you stir cutely, calling his name as if to greet him in your dream. megumi kisses the crease between your brows — soothing, attentive. “i’ve got you, let me make you feel good.”

claggy, syrupy sounds cling to the cool night, arousal catching on megumi’s shaft with each pass through your sopping mound. you’ve probably no idea how wet you are, tendrils of sleep woven around your mind — making you pliant and perfect for him. he hisses when you clench around nothing but catch on every part of him, aching to be filled with his length.

the gusset of your soft cotton panties darken in the exchange of slick and precum — the gooey strands forming a strong web where he ends and you begin. much like the rise of your sun and the fall of his moon, the cycle of pleasure is endless and it embraces you even in deep slumber. his hips draw back, pearlescent and slender, and his mushroomed tip slips beneath the scalloped edge of your underwear once more. using nimble fingers and a gentle grip as to not spark any over-sensitivity — fushiguro takes hold of himself, his curved lengthy shaft bobbing in between nimble digits, for better leverage. rubbing his milky oozing head back and forth over your arousal beading nub.

occasionally he dips past the tight ring of your entrance, shuddering at your iron grip — pride tingling within the gap between brain and his skull at how selfishly you lock down on him even when you’re not awake to show the world.

he’ll always count his lucky stars that you’re so eager, so willing to let him have you as he sees fit. awake or asleep your precious pussy belongs to him. in the depths of your consciousness she craves him, it’s obvious in the way your hips canter upwards to meet megumi’s as your high approaches like rushing rapids. the manner in which your back bows towards the night sky — forcing his chest to yours as though you are trying to fuse your heartbeats into one.

“so good to me. so fucking good.” megumi coos under his breath, hidden beneath his aerated moans because he cums not too long after. limbs wobbly with his collapse on top of you imminent. his weight your shaky, sleepy frame is accompanied a shot of translucent, viscous white into the seat of your panties. the flood swirling with heated gush of nectar from your abused slit. all of it smears lewdly through your abused folds, white on your sensitive clit in the form of his signature.

lashes kiss your cheeks and neck whilst megumi steadies himself in the scent of sex and warmth of your skin. his breath shattered and mystified against you.

“i can be even better,” you murmur to him, feeling him flinch in surprise when your fingers curl in midnight locks at the nape of his neck — roused by the cooling mess between your thighs. “if you cum inside next time.”

all megumi can do is groan — hungry and appreciative because you really are always so ready for him.

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