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rindearest · 1 year

Text

— SUNFALL

pairing: megumi fushiguro x f!reader

tags: NONCON, stalking, obsessive behavior, creampie, master kink, male masturbation, dacryphilia, alcohol use, cunnilingus, aged up characters, reader is a maid cafe worker + smokes

wc: 6.5k

a/n: hii i basically just heard that maid cafe/outing in akiba drama cd and ran a marathon with it ٩( ᐛ )و you don’t really need to listen to it, it’s just mentioned in passing in the beginning.

summary: megumi wants to find relief from the cold, unforgiving world of jujutsu sorcery. he finds warmth in your hands.

➳ crossposted on AO3

There is nothing glamorous about being a jujutsu sorcerer. It’s a thankless job. The people you put your life on the line for aren’t aware that they’re in any particular danger, and it’s common to see your colleagues die young, their dreams and ambitions dying alongside them. With that in mind, it’s no surprise Megumi yearned for some semblance of warmth that could relieve his stress and burdens. So he found himself at the maid cafe he went to with Itadori, back when they were still students. He usually wouldn’t be caught dead at an establishment like this, but it was one of the only places from his academy days that weren’t tainted with wretched memories of dying civilians and near death experiences.

The bells on the entrance of the cafe jingle as he steps in, alerting the workers of his presence. It’s gaudy, to say the least. Bright walls and pastel checkerboard floors line the interior. There’s a couple of cork boards by the entrance, showing the lineup of girls as well as some polaroid pictures of them with customers. The seats and tables alternate between pink and white, and Megumi can’t help but consider turning on his heels and running out the door. Before he can even turn to face the door, you step towards him, with a cheerful smile painted on your face.

“Welcome master! Table for one?” Megumi is taken aback by the sight of you. The black socks that squeeze the plush of your thigh, the cat ears that adorn your head, the fluffy skirt that seems to bounce with every step you take; it is all too much for him. The ‘master’ pet name doesn’t help either. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been referred to as such. It’s been thrown around here and there during his rare visits to the Zenin Estate when he was a child. There was something different; the timbre of your voice, the excitement in your tone. Remnants of your voice echo in his head as he tries to compose himself.

“Yes.” Megumi’s eyes shift to the side, unable to maintain eye contact.

“Alright, follow me master!” You lead him to an empty table by a window, and place a menu down. Megumi sits down, perplexed at all the options presented in front of him.

“Do you have any recommendations?”

“The omurice is super yummy! It even comes with a super special surprise.” You wink at him, pointing your pen to your face.

“Then can I get that?”

“Of course, master! One omurice coming right up!” With a dramatic rip of the order slip, you deliver the ticket to the kitchen, skirt flouncing about with each step you take. As you disappear into the back, Megumi relaxes his shoulders, unaware of how tense he was in the first place.

As you pop back out from the kitchen, he’s taken by surprise as you skip to sit in the seat in front of him.

“Is this part of the service?” He asks, tilting his head in confusion.

“No, but it’s not like we’re busy or anything!” You gesture to the empty tables in the rest of the cafe, and your other coworker who’s lounging on their phone in a corner. “Unless, you’d rather be alone?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

“No, this is fine.” He responds coolly, despite his heart threatening to burst out of his chest. When was the last time he held a conversation with anyone outside of Jujutsu society, much less with someone as cute as you?

“So, what brings you in?” You ask, placing an elbow on the table and resting your face on your hand. It catches him off guard, just how close you are to him. The table couldn’t have been longer than 2 feet, but it was more than enough to bask in your beauty.

“I was in the area and just thought it’d be fun. I came here with a friend a while ago.”

“Oh really? Was I your server?” You bat your lashes as you bring your hands to your face, cupping your cheeks. Heat rushes to his face as he looks at you before briefly shifting his eyes to the side.

“I don’t think so. It was a few years back.” As far as he remembers, the last time he was here, he was focused on keeping Yuuji in line and keeping an eye on Gojo. Checking out the maids of the cafe was the least of his worries, though in retrospect, he might be feeling a twinge of regret for not paying closer attention.

“Aw, that’s a shame. I think I’d remember if I saw someone like you around.”

“Is that supposed to mean something?” Megumi raises an eyebrow and tilts his head, unsure of what you’re trying to get at.

“Just that you look a bit different from the usual kinda guy that comes in.” You respond, leaning your face onto your hand. “But enough about that. You liked us enough to come back?”

“Not necessarily. I don’t really know the area that well.” He runs his fingers against the back of his hand, not knowing how to explain that he was feeling nostalgic for a place he’s only ever visited once in his life.

“Well, what are you into?”

His head perks up to look at you, perplexed that you’re attempting to strike up a conversation with him. It’s not a common occurrence for a waitress to talk to him beyond taking his order and dropping off his meal.

“I like reading.” He answers matter-of-factly.

“So like, manga?”

“No, non-fiction.”

“Not sure if this is the best place for that. If you give me a bit I could probably come up with a list of nice bookstores.” You grab the pen from your apron pocket and spin it in your hands before pointing it at him.

“It’s alright if you can’t think of anything. I can’t find the time to read these days anyways.” He’s touched by the idea but doesn’t want to place a burden on you.

The ring of a call bell from the kitchen marks the end of the conversation short, as you perk up to go pick up his order.

With your return, your tone shifts to a higher register as you place the plate on the table and announce, “Alright master, one omurice for you! What’s your name?”

“Megumi.” You take the ketchup bottle and carefully squeeze out his name onto the omelette, adding a smiley face at the end.

“Alright master Megumi, we have to do this together. It’ll make the meal complete!” Master Megumi. He likes the ring of that.

“What are you talking about?” He asks in earnest.

“We have to give the omurice a super love beam!” You puff your chest out with your hands on your hips, as if that’s the most obvious answer on the planet.

“I’m not sure I understand wh-”

“Come on, it’s really easy!” You place your hands around his, molding his fingers to form a heart. Your hands are soft and warm against his rough calloused fingertips. A soft blush forms on his face as you play around with his hands. When was the last time he’s held anyone’s hands? Are they always this warm? This welcoming? He never knew someone’s touch, especially that of a stranger’s, could make his heart race.

You finally get his hands in the right shape, before pointing it at the meal. “Say it with me, suuuper love beam!”

“Su-super… love beam…” He mutters, looking away from the meal. He can’t bring himself to say it without feeling embarrassed at how absurd it seems. You let go of his hands, but the warmth still lingers. Megumi finds himself holding his hands where yours were; longing for the sensation to stay.

“Now, it’s ready to eat! Oh wait, I almost forgot something.” You briskly walk to the back counter, skirt bouncing with every step, before returning with a polaroid camera.

“It’s your first time back in a while, right? We have to celebrate with a picture!” You kneel down next to him before pointing the camera at the two of you, but you can’t seem to get both of your faces to fit in the tiny viewfinder.

“Hmm, you won’t be in the frame this way.” You lean in closer towards Megumi, your chest pressing against his arm, face only centimeters away from his. If Megumi wasn’t flustered before, he definitely is now. He can feel the rise and fall of your chest as you breathe and the heat radiating off of your body. His breathing stills, as if the tiniest movement will push you away. Time halts for a second, even if that’s not the reality he’s faced with. He wishes this moment could last forever.

“Alright, say cheese!” You throw up a peace sign and smile at the camera. With a press of a button, a bright flash illuminates the room and fills your eyes. The flash catches Megumi by surprise, causing him to blink and rub his eyes to alleviate himself of the stars clouding his vision. A dull buzzing noise emits from the camera, as it slowly prints out the photo.

“Here you go! Enjoy your meal!” You hand him the polaroid and wave before going back to work.

He holds the image in his hand, shifting it back and forth in the light, waiting for it to develop fully. The black starts to fade, revealing your radiant smile, in contrast to Megumi’s awkward expression as a result of him blinking. In that moment, Megumi realizes something as he stares at the polaroid of the two of you: your smile shines like the sun, and he wants to go blind.

---

The plan to find something to get his mind off work may have worked a bit too well, as Megumi finds himself in a pocket of the bustling city again, standing in front of the maid cafe entrance.

“Welcome, master! Oh, back so soon?” You ask with a smile.

“Yeah… I am.” He says with a hint of hesitation in his voice, as if he doesn’t quite believe it either. You show him to a table, a different one than last time.

“Can I get the omurice?”

“Coming right up!”

“By the way, here’s that list of bookstores. You left before I could give it to you.” You hand him the list, and he bows his head slightly in thanks and acknowledgement.

The list is written on the back of an order ticket, slightly crumpled, probably from being in your apron for the past couple of days. Blue pen is scribbled along the off-white paper, listing addresses of various bookstores; some located nearby, others located elsewhere.

“You really didn’t have to…” He looks away from you and scratches his neck, trying to collect his words. “But thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, it was fun to make!”

The conversation is interrupted by a call of your name from a back room.

“Hey, could you help out back here if you’re not too busy?” Your coworker peeks out and gestures for you to follow them.

“Sure!” You turn to look back at Megumi. “I’ll be back in a bit.” You leave with a simple smile and a wave, before disappearing to the back.

As much as he’s disappointed that he can’t spend more time talking to you, he’s grateful that he knows your name now. Something so simple yet it hadn’t occurred to him until he heard it. He tucks it into the depths of his chest, locking it away as a secret for him to keep.

He takes a harder look at the list of bookstores you gave him. It’s more detailed than he expected, as you took the time to write out a rating and other interesting notes for each store. He traces the ink with his thumb, imagining you hard at work writing this for him. It brings a tender smile to his face and butterflies to his stomach. Maybe he’d be able to return the favor someday.

He jumps in his seat at the ring of a bell from the kitchen. You come out soon after, heels clacking against the tiled floor as you approach him.

“Alright, one omurice just for you master!” You place the plate on the table and start shaking a bottle of ketchup. “Your name was... Megumi, right?”

His head perks at the mention of his name, delighted to hear it coming from you again.

“Yeah.” You carefully squeeze out his name onto the omelette. To change it up a bit, you draw cat ears above his name, reminiscent of the accessories that decorate your head. He finds it endearing, seeing your eyebrows furrow, the slight bite of your lip as you concentrate on drawing, your hands delicately wrapped around the bottle and fingers pressing into the pliable plastic.

“Alright, we gotta hit it with the super love beam! You know how to do it, right?” He does, but doing it right means that he won’t be able to feel your hands against his. Besides, doing it of his own volition filled him with a deep sense of embarrassment, and although nobody he knew would be all the wiser, he still couldn’t bring himself to do it. Megumi puts his hands up into an awkward shape, resembling an oval more than a heart.

“Like this?” He presents his hands to you, with a raised eyebrow.

“No, silly, more like a heart! It’s a super love beam.” He fumbles with his hands a bit more, but the shape that unfolds looks more like an 8 than a heart.

“Here, let me help.” You place your hands on his, gingerly putting each finger in their proper place. You bend his thumbs backwards slightly to form the right curve before pushing them together. His hands are rougher than you expected; all calloused palms and hardened fingers. They’ve seen enough woes to last a lifetime or two.

“There! Alright, say it with me. Suuuper love beam!”

“Su-super love beam…” Megumi still can’t bring himself to say the phrase out loud.

“Alright it’s ready to go! Enjoy your meal!”

Megumi’s hands ball into tight fists, contemplating whether he should ask you for another photo but you’re gone before he can muster the courage. He hesitantly digs his spoon into the fluffy pillow of eggs on his plate, as he watches you walk away. He blankly stares at the dome of egg blanketing grains of rice before taking a bite. The metal spoon scrapes against his teeth as he takes a bite, chewing for what seems like an eternity before swallowing.

It doesn’t taste as good as last time.

---

It’s the only picture of you he has. He was hoping during his last visit to the cafe, he could get a proper picture where he looks presentable, but he couldn’t find it in himself to ask. Maybe it was embarrassment, maybe it was a useless sense of pride, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s sitting at his desk holding one polaroid instead of two.

His thumb gently traces along the curve of your face, the glossy finish of the film sticking to his finger.

Oh, how he wishes he could feel more of you. He wonders how soft your cheeks would feel if he were able to caress them, if they would be as comforting as your hands. His mind starts to race with questions, each more obscene than the last. How would you react when his thumb wanders from your cheek to the pout of your lips? What kind of choked moan would escape your lips as he hooks his thumb into your mouth and presses down on your tongue? How warm would your mouth feel as it wraps around his cock?

He shouldn’t be doing this; he swears he’s better than this. But any concern of pride or saving face is quickly melting away as his hand wanders down to his boxers. He palms himself through the fabric until the muted sensation just isn’t enough. He reaches over to the bottle of lotion on his desk, pumping twice before stroking himself, desperately wishing it was your hand instead of his.

He lets out a groan as he leans his head back and closes his eyes. Pictures of you fly across his mind as his breaths get heavier. Impatient hands desperately undressing you, finally being able to see you at your most vulnerable. Maybe you’d be a bit bashful as he grabs your waist, his hands gently traveling to the curve of your hips. Maybe you’d squirm under his touch as he traces your inner thigh, teasing you before getting any closer.

What kind of lewd sounds would leave your mouth as his fingers slide up and down your folds? How would your face contort in pleasure as his cock splits you open?

He thinks about you chanting his name, no, Master Megumi, in between choked moans and whimpers as he fucks his fist. His pace quickens as he loses himself in his fantasy, panting your name under his breath. With a final pump, his cock starts to twitch, hot spurts of his seed painting the polaroid in white, the excess dripping onto the floor.

As he comes down from his high, shame washes over him, but it’s short-lived. A burning desire arises in its place: to have you all for himself.

---

He’s heard the tale of Icarus before, the man who flew too close to the sun. He never paid it much mind, especially since it came out of Gojo’s mouth during one of his long-winded lectures in his middle school delinquent days. The strongest sorcerer lecturing him about reckless pursuits and self-constraint? How rich.

And though he disregarded it before, it weighs heavy on his mind as he stands in front of the cafe entrance for the third time this week, chasing the high that is the warmth of your hands enveloping his.

He throws on that aloof expression as always, walking into the familiar jingle of the cafe’s bells. The atmosphere of the restaurant is completely different from his past two visits, bustling with customers and workers rushing from table to table.

“Welcome master! Table for one?” He doesn’t recognize the worker in front of him, his eyes wandering off to a corner where you’re helping another customer.

He supposes that this was a possibility, but he doesn’t want to accept it. Your hands are all over theirs, demonstrating the super love beam. Your smile is as radiant as ever, and envy begins to simmer in his body because he isn’t at the receiving end of it. The rational side of him says that this was to be expected; it is your job after all. But another side of him can’t help but be disgusted.

“Um, sir? Is everything okay?” The waitress waves a hand in front of Megumi’s face to get his attention, causing him to blink a few times before responding to their question.

“Oh, sorry. I’m okay, I’ll be back later.” Megumi shows himself out the door, the bells ringing as it closes. He stands still for a moment, staring again at the entrance before letting out a heavy sigh.

His hands feel a bit colder today.

---

While Megumi hasn’t returned to the cafe in quite some time as a customer, he’s developed a bad habit in its stead. Well, he tells himself it isn’t a bad habit; he’s just making sure you get back home safe from work.

It’s a fairly quick commute; a walk to the station, staying on for a few stops, before getting off to walk for fifteen minutes. But anything could happen within that time. If anyone tried to hurt you and he wasn’t able to protect you, he would never be able to forgive himself.

So he’s started to enjoy this peaceful little routine, lurking in the shadows and following you home, unbeknownst to you. Though he misses the banter and the warmth of your hands he tells himself this is ok for now. If anything, there was a special sense of intimacy in seeing you wearing something other than the ornate maid dress that seemed to swallow you whole.

Today was… different. You left the cafe in a rush, heading in a different direction than usual. Megumi follows close behind in your shadow, as you make your way to an unfamiliar part of town. It’s quiet; away from the hustle and bustle of the city.

You make your way into a bar, and a seedy one at that. Overhead lamps hang from the ceiling, painting the room in a murky yellow. The floor is littered in scratches and nicks, the wallpaper worn down and stained with patches of brown of varying intensities. It’s fairly empty for an evening, save for a few patrons scattered along the worn down leather booths and tables.

You sit down at the counter, your body plopping as you sit down on the bar stool. The wooden counter has deteriorated from years of wear and tear, scuffs and water stains well settled into the surface.

“Would you like something to drink?” the bartender asks.

“Not right now. Waiting for someone.” you answer.

Something cracks in Megumi upon hearing your response. What kind of person were you meeting in such a run down place like this?

You wait and wait. Megumi does as well, with bated breath. Fifteen, thirty, forty-five minutes pass by with no appearance of this mystery person. You finally unlock your phone, finding something to cure your boredom.

His eyes glance over, your eyes glued to the screen as you scroll.

The world stops for a second.

A dating app.

He should have known it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility, but it doesn’t matter.

You open up your inbox, typing with an annoyed expression, and Megumi’s chest tightens with each tap on your keyboard.

if you’re gonna stand me up at least choose somewhere nice lol

You both sigh for different reasons.

Though he can’t help but think, what kind of asshole would stand you up of all people? Even with his limited interactions with you, he can see your kindness shine bright through your smile. Your hands, soft and inviting, are warm and comforting to the touch. His heart skips a beat at just the thought of you touching him again. Whatever, it just keeps things easier for him.

“Give me something strong please.” You ask the bartender, tapping your fingers against the counter. The bartender silently nods, pouring a concoction of various liquids into his mixer before shaking vigorously. He gingerly pours the drink into a glass with ice before sliding it your way.

The drink burns on the way down, but you don’t care. You take large sips, only taking breaks in between to let out a heavy sigh.

“Another one please.”

Megumi should stop you. He knows he should stop you. But he’s too distracted, enamored even, by watching you drink. The way your lips pout to reach the straw, the way each gulp slides down your neck, the way you suck to make sure you’ve cleared the glass of every drop of liquor.

The evening continues uneventfully, and at some point you’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, and decide that’s a good marker to start making your way home. You’re stumbling a little bit, but you’re confident in your ability to get back, though that doesn’t really matter.

Megumi will be right by your side, whether you know it or not.

---

Even with your hellish shift at work, you’ve somehow gotten through another day. The sun sets on the horizon, painting the sky and cityscape in a mix of hazy orange and soft pink hues. Even in your drunken stupor, you can appreciate the beauty of the skyline, maybe even more so as your vision blurs all the colors for you, like watercolor paints blending into one another on paper. Whether it’s the last of the sun’s rays washing over you or the alcohol in your system warming your cheeks, you don’t care. The warmth is comforting in contrast to the chilly breeze of the city.

You’ve come to admire this view on the rooftop of your apartment complex, arms leaning against the metal railing as you take it in. While living in a cramped unit you can barely afford has its burdens, this has been one reassuring constant; your temporary place of respite from the chaos of the world around you. You take out the box of cigarettes from your pocket, cellophane packaging crinkling as you unwrap it. Flipping the top open, you place a cigarette in your mouth, the faint smell of tobacco wafting through your nostrils. You reach for your lighter, spinning the wheel once, twice, three times until the flame comes to life, before bringing it to your face.

“You have a lighter?” The voice takes you by surprise, causing you to jump. You raise an eyebrow as you take a skeptical glance at the hooded man next to you. Something about him looks and sounds vaguely familiar, but you can’t quite put your finger on it.

“Do I… Do I know you from somewhere?” You ask, tilting your head as you try to get a look at his face.

“I moved here recently.” he responds, slightly shifting his face away from you and adjusting his hood.

“Well, nice to meet ya, neighbor.” You hand him your lighter before looking back at the sunset and exhaling a puff of smoke.

“Are you ok?”

“Yeah, ’m fine. Just had a shitty day.” you respond, pinching your forehead.

“Sorry to hear that.”

“What’re you sorry for? Not like it’s your fault I had a shit day.” you scoff, before inhaling another puff of smoke.

“Would you like to talk about it?”

“It’s--” you let out a sigh before debating on whether or not you should go on a drunken rant in front of a stranger. Instead, you let out a guttural groan, planting your forehead against the railing, trying to find some form of catharsis. The metal is cool against your nearly feverish skin, as you slightly raise your head to bring up the cigarette to your mouth and take another hit.

“Are you drunk?”

“Probably.” The answer was definitely yes, extremely. It was obvious with your gestures, the ways your words slurred, the stringent scent of alcohol leaving your lips with each sentence. It was a miracle you even found your way home, or up to the rooftop for that matter.

“Do you need someone to walk you back to your apartment?”

“’m fine.” You attempt to shoo him away as you take a step forward, only to stumble over your own feet.

“Seriously, I’ll take you back.” His offer sounds enticing, especially considering how intoxicated you are. There’s no way you’d be able to walk down three flights of stairs to your apartment without falling or hurting yourself. So you collapse into his arms, accepting his proposal.

“Thanks. ’m three floors down.”

---

The trip down three flights of stairs wasn’t ideal, but manageable. Megumi had your arms slung around his shoulder as he attempted to keep you balanced during the descent. You messily shift through your keyring once you get to your door, metal clinking against each other until you find the key to your apartment.

The hallway is cramped, a small kitchenette built into one of the walls. The coat rack is nearly collapsing in on itself with the amount of clothing you’ve thrown on to it, some of the garments already forming a wrinkled puddle of fabric on the floor. With a few steps he’s already in the main room, where your bed and desk are crammed together.

He places you gently onto the bed as you shift around and sprawl yourself against the sheets.

“Thank you.” you mumble into the mattress.

“No worries.” he takes a step away from the bed, but his eyes are glued to your body. He knows he should be leaving but he can’t bring himself to look away.

If seeing you outside of work was intimate in and of itself, he didn’t know how to describe this sight. The soft rise and fall of your chest, the way your cheeks squish against your pillow and cause your lips to pout slightly. He wishes he could see this side of you more often.

He’s not sure what comes over him. Maybe it’s the lingering sensation of your warmth from helping you down three flights of stairs. Maybe it’s a selfish desire to prove that he can make everything better. You don’t need anyone else: not those customers who are undeserving of your touch, and definitely not the pathetic loser who stood you up.

And like Icarus who flew too close to the sun, his hand stretches out to reach for your waist, greedy, desperate for your warmth.

His hands feel like they’re burning as they gently lift the hem of your shirt. Nimble fingers softly graze against your supple skin, as blood rushes through his body from the contact. He works to unbuckle your pants before peeling the fabric off from your body.

“Hmm?” You shift around trying to make yourself comfortable only to realize your pants have been stripped off of you, and that hooded stranger from earlier is staring you down like a deer in headlights.

Panic starts to course through your veins as you start to thrash your body around, but your coordination is less than ideal with all the alcohol flowing through your system, and he’s able to easily overpower you, pinning down your legs.

He slides your underwear to the side and pushes your legs apart, salivating at the sight of your cunt. He wastes no time, swiping his tongue against your folds. The sensation is foreign and takes you by surprise as you instinctively push your legs close. He seems unphased by this, wrapping his arms around your legs as he desperately sucks on your clit. Tasting you is better than anything he could have imagined. His hips roll into the mattress in languid strokes, mimicking how he wants to fuck you.

You don’t want to give him the satisfaction that you’re enjoying this, but the tension building in your stomach is undeniable. It becomes harder and harder to choke back your moans, soft pants occasionally escaping your lips. Hearing even the smallest sliver of your voice sends him into a frenzy, with him pulling you in closer and messily lapping at your cunt while a mix of your arousal and his spit pools onto the sheets.

He adjusts his position, bringing his fingers to your clit before drawing tight circles. His tongue licks at your folds before going lower, prodding at your hole before going in all the way. He flicks up at your walls, saliva mixing with your juices before slipping a finger in. His tongue pulls out to messily lave at your clit while fingering you. He adds another finger in, curling them as he finds a steady rhythm. His fingers are longer, thicker, reaching places you wouldn’t be able to on your own.

“You have such a pretty cunt.” He purrs into you, before going back in. His breath is warm against your folds, seeping out and brushing against your inner thighs.

He’s unrelenting as he hooks his hand over your leg to pull you closer. Your breaths get shallower as the pressure in your core builds. His fingers move faster, slick wet noises echoing through the room as they thrust inside you.

“T-too much!” You squeal, grabbing onto his head to push him away. It only has the opposite effect on him, as he shoves harder into you, his face buried in your cunt. His tongue swirls around your clit, bringing the tension in your core to a head. Your moans fill the otherwise quiet room as you wrap your hands around his hair, needing something to grip as you come undone. Your climax seems to have no effect on him, as he plays with your clit and guides you through it.

He’s out of breath by the time he pulls away from your legs, face covered in your juices. He casually wipes it off with the back of his hand before licking it off. Your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest, clit throbbing from overstimulation; your body is spent. There’s no way you can take any more.

On the other hand, this was just the beginning for him, and he’d rather not ignore the growing length in his pants. He could cum from the taste of you alone, but he’d much rather feel your cunt squeeze him for all his worth.

He needs more.

The sound of a belt buckle jangling and fabric shifting brings you back to reality, as you look down to see him removing his pants, revealing his fully erect cock.

“Don’t worry,” he pants out, before lining himself up with your entrance, “I’ll make you feel even better.”

He breathes in shakily before entering you slowly, feeling your warmth surround him. He savors the moment before bottoming out, biting down on his lip and letting out a hushed moan. His head leans back as he starts moving, hands shaking as he takes in the view of his cock splitting you open. Just the sight is enough to send him over, but he can’t lose focus; not now when he finally has you all to himself.

“F-fuck, you feel amazing.”

He rushes to take your top off, pulling the fabric over your head before reaching around your back to unclasp your bra. He shoves it into the pocket of his jacket, planning to keep it as a memento. He’ll have fun with it later.

His hands find yours, delicately intertwining your fingers together. Your hands are just as warm as he remembers, maybe even warmer than before.

He can’t stop himself from kissing you. It starts gentle as he acquaints himself with the shape of your lips. The lips he imagined wrapped around his cock, the lips he’s only been able to see from a distance for so long. He takes his time exploring them, trying to see what makes you tick. He tastes the faintest hint of alcohol on your lips, but he’d rather you remember the taste of him instead. What starts gentle becomes overwhelming, rougher. His hands wrap around yours tighter and it feels like he’ll swallow you whole (maybe that’s what he wants).

His hips start striking into yours faster, his lips quivering as he tries to control himself. It’s taking every bit of self-restraint to keep himself from pounding you harder.

Fucking his fist to the polaroid of you came nowhere close to the real deal. Your soft moans are much cuter than anything he could have imagined. The way your cunt swallows him whole, the bounce of your breasts with each thrust, it’s all a work of fine art to him. And though this was the moment he’s been dreaming of for so long, something was missing.

“Megumi.”

“Huh?”

“Call me Master Megumi.”

Everything comes crashing down. Your alcohol-induced haze shatters, as you finally remember where you’ve seen him from. You attempt to shuffle your legs closed, panicking as you try to free your hands from his iron grip. Megumi swiftly pins your hands above your head, adjusting so that he can hold them down with one hand.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this, p-please just once-“ he begs as he continues fucking into you.

Tears start to pool in your eyes at the realization, burning as they run down your cheeks.

He feels sick at the sight of your tears. It’s a mix of things; guilt that he’s the cause of them, but also the desire to see more. There’s a certain satisfaction in being able to see something so intimate, something you don’t just show off to any old patron at the cafe. Something for his eyes only.

If your smile is the sun, then your tears are the ocean and he wants to drown.

Megumi grabs your thigh with his free hand and starts to fuck into you harder, as you hiccup and cry with each stroke. You’re barely able to stifle your cries back as he gets rougher, holding your hands so tight it feels like they’re going to burst. He bites on your neck, a bit too hard, but he’s overwhelmed with the urge, the need to leave proof that this happened, that he was here with you.

“Please, just once.” He moans into the nape of your neck.

“M-Master Megumi.” You whisper through gritted teeth and muffled sobs.

The pressure in your stomach starts to build as Megumi desperately hits the spot that has you seeing stars. You can barely bite back your moans as you squeeze his hand in an effort to ground yourself. He mistakes it as reciprocation.

“I knew you’d come around.” His lips form a soft smile before he loosens the grip on your hands slightly. It’s just enough space to separate your fingers but nothing beyond that. The hand on your thigh moves closer to the space between your legs to start playing with your clit again, languid slow strokes that have you desperate for relief.

“Say it again.”

You close your eyes tightly in response, not wanting to give in to his demands. The grip around your hand tightens again, pain building from the pressure.

“M-Master Megumi.” You blurt under your breath, doing your best to muffle your cries. His fingers around your clit start to move a bit faster, along with his strokes.

“Louder.”

“Master Megumi.”

He brings his face closer to yours, his eyes only a finger’s width away from yours.

“Who’s making you feel this good?”

You attempt to look away from his face that’s dangerously close to yours. You wince as his fingernails start digging into the skin of your hands, the sharp pain demanding an answer to his question.

“You are, Master Megumi.” You respond, more tears falling from your eyes.

The last thing you want to do is give in to the pleasure growing in your core, but the way his hands play with your clit and his cock bullies you into submission, you can’t help yourself. Your breaths get faster, your heart beating so hard you can feel it in your head. Your grip tightens around his hands as you grit your teeth and come undone on his cock, a mix of garbled moans and hushed whimpers echoing in the room.

Just the sensation of your walls clenching around him and cute moans are enough to send him over. He pushes one last thrust into you, cock twitching as he paints your insides with ropes of white. He takes a moment to catch his breath before taking himself out of you, admiring the way his seed drips from your hole.

Flying too close to the sun and drowning in the ocean may have been a terrible fate for Icarus. But after seeing the glassy tears on your face, your form glistening with sweat, and the taste of you lingering on his tongue, he’d argue otherwise.

#megumi fushiguro x reader smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #megumi fushiguro smut #cw.noncon #cw.stalking #this was in my docs for so long it is EMBARASSING #sen writes #sen fics #s.jjk

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