Here For The Fluff, Stay For The Smut

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face.

she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses. the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame.

she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it’s a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare.

both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists.

you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out.

sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm.

there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material.

he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh.

you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation.

you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru.

he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips.

he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence.

you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room.

your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle.

“fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

❥❥❥

You drag him straight into the middle of it, where the music is the loudest and everyone is all cramped together. People dancing, grinding against each other, and a few damn near fucking right there on the floor. Megumi hangs back for a second, clearly feeling out of place, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck as he looks around.

"Gumi! Come onnnn, just dance." You grab his hands, pulling him toward you before he can protest.

He lets out a small cough, trying to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks, but you're already a few shots in, completely oblivious.

"No one's watching you," you say, stepping closer, your voice softening just a bit. "Just pay attention to me, okay?"

Fuck. That's the problem, it's the only thing he's been doing.

You're the only thing here that doesn't make him want to walk straight out, to say 'fuck it' to this entire thing and just dip. And now you're moving your hips like that, slow and sensual, right in front of him, completely unaware of the effect you have on him.

His jaw tenses as he watches you, your hands trailing over your body, moving with the music in a way that has his cock throbbing against his jeans. Megumi shifts where he stands, trying to adjust, trying to think about literally anything else. 

God, he's such a loser.

Getting all worked up over his bestfriend when you're just trying to have fun, just trying to help him loosen up. But christ, you're just so fucking sexy, moving your hips like that, turning around so your ass presses against him—it makes him want you even more.

His hands move to your hips as you grind in slow, agonizing circles, and he prays you don't notice how hard he's getting. He's awkward at first, unsure where to put his hands, but then it's natural—almost like he's imagined holding you like this more times than he'd like to admit. And god, you feel so fucking good in his hands, every curve sculpted just for him, every dip fitting perfectly in his palms.

You flick your hair to the side, looking back at him in a swift motion that has him choking on air, "See! You're doing soooo good."

His jaw flexes, cock twitching against your ass with every movement, and he's focusing so hard on not rubbing against you that he can't even speak. 

Then you turn back, arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him close to whispering in his ear, "You see that guy over there?"

He stills, following your gaze to none other than the notorious frat fuckboy, Yuji Itadori. "That idiot?"

"He's not an idiot… he's cute." You're blushing, and Megumi rolls his eyes.

"Nah, he's an idiot." He can't even look in Yuji's direction. If that loser even tried talking to you, he'd immediately regret it.

"Hush." You slap his chest playfully, ignoring his negativity. He's always been annoyingly protective of you. "So you're gonna wingman for me, right?"

"Nope." He doesn't even hesitate. There's no fucking way he's helping you hook up with some loser.

"But Gumiii," you beg, batting your lashes, doing those puppy eyes that work on him every single time.

"F-fine." God, it hurts just to say it out loud, but how could he say no to you? With that sad little look? Even if… It's just so you can get dicked down.

You beam at him, all giddy that he's agreeing to your plan. "Okay, so…"

You take his hands, placing them low on your hips, while you wrap your arms back around his neck, chest to chest with him. He can feel his cheeks heating up just from your proximity, fuck—he's been close to you before, but never like this. You flick your eyes to Yuji,  not even noticing how flustered Megumi is, too caught up in hoping the cute frat boy is watching… You can tell he's not.

Then, when Yuji finally glances your way, you pull Megumi close, lips crashing into his in a heated mess. You only meant to make Yuji jealous, but the moment his mouth is on yours, the frat boy disappears from your mind. Megumi claims your lips like they've always been his, arms pulling you flush against him, hard cock pressing against you through his jeans, and you softly moan into his mouth.

Fuck, that does it. He wants you right now. Hell, he'd fuck you in front of everyone here if he had to. You're acting so slutty, so damn needy for him, it's driving him insane. And after you looked at that Yuji guy? He's about to make sure you never think about another man other than him again.

When you pull apart, your chests heaving, his eyes heavy, as he drinks in the sight of your swollen lips, imagining them wrapped around his cock. He needs somewhere private with you now, before he loses it and actually fucks you right here, making sure everyone knows you're his.

He grabs your hand and weaves through the crowded frat house. Finally, he finds a tiny hallway bathroom thats empty. He takes advantage, pushing you inside, closing the door with a click, locking it. He pins you against it, holding your wrists beside your head.

"You know you're fucking mine, right?" No more flustered, blushy Megumi, this was something else. His pupils blown, nearly swallowing his eyes as he rakes over your body. Your chest rises and falls, heart hammering so loud you can hear it.

Your breath hitches as his lips ghost over yours. "What are you talking about…?"

You've never seen this side of him. Hell, he's always been protective, but never this. And it makes you so wet, already forming a damp spot in your panties.

He laughs, and you know you're in for it. "Are you fucking kidding me?" He releases your wrists, a hand running through his hair. "You act like you're not constantly playing mind games with me."

"I'm not doing anything!" You glare, incredulous. "If anything, you've been fucking with me for years!"

"Tch. Like what?" His brows knit, disbelief written all over his face, like he can't believe what you're saying. He's always been so obvious, always finding excuses to touch you, to be near you. And you? All you ever do is talk about 'cute' guys, and it drives him insane when he wants to be the only guy you think about.

"Um… I don't know, maybe like picking at me and teasing me constantly!?" You whisper-shout, cheeks burning.

"Picking at you!?" His face is inches from yours now. "Are you even hearing yourself right now?"

"What else would it be?" You huff, frustrated. "Do you have any idea how hard it's been, just being treated like a friend… like family, when I've always been in love with you?"

"In… love?" He stammers, eyes wide, heart thudding against his chest.

"Yes, Gumi. You idiot. I love you, and I always have." You nearly melt as his eyes soften, hands cupping your face.

"Promise?"

A soft laugh slips past your lips. He's so adorable when he's like this.

"Promise."

"I'm in love with you too," he confesses, your name rolling off his tongue in a way you've dreamt about since you were kids.

He leans in slowly as you loosely wrap your arms around his neck. His lips brush over yours lightly at first, then he kisses you, slow and gentle, a bit tentative. You can tell he's nervous, his hands slightly trembling as he holds your face.

You pull back just enough to flutter your lashes up at him. "You don't have to be nervous, it's just me."

He flushes, looking away, clearing his throat. "I'm n-not nervous…"

You drop to your knees, fingers quickly finding his zipper, tugging his jeans down. He's tense, eyes trained on you, muscles taut. "Let me help you get more comfortable," you murmur, brushing your hands over his hips.

Maybe it's the alcohol talking, maybe it's that you're that horny for Megumi, but fuck. You just want his cock in your mouth, all of him. Every single inch in your mouth, until his tip is kissing the back of your throat. He reaches down, fumbling, but managing to help you free himself, dick slapping against his shirt, tip already leaking streaks of pre. You take him in your hands, tongue darting out to lick up his mess, making his hips jerk up in protest from how sensitive he was. He's never had anyone do this before… hell, up until a few minutes ago, he'd never kissed a girl before. Maybe that's why he's so possessive, so desperate to have you.

His breath shudders. "Go slow, okay? I don't want to bust too quick."  You giggle, and he groans, "Please… stop giggling so much, baby."

Heat pools between your legs, your cheeks heating up at the new nickname. You wrap your lips around him, and a whimper slips past his lips, muffled by the back of his hand as his black lashes flutter closed. You take him fully, bottoming him out in your throat, gagging around his thick base.

He grips your hair, thrusting up into your mouth as you whine around him, hand slipping into your panties, rubbing your achy clit.

"That feels s'good, baby." your nails dig into his toned thighs as you take him deep, spit coating his length, leaking down to his balls.

He finally pulls you off, and you stand, kissing him as he tugs your skirt down, spinning you around and bending you over the sink. 

Megumi's cock is throbbing in his hands, even as his hands still tremble. "You okay, Gumi?" You ask, mascara streaking down your cheeks, spit still running along your lips as you glance at him in the mirror.

God, he's so scared he won't last. Shit, he almost guarantees he wouldn't, not when the thought of fucking your pussy alone is enough to make him cum. And when he finally sees your pretty pussy, he's already leaking cum, gripping his dick to keep from letting go completely.

"N-nothing," he grits through his words. "Just…"

You flick your head over your shoulder, watching him squeeze his pretty, flustered cock that's already dripping cum onto the floor. His face is all flushed, breathing shaky, balls clenching painfully as he whimpers.

"Gumi, you're cumming." you say, pupils wide as you take in the filthy sight.

“S-sorry, couldn’t… fuck—ahh…” His voice breaks, completely losing himself as he strokes himself through his orgasm, pretending his hand was your tight little pussy.

Heat floods your face, cheeks burning as you shift where you stand, skirt still past your thighs, while your cunt is on display, glistening and fluttering with need. 

You can't help yourself, your hand drifts down again, circling your clit as your turn your head toward the mirror, watching him absolutely fall apart, messy and desperate, while your legs shake from the pleasure building all over again.

His cock is still slick with cum and spit, breath uneven as he pulls his pants up, not bothering to zip them up. He's already focused on you, watching you touch yourself while you watch him, lips parted, looking all fucked-out from your own fingers.

He's quick to turn you around, hands firm on your ass as he lifts you up onto the sink, making your breath hitch. Your skirt and panties are gone in seconds, leaving you exposed, legs spread as you lean back onto your hands.

He drops to his knees, and you watch him, sucking in a breath as his nose brushes your clit lightly. He flicks his eyes up at you, seeing how you feel. God, he wanted you to feel good, just like you made him feel. He couldn't help but feel nervous about it. Even though it's something he wants so badly, he's so scared of doing it wrong.

His tongue peeks out shyly, licking your slit, pulling a soft whimper from your lips as your body reacts instantly beneath him. His arms hook under your thighs, pulling you closer like he needs you right there, even as his hands tremble still. He easily finds your clit, like he's learning you so fast, flicking lightly over the swollen bud, before sucking it gently, making your legs tighten around his head as they shake from pleasure.

Your pussy is flushed with his face, tongue darting out to lick your fluttering hole as his nose rubs against your clit—getting confident in eating his bestfriend's pussy out. 

"Megumi…" you whine, your voice already shaky as your hips roll up, making his face slick with your juices. "You're gonna make me cum...!"

"Good," he mumbles, voice hoarse from how drunk he is off you. "It's the least I could do for not fucking my pretty girl."

He presses two fingers against your folds, spreading them apart, before slipping them easily into your little hole, curling them in the way that hits that soft, spongy spot, making your whole body shake with pleasure.

"Gumi—!"

Your back arches, your legs trembling around his shoulders, as the pleasure crashes over you in waves, making you dizzy off him.

"That's it," he purrs, gently kissing the inside of your thighs. "Cum for me."

Your cunt pulses around his fingers, as he keeps fucking you through it, watching you come undone for him, as you whine his name so loud, there's no way no one heard.

"Gumi…" you try, but it comes out a breathless whisper. "I love you."

"Love you too," he says softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “Next time though… I’ll last longer…” He blushes, trying so hard not to sound like a loser—which is impossible when you cum early.

"Maybe I like that you can't last." You confess, just as flustered.

"Fuck… don't say things like that, baby," he groans, kissing you again before pulling back, already affected all over again.

"Or what?" you tease, biting your lip.

He inhales sharply, "You're gonna be the end of me, you know that?" His cock's already out, tip gliding up and down your dripping slit. You tip your head back as he slowly pushes inside until you're taking him all. He whimpers, burying his face in your neck, and you can feel it. In the way his cock twitches in you, how overwhelmed he is, how long he's thought about being buried inside your pussy just like this. 

"Gonna make sure everyone knows you're mine," he nips at your ear, pressing you closer, "screaming my name so loud, everyone can hear. Till you know exactly who your pussy belongs to."

divider cred @/cafekitsune + fanart cred @/qikiix on x

You were in the common room of the dorms, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your lap. The TV played some mindless show neither of you were really watching. Megumi sat beside you, one arm draped carefully over the back of the couch like he wanted to pull you closer but he was afraid to jostle your still-healing ribs. His other hand rested on your thigh, a grounding touch that had become more frequent recently.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a more comfortable position, and winced when the movement pulled at the scar tissue. Megumi’s hand tightened instantly.

“Careful,” he said, voice low and edged with that familiar tension. “You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I am resting,” you replied, keeping your tone light even as frustration simmered. “It’s just a twinge. I’m not made of glass, Megumi.”

He didn’t answer right away. His jaw clenched, shadows flickering faintly at his feet before he reined them in. The divine dogs whined softly and pressed closer to your legs like they could sense the shift in mood.

The silence stretched. You hated how heavy it felt lately. Before Shibuya, you two had been… perfect. Quiet dates in the city when missions allowed, late night talks where he’d let you see the softer parts of him, tentative kisses that made your heart race. Now everything felt wrapped in worry. You missed the version of him that let himself relax around you.

You tried again, gentler. “Hey. You’ve been taking every mission and assignment they’ll give you. You look exhausted. Maybe take a day off? We could just-“

“I can’t,” he cut in, sharper than you expected. His hand lifted from your thigh as he sat up straighter, shadows writhing once before he forced them still. “Some of us don’t get the luxury of sitting on the couch while the world falls apart. I have to keep going. I have to be useful.”

The words landed like a slap. You stared at him, chest tightening. Useful. Like you weren’t. Like the weeks you’d spent recovering - the pain, the nightmares, the frustration of being benched - made you a burden instead of someone who needed him.

“That’s not fair,” you said quietly, voice cracking despite your best effort. “I didn’t ask to get hurt. I didn’t ask to be stuck here while you run yourself into the ground. I’m trying, Megumi. Every day I’m trying to get better so i can stand beside you again. But if me being here is just another thing you have to worry about..”

You trailed off, swallowing hard as tears pricked at your eyes. You hated crying in front of him. Hated feeling this fragile when you used to be the one who could match his quiet strength.

Megumi froze. The sharpness drained from his face in an instant, replaced by raw panic and immediate regret. His shadows settled completely, the divine dogs nudging closer to both of you like they were trying to fix what he’d broken.”

“Fuck,” he breathed, voice cracking despite “i didn’t mean it like that.”

He moved carefully but quickly, turning toward you on the couch and gently cupping your face with both hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears that had escaped before you could stop them, touch feather light over your skin. Those dark eyes, usually so guarded, were wide and devastated now, filled with king of vulnerability he only ever showed you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, forehead pressing gently against yours. “I’m so sorry. I’m not.. I’m not mad at you. I’m terrified. Every time i close my eyes i see you bleeding out in Shibuya. Every mission i take, I’m thinking about coming back to you. And when i see you hurting, still recovering, it feels like my fault for not being faster that night. Like, if i push harder, train more, maybe I can make sure nothing like that ever happens again.”

His voice dropped even lower, rough with exhaustion and emotion. “You’re not a burden. You’re the only reason I still come back here instead of just… sleeping in the training grounds. You make the shadows feel less heavy. I’ve been an idiot - taking it out on you because i don’t know how to handle being this scared of losing you.”

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into his touch. The ache in your ribs was still there, but it felt distant compared to the warmth spreading through your chest at his words. “I’m scared too,” you admitted softly. “Scared i might not ever be strong enough again. Scared I’ll hold you back.”

Megumi shook his head, one hand sliding to the back of your neck while the other stayed on your cheek. “You don’t hold me back. You’re the only thing keeping me from breaking. I shouldn’t have snapped. I’m sorry.”

He pulled you closer, careful, always so careful of your injuries, until you were tucked against his chest. His arms wrapped around you gently, one hand stroking slow circles on your back while the other cradled your head. The divine dogs settled at your feet, warm and protective, their presence a quiet comfort.

“You’re healing,” he murmured into your hair, voice soft in a way that was rare for him. “And when you’re ready, we’ll go on missions together again. But until then… let me take care of you. Please. I need to do this. For both of us.”

You nodded against his chest, fingers curling into his shirt. The scent of him - clean soap and faint cursed energy - grounded you. “Okay. But you have to rest too. Deal?”

“Deal.” He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, then your temple, then tilted your chin up gently so he could kiss your lips - slow, tender, full of all the apologies he can’t quite put into words. When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours again. “I love you. Even when I’m an idiot about it,”

Your heart stuttered at the words. He didn’t say them often, but when he did, they landed with quiet weight. “I love you too. Even when you’re brooding and overprotective.”

A tiny smile tugged at his kudos - rare and soft, and only for you. “Good. Then stay right here. I’ll make tea. Or.. whatever helps your pain. Just don’t move too much.”

He started to shift like he was going to get up, but you tugged him back down, curling closer despite the twinge in your side. “Stay. The tea can wait. I just want you.”

Megumi didn’t argue. He settled back against the couch, adjusting the blanket over both of you and pulling you half into his lap so he could hold you without putting pressure on your injury. His hand resumed its slow strokes along your back, the other threading gently through your hair. The divine dogs hopped up onto the couch, one curling at your feet and the other resting is head on Megumi’s thigh like it was standing guard.

For the first time in weeks the common room felt warm instead of heavy.

Megumi’s voice was barely above a whisper when he spoke again. “When you’re better… we’ll take it slow. Easy missions first. I’ll have your back every second. And if the pain comes back, we stop. No arguments.”

You smiled against his chest. “Bossy.”

“Protective,” he corrected, but there was no edge to it — just quiet affection. He pressed another kiss to your forehead, lingering there. “Only for you.”

The TV droned on in the background, forgotten. Megumi held you like you were something precious and fragile, even though you both knew you were stronger than that. His breathing eventually evened out, the exhaustion finally catching up now that the worry wasn’t choking him quite so hard.

You stayed there, tucked safe in his arms, the ache in your body a little easier to bear with his warmth surrounding you. Shibuya had taken a lot from both of you. But moments like this — his rare softness, the way he melted the second he realized he’d hurt you — reminded you why you kept fighting.

Megumi Fushiguro might be overworked, brooding, and terrible at expressing fear.

But when it came to you?

He was only ever soft.

a/n : can i get a chezborgerpleaze

You were ten years his junior, a law student with bright eyes that hadn't yet been dulled by the judicial system. To the rest of the partners, you were the girl who handled the phones. To Hiromi, you were the only reason he stayed past 8:00 PM poring over textbooks and assignments he stopped using years ago.

"The logic in your torts brief is sound," he’d murmur in his corner office, the city lights shimmering behind him. “But your conclusion needs more teeth,” he'd gesture to the points he wanted you to flesh out with his glinting metallic pen while ignoring how you'd marvel over his long, thick fingers before snapping out of your thoughts and concentrating.

He’d spend hours guiding you through the complexities of the law, ignoring the mounting files on his own desk just to see you nod in realization. In return, you brought him life. Every morning, a coffee—black, two sugars—and on Fridays, a slice of rich chocolate cake. “Coffee and chocolate are the only acceptable pairings for a Friday,” he’d joke.

Once, a smudge of ganache lingered on his lip. Without thinking, you reached out, swiped it away with your thumb, and licked it clean. The air in the office had turned electric. Hiromi’s breath hitched, and for a moment, the professional veneer shattered into a thousand flustered pieces.

He looked out for you with a quiet, possessive intensity. He’d lightly scold interns who lingered too long at your desk, spinning your chair playfully as he walked past just to hear you laugh as he asked his usual, “Workin’ hard or hardly workin,’ kid?”

He’d even adjusted a twisted bra strap once, his fingers trembling against your skin, just as you’d often reach up to straighten his tie before a court appearance. Once, when a filing project left your hands covered in industrial adhesive, he’d led you to the kitchen sink, holding your hands under the warm water, scrubbing the stickiness away with a tenderness that felt like a confession. Your eyes had fluttered from how his dress shirt brushed your back, heat rolling off him and warming you down south.

Then came the Friday drinks.

The team was three rounds deep into highballs, and the conversation had spiraled from billable hours to the bedroom. The atmosphere was loose, blurring the lines of hierarchy. When the topic turned to “firsts” and fantasies, the group grew rowdy.

“A little choking never hurt anyone,” Shimizu, Higuruma's assistant said with a wave as she leaned back before straightening when she thought better of it and pointed to the interns. “Only if you do it properly.”

“I'm into a bit of bondage too, yeah,” your timid coworker with crooked glasses piped in, making you all turn to him in shock as he flushed a bright red. Huh, it's always the quiet ones. You nodded, impressed.

Sighing, one of the uptight, strict attorneys rubbed her brow bone when you all questioned her, an arm resting on the top of the booth. She looked way more relaxed than usual. “I have a breeding kink.”

Your mouth fell agape. “But you're a lesbian, how does that work?”

A slow, lazy grin claims her face that made your stomach tumble. “It's the idea of it. I know it can't happen but that won't stop me from trying to come inside my woman.”

Everyone grows flustered at that then continues going around the table and eventually, it's your turn. Higuruma slightly perks up, lending an ear to the conversation he found boring just before this.

“I’ve actually never... been eaten out,” you admitted, your face warming. A chorus of shocked gasps erupted. “But,” you added, emboldened by the margaritas, “I've always wanted to try sitting on someone's face.”

The table erupted in wolf whistles and teasing. You laughed, hiding your face, but Higuruma remained silent. He was staring intensely at the amber liquid in his glass, his knuckles white.

“What about you, Higuruma-san?” an associate prodded. “What’s the stoic overworked and underfucked genius into?”

Casting him a flat look, the dark-haired man with the hooked nose and tired eyes sighed. He set his glass down. He lifted his gaze, roaming over all the inquisitive, eager faces around the table then settling it directly on you. The noise of the bar seemed to vanish.

“I’ve always preferred it when a woman rides my nose,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly vibration. “Uses it to pleasure herself while smothering me.”

He took a slow sip of his drink, his dark eyes burning into yours over the rim of the glass, letting those words soak in for all of you.

While the coworkers cheered and laughed at what they thought was a rare bit of raunchy humor from the man, you felt the heat of his stare settle low in your gut. He wasn't joking. And for the first time, he wasn't keeping it under wraps.

Later, the walk to the parking garage was silent, the heavy night air thick with the unspoken confession from the bar.

As soon as the elevator doors shut with a metallic hiss, Higuruma's composure snapped. He didn't wait for his car door to open before his mouth was on yours, tasting like expensive gin and the chocolate cake from earlier.

Your surprised gasp was fucking adorable. “Mmph! Mr. Higuruma—”

“Hiromi,” he corrected you, breaking away just to tell you that before diving in again and groaning when you welcomed it.

The man practically lifted you into the backseat of his sleek sedan, the leather cool against your skin as he crowded over you. The professional, stern lawyer was gone, replaced by a man starving for the very thing he’d been lecturing you on for months when the interns would flirt with you.

“Hiromi, we shouldn't—the firm's policy on fraternization—” you sucked in a breath as his hand slid up your thigh, hooking into the lace of your underwear. Your blouse was pushed up to free your perky tits, bra unclasped.

“Article 4, Section 2,” he murmured against your neck, his breath hot. “Conflict of interest.”

He didn't stop. His fingers found you, slick and ready. There was no warning given as he shoved his middle finger inside your pooling hole. Back arching, you whimpered, hand catching on the cold steel of his watch that cost about the same as your tuition.

“You should take that off. I might ruin it,” you advised through pants.

“Don't worry about it, sweetheart. It's waterproof,” he assured you with the scrunch of his nose, slipping his dexterous finger back and forth, your cunt gurgling from the puddle of slick there. “Get it as wet as you want. Make a fucking mess.”

His filthy words had your pussy clamping down on his digit, swollen lips parted on a sharp gasp as his thumb rubbed your aching clit in firm, steady circles that had your stomach caving. He pumped it in and out of you with authoritative precision, adding the second one as his cock throbbed with another heavy pump of blood from the way your pussy fluttered and sucked him in.

The way your features furrow, brows creasing, lips parted on shallow, sharp pants and eyes glazed with desirous heat was better than the visions Higuruma conjured as he'd guiltily fuck his fist in the shower after sporting a hard-on all day from the scent of your perfume or you gracing him with a smile.

When he felt your insides swell as if you were about to come, he grew dizzy with arousal as your thighs twitch, rubbing together for more friction but he refused to let you come anywhere other than his mouth so he withdrew his fingers reluctantly, sucking them clean as you protested. He apologized with a kiss to your dewy temple.

“My apologies, sweetheart, but I'd prefer if you came in my mouth first so I could fulfill both of our fantasies, yeah?”

He didn't give you time to process the heat of his words before he was shifting, picking you up and laying himself down on the creaking leather seat. Hands on your hips, he pulled you onto him so that your syrupy cunt was hovering over his face.

True to his word, he didn't hesitate as he gripped your sides and settled your weight on his face. When his face pressed against you, the contact was electric. You gripped his silky hair, your thighs trembling as he showed you exactly what those 'college boys' had been missing.

“Stupid boys,” he muttered against your skin, his voice muffled and dark as he licked and slurped at you greedily, nose rubbing at your clit, the hook of it catching sometimes. “Noses buried in textbooks when they could have been right here. All those fools you study with, they have no idea what they're doing with a woman like you.”

You were mindless, your hips rocking against his face as he drank you in. The windows were already beginning to cloud over, a hazy white veil shielding you from the world outside. When you finally came, crying out his name, he didn't let you rest.

He moved over you, shedding his blazer and fumbling with his belt. You reached out, your stilettos digging into the pressed fabric of his undone trousers over his ass as you hiked your legs onto his shoulders. The friction of his dress shirt against your bare breasts was a delicious contrast.

"This is... a massive violation of the employee handbook," you wheezed, your heels pressing into his back as he pushed inside you, filling the ache he'd created with a deliriously thick cock.

“Gross misconduct,” he agreed, his pace frantic like he was worried you might get caught at any moment, the car rocking on its suspension with every heavy thrust. “Grounds for immediate termination.”

“And sexual harassment... if I didn't want it this badly,” you added, your voice breaking as he hit a spot that made your toes curl.

He surged into you harder, a deep, bruising thrust that forced a sob of relief from your throat. The car rocked on its axles, the rhythm of his thrusts steady and relentless.

Every time he hit the end of you, he muttered another 'violation'—an ethics breach, a workplace hazard, a total abandonment of his moral compass—and you finished every single one of them until the words turned into breathless, incoherent moans.

“I've wanted you since the first day you brought me that coffee,” he confessed through a slur, his forehead pressed against yours, sweat dripping from his brow. “Fuck, it’s been torture. Every time I adjusted your clothes, every time I drove you home, I was imagining this.”

“Me too,” you sobbed, clutching his shoulders as the windows went completely opaque, pearlescent with fog. “I've wanted you since the first time you scolded me for my citations.”

“Yeah? You like getting scolded?” he grunted, nipping at your chin.

Sheepish despite the circumstances, you nodded. “A little bit.”

Higuruma let out a low, guttural laugh, his movements becoming desperate as he reached his limit, the snap of his hips growing sporadic. “Then let's make sure this violation is thorough.”

As the car swayed and the leather creaked under the weight of months of repressed longing, the law firm and the bar felt like another lifetime. In the fogged-up dark of the backseat, there were no rules left to break—only the two of you, finally honest.

Outside, the streets shone with the pink, green, blue and other hues of neon lights from the shops nearby, the beams streaking across the gravely roads while the music blasting from the nightclubs drowned out your debauchery.

another higuruma fic + the other higuruma fic