Archive of Our Own

"Wait, wait, wait—you're sayin' you drink milk out of the carton in your underwear?"

"What's with that reaction... You've seriously never done that? Got up in the middle of the night and wanted a drink?" Gojo replies, lazily throwing a fry in his mouth.

"Well, I mean... yeah, duh" Yuji twirls his straw in his Coke mid-thought. "but I wouldn't bother to put on my underwear"

"What does—"

A tick. Two ticks.

Gojo audibly groans, but the curl of his lips stay—an over-sharer that kid was, sure, but at least he was an entertaining one.

"Ohhh, I get it. Lil' too much information, but I get it"

"...wouldn't that be cold?" Asks Megumi, though mostly to himself.

Nobara snorts and looks up from her sushi platter for the first time in twenty minutes. "I'm sure that's always his excuse. Ain't that right Itadori?" She nudges Gojo, who is sitting beside her, for a laugh. "Huh, huh?"

Yuji's chest puffed defensively as if he was debating correcting her. The laughter erupting from the table didn't help his egotistical side be held at bay. Even Megumi is trying (and failing) to hide the little curl of his lips. Gojo and Nobara were one thing, but Megumi's reaction alone has Itadori looking like a kicked puppy.

Hidden under the table, Yuji reaches out and grips his hand.

And Megumi's mind went blank. Like, newly fallen snow, dry-erase board, Word-document-at-the-start-of-a-writer's-first-draft level blank. Because Itadori's touching him and he's so soft... Seriously, why is someone capable of winning a 1v5 with no cursed energy so soft? It was unfair.

Not to mention Yuji is giving him such fabricated, sad, wide doe eyes, as if saying 'hey, I thought you were on my side'

For a moment Megumi appeared peculiarly numb to the world, hazily focused on their pancaked hands. Heat spread over every inch of his face, even to the tips of his ears; he coughed pointedly, anything to divert from... from how perfectly normal he was feeling. Yuji gives him a little pat pat, so simple yet so world altering, and then pulls back.

Megumi gulps. His mouth opens and he appears on the verge of... Something; though Itadori looks away before he can notice.

"Okay, ha ha, very funny" Yuji rolls his eyes so violently that his head follows suit. His eyes land on Nobara who is making a crude gesture with her hand under the table that he can't see, but Gojo can and it's cracking him up even more. Yuji frowns, ego bruised. "I'll have you know that I am very comfortable with my penis size"

This has the opposite effect as intended and only makes Gojo and Nobara laugh even harder.

"You're unbelievable; We're eating here" Megumi groans, but he's thinking about it and hopes it doesn't show on his face. The bulge that he's very closely seen when Itadori is late to class and is running while putting on his pants. Gojo and Nobara be damned, Yuji didn't have anything to be ashamed about... But Megumi wasn't about to tell him that.

"Why're you getting upset at me? She's the one who brought it up!" Itadori points an accusatory finger in her direction.

Despite being the butt of the joke, Itadori's natural pessimism trumps all. Gojo and Nobara's laughs are infectious like the plague and he joins them in their fit after a few defeated huffs.

It takes a moment for Megumi to realize that he's the only one at the table who isn't laughing—instead just staring at the pink haired idiot beside him. He should probably stop.

But Yuji looked like a dream, really. His hair perfectly mussed and damp from the rain they had all found themselves caught in earlier before sinking refuge in this cozy little restaurant. It's like he was just begging Megumi to card the silken tangle of those locks through his fingers, to bury his nose deep in that mane and breathe. Whose bright idea was it to let Yuji keep on that rain soaked shirt? It was hardly scandalous by societal standards, but it allotted a greater view of his muscular build, and Megumi—choking down on his heartbeat in his throat—concluded then and there that it couldn't be a dream, because even his own cruel mind couldn't be this malefic. Any dream-Itadori concocted in his subconscious ought to at least have the civility to wear a parka or something. Well... that, or Megumi's criminally obliging brain might do him the unhelpful courtesy of attiring Yuji in considerably... less.

Had the room gotten hotter? The edges of everything had grown blurry, even the pop music that played through the restaurant's speakers felt muddled, distant, like they played from under water. And for one beautiful moment, all Megumi could hear was Itadori's wheezes and gasps for air in-between pig snort laced laughs. For that one moment he had convinced himself that all was right in the world.

'What's your type of woman?' Todo once asked him.

'Preferably,' he should have answered truthfully, 'one with pink hair and a penis'

Yuji's eyes—tear filled—crinkled together and they were so, so beautiful. Like spring leaves when the sun shone through them. Did he know how beautiful they were? Yuji's thumb brushed away one of his own tears; Megumi suppressed a shudder, choking down a little groan. It was like he read his damn mind... And it was too much. It was all too much. Megumi needed—

He tenses; the sensation that washes over him can only be described as being doused with a bucket of ice water.

There's a hand on Megumi's thigh that isn't his own. His mouth tastes like vomit and his limbs are suddenly deadweight, immersing, sinking into the leather of the booth. Cold air stings his bare chest. Across from him Itadori laughs so hard that Coke comes out of his nose, blissfully unaware of the fingers that are undoing the button on Megumi's jeans.

People expect all stories of abuse to be loud and angry, broken plates and nosy neighbors, but they're not. Sometimes they're quiet and cruel and so subtle that they're swept under the rug.

'There are a million brats like him. So why risk your life for his?' Asked Sukuna that fateful night, hand hovering over Yuji's chest just waiting to rip his heart out and crush it in his fingers.

Megumi had snorted drowsily. He was tired. A nap would be prudent; he also would've been happy with a coma. 'There aren't; I don't care where you look. No one compares, not even close, and I won't have you hurt him'

'It sounds like you think you have the inclination to stop me'

'I do' Megumi had replied matter-a-factly. 'And... And you're right that I can't, but I will never stop trying even if it kills me. I will never stop, Ryomen Sukuna, not until I'm dead'

That actually made Sukuna laugh. It's perfectly empty, like nails on a chalkboard, and formed goosebumps on Megumi's skin.

'Who said anything about dying? Death is so boring... but life,'

Sukuna had wrapped Itadori's soft, gentle, kind, hands around Megumi's neck. It feels sacrilegious for the same hands that saved his life to be making such deep bruises into his milky skin. An astute brow framed evil eyes shining with acuity, pinning Megumi in place like a butterfly set for mounting. Sukuna's gaze traversed his face, unperturbed, almost amused. A sharp exhale of breath escaped his parted lips.

'life is full of possibilities, child'

Megumi can't stress enough that he never agreed to this... relationship. There was no deal, or handshake, or contract signed with blood and stamped with his soul. It just happened and all the boy did was simply sit back and let it. It's not like Sukuna outright said he'd kill Itadori if Megumi ever rejected his advances, but in a way, it was implied wasn't it? And what kind of friend would he be to take that chance?

The fact of the matter is, abusers do not need to be cackling maniacs or sexually deprived family members. They're just people who want something and don't care how they get it.

There's a sudden painful tug on Megumi's pubic hair. A finger twirled around a cluster of hair before pulling it so hard that he lurched forward in his seat. The laughter at the table had ceased, Megumi notes, but now Itadori and Nobara are too busy arguing to notice him.

"I just want one"

"Take even half a piece and I'm killing everyone at this table and then myself" Nobara threatens Itadori with the butt of her chopsticks while her other hand guards the sushi platter sitting in front of her.

"Stingy" he pouts.

"Begger" she snaps back.

Megumi wrongly assumes he's in the clear to furrow his brows and hiss under his breath, but from across the table, Gojo is staring at him, and he realizes only after letting the pain take over his face. Megumi can't make out his expression through the blindfold and yet, unfairly, Gojo can see his clear as day. Megumi is a subject under his gaze and a very slight tilt of the man's head sends him into overthinking mode.

It's like he knows something—what if he does? That's a thought that makes a profound sense of illness coil in the pit of Megumistomach, heavy like a brick. Megumi's face grows hot and he hopes it's not showing because Sukuna would no doubt bask in the glory of it and subject him to this humiliation even longer.

Itadori's—no—Sukuna's hand grasps his inner thigh so tightly that blunt cut nails are digging into his skin. The pain is burning coals on his skin, only soothed with the occasional prickle of blood that forms a drop and runs down his thigh. Then Megumi's skin is being pinched and pulled and twisted between those soft, soft fingers. So soft. It's sacrilegious and it hurts. It feels like a chunk of skin is actually going to be ripped off, but Gojo is still watching so Megumi drowns his cries into his water cup.

Sukuna's not so much torturing Megumi as he is berating him with touch. It's sloppy and unfocused. Though it's probably because seeing Megumi in such an uncomfortable position is actually pleasurable for that sick fucker. It's like Sukuna can't get enough of just holding the flesh between his fingers, he needs the effect of his actions to seep into Megumi's expression as well.

Sukuna was needy and Megumi was caught in a trap of catering to him, trying to fill a bottomless pit of wants and needs. But the King of Curses is not so much needy as he is entitled, so no matter how much he gets, it will never be enough. Sukuna will just keep coming up with more demands because he wholeheartedly believes his needs are Megumi's responsibility.

And Megumi could feel him glaring from behind Yuji's eyes with a psychotic look, taking pleasure in his suffering, using it to fuel his next move.

His soft cock is held in a firm grip next. Squeezing and squeezing and squeezing—holy shit it's gonna pop. Sukuna's going to hold the base of his cock until it pops like a balloon, he's sure of it. Fuck, it hurts. Megumi's on the brink of tears. But he can't lose his shit. Not now when Gojo is still watching.

For a sickly moment, Megumi accepts that he can live without a dick; it's not like he uses it much anyway. He mostly just worried how he'll explain the sudden 'pop' followed by a warm puddle of blood forming under his feet.

Metal clangs on the tile floor—Megumi glances under the table with just his eyes—someone dropped something.

"I'll get it, Sensei," says Itadori.

Sukuna's hand realises and slips out of Megumi's waistband by the time Itadori unknowingly gains back control of it. Megumi lets out a shaky breath. He can feel his heart beat in his dick and it's pulsing and searing and he thinks Sukuna might have bursted a few veins if he didn't rip it off completely.

Itadori's hand, that same hand that now had Megumi's blood under the nail beds and the smell of his cock on its fingertips, picks up the metal chopsticks from the floor and hands them back to Gojo.

Megumi finds it hard to believe Satoru dropped something and didn't have the inclination or foresight to pick it up before it touched the floor, let alone drop something at all. It should be illegal to have six eyes and still be so clumsy. Megumi doesn't dwell on it; he's too busy keeping his thighs from shaking.

So he takes a minute to breathe. In and out. The pain was nullifying into a dull ache and that was something he could ignore the rest of the meal until he's left alone to check the damage.

"You're not eating" says Itadori and it takes Megumi an embarrassing amount of time to deduce it's directed at him. "Would you like me to cut your food for you?"

"Ha. Would you like me to push you out of this booth?"

Yuji chuckled. His palm came to his chest in mock insult. "Why is everyone so incredibly violent today?"

Megumi's mood is bouncing back rather quickly. That's what it's like while talking to Itadori. The boy was like a walking syphon for dreadfulness, sucking it all away until the person affected was content and serene. Pain aside, Megumi was feeling pretty good at the time and in moments like these he thinks, I should appreciate him more, like Yuji is his favorite person, which is hard to do, because Yuji Itadori was already his favorite.

Megumi points his chopsticks in his direction. "I'm not a child. I don't need someone else cutting my food"

"Uh-huh" Yuji is smiling like he doesn't believe him in the slightest. He looks like a little kid on picture day, all teeth. What a goofball...

Meanwhile Megumi has stopped working. He was sort of... staring again. He's been doing that alot. This time Itadori's eyes meet his gaze. Time stops. Those eyes are piercing Megumi's, and he can swear at this moment Yuji senses the real him. The one without the attitude, without the facade...

Itadori winks; All Megumi wants to do is slap him and kiss it better.

Yeah, it's no secret Yuji is a huge flirt. He flirted with him all the time, as well as every waiter within eyeshot, retail workers, the single and the taken, even a potted plant on the way to his dorm last week. It's pathological and the worst part is Megumi doesn't think he's even aware that he does it.

"I hate you" he huffs.

"Nah, you don't. No way you do" Yuji responds in a sing-song tone.

"And I'm about to stab you with this chopstick," Megumi warned. "In a very violent manner"

Concern flickered across his pretty face. "Now that, I believe"

From across the table, Gojo still stares and Megumi is too busy sneaking glances at Itadori's side profile to notice.

Megumi stares even now, when Kiyotaka was chauffeuring the two of them to a curse riddled location. Arrival wouldn't be for another hour so Yuji had popped in a pair of earbuds and started drumming beats on his thighs. He had offered a bud to Megumi, of course, but he declined. Their music tastes didn't exactly align, but that didn't stop his eyes from sliding over to watch Yuji mouth the lyrics to some Lizzo song that's been playing on repeat for the last twelve minutes.

Absent-mindedly, Megumi tells himself that he should smile more. Like now. Now would be nice because he's enjoying his time sitting here thinking of nothing but how Itadori scrunches his nose like a piglet whenever he mouths a curse word. Megumi wants to smile and there's no reason why he shouldn't—but he can't. And then he remembers there is a reason.

A pair of lips is forming on Yuji's cheek and Megumi suddenly wants the car seat to swallow him whole.

How could two people outwardly so alike be so different?

Itadori was ice, so much buried beneath a frigid surface, bleak and guarded. Frozen in time and space, and eager to freeze his loved ones in place beside him. Sukuna was fire, open and undeniable, always right there, impossible to ignore. Absolutely frenetic, he consumed everyone around him; his body burned, his touch branded, and his words—

"You've got a resting bitch face if I ever saw one. Turn that frown upside down for me"

—his words seared like a blue flame.

Megumi closes his eyes and holds his breath to suppress any sounds that Sukuna's presence naturally commands. Itadori couldn't hear him over the music and Sukuna knew it. Which is why now, it seemed, was the perfect time to torture Megumi. All under Yuji's nose, literally.

"Oi, look at me"

Fuck, if that tone didn't hit like a punch below the ribs.

"You don't own me" Megumi stands head strong (he wonders how long that'll last. Two... five minutes, maybe?) "I'm not your trained hound"

"Wrong. I own everything about you. Mind, body, and soul. I live in your head, don't I kid? Even after you're dead you'll still be thinking of me. I'll make sure f'that"

Comforted by the false safety of his own eyelids, Megumi makes the mistake of scoffing under his breath. It's unlike him. Normally he goes along with Sukuna without much fuss, but he was having such a nice time previously that he couldn't keep his distaste for the curse at bay.

Sukuna's near animalistic growl has the boy's pulse thudding in his own ears.

"What's that, getting bold? You don't think I could bring myself to kill you? I'll take a knife to you, if that's the case. I'll carve my name in your chest so that every beat of your heart will remind you that you are mine—and mine alone. Blood is binding, Megumi, and I would rather see you flayed open like a fish than see you in the possession of another. So I suggest you not try me, or you will suffer as no earthly creature has or ever will" he produces a stomach-churning chuckle. "But that is just a suggestion, and one you are free to disregard at your own peril"

Sukuna's words are like a huge wave at the beach—Megumi can't breathe, he can only wait while the water plows him over, turning him over and over beneath its cold pressure, until his head is above the surface again.

Megumi opens his eyes but doesn't look over.

"Are you done talking yet? Or are you too afraid that I might take you up on your offer, so you won't shut up?" Megumi wasn't dumb (despite what Sukuna may have you believe.) If the King of mother-fucking Curses wanted him dead then he'd be a decaying corpse by now.

"You are getting bold," Sukuna laughs again. A fuller one this time. More entertained by Megumi's tongue than pissed, but still pissed nevertheless. "Child" he barks. "Lift your head and turn to me"

Itadori is staring out of the window with his Sukuna-less cheek in his palm. He looks close to dozing off and if that happens—Megumi swallows, his throat suddenly all too dry—if Yuji leaves this corporeal realm.. leaves his body open to be controlled. Ugh. Megumi's eyes flicker down to his jeans. He was tired of getting his nice clothes all torn up.

So please don't fall asleep Itadori, he thinks, if you do I'll be stuck with him—all of him. I won't be able to shake you awake or tell Kiyotaka or call for help and... and I like these pants so please don't fall asleep.

It wasn't written, spoken, or referenced, but it was a rule that Sukuna comes and goes as he pleases and Megumi keeps his mouth shut. Anything to keep Itadori's heart in his chest.

Megumi tilts his head in Sukuna's direction. Petty and contrarian.

"Get a look at you," the curse clicks his tongue in a mixture of disgust and annoyance. "You look at me like I just killed your mee-maw. Insubordinate little shit. I still don't think you understand" his voice is a growl, his mouth is a snarl. "I said you're stuck with me. If you wanted us to be apart you shouldn't have tried to save this brat's life. If you want to get away, you'll just have to kill yourself"

Megumi thinks if he did kill himself, he wouldn't go to Hell. He instead would wake up in Sukuna's domain wishing he were in Hell instead... Megumi mumbles something and lets his gaze drop to the floorboard. He's so tired.

"I know you're as dense as a fucking rock, so i'll try to lube up this concept for you. I am never letting you get away from me. ever. You are stuck, kid"

Megumi knows this. He lives in a house on fire, no fire department to call; no way out, just the upstairs window to look out of while the fire burns the house down with him trapped inside, locked in it.

But there are worse situations to be stuck in. He eats good food and drinks clean water. He can hang out with his friends and pretend to be annoyed by their antics. He has enough freedom to not feel suffocated by the smoke. This could be worse, this could be a lot worse.

It could also be alot better, but he tries not to dwell on that.

"...okay"

"Did you get all that through your dumb lil' coconut head?" Another empty chuckle, "and speak up, you know I hate it when you fucking mumble"

"Okay, I get it" Megumi repeats much louder. His fists are clenched so tightly his nails are cutting into his palms. It was funny, really, even when Sukuna wasn't touching him he still got hurt.

But that's just how he let out his anger—punishment or putting himself in this situation to begin with. Megumi knows repressing his anger is not healthy. It's much better to let off steam, but he wasn't in his room where everything was a punching bag. He was in a car with other people who didn't need to witness his mental breakdown.

"Huh? Did you say something?"

Megumi glances up before his brain could convince him otherwise. Itadori had one earbud out and dangling over his shirt; his hand is hovering over the other in his ear. Upon seeing Megumi's face he immediately yanks it out with zero regard to the integrity of the earbud. They fall to the floorboard, probably broken or atleast permanently damaged; Yuji doesn't seem to care in the slightest.

"Ah, your face... What's wrong?"

Megumi's shoulders slump with the weight of his regard and a stab of hurt lanced his heart. His pink lips are pressed in a line so tight they were nearly invisible, a million words raring to spill past.

I want to tell you but I want you to live more.

"Hey, talk to me"

Itadori hands reach forward and Megumi barely manages to contain a flinch. He forgets sometimes that this is Yuji and Yuji didn't hurt. Yuji had never hurt. Even though Megumi's given him copious opportunities to change that (he admits he's not the easiest to work with at times), but at every junction, wherein Sukuna would render him a bruised mess, Yuji always chose gentleness. It was confusing. It was annoying. Yuji Itadori was annoying. Megumi was annoyed right now, yes.

"Oh, um, I was just... talking to myself, I guess" Megumi resembles a failing engine.

Unbeknownst to Itadori, Sukuna's mouth forms above his brows.

'Liar' he mouths.

Megumi slaps Itadori across the forehead.

"Ouch! Wh—ha, what was that for?"

"You had a bug. It was annoying... buzzing around and not shutting up"

He knew it as he was saying it—he was going to get hurt for that later. Sukuna would make a special trip to his room once Yuji fell asleep tonight.

Itadori's gaze could pierce a brick wall. Heaven help the poor bastard he cross-examined should he ever choose to become a lawyer. For a second Megumi thinks he's been figured out, but then Yuji smiles and a quiet relief rushes over him.

"Oh, okay then, did you get it?"

Megumi looks at the red hand imprint left on Yuji's forehead.

"Yeah, it's gone"

Itadori rubs the spot. He's blinking rather drowsily, voice a little gravely. "Man that really hurt... So I guess there's no possibility I fell asleep and I'm dreaming, huh?" His gaze was hooded with temporary exhaustion, unknowingly piercing through every layer of defense Megumi had constructed like a dagger through a sheet. Lowering and hypnotic. Criminally effortless. Fuck.

He's handsome... Megumi's mind supplied unhelpfully, then promptly shut down because now is not the time for that. He must be half awake himself... Say something, he's looking at you, say something! "I'm afraid not" He hummed. Okay, good. "Why? Do you often dream of me?" That, on the other hand, was bad! Why did he say that? He-he hadn't meant to imply...

"Like I'd tell you" Yuji winks "That's between me and my pillow, thank you very much" He laughs. Megumi liked when he could make Yuji laugh, the feeling like a hundred birds in his chest, taking to the sky at once, weightless and dizzying.

His face feels hot. He knows better than to pretend something isn't in the air... but he wonders if Itadori feels it too.

The flame is still small—that or the extent of his feelings is blurred. Whichever the case, it doesn't matter. The problem is that there's something. Something that can be nurtured. A spark that could grow if he's not careful. (And why would he be?) It's tender in his heart, and despite its early stage, it's almost addicting; a sweet taste that wouldn't be so terrifying if the circumstances were different.

"Ah, Megumi, did you see that!?" Yuji has both of his hands and his forehead pressed against the car window. "We just passed that store you like. We should go back after this; I can use some new pants"

Megumi doesn't even know what he's talking about. He's pretty sure he's never expressly stated what stores he likes and dislikes. Though Itadori was annoyingly observant for someone so... him. Megumi wouldn't be surprised if he figured it out.

"Don't make an extra stop just for me" he waves his hand lazily. Neglecting to mention that he did need some new shirts. Preferably ones that could hide blood stains.

"Well, I like their clothes too. Red is nice, but I've recently gotten into the darker colors. The blacks, the greys, the browns," Yuji pauses. "Like the color of your eyes, clear like the night sky—"

"Y-you noticed my eyes?" Megumi's face went rosy.

Itadori is the picture of lackadaisical ease. Fingers interlocked behind his head, he nods.

"Of course, I see you everyday" He nudges Megumi's side with his elbow. "They're much prettier when you're not glaring at me. What do you think of mine?"

And Megumi thought his face couldn't get any redder... how shortsighted.

Itadori is joking, he reminds himself. This flirting is meaningless and he's probably not even aware he's doing it...

Megumi schooled his features to something more impassive.

"Eh, you're cute" he sucks for breath like it had been punched out of him. Eyes, you fucking moron, you're supposed to be talking about his eyes. He didn't mean to be so... direct.

Yuji raises an eyebrow, his eyes seeing only Megumi, not looking anywhere else. And, somehow, he doesn't feel unwelcomed under his gaze, not with the way Yuji is looking at him. The rest of the world might not care if he exists, but Itadori does. He really does.

Megumi is acutely aware of each breath. In, out. In, out.

"Me, cute?" Itadori licks his lips before smiling, his tongue stopping on a particularly sharp canine. He straightens in his seat, eyes glittering.

And suddenly it's like Megumi had forgotten how to breathe. In, in, hold, hold, hold—This whole situation was treacherous. He has to look away. Lest he made a mistake he couldn't undo. A mistake he was dying to make... A mistake he knows Yuji would hate him for...

"You're unbelievable" he turns to look out of the car window.

"You say that a lot. I might just start taking it as a compliment" Yuji laughs again.

Megumi's own lips curl up a little and all of the sudden it hits him.

He got it then. On a random Wednesday in the backseat of a car. The flame crackles and grows as the embers burn his skin. Uh-oh. Megumi loves this boy. He loves him and it's killing him. He won't get over him, he can't.

When Megumi turns back to Itadori with his newfound revaluation gleaming in his eyes, Yuji is slapping a hand against the side of his own head. He looks like a kid trying to get water out of his ears.

"Is—" another slap, this time much harder than the last. Megumi clears his throat. "Is everything alright?"

"Ugh," Itadori looks legitimately frustrated. Brows furrowed together, he groans and throws his head back on the car's headrest. "He's screaming at me"

Oh, Sukuna. For a blissful moment Megumi had forgotten of his existence.

"What about?"

Yuri scrunches his face as he listens. A pause. He shakes his head.

"You wouldn't like it"

"Wouldn't like what? What is he saying to you, Itadori?" Megumi is uncharistically firm. He feels like he has to be. Because Sukuna wouldn't... He wouldn't—

"It's nothing," Yuji dismisses. He plays it off well, parading a smile and a laugh, but Megumi can see the corner of his eye twitch. Sukuna hasn't stopped; if anything he's gotten louder.

"So, what? You just won't tell me?"

"Um," Itadori opens his mouth, blinks once, twice, then closes it. "Yeah, don't worry about it" He gazed at him, knowing. No further words were necessary.

The car is silent for the remainder of the trip.

'Who was your first love?' Some wide eyed, big headed little girl would ask him one day.

'My first love,' and Megumi would pause, smiling 'was this boy who kept his glass ruler in the sunlight and made rainbows on my desk with it'

He'd play it up to sound much cuter and far less annoying than it actually is. The 'rainbows' were more like glares of light that, after blinding Megumi momentarily, would have a glimpse of color. For a long time he'd thought Yuji was unaware, but now he was pretty damn sure the idiot was doing it on purpose.

"Can you stop that while I'm trying to think"

Another harsh glare of light made Megumi close his left eye.

"Maybe this is just my strategy" Yuji chuckles.

Megumi still doesn't know what Sukuna had been screaming, but Yuji had apparently gotten over it after a few days. Megumi doesn't ask how or why; And on the off chance that he'll ruin Yuji's mood again, he never will. Blissful ignorance never felt so good.

"Whatever. E-4"

Itadori didn't even glance down at his board. "Miss"

"Alright. You're definitely cheating" Megumi rightfully accuses. He leans back in his chair, crossing his arms like a petulant child refusing to play.

Itadori gasps, theatric. "I am not"

"I've tried all over the board and haven't managed to hit one of your battleships yet. You're absolutely cheating"

"Or" He raises a finger to the imaginary light bulb flickering above his head "you just don't have my mind for strategy"

"Uh-huh, and does that strategy involve not putting any ships on the board in the first place?"

A pause, "...no"

Megumi's brows furrowed. Well, wasn't that convincing?

"Damnit, Itadori" he admonished, though with no real gravitas since he was content simply being in the same room together. Megumi's attitude was relatively weightless.

Yugi dissolved into a fit of giggles across from him, white canines glinting in the light. His teeth were uncharacteristically sharp; Megumi assumes somehow Sukuna is to blame.

"Okay, okay, you got me! Wondered how long it'd take you to catch on" He leaned forward, holding an imaginary microphone out. "How's it feel knowing that's a half-hour of your life you'll never get back?"

Megumi moves Yuji's hand away with a huff. "Very mature. Didn't know your ego was so weak that losing a game of Battlefield would injure it" his head shook, traitorous lips tugging threateningly, despite his best efforts.

"Ego? Weak?" Itadori's eyes flicker up, alight with something both dangerous and daring, shifting moods faster than one can blink. "Careful, now" his voice is deeper now, cocky almost; it does something to Megumi's stomach. "Don't start something you have no intention of finishing"

"I'll finish it" the Fushiguro boy replies—spurred by the dark confidence fluttering at the edge of his psyche. The playful side of him that only Itadori has come to know showing its head. "And I'll win" he was vaguely aware of the prisms of glittery light reflected off the forgotten glass ruler now painting the wall behind him.

"I know I'll let you win," Itadori says, standing up to hover over him. "I won't even put up a fight" His white-toothed smile spans to something forebodingly provocative, as though mimicking the spread of his wings. "Well, maybe a small one, just for sport"

He's talking about the game, he's talking about the game, spoke like a mantra in Megumi's head.

Yuji's smile fell just enough for the tips of his teeth to stay in view. His mouth is open oh-so-slightly, lips parted, like... like an invitation... Which it wasn't, Megumi scolded himself. It wasn't an invitation. Nor was the tip of his tongue slipping out to lick at his lower lip.

It wasn't, he repeated; but what if it was? He argued back.

It's a feeling that tugs at his heartstrings with enough strength to snap them. It's a harsh slap to reality, it's a painful memory of what could never be, but it's also addictive. A fear inducing, panic ridden, addiction.

He swallowed, the faintest flush creeping up the sides of his neck.

He turns away, defiant in a don't-look-at-my-blushing-face sort of way. This makes Yuji smile again, but then his eyes do something—dart from one place on Megumi to another. Itadori's face doesn't fall exactly, but something in it hardens. Megumi barely catches it.

"What happened to your neck?"

Megumi's brain lags. God damn it Sukuna.

"My..." He trails off, looking down as if he's able to see the hickey in question. "Oh, I just slept on it weird. It's nothing"

"Is that it?" Yuji chuckles quietly with a sheepish smile. He's wringing his hands and Megumi is all too aware of the height difference with one of them standing and the other sitting. "And you just... Expect me to believe that, then?"

Something about Itadori seems... Off.

He leans a hip against the table like he's trying to seem relaxed but Megumi can't help thinking that he's blocking the way out of the room—to the door. But he knows Yuji would never trap him. Spending so much time with Sukuna wasn't good for Megumi... Now he was looking at everyone like they wanted to hurt him.

Yuji didn't hurt.

There's a smile on his face, not that Megumi thinks he ever stopped, but he also seems weirdly serious.

"Hey, look at me"

And when he takes an extra ten seconds to do so, Yuji grips his chin and forcibly turns it. Megumi (though he masked it admirably) nearly jumped out of his skin, eyes wide and darting all about.

Because Yuji doesn't hurt. He doesn't. So why is he...

"Stop being weird. It's just a little bruise" and you're creating even more so let go, Megumi bites back "S'not a big deal... I don't even remember where I got it" He feels the need to say because the silence grew to an uncomfortable level of long

and if he's honest, he doesn't want Yuji to dissect what he has to say. He tended to do that sometimes, take his answers and pick them apart. Not out of any ill intent, Megumi is sure, but more like he can't help it.

His heart is positively beating too fast and he wonders if Itadori can feel it being so close to his pulse point. It's erratic and fluttering like a hummingbird.

Megumi can't read his expression at all, at least not at first. He looks surprised, then irritated, and then for a second calculating but that's gone in a heartbeat.

Slowly, the corner of Itadori's mouth tilts upwards in a smile, and then he's huffing out a laugh under his breath. He's smiling but he's not, not really. The skin around his eyes crinkles and he looks so kind and yet Megumi can't help but still think something feels off.

"Oh," he says, and he sounds sheepish, in a way that makes Megumi want to apologise for the confusion and take a step back. But the table is at his back and his friend is still right in front of him, keeping a sturdy hold. Yuji would never trap him yet here he was, trapped.

"I see," Yuji hasn't stopped smiling and Megumi can't help but think that it looks cracked. Forced. "I'm sorry, I know I come off as intense"

The grip on his chin tightens for a fraction of a moment before it loosens again. Yuji's fingers smooth against Megumi's jawline, and it's like he's trying to make himself unthreatening as possible while failing spectacularly. Megumi's never felt more vulnerable in front of him and he's still not backing off.

"But you know—" Itadori laughs again and it sounds strained. "You're my friend and... And I care about you. You're a good person who doesn't deserve to be mistreated or hit or bruised" He shakes his head and Megumi can't make sense of anything he's saying.

Itadori's fingers twitch against his jaw like they're aching to grab hold and anchor down again. Even though his touch is feather light now and nearly tickles, Megumi's heart is still beating in his throat.

This isn't good. He knows not-good when he sees it and this is it.

This feels like... sand in gears. A broken tree branch lodged between two power lines.

If Megumi thinks this is his fault then Sukuna must have his claws in real fucking deep. He must have stuck a finger in his brain and stirred like it was a damn milkshake. Months of trampled boundaries have left him defenseless and ruined. And it was on purpose. Sukuna was probably laughing right now; Megumi absentmindedly wondered if Yuji could hear him.

Megumi gives another excuse. It's half-assed and so separated from reality that he forgets what he's said as he's saying it. He just rambles on, interrupting himself and correcting parts in a fabricated story that Yuji would have no way of back checking regardless. Something about... picking an order of sweets up for Gojo and falling? He stutters, words flowing like water from an opened dam.

Since when did Itadori make him so nervous? And not the 'butterflies in the stomach' sort of way.

And Yuji's eating up everything he has to say. As if Megumi was putting on some kind of performance—well, that's actually not far off, but he didn't know that. Megumi can't quite remember when someone else had been this interested in what he had to say, watching his lips like they'd fly off. It's endearing... His astute concentration.

And yet, Megumi can't help but feel like he's been put under a magnifying glass, that he's being studied. Seen.

Something about this feels unsettling.

His hand trail down Megumi's throat, over the bruise that started it all, and it's not deliberate. Not with how lost in thought Yuji seems, with how his eyes burn themselves into Megumi's face as if he were puzzle he just needs to focus on harder to solve. He's not blinking—Yuji's just staring—and not out of endearment (no, no, Megumi can hear that now,) but... Something that Megumi can't put a word to.

It doesn't hurt, but Yuji doesn't even seem to be aware he's doing it.

It doesn't hurt.

Itadori doesn't hurt.

There are tears in Megumi's eyes.

Because he so badly wants to tell Itadori the truth. Tell him that Sukuna's been coming into his room when he's asleep and messing with his body. He wants to lift up his shirt and say, here, here, here, while pointing to the bites and rug burns and welts.

But you'd effectively be killing him, his inner voice says. You'd kill your friend just for a little closure? You really are pathetic. Now he can't tell if that's his own subconscious or Sukuna worming his way into his thoughts.

"Hey, don't cry" Itadori's voice is much softer, as if he were consoling a child.

Megumi wanted to tell him to back the fuck away, to curse, to throw a punch. He wanted to so bad. To bawl and scream at him for looking identical to his abuser, but most of all for making him love him despite it all.

but Megumi couldn't. Fuck, he couldn't. He needed Yuji more than anything even if he got hurt. Even when he got hurt.

"I'm not crying"

Itadori simply grinned in that cute way that makes the dimple in his right cheek appear.

"And I—" a swallowed noise. The same sound of a boy holding his tongue. "I hate that stupid dimple" Ah, there goes that dumb little brain of his—damn Itadori and his cute fucking smile. From his spot, control slipping like water down a drain. Megumi tried determinately not to give in completely, tried to pour every vestige of decorum into a vexed "I really hate you sometimes"

Yuji chuckled, hot and knowing, "You know what I think?" He sits back down and suddenly the space that Megumi was so prudent on getting felt all too much.

Come back, but don't. Touch me, but stay away. And in his sick mind he'd long convinced himself that Yuji didn't do anything wrong because he was the problem. Over analyzing and being as sensitive as a damn baby. Megumi felt uncomfortable because he convinced himself to be. It was his fault; it had to be. Or better yet, let's blame Sukuna, yeah. Because God forbid Yuji Itadori actually made a mistake, right?

"I don't care" Megumi huffed. He was confused. A nap would be nice...

The dimple in Itadori's right cheek appeared even deeper this time.

"I think you feel the exact opposite when it comes to me and my stupid dimple"

And he's right; he's always right, fuck him for that.

Megumi's not sure, but it's one of the many things he... loves? about him. (Cut him some slack, he's still figuring this whole 'love' thing out) Yuji is a nuisance when the air is light, but in these moments where Megumi is as vulnerable as a sheet of paper ripping apart. Yuji was always so patient and so gentle with him. Always lets Megumi come to him when he's ready, never pushes too far. Somehow he always knows where the boundaries lie. And thank God those boundaries are receding closer and closer to Megumi's heart, because he's learned that distancing from Yuji is about as fucking painful as anything this world has to offer.

A series of slow knocks on Megumi's door made him sit up on his bed. It was late. The stars were beginning to bleed through the amber sky like ink blotches on cheap paper. Anyone in their right mind should be wary of visitors this late.

But Megumi was not in his right mind. Though, he knew who it was and granted, he should still be wary.

In all honesty, Megumi doesn't even remember opening the door. He just got up and stood there, staring at the handle as the knocking came to an unsettling halt. Then the door (the locked door) creaked open.

Eyes meet and it's like Megumi is pushed into a vast ocean with weights tied to his ankles. Luckily the boy was, from adolescence, an excellent swimmer—taking to it with the same prowess as he took to most physical activities—enough to be aware of uncharted waters, the dark, inky panic of swimming too far, too fast, and suddenly being painfully aware of the distance from the shore to where he'd ventured in his ill-conceived hubris. How far back he'd have to go before he could rest already exhausted limbs, praying his energy would sustain.

This was not dissimilar.

Black waters of the unknown lapped at Megumi's face, threatening to encompass him, and once he had been pulled down, would he ever relocate the surface?

"Earth to Fushiguro, you even listenin'?" Sukuna's jaw worked testily.

Megumi strikes an accidentally all too sassy pose—hand on the hip with a brow raised "On the contrary, Sukuna, when your mouth opens, I find it best to stop attending altogether"

If that insulted the King of Curses then he doesn't show. "Your loss. Missin' some golden material" Sukuna pushes past him with a purposeful bump of the shoulders. He plops himself down on the boy's bed like he owns it.

"I'll risk it" Megumi cringes at the way his mattress springs cry under Sukuna's weight.

The internal scale advising whether to ignore him or throw a book at his head was tipping rapidly towards the book-throwing persuasion, but Megumi breathed shakily through his nose, letting his face muscles relax. Play nice. Play nice, damnit. Think of Itadori. Play nice...

He has yet to turn around and face Sukuna. Yet he can't shake the feeling of him watching, of evil eyes zeroing in like a hawk on every single twitch or uneven breath. There are things he should say. Offer Sukuna something or tell him to leave... but he doesn't.

Sitting on his bed instead of a throne surrounded by blood, without baring his sharp teeth, Sukuna seemed much more approachable... he felt so... human, like this. Undeniably so. From a distance, he was an entity of silent chaos, a long-standing thorn in Megumi's side, warped and magnified into something almost bestial.

Yet here. Now. Inescapably close, he looked so... Normal. Yet, so damnably persistent.

"Gotta admit, I can stare at you all day kid, but that's not what I'm here for. C'mere and stop wasting my time"

Megumi turns to him. Sukuna's sitting with his legs manspread, he beckons the boy closer with a 'come hither' curl of his finger.

Sukuna isn't interested in Megumi the same way normal human beings are in each other. This isn't a crush, it's an obsession. Megumi is never not in his thoughts. But Sukuna doesn't want to hold his hand—he'd rather set him on fire and hold him while the flame consumes them both, or possibly eat his heart so he knows that only he will possess it entirely.

Megumi, despite the Fushiguro in his blood advising him against it, has moved closer.

"I still don't understand you humans. For the sake of this brat you'd go this far?" With a pull on his hand, Megumi tumbles into Sukuna's lap. He struggles for a moment before he's being adjusted properly by a sturdy hold on his neck. His back is flush with Sukuna's chest.

"I don't need you to understand. Just get on with it... damn psycho" Megumi spits.

He wants to ram his nails into Sukuna and rip that smirk off his face, but when he tries to raise his hand the curse catches it mid-air. Nothing in Sukuna's face suggests that he's put off by the clear defiance, or that he's even noticing it.

That alone, knowing that his genuine acts of violence weren't even considered threatening, had a cold sweat trickling down Megumi's spine.

"You've got a bad mouth, Megumi. S'going to get you in some trouble one of these days if you don't learn your place"

"It hasn't already?" He challenges.

Sukuna wears a little grin. "You've got a point" Megumi sees the dimple—Yuji's dimple. That's it. He's going to vomit.

Sukuna's somehow larger than Yuji and he's warm and he's got Megumi pinned to his body. "You've got a dangerous attraction to this kid... letting yourself be violated just for him. Too bad he doesn't feel the same way"

"Shut up" Megumi seethes. Big strong hands run up and down his body with no regard as to how rough they're being "Shut up. You don't know anything" he repeats, eyes squeezed shut. He's starting to get overwhelmed. Breathe, he has to remember to breathe.

"'You don't know'" Sukuna mimics with a crude impression of Megumi's voice "You sound like an insolent child. I live in this kid's head, you dumb fucker. I know what he knows and he knows he has no feelings for you"

It hurts, but Megumi doesn't dwell on it because that's all Sukuna does. He hurts and he takes, greedy, vicious, starving, until he's pillaged all there is to offer. His words means as much as gum stuck to the street.

Sukuna's breath is hot and harsh against the back of Megumi's neck. His teeth scrape against the skin like he plans to lunge and rip. He's turning Megumi's head at a neck breaking angle and when he meets well deserved resistance, a low, hungry noise leaves his lips.

He enjoys it, of course he does, knowing that just a little more twerk and Megumi's neck would snap completely.

"I hate to be a replacement for the brat and I am no one's second choice, but I can always fuck you in his place. Don't say I never did nothing for ya'"

A beat. Two beats. Megumi jumps like he's been electrocuted.

"No!" He pushes and pulls to get away or at least off the lap of Sukuna. The curse doesn't budge. Shocker. "You can't—we've never..."

Up until this point whenever Sukuna's abuse became... sexual it was always strictly hands or mouth. For instance, just a few days ago when Sukuna made Megumi hold his dick in his mouth until he literally passed out from lack of oxygen—only to do it again eight more times within the hour. And even that torture, to some extent, Megumi was okay with. But sex? His virginity? He has to draw a line somewhere or else Sukuna will surely consume him whole.

"First time for everything, kid. You've been getting awfully close to my vessel. Figured you'd actually like this body pinning you to the mattress"

Two hands hold either side of Megumi's hips and yank him to be flushed against Sukuna's growing erection. It pokes and prods around his clothed balls, his hole, and the all too sensitive skin in-between. Shit, shit, shit, it felt weird. Not bad, persay, definitely not painful, but immoral and sacrilegious nonetheless—it felt wrong.

"...please don't" Megumi tries to give him another shove but Sukuna simply bends his head to mouth at his rabid pulse.

"You're a man aren't you?" He's chuckling into the crease of his neck "Don't be such a pussy"

"Sto—!"

Sukuna bucks up so roughly that Megumi is psychically lifted a few inches with his lap. He wasn't fully hard, but his cock was girthy and heavy. This was going to hurt. Megumi was going to get his clothes all torn up again and this was going to hurt.

"You're being too rough" Megumi gasps for air like it's been punched out of him.

Sukuna bites down on his ear lobe and draws blood. "I've thrown you around plenty, haven't I? no need to be gentle now"

Megumi had to ground himself the next time those strong hips bucked up. For stability reasons, he had reached back to grip the curse's forearms; and of course the guy looked so fucking smug about it, but Megumi couldn't care less as he was too focused on riding another wave of Ryomen-fucking-Sukuna. The next thrust still almost has Megumi falling off of his lap. His head falls back into the crease of his abuser's neck.

When he drew near, the rich musk of Sukuna wrapped him again: fire, sweat, blood, and something darker—something distinctly him.

"I'm going to fuckin' destroy you, Megumi"

Megumi's eyes absolutely weren't wide and unfocused, and he absolutely didn't glance away in panicked haste when Sukuna gripped his face again to force eye contact. Because he is a teenage Fushiguro and he is stronger than this.

"Please, don't. I'll do anything—I'll..." Strong or not he couldn't lose his virginity like this. He just couldn't. So he swallowed his pride and flickered his eyes back to Sukuna. He stared back from under his eyelashes—Megumi knew that look.

"I... can I... I'll suck your dick, instead, okay? Y-you like that, right? I won't even complain. I swear"

Sukuna curses to himself, a low 'fuckin' Hell, kid' under his breath.

Megumi lowered his lashes until they almost cuddled his cheeks and slowly raised them again, like a theatre curtain. It was a look he only used on the most desperate of occasions and Sukuna was well aware with the trick. It was supposed to make him roll over on his back with all four paws in the air.

Sukuna licked his lips, grinning at him. "Oh, how sweet. My Megumi wants to take care of me?"

My Megumi. How crude. "Please"

That sadistic fucker looks thoroughly entertained and for a genuine second, Megumi believes he's actually been convinced.

"Too bad I wasn't born yesterday" Sukuna's breath is burning the back of his neck. He tongue licks a circle around the flesh before he fucking bites. Megumi's flesh is being held between his teeth like he's about to get fucked by a wild animal. (Not too far off of a comparison, really) When Sukuna finally lets go Megumi feels something dripping down the column of his neck. He's not sure if he prefers it to be his own blood or Sukuna's saliva "Clothes. Take em' off"

Megumi is pushed off of his lap and falls chest first, ass up onto the floor. A sound escapes him—an inconsistent mix of a growl and whine.

"Did you want me undressing you?" Sukuna's voice airs from behind.

No the fuck he did not.

Megumi's never gotten naked so quickly in his life.

There's something so Fushiguro-like about him stripping too. He's so fucking bad at it and doesn't come off the least bit seductive, then again it's not like he wants to. He trips over his pants and looks momentarily lost as to where to throw his socks. His shirt somehow lands across the room from the rest of his clothes.

Sukuna watches like a hawk. Gaze hooded, legs spread wide on the bed. He wasn't ashamed to be palming his cock. The show he was being given was just so enticingly... Innocent. Like no matter what Megumi was capable of in battle, in the bedroom he's still a bumbling idiot.

Sukuna doesn't have to remind him 'boxers to', the kid already knows. The curse grunted, low and protracted.

"Oh..." his voice came out in a thick rasp. "Baby..."

He leans forward to grab Megumi again. The muscles along his arms bunched as he gripped his sides, as though trying to hold himself back. And granted, he looked as if he were seconds away from launching forward and devouring him whole.

Megumi is covered in marks that have either scarred or yet to fade—majority of them being from Sukuna himself. Cuts shaped like 'S's were healed over yet still baby pink on his upper thighs, his abdomen was covered in scares from burns, legs and arms both having an equal amount of welts and bruises, his wrists and ankles were lined with rope burn like bracelets, even his soft cock has a bruise shaped like a ring around the base.

"What a fucking treasure map. Forgot how long it takes humans to recover... Such fragile creatures you are" Sukuna pats his lap; Megumi can see his erection through his pants. "Come sit back down. Face me this time"

Megumi does, draping one leg over each of his until he's sat on Sukuna's upper thighs and spread like an eagle wings. The curse doesn't waste any time. One hand fondles at Megumi's chest while the other kept and firm hold on his lower back.

"You'd have some spectacular tits if you were a woman," Sukuna murmured. He held a nipple between his index and middle knuckle before twisting. The shock of pain almost had Megumi cry out, but he persevered. Biting his lip is the only thing that kept him grounded. "Fuck. 'Member when I lathered these babies in my cum? Holy shit, covered you like a cake. Remember, child?"

Oh, he remembered. He remembered the warmth of cum coating his chest, running down the passage in the middle. Sukuna made him massage it into the open bites around his nipples; it burned like Hell and when he was done he had to lick the cum and blood mixture off of his fingertips. And Sukuna watched every second. No jerking off or even making fun of him, just watching, commiting the memory of Megumi to his personal spank bank, no doubt

"Stop talking. You're so ann—mm" a kiss seared and sizzled under his ear, "annoying"

Sukuna's laugh was breathy and delirious on his skin. "Oh, I'm annoying?" A tattooed hand teasingly skimmed the length of his collarbone "Do you have any fucking idea what you put me through on a daily basis? It's maddening..."

"Me? You're the one with the problem" Megumi gripped his upper arm, steadying himself as his Sukuna bowed to the junction where his neck met his shoulder.

He loved inflicting pain but for reasons Megumi still wasn't aware, love bites (as well as actual bites) were the only things allowed to ruin the complexion of his neck. It was possessive and all too personal and it raged Megumi more than anything because to some extent it felt good. And more than once he's caught himself looking at them in the mirror, imagining a life where Itadori had left them instead.

"You enjoy pr... provoking me"

He felt Sukuna smirk against his skin. "What can I say, I like the way your eyes light up" Fingers laced fully through the kid's hair and yanked. Sukuna bit down on a piece of neck that was exposed, snarling lowly.

It wasn't long before the hands started moving lower. Down Megumi's sides, over his abdomen, and to his hips. But not over his dick—Sukuna 'isn't gay', he'd say while skull fucking Megumi to tears. His obsession towards the Fushiguro boy developed purely out of interest in his soul. Sukuna didn't give a rats ass about what body it was in, but obviously given the chance to swap he'd choose a woman any day. The only time Sukuna touched Megumi's cock was when he planned to use it to hurt him and in a way, Megumi preferred it. He'd rather not associate Sukuna with the pleasure of an orgasm.

Sukuna—that lazy fuck—doesn't move from his position on the edge of the bed as he bends Megumi down to present himself. Megumi, having nowhere to go but onto the floor again, grips the outer of Sukuna's thighs with his own and plants his hands behind him like a starfish on the carpet. His back is bent at a sickening diagonal angle and blood is starting to rush to his head. It is a very not vexatious position and the most revealed he's ever been, soft cock and ass literally showcased like a decorated cake, and he's sure Sukuna knows and revels in his uncomfortableness.

The curse separates Megumi's cheeks and the boy desperately tried not to clench himself and offer even more of a show.

"I'm going to use you like a woman down here" dry fingers run across his hole.

Megumi paused for a moment. This was going to happen regardless, he accepted, no matter how hard he fought. And he was so tired of fighting.

"If you tell anyone—"

"Why the fuck would I tell anyone?" Sukuna snorts. "Bragging rights? You think you're some sort of catch now?"

"Fuck you" he's desperately trying to keep his head tilted up so blood rushes to it slower.

"That's exactly what I plan to do. Glad we're on the same page for once"

A hand presses down on Megumi's abdomen uncomfortably. "Don't be such a prude. I know you like this sort of thing" Sukuna's voice runs over his body. God-fuck, it's right over him. Megumi can't move and Sukuna's right there and his erection is bumping against his ass. It's still clothed, but dry and rough almost like it's an omen of what's to come. "Being held down and having your ass taken like this"

"No," Megumi says. He can't swallow but he can talk. He feels so disgusting like this, body arched like a whore in a position only seen in the raunchiest of bdsm porn. "You're wrong. I don't—I never—"

"Oh?" Sukuna's voice is in disbelief. "You've never wanted my vessel on top of you? You've never fingered yourself and wished he was holding you down?"

Megumi's breath comes out in a soundless gasp. He manages to lift his pelvis just a fraction before it falls again, entirely too heavy under Sukuna's hand.

"No" he shakes his head like it's on wobbly hinges.

Why was he even engaging with this prick? He's supposed to be firm and set boundaries and fuck, get a hold of yourself.

"You're a teenager, Megumi, and you've never been fucked," he says. "But you ache for it, don't you? You know exactly what you need. You just haven't found anyone who wants you back" he pulls Megumi's ass cheek to the side and blows on his asshole.

"I don't want it" Megumi tried to ration. It's a reflex at this point. His voice slurs around a glob of saliva.

"Ah, but you need it, child" Sukuna's hand trails down to one of Megumi's nipples. He doesn't pull this time, just runs his fingers over it. "You're so pitiful, don't you know? Sounding just like—" Sukuna's voice whines and moans, mockingly: "'Ah, Sukuna—Sukuna, Sukuna, don't, please. No, no, no!'" Another crass imitation—though much better than the last, at least he's learning.

"Stop it..." Megumi's face burns with shame.

Sukuna forces his body back upright, chest to chest. The room spins in Megumi's vision as the blood rushes down from his head. Sukuna's hand runs once more through the kid's hair, eyes glancing down at his little cock. It's limp in his lap, soft and wrinkled and pink around his balls, excess foreskin gathering above the head.

"Eh, how unsightly," Sukuna snorts. He reaches down and toys with the foreskin, pinching it and pulling it back. Megumi wants to sob, shame pooling into his belly. Sukuna's fingers tickle his balls and then two of them press into the base of his dick, right against the bruise given to him a few days prior. He flicks it back and forth against Megumi's tummy, an agonizing slapping sound echoing through the room.

And Megumi tries, God he tries not to whine about it but inside of his head, he's shrieking. This is so embarrassing he wants to shrivel into himself and die; he'd much rather have his fingers amputated than be subjected to his.

"Oh, I think it's getting bigger" Sukuna coos mockingly. A devilish little grin takes over his face. "Should we see if you can suck your own dick?"

"No!" Megumi's own volume surprises him "No, fuck you, fuck off, I can't, no—"

The curse laughs. "I think you can. I'm sure I can make you. Or maybe..." He's far too entertained byte thought "too much? Alright then, lay back"

There was no point in telling him to because Sukuna was man handling his body before the sentence was finished. Megumi lays on his back. He should be grateful he's been permitted to do so on the bed instead of the floor. The curse grips the back of Megumi's knees in one hand and pushes them up.

Sukuna's fingers slip past his ballsack to prod at his puckered asshole.

Whispers of 'please don't's amongst other pleas are leaving Megumi's lips. They might as well have fallen on deaf ears.

Sukuna's free hand raises. His fingers wiggle right in front of Megumi's face, almost tauntingly, before he brings them to his own mouth. He removes them, slick and dripping with spit, and leans forward to spit onto Megumi's asshole.

By the time Megumi processes what he's seeing, Sukuna's middle finger jams into his ass up to the knuckle. He gasps and writhes. His leg jerks from the strength of his own reaction, resulting in an annoyed grunt from Sukuna.

Megumi's body attempts to remove the intrusion. All while Sukuna's finger starts locking up, contorting into a claw-like shape. The finger in his ass hooks into the walls of his rectum, dragging and scratching into the sensitive flesh.

Megumi lets out a cry of pain, lips shaking.

A second finger pushes in just as roughly. "C'mon, loosen up a little. I'm an attractive man even in this brat's body; I know this is doing something to you" Sukuna drawls, but there's a forceful tone of anger to his voice.

"Humans don't—ah" Megumi hisses. The fingers thrust in and out of him, scissoring and twisting. It burns, it hurts, and his soft cock slaps in his lap. "We don't find our rapists attractive"

"Unfortunately, I care nothing for the personal tastes of humans"

A third finger is shoved into Megumi's ass. His asshole burns and stings, feels like he's being torn in half. It's a tight fit. Sukuna's fingers cramp up, squeezed close to each other, knuckles grinding together.

Megumi is screaming inside of his head.

Sukuna laughs, full of murf. "Oh, you poor baby"

"God, god, stop oh—"

"Why don't you try thinking about your precious lover boy drilling into you instead?" Sukuna says, probably as a joke, but the realization hits after he's said it that he's not smiling—or joking.

There's a pause. Megumi's ass unclenches for a moment and the fingers slide fully to the second knuckle. The curse lets out a belly laugh.

"M'not surprised that worked... and you call me a psycho"

"No, no, it... didn't, fuck off it couldn't"

Sukuna's lying to him. He has to be because Megumu wasn't stupid enough to let himself get raped easier just by thinking about Yuji instead.

Not even the thought of Itadori positioning the head of his cock at his hole can distract him to such a point... Looking down and being able to see it disappear inside of himself. Megumi definitely wouldn't give in just by thinking of that bulbous head pushing past his hole, all the way to the widest part of the length, stretching him open, making room for itself between his tight, quivering walls.

In such a case Yuji would be all that filled his mind. Itadori, Itadori, Itadori. And no doubt Yuji would be fucking ruthless. He never does anything half-assed and he's also not selfish. He'd make sure Megumi came at least twice before he let himself cum once. Megumi's abused hole would gape from his size, messy and wet. In a perfect world a mixture of his cum and Yuji's would be sliding down his thighs.

"Would hearing his voice make baby a little hot under the collar?"

Where was he again? Oh right, Sukuna.

"You wouldn't" Megumi huffs. How stupid of him to assume Sukuna wouldn't do something—expecially if that something would case him distress.

"These are his vocal cords, you know. I'm sure if I just—" Sukuna clears his throat. "M-Megumi?"

Holy shit.

He can't dwell on the absurdity of it all because Sukuna's fingers are reaching even deeper inside.

"Oh, Megumi, look at that" Itadori—stupid fucking brain and its self sabotaging. stop that—Sukuna continues. "You're taking it so well"

Megumi throws his head back against the sheets and the first thought that comes to his mind is: Sukuna doesn't sound... horrible, then his mind promptly shut down because what the fuck was he even on about?

Megumi's asshole goes slack even though he's trying so goddamn hard to clench up. He fights, wants to tense up so fucking bad—

"There you go, Megumi. I knew you could do it. M'so proud of you"

Fuck.

He tries to breathe, tries so hard to move away, but the sensations have his hole twitching and clenching under the attention. Sukuna's fingers are different, somehow. The pain is still there but so is something else. It's scary. Megumi is scared.

Yuji's voice is helping and he wants to die.

"You're such a fucking asshole!" He growls out.

Sukuna's fingers speed up, tearing into his hole, fucking him open. Megumi is still too tight; it's obvious from the way that Sukuna's fingers bunch around each other, how much they have to twist before he finally manages to spread them apart.

"Were you saying something, sweetheart? M'can't hear you over the sounds of my fingers in your ass" it's still Yuji's voice but now it's deeper, more gravely. Sukuna's natural growl is seeping  in.

Megumi collapses into the sheets at this, gasping and convulsing from embarrassment. He wants to hide because he knows that his whole body is flushing but he can't. Sukuna's fingers are in his ass and he's being spread wide open and he can't take it. He can't take this. He's not strong enough for this; he thought he was, but the psychological aspect... it's so much more intimate than it's ever been. So confusing. Its terrifying.

"Shit," Sukuna says, Itadori's voice now completely disregarded in exchange to his own. "That's actually disgusting. Do you hear yourself? Your asshole is so hungry for me. Are you embarrassed? You should be. Just listen to it"

Megumi says nothing, whining into the bed, rubbing his nose into the puddle of snot that's drained from his nostrils as he thrashes back and forth. Sukuna reaches forward and claps his hand over Megumi's mouth so hard that it stings.

"Listen," He snarls, and Megumi doesn't want to or mean to, but he can't hear anything else. His hole is sopping wet from spit, being fucked open with rapid squelching noises that make him want to disappear into the sheets. His curses are muffled against Sukuna's palm, a tiny act of rebellion that makes a glob of drool fall from his lips, and then he's flushed all over again.

"Wow... you're a damn degenerate aren't you?"

Megumi doesn't know what he means. Sukuna is looking down, his hand slips from his mouth.

"You're fucking hard"

He simply doesn't believe that.

"No... no I'm not"

Sukuna finds it amusing. "Deny all you want, you're the one cutting diamonds over here"

"L-liar"

Sukuna stretches him even wider than before, scissoring his fingers, and Megumi's mouth opens around a soundless gasp.

"Look how easily you're taking it, kid. When you said you couldn't do it, were you trying to hide how filthy you are? How easily your hole opens up? I would think you're always getting fucked"

Megumi decisively says nothing, his whines softening into a raspy whimper at the back of his throat. He manages to move his arm and bring it in front of his head so that he can hide his face.

Sukuna's fingers slow and the change in sensation makes Megumi's hips stutter. "You should be ready now"

Megumi can feel the drag of Sukuna's knuckles inside of him, the smoothness of his blunt fingernails, the base of his hand meeting the outside of his rim once more before he pulls out completely.

"Don't—"

A rustle of fabric.

"You should probably bite that pillow, kid"

Megumi is just about to protest again, just about to fucking scream, but then the pressure around him drops into his lower body. It happens without warning. His stomach drops and clenches. He retches but nothing comes up. His limbs burn and tingle and then—

And then Sukuna's inside and he's moving. Megumi entire body reels. It feels like his skin is being peeled back, agonizingly slow, cut off with a knife that's entirely too blunt. Feels like his brain is being dissected while he's still alive. Everything's so loud yet he can't hear a thing. His vision is pulsing and his body just keeps screaming out signals that this is wrong, wrong, something is wrong.

This shouldn't be happening.

Megumi doesn't remember much, or atleast not very much of what Sukuna is saying because the guy just won't shut up.

About five minutes in and Megumi is practically sobbing now, eyelashes sticking together and eyes rolling to the back of his head. With the limited vision, his senses are hyper focused on the wet sounds of his ass taking Sukuna's cock and the overwhelming feeling of being stuffed. Stuffed. He's stuffed so full he thinks that the size and groove of this cock will be permanently ingrained into him. It's like Sukuna's fucking his whole self into him. Until Megumi is incapable of thinking of anyone else, incapable of thinking of anything other than Sukuna's cock manipulating his walls and mind into perfect, civil, obedience.

With each thrust Sukuna was barging through his rooms, secret rooms—so private. He had entered without a key. He thrusted harder and faster, the doors to Megumi rooms are opening and closing, slamming and banging and longing to shut him out.

"Ha, you cryin'?"

"No..." he is, he knows he is. "Don't—don't look at me. Fuck.."

"You are, aren't you? C'mon you're stronger than this. A taste of a real man and you bitch and moan. You sound like a bloody woman" A strong grip on Megumi's chin has his tear trailed face on display. "Look at me, child. One's dignity may be assaulted, vandalized and cruelly mocked, but it can never be taken away unless it is surrendered. You're better than this; so act like it"

Megumi lets out another sob because fuck this guy! The only reason he's crying in the first place is because he's being raped. A wad of spit lands on Sukuna's cheek. Time slows. It slides down to his chin and drips off onto Megumi's own belly.

Then the curse smiles, shark-like, predatory. "That's my boy"

The thrusting starts up again and the last thing Megumi is aware of is searing pain and the sensation of falling.

The next morning Megumi was angry. He'd long moved past denial. What with the entire night to stoop in denial, shaking and sleepless, laying in his bed. His bed. One of the only things that equaled comfort now soddened with the memory of what happened. Megumi doesn't think he'll ever sleep again. Or at least nowhere near as he'd once been able to.

Not real, not real, not real, not real, is what he kept thinking. Acting like he had an appetite at breakfast, trying to slip off his clothes for a shower without crying, avoiding Itadori at all costs. Notrealnotrealnotrealnotreal, repeated like some kind of fucked up prayer.

He was tired. Everything hurt. He decided to skip classes today and sent Gojo a quick text that he's not feeling well. His phone vibrates. Gojo responds rather quickly, when doesn't he? Then another vibration. Then another. Either Megumi's receiving a quick succession of messages or he's being called.

He should check, but then there's a knock on his door. Slow, tempo-less, and heavy. Shit. Megumi would have acted absent but the sound startles him and his phone drops and hits the floor with a loud 'smack'.

He doesn't say anything as he creeps towards the door, nor does the person on the other side. Looking through the peephole Megumi is greeted with a red scarf.

His eyes softened, a million thoughts running through his head, one of which chiefly reprimands him for completely neglecting his rule of 'staying away from Itadori'. Megumi doesn't know what to say, if he'll shrink into himself or bawl a thousand tears, but he takes comfort in the fact that it's Itadori he'll be doing it for.

Megumi opens the door; Immediately, he wonders if being so stupid runs in the Fushiguro bloodline or not.

"What, expecting someone else?" Asks Sukuna. He's the perfect picture of languid disregard. One would find it hard to believe he was the perpetrator of a brutal rape last night.

It takes a moment for Megumi to realizes words aren't coming out of his parted lips. This is the first time he's seen Sukuna since he was left passed out naked in a puddle of various bodily liquids.

"What are you..." voice sounding far too weak, he clears his throat and tries again. "What are you doing... out?"

Sukuna pops himself off of the doorframe, all too eager to answer. "Someone knocked the little idiot out during training. You weren't there by the way. What's wrong? Baby feeling a little under the weather?"

An overstepping red shoe keeps the door ajar when Megumi tries to slam it closed. He scoffs, completely over it, and retreats back into the confines of his room. Decidedly not caring if he was followed, even though he did and he was.

"Hate to see him go, but love to watch him walk away" Sukuna's whistle airs from behind him. Still a distance away but definitely standing in the room now.

"Are you finished?" God, he couldn't stand him. And the fact that he's talking so obscenely normal is infuriating.

Megumi feels a hand in between his shoulders blades. He tenses. Greedy fingers trail up the base of his neck and sweep away strands of hair that should've been cut weeks ago. There are a few bites from last night. Megumi couldn't see (didn't check, more like) but he could feel them. Sukuna was admiring his work, no doubt.

Months ago Megumi would have slapped Sukuna's hand off and cursed at him, but here he stands stoically obedient. The sad part is he doesn't think about rebelling anymore; he's been fighting it this whole time and still got raped. At some point pushing back just got sort of ridiculous, didn't it?

"You look especially shitty. Pea in your mattress, Princess?"

Pea in his—Megumi actually laughs. Though it's just about as joyless sounding as a sob. "You raped me" he's shaking, holy shit, he's shaking.

The hand drops from his nape. "You're still on about last night?" Sukuna's ensuing laugh was nearly as pitying as it was cutting "Christ, if I wanted all this drama I would've banged a chick instead"

Frustration and despair and the unfathomable urge to laugh himself into hysteria choked their mutual way up Megumi's throat. Was he 'still on about last night'—Yes! Yes he was! His virginity was ripped from him. He knew, he knew, this was just how Sukuna was: one could spend a less exasperating time contemplating an unsolvable equation than trying to make sense of him, but... Megumi thought he'd come close to understanding, to predict his ebb and flow, what motivated his ramblings. At minimum, he thought being raped would give him a day off to collect his thoughts or something.

Assumed he meant that much, at least. What an idiot he was.

"I won't forgive you" Megumi's voice was cold, level, and dangerous.

Sukuna's head dipped back with a cackle, the pale column of his neck exposed. He found it funny. Megumi will never be the same. Each day would be a struggle, some more than others. Friendships will come to him hard, relationships harder. He was damaged goods now and Sukuna found it fucking funny.

"Hell, no, you won't" he agrees. Megumi can hear him walking around his room, touching his shit, and eventually sitting down on his bed. "And why should you? So I can feel better? Get on with my life? I don't need your forgiveness kid; I just need a hole to cum in"

Megumi looks at him and a shiver runs down his spine. Sukuna's sitting in the exact same position he was yesterday. Edge of the bed, legs spread, leaning back on his arms for support. He's doing it on purpose, Megumi decides. Sukuna wants a reaction out of him, wants to invoke some sort of PTSD. And he has. As much as Megumi hates to admit, he's frozen in his spot and is suddenly hyper aware of every breath he takes.

"You raped me"

"Raped, schmaped. Get over it" The curse dismisses with a leisurely shake of the hand. "Children are raped"

Megumi wants to punch him. Even if it leaves a bruise on Itadori's pretty cheek, he wants to hurt Sukuna like he had hurt him.

"I am a child" A teen, really, but underage all the same. A minor. Legally incapable of consent. But no matter the age, rape was just as terrible.

"Well excuuuse me for not preparing you a warm bottle of milk after I fucked ya' open" He snorts like he expects a studio audience to start laughing in agreeance from behind him. "You weren't raped, Megumi. Boys like you don't get raped, just overpowered. And even if you were... Who'd believe you?"

Megumi rubs a hand over his opposing forearm. His skin is red, raw, and stung when pressure was applied. The shower that morning had been hot, scorching. He couldn't get any farther away inside from his skin. He couldn't get away and he tried for hours.

He shouldn't have gotten rid of the clothes he was wearing.

Shouldn't have showered.

Shouldn't have ignored the red flags.

Shouldn't have put himself in that situation.

Shouldn't have let himself be violated.

"Gojo Sensei" he squeaks out. "He'll believe me and he's stronger than you"

Sukuna raises a brow, combative yet still full of mirth. "Even if that were true, what can he do to me that he won't effectively be doing to the brat, huh?"

Megumi goes silent. He hates how similar their positions are to yesterday. Honestly, he's expecting Sukuna to motion him over with a curl of his tattooed finger—he's expecting to be raped again. And what can he do to stop it from happening, again? Nothing, again. Absolutely nothing.

"I've already told you, Megumi, you're stuck with me. Plus," Sukuna shrugs. "I didn't do anything the brat himself wouldn't have done given due time"

"Don't you fucking dare insult Itadori's character" Megumi snaps. If looks could kill, Sukuna would be splattered all over the bedroom and some of the hall by now.

Unadulterated, visceral unamusement lit the curse's eyes, piercing through to something Megumi couldn't see, wasn't sure he wanted to see.

"Alert the press, I am him. I'm trapped with his thoughts all damn day. I know what he will and will not do"

"He won't rape me" Megumi challenges.

"Maybe, maybe not, but he'll still hurt you; he already has"

Megumi's mouth opened. Stayed that way. Closed. He was unable to meet Sukuna's gaze. There was a nauseous, distant look in his eyes. As if Megumi wasn't even there. Like he left.

"Tell me, has he ever raised a fist as if he were going to hit you? Has he ever thrown something that hit you or nearly did? Has he ever held you down or grabbed you to restrain you? Has he ever shoved, poked, or grabbed you? Has he ever threatened to hurt you?" His voice lowers to a suggestive tone.
"Has he ever made you feel trapped, Megumi?"

Megumi's eyes refused to land on any one thing, alighting one place and flitting to the next like every inanimate object might jump at him. His knuckles were white, sweat on his brow.

Itadori is his friend; Sukuna is his abuser. They're completely different in every way besides psychical. How is it that the same alignment of two eyes, a nose and a mouth can make one person beautiful, and another person not?

"You can go ahead and stop wondering whether the brat will ever be violent; he already has been" Sukuna stands and leisurely strides over.

"This coming from you?" Megumi spat, baiting, teeth bared.

Sukuna's hand rose, poised to strike. If he expected Megumi to flinch, he'd be sorely disappointed. It must have been his eyes sliding magnetically off past him, the sharp inhale, maybe even his pain tolerance has increased. A solid five seconds was needed for Megumi to realize the sting of impact was strangely, blessedly, absent.

Only his eyes flicker up to investigate.

Sukuna's hand is hovering over the pointed tips of his hair. Just gliding his palm across the messy strands with not even enough force to disturb a sleeping chicken. For a moment Megumi will deny for the rest of his life, he finds himself wanting to lean into it. Itadori's hand, he tells himself, not Sukuna's.

"My vessel really has done a number on you, hasn't he?" Sukuna brushed a finger over his lips—Itadori's lips—with proprietorial boldness. A taunting grin distorting his features. "I wonder.."

Instinctively, Megumi's lips drew back in his own display of teeth, the furthest thing from affability—no, this was primal, a manic, feral illustration of predatory intent. Hurt him, and I'll rip your fucking throat out...

A hungry expression that made Megumi's skin crawl was on Sukuna's face as he continued, unfazed. "Would'ya look at that" A quiet 'ha' slithers past his lips, as conniving as a snake. "He's convinced you he's anything other than a worthless piece of shit. Look at me, Child, I'm living proof that he's failed you. He'll always fail you"

There was something chillingly unnerving about seeing Sukuna so... offended. He'd always seemed... impenetrable. Stalwart. Right now, more than anything, he seemed frighteningly human. Like he was scolding Megumi for being interested in anyone but him.

"I was there, Megumi. You think I'm staring at the ground twiddling my damn thumbs every time he's in control? Admit it, us fucking wasn't even the most damaging thing this body has done to you" Sukuna looked ready to pounce. Ready to attack. Muscles strained, face tight. Finally, his chin jerked, scowling.

"Face it, kid. You attract dangerous men. That's going to get you killed one day"

Sukuna leaves through the already open door—they had been doing all of this without it closed? What if someone walked it?—his absence lifts a weight off Megumi's chest, but the parting words ring through his head.

'You attract dangerous men'

But Megumi was just a boy,

'That's going to get you killed one day'

A boy couldn't have brought this on himself, could he?

Megumi goes back to class looking noticeably worse for wear. The bruises have reached peak saturation. Purple, green, red, and blue all mixed together in a painful distribution across his body, scattered like pellets from a shotgun. Only a few aren't hidden under his clothes. One right under his eye, another on his ear, a few more on the nape of his neck.

More than anything, Megumi looks tired. He's slumped over in his seat all class and staring down at his lap. Yuji must be out on a mission because he's not being his normal im-gonna-talk-your-ear-off-until-you-tell-me-whats-wrong self. Megumi is left to his own fruition in silence.

When class ends, Gojo Sensei asks him to stay behind. He's noticed, of course he's noticed, but it's not like Megumi was trying to hide it. Wouldn't do him any good if he did.

Satoru sits on his desk with an ankle crossed over the opposing knee. "You could barely keep your head up all class. Mm, there must be something in the water. See, 'cause I've been having some trouble sleeping too" His signature smirk appeared, and it must've been the dim light, but it almost seemed pitiful.

"Gee, we should start a club" it's the first thing Megumi has said in hours. His voice is all scratchy.

Something occurred to Gojo then, his expression held such... sadness, though Megumi wasn't sure why. The man cleared his throat, turning his head to the window, chewing his lip contemplatively before: "Something keeping you up then?" Despite being blindfolded and turned away, Megumi could still feel his gaze. "What's up?"

"...headache" let the record show Megumi has never claimed to be an actor.

"Ah, I see" Straight white teeth appeared as Gojo smiled more broadly.

"I'm guessing that the headache is a rather large one? Perhaps if you had to describe it, you'd say that it came in a five foot eight frame? Pink hair? Red shoes? Name rhymes with Muji Ita—"

"Okay, I get it"

He knows. Probably not the full extent of the problem, but he knows something. Megumi didn't think he was that obvious. As if reading reading his mind, Satoru speaks up again.

"Oh, come on. I've known you for a decade. Did you really think I wouldn't notice? Give me some credit" he says with mock offense.

The sensation of a bucket of ice water being dumped on his head overtook Megumi. Every one of his better instincts drained out of him like a dead battery. Choices and possibilities vied for dominance in his mind, a hellish, panicked cacophony: Ignore! Talk! Run! Slap himself awake, as this was surely all a dream and he'd not effectively written Itadori's death slip, no, no, not after all the pain to keep him alive, he couldn't have.
Megumi just wanted to take a nap and ignore the problem (Sukuna's coded name,) until it went away or killed him. At this point, he wasn't partial as to which.

"You..." Gojo starts. Here it is. Fuck, he's just going lay the cards out on the table? Satoru's hand gestured vaguely outward, words coming a touch slower, and certainly more muddled, than he'd intended. The seconds tick like years for Megumi. "You've drunk... Something"

A sigh of relief was audible. "I—Yes" Not a lie. Early today he bribed a much older man outside of 7/11. "Just a little" A lie. He drank the entire bottle. It was the first burning sensation he's felt in his chest in months that he actually had control over.

All of Gojo's most delicate questions interwove with the most crucial of meaning are lost to the air, yet instead, a small "Why?" slips out of its own accord before it may be impeded upon.

"I," Megumi begins, swallowing. I feel like my body isn't my own. I don't think I can handle the gravity of Itadori's life in my hands. I'm hurting and I can't fucking tell anyone. "I don't know," he finishes. He may as well have said nothing at all.

Quiet stretches, Megumi continues, "There are... Some thoughts. Some feelings that I... Would prefer to forget. Even if only for a little while" He eventually admits. Voice distant, but collected, something for which he felt congratulations were in order, all things considered

Megumi looked at Gojo, quite literally shaken from his onsetting reverie, but his stare held no annoyance. No fight. Just exhaustion. Megumi had always carried an aura of otherness about him, eyes too old and entirely too knowledgeable for so young a face. He retained a certain quiet, if beleaguered, dignity about him at all times.

Presently... the only word appropriate for his expression was... haunted. Like his greatest regret had dragged itself from the grave to torment him.

"Uh-huh" Gojo meandered inside his line of vision like a cat vying for attention. "And how much did you really have to drink?"

Megumi raises a brow before taking a deep breath. "Do you want the truphe, or can I lie?" He asks clumsily as he has trouble pronouncing the word 'truth' in particular, feeling his tipsy tongue go numb.

"You can lie to me as you please, but I can already see the truth written all over your face" Gojo says, tucking a strand of hair behind Megumi's ear before he leans in close. "I can smell it too"

"Are you saying I stink, Gojo?" Accusatory but his words held no real malice. While the showers were hot, he can't quite remember if soap or shampoo was involved—too busy scrubbing layer after layer away at his skin until he was left pink like a baby mouse.

"Let's say you don't smell like roses right now" Satoru teases before he cups Megumi's face in both of his hands. Something he used to do when the kid was much younger. Something Megumi would yell at him for and proceed to get even madder when his kitten-wearing-a-lions-mane act only made Gojo laugh.

It was kind of ironic; what had annoyed him so much about Gojo in the beginning was now something he dearly missed. All Megumi wanted in this moment was to have it back the other way. Things were so much simpler back then.

Megumi wants to melt like putty into the first gentle touch his skin has gotten in days. He didn't know it was possible to fit somewhere so absolutely perfect.

Never let go, his mind pleaded instinctively. Please just let this last forever.

Megumi's head still swam with warm, cheap alcohol. The boy leans into one of Gojo's palms. He doesn't mean to; He just wishes Itadori touched him like this and can't help but daydream with closed eyes. "Fuck..." He sighs. "You are so... big" He slurs.

Megumi's eyes, huge and doll-like, locked onto Gojo's chest. He licked his lips; Satoru's gaze dipped to the action for an instant before he forced it back up. He was excruciatingly close. Unbearably close. All too aware of his every breath, but too drunk to understand the implications.

"Don't say that in that voice" Sounds like he's teetering on something. A boundary? A line? His morals?

"M'just saying. Your hands are just like... they are like really huge" Megumi says, detaching a hand from his cheek so he could look at it.

If Megumi had glanced at Gojo in that moment, he would have seen every unspoken word on his face, clear as day, but the boy only exhaled, shaky, exhausted.

"Megumi"

"Satoru"

After an uphill battle with himself, Gojo rips his hands away. "This isn't like you"

Megumi flinched at the penetrative gaze directed so exclusively on him—it should be illegal for this guy to have such an expressive face with a blindfold on. Stoicism had long been a staple of his character, but half intoxicated and alone in his thoughts, a creeping angst is building in his chest.

"Pff, like you know me"

The flash of pain in Gojo's face was as clear as day. There one second, gone the next, and it's gutting Megumi knowing that he's the cause.

"Meg, seriously, what's going on?"

Meg. Megumi wants to sob. Was he even deserving of that name anymore? Or even his title of a Jujutsu Sorcerer?

Silence draped over them as heavy as a blanket. Megumi didn't even know what was going on inside of him; so how could he have explained it to someone else?

"Nothing" he looks down. "I told you.. I just have a headache"

Satoru doesn't buy it. He presses on, firmer this time.

"Let's be honest, Meg, somethin's up. Your A's have dropped to C's in a few months' time. You used to love my class and now it's like you don't give a rat's ass. You're having trouble concentrating and you're far more aggressive than you used to be" Gojo takes a breath, rubbing the crease between his brow until his expression smoothens into something softer. "Megumi, what's caused you to act this way? Who hurt you?"

Who hurt you?

Months of painful memories ricocheted through Megumi's body like an electric shock.

The air hangs thick with awkward static. If someone asks him how he is, he is meant to say FINE. He is not meant to say that he cried himself to sleep last night because he could still feel Sukuna thrusting into him despite being alone. FINE is what he's supposed to say.

"Megumi?"

The boy blinks, eyes burning like he's just had a staring contest with the ground. He doesn't look up.

"You were gone for almost a minute" Satoru says softly.

"Oh. Sorry"

"No need to apologize," He replies with a strained smile, "Have you been doing that alot?"

"Doing what?"

"Spacing out"

"I didn't—I don't—" Megumi stuttered. "I wasn't spacing out. I was just thinking"

"Uh-huh, can you look at me then, please?"

Just how many people are going to ask for Megumi to look at them? For once can't he just blissfully stare his shame into the floorboards? It's not like there was much importance behind those boring black eyes of his.

Gojo's request is met with nothing but silence, though he watches as Megumi's body trembles; seemingly at a loss, stuck between the integral desire, the want to obey and the shame overshadowing it marginally.

He could force him, Megumi realizes. It'd be oh so easy for his Sensei to reach his hand up, wrap it gently or tightly, whichever seemed more appropriate, around Megumi's jaw and force their eyes to meet. He could. But, Gojo wouldn't. Megumi knows him. He doesn't want to force anything. He wants it to happen.

Because Gojo doesn't hurt.

Well—Megumi wants to laugh until he cries or cry until he laughs. One of those—he said the same thing about Itadori and look how that turned out.

"Look at me, please" Satoru implores, voice so soft it's barely there. "It's just me" he has fallen to but a whisper now, kneeling before Megumi whose head hangs low.

"I can't. You don't understand. I can't" Megumi's voice is clouded with regret, all choked up on his despair.

"You can, baby," Satoru encourages. "It's just you and me" he reminds again, speaking to Megumi as if he's a particularly fragile victim, as if he's a startled little creature of flight, itching to take off yet encumbered with an injured wing.

"I don't..." Megumi begins, sentence indefinitely unfinished, hanging in the air for all of ten seconds before Gojo plucks it right off the line.

"You do. I know you do, Meg. It's okay. I'm not..." He stops himself, near inaudible exhale releasing as he considers his next words. "I'm not upset with you, you're just a kid. This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault"

That makes Megumi want to crumble into himself. Fall to the floor like his bones are made of cheap paper.

"Baby," He says again, and Megumi can't help but to raise his head slowly, peeking out from beneath his hair, beneath his eyelashes, as if this is some sick, modern rendition of the peekaboo they played when he really was a baby.

Megumi met his gaze, so tired, so conflicted.

"See? Wasn't so hard, was it?" Gojo breathes out; voice rough and quiet, raising his hand ever so slowly, giving Megumi plenty of time to reject his touch. He doesn't. Satoru rests a hand atop the soft mess of the boy's hair.

"Now, what happened? And don't lie to—hey, eyes up here, Meg. No one is mad at you, remember?"

Megumi forced his eyes back front and center.

"Just give me a name. Just give me a name and I'll take care of it" Gojo continued. Pleads, more like.

It's a bit odd, the thought of being taken care of. No one has 'taken care' of him before—not since he was in diapers, Though, Megumi doesn't need to be taken care of. No. Sometimes he just wants to simply be, and has his own ways and non-verbal cues to show he's craving it. Itadori was the first to know and recognize them. Maybe that's why he loves him like he hung the moon in the sky. Maybe that's why he'd rather let himself be raped than have a single hair on Itadori's head harmed.

"Say his name. That's all you need to do. I need to hear it"

For the millionth time, Megumi is faced with a truck hitting a brick wall of thought. Gojo knows something.

The feeling does more than weigh on his chest. It is more like carrying something really heavy. He feels it on his back, the strain in his calves. And it's not something he can put down. Probably not ever.

Sukuna's been touching me, he almost says, but shame keeps it at bay.

It's something no one will understand unless they've been put in the same situation. Outsiders will pester and snicker, wonder why telling someone and getting help would ever be considered hard.

Megumi could hear them now.

'Who would do a thing like that?'

'Beats me. Just nasty'

'Well, they ought to take the poor kid out of school'

'Ought to. He carries some of the blame'

'Oh, come on. He ain't but fifteen or so'

'Yeah. But you never know. How come he didn't fight it? I would have'

Sometimes the shame is not the beatings, not the rape. The shame is in being asked to stand judgment. To admit to everyone he had idly sat by and let happen. All for the love of his life that doesn't even know how he feels. How utterly pathetic...

"Gojo... Do you know what it's like to love someone so much, you'd rather die than let them get hurt?"

His response is surprisingly immediate. "Yes," Voice gentle, too gentle to be directed at someone like Megumi... Knowing the things he'd done and let be done to him; it sounded wrong. Wrong, but not bad. "More than you think" His head tilted, expression open and sincere, not a hint of duplicity. It, he—it was...

Megumi's whole body recoiled, taking three solid (if not tipsy) steps back. That voice... that tone. It seemed his brain was taking a few more seconds to put two and two together. If he didn't know any better, he'd say Gojo is speaking like Megumi himself does whenever he's enamored by something Itadori has done. Which is an absolutely absurd beca—

Gojo stares through his blindfold.

Oh.

"I've got training," Megumi says, eyes glancing at the door.

He didn't want to stay because he was going to cry. He didn't know why he was going to cry, it's not like the thought of Satoru and him... it's not like it grossed him out. but it was... a lot. Just the thought of it. He should be grateful, really, that Gojo has taken an interest in someone like him, but all he felt was overwhelmed. Megumi knew that if anybody spoke to him or looked at him too closely the sobs would fly out of his throat. He could feel the tears already, brimming and sloshing in him like water in a glass that is unsteady and too full.

He had to leave before he said something he couldn't take back. He had to go before Itadori's blood was on his hands.

And so he did, leaving Gojo kneeling on the floor with an unreadable expression.

In his worn basketball shorts and red T-shirt, the early-morning sun peaks in from the windows and hits Yuji just right, highlighting him like he's a relaxed tiger bathing in the warmth. There's a twinkle in his eyes and he lifts his shirt to scratch at a spot right above his hip bone. Good Lord, he's pretty. Megumi soaks in the sight of the muscles of Itadori's abdomen like he's a plant in the Sahara Desert, except it doesn't quench his thirst. It only causes his mouth to run dry.

Yuji smiles like he knows what Megumi is thinking, and heat licks up his body and pools in his cheeks.

It's like he's thirteen again crushing on some random man he'd just seen in an underwear catalogue. All Megumi is aware of in the entire gym is Yuji. Where he is, what he's doing, who he's talking to. Yuji looked comfortable here, too comfortable in his skin, for a fifteen-year-old.

Megumi's staring. It's going to get awkward in about thirty seconds if he doesn't stop. Just as he was about to look away, a pair of eyes found him.

Get a grip of yourself, he allowed himself to self-berate for one moment, trying not to imagine the sweat glistening on Yuji's collar bone.

"Oh, I've been meaning to talk to you. I know I've been distant" he says. If he minds the staring he doesn't mention it.

Megumi lets his eyes refocus on the dumbbell that he's been curling—he had completely forgotten, lost in the sight of his friend.

"You don't need to explain yourself. What happened during battleship... It's alright, I'm already over it"

Itadori blinks thrice in quick succession then pauses. He stops mid stretch, body freezing during his toe touch like he's a video game that just glitched.

"Battleship, um... the game? Did we play that or something?"

"I—" Megumi's brows furrow. His eyes squint, lips parted, he can't believe what he's hearing. "you—" he shakes his head. He'd rather not bring it up. "Forget it. What is it you wanted to say?"

Yuji seems to dwell on it for a moment longer before blinking away his thoughts.

"Oh right, it's—well, it seems stupid when I try to put it into words" Then, his mouth stretches into a grin, and it seeps into his eyes, making his nose scrunch up like a bunny. Cute. "But before all that, think you can spot me?"

Itadori is laying back on the bench before Megumi can agree. (and in what universe wouldn't he?) It's a consequence free, totally justifiable chance to see Itadori's muscles at work and not be labeled as a creep for staring.

Yuji was tapping a rhythm on the barbell which had almost four hundred pounds stacked on it. Looking at him, Megumi noted how his friend didn't even weigh half of that when soaked wet.

"Isn't that too much for you?"

Yuji's head came up. Then, giving Megumi his most rueful grin, he chuckled.

"That's what I need you for"

Megumi's knuckles popped over the bar. But there was a fervor in his gaze, a burning vulnerability, perfectly antithetical to every other nonchalant, straight faced inch of him. Megumi's lips parted in a small gasp, everything but Itadori melting into obscurity like blurred watercolors.

It was like walking into a trap he knew was a trap. Stepping on a mine no one bothered to hide. Megumi swallowed every urge in his body that wanted to jump Yuji's bones and helped him dislodge the weight.

"Lower it. Slowly, good. Elbows out to the side"

Itadori already had a hang of it. He angled his arms just right, held the bar directly over his shoulders, and got to work. He performed one rep with no problem, then another, and one more. Slowly, Megumi's instructions melted into the lull of the Summer day, the space between them only carrying the sounds of the weights clanking and Itadori's breathing. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale.

Sweat was beading on his neck and forehead now, creating a thin layer of shine on his skin. Megumi couldn't take his eyes away from the light caught there. Spotting. I'm supposed to be spotting, he reminded himself, he repeated in the back of his head but at some point the task got forgotten to his conscious mind. His attention was taken by the rising and dropping chest of the boy in front of him, by his ribs sharp and delicate like a bird's under the red tee. Where the fabric rose, Megumi could see the lightest scattering of hair and the flat plane of his stomach. His waist, and a little below that, his narrow and complementary hipbones.

"D'ya like what you see?"

Megumi startled. It was the knowledge that his gaze lingered a touch too long, that he'd drunk in this sight more than he was allowed. Breath turning reedy in his chest, Megumi could hear the pulse in his ears and it made him unable to stop himself from biting out a warning, "hush"

Itadori was taken aback for one moment, obviously not expecting such a reaction. Then a grin wide and wicked split his aurelian face. Like this is all just some fun and stupid game of 'lets see how long it takes to give Megumi a boner' that's been concocted to entertain him.

"I just mean I think I'm doing alright," he said with a teasing shrug. Damn. He has no idea what he's doing to Megumi's health does he? "Isn't it impressive for a guy my size?"

Megumi heard a sound punch out of his throat.

A guy my size.

The grin, the messy hair, the knowing eyes all told Megumi that those words were chosen with intent. Itadori knew what he was doing, maybe he meant nothing by it but harmless flirting between friends, but he knew. Straightening on the bench, Yuji popped his muscles as he stretched.

Megumi tried not to think of those nimble fingers as they unintentionally came closer to his, the same fingers that had caused him so much pain. There was no sense in allowing himself the luxury of Yuji's touch when he was so blatantly aware of how quickly it could be poisoned by Sukuna's. The significance of a touch that didn't bruise, didn't bleed.

No, he told himself. No, he was being prudent.

Itadori doesn't hurt...

He shook his head. Yeah? Give it time.

"So... about what I wanted to say. Sukuna's just been telling me some interesting things" Yuji pauses to scratch the back of his neck. Meanwhile Megumi has frozen in his spot. "Ah, there he goes again, he just... keeps talking"

Itadori stands from the bench. Then throws an arm around Megumi's shoulders. He's sweating and he smells like a typical teenage boy on a Summer's day heat. Still, Megumi doesn't make a single effort to push him off.

"Get this, he says you have some sorta crush on me" he chuckles with absolutely no mirth, but it stings just as much—like a bullet.

Megumi doesn't how to describe the sound of the world crashing. But if what he's now experiencing holds a candle to it, there is no sound, just a great vast emptiness, an enveloping sorrow, a creeping nothingness that coils itself around him like a stiff wire.

A part of him wants to feel betrayed. The other wants to hit it upside the head with a hammer because of course Sukuna told. He never expressly said he wouldn't and even if he did, Megumi didn't trust his word as far as he could throw him.

"Oh..." He says. The arm around his shoulders suddenly feels five times heavier. His heart is beating so fast he's scared it's the precipice of a panic attack.

'well, it seems stupid' Itadori had said earlier. Is that what his affection was, stupid?

"I keep telling him that's not right. I think he's just trying to get into my head. Just wanted to let you know in case he ever brings it up"

The sound of something cracking... rings in Megumi's ears. Itadori doesn't seem to notice. It must be his heart and that agonizing breaking is all in his head.

Maybe he was destined to forever fall in love with people he couldn't have. Maybe there's a whole assortment of impossible people waiting for him to find them. Waiting to make him feel the same impossibility over and over again. Maybe it was all some sick joke the Gods are playing on him for their amusement.

"Yeah, probably, thanks" His voice sounds like an empty husk of his once self. Megumi still speaks calmly, although he feels something else. He feels... So utterly sad. Like he's lost something he never quite had.

Well, atleast Megumi knew he was capable of love. Because, if he could love someone, and keep loving them, without being loved back... then that love had to be real. It had to be. This hurts too much to be anything else.

"There's that face again," Yuji pouts, looking over at him. His arm drops from his shoulders. Slender fingers poke at Megumi's cheek. "I don't like it when you make that face"

And it's like something occurs to him then. Yuji realizes just how close there are and he backs up. He glances Megumi up and down.

"Hey, can I ask you something that's been bothering me? That day in the car..." There's a pause—pregnant. "There wasn't a bug, was there?"

Panic. Alarm bells. Sirens. Fuck fuck, fuck.

He's already lost Yuji; his relationship with Gojo is on the rocks. No doubt those relationships wouldn't be the same. He couldn't loose Sukuna too. He couldn't.

He can't lose the physical connection he's gotten Stockholm Syndrome-esc attached to. Beat me, kill me, but make sure to do it in the right body.

"Stop worming your way into everyone's business. God, It's annoying; you're annoying. Don't you ever shut up?" Megumi snaps.

He watches as Yuji's face falls to a level he's never seen, and it takes him a moment to realize what he's said. Because no matter how much he now regrets it, he knows he can't take it back. And he wonders how it feels to have his ugly words written on Yuji's pretty skin.

Never in his life had Megumi wished so hard for a thousand-foot-wide asteroid to change its course to hit someone directly in the face—to hit him. Granted, it would have wiped out the entire country and possibly caused an impact winter on Earth in the process, but the greater good of mankind was worth some modicum of sacrifice. He was just a nuisance that couldn't do anything right, it seemed. The world would probably be better off.

He panics, can't look at Itadori's face anymore, and adds: "I have to go"

Megumi catches one last glimpse of him looking down at his own hands and wonders if his blood is still under the nail beds.

The term coined 'heartbreak' makes it seem like someone's heart is actually breaking. Like an arm or a leg would. Megumi never understood it until now—now that he's laying in bed with chest pain.

When he woke up (somehow he doesn't even remember falling asleep), he was curled up on his side. He must have gotten cold and pulled the blanket over himself in his sleep because he was pretty sure he last remembered it balled up in an uncomfortable pile underneath his back.

He wasn't angry at Itadori, how could he be? But he wasn't thrilled either. The feeling was all consuming overwhelming nothing. This must be what death felt like, a whole lot of nothing.

Maybe I'll die soon too, he told himself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to him. If he flung himself from a window, he could put an end to his suffering. He would fall until he slammed against the stones below, broken.

It seemed as he had been falling for months anyhow. You should fly, a voice whispered in the darkness, but Megumi did not know how to fly, so all he could do was fall.

A tired hand runs down his face. He almost doesn't catch the figure hovering over by his closet.

It was Sukuna. Sukuna was in the room.

He's looking through the drab assortment of knickknacks and personal items on the dresser, back to him. Megumi's heart was racing. Sukuna's foot is tapping out a rhythm only he could hear.

Megumi was sure the suddenly loud sound of his escalated breathing had already alerted Sukuna but the curse didn't even shift his posture. Didn't turn to glance or stiffen his shoulders.

Slowly, like Megumi might spook a startled deer, he leaned up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed while his eyes drank Sukuna in. The one person whose relationship he couldn't ruin. Because it was already ruined.

"Silly child," He rasped, scaring the absolute shit out of Megumi, though he hid it well. "When will you stop doubting me and start listening?" He still faced away—seemingly interested in a plastic trophy Megumi won when he was ten—and all Megumi could see was the quarter profile of his face, the edge of his cheekbone and the curve of his jaw looking especially sharp in contrast to his tattoos.

"How did you—" get out?

"Uh-uh" Sukuna clicks his tongue, interrupting. "Don't you worry about that right now" But his tone was quiet and serious—almost soft. Like Itadori. Itadori was soft and Itadori didn't hurt. (except for when he did, apparently.)

Now this was vertigo. The seven steps to Sukuna's side stretched. It's like he was keeping his distance as a punishment and Megumi wondered if foolishly believing Itadori could love him back was truly worth being treated like he had a contagious disease.

He watched Sukuna inhale deeply. Megumi parted his chapped lips and tried to moisten them with his dry tongue. "Sukuna?"

Sukuna turned—just slightly—and cut his eyes to Megumi's face. He had forgotten how similar their red color was to blood; it shone like deep crimson glinting off of a sharp knife. It was such a tiny detail, just one minuscule facet of the man who might be the devil incarnate, something Megumi suspected not many people got to see up close, and he clung to it like a buoy.

Whether or not he liked it, he was the only one to see this side of Sukuna. The side that stood by his dresser like an impatient soccer mom while messing with his knickknacks.

"What is it? Want your precious boy to tell you he loves you back, huh?"

Covers were clutched tightly in his hands as Megumi all but definitely did not lean forward. He should have been annoyed at Sukuna's presumption, but a pleasant flame monopolized, consumed, all other emotion in his chest, the satisfaction of being the center of attention, even if the attention he'd managed to hook happened to be... His.

"I love you too, Megumi" he uses Yuji's voice to say. Uh-oh, he's getting really good at that. That's probably not good.

Again. Warning bells, alarms, red flashing lights. Megumi wants to slide a hand down to cover Sukuna's mouth like a mouse placing a paw on the tomcat's snout to stop it eating him. Megumi shakes his head without breaking eye contact.

"...he's never going say to actually that is he?"

"You're the most pessimistic son of a bitch I've ever known. Christ, take a few kind words for once" Sukuna snorts, voice back to normal.

"M'not a drunk girl in a bathroom stall. So you can stop treating me like one. I don't need to be coddled. Especially not by you"

This seems to actually hit a nerve. Sukuna's eye twitches; he successfully hides the expression seeping into the lines of his face with a lack-luster grin.

"If I don't tell you, no one will. I love—not the brat, me—I love possessing every single crumb of you, Megumi" He breathes out something that could be considered a laugh if you squint. "Whether or not it's true. Believe it, or don't, I don't care, but I'll bet your ass I'll be the only one you'll ever hear it from"

Sukuna rasped out, looking like a contented cat, and blooms of equal triumph and perturbation grew in Megumi's chest at how utterly seen he felt under his gaze. He doesn't think anyone has ever looked at him like this before.

Megumi stared at him with some affront, seemingly flummoxed at being so facilely comprehended.

"Poor thing. You know it's true" Sukuna smirked. He did that a lot. As if the world were a secret joke that only he was clever enough to understand.

Just for a moment, Megumi let himself cave. He was just so, so tired.

"Why... why will he never actually love me?" and he sounded so feeble; so little. He hadn't meant to sound that kid-ish... hadn't meant for his voice to crack in the way it did.

"Why does a bear shit in the woods?" Sukuna demanded. "Because it's his nature. Brat doesn't exactly strike me as a Romeo. Don't think he'd be interested even if you did have a pussy down there. He's programmed weird, got fucked up wiring and all that"

Megumi had a whole retort all cooked up (about how none of this would've happened if Sukuna just kept his filthy tongue in his dirty mouth), but the curse was offering up his full attention. Megumi is on stage and Sukuna is his only audience... That does something to his chest (his still hurting chest) and it was the proverbial shake to the etch-a-sketch that was his brain.

Sukuna looks him to pieces... Megumi realizes now that he has been glimpsed and corner-of-the-eyed before, by other students or teachers, but he has never actually been looked at so intently. Sukuna looks about ready to eat him alive and lick his bones clean. It's dangerous and alluring in the worst possible way.

Itadori has never (and will never, the realization hits like a kick in the nuts) look at him like this.

Oh no, he's slipping.

Megumi didn't mean to. He cannot stress that enough, he really wasn't trying to. (and was honestly shocked to discover his eyes had any spare moisture left to give) but his eyes swam with tears that he desperately tried to hold in. He didn't want to upset Sukuna, didn't want to annoy him or make him feel uncomfortable and he definitely didn't want him to leave.

The feeling is not dissimilar to being awoken from a deep sleep by a blaring alarm.

Megumi didn't want him to leave. Sukuna really has fucked his head up for good, huh?

Megumi refused to blink, positive that would break the dam, and his vision blurred until he was nearly blind. The floor creaked as Sukuna spun and Megumi couldn't make out the features of his face past his own tears. Sukuna was reduced to a spikey tuft of pink, a stretch of skin and the occasional streak of black. There were lines around his mouth deeper than usual or was that only the moisture in Megumi's eyes?

"You really are a needy little thing, aren't you?"

Was he going to reprimand him, laugh at him, beat him? Was Sukuna disappointed in him? Oh no. His over-emotional reaction? Was he bored with the stupidity of it all? Megumi was spiraling, black creeping in around the corners of his vision as he struggled to suck in air.

But then he felt the soft brush of a palm against his cheek, the touch unmistakably his because it burned Megumi's skin like a brand on cattle. He wasn't entirely clear on what expression he was making but he was pretty sure some horrible, embarrassing sob rattled its way up his throat, unbidden.

"Tch. How troublesome"

A pair of large, strong hands slide underneath his armpits. And before he knows it he's rising off the mattress just a tad, sliding backwards, and all of a sudden he's wrapped in an embrace.

It catches him off guard at first, eyes widening and muscles tensing a bit, but it's so familiar, so soothing, that it only takes a second or two for the flood gates to open; only a second to know it's now safe (in the arms of the King of Curses, go figure) to be vulnerable, to let go and cry it out like he should. Like he fucking deserves to after all these months. And what was merely quiet, restrained weeping, is now uncontrollable sobbing as Megumi falls to absolute pieces in Sukuna's arms.

The pain always came quick and just, but the comfort... Maybe that's why he was letting Sukuna do things only a lover would. It is said that a frog will jump out of a pot of boiling water. But place it in the pot and turn the heat up little by little, and he will stay until he is boiled to death.

It took Megumi a long time to notice Sukuna was murmuring little shushing noises into his hair. He wasn't a little kid anymore... Despite what his position sobbing in another man's lap made him look like. He was a Jujutsu sorcerer and he was supposed to hold up better under pressure.

But Sukuna wasn't making him. For the first time in a long time, Megumi wasn't putting on an act to be stronger, he was just let be.

Sukuna does it all in silence. Not a word leaves his lips. But Megumi swears he can hear a "c'mere child" as he does it. How the fuck does he say everything without saying much at all?

But then he does speak. And it sounds like it came from the deepest crevices of his soul, or from the depths of hell—not like there was much of a difference.

"You know why I came here, don't you, Megumi?"

Sukuna hurts, he tells himself, except for when he doesn't.

Megumi listens, pliant and obedient, reaching for the button on his pants.

With the first press of Sukuna's fingers at his hole, Megumi spreads his legs for easier access. This makes a sound leave Sukuna's throat, primal and rough. It works in a way that makes Megumi somehow open his legs even wider, submitting to the spit slick finger that entered him, but it doesn't hurt. It more so shocks him into parting his lips with a much needed groan.

His leg flexes in Sukuna's grip and he tightens his hold, pinning Megumi down, nails digging into his skin. His body is crushed down against the bed with Sukuna's on top of him. Curling his finger inside of him, another prodding at his rim.

"You actually are a pretty little thing, aren't you?"

Megumi tsked bluffly, but his cheeks sported a ruddy glow, a fine dusting of pink trailing to his ears. Sukuna did so live to make him uncomfortable.

"You don't have to—" a low moan is fingered out of him "sound so surprised"

Sukuna stares down at him with amusement in those red eyes. A million memories had been viewed through those eyes, unbidden: shattered mirrors and blood splatters, the distant sounds of flesh piercing, heavy footsteps, screams. In those days, the smell of leather and blood had clung to him like cologne. Now it was Yuji's cologne that clung to him like cologne.

Megumi is starting to whine now, fingers too big, not enough spit, but Sukuna presses him down, holds him together, and when he grinds against him like he's already fucking him, and it does feel good. Then he curls his fingers and fresh pleasure bursts inside Megumi.

"Wha—oh, oh" he whimpers, spitty mouth hanging open as Sukuna growls above him, rubbing his fingers right at that same spot until Megumi worries he might tremble apart.

"You shouldn't... ha... st-stare at me like that"

Sukuna inhales, his eyes burn like a blue flame, then exhales.

"Then how should I stare?"

"You shouldn't stare at me at all" Megumi breathes in such a tone that he doesn't even believe himself.

Sukuna tugs his fingers out of Megumi and spits on them. When he presses them back inside, it feels even better—wet and hot and overwhelming when Sukuna finds that same spot again. "Oh, but you can ogle over the brat as much as you like? That seems pretty fucking unfair to me"

This makes Megumi want to snort; Sukuna almost sounds jealous. He curls his hand around Megumi's cock. He squeezes a little too hard, nails digging into the flesh a little too deep. There's a puddle of wet on his belly that the curse coos at as he squeezes him. When he pinches the head a little more leaks out.

It feels like Megumi has been waiting to be taken, possessed, by how he doesn't shy away from Sukuna when he spits on his swollen rim and fingerfucks it into him again. He doesn't fight it. Not even when a blunt, mean thumb presses against his taint. The pressure is vicious. Sukuna weaponizes his body against him with a crooked grin, dark eyes glinting and mean.

"He'd never make you feel this good" Sukuna says, seemingly to himself but Megumi still hears. He rubs his fingers inside Megumi's hole, presses his thumb even harder against his taint, "He never deserved you, don't you see that?" His words run together, a vicious frantic whisper that rolls over Megumi's skin.

He shoves his fingers back inside before Megumi can respond, thrusting them hard and fast. "See? See?" he hisses as Megumi's cock dribbles onto his belly, his body drawing up into an incredulous arch.

"You talk too much. Sh-shut up"

Sukuna twists his nipple until he's desperately slapping his hands away and apologizing.

Sure, Sukuna hurt, but the alternative was to be completely alone. Megumi would rather be hurt than alone. He's not sure if he can handle the weight of himself without his friendship with Itadori and the companionship of Gojo—he's too heavy. He'll need to lean on Sukuna for support, to keep his head above water, no matter the cost.

There are parts of him that still don't belong to Sukuna, the traitorous parts in his head that know what this looks like, the misery and squalor of his existence, the evil it is to be treated like a thing by a creature his job encourages him to kill...

Sukuna's fingers roughly pull out, leaving a naked, hole gaping, Megumi belly down on the bed gasping for breath. Sukuna's sticky hands ghost over his body again, down his hips and over his ass where the cheeks are spread as wide as possible.

"Wait," Megumi says. He knows what's about to happen and he doesn't plan on stopping or delaying it for long but—"C-can you kiss me first?"

He figured it was time. He's never gotten a kiss before. It was a strange feeling, really. His entire body had been bruised and used to Hell but his lips still remained virgin.

"A kiss?" The head of Sukuna's cock catches on the ring of muscle. "What are we, boyfriends?" The tip slides in, leaking and bulbous, but then retreats so the curse can grind against the cleft of Megumi's ass.

"Hate to break it to you, but this isn't a romance novel. You're not a damsel in distress and I'm not the handsome prince coming to save you"

An hour ago he was letting Megumi cry into his chest; Now he won't even kiss him. Trying to understand Sukuna was like trying to catch the rain with his fingers.

And Megumi tries to brush it off, tries to act unaffected, but it lingers in his head. The rejection of both Itadori and Sukuna now, go figure. The thoughts won't go away. Maybe Sukuna's right. Maybe he really is just a stupid boy who doesn't know shit about shit.

Megumi turns his head back to look at him and he must be pouting because Sukuna makes a mocking 'awe' sound.

"Don't act so upset. You don't want a kiss from me anyway; I told you I am no one's second choice" Sukuna held his cheek with unexpected reverence, though his gaze was distant, miles away. Megumi could only guess where...

"...you weren't my first choice either"

Sukuna pauses; Megumi sniffles; Sukuna sighs.

He's rough when he pulls Megumi up the hair and sits him on his lap, chest to chest. Sukuna's hands press on his bare chest, pushing, pulling him to be flush. Like he expected his stomach to open up and consume Megumi whole, Sukuna held him tightly. His hard cock still ruts in-between Megumi's cheeks.

Eyes brimming, Megumi tries to say 'sorry'. The word collapses when Sukuna slaps him across the face once, quick and hard. Which Megumi can actually understand, he has been apologizing a lot lately. No wonder Sukuna doesn't care to hear it. The boy wipes his nose on the arm that's not in a death grip. He's sorry; he's so much goddamn trouble, isn't he? Why does Sukuna even try?

But when he expects another hit, nothing comes.

"Megumi," There's something different in Sukuna's voice. Megumi wants him to repeat it in the same way so he can hear what it sounded like again, so he can try to figure out what that was, what it meant. Sukuna is searching Megumi's face. That look again, seeking something in him.

The silence stretches. Something is brewing. Megumi briefly wonders if he just imagined Sukuna leaning in half an inch.

"Wh-what are you doing?"

The curse kisses his teeth and rolls his eyes so violently that his head follows suit.

"First you want a kiss then you don't. You sound like a damn woman; Make up your mind" he blinks slowly, expectant "I won't wait forever. If you want it then do it"

Megumi sits there, naked in the lap of the enemy. Letting the same curse that would have no problem killing his friends and family thrust his cock between the pillows of his ass. He stares at Sukuna, then his lips, and for the first time he doesn't see Yuji.

Megumi's not sure if that's a good thing.

Regardless, he closes the gap. Signing his death warrant in the warmest, softest, most intimate way possible.

Because Sukuna hurts, but maybe he's starting to like it.