No curse au skfs, trans Megumi, nsfw

Megumi is glaring at his desk, tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. His foot is ticking against the floor, tap tap tap, and somehow the sound only makes his nerves wound tighter.

Sukuna is /right there/, it’d be so easy to walk up to him.
And he can’t, for a second, imagine that Sukuna would send him away, but. The whole notion is so embarrassing.

His intentions are embarrassing, and he knows for a fact Sukuna would see right through him — like Sukuna did the other night, when Megumi was trembling in his grasp,
mouthing at his neck, whispered “fuck, that’s right. God, Megumi, like that,” rasped directly into his ear, and Megumi wants to clench his thighs at the mere thought of it.

He doesn’t. His thighs are spread wide, his father’s slightly too big denim pants settled low on his hips.
Fuck it, Megumi thinks, walking over.

“‘Sup,” Sukuna greets with a grin before Megumi’s even made his way over.

He’d been speaking to someone, some guys Megumi doesn’t know, but they roll their eyes and depart when Megumi comes over.
Sukuna’s eyes are glinting with something mischievous when he looks at Megumi, something ready to devour, and it makes Megumi’s stomach thrum excitably.

And that’s the problem, really.

The thrumming.

Mere days ago, Megumi had been a virgin, but.
One drink too many, the mood high, a heavy hand on his waist.

“The things you do to me,” Sukuna had whispered into his ear, “the things I wanna do to you.”

It had been Megumi’s idea, a whispered plea, a “I don’t mind if it’s with you.”

Which is so stupid, really.
See, Megumi hardly knows Sukuna.

That’s a lie. Everyone knows Sukuna; boisterous, a livid presence, known for getting his way and getting on nerves.

A constant nuisance in Megumi’s life, always winking and smirking and making himself known in every room.
But Megumi hasn’t really spoken to him in the past, not until that night.

Celebration and a heavy bass, glasses drained of champagne and something else, a shared bottle of something that burned down their throats, gleaming eyes and sweaty palms, guiding one another away.
The thrumming, is the problem.

Because ever since that night, it hasn’t stopped.

Megumi was no saint, has gotten off in many creative fashions, to many creative thoughts, but. It’s always been a luxury. Never a need, like these days.
Megumi can’t stop; can’t stop wanting it, remembering it, feeling that excitable thrum in his stomach that urges him to reach down and relieve himself once more, again, never stopping.

His bag makes a loud thud when he drops it at Sukuna’s desk, and Sukuna whistles.
“Honouring me with your presence?” Sukuna asks, and Megumi glares at him.

He should probably feel a little guilt for how he’d acted, come morning. They’d spent hours in bed, but Megumi hadn’t kissed, hadn’t touched, hadn’t whispered Sukuna’s name with reverence.
Megumi hadn’t kissed him goodbye before he left, hadn’t accepted a cup of something cold before Sukuna shipped him back off home.

Megumi had wanted away, and Sukuna hadn’t forced him to stay, but.

“I guess,” Megumi answers, chewing the inside of his cheek.
Sukuna won’t stop smiling, and Megumi almost wants to kick him when he leans closer.

“What, did you want something? You’ve never come here before.”

Here, as in willingly walking towards Sukuna’s presence. Megumi only scowls in response.

“Let me guess,”
Megumi hates how smug he sounds,

“You want a round two?”

Fuck, they’re in public for god’s sake, and Megumi glowers while his ears go red. He also, very pointedly, doesnt deny it.

When Sukuna laughs it’s full of mirth.

“Oh, I should’ve guessed. You came to get your dick wet.”
Again, Megumi can’t deny it, but. It’s not exactly how he planned for the conversation to go.

“Tell you what,” says Sukuna, packing up his bags. Class is yet to start. “Give me your lunch and I’ll consider fucking you.”

Megumi balks, “Why on earth would I?”
But Sukuna only shrugs and winks, standing up. “I’ll text where.”

And fuck, if Megumi doesn’t feel stupid. Feels filthy, for even considering it, sitting down on a chair that’s still warm from Sukuna’s weight.

It feels too dirty, something like that.
Paying for a fuck? But Megumi’s stomach is still thrumming with need, and he breathes slowly.

Maybe, it’s a bit like foreplay. Maybe Sukuna but wants him to feel filthy; maybe Sukuna has seen that he likes it, wants it, like all the ways he saw Megumi’s needs that night.
The janitor’s closet.

Sukuna wants them to meet, in the /janitor’s closet/, to exchange lunch.

Megumi grits his teeth, considering his options. Considering the potential outcomes.

It really does sound too filthy; too cliché.

But the thrumming remains, and Megumi sighs.
He’s only got a sandwich for lunch anyway, and the cafeteria has decent food. He can afford a lunch.

He thinks, nervously trailing the hallways to that closet, that he’ll have more trouble affording a new set of underwear.
When he opens the door, Sukuna is already looking at him. Grinning, urging him to shut the door, but. He’s got his own lunch right in front of him; a wrap, clearly just bought from the cafeteria.

“Sit down,” Sukuna says.

Megumi frowns, but does.

“We coulda sat elsewhere, but.”
Megumi is staring confused at Sukuna, who grins as if he knows something Megumi doesn’t. Grins as if the police are on their way, searching the halls for the two of them; like what they’re doing could be criminal.

“I figured you’d appreciate the privacy.”
And Sukuna says it with cheek, but all he does is eat.

“Ah, the food?” Megumi asks, after a dumb few seconds in silence, hovering the sandwich near Sukuna’s knees.

“Yeah, it’s for eating,” says Sukuna, nodding at him.
Megumi feels his ears grow warm, but. Dumbfounded, he can do nothing but munch down on his sandwich, a thrill of something exciting passing through him when Sukuna grins in response.

And all they do is eat.

Small bits of chatter, Sukuna animated and loud, talking happily.
Their legs touch, now and then. The room is small.

But even at the end, when they’ve both finished eating and Megumi’s stomach is making somersaults with anticipation, nothing happens.

“Thanks for giving me your lunch, Fushiguro,” says Sukuna, winking. Then he leaves.
Megumi feels rather bereft, after.

Feels played for a fool, his head turned down for the remainder of the day, until.

A text message, from Sukuna.

‘Borrow ur game for a bj?’

Megumi huffs indignantly. He doesn’t /have/ a dick, anyway, but.

‘What game?’

Sukuna knows that.
So the evening sees Megumi searching through his cabinet, searching for — he’s double checked the text many times — Mario Kart: Double Dash!!

Megumi knows he’s got it, and it’s not difficult to find, but. Sukuna doesn’t really seem the type to enjoy it.
Megumi has a slight suspicion Sukuna /isn’t/, and that the whole thing is a scheme to get Megumi to come over, the way Sukuna fooled him with the lunch.

But this time, Megumi wants it. He’s been to Sukuna’s house before, after all; he knows the pleasures he can obtain.
When he knocks on the door, he’s clad in the same loose denim pants and a hoodie way too big for him, black and revealing the grey t-shirt underneath.

He looks dumb, really, but. He’d sort of rushed, too bored to think more of it, too horny to stay patient.
“Hey,” Sukuna says upon openi mg the door. He looks great; comfy clothes, off with jeans and on with sweatpants, his white tee a tad too loose and doing wondrous things for his collarbones. “Come in.”

Megumi smiles to himself, game in hand.

He takes off his shoes, and Sukuna guides him up the stairways, towards his room.

They pass buy a small room with a couch and a TV on their way there, and.

“Plug it in?” Sukuna asks.

Megumi frowns, staring at him. Slowly, his eyes dip downwards, and Sukuna is quick to laugh.
“The wii console, Fushiguro. I wanna test the game.”

Megumi flushes, chewing on his cheek, but he does go to the little TV in the small living room, plugging in the wii, putting in the game.

“You’ll stay to test it with me, right?”

“Ah, yeah,” Megumi agrees.
His heart is pounding annoyingly quickly, but it’s calming down when he sits himself next to Sukuna.

Sukuna hands him a controller, and Megumi’s smile is cautious, but genuine.

“I wanted to try the two-in-one-kart function.”

“Yeah,” Megumi agrees, still dumbfounded.
Still, all they do is play the game.

Sukuna insists on being Peach, urging Megumi to choose Mario, saying something about,

“Your names sound alike, right? Besides, I was bored as hell so you really are my saviour right now.”

Megumi keeps flushing an annoying shade of red.
Their knees knock together, Sukuna is grinning and teasing him, Megumi is having fun and raising his voice, building up a sweat and a rage and a laugh, happily resting against the sofa back after their last tournament.

“I could get you a drink?” Sukuna asks.

Megumi nods.
The excited thrumming in his stomach spikes when he meets Sukuna’s eyes, and. Sukuna isn’t smiling, just now.

He’s looking at Megumi, searching his eyes. Looking frustrated, almost, so.

“Yeah, something cold would be nice.”

Sukuna grins.
He escapes downstairs, and Megumi stares at the screen, fiddling with buttons that do nothing so long as Sukuna’s controller is the dominant one.

Sukuna’s lips look kissable.

His hair has been looking soft all afternoon, even coated in a layer of sweat.
His smiles have only grown brighter.

Megumi sort of wishes he’d hold up his part of the deal, soon.

Sukuna comes back upstairs with two boxes of cola, and a sandwich for each.

“I want a dinner,” says Sukuna.
Megumi frowns. “You want dinner?”

“Mn,” Sukuna nods, grinning. “Good dinner. Home cooked.”

Megumi is only growing more confused, and his face must show it, because

“For my dick. If you want it, make me dinner.”

Even now, Sukuna looks so very smug.
Bastardly, making Megumi huff in disbelief. “Really?”

Sukuna smirks, leaning into Megumi’s space, and. Megumi is holding his breath, when those piercing eyes trail down his torso, below his waist, back up. “Yeah. Bet you want it enough to give it, too.”
Megumi /wants/ to kick Sukuna, glaring, hoping all his contempt is showed clear as day as he leans away.

He yelps when he tips over, and Sukuna climbs right over him, staring him down like he’s prey.

“I can’t cook,” Megumi says. Low. Too low. Hardly a whisper.
“Does your father?”

Megumi glowers, biting his lip. His heart is pounding again, his stomach thrumming with excitement, and. “Ah, not really, but. Uhm. My sister does?”

“Invite me over.”

And Megumi does.

It’s so stupid, really.

He doesn’t know how to explain it either.
“Is he your partner?” Tsumiki asks, smiling like a saint as she spreads plates and cutlery over the table.

“Better not be,” says his dad, gruffly. A joke, Megumi knows, but it still makes his stomach coil.

“Just a friend,” he says, feeling so so stupid.
Who, but him, could do so much for a single dick. And it might not even be the best; he has no clue. Just, the easiest available.

Or, it seemed so, after that first night. He’s beginning the second guess it.

Still, everything so far has been alright.
Megumi shudders when the doorbell goes off.

Sukuna, in loose beige pants, a brown sweater on him and a lovely pearl necklace, standing tall and broad and looking so dumb on his doorstep, holding a bouquet of flowers.

Megumi opens the door with his brows raised high.
“Thanks,” says Sukuna, brushing past him.

“What’s with the flowers?”

“Seemed fitting,” Sukuna explains, kicking off his shoes. Before he goes further, he sets them down proper in the hallway. He even brushes a hand over his pants.
“Sukuna…” Megumi starts, frowning again.

“Don’t worry, Fushiguro. ‘S not for you.”

Then he wanders into Megumi’s home, head held high as Megumi scrambles to follow, to see the spectacle;
Sukuna smiles like an angel and nods at Tsumiki, a brief “thanks for having me,” uttered before he pecks her cheek and hands her the flowers.

She smiles and flushed and thanks him in return, levelling Megumi with an impressed cock of her brow, and Megumi wants to groan.
“You’re the friend?” Toji asks, eyeing him.

“So that’s what he called me,” answers Sukuna, grinning and approaching Toji to shake his hand.

Megumi can’t believe what he’s seeing, really.

Can hardly believe it’s all happening until the four of him are seated around the table.
Tsumiki’s cooking is always great, and the meatballs and pasta seems to have Sukuna satisfied enough.

He’s sitting next to Megumi, conversing with his family, and Megumi is so perplexed he hardly even speaks.

Toji is not an easy man to get along with, even for Megumi.
And Tsumiki might be sweet to everyone, but it’s still admirable to see the way she smiles at Sukuna’s words, at his jokes, at his compliments.

Megumi almost feels jealous, but.

“You’re a mess, Fushiguro,” he murmurs, when Megumi has slurped the last of his pasta.
Sukuna is careful when he grips his chin, steering his face toward him to non-too-gently wipe the sauce off his face.

“There,” he murmurs, then with a smirk Megumi knows to be full of mirth he adds “that’s it.”

Indeed, their meal is over, and Megumi has paid his due.
“Thanks for the meal,” Megumi says quickly, and then he grips Sukuna’s wrist and gets up, rushing towards his room.

Sukuna laughs and follows, saying something to the room that Megumi doesn’t hear, blood pulsing in his ears.

“Eager,” Sukuna mocks the second Megumi’s door shuts.
“Fuck you,” Megumi answers, tugging at him, forcing him close, but. Megumi is only frowning, looking upwards, and it’s Sukuna who at last has to take the lead.

Rolling his eyes, leaning down to leave a peck against Megumi’s cheek, grinning like a bastard when Megumi frowns.
“Needy,” Sukuna says, pecking him again. “Eager, impatient, wanton,” Megumi huffs and pulls him in for a proper kiss, sighing when his back meets the wall and Sukuna’s arms cage him, when he rises to his tiptoes to feel the last of Sukuna’s breath before he pulls apart, breathing
“What the hell was that?” Megumi asks, fingers clenching in the fabric of Sukuna’s sweater.

It feels good, to be able to do that. Like a source to channel all the tension he’d felt the other times, allowing him to breathe and relax properly in Sukuna’s company.
“Dunno what you mean,” Sukuna answers, chasing his lips, and Megumi snorts.

Sukuna’s hands are as warm and large as he remembers when they find his waist, pulling him towards a strong chest, and Sukuna’s eyes are gleaming still.

“The whole act,” Megumi answers.
Sukuna only cocks a brow, and Megumi scoffs.

“The boyfriend act. Impressing my dad, kissing my sister. The /flowers/.”

Sukuna grins, shark-like, and then he lifts Megumi up by his thighs, pressing their lips together again, knocking Megumi back against the wall.
“Fuck, you’re warm,” Sukuna murmurs, pressing closer, lips rubbing.

“Yeah,” Megumi answers, almost smiling when he tips his head back and lets Sukuna ravage him, hardly breathing and melting into the wall, head screaming at the way he’s being carried like his weight is nothing.
“Shouldn’t do this here,” Sukuna murmurs, but his hand is already rubbing under Megumi’s sweater, under his t-shirt, brushing over a soft nipple and making Megumi arch his back.

“We can,” Megumi says, though they shouldn’t. “‘S okay.”
“No,” Sukuna whines, pressing a kiss to Megumi’s neck, both arms clenching around him, making Megumi feel so held and compressed and engulfed he all but moans. “Later.”

Then he moves Megumi along and drops him in his bed, laying over him, dropping his head onto Meguni’s tummy.
Megumi laughs, dizzy with joy and something like paranoia.

“We’ll wait,” Sukuna said again. Megumi is panting, just a bit, but like this he can’t help but stroke his fingers through Sukuna’s hair.

It looked soft today as well. “The hell was the flowers?”
“Insurance,” says Sukuna, still stroking up and down Megumi’s skin.

It’s unfair, really, how easily he makes Megumi shudder.

“Insurance for what?”

Sukuna sighs, and it sounds annoyed. But he seems alright when he kisses Megumi’s stomach, saying out loud;
“Thanks for dinner, sweets. I’ll make you one in return.”

Megumi snorts again, but his face is flushed. “You don’t have to. That’s not the deal.”

“Mn,” Sukuna agrees, pressing another kiss, blowing on the skin so Megumi can’t stop a laugh. “But this is the new deal.”
“Alright,” Megumi acquiesces, and. It really feels like too much trouble for a single dick, but he’s having too much fun to stop it. “What do I bring this time?”

“You,” says Sukuna, gruff.

And when he says nothing else after a minute, Megumi huffs and turns his head, grinning.
“Ah, and neat underwear. I really wanna be impressed.”

Megumi is glaring at the floor, but it’s no matter. He knew what Sukuna was like when he brought his lunch.

Or, he thought he did.

He’s known it since the game, though.

Or maybe since dinner.
Curiously, he wonders if he’ll learn something new, next time, when Sukuna returns the meal.

He hasn’t even considered whether Sukuna can cook.

Sukuna departs soon after, saying brief goodbyes to Megumi’s family before he’s putting his shoes back on.
When he exits the door, he pauses for a moment. Sharp eyes pierce through Megumi, levelling him with a gaze he can’t decipher.

Sukuna’s lips twist, settling into a grim little line, and.

Megumi frowns, a little confused, but.
He wanders over, his toes to Sukuna’s, rising up to the balls of his feet.

Sukuna’s hand warms his waist in response, steadying him, and Megumi leaves a tiny, sweet peck upon Sukuna’s cheek.

It makes his ears flush, and he avoids Sukuna’s gaze when he stands back down.
“Thanks, Fushiguro,” Sukuna says, so loud and boastful Megumi can hear the grin in his voice, urging Megumi to land a sharp slap to his stomach.

It only makes Sukuna laugh and grin with more mischief as he leaves the threshold, turning to wave Megumi goodbye with both arms.
Megumi’s stomach is still thrumming in his absence, perhaps even more than before.

“Your friend?” Asks Tsumiki, with a teasing little grin.

Toji echoes her sentiment with a gruff laugh, then peers at him from his chair by the TV. He grins, a sharp thing, like approval.
Megumi’s stomach turns and twists, and he glares at them both wordlessly before escaping.

Escaping to his bedroom, glaring at his wall, remembering the hands and the fingers and the — it takes almost nothing at all to help himself to desert, but the thrumming remains.
He can’t get rid of it, even as shuts his eyes and goes again, a different pace, his phone in front of him offering inspiration that only makes the thrum more unbearable.

Sweating and turning in the sheets by himself, the thrumming doesn’t stop. If anything, it’s worse.
Because now, when he lets himself focus on that budding desire, he finds himself longing for a very specific set of piercing eyes to drive the thrumming out of him.

No matter. One more stupid stop along the way, and then Sukuna will give what he’s offered. Probably.
Megumi pulls up to Sukuna’s house in fine clothing, his hair messy as ever but combed through, his ears pink and his arms holding a tiny, single rose.

He hides it behind his back when he rings the bell.

And Sukuna answers right away.
Opening the door, pausing, leaning against the frame to rake his eyes over Megumi. Frowning, a bit, but his eyes still glint when they meet Megumi’s. “Hi.”

Megumi feels out of his depth, staring back. Tongue tied.
Sukuna looks comfy, loose sweatpants and a sweater that is slightly big for him, making it severely tempting to sneak underneath and press kisses against his pecs, sneak up to his neck, hug around his form and tease at his jaw until-

“Ugh, hi,” Megumi replies, staring back.
It takes a minute, maybe two. Sukuna is holding his gaze, saying nothing. Then he slowly slips into a smile, opening the door enough for Megumi to pass through.

“Thanks,” says Megumi, heart pounding and feeling like a fool, except.

This time, he can’t tell why.
“No way to greet your host, Fushiguro.”

“No way to impress a man,” Megumi grouses back, eyeing Sukuna’s lazy dress code as he nears him.

He’s frowning, nose en par with Sukuna’s chin, debating how to continue.

Sukuna makes the decision for him.
A gentle hand tips his head back, and then soft lips descend upon his.

Megumi gasps, soft, and Sukuna smirks. “Like that.”

Megumi scoffs, looking away, ignoring the thrill that runs through him when Sukuna’s arms grip his hip and hauls him close.
“And then you’re supposed to give me the flowers.”

The door is still open, and though Sukuna’s neighbourhood is not the most busy, cars keep driving by. Seeing them, no doubt.

A woman high up in the department across from them is watching, and Megumi’s stomacv spikes.
“You didn’t say to bring flowers.”

This time Sukuna huffs, grinning as he nuzzles his face against Megumi’s ear, his teeth scraping against the top of it. “Liar.”

“You didn’t!” Megumi argues, but

“You did it anyway,” says Sukuna. And he sounds so smug Megumi glares at him.
“They’re for your parents.”

“I’ll just have to steal them, then.”

The door is still open, and Megumi is flushing, hand clammy around the stem in his hand. He falls into Sukuna’s chest with a proper glare, hiding his face in the space between two soft pecs, and Sukuna laughs.
His hand is gentle — warm and heavy — when it drags up Megumi’s spine, while the other shuts the door.



and Sukuna leads him off.

The kitchen is upstairs in a room Megumi haven’t seen before, and a small table is prettily decked for two.
In the centre of the table is a simple pot of meat stew, and Sukuna looks sheepish when Megumi glances at him.

“We can take it to the couch, if you want.”

But the table is looking proper, is looking like Sukuna used effort, so.

“I’ll prefer it,” goads Sukuna.
Megumi goes along.

The small couch, his game still on the table, two bowls of food and two cans of soda, and Sukuna sits stiff beside him.

It’s too weird, Megumi thinks. Too quiet, even when they speak.

“You don’t have to,” says Megumi, eyeing the meat on his fork.
Sukuna raises a brow at him, so Megumi hurries to stuff his face with the food, growing redder.

Buying time.

Chewing, watching Sukuna fidget, until at last he’s bitten through, and. “I mean, the deal. You don’t have to, it’s fine.”
Megumi hadn’t even considered it a possibility at first that Sukuna wouldn’t want it, but now it seems plausible.

When hearing it, Sukuna sits even further away, and it makes Megumi feel guilty.

“‘Course I want it,” says Sukuna.

Megumi frowns. “Then?”
Sukuna snickers. It’s not as mocking as always, but it’s not tender either. Just right. “‘Cause you’re a fool, Fushiguro. And a mean one at that.”

Megumi glances up at him; smug, even now. Eyes glinting, teeth sharp, tilting his head.

“‘Course I want you. You knew that.”
Defiance. Megumi’s eyes widen, and Sukuna sits up even more, arrogant even as he withdraws.

“‘S why you asked, no?”

Oh. Well. Megumi chews on his tongue, thinking, because. He suppose he knew that; he just didn’t know it was special.

“You can have me.”
“You’ve made that clear,” Sukuna says, a smug little quirk to his smile, a fire budding in his eyes, but. That’s still not right.

“No,” says Megumi out loud, not even thinking, and Sukuna snorts mockingly, opens his mouth to say something witty, probably, so.
Megumi stuffs his fork into Sukuna’s mouth.

Wide eyes rest upon him, but Sukuna really can’t do anything but close his lips around it.

“Sorry,” says Megumi, leaning close to wipe a drop of sauce from Sukuna’s chin, withdrawing the fork when Sukuna starts chewing.
“I, ah, mean like that.”

It’s difficult, being eloquent, but Megumi tries his best. With a deep frown, and with his fork laid away, he grabs Sukuna’s hand.

“Just eating, I mean. You can have me like that, too.”
Megumi really doesn’t know what to make of the new fire in Sukuna’s eyes, but he’s swallowing dryly as he watches Sukuna’s jaw slowly stop working, waiting in anticipation for what will come next.

Sukuna says nothing, even then. Peering at Megumi.
“I want you, like that.” Megumi adds. “Like, just eating.”

“Or gaming?” Sukuna asks, making Megumi snort.

Mario Kart isn’t really gaming, he wants to say. Instead, he says “or gaming.”

“I can be more fun than gaming.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, reaching for his fork, but.
“Really,” Sukuna adds, a hand on Megumi’s shoulder, a wild fire in his eyes as he slowly steers Megumi backwards.

Onto his back, on the tiny couch, a table of unfinished food besides them.

“Can make you yell louder, too.”

“Fuck you,” Megumi grins, and. The thrumming spikes.
Sukuna raises his brow as though in challenge, warm hands brushing up Megumi’s thighs, pressing them apart with godawful gentleness.

“Don’t force yourself,” Megumi says, and Sukuna hums.

Looking wild, a bit, as one hands fiddles with Megumi’s zipper. “Boyfriend or partner?”
Megumi raises a brow.

“What will you call me, I mean, next time your sister asks?”

“This is dumb,” Megumi says, but he’s getting comfortable watching Sukuna like that, excitement flooding through him.


Sukuna’s grin is so bright and sharp Megumi’s belly does a leap, and then once more when Sukuna tears the pants down, making yelp and laugh before helping, grinning at a grumbling Sukuna as he drags them off his legs.
Grinning at the disdainful look Sukuna send him when he sees the green, striped frog themes underwear he’s chosen.
And gasping, unable to grin, when a wet and thick tongue laves over his underwear, engulfing his clit, big hands smoothening down his thighs as Sukuna makes friends with his sex.

“God,” whispers Sukuna, breathless himself as he slips the underwear down.
“Can’t believe my dick was good enough to warrant free lunch.”

Megumi can’t even protest before fingers dip inside of him, lips closing and suckling around his tiny dick, and all that escapes him are moans.
——— end ———

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