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According to many of the people in his life, it’s apparently strange to square the fact that Megumi had never left the 5-kilometer radius around his and Tsumiki’s apartment for the first six years of his life with just how comfortable he is traveling now. It’s an observation everyone has given with a sadness in their eyes, a reminder that he had a life before becoming Gojo’s ward. Even Yuuji and Nobara get somber about it, because apparently it’s standard fair for country bumpkins to have business a few towns over. Megumi doesn’t feel strongly one way or the other. It was the reality of their situation: both his and Tsumiki’s schools were walking distance away, there was never any reason to venture further out from the grocers, conbinis, and takeout spots right by their place, and perhaps most importantly, they had no money. And besides, Gojo has so thoroughly spoiled both of them, especially considering out of all of his friends, only Yuuta had also been outside the country. So yeah, he’s traveled far and often enough. Though honestly, he could live without travelling so much for patrol.
He has nothing against Osaka, has come down often enough to have favorite spots. And while he’s glad to not have either of his best friends dragging him down the suffocating path of Dotonbori, slinking through the shadows of industrial parks dotting Osaka Bay isn’t necessarily an upgrade.
Being a superhero in Japan – or at least a superhero in training – is a bit of a strange deal. Supervillains with powers existed, but they didn’t tend to strike as often as the news would have you believe. Then there was the matter of pretty low violent crime rates nationwide, leaving only a few niches to take up most of a hero’s time. First and foremost of which was trafficking. Sex, drugs, weapons, a holy trinity that he was sure most people didn’t necessarily associate with the country at first thought. And yet there was no denying that even Japan had its seedy underbelly of gangs and brothels and corrupt politicians who had no issues with how they moved their drugs, money, or people.
Which meant that a lot of official hero work involved sneaking around ports and airports and red-light districts. Work that was extremely conducive to a hero who could walk through shadows, whose summons were easily called and dismissed without necessitating noticeable property damage. Not the best match for the flashier powers of Six Eyes or Byakko. So, with Gojo AND Yuuji having to sit out more often than not on general patrols and reconnaissance missions, it was up to Shadowmaster to do rounds.
“Talisman to Shadowmaster, come in.”
Megumi closed his eyes and held back a sigh. A teammate reaching out over comms should be something to take seriously. Unless it was Nobara, sounding incredibly bored.
“Yo, Shadowmaster, you ignoring me?”
“Hey, maybe Megumi’s busy! Give him a sec!”
Here, Megumi couldn’t hold back the sigh.
“Byakko, what’s the point of having these codenames if you’re just throwing out secret identities.”
“He’s right Yuuji, you should be more careful!” An older voice teased.
“And you could set an example instead of following suit!” Megumi snapped. “What’s the point of you being our leader and mentor if you’re not even going to follow protocol Six Eyes?!”
“Awww, Megs c’mon, don’t be that way to your dad,” Gojo crooned.
“Literally shut up! Shadowmaster, you almost done? We need to leave in two hours to get to the restaurant for our reservation!”
Before his teammates could dissolve into full-fledged argument, Megumi reached up to the communicator to disconnect the call, phasing through a wall. As he moved through the shadows, he focused, trying to pick up on any unusual presences calling out to him. He felt a slight tug south, and began to follow the current. He emerged just before reaching its origin, taking his bearings as he became corporeal. He landed on a loft inside a large warehouse, above a large gathering of what could only be described as the most generic looking villain grunts. He crouched low, inching closer until their conversation was audible.
“I told ya, the big boss said the shipment ain’t coming til the end of the week. Til then we ain’t gotta start shit. If you wanna act up cuz you think you’re hot shit, be my fucking guest, but you taking the fall if the dropoff falls through.”
“Yo listen to him, this’ll be easy. We just gotta chill here til Friday, then pickup at Nishikonohama. Easiest job in a minute man, we got this.”
Well, that was enough to start with. Megumi let himself sink back into the shadows, trawling towards the end of his patrol route. When he emerged again, he flicked his comm back on.
“Case down in Izumisano. Major trade happening end of the week, start prepping for a raid,” he ordered.
“Aww hell yeah, finally some action!”
Megumi could perfectly picture the fist bump Yuji was no doubt doing.
“Good job Shadowmaster, come back to HQ and we’ll debrief.”
*
Megumi’s journey into heroics had always been preordained. Yuji would insist that they all had choices and free will, trying to spin Megumi’s motivation into something cleaner, more noble. And sure, Megumi isn’t saying that saving people doesn’t bring him joy. But the truth of it is that heroics is one of the few callings where nepotism isn’t just expected, it’s practically demanded. From civilians to cops to oversight boards, if your powers are genetic, there’s no question to anyone. You will be a hero.
Megumi doesn’t know his biological family – apart from Tsumiki and the vaguest memories of his dad – but from the snippets that Shoko, Nanami, and Geto have shared, he knows that his shadow powers go back innumerable generations. Granted, none of them went into limelight heroics, but still. Had he stayed, there would have been no consideration given to any other potential pathways for him.
Instead, he had been taken on as a ward of the Six Eyes, Gojo Satoru, the most famous (and powerful) hero of this generation. As much as Gojo had assured Megumi that he could follow any career he wanted, Megumi knew the truth. He had seen the way public safety officials would needle Gojo about Megumi’s development, heard the street reporters muse when (not if) Six Eye’s son would start field work. He never held any resentment, knew that at least it would give his life some direction. But the point still held, Megumi followed the outline assigned to him from birth.
Which made it all the more baffling that somehow amongst the entire team, it was him who took the protocols most seriously. Yuji and Nobara had manifested powers at the end of middle school and had actively sought out Gojo’s mentorship. He knew that, when he was their age, Gojo had declared that he’d be the best hero ever. All three of them had actively sought out this life.
And yet, somehow, every team huddle had the three of them giggling and laughing amongst themselves, getting wildly off topic. Which they were welcome to do when they weren’t officially in uniform! Megumi might grumble and roll his eyes at their antics normally, but it was far more tolerable when their actions weren’t potentially a matter of life and death.
“C’mon Megs, loosen up! We’ve already decided on the plan! You gotta relax!”
Megumi gives Yuji his flattest stare and receives Yuji’s most convincing puppy dog eyes in return. He has to bite his cheeks to fight the impulse to smile in amusement.
“We’re gonna dogwalk them! Why are you so worked up?” Nobara’s eyebrow is raised, and her tone leans more towards demand than it truly does question.
“You’re gonna kill the vibe if you’re like this at dinner! fix your face.”
“Aww c’mon, maybe he’s not feeling well!”
Megumi takes a deep breath, trying to preemptively stave off a headache.
“Gojo, talk to him! He better be ready for dinner when we have to leave!”
Here, the groan escapes him before he can react. So much for staving off a headache.
“Aye aye ma’am,” Gojo sing-songs, his voice calling out behind Megumi. Then there’s a hand on his shoulder before Gojo continues. “We got our marching orders, Gumi!” Gojo corrals him to their meeting room before settling deep into a chair.
“Well? Come on, out with it. How come you look like you’ve bit into an overripe sudachi?”
Megumi huffs.
“You can’t even be serious now? Debrief, reprimand, check in, it’s all just a game?”
He watches as Gojo’s brows furrow and his back straightens as he shifts to sit up properly.
“Hey, no, I’m being serious. You did good work today, and we’ve set up a great plan for the operation.”
Megumi can feel his shoulders tensing, his fists clenching.
“So just because you think you have everything under control means you can goof off? Let your guard down? If there are any civilians passing by, if either group has hostages, what’ll happen?”
Gojo takes off his sunglasses to lock eyes directly with him, confusion clear as day in his eyes.
“Megs, that wouldn’t be the first time we’ve had to deal with that situation… We know what to do.”
It’s like Gojo’s being purposefully obtuse, and the tension in Megumi is growing. It makes the words come out faster, words he didn’t know he had in him,
“So that means you shouldn’t give the situation the seriousness it warrants? You’re our group leader and teacher! You set the tone. And Nobara and Yuji will always take their cues from you. If the situation goes south, and they’re put in danger because you lulled them into a false sense of security, will you live with that?”
Megumi watches as Gojo’s brows climb into his bangs, as that pretty mouth drops in bafflement. The elder blinks as Megumi finishes and then says, “They both have plenty of experience dealing with difficult and grueling missions, Megumi. Which you know firsthand, by being in the field with them. Or secondhand, from hearing it in reports. Don’t do them a disservice by implying they’re incapable at any demands a mission might have, especially when I know you don’t believe that.”
Then, Gojo’s eyes fill with steel and his lips purse.
“Especially when you and I have had to sit down and talk about how frequently you go for broke. How callously you can treat your own life out there. Yuji does it because he focuses so much on saving everyone, even if it risks personal injury. But…”
Gojo looks away and sighs.
“You do it like you don’t care whether you come out of it to begin with.”
And just like that, the fight drains out of Megumi, replaced by a sense of shame.
“That’s… it’s…”
He doesn’t know what to say. Gojo looks back at him, softer.
“Megumi, I raised you for so long. And maybe I didn’t act like a more traditional parent, but that doesn’t change that to me, you’re my kid. So tell me, what’s wrong?”
“You all just don’t seem to care. Nobara and Yuji are over all the time, and there’s plenty of time for fun and games, but that doesn’t matter to any of you. You all talk so much about your calling to heroics… But it feels like I’m the only one who takes this seriously.”
He pauses and feels how dry his throat is, notes the slight tremble in his hands. and Megumi wants to believe it’s from rage and not from the moisture beginning to pool in his eyes. But he steels himself, and takes a deep breath. He has to say it.
“Are you just gonna keep encouraging them to keep their guard low? Slip up here and there but ‘It’s okay because it was minor,’ until something finally goes wrong? They didn’t grow up with this, the way you or I did, and they’re going to underestimate the actual likelihood of–”
“Then,” Gojo cuts him off, “if you’re so concerned that they’re going to get hurt, aren’t you also encouraging them with how you don’t watch your back? They’re both your friends Gumi, but they’re going to see it as confidence, not as apathy for yourself.”
“It’s not like I don’t care if I die or get hurt,” Megumi argues back. He takes a deep breath, trying to expunge the tension coiling up in him. “But I was always going to have to be a hero. And it’s not like you can prevent complications forever. Laughing it all off though, you’re all brushing off the gravity of what we do.
“You and I have seen from the moment we could walk what heroics meant, the good and the bad. Yuji and Nobara haven’t, and they don’t have context for it. And you’re the strongest, sure, so maybe it’s different for you. But you’ve seen what can happen, and that’s the reality the three of us are going to face when we start going out on our own. They need to know, they need to understand and want this, and be prepared-“
Megumi is cut off as Gojo puts his hands on either side of Megumi’s face, blue eyes searching.
“Do you want to be a hero?”
Sadness. That’s all Megumi can see in the face of the man who raised him.
“Because what I’m hearing is that my son is scared his best friends don’t understand the situation he thinks he couldn’t say no to, and he thinks if they knew they wouldn’t pick the same thing.”
Gojo lets go of his face and draws him into a hug.
“I never wanted to make you feel pressured, but I thought you knew I would still be proud of you whatever you chose in life. I will always support you Gumi, and I swear, if you felt like you couldn’t pick what you truly wanted, I will fix it.”
Megumi is fully shaking now, hot tears streaming down his face.
“It–-it’s not that… I like being a hero. I like being out in the field helping people. I love having Yuji and Nobara there so that we can all watch each other’s backs. There’s nothing else I would’ve picked to do instead but…"
He hides his face in Gojo’s shoulder, taking a shuddering breath.
“It hurts sometimes... feeling like my choices wouldn’t have mattered… that I would’ve always ended up here one way or another. That pain and hurt and maybe even death were always waiting around the corner. I’ve had to make my peace with it, but Yuji and Nobara have other interests, other things they could pursue.”
Gojo squeezes him tighter.
“You were always such a good kid. Even when you were beating up kids in elementary and middle school, it was always against bullies. The Zenins could care less about making a difference, Megumi. They care about the prestige. You… you have such a noble heart… even if you can’t see it.” He pauses, pressing his nose into Megumi’s hair.
“No one’s destined to have to do anything Megumi. You could’ve been anything you wanted. You’re my son, and I will move heaven and earth for you.”
Gojo exhales deeply, pressing a kiss to the top of Megumi’s head.
“I would never let anyone deny you your dreams. Ever. You hear that?”
Gojo pulls away, his eyes downturned as he shifts away from Megumi.
“Megumi, even if blood impacts who you are, it can’t dictate your entirety. You… your biological father, he wasn’t a hero. He was a mercenary, and a good one, even if he made life harder for so many people. Even though he didn’t have the Zenin shadow powers, he was still a hell of a fighter. And in the end, he chose what he wanted.”
Gojo raises his eyes to meet Megumi’s with a sheepish smile.
“I’d be a little sad if you wanted to be a villain or a merc, but you’d always be my son.”
Megumi can’t help the puff of incredulous laughter that escapes him.
“But the point, Megumi, is that I will always support you. Anything you pursue, I’m here.”
Gojo gives a small sigh, and a little shrug. He shuffles in his chair to face Megumi head on again, before reaching out to clasp their hands together, fingers interlocking with practiced ease.
“I can’t promise you that I can cut out all the humor, because that’s who we are, but I’ll try to space it out a bit more, okay?”
Megumi gives him a small smile.
“Thanks dad…”
Gojo pulls him back into a hug, that tall lanky body a firm anchor as Megumi is pressed into it. He can feel a gentle kiss pressed into his temple as Gojo traces shapes into his back, and Megumi relaxes, letting his head rest against Gojo’s shoulder. They stay like that for a moment that stretches for an eternity, a safe bubble Megumi could rest in forever.
But then, his brain, so quick to make strategies on the fly, has the chance to think over everything that was just said. He bites his cheek, and debates letting the question go to bask in their private affection, but he can’t help it in the end.
“So uh,” Megumi clears his throat, “my biological dad was a merc?”
Gojo snorts, and they both shake with Gojo’s silent laughter.
“We gotta work on your tact Megumi,” Gojo mumbles, those soft lips brushing against Megumi’s temple. Megumi fights the shiver that runs down his throat.
Gojo stands, pulling Megumi up with their linked hands, walking him over to their supercomputer. Megumi watches as he pulls up a file. What opens on the screen is a photo of what could only be described as a tank of a man. Hard lines, wide shoulders, muscles bulging out of his plain black shirt and gray sweats. It isn’t sloppy per se, but it definitely isn’t standard mercenary ware. It works for the man, matches his stylish messy hair and smug smirk. The man is, undeniably, hot as hell.
Megumi flushes hard, shifting where he stands as he feels himself start to chub up. Jesus, this is probably his biological father, what the fuck is wrong with him.
“Toji Fushiguro. He wasn’t the flashiest whenever we fought him back in the day, but he was effective. Dangerous.”
Gojo shrugs at Megumi.
“The only time I was scared I might die was when I fought with him.”
Megumi hesitates. Then he asks, “You said he wasn’t… is he…?”
“Nah, he just started laying low after our last confrontation. He… it was an assassination job, with a young mark. One we were protecting. He didn’t go through with it, but I’m sure his client was pissed as hell.”
Gojo pulls him into a sideways hug, and Megumi thanks God he’s gone flaccid. It’s an awkward thought to have when his adopted dad is giving him a soft smile while they talk about his bio dad.
“I can’t speak for him, I didn’t know him like that. Sometimes his intentions were, honest to God, unpredictable.” Gojo pauses, then turns to hold Megumi’s eyes with his own. “But… When he asked me to take care of you, he said he knew I could give you a better life than he could dream. I… I’d like to think that means he cared for you Gumi, even if he couldn’t show it.”
*
The next few days, Gojo makes good on his word to try to be a bit more serious when they’re in mission mode. He still cracks jokes and is silly, but he tones it down when they’re strategizing or out in the field. It’s not a huge change, but still pretty noticeable.
Yuji and Nobara seem unsure about how to navigate it the first time Gojo calls out a gentle reprimand over the comms, but luckily it doesn’t last too long. They adapt fairly quickly, and Megumi is grateful that serious Gojo isn’t too chafing for them. They’re not quite settled into their new dynamic when it’s time for the raid, but they’re close enough that Megumi thinks they’ll be fine.
The general plan is easy enough. Recon has shown that no one in the gang they’re targeting has powers, and nothing about their conversations implies that the other side of the exchange will be bringing anyone with powers either. Which means Megumi’s team doesn’t need the big guns, so Gojo will stay at HQ to monitor. Yuji will be the primary combatant, drawing their attention, and Nobara will incapacitate everyone while they’re distracted. Megumi will be watching from the shadows, ready to provide assistance where needed. It’s solid. Simple. Serious.
When the day arrives, Megumi’s moving through the shadows with a sense of calm.
“Talisman in position.”
“Byakko in position.”
Megumi emerges one building over, whispering into his comms, “Shadowmaster in position.” He clicks off and feels a shiver run down his spine.
I’m being watched.
Before the thought can sink in, Megumi is slammed into the wall.
“Fuck!”
Megumi hits the surface with such force his ears ring. He’s too dizzy to be able to sink into the shadows, not to mention the hand holding his nape in a death grip.
“Well what do we have here?”
A voice–deep, masculine and gravely–sneers right into Megumi’s ear. He can feel lips brush his lobe as the words vibrate through him. It’s pathetic, but Megumi can feel his dick twinge in interest.
Not the fucking time.
He swings his arm back, desperately calling the shadows to coalesce into a knife. He feels it snag as the weight against his back disappears. But, as he swings around, his eyes hone in on the ripped shirt on his attacker. No blood, fuck. Muscle memory draws him into a defensive position. He looks up to see his attacker head on, and freezes.
“Toji?”
Because that strong jawline, that scar kissing the corner of his lips, the jet-black hair so reminiscent of his own when he wakes up in the morning. Standing before him is the man from Gojo’s photos, the man who gave him up. His dad.
He’s hotter in person.
The passing thought is insane, and it’s disarming. Megumi’s conscious mind is more focused on batting away the implications of that thought than on countering his dad, a mercenary who gave Gojo a run for his money. So much so, he doesn’t process it when Toji rushes him, hand firmly gripping his windpipe as he slams him into the wall once more.
Megumi gasps for air as he’s lifted off the ground by his throat. One hand instinctually goes for Toji’s wrist, as if he could overpower the literal machine of a man. The other desperately reaches out, empty-handed, the shadow knife dissipating from loss of focus. He swipes at Toji, but only succeeds in tearing the ripped shirt further, the fabric sliding down to bunch at Toji’s waist.
“Dad!” he cries out, the last card he can play. It works, the hand on his throat loosening just enough for him to breathe. Megumi gulps enough air that his lungs aren’t burning anymore.
His head is still ringing but he can focus enough to actually take in what’s in front of him. Namely, one shirtless Toji Fushiguro looking confused as hell. His dad is staring at him intensely, and then his lips bloom into a shit-eating grin.
“I’ll be damned. Should’ve known the Gojo brat would’ve raised you into a little hero. Don’t know how I should feel about him putting you in such a slutty costume though.”
Megumi squawks in indignation. That’s… that’s not something his dad should be saying. But more importantly, a lot of his work is recon! He needs to be able to blend easily into the background, can’t risk too much extra fabric getting caught on things. His catsuit is black and skintight for practicality, not… not for sex appeal. As much as Nobara argued otherwise when she first saw him put it on.
“Coming from a mercenary wearing a flimsy little t-shirt on the job!”
Toji chuckles, “C’mon darling, didn’t say it was a bad thing. Suits you real nice.”
His eyes drag slowly down Megumi’s body, his thumb drawing circles on Megumi’s throat. Megumi bites his cheek and tries to stop the blood rushing south.
“You’re as pretty as your mama, baby.”
Fuck, fuck.
Megumi squeezes his thighs together.
“Are you gonna let me go?”
Toji snorts.
“Can’t. Gotta make sure this deal runs smoothly or else I get paid shit. You understand, right?”
Megumi can’t believe this. He’s glaring, trying to convert his budding arousal and peaking adrenaline into anger. But then his eyes catch on Toji’s sharp jaw, follow it down the thick column of his throat and he’s looking down, and down, and down and… Fucking Christ.
His dad’s built like a movie superhero. He’s got muscles Megumi didn’t even know existed, all hard and sculpted. Because of the way Toji’s holding him up, his tits are flexed. Tits, because Megumi doesn’t think pecs can be so developed that they hang like that. His nipples are dusky, pebbling now that they’re exposed, and there’s a slight layer of hair running from Toji’s chest down to his navel and it’s like a Megumi’s staring at a mannequin ripped straight out of one of his wet dreams.
His eyes flicker up, and he jolts when he realizes those half-lidded eyes definitely know what he was looking at.
“You like what you see baby?” Toji taunts, scar quirking up in a smirk, and God, Megumi wonders what it would feel like to kiss it.
“Fuck you,” he whispers, trying to channel any feeling that’s not his sudden urge to sleep with his father.
The hand around his throat tightens, and Megumi’s eyes go wide and Toji… Toji comes forward, slowly, pressing their lips together.
“Since you asked so nicely baby,” he mouths into Megumi’s mouth and Megumi can’t stop the moan that escapes him. A moan that Toji eagerly swallows with a kiss.
Megumi’s had a few kisses in his life, but among them, the ones he considers remarkable number only two . The first was as a preteen, when he found Gojo sleeping on the couch after a grueling mission. In the confusing mix of annoyance at his adoptive dad’s antics and gratitude at his generosity, was something warm and sweet, a glowing ember. He’s so pretty was all Megumi could think, Gojo’s snow white hair and lashes glinting in the creeping moonlight. Before he could even think, Megumi was pressing his lips against Gojo’s. It was just a peck, one he quickly ended. Megumi had tried to forget about it, but would find himself bringing his hands up to his lips absentmindedly, remembering how soft Gojo’s lips had felt. Luckily, the older man had been fast asleep and hadn’t even realized. (Given his current situation, maybe he should look back and unpack whatever the fuck he’d been thinking.)
The second was a kiss he’d shared with Yuji after they had officially debuted with Nobara as a sidekick trio. Nobara had gone to bed, and Yuji and Megumi were slightly tipsy from the beers they sneaked from Gojo’s alcohol fridge.They'd been laughing at some stupid joke on a shitty TV drama when they found themselves staring into each other’s eyes. A moment later and they were kissing, an awkward dance with too much teeth, noses bumping against each other, so sweet it was almost cloying. They separated, coming up for air and laughing, cuddling close as they slowly drifted off.
This kiss is nothing like those. Toji licks into his mouth, wet and sloppy as he explores Megumi. He presses his thumb into Megumi’s Adam’s apple, teeth nipping at his lower lip before he gently sucks on it as they separate. Then he dives back in, teasing Megumi’s tongue into his own mouth before pressing his knee up against Megumi’s crotch.
Megumi has never felt so close to cumming just from kissing, but it’s like Toji’s saliva is an aphrodisiac. He whimpers and whines, grinding down onto his dad’s knee, legs trembling at the messy sounds of their kisses. He gasps when Toji pulls away, feeling winded and dizzy. He’s unprepared for Toji to start kissing at his jaw, and it makes his head spin. When Toji lets go of his throat to instead thread his fingers in Megumi’s hair, the rational part of Megumi’s brain screams at him to escape. But Megumi’s like a puppet in Toji’s arms, mindless under his ministrations, helpless but to obey.
His arms loop around Toji’s shoulders, not to choke but to clutch desperately as Toji kisses and nips at his neck. Toji sucks on his throat, tongue heavy on his skin as he leaves mark after mark, and Megumi’s everything aches. He never knew his throat could be so sensitive. He continues to grind down, chasing his pleasure, nodding desperately.
“Yes, please there yes,” his airy voice chants like a mantra. He moans hard when he feels Toji’s other hand comes up to grope his chest through his catsuit, thick fingers tugging at his taught nipples.
“Talisman here, Byakko and I are about to move. There’s less people here than we thought, so sit back Shadowmaster. I think we got this, but keep an eye on any reinforcements.” Nobara’s neutral voice echoing in Megumi’s ear shocks him out of his lustful stupor.
“No!” he yelps as struggles out of Toji’s grasp.
“You’re my–fuck, you’re my fucking dad, and we’re on a mission, and I–“
He’s managed to flip around to face the wall as he tries to focus enough to sink into the shadows, when he feels a hand paw at his ass. It grips him roughly before pinching his suit and pulling, the fabric tearing away. He yelps at the cold night air on his bare ass as Toji kisses the skin below his ear, inches away from his comms.
“Where are you going baby?” he teases, dry fingers coming up to brush at his hole, and Megumi shakes. The hand retreats, only for it to come up to his mouth, fingers pressing against his lips.
“Suck baby boy, that’s all the lube you’re getting.”
Megumi tentatively opens his mouth, hating how weak he feels as Toji thrusts his fingers in. He’s drooling from both ends, saliva trickling down his chin as Toji teases his tongue between two fingers, precum dripping on the ground where his suit is torn.
He suckles on his dad’s fingers, mind going fuzzy. They’re nothing like his own fingers, slender and smooth. These are thick and calloused, and Megumi’s eyes close as he loses himself in tracing them with his tongue.
There’s a gentle kiss against his neck. “Good boy,” Toji whispers, pulling his hand back. Megumi groans as he feels the soaked fingers press against his rim, circling the hole. He tries to relax, but the air is punched out of him as Toji indelicately shoves two fingers straight in.
“A-ah ahhh...”
Toji’s fingers feel huge as they push deeper into him. It’s like when Megumi goes straight for his mid-sized plugs instead of working his way up, only hotter, more blunt length. Toji pumps them in relentlessly and Megumi jolts when they suddenly brush against that perfect spot.
“Fuck!” Megumi screams, pushing his back further into Toji’s chest to seek something solid to ground him. Toji gives him no mercy as he grinds his fingertips directly into Megumi’s prostate, fingers curling as if to scoop his insides out. It’s brutal, too fast and too thick for how Megumi usually plays with himself. He weeps openly, cock so hard it hurts.
“Dad, I ngh, fuck! Dad stop it’s ahh- too much, it’s too much! Dad I can’t, please please,” he begs, hoping for even a moment to catch his breath.
“Nah, s’okay baby, Daddy knows you can handle it, knows you can take it. You can be good for Daddy and take it, can’t you?” Toji whispers, lips on Megumi’s throat as he kisses each word into his sensitive skin.
“Daddy! Daddy please, I–” Megumi almost throws up at how quick Toji pulls his fingers out. It’s too much, and yet not enough, and he’s too empty and so close, and God he needs to cum. There’s a sudden pressure against his rim, something larger than the fingers, and before Megumi can process it, it forces its way in. Megumi’s mind goes blank and his vision whites out, entire body shuddering.
Megumi comes back into consciousness a second later, body shaking uncontrollably, head pounding and cock pulsing as he spills onto the ground. His hole flutters around the girth splitting his ass in two.
Toji kisses softly at his neck. “Do I feel good inside you baby? You came just from Daddy’s cock, such a good boy.”
Cock, that pressure inside him is his dad’s fucking cock. He can feel Toji’s pelvis pressed right against his ass, can feel where it splits him open. As he comes back into the moment, he starts to really feel the heavy weight of it sitting in his gut, in his stomach, in his fucking throat, like a goddamn beer can shoved up his ass.
Toji starts to pull out, and Megumi feels the way his body clings to his father. Toji slams back in deep, then keeps thrusting. Megumi can feel the way his father is reshaping his body, bullying his insides into the shape of the huge cock. He’s already oversensitive from his orgasm, but his father keeps striking true, the head of his cock jackhammering directly into his prostate. His knees are so weak, he’s barely keeping himself upright when his grip on the wall gives. He pitches forward but before his head can connect with the wall, Toji is manhandling him, throwing one of Megumi’s legs over his shoulders and pressing Megumi further into the wall.
The new angle lets Toji drive in even deeper and makes Megumi’s toes curl. He’s relentless, fucking Megumi like he’s trying to breed him, the squelch of Megumi’s hole echoing throughout the entire building. It’s so good, and the Megumi feels mindless, as if Toji’s cock is battering away all the thoughts in his head every time he fucks into him. Megumi doesn’t have to worry about everyone’s safety or analyze every possible way a situation could evolve or even worry about destiny and fate and free will. No, all he has to do is take, let Toji claim the deepest parts of his body, the body he made.
Toji’s pace picks up, as does his chatter, and it’s like he can read Megumi’s thoughts.
“Fuck, my baby boy, made just for me, just to take my cock, isn’t that right? God, this is what you were made for, baby. Looking so sexy in your suit, you shouldn’t ever be in the field, you were made to warm a man’s bed and cock every night baby.”
Megumi’s cock is still so hard and it swings uselessly in the air as Toji uses him. He can feel another orgasm coming in, the rising pressure in his stomach, the way his toes begin to curl, but he’s no more prepared for it than the first. It hits him fast and sudden, cock pulsing as he cums again. He feels like he’s dying when his hole squeezes even tighter around his dad, who takes it as challenge to keep fucking him through his orgasm.
His body fully gives out, muscles lax and boneless. Before he can slip to the ground, Toji’s moving him around again. This time, he flips Megumi so that they’re chest to chest, settling both of his son’s legs around his waist. Megumi wraps his arms around his father’s neck again as Toji presses him against the wall, perfectly sandwiched and secure.
“Daddy…” he whimpers. “Can’t.”
Toji’s eyes are predatory as he takes him in, kissing him deeply once more.
“You can take it baby, it’s what you were made for.”
“Talisman, coming in to Six Eyes and Shadowmaster.”
Megumi’s body goes stiff, his hole squeezing and his legs clenching, trapping his father inside. Toji groans in approval, and Megumi is so grateful his comms are still off.
“The situation is fully handled. The gang members have all been apprehended, and we’re just waiting on the police to arrive to transport them. Shadowmaster, feel free to start heading back to base.”
Thank god.
It’s at that moment when Toji chooses to start thrusting again and Megumi hides his moan in the older man’s shoulder. Megumi’s own cock is trapped between their stomachs, and the newfound friction is melting his brain ever further.
Toji starts kissing at his ear, just below the comms when he muses,
“Maybe we should call your team over, since you keep saying you can’t handle this cock, baby. You need backup?”
“N-no!”
God, he can’t let anyone see him like this. He’s the stoic one, the mysterious one, at least according to Yuji. He can’t be seen taking cock like a slut in some warehouse.
“No? So you can take it baby?”
Toji punctuates the question by sucking more marks into Megumi’s neck, that fucking mushroom head of his cock unrelenting.
“I-I can! I can Daddy, I swear, don’t let them see me!”
Toji’s laughter is low and mocking, and if Megumi were capable of cohesive thoughts he’d be cowed by how much it turns him on.
“Don’t want them to see how easy you take villain cock, baby?”
And Toji isn’t a villain, he’s a mercenary, according to Gojo, but fuck Nobara and Yuji would see him like a villain, wouldn’t they? God, what would they think if they saw him crying and squirting his dick at a villain ruining his hole?
“Or don’t want them to see how much of a slut you are for your Daddy?”
There’s no way they wouldn’t see the resemblance. And Gojo’s fought Toji before, fuck. What would they even say? What do you say to your friend when you catch them letting their dad use them like an onahole?
The thought is too much, and it drives Megumi over the edge one more time. His vision whites out, and somehow, despite it being his third orgasm, he manages to shoot his load far enough that it splatters across both their faces.
This time though, his tightening hole does his father in. Toji roars and slams inside one more time, and suddenly Megumi’s insides are flooded. His dad’s cum is scorching inside him, coating every inch and, for a split-second, Megumi thinks that if he had a womb, he’d be pregnant.
“God, baby, I’ll be crashing your missions from now on. Fuck, ain’t no way I’m letting this hole go. B’sides, you’ll never find anyone else who can fuck you like I can. Heh, wonder how long it’ll take for some civvy to stumble on you taking my cock?”
That’s disgusting, Megumi wants to scream. This is never happening again! He wants to promise. And yet, as he begins to fade into unconsciousness, his traitorous dick gives one more interested twitch.