Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There is something utterly off about the Itadori genes. Megumi isn't a doctor, but he doesn't need to be one to tell as much. He simply knows, in the way people can naturally tell what's right apart from what's wrong. 

And there's something wrong about this. Megumi has never met Yuji's parents, in fact he isn't so sure that even Yuji ever met Yuji's parents, and by extension, his brother's. They're a mystery. Most likely, giants, ripped straight out of Norse mythology. Freakishly tall and so physically strong that it's concerning. 

It's the only explanation Megumi can think of. Yuji lifted his bed with one hand once, when he was looking for his phone, and Megumi was there to watch it happen. An entire King sized bed. Just like that. 

It's not just that. 

Yuji and Sukuna both are insane at sports. Getting scouted without even trying-level insane. And while it's sometimes a little surprising with Yuji, given that he looks relatively young and less bulky, Sukuna is a different story. 

Sukuna is - 

Well. 

He's like a different species altogether, compared to Megumi. A monster. Sukuna's arms are easily as broad as Megumi's legs. 

He's tall, tall enough to hit his head on door frames. His shoulders, almost broad enough to fill them out. Nothing about Sukuna looks just one year and two months older than Megumi. He looks like an MMA fighter, and add to that the face chiseled out of some teenage girl's fantasy, make it ten times meaner, Sukuna Itadori is what you get. 

Quarterback and douchebag extraordinaire. 

Sukuna is and has always been, since Megumi first met him, all scary face and scarier attitude. 

And, heavy. 

So goddamn heavy, Megumi doesn't have a clue what the receptionist is thinking when she says, "he may need some support, but the effects should wear off within the next few hours," and practically shoves a stumbling, disoriented Sukuna Megumi's way. He barely catches a glimpse of doped out red eyes and shoulder muscles, before the weight of Sukuna resting just one hand on Megumi's shoulder has him unsteady on his feet. Even with his platform boots on, the top of Megumi's head barely reaches Sukuna's neck. 

Megumi didn't realize what he agreed to, when Yuji asked for a favor and he becomes painfully aware of this as he fights to stay on his feet, not stumble backwards outside of the dentist office. 

"Hey," Megumi goes, instantly a little pissed off at the sight of him, "can you not do that, you're fucking heavy ."

The thing is, except for the hauntingly similar faces, the absurd height and the physical strength, there's nothing similar about Yuji and his brother. Sukuna is an ass. He's always been. His brand of assholery ranges from stupid things such as calling Megumi annoying nicknames when he isn't busy pretending like anyone outside his small crowd of popular kids is downright invisible, to more serious things like breaking girls' hearts for fun. Physical fights with guys from other schools. Using threats and blackmail when someone dares to stand in the way of what he wants, if he doesn't use his fists. There are stories, legends about him, at school. 

Megumi is pretty certain that he's the type of guy to leak nudes, betray his friends, cheat. All the bad stuff. 

He's the opposite of Yuji. Yuji is Megumi's best friend, all golden heart and Labrador mindset, his aura warm and welcoming even to a social recluse such as Megumi. 

But Sukuna - 

Sukuna looks fucking high as a kite when his eyes blink at Megumi and he still has that hand on Megumi's shoulder, so big that his fingers reach down to his chest. At least he's standing on steadier legs now. 

"Hey there, Me-gloomy," Sukuna says. 

A beat passes and Megumi can really just look at Sukuna, but it doesn't feel like he's really seeing him. Sukuna is wearing a faded shirt with the team's logo on it. The curses. Megumi watches him run his free hand through his hair, large fingers against soft, faded pink. 

"What," Megumi finally manages. 

"What?" Sukuna asks. 

Megumi makes a face, considers his options. He doesn't even have the mental energy to think about that nickname right now. Much less start a debate with Yuji's drugged asshole brother. He simply frowns, breathes in deeply, and huffs out a breath. 

"Cause you're always dressed in black and you always look like you've bitten into the bitter end of a cucumber," Sukuna's brain seems to catch up. 

Megumi's expression only sours. 

There's not a hint of malice in Sukuna's eyes though, unlike usually, just innocent pupils, wide as the moon. Glassy eyes, red like a sunset in autumn. It makes Megumi wonder what the hell they gave him, to have a guy that size this out of it. 

".. Very perceptive of you," Megumi simply mutters. An old couple squeezes past them and it reminds Megumi that yeah, they're in the way. He just needs to get Sukuna in the car, drop him off and then he's got an evening all to himself. It's fine. Just another ten minutes of dealing with him. 

"So. Come on," Megumi tells him and turns. Sukuna's grip on him only tightens, and then he very nearly stumbles into Megumi. There's something so utterly off about that, that it leaves Megumi breathless for a second. 

Because, this is Sukuna. 

The very same guy who doesn't look left or right when he walks through the hallways, simply shoving people aside. Now too weak on his legs to fucking walk, like an old man. Megumi tries, but he really cannot help laughing. It's just a small chuckle, at the irony of it all. 

But, Sukuna catches it. Evidently. 

"You should do that more often," Sukuna says then. His eyes look so, so heavy as he watches Megumi. It's unsettling, the warmth in them. Something that shouldn't be there, especially not when he's looking at Megumi. 

"Do what?" he asks, throat going a little dry. 

Sukuna's hand is suddenly in front of his face, and then he presses a finger into Megumi's cheek, clearly unaware of his strength and uncoordinated. Megumi blinks very slowly at him.

"You get a little dimple, right there," Sukuna emphasizes, then grins, "when you laugh. Isn't that against the rules?" 

"You - what rules. " 

"Aren't you always trying to, y'know."

"No. I don't know," Megumi tells him, feeling a headache coming on. Arguing with drunk or high people is useless, he knows. But, there's a certain fascination in this. It's like this isn't even Sukuna standing here, still stabbing his cheek and looking much softer around the edges. It's someone else altogether. Just a person, less of an untouchable high school legend. 

A Doberman turned into a puppy.

"To look a little… dead. Bitch-faced. Like you're so clever and so sad. Distinguished." 

Distinguished. 

It takes Megumi a whole two seconds to catch himself and when he does, he's torn between laughing and crying, so he tries for a neutral expression. 

"What the hell did they even give you ? God, this is freaky. Just act like your usual horrible self, please, or shut up altogether. Come on." 

"'Course, bright eyes. Whatever you want," Sukuna goes. 

Easy. Agreeable. 

Something like a shiver goes through Megumi's body, the distinct feeling of being in the wrong reality, somehow. He forces his feet forward and Sukuna's fingers brush past his cheek. Then, he's got his hand on Megumi's arm, holding onto him loosely as he follows while Megumi debates simply making a run for it, getting himself out of this situation that is quickly becoming overwhelming. 

There's just - unspoken social rules. 

It's high-school. Of course, there are. And one of those rules is that someone like Sukuna will acknowledge Megumi only in one context, and that is the odd comment here and there, a meaningless insult or something thrown his way. Especially out in public. Even the fact that Megumi is Yuji's friend doesn't really change much about that. 

Sukuna isn't supposed to be touching him so casually, talking like they know each other even a little bit, or generally, acting like Megumi is anything but a shadow to him, invisible and ultimately, meaningless. 

It's just… weird. 

And now, Sukuna is weirdly quiet as his hand drops off Megumi's arm, no longer holding him. 

Megumi turns his head, just a little, as they step out into the sunshine. The road is busy and there are lots of people out, enjoying the first bits of the spring warmth. There's a slight breeze blowing and Sukuna - 

Sukuna is very much looking at his ass. 

The perhaps straightest guy in their school is looking at Megumi's ass. 

He isn't even subtle about it, doesn't notice when Megumi notices. Or maybe he doesn't care. Either way, Megumi's face burns at the realization and the burn multiplies when Sukuna does that little self-satisfied grin, pulling one side of his mouth up. Like he's seeing something he likes. The sun hits his features just right and Megumi clings to the thought that this is all an illusion, a trap. Sukuna looks like a goddamn model but that doesn't make it any more excusable, the way he's fucking ogling him. 

Megumi definitely isn't imagining this. 

He snaps his fingers, in front of Sukuna's face, and sends the dirtiest look his way when Sukuna does that surprised blinking, lazy, like he's not even bothered by being caught red-handed. 

"Nice outfit," Sukuna says then, "your legs  look so long in these, 'Gloomy. Considering how small you actually are." 

There's a multitude of things Megumi could say, should say, probably. Like how Sukuna can go to hell and forget about his free ride in Megumi's car. Or how pretty privelige apparently makes it so you don't have to have any manners, at all. Anything. 

What comes out though, is just an affronted, "I'm not small." 

Megumi isn't sure why. 

Sukuna stops walking then, but not before grabbing Megumi's hand, turning him around mid-movement in a way that nearly sends Megumi tumbling to the ground, like a failed attempt at a pirouette. Megumi already has his mouth open, ready to yell, but the words die in his throat when Sukuna pulls him even closer, like he doesn't even have to use any strength to move Megumi's entire body. 

"Look," Sukuna says. 

Megumi looks. 

Just looks, unmoving, as Sukuna holds up Megumi's arm, wraps his fingers around his wrist, gives Megumi a look. His skin is more tanned, and there are two black lines around Sukuna's own wrist. A meaningless tattoo suitable for someone like him, Megumi tells himself. He doesn't allow himself any other thought as his eyes remain stuck on the way Sukuna's fingers have his wrist caged. 

Then, Sukuna runs his hand up his arm. 

The goosebumps that follow his palm are a physical thing. An anxiety thing, maybe. Because it's terrifying, the way Sukuna stops on Megumi's upper arm, does it again. Megumi's brain buzzes like something electrical in a silent room. Sukuna's fingers are so big, they fit around his upper arm, too.

Easily. 

Sukuna raises a brow at him and Megumi opens his mouth to speak, maybe start an argument he's going to lose because Sukuna doesn't look like he's understanding, what he's doing. 

"See that. You're so thin, so small, like a fucking doll. I could rest my chin on your head, even when you're on your toes," Sukuna tells him. It's a bad joke, Megumi would think, the way he's making it sound so amazed, fascinated. But then again, he isn't sure how much joking Sukuna is currently capable of. 

"Don't you dare," Megumi grumbles at him when Sukuna's eyes do get stuck on his fringe, then move upwards. Like he's really planning on proving that, too. 

Sukuna's eyes meet his then. There's something awfully playful in them, something intrigued. Like he's a cat on catnip, and Megumi is his toy of choice. 

"M'sorry," he says and does that awful grin again that's right between obnoxious and too drugged to be taken at face value, "something about you - got me feeling all messed up. You know?" 

Definitely, definitely , too drugged. 

Megumi takes a very deep breath in and keeps the air inside for five seconds before exhaling, just to calm his pulse. He's not so sure it works. But it has to do, because if he doesn't cling onto the fact that this is all a very weird, very much drug-induced situation, then he's going to lose it and punch Sukuna, for real. 

"I'm pretty sure the painkillers are what has you all messed up. Not me," Megumi tells him, slow. Deliberate. "So if you would be so kind to move your ass into my car, I'd appreciate it." 

"No please?" 

"I'll gladly let you walk home," Megumi tells him, crossing his arms. 

Sukuna just laughs at him and everything about it sounds wrong. Too light and soft, too honest. Megumi can't bear to watch him, can't stand the sight of his shiny white teeth against thin lips. He should have told Yuji no. 

But, it's too late now. 

"Don't go all pouty on me now, sweetheart. I'm just pointing out the truth." 

"What truth?" 

This time, there's a sharper edge to Sukuna's grin. Megumi isn't sure when his eyes turned back to his face. There's a depth in Sukuna's eyes, even when they're soft like this, a stark contrast between the black of his pupils and the warmth of his irises. The warm hue in his eyelashes doesn't help. 

Something in Megumi aches, strange and unwelcome, under Sukuna's gaze.

"The truth is," Sukuna begins, then swallows, raises his jaw a little and looks down at him, "you're the prettiest little thing in this whole town. Messes me up." 

He says it with that little grin on his lips, with the unwavering confidence of someone who's used to flirting, doesn't even break the eye contact. Not even when Megumi's brain short circuits, jaw going slack as he blinks his eyes up at Sukuna, disbelief taking a hold of his body and mind, like he's been hit in the face and painfully. 

There's no way - 

"You don't even know what you're saying, do you." 

"I'm saying it makes me lose my mind, when you flutter your eyelashes. And the way you do that - what's it called," Sukuna says, pointing at Megumi's eye now, "that black line." 

"My… eyeliner?" Megumi tries, with a heavy, sinking feeling in his gut. It's like reality is dissolving around him, everything that's familiar quickly becoming strange. He finds his finger reaching up, touching his own eye, probably smearing his eyeliner in the process. 

Sukuna nods his head, "yeah. Like a work of art. You're breathtaking, Megumi." 

It's the final nail in the coffin. 

This time, it's Megumi grabbing Sukuna's arm, quickly turning around to make sure Sukuna doesn't see the way he feels his face burning up. He barely pays attention to the way he feels Sukuna stumble behind him, setting a fast pace on the way to the car and trying not to think about anything he just heard. 

Breathtaking. 

Yeah. Sure. 

It's a bad joke. A bad, horrible joke that Megumi shouldn't even be surprised by, and he can really just blame it on his hormones and on Sukuna's body and… all that, the way it has his heart racing. There's no deeper meaning to it, but that doesn't change the fact that Megumi feels overheated and beside himself, as he reaches into his jacket and pulls out the car keys. He opens the door for Sukuna with shaky hands and practically throws him inside, before fleeing. 

Sukuna still looks slightly confused and disoriented, rubbing at the spot where Megumi had grabbed him, when Megumi sits down on the driver's seat. He doesn't dare to look at him for longer than a second and simply says, "put on your seat belt." 

"Help me," Sukuna goes. 

Megumi turns towards him slowly, feeling something between murderous and terrified. 

"You're kidding." 

Sukuna's shit-eating grin is nothing if proof, "yeah. But you can still climb in my lap if you want."

"I can punch you in the face." 

"Sure. If you want. I'm sure you got a mean right hook," Sukuna laughs. 

Megumi inhales deeply, through his nose. He doesn't even give Sukuna the privilege of attention, simply turns away from him, turns on the engine. The music. He's not equipped to deal with this, clearly. A Manic Street Preachers song comes on, and Megumi can physically feel Sukuna's eyes on him as he pulls out, onto the road. 

Megumi finds himself playing with his tongue piercing, as his mind repeats Sukuna's words, over and over again. The prettiest thing in this town. Megumi isn't pretty. He isn't anything special, and there's no way it isn't all some strange mockery. Megumi is the last one to get picked in sports lessons, when it isn't Yuji choosing. He's the one who isn't openly mocked anymore, simply because he isn't afraid to start fights, has beaten a few people bloody when they tried to mess with him. 

He's nothing the star quarterback of their school would look twice at. 

But then again, Sukuna is still looking. 

Megumi shifts gears and gives him a side eye, "is there something on my face?" 

"Mmh?" Sukuna goes, clearly zoned out, "no. Why?" 

"Because - never mind." 

Sukuna stays quiet for only a moment. 

"You know, I've never seen you watch one of our games. Not interested in football?" 

"No." 

"So, what are you interested in, Gloomy? Hanging out in the cemetery at night, blood rituals and all that?" 

Megumi wants to face-palm. This version of Sukuna is the worst. 

"You do realize that people are more than walking stereotypes? All except for you, that is." 

"You just look so - mystical, you know. Like you spend all your time alone in dark places, just thinking." 

"I can assure you that I don't spend my time alone in dark places, just thinking," Megumi promises, pointedly ignoring the fact that he's been looking forward to his evening alone, spent in his room. Where he usually has the curtains shut. It's not like that's all he ever does though. 

"So. Come watch one of my games," Sukuna tells him and when Megumi turns to look at him, he's got that hint of a smirk pulling at one side of his mouth again, "go with Yuji if you want. I'd play better, knowing you're in the crowd." 

"I highly doubt that." 

"I'll show you," Sukuna promises and Megumi exhales a heavy breath. 

"Sure you will. Anyways, we're here. You will manage to go inside by yourself, right?" 

"Yeah. Wouldn't mind having you in my room though. My bed, preferably." 

" God, just - go. Please." 

"Kay. Thanks 'Gloomy. See you around," Sukuna thankfully doesn't put up a fight. Megumi watches him climb out of the car and wave again, before he slams the door shut, rattling the entirety of Megumi's small, beat up car. He stands there for an entire minute at least, watching Sukuna go and trying to come to terms with anything that just happened. 

Even as he drives home, Megumi cannot shake the feeling though; he's got pretty good gut instincts and the worst part of it all is, that Sukuna seemed wasted and scarily different , but he didn't seem like he was lying. 

Chapter Text

Tsumiki whistles when Megumi enters the kitchen and his father sets his glass of orange juice down on the table, hard. Megumi ignores them both and makes his way towards the coffee machine, an ear bud in his right ear, buzzing with an old Smiths song. He grabs himself his favorite mug and turns the machine on, drumming his fingers on the counter. 

"No good morning?" his father asks, a cigarette dangling from between his lips now, unlit. His words are a little muffled. 

Megumi rolls his eyes, "morning." 

His father's face sours and Megumi's does the same. He takes the cigarette out of his mouth, holds it between his fingers. Tsumiki interrupts their staring match after just a few seconds, smiling brightly and setting her phone aside. "Nice outfit," she says, "you look good." 

Megumi watches her elbow their father's side. 

Toji turns to look at her before he speaks, "I doubt fishnet tights are an appropriate choice for school. Are you tryna' seduce anyone?"

"Dad," his sister scolds. 

Megumi presses the button for his coffee, mentally counting the seconds until he gets to escape. 

"My teachers, for better grades," he answers, voice thick with sarcasm. 

"Dad, I've told you before, it's about -" 

"Self expression, yeah yeah. I know what you said, but does that have to involve dressing like a depressed hooker at 7AM on a Thursday? What's that supposed to express ?" 

"You just don't get it, do you. Fashion is all about -" 

Megumi puts the second earbud into his ear. He grabs his coffee, steaming black, humming along to the song as he makes a beeline for the door, tuning them out. It's nothing new really, the fact that his father critiques his clothing choices. He's less extreme in his complaining these days, and Megumi knows that his sister is to blame for that. She's been trying for years to be the glue that sticks them all together in one happy family unit. 

Megumi frowns at his mug as he sits down on his bed. He blows at the coffee to cool it down a little but it still burns when he brings the mug up to his lips. His eyes turn towards the clock on the wall. 7:13. Another ten minutes left at best. 

He reaches over to his nightstand, takes his makeup mirror and places it between his knees, turning the lamp on and grabbing his eyeliner. 

He's got a method; Megumi angles his head just right, in a way that narrows his eyes a little. The first stroke of eyeliner is smooth, perfect, adding just the right edge to the corner of his eye. 

He isn't sure why the memory of Sukuna's words has to hit him mid-waterline. 

He makes a face as he recalls his words, the admiration in red eyes as Sukuna talked about that black line and Megumi curses out loud, when he accidentally stabs his eye, flooding it with inky black tears. 

Megumi barely hears himself curse through the earbuds; the g note of the song that's starting seems to mock him specifically. 

"Bullshit."

He pulls a tissue out of the box on his nightstand and tries to wipe away the stains, instantly dissatisfied with the whole look of everything . It's always like that. One mess up, and the perfection is over and done with. A shadow remains beneath his eye. 

There's a knock on his door then. 

"No." 

His sister enters anyways, dressed in a fuzzy pink pullover and wide, beige pants. Megumi glares over at her from his bed and sighs as he pulls his earbuds out. 

"What?" 

"About dad," Tsumiki says. Megumi watches her sit down on the bed, looking over at him. "You know he's trying. Don't be too hard on him." 

"I'm not. I'm perfectly aware that he never learned to stay quiet if he doesn't have anything productive or nice to say." 

"Aw come on, don't be like that. You know he's old-fashioned." 

"Old-fashioned," Megumi repeats, opening his mouth a little as he draws a new line beneath his eye, a little too thick, but good enough. There isn't much time left. 

"You know how he grew up." 

Megumi sets the eyeliner down as he looks at his sister, "and I know he ran away from home at 17." 

She hums. "Just ignore his antics. I was serious though, you look fancy. What's the occasion?" 

Megumi ignores her for a moment as he goes for the other eye, finishing his makeup quickly. Efficiently. He grabs his coffee again. It's a little cooler now. "The occasion is that Nobara thinks that ordering twice as many clothes as she needs to get a little discount is clever shopping."

"Oh," Tsumiki says, then smiles again, brightly, "well. Means free stuff for you, right?" 

"How can you be this positive so early in the morning," Megumi grumbles as he puts away his stuff, looking over himself in the mirror one last time. He considers using some hairspray but a look on the clock advises against it. 

"Eating a whole balanced meal in the morning instead of just drinking black coffee helps, I've heard."

Megumi makes a point of sipping loudly on his coffee, then finishes the rest of it. 

"I gotta get going," he tells her, grabbing his little black backpack, "have fun at work or whatever."

Tsumiki stands up, and walks out of the room alongside him, "you have fun at school. Be careful not to let the guys drool all over you." 

"Haha. The only one drooling over me is the old perverted bus driver who somehow figured out I got a tongue piercing." 

"That's - ew." 

"Yeah. Later," Megumi calls over his shoulder as he slips into his plateau boots and bends over to fasten the shoelaces, one hole after another. It takes him another two minutes at least before he's rushing out through the door and towards the bus stop. There's always the option of taking his car, but Megumi really isn't too keen on wasting money on gas when he doesn't have to. The bus stop is only a five minute walk and he spends it skipping songs, one after another. Searching for something and feeling a little restless as the sun peeks out from between the clouds and the events of yesterday come back to haunt his brain yet again. 

There's just - nothing really that makes sense about it. 

Megumi still feels like he walked into a weird movie scene yesterday and he isn't even sure whether he wants to tell his friends about it or not; Sukuna is Yuji's brother after all. Maybe it's bad enough for one person to feel estranged from reality due to Sukuna's behavior. 

The bus driver throws a long, very much unwanted look Megumi's way when he enters, eyes going down to his legs almost instantly and staying there. Megumi grimaces and rushes to the back of the bus, ignoring the other passengers and thankfully finding an empty seat. He watches the scenery pass by as the bus passes through the streets, an odd mix of boredom and anticipation deep in his gut. It's probably the coffee. His father always toys around with the machine, changing the settings to make it too strong. It's a silent war between them, the coffee machine. 

And that's all. 

The coffee. 

The bus finally comes to a stop in front of the school and Megumi fights to keep a sigh to himself as he watches the crowds of people all over the parking lot and by the gate. He's never been a morning person and Thursdays are the worst. Three hours of math first thing in the morning. The only saving grace is that he shares the class with Nobara and Yuji. 

It's not really a surprise when he finds the two of them by the gate. Nobara is smoking a cigarette, an expression on her face like she hasn't slept and is ready to kill a man. She isn't a math fan either. Megumi knows. Yuji on the other hand is laughing brightly at something on his phone, probably a stupid video that Megumi isn't going to find very funny but pretend to laugh at anyways when it's inevitably shown to him. 

Nobara spots him first and does a little nod, obviously trying to look cooler than she is. It's all part of a bigger plan she's got going on, to make Megumi's cousin of all people notice her. The cigarettes fit the image just fine. 

"Look at that," she says. Yuji looks up and waves uselessly at Megumi. "Megumi Fushiguro. You haven't replied to one of my texts. What's your excuse." 

"I- Hi. What texts?" 

"I sent you photos of my outfit for tomorrow. Did you not even look at them or what?" she goes, taking a threatening step closer. 

"I have my messages muted," Megumi tells her, slow and careful. "I didn't see." 

"Then fucking unmute them, you know this is important." 

"You look pretty no matter what you wear, you know." 

Megumi watches her eye twitch and takes half a step back. It's definitely too early in the morning to deal with Nobara in a bad mood. She takes another drag and Yuji pokes his head over her shoulder. 

"Megumi," he says. Yuji's eyes are bright in the morning sun. "Woah, look at you. You're like, extra pretty today." 

Megumi shakes his head, "I'm extra tired ." 

"Trouble sleeping again?" 

"Yeah." 

"You know you can always call if you need someone to talk to when you're thinking too much at -" 

"Excuse me, I'm still here," Nobara complains and steps on the cigarette butt harshly, exhaling the smoke in Megumi's face and making him cough. He narrows his eyes at her. 

"Yeah well there's still enough time to show me. I'm not sure how I am your fashion advisor of choice anyway."

" Barely enough time. It's not everyday that we are invited to an upperclassman party," she says, entirely ignoring the second part of his statement. 

Megumi looks at her, "we're invited because she's my cousin . And you can just come right out and say that it's about her, not upperclassmen or whatever." 

"Shut up. Do you not even realize that it's a big deal? She's literally the hottest of the cheerleaders," Nobara goes. Megumi forces himself to suppress a smile. It's ridiculous, the way her cheeks turn pink just talking about her, "this could seriously elevate our status. She's like, I don't know, everyone knows her - and we're invited ."

"So. Show me the photos in class later. I'm sure you'll have a blast at the party." 

"Woah, what. No way, you're coming with us," Yuji goes, his big brown eyes on Megumi. 

"I don't really feel like it," Megumi tells him and Yuji's eyes only widen a little, borderline begging. 

"You're not rotting in your room on a Friday night, dude. Forget it. You're coming." 

"You know that I don't drink," Megumi says and fumbles around with the wire of his headphones, rolling it around his finger. "Everyone's just going to be drunk off their asses and annoying. I don't really see the point." 

"The point is that it's only half as cool without you there, Meg. Please come," Yuji says before Nobara can insult him about it, grabbing his arm and shaking slightly. Something about the movement, the strength Yuji uses in his grip without even noticing, has Megumi's mind adrift with a flashback. Megumi opens his mouth to say something, keep the conversation going, but the words die on his tongue. 

He shakes his head and Yuji looks at him with some concern now, before his eyes go down to where he grabbed him. He drops his hands. 

"I -," Megumi starts. Stops. "Uhm. Yesterday, about Sukuna." 

He wants to punch himself in the face for saying it almost instantly. There's nothing to be said about that. Nothing that has a point anyway. 

"What about him? Everything go okay? I know he was home at night but I think he had someone over, so we didn't really talk. I just assumed it all worked out." 

Megumi forces himself to unclench his jaw, somehow instantly annoyed just hearing about Sukuna. He crosses his arms, and looks over at the students walking into school, little groups passing them by.

"Nothing really, he just - I don't know. He acted a bit… weird."

"Weird?" 

"Yeah." 

"Don't tell me he was being an ass to you again. He promised he'd behave," Yuji frowns. 

"I don't think he could not be an ass." 

"Yeah well, what'd he do?" 

"Just," Megumi starts. He feels his cheeks burn up, trying to find the words. They elude him. There's no way to package what happened into something discussable, "the usual. Called me names and all. He was pretty out of it though." 

"God, he's so fucking - I don't even get it. Who the hell is rude to someone they want something from?" 

Megumi's eyes go wide. He inhales a little harshly, "What do you mean, want something." 

Yuji blinks at him. "Huh? I mean, this was a favor you did for me but technically, he's the one who needed a ride home. He should be thankful." 

A ride home. 

Yeah. 

Megumi's brain has clearly suffered some kind of damage. Of course, it's not like Sukuna wants something from him. He looks away from both Yuji and Nobara, ignoring the quizzical look he's given. The sun is burning down on the asphalt now, already. It's going to be a hot day. 

"We should.. probably go," Megumi says and shoves his hands into the pockets of his short black pants. The parking lot is slowly clearing out and there isn't much time left until class begins. He ignores both their chatter about tomorrow's party as they walk inside and spends the first three hours of the morning strangely zoned out, assaulted over and over again by the feeling of Sukuna's fingers around his arm, like his body is only now catching up on how furious that actually made him. 

He forces himself, again and again, to snap back into the moment and try to take notes, use his brain. Think of anything that isn't Yuji's asshole of a brother. Even the equations on the blackboard make more sense than whatever the hell Sukuna's prank was. It's a sort of relief when Nobara ends up showing him the photos beneath the table and Megumi gets to focus on that, telling her to go for the blue skirt and beige blouse combo; she complains a little and tells him that maybe he really shouldn't be her fashion advisor. 

When she shows Yuji the options, he backs up Megumi's decision. As he always does. The bickering that ensues only stops when their teacher threatens, once again, that he might have to have them sit apart from each other if they can't be quiet. 

… 

Megumi isn't sure how he expects running into Sukuna to go; his hope was to not run into him at all, all day. Preferably for a whole week, until he's got the whole touching and staring incident chewed into small, digestible pieces for his brain. It's really not a miracle though that he cannot escape Sukuna. His presence stains the very walls of the hallways and his sense of self importance is at least as big as the building. There is no escaping Sukuna. 

Clearly. 

Megumi has learned not to pay much attention to stupid comments or weird looks, unless it's absolutely necessary. He doesn't go around beating people up for one small comment. It's not worth it, it really isn't. 

It's different when he leans forward, turning on the water fountain and opening his mouth, only for his entire body to freeze mid-movement. 

"Nice tights. Steal them from your sister, Fushiguro?" 

The voice is unmistakable. 

Yorozu. 

And like a sixth sense, he can already tell that it isn't just her. 

Megumi turns around slowly, before he even takes the first sip of water, eyes hard as he stares her down. Yorozu is tall - a lot taller than Megumi. Sukuna towers behind her, frowning. Bored. He barely even gives Megumi a glance before he's looking at her again. Megumi's eyes go down to where Yorozu is holding onto his elbow, long fingernails on tan skin. 

Something hot and heavy inside Megumi buzzes, like little bubbles in a glass of sparkling water. 

"What's your issue," Megumi asks, slow and deliberate, voice giving nothing away. 

"My issue is that you're in the way. Get lost," Yorozu goes. It's been like this for a little while now - Megumi isn't sure what triggered it precisely. He just knows that she's been going out of her way to let him know that she doesn't like him.

Megumi doesn't move. 

This time, Sukuna speaks. Megumi feels his gaze on him like it's a heavy weight, a bit of extra gravity. Sukuna raises one brow. "You heard her. Make some space," he commands. 

Megumi's mouth drops open. He still isn't moving, is frozen, a bit shocked really, because - 

Sukuna's grip on him is sudden, hard. Megumi barely even notices as he approaches. All he knows is that suddenly, he's lifted in the air and away from the water fountain, thick fingers pressing into his sides. Megumi's brain short-circuits for a moment and he only manages to voice his complaint when Yorozu has already shoved herself in front of the water fountain. 

Sukuna's fingers linger for a moment, just where Megumi's high-waisted pants are stuffed with his flowy black shirt. Then, Sukuna pulls his hands away, letting Megumi stand there all by himself, on his own two feet. 

"What the fuck, Sukuna." 

It's more of a whisper than anything. 

He's awarded with another tired look, like Megumi is a fly on Sukuna's windshield, squashed and annoying. A stain. Megumi makes a point of standing his ground, putting as much fire into his gaze as he can and refusing to back down beneath his gaze. 

"What? Got a problem?" Sukuna asks him. Disinterested, again. It's such a stark contrast, such a lack of attention Sukuna gives him - Megumi feels sick to his stomach with it. It's like he's suddenly air again - something to look through. Somehow, having Yorozu there makes it worse . 

"Yeah," Megumi tells him, "my problem is that this isn't fucking kindergarten. And you're standing in my way." 

It's perhaps not the wisest decision. Megumi blames the fire in his gut and the disproportionate anger he's feeling. Yorozu isn't hard to push aside. It's not like he shoves her hard either, but there's no denying the little moment when it escalates. Megumi watches her choke on her water, watches it splash all over her chest, and there's a deep, sinking feeling in his gut. 

It's… really not the kind of thing he does anymore. 

He can already see Tsumiki's disappointed expression in his mind's eye, should a teacher call his father. 

"What the fuck," Yorozu goes, high-pitched. 

The damage is already done; Megumi bends forward and gives her a side eye as he takes a sip of water, to find Yorozu's face twisted in anger. She turns to look at Sukuna, mouth open, and Megumi closes his eyes. Takes another sip. 

Come on , he thinks, come on and defend her. 

Megumi doesn't say it; it's like something is possessing him, something he cannot make sense of. Seeing Sukuna and Yorozu pisses him off more than it has any reason to. 

"You're fucking kidding me," she says, louder now and for a moment Megumi thinks, she's going to start something, "ugh this is fucking disgusting - fucking faggot freak ." 

Megumi tilts his head a little and watches her run off in the direction of the restrooms instead of coming closer, arms crossed in front of her chest and steps hurried. It's just water. Megumi shakes his head, fighting off an amused grin despite the tension in his body. 

He keeps looking at where she disappeared, only noticing a moment later that Sukuna is still there. He jumps a little when their eyes meet, on edge. 

"What?" Megumi asks. 

"Not kindergarten huh." 

"Shut up, I didn't start this." 

"I didn't say that," Sukuna says and Megumi frowns at the barely concealed amusement on his face. 

"So," he says, "Yorozu? Really?" 

Sukuna raises a brow and Megumi makes a face at him, his stupid training jacket and the way he has the sleeves rolled up to show off broad forearms, thick black lines above his wrists. It's not a secret really, that Yorozu has been after Sukuna like a dog after a bone. What's new though, is the fact that she's holding onto him in public. Megumi doesn't know much about Sukuna's private life - doesn't care to know, really - but he didn't think they were a thing. Not an official thing at least. 

"What's it to you?" 

Megumi presses his lips tightly together. He evades eye contact and takes another sip of water then, turning away from him. He wipes his mouth dry with the back of his hand. 

"Don't get me wrong, I don't care if you're into the crazy and mean type. What I care about is that she's been on my ass for weeks, not like I've done anything to her." 

For a brief moment, something flickers over Sukuna's features. It's gone before Megumi knows what to do with it. 

"Well, you're definitely on her blacklist now."

"I'm terrified." 

"She is terrifying," Sukuna agrees. His eyes run across Megumi then, from his face down to his boots. It's all too reminiscent of yesterday, and Megumi doesn't really know what to do. He feels his cheeks flush a little. "Speaking of terrifying. What's up with the outfit? Careful not to go too crazy on the colors." 

"Haha. Real funny," Megumi tells him. Sukuna's eyes go down to his legs again, for just a fraction of a second. Then, he gives Megumi another one of those arrogant, you're beneath me looks, aimed straight at his face.

A sudden surge of annoyance overcomes Megumi. Harsher this time, impossible to ignore, really. 

"Besides, I thought it was your thing," Megumi says. 

There's a shared moment of silence between them, like electricity flickering out on a lamp. Sukuna's eyes harden and he takes a little step closer, rage on his face like a well-fitting mask and Megumi's jaw feels tight, muscles clenching as he feels himself turn, the water fountain pressing into his thighs. Softly at first. A bit harder, then. Megumi isn't the type to run - he's not the type to let himself get backed into a corner. 

It's astonishing, really, how Sukuna does that. 

He's got it down to an art form, clearly. 

All it takes is that absurdly large body, a bit of body language, and Megumi's very gut feels heavy. He swallows his nerves down, forces himself to breathe, slow and steady. There's no moving backwards. Sukuna looks down at him through dark red eyes. His lashes are peachy almost, a warm brown. 

"What was that," he requests. Megumi watches the way his lips move. The sides of his mouth go down in displeasure as he waits for his answer. Megumi feels his the air too intensely as it goes down his throat, out again. He's still trying to breathe normally, unsure what has him so out of it in the first place. 

"I said," Megumi begins, "I thought you were into it. Or what was that you said yesterday. About how pretty you think I am." 

Their eyes meet again. 

Sukuna's are burning now, aflame with something scary. 

Another step, and he's right in front of Megumi. 

"Listen up, I don't know what the fuck you think I was saying. I was fucking out of it and maybe I thought it was funny but it's actually more sad if you took that seriously," Sukuna tells him. 

Megumi instantly finds himself thinking back; he thinks of the openness in Sukuna's eyes, the lightness in his tone, the honesty in his voice. All things he's missing, now. There's tension in Sukuna's posture and almost too much intensity in the way he's glaring at Megumi. 

It's an overreaction, clearly. 

Overcompensation. 

Megumi stands up a little straighter. There isn't much space between them and what little there is, is alive with something . It's electrical almost, or perhaps a chemical thing. Adrenaline. Megumi's entire body feels more alive with it but his head feels like it's packaged in cotton, synapses firing without permission, the impact dull. 

"I think you were saying that I'm the prettiest thing you've ever seen," Megumi says, insane with bravery, maybe stupidity. It's not like it really matters much to him, so it really doesn't make sense that there's even a hint of emotion in there. For a brief moment, he hopes that Sukuna doesn't hear it either. That it comes out like the jab it's probably supposed to be, a simple method of putting a scratch on Sukuna's enlarged ego, his nerves. 

There's no rhyme or reason to the way Megumi's heart seizes up when Sukuna steps closer, grabs him by the thin fabric of his shirt and pulls Megumi forward, so easily. 

A soft noise falls from his throat, a gasp. Sukuna's hand is warm where his fingers brush against Megumi's collarbone. Megumi has to angle his head way back, his mouth open as Sukuna's eyes burn into his own. The strain on his neck is immediate and it's a soft reminder of just how absurd their height difference is. 

" And I think you were talking about our size difference like you wanted to make a religion out of it. Didn't really sound like a joke to me," Megumi just has to add. He isn't sure why. This is everything he didn't want to happen, and somehow he is the one addressing it all, when Sukuna would have apparently gladly pushed the entire memory aside. 

There's a crack, in Sukuna's facade. 

It's more noticeable this time. For a brief moment, the anger in his eyes is gone, replaced by something deeper. Megumi watches his eyes go down to his lips. They get stuck there, wide pupils unmoving, his attention heavy like the air before a thunderstorm, pushing down on Megumi's skin. 

Megumi wets his lips. 

"Just admit to it, if you're into me," Megumi baits, feeling a little suicidal apparently, "I promise I won't tell. Your secret's safe with me." 

"Megumi, I'll beat your pretty little face black and blue if you don't stop spewing that shit. I want nothing from you," Sukuna finally speaks. It's slow, quiet, a threat. A pointless, stupid threat that Megumi doesn't understand the point of, but the tension that washes over him is undeniable. He ignores it, pushes the feeling aside. 

"Go on and try then," Megumi says, "and don't think for a second that I want anything from you ."

They stare at each other again and Megumi can't pinpoint what it means. There's a distinct feeling of something going unspoken, something loud and terrible. Sukuna's fingers still brush against his collarbone and his grip tightens even more, making Megumi unsteady on his feet, his chest pulled forward. It almost makes him regret it, pushing Sukuna's boundaries like that. There's no telling the damage that Sukuna's fist could do to his face. 

Probably nothing pretty. Nothing pretty at all. 

"Come on, I'm waiting," Megumi's voice comes out rough, airways squeezed tight from the angle of his neck. And Megumi half-expects a punch with how unnecessarily volatile Sukuna is being over this. 

None comes. 

Sukuna's face is entirely too close, though. 

"You're damn lucky you're Yuji's friend," Sukuna spits the words out. Megumi blinks at him, slowly. Waits. It's not like he wants this to escalate. 

But - 

Suddenly, Sukuna's hand is gone, away from his shirt, his skin. The sudden movement away from him feels almost like a punch, too. Megumi sucks a breath in, feeling strangely stuck in place as Sukuna gives him one last glare before he turns and walks off, like nothing at all just happened. It all goes so fast that Megumi doesn't even know how to react, hit by the strangest urge to run after him and demand an answer as to what the hell his problem is. He doesn't. 

Megumi just stands there, catching his breath, until the bell rings a few seconds later and he rushes to his French class, nearly stumbling over his own feet. 

… 

Megumi's father isn't home when he gets back. Tsumiki isn't there either. The house is quiet, a package for his sister on the doorstep. He takes it inside, places it on the kitchen table and washes his hands before taking an apple out of the fruit basket. It's deep red, almost a little too sweet as he bites into it. 

Megumi walks over to his room, drops his backpack on the floor, against the dark gray wall. He sits down on his bed and sighs, heavy, like an old person. The mattress bounces a little as he sinks into it. He pulls his earbuds out and drops them on the bed next to him, along with his phone. It's only 5 PM, but it feels like the day has gone on forever . 

Megumi takes a last bite of his apple before discarding the remnants of it in the trash can, making a mental note to take the trash out later. His feet ache from walking in his platform boots all day. The boots aren't particularly bad, but after a few hours, he always feels it, in his feet, his legs. Megumi takes his time undoing the shoelaces, stretches his legs out once he's done. He drops down on his bed and stares at the ceiling for a long moment. 

Five seconds in, seven seconds out. 

He counts breaths. 

It's still there. 

Like an unwanted visitor overstaying their welcome, the memory of what happened today with Yuji's brother sits in the back of his head. Thoughts of Sukuna haven't left him alone all day, really. Not in class, during lunch break, or on his way home. It's annoying , the way he's been expecting to bump into him at every corner again, or have a teacher come up to him and demand to know what happened with Yorozu. 

None of that happened though - Megumi hasn't run into him again. Hasn't heard from Yorozu yet either. 

Maybe that's why his mind is working overtime, sorting through it all. 

It's probably the lack of a resolution; Megumi isn't quite sure what that would have looked like, either. All he knows is that it feels like something remained unsaid. It feels like Sukuna backtracked, which seems entirely unlike him. And it's not that Megumi wanted to get punched. In fact, he isn't entirely sure why it's so infuriating to him, that he got away with saying what he said. That Sukuna's explanation seemed half-assed at best; a generic it was just a joke. 

There's no way to explain it to himself, how Sukuna hasn't laid a hand on him in years, and this is the tipping point, for him to threaten Megumi with violence, and then not go through with it. 

Megumi knows, that Sukuna has beat up his fair share of people. 

The whole thing is fucking stupid . 

Sukuna is really just that. An asshole with issues, with a bitchy girlfriend and hands so big, they'd easily fit around Megumi's thigh. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

And Megumi - 

Megumi angles his leg up, looks down at the fishnet tights, the way thin black lines stretch across his skin, putting a pattern on it. Megumi remembers the way Sukuna's eyes got stuck on his legs briefly. He wonders what he thought at that moment. 

Wonders why he cares . 

He reaches down, runs his fingers across the fabric. It bunches up beneath his fingertips, distorting the order of the pattern. Megumi's skin is pale, smooth. He usually wears long pants, so the sun doesn't touch it much. Without really realizing what he's doing, Megumi stretches his fingers out. They only reach about halfway around his leg. His hands aren't very big. Megumi keeps his eyes there for a long moment, fingers unmoving. He sighs again, a little softer this time, despite himself. He pulls his hand back up, running both his hands through his hair, undoubtedly messing it up. There's no relief in it. Megumi throws his head back, stares up at the ceiling again. 

The drumming of his heart is noticeable, deep in his chest, a strange little misplaced melody. 

His body really has no business getting worked up over this . 

But, there's no mistaking it. Megumi shifts his legs a little and he's too aware of the feeling of his pants, putting pressure between his legs where the fabric is pulled up from the way he's laying. It's not the physical feeling either. He feels… wound up. Strangely on edge, really, like there's a knot deep in his stomach, pulled tight and making it hard to concentrate. It's hard to pinpoint what started it; he's been feeling a little off all day, really. 

Megumi looks at the half-open door. 

The house is empty. 

He's alone. 

Probably for another hour at least. 

Megumi allows his brain to shut off as he gives in to the urge to trace his fingers down his body, slowly. He runs them across his stomach, across warm, soft skin, and opens the button of his pants easily, pushing them aside. It's something he has come to learn about himself; sometimes those restless feelings disappear when he allows himself to get off. A natural remedy, really, for different occasions. 

Maybe it's what he needs today. This isn't about Yuji's brother. This is about an anxious type of feeling deep in his gut that he needs to chase away like exorcising a ghost.

Megumi doesn't make a big cemerony out of it. It's not like he's really in the mood to drag it out or anything. It's just that he hasn't touched himself in a few days. And maybe that's why his mouth falls open in a gasp as soon as one finger brushes against his underwear, not even close to his clit. 

Megumi spreads his legs a little, makes more space for his hand as it moves down, in-between his legs. 

He closes his eyes tightly as he pushes his fingers into his panties, the lace soft to the touch. The first brushing of his fingers against swollen flesh already has his body stiffening, a harsh intake of breath resounding through the room as Megumi's mind is flooded with a memory so unwanted and useless, it has him groaning out another sound. 

The image of Sukuna's hand around his wrist is suddenly there, at the forefront of his mind. Megumi pushes his fingers a little harder against himself and sucks a breath in, confusion and eagerness sending a spark up his spine like an immoral cocktail, a forbidden taste. 

He bites his lip, opens his eyes. 

The posters on his ceiling stare down at him, old images he cut out of magazines when he was younger. Articles about bands he likes and low-quality photos he printed out from small gigs he went to. The same old pictures. 

Megumi hesitates. 

It's nothing he's supposed to be thinking about when he takes his few minutes to himself - Sukuna's hands. His broad fingers and the stupid tattoos on his wrist, or the way his muscles cast shadows on his skin when the light hits them just right.

And yet - 

Megumi makes a choking sound when he draws a circle across his clit, fingers slipping into wetness, sliding easier across his skin, coated like that. It's good. Really, really good. Just a bit of pressure, and his body reacts like he poured gasoline into a dying fire, hips rolling ever so slightly and knees bent for leverage, soft sheets crumbled up beneath his skin. He makes a helpless noise, bites his lip. 

Megumi is still thinking about it; the feeling of Sukuna's fingers around his arm mixes so well with the memory from earlier; his hands on Megumi's waist, grabbing him and simply relocating him like he had any right. Megumi recalls the pressure on his waist, the warmth of his fingers, almost more precisely than he felt it in that moment. It's a strange thought, how easy it is for Sukuna to be able to just lift him up like this. How different they are. 

What's even stranger, is the way Sukuna told him that he liked it. Megumi's face. His body. How easily he could manhandle him - Sukuna didn't say it like that, but it was there. Between the lines. Megumi isn't making it up, he tells himself. 

It wasn't a lie. It didn't feel like a lie, when Sukuna said it, when he went about touching Megumi's body, just for proof. It felt - real. What he said. A whine escapes Megumi's lips and he moves his hips a little harsher, pressing up into his fingers, rhythmic little thrusts that create the faintest wet noise when skin brushes against wet skin. His breathing is louder now, messier. His body feels alive with a strange sort of want, unfamiliar and driven by restlessness. His hand doesn't have much freedom to move with his pants still on, so he tries to move his hips just right, push his pussy into the wet digits like they're his saving grace. 

It's like an impulse. It doesn't feel like he's really controlling his hips - it's less controlled than that. More of a natural thing, chasing for something physical and gratifying as his thoughts drift off into increasingly more dangerous territory. 

Such as, Sukuna holding him down, his body caging Megumi's, leaving him with nowhere to go, no way of escape. Sukuna looking all wasted and hopelessly lost, just from getting to touch him. 

Their bodies pressed together even closer than this morning, Megumi's like a doll beneath that monster of a guy. 

He can almost feel it. 

"Fuck," Megumi groans. Then, quieter, like an afterthought he hasn't thought through, "Sukuna." 

Megumi stops dead in his tracks. 

His chest is heaving as the aftertaste of the name lingers on his tongue.

That's not - not okay. So not okay, it should make him nauseous. There's definitely a wrong connection being made there - the kind of thing he shouldn't feed into. It's different, just having messed up thoughts, from speaking them into existence. 

It's not a joke though, the way his entire body feels on fire, or the way he feels his pulse all the way down in his pussy. Megumi presses his legs together, letting his fingers remain where they are, unmoving. His legs feel shaky from his efforts and Megumi doesn't manage to hold still for long. His mind is miles ahead and Megumi finds himself curious. Curious to know, what those thick, broad fingers would feel like, brushing against the softest parts of him. 

Whether Sukuna's mask or arrogance would crack in the little high of pushing them inside Megumi, forcing him open so much wider than Megumi's own fingers can. 

"Ah," Megumi groans. He brings his free hand up to his mouth, bites the back of it to keep himself from moaning that name again. His teeth sink into flesh and it hurts , stings, but the pain makes for some kind of north star.

This is about getting off , not about turning Yuji's asshole brother into a fantasy lover. 

His mind doesn't seem to comply though; the sense of emptiness inside him is sickening, ruthless, tearing at him. Megumi finds himself angling his legs further up. He pulls his pants, along with the tights, down to his knees, and quickly places his hand on his pussy again, rubbing along the sides of it only briefly, before he runs them through the wetness gathered in the middle, coats his fingers in warmth and wetness as he slides them inside, two at once. 

A tight fit. 

The sensation is instantaneous. 

His pussy is aching for something, and even just his fingers are enough to help a little, brushing against his walls and making Megumi try and spread his legs wider, squirming in both discomfort and eagerness. 

"Sukuna," Megumi whimpers. It's pathetic. Embarrassing. Sukuna is an asshole, a hot body with nothing more to offer. The name sounds so good on his lips though, like it's the only thing he needs to say ever again, a little bird content with just one song. There's clearly something wrong with him, and it's getting worse. 

The room feels hotter now and the position isn't the best. 

Megumi's fingers can only do so much like this, and even two aren't enough. Perhaps it's the ungodly fantasy about Sukuna's fingers that has him stuck with a sense of not enough. It's such a contradiction, too, how all his annoyance with Sukuna is still well and alive inside him, all while his nerve endings fire rapidly, to thoughts of him. 

Megumi feels like an entire mess as he slides down the mattress, knees bent and back pressed against his bed, kneeling on the floor.

He angles his fingers, lets them brush against that sensitive spot inside him, and his entire body heaves forward, a broken breath on his lips. 

"Fuck," Megumi whispers, "fucking prick ." 

He pulls his fingers out then, pushes them back inside. There's a lewd noise to accompany the movement and Megumi's fingers feel wet with slick, all the way up to his knuckles. He hits just the right spot and it leaves his mouth hanging open, an impossible mix of emotions raging in his chest as he does it again, then again . 

He can imagine it all too easily; Sukuna's fingers on him, pressing into him over and over, all while he wears that self-satisfied expression on his face. Megumi imagines it crumbling slowly, imagines Sukuna desperate - desperate to shove his dick inside him, desperate to have him. 

It's a lot. More than he can process, really. 

Megumi doesn't cum from penetration. 

He never has. 

It's always his fingers toying with his clit, always a slow, steady buildup that cascades around him in an eventual, harsh downfall, like jumping off a cliff. 

This time, there's no preparing for it when all of his muscles tighten, when his heart skips a beat and his pussy clenches around his fingers suddenly, rhythmically contracting as his mouth falls open in a drawn out, broken moan. 

The world tilts on its axis with the force of his orgasm, the suddenness of it and how different it hits, a thrill going through his entire body as heat floods his veins, spreading like poison through them. Megumi barely even hears the sound of wetness squelching as wetness drips all over his fingers, the palm of his hand. 

Megumi's torso moves back and forth with the violence of his breaths, in the aftermath of euphoric chaos. 

A few moments pass, with pleasure holding his head underwater still, making it hard to focus on anything . 

Megumi feels his muscles lose all tension then and he sinks in on himself like a folded piece of paper, no longer taking up any space. His breaths are audible even as they slow down, hot and heavy while his brain is slow to catch up, his thoughts sticky like molasses, barely capable of retelling the reality of what he just did. 

It's another minute or two later, with his head heavy against the mattress and his stomach still swirling with disoriented, warm butterflies, that Megumi finds enough clarity for his eyes to open wide, all relaxation gone within an instant as he realizes, just what he did. 

"Holy fuck," Megumi whispers, in true I have lost my mind fashion, to himself, "no way." 

No one answers. 

Of course not. 

The silence becomes deafening with space for thoughts and there's no escaping it, no way around it and no excuse Megumi has to offer for himself; as he pulls his sticky fingers out from between his legs and looks at the mess he has made of them, Megumi finds himself all too aware of the fact that he's just had his first vaginal orgasm, all while thinking of Yuji's asshole brother, who threatened to punch him in the face only hours ago. 

Chapter Text

"So," Megumi says, very casually. Yuji tears his eyes away from the biology homework they're working on. Genetics. Megumi actually blinks at what he's been doodling and makes a face at the drawing of an ear, with two piercings in it, much like Megumi's own. Double Helix, Yuji has written next to it, all coupled with a little light bulb like he's a genius for coming up with that and a very rough sketch of an actual double helix. Megumi resists the urge to face palm, but just barely . 

"So?" Yuji asks. He's got that particular shade of unenthusiastic on his face that is really just reserved for homework or learning - the little sparkle in his eyes at the interruption only serves as proof. He gives Megumi a grin. 

"Uhm," Megumi says, not so casual now. "Your brother and Yorozu? What's the deal with that?" 

Yuji tilts his head in confusion and yeah, so maybe that didn't come out so smoothly. It's just that Sukuna didn't give him a proper answer and somehow, Megumi has been thinking about it. Maybe it's all in his head, but the whole Sukuna and Yorozu thing feels a little… off. Not that it's any of his business, really. It just doesn't feel like it should be true. 

"Why'd you ask?" 

"They just kinda acted like… I don't know. Like a couple, I guess. Last time I saw them," Megumi offers. 

"I don't know, I doubt Sukuna does relationships. But it's not like we talk much about that kind of stuff and I mean, she is a cheerleader. Isn't that how it goes? Cheerleaders flock to football players like flies to garbage. I wouldn't be surprised. I kinda assumed he was just banging her though, she has dropped by a few times lately." 

Megumi nods his head slowly. Somehow, it's not what he wanted to hear. He isn't sure what he wanted to hear, really. But what Yuji is saying makes sense - they're probably fucking. Megumi isn't sure how he hasn't noticed it before. It's very possible that the fucking has turned into something more, too. 

A natural progression of things. 

Doesn't mean it's going to last, even if it has. 

"I don't know," Megumi says, "she's been extra insufferable to me lately. Kinda gave me the shivers, seeing the both of them cozying up to each other. I guess they can bond over being a shitty person." 

"Yeah, it's kinda - I don't know. The cheerleaders aren't all bad but I feel like the popularity just gets to their heads. Same with Sukuna really, I swear he wasn't always such an ass." 

Megumi raises a brow at Yuji. "Maybe that's just nostalgia speaking." 

"No, I swear. Before we moved here and all, he was different. Kinda insufferable, too, but not like today." 

"I don't know," Megumi says, "it's kinda hard to imagine. I don't feel like my entire personality changed when we moved here," he says. Stops, and thinks. Maybe Yuji is onto something. 

Yuji sets the pencil down on the table and gives Megumi a long look, "Did something happen?" 

There's a sharp intake of breath. It's Megumi's. He quickly schools his face into one of indifference, "No, I mean. Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary. What do you mean?" 

"Ah, sorry. You just kinda seemed preoccupied with this. I was worried for a moment that Sukuna did something." 

"I'm not preoccupied," Megumi claims, perhaps a tad too quickly, so he follows it up with, "I just kinda wondered, is all." 

"Okay," Yuji says, "that's good. I mean, I know you can stand your ground and all, but my brother has no business trying to bully you." 

Megumi winces at that. It's not like Sukuna has been bullying him, no more than usual. It's just hard to wrap his head around the conflicted signals he's been getting, like his mind still hasn't worked through the dentist incident, much less the complete denial following it. It's… a lot, somehow. And Megumi has a sneaky suspicion that his earth shattering orgasm to the ungodly tune of his own voice, groaning Sukuna's name, hasn't done much to improve his situation. 

It's so bad, in fact, that Megumi still feels his face warm up, just thinking about it. 

Yuji reaches out suddenly and Megumi nearly flinches, mouth opening as a fingertip brushes against his cheek. He blinks at his friend and one side of Yuji's mouth moves up. When he grins like that, there's an undeniable resemblance to Sukuna there. 

"Lash," he says and holds his finger out to Megumi, waiting. 

Megumi blows it away and doesn't wish for anything. His cheeks are still hot and he can feel the lingering touch on his cheek, all muddled up with the topic of choice. He wonders how Sukuna's fingertips would feel on his face, how - 

Megumi's eyes widen when they focus on the group of people that has entered the study room. 

Sukuna is looking straight over at him, his perpetually pissed off expression even worse , somehow. He's got his eyes narrowed and there's a distinct downturn to his lips. From the looks of it, he's done with practice for today, pinkish locks wet from a recent shower, a tight gray shirt hugging the shape of his body. Megumi wets his lips and returns his glare with an even harder one. 

Yuji turns, too, his hand still hovering awkwardly in front of Megumi's face.

"Speak of the devil." 

"The devil indeed," Megumi confirms as he turns away, pointedly ignoring Yuji's brother and returning all his attention to Yuji. Their homework. Anything. Anything but - 

"Yuji," Sukuna says, his voice ice cold. Megumi isn't sure how he crossed the room so fast. He isn't sure why hearing his voice has his heart skipping a beat either. It's just Sukuna. Megumi's eyes turn to him and Sukuna only awards him a brief glance before he turns back to Yuji, barely even acknowledging him. 

Another punch to the gut that shouldn't feel like one. 

"You got a minute? Or are you too busy making heart eyes at him?" 

There's a sputtering sound as Yuji chokes - or looks like he does anyway. Megumi's lips press tightly together, "Yeah we're actually pretty busy making heart ey es at each other. Come back in an hour when we're done."

"Did I fucking ask you to speak?" 

"Sukuna," Yuji says, voice tight, "What do you want ? Whatever you got to say, you can say it with Megumi right here." 

Sukuna looks at Megumi, really looks at him, for a long moment. "Yeah, no."

Yuji sighs, and Megumi feels close to bursting with something. He's not sure what that is. He wishes Sukuna looked stupid with his wet hair, his dumb, pointless tattoos. Megumi stops himself from focusing on his forearms before he can really get lost in it. 

"Fine. Come on then," Yuji goes and stands up, while Megumi fights the urge to argue on his behalf. It's really nothing to him, if Sukuna wants to talk brother business with Yuji. It's probably something fucking stupid. Not like Megumi can imagine whatever the fuck they talk about. Not like he needs to know either. 

Still, it feels like a little punch to the gut when Yuji and Sukuna both disappear into the hallway, leaving him behind. Megumi tries his hardest to focus on the homework, answering easy questions that are formulated in a needlessly complicated manner. He plays with the little pentagram pendant of his necklace, flicking it back and forth between his fingers, words blurring even as he stares at the tasks, resisting the urge to watch the door instead. 

So what if the animosity is right back. 

It's not like it ever left. 

It's not like Megumi expected Sukuna to be nice to him. Acknowledge him. Anything, really. Everything is as usual - there's no spontaneous shift to you're so pretty or let's explore our height difference or Megloomy . The nickname is gone, evaporated, like it was just an illusion. 

Nothing at all.

Megumi's fingers stop the fumbling with his necklace as he watches Yuji and Sukuna enter the room again, Yuji gesturing something with his hands and Sukuna glaring down at him, looking the part of an annoyed kid, like he doesn't like what he's hearing. He crosses his arms in front of his chest and from all the way over here, Megumi can see the way his muscles flex beneath his skin with the movement. He swallows, then clears his throat. Wets his lips. Sukuna is just so goddamn big. A giant. Megumi attempts to coax the thought of his fingers right out of his head, to wherever it came from, and - 

"Listen up you fucking freak," an unmistakable voice comes from the side, "if you know what's good for you, you stop looking at him like this." 

Megumi turns around slowly, feeling spooked almost, like a Yorozu-shaped, annoying ghost has materialized out of nowhere and appeared right in his vicinity to haunt him specifically. When he looks at her, she's got a scowl on her face, plum-colored lipstick and a distinct downturn to her lips. Her cheerleader uniform hugs her body tightly. Megumi blinks at her, "Excuse me."

"I said, quit trying to eye-fuck him." 

"Trying to - what." 

She leans over the table then, arching her back a little with the movement and crumbling Megumi's homework beneath her arm. Megumi's eyes follow her like looking away wouldn't be a wise decision at all, like a trapped animal looks at its captor. He's not scared, of course. Not of her. But still, there's an undeniable claustrophobia that comes with the intrusion upon his space. 

"Quit acting stupid. You know exactly what I mean. You can't have him, he's mine, and not into that shit," she gestures at Megumi, "so stop batting your fucking lashes at him." 

Megumi takes a deep breath in, still looking into her eyes. It feels like something ripped straight out of a bad TV show, that declaration. Childish and unnecessary. Especially because Megumi definitely wasn't eye-fucking anyone. 

"You're insane, I'm not batting my lashes at anyone. You can have all of that," Megumi flicks his wrist in Sukuna's direction, "I don't want it." 

Megumi pretends not to notice him looking over.

" I'm insane? I can fucking tell, you know. You think you're so pretty and special, but guess what? He's not into you, you're a fucking freak, is all you are." 

"A freak?" 

She huffs something in response and Megumi really can't help it now: she's pushing just a little too hard, unprovoked. He raises a brow, "Just so you know. If I wanted him, I would have him. Not could, not maybe - I would . So maybe don't go around pissing me off, it's like shitting in your own front yard, Yorozu."

"Uh-huh. You're a nobody , even fucking less than that. A waste of space with a bad fashion taste and obvious problems , and you're fucking delusional if you think you get to talk that way about my boyfriend, he's disgusted by you."

Disgusted. 

An entire volcano bubbles in Megumi's chest, ancient and wild. 

There's an undeniable shift in the air as her voice raises, too, heads turning towards them and Megumi doesn't know how much Sukuna and Yuji heard, isn't looking at them anymore. His eyes are entirely focused on Yorozu now, on the borderline manic tension in them, like a thread is about to snap. 

Sukuna is not disgusted by him. 

He's not. 

"Oh? You wanna see exactly how disgusting he finds me?" Megumi dares, only half-aware of the anger rising inside him, or how hard her words hit him when they have no business doing that. Even if Sukuna was disgusted by him, it's not like it matters. And yet, Megumi finds himself standing up, chair squeaking and Yorozu's eyes widening with his movement. 

It's only when Megumi is on his feet that there's a tiny voice in the back of his head, telling him to stop, keep it together, be the bigger person. 

The voice is too quiet, too little, too late. 

Yuji and Sukuna have made their way halfway over to them when Megumi's eyes meet red ones, and Megumi isn't so sure what he finds there. Tension, maybe - some vague sort of amusement and with each step that Megumi takes towards him, a growing confusion. Uncertainty. Like he wasn't expecting the fierce determination in Megumi's steps, doesn't know how to read it. Something beneath the surface that isn't so easily understood or described. It's an odd look on Sukuna, like a puzzle piece forced into the wrong spot. His mouth falls slightly open when he realizes that Megumi really isn't stopping. 

Personal bubbles are a funny thing in the sense that they shift and change shapes, Megumi thinks to himself as he enters Sukuna's, oversteps that crucial boundary until he's right in front of him, practically below him. It's not even forehead to chin. Sukuna's broad neck, his wide shoulders fold out in front of him like a horizon. Megumi can't remember feeling so small as he does when their eyes meet. 

Sukuna looks down at Megumi with a frown on his face now, the mean kind. Megumi flutters his lashes, does exactly what he's been accused of. 

Only to watch Sukuna's mouth open. Megumi sees his Adam's Apple move when he swallows. 

"The fuck are you two fighting a-" 

He doesn't get any further than that; Megumi doesn't let him. Sukuna inhales sharply, sucks in air, when Megumi's fingers brush against the back of his neck. It's ridiculous, the way he has to strain his arms to get there, and the sheer heat of Sukuna's skin. Megumi can feel his goosebumps against the tips of his fingers, little hairs standing up. As if a little too late, a shiver finally works its way through him when he realizes their position, the position he has put them in, but it does nothing to stop the storm that is coming.

Sukuna goes down surprisingly easily, his whole bulky body moving forward from just the lightest tug on his neck, rosy eyelashes fluttering shut in a way that almost hurts to look at, like it's a forbidden thing to see. Too soft, too angelic for such an asshole of a guy. 

Megumi closes his own eyes just before their lips meet and the next thing he knows is warmth. An explosion of it in his stomach and a buzzing in his veins, just as Sukuna's lips brush against his own. 

Just like that, Megumi's breath gets knocked out of him, a spark shooting through his consciousness. 

Sukuna's mouth is big. Much bigger than his own, his lips a bit chapped from the hot, dry air, in a way that makes the cherry-flavored chapstick on Megumi's own turn them softer as Megumi struggles to comprehend who's the first to lean into it. It's not like it matters much though, because the truth is undeniable. 

It's a kiss. 

A real kiss, the kind that's like a language of its own, a brief moment of testing out the feel of it before the pressure becomes a reality as Megumi's hand pulls at him harder and Sukuna doesn't even attempt to fight it. 

For a little moment, there's nothing there but the quietly explosive astonishment of realizing that it's not a one-sided thing. 

Sukuna kisses him, naturally going for a perfect angle and making it more than a simple lip to lip thing. There's something about the way he lets Megumi's lower lip glide between his own lips, making Megumi open his mouth just for Sukuna to take instant advantage of the opportunity and deepen the kiss. It's something hungry, animalistic, almost rushed. 

The high of it comes fast and easy though, like balancing on the edge of a bridge with a high likelihood of dropping into ice cold water, an adrenaline thing. A temporary shutdown that wraps around Megumi like a feather-light coat, like lights out in a big city. All silence and static, no gravity. Just feeling. 

Sukuna's hand comes up to his cheek then. It reaches easily from his chin up above his hairline, Sukuna's fingers messing up his bangs as Megumi goes through a sudden, acute crisis about just how much it does for him, the ridiculous size difference. All of this. 

It's hard to feel like a person beneath his touch - it makes him feel like a toy, a doll. 

But strangely enough, powerful. 

The thought of how well, how horribly they fit together turns into some jelly-like feeling that clouds his brain, goes straight to his legs, making him feel unsteady. 

Sukuna's teeth brush against his lip and then his tongue brushes over Megumi's, into his mouth. He gasps out a little sound as he's pulled forward, almost brutally, by a hand on the front of his band shirt. He feels Sukuna's tongue against his piercing, hears him make a little sound. 

It all conspires to snap him out of it;

The feeling of Sukuna's large, hot tongue and how nicely it brushes against his own is just dangerous enough to make his chest flutter with something akin to heart palpitations, eyes widening with a sudden, horrible panic as reality takes a choke hold of him: a reality where Megumi can feel everyone staring, where Sukuna notices his sudden tensing up and opens his eyes, too. 

Megumi cannot see himself reflected in those reddish pools, those dark wide pupils, but it feels like he might as well. 

If the sound of his own breathing is anything to go by, Megumi probably looks just as out of it. 

Sukuna looks down at him like Megumi is the only real thing in an imaginary world and the weight of it twists like a knife in his stomach, a horrifying knife. Sukuna looks starry-eyed and it brings back the memory of him, high out of his mind. It's the same look. Unspeakably soft and so ill-fitting for Sukuna's face that Megumi has to close his eyes, open them again. It's a whiplash. 

He remains in the same reality. Sukuna is still watching him. 

"Megumi," Sukuna says. Whispers. It's a word just for him, intimate and quiet and so filled with meaning and questions that Megumi cannot possibly handle. He brings his hands up to Sukuna's chest, trying to ignore the confusion that washes over red eyes. Megumi shoves Sukuna back then, and doesn't spare him another glance as he twists around. 

There's something beyond rage in Yorozu's eyes, something that would send a shiver down Megumi's spine if he didn't currently have bigger problems. She's rooted to the spot, gaping at them, at him. All disbelief and cold anger. Megumi holds up his middle finger and offers it to her before he turns to Sukuna again.

"Pass a message along. Tell your girlfriend how disgusting you find me, alright?" Megumi says to him, and tries not to sound quite as breathless as he feels. He tries to hide the panic that's growing inside him, too. Tries to make his words heavy, meaningful. Like it's really all about that. 

"I - Megumi, what-" Sukuna's voice is still a mockery of itself, only soft confusion and a shock that hasn't settled in his bones. Before it has the chance to, Megumi gets the hell out of there, walking past Sukuna before he can say anything, or even attempt to hold Megumi back using his strength. 

It feels like the very opposite of a wedding, like a walk of shame, passing through an imaginary aisle of people making space for him as they stare. Megumi's stomach feels nauseous with the attention, the adrenaline, the sudden, unbearable what the hell have I done that echoes in his brain. 

He doesn't have it in himself to pay any mind to the fact that all his stuff is still at the table, or the fact that he doesn't know where the hell he is going. 

He just moves. 

Forward. 

One step in front of another, through the hallway, out the front door. Even out here, it feels like everyone is staring, like everyone knows what the fuck just happened. Megumi's lips still feel numb, tingly, swollen. His balance feels off, and the heat of the sun smacks him squarely in the face when he's finally outside, burning down mercilessly like proof that he doesn't just magically get a break. 

"What the fuck," Megumi whispers as he brings his hands up to his head, threading his fingers between his locks, walking into the shadow of a tree and probably looking like a crazy person as he asks himself, "What the fuck is wrong with me." 

It's the million dollar question. 

A drop of sweat runs down the side of his face and Megumi wipes it off with the back of his hand. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket. Megumi barely even notices. When he pulls it out, it's a call from Nobara. Megumi stares at the screen for a long moment. He watches as it ends. Then starts ringing again. This time, he picks up.

"Megumi," Nobara says, very slow. Just from the tone, Megumi can tell that something is coming. "What is that video in the class chat?" 

"In - what?" is all Megumi gets out. His brain is too slow, not even close to catching up. Video? 

Video? 

"The video that shows you sucking face with Sukuna. As in, Sukuna. Yuji's brother. What in the world happened? Did you-" 

"No," Megumi says. Stops. Then, "No, no, no. Don't tell me there's a video ." 

"Dude."

"Fuck, fucking - holy shit," Megumi whispers. He attempts to breathe normally, but it doesn't seem to work. A video. Of him, kissing Sukuna. Holy fuck. 

"Yeah. Why did you-" 

Megumi is quiet for a long moment, unable to speak. It's bad. It feels bad , knowing there's a video. 

Megumi has been through this before, and for much less. 

He can already hear the comments, the jokes, the catcalls. 

"I was just - I wasn't thinking, okay. Yorozu was pissing me off, so I wanted to get back at her but-" 

"You wanted to get back at her by kissing her boyfriend? Megumi. That's fucked up. Like, seriously fucked up. I know she's a bitch but why the hell would you do that?" 

"I don't fucking know okay. She was insulting me and Sukuna just stood there looking like his dumb self and I -" 

"Dude, he literally had to hold her back from chasing after you, like some fucking MMA fighter. Screaming an all. She's gonna murder you."

"Way to calm me down," Megumi tells her. He kicks at a pebble. It doesn't fly far and Megumi cannot bear standing around for another second. He starts walking again. "I don't know what came over me. Holy fuck I can't believe somebody filmed that."

"And I can't believe that the both of you looked pretty fucking into it. Like, dude. What the hell did I just watch." 

"I wasn't into it," Megumi assures her. He's not so sure it comes out reassuring though. 

"I literally thought for a moment the two of you were going to start dry-humping each other. Looked like the beginning of some cheap porn flick, like. Tall, muscular jock and his little twinky goth plaything getting it on in public cause they just can't help themselves," she tells him. Megumi knows that it isn't the weather that's making his face turn bright red, now. He can't help imagining that for just a moment, and quickly forces the thought to die . 

"We were not about to start dry humping. Also, Nobara, what the actual fuck?" 

"Yeah, I don't know. What the fuck are you going to do about this is the better question, you literally just kissed the most popular guy in school, with like 50 witnesses and a video to show for it. If Yorozu doesn't murder you, Sukuna will. I can't imagine he likes the thought of everyone seeing him kiss a guy."

It goes unspoken, and maybe Megumi imagines the missing, you.  

A nobody. A freak. Disgusting . 

It echoes, in the way things echo that are just so ridiculous, so hard to shake off. 

But Sukuna didn't - 

Megumi groans out loud. Why the hell does it matter . Why the hell is he so hung-up on what Sukuna does or doesn't think of him, why the fuck should he even care if Sukuna liked it or not. But, having seen him, felt him, it's only harder now for Megumi to pretend like it doesn't matter at all. This wasn't just some secretive fantasy behind the closed doors of his room. 

This was pretty fucking real. 

His finger comes up to his lips, brushing against them. It's not just about Sukuna. Of course not. It's about - 

"Holy shit, I really did that," it's a thought, but Megumi says it out loud. He follows it up with a nervous chuckle, "I kissed Sukuna." 

And everyone fucking saw . It's blood in the open ocean. Megumi can predict the sharks already. 

Nobara hums, "but not gonna lie, you looked pretty damn cool flipping her off right after. Badass."

"Nobara." 

"Huh?" 

"What the fuck do I do now?" Megumi nearly whines. There's a pause on the other end. 

"Dude, I don't - kinda freaky for you to be asking me for advice. I just called for the tea," she says. 

"..." 

"You know I'm joking. But seriously, like I know. I mean, was it - you know?" 

"Was it what?" 

"Like, how was it? Really that bad? If it was okay, file it under lesson learned, quarterback kissed, and try to avoid dark alleyways at night. And the internet. For a while at least." 

"You - I kissed Sukuna. How the fuck do you think it was?" 

"I literally don't know, that's why I'm asking." 

"Well, it was -" Megumi begins, but stops right there. 

It - 

He groans. 

It's harder than expected, finding words. Even just one word. Anything. 

"It was…," He tries again. His heart acts up a little and Megumi curses his clothing color of choice today. It feels like his oversized, old Slipknot shirt only serves to make the overheating, the burning and tingling on his skin, worse. It's too warm.

Megumi needs words . 

"Absolutely not as - not all that - it was. Unspectacular. What do you think? It's Sukuna. Mediocre at best."

"Mmh," she replies, unconvinced. "Boring answer but fine then. Be like that. You're still coming tonight, right?" 

"Nobara. I am not coming to that stupid fucking party tonight. That's like asking for some horrible situation to happen," Megumi tells her. He rubs at his forehead, closes his eyes. A fucking party is the last thing on his mind right now. Not even - 

"You do realize this isn't going to magically go away if you hole yourself up in your room, right?" 

"Nobara, I'm seriously - I don't know. I need a few hours to myself or something. Can we just talk about it later?"

"You will pick up if I call you later, right?" 

"I - yeah. I'll pick up." 

"And you're sure you're okay for now? I can skip practice if you need -"

"No, just. I need to digest this, or try. Alone. Call me later then," Megumi tells her and hangs up. For a long moment, he just stares at the ground, trying to find himself. He doesn't have his bag, doesn't have the stomach to call Yuji just now, not when he actually witnessed it. Megumi doesn't even have his headphones. He groans out loud. 

It's the strangest feeling, making his way to the bus stop like this. It's the only thing that makes sense, really, to go home. Not like Yuji and him are going to get anymore homework done. Not like Megumi plans to set foot in the school building again today. Preferably, for a fucking year. 

He thinks of people in the past getting sent to the seaside for recovery; a warmer climate and fresh salt air. An escape, a place to heal. That kind of thing would seem reasonable just about now. 

Because maybe Megumi is sick, in the head or something. 

He fucking kissed Sukuna. 

It's like a stomach bug, bubbling up inside him over and over again, the knowledge, making him nauseous with a strange nervousness. It only takes about 5 minutes for the bus to arrive, but they feel impossibly long when all Megumi can do is check the time, avoid the class group chat like the plague, avoid all his messages like the plague. 

When Yuji calls him, Megumi doesn't pick up. He turns on the airplane mode, for now. 

The bus drive isn't any better; there's a strange disconnect with his routine, with reality, without his music to listen to. The bus is practically empty, but everything feels loud anyway, his self-awareness like an open wound and every stranger's chuckle, salt in it. Megumi tries his hardest to convince himself that they're not laughing about him. When really, they may as well be. Not like that fucking video will stay in the group for long. Not like anyone at school doesn't know Sukuna's name. 

And now, Megumi is just that. 

The guy who sucked face with Sukuna. It already feels like it's going to bring him all the attention he usually tries to avoid, and more than that. 

When the bus finally stops, Megumi stumbles out of it, too distracted to pay much mind to the bus driver's insistent gaze on his ass or the people passing him by. It's like being wrapped up in cotton, like a little bubble of his own, as the faded adrenaline makes way for a tired sort of resignation. A hopeless, overwhelmed feeling. 

What the hell was he thinking? 

There's no fucking way he's going to get the feeling of Sukuna's lips on his, of his hand on his face, or that forceful grip on his shirt - all of it, really - out of his head anytime soon. There's no way it hasn't left a stain of some sort. There's no - 

"Ouf," Megumi goes when his world suddenly twists around. His back collides with the side of the building, bricks pushing into his shoulder blade. It takes him a moment, just a moment, to make sense of what's happening, or whose eyes are burning into his, warm and fiery and dangerous. 

Angry. 

Holy shit. 

"What the fuck are you doing here," Megumi gets out, but his voice is a timid little thing. It's a whisper, not even close to the threatening fullness it's supposed to be. 

Sukuna stares at him and squeezes Megumi's arms tighter, pushing him harder into the stony surface, clearly just using a fraction of his strength to do it. Megumi's mouth falls open, a groan slipping past his lips that has Sukuna blinking, before he narrows his eyes again. 

"Fushiguro," he growls, mean and low, and Megumi's stomach turns. What ? 

"The fuck was that stunt. You've got any fucking idea what you've done ?" 

Megumi's mouth is still open, breaths coming out a little rushed, heated. It's too fucking hot and Sukuna is too massive against him. Even trying to move his arms is impossible. He's got Megumi pushed up in a way where his feet barely seem to reach the ground anymore, hovering just above it.

"I don't know what you mean," Megumi tells him then, spiteful. He almost spits the words out, feeling the part of a cornered animal, without any possibility of defense, other than the glare he forces onto his face.

"You don't fucking know what I mean? Let me fucking help you, you tried to ruin my fucking reputation. You fucking forced yourself on me like a goddamn bitch in heat and everyone fucking saw it. My girlfriend is fucking mad at me . People think I fucking wanted this."

Sukuna's voice is a dagger, and Megumi wishes he could claim that it doesn't get to him, doesn't hit. 

He wishes there wasn't even a fucking part of him, no matter how small and pathetic, that actually feels hurt , hearing that. Megumi forces it to be quiet, forces fire and sarcasm into his words. 

"Say fucking again." 

"You fucking kissed me." 

"Maybe you shouldn't haven't kissed me back if that was so horrible for you." 

"I didn't fucking kiss you back," he goes and Megumi can't fucking believe it. 

"Are you for real? I was there, you know. You shoved your dumb big tongue into my mouth, do you suffer from some kind of reality distortion or something? Why the fuck are you lying in my face ," his voice gets louder and Megumi struggles, trying to free himself from Sukuna's grip, but it's in vain. Sukuna's body is like steel against him. Muscles and skin and visible veins on his arms. It's like trying to move a mountain. A cocky look comes to his face, almost bored, as he watches Megumi try to wiggle out of his hold. 

"I asked you a question, Fushiguro. What was that and what the hell did you expect? Did you think I'd find that shit funny." 

The thing is, it's not like Megumi expected anything. It's not like he expected himself to do that, much less for Sukuna to show up right in front of his house . 

"Just let go of me. Not like I give a fuck if I hurt your precious little ego. Maybe put a muzzle on your damn girlfriend if you don't want shit like this to happen, she's the one who came up to me complaining about how I -" Megumi stops there. He doesn't want to even say it, speak it into reality. 

"Complaining about what?" 

Megumi presses his lips tightly together and looks away, "she told me I wasn't allowed to look at you. What the hell do you even see in her, she's scary obsessed with you, and acting like a twelve year old about it. Fucking delusional, too." 

"Delusional huh. You are always giving me that fucking look." 

"What look?" Megumi asks, disbelief coloring his voice. He's not giving Sukuna any look. 

"Like you're just dying to get down on your fucking knees and suck my dick," Sukuna says and Megumi feels like the words smack him in the face. His eyes widen and find Sukuna's, against his will. For a moment, they're just like that. Frozen in place. 

"You wish," Megumi says then. It's not half as snappy as he wants it to be. His eyes meet Sukuna's and he doesn't say anything, only stares at Megumi now. 

Megumi opens his mouth to speak again, say something, anything at all, but whatever is buzzing in the air between them feels so tangible now, so heavy. He lets his eyes drop down, studying Sukuna's mouth, before they inevitably drift down further. Sukuna swallows hard, like he's reading his mind and Megumi looks up at him again, through his lashes, before letting his knees bend, going down slowly. 

Sukuna's hold on him wavers, like he really expects Megumi to blow him right here, right now. 

Just like that, he lets Megumi slip through. Down. 

He's got that dumb, lost expression on his face when Megumi makes use of his newly acquired freedom, his arm sliding free from Sukuna's hold to instantly go up to his hair, grabbing a fistful of pink locks and pulling sideways, hooking one foot behind his knee. It's easy, way too easy, to spin Sukuna around like this, twist him around until Megumi is the one who has him pinned to the wall instead. 

It's an illusion, of course. 

Rationally, he knows there's no way Sukuna couldn't free himself. Still, as though a pair of invisible chains is holding him back, like a little miracle, Sukuna is entirely still beneath his hold as Megumi holds his wrists, crossed in front of that broad chest. His fingers barely even fit around them, short as they are, "Tell me." 

Sukuna raises a brow at him, at all of this. It's a well practiced expression, muscle memory, but it feels like a facade. An act. Megumi can tell that Sukuna's breathing has shifted a little, has grown just a little bit more shallow. 

"Tell you what?" he asks, voice so low that Megumi feels the vibration in his fingers. 

"It is what you want, isn't it?" Megumi asks. He's not sure why. It's a rush straight to his head, affecting Sukuna at all. Like a butterfly causing an entire hurricane, each ripple he sends through Sukuna, a little promise. Like he wants to turn this into a natural disaster. 

Sukuna swallows again. Megumi watches his throat move with it. 

"That why you got yourself that tongue piercing, Fushiguro? You wanna run around convincing yourself that everyone wants that little mouth on their cock?" Sukuna asks. Something heated glows inside Megumi, like Sukuna has got him right where he wants him and there's nothing Megumi can do about it. He squeezes tighter. Sukuna barely seems to care. He speaks again, "Like you'd even be any good. Couldn't fit half of me inside you." 

It's probably not a good thing, the way Megumi's mouth actually waters, just as indignation spreads through him and settles down in his belly. Between his legs. 

It's a weird mix. 

It should be a stop sign, Sukuna's eternal lack of manners, of respect. 

And yet, Megumi doesn't stop himself, "would be a bigger problem if I had a gag reflex, I think."

And Sukuna's mouth drops open. Megumi's does, too. It feels like a confession, the words hanging between them in the air, heavy like summer humidity. Megumi's throat, exposed, metaphorically. It's a bluff. Just a bluff, but Sukuna wouldn't know that. 

There's a sound then. 

Behind them, someone clears their throat. It's a sound Megumi recognizes. If that doesn't give it away, the smell of a burning cigarette does. Sukuna's eyes widen just a little as he looks over Megumi's head.

There's the rustling sound of a paper bag. 

Megumi barely dares to turn around. 

When he does, his father raises a brow. He's got his hands full of groceries, a cigarette dangling from his downturned lips. 

"Hey dad," Megumi goes. His voice sounds strangely high-pitched. Squeaky, almost. Sukuna's smirk practically burns into him. 

"Yeah, hey dad," Sukuna says and Megumi turns towards him, really slowly. There's no mistaking the shit-eating grin on Sukuna's face. A cold shiver goes down Megumi's back as he busies himself calculating the likelihood that his father heard him just now. 

"Knew you were trying to impress someone," his dad says, barely sparing Sukuna a glance, "but I didn't know you were trying that hard, kid. Have some class." 

"Dad, that's not - I don't know what you heard but I didn't-"

It's embarrassing, how easily Sukuna manages to slip past him, or how Megumi doesn't get any further than that, mortified as he is.

Megumi watches, floored, as Sukuna walks just a few steps ahead, holds out his hand. There's a brief moment of tension. His father's eyes are harsh as he simply takes his time staring Sukuna down, using that distinct deadpan expression that Megumi knows exactly what it feels like, being on the receiving end of it. Sukuna doesn't budge beneath it however, and for a moment, Megumi thinks that there's going to be a snapping of that thin line of patience, of their silence.

It's a new kind of terrifying for sure. 

There's no mistaking the slightly murderous glow in his father's eyes as he scoffs. 

"And who would you be?" 

"Itadori Sukuna." 

Toji gives him a dead stare.

"Care to explain why my son is bragging about his lack of a gag reflex in front of you?" he says and that's it. Megumi didn't just hear his father say those words. Gag reflex. Bragging . 

He didn't brag. 

Not necessarily. Like he knows what he's doing at this point. 

"You see, we plan to join a circus. Megumi considers swallowing swords for a living," Sukuna tells him and Megumi face-palms. It's not even an attempt, just pure mockery. 

Toji's brow raises again. "Does he now." 

"Says he wants to make a clown out of me," Sukuna confirms. 

And then, the impossible happens. It's all silent for a moment, before the silence breaks. His father barks out a laugh. The rough kind that almost sounds like a cough. Megumi stares at him, then turns back to Sukuna, blinking his eyes. 

He forces the terror out of his voice. 

"You're already a clown," Megumi says. His cheeks prickle with a certain type of heat. Sukuna isn't supposed to make his dad laugh. In fact, there isn't one conceivable universe where the two of them should have even met , ever. 

"And you already swall-" 

Megumi's hand is on his mouth faster than he can think, muffling the rest, and Megumi doesn't fucking know anymore, what Sukuna's game is. It's hard not to realize that something is shifting in that personal bubble of theirs - Megumi has touched Sukuna more in just one day than he has in years. The shift in boundaries, and how unspokenly it has happened, nearly gives him a whiplash. "Like you'd fucking know about that."

Sukuna carefully plugs his hand from his mouth then, "Weren't you about to show me just now?" 

" Show you. In your fucking dreams , asshole." 

"Young love, fucking adorable . Doesn't mean I wanna hear this shit," his father says, fumbling for his keys. Megumi's stomach does an entire 180. Right. His father is here. It's really starting to feel like his brain simply isn't processing information anymore. "You're old enough to do whatever, not like I can stop you, but that doesn't mean I want grandchildren running around anytime soon. So do me a favor and use protection." 

And then his father walks through the door, doesn't spare them another glance. 

Megumi's brain struggles to even comprehend half of it. He doesn't even realize what the fuck his father just said, not really, until Sukuna snaps out of his own shock and looks at Megumi, all attention and focus, now. Razor-sharp eyes. 

He doesn't need to say one single word before Megumi realizes exactly what it is that he's gotten out of this.

The knowledge is like a wire around his throat. Twisted and tight . 

"Megumi," Sukuna says and it takes all Megumi has, not to comment that, oh. It's Megumi , now. "Assuming your father has a basic knowledge of biology, which he should, considering that he has you , wanna explain to me what he said about grandchildren ?" 

This time, there's no helping it. No acting skills that Megumi could possibly channel spontaneously, to make him look any less affected than he feels.

"A joke," he rushes to say, "He's joking." 

"Didn't sound like it."

"Sukuna," Megumi says. Begs him, just to let it be. 

"Look me in the eyes and tell me he was joking," Sukuna requests. Megumi isn't sure when he stepped towards him, or when those large fingers started squeezing at his chin, tilting it up. He's breathing messily. Struggling. Panicking . 

"Sukuna, this isn't funny. I don't wanna talk about -"

"Like I didn't want you to kiss me in public?" 

"Like - that's different ."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm getting the wrong idea." 

"I don't even fucking know what you're on about." 

"Nothing much. Use your imagination and tell me I'm wrong." 

"You're wrong."

"You're lying ." 

"Fuck you," Megumi hisses. Sukuna's smirk only grows. 

"Who'd have thought so, what a fucking surprise. Does Yuji know? Does anybody?" 

In fact, no one does. It's not a thing Megumi talks about. It's not even close to a thing he's comfortable sharing with anyone, when he knows exactly how little it takes, to become the odd one out. Much less than this. Much less than Sukuna, piercing the whole thing together. 

"Aw, Gumi. Don't tell me I'm the only one who knows your little secret." 

"Sukuna," Megumi's voice goes quieter, now. 

"Or, do tell me, in fact. Why'd you look so horrified if you're always dressing up like a girl anyways. As if it's that shocking." 

Megumi takes a breath in. It's as if finally, after way too long, after too many things have happened in one day, something inside him snaps. It catches up and quickly, all of it at once, and this time, there's no helping it. He's not sure where the tears come from. It's like they've been in there all along hiding, just beneath his eyelids and pouring out, spilling over, just as he raises his voice and he shoves Sukuna backwards. 

"You know what. Yeah. Fuck you. Super funny, isn't it. You're the only one who knows. You want revenge? Then go and fucking tell everyone, laugh about it with them. Not like I give a fuck what you think," Megumi practically yells in his face and the last thing he sees before he rushes inside and slams the door shut behind himself is stunned, red eyes and Sukuna's mouth opening, as if to say something. Fuck up further. 

He doesn't get a chance or even if he tries , Megumi doesn't hear it. 

He shoves his way past his father, ignoring whatever it is that he's saying, too, overwhelmed by the buzzing in his ears and the drumming of his pulse all throughout his body. Megumi slams the door to his room shut too, right behind himself, and sinks down against it, burying his face in his hands as those traitorous, unnecessary tears just keep coming. Warm and merciless, flowing down his cheeks like the world's least impressive waterfall. 

He's not sure how long he stays there for, trying to catch his breath and failing, rinse and repeat. Over and over.

Sukuna knows .

Everything, almost. Like Megumi has stripped himself open in every way possible, in the dumbest, most ridiculous ways possible, to let Sukuna of all people look at what little he has to protect - a silly truth in the greater scheme of things. 

That doesn't change how big it feels, when it comes rushing towards him with all the weight of years and years of teasing, mockery, learning to fend for himself because it was the only option. Things he's been over for years now. It's not like he cares much, these days, what people think. 

Or that's what Megumi thought . 

He lets out a hollow little laugh as he wipes at his eyes again, and pulls out his phone. There's an explosion of messages in the class chat, just the ones that came in before he turned on the airplane mode, but Megumi's eyes don't seem capable of processing any of them. He scrolls all the way up to the origin of the messages, holds his breath as he clicks play, and the real world stops, becomes very still. In front of his eyes, it all unfolds like a movie scene, stuck in the little screen of his phone. 

Their lips are already locked as the video begins. 

There's an obscene height difference. Megumi truly does look the part of a doll, like such a small little thing all dressed up in black, angling his head back like a swan to welcome Sukuna lips. He's distantly aware of what Nobara was saying. It does look like he's into it. Like Sukuna is. Like something grows as they kiss, a flower or maybe a cancerous tumor. The way things grow, taking up space, affirming their existence as they expand. 

It's all in front of his eyes. 

He's probably imagining it. 

Megumi watches Sukuna pull at him, watches himself stumble forward, the video zooming in on their faces, Megumi's half-obscured by the shadow Sukuna casts on him. He watches his own eyes squeeze tight, sees the borderline pained pull at his eyebrows. In the background, someone goes 'holy shit dude' and laughs. 

And Megumi thinks, yeah. 

Holy shit, dude. 

He wipes at his eyes again and his breath catches in his throat when the video reaches the point where he pushes Sukuna away. It's barely visible from this angle, what Megumi got to see. Sukuna's words aren't audible, but Megumi can see his lips move and the way Sukuna's eyes cling to his, stunned speechless until Megumi walks off, flips off Yorozu, and time seems to start moving again, in frame. 

Yorozu is like a storm cloud, moving fast and thundering insults, hot on his heels until Sukuna grabs her by the arm. There's a little struggle, and yelling, in his face. 

The video ends there and Megumi throws his head back. It makes a knocking sound against the wood of the door. There's no rhyme or reason to it when his fingers find the play button again, and again, watching the 50-something seconds like they're a movie scene to analyze. The camera angle is bad, the handling shaky. The content, ridiculous. 

It's a bad video, through and through. The holy shit dude becomes a mantra to him, a half-familiar voice, speaking his truth, stealing the words right from his mouth. 

The worst part is how fucking right they look, together, when Sukuna has only made it clear and undeniable again, that he's the very last thing Megumi has any business wanting . 

Chapter Text

The lights are dim, red and orange LEDs bathing the room in soft light, casting shadows across Yorozu’s face. She's got her hair tied up, and a distinct wet-eyed look. Black smudges from her makeup have gathered beneath her eyes in a way that isn't all too flattering. Sukuna looks at her, then pointedly at the bed behind her. 

“Come on babe. Don't be like that now. I'm stressed out too, you know.”

“You— I had to watch that fucking weirdo slobber all over you. Who knows what fucking diseases he has,” she says, and there's still rage there. Genuine disgust. He brushes his thumb along her cheek, takes a step forward, to try and get her to move backwards. Onto the bed. 

“And I had to endure that, babe. So how about we have some fun to try and forget about —”

“ Forget ? Like fuck will I forget. I'll ruin his fucking life for this.”

“Ruin his life,” Sukuna repeats, something in between a question and a statement. He puts his palm, flat, next to her collarbone and pushes a little. As intended, Yorozu goes down, sinks onto the bed. He uses his free hand to go for his pants, open them. There's this insistent fucking feeling, like a buzz, in the back of his head, and it brings with it a certain type of restlessness. 

It's really not like Sukuna gives much of a damn about the sentimentalities of girls, or really anyone. If anything, people who are unable to regulate something as basic as their own emotions are like an invitation; a big fucking neon sign, reading I need attention and validation . And clearly, attention and validation - especially from someone like him - is all that it takes, to have them bending over backwards, trying to please him in return.

It's a simple give and take, really. 

Predictable, like lazy writing. An entire planet spinning around for the same people with different faces and all the same issues, to repeat in dumb cycles what they should have already become aware of. 

But, one fucking wild card. 

Megumi Fushiguro, and whatever the fuck that even was - it's like Sukuna’s head spins, just letting the thought get anywhere near his brain. It's Megumi's lips, his bone structure, the fucking stunt he pulled. The fact that Sukuna made him cry . 

And then, there's his small, pink tongue. Pierced. Dark metal against warm softness. 

And apparently, softness between his legs, too. Sukuna isn't too sure it's a piece of information he should be privy to. Megumi in his provocative, usually short pants is bad enough. Sukuna doesn't need any thought of him, without clothes - or of his pussy - in his head. 

Megumi's pussy. 

A pink, fleshy thing, probably. 

Spreading like rose petals around his fingers, if he pushed them in. 

Before he knows it, Yorozu frowns at the hold he has on her head as he pulls her face into his crotch, ruts a little against it, underwear still on. His dick is half-hard, and impatient like his mind. He takes it out then, slaps it against her cheek without real pressure, only to see that she will allow it. Of course, she does. Eyes closed, there's almost a hint of relief in the friction, if he doesn't let the thoughts grow and fester the way they want to. Megumi's cheekbones, the softness of his skin or the rush of anger it all makes Sukuna feel - they really have no place here. He wonders if Megumi would be fine with it though - a little rough treatment - wonders about Megumi's face, ruined and painted in sticky white. 

Wonders about his lacking gag reflex. 

Maybe it's the exact kind of thing Megumi is into, getting pushed around and used for pleasure. Part of Sukuna hopes so. 

If the imagery of it has his cock throbbing in his hand, then Sukuna chooses not to overthink it. Opening his eyes to find the wrong face looking up at him is a little punch to the gut, but nothing he cannot handle - out of the cheerleader team, Yorozu has got to be the prettiest, after all. 

Going by how jealous the other guys are.

It's really not so bad, the way she opens her mouth for him then, sucks his dick like she's practicing for a competition, like it helps her too. A give and take. Predictable skills and this misguided adoration in her eyes when she looks up, only for Sukuna’s mind to spontaneously fuck him over and replay the little noise Megumi made when he kissed him, the crack in his voice when he realized that Sukuna had put two and two together. A rush of power, to the backdrop of a certain vulnerability. 

It's Megumi's body, probably. An intriguing mystery. Too thin, too small and clearly, not even the one Megumi wished for. The thought is so far out of Sukuna’s reach, so far from his own reality, that it's a hard pill to swallow. He's not sure where that sinking feeling comes from as he falls into the trap of thinking about it. Megumi's body. A body. Nothing exceptional - not like Megumi has any crazy curves; there's other things though.

Those lips, and the way they'd look, wrapped around his dick. The way they feel , lip on lip. The little, near constant downturn to them, giving nothing away. Sukuna makes a sound, groans like an animal, and Yorozu takes it as encouragement, goes a little harder while his mind drifts off a little further. 

It's always fucking Megumi . Sukuna doesn't know what his deal is with him. Maybe some power fantasy of fucking the angsty look from his face, taking his whole identity and staining it, breaking down whatever there is that bothers Sukuna so much, until Megumi is just another face in the crowd. A nobody. The way it's supposed to be. 

He imagines him, laid out on his bed like an entire meal waiting to be consumed. Legs open, letting Sukuna taste every bit of skin he wishes. There's no way Megumi wouldn't be loud-mouthed in bed, perhaps the type to curse like a sailor if Sukuna makes just a little effort to please him. It'd be so easy though, to hold him down and prevent him from thrashing around. Too easy. 

It's a sudden, overbearing feeling when his orgasm hits him. Embarrassingly quickly, too. 

The feeling comes right along with a visual - and fuck if Sukuna knows why - of his own hand, wrapped around Megumi's arm, fingers closing easily, just to prove their difference in size. Something about it draws the feeling out, leaves his legs a little shaky and his heart racing as Yorozu swallows down whatever he's got to give and keeps picking at him, cleaning him up. 

The high of it wears off slowly then and his hands feel a little helpless as they work to push his dick back into his underwear and close his pants. Yorozu wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. She gives him a look - the type of look that just screams I want a kiss right now and yeah, that's that. He frowns at her, stretches his arms above his back, and walks away from her to grab himself a bottle of water. It's a little too warm, but there's some relief to the dryness in his mouth. 

Grandchildren . 

Another thought like an unwelcome guest. 

Megumi's dad doesn't want any grandchildren running around. Sukuna’s not sure why the fuck that memory ghosts through his brain now. It's like his head is open land, a fucking invitation for any fucking thought to cross it today. Perhaps it's the lingering shock of what happened. It's hard to help himself though; the image of Megumi, all unwanted teenage pregnancy cliché, pops into his head. Megumi's stomach, swollen to the size of a watermelon, dressed in old, loose band shirts and munching on weird things. 

A terrifying fucking thought. 

Genuinely. 

He remembers the way Megumi and Yuji sat there, too. Sukuna is way past the age where he gets into fights with his brother about favorite toys, but there's an undeniable resemblance there. Yuji always gets to be around Megumi - gets to touch him, laugh with him. Who knows what else. 

What if Yuji knocks him up, at some point. Reckless as he is. Who knows if they're ever done anything like that. Then again, it's not like Yuji to dare and make any moves. He's not like Sukuna, in that sense. 

Except - 

Yeah, no. 

It's not like he wants to make any moves on Megumi. 

He looks at Yorozu and it really puts into perspective the pyramid of terrifying thoughts Sukuna has ever had; accidently knocking someone up has got to be at the very top, above things like getting mutilated, succumbing to an illness. Whatever. 

It'd probably be physically impossible for Megumi to carry his child. It'd tear him apart, stretch his body way past its limits. 

Not like that matters, of course. It's just a thought experiment. His brain’s way of working through all that fucking input. His dick wouldn't even fit inside Megumi, probably. Even that would tear him open. Megumi might cry if he tried. 

That shouldn't sound exciting. 

“I'm going for a run,” Sukuna declares, and Yorozu gives him a particular look. He raises a brow, “What?”

“I… nothing,” she says, her voice quiet now. 

“Mh,” he grunts in response, going through his drawer and pulling out a simple white shirt and gray sweatpants to change into.  He can shower after that. “Wear something nice for that party later so I can show you off, yeah?”

There's a little smile on her lips upon hearing that and really, some things Sukuna will never understand. He just knows that they work . 

"Yeah, babe. Of course." 

“Great,” he holds the door open for her. 

…

When Sukuna returns from his run, sweat is dripping from every pore of his body, making his shirt cling to his skin like a wet rag. He's not sure just how long he's been running for - an hour, maybe. Or a little longer than that. All he knows is that his legs ache and he feels a little more like himself again. 

He has just made his way inside and bent down to open his shoes when the door opens again, almost hitting him. When Yuji’s eyes meet his, it's the strangest thing that happens.

There's no friendly sparkle there, no broad smile that reaches all the way up to his eyes. A moment of surprise, and then Yuji’s eyes narrow. 

“The hell is up with you?”

Yuji doesn't say anything, only slams the door shut and squeezes his way past Sukuna, without even bothering to take his shoes off. 

“Hey, brat.”

“Sukuna. Do me a favor and just don't talk to me,” Yuji goes and shit . That's new. Intriguing, but uncomfortable. 

“What's your problem? That week of the month or - “ 

And just like that, the door to his room is slammed shut also. Sukuna just stands there for a long moment, with his eyes fixed on it. Then, the initial surprise makes way for some kind of anger. Irritation. Because really , what the fuck. 

Sukuna doesn't knock before pulling the door right open, stepping into Yuji’s room like he owns it. 

“Tell me what the fuck your problem is. Why are you mad? You're never mad,” he demands, stomping inside. 

“I'm not.”

“Bad fucking liar, too.” 

“Sukuna. Just - what the hell do you want. I'm not having a good day and I'm not looking to fight. I'm asking for space .”

“And you're not getting any until you've opened your mouth and told me why the fuck you're looking at me like you want to punch me in the face. You're doing it right now.”

When he hears that, Yuji’s eyes instantly snap away from Sukuna and onto the floor. In fact, his whole body turns away, too. 

Sukuna takes another two steps closer, until he practically has Yuji cornered. He's got all these posters on his wall. Actors, idols, a few bands. A couple action figures, too. In a sense, sitting there like this, Sukuna is reminded that yeah, Yuji definitely is his younger brother. Sometimes it feels like they are hardly alike at all. 

“So, what’d I do?”

“You know, not everything in this damn world revolves around you. You're not the center of the universe. I'm having a bad day. I do not want to talk about it.”

“Oh, you're having a bad day. And you're not even going to mention the fact that your little friend basically harassed me for the whole school to watch? You got any idea how bad that was?” Sukuna says. 

It's unplanned. Off script. 

He's not sure why the fuck he has to address this right now, when he just reached a point of not thinking about Megumi. A whole fucking run for nothing, and there's nothing Yuji can even fucking say about this that is going to make any difference. How the fuck could it? 

Except - Sukuna is observant . Always has been. And though Yuji doesn't say anything for a long moment, Sukuna notices the way his hands clench into fists at his sides. Tight. Borderline painful-looking, really. 

Yuji refuses to make eye contact, too. 

When he speaks, his voice is tense, guarded, “Megumi did it to piss Yorozu off.” 

“Uh-huh.”

“What, uh-huh ? “ 

Sukuna raises a brow. It's not like he hasn't noticed before; Yuji has the most adorable, most pitiful soft spot for his little goth friend. A schoolboy crush, really, the type that only someone like Yuji could uphold for that fucking long without making any type of move. 

Then again, maybe he has . 

Not like he even admits there's anything there either. But, maybe - 

“You really think that's it? Think he needed to shove his tongue into my mouth to piss her off? I think Megumi wanted this,” Sukuna tells him, and it's not an attempt to be cruel. Not really. It's a mere reality check, and nothing beyond that either. For sure. No matter what Sukuna tells himself, Yuji knows Megumi better. And Yuji’s reactions aren't tough to read, not at all. 

“Wanted what? To,” Yuji stops there and it's clearly because he can't even say the k-word out loud, “you're delusional if you think that, Sukuna. I know Megumi. You're always bothering him, always picking on him. I don't know why he chose this way of retaliating, but it's not a surprise that he was going to do something, at some point. Yorozu isn't any better, She– Megumi didn't want to-“

“Yuji.” 

“What?” 

“Don't tell me you're crying over Megumi right now.”

Like he's hit with electricity, Yuji’s body stiffens. He quickly wipes his face with the back of his hand, but it's too late. Sukuna has already seen the tears running down his cheek. He shakes his head, makes a little noise of disapproval. 

“You know I don't beat around the bush. Your little goth friend was pretty fucking into it, and that whole stunt was fucked up . As in, genuinely fucking crazy. If I were you I'd get over your little crush soon as possible. You're gonna get hurt,” Sukuna tells him, and it's genuine. It really is. Yuji shouldn't like Megumi. That distraught look on his face is only proof of it. Megumi Fushiguro is fucking trouble .

There's no way Megumi would go for him. 

And besides, the mere thought of Megumi and Yuji ever being anything but an annoying friend duo genuinely makes Sukuna want to throw up; Yuji whispering sweet nothings into Megumi's ear? The two of them, holding hands. Megumi's pretty little mouth opening up for his brother's dick. Grandchildren. 

It's all right there again. 

It doesn't really feel like nausea, but it comes close. The mental image of it has sharp edges. It's a flicker of softness though; the thought that Sukuna knows something about Megumi that Yuji probably doesn't. 

“You both looked into it. Not just him. Sukuna,” Yuji gets out. It's interrupted by hiccups, “don't do this. Don't even think about it. Not Megumi. You've got Yorozu and Megumi - I don't want you to hurt him. He's special. To me, and just -” 

“You think I'd fucking go for that?” Sukuna challenges. It's an instant reaction. Not thought through, “newsflash, but I'm not fucking gay . I didn't start this. Keep your little friend in check and you don't have to sit there like a loser, crying about him. Better yet, fucking tell him that you like him. Can't be that hard.” 

Once Sukuna has said it out loud, the urge to punch himself in the face tickles in his hand. 

“I just - I don't know, okay. Just please - get out. I need some time to think about this all.”

It's a strange thing; he feels like a dog, wanting to throw itself at a whining little puppy. Wrong. Sukuna isn't sure what to do with the anger that slowly but surely fuels his veins. It's anger aimed at himself, at the whole situation. At Yuji. 

Realistically, it's so clear. Yuji and Megumi should make this happy little couple. They fit together, clearly. They're already together all the time, and while Yuji’s entire focus is Megumi, Sukuna has the whole world at his feet, in his little cosmos. He could have anyone. He's not like his brother. 

Megumi's grip on him is imaginary at best. A fleeting thing that is bound to go away. 

Let them do whatever they want - it doesn't fucking matter . It's just a stupid fixation. 

“Fine,” he practically spits the word out and doesn't wait for anything else to be said. None if this is leading anywhere anyway. Just one more thought about Megumi and Sukuna’s head is genuinely going to fucking explode . 

… 

The party is in full swing by the time Sukuna and Yorozu arrive. She has really outdone herself in terms of clothing, too. A brown skirt, pulled all the way up to her waist and showing off her thighs, coupled with a white cropped top that doesn't leave much to the imagination. No bra. It'd be a lie to say that Sukuna doesn't choose his girlfriends at least partially for this. The jealous looks are a nice boost to the ego. It's always a good feeling, getting to have something that other people don't. 

What's less thrilling, is the topic she has been going on and on about on the way here, and is still trying to finish, even despite the loud music in the background. Cheerleader stuff. Something about how that one girl always tries to show off at practice. As far as Sukuna is concerned, it's a non-issue. 

He places the bottle of champagne on the gift table and with that, his duty is done. He grabs two beers for the both of them out of the fridge and hands one to Yorozu, so they can make their way out of the kitchen and into the living room. It takes less than a minute for a few of the other guys to find them and for the smalltalk to begin. 

It's that kind of day. Just ten minutes and half a bottle of beer in, Jogo gives him a look and nods his head in the direction of what he assumes to be the bathroom. Sukuna knows what that means. 

“Give me a minute, babe.” 

He lets Yorozu’s hand slip through his fingers. 

It's not really a habit by this point. Sukuna wouldn't say so. He doesn't snort coke regularly, but every now and then, it helps to take the edge off. Weed isn't really his thing, never has been. Alcohol is fine. A few drinks and a few lines make a good combo. It's not like he has to worry about the quality of Jogo’s stuff either. 

It's just that he cannot help but notice the looks people have been giving him. And just because no one is buzzed enough to address it yet, doesn't mean they won't . Sukuna would much rather be a little intoxicated, a little more carefree, when that happens. 

Because really, what the fuck is he supposed to say? 

He's seen the video. 

Everyone has. 

There's no way people aren't going to drink themselves brave and talk to him about it. 

Jogo is wise enough not to ask. He simply pours a little bit of powder on his phone display and snorts it, using a wrinkled five dollar bill. Sukuna keeps a look of disapproval off his face, trying to ignore the fact that it's probably got a world full of germs on it. 

“Good stuff,” Jogo comments as he hands the bag over. Sukuna nods and goes about his business. It's the tingling sensation first - as always - which makes way for a weird taste in the back of his throat. A flicker of warmth, going through his whole system. It's a nice fucking feeling, it always is. Just a little bit is enough. 

“Really good,” he agrees and his heart pumps the beginnings of euphoria through his veins. Jogo blows his phone clean, wipes it on his pants, and they're out, right back at the party. 

The party - perhaps the very last place in the world where Sukuna expected Megumi to show up tonight. 

It's instant sobriety, or maybe the opposite that hits him at the sight. Dressed in loose, black cargo pants and drowning in an oversized red pullover, Megumi's frame is washed out, pale skin covered. Sukuna’s heart jumps again - their eyes meet. There's a tingling in his hands and a rush going through, down to his dick. It's not everyday that Sukuna encounters situations in which he's left speechless, at a loss for what to do. And when they do happen, it's always Megumi. 

Megumi, Megumi, Megumi. 

A fucking mantra in his head. 

Their last interaction flashes in front of Sukuna’s eyes, and it hits him, somehow. The red undertone to Megumi's eyes, the oversized clothes he's drowning in - the way he stands. Shifts. Eyes leaving Sukuna’s almost instantly. Not a hint of confidence there. And just like that, Sukuna feels cut out, beaten down, punched in the gut. Pushed aside. Megumi makes a turn, like a rabbit thinking it'll escape a big, bad predator and Sukuna moves. Unaware of anything. Anyone. 

It takes just a second to cross the distance. Another half second to wrap his fingers around Megumi's arm, a sound like a growl coming from Sukuna’s throat. 

He can feel it - something like an electric shock going through that light body as Megumi turns to him, opens his mouth but lets the words die. That brown haired girl - Sukuna cannot be bothered to recall her name - yells something at him, but Sukuna pays her no mind. His eyes are on Megumi, only. 

“Out,” Sukuna commands. 

Megumi looks confused for a second, like maybe he didn't understand. Then, his eyes harden and his forehead wrinkles. Sukuna fights the urge to wipe his bangs out of his face. Megumi's lashes are just as black as his hair, a hundred little curved lines, framing deep green irises. 

“Fuck off,” Megumi finally replies and tries to shake him off. It only makes Sukuna tighten his grip. He's been to this house before, for a party or two. He's well aware of the balcony door in the kitchen. Pulling Megumi through the crowd and past that is hardly a struggle. 

In fact, it happens a little too fast. 

One second, they're mixed in with the crowd, vibrating with the music. 

The next, they're outside. Alone. It barely registers in his head. 

There's a soft ‘ouf’ as Megumi's back hits the wall and Sukuna doesn't waste half a second to steal the breath right from his lips, push their bodies together. There's something flowery to Megumi's scent, maybe chamomile. Lotion, perhaps. Hair oil, maybe. His breath smells like mint. It's ridiculous how far down Sukuna has to bend, to even reach those lips. 

It's even more ridiculous that Megumi responds with a flicker of tongue, a caress of the softest lips Sukuna has ever tasted - 

And then seamlessly kicks him in the balls. 

Sukuna goes down like a rock in a landslide, bumping their heads together with the movement and earning himself a complain from Megumi. 

“Ow!”

“Yeah fucking ow . You fucking - shit. Are you bipolar or what the fuck is your problem you- “ 

“My problem?” Megumi asks while Sukuna guards his dick with his hands now, still shocked to the core. 

He grunts. 

“My fucking problem is that you don't get to drag me away and kiss me. You don't get to touch me.”

“Yeah?” Sukuna asks. It's a mix. Cocky and pained. He's not sure what his voice is doing. There's a certain pain to being so close to Megumi. So close to kissing him. Seconds away, and drifting further. A sinking feeling in his gut. “Not like I want to.”

Megumi blinks. Big bad baby eyes. Open, close, open. 

Sukuna blinks, too. 

What the fuck is he saying .

It's not like he needs to apologize or anything, but - 

“You want me to. And I want to. So, fuck it.”

Megumi's mouth falls open. 

“ So what ?”

“So, you almost ruined my reputation, and I could easily ruin yours,” Sukuna says then. He probably shouldn't. But the words are out now, undeniable between them. Megumi is simply watching him now. Sukuna cannot tell if he's shocked, intrigued, disgusted with him. Maybe something else. 

“What are you saying?” he asks. Sukuna’s eyes are fixed to his lips. They're pressed together. Pink and smooth. 

“I'm saying, maybe it's a lapse of good taste. I don't fucking know what it is. With you. But you can't tell me you're not interested. And I bet you're interested in keeping your little secret safe. So think about it, Megumi.”

Chapter Text

“Sukuna,” Megumi says. His heartbeat is a little bird, fluttering its wings in the cage that is his chest. It very nearly hurts. “You cannot be serious right now. What the fuck? You know, every fucking time I even come close to giving you some credit, doubting that you're entirely awful - you just fucking go. And do shit like this.” 

“I didn't fucking start this.”

“You're trying to blackmail me into fucking you.”

“You want to do it anyway. You just need an incentive.” 

Megumi very barely refrains from screaming, right into Sukuna's stupid face, “I want nothing from you. I don't want you looking at me, talking to me or fucking breathing on me. Go to your bimbo girlfriend and stick it in her from every angle imaginable if you're so fucking desperate.” 

He's breathing hard by the end of it. It's close to screaming; raw, wild emotions pouring out like the breaking of a dam. Today has been too much. Back and forth. Up and down. 

“Megumi Fushiguro,” Sukuna goes, a different tone to his voice now, “are you jealous?”

Jealous. 

Yeah, no. Megumi has nothing to be jealous of. No singular fucking reason in the world to hate the sight of Sukuna and Yorozu together. No reason whatsoever to hate that he's so far out of his league, Sukuna would rather blackmail him into secretive sex than ask him out. Hold his hand in public, ever. 

Megumi is just that to him; fucked-up conversations in the shadows of a party, a potential lay to satisfy some weird curiosity and further boost his ego. The eternal story of Sukuna Itadori getting anything he wants.

And Megumi is the flavor of the week.

“Jealous of what,” he very nearly hisses. It's not really a question. More like a snake baring its fangs. Cornered. 

What is it about Sukuna that makes Megumi feel so fucking cornered?

“You're sweet, all mad like this. Like a little wolf puppy barking and growling.”

This, maybe. 

The awful fondness in his tone that slips in for just a moment, imaginary like a ghost.

Or the damn chuckle that is an unstoppable force against Megumi’s lips.

Before Megumi has the capacity to reply to that, Sukuna is already speaking again. It's by sheer force of will that Megumi doesn't allow his eyes to drift to his lips and stay there. Attraction is a funny thing like that; pouring fuel into the fire of emotional chaos, as if to feed on the remains of his sanity. Megumi can't really deny it now. Not anymore. He's attracted to Sukuna - despite everything and anything. 

There's something there. 

Something wild and so opposed to rational thinking, morals and ideals that it's downright terrifying.

“All you need to do is tell me that you want this, too. Just don't be like this,” Sukuna says. It's an empty, stupid attempt at manipulation. Or genuine vulnerability. Something in-between. Megumi truly cannot tell anymore. 

“Like what?” 

“Looking at me like you actually despise me.”

“You are giving me a damn whiplash,” Megumi tells him, “are you high or something? This is - what the fuck are we even doing . What are you saying. And what the fuck do you want me to say.”

Sukuna leans in, a little closer. This time, Megumi fears he might not put a stop to this as he should.

“I just want you to -” 

The movement is instantaneous.

As soon as the door falls open, they're apart. Megumi can't tell if it's him or Sukuna who moves faster. All he knows is that his heart skips a beat and his eyes take a moment to adjust before - 

“Megumi?” Yuji blinks, a little wide-eyed, his face half alight with the warm light falling in from the kitchen, “Sukuna?” 

Megumi can't entirely read his expression. “What - why are you two out here?” 

“Talking. What does it look like?” Sukuna's voice is rough. Agitated. Megumi turns to look at him, but Sukuna avoids eye contact. 

“It's- never mind.. I was looking for you,” Yuji is still giving Megumi a weird look as he says it. There's a certain feeling, and Megumi is almost convinced that Yuji can feel it, too. Like he's intruding on something private here. Which, in a sense, is exactly what he's doing. It's not like Megumi feels any wiser as to what Sukuna wants from him, with him. Megumi isn't so sure he would have figured it out even if they talked for another few hours though. 

It's like they're dancing in circles. Frustrating, disorienting circles. If Megumi wants to find his footing again, he's going to have to take control back. Somehow.

“Nobara said you were out here and -” 

“ .. And we are going to have a little talk of our own,” Nobara, like a devil conjured out of thin air, appears behind Yuji to finish the sentence for him. It takes about three seconds before she's got Yuji and Megumi grabbed by the hands and pulls them over into the very opposite corner from where Sukuna is standing, dumbfounded. All alone now. 

There's a part of Megumi, buried deep inside, that doesn't like it - getting dragged away from Sukuna.

“So,” Nobara nods at the door, “go away.” 

“What the hell makes you think you can talk to me like that you little -” 

“Sukuna,” Megumi says. Quiet. Tired. 

“Whatever,” Sukuna grumbles and then he's off. Megumi watches him go. Watches the door fall shut behind him. 

Both his friends are looking at him now. 

“He listens to you?” Nobara asks. 

Yuji tilts his head. He's chewing on his lower lip when Megumi looks closer. 

“I wouldn't say he listens to me.”

“Dude, absolutely. Got that big bad rottweiler on a leash, huh?”

“Not a rottweiler,” Megumi mutters. It doesn't sound right. Sukuna is more refined than that, with sharper edges. He looks more like a doberman or maybe a- 

“So, let's get to the point. What the actual fuck. Megumi Fushiguro. We arrive at the party and the first thing you do is run off with Sukuna . I want to know exactly what is going on because I don't understand a fucking thing here.”

Her tone is demanding as expected. Yuji is awfully quiet next to her, but he's still looking at Megumi, like Megumi is a walking question with no answers.

Megumi doesn't say anything for a moment. He isn't sure what to say. 

Seconds tick by.

“We just talked,” he eventually gets out. It's too little, too late. 

“About what?” Yuji asks, this time. 

“Nothing much,” Megumi says. He's not sure if it counts as a lie. He's not sure how to describe their conversation either. “Got things cleared up between us, I think,” he tries.

“What does that even mean?” 

“Just - everything is fine now. It was all a stupid accident and it doesn't matter now.” 

“You're blushing,” Nobara comments. 

“An accident?” Yuji asks. 

Megumi doesn't know which is worse. 

“I'm not blushing and yeah, an accident. Okay?” Megumi's voice raises a little despite his best attempts to keep it calm, void of any hint of emotion. 

“Mmh,” Nobara hums. She makes a half circle around Megumi, looks towards the kitchen, at Yuji and then, back at Megumi. Hard. The way a judge looks at a criminal pleading innocent.

“You want to fuck Yuji’s brother,” she states, without even a hint of doubt in her voice, “that's why it happened. That's why you're blushing and that's-” 

She looks away again for a moment. 

“...gonna end in heartbreak for you, so get the idea out of your head, Meg.”

“Megumi doesn't want to -” Yuji begins to speak, but Megumi beats him to it fueled by a sudden rush of - anger? Annoyance, maybe. 

“Heartbreak for me ?”

“Yeah for you.” 

Because Megumi would be the one getting dumped. Denied. The one out of control and free falling, who couldn't rattle Sukuna if he wanted .

It's what Nobara is saying without saying it. 

It's what Megumi hears. 

And fuck, it bothers him - maybe because it rings true. 

“What, you think I'm in love with him or something? Sukuna? Don't make me laugh.”

“I'm saying, you're soft, Megumi Fushiguro. Much softer than even you know. You care about people and if you're fooling around with Sukuna, you're gonna start caring for him because that's how you are. So don't even do it.” 

“I'm not fooling around with anyone.” 

“Sure.” 

“And I'm not going to argue over this with you,” Megumi tells her. He's not sure why this whole thing is annoying him so much. But his chest feels tight now, with something resembling ants crawling through it. He looks at the door, through the glass. There's not a hint of Sukuna to be seen. 

The feeling gets a little worse. 

Of course. 

Sukuna is in there, somewhere, with his girlfriend . It's not like he's glued to the windows looking at Megumi. Not that Megumi would want that. But the thought of Yorozu's long fingernails against Sukuna’s skin feels like nails on chalkboard and - 

“Let's go inside,” Megumi hears himself say. He can't even tell whether it's a masochistic thing or a control thing. 

“Inside?” 

“Yeah.” 

“ You want to go inside.” 

Megumi rolls his eyes. “Yes.” 

“Where there are people partying.” 

“Would you stop psychoanalyzing me?” Megumi snaps, unable to hold it in. Before anyone, either Yuji or Nobara, can further comment on his behavior, he moves past them, pushes the door open, and then he's back inside. Inside, where there noise has been turned up considerably since he stepped out, with the alcohol apparently kicking in for some people already. It's a party alright. 

Megumi doesn't entirely feel like himself. 

He lets out an audible gasp when, upon entering the living room, he's attacked. Wrapped tightly into an embrace.

“Got you.” 

Maki. 

A very drunk Maki. 

“You're suffocating me,” Megumi mumbles. “What are you..?” 

“You're joining,” Maki declares and drops Megumi upon a big pink bean bag, right into a whole circle of people. Megumi certainly isn't imagining it - everyone's eyes are on him now. She sinks down next to him, nearly dropping her red plastic cup filled with who knows what. 

“Anyone else need a drink?” Gojo asks into the circle. Yet another guy from the football team, popular beyond belief. Yuji and Nobara sit down on the floor next to Megumi. Yuji blinks at him while Nobara decidedly looks in any direction other than where Megumi's cousin is sitting. 

“Two for us,” Maki declares, nudging Megumi before she turns and grins, “and two for these two as well.” 

“What are we-” 

“Never have I ever,” Maki tells him. She sounds way too excited over this. Megumi can only imagine the backflip that Nobara’s heart does. Within the chaos of it all, it takes him a second to take in the entirety of the room. 

Including the red love seat in the corner, where no one other than Yorozu is glaring at him, from atop Sukuna's lap. Megumi flinches when their eyes meet. Sukuna is already looking at him too, like he's been staring for minutes. 

Megumi slides a little closer to Maki's side. 

If there's any reason for Yorozu not to be going for his throat right now, it's the fact that she doesn't want to be kicked out. His cousin is practically his life insurance right now. 

When he's handed a plastic cup, Megumi's fingers cling tightly to it without conscious effort. He doesn't usually drink. Doesn't like the idea of being drunk. It doesn't feel like much of a choice right now, but he can always pretend to take sips. 

The music is turned down a little and though Megumi could swear that Sukuna is still watching him, he doesn't look in his direction. There's chatter from all sides, laughter and maybe he's imagining it, but it's warm . He shoves his sleeves up his arms and makes an effort to avoid any nervous fumbling that his fingers itch to do.

“Okay guys,” Gojo starts, “let's begin.” 

There's some cheering. Some people take a sip for good measure before anything is even said. 

Gojo grins.

“Never have I ever thrown up on someone cause I can't handle my liquor,” he says, eyes fixed on his dark haired friend whom Megumi cannot recall the name of. It's not that funny but Gojo nearly loses it as the other raises his glass -along with two or three other people in the room- and takes a drink. 

It's the next guy's turn. Megumi cannot recall his name either. 

“Never have I ever accidentally sexted the wrong person.” 

This is exactly why Megumi hates stupid drinking games - and stupid people. It's not fun. It's not interesting. A waste of time.

Except, Sukuna is among the two people who drink. Discreetly - as if to make sure Yorozu doesn't see. It's clearly a wasted effort though, with the cheers and whistles directed at him. Megumi feels torn- he loves that Yorozu hears it. Hates to hear it. 

He settles for sending a glare Sukuna's way but fails to read his reaction, if there is any.

Megumi isn't surprised in the slightest, of course. 

It's a girl's turn. Megumi is bad with names. Her hair is blonde and she's clearly focused on the other side of the room when she goes, “never have I ever imagined someone else during sex.” 

Megumi's eyes do their own thing, turning to Sukuna, whose lips are pressed tightly together, brows furrowed like he's having a headache, or thinking hard . He looks up, just briefly, straight at Megumi. His cup touching his lips is a little promise, one Megumi doesn't imagine. A silent confession. Sukuna drinks and Megumi suddenly feels like fleeing the room, running away. 

Instead, he sits still. 

Very still. 

Stops himself when he notices he's wetting his lips, lost for a moment in space and time. Sukuna is messing with him for sure. Megumi needs to remind himself of that, and actively . He cannot help the chuckle that falls from his lips in response to the look Yorozu's face.

Her glare turns to Megumi then, deadly . 

It's her turn. 

It's just a stupid game but Megumi's stomach feels tight. It's not like Sukuna would have told her. It's not like she can expose him in any way. Everyone has seen the video and that's what the focus is on. All that's left to do for her is passive-aggressive remarks and such. 

Sukuna wouldn't have told her about the conversation with his father.

He convinces himself of that. 

Even Sukuna wouldn’t stoop that low.

“Never have I ever tried to get with someone who's clearly out of my league,” is what Yorozu says. Megumi isn't naive enough to believe that the staring match between them isn't what causes a low whistle, a flood of giggles from various corners in the room. He refuses to back down from her gaze though and feels a slight grin pulling at his lips. 

Megumi raises his cup. 

He drinks. 

Sukuna watches him like a hawk. 

The drink tastes bitter, nauseating, but there's a sweet aftertaste of turning the tables, turning this into something akin to a thread. 

I've tried and I'll win. 

It's a declaration of war if Megumi hasn't been clear enough before. 

It's Sukuna's turn now. 

Megumi cannot deny the excitement burning inside him, mixed up with nervous uncertainty. 

Sukuna clears his throat. Megumi tilts his head; it's a strange thing to hear from him. Megumi almost wants to dare him to escalate this, wants him to - 

“Never have I ever chugged a whole bottle of vodka.” 

A second passes. 

Coward , Megumi thinks. 

He's not sure why - what he wanted Sukuna to say. Yorozu clings a little tighter to him, turns to him, and Megumi suddenly feels out of the picture, a character thrown out of the entire scene. Sukuna's attention isn't even on him. 

He takes another sip. Yuji turns to him, wide-eyed. “You have?” 

Megumi shakes his head. He doesn't say anything. The unfamiliar warmth of the liquor slips into his chest, as if to make a home there. It's not like he needs Sukuna's attention to survive, but - 

maybe there are ways to get it and keep it.

“Never have I ever lied about my body count.” 

Another football guy. 

Some others turn to him, proclaiming their doubts. 

Megumi drinks. It's almost a mechanical movement. He can feel it when Sukuna's eyes slip in his direction, right over Yorozu’s head, like she's not even there. 

There's something like annoyance coloring his face. Megumi holds back a self-satisfied grin. 

He raises a brow.

Sukuna looks away momentarily, but his eyes drift back to Megumi. 

He can hear Nobara and Yuji chatting quietly about something, notices various people raise their cups after wild discussions about body counts and the rule of three or whatever, but it's all noise. Blurred. 

Megumi wonders what it feels like to sit on Sukuna's lap the way Yorozu does. He plays with the sleeve of his sweater, pulls it over his hand. 

Let Sukuna think what he wants.

“Never have I ever had a threesome.” 

Another one of Sukuna’s buddies.

It's not imaginary - Sukuna looks right into Megumi's eyes for a broken second. Megumi is on autopilot now, following the single biggest urge he feels: Keeping Sukuna's attention on him, away from Yorozu, by any means necessary. 

He drinks. A bigger sip this time. It doesn't taste so bad anymore. 

Sukuna's mouth falls open before it forcefully closes. Megumi sees it all over his body. His hands. There's tension there, suddenly. So much tension that Yorozu looks down at where big fingers are now digging into her leg and she shifts a little, apparently uncomfortable. 

“Megumi!” Maki goes. 

Shit. 

Megumi almost forgot- it's not just him and Sukuna in the room.

“Don't ask,” he mumbles, but it doesn't sound entirely convincing. Another loud discussion about the fact that Gojo drank, too, thankfully steals her attention away from Megumi momentarily. He doesn't even turn to see what Yuji or Nobara are doing. 

Out - he needs to get out. 

Except, it's Maki’s turn already. 

Megumi is up next. 

“Never have I ever kissed a boy,” she says, cheerfully. 

Megumi barely dares to watch Sukuna through the corners of his eyes. He raises his own cup, finishes what's left of it, and Sukuna - 

Doesn't move. 

Megumi's heart twists painfully in his chest.

The jock next to Sukuna elbows him and Megumi watches him laugh, point over, straight at Megumi, who's caught staring. A few others join in, teasing Sukuna. 

It's with a deadly glare on Sukuna's face that he drinks. 

He doesn't even look at Megumi. 

Doesn't say anything.

Yorozu is saying something to him, and then Sukuna presses a kiss to her lips - a soft, comforting gesture. The kind that's reserved for girlfriends . It's as if Megumi's mind doesn't entirely register it as real . It's a little movie scene he's watching. Cheap romance shit.

“Your turn, Megumi,” Maki tells him. Megumi nearly flinches, so caught up in some other galaxy that threatens to swallow him whole. 

“Everything alright?” she asks. 

Megumi nods, half-hearted.

He finds his voice. 

“Never have I ever been with someone I don't actually want,” he says, looking at the floor now. It's a low blow, maybe. An attempt to take all that anger and confusion and push it right back at who created it.

There's undeniable laughter now. 

Gossiping. 

As if Megumi gives a fuck. 

As if he cares that Sukuna probably doesn't drink, wants to win this fucked up game of theirs. Wants to take everything and leave Megumi behind as collateral damage once he's chewed him up and spat him out. 

Megumi stands up. 

“Getting another drink,” he tells Maki and then he's off, pushing through the room that seems to have become more crowded, a labyrinth of intoxicated bodies. The kitchen is empty- a breath of relief amid the impossible lack of space and privacy here. The noise from the living room turns into a dull echo of laughter and cheap pop music, falling in through the half-closed door like reality breaking into the corners of a cozy dream. 

Megumi feels a little fuzzy, a little softer in his body but strangely focused in his perception. 

He walks up to the fridge, like a ghost that has never interacted with the real world. The wall of cold air that hits him feels strangely nice. Someone must have turned it all the way up to stand a chance against the endless bottles stuffed inside. There's bottles upon bottles of beer. Liquor, too. A few cans of coke and fruit juice. 

Megumi doesn't know much about the brands he's looking at. He's never been one to join the drinking, never even mixed himself a drink. All he knows is that he cannot stand the taste of beer and that whatever he had just now, it was pretty okay. 

Grabbing a bottle from inside - tequila - feels like being a kid, playing grownup. Megumi opens the lid and sniffs it carefully, making a face. He pours a little bit into his used cup - maybe too much. He's not sure. 

The liquid is clear and it smells strong. 

He decides to go for some juice, and stops halfway into pouring to take a sip.

Megumi coughs. 

Horrible. 

He puts the juice aside and tries to save his creation with a little bit of cherry coke. The whole thing turns a sickly brown color, bubbles bursting at the surface. 

Bad decision. 

The door opens, letting more light fall into the room, right along with noise. Voices shouting  - or maybe not. Megumi's entirely too aware of that presence slipping into the kitchen like a shadow, pushing the door almost entirely closed, with just a little slit open. It doesn't fall into the lock.

He stands still and refuses to turn around even as steps come closer, closer, closer - 

The door of the fridge is opened from right next to him, behind him. Perhaps it's magical thinking, delusion or something, but Megumi can tell exactly who that is from the scent alone, like he's a particularly talented sniffing dog. 

He pretends like he doesn't notice though - a ridiculous effort, considering that Sukuna is right next to him, could close the gap of space in-between their bodies with one little movement, one little decision. 

But, he's not touching Megumi. 

So Megumi decides to take a sip of his drink. Act natural. 

He makes an actual noise of disgust when that poisonous mixture touches his taste buds. 

“What the actual fuck is that?” Sukuna asks. 

Really close. 

Megumi finally turns to him, looking up. 

“Don't know. I'm not a barkeeper.” 

Sukuna's face doesn't even shift. He simply moves, like it's his birthright to take that cup out of Megumi's hand, no comment at all. He sniffs it, much like Megumi did before, and walks around Megumi, pours it all into the sink. 

Just as Megumi is about to complain, Sukuna places a new glass on the counter top right next to him and slips into the space next to Megumi, caging him. He opens the fridge again and Megumi watches his hands - big fingers and thick knuckles - work their way around the lid of a bottle. Sukuna's elbow brushes his side - along his ribcage. It's a flood of goosebumps that spreads across Megumi's body in the wake of it. 

Must have been accidental.

Sukuna is still focused on the drink. 

Vodka. Cherry juice. A few ice cubes. It's like a ritual. Practiced, controlled movements - just a simple drink. 

Megumi is half-hypnotized.

Sukuna is so close .

“You really think you're some sort of mind reader, huh? All provocation,” Sukuna says and it snaps Megumi out of his trance. There’s a quiet sharpness to his tone. “Have a little self control.”

Self control. A dry laugh falls from his lips but it sounds more like a cough.

“Provocation? I was just playing. Like everyone else.”

Sukuna gives him the drink. Their fingers almost touch and for a moment, Megumi is afraid he might drop it.

Sukuna's voice is eerily calm, “No. What you're playing is a different game altogether.” 

Megumi wants to reply, wants to say something. He lowers his gaze. Nothing comes out. 

Sukuna opens his beer and puts the bottle to his lips, drinks. He's standing so close that Megumi can smell it on his breath once he puts it down. 

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“I know you want my attention real bad. You wanted me to follow you just now.” 

“You're flattering yourself, Sukuna. Go back to your girlfriend and make out some more.” 

“Like you go taking two dicks at once?” 

“I don't- you know, whatever . Think what you want,” Megumi tells him and tries to fight the blush threatening to creep up his cheeks. Maybe that was a provocation. So what. It's not like Sukuna needs to know.

“I think you want to kiss me, Megumi Fushiguro.”

It's a slap in the face, the way he says his name. Like it's the only name Sukuna ever needs to remember, ever wants to say. Maybe it's Megumi's distorted sense of reality telling him that, reading it all wrong. 

Either way, he can't deny the way Sukuna is looking at him now. 

Expectant. 

It's the most natural thing in the world, the way Megumi gets on his tippy toes, tilts his head and drags Sukuna down with the simple touch of a finger hooked into the collar of his shirt. That muscular mass of a body crumbles so easily like that, following Megumi's lead perfectly.  

It's a deja cut. 

It feels like this has happened a million times, forever and ever.

Megumi presses the softest, weakest excuse for a kiss to Sukuna's lips, like a butterfly landing on a fingertip. It's weightless, barely real. He can't help the little smile that forms on his face when he pulls away and Sukuna's eyes open. 

He blinks. Once, twice. Pinkish eyelashes fluttering prettily. He doesn't make a move to pull Megumi closer, though it feels like the possibility hovers over them, pulling the oxygen out of the air. Megumi dies internally, for more of this. He keeps a straight face.

“You're right. Very perceptive. I wanted to kiss you,” Megumi whispers, “I'm good now.”

It's quieter than he meant for it to be, this moment between them. 

Megumi slips past him then, thankfully without spilling the drink in his hand.

He's out the kitchen just as fast as he came in, diving back into the chaos of the living room and only half aware that this actually just happened . 

Again. 

How many times has he kissed Sukuna today?

Megumi wearily eyes the circle of people that seems to have shrunk - Yorozu is nowhere to be seen, and neither are Maki and Nobara. He could swear some others are missing, too. Perhaps out smoking weed or cigarettes, or up to who knows what. Yuji is still there however and he smiles a shy little smile as he sees Megumi approaching. 

Megumi is vaguely aware of Sukuna, who's leaving the kitchen behind him. 

“Spin the bottle?” Megumi asks no one in particular. Of course they're playing spin the bottle now. Yuji pats the spot on the beanbag next to him and Megumi reluctantly sits down, a bad feeling working its way into his chest. He takes another sip of the drink, holds it tightly between his hands.

Maybe it's been enough games for one evening. Maybe he should -

“Okay let's begin,” Jogo claps his hands together and the game begins. He's clearly had a lot to drink, “and make this a little fun. I say, whoever the bottle lands on makes out with the person to their right.” 

And maybe that impulse to leave that Megumi ignored just now was his guardian angels screaming at him. Because the bottle turns, and turns and - stops on Yuji. Who's sitting to Megumi's left. 

Yuji blinks. Then he looks at Megumi. Megumi stares right back, wide-eyed.

This isn't happening.

For a second, no one moves. And then Jogo - still grinning like the drunk bastard he is - lets out a loud, theatrical, “Oohh!” He nudges the bottle like it’s a sacred thing.

“Guess you gotta do it,” someone slurs. Maybe it’s Choso. Maybe someone else. Everything blurs at the edges and Megumi barely dares to look at Yuji. Much less, Sukuna.

Megumi’s mouth opens, but no sound comes out.

Yuji looks... flushed. Not embarrassed. Not thrilled. Just - confused. He chuckles awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck like he wants to tear off skin. It’s not a casual movement.

“I mean... I don’t wanna make things weird,” Yuji says softly. His voice is kind. Too kind.

Megumi hates it, so much.

“Just skip me,” he mumbles, ready to bolt. His heart is pounding like he’s about to be executed, and publicly.

Then, a sharp voice, made of ice and venom, pierces the noise.

“You gonna back out now, sweetheart?”

Sukuna.

Leaning back into the couch, his beer bottle in hand, looking like he just walked out of hell to ruin Megumi’s night on purpose. All over again.

Sweetheart .

Megumi feels like he might just throw up.

He doesn't even look at him.

“It's a dumb game,” he says.

But that doesn’t stop the heat crawling up his neck. It doesn't stop time from moving either, and doesn't wipe that stupidly uncertain expression from Yuji's face.

“Alright,” Megumi whispers, a shaky exhale falling from his lips. 

Chapter Text

Yuji’s eyes widen. Megumi hears him inhale a sharp breath.

“You sure?” Yuji asks. His voice is hushed now, like he doesn’t want anyone else to hear, like it's private. They're practically on stage though. Part of Megumi wants to yell in his face, no I'm not sure. I don’t even wanna play this fucking game. In fact I'm sure I don't want to.

… Like it's Yuji's fault. 

None of this is. 

It's Megumis.

Sukuna's.

Sukuna kissed Yorozu too. Right in front of Megumi.

Megumi doesn’t use words. Doesn't use his brain - no critical thinking. He just leans in, ready to get it over with. Eyes closed and stomach tight, fighting a losing battle.

It’s short, a clumsy kiss. A mere brush of lips - gentle and unsure - but it happens. It definitely happens. And for a second, there’s nothing there in the world except the little space where their lips touch and the magnetic pull into a whole other direction. Yuji’s lips are soft, but unfamiliar. Or maybe they're too familiar. Warm, but not the right kind of warm. Not the heat Megumi’s body instinctively recognizes, but a dry desert of emotional claustrophobia.

And as fast as the kiss begins, it’s over. 

Megumi pulls back, blinking fast. The room seems to be shifting around him, things slipping back into shape. There’s a vague murmur of cheers or laughter - someone actually whistles again - but it’s far away, nothing but cotton in his ears.

Yuji is blushing now. Pink cheeks and wide pupils. “That wasn’t so bad,” he says, trying to sound light. His voice shakes a little.

Megumi doesn’t answer. He can’t.

He glances, half-afraid, toward Sukuna.

Sukuna hasn’t even moved. Still lounging on the couch like a bored king, face unreadable, but his grip on the beer bottle looks tighter. His knuckles are just a little too white to fit the nonchalance of it all. His eyes are too sharp, too still.

Megumi looks away.

Everything is too loud, too much. He reaches for his drink - the one Sukuna made him earlier - and downs what’s left in one go. It burns. And not just in his throat. It doesn't seem to wash down the taste of reality; Megumi just kissed Yuji. 

Game or not.

He coughs, wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Why did he do that?

Why, why, why?

He didn’t want to kiss Yuji. Not really. So why did he do it? To prove something? To Sukuna ?

To himself?

There's nothing to prove - and this proved less than nothing. Only things Megumi doesn't want proven true.

“Hey, you okay?” Yuji asks, leaning in slightly, concern clouding his face now. “You look kinda-”

“I’m fine,” Megumi says, voice flat, and maybe he says it a little too fast. His head feels heavy. “I just need some air.”

He gets up, legs unsteady, blood rushing in his ears.

Behind him, Sukuna doesn’t move. He's a statue, frozen in place. Looking unbothered. 

Of course.

Because nothing ever touches him, does it?

Megumi doesn’t know if he wants to scream or cry or rush over, climb into Sukuna's lap and make out with him all over again just to feel something that makes sense to his body. To his mind? Not so much. 

Maybe Megumi should go a year without kissing anyone now. Or a whole lifetime.

Now definitely aware of the alcohol in his blood, he stumbles toward the door and disappears into the dark, pushing past a couple making out by the front door. 

The night air is sharp against Megumi’s flushed skin, but he pulls his sleeves up nonetheless in an attempt to cool down. He sits down heavily on the steps in front of the house, elbows resting on his knees, hands laced together like he’s holding himself in place.

His stomach is still tight. His lips still taste like vodka and lip balm. He doesn’t know if that’s Yuji’s or his. Megumi cannot imagine Sukuna using lip balm.

He’s barely had time to breathe when the door creaks open behind him. 

“Hey,” Yuji says, softer now, stepping out into the night like he’s trying his hardest not to scare a wild animal. He's not too far off with his estimation of Megumi's emotional state. 

“Meg, I didn’t mean to push you or anything. You just seemed.. I dunno. Weird after. I wanted to check on you.”

Megumi doesn't look up. “I am weird. I feel weird. And I don't need anyone checking on me.”

“Should I leave?” 

Yeah. 

“No,” Megumi tells him, “do what you want. I just need a minute.”

Yuji exhales, then carefully takes a seat next to him on the steps. Not too close, but close enough to share Megumi's silence. His knee brushes Megumi’s and they both back away a little. 

They just sit there then, for a beat or two. The sound of distant music pulsing behind the door, people partying inside.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says.

Megumi frowns. “Why?”

“For the kiss. For.. not saying no faster, I guess. I knew it would mess with your head and that you're already having a weird day, but I was-” he pauses, then shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know. I got caught off guard by that.”

Megumi swallows. There’s a strange ache in his chest, and it’s not from the alcohol. Not really. He still can’t bring himself to believe that this is what his life has become. 

“Yuji. You’re really not the one who should be apologizing here,” he mutters.

Yuji tilts his head, but says nothing.

“I made it weird,” Megumi continues. “I kissed you. I just - just went for it. I don’t even know why I did it.” He runs a hand through his hair. “My god. That’s messed up.”

A little laugh slips past his lips.

“It’s not,” Yuji says. “It’s just... complicated, right? Plus, you never usually drink. Or play party games. It's just a lot right now.”

“So you're not mad?” Megumi asks, before he can stop himself. In all honesty, maybe Yuji should be. It's not like Megumi made the bottle point at him, but it's not like there wasn't an egoistical part to it - kissing Yuji. Giving Sukuna a taste of his own medicine.

“I'm never mad at you,” is what Yuji has to say to that. And then he's hugging Megumi, wrapping his arms around his shoulders from where he's sitting, next to him. It's nice, for half a moment, before the moment shatters.

Because that’s when the door swings open again. Footsteps behind them. Wood creaking.

“Aw. Isn’t this so cute.”

Megumi tenses. He doesn’t need to turn around to know who that is.

Sukuna.

It's like they're playing hide and seek now. 

Found you.

Again.

His voice is laced with cruel amusement. “You two look cozy .”

Yuji stiffens beside Megumi, arms slipping off of him, replaced by cool air.  “We’re just talking-”

“Sure,” Sukuna cuts in. “Talking. Bonding. Sharing secrets on the front step like this is a goddamn teenage drama. How fucking adorable and boring.”

“Sukuna,” Megumi warns, finally turning to look at him.

But Sukuna’s eyes are locked on Yuji now. Something in them is different - his eyes look much colder, darker. The fire in there isn't performative or playful. It’s real. Sukuna looks like an animal, high on adrenaline and testosterone. Out to kill.

“Wasn’t enough to get all the attention inside? To kiss him,” Sukuna sneers. It's the Sukuna Megumi has heard about, but never actually seen. Not the casual asshole vibes. Not just mockery and arrogance. The way he's speaking, Megumi thinks that Sukuna may well be dangerous. Unpredictable. Yuji is his little brother. 

Maybe that’s exactly the problem. 

“You just had to follow him out here too. What’s next — you gonna walk him home? Tuck him into bed? Make love in the candlelight?”

Yuji gets to his feet, jaw tight. “Back off, Sukuna. I mean it.”

“Oh?” Sukuna laughs, but there’s not a hint of  humor in it. “So that’s it. Gonna hit me, Yuji? You wanna fight over him?”

He takes a step forward. Yuji doesn't respond, but his shoulders tense like he’s bracing for a hit. His hands ball into fists at his sides and it slowly gets through to Megumi that this is bad . Real bad. 

The tension between them isn't playful.

“You really think you can stand there and play innocent?” Sukuna spits. “Like you didn’t eat up every second of it in there? You knew what you were doing.”

“Don’t act like this is about me,” Yuji snaps. “You’ve been circling Megumi like a vulture all night.”

The air seems electric between them. A thunderstorm about to tear the sky in two.

Sukuna laughs, all rage. “You think I don’t see through your sweet little ‘I care so much for him’ routine” he snarls. “Just play the part of the nice guy and best friend until he spreads his legs yeah?”

He steps forward. One step. Two. Close enough now that their chests nearly brush.

“You have no idea what the fuck you are talking about, Sukuna. Unlike you, I don't think that way,” Yuji says. He sounds mad - more so than Megumi has ever heard. Threatened.  “Go away.” 

But Sukuna doesn't go. 

Doesn't stop. 

It makes Megumi wonder how much he's had to drink.

“So what's with all that pretense and playing hard to get. You're really gonna sit out here and make out with my brother?” 

“We weren't making -” Megumi begins.

Sukuna beats him to it, “and playing jealous with me as if you aren't actively fucking humiliating me every damn chance you get. Kissing him, in front of me. In front of everyone . Letting yourself be passed around. Like a toy.”

“You do not talk to Megumi that way,” Yuji declares and shoves Sukuna. Or tries to. Sukuna doesn't move an inch. His eyes slowly wander down to Yuji's hands and a dangerous smirk plays on his lips. He raises a single eyebrow. 

“You think he's some innocent little baby that needs protection? From me ?” 

“I think you need to leave Megumi alone.”

Another step forward. Megumi wants to plead with Yuji, not to pour gasoline into this fire, but nothing comes out. He's a silent bystander. Frozen. 

“I think you need to know your place.” 

And then Sukuna shoves Yuji back - hard. And Yuji stumbles, almost falls. Megumi's stomach does a turn. He looks stunned for half a second. Then angry. Then ready - for whatever may come. And just as Sukuna’s hand twitches again - like he might really swing this time -

Megumi’s voice cuts through the tension, sharp and strained. A forced exhale.

“Stop it.”

Sukuna turns to him.

That’s when Megumi rushes to step between them, hands raised like someone breaking up dogs in a fight. All too aware of the possibility that he could get hurt, but somehow unable to care.

Sukuna’s chest heaves. His fists are still clenched tightly. His eyes - too bright, too wild - lock with Megumi’s for a single, loaded beat.

And Megumi sees it.

The flicker of something unspoken that lives and thrives beneath Sukuna's facade of anger.

It's what Megumi wanted, isn't it? For him to feel that way.

But - not like this.

Maybe it's not what he wanted at all.

“Don’t do this,” Megumi tells him, quieter now. His voice is a broken thing, one that shouldn't be heard. Still, Sukuna is looking at him. Listening. “It's not nice,” are the useless words that Megumi follows up with.

“Not nice ?” Even Sukuna seems dumbfounded by that, for a long moment. “What are you, a kid?”

“I'm just tired of this. Come on. Let's take a little walk.”

“A walk?”

Megumi simply looks at him, doesn't even nod. He seems to get his point across however.

“Megumi?” Yuji asks. His voice has shrunk down to a quieter thing now, sounding a little hollow, “You really think that's a good idea?” 

Megumi can't tell. It feels better than standing here, watching the two of them slowly drift off into a fist fight. It's not like he's scared of Sukuna. And though he really has no basis for this- in fact, maybe he has reason to assume the opposite - Megumi doesn't believe that Sukuna is dangerous. Not to him.

Even drunk and angry. 

Maybe Megumi's own two drinks have made him more naive.

“So. Back away from Yuji and follow me,” Megumi tells him. It's supposed to sound like a command, but the necessary harshness is lacking; if anything, it sounds like an invitation. The little rabbit asking the big bad wolf to take a midnight stroll through the woods. A fable with an ambiguous ending. “Unless you want to stand there growling nonsense at each other all night.” 

“Megumi,” Yuji says. Again. This time, it sort of begins to annoy Megumi.

“As I said, it's fine ,” he nearly hisses and makes a turn, simply grabbing Sukuna by the side of his shirt, scrunching the fabric up between his fingers. “Now come on .”

“Bossy,” Sukuna comments. 

Megumi makes a noise. It's something between a groan and a hiss. He's just about had it with this nonsense. Once Sukuna's giant body is finally moving away from Yuji, Megumi turns to his friend. 

“Just go and enjoy the party, Yuji.” 

“But I don’t want you to get-” 

“Oh my fucking god , you're making it sound like the damn titanic is sinking. I'm not going to fucking eat him.”

“You've got your phone on you, right?” 

Megumi feels the instant Sukuna's body stiffens, moves to turn and go right back to Yuji - he's truthfully not sure why it's making him that mad, can only guess that it's the insinuation - so Megumi pulls hard at him. Drags him along. 

“Later, Yuji,” he says and finally, they're moving. Each step away from that confrontation makes it a little bit easier to breathe .

“Happy now?” Megumi asks, once they've made it past the front lawn, onto the sidewalk. The moon hangs like a half-rotten fruit in the sky, painting the clouds around it a dirty orange, all mixed up with the city lights. 

“Why the fuck would I be happy.” 

“Because I'm giving you an official chance to apologize right now.” 

“Apologize?” Sukuna nearly spits the word out. “Apologize for what.” 

Megumi keeps a steady pace. 

“Think about it.” 

For a moment, it seems like Sukuna does. At the very least, he's quiet. Like hell does Megumi know what's really going on in his head though.

“You know, it's really weird to see you without all your,” Sukuna points vaguely at Megumi's body, “getup.”

“I told you to apologize.” 

“Got nothing to be sorry for. Yuji had it coming.” 

“Yuji didn't do anything.” 

Sukuna stops. Megumi keeps walking, but he's held back by a large warm hand, wrapped around his wrist. “Maybe you think that. You've also been goddamn oblivious to the crush he's had on you for what, years now? You really think it didn't get his dick hard, kissing you? Think he would say no if you offered? Think he's just a good friend ?” 

Megumi's breath stalls. Somehow, he needs to hold himself back from chuckling. “You sound absolutely insane. Paranoid. Also, what the fuck is it to you? Just like you said, Yuji doesn't need to protect me, and you certainly don't have to do it either.”

“So it's some fucked up fantasy of yours? Fucking two brothers at once.” 

Megumi's face is empty for a moment. Sukuna's grip on his wrist only tightens. 

Just, who the hell does Sukuna think Megumi is?

“Triplets, actually. One for each hole,” he deadpans. 

Sukuna looks absolutely bewildered. 

“You can't be serious,” Megumi says. He plucks Sukuna's hand off his wrist and walks ahead, further down the street. The sound of  heavy footsteps is a clear sign that Sukuna has chosen to follow. Megumi isn't entirely sure if Sukuna is capable of reading sarcasm in this state - whatever state that might be. 

“I'm dead serious. You let him slobber all over you.”

“I did not . It was a two second kiss. A spin the bottle kiss. It meant nothing.” 

“Uh-huh. So that's it. That kind of shit means nothing to you,” it sounds accusatory. Sukuna is somehow both horrible and a master at taking things and turning them around, twisting perspectives. 

“Like anything or anyone means shit to you,” Megumi snaps. He walks a little faster, fueled by a certain sense of annoyance. 

Sukuna's steps match his pace. 

“You know, Yuji could never do it for you. What you need - he doesn't have it in him,” it's a calm statement. Confidence. Maybe feigned confidence. 

“I don't know what the fuck you are talking about, Sukuna.” 

Except, maybe a part of Megumi does know. Why he isn't in the least bit interested in Yuji. Why his heart pounds like crazy around Sukuna, even if he's just talking shit and being horrible. It's a chemistry thing. Tension. Magnetism that's beyond what science can explain. 

Then again, maybe psychology could explain it. And just maybe, extensive therapy would help to kill that spark. It doesn't necessarily feel like it would.

Because, against all logic, Megumi isn't entirely sure that he wants it to die. 

That in itself probably makes him a walking red flag.

“I can show you.” 

Megumi’s pussy aches in a strange way, the way Sukuna says that. A cheap line, right out of some porn flick. What's Megumi supposed to even say to that? 

Yeah, fuck me right here on the hood of some poor soul's middle class car? 

He lets out a chuckle. 

“I don't know. I doubt you've got it in you either,” he says. Before them, the houses have made way for thick, high hedges, a barely illuminated sidewalk. A cemetery. 

Sukuna seems to follow his gaze. 

When Megumi looks at him, there's a smirk playing on his lips. “How fucking fitting. Lead us here for a midnight stroll through the cemetery or what? Freak.” 

In fact, Megumi didn't lead them anywhere. It's not like he had any plans going into this. However, now that they're here - 

“You scared or what?” 

“Scared,” Sukuna repeats like it's foreign language to him, “of course not.”

“Great. Then let's go.” 

And they do. Megumi pushes open the old, rusted gate that fits more into a horror movie than into a suburban neighborhood. Sukuna is right behind him, his fingers brushing against Megumi's arm when he forces his broad body through the little space Megumi has created for them to enter the cemetery. 

Once inside, Megumi allows the gates to fall shut behind them with a creaking sound.

Gravel crunches beneath each step they take and Megumi walks ahead. Sukuna follows, walking a little bit behind him, looming like a shadow. Megumi pushes his hands inside the pockets of his jeans, following an unconscious urge to be normal. Act normal about this - all of it. He's walking through a cemetery with Sukuna.

Yeah. 

A normal thing. 

“Are you always this dramatic?” Sukuna asks, breaking the dead silence between them. “Dragging me through a damn graveyard. Walking all silent like you wanna dump me in a grave. Maybe I should be scared.”

Megumi stops. He turns. In the moonlight, the edges of Sukuna's face look sharper, more well-defined. His face really does look like a thing that's been planned out, carefully designed. Sukuna's eyes shine, light mixing with the darkness of enlarged pupils. He's got that everlasting lopsided smirk on his lips, his perpetual I'm an asshole expression.

“I didn't drag you anywhere. You followed me.” 

Sukuna crosses his arms, “like I'd say no to some alone time with you. That's what this is, isn't it? You wanted to have me all to yourself.” 

Megumi sighs. “I wanted you to stop being an ass in public. People are already paying extra attention to us.” 

“And whose fault is that?” Sukuna steps into Megumi's space as he speaks. It's a subtle threat. He's daring Megumi to deny that he started this avalanche of gossip and drama.

“Yours,” Megumi informs him, refusing to back down or create more space between them. It's a bit childish. Lacking explanation or foundation. 

He feels Sukuna's hands trailing along his hands then, until he's got them both grabbed. There isn't much force in the movement when he uses his hold to pull Megumi just a little bit closer - a little tighter into this mockery of an embrace. 

“You really think you're gonna get away with that? You've got a little attitude problem, Megumi. And you want to be put in your place, I can tell. You're desperate for it.” 

“And you've got a god complex,” is Megumi's weak line of defense. He's not sure why it's such a weak one either. Sukuna is all words. All talk. Throwing lines just to see if he catches Megumi. Maybe it's their proximity - the feels of Sukuna’s hands on his own. Rough. Big. Warm. 

Maybe it's the fact that their bodies are pressed together, separated only by a few layers of clothing. Maybe it's the fact that Sukuna's body is such a medical mystery to Megumi still, even though he's been close to him before. It's still bewildering. 

Like the way he has to bend his neck, look all the way up to even gaze into Sukuna's face like this. 

Like he really is a god.

Something bigger than Megumi can comprehend. 

He pushes Sukuna, small fingers against a firm chest, creates space between them again. It's dangerous, for Megumi to be too close to him. Messes with his critical thinking.

Sukuna steps right back into his space. It leaves Megumi's hands laying helplessly on his hard chest, feeling the warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes. Megumi could swear he feels the outline of muscles underneath- even with the lack of pressure. Sukuna’s heart is somewhere in there. 

A weird thought. 

A muscle the size of a fist. 

Sukuna isn't above or below him. He's just as human as Megumi - different league or not. 

If Megumi really concentrates, he can even feel his heartbeat. It's probably not imaginary. It's quick. A rhythm drumming against the palm of his hand. 

“This - it scares you, too. Doesn't it?” the words slip from Megumi's mouth unwillingly, while his brain capacity is still being used on something else; vague realizations about how Sukuna is real , standing in front of him. 

One of Sukuna's hands comes up to Megumi’s cheek. He gives him a sweet little smile. “Not one bit. I'm fucking passed cause I'm starving . This pretty little mouth is mine - all mine,” Sukuna tells Megumi and doesn't give him a second to work through the words, reply or even try to. 

Because right after he's done speaking, Sukuna has Megumi's lips captured in a kiss that is nothing like the one with Yuji - nothing like their last kiss even.

Sukuna almost instantly forces Megumi's mouth open with his lips. He squeezes a little where he's holding Megumi's cheek, just below the cheekbone. It all conspires to make his plan work; Megumi opens his mouth without a fight. Doesn't bite him. Doesn't overthink when Sukuna's tongue invades his mouth, ten sizes too big, too long for what little space Megumi has to offer. They're so disproportionate. 

It's not a friendly kiss. Not a sweet one. 

Sukuna invades his mouth.

He licks along the roof of it as though he wants to make him choke. Presses Megumi's tongue down. Drags his tongue over Megumi's teeth like he's mapping it all out, like he's planning on taking his dental records right along with his sanity. 

When Sukuna lets go of him, Megumi actually feels empty , feels like he's missed out on his chance to even participate with how feverish Sukuna's movements have been. 

Like it really is his mouth now.

That's what it is - what it was. 

Sukuna claimed his mouth, made good on his word. 

“Not yours,” Megumi whispers breathlessly, “and yours isn't mine either.” 

“Shut up,” Sukuna tells him. This time it's Megumi who leans in - naturally, against his better judgement.

There's nothing quite as urgent as the need to feel Sukuna's tongue on his own again. Savor his taste. Force him to be better - make it better. Still that unquenchable thirst that's tearing through his entire body, for just a minute. 

“Kiss me properly,” Megumi whispers just before their lips meet and the words get swallowed up. 

Sukuna's hand slips to the back of his neck then, dragging him into their kiss as he simultaneously uses his free hand to hold Megumi by the waist, carries him like it's nothing, sets him down on a stone wall, right by the mausoleum. 

Sukuna is apparently the kind of man who can multitask. 

While he's casually rearranging Megumi’s body to be laid out on the cold stones, he's keeping Megumi busy trying to keep up with the pace of the kiss he's setting. Megumi tries. Desperately. Tries to follow his tongue with his own. Tries to keep their lips in sync, keep himself from feeling like he's being swallowed up. 

Sukuna feels so above him.

He's got every trick in the book down to make Megumi's legs quiver from just kissing, make his heart rate quicken and to Megumi's shock - he can feel entirely too clearly how his underwear gets soaked like he's peed himself. He hasn't. His pussy pushes against his pants with the way they've been pushed up, and that friction alone has him squirming. 

Moaning. 

Megumi moans into their kiss, all breathless and desperate. 

The sound is enough for Sukuna to pull back, leave Megumi gasping for more. He just stares at Megumi for a long moment in the moonlight. All while Megumi struggles to keep his eyes focused, moving his hips so softly into the friction of the fabric that he prays Sukuna doesn't notice. His mouth is still open when Sukuna reclaims it, for a shorter kiss this time. 

Megumi squirms beneath him, entirely overwhelmed with all the nerve endings firing little bursts of light and electricity through his body.

That's when Megumi notices it. 

One of his legs, angled just right for Megumi to - 

“Fuck,” he hisses, breaking away from their kiss to catch his breath, return to reality. A reality where the mere brush of Sukuna’s knee against his pussy has Megumi’s insides clenching. He feels like such a virgin in that moment, all wound up and oversensitive. Nearly falling apart at the slightest touch.

“Remember how you said I didn't have it in me? Looks like you've changed your mind, Gloomy.” 

Gloomy. 

There it is again.

So Sukuna hasn't forgotten - not everything .

Megumi doesn't know why that feels like such a relief to him. He doesn't know what to do beneath Sukuna's gaze either. Doesn't know if Sukuna noticed just now, the way he moved against him or what it did to his body. 

“I don't think I have.” 

Sukuna's leg presses forward. Just a little. Barely brushing the inside of Megumi's legs. 

Busted. 

“Come on, hump it,” Sukuna whispers, “you wanna, right?” He presses a kiss to a neglected patch of skin, right beneath Megumi's ear. It nearly sends his body into shock, goosebumps immediate to follow. 

“I didn't-” Megumi speaks. He sounds lost, helpless, horny. 

It's too much, too fast. 

He didn't mean to do it, but now he doesn't want to stop. A dilemma. Sukuna's eyes are doing things to him, exposing him, making Megumi turn his head just so he gets to breathe peacefully for a second before he fucking drowns in them.

“You do,” Sukuna concludes. Megumi shakes his head. Eyes his lips. He goes for another kiss. Kissing Sukuna is so much easier than talking to him. That big body draped over him and that hot mouth on his own are the best excuse Megumi could ever find to cross his own boundaries, allow himself to get lost. 

If only for one moment. 

And a moment is all it takes. 

Megumi barely notices that he's doing it. Barely dares to consider it a decision, because of what that implies. He presses his body down, just a little bit, into Sukuna’s waiting leg, down into hard muscles and thin fabric. Megumi's own underwear has become so coated in slick now that it hugs his pussy like a second skin. 

He arches his back. 

Makes a noise, somewhere in the back of his throat. It doesn't sound sexy either. It sounds more like he's hurting, whining. 

“Like that, baby,” Sukuna tells him, “just like that.” 

And it's like those little words of praise cast a spell over Megumi. When he doesn't have to look at Sukuna, doesn't have to feel like he's being taken apart, dissected for the thrill of it, it's easy to let go. 

To let himself fall, right into the unfamiliar feeling that is pleasure, not brought to him by his own hands but something - someone - else. Logically, the mere brush of jeans-clothed legs against his pussy shouldn't feel nearly that good. But maybe it's exactly that: The fact that it's Sukuna, that they definitely shouldn't be doing this and that he's kissing Megumi. 

Properly now. 

It feels almost the way it looks in movies, except Megumi isn't an observer now. Each brush of his own tongue, each movement of his lips, feels utterly welcome and appreciated. 

Sukuna groans when Megumi pushes harder into him, dragging his body along his leg, searching for friction.  

Megumi closes his eyes. 

It's like there's nothing else happening in the world, just Sukuna and him, coming apart at the seams together. 

“Feel that?” Sukuna whispers against his lips. 

Before Megumi can give a confused answer, he's dragging his hand down. It almost doesn't reach where it's supposed to go. Sukuna's torso is too long. Megumi's arm, too short. 

But then, Megumi feels it.

How could he not .

There's something hard and huge pressing into his little palm, twitching beneath the touch.

Megumi's breathing stops momentarily. He shakes his head a little, as if to ground himself, make sense of space and time.

“That's all for you,” Sukuna assures him, “don't think I've ever been this hard before.” 

The words are crude. Vile. This is Sukuna. It should disgust Megumi. 

But something comes alive in his chest, like a secret door falling open.

“All for me?” he asks, like he wants to believe it, fluttering his lashes at Sukuna. It's half-confusion, half-instinct. Insecurity. 

Nonverbal language going, promise me, promise me. You don't even know what this means.  

“Mmh,” Sukuna confirms. He's already opening his pants. Megumi can feel his fingers at work, brushing his own. “You want it?” 

It's not the alcohol. Megumi almost wishes he could blame it on something so simple. He nods his head, not saying a word. 

He wants that.

Sukuna actually gasps in response. Megumi's eyes find his and it takes the quarterback a whole moment to train his face back into anything other than shock, amazement, need. 

“‘Course you do,” Sukuna mumbles. He makes it sound like he's talking to himself more than Megumi. Megumi isn't so sure. Sukuna is quick to pull his cock out of his pants. 

Practiced movements. 

Megumi swallows. 

He doesn't even dare to look down when Sukuna guides his hand, wraps each singular finger around that warm piece of flesh that still twitches - maybe harder - as Megumi lets the feeling sink in. 

It's nothing he's felt before. A strange feeling. His fingers couldn't reach around Sukuna's cock if he tried. 

He gives it an uncertain squeeze and Sukuna's response is immediate: All his muscles tighten above Megumi. A silent “fuck” slips past his lips, a ghost of a word. Megumi licks his lips and strokes him. Down, then up again. The only way that makes sense to him, how this has got to work. 

After all, Sukuna doesn't know he's a virgin. 

And Megumi might not be one much longer, with the pace they're going at. 

“Your pants,” Sukuna groans, “take them off.” 

He doesn't sound so unbothered now. In fact, there's a pleading undertone that had Megumi’s head swimming. 

“Ask nicely,” he tries, but it sounds like pretense. It probably is. 

Sukuna doesn't comment on it either. Instead, he simply takes matters into his own hands, fumbling with the button of Megumi's pants and practically dragging the fabric down his legs like the mere presence of it offends him badly. A shiver instantly wrecks through Megumi's body when his butt touches cold stone and the air reaches the wet puddle his pussy has turned into. 

Sukuna stares. 

Unashamed. 

He even leans back a little to get a full view of Megumi's exposed skin, grinning like he's won the lottery as his big hands settle on Megumi's legs for a moment. They look obscenely big, right there.

“So my pretty boy has a pretty little pussy, huh?”

It's perhaps the dumbest question Megumi has ever heard. 

It's perhaps - simultaneously - the only instance where he feels an actual drop of slick running down his folds, all the way down to his asshole, just from hearing a sentence. 

Sukuna’s eyes seem to follow it. 

Megumi watches him press his lips together, then swallow. His Adam's apple visibly moves. 

There's another look shared between them. Sukuna looks at Megumi like he's unsure - figuring something out - but it's quickly buried beneath urgency and need. Megumi watches, half-terrified, as Sukuna moves closer to him, brushes the tip of his cock along the mess of wetness Megumi's body has created between his legs. He jolts, curses something nonsensical. The brush of skin on soft skin is a shock to his system, a moment in time falling apart before coming back together. A promise. 

Megumi only needs to look down again to confirm what he already knew; there's no way that thing fits inside him. It looks ridiculous, up close. Absurd.

It's not going to fit.

Not without actual force . 

“You're on birth control, right?” Sukuna stops just as he gets close to Megumi's hole. It's a whole act of torture, to feel him there, unmoving. 

“I-” Megumi begins to speak. He's not . Why the hell would he be? It's not like he sleeps with anyone. Except, that's what Sukuna apparently thinks and what Megumi doesn't necessarily need to correct him about if he doesn't want to make himself more vulnerable than he already is. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, but a sense of panic overtakes him, “but you're still gonna pull out. Promise me.” 

“What if I don't want to?” 

“Then we're not doing this. At all.” 

“Relax baby. I'm kidding.” 

“You're awful,” Megumi groans. It transforms into an open-mouthed moan when Sukuna lines himself up, his entire tip pressed into Megumi's pussy and ready to go .  

“I mean it. Relax, or this is going to hurt you,” Sukuna fixes him with his eyes. Megumi doesn't even move. He simply breathes in though his mouth, nods his head again. 

“Go,” he commands, quietly. 

There's an almost instant regret when Sukuna does . It only makes sense; their bodies don't fit together. Shouldn't fit together. Megumi is as wet as it gets, turned on beyond belief, but Sukuna's cock - it's brutal. 

Nothing like Megumi's own fingers. 

It’s not even comparable. 

The flesh of Megumi's pussy is literally being torn apart, stretched too far - when there's not even an inch of Sukuna inside him. Megumi thrashes, bangs a fist against the other's chest. 

“Ow, fuck. It doesn't fit. Pull it out, you're fucking murdering me,” he yells, half out of his mind and torn between wanting it, but not being able to actually take it.

Sukuna gives him a confused look. 

Then, he does pull out. 

And bows down, until his face is way too close to Megumi's pussy. He pushes one finger inside a little, leaves Megumi a squirming mess as he plays around his insides with his fingertip. 

“You obviously never fucked anyone with a big dick,” Sukuna comments then. 

Megumi tries to catch his breath. Even Sukuna's fingers are so fucking thick. 

“What? What do you..” 

“Your hymen.” 

Megumi didn't just hear Sukuna say that word. It's a fever dream. The worst kind. 

“It's very obviously still there and in the way. Thick skin. A small opening. That's why it hurts.” 

That isn't even - Megumi us horrified . Thick skin . 

Megumi’s mind gets stuck on that. 

He feels like he's having a genuine heart attack. 

“No way,” he finds himself saying, unsure what he's trying to deny, to defend, “I was messing around. It didn't hurt. Just do it. Now. If you play doctor with me for one more second, I'll dry out like a desert, I swear.” 

Sukuna raises a brow, then brings a finger to Megumi's mouth, smears some liquid on his lips. “I doubt that's anything you need to worry about.” 

“Fuck off.” 

“You really want me to go again? It will hurt,” he asks. It's a little slip in Sukuna's facade. Genuine worry. No teasing undertone, no nothing. Just the bittersweet truth that Sukuna Itadori might actually miss the chance of getting his dick wet, all for the sake of not hurting Megumi. 

But Megumi isn't having it. 

The need deep in his belly feels more like anger now - at himself. Sukuna. His stupidly large dick and his apparent knowledge about female genitalia that Megumi doesn't want to think about.

“Fuck me right now before I change my mind.” 

Sukuna doesn't seem to like the tone,  but he's no stranger to forcing a smirk on his lips, Megumi thinks. Playing it cool. 

“As you wish, princess,” is all Sukuna has to say to him. He spits right on Megumi's pussy then, smears the tip of his cock through that mess and runs his fingers up and down his length a few times. 

Megumi watches, transfixed. 

Then he's up again, against the tightness of Megumi's pussy. There's a wet noise as he thrusts, ever so slowly, into Megumi. 

And again, there's the pain. Resistance. Like his body wants to push the intruding object out. At the same time, there's a feeling Megumi can barely describe; a rush to his head and along his bones, his muscles. Everything feels fuzzy, warm, cold - buzzing with energy. He's burning for this. Dying to know what it feels like, to let Sukuna into him. 

“Bite me,” Sukuna tells him. 

For a moment, Megumi thinks he's joking. 

He pushes his shoulder forward a little, an invitation. Sukuna isn't joking.

“If it hurts really bad. Bite hard. I don't care.”

“I'm not gonna-” 

And then Sukuna pushes. 

For real this time. 

And Megumi sinks his teeth into his flesh like it's a saving grace, muffling his scream. Around them, the cemetery, the stones beneath them, even the moonlight - it all seems to dissolve, turning into one big blurred mess.

This is Megumi's world - his real world - now. 

Pierced by Sukuna's cock, torn in half, and almost enjoying the pain of it. 

“Shit, Megumi, you're really fucking tight,” Sukuna groans out between gritted teeth. 

“And your jaw is fucking strong ,”  he adds, almost amused. 

“You asked me to bite.” 

Sukuna doesn't reply. He repositions himself a little and drags his cock almost all the way out, earning himself a desperate groan from Megumi. Before he can complain again, Sukuna pushes back inside, faster this time. It borders on a miracle if it doesn't hit Megumi's cervix or - something. Sukuna is so huge, so thick and long that Megumi's insides are trying their hardest to adjust and really, barely managing. 

“God, Sukuna, it - ah,” Megumi is a little blabbermouth. He can't seem to keep it in, trying over and over again to curse, form sentences - only for them to be interrupted by moans, fall apart entirely when as Sukuna works his way up to a faster pace. 

He's really doing it now. 

Fucking Megumi. 

In and out. 

One wet noise following another, skin slapping together where it's exposed. 

Megumi can't do much. He can't really help Sukuna with the rhythm, can't seem to move his legs. It's so much to handle that it's driving him dizzy, his eyes going out of focus whenever they do open. He clings to Sukuna instead, little pants falling from his lips that turn increasingly heated as he begins to adjust. 

“Fuck, you're too fucking - Shit,” Sukuna curses. He sounds so, so breathless. It's perhaps the hottest thing Megumi has heard in his life; he's really doing that to Sukuna. Doing that for him. 

Sukuna's pace quickens. 

Megumi didn't think that he was being careful with him before, but apparently, he was . 

It's rougher now. His cock tears at Megumi's insides, diving in with so much force that each thrust knocks the air right out of his lungs. 

“Sukuna,” Megumi begs. His stomach feels weird now. Tight. Wired. 

Close. 

Fuck. 

When did he get so close to - 

Megumi doesn't stand a chance. Before he truly notices how much his orgasm has built up inside him, his pussy is already clenching, wrapping tightly around Sukuna's cock and tearing a loud moan from both their lips. 

“Fuck,” Megumi nearly yells, “fuck, fuck, fuck, I’m - too much !”

And then it happens. Two or three more delirious thrusts from Sukuna are all it takes. Megumi tosses his head back against hard stone, and arches his back. He can't keep it in, can't stop himself from spilling over. 

Wetness bursts from around Sukuna's cock with a blasphemous noise as Megumi squirts on it, out of breath and mental capacity to register what just happened. 

His pussy is still spasming. 

Sukuna pushes inside again, hard, and then something feels different. Sukuna’s cock twitches, becomes impossibly harder inside him and - 

“Fuck baby. Holy shit,” Sukuna groans. 

For a moment, Megumi thinks that he really isn't going to do it. Isn't going to pull out, but pump all his cum deep inside of him instead. Megumi hates how excited that makes him. Hates the little noise of complaint that leaves his lips and the way he's shifting, trying to follow Sukuna, keep him inside. It's instinctual. It has to be. 

Either that, or Megumi’s subconscious is seriously messed up to risk an unplanned pregnancy for the sake of some twisted fantasy of complete and utter union between them. 

Sukuna, like the gentleman he is, paints Megumi's entire private region with his cum.

From outside .

Megumi groans a complaint, barely capable of raising himself onto his elbows and actually looking at the mess they've made. There's some blood in the mix, painting it a thin pink color. Megumi swallows. 

That's how easy it is in the end - to lose his virginity. 

To Sukuna. 

In a graveyard. 

Disrespectful to himself and a whole crowd of dead people.

He doesn't panic. He can't panic. Not yet. 

Sukuna catches his breath for a moment. Then, a thoughtful look washes over his face and he reaches into the pocket of Megumi's hoodie. He pulls out his phone. The bubble has burst. 

It's over.

“What are you doing?” Megumi asks. His voice has become a shadow of itself. Dry and all used up. 

“Code?” Sukuna asks. 

“Like hell am I telling you.” 

Sukuna sighs. He slaps his slowly softening dick against Megumi's wet pussy with his free hand and enjoys the way Megumi moans for him. Very obviously. “Fine, be like that. Then you unlock it. Save my number.” 

“Your - why?” Megumi asks him, skeptical.

“So I can send you lovey-dovey messages all day long.” 

Megumi blinks. 

“Fucked your brain into offline mode, huh. That was a joke, Megumi. But we're going to want to do this again.” 

“This?” Megumi points vaguely at the cemetery stretching around them in all its darkness. 

“Preferably in a bed. Come on, now.” 

“What if I don't want to?” 

Another raise of a brow. A little smirk. 

“Sure. Tell yourself that. Number, now.” 

Megumi groans and sinks back down, staring up at the sky for a moment. The moon has shifted, changed position. Only a few stars are visible. He takes the phone from Sukuna and unlocks it. Opens his contacts. 

Then, he wordlessly hands it over to Sukuna, a shiver going through his body. 

It's just a phone number. Objectively nothing compared to what they just did. But then - why does it feel like making a deal with a devil, selling his soul? 

He hears Sukuna chuckle. 

“That's more like it. So you can be docile and sweet after all.”