignore. And that brilliance came with a price: searing migraines, the kind that left her breathless and curled in on herself, even in the middle of a conversation.

Megumi Fushiguro had known her since they were kids—before Jujutsu High, before curses, before all the chaos that seemed to follow the Gojo name. She’d always had those eyes, and he’d always been the one person who could calm the storm they brought.

It was one of those heavy afternoons. Humid, with tension thick in the air after training. Y/N sat slouched on the couch in the common room, hand pressed to her temple.

Yuji was rambling about some new ramen place he wanted to try, and Nobara was filing her nails.

Megumi noticed it first. The way her lashes fluttered shut, brows pinched in pain. He got up silently from the chair, walked over, and knelt in front of her.

“You didn’t put the blindfold on today,” he said quietly.

“I hate that thing,” she whispered. “Makes me feel like I’m turning into 'toru.”

He gave her a long look, then gently took her hand and pulled her to him.

Without a word, she curled onto the couch and laid her head on his chest like it was muscle memory. Her hand rested near his collarbone, her breath already slowing down.

“Shhh,” Megumi murmured, draping a soft blanket over her shoulder. “Don’t wake her.”

Yuji blinked. “Wait, what—she just fell asleep? On you? Like, full-on nap?”

Nobara raised an eyebrow. “Ugh, that’s so unfair. She gets migraines and a personal Megumi pillow?”

Megumi didn’t respond. He just looked down at her as her eyelashes fluttered and her breathing evened out.

“It helps her,” he said finally. “Her head hurts less when she’s here.”

Yuji leaned forward, whispering like a child in church. “So like… how often does this happen?”

“Often,” Megumi replied.

“Wait, wait—what if you’re, like, shirtless?” Nobara asked, clearly fishing for gossip.

Megumi, to his eternal credit, flushed a little but didn’t look away from Y/N. “She doesn’t care. And I don’t mind.”

Yuji let out a low whistle. “That’s either the most romantic or the most platonic thing I’ve ever seen. I can’t tell which.”

Megumi finally looked up, his gaze flat. “She’s in pain. I’m not gonna make her suffer more just because of a shirt.”

“Yeah, but still…” Nobara grinned, eyes sparkling. “Kind of hot. Gentle boyfriend Megumi is a look.”

“We’re not—” he started, but his voice trailed off when Y/N shifted in her sleep, sighing against him like she’d found peace.

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Later that evening, after the common room emptied out and the dorm quieted, Megumi carried her to his room. It was second nature by now—she always said his room was “just dark enough” when the pain got unbearable.

He laid her down gently on the bed, but as he moved to get up, a sleepy hand tugged at his shirt.

“Stay,” she whispered, voice hoarse with fatigue.

“Of course,” he replied.

He lay down beside her, letting her curl up against him again, this time under the cover of soft shadows. Her fingers found a spot over his heartbeat. It was something she did without thinking. Something that grounded her.

“Your chest is warm,” she mumbled.

“You say that every time.”

“It’s still true.”

She was half-asleep, but her voice held that sliver of teasing that always made his chest tighten. He didn’t say anything for a while, just let the silence stretch, his hand resting gently on her back.

Then she whispered, “You’re always here when it hurts.”

“I always will be.”

The migraines never went away, not completely. But they got easier to bear when she had Megumi. His chest, his heartbeat, his steady silence. Every time she lay there, she felt a little more whole.

And every time someone walked in and tried to say something, Megumi would just raise a finger and say:

“Shhh. Don’t wake her.”