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Ft: best friend!Megumi

You and Megumi are closer than anyone.. but uh oh! You’ve got a secret crush - and he’s oblivious.

cw: explicit sex

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You’re sprawled across the tiny couch in Megumi’s dorm room at Jujutsu High, legs dangling over the armrest, scrolling through mha edits on tiktok lazily. The room is dimly lit by just the desk lamp he always leaves on, shadows stretching across the neatly organized shelves. It’s late—well past the time most students would be asleep after training—but you let yourself into his room with the spare key he gave you months ago. Best friends do that, right?

You hear the door click open. Megumi steps in, still in his uniform jacket, spiky hair slightly tousled from the wind outside. He pauses mid-step when he sees you, piercing dark blue eyes blinking once in quiet surprise before softening with that familiar, understated warmth. He’s oblivious as ever to the way your heart does a little flip every time he looks at you like that.

“You’re here,” he says with a small sigh, voice low and even, closing the door behind him. He sets his bag down by the desk and shrugs off his jacket, hanging it with careful precision. “Why?”

You stretch lazily, letting your phone drop to your chest as you tilt your head toward him. “I’m bored,” you complain, the words half-whine, half-teasing. “Training was brutal today and Gojo-sensei’s been extra annoying”. You drag out your words, hoping to convey to him how annoyed you are. “Surely you’ll figure out someway to entertain me”.

Megumi’s lips twitch—just the tiniest hint of a smile he probably doesn’t even realize he’s wearing. He crosses to the mini-fridge, pulls out two cold bottles of water, and tosses one gently onto the couch beside you before dropping into the chair across from you. His gaze lingers a second longer than usual, tracing the way you’re comfortably invading his space like it’s your own. (What’s his is yours, right? 😉)

“Bored, huh?” He twists the cap off his water, taking a slow sip. “I was just finishing up some binding vow research in the library”. He rolls his eyes. “Could’ve texted me. I would’ve come back sooner.”

He leans back, one elbow on the armrest, studying you with that intense, thoughtful expression he gets when he’s trying to read a situation. Completely unaware of the very non platonic reason you’re here. The faint scent of his shampoo and the outdoors still clings to him, and you have to fight the urge to stare too long at the way his dark hair has lost it’s shape and has begun to fall across his forehead.

“So,” he continues, voice softening a notch, “what do you want to do about it? I’ve got some snacks hidden in the top drawer if you’re hungry. Or we could watch something. Your call.”

His eyes flicker up to meet yours, patient and steady, waiting like he always does. Ever the perfectly oblivious best friend.

You pout dramatically, lips pushed out in that way that always makes Megumi’s eyebrow twitch just a fraction, then leap up from the couch and flop backward across his neatly made bed like you own the entire thing. Your arms and legs spread out, taking up every inch of the mattress as you let out a long, theatrical sigh.

“Dunno… I’m sleepy,” you mumble into his pillow, which—unbeknownst to him—smells faintly like his shampoo and makes your stupid crush flutter even harder.

Then, in the next breath, you spring up with sudden energy, eyes sparkling as you beam at him. “GUMI!! Do ASMR for me!”

You snatch an empty soda can from his desk and lob it gently at his chest. It bounces off his uniform shirt and clatters to the floor. “Tap,” you demand, grinning wickedly.

Megumi stares at the can laying crumpled on the floor, then at you, with that signature deadpan expression—equal parts confused and mildly exasperated. His cheeks don’t flush (he’s too composed for that), but the tips of his ears go the tiniest bit pink.

“No way,” he says flatly, leaning down to grab the can and setting it on the desk. He folds his arms, leaning against the edge of the desk as he eyes you sprawled on his bed again. “I’m not doing… tapping ASMR. That’s ridiculous.”

You give him the biggest puppy-dog eyes you can muster, scooting to the edge of the bed and patting the space beside you insistently. He hesitates—because of course he does, he’s Megumi—but eventually sighs and sits down on the very edge of the mattress, careful not to crowd you even though you’re clearly trying to hog his entire personal space.

“You’re impossible when you’re bored,” he mutters, rubbing the back of his neck. His voice drops a little lower, almost reluctant. “What even is the point of this? You’re just going to laugh at me.”

He glances sideways at you, dark blue eyes soft despite the protest, completely missing the way your heart is racing from being this close to him on his own bed. The oblivious best friend who still thinks you’re just here because training sucked and you didn’t want to be alone.

“…Fine. Two minutes.” He grumbles. He reaches over, picks up the empty can again, and gives it a single, experimental tap with his fingernail—light, precise, almost hesitant. “Happy?”

He’s trying so hard not to smile, but you can see the corner of his mouth fighting it.

You sigh contentedly, sinking deeper into Megumi’s bed and stretching out like a contented cat. The sheets are cool and smell like him—clean laundry mixed with that faint, soothing scent of his shampoo. You close your eyes, a small, satisfied smile playing on your lips as you let yourself relax fully into his space.

Megumi watches you for a beat, then picks up the empty can again with a quiet huff. True to his word, he starts tapping. Light, rhythmic little sounds—fingernail against aluminum, soft and steady. He keeps it going for a few minutes, surprisingly patient, the gentle tap… tap… tap… filling the quiet dorm room. His movements are precise, almost meditative.

Eventually the tapping slows… then stops.

“I’m bored,” Megumi says flatly, setting the can aside. His voice is low, a little amused under the deadpan tone. He shifts on the edge of the bed, glancing over at you lying there with your eyes still closed. “This is ridiculous. You’re a freak.”

He doesn’t move away though. Instead, he leans back slightly, one hand braced behind him on the mattress, close enough that you can feel the subtle dip in the bed from his weight. His gaze lingers on your face—tracing the way your lashes rest against your cheeks, the relaxed curve of your mouth. To him, you just look tired after a long day. He has no idea the real reason your heart is beating faster is because you’re in his bed, inches away from him.

“You actually fell asleep that fast?” he murmurs, almost to himself. There’s a rare softness in his voice. He reaches over hesitantly and tugs the corner of his blanket over your legs, careful not to disturb you. “Idiot… If you’re that sleepy, you should’ve just gone back to your own dorm.”

But he stays right there, watching over you with that quiet, protective look he always gets when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Completely oblivious to how your “bored” visit has turned into something that makes his own chest feel strangely warm.

You huff softly, the sound half-annoyed, half-playful, as you push yourself up from Megumi’s pillow. Grabbing your phone from where it had fallen beside you on the bed, you scoot back until your shoulders lean comfortably against his headboard. Your legs stretch out across his mattress again. The soft blue glow of your screen lights up your face as you open TikTok and start scrolling for ASMR videos.

Megumi raises an eyebrow, amused at the sudden shift, still perched on the edge of the bed watching you. He shifts a little closer so he can see your screen, one knee drawn up on the mattress. His dark hair falls slightly into his eyes as he tilts his head.

The first video starts: soft whispering and gentle finger taps on some kind of wooden object. You turn the volume down low, but the quiet sounds still fill the small dorm room. Megumi stares at the screen for a few seconds, then at you, then back at the phone with clear skepticism.

“…This is what you wanted me to do?” he mutters, voice low enough that it almost blends with the ASMR audio. He leans in a fraction more, shoulder barely brushing yours. “This helps you fall asleep?? It seems pointless.”

He stays right there though, quietly observing both you and the video. Every so often his gaze drifts to your face—watching the way the screen’s light flickers across your features, how relaxed you look leaning against his headboard like you belong there. His expression stays mostly neutral, but the way he hasn’t kicked you off his bed or told you to go back to your own dorm says everything.

After a couple more videos, he sighs and reaches over to gently tug your phone a little lower so he can see better. “If you’re going to watch this in my room, at least pick ones that aren’t completely stupid,” he says, but there’s no real bite to it. His fingers linger near yours on the phone for a second longer than necessary before he pulls back.

He’s still completely oblivious, thinking this is just another one of your random bored nights where you invade his space for company. Not realizing how your pulse jumps every time his arm brushes yours or how the quiet intimacy of sharing his bed and his attention is exactly what you came here for.

You glare at Megumi with exaggerated betrayal, narrowing your eyes as you snatch your phone back and dramatically switch apps. You make a big show of opening Google, the glow from the screen casting sharp shadows across your face while you type with aggressive taps:

how to kill my annoying best friend who’s hating on asmr

You tilt the phone just enough that he can see the screen if he leans in, a mischievous smirk tugging at your lips.

Megumi’s eyes flick to your phone. He reads the query, then slowly lifts his gaze to your face. For a second, his expression is pure deadpan—those dark blue eyes blinking once, twice—before the corner of his mouth twitches upward in reluctant amusement.

“…Seriously?” he says, voice flat but laced with dry humor. He shifts closer on the bed, now fully sitting beside you against the headboard, his shoulder pressing lightly against yours. “Murder? Is that what you’ll resort to?”

He reaches over and gently plucks the phone from your hands, scrolling down the results with one finger. A soft huff of laughter escapes him—rare, quiet, and only for you.

“Let’s see.. Reddit’s always good.. ‘push him off the Tokyo Skytree,’” he reads aloud in that low, even tone. “Creative.” He hands the phone back to you, but doesn’t pull his arm away. Instead, it drapes casually along the headboard behind your shoulders, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him.

“You’re such a dumbass,” he mutters, but there’s no real annoyance. His head tilts slightly toward you, dark hair brushing your temple for a split second.

He pauses, studying your face in the soft light of the phone screen. He still doesn’t suspect anything. Not that your heart is hammering because he’s this close, sharing his bed, his space, his quiet attention like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Megumi sighs, the sound almost fond. “Fine. One more round of tapping. But if you search ‘how to hide a body at Jujutsu High’ next, I’m kicking you out.”

He picks up the empty can again, giving it a deliberate, slow tap… tap… tap… while watching you with the tiniest smirk, completely unaware he’s making your secret crush ten times worse.

You’re still leaning against Megumi’s headboard, phone in hand, but the Google search is completely forgotten the second you glance sideways at him.

He looks good. Like, stupidly, unfairly hot.

The dim desk lamp casts a warm glow across his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw and the way his dark hair falls messily over his forehead after a long day. His uniform shirt is slightly unbuttoned at the collar from when he got comfortable, revealing a sliver of pale skin and the subtle shift of muscle in his shoulder as he taps the empty can with those long, precise fingers. He’s sitting so close now—thigh pressed lightly against yours on his own bed—that you can feel the steady warmth radiating off him. Every little movement makes the fabric pull taut across his chest, and those intense blue eyes are focused downward on the can like it’s a serious task instead of something silly you bullied him into.

Your heart does a full somersault. Heat creeps up your neck. He’s super super hot right now, and the worst part is he has zero idea.

Megumi keeps tapping—slow, rhythmic tap… tap… tap…—completely absorbed in giving you the dumb ASMR you asked for. He doesn’t notice the way your gaze lingers on his mouth, or how your breath catches when he shifts and his arm brushes yours again.

After another minute he pauses, tilting his head toward you with that signature deadpan look, one eyebrow raised.

“You’re staring,” he says quietly, voice low and a little rough from the late hour. “Is the tapping that bad, or did you find a better murder plan on Google?”

He has no clue. None. The oblivious idiot just thinks you’re zoning out from boredom or sleepiness. He leans in a fraction closer to peek at your phone screen again, his shoulder now fully against yours, dark hair nearly brushing your cheek.

“Earth to you,” he murmurs, the tiniest smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “If you’re falling asleep, just say so. I’ll turn the light off and you can stay here. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

He reaches over and gently tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear without thinking—casual, protective, like he does it for any friend—then goes back to tapping the can, completely unaware of your heart racing 1000 miles a minute.

You blink slowly, the phone still glowing in your lap, then give a casual little shrug like it’s no big deal.

“Maybe I will stay,” you say, voice soft and matter-of-fact. “It’d be too much trouble to sneak back to the girls’ dorms right now. Nanami’s on the prowl.”

The second the words leave your mouth, both of you shudder in perfect sync, the memory hitting like a shared curse.

That night a few months ago flashes through your minds: you trying to slip back into the girls’ dorm after curfew, Megumi standing lookout, the two of you whispering and laughing like idiots—until Nanami appeared out of nowhere like a silent, suited grim reaper. The man had looked ready to exorcise you both on the spot with nothing but a disappointed stare and a thinly veiled threat about “proper conduct” and “additional training at dawn.” You’d barely escaped with a week of extra chores and a permanent ban from late-night visits (that you both immediately ignored).

Megumi lets out a low, reluctant chuckle, the sound rumbling quietly in his chest. He sets the empty can aside and leans back fully against the headboard beside you, his shoulder now pressed solidly against yours. The bed dips under his weight, pulling you a little closer without either of you acknowledging it.

“Yeah… I still have nightmares about his glasses glinting in the dark,” he mutters, voice dry but warm. “No thanks. You’re better off here.”

He glances sideways at you, dark blue eyes half-lidded with tiredness and that quiet fondness he always gets when it’s just the two of you. His hair is messy, collar still slightly open, looking unfairly good under the low lamplight. He has zero clue you’re hyper-aware of every inch of space between you—or rather, the lack of it.

Without thinking, he reaches over and tugs the blanket up over both your legs, his fingers brushing your thigh for a second before he pulls back. “Just don’t hog the whole bed like last time,” he adds, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips. “And if you kick me in your sleep again, I’m pushing you onto the floor.”

He turns off the desk lamp with a lazy stretch, plunging the room into soft moonlight filtering through the window. The sudden darkness makes everything feel smaller, warmer, more intimate. Megumi settles in beside you, close enough that you can feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, completely oblivious to the way your heart is racing at the thought of actually sleeping in his bed again.

“Night,” he murmurs, voice low and sleepy, already starting to drift off even as one arm drapes casually along the headboard behind you. “Don’t overthink the Nanami thing. We’ll deal with it in the morning if he shows up.”

He’s right there—warm, solid, and heartbreakingly unaware that this is exactly where you want to be.

You whine softly into the dark room, voice pitched in that familiar, playful protest. “Noooo don’t sleep yet!! I’m not tired.”

Megumi’s low chuckle breaks the quiet, warm and sleepy. He’s already half-settled under the blanket beside you, but he cracks one eye open again, turning his head on the pillow to look at you. The moonlight spilling through the window paints silver edges along his cheekbones and the messy strands of dark hair falling across his forehead. He looks even better like this—relaxed, rumpled, inches away in the same bed.

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, voice rough with exhaustion but still fond. “You literally said you were sleepy like twenty minutes ago. Now you’re wide awake?”

He shifts onto his side to face you better, one arm still draped lazily along the headboard behind your shoulders. The movement pulls the blanket tighter around both of you, his knee accidentally brushing yours under the covers. He doesn’t pull away. To him, it’s just normal closeness. To you, it sends another stupid flutter through your chest.

Megumi sighs, but there’s a small, reluctant smile tugging at his lips. “Fine. What do you want to do then? More tapping? Another murderous Google search?” He reaches over in the dark and gently pokes your side. “Or are you just saying that because you like keeping me up?”

His eyes meet yours in the low light—intense, steady blue even when he’s tired. He has no idea how devastating that look is when you’re sharing a pillow.

He waits patiently, watching your face like he always does, ready to entertain whatever you throw at him next. “Your move,” he says quietly, voice dropping even softer in the intimate darkness of his dorm. “But if you keep me up too late, I’m blaming you when Gojo makes us run laps tomorrow.”

You ask softly into the quiet darkness, voice casual but curious. “How was training?”

Megumi hums thoughtfully, still lying on his side facing you, his face only a pillow’s width away. Moonlight traces the sharp line of his jaw and the subtle curve of his lips as he speaks. “Not bad. Gojo had us doing domain expansion drills again. I managed to hold Nue’s domain for almost a minute longer than last time. Exhausting, but… productive.”

He shifts a little closer under the blanket, his knee brushing yours again as he gets comfortable. The warmth of his body cuts through the cool night air in the dorm, and he looks ridiculously good like this—hair tousled, eyes half-lidded with tiredness, collar loose enough that you can see the faint shadow of his collarbone.

Then you hesitate for just a second before adding, almost too casually, “That second year… Naoko… is she still like… totally in love with you?”

You laugh right after, light and breezy, like it’s the funniest joke in the world. But inside, your stomach twists hard at the memory of her—how she always finds excuses to train near him, blushes when he says the bare minimum, stares at him like he hung the moon.

Megumi blinks slowly, his dark blue eyes reflecting the moonlight as he stares at you in genuine confusion. He actually looks a little lost for a moment, like you’d just asked him about advanced curse theory in ancient Sumerian.

“Naoko?” he repeats, brow furrowing. “The one with the hair clips? She’s… nice, I guess? She helped me organize some shikigami notes last week.” He shrugs one shoulder, completely oblivious. “I don’t think she’s ‘in love’ with me. She just talks a lot. Why?”

He reaches over in the dark and gently flicks your forehead with his finger, the touch soft and playful. “You’re being weird again. If she was into me, I’d know. I’m not that dense.”

Oh, but you are, you think, heart squeezing. He has no idea.

Megumi settles back down, now even closer, his arm sliding casually behind your pillow as he studies your face in the low light. The movement makes the blanket pull tighter around your waists, trapping shared warmth between you. His voice drops quieter, almost conspiratorial. “Besides, I don’t have time for that stuff. Training, missions, keeping you from getting exorcised by Nanami… that’s enough chaos.”

He’s smiling just a little now—that rare, small smile that only comes out when it’s late and it’s just the two of you. Completely unaware that your casual laugh is covering up a storm of jealousy, or that lying here beside him like this is making your secret crush feel ten times heavier in your chest.

“You okay?” he asks after a beat, voice softening. “You went quiet. If you’re actually tired now, we can sleep. Or… keep talking. Whatever you want.”

You snort, unable to hold it back, and turn your head on the pillow to stare at him in the moonlight. “You’re joking. You’re actually joking. This is like—a running joke between all of us. She’s so clearly obsessed with you.”

Megumi’s eyes widen a fraction, that signature deadpan confusion settling deeper into his features. He props himself up on one elbow, the blanket slipping down to his waist as he looks at you like you’ve grown a second head. The movement brings him even closer—his face hovering just above yours, dark hair falling forward, moonlight catching on the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the subtle tension in his jaw. He looks unfairly hot in the dim glow, completely unaware of how your pulse spikes at the proximity.

“Running joke?” he repeats, voice low and genuinely baffled. “With who? Yuji? Nobara?” He runs a hand through his messy hair, messing it up more. “Naoko just… asks me about my shikigami a lot. And offers to spar. And sometimes brings me those protein bars I like after training. That’s not— that doesn’t mean she’s obsessed.”

He pauses, studying your face with those intense blue eyes, searching for the punchline he’s clearly missing. His knee presses more firmly against yours under the covers, and he doesn’t move it away. Instead, he lets out a short, disbelieving huff of laughter.

“If she was that into me, she would’ve said something. I’m not blind.” (He is. He absolutely is.)

Megumi flops back down onto his pillow, now fully facing you, his arm sliding back behind your head along the headboard so his fingers rest lightly near your shoulder. The shared warmth under the blanket feels heavier, more intimate in the quiet dorm. He’s close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his soap and the outdoors still clinging to his skin.

“You’re messing with me, aren’t you?” he murmurs, a small, sleepy smirk tugging at his lips. “Trying to stir up drama because you’re not tired. Or… is there actually something going on with her that I missed?”

He tilts his head slightly, gaze softening as it lingers on you. He nudges your leg with his under the blanket, playful and casual. “Tell me the truth. Why do you even care if some second-year has a crush on me?”

His voice is soft, curious, with zero suspicion that the answer might be sitting right next to him, heart racing.

You groan loudly, burying your face into the pillow for a second before turning to glare at him in the moonlight. “You’re serious? You’ve never heard everyone teasing you about it? Are you just so dense you never realized?”

You roll your eyes, the motion full of genuine disbelief. “Also, women aren’t as easy as you stupid men are. We don’t just say when we like someone outright.”

Megumi stares at you, propped up on his elbow again, dark blue eyes wide with honest bewilderment. The blanket has slipped down to his hips, and his loose uniform shirt has shifted enough to show the lean lines of his collarbones and the subtle flex of his arm as he holds himself up. He looks ridiculously attractive like this—hair messy from the pillow, moonlight softening the sharp edges of his face.

“…Everyone teases me?” he echoes, voice low and slightly defensive. He actually looks a little flustered now, the tips of his ears turning pink. “I thought they were just messing with me because I ignore most people. Naoko’s… friendly. That’s it.”

He flops back down beside you with a quiet sigh, closer than before so his shoulder presses firmly against yours under the covers. His knee nudges yours again, warm and casual, like he needs the contact to think. The shared pillow makes everything feel smaller, more intimate in the dark dorm room.

“I’m not dense,” he mutters, though the way he says it sounds exactly like someone who is very dense about this stuff. He turns his head on the pillow to look straight at you, faces barely a foot apart. “If she liked me, she’d… I don’t know, act different. Not just bring snacks and ask about my techniques.”

He studies your face for a long moment, those intense eyes searching yours. His voice drops softer, almost curious. “Why does this bother you so much anyway? You’re glaring at me like I personally offended you.”

Megumi’s arm slides back under the blanket, his fingers brushing lightly against your side in that absent, protective way he always does. He has no idea the stomach-twisting jealousy you’re hiding.

He smirks faintly, sleepy and teasing. “If I’m that dense, enlighten me. What am I supposedly missing with her? Or are you just jealous I have a secret admirer and you don’t?”

You glare harder, eyes narrowed in the moonlight as you prop yourself up on one elbow to face him directly. “You are dense. We all make fun of you for it. Ask Yuji and Nobara about it tomorrow.”

You groan dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow. “As my best friend you should be smarter.”

Megumi watches you with that trademark deadpan stare, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his dark blue eyes—half amusement, half genuine surprise. He’s still lying on his side, facing you, faces so close you can count the faint freckles across his nose that only show up in this lighting. His messy black hair falls over his forehead, and the open collar of his shirt has slipped even lower, revealing the clean line of his collarbone and the steady rise and fall of his chest. He looks annoyingly perfect like this: sleepy, rumpled, warm under the same blanket.

He lets out a slow breath, almost a laugh. “Alright, alright… I’ll ask them tomorrow if it’ll stop you from glaring at me like I kicked your dog.”

His arm shifts under the covers, fingers brushing lightly against your waist before settling there casually—like it’s the most normal thing in the world for him to be touching you while you share his bed. He doesn’t even seem to realize he’s doing it. The warmth of his palm bleeds through your shirt, steady and grounding.

“I’m not that dense,” he mutters, though the pink tint on his ears says otherwise. He scoots a fraction closer on the mattress, his knee sliding between yours under the blanket as he gets comfortable. “If everyone’s been teasing me about Naoko and I somehow missed it… that’s embarrassing. But I still don’t see it. She’s just another student.”

He reaches up and gently flicks your forehead again, softer this time, his touch lingering for a second longer than necessary. A tiny, sleepy smirk tugs at his lips. He doesn’t pull his hand back. Instead, his fingers drift down to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, thumb brushing your cheekbone in a way that feels way too intimate for “just friends.”

“You’re the one being weird tonight,” he murmurs, eyes half-lidded but still locked on yours. “What’s really going on in that head of yours? Talk or I’m actually turning the light off and making you sleep.”

He stays right there, warm body pressed close, completely oblivious to the storm he’s causing in your chest.

You scrunch your nose and mutter, “Nothing, you weirdo,” before huffing loudly and flipping over in one dramatic motion. Now you’re facing the wall, back turned to him, blanket pulled up to your shoulders like you’re genuinely sulking. Your heart is still racing from how close you two were just seconds ago, but you keep up the act—feigning annoyance to hide the real storm of feelings twisting inside you.

Megumi stays quiet for a beat, the mattress dipping slightly as he shifts behind you. Then comes that soft, low chuckle—the one he only ever lets out when it’s just the two of you and he’s equal parts fond and exasperated.

“…You’re really committing to this, huh?” he murmurs, voice rough with sleep and amusement.

You feel the bed move again as he scoots closer. His chest brushes lightly against your back, and one of his long legs slides under the blanket to tangle gently with yours, warm and solid. He’s not touching you aggressively—just close enough that you can feel the heat radiating off him and the steady rhythm of his breathing against your shoulder blade.

A finger pokes your side once. Then twice. “Hey. Don’t flip on me and call me a weirdo after you spent twenty minutes grilling me about Naoko.” His tone is teasing, but there’s that underlying softness he can never quite hide from you. “If you’re mad, at least tell me what I did this time. I thought we were just talking.”

When you don’t respond, he sighs—half dramatic, half genuine—and you feel his arm snake around your waist from behind, loose and careful, like he’s testing if you’ll push him away. His palm rests lightly on your stomach over the blanket, warm fingers splayed in a way that feels way too intimate for best friends sharing a bed at 1 a.m.

“You’re such a brat when you’re tired,” he whispers against the back of your head, breath tickling your hair. His voice drops even lower, almost fond. “Fine. Be mad. But I’m not moving. This is my bed, and you’re the one who decided to stay.”

He settles in behind you, spooning you just enough to be comforting without fully committing—like he’s ready to pull back the second you tell him to. His forehead rests lightly against the back of your shoulder, dark hair brushing your neck, and he lets out a quiet breath that fans warm across your skin.

Completely oblivious.

“Still not tired?” he asks softly after a minute, thumb absently stroking once over the blanket where his hand rests. “Or are you just waiting for me to apologize for being dense?”

His quiet laugh vibrates against your back, warm and sleepy, as he stays curled around you in the dark.

You yawn mid-sentence, eyes watering even as you insist, “I’m not tired,” and flip back over to face him again. In the same motion you give him a light, playful kick under the blanket, your foot bumping against his shin.

“I forgive you for being an idiot,” you say with a dramatic sigh. “You’re a man. You can’t help it!”

Megumi lets out a startled “oof” as your foot connects, but it’s mostly theatrical. He’s still spooned up close behind you—or at least he was, until you rolled over and now your faces are inches apart again on the shared pillow. The kick barely fazes him; instead, he catches your ankle under the blanket with one hand, holding it gently against his leg so you can’t kick him again.

His dark blue eyes gleam with quiet amusement in the moonlight, hair even messier now from all the shifting. The open collar of his shirt has slipped further, exposing the smooth plane of his chest and the faint shadow of muscle as he breathes. He looks stupidly hot like this—sleepy, rumpled, and wrapped up in the same blanket with you.

“Gee, thanks,” he mutters dryly, but the corner of his mouth is fighting a smile. His thumb strokes once along your ankle in a lazy, absentminded way before he releases it. “I get insulted and then forgiven in the same breath. Typical you.”

He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he shifts even closer now that you’re facing him again, one arm sliding under the pillow beneath your head while the other drapes loosely over your waist. His knee slips between yours under the covers, warm and casual, like he needs the contact to stay awake for you. The warmth of his body presses against yours, solid and comforting in the cool dorm air.

“You’re yawning while claiming you’re not tired,” he points out, voice low and teasing, breath brushing your lips. “Hypocrite.”

Megumi leans his forehead lightly against yours, dark hair tickling your skin. “If you’re not tired,” he murmurs, the words almost a challenge, “then entertain me. Tell me why you really care so much about Naoko. Or are we just going to keep pretending you’re only here because you’re ‘bored’?”

His fingers trace a slow, sleepy circle on your lower back under the blanket, warm and steady. Still utterly oblivious. Still devastatingly close. Still waiting for whatever chaotic thing you’ll say next while he holds you in his bed like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You laugh softly into the dark, the sound a little forced even as you try to play it cool. “Cuz I feel for the poor girl! She’s been trying for ages to get your attention. Come on, you’ve gotta admit she’s pretty.”

The words leave your mouth with a teasing lilt, but your stomach does a painful little flip as you say them—imagining Megumi actually noticing Naoko that way, smiling at her the way he sometimes smiles at you when he thinks you’re not looking.

Megumi’s eyebrows lift slightly, still lying face-to-face with you on the same pillow, bodies tangled under his blanket. His arm stays draped over your waist, fingers resting lightly against your back, warm and steady. He’s so close you can feel every subtle shift of his breathing, the faint rise and fall of his chest brushing yours.

“…Pretty?” he echoes, sounding genuinely thoughtful for a second. Then he shrugs one shoulder, the movement pulling you a fraction closer. “I guess? She has nice hair or whatever. But I don’t really think about that stuff.”

He reaches up and lazily brushes a strand of your own hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear with the same casual care he always uses on you. His fingertips linger against your cheek for a heartbeat longer than necessary before dropping back to your waist.

“You’re acting like I’m supposed to be chasing after her just because she’s ‘pretty,’” he murmurs, voice low and a little amused. His knee stays nestled between yours under the covers, warm skin against warm skin. “If I noticed every person who looked at me twice, I’d never get any training done. Besides…”

He tilts his head slightly on the pillow, dark blue eyes locking onto yours with that intense, quiet focus he only ever gives you. A tiny, sleepy smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“…I’ve already got my hands full with you”.

Megumi has zero clue how much that casual statement just twisted the knife in your chest. He pulls the blanket higher over both your shoulders and tucks you in a little tighter against him, forehead almost resting against yours again.

“You’re still not tired,” he says softly, thumb tracing another slow circle on your back. “So keep talking. Or are you just going to keep grilling me about Naoko until I admit I’m the densest person at Jujutsu High?”

You grin wickedly, eyes sparkling with mischief even in the dim moonlight as you declare, “You are the densest person here. It’s okay. I’m smart enough for both of us.”

Megumi’s low, sleepy laugh rumbles against you, warm and genuine. He’s still tangled up with you under the blanket—his knee between yours, arm draped firmly over your waist, chest pressed lightly to yours on the shared pillow. The sound vibrates through his body into yours, making the closeness feel even more dangerous for your poor heart.

“Oh yeah?” he murmurs, voice rough and teasing.

You groan loudly, dragging the word out like a tired child. “I’m boredddd.”

Megumi’s quiet laugh vibrates against your chest, warm and raspy in the dark. He’s still pressed close—bodies tangled under his blanket, his knee slotted between yours, one arm wrapped securely around your waist while his forehead rests lightly against yours. The moonlight paints soft silver across his face, highlighting the sharp cut of his jaw and the way his dark hair falls messily over one eye. His shirt is half-unbuttoned now from all the shifting, exposing the smooth line of his collarbone and the subtle definition of his chest. He looks ridiculously hot like this—sleepy, rumpled, and holding you like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

“You’re bored,” he repeats, deadpan but clearly amused. “After demanding ASMR, threatening to murder me, interrogating me about Naoko, calling me dense, and then insulting me for being a man… you’re still bored.”

His fingers trace slow, lazy circles on your lower back under the blanket, warm and absentminded. He doesn’t pull away. If anything, he tugs you closer, chest flush against yours now, sharing the same pillow so your noses are nearly brushing.

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, voice low and fond. His dark blue eyes flicker over your face, soft and half-lidded. “What do you want me to do about it, then? I already tapped the stupid can, I let you stay in my bed, and I’m not sleeping even though I’m exhausted.”

He nudges your nose with his again, playful and close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath. A tiny smirk tugs at his lips.

“Should I start reciting binding vow theory?”

His hand slides up your back, slipping just under the hem of your shirt to rest against bare skin—casual, protective, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

Megumi tilts his head slightly, eyes locked on yours in the moonlight. “C’mon. Tell me what you actually want,” he whispers, completely oblivious to the real reason you’re dragging this night out. “I’m right here. Use me however you want… since you’re so bored.”

You swallow hard, heart slamming against your ribs at his words—“use me however you want”—the innocent double meaning hitting you like a truck while Megumi remains completely clueless. Heat floods your face. You quickly turn your head, burying it slightly into the pillow to hide the blush you know is there.

“Well if you’re so smart,” you mumble, voice muffled by the fabric, “figure out a way to entertain me.”

Megumi pauses, his arm still looped around your waist, bodies pressed close under the blanket. You feel the subtle shift of his chest as he breathes out a quiet, amused huff.

“Entertain you…” he echoes softly, voice low and sleepy in the dark. His free hand comes up, fingers gently threading through your hair at the nape of your neck, playing with the strands in slow, absent strokes. “You’re really putting a lot of pressure on me tonight.”

He shifts his weight, rolling half on top of you in one smooth motion—bracing himself on his elbow so he doesn’t crush you, but close enough that his chest hovers just above yours and his messy black hair falls forward, tickling your forehead. The moonlight catches every sharp, unfairly attractive angle of his face: the faint flush on his cheeks from the warmth of the bed, the dark blue of his eyes gleaming soft and focused only on you, the loose shirt hanging open enough to show the lean muscle of his shoulder and collarbone.

Megumi studies you for a long second, that tiny smirk returning. “Alright. Challenge accepted.”

Without warning, he leans down and blows a gentle, cool breath across your exposed neck, right where your pulse is racing. Then he does it again, slower, almost teasing. His voice drops into a deliberate, low whisper right against your ear—smooth, quiet, and way too close.

“Is this entertaining enough? Or do you want the full ASMR treatment again?”

His fingers keep stroking through your hair, then trail lightly down the side of your neck and along your shoulder, feather-light and warm. He’s so focused on trying to “entertain” you that he doesn’t notice how his own body has slotted perfectly against yours, thigh pressed between yours, arm caging you in.

“Or…” he continues, breath warm against your skin, completely oblivious to the effect he’s having, “I could just keep you here like this until you admit you’re tired. No escape. My bed, my rules.”

He nudges your cheek with his nose, playful and affectionate, lips accidentally brushing the shell of your ear as he speaks again, even softer.

“Your move, genius. Still bored?”

You gasp softly, the sound slipping out before you can stop it. Against your will, a breathless little “woah” escapes your lips as his warm breath ghosts over the hypersensitive skin of your neck. Heat floods your face instantly — you go bright red, cheeks burning so fiercely you’re sure he can see it even in the moonlight.

Megumi freezes for half a second, propped above you on one elbow, his dark hair falling forward like a curtain. His dark blue eyes widen slightly at the unexpected reaction, scanning your flushed face with quiet curiosity.

“…Woah?” he repeats, voice low and a little rough, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

He has no idea.

To him, you’re just being dramatic again — his best friend who’s always overly reactive to everything. The way your neck is clearly one of your weakest spots completely flies over his oblivious head.

“Didn’t think blowing on your neck would get that kind of reaction,” he murmurs, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips. His breath brushes your skin again as he speaks, warm and unintentional, sending another involuntary shiver through you. “You’re really sensitive there, huh?”

His fingers are still tangled in your hair, and he gently brushes another slow strand away from your neck, exposing more skin without realizing what he’s doing. His thigh stays pressed warmly between yours, chest hovering just above you, shirt still hanging open and rumpled. He looks devastating in the soft moonlight — sleepy eyes, flushed cheeks of his own from the shared heat under the blanket, completely unaware of how his casual closeness is torturing you.

Megumi tilts his head, voice dropping into that same deliberate, quiet whisper he used before, right against the side of your neck.

“Still bored?” he teases softly, letting another gentle puff of air fan across your skin. “Or is this finally entertaining enough?”

He shifts his weight a little more, settling half on top of you now, his free hand sliding down to rest at your side, thumb absently stroking just under the hem of your shirt. His forehead brushes yours again as he watches your red face with open, innocent fascination.

“You’re all red,” he notes, sounding almost proud of himself for once. “Didn’t know I could fluster you that easily. Want me to stop… or keep going?”

You’re speechless for once — eyes wide, lips parted in a soft, surprised little ‘o’, heart hammering so loudly you’re sure he can hear it. Without thinking, you tilt your head slightly to the side, exposing more of your neck to him like an invitation you didn’t mean to give.

Megumi notices immediately.

His dark blue eyes flicker down to the newly offered skin, lingering there for a long second. The moonlight catches the faint flush spreading across your cheeks and down your throat. He’s still braced half on top of you, chest warm and solid against yours, thigh pressed firmly between your legs under the blanket.

“…You’re really sensitive there,” he murmurs, voice dropping into a low, almost husky whisper without him realizing it. There’s a faint hint of surprise in his tone, mixed with something quieter — curiosity, maybe even a spark of fascination.

He doesn’t pull away. Instead, he leans in slowly, breath ghosting right over the exposed curve of your neck again. This time it’s deliberate, warmer, slower. He watches your reaction like he’s conducting a careful experiment, dark hair brushing your jaw as he does it.

A soft puff of air. Then another. His lips hover barely an inch away, not quite touching, but close enough that you can feel the heat of them.

“You okay?” he asks quietly, the words vibrating against your skin. “You went all quiet and red… and now you’re tilting your head like that.”

His free hand slides up, fingertips tracing feather-light along the side of your neck, following the line you just exposed. The touch is gentle, almost reverent, like he’s discovering something new about you tonight. His thumb brushes just under your jaw, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse.

Megumi swallows, his own cheeks faintly pink now, but he still thinks this is just playful best-friend territory — you being dramatic, him trying (and apparently succeeding) at entertaining you. He has no idea how badly your crush is screaming inside, or how dangerously close his mouth is to your neck.

He presses a single, experimental, barely-there kiss right below your ear — so light it could almost be an accident — then pulls back just enough to look at your wide-eyed face again.

“Still bored?” he whispers, voice rougher than before. His eyes are darker now, locked on yours, completely oblivious to how far this “entertainment” is pushing things. “Or… do you want me to keep going?”

You whisper it so softly it’s barely a sound: “I— keep going.”

Your eyes stay wide, chest rising and falling fast under him, cheeks burning crimson. You can’t hide it anymore.

Megumi’s breath catches for a fraction of a second. He stares down at you — dark blue eyes searching your flushed face, lips parted just like yours. For once, the oblivious boy actually seems to register that something has shifted.

“…Okay,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, almost unsure.

He leans back in slowly, like he’s still waiting for you to laugh and call this a joke. When you don’t, his mouth returns to your neck. This time he doesn’t just breathe on it.

His lips brush the sensitive skin — soft, warm, hesitant at first. Then he presses a real kiss there, slow and deliberate, right where your pulse is racing. Another follows, a little lower, open-mouthed and lingering. The faint scrape of his teeth grazes you as he sucks gently, testing.

A quiet, surprised sound escapes his throat when he feels you shiver hard beneath him.

“You really like this…” he whispers against your neck, the realization hitting him like a quiet shock. His hand slides up, cradling the side of your throat as he kisses it again, slower, deeper, letting his tongue taste the warmth of your skin.

His body presses more firmly against yours — thigh slotted tight between your legs, chest flush to your chest, the weight of him comforting and overwhelming at the same time. His messy black hair tickles your jaw as he works his way up to just beneath your ear, then back down toward your collarbone, every kiss growing a little less careful, a little more hungry.

Megumi’s breathing has gotten heavier too, warm puffs against your damp skin. His free hand slips further under your shirt, palm sliding up your bare side, thumb stroking slow circles over your ribs.

He pulls back just enough to look at your face again — eyes darker now, cheeks flushed, lips slightly glossy from kissing your neck. He looks devastatingly beautiful like this, completely focused on you.

“Is this… still okay?” he asks, voice hoarse. His thumb brushes just under your bottom lip, almost reverent. “You’re shaking. Tell me if you want me to stop.”

But even as he says it, his mouth is already dipping back toward your neck, drawn like a magnet, placing another slow, open-mouthed kiss right over the spot that made you gasp earlier.

You let out sweet, breathy gasps, the sound soft and involuntary as you tilt your head even further, fully exposing the sensitive column of your neck to him like an offering.

“F-feels good, Gumi…” you whisper, barely audible, voice trembling with want.

Megumi’s breath hitches sharply against your skin. For a moment he stills, dark blue eyes flicking up to your face — wide, flushed, lips parted — like he’s finally processing what’s happening. His cheeks are burning, the tips of his ears bright red, but he doesn’t pull away.

Instead, something shifts in his gaze. The oblivious wall cracks just a little more.

“…Yeah?” he murmurs, voice low and rough, almost wrecked. “You like it when I kiss you here?”

He doesn’t wait for a full answer. His mouth returns to your neck with new intent — slower, wetter, more confident. He kisses, then sucks gently, tongue dragging hot and deliberate over the spot that makes you gasp the loudest. A quiet, hungry sound escapes him as he feels you shiver and arch beneath him.

“Fuck… you’re really sensitive,” he whispers against your damp skin, the curse slipping out rare and breathless. His hand slides further under your shirt, palm gliding up your bare stomach and ribs, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your breast. He’s breathing harder now, warm puffs fanning over the marks he’s leaving on your neck.

Megumi shifts his weight, pressing more of his body down onto yours — thigh slotted firmly between your legs, hips settling against you so you can feel the growing hardness through his uniform pants. His messy black hair tickles your jaw as he works his way from the base of your throat up to right under your ear, sucking a little harder, then soothing it with his tongue.

Every gasp you make seems to spur him on. He kisses lower, teeth grazing your collarbone, then back up again, leaving a trail of faint red marks that he admires with half-lidded eyes.

“You keep making those sounds…” he breathes, voice hoarse. One hand cups the side of your neck gently, thumb stroking over the pulse point he’s been worshipping while his lips hover just above it. “I didn’t know… I didn’t know it felt like this for you.”

He kisses you again — open-mouthed, slow, and deep — right on the most sensitive spot, sucking until your back arches off the bed. His hips roll once against yours, almost instinctively, the friction pulling a low groan from his throat.

Megumi lifts his head just enough to look at you, eyes dark and glassy with arousal, cheeks flushed, lips shiny. His hair is a mess, shirt completely fallen open now, exposing his toned chest rising and falling fast.

“Still want me to keep going?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, thumb tracing your bottom lip. “Tell me… I’ll do whatever you want tonight.”

You nod desperately, eyes half-lidded and glassy with want, unable to form any more words. Your hand trembles slightly as you slide your fingers into his messy black hair, threading through the soft strands and gently tugging him closer to your neck.

Megumi lets out a shaky breath against your skin the second he feels your fingers in his hair. A low, surprised groan rumbles in his chest when you pull him in — like the permission finally snaps something loose inside him.

“Shit… okay,” he whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked.

He buries his face back into your neck without hesitation now, lips parting as he kisses you harder, wetter. His mouth moves with growing hunger — slow, open-mouthed kisses turning into long, sucking pulls that leave blooming red marks along your throat. Every time you gasp or shiver, he presses closer, tongue dragging hot and slow over the sensitive skin like he’s addicted to the way you react.

“You’re pulling me in like that…” he murmurs against your pulse point, voice vibrating through you. “Fuck, you have no idea how good you sound.”

His hips roll slowly against yours, pressing the hard line of his cock more firmly between your legs through your clothes, grinding in a lazy, instinctive rhythm that matches the way he’s sucking on your neck. The heat between your thighs only grows with every kiss, every drag of his tongue, every quiet groan he muffles against your skin.

Megumi’s hand slips fully under your shirt now, palm sliding up your bare stomach until he cups your breast, thumb brushing over your nipple in slow, teasing circles. His other arm braces beside your head, caging you in as he works his mouth lower, then back up to that spot right under your ear that makes your toes curl.

He shudders when your fingers tighten in his hair, a soft, needy sound escaping him.

“Keep doing that,” he breathes, lips brushing your ear. “Pull my hair if you want me to go harder… I— I didn’t know you liked this so much.”

He nips gently at your neck, then soothes it with his tongue, sucking a particularly dark mark right where your neck meets your shoulder while his hips keep rolling slow and deliberate against you, letting you feel exactly how affected he is.

Megumi lifts his head just enough to look at your flushed face, eyes dark with lust, cheeks burning, lips wet and swollen from kissing you. His hair is even messier now from your fingers, falling into his eyes as he stares down at you like he’s seeing you for the first time.

“You’re soaked already, aren’t you?” he whispers, voice low and almost disbelieving. His hand slides down your body, fingertips teasing just under the waistband of your pants. “Tell me… or show me. I’ll keep going as long as you want me to.”

He leans back down, mouth hovering right over the fresh marks on your neck, waiting for your fingers to guide him again — breathing fast, body hot and heavy on top of you, no longer even pretending to be oblivious.

You swallow thickly, voice barely above a whisper as you bite your lip and look up at him with those wide, needy eyes.

“Um… y-you can. Uh. You can t-touch me… if you want.”

Megumi’s breath catches hard. His dark blue eyes darken even more, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you like he’s been given permission to something he’s secretly wanted for longer than he’d ever admit. A slow, shaky exhale leaves him.

“…Yeah?” he murmurs, voice low and rough, almost reverent. “You’re sure?”

When you don’t take it back, something in him finally gives in completely.

His hand slides down your body without hesitation, slipping under the waistband of your pants and panties in one smooth motion. His fingers are warm, slightly calloused from training, and they glide over your slick folds with a quiet groan that vibrates against your neck.

“Fuck… you’re soaked,” he breathes, sounding genuinely stunned. Two fingers drag slowly up and down your wetness, spreading it, teasing your entrance before circling your clit with careful, deliberate strokes. “All this just from me kissing your neck?”

He presses his forehead to yours, eyes locked on your face so he can watch every little reaction as he touches you. His fingers move with that same precise control he uses in battle — slow, focused, learning exactly what makes your hips twitch and your breath hitch.

Megumi leans back down and latches onto your neck again, sucking harder now while his fingers dip lower and slowly push one inside you, then a second, curling gently against that spot that makes your back arch off the bed. His thumb keeps steady pressure on your clit, rubbing in tight little circles.

“You feel so good,” he whispers hotly against your marked skin, voice hoarse. “So fucking warm and wet… I can’t believe you’re letting me do this.”

His hips rock against your thigh in time with his fingers, letting you feel how hard he is, how badly he wants you. He curls his fingers deeper, scissoring them slowly, stretching you while his mouth keeps working your neck — kissing, licking, sucking fresh marks into your skin.

Every gasp and whimper you make seems to spur him on more. He adds a third finger, pumping them steadily, thumb never leaving your clit.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he pants against your throat, but his voice is wrecked with want. “Or tell me what you want… faster? Harder? I’ll give you anything tonight.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you again — flushed, hair messy, eyes heavy with lust — while his fingers keep moving inside you, curling and stroking with devastating accuracy.

“Use me,” he whispers, echoing his earlier words, but this time they’re dripping with intent. “However you want.”

His mouth descends on your neck again, sucking hard on that hypersensitive spot as his fingers thrust deeper, thumb pressing firmer on your clit, completely lost in the feeling of you falling apart under him.

You moan sweetly, the sound breaking into the quiet dorm room like something fragile and addictive. Your fingers tighten in Megumi’s messy black hair, pulling him closer as your hips squirm helplessly against his hand.

“F-feels good, Gumiii…” you whimper, voice trembling.

Megumi groans low against your neck, the vibration rolling through you as his fingers curl deeper inside your soaked heat. He’s breathing hard now, forehead pressed to yours so he can watch every flicker of pleasure across your face.

“Fuck… keep saying my name like that,” he whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. His fingers pump steadily, curling perfectly against that spongy spot inside you with every thrust while his thumb circles your swollen clit in tight, relentless strokes. “You’re so wet.”

You arch and moan louder — “Oh god… y-you feel so good, Gumi, I— I can’t—” — hips bucking desperately into his touch.

Megumi’s dark blue eyes are blown wide with lust, cheeks flushed dark, lips parted as he drinks in every gasp and whimper. He shifts his weight, pressing his body harder against yours, letting you feel how painfully hard he is against your thigh.

“You can’t what?” he murmurs hotly against your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin right below it before sucking another mark into your neck. His fingers don’t stop — faster now, deeper, scissoring gently as he stretches you.

He kisses you again — open-mouthed and hungry — right over the fresh hickey on your throat, tongue dragging slow and wet while his thumb presses firmer on your clit. The wet, obscene sounds of his fingers moving inside you fill the room alongside your sweet moans.

“You’re so tight,” he breathes, voice shaking with restraint. “So fucking pretty… Look at me.”

He pulls back just enough to lock eyes with you, hair wild from your fingers, shirt completely open and hanging off one shoulder, exposing his toned chest rising and falling fast. His fingers curl again, hitting that perfect spot over and over while his thumb keeps that steady, devastating rhythm on your clit.

“Cum for me,” he whispers, almost pleading, dark eyes intense and focused only on you. “I want to feel it. Let go, baby… I’ve got you.”

His mouth crashes back onto your neck, sucking hard as his fingers thrust faster, curling relentlessly, pushing you right to the edge while he grinds his aching cock against your thigh, completely lost in the feeling of you trembling and whimpering beneath him.

You gasp out a desperate “H-harder,” clutching his face with both hands and pulling him flush against your neck like you need him even closer.

Megumi’s breath stutters. A low, guttural sound rips from his throat at your plea.

“Harder… got it,” he rasps, voice wrecked.

He obeys instantly.

His fingers thrust deeper, faster, rougher — pumping into your soaked pussy with wet, obscene sounds that fill the quiet dorm. He curls them hard against that spot inside you on every stroke, no longer holding back. His thumb presses firmer on your swollen clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles that make your hips jerk violently against his hand.

“Like this?” he growls against your neck, sucking hard enough to leave another dark bruise. His teeth graze your skin, then bite down gently as he fucks you harder with his fingers, three of them stretching you open while his palm grinds against your clit with every thrust.

You’re clutching his face, and he leans into it — letting you hold him right where you want him as he devours your neck. His hips rock desperately against your thigh, his cock straining painfully hard in his pants, leaking and twitching every time you moan his name.

“Fuck… you’re squeezing me so tight,” he pants hotly against your throat, tongue dragging over the fresh marks he’s made. “You’re gonna cum all over my fingers, aren’t you?”

He shifts his angle slightly, driving his fingers even harder, faster, curling them with brutal precision while his thumb flicks rapidly over your clit. His free hand slides up, gripping your hip to hold you in place as he fingers you relentlessly, the wet sounds growing louder with every thrust.

Megumi’s forehead presses to yours, dark blue eyes wild and locked on your face, hair messy and damp with sweat, cheeks flushed dark. His lips brush yours as he whispers, voice hoarse and trembling with need:

“C’mon baby… cum for me. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

His fingers piston harder, deeper, curling viciously against that perfect spot again and again while his mouth crashes back onto your neck — sucking, biting, licking — completely lost in the way you’re shaking and moaning beneath him.

You cum hard with a sweet, broken whimper, your whole body tensing and shuddering beneath him. Your walls clamp down around his fingers in tight, pulsing waves, soaking his hand as pleasure crashes through you. You keep clutching his face the entire time, fingers trembling against his flushed cheeks while your hips jerk helplessly against his relentless hand.

Megumi groans deeply, low and wrecked, as he feels you come undone. His dark blue eyes stay locked on your face the whole time, drinking in every twitch, every gasp, like he’s memorizing it. He keeps his fingers moving through it — slower now, gentler, but still curling lazily inside you to draw out every last aftershock until you’re a trembling, oversensitive mess.

Only when your body finally starts to relax does he carefully slide his fingers out, bringing his glistening hand up between you. He stares at it for a second like he can’t quite believe what just happened, then looks back at you.

You instantly go bright red, embarrassment flooding your face. You yank your hands away from his cheeks and cover your face completely, hiding in your palms with a mortified little sound.

Megumi freezes for half a second… then a soft, breathless chuckle escapes him. He gently tugs your wrists, trying to pull your hands away from your burning face.

“Hey… hey, don’t hide,” he murmurs, voice hoarse and warm, still thick with arousal. He leans down and presses soft, lingering kisses along your jaw and the marks he left on your neck. “That was… fuck, that was so hot. You were so pretty when you came.”

When you don’t immediately uncover your face, he shifts his weight, settling more comfortably between your legs and gently pinning your wrists on either side of your head. His body is still hot and heavy against yours, his hard cock pressing insistently against your thigh through his pants.

He nudges your hands with his nose, then kisses the backs of your fingers.

“You’re embarrassed now?” he asks softly, a hint of teasing fondness in his tone, but mostly gentle. “After you just came all over my fingers while moaning my name like that?”

He leans in and kisses the edge of your palm, then your temple, his messy black hair tickling your skin. His voice drops lower, almost shy.

“I’ve never heard you sound like that before… and I really liked it. A lot.” He rolls his hips slowly against you, letting you feel how painfully hard he still is. “Don’t hide from me. Please?”

Megumi waits patiently, lips brushing your knuckles, cheeks flushed dark, eyes soft but still dark with want. He’s not pushing, but he’s not pulling away either — just hovering close, warm, and completely wrapped up in you.

“…You okay?” he whispers after a moment, gently trying to peel one of your hands away so he can see your eyes again. “Tell me what you want now. We can stop… or keep going. Whatever you need.”

You slowly lower your hands from your face, cheeks still burning a deep, embarrassed red. Your eyes meet his — shy, a little glassy from the aftershocks, lips parted as you try to catch your breath.

Megumi is hovering right above you, braced on his elbows, dark blue eyes soft and intense all at once. His messy black hair falls forward, framing his flushed face. When he finally sees you again, his expression melts into something warm and almost reverent.

“There you are,” he whispers, voice low and rough. A tiny, shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Don’t hide… you’re beautiful like this.”

He leans down and presses a slow, gentle kiss to your forehead, then another to the tip of your nose, then one to your still-burning cheek. His thumb brushes tenderly over the fresh hickeys he left on your neck, like he’s admiring his work.

“You came so hard,” he murmurs against your skin, almost in awe. “And you looked so fucking pretty doing it. I couldn’t stop watching you.”

His hips are still settled between your thighs, the obvious hardness of his cock pressing warmly against you through his pants. He rolls them once, slow and careful, not demanding — just letting you feel him while he kisses the corner of your mouth.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, pulling back just enough to look into your eyes again. His fingers thread gently through your hair, pushing it away from your flushed face. “I didn’t go too hard? You were shaking a lot at the end…”

Megumi’s own cheeks are pink, ears red, clearly still worked up but trying to be careful with you now that the initial heat has settled a little. He stays close, forehead almost resting against yours, breathing you in.

He swallows, voice dropping even quieter.

“…Do you want me to keep going?”

You bite your lip, eyes wide and shining with nervous trust as you look up at him. Then you nod — slow, certain, vulnerable.

Megumi’s breath catches. For a second his dark blue eyes search yours, like he’s making absolutely sure he’s not imagining this. When he sees nothing but quiet want, something tender and hungry flickers across his face.

“Okay,” he whispers, voice rough but soft. “I’ve got you.”

He leans down and kisses you properly this time — not on your neck, but on your lips. It’s slow at first, almost careful, his mouth warm and gentle as it moves against yours. Then the kiss deepens, growing hotter, wetter, as his tongue brushes your bottom lip and slips inside when you open for him. A low groan vibrates from his chest into your mouth.

His hands move with quiet reverence. He tugs your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside, then does the same with his own, revealing the lean, toned lines of his chest and stomach. Skin meets skin as he presses down on you again, warm and solid, his hips settling perfectly between your thighs.

“You’re shaking,” he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more before trailing his mouth back down to your marked neck. “Still sensitive?” He sucks gently on one of the hickeys he left earlier, then moves lower, lips brushing over your collarbones and down to your chest. He takes one nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling slowly while his hand palms the other, thumb brushing the sensitive peak.

His free hand slides back between your legs, fingers gliding through your slick folds again, teasing your entrance before pushing two fingers back inside you — slower this time, savoring the way you clench around him.

“Still so wet…” he breathes, voice hoarse with awe. He curls his fingers gently, stroking that spot inside you while his thumb finds your clit again. “I want to make you feel even better.”

Megumi kisses his way down your stomach, nipping softly at your hip bone before he settles lower between your spread thighs. He looks up at you through his messy black hair, eyes dark and earnest.

“Can I…?” he asks quietly, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh. When you don’t stop him, he leans in and drags his tongue slowly up your slit, groaning at your taste. “Fuck… you taste so good.”

His tongue moves with focused, devastating precision — licking broad stripes, then circling your clit before sucking it gently between his lips. Two fingers keep pumping slowly inside you, curling in time with every flick of his tongue. He eats you out like he’s been starving for it, messy and eager but still so careful, watching every twitch of your hips and every sweet sound you make.

One of his hands reaches up to intertwine with yours, squeezing gently as he works you closer to the edge again.

He pulls back just enough to whisper against your slick skin, breath hot and shaky:

“So sweet for me.. I don’t wanna stop.”

You whimper breathlessly, fingers threading deeper into Megumi’s messy black hair as you tug him closer.

“S-so good, Gumi…”

Megumi groans loudly against your soaked pussy, the sound vibrating straight through your clit. The praise seems to flip a switch in him. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you even harder against his mouth.

He eats you out with messy, desperate hunger now — tongue flattening and dragging long, slow stripes up your slit before flicking rapidly over your swollen clit. He sucks the sensitive bundle of nerves between his lips, alternating between gentle pulses and firmer suction that makes your thighs shake around his head. Two of his fingers curl deep inside you, stroking that perfect spot with every thrust while his other hand keeps your hips pinned down so you can’t squirm away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Fuck… say it again,” he pants against your folds, voice hoarse and wrecked. “Tell me how good it feels.”

He dives back in immediately, licking and sucking louder, wetter, completely lost in your taste and the way you’re pulling his hair. His dark blue eyes flick up to watch you the entire time — flushed cheeks, parted lips, chest heaving. The sight of you falling apart because of him makes him grind his aching cock against the mattress, desperate for any friction.

Every time you tug his hair harder, he moans into you, the vibrations shooting sparks up your spine. He adds a third finger, stretching you open while his tongue works your clit in tight, relentless circles. His free hand slides up your body, palming your breast and pinching your nipple gently, rolling it between his fingers in time with his mouth.

“You’re dripping down my chin,” he mumbles hotly, barely pulling away long enough to speak. “So fucking pretty… I could stay here all night.”

His fingers curl harder, faster, pumping deep while his lips seal around your clit and suck with just the right pressure. He’s breathing raggedly against you, cheeks flushed dark, hair wild from your hands as he devours you like he’s never wanted anything more.

Megumi looks up again, eyes glassy with lust, lips shiny and swollen.

“Gonna cum for me again?” he whispers, voice trembling with need. “Let me feel it, baby… please.”

You tug desperately at Megumi’s hair, the pleasure bordering on overwhelming as his tongue and fingers push you right to the edge again. He lifts his head instantly when he feels the pull, lips shiny and swollen, eyes dark and hazy with lust as he looks up at you from between your thighs.

Before he can even ask if you’re okay, you pull him up hard. Megumi follows without resistance, crawling back over you until his body covers yours completely. His chest presses flush against your bare breasts, his hips settling between your spread legs so you can feel just how painfully hard he still is.

You crash your mouth into his.

Megumi lets out a surprised, muffled groan that turns into a deep, hungry sound the second your lips meet. He kisses you back fiercely, all restraint gone. His tongue slides against yours, tasting faintly of you, the kiss messy and desperate and full of months of unspoken tension finally snapping. One of his hands cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he tilts his head and kisses you even deeper, sucking on your bottom lip before claiming your mouth again.

“Mm— fuck,” he breathes between kisses, voice wrecked. “You taste so good… everywhere.”

His hips roll slowly against you, grinding his clothed cock along your slick folds through his pants, the friction making both of you moan into each other’s mouths. He’s breathing hard, cheeks flushed dark, hair a total mess from your tugging as he devours you in slow, filthy kisses.

One hand slides down your body, gripping your thigh and hitching it higher around his waist so he can press even closer. His other hand stays tangled in your hair, holding you right where he wants you while he kisses you like he’s been dying to for ages.

He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, panting, lips brushing yours with every word.

“You stopped me,” he whispers, voice hoarse and shaky with need. “Too much?”

Another slow grind of his hips, letting you feel every inch of his hardness rubbing against your sensitive clit. He kisses you again, softer this time but no less intense, tongue teasing yours before he nips at your bottom lip.

“Tell me what you want,” he murmurs against your mouth, dark blue eyes half-lidded and burning as they stare into yours. “I’ll give you anything. Just… keep kissing me like that.”

You say it breathlessly, voice trembling against his lips: “Tell me— tell me what you want?”

Megumi stills for a second, forehead pressed to yours, breathing ragged and hot against your mouth. His dark blue eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide with lust as he stares down at you. His cheeks are flushed deep red, lips swollen from kissing you, hair a wild mess from your fingers. You can feel his cock, rock-hard and throbbing, pressed right against your slick folds through his thin pants.

He swallows thickly, then lets out a shaky, almost embarrassed laugh that turns into a low groan when his hips twitch forward involuntarily.

“…What I want?” he whispers, voice hoarse and wrecked. One hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing your bottom lip as he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world.

“I want you,” he says simply, raw and honest. “All of you.”

He rolls his hips slowly, deliberately dragging his clothed length along your wet slit, letting you feel every inch of how badly he needs you.

“I want to be inside you,” he continues, voice dropping lower, breath catching. “I want to fuck you slow at first… then harder when you start moaning my name like you did earlier.” His fingers tighten gently in your hair. “I want to watch your face when you cum around my cock. I want to fill you up and hear you whimper when I’m too deep.”

Megumi kisses you again — deep, filthy, and hungry — tongue sliding against yours before he pulls back just enough to rest his forehead on yours once more.

“I’ve thought about this… more than I should’ve,” he admits quietly, cheeks burning darker. “About you under me in my bed, legs wrapped around me, pulling me closer like you did with my hair.”

He reaches down between you, pushing his pants and boxers down just enough to free his cock. It’s flushed dark, painfully hard, and he groans softly as it slaps against your soaked pussy. He rubs the thick head up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness, teasing your clit with every slow stroke.

“But only if you want it too,” he whispers, voice trembling with restraint even as his hips keep moving. “Tell me yes and I’ll fuck you until you can’t remember anything except how good it feels. Or tell me to stop and I will. Your choice, baby.”

He kisses you again, softer this time, but still desperate, waiting for your answer while the tip of his cock nudges insistently at your entrance, hot and heavy and ready.

You whisper it breathlessly against his neck, face hidden there as embarrassment burns through you: “Y-yes… Just— go slow at first. I— I’ve never done this before.”

Megumi freezes completely above you.

His breath catches hard, and you feel his whole body tense for a second. Then he pulls back just enough to look at your face, dark blue eyes wide with surprise and something softer — almost overwhelmed. His cheeks flush even darker, lips parted.

“…Never?” he repeats quietly, voice rough but incredibly gentle. He searches your eyes, one hand coming up to cup your burning cheek, thumb stroking tenderly over your skin. “You’re a virgin?”

When you nod, shy and muffled against his neck, Megumi lets out a slow, shaky breath. He presses his forehead to yours, eyes closing for a moment like he’s trying to steady himself.

“Fuck… okay,” he murmurs, voice low and full of quiet reverence. “We’ll go slow. As slow as you need. I’ve never… I mean, I haven’t either. So we’ll figure it out together.”

He kisses you softly, sweetly — slow and deep, like he’s pouring every bit of care he has into it. His hand slides down your body, gentle and soothing, fingers tracing your hip as he lines himself up. The thick head of his cock presses against your slick entrance, hot and heavy, but he doesn’t push in yet.

“Tell me if it hurts at all,” he whispers against your lips, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Anytime. We stop, we slow down, whatever you want. I’ve got you.”

Megumi kisses you again, deeper this time, as he slowly starts to push inside — just the tip at first, stretching you open with careful, shallow rolls of his hips. He groans quietly into your mouth, the sound shaky with how tight and warm you feel around him.

“Shit… you’re so tight,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours, eyes half-lidded as he watches your face for every tiny reaction. He rocks forward another inch, then another, slow and patient, giving you time to adjust with every shallow thrust.

One of his hands stays laced with yours, squeezing gently, while the other strokes your side and thigh, trying to help you relax. His breathing is ragged, cheeks flushed, but he’s holding back so carefully for you.

“You feel… incredible,” he whispers, voice hoarse. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the marks on your neck. “So good, baby. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

He’s barely halfway in, moving with slow, gentle rolls of his hips, giving you time to get used to the stretch while he showers you with soft kisses and quiet praises.

“Tell me how it feels,” he murmurs against your skin, dark eyes locked on yours with nothing but affection and heat. “I’ll stay right here… nice and slow… until you want more.”

You wince, a small, sharp breath escaping as the stretch burns. He’s so thick — bigger than you expected — and the pressure of him pushing deeper makes your eyes water a little. Your hands press firmly against his lower abs, holding him right there, not letting him move any further.

“Hurts…” you mumble into his chest, voice shaky and muffled. “Sorry. Just— hold on.”

Megumi freezes instantly, every muscle in his body going tense as he stops all movement. He’s barely halfway inside you, throbbing hot and heavy, but he doesn’t push even a millimeter more. His arms wrap around you gently, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other strokes soothingly up and down your spine.

“Hey… hey, it’s okay,” he whispers, voice low and rough but incredibly soft. He presses his lips to the top of your head, then your temple, holding perfectly still inside you. “Don’t apologize. Never apologize for that.”

He stays buried exactly where he is, letting you adjust, his breathing ragged against your hair. You can feel his heart hammering hard against your cheek through his chest. His cock twitches involuntarily inside you from how tight you are, but he bites back a groan and forces himself to stay motionless.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmurs, kissing along the side of your face, down to your jaw. “So fucking tight… I can feel you squeezing me. Just breathe, baby. We’ve got all night. I’m not moving until you tell me to.”

One of his hands slides down to gently rub slow circles on your hip, trying to help you relax. He nuzzles his face into your hair, dark blue eyes closed as he focuses entirely on you.

“Does it hurt a lot?” he asks quietly, concern laced through the lust in his voice. “Tell me what you need. Want me to pull out? Or just stay like this until it feels better?”

He kisses the top of your head again, then the sensitive marks on your neck, his lips feather-light and patient. Even now, with his thick cock stretching you open, he’s so careful — trembling with the effort of holding still, sweat already glistening on his toned shoulders and chest.

“You feel incredible,” he breathes against your skin, voice hoarse. “Warm and so tight around me… but I can wait. As long as you need. Just… keep holding onto me like that.”

You push weakly at his lower abs, breath coming in short, shaky gasps. “Ok… ok wait. Maybe pull out j-just for a second,” you whisper, voice tight with discomfort. “Sorry…”

Megumi reacts instantly.

He pulls out slowly and carefully, jaw clenched tight as he fights the overwhelming urge to stay buried inside you. The moment he’s fully out, he lets out a low, strained groan, his thick cock resting hot and heavy against your soaked folds instead. He shifts his weight onto one forearm so he’s not crushing you, the other arm wrapping securely around your back, pulling you into his chest.

“Hey, shh… don’t say sorry,” he murmurs softly against your hair, voice hoarse but incredibly gentle. He presses slow, soothing kisses to your temple, your closed eyelids, the bridge of your nose. “You’re doing everything right. I’m the one who’s supposed to make you feel good, not hurt you.”

He holds you close, one hand rubbing slow, comforting circles up and down your spine while the other gently strokes your hip. His heart is still hammering against your cheek. You can feel how hard he still is, twitching against your thigh, but he doesn’t move — not even a little.

“Take all the time you need,” he whispers, nuzzling into your neck, careful to avoid the fresh hickeys. “We can stop right here if you want. Or just stay like this… no pressure. I’m not going anywhere.”

He kisses the corner of your mouth tenderly, then rests his forehead against yours, eyes closed as he tries to steady his own breathing.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks quietly, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I went too fast, didn’t I? I’m sorry… you’re just really tight and I got carried away. Tell me what feels better. We can go even slower, or I can just touch you for a while until you’re ready again. Whatever you want, baby. I mean it.”

Megumi stays wrapped around you, warm and solid, his body trembling slightly from restraint. He presses another soft kiss to your lips, lingering there, patient and sweet despite how obviously worked up he still is.

“Eyes on me when you’re ready,” he murmurs gently. “No rush. I’ve got you.”

You laugh breathlessly, the sound shaky and sweet as you hide your flushed face against his chest. “No, you did perfect. Just… you’re just. Really big.”

A tiny, embarrassed giggle slips out after.

Megumi goes completely still for a second, then lets out a low, surprised huff of laughter against your hair. His ears turn bright red, and you feel the heat of his own blush spreading across his chest.

“Shit… don’t say it like that,” he mutters, voice hoarse and embarrassed, but there’s a shy little smile in his tone. He tightens his arms around you, one hand gently stroking up and down your back. “You’re gonna make me lose it before we even get anywhere.”

He pulls back just enough to look at your face, dark blue eyes soft and warm despite how obviously turned on he still is. His thumb brushes over your burning cheek as he studies you with that intense, careful gaze.

“You’re really tight,” he admits quietly, almost apologetically. “And yeah… I’m a little bigger than average. I should’ve gone even slower. I’m sorry it hurt.”

He leans down and kisses you gently — slow, sweet, and lingering — like he’s trying to melt the discomfort away with just his mouth. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours again.

“We don’t have to rush anything,” he whispers. “We can stay like this as long as you want. Or…” His hand slides down between your bodies, fingers gently stroking through your slick folds, careful not to push inside yet. “I can touch you more, get you really relaxed first. Whatever feels better.”

He kisses the tip of your nose, then your flushed cheek, clearly trying not to smile too wide at your shy giggles even while his cock is still rock-hard and twitching against your thigh.

“You laughing at me right now is unfairly cute,” he murmurs, voice warm with affection. “But seriously… tell me what you want. We can keep trying when you’re ready, or we can do something else. I just want you to feel good.”

Megumi stays pressed close, patient and gentle, rubbing slow circles over your clit with his fingers while he waits for your answer. His other arm keeps you tucked safely against his chest, heartbeat steady under your cheek.

“Still okay?” he asks softly, pressing another kiss to your temple.

You whisper it shyly against his chest, voice small and breathless: “I wanna try… it just might take a bit. Sorry.”

Megumi’s arms tighten around you instantly, warm and protective. He presses a long, soft kiss to the top of your head, then tilts your chin up so he can look at you properly. His dark blue eyes are gentle, a little glassy with lingering arousal, but full of quiet affection.

“Stop apologizing,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re letting me have you like this… that’s more than enough. We go at your pace. Always.”

He kisses you slowly, deeply, letting you melt into it while his hand slides back between your bodies. His fingers return to your clit, stroking in lazy, soothing circles to rebuild that heat without any pressure. Only when your breathing starts to quicken and you’re relaxing against him again does he line himself up once more.

“Tell me the second it hurts,” he whispers against your mouth. “Even a little. Okay?”

He pushes in again — agonizingly slow this time. Just the thick head at first, stretching you open with careful, shallow rocks of his hips. He groans low in his throat, forehead pressed to yours, jaw tight with the effort of holding back.

“Fuck… still so tight,” he breathes, voice shaking. “You feel perfect… just breathe with me, baby.”

Every inch is given with patience. He pauses when he feels you tense, kissing you through it — soft, sweet kisses on your lips, your cheeks, the marks he left on your neck — until you relax again. His hand never stops gently rubbing your clit, trying to turn the stretch into pleasure.

Halfway in, he stops completely, buried as deep as you’ll let him for now, panting against your neck.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises softly, voice hoarse. “Taking me so well… Look at you.” He kisses the corner of your eye where a tiny tear of discomfort had gathered. “So pretty. So brave for me.”

He stays perfectly still inside you, letting your body adjust to his thickness, while his free hand strokes your hair and his lips keep brushing tender kisses anywhere he can reach.

“Whenever you’re ready for more,” he whispers, “just tell me. We can stay right here until it stops hurting… or keep going little by little. I’m not in any rush.”

You wrap your arms tightly around Megumi’s back and push firmly on his lower spine, silently urging him deeper.

He lets out a choked groan as you guide him all the way in — slow but unstoppable — until his hips are flush against yours, every thick inch buried inside you. His pubic hair brushes teasingly against your skin with the final press, sending a shiver through both of you.

“Fuck—!” Megumi’s voice breaks into a rough, strained moan. His whole body trembles as he bottoms out, buried to the hilt in your tight heat. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, breathing hard and fast against your marked skin.

You gasp sharply at the intense stretch, the overwhelming fullness. It burns for a moment, but warm sparks of pleasure are already starting to trickle through the discomfort, making your walls flutter around his thick cock.

“J-just stay like this,” you gasp.

Megumi nods quickly against your neck, voice hoarse and shaky. “Okay… okay, baby. I’m not moving. I’ve got you.”

He stays perfectly still, pelvis pressed tight to yours, his cock throbbing deep inside you. His arms slide under and around your body, holding you flush against him in a full, intimate embrace. Chest to chest, hips locked together, legs tangled. You can feel every twitch and pulse of him buried inside you, the heat of his skin, the rapid beat of his heart against yours.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he whispers breathlessly, lips brushing your ear. “I can feel you squeezing me… every little pulse. It’s driving me crazy.”

He presses soft, open-mouthed kisses along your neck and shoulder, staying completely motionless below the waist like you asked. One of his hands gently strokes your hair while the other rubs slow, soothing circles on your lower back, trying to help your body adjust to the sheer size of him.

“Does it still hurt a lot?” he murmurs, voice full of concern and barely-contained need. “Or is it starting to feel better?”

He kisses you tenderly — slow and deep — giving you time to get used to being completely filled by him. His hips make the tiniest, involuntary twitch once, but he immediately stills again with a quiet groan.

“I’ll stay like this as long as you want,” he promises, forehead pressed to yours, dark blue eyes half-lidded and burning as they gaze at you. “We can just stay connected like this… feel each other. You feel so good around me, baby. So warm and perfect.”

He stays buried to the hilt, holding you close, patient and gentle even as his body trembles with the effort of not moving. His pubic bone presses firmly against your clit with the slightest shift, sending little sparks of pleasure through you while he waits for your body to relax around his thickness.

You murmur softly against his shoulder, voice shaky and shy, “I-it still hurts a bit but… but it feels good.”

Then, even quieter, almost embarrassed: “You can start to move a bit. Just go slow.”

Megumi lifts his head from your neck, dark blue eyes searching your face carefully. His cheeks are flushed, hair messy and damp with sweat, and his breathing is still ragged from the overwhelming feeling of being buried so deep inside you.

“Okay,” he whispers, voice hoarse and tender. “Slow. I promise.”

He leans down and kisses you gently — slow and sweet — as he starts to move. His first thrust is barely a movement at all: a shallow, careful roll of his hips that drags his thick cock just an inch back and then presses back in, grinding his pelvis against your clit. He groans quietly into your mouth at the tight, wet heat surrounding him.

“Fuck… you feel so good,” he breathes, forehead pressed to yours. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

He keeps the pace agonizingly slow and gentle, rolling his hips in smooth, shallow strokes. Each movement is deliberate, letting you feel every inch of him sliding in and out while staying close enough that your bodies stay pressed together. His pubic bone grinds lightly against your clit with every roll, sending warm sparks of pleasure through the lingering ache.

One of his hands slides under your back, holding you closer, while the other cups the side of your face, thumb stroking your cheek as he watches every flicker of expression on your face.

“Still okay?” he murmurs, voice rough. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then your jaw, then the sensitive marks on your neck. “You’re squeezing me so tight every time I move… it’s driving me crazy.”

His pace stays slow and deep, barely pulling out halfway before sliding back in, letting you adjust to the stretch while the pleasure gradually overtakes the discomfort. His breathing grows heavier, warm against your skin, and you can feel his thighs trembling slightly with the effort of holding back.

“You’re doing so well,” he praises softly between kisses, lips brushing your ear. “Taking all of me like this… my pretty best friend.”

He angles his hips slightly on the next slow thrust, pressing deeper and grinding against that spot inside you that makes sparks shoot up your spine. A low, shaky moan escapes him as your walls flutter around his thickness.

“Tell me how it feels,” he whispers, dark eyes half-lidded and locked on yours. “Want me to keep going slow like this… or a little more?”

You whimper softly against his skin, voice trembling with pleasure, “F-feels s’good, Gumi…”

Your hands press insistently at his lower back, silently urging him to go faster.

Megumi’s breath hitches sharply. He lets out a low, ragged groan as he feels your hands pushing him deeper, encouraging him.

“Fuck… okay,” he pants, voice hoarse. “Faster. Got it.”

He captures your lips in a deep, hungry kiss as his hips start to move with more purpose. He pulls back a little further now before sliding back in — still careful, but with a smoother, quicker rhythm. Each thrust presses him flush against you, his pelvis grinding against your clit every time he bottoms out.

“Like this?” he whispers hotly against your mouth, dark blue eyes half-lidded and locked onto your face. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

His pace steadily builds — deeper, faster, but still controlled. The wet sound of skin meeting skin starts to fill the quiet dorm room as he fucks you properly now, rolling his hips in steady strokes that make the bed creak softly beneath you. Every thrust sends sparks of pleasure through your body, the initial ache almost completely drowned out by how full and good he feels inside you.

Megumi buries his face in your neck again, sucking and kissing the marks he left earlier while one hand grips your hip, holding you in place as he moves. His other arm stays wrapped around your back, keeping your bodies pressed tightly together, chest to chest.

“You feel so fucking good,” he groans against your throat, voice breaking. “So tight… so warm… I can’t believe I’m finally inside you like this.”

He angles his hips slightly, searching for that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. When he finds it, he focuses there — thrusting faster, grinding deep with every stroke while his pubic bone keeps rubbing perfectly against your clit.

Your whimpers and moans seem to spur him on. His breathing grows heavier, more desperate, and his thrusts start to lose some of their careful rhythm as pleasure overtakes him.

“Keep saying my name,” he begs breathlessly, nipping at your earlobe. “Please… fuck, you sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

He kisses you again — messy, needy, and full of months of hidden feelings — while he keeps driving into you, hips snapping forward a little harder now, chasing the pleasure building between you both.

Still buried deep inside you with every thrust, Megumi looks down at your face, flushed and wrecked, eyes dark with lust and affection.

“Tell me how it feels, baby,” he pants, never slowing down. “Want me even faster?”

You moan against his lips, voice shaky and needy, “So big… h-harder, Gumiii—”

The words hit Megumi like a spark on dry tinder.

He groans deeply into your mouth, the sound raw and desperate. “Fuck… you can’t say that and expect me to stay gentle,” he rasps, voice breaking.

His hips snap forward harder, driving his thick cock deeper into you with a wet slap. He gives you exactly what you asked for — faster, rougher thrusts that make the bed creak rhythmically beneath you. Each powerful stroke bottoms out completely, his pelvis grinding hard against your clit on every impact.

“Shit— you feel so good,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, dark blue eyes hazy and locked on your face. “Taking all of me like this… so fucking tight and wet for me.”

He hooks one of your legs higher around his waist, changing the angle so he can thrust even deeper. The new position makes his cock drag against that sensitive spot inside you with every hard snap of his hips. His pace turns relentless but still controlled — deep, heavy strokes that leave you gasping and moaning beneath him.

Megumi kisses you messily, tongue sliding against yours as he fucks you harder, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to leave faint marks while the other braces beside your head. His messy black hair sticks to his forehead with sweat, cheeks flushed dark, lips parted as he groans your name between thrusts.

“You keep squeezing me every time I go deep,” he growls against your mouth, voice wrecked. “You like feeling how big I am? Like getting stretched open by your best friend?”

He angles his hips and drives into you even harder, the wet, filthy sound of skin-on-skin filling the room as he pounds into you. Every thrust pushes you up the bed slightly before he pulls you back down onto his cock.

“Say it again,” he breathes hotly against your lips, nipping at your bottom lip. “Tell me how big I feel inside you while I fuck you harder.”

His mouth crashes back onto yours in a bruising kiss as he gives you exactly what you begged for — deep, powerful strokes that make your whole body jolt with pleasure. He’s panting, groaning, completely lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him, but still watching your face carefully for any sign of discomfort.

“Too much?” he manages to ask between thrusts, even as his hips keep snapping forward. “Or you want it even harder, baby?”

You whimper brokenly against his lips, barely able to catch your breath between moans.

“Feels perfect…”

Megumi’s hips stutter for a second at your words, a deep, guttural groan ripping from his chest. Something inside him snaps completely.

“God… fuck,” he pants, voice wrecked and hoarse. “You’re gonna kill me saying shit like that.”

He kisses you hard, messy and desperate, then buries his face in your neck as he starts fucking you with deeper, heavier strokes. His pace is relentless now — hips snapping forward with enough force that the sound of skin slapping skin echoes through the dorm room. Every thrust buries him to the hilt, his thick cock dragging perfectly against that sensitive spot inside you while his pelvis grinds hard against your clit.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” he groans right against your ear, voice shaking. “So tight… so wet… taking every inch like you were made for me.”

He hooks both of your legs higher around his waist, folding you slightly as he drives into you harder. The new angle makes him hit even deeper, the head of his cock pressing against that spot with every powerful thrust. His rhythm turns rough and needy, the bed creaking loudly beneath you as he loses himself in the feeling of your walls squeezing around him.

One of his hands slides between your bodies, thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight, fast circles in time with his thrusts. His other hand grips your hip hard, holding you in place so he can pound into you exactly how you begged for.

“Look at me,” he breathes, pulling back just enough to lock eyes with you. His face is flushed, hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, dark blue eyes glassy and burning with lust. “I want to see your face while I fuck you.”

He leans down and captures your lips again, swallowing every whimper and moan as he rails you harder, deeper, faster. The wet, filthy sounds of him moving inside you fill the room alongside your desperate little noises.

“You’re clenching so hard around me,” he groans, biting gently at your bottom lip. “Are you close again, baby? I can feel it… fuck, please cum around my cock. I need to feel you.”

His thrusts grow erratic, hips snapping desperately as he chases both your pleasure and his own. He keeps his thumb moving relentlessly on your clit, mouth latching onto your neck to suck another dark mark while he fucks you straight into the mattress.

“Cum for me,” he whispers hotly against your skin, voice trembling with restraint. “Let me feel how perfect it feels when you fall apart on me.”

You whimper desperately as the pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your core, every hard thrust of Megumi’s thick cock pushing you closer to the edge. His hips snap against yours with perfect rhythm, his pelvis grinding roughly against your clit on every deep stroke while his thumb keeps rubbing fast, slick circles over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

“I’m— I’m—” you gasp, barely able to form words.

Megumi’s dark blue eyes lock onto yours, wild and intense. “That’s it,” he groans, voice wrecked and breathless. “Cum for me, baby. Let me feel you.”

He fucks you harder, deeper, angling his hips to hit that perfect spot inside you with every powerful thrust. The wet, filthy sounds of his cock driving into your soaked pussy fill the room along with your broken moans.

The climax crashes into you without warning.

Your back arches sharply off the bed as intense pleasure explodes through your body. A loud, sweet, broken cry of his name tears from your throat — “Gumiii—!” — as your walls clamp down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly. Your entire body shakes uncontrollably, thighs trembling around his waist while wave after wave of blinding pleasure rips through you. Your eyes squeeze shut, tears of overwhelming ecstasy slipping down your temples as you cum hard around him.

Megumi groans loudly, almost animalistic, as he feels you gushing and spasming around his cock. “Fuck—! You’re squeezing me so tight… so good—!”

He doesn’t stop moving, fucking you through your orgasm with deep, greedy strokes, drawing it out as long as possible. His thumb keeps rubbing your clit, prolonging the intense pulses until you’re whimpering and twitching with overstimulation.

Only when your climax starts to fade does he finally let himself go.

With a deep, broken moan of your name, Megumi buries himself to the hilt and cums hard. His hips stutter and press flush against yours as thick, hot ropes of cum spill deep inside you, filling you up. His cock twitches and throbs with every pulse, his body trembling on top of yours as he rides out his own intense release, face buried in your neck.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room are your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed as he gives a few final, lazy thrusts, pushing his cum deeper into you.

Megumi collapses on top of you, careful not to crush you, his sweaty chest pressed to yours. His arms wrap around your trembling body, holding you close as you both come down. He presses soft, exhausted kisses to your neck, your jaw, and finally your lips — slow and full of affection.

“You’re incredible…” he whispers against your mouth, voice hoarse and shaky. “So perfect. I’ve never felt anything like that.”

He stays buried inside you, softening slowly, refusing to pull out just yet as he nuzzles into your neck, breathing you in. His fingers gently stroke your hair while his other hand rubs soothing circles on your hip.

“Are you okay?” he murmurs softly, pressing one more kiss to your temple. “Was that… too much? Or just right?”

He lifts his head just enough to look at you with those soft, dark blue eyes — flushed, sweaty, and looking at you like you’re the most precious thing in his world.

You hide your burning face against Megumi’s chest, cheeks flushed deep red as you mumble shyly, “Felt perfect…”

Megumi’s breath catches. He’s still buried deep inside you, softening slowly, his arms wrapped tightly around your trembling body. For a second he just holds you closer, one hand gently stroking up and down your back while the other cradles the back of your head.

A quiet, breathless chuckle rumbles in his chest beneath your cheek.

“…Yeah?” he whispers, voice hoarse and warm with relief. “You really felt perfect too.”

He presses a long, tender kiss to the top of your head, then another to your temple, nuzzling into your hair. His heart is still beating hard against your ear. You can feel the slight tremble in his arms — the adrenaline and emotion still running through him.

Megumi carefully shifts onto his side, pulling you with him so you’re tucked against his chest, bodies still connected. He doesn’t pull out yet, content to stay wrapped up in you like this. One of his legs tangles with yours as he holds you close, fingers gently tracing patterns along your spine.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted that,” he admits softly, almost shyly, his lips brushing your forehead. “I tried so hard not to think about you like this… but every time you came into my room, stole my bed, acted all cute and annoying…” He lets out a small, embarrassed huff. “Guess I wasn’t as oblivious as you thought.”

He tilts your chin up gently with his fingers so he can see your flushed face, his dark blue eyes soft and full of quiet affection.

“Are you really okay?” he asks, thumb brushing over your cheek. “I didn’t hurt you too much at the end? You were shaking a lot…”

He leans in and kisses you — slow, sweet, and lingering — pouring everything he doesn’t know how to say into it. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours.

“I’m really glad it felt perfect,” he murmurs, a tiny, rare smile tugging at his lips. “Because… I want to do this again with you. A lot. If you want that too.”

Megumi stays curled around you, warm and protective, one hand gently playing with your hair as the moonlight spills over both of you. He looks relaxed and happy in a way you’ve rarely seen — flushed, a little shy, but unmistakably content with you in his arms.

Your secret crush doesn’t feel so secret anymore. 😉

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