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Chapter Text

The flick of the leather paddle against the back of his thigh did little to stir heat within Sukuna’s stomach. It was nothing more than an irritation he wanted to snatch up and crush between his palms. He’d needed this to unwind from one hell of an awful week that almost lost them a crucial sale because some idiot forgot how to count. He’d been looking forward to this, the tension running high underneath his skin desperate for an outlet.

To say he was disappointed was an understatement. 

Soft fingers trailed over his skin, their intention to drive his nerves wild with feather light touches falling flat. All it did was stir the annoyance deeper within him. It irked him. He’d played his part, gotten onto his knees and let them try to will his cock to full hardness, let him try to become excited by each expectant snap of that paddle against his skin. 

But he couldn’t do it. His body couldn’t comply with his wishes to just let go and it had taken him almost twenty minutes to realise why he was disappointed. This dom was the same as the last one Sukuna had tried, and the one before that, and the one before that. They all had come highly recommended with raving reviews, and yet each one was far too eager to see him on his knees, bend him over, and try to establish some kind of easy dominance with no real heat behind their words. They were soft. Their voices may have tried to be cruel and domineering but their faces were on the wrong side of kind. 

He’d tried, oh he’d tried to enjoy it. Imagined his favourite type of person in his mind, imagined somebody else pressing at his sensitive spots, stroking his cock, and tipping his chin up with firm fingers. But it did little to cover the reality when he opened his eyes. 

He wanted somebody unafraid to rip him apart. He wanted somebody to dance along that edge of too much, somebody to make him question his own limits, his own needs, somebody to really make him question what he was capable of. 

There were only so many times Sukuna could get his ass spanked within the first twenty minutes of a session before he grew bored and tiresome of it. Only so many times he could predict the way the paddle would start light, grow heavier, and work its way down his thigh before it crept back up to his ass to try to colour his skin red. 

“Stop,” he said, voice low and quiet, full of nothing but regret. 

The paddle held still against his bruised ass and the weight of this dom’s eyes fell across his shoulders. A soft exhale of, “Too much?” left her lips, full of worry. 

“No.” It wasn’t anything new . Sukuna pushed himself up and refused to look at her. He’d wasted enough time with this farce pretending that it could bring him some enjoyment and to top it off the rest of his evening would be spent wallowing in misery of having found another idiot who failed to live up to any kind of expectation. “We’re done.” There was a noise from her but again, Sukuna didn’t give her the courtesy of a glance. He simply reached for his discarded shirt, threaded his arms through the sleeves, snatched his boxers up and tugged them over his smarted skin. 

He should’ve stopped it before it had even started. The moment he’d let her through his door he should’ve listened to his gut and shown her straight back out. But he’d desperately needed to try something, too wound up with a need to release some of that pent up tension that was knotting him in the worst ways. He’d argued with himself that at the very least he’d be able to get off before calling it quits. 

But even that had been impossible. 

The sound of things being thrown into a bag echoed in the suddenly quiet room. Sukuna let the noises fill his head as he buttoned his shirt back up, taking his sweet time. Was he being too picky in his needs? Or maybe he wasn’t trying hard enough to let the doms in? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d failed to fall into the head space simply because he didn’t like the way one of them had looked. They had been everything that his taste wasn’t and from that point on he’d clocked out to what he was supposed to be paying for. Maybe, he reasoned, everybody was far too eager to put a man his size on his knees. 

He got that. He really did. 

At a glance he was the kind of guy people assumed to be a sadist, and not the nice kind either. He had black ink on his chin, underneath his eyes, over the bridge of his nose, across the back of his neck, and various other tattoos along his arms, legs, chest and back. One look at him and most people considered him trouble with a capital T. His attitude was horrific on his worst days and he had very little patience. 

Most days, the people who thought the worst of him would be right. Most days Sukuna derived pleasure from sinking his teeth into somebody’s skin, leaving his marks in fingerprint bruises or aching muscles. He liked to leave behind an echo of his voice in his partner’s head, the ghost of his breath in their ears, and the lasting memory of his hands on their skin. But sometimes even he needed to let go of control. Sometimes he needed somebody to rip him apart and put him back together. 

Sometimes he needed a break from the carefully orchestrated control he had on his life. For somebody else to make the demands and give him the orders. 

What he needed was those to mean it when he offered them the chance. 

“I take it this means I won’t see you again.” 

Sukuna shook his head and rifled through his pants for his half empty packet of cigarettes. She’d had her chance and she’d bored him. If she turned up at his door for another session he’d tell her to take a hike and slam the door in her face. Being nice was not in Sukuna’s immediate personality. He’d seen too many people get themselves walked over for being too nice, even his baby brother had been a victim to such a crime and that had only irked Sukuna to no end. Harsh, cold truths, and cruelty had gotten him to where he was today; CEO of a multi million dollar corporation with a fancy penthouse suite, fancy cars, a personal assistant, a personal driver.

And a lonely bed. 

He tapped a single cigarette from the packet, slid it between his lips, and lit the end with the lighter stored within the carton. The familiar and comforting taste of nicotine dulled his racing thoughts and helped to calm the irritation itching beneath his skin. It was a miracle he didn’t smoke a pack a day with the amount of stress that danced through him, both at work and in these situations. “You can keep the full payment,” Sukuna said before he took another drag on his cig. 

“You paid for two hours and it’s barely been thirty minutes.” 

Sukuna shrugged and finally glanced in her direction. She was pretty, beautiful, gorgeous . Absolutely model worthy. It wouldn’t surprise if she did walk the runways for her day job. She had the perfect figure for it and she was most definitely a fine woman anybody would be lucky to have in front of them. She had a natural grace that most people tried to awkwardly force and the wonderful tits she had certainly added to her appeal. 

She was unquestionably Sukuna’s type; dark hair, pale skin, bright eyes, big chest. There’d even been a certain venom in her words when she’d turned up and started their little session. He wanted that venom, requested it with each new dom he tried. Everything had been going fine. Sukuna had stripped his pants off, tossed his shirt away, and fell to his knees. After that? Her tone shifted. The harshness dissipated and everything became routine to her. Whilst he’d hoped she’d at least pull it back when she finally acted, even that had failed him. The first strike of that paddle against his skin had come with a familiar set of words, “Are you going to be my good little slut?” and he’d mentally clocked out. 

He hated those words, loathed them. Or variations of them. He’d heard every version of it and by now it did little to excite him. They had the opposite effect and had him losing interest in the blink of an eye. 

“Consider it compensation or whatever.” He waved a dismissive hand towards the front door and turned away from her, “You know the way out. If you need a taxi my assistant, Uraume, can call one for you.” 

“Yeah, it’s fine.” 

He heard the disdain in her voice mixed with dejection. He didn’t care. It was her own fault for failing to live up to his expectation, for not being what he needed, for being the same as the rest of them. The sound of her feet padding away allowed him to relax his shoulders and let out a breath. He racked one hand through dark pink hair and huffed another drag of his cigarette. 

One night was all he wanted. 

One night to feel completely worked over, to be made vulnerable, ripped apart and torn to shreds. He’d been ready to feel the tears streaking his face, feel his eyes burn, and feel his throat choke out on stuttered gasps. 

The sound of muffled voices filtered through the air and Sukuna tuned it out in favour of dragging himself to the armchair that faced the floor to ceiling window. The sky was dark, purple clouds obscuring the stars and the moon barely peeked out from behind fluffed up curtains. Even the shine of its surface seemed dull enough to match his mood and Sukuna let his gaze turn down to the ground below him, thin tendrils of smoke curling around him and keeping him company as he smoked away. Hundreds of people going home for the night or just starting theirs, unaware of his watchful gaze.

A door clicked shut and a new silence descended in his apartment. He relaxed further into his seat, tipped his head onto the back of the seat and closed his eyes, letting his mind sink into wishful oblivion. Somebody should’ve known what they were doing by now. It was impossible to try so many people and come with failure after failure after failure. 

“She’s gone and I’ve added her to your blacklist.” 

Sukuna hummed at Uraume’s rapt report. What he would do without them he had no idea and he dreads to think. He’d probably be lost, still grasping for a managerial role somewhere along the way. Uraume had kept him organised, and in line, and they were especially great at knowing what to say when he needed to hear it. 

“Do you wish to take a break from these kinds of activities or do you wish to try again?” 

He snorted. Try again. He was always trying again and again, each time yielding the same result. “Like there’s any left in the local area.” How many dom’s had he tried? Dozens? Hundreds? He’d lost track but one thing was sure and that he didn’t want to have to travel to another city just to get his dick wet. 

Uraume’s feet were quiet as they paced towards him, barely there, but they grabbed his attention when they came to a stop by his side. Sukuna cracked his eyes open, stared up into dark eyes framed by short white hair. Uraume lifted their hands up and showed him the tablet they were holding. “I was doing some research just in case,” they started. 

Sukuna sat up in his seat, took the offered device with a frown, and shoved the butt of his cigarette between his lips to use both hands to look through the website. Chimera Shadow Gardens. A strange name with an obscure logo of a leaking black rose. He’d never heard of it before, which said something. He thought he’d scoured everything close by. “Where are they?” he demanded before he dared to venture further, his cigarette dancing between his lips with each word he spoke. 

“Tokyo. Just a few miles away from the office in fact.”

He hummed and scrolled through the information available. It wasn’t a new club by any means, but it was very underground, with a large emphasis placed on the underground part. “Never heard of it.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Uraume bowed, “It took some deep digging and the website doesn’t appear to be much, but from what reviews I could find, they all state that the head dom is well sought after.” 

They were right, the website was shit. It looked like something somebody had mocked together themselves on a Friday night whilst nursing a bottle of beer. There was nothing fancy about it, nothing that screamed it was the place to be or that people were lining up to meet the dom. It didn’t seem that different to anything else he’d tried before, in fact it looked like the kind of thing he’d turn his nose up at if he happened across it. Yuuji could probably make a better website and he cooked for a living. The queries box was a basic template he recognised. There was an email address and no phone number, which struck him as strange. The few pictures that the site did have showed nothing more than a series of equipment. No staff pictures, no images of the actual building, a few shaky images of a barren room. It didn’t strike him as impressive. 

“What’s her name?”

“They didn’t give me his name.”

“Him,” Sukuna echoed and he tilted his head to one side to work out a kink in his neck. It had been a while since he’d tried a male dom. He didn’t have anything against them, it’s just that they weren’t the easiest to find, very few men ventured into that side of the business, and the ones he had met were usually bulked up with muscles. He could still recall the testament of strength one of them had tried to force on him before Sukuna had flipped and physically kicked him out. 

Uraume hummed, “He likes to introduce himself when he meets his clients for the first time. They do hold shows every Tuesday night but there’s no guarantee of who will be on the main stage. Apparently they have four doms currently employed with them.”

“Small business,” he muttered to himself and he held the tablet back out to Uraume. The website wasn’t giving him anything else. There weren’t even any names of any staff members, just a couple of pages about what services they offered and some client testimonials. Not even the reviews mentioned anything about having a consistent dom or that he was better than the rest. We have various staff members available to suit any and all of our customer’s needs.

As much as Sukuna’s stomach craved something , as much as itched for a set of hands on him, for his knees to grow numb, his muscles to tremble, he wasn’t sure he was eager enough to try again so soon. Maybe he’d bring home a few one night stands, get some frustrations out of his system that way and then consider it. Maybe he’d even bring home two dates in one night. Threesomes were always fun and had helped him to forget a lot of heavy burdens. 

“Somebody cancelled on him for a home visit two days from now. Luckily he agreed to fit you in on such short notice.” 

Sukuna’s head snapped up. “I didn’t ask-”

“You need it.” 

He clamped his mouth shut at the firm statement, burning red eyes fixed on Uraume’s calm expression. They didn’t budge at his outrage and he curled his lips into a snarl. There was a grateful lurch in his stomach and Sukuna ignored it in favour of snapping his attention back to the window, a glare creasing every feature of his face. 

“I’ll bring you a drink then take my leave.” 

He barely grunted at Uraume’s own dismissal. It wasn’t like they had far to go. The floor beneath Sukuna’s had been purchased for whoever had filled the personal assistant role to make his life easier. There wasn’t any rent to pay on it and all Sukuna asked for was enough to cover the yearly building maintenance fees, everything else was paid for. That was the upside to fulfilling the role and having to work the extended hours Sukuna asked for, a cheap as shit entire floor apartment where they were free to do whatever they wanted. 

Uraume was the third assistant he’d had and hopefully his last. They certainly didn’t care for his crappy attitude. Maybe that was why they’d lasted the longest. Uraume had no issues calling Sukuna on his shit, no problems with talking back to him and telling him when it was too much. Blunt honesty that always took him off guard. They came back with a tumbler of whiskey, settled it into his hand, and bowed once more before they took their leave. 

In the new silence of his apartment, Sukuna groaned and threw back half of his drink. He stretched out, snatched the cigarette from his lips, settled both hands onto the arms of the chair he was in, and stared at the dark evening sky. He rocked the base of the tumbler across the edge of the seat, mindlessly thinking over the little information he had whilst he tapped the butt of his cig against the other arm.

Two days. 

Fine. 

He would give them a shot. Just one shot. If this didn’t work out, if whoever this mystery dom was couldn’t blow his mind in the first five minutes then Sukuna was showing him the door. He was done giving them time, done giving them a chance to prove themselves. He was tired and his body deserved a break from trying. 

He let out another breath and tried to ignore the waiting anxiety that started to simmer within him. Getting his hopes up had failed him more than once and he struggled to bat those feelings back down. Instead he lifted his cigarette to his lips and inhaled sharply, finishing it off and willing the nicotine to ease the final webs of tension that lingered within him. He dropped the stub into his drink and left the glass on the arm of his chair as he stood up. That was a problem for tomorrow. The kitchen was too far and he dragged himself to the en suite bathroom to finally clean himself up. 

Under the hot spray of the water, Sukuna pressed one hand to the slick tiles and trailed his other down his stomach, over chiselled muscles, and traced his length with his fingertips. He danced his fingers over the head and curled them underneath to brush over the frenum piercing. A soft moan left his lips as he pressed on the metal bar, adding a hint of pressure to his cock before he moved his fingers further down his length and prodded at the lorum piercing that decorated the base of his cock. Small waves of pleasure started to roll through him and Sukuna decided to hell with it, he needed something good tonight. 

He wrapped his hand around his cock and wasted no time in jerking himself off, his fingers catching both piercings with each drag of his hand. His only goal was to splatter the tiles in his come and he fucked his fist, chasing that quick release. 

The brief relief did just enough to satiate Sukuna long enough to towel dry himself, grab a fresh pair of boxers, climb into bed and pass out. 

In the two days that passed, Uraume had received several forms from Chimera Shadow Gardens that she had passed onto Sukuna to read, sign, and send back. In the forms was a terms and conditions guide, a basic breakdown of what system his dom used, a leaflet detailing that the first session was for them both to get a feel for each other, to see if they could work well with one another, it didn’t guarantee a continued contract, and a blank sheet in which they asked what Sukuna’s limits were and what he was okay with handling in the first meeting. 

He’d filled them all in, signed them, and sent them back asking if there was any special equipment he would need. Some dom’s had very specific needs and requests in order to fulfil a scene. He’d heard some strange requests over the years. 

The few requests that did come back were nothing too surprising; Sukuna dressed in comfortable clothes, be it slacks, jeans, sweats or something else, a few towels on standby for clean up purposes, water within easy access, an open, two hours of uninterrupted time, and that there was at least one wooden chair light enough to be moved around with ease. It was all pretty basic stuff and nothing that screamed out to Sukuna that this dom was anything special. Or maybe the guy was confident in his abilities and didn’t need anything exceptional to blow Sukuna’s mind. Perhaps the guy was good enough with just his hands, or thought he was. 

Sukuna snorted and shook his head. It didn’t mean anything. Whether the guy used nothing or everything he owned, it meant nothing until he actually performed. 

Accommodating the requests was easy enough. Sukuna’s living room was the perfect place. All he had to do was move the coffee table back against the wall and then the room was pretty much empty. Throw in a couple of towels and water bottles on one end of his couch and everything was ready to go. 

Once he’d taken his final phone call at work, sent his last email, and sent the last bit of paperwork for filing, he’d had his driver take him home immediately. Uraume had confirmed that there was approximately one hour before he was due his visitor and Sukuna had offered to pay Uraume to have a night away from the place. All they had to do was name the hotel and he would pay for it if they didn’t want to be around with the knowledge of what was going on one floor above them. They turned down his offer with a short bow, telling him that the floors were sound proof, they’d never heard a thing before, and they weren’t fazed by the idea of what would happen later that night. 

As he waited, Sukuna tried to keep his nerves calm, tried to keep his excited anxiety at bay. He didn’t need to get his hopes up, didn’t need to imagine this would go any better than any other session he’d had with other dom’s before. He didn’t even have a name for the guy, or knew what he looked like. For all he knew he’d open the door, hate what he saw, and send the guy away with fresh disappointment making a home in his discouraged mind. He clung to that doubt, harboured it and used it to stop himself from getting too attached to any idea that he might finally be able to relax. 

His next cigarette helped to ease his nerves and he closed his eyes at the familiar taste of nicotine that slid into his lungs. It was a stupid habit he’d picked up in his teenage years from hanging out with the wrong people and now he was addicted to the soothing taste of it. He took a second drag when the doorbell rang and Sukuna stared in the general direction of the front door. He gave it a few moments, inhaled another mouthful of nicotine, and climbed to his feet. 

The doorbell rang a second time and Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he marched across the room, crossed the threshold, and down the wide corridor that led to the front door. He peered through the eyepiece and stared at the head of dark, barely controlled hair. It almost resembled the worst bed head he’d ever seen despite how soft it also looked. The guy looked up and Sukuna was greeted with the greenest of greens he’d ever seen set within a pretty face. 

A third ring of the bell had him sighing and reaching for the handle. It had barely been thirty seconds since the first ring and it was nice to know that the guy was impatient. The expression Sukuna was met with on the other side of the door was a scowl and Sukuna had to look down at the stranger. The almost black, navy suit he wore was tailor fitted to a slender frame that tapered at his hip, the darkness only helping to pale his skin even further.. An emerald tie sat snugly within the collar of a crisp white shirt and it almost matched those dark green eyes that pierced into Sukuna. 

“You’re Sukuna.” 

Sukuna arched one brow. It wasn’t a question, more of an affirmation and he nodded, stepping back to give the guy some room. There were no pleasantries, no extended hands for a greeting, just the marching of feet past Sukuna as though he owned the place, his head swinging left and right to give the place one quick sweeping glance. “And you are?” he said and he finally closed the door. 

“Megumi.” Short. Curt. Simple. There was no room for anything else, no allowance of a question and Sukuna pursed his lips, something itching at him with the way Megumi spoke. His tone was low, firm, certain and confident. “Where are we setting up?” 

Sukuna gestured to the living room, the chair Megumi had requested sitting off to one side. Now that Sukuna was next to him, he sized Megumi up, feeling his previous nerves slowly creeping back under his skin. He ticked some of Sukuna’s boxes; dark hair, pale skin, gorgeous eyes. He barely reached Sukuna’s shoulders and he looked a little on the thin side, but he carried himself with such confidence; his shoulders rolled back, chin up, that Sukuna almost wanted to believe that he knew what he was doing. 

He also looked young. Sukuna didn’t miss that fact and he wondered how long Megumi had been out of school, desperate for money before he turned to this kind of job. Neither did Sukuna miss the fact that Megumi had a pretty face, one that most people would die for, if it wasn’t ladened up with a scowl or a glare as it was right now. 

Megumi clicked his fingers and pointed to the couch that Sukuna had previously occupied, “Sit down.” His eyes cut across to Sukuna’s mouth where his cigarette hung and his glare narrowed. “And stub that out.” Megumi turned his glare to the room and under his breath muttered a low, “I hate cigarettes.” 

Sukuna rolled his cigarette between his teeth with a frown, “I’m not a dog.” 

Megumi didn’t look at him. Didn’t even offer him a noise. He simply looked about the space one more time and set his bag down to crouch over it, fingers already working the zipper open. “Move,” Megumi said, eyes still fixed on his bag. 

Sukuna blew out a huff. Megumi had been here for all of ten seconds and he was already giving Sukuna orders like he was some kind of obedient dog. Yes, Sukuna did pay for some kind of command to be given to him, but he at least expected something more than just simple orders. He expected a proper introduction, for them to sit down and go over the basics, or some kind of discussion before they got started. Well two could play at that game. If Megumi was going to be rude then Sukuna could be just as rude back. 

“You’re still standing there.” 

Something warred within Sukuna. A part of him wanted to heft Megumi to his feet, march him to the door, shove him back out into the corridor, and tell him to piss off home before he slammed the door in his face. Another part of Sukuna however was rooted to that spot, red eyes fixed on Megumi’s crouched form, his heart beating heavily in his chest. Megumi’s tone was cold, bitter, uncaring, and unyielding, as if this was nothing more than a simple transaction. It was that part that made Sukuna give Megumi a try, that allowed Megumi to stay a little longer. When he’d filled his forms out he’d put on there that he wanted something mean and maybe this was a part of the act. Other dom’s had stumbled over their words when they’d realised Sukuna wasn’t some small, weak, and pathetic, whimpering guy who was desperate to get spanked. There was no hesitation with Megumi, no testing his words or pondering his thoughts. 

Sukuna took one more drag of his cigarette, walked over to the kitchen and stubbed out the remains into an ashtray. He ran his fingers through his hair and took a seat on his couch as Megumi had instructed. There’d been no other instructions and when he glanced at Megumi he seemed to be pausing over something . Sukuna threw his arms over the back of the couch, slung one knee over the other, turned his attention forward, and drummed his fingers impatiently against the cushions. 

The sound of a zipper filled the air and Sukuna tipped his head to one side to eye Megumi. The guy straightened up, one hand fisted tightly around a scrap of something dark, and stepped over to the chair he’d requested. Without uttering a word Megumi grabbed the top of the chair and dragged it across the wooden flooring, the legs scraping loudly along the surface, until he was in front of Sukuna. He twisted it on one leg, let the feet slam against the ground, and took a seat. 

Megumi folded his arms over his chest, crossed his ankles, and finally looked at Sukuna with the full intensity of burning emeralds that made him stop drumming his fingers and straighten up in his seat. 

Silence. 

Sukuna ground his teeth together and waited, matching Megumi with his own ruby stare. He wasn’t a very patient person. Sitting around and waiting wasn’t in his vocabulary. “Well?” he said. Megumi blinked slowly and tilted his head up, eyes narrowing a fraction. Sukuna’s own stare turned sour and he shifted in his seat under the heavy weight of that stare, “I don’t appreciate my time being wasted.” Megumi didn’t move or budge. He was resolute except for a single finger that tapped against a bicep. Sukuna’s eyes were drawn to it, watching it slowly lift and fall, the gentle tap the only noise to fill the space between them. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

The closer he listened the more Sukuna noted a soft metallic tap that matched the timing of Megumi’s finger. His eye twitched on the next tap and he pressed his lips into a firm line as he felt the tap strike at his nerves.

Tap. 

Tap. 

If Sukuna had been interested and curious before, he was slowly becoming irritated now. No amount of beauty or gorgeous features could sate the growing itch that gnawed at him. He had a hundred things he could be doing, a mountain of paperwork that always needed tending, phone calls that he always needed to make, emails to send. He could be doing any of that but instead Megumi had him sitting here, staring at one another in complete and utter silence, doing absolutely nothing. 

Sukuna sucked in a breath, let it out on a slow exhale through his nose and tightened the muscles of his jaw, his face souring. One more minute was all he was willing to give Megumi and Sukuna counted the seconds in his head. Megumi still only tapped away at his arm with that incessant finger and once Sukuna hit sixty in his head he leaned forward. He settled his elbows onto his knees, clasped his hands tightly, and fixed Megumi with a glare, “Listen, I’m not going to pay you to just sit there and stare. You’re here to do something. So do-”

Megumi tilted his head to one side, arched one brow, and stopped tapping his finger. Sukuna paused, unsure what the suddenly twisting knots of his stomach meant. The more he looked at Megumi the darker his expression became, jade eyes burning him with something vicious he hadn’t seen in a long time. Whatever words Sukuna had on the tip of his tongue disappeared and he tried his best to gather them up again. 

The silence lingered between them and Sukuna couldn’t stop his huff. It was prickling his skin and making him crave any kind of response, any kind of answer or something . He reached for the knot of his tie and shook it loose as he climbed to his feet. By the time he’d gotten home, eaten, and sat down Megumi was only five minutes away and Sukuna had only hung his jacket up. He made a note to never find himself in a suit in this kind of situation again. “Fucking, pointless, waste of my time,” Sukuna huffed in a whisper as he started in the direction of the front door, ready to throw Megumi out. 

“Sit down .” 

Sukuna froze immediately at the deathly hollow words. Those two words were full of threat and promise at the same time, and tinted in disappointment. They were sharp and had the desired effect of snapping his spine straight and commanding his full attention with the way his heart jumped and the way they wriggled underneath his skin and burnt him with shame. 

He’d only managed three steps before Megumi had barked out his order and when Sukuna turned on the balls of his feet to look back, Megumi was still staring at where Sukuna had been sitting. The only tell-tale sign of any emotion was the subtle digging of fingers into biceps and the deeper furrow of his brows. 

When Sukuna hadn’t dared to move Megumi snapped his head around to face Sukuna, his face full of thunder that sent electricity shooting through him. “ Now .” 

Sukuna swallowed. Fuck. What the hell was with that look? He half considered ignoring him, half considered turning his back on him. But a part of him, a primal, needy part, dragged him back to the couch and sat him down. Megumi’s eyes followed his every step and when Sukuna dared to look up again Megumi’s gaze had darkened considerably. There was a storm brewing in those jade eyes, an ugly storm that threatened to drown Sukuna and swallow him whole. Tear him apart in the worst way imaginable to leave him a ruined wreck of the man he used to be.

Heat flooded his stomach. It had been a long time since anybody had dared to look at him like that, since anybody had considered speaking to him like that. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d been afraid to upset somebody. 

A thin layer of sweat dampened the palms of his hands and Sukuna settled them onto his knees, fingers biting at the fabric of his pants. Megumi’s gaze was cold, calculating. Sizing him and stripping him apart. 

The silence crept back in and Sukuna tried his best to sit still, he really did. Megumi stared him down through the silent seconds, firmly holding Sukuna’s attention without moving his lips. It unnerved Sukuna just a little and he wondered if this was it. If this was Megumi’s Dom . No tricks up his sleeves, no breaking down of inner walls and piecing somebody back together one small brick at a time. Just staring. Unnerving, unyielding, staring. 

The seconds dragged into minutes and eventually Megumi moved.

Sukuna sucked in a breath and held it as Megumi stood, eyes fixed on him to see what the plan was, what his next move was. There was no dusting his pants down or smoothing the fabric of his shirt out. He simply climbed to his feet and turned, taking short, measured steps. He noticed that Megumi was graceful with each movement, his entire body flowing from one step to the next. Finally Megumi spoke, “Today is more of an assessment to see if we’ll get along. I’m not going to push your limits too much today. If things go well in this session, if we’re both happy to continue, then I’ll push you next time, and the time after that.”

Sukuna tracked his every step around one edge of the couch, his tongue heavy in his mouth and his throat dry, a simple nod tipping his head forward. There was so much sureness in every fibre of Megumi’s body, in the way his shoulders were rolled back, the way his back was straight, and the way he carried himself with each step, pulling himself up to appear taller than he really was. 

Megumi studied him, scrutinised every part of him, before he nodded curtly and looked away. Sukuna let out a breath and struggled for another, unaware of how Megumi had stopped the air in the room in those few seconds. Green eyes snapped to him and Megumi stopped in his tracks on the periphery of Sukuna’s vision, “ Look forward .” 

Sukuna didn’t think twice about the order. There was a slither of fear creeping into his muscles, an inch of wariness that had his muscles tensing, his skin prickling with goosebumps, his chest feeling heavy and his breathing sharp in his throat. It had been a long time since he’d been so amenable to a complete stranger and he tried to watch Megumi in the reflection of the switched off TV. 

He watched Megumi’s vague outline slowly walk behind the couch and towards him, the faint tap of his shoes echoing in the charged air that was ready to ignite. The seconds ticked by painfully slow again and Sukuna watched Megumi’s reflection come to a stop behind him and wait. He could make out Megumi’s shape behind him, could make out thin hands hovering over the tops of his shoulders, but other than that Megumi was still and Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat. 

“I’m going to blindfold you,” Megumi said. 

Sukuna exhaled slowly, fresh nerves running up his spine as he straightened up. There was so much confidence in those words, so much conviction that almost made it sound as though Sukuna didn’t have a choice. He nodded once, pursed his lips, and watched Megumi’s reflection keenly. 

Those hands lifted away and there was the faint shimmer of fabric being hung between his fingers. Then that fabric came into vision before he was blind to the world. The material was soft and opaque, giving nothing away and turning his world completely dark. He could feel Megumi’s fingers skirting over his skin, the tightening of the fabric as Megumi tied a knot to secure it in place. Those soft fingers smoothed the fabric over his face, ensured that there wasn’t a chance for any light, and then those hands disappeared. 

Sukuna missed the quiet heat of them already. 

“I have a few simple rules,” Megumi said.

“To be expected.” A quick flick at his ear made Sukuna hunch his shoulders and glare into the darkness of the blindfold. He pursed his lips and kept his scowl on his face. 

“I operate on the traffic light system. Does that suit you?” 

Sukuna nodded and licked his lips to find his words, “Yeah, sure.”

There was a pause in which Sukuna felt dread creep up his spine. Megumi finally spoke again, “Once a play has been initiated you’ll refer to me as, ‘Sir.’.” 

Sukuna nodded. It was standard stuff that he had heard before. Almost a must for everyone who scened. 

“Sir.”

There was nothing else to Megumi’s demand, but Sukuna could hear the request as clear as day. He knew what Megumi expected from him and that alone squeezed his chest. “Sir,” he whispered, hating the way it brought heat creeping up his neck. 

Slender fingers followed that crawling heat and Sukuna couldn’t help the slight arch. With the blindfold in place he was acutely aware of every ghostly touch, and he was very aware of the palm that flattened across the back of his neck and the fingers that slid their way into his hair. Megumi had long fingers and they were firm in his hair, a nice comforting weight. 

Sukuna’s head snapped back from the sudden pull of his hair and he dug his fingers into the cushions, his lips curling into a grunt. Then he felt it, a whisper of a breath against the shell of his ear, the barely there touch of a nose brushing against his cheek, and Megumi whispered, “Unless it makes you uncomfortable, unless I cross a line, unless you want to tell me yellow or red, I expect obedience. You obey me like the good mutt you are and I’ll make sure you enjoy your time with me. Otherwise, you’re going to hate what happens when you disappoint me.” 

Sukuna’s mouth fell open with a groan. He believed every single word of that threat, felt the fear shoot through him in sharp electric spikes that had his cock twitching with great interest in the confines of his pants. He’d wanted mean and Megumi was delivering mean. 

Megumi’s hand disappeared with a sharp shove of his head forward and Sukuna swallowed down a shaky breath. “Take your shirt off, but leave the tie on.” 

Sukuna nodded and lifted his hands up to his collar, flicking the fabric up to tug the tie free from the confines. He popped the top two buttons free and paused, “Am I standing or sitting?” 

“Sir .” 

Sukuna let out a breath through his nose, “Am I standing or sitting, Sir ?” 

Those fingers slid into place around the back of his neck and squeezed ever so slightly. Sukuna inhaled sharply at the silent promise of a threat. It had him leaning back into that hand, willing that threat into reality. “Sitting is fine,” Megumi said and he snatched his hand back. 

Sukuna leaned forward in his seat so that he had room to pop the buttons on his shirt, slide the fabric off his shoulders, and toss the material to one side. He rolled his shoulders about their joints and settled back into his seat, arms coming back up to rest on the back cushions and his nerves tensing at the knowledge that Megumi was still right behind him, watching his every move. 

It was eerily quiet and as much as Sukuna tried to listen, there was barely a flutter of fabric. But he could feel the weight of Megumi’s eyes on him, could feel the heat of his stare branding his skin with a deep flush. 

The first touch took him by surprise. It was a gentle glide of fingers across the one shoulder, over the nape of his neck, and the other shoulder. Those fingers were barely there, a ghost of a touch, whispering across his skin and making the tiny hairs stand on end. It left him wanting more, a heavier touch, a knowing press of fingers to his muscles. 

They disappeared again and Sukuna sucked in a shallow breath. Megumi settled one hand in Sukuna’s hair and slowly dragged his fingers through the short locks, dancing fingertips down the curve of his head until he pressed a thumb into the divot of muscles at the top of his spine. It had Sukuna chasing Megumi’s hand with his head, had him tilting his head back and wanting more. 

“You strike me as somebody who wouldn’t give an inch to anybody.” Sukuna stilled at the words, a furrow forming in the centre of his brows. There was that same inclination to Megumi’s tone from earlier, a disinterested, disappointed, angry voice that simmered in the back of Sukuna’s mind. Matched with the words and Sukuna felt almost uncertain about where Megumi was going with this. “Which makes you interesting,” Megumi whispered and there was a hint of curiosity in his tone. 

Megumi carried on with the barely there touches and Sukuna kept his lips pressed into a firm line. Fingertips brushed the lines of his muscles, traced the thick bands of black rings that decorated Sukuna’s arms, and dipped into the crease of his elbow. That sent a shiver through him.

“Men like you,” Megumi said, “all break in the same way.” Blunt nails scraped a warm path down his arm. Sukuna dug his fingers into the cushions of the couch as Megumi stopped at his wrist, just above the other tattoos Sukuna had wrapped around his body. “It’s pathetic.” 

Those two words struck something within Sukuna. He’d been called pathetic plenty of times but never had the words buried themselves underneath his skin and struck his nerves. Never had there been such conviction behind them, such weight that sounded almost disgusted with him. Most people called him pathetic in a futile, desperate attempt to rile him up, to get that last jab in at him. Nobody had ever meant those repulsive words as hotly as Megumi did. There was fresh heat pooling in his stomach from those two words and the way they branded Sukuna with shame. 

“You’re nothing special.” Sukuna swallowed at the cruel words as Megumi traced the tip of one finger along the edge of Sukuna’s palm. “Sure, you might be pretty to look at for some people,” but not him , Sukuna noted to himself. Megumi had said as much but the absence of confirmation was enough to make him feel small. “But for others, you’re nothing more than a nuisance, a disgusting blot on their wonderful life.” 

Sukuna’s chest heaved with each painful drag of air into his lungs. Unable to see anything Sukuna was forced to listen and to feel the heat that danced across every fibre of his being with every word Megumi stabbed him with. Those featherlight fingers were constantly on him. Just a whisper away and making him question if it was Megumi or his imagination, his fantasy, or his desire painting those touches there. 

He could hear the soft steps of Megumi’s shoes across the floor working their way back towards him until he could feel Megumi standing over him. “You might have men and women looking twice at you,” Megumi lowered his voice with each word, each syllable, until his words were barely a breath, pulling Sukuna forward on his seat so that he didn’t miss a word. All the while Megumi’s fingers danced back up his arm, over the lines of muscles, across thick veins, tracing the patterns of ink across his skin. All the way up until they stopped at his shoulder. 

The couch dipped on either side of him and suddenly there was a new heat in his lap, a new weight so close yet so far away. His fingers itched to reach out, wrap around Megumi’s waist and pull him flush against his chest. But that wasn’t what tonight was about. Tonight was meant to be a test, a trial. Something to see if they could get along, if Megumi could truly bring Sukuna down a few levels.

The fingers on his shoulders moved, slow and methodical. Sukuna could feel Megumi’s eyes follow their path; down the centre of his chest alongside the tie he still wore, underneath one pec, skirting the edge of a nipple before it came back up. He tapped at the hollow of Sukuna’s throat and knocked a grunt from his throat. 

“But they’re not after you ,” Megumi breathed out, “they couldn’t give two shits about who you are. When people look at you they look at your wallet, your pants, your cock.” Megumi sat in his lap and rocked forward, pulling a low groan from Sukuna’s throat. He wasn’t aware he’d gotten hard until now, until Megumi ground against him. It made him ache and try to spread his legs apart. Megumi’s thighs on either side stopped that, pulling him back in and demanding Sukuna’s co-operation without a word. 

Megumi hummed and Sukuna swallowed at the faint sound of a smile in his tone. “They want to use you,” Megumi walked his fingers up the column of Sukuna’s throat, jabbing against his skin to emphasise each syllable of his name as he spoke, “ Su-ku-na.” His mouth fell open, a soundless noise on his tongue, and Megumi tapped two fingers underneath Sukuna’s chin, tilting his head up and closing his mouth once more. Hot breath ghosted across Sukuna’s lips and Sukuna was drawn into that heat, that teasing whisper against his skin. It pulled him up, drew him closer to the body in his lap, to the lean figure still just a hair's breadth away. Even behind the blindfold Sukuna could feel Megumi’s eyes boring into him, piercing him, stirring the heat within his stomach and making his skin flush. “You want to be used,” Megumi hushed out, “don’t you?” 

“Yes ,” Sukuna moaned. 

There was another hum from Megumi and he tapped his thumb against Sukuna’s chin once, twice, thrice, four times before he pinched it between his fingers and pressed Sukuna back into the couch. Their chests were flush and Sukuna could feel the lean muscles already. Megumi wasn’t soft but he wasn’t built either. It was a wonderful balance that hid a surprising strength he never would’ve imagined Megumi to have. 

More heat pressed into his space and Sukuna held his breath when he felt a puff of air kiss his cheek. Then Megumi let out a slow exhale against the shell of his ear, sending a shiver through him and making him rock up, seeking any kind of friction for his trapped erection. “ Fucking. Pathetic,” Megumi hissed and Sukuna groaned. Megumi leaned back then, taking the heat with him and leaving Sukuna cold.

The fingers underneath his chin disappeared and Sukuna’s bottom lip was pulled down by a single thumb. He let out a strangled noise, heat rising to his cheeks. It felt as though Megumi was assessing every little detail of him, sizing him up like some prized cow at the auctions. The very thought sent a nervous tremor wracking through him. He’d barely been touched and Megumi had said very little, but Sukuna felt like nothing more than a piece of meat who needed Megumi’s approval. 

Maybe Megumi’s reputation was justified. 

Two fingers slid over his bottom lip and danced across the threshold of his teeth before Megumi pressed them into Sukuna’s mouth and pinned Sukuna’s tongue down. “Suck.” 

Sukuna closed his lips in an instant, imagining Megumi’s face glaring down at him. Those green eyes watching him carefully, grading his every move and rating Sukuna’s worth. He imagined the little scrunch of those brows, the steady stillness of his body as he simply watched and it made fresh heat bubble within his chest. 

He curled his fingers into the cushions and when Megumi slid his fingers further in, when the tips brushed the back of his throat, Sukuna canted his head back and moaned, swallowing happily around them. He rocked his hips forward instinctively, sought out any kind of comfort for the growing tightness of his pants, and chased the growing pleasure. 

“And you like to use others too.” There was clear disgust in Megumi’s tone, a dark revulsion that flooded Sukuna with shame that only spurred on the need to grind faster against Megumi. He did. He enjoyed using others. He used them every other week at work when somebody needed reminding of his position. He used them during meetings, turning the tables on poor, helpless employees who should’ve known better than to deliver bad news. And he used them at clubs when he needed to relax; a quick fuck in bathroom stalls, or if they were so lucky he’d use others in his bed. Fuck them once, maybe twice. Clear his system and kick them out to a waiting taxi. 

There was a certain power rush from knowing that he could do that. 

“You’re repulsive.” 

Sukuna groaned. He was. He was awful. He should be ashamed of how he treated people. He should feel guilty for the way he spoke to others at times. But he didn’t. He was a self centred asshole at the best of times and a condescending, manipulative bastard at the worst of times. 

Megumi shoved his fingers further into Sukuna’s mouth, pushed them as far back as he could reach and curled the rest of his hand over Sukuna’s face. It felt like Megumi had muzzled him and in doing so proved to Sukuna who really was in charge here. Megumi was the one deciding what his mouth was used for, if Sukuna stood or sat, if Sukuna was allowed to talk, or even think with the way he invaded every thought of his brain. 

Megumi. 

Megumi. 

Megumi. 

He’d dictated where he’d wanted Sukuna’s legs, demanded a certain state of undress, and now he was capturing Sukuna’s face in a silent show of ownership. 

His cock twitched in his pants and the fabric of his boxers felt damp around him. 

Megumi scoffed and with that simple noise brought humiliation flooding through Sukuna’s system. “Absolutely vile.” A desperate noise echoed in Sukuna’s throat. Every word Megumi spoke had credence, had Sukuna believing that Megumi truly thought that of him. For all he knew he did. For all he knew Megumi’s perception of him really was that and nothing else. 

And it sent waves of heat rushing through him. 

There was no warning, no precursor to the sudden rip of fingers from his mouth. Just the sudden absence of weight, the free passage of air, and the heat being snatched away from his cheeks from where Megumi’s fingers had caged him in. Sukuna panted, a few drops of drool dripping from Megumi’s fingers onto his chin. He felt the cool liquid slide over his skin and he swallowed, missing the feeling of those slender fingers in his throat. A firm hand settled across the centre of Sukuna’s chest, fingers framing the hollow of his throat and Sukuna held his breath as he waited. 

“Go ahead.” 

“Huh?” he mumbled, his voice hoarse. 

Megumi’s weight shifted in his lap and then Megumi’s hips were snugly pressed against Sukuna’s, trapping his cock in a tighter heat. “Go ahead. Use me. Get yourself off and show me that you really are a pitiful excuse for a human being.” 

Nerves danced through Sukuna’s body. He was suddenly extremely self-conscious of the situation, of what Megumi’s words meant, of how it would make him look. His cock throbbed in his pants, eager to shove his pride down and rut up against Megumi like a desperate dog. But could he do that? Could he really grind up with the excitement of a teenage boy getting his first orgasm? 

“Well?” Megumi snapped, thighs clenching around Sukuna’s legs. “I’m not touching your cock. You’ve not earned that right tonight. And I’m certainly not going to give a crap if you come or not.”

“Shit,” Sukuna whispered. He believed him to. He had no reason not to and the simple idea of being left blue balled after all of this build up had him trembling. 

He felt a brief stutter of Megumi’s body before a finger teased the edge of the blindfold. Megumi’s voice was quiet and soft as he whispered, “What’s your colour, Sukuna?” 

“Green .” He had no doubt about it. He was green. This- this was exactly what he’d wanted. He’d wanted somebody to come in and tear him apart, he’d wanted to feel worthless, pitiful, weak, small, he wanted all of this and Megumi… 

Megumi’s voice was cold again, “Green, what ?” He let go of the blindfold and curled his free hand around Sukuna’s tie. He tightened his hold and wrenched Sukuna’s chin up with a sharp tug of the fabric, exposing his neck. He drummed his other fingers against Sukuna’s chest, pressed into the firm muscles and slid his hand up an inch, closing the distance to his throat. 

Sukuna arched up against Megumi’s hand with a small hitch in his throat, willing that distance to close, willing those fingers up higher, “Green, Sir.” 

The wash of hot air fanned across Sukuna’s parted lips and he could feel Megumi’s nose just milimetres away from his own. They were so close. If he arched up a fraction more Sukuna was sure they’d bump noses and that he could easily find Megumi’s lips for a searing kiss, blindfolded or not. When Megumi spoke Sukuna felt each word whispered against his face, a soft thud against his heated skin that made him shiver, “So get to it and quit wasting my time. You’re nothing special.” 

Sukuna groaned, and he licked his lips. His fingers twitched, scratched at the fabric of the couch, and his body trembled. “Can I-” when was the last time he’d asked for something? When was the last time he’d been so needy for approval? Who the hell was Megumi and how had he clouded every sense inside of Sukuna’s head in such a short space of time? He read Sukuna like a book from the moment he’d walked in, took one look at him, made up his mind, and drove Sukuna’s nerves wild hard and fast. “Can I hold you?” 

Megumi snorted and mentally Sukuna deflated. His cock on the other hand twitched at the sneer of words that quickly followed, “You’ve done nothing to prove that you deserve that honour. Now, show me just how deprived you really are, Sukuna, and hump me like the filthy dog you are.” 

A bolt of white hot pleasure shot through Sukuna. It should be wrong how much Megumi’s words were doing to him, but he thrived on those insults, felt them stir every electric nerve in his body. People were too scared to say what they really thought of him, too afraid of a backlash Sukuna was guaranteed to give them. 

Megumi didn’t care. He was in control, what he said was fact and he allowed no room for disagreement. In this small space with Megum in his lap, one hand fisted around his tie pulling him up,  the other pressing against his sweat-dampened chest, threatening to ride up and close around his throat, Sukuna was powerless. 

And he fucking enjoyed it. 

Revelled in the twisted rush of emotions. 

The first buck of hips had him pitifully reaching nothing, had him whining at the lack of contact, and had Megumi huffing his disappointment. The second grind of his hips had him finding the cleft of Megumi’s ass and Sukuna couldn’t stop the noise that rumbled in his throat. He was so hard it hurt. Every small movement, every tiny strain of fabric tightening across his crotch, every slither of pressure, had him aching and throbbing even more. 

His third rut of his hips had him finding Megumi’s ass again and Sukuna committed that location to memory. It was all he had, all Megumi was offering him, and Sukuna took it. He rocked up, rolled his hips, snapped, and bucked, his pace steadily growing faster, sloppier, more and more desperate as each grind became too little, not quite enough. The ebbs of his orgasm was somewhere deep in his stomach, the flames of it teased on each thrust of his hips, but it wasn’t enough. He could feel it wanting to grow, begged it to come forward and throw him head first into ecstasy, but it felt impossible like this. 

Before Sukuna could stop it a whine bubbled up in his chest, rattled up his throat and filled the air. Frustration crept in his muscles and he tightened his grip on the cushions, needing something to help, anything. 

“Megumi,” he mumbled. 

The fingers on his chest slid up, teased the base of his throat and squeezed with clear temptation. Megumi pulled harder on the tie and Sukuna choked on a groan as the fabric dug into his skin and muscles, adding pressure to his throat that made Sukuna’s boxers dampen even further. 

“You can’t even say please can you?” Sukuna shook his head. He couldn’t remember the last time that word had left his lips. Megumi tutted and Sukuna rocked his hips up with the desperation of a thirsty man, lapping at an oasis that wasn’t there. “Disgusting, absolutely, fucking disgusting.” 

Each word sent new waves of electricity rocking down Sukuna’s spine, had him curling his toes and had his muscles tensing. “Fuck,” he panted, a breathless groan rumbling through him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” 

Megumi shifted in his lap, pressed his cheeks to Sukuna’s and whispered cruelly, “You wish I’d let you fuck me.” 

Megumi stole a cry from him with those words  and wrenched his orgasm from him. Sukuna’s world drowned in the mind numbing white noise of pleasure and he struggled to catch a breath, to think straight.

The hand around the tie finally relaxed and Sukuna remembered how to breathe, how to swallow air back into his lungs. His pants already felt gross after coming in them but there was little he could do with Megumi still perched comfortably in his lap. He chest heaved with every pant and Sukuna’s body slowly sunk into the cushions, his bones and muscles melting from the best orgasm he’d had in a long time. 

Light suddenly invaded his vision and it took him several blinks to clear his vision. The first thing he spotted was softly creased green eyes. The second thing he spotted was the small frown of soft looking lips and Sukuna couldn’t stop his grin. It was the best view to greet him from the land of darkness. The harsh bite of Megumi’s features was gone and instead Sukuna could see the full beauty of his expressions. 

He looked cute when he frowned but he looked better without it. 

“What’s your colour, Sukuna?” 

He hummed, finally easing the grip he had on the cushions. “Green, Sir.” 

Something crossed Megumi’s mind. Sukuna could see it in the shimmer of his eyes. Whatever it was quickly disappeared and Megumi cupped Sukuna’s face with both hands, thumbs coming up to brush across his cheeks. “Do you need anything?” Megumi whispered, the cruel bite of words gone and replaced instead with soft concern. 

Sukuna tilted his head to one side and simply watched Megumi. Clean boxers would’ve been a nice start, but that would mean letting Megumi get up, letting him take that heat away with him, that comforting weight that felt just right. It meant taking away the perfect view he had and he wanted to hold onto that whilst his brain slowly started working again. 

Megumi frowned, “Sukuna?” 

“I’m fine,” he mumbled, his voice rougher than normal. He was fine. He really was. “Let’s talk.” 

Megumi arched one brow and glanced down at their position, “Do you want me to stay-”

“Yes.” 

“Okay.” 

Sukuna brought his arms down and finally settled his hands on Megumi’s thighs. He could feel the hint of lean muscle underneath and he wondered what it would take to get Megumi to take his pants off. What would it take to let Sukuna fuck him? Would he hand over control to Sukuna and let him go wild or would he make Sukuna fuck him how he wanted to be fucked, make Sukuna follow orders and commands that satisfied Megumi only. 

Megumi settled his hands on Sukuna’s shoulders and they felt nice there. Soothing against the tension that had been wrung through him. “I take it you were satisfied.” 

There was no mockery, or jabbing of fingers into Sukuna’s chest to insult him or hurt his pride. A simple statement of fact that echoed the transaction that this was. Sukuna had paid for a service and Megumi had delivered it. He nodded with a hum, “Very. Do you take regular clients?” 

In this position he took advantage of the contact Megumi let him have. He squeezed supple thighs and brushed a thumb over the crease of his hips. The urge to rip those clothes off of him and ravage Megumi there and then was still there, simmering beneath the surface. Perhaps that was part of Megumi’s charm. He looked like a walking tease and maybe he knew how to play the part too well. 

“I do. You’d have to email the office so that we can double check the calendar. You tell us what works for you and we tell you what we have available.”

“Can I call?” 

Megumi shook his head and threaded a set of fingers through Sukuna’s dampened hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “No phones. Our inbox is monitored twenty four hours a day though.”

Sukuna frowned. What kind of place didn’t have a phone number? “What if it’s an emergency?” 

That had Megumi freezing, a frown fixed on his face. “The only emergency we could have with our clients is a sub drop and we’ve not had that experience in months. Every employed dom has been taught how to avoid that and what signs to look out for.”

It clicked in Sukuna’s head then why Megumi was still here, why he was allowing Sukuna to touch and look, why Megumi was letting Sukuna use his weight as a comfort. 

Do you need anything?

It was a subtle question aimed at figuring out what comfort somebody needed and it only made Sukuna’s cheeks rush with heat. He settled for a grunt in the back of his throat and leaned back in his seat, eyes taking in Megumi’s suit clad form. “No phone numbers? Really?” 

Megumi gave him a look. There was a story there. “Strictly emails only. As I said, they’re monitored twenty four hours a day and by multiple members of staff.”

Sukuna dragged his hands down Megumi’s thighs and over his knees, enjoying the way Megumi was the perfect fit for his hands. Not too big and not too small. “How often do you have clients? Is there a limit?” 

“The only limit is slot availability. If we’re already booked, we can’t fit you in.”

“How late can I cancel? In case something comes up.” 

“Twenty four hours and your payment will roll over to the next session. Anything less, you lose your payment and have to pay again.”

Sukuna nodded. Those were reasonable terms. Nothing he wasn’t used to. Megumi wriggled in his lap and Sukuna was reminded of the damp mess in his pants. He was going to need a shower after this, and maybe a quick wank with new fantasies that all contained Megumi. His cock twitched at the very idea of that and he willed it stay calm. 

“You can go if you want,” Sukuna said, dropping his hands to the couch. 

“It’s on your time,” Megumi said. 

“How long do I have left?” 

Megumi hummed, “Until nine thirty.” 

Sukuna turned his head to spy the clock that hung on the wall. Nine twenty. He had ten minutes left with Megumi. He pursed his lips together. He wasn’t a cuddler and he certainly didn’t do PDA. This was as close as he’d gotten to any kind of affection. Even the other doms he’d been with had struggled to truly drag him into a subspace where he clung to any kind of human connection afterwards. This was plenty and it was enough. “It’s fine.” He tipped his chin over to wear Megumi had left his bag. “Get your things together.”

Megumi hesitated, his eyes trying desperately to read Sukuna, before he offered Sukuna a single nod and climbed to his feet. Sukuna felt cold the moment Megumi was gone, but it was nothing a hot shower and clean clothes couldn’t fix. He chanced a look at his pants and cursed the stain he could see starting to seep through the material. They’d need to go to the dry cleaners tomorrow. Next time he was going to wear some inexpensive joggers he could toss away if he really wanted to. 

There was the sound of a zip filling the air and Sukuna reached for his shirt. He tugged his arms through the sleeves to feign some sense of decency, and trailed after Megumi towards the front door. 

“Do you need my assistant to call you a taxi?” 

“No, thanks,” Megumi said, already reaching for the door handle, “I like the train.” 

Sukuna blinked and nodded. Each to their own he guessed. “I’ll send an email tomorrow.” He’d have Uraume send an email. They were better at that kind of thing and had an art for the perfect string of words. 

Megumi stepped out into the hall and turned to look back at him, his glower slowly creeping back across his face. Sukuna didn’t miss the way his gaze lingered on his exposed chest, tracing the lines of ink that covered his skin. Sukuna allowed him that moment and waited until Megumi cleared his throat, thanked Sukuna for his time, and left. 

Once Sukuna was alone he finally felt the calm of his muscles come back to him. The sweat on his skin turned cold and he shivered. He snatched his phone up, sent Uraume an email with the list of things to find out from Chimera Shadow Gardens, and set about glancing through his personal emails to see if there was anything that needed addressing urgently. 

He reached for his packet of cigarettes, stuck one between his lips, and lit the end, enjoying the fresh hit of nicotine. He took a few drags and let it dangle between his lips as he scrolled through his phone with one hand. With his other hand he moved the chair Megumi had used back to where it belonged, stalling when he spotted a waiting text from Yuuji. There was something about a proposal and an engagement party or something. Sukuna puffed away on his cigarette with a scowl as he worked on replying to Yuuji, asking him what the hell that was supposed to mean and when he was free to discuss it. Last he checked Yuuji had only just started a new relationship. 

Sukuna fished a clean pair of boxers from his drawers, tossed them onto his bed, threw his phone onto the mattress too, and stubbed out the cigarette in an ashtray by his bed. He could finish the rest of it tomorrow over coffee. Right now, he needed a shower and he worked on turning the en suite shower on, stripping his clothes off, and tossing them into the hamper before he finally stepped under the spray of water. 

The instant the hot water hit his skin Sukuna felt infinitely cleaner. The aches that lingered deep in his muscles soon disappeared and he propped his hands against the tiled walls, letting the water run down his back. 

Megumi. 

It was an interesting name and Megumi himself was just as interesting. Sukuna had been impressed. It took a lot of guts, confidence and guesswork to walk into a stranger's place and assume the worst of them like Megumi had. Even if Sukuna had asked for him to be mean, it still took bravado to attempt it and pull it off as well as Megumi did. It could’ve ended very badly if Sukuna hadn’t been so engrossed in the way Megumi’s words had heat flaring in his stomach. If anybody else had dared to try that Sukuna was sure he would’ve eaten them alive. 

But Megumi. 

He let out a low breath, his mind conjuring up the man’s image. What he wouldn’t give to ruin that perfectly pale skin, to see tears on those lashes, a blush creeping up Megumi’s neck. Sukuna grinned to himself and slowly snaked a hand between his legs. His cock was half hard just from the thought of seeing Megumi looking debauched and he wrapped his hand around his length, pumping himself slowly. 

He wondered what it would take to put Megumi on his knees. To tower over him, pull his chin towards Sukuna’s cock and tell him to suck. 

A ripple of pleasure rocked through him and Sukuna groaned. Megumi was far too pretty for his own good, or maybe that was why he took to domming. The ability to have even the most powerful of men at his mercy, to have them obeying his commands, have them being wrung dry by his words alone. The ego boost that must be.

Sukuna let out another strangled noise, twisted his fingers around the head of his fully erect cock, and dragged thick drops of pre from the tip. They splashed against the floor of the shower, mingled with the water and disappeared down the drain. 

His mind continued to work, imagining Megumi in the shower with him, soft lips drawn tightly around his cock, bobbing his head in time with Sukuna’s pants. Sucking, swallowing, teasing his fingers over the heavy weight of his balls, trailing them back, back, back until he reached Sukuna’s rim, only to taunt his expectant muscles. Make them flutter and ache for something, anything to fill him. 

“Shit,” Sukuna hissed, his body rocking into his fist. “Megumi,” he panted. He pressed an arm to the tiles, put all of his weight onto him, and fucked his hand fast and hard. He came with another cry, another whine in the back of his throat and the water from the shower dripping down his face. When he cracked his eyes open a smear of white decorated the wall and he hummed, gathering his strength up to wipe it away. 

When clarity finally came back to him halfway through washing his hair, Sukuna realised it had been years since he’d moaned anybody else’s name. Years since he’d imagined a partner, dom or otherwise, and jerked himself to the image painted clearly in his mind. 

Megumi had crawled his way underneath Sukuna’s skin and forced himself into Sukuna’s thoughts. He couldn’t decide if he liked the idea of that or not, but one thing was certain; 

He was fucked. 

Chapter Text

The warm air and the scent of freshly cut grass washed over Megumi, curling his lips into a soft smile. Watching Kuro and Shiro run laps around the dog park only widened his grin and made him enjoy the day that little bit more. Getting out with his dogs and being able to sit back and watch them have fun did wonders for him. They were large by nature, each with their own unique fur pattern that was a mixture of black and white, and they appeared to dominate the park with their size alone. 

But they were the biggest softies Megumi had ever met. 

When he’d moved out he’d always intended to get a pet, something to help fill the deafening silence of an otherwise empty and lonely apartment. A cat would have been the better choice, considering the odd hours he worked on top of his school work, but his terrible allergies had thrown that out of the window. 

On the other hand he absolutely loved dogs, had grown up with a stuffed husky teddy that he dragged everywhere with him until he lost it when he moved out. 

It was only by chance that he’d ended up with Shiro and Kuro. On the way home from one of his classes the clouds had opened up, intent on drowning him in the dimly lit streets. He’d ducked through an alleyway with his coat pulled over his head, a feeble attempt to stave off the worst of the rain, and stopped under an awning somebody had forgotten to fold in. There was some belief that if he waited long enough the rain would stop, or at the very least ease off so that his clothes weren’t plastered to his skin. 

He’d almost missed the first whimper from the noise of heavy rainfall, but when he listened carefully he heard a second whimper, then a third, and a fourth. Before he knew it Megumi followed the noises. Back out into the rain, coat tugged harder over his head, socks soaked from a hole in his shoe, his pants dripping. He traced the whimpers behind a bin and right there, tucked away in the furthest corner, he spotted the tip of a damp nose poking through a sodden and torn box. 

The box itself was tipped on its side, and when he crouched down to peer inside it was almost flooded. Pressed up against the buckling back wall were two tiny puppies. Barely bigger than the palm of his hand, dark and light in appearance, and their eyes fixed on Megumi, bright with hope as they begged him silently for help. 

He didn’t think twice about scooping them up, wrapping them up in his coat, cradling them to his chest, and running the rest of the way through the rain until he made it home. 

“How’s school?”

Megumi pulled his attention away from his dogs, offering Tsumiki a hum and a raised brow at the question he’d just missed. She matched his expression and Megumi cleared his throat once she repeated herself. He shrugged. “I’ve got an exam coming up next week. Two more the week after.” 

The end of the semester was giving him a headache with how much work there was to keep on top of and some days Megumi felt as though he was barely juggling it all safely. But somehow he was still marching on, still pressing forward, and he was hopeful that next semester meant he could finally start finding a few work placements at some of the local vets. The school had a list of practices that regularly worked with their students and Megumi was praying he could finally start to get some hands-on experience. 

He drummed his fingers along the back of the bench they were on, waiting for Tsumiki to talk. It was a matter of time before she raised the same question she asked every time they met up. He loved his sister dearly, would do almost anything for her, but this was one question he was tired of hearing. She wanted only one answer, the perfect answer, the one that would give her back the happy family they used to be. Before Megumi’s father saddled them with a mountain of debt in the Fushiguro name and disappeared one night without warning. Nobody had known a thing about the loan, or just how big it was, until a bunch of shady looking men with menacing stares had shown up at their door demanding their money back. 

That had been a terrifying and confusing few days, and throughout it all, Megumi was sure that he had a lingering memory of that night before Toji disappeared from his life. He’d woken up to the gentle weight of his father’s hand in his hair and an apology that barely filled a whisper. But he was six at the time, and it had been almost twenty years since. Even now, a part of him wondered if his six year old brain was clinging to some fantastical image of his father, compensating desperately for the piece of shit his father really was for abandoning his family to avoid debt collectors. 

Like that did any good when they had their address. 

“When are you coming home?”

He was home. Out here, away from them, away from the scene of the crime, where the taint of his name clung to every room, away from all of that, he was home. The moment he’d been able to move out he did, couch surfing in his friends’ living rooms, and in strangers houses, until he finally had enough saved for a deposit on a shitty apartment. Not once did he think of moving back in with his step mother and sister and not once in the past nine years did he regret the penny pinching, the living out of bags, the lumpy cushions for pillows or the back pain he endured. 

The only thing he did regret was who his father was. 

“I have some time off next month I think. Work and school have kept me busy.” 

“Mom doesn’t blame you. You know that, right?” 

He nodded. 

It was a lie that only Tsumiki believed. On more than one occasion he caught the way Tsumiki’s mother looked at him, how she had to do a double take, eyes narrowed and lips pressed into an unimpressed line. There was always an air of hesitation around her when it came to Megumi and he knew it had everything to do with his father. He didn’t blame her. From the single photo Megumi had and the few scattered memories that were growing fuzzy around the edges, Megumi knew he looked surprisingly similar to his old man, that it was easy to get them confused from just a glance. 

She probably didn’t mean to look at him the way she did, didn’t intend to force her smile onto her face every time he entered the room. But he could see it, could feel it in every strained conversation they had, and every tense hug she offered for Tsumiki’s peace of mind only. 

He knew she didn’t mean to blame, but she had nobody else to blame. Megumi certainly did not blame her for that fact in the slightest. 

“She misses you.” 

That was a half truth. Once she got passed the genes and the looks, Tsumiki’s mother did enjoy his presence, doing her best to be pleasant and forgiving for his father’s misdeeds. When she remembered he was Megumi and not Toji, Megumi enjoyed his time with the woman too. He missed her every now and again. 

But she deserved better. 

Tsumiki deserved better too. 

“I’ll see.” 

He didn’t dare to look at his sister again, didn’t dare to see the disappointment riddled across her face. They weren’t related, not by blood, and he wanted to remind her of that. He wanted to let her know that she didn’t need to feel obligated to come out and meet him, to try and convince him to come home to a mother who was only his by marriage to his father. He wanted to tell her that she could walk away, that she and her mother could walk away from everything to do with the Fushiguro name, and point the debt collectors in Megumi’s direction. 

But she wouldn’t have it, would call him ridiculous for thinking she would even consider that, and he wasn’t sure if he blamed her or not. 

It was quiet for a long time and Megumi filled the silence with a watchful gaze on his dogs. They’d found a stick to play tug of war with and he could spy a couple of kids on the periphery, wanting to go and stroke their heads. That nudged another small smile from his lips. Kuro and Shiro were the softest dogs he’d ever met and he had no doubt that if the kids stepped over to them they’d drop the stick and roll over, exposing their bellies for infinite rubs. The moment the kids would stop rubbing both dogs would be on them, demanding more until they fell asleep or grew bored. 

“Work’s not keeping you too busy is it?” 

Megumi shook his head. “Busy enough, but no, it’s fine. Pays well so,” he shrugged. 

Tsumiki hummed, “And what is it you do again?” 

“Taxes.” 

“Liar.” He could hear the smile in her voice and he side eyed her with his own grin. There was no way in hell he’d ever tell Tsumiki what he did to pay the bills. No way. He’d rather die, be reincarnated as a fish, and die from drowning in air. She swatted a hand against his shoulder and scooted against his side, “You’ll tell me one day.”

He made a noise close to a snort. “It’s boring, not even worth talking about. There’s a lot of paperwork involved and chasing people up. Cross the T’s, dot the I’s.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

He wasn’t, but that would mean telling her the truth. “Sure,” he settled for instead, and he nudged her gently with his elbow, “they come back again?” 

Tsumiki sagged against him with a heavy breath at the change in subject. “Of course.” Her eyes cut across to him and he heated the look that crossed her face. There was no happiness there, no pride in having to rely on Megumi’s job to help pay the debt saddled to them from Toji. Megumi didn’t entirely mind. It was the least he could do for ruining their lives with the constant, ever looking threat of shady loan sharks at their doors. “Megumi–”

“Send them to me, Tsumiki. Let me take care of it.” 

“You’re my little brother. I’m the one who’s supposed to take care of you and-”

He reached for her wrist, wrapped his fingers around it, and squeezed gently until she stopped talking. Even then he didn’t let go. He brushed a thumb across her wrist, tapping against her pulse point until she finally met his gaze. It was only then that he offered her a soft smile, his eyes begging her to trust him, telling her that it was okay. “You’ve already taken care of me. You helped bring me up. When Mom was working you cooked my meals, washed my clothes, cleaned the house, helped with my homework. It’s my turn to look after you for a change.” 

The air between them stilled, the only noise to break whatever moment they’d stolen from reality, was the whisper of the wind as it caught the ends of Tsumiki’s hair. Megumi smiled wider, raised his brows, and squeezed her wrist with another whisper, “Let me.” 

Those two words triggered something and Tsumiki screwed her face up with the threat of tears. “Megumi,” she whispered. She threw herself against him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and clung to him. “I’m sorry.” 

He curled one arm around her and kissed her crown, his smile never wavering. “I promise I’ll visit next month.” 

“It’s not fair,” she mumbled.

Megumi hummed and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. Both of them were using whatever money they could spare to pay off the debt, leaving themselves very little in terms of luxury. All because one person couldn’t control himself and abandoned them to it. 

No, it wasn’t fair, but they had to make do.

During his train journey to Sukuna’s place, Megumi had gone over the forms the guy had filled in. Mei Mei had been kind enough to print them off for him and he re-read the questions Sukuna had raised, the answers he’d received. The next thing Megumi checked over was the agreed appointment schedule; once every two weeks. Apparently Sukuna had wanted more but Megumi’s schedule was full and there was a note that he’d be willing to fill any slots on extremely short notice. 

He snorted at the desperation that seeped from that alone. Long ago the club had written up a contract agreement that if a slot suddenly became available, every single client of his would be informed and offered the slot on a mass email. Whoever responded first would have the newly offered slot. It avoided favouritism, and conflicts, gave everybody a fair chance and the same time frame in which to respond. 

Sukuna had agreed to that term with a fancy scribble of his name, and Megumi wondered if he’d even read it. Wouldn’t have been the first time somebody signed paperwork without actually reading it. The club had blacklisted a few old clients who hadn’t read the terms and pushed their luck with the doms, the subs, and the owner. 

At the back of all of the forms was a confirmation sheet that Sukuna had read the terms of their services, agreed to upfront payments forty eight hours in advance, along with the general rules of courtesy the club upheld with everybody;

Subs must voice their concerns if they do not agree with a dom. Likewise they must alert their dom to any discomfort, physical, emotional or otherwise. Clients may and must raise complaints immediately. Scenes can happen at the club or in the privacy of their own homes. (Sukuna had opted for the home plan, which added a ten percent charge and suited Megumi just fine. All of his clients were on the home plan and he preferred it that way himself) Respect worked both ways; as long as the clients respected the people they hired, the workers would respect them too. 

Megumi only glanced at these sheets to confirm that they had been signed, his real attention drawn to the list of kinks that were either off limit or non-existent. It almost looked as if Sukuna was new to the world of doms and subs, happening to have plenty of money to throw around with a newfound boredom he needed to satiate, with how his boundaries list was empty. 

From the questions Sukuna had asked them when he’d signed up, Megumi doubted he was new to the whole thing, which made him wonder. How far could he push Sukuna? What made Sukuna finally tell somebody to stop? What would be the first thing Megumi would make him add to his list of limits? 

He shook his head at that thought, a dark cloud forming in the back of his mind. That wasn’t what he was employed to do, that wasn’t what he was supposed to do. If he tried to find his clients' limits every single time he was with them, then he’d run Cimera Shadow Garden out of business. Nobody wanted a dom who pushed a sub to their breaking point out of nothing but pure, selfish, curiosity.

If he wanted to try something riskier, if he wanted to truly put Sukuna’s boundaries to the test, he would need to plan it ahead of time with Sukuna. Give him a few days to prepare himself, give himself a few days to get his head around whatever scenario Sukuna wanted to play out, so that when they finally did reach that point, they were both in the right headspace. He’d learnt his lesson the hard way that people did in fact have limits, they just hadn’t discovered them yet. 

For now, Megumi knocked on the door to Sukuna’s pent suite apartment and fixed his usual scowl into place. He counted to three before he knocked a second time, and Sukuna quickly snapped the door open just as Megumi’s hand fell by his side. Ruby red eyes took stock of him and Megumi narrowed his eyes into a dark frown as he glared up at Sukuna. One day he’d question why most of his clients seemed to fit the same generic description; tall, muscled, handsome. 

The scent of nicotine filled the air between them and Megumi wrinkled his nose, pushing past Sukuna into the apartment. Even if Sukuna didn’t have a cigarette in his mouth at this moment, the smell lingered. The scent teased his nostrils even more once he stepped inside of the apartment and Megumi let his face sour as he said, “You stink.” He loathed cigarettes. The smell of them drove him wild, the lingering feeling of nicotine itching at his skin, sticking to his clothes, wrapping its way through his hair until it followed him home. He hated it. 

Maybe he should start adding a clause to his contract: non-smokers only. 

“Excuse me?” 

Sukuna slammed the door behind him and Megumi dropped his backpack to the floor, gaze turning to the space they’d heard last time. “You heard me,” he said, matter of fact, ignoring the bite in Sukuna’s tone and ignoring the man’s presence entirely. Cruel had been one of Sukuna’s much desired needs on his list and Megumi had no problem being cruel. He had an act for it, knew how to push someone's buttons, twist their words and thoughts until nothing but Megumi remained. 

He’d been itching for somebody to allow him to let loose a little, to knock his tie loose and not have to hold himself back as much as he usually did. Judging from how their introductory meeting had gone, Megumi was sure he was going to have a lot of fun with Sukuna, and that Sukuna would test Megumi’s limits just as much. 

He turned his head just enough to glance at Sukuna over his shoulder, made sure his face matched the false fury that drummed under his skin, and coldy said, “You fucking stink , Sukuna.” 

A few stilted seconds passed in which Megumi wondered if he’d overstepped the line, if perhaps this was too much. A lot men acted tough, strutted around with their tail feathers on show, but in reality they just wanted to be told they were a good boy until they creamed themselves stupid. 

Then, he saw it, the subtle ease of Sukuna’s frown, the minute tremor of his bottom lip, and the way he took a shallow, stuttering breath as though he’d just been punched. Sukuna pressed his lips together and there was a familiar furrow to his expression that had Megumi battling his own grin. One of his favourite parts of the job was watching his clients physically fumble with their emotions, watching them struggle with the urge to fight Megumi or submit to their deepest, most carnal desires. Megumi enjoyed pushing at their walls until he could wedge his fingers in the cracks and tear them open. 

And he could see the cracks in Sukuna’s inner walls already. 

He was too easy to read. 

“Wait here,” he ordered. 

Megumi turned his back on Sukuna and fisted one hand into the pocket of his suit. He liked dressing up for his clients, liked to look professional and put together. He hoped it helped to pull them into the scene, helped them to realise he was the one in charge, and helped them to submit a little easier for them if Megumi was overdressed for the role. An emerald tie, something Tsumiki had picked out for him once, telling him it complimented his eyes, completed the black suit ensemble. Tsumiki wasn't wrong. More than once he’d been told that his eyes stood out, that the tie helped bring out the brightness behind them whilst they burnt darker at the same time. 

From his pocket he withdrew a pair of skin tight, black leather gloves that barely reached his wrists. He angled his body an inch to the left, made sure his hands were raised so that Sukuna could watch, and tugged them onto his hands with practised ease. He brushed a thumb over the edge of the material, smoothing it flat against his skin, and dropped his hands to his sides. There was the feeling of eyes fixed on him, the knowing that Sukuna was watching him. Megumi drank that feeling up, let himself sink into it, and let it fill him up until all he could think about was Sukuna, in front of him, asking for more. 

Once that feeling had settled into his stomach, Megumi stalked over to the chair Sukuna had set up. He turned it towards where Sukuna still stood, and locked eyes on the man who was still standing obediently where he’d left him. 

Perfect. 

Megumi straightened up, kept his eyes locked on Sukuna’s, and peeled off the jacket of his suit. He glanced away, only to decorate the back of the chair with it, before he took a seat, gaze drifting back up to meet attentive red. With one elbow propped on the back rest, and one leg folded over the other, he nodded his head once to Sukuna, and commanded, “Strip.” 

Sukuna blinked and twisted his lips up into a smirk with a low snort. “Course you wanna see what’s underneath.” 

Megumi arched a brow silently as Sukuna wasted little time in tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it to one side. He waited until Sukuna had his thumbs tucked into the waistband of his pants before he cleared his throat obnoxiously loud. Sukuna froze and Megumi tilted his head in the general direction of Sukuna’s hastily thrown shirt. “Pick it up, fold it, and put it down neatly. And do the same with the rest of your clothes.” 

“You’re kidding right?” 

Megumi stared at Sukuna. He wondered how long it would be before he remembered one of Megumi’s favourite rules about how to address him. It wasn’t that difficult of a rule to follow, one that was almost expected in these scenarios, no matter the scene, and he contemplated smacking a reminder into Sukuna’s ass. Could he get the colour of his skin to match that pink hair of his? Or could he get it to go darker, match his eyes instead? It was a temptation that made Megumi’s fingers itch desperately. 

“No,” Megumi eventually said when the silence had lingered too long, “I’m not. I don’t expect to turn up and find you acting like some desperate, horny teenager who’s about to get his first blowjob.” 

That had the emotions warring on Sukuna’s face and Megumi kept his face an impassive feature, a skill he’d perfected over the years. It was fun to watch his subs squirm, watch them try to distinguish how he felt from the little crease at the corners of his lips to the squinted glare of his eyes. And Sukuna was doing that exact same thing. It was exciting to see him look across every muscle of Megumi’s face as he mind toyed with the idea of defying Megumi’s order, to see him contemplate telling Megumi to go shove it up his ass. 

In the end, Sukuna huffed, grumbled something under his breath that Megumi didn’t quite catch, and snatched his shirt up from the floor. He folded it and dropped it back onto the floor by his feet with an exasperated look pointed in Megumi’s direction. 

Megumi wanted to grin. This was too easy. “You may continue,” Megumi said, and he let heat simmer in his gaze, eyes trailing over Sukuna’s well chiselled chest and abs, marked with thick black lines of ink. It would be interesting to know exactly who Sukuna was. He looked like any other client Megumi serviced; some top notch CEO looking for a new way to get their kicks with too much money to spend and nobody else to spend it on. 

And lonely. 

Megumi snorted to himself. The number of times he’d had clients profess their love for him, ask for him to quit his job and become theirs was easily in the double digits. Those clients were quickly blacklisted from the club and from Megumi’s life. This was a job, a transaction, a service. 

Those who confused sexual satisfaction for love, well… he didn’t like complications. Even if they promised it meant nothing, that it was whispered in the heat of the moment, begging Megumi to forget about it, that they’d pay him double his rate to continue, Megumi cancelled them there and then. He told them that their contract had been voided and thanked them for their time, even going so far as to offer a refund on the session they themselves had ruined. It wasn’t meant to be intentionally cruel, but continuing on would only do more harm than good. 

He didn’t do this job to make friends or find lovers, and it wasn’t his fault that these kinds of guys couldn’t find anybody willing to put up with their shit for one night for free. There was a reason they were lonely, why they sought comfort in him, a complete stranger who they knew nothing about. 

There was a reason why they turned to Chimera Shadow Gardens when they needed something. It wasn’t a vanilla club by any stretch of the imagination, catering to almost any experience somebody could possibly want. The loneliest, strangest, weirdest, and richest ventured to their club because they were all escaping something. A wife, a husband, family, friends, stressful jobs, stressful events, the same four walls of their home. 

So, what was Sukuna escaping?

“The fuck’s so funny?” 

Megumi raised his brows and tipped his chin up at Sukuna’s outburst. The other man had his sweats bundled in his hands, and he stood there, dressed only in a pair of tight, deep red boxer briefs that shaped the outline of his half hard cock. At least Megumi wondered if Sukuna was half hard or if that was his full size. That would’ve been another reason for half of Megumi’s clients; nobody allowed them to satisfy others. Personally, Megumi had nothing against cock sizes. There were several instances where he’d been experienced the worst sex of his life from the biggest cocks he’d ever seen. On the flip side, some of his most memorable nights belonged to those with the smallest dicks he’d had the honour of trying. 

Sukuna grumbled something under his breath and Megumi saw it in the flashes of emotions across Sukuna’s face, the sight of questioning. Was this worth it? Was Megumi worth his time and money? Or was Megumi here to have some fun at Sukuna’s expense? Why was Sukuna bothering with some nobody who he knew nothing about? 

“I apologise, I got distracted,” Megumi said honestly, “it won’t happen again.” 

Sukuna stopped what he was doing, folded sweats clutched in tight fingers, and a frown on his face, his eyes fixed on Megumi with an intense stare. “It better not,” Sukuna eventually settled for and Megumi’s lips twitched up. He let him have that little quip, let him have that small tantrum, but next time he’d have to remind Sukuna who was in charge here. 

“Please,” Megumi said, and he waved a hand to Sukuna’s legs, “continue. I want to leave you on a good note tonight.” 

Sukuna visibly perked up at those words and Megumi filed that little bit of information away for another time. He wondered if Sukuna had a praise kink. It wasn’t unusual for men like Sukuna to want to hear they’d done a good job, and Megumi was already mulling over the idea of testing that theory out tonight. 

As Sukuna tugged his boxers down Megumi took a moment to fully appreciate the full, bare body of the man in front of him. Even from a distance he could see that Sukuna took care of his body. Lines of muscles filled him out and the thick bands of black ink around his wrists and shoulders was mirrored in his thighs and ankles. It was something else about Sukuna that was interesting, the ink work, and Megumi could feel another thought being filed away in his mind. 

Sukuna added his boxers to the pile of clothes and as he straightened up Megumi couldn’t stop himself from giving his cock a quick sweep with his eyes. So he was half hard, and a glint of light had Megumi wondering if he saw silver or if it was a trick of his eyes. Megumi tipped his head up, met those burning rubies with his own eyes, lifted one hand up and crooked a single finger in the air. 

There was something that had been on Sukuna’s “yes” list, and Megumi wondered if Sukuna would obey him with something so demeaning so quickly. Maybe he was jumping the gun but Sukuna had demanded, in his forms and emails, that his buttons be pushed, and Megumi knew how to push. 

Sukuna took one step and Megumi tutted. Red eyes snapped up to him, pinched in the middle with confusion, and there was another round of questions visibly circling Sukuna’s brain. 

Megumi narrowed his eyes, turned his hand over, and pointed to the floor. “Crawl.” 

That knocked something loose inside of Sukuna’s mind and he screwed his entire face up with a short, “Excuse me?” 

“ Fucking. Crawl.”

Sukuna’s entire body stuttered forward on a hesitant step and Megumi waited. Whether or not Sukuna obeyed this command he didn’t truly care. This was about finding out just how willing Sukuna was to bend for him, whether or not he let himself be belittled in such a fashion for somebody he’s known for less than three hours. Sukuna’s initial inquiry had informed the business that he’d tried other dom’s already and he was seeking somebody who knew “what the fuck they were doing.” 

So Megumi wanted to know how far Sukuna would go to see that Megumi knew what the fuck he was doing. This entire thing was a two way street and Megumi needed some give from Sukuna before he gave back to him. 

The seconds ticked by silently and eventually, Sukuna slowly fell to his knees, the movement odd and janky. It was clear there was still a part of him that wanted to fight Megumi’s command, that wanted to do anything but kneel, yet there he was. Megumi watched him intently, his own skin electric with anticipation as Sukuna reached to the floor, hesitated, and settled both palms against the floorboards. Sukuna was slow as he pulled himself across the floor, a warm tint of pink spreading across his bare shoulders. The real icing on the cake was the way Sukuna refused to look up at Megumi, the way he kept his eyes fixed on the floor and his lips pressed into a firm line, something akin to frustration already clouding his features.

Megumi grinned. 

Oh, Sukuna was perfect. 

He was going to enjoy breaking him in. 

When Sukuna started to lift his head up Megumi schooled his features and settled both feet flat onto the floor. He propped his elbows on his knees, leaned forward, clicked his fingers, snapping Sukuna’s head up, and pointed one gloved finger at the space between his legs. Red eyes fell to that same space and Sukuna visibly inhaled before he came to a stop in front of Megumi. There was another moment of hesitation, another indecisive breath, then Sukuna pushed himself up onto his knees, palms settled against his thighs, and his eyes fixed on Megumi’s face. 

Megumi took this moment to savour this look. Sukuna looked fantastic like this; all muscles and strength locked behind a frown that wanted to eat Megumi alive. 

This close, Megumi flicked his gaze down to confirm what he or hadn’t seen, and yep, there was a glint of silver along with two thin bands of black wrapped around the base of Sukuna’s cock. That had Megumi’s mouth watering, his fingers twitching to feel whatever piercing Sukuna had opted for. Maybe next time he’d bring his hitachi wand, run it up and down Sukuna’s length, hover it over the piercing until Sukuna trembled and begged Megumi to turn it off. He wondered how many times he could make Sukuna come just from that alone. Megumi would aim for at least three.

Another time. 

For now, Megumi tapped his own tongue piercing against the back of his teeth, welcoming the soft clack of metal that made Sukuna’s face twitch. One of the best decisions Megumi had ever made in his life, besides moving out, was getting his tongue pierced. Partners loved kissing him, chasing his tongue every time he pulled away, their moans only growing in intensity when he used it against their most intimate areas. When he’d joined Chimera Shadow Gardens and started taking regular clients, he’d found it incredibly interesting how many subs melted at the sight of that piercing in his mouth when he finally showed them it. Not to mention how gut warming it was to hear them beg for a taste of his tongue, for him to use it on them, “Please, Sir, please, just once.”

Not tonight.

Tonight, he would let Sukuna stew on curiosity, let him try to conjure every scenario possible in which Megumi could make that noise without moving a muscle. 

For now, Megumi turned one palm up and held it close to Sukuna’s chin. The flicker of acknowledgement didn’t go amiss to him. Sukuna knew it was there and Megumi raised his brows with a pinched glare at the way Sukuna avoided looking directly at his hand. Sukuna blinked, ruby eyes widening a fraction the longer he stared up at Megumi, and he flicked his eyes down. Megumi watched him intently as Sukuna darted his tongue out, licking at dry lips and leaving behind a soft shine, before he slowly leaned his face forward until his chin touched the palm of Megumi’s hand. 

A silent, curious hum of thought echoed in Megumi’s mind. How long would it take before Megumi could convince Sukuna to wear a collar for him? Would he get a red one to match those devilish eyes? Or perhaps a pink one to match his hair? A black one would fit right in alongside his tattoos, but a green one? Megumi pondered that thought for several seconds. A green collar would remind Sukuna who put a collar on him, who he belonged to, and who owned who. 

For a few seconds of false security, Megumi curled his fingers gently around Sukuna’s chin to cradle his face. He tilted his head to one side and looked over sharp features that were accentuated by the marks on his face. “Last time I was here,” Megumi said, his voice level and even, barely above a murmur, “I told you that I had a few simple rules.” He dug his fingertips into Sukuna’s cheeks, buried them further into his muscles until Sukuna’s mouth fell open with a grunt, his brows creasing in the centre. 

Megumi wrenched Sukuna’s head up, pulling him closer to his own face until Sukuna fell forward and had to shoot his hands out to stop himself from falling into Megumi’s lap. He could feel the rush of Sukuna’s heartbeat pick up, could feel the heavy breaths he swallowed down, and he held Sukuna’s stare with a burning heat. “What were they, Sukuna? Surely you’re smart enough to remember a few important rules, unless…” He tipped his head to one side and was sure to give Sukuna’s body an obvious once over before their gazes met again. “Unless that suit you wear is all for show.” Megumi snorted, lips curling into a dangerous sneer. “You wouldn’t be the first rich bastard I’ve met who pretends they know what they’re doing. And you wouldn’t be the last idiot I meet anyway.” Megumi scoffed. “You’re probably just like the rest of them, all talk and no show.” 

There it was, the warring of emotions again as Sukuna’s memory went to work. Megumi loved this part of his job, watching those emotions come and go, fighting with another as his sub debated which path was the best one to take. Every single one of them flashed the same thoughts across their faces; Indignation at being called an idiot? Anger at being lumped into the same group as the rest of the people Megumi had met? Fury at being reduced to nothing more than a rich bastard? Temptation to be complacent, wanting whatever rich reward Megumi had in store for the night. The itching need to be subservient, recalling the rules one by one. And Megumi loved watching the amenability turn into fear as they realised which rule it was they had broken. 

Which one was he going to get from Sukuna? 

They all came and went, circled back around, all for Megumi to witness, until everything stopped in the form of a sneer on Sukuna’s face. That was new, and if Megumi was still new to this gig he might have shown his surprise, might have faltered on his own stoicness. 

No, Sukuna was defiant, rolling his shoulders back and jutting his chin up a fraction, eyes darkening with a challenge. It was the usual desperateness Megumi witnessed from those who purposefully broke his rules, reaching for some kind of kinky punishment. No, Sukuna wore something as uncaring as Megumi was pretending to be; something bold, brash, arrogant, and without shame. 

It made something electric run up his spine without his permission. 

“Tell you my colour if it changes from green,” Sukuna started, his voice low and level, bordering on dangerous, “tell you when you make me uncomfortable, and call you, Sir .” 

Megumi arched one brow at the venom Sukuna spat into that word. Sukuna definitely didn’t answer to anybody else often, or easily, and Megumi was going to change that. He waited for Sukuna to utter the final rule, the one that he’d hissed into his ear whilst he’d twisted his fingers into pink hair, and yanked it back, threatening to tear the roots out. But it wasn’t coming. That much was clear in the resolute press of thin lips, in the way Sukuna sealed his mouth shut and almost dared Megumi to challenge him, to tell him he was wrong. 

Keeping Sukuna’s face held there, clutched between his fingers, Megumi counted to sixty in his head. With each second that passed he watched Sukuna’s insolence wither a fraction, watched him doubt himself, and scrabble through his thoughts for what was missing, what he’d forgotten.

Perhaps Megumi should leave him like this until he remembered. Or maybe he should see just how dark he could colour Sukuna’s ass before he eventually blurted out what Megumi wanted to hear. 

Megumi pinched his fingers harder into Sukuna’s cheeks until he was sure Sukuna could feel his nails. He pulled Sukuna’s face closer until he could see the rapid beat of Sukuna’s pulse dance across the vein in his neck, until he could feel it race under the palm of his hand, until Sukuna had nowhere to look but at him . 

The answer still hadn’t made its way to Sukuna’s tongue and Megumi sneered. He tilted Sukuna’s head to one side and leaned down until he could brush their cheeks together. Until his breath fanned across the shell of Sukuna’s ear, and he whispered, his voice heavy with burning hatred, “Do you want me to fuck you, Sukuna?” 

He felt Sukuna’s shiver in the hold he still had on his chin and Sukuna nodded with a breathy, “Yes, Sir .” 

Megumi hummed and slowly traced the fingers on his other hand up Sukuna’s arm. He trailed them ever so lightly over Sukuna’s shoulder, across the lines of thick black ink, and up the back of his neck. Sukuna arched into the touch and Megumi grinned, enjoying himself far too much. He could spend an hour lightly running his fingers across every inch of exposed skin, making goosebumps prickle across Sukuna’s body, pulling shiver after shiver from his body until his mouth fell open with a needy whine as he asked for more. 

They always asked for more and Megumi had no doubt in his mind he could make Sukuna ask. Maybe he could even get him to beg. It had probably been forever since he’d begged anybody for anything, since he’d even thought about it, but Megumi added it to his list of musts when it came to Sukuna. He needed to hear him beg one day. He was sure he’d sound so pretty for him, stuttering through his words and his pleas, whispering Megumi’s name like a prayer. 

Another time. 

Today was about reminding Sukuna of Megumi’s rules, of reminding Sukuna who obeyed who. To follow his commands and give him as little trouble as possible, to give Sukuna a taste of what disobedience looked like. Some subs purposefully pushed their luck, testing the waters to see what Megumi’s own limits were. 

But Sukuna hadn’t been testing Megumi when he’d forgotten that rule. He hadn’t done it to find out what sexualised punishment Megumi had in store for him. He’d spat Megumi’s name simply because he wanted to, because he wasn’t used to submitting, to being made to submit, because he didn’t quite respect Megumi enough yet. Well, Megumi needed to change that. 

He brushed a breath across Sukuna’s cheek, eased the grip he had in his face and brought his thumb up to tease at Sukuna’s bottom lip. He lifted his other hand up to run his fingertips over Sukuna’s scalp and so that he could tug gently at the shorts. Slowly, he pulled more and more on Sukuna’s hair, until he could meet Sukuna with his own eyes, until he could brush his nose with Sukuna’s, until he had those ruby eyes following the lines of his mouth, until Sukuna was subconsciously inching forward, silently asking for more. 

Megumi curled his lips up into a soft smile, teased a grin onto his face, and watched the way Sukuna’s brows furrowed ever so slightly. Sukuna could see that something was going on, could sense that Megumi was thinking, plotting, and for a fraction of a second, Megumi watched a moment of panic flutter across Sukuna’s face. 

“Fine,” Megumi whispered, and he screwed his hand tightly into Sukuna’s hair. A hissed grunt left Sukuna’s throat and Megumi ignored it in favour of standing up, forcing Sukuna up with him. “You want me to fuck you?” He stormed over to Sukuna’s couch, dragging the man behind him, and all but threw him face first onto the cushions. Sukuna barely had enough time or sense to catch himself, one leg hanging off the couch, the other knee pressed deep into the cushions, but Megumi didn’t care. He stepped behind, pressed one hand to the space between Sukuna’s shoulders, and shoved him forward until Sukuna setted his arms over the back of the couch. 

Visible goosebumps prickled across Sukuna’s skin and Megumi didn’t miss the electric anticipation that seemed to bring Sukuna’s muscles to life. He nestled himself between Sukuna’s legs, nudging wider with a simple knock of his knees, until he was happy with their new position; Sukuna with his knees digging into the cushions, legs spread wide on either side of Megumi, his back arched, and his arms propped up across the back of the couch, steadying him. 

Megumi slipped one gloved hand into his pocket and snatched up the thin packet of lube he kept on hand for these particular nights. As handy as bottles were, Megumi preferred the little sachets; in his opinion it made everything easier. 

He grabbed the corner of the packet between his teeth, tore it open, and squeezed the contents onto one set of gloved fingers. A frown was stuck to his face, his gaze locked on the back of Sukuna’s head. He knew what Sukuna expected from him, but there was no way in hell he was giving his cock on the second meeting. For anybody. Sukuna would be lucky if Megumi took his pants off at all. The number of clients he’d allowed to see him bare from the waist down barely reached double figures, and the number of them who’d had the privilege of having him inside of them didn’t even cover one hand. 

Megumi wasted little time in smearing the lube across the glove, settling a free hand in the spot between Sukuna’s shoulders, pushing his face closer to the couch. With the slicked up hand he pushed one finger roughly between Sukuna’s cheeks and against his rim, wasting little time in forcing those muscles to open for him. 

Sukuna hissed, hips bucking forward and back, trying to get away from him, but Megumi slid his hand up the back of Sukuna’s neck. Wrapped his fingers around it until his fingers crept across the edges of his throat, and held him there with a silent warning. “You wanted me to fuck you, didn’t you,” Megumi said, his words more of a demand than a question. But Sukuna stilled, and Megumi could feel the heat creeping across Sukuna’s skin through the glove. 

He was enjoying himself, and the way his hips eased back an inch gave Megumi all of the answer he needed. Roughly, he worked one finger in and out of Sukuna’s slick hole. He wasn’t tender as he eased a second in before Sukuna was stretched enough. And he was harsh as he speared those two digits into him, spread his muscles wide, wide, wide, wide , until Sukuna spread his knees a little more, until Sukuna arched into Megumi’s touch, until Sukuna cursed into the open air of his apartment with a strangled noise.

The muscles around his fingers clenched and Megumi narrowed his eyes at Sukuna’s head as he ground against his nerves. He wanted Sukuna to ask for it, to open his mouth and use his words. He needed Sukuna to break , and Megumi slid the tip of a third finger into Sukuna’s stretched ring of muscles. Getting Sukuna to realise that right now, and any other time they scened, whenever Megumi visited, that Megumi was in charge was important. That it was in Sukuna’s best interest to reach for whatever carrot Megumi dangled in front of him. 

It was tempting to take his fingers out and smack Sukuna’s ass until bruises started to form, until he forced tears from Sukuna’s eyes, until he begged for Megumi to stop. More than likely that would give in to whatever expectation Sukuna had of him, whatever fantasy Sukuna had playing out in his head. 

No. 

Megumi would ruin that fantasy and he would make Sukuna hurt in a different way. The last time he’d been here, Megumi had paid special attention to the way Sukuna had bristled from his words, the way his eyes had widened, breath catching in his throat, and every shudder his body gave. There was a lot more where that had come from, an unending box of insults that Megumi was more than happy to slap across Sukuna’s face with each venomous word that dripped from his tongue. And Sukuna had given Megumi written permission to say almost whatever he wanted. 

Don’t hold back. 

He was going to take those words to heart. 

Megumi snapped his fingers into Sukuna’s tight heat and welcomed the clench of muscles around them. As those muscles started to relax again, Megumi changed his position. He settled one foot onto the couch, and shuffled his weight around until his hips were sitting snugly behind the curl of his knuckles. He could feel Sukuna freeze at the position and like this, with Sukuna unable to see his face, Megumi didn’t bother to hide his grin. 

You play such cruel mental warfare with your clients . Mei Mei’s words had never left his head and Megumi was proud of them in fact. He did. Whilst others used physical activities to get their point across; stuffing their subs full to the point of bursting, spanking their ass every colour under the rainbow, hair pulling, biting, marking, clamps, rope, clips, even riding crops of belts for those who really wanted to hurt. Megumi had seen it all but his tools were the mental games he played. The imagery of what ifs and the feeling of not quite enough. The need for more from him, for something substantial and for less, all at the same time. 

Megumi drew his hips back, pulling his fingers almost all of the way out at the same time, before he thrusted forward with his hand and hips, slapping against Sukuna’s bare skin with an audible smack. 

Sukuna groaned, the muscles of his shoulders growing taut, back arching another fraction, and Megumi let the heat of that noise wash over him and fuel him. He savoured the primal noise and dedicated himself to pulling more of those same noises from Sukuna. Wriggling his fingers, he brushed against that one spot that had Sukuna shivering, eased up on it, let Sukuna swallow down a greedy breath, and rocked his hips back and forth, jarring his fingers against that same spot on every gentle thrust. 

Back and forth. 

Back and forth. 

A perpetual slow grind of his fingers into Sukuna’s heat, against the edges of his prostate but never quite across it, teasing him from the inside out. Megumi let Sukuna feel it, let him know that Megumi’s hips spurred every spike of pleasure that shot through him, and he licked his lips, preparing his words. He could already picture Sukuna’s response, could imagine the frustrated look that would screw his face up into a frown. His only regret was that he couldn’t witness it first hand. “How’s it feel?” 

This was what Megumi waited for, what he held his own breath for. How Sukuna answered would determine exactly how they moved forward with this and he crooked his fingers a fraction to punch a soft grunt from Sukuna’s throat. 

“Well?”

“It’s-” Sukuna started and Megumi arched one brow, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smirk. He could feel the resentment in Sukuna’s voice already, could feel the itching longing for something more run through tensing muscles. “That’s not fucking me.” 

Megumi snapped his hips hard, sinking his fingers deeper into Sukuna’s heat and wrenching a surprised curse from Sukuna’s throat. “Then what is it? How should I be fucking you?”

The way Sukuna tensed for an entirely different reason did not go amiss to Megumi. He reminded Sukuna who made the rules here, who was in charge of who, with the subtle pinch of his fingers around Sukuna’s neck. This would be the part where Sukuna either bit back with some bratty remark, or he apologised, asking Megumi to continue, that he just needs something more, and Megumi wasn’t sure which one he wanted to hear more. 

“Fucking somebody usually involves genitals of some kind.” 

Well, Sukuna was full of surprises. That was a third option Megumi had never considered. 

Megumi arched one brow at that third option he hadn’t considered. There was no demand for Megumi to fuck him with his cock, no bite that Megumi needed to deliver on the fucking part of his earlier promise. In fact, Sukuna’s words felt as though he was correcting Megumi, as though he was simply providing a lesson to a new employee he’d been left to train that day. Well, that wouldn’t do. Sukuna couldn’t have that kind of attitude with him and Megumi tilted his head to one side in complete silence. He didn’t move a muscle and even quietened his breaths so that they were barely audible. 

And he waited. 

He could feel Sukuna’s skin itch in the way he tried to shift subtly, in the way his muscles fluttered around Megumi’s fingers. It had Megumi watching him curiously, eager to know what Sukuna’s next move was going to be. He could feel the muscles of Sukuna’s neck tense, feel his shoulders roll with an awkward shuffle as he tried to lift his head up. Megumi merely tightened his hold and pinned his head into place, refusing to budge an inch.

There was a huff, a grunt, the sound of fingers digging into fabric, and eventually Sukuna grumbled a low, “I thought you said you were going to fuck me.” 

Megumi’s lips twitched. There it was. The disappointment, the quiet desperation for something more. Sukuna was skirting the line of needy, and Megumi wanted to push him into it in one form or another. Wanted to hear him ask for it, to see if begging was in Sukuna’s repertoire. 

“I did.” Megumi stretched his fingers wide, and dragged them back until Sukuna’s muscles sucked greedily on the tips. He bucked his hips forward, thrusting his fingers sharply into Sukuna, curling them just before they had the chance to hit his prostate. He hummed as he worked his hips in low shallow thrusts, teasing the idea into Sukuna’s mind that Megumi was fucking him, that Megumi was filling him up with his cock. 

Sukuna made a strangled noise, something crossed between a growl and a whine and he thumped a fist against the top of the couch. “So fuck me already!” 

There was the bite he’d been expecting and Megumi slowed his hips to a gruelling pace, slowly traced his fingers across Sukuna’s inner walls, lightly dancing across every sensitive nerve he could find. Sukuna’s body twitched underneath him, his muscles rolling with every attempt to control himself and Megumi wanted to watch him crumble. “I am,” he said, and he made a point of slamming his hips forward, shoving his fingers deeper into Sukuna’s heat. 

Another frustrated noise left Sukuna’s throat and he bowed his head. 

Megumi slid his fingers from around Sukuna’s neck and up into his hair until he could grab a fistful of pink locks. He yanked hard until Sukuna arched painfully, and Megumi pressed forward until his hips were snug against the back of his hand and the backs of Sukuna’s thighs. There was going to be lube stains on the front of his pants after this. But at least the black fabric could hide it somewhat. He’d still need to get them cleaned at the club’s personal dry cleaners. Bless Mei Mei, the owner of the club, for thinking about the little things. 

Once Sukuna gasped and choked for a startled breath, Megumi leaned over him. Pushed himself up onto his toes and curled over Sukuna’s frame until he could see the little hairs rising across Sukuna’s skin, until he could watch the goosebumps prickle all over again from every breath Megumi fanned against him. “When did I say I was going to fuck you with my cock, mutt?” 

Sukuna’s lips parted at that and from here Megumi could just about make out the widening pupils of his eyes. Sukuna had assumed what Megumi was going to do, had created his own expectations and gotten his hopes up. Megumi had made zero promises, zero commitments, and it was fun to watch that realisation cross Sukuna’s features, to watch the pieces click into place that Sukuna had fabricated his own fantasy. 

“You said-” 

“What did I say exactly?”

Sukuna cleared his throat and Megumi pressed his fingers against Sukuna’s prostate, making him stumble on his next breath, “That you were going to fuck me.” 

Megumi snorted something dark and cruel with a shake of his head. “You talk back and now you can’t fucking listen? Tell me Sukuna, what are you actually good for?” Sukuna shuddered, the muscles around Megumi’s fingers tightening, and Megumi fastened his fingers harder into pink hair. “When did I ever say I was going to fuck you with my cock?” Those lips parted and Sukuna struggled to find the right words, to find one coherent thought that would get him out of this mess. “I asked you if you wanted me to fuck you. I never said I would.” Megumi let out a sharp chuckle, intending to stab into Sukuna’s pride with the dark notes. “What makes you think I’d give you my cock? Hmm?” He released Sukuna’s hair to shove his head forward and Megumi flicked his palm across the back of Sukuna’s head, making him flinch from the light touch.

He scoffed, feigning anger, and pressed his weight onto Sukuna’s back. He reached down Sukuna’s front, bypassed the leaking tip of his cock, and ventured further down until he could pinch the space between Sukuna’s heavy balls with his fingers. Sukuna hissed and Megumi gently tugged until Sukuna tried to get away from him, only then did he curl his fingers into Sukuna and grind against his prostate. Sukuna shivered, a confused noise bubbling in his throat. 

Megumi hummed. “Fuck my fingers.”

“What?” 

“You heard me.” Megumi twisted his fingers to add pressure to Sukuna’s balls and it was exciting to watch Sukuna struggle to decide what he wanted to do; get as far away from Megumi’s hand as possible, or rock back onto those three fingers buried deep in his ass. He leaned forward until he could brush his lips against the shell of Sukuna’s ear and hissed out a sharp, “If you’re so fucking desperate to get off, fuck my fingers. Maybe if you do a good enough job I might consider letting you have my cock one day. But with that kind of attitude? When you bark at me?” Megumi snorted. “You can keep dreaming.” 

“Fuck,” Sukuna whispered, his voice barely there. 

“ Get to it . Fuck my fingers like I’m one of the needy whores you’ve paid to have in your bed tonight. We both know that’s the only way you get any decent sex with your kind of shitty attitude.” He straightened up, released the hold he had on Sukuna’s balls, and nestled his hips snugly behind Sukuna’s. “Or is this the only action you ever get?” Megumi gave him the honour of feeling his fingers flex one last time inside of him. “I bet money’s the only way you get any kind of action. The very moment you open your disgusting, arrogant, selfish mouth people just walk away don’t they?” Sukuna’s shoulders shook with deep trembling breaths and Megumi tilted his head with a sadistic grin. “Fuck my fingers and prove to me you actually know what the fuck you’re doing.”

Megumi stilled. 

He left it in Sukuna’s hands, letting him decide what would happen next. If he didn’t want to fuck Megumi’s fingers? Fine. Megumi would walk away. It made no difference to Megum if he let Sukuna blue ball himself for refusing to obey a few simple rules. It wouldn’t be the first time Megumi had walked away and normally Megumi made it to his bag, or had only taken his hands off of them, before his subs apologised, pleaded and begged for him to do something, anything, that they were sorry and it wouldn’t happen again.

Sukuna was stubborn and Megumi was sure the guy would let Megumi leave before he jerked his hand like some pitiful fucker who’d just called his girlfriend by her exes name. The only downside to such an image would be that Megumi wouldn’t get to witness it. He was sure it would be a wonderful sight too; Sukuna’s face screwed up into a frustrated glare, teeth bared in a snarl, eyes screwed shut, and his fist working furiously to quickly milk his cock dry.

For now, Megumi waited. He remained as still as possible, waiting for Sukuna’s next move. Would he do as Megumi asked or would he tell Megumi to go fuck himself? Or maybe he’d remain silent until the quiet became too much and he folded either way. They were on Sukuna’s dime, he was paying for this, and it made no difference to Megumi if he did something or nothing. 

“Fucking,” Sukuna mumbled, voice just about audible over the irritated growl he let out, and Megumi held his breath. Sukuna shifted his weight around, rocked himself on his knees as he resettled his arms into place on the back of the couch, and then he rolled his hips back. “Shitty bastard,” he whispered and Megumi did his best to stifle his grin. No matter what ugly words Sukuna used, they could never mask the way he shifted back onto Megumi’s fingers, the way he ground down until his hips rocked against Megumi’s. There was no hiding the way Sukuna wanted, no, needed , to chase some kind of release. 

Sukuna shook his head and Megumi trailed the fingers of his free hand over Sukuna’s hip, ghosting touches across his skin, and settled his palm across the wam muscles. Tonight, Sukuna could work for what he wanted, instead of having it handed to him. Slowly Sukuna lifted himself up and sank back down, his entire body trembling from the effort, the admission of lust, from the trivial attempt to cover up his desperation. He wanted it to look like this wasn’t his own decision, that Megumi had pushed him to it, but it was entirely Sukuna’s fault that Megumi was watching him work himself on Megumi’s fingers. 

He let Sukuna toil away until there was a satisfying sound of slapping skin, until the muscles around Megumi’s fingers worked tirelessly to clench, tighten, and drag up and down his digits. He waited until Sukuna started to lose himself in the heat of it, until he threw his head back, mouth slack and his soft pants filling the air, before Megumi opened his mouth again. 

“Is this all you can give your partners?” Sukuna stilled instantly, his hips halting halfway down Megumi’s fingers. He could feel the chill that broke out across Sukuna’s skin, could feel the mild panic that had surely slipped into Sukuna’s blood as his muscles tightened harshly around him. “I’ve seen better performances from inexperienced teenagers uploading their first amateur, homemade sex tape to porn sites.” 

Sukuna’s hips slid down and the force of that drop almost had Megumi rocking back on his foot. Sukuna pushed back against Megumi, wriggled his hips, and groaned, his head hanging low with a full body shiver. “Megumi,” he said, his voice hoarse and breathless.

That was another rule being broken and Megumi narrowed his eyes. He didn’t mind it when his clients talked back. In fact, he welcomed it, giving him the chance to knock them down again and remind them of their place. But forgetting how to address him? Forgetting to call him Sir ? He scoffed and pulled his hips back, almost making Sukuna fall off the couch. He snatched up a handful of Sukuna’s hair, and shoved him forward, directing Sukuna’s face into the cushions to smother his next noises as Megumi slammed forward. “What are my rules, you idiot?”

He pulled back just enough to let Sukuna speak. “Colours, and Sir.” 

Megumi buried Sukuna’s face into the cushions once more, enjoying the clench of muscles around his fingers, the trembling of thighs that tensed around his own legs. “And what the fuck did you think you could call me?” 

He eased up to hear Sukuna’s voice again, “M-Megumi.” 

“And did I say you could use my name?”

“No, Sir.” 

“Do you think I want to hear my name coming from your pathetic mouth?”

Sukuna groaned with a shiver and shook his head, “No, Sir.” 

“So what made you think it was okay?” Sukuna fumbled for his words and Megumi huffed. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t walk out now, why I shouldn’t leave you like this, aching and needy. Tell me why I should bother to help somebody who can’t even remember a few basic rules.” Megumi snorted, “A toddler has a better understanding of rules than you.” 

Sukuna’s breaths came out in little stutters as he tried to find his tongue and Megumi paused, wondering if now was the time that Sukuna begged, if now Sukuna would say please or apologise. Did he finally find the point in wh-

“I-” Megumi held his breath at Sukuna’s quiet voice, “I’ll do it.” 

“Do. What ?” 

“I’ll fuck myself.”

Megumi pursed his lips. That wasn’t anything along the lines of what he’d wanted to hear. Was Sukuna really that stubborn? Or did the words ‘please’ and ‘sorry’ really not exist in his vocabulary? It was a curious fact that made Megumi ponder, had him filing away a little to dig deeper underneath Sukuna’s skin, to light every single one of his nerves on fire, to make him crumble and finally beg. Was he going to let Sukuna have this for now? Was he going to let Sukuna slide on the rules this one time? 

He mulled over those three little words for a moment longer, making up his mind. They had plenty of time for Megumi to push and push, plenty of opportunities for him to scratch away at Sukuna’s walls until Megumi knew him better than he knew himself. A plan started to formulate in his thoughts, something that he could use the next time he was here. If Sukuna didn’t want to use his words then Megumi would give him a reason not to. 

Next time. 

“What are you waiting for?”

It was interesting to watch Sukuna rock back at this angle, his face still buried in the cushions, fingers screwed desperately onto the top of the couch with white knuckles, all of his muscles rolling with each movement. If Megumi had met Sukuna any other way he might’ve been inclined to admire just how well Sukuna was built. There was no doubt in his head that in any other circumstance, Sukuna could pick him up, throw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing, and pin Megumi down with one large hand. 

But right now, watching Sukuna groan as he fucked himself mercilessly on Megumi’s fingers with a new desperation in his movements, chasing and chasing that spot that would make him see stars, Megumi was enthralled by everything that was Sukuna. 

He held still and let Sukuna work, let him clench around Megumi’s fingers, fuck back and forth with his pace steadily increasing. Like this Megumi had a great view of Sukuna burying his fingers in his ass over and over again, each inch disappearing into a tight heat that swallowed around him. Megumi enjoyed this part especially, when his subs relented some of their self consciousness to chase their primal needs. He loved bringing them down to a level where they forgot what it was like to be self conscious, where they chased their primal desires for more. He loved bringing them down to a level of carnal divinity where shame no longer existed. 

And he loved witnessing the growing impatience of Sukuna, loved listening to him pant and curse, mumble insults under his breath, and drag his fingers across the fabric of the couch, trying to find some purchase. He loved feeling Sukuna’s heat tighten over and over again, loved seeing him slowly lose all sense of self as he simply fucked himself stupid. He loved watching him make himself come undone with nothing but some verbal prodding from Megumi. 

“I’m- fuck,” Sukuna grunted and Megumi eased his grip on pink hair. He trailed his fingers over the curve of Sukuna’s skull and settled them back into place across the back of his neck, digging his fingertips into the sides of Sukuna’s throat until he could feel the rapid bobbing of his throat with every desperate gulp of air. Sukuna choked on a groan, his hips stalled for a moment, and he tensed harshly around Megumi’s fingers, the grip suffocating. “Meg- Sir- I- I-”

Megumi’s eyes widened as suddenly, Sukuna tensed and shook in the same motion. He held his own breath as shoved himself as far down Megumi’s fingers as he could until Megumi couldn’t move, until Sukuna trembled with little noises of pure ecstasy. It never ceased to amaze him how beautiful his clients looked like this; their skin flushed, glistening with sweat, fingers scrabbling desperately at whatever surface they could find, their bodies quivering as they tried to remember how to breathe through the fog of their orgasms.

Sukuna was no different. He was just as beautiful. The black markings that covered his skin only helped to make him more beautiful, the lines standing out under the warm lights of Sukuna’s apartment, his sweat glistening as it dipped into the lines of muscles and emphasised just how big Sukuna really was. 

If Megumi was a weaker man, who hadn’t been hired to do a job, perhaps he’d be interested in tracing those same lines of black with his tongue, tasting Sukuna on his tongue. Maybe one day he would, just to rile Sukuna up, have Sukuna’s undivided attention on him as he worshipped the body Megumi was allowed to bear witness to. Maybe he’d work his way down Sukuna’s sculpted body, across every band of black, waiting for Sukuna to buck his hips up, to gasp for something more, to whisper Megumi’s name with a quiet need that would bring them both crashing back to reality. 

“F-fuck,” Sukuna wheezed and Megumi shook that train of thought loose from his mind. 

He released Sukuna’s throat and brushed a thumb across the back of his neck, swiping away a few stray droplets of sweat. “Just breathe,” Megumi whispered, easing any heat from his voice. He dragged his hand down Sukuna’s back, feeling the soft knobbles of his spine, before he grabbed Sukuna’s waist and pinched it gently, trying to reassure him that Megumi was there and that he was there for comfort. “Breathe, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna hummed and fell forward, resting his head on the back of the couch as he swallowed down deep, shuddering breaths. Megumi slowly brought his foot down off the couch, setting it behind him on the floor, and he used his free hand to squeeze the globes of Sukuna’s ass apart. 

A quiet hiss filled the air and again Megumi brushed a thumb across damp skin. “Sorry,” Megumi whispered, and he slowly worked on removing his fingers one at a time. Sukuna’s muscles chased after his fingers, clenching on nothing but air, and Megumi settled both of his hands onto Sukuna’s waist, running them in soft arcs across the dips of his hips. “You okay?”

Sukuna grunted and Megumi paused. Judging from Sukuna’s application form, from his apparent lack of limits, that something like this wouldn’t have made him so tense. Had he pushed the wrong button? Said the wrong thing? Did Megumi cross some line he didn’t know about? Sukuna looked as though he’d been enjoying it at the time but Megumi knew that sometimes, even those who had been in the dom/sub game the longest could lose themselves in the heat of the moment. Had Sukuna lost himself? Had Megumi misread his body language? Missed the signs? 

A little reassurance came shortly later as Sukuna waved a dismissive hand behind him, shooing Megumi away. “I got it,” he mumbled. 

He didn’t let go straight away, and it took a pointed look from Sukuna over one sweat-dampened shoulder, for Megumi to step back. He hesitated a moment before he followed Sukuna’s reassuring nod and reached for one of the towels that had been laid out for them. As much as Megumi enjoyed ripping people apart, pushing their limits or what they think they’d do, he also liked to make sure they were fine afterwards. The joy of doing this solely to break somebody with no thoughts to their well being had long surpassed him and he never wanted to be at that point again. 

He gave Sukuna room to turn himself over and collapse onto a free spot on the couch before Megumi set about wiping down the part that Sukuna had soiled. At least it was leather, making it easier to clean up. Next time they did something like this Megumi was going to have to prepare in advance.

“It’s fine,” Sukuna huffed and Megumi only gave him a look before he finished wiping it down.

He set about cleaning his gloves with the towel the best that he could. They’d get a thorough clean back home when he had everything he would need, but for now, once they stopped shining with excess lube, he peeled them off and shoved them into his pockets. He tossed the towel to one side and made his way to the kitchen, the weight of Sukuna’s gaze following him the entire way. He didn’t bother meeting Sukuna’s gaze, instead, he filled a glass halfway with water, and strode back to Sukuna until he stood in front of him. 

Last time Megumi was here, Sukuna wanted Megumi in his lap. So Megumi slowly eased his way into Sukuna’s lap, straddling one thick thigh with both of his own, being careful not to spill a drop. He held the glass up to Sukuna’s face and made sure his expression was nothing but gentle. “Drink, please.” 

Red eyes blinked at him before Sukuna took the offered glass and downed the water in six quick gulps. 

Megumi reached up to wipe a few stray drops of water from the corners of Sukuna’s mouth, and he took the empty glass from Sukuna’s hand to set it to one side. He turned back to Sukuna and brushed a few strands of hair from Sukuna’s eyes before he cupped his chin and just held his face there. “You okay?”

Sukuna nodded, his lips softening into a warm smile. “You need to stop asking that.” 

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “It’s kinda my job to ask.” He felt Sukuna’s hand inch up his thigh and squeeze. Megumi let him, he let Sukuna have this moment however he wanted it. These few minutes were purely for Sukuna to be selfish and if that meant letting him squeeze Megumi’s thighs, stare at him, or let his attitude come back to the surface in full force, then Megumi would let him. 

“I’m not some princess whose feelings are hurt so easily.” 

Megumi might take back letting Sukuna have an attitude. It wasn’t about hurting somebody’s feelings or treating him like he was delicate or fragile. He bit down on his tongue and settled for a quick pinch of Sukuna’s cheeks with a glare. “Keep talking like that and I will treat you like a princess.” 

Sukuna chuckled, one large hand coming up to wrap around Megumi’s wrist. “I have no doubts, Megumi.” 

He hummed, and watched Sukuna curiously. There was something about Sukuna that Megumi couldn’t put his finger on. Was it the arrogance? The confidence? He’d met plenty of arrogant and confident people. The tattoos? He shook that thought away. He’d seen more detailed and interesting ink before. Sukuna’s marks were all black with no hint of colour, definitely an interesting choice, especially when he had pink hair. They seemed like two very contrasting choices. 

The hand on his thigh inched up as the one around his wrist slid down his arm, over his elbow, and jumped straight to his waist. Megumi leaned into Sukuna’s chest. “That wasn’t too much was it?” Megumi whispered.

Sukuna snorted and it was his turn to brush a thumb over Megumi’s waist, “I asked for you to be cruel. It’s exactly what I wanted.” 

“Good.” 

Sukuna made a pleased noise and Megumi used this time to simply watch him. This close up he noted how much bigger Sukuna was than him, how tiny he seemed in Sukuna’s lap. It wasn’t the first time Megumi had been dwarfed by a client and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. One look at him had people assuming he was the one who fell to his knees and begged. 

For a while Megumi thought he was that kind of person.

After he’d moved out of his childhood home and jumped from one couch to the next, he’d ended up under the roof of one, Gojo Satoru. That had been an… eventful time. It was where Megumi had discovered his love for putting others on their knees, watching people tremble from his words, and the power rush he gained from it all.

A soft squeeze to his side brought Megumi back and he blinked away the memories of white hair and crystal blue eyes. 

“I should get dressed,” Sukuna said. 

Megumi studied Sukuna for another moment, paying special attention to the subtle creases of his face and the weight of his hands on him. He seemed fine. He didn’t look as though his thoughts were scattered, or that he was hiding anything immediately. With one final glance, Megumi nodded, brushed his thumb across Sukuna’s cheek again, and slowly pulled himself from Sukuna’s lap. He set about putting the glass back in the kitchen and grabbed Sukuna’s clothes, handing them over. 

As Sukuna dressed himself again, Megumi threw his gloves into his bag and pulled out a fresh wipe, trying his best to get rid of some of the lube that had stained his pants. Under the wrong light it shone and it was questionable what had stained the fabric. No matter how somebody looked at it, it didn’t look innocent. He let out a small huff. It couldn’t be helped. At least he had a spare pair in his locker back at Chimera Shadow Gardens. Megumi tossed the wipe into his bag, zipped it up, and tugged it onto his shoulders. 

When he looked back to Sukuna he was wearing his joggers and a shirt again. Megumi gave him another thorough look over, wanting to make sure nothing seemed obviously out of place about him. He looked fine, skin still flushed and his entire body relaxed, almost glowing. “If you need anything, just email us. Somebody will respond within thirty minutes.” 

Sukuna waved another dismissive hand at him and shoved his other hand into his pocket. “Go get your train, Megumi. Wouldn’t want you to miss it.” 

Megumi nodded, opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He could feel Sukuna’s gaze on him as he went, could feel those ruby eyes following his every move as he pulled his bag further up his shoulders and stared at the elevator at the end of the hall. Sukuna wasn’t the first person to have an entire floor to themselves, and no matter how many times Megumi walked through these kinds of places, he would always feel out of place. 

He turned to Sukuna, gave him one last tip of his head, thanked him for his time, and bid him good night before he left. He heard the door close when he was at the elevator and Megumi let out a breath, his entire body sagging with it. As he waited for the elevator to come up he grabbed his phone and sent a quick email to Mei Mei, letting her know that he’d finished with Sukuna and that he needed to use the club's dry cleaners. 

Have a safe journey home Megumi. You had a visitor today.

He narrowed his eyes at the message. There was only a tiny, nearly non existent pool of people who visited the club with the intention of seeing him. I hope you didn’t tell them anything.

Of course not. Employee privacy, safety and discretion is important to us. He looked pretty though ;)

My calender's full.

I think he was looking for something a little more personal .

The elevator arrived and Megumi sighed. He shoved his phone away, stepped inside, and hit the “Lobby” button. Once the doors closed Megumi leant against the back wall and thunked his head against the reflective mirror. Maybe he should see how much the dry cleaners are down the road from his own place, even if it wasn’t likely that he’d run into anybody with how little time he spent at the club. Having an employee only door was incredibly helpful when he wanted to avoid people.

He scrubbed a hand over his face, shoved that thought from his mind and begged himself to fill it with anything else. The only thing his brain willingly supplied, was the image of Sukuna on his knees and Megumi narrowed his eyes. He didn’t mean that and the more he tried to shake it away the more his brain supplied further images; Sukuna face down on a bed, knees spread and his hands holding himself open for Megumi, Sukuna hovering over Megumi, whispering his name in that same breathless noise he’d made earlier, Sukuna picking Megumi up and pinning him to the wall, Sukuna biting at his neck, marking his skin and digging bruises into his skin. 

Sukuna.

Sukuna. 

Sukuna . 

He pinched the bridge of his nose and forced himself to think of anything else, somebody else, and his brain finally relented, giving him the image of home. Kuro and Shiro waiting for him, probably curled up on his bed because they refused to use the dog beds he’d bought for them. He was sure it was out of spite for working and not spending all day with them. He’d even found Shiro curled up in the bottom of the bath one day when Megumi had made an overnight visit to Tsumiki. Nobara had been kind enough to offer to take care of them for one night, but when Megumi had come back Shiro had refused to look at him or even acknowledge his existence. 

At least until Megumi needed to use the shower. The moment he’d turned the water on, Shiro had made a very hasty retreat and slinked after Megumi for attention the rest of the day. 

His phone buzzed again and Megumi held his tongue as he pulled it out. There was a text waiting for him. The doors to the elevator opened and more people stepped in before they all started moving down again. Megumi opened the message from Nobara and almost failed to hold in his snort: 

Saturday. 6pm. Karaoke. You, me, Maki, Noritoshi. 

If I’m busy?

Her reply was almost instant, I spoke to Mei Mei, you’re free. Shut up. You’re coming. 

The corners of his lips twitched up. Maybe it would do him good to clear his head of his work and his studies. He had just finished up a whole slew of coursework and exams, so blowing off some steam with his friends for one night wouldn’t be a bad thing. Fine. But you’re buying my drinks.

Chapter Text

“I’m just saying, if, and this is a big if , by some miracle, you happen to find a boyfriend, girlfriend or whatever, who’s willing to hang around longer than two nights, willingly , you can bring them to the wedding and we’ll save them a space at the meal for you.” 

Sukuna’s chuckle was shallow, hollow, and cheap, lips pursed into a tight grimace, eyes straying to his tumbler of whiskey on the table. He let the statement linger for a moment longer before he reached for his glass to swirl the liquid around as he finally fixed his eyes on Yuki. Her gaze was bright, full of mischief, emphasising the equally bright grin on her face from where she sat across the table from him, chin perched in one hand, lashes fluttering with false innocence. 

Yuki was pretty and knew it, using her looks to squirm her way into getting what she wanted or pretending that she hadn’t just caused an all out brawl in the middle of a bar. That was one hell of a night Sukuna would never forget. Yuki had said a few words and there to the wrong people, pushed her chest out an inch, wobbled her bottom lip into a pout, and gotten them all a lifetime ban from their last favourite spot for instigating the fight. 

Whilst she looked innocent and cute ninety percent of the time, Sukuna knew, just like everybody else at the table knew, that underneath all of the pleasantries, she could be a damned heathen when she wanted to be. Getting into verbal spats with Sukuna was one of her favourite past times, and the only thing holding Sukuna back from truly tearing into her with every ugly insult he could imagine, was the pretty rock decorating her left ring finger, courtesy of his cousin. Choso could've done a lot worse for himself, but Yuki, despite her tendencies at times, was perfect for him. If anything, he was proud that Choso was finally over his ex enough to want to throw another wedding. 

“So thoughtful,” Sukuna mumbled, voice laced with venomous sarcasm, “perhaps I’ll bring along the next harlot I happen to find.” 

“Think you’ll remember their name this time?” 

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I always remember their names.” 

Yuki leaned forward, one elbow propped on the table, and held up three fingers. “What were the names of the last three men and women you slept with?” 

Choso grimaced, nudging Yuki’s arm with a slight frown, “Leave him alone.” He rounded on Sukuna with a tired smile, “Please ignore her. She’s probably had too much to drink.” 

“I,” Yuki explained, “have only had three drinks.” 

“Five, actually,” Choso muttered. 

Yuki ignored him, “You and I both know it takes a lot more than that to make me lose any kind of self control. I know exactly what I’m doing. I can prove it if you really want.” 

From Sukuna’s left, Yuuji all but choked on his drink, small drops of strawberry daiquiri decorating the corner of his lips, a few more slowly dripping down his chin. It took several hearty slaps to his back from Kento, Yuuji’s partner, to clear his throat. “Things I didn’t need to hear,” Yuuji muttered once he could speak again. 

Yuki turned her verbal barrage onto Yuuji then. “Oh, Yuuji, we all know you’re not the blushing virgin you pretend to be. I think we all remember your housewarming very well.” 

Sukuna snickered at that. Yuuji had been caught in his bathroom, pants down, dick deep in some guy, a stammering apology on his lips. "At least you wore protection that time," Sukuna got in, "or do you want me to remind everyone of your college highlights." The number of panicked texts and phone calls were still a series of clear memories Sukuna wasn’t sure if he wanted to bury forever, or remember for eternity just so that he could bring it up at every opportunity he got. 

Yuki snorted. "And how many tests have you had to take, Mr sleeps with a new piece every other week."

Sukuna flipped her off with a glare. “Fuck off.”

“And that’s exactly why you’re still single,” Yuuji added from his seat. 

Kento had the decency to give Yuuji a small smack to the back of his head. “Don’t start, Yuuji. It’s not our business.” 

Sukuna tipped his drink to the guy, “Somebody gets it.” 

As of six months ago, Yuuji and Kento officially became a thing. They’d known each other ever since Yuuji had opened his restaurant and hired Kento as his accountant to do everything Yuuji couldn’t. Manage the books, keep their spending within a reasonable budget, price the items on the menus, and helped Yuuji, all in all, to keep the place floating. He’d become more of an assistant manager than accountant, but it worked wonderfully for them. 

Three months into Kento’s hiring, Yuuji had called Sukuna after he’d closed the place up for the night, complaining that Kento was far too pretty, and that Yuuji didn’t know how he was going to cope working with him every day. Sukuna told him to either fire him or suck it up and deal with it. 

Now, years after they’d been working side by side together, after months of Yuuji asking for a date, having flowers delivered to the restaurant addressed to Kento, making new dishes that were specifically for Kento’s tastes, bringing him coffee and pastries on the morning shifts, they were an item. 

“Yuuji’s not wrong though,” Yuki added, taking a large gulp of her beer with a pointed look in Sukuna’s direction. 

He stared her down as she swallowed, grabbed his own whiskey, held her gaze as he finished it off, and slammed the glass down. “I’m going outside,” he huffed, leaving no room for argument, and he shoved his chair back to make his way towards the exit, face screwed up into a frown. 

Outside, the cool breeze against his warmed skin was a nice reprieve from the suffocating air of the bar Choso and Yuki had chosen for tonight's small gathering. Sukuna swallowed down a delicious gulp of air, enjoying the soft scent of dew in the air, ruby eyes fixed on the sky. It was covered in darkening clouds that blotted out parts of the purple and blue night, and Sukuna hoped he made it out of here before it rained. 

He took a few steps away from the open door behind him and from the echoing beats of the music that made everybody talk and laugh louder, making his way to a quiet corner that was clearly meant for smokers. His body itched for something to soothe the tension that had been wrought into his shoulders. 

He tugged his cigarettes from his pocket, tucked one filtered stick between his lips, and snatched the lighter up from within the box. He flicked the little flame into existence, brought it closer to his cigarette, and hesitated. His eyes were focused on the dancing fire, a slight furrow buried between his brows. Something twisted his stomach into knots and he watched as a gentle gusset of wind blew the flame out. 

Sukuna paused, straightened up, and tugged the stick from his mouth to look over it. The only other time he’d ever hesitated before smoking, was when he’d been offered his first cigarette from a bunch of less than scrupulous peers. He was fourteen when he’d first tried them and they’d been a staple piece of his life ever since, a terrible habit he’d picked up when their father had passed away. He and Yuuji had ended up under the care of their grandfather, and he was a stern man with a warm heart big enough for the both of them. 

Sukuna had struggled hard to deal with it. Fist fights, scraps in the schoolyard, staying out past curfew, talking back, and eventually smoking. All because things had changed. 

He was an asshole of a teenager, and Sukuna had spent his early twenties, in his own way, apologising to their grandfather for the hell he’d put him through. Just, not in as many words. Maybe he cooked the meals for a week, did laundry without being asked, fixed up a couple of broken fence panels, did the food shopping, bought Wasuke a few things he’d been eyeing up in catalogues or windows. 

Sukuna had only been able to shake off the fighting, and the staying out past curfew when their grandfather had changed the locks on the doors and windows, refusing to give Sukuna a key. “You wanna act like you’re too grown to be told what to do? Fine. Stay out. Come back when you know the hell you’re doing with your life, kid.” 

It had been a terrible month of sleeping rough, Sukuna too prideful to admit that maybe, he wasn’t ready for the adult world, that he needed a stable roof over his head and not the bridges he’d been sleeping under, a warm bed to sleep in and not just his coat, the food in the fridge and not whatever measly scraps he could afford with what pocket change he’d had when he’d been kicked out. Maybe, just maybe, he did need his grandfather. 

What had really driven Sukuna over the edge, made him decide that that was it, he’d had enough, this was stupid, was three weeks in when the heavens had opened up. His clothes and bag were soaked to the bone, and so was he. He’d kicked a can across the deserted street, raced home, hopped the back fence, and he was creeping his way towards Yuuji’s window when the back door opened. Sukuna froze, held his breath, and pressed his damp back to the slick wall, trying to make himself as small as possible. 

The pounding of the rain, bouncing across the tiles of the roof and across the floor, was the only noise to surround Sukuna and he wondered if it was safe to move, if he was alone in this awful weather. 

“Jin, your son is going to be the death of me.” Sukuna narrowed his eyes at the familiar voice of Wasuke, his grandfather, and waited. The wooden bench on the back porch creaked as Wasuke took a seat with a heavy sigh. “That damned brat better be safe or I’ll kill him myself.” Sukuna almost snorted at that. At least some things hadn’t changed. “And he better come home soon. Does he not know that Yuuji looks up to him?” Sukuna’s grin fell and his chest tightened at the confession. “Every damned day he asks me if I’ve heard from Nii-chan yet. When I see Sukuna’s face again I’m going to wring his neck for putting me through hell, drag him to Yuuji’s room, and make him grovel for Yuuji’s forgiveness for putting him through hell too.”

Sukuna let out a slow breath, offering Yuuji’s bedroom window a pitiful expression, before he sunk back against the wall. He let the cold rain drown his clothes further, let it flatten his hair to his scalp, fill every pore of his body until he shivered under the weight of the weather and the guilt that crept its way into his heart. 

He didn’t know how long his grandfather sat there, talking to their father, but Sukuna listened to every word, every tut, huff, and sigh Wasuke let out, and he listened to his retreating footsteps. Sukuna waited until he was certain he was inside, until the click of the lock engaged, and the light went out downstairs. Only then did Sukuna dare to move and he worked his way back to the garden, jumped the wall again, and dragged himself to the front door to knock.

Wasuke had let him in, with Sukuna wearing a sheepish expression that hunched his shoulders up, a mumbled apology on his lips, and a half murmured promise that he’ll do his best to keep his head down. Wasuke clipped the back of his head, dragged him inside, and told him to get a warm shower and some fresh clothes before he apologised to Yuuji for disappearing like that, promising that he wouldn’t do that again. 

And Sukuna had stuck to his promises. 

He’d shaken the fights, cut back on the mouthing off, and returned home well before curfew. The only thing he couldn’t shake was the nicotine addiction, a sense of calm and ease washing over him with each inhale. Wasuke cursed him for it, tried to throw his boxes away, snap the cigarettes in half and tell him over his dead body was Sukuna gonna smoke in his house. Yuuji had spent years turning his nose up at it, asking him when he was going to quit. 

Nothing either of them, or anybody else for that matter, said had ever made him consider tossing them away and never looking back. 

So why couldn’t he bring himself to light one now?

He peered at the cigarette hanging between his fingertips, the unlit tip, the filter dampened from his saliva. His nerves were irritated and this was his go to for soothing them, the little hit of nicotine always doing the trick of making him relax. Sukuna pursed his lips, a single thought crowding to the front of his mind. 

Megumi . 

The thought echoed loudly in his head, bashed its metal can against the bars of his inner mind, and had him freezing all over again. You stink . Sukuna had heard those two words, uttered in disgust, a dozen and more times, and it had never bothered him before. Yet, Megumi’s words felt thick, heavy, buried underneath his skin. They made him itch with discomfort the more he stared at the cigarette and there was a sense of need washing over him, a desire to please Megumi, even if he wasn’t there. 

Sukuna shouldn’t care whether or not he pleased Megumi in every aspect. He was paid to do a job and smoking was Sukuna’s personal bad habit. If he wanted to smoke, then that was his choice. People could disagree with it, could think it distasteful, and Megumi could too. Sukuna didn’t need to stop just to make one person, a stranger still, happy. He didn’t know Megumi like he knew Yuuji or Choso, or his grandfather. 

He shoved the cigarette between his lips, flicked the lighter into life, and held the little flame millimetres away from the unlit end. Megumi’s scowl flashed through his mind and Sukuna glared at the image. “Fuck off,” he whispered, and with something close to spite boiling in his veins, he finally lit the cigarette and inhaled the warm, acrid, taste of nicotine. 

He stuck the lighter into his pocket and kept one hand there as he puffed away, fingers curling around the outer case. The smoke slowly filled his lungs and Sukuna closed his eyes, feeling the tenseness his family had accidentally wound into his muscles slipping away with each new breath. 

Jokes were great, ribbing each other was fantastic, but no matter how many times they all met up, how many laughs, stories, drinks or meals they shared, the same questions always arrived. Questions about the future, about Yuuji’s childhood dreams of having little brats running around his ankles, Choso wanting to stay at home and keep the house in order, taking care of whatever came their way whilst Yuki worked. (Yuki hated housework and Choso hated working. It worked perfectly for them.)

And Sukuna was met with the same question; when was he thinking of stopping the “playboy lifestyle,” as his grandfather had so eloquently put it. He loved his family, every single one of them, he did. He would do anything, within reason, for his grandfather, for Yuuji, for Choso, hell even Yuki and Kento were slowly working their way into that tiny circle. 

But sometimes, he wished he was born to a different set of parents, with different siblings, different cousins, or that they’d take the hint that he hadn’t thought about settling down, not to the extent that they had. He’d considered it once or twice, entertained the idea of coming home to somebody else, of waking up with a kiss on his lips, or falling asleep with a whispered good night every night. But nobody seemed like a good fit for him. He’d tried the dating scene once or twice over the years, partly to appease them and partly to see if it was the right thing for him, but that had all ended terribly for him. 

Not to mention the countless blind dates Yuuji tried to set him up with when Sukuna obliged to humour him, only for each one to turn into a bigger disaster than the last. 

No. 

He preferred it this easy. He was happy. He had everything he wanted, everything he could want, and if he had a need for anything he knew how to obtain it or where to find it.

Things were good. 

He cracked his eyes open and stared at the greying, purple clouds. Laughter echoed from the room behind him, various conversations were in full swing, and if he glanced over his shoulder, he would see people swinging their hips on the dancefloor. 

And here he was, hiding from it all, from the smiles and cheery atmosphere. Alone. In the quiet of the encroaching night, fingers tapping away against the lighter in his pocket, his muscles growing restless. He wasn’t hiding, he reminded himself, he was just taking a break. 

If he repeated the lies long enough then he’d have no choice but to believe them, and he wanted to, so badly, to believe them. 

He hated meeting up with his family, solely for how much they reminded him of everything he didn’t have. 

He blew a puff of white smoke from his lips and watched the shadow of it dance into the oncoming night, trying to chase away the circling thoughts running rampant in his mind. A buzz of his phone distracted him from any more pessimistic ruminations and he dug his mobile out with a frown. Uraume knew he was busy tonight and had cleared his schedule. He’d turned off his work emails and wasn’t expecting anything to come through when he was with his family. 

In his personal email was a fresh message from Chimera Shadow Gardens. Sukuna took another drag of his cigarette as he opened it. 

Dear Client, 

Your Dom, Megumi, has recently had a slot become available in his schedule. Going forward, every Thursday evening between the hours of 6 and 8, has become free. As per our terms, we offer this position to his clients, first and foremost, and it is done on a first come first served basis. 

In order to reserve this spot you will need to respond to this email-

Sukuna didn’t read any further. He hit reply and asked to reserve the offered slot. He couldn’t think of anything better at the moment than a little stress relief tomorrow night. Besides, he had wanted more sessions with Megumi. Going from one visit every two weeks to once a week, and twice every other week, seemed like a blessing in disguise. 

A reply came almost instantly. 

Thank you for your quick response, Sukuna. 

I can confirm that you have successfully reserved this spot as your own. 

Due to the short notice, with tomorrow being Thursday, payment for that session will be allowed to be given up to an hour before the start time. 

Thank you for using our services and we hope we can continue to provide a positive experience. 

A smile curled the corners of Sukuna’s lips up as he smoked away. Great. The distraction would be welcome and he couldn’t help but to wonder exactly what Megumi would plan for him on such short notice. 

Megumi. 

The guy was fantastic, he couldn’t deny that fact. The memories from their previous sessions caused his skin to break out into goosebumps and made his dick ache between his legs. After their second session together, Sukuna had taken some time to himself to marvel at how willing he’d been to get on his knees for Megumi and crawl . He hadn’t crawled for anybody in years, and vaguely, he wondered what Megumi would do if Sukuna disobeyed his orders, if he stepped out of line. 

Sukuna’s smile faltered a fraction. He’d been thoroughly wrecked after every session, pushed in ways he didn’t know was possible, left wanting more and less at the same time. He’d had Megumi tell him how worthless, useless, pathetic, and disgusting he was, making him shiver and groan, making him feel ashamed . 

And yet, none of it was a punishment. 

The idea of finding out what Megumi considered damning retribution, had Sukuna curious, wary, and only a little afraid. Especially when almost anything had been put on the table for Megumi to use against him. 

Work had been a shambles ever since he opened his first email before he’d even left his place. One tiny speck of bad news had opened the floodgates for everything to go wrong, and it left Sukuna’s nerves twitching, leaving him anxiously waiting for the next bit of bad news. Phone calls between meetings, between emails, between more phone calls, between more meetings. And everything was bad news, one inconvenience after another, testing his patience to the fucking limit. 

Any down time he did get between the flurry of voices, and keyboard typing, was filled with a silence that only agitated him more. Every minute of silence he could grab he needed to fill with noise, something, anything , to drive away the creeping thoughts that somebody had it out for him today. Some deity had decided that today, Sukuna was going to have the worst day possible. 

They’d almost lost two of their biggest clients, which would’ve seen their profits sink, and Sukuna had almost fired a handful of people on the spot for their huge fuck up. It was a miracle their clients had stuck around, and Sukuna wished to never take another work call late into the night. He’d only had time to choke down a few bites of a sandwich Uraume had brought him at lunch, and once he’d gotten home, phone glued to his ear, mind working a mile a minute, he’d snacked on some cookies he’d found in one of the cupboards. 

He finished his last phone call of the night, wrapped his hand tightly around his phone, and roughly pulled the knot of his tie loose with a grunt. He popped the top button, tugged at the collar of his shirt, and tossed his phone onto the counter. The loud clatter was welcomed. He almost wished he’d thrown it hard enough to bounce across the counter and fall over the other side to hit the floor with a resounding crack. 

Instead, he roughly shoved a hand into his pocket, yanked his box of smokes out, and flipped the lid open. 

Sukuna stared at the neat stack of eight cigarettes and his lighter, nestled next to them all, lips pursed into a thin line. Annoyance scratched at his nerves and he used a thumb to nudge one filtered tip up. He swallowed down a heavy breath, let it out through his nose, and scowled at the box. The day had started with eight cigarettes in his box, and it had ended the same way. He’d picked it up throughout the day, intent to light one up and let the familiar taste of nicotine fill him up. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

The closest he’d gotten was putting the end between his lips and flicking the lighter into life. But he quickly extinguished it, sighed, pinched the bridge of his nose, and shoved the smoke back into its box. He’d had every intention of chain smoking his afternoon away until the smell of nicotine clung to his clothes, until he couldn’t smell anything but the cigarettes. 

Just as he had last night, he’d struggled to light one, and then he’d been dragged into a meeting. He’d given his box a glance once it was over but a phone call had interrupted, another irate email, more phone calls, and eventually that box became nothing more than a passing thought. A promise that once he was home he’d finally unwind and relax. 

Except he hadn’t. 

The phone calls had been partly responsible, but there was a lingering thought in his mind that made his blood boil. Megumi. Sukuna scrubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and groaned, tossing the cigarette box across the counter alongside his phone. Did he even want to see him tonight? Every part of Sukuna’s body felt tense, ready to fight anybody over anything, and he knew that tomorrow was going to be just as stressful as today. Tomorrow he was going to try to pull everything out of the gutter and rebuild some of the trust that had been lost. 

But Megumi. 

Sukuna glared at the box of smokes. Did he have the patience to deal with Megumi’s bullshit tonight? To have his nerves tested even more? Have his muscles knotted into an impossible tightness? His fingers itched with a need to do something , and Sukuna very much considered going to his private gym to pummell the punching bag until his knuckles were red and raw. Or maybe he could invite Yuuji over, let the brat load up one of his consoles and decide which game Sukuna would unleash his stress upon. 

His gaze danced over to his phone and considered sending an email, telling Megumi that he had to cancel, when there was a sharp knock at his door. Sukuna snapped his head around to the wooden surface and glanced back at the clock. When had it gotten that late? A frustrated groan rolled through him and he ran a hand over his face, a tired sigh making him sag with the motion. 

Megumi was here, and a second knock let Sukuna know he was still waiting. “Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled, dragging himself to the door. He quickly ran his hand through his hair before he wrenched the door open. 

On the other side Megumi glared up at him, his features darker than usual, looking as pristine as last time with his familiar suit, familiar green tie, familiar bag, and familiar frown. At least Sukuna knew what to expect with Megumi. He made no move to stop Megumi from shoving past him into Sukuna’s apartment and words itched at the back of his throat. Torn between telling Megumi to leave, that he wasn’t in the mood for this , and telling Megumi to make Sukuna forget everything about today and tomorrow. 

He closed the door to keep the heat in, hesitated with the thoughts that made his fingers cling to the door knob, finally pried his fingers free, and turned to face Megumi. 

Sukuna froze. 

Megumi was stood there, his glare softened into something more… curious. Etched with a hint of concern, worry, and reluctance. Each emotion, and more, flashed across Megumi’s face in one quick instant before he slapped his frown back into place. Megumi dropped his bag with a resounding thud that knocked a breath from Sukuna’s lungs, and crossed the space between them. 

Sukuna opened his mouth with no real words on the tongue, only the phantom need to fill the quietness. But Megumi pinched his cheeks between sharp fingers, dragging his face down until Sukuna’s shoulders were hiked up towards his chin, until his red was level with deep, burning green. Sukuna blinked, his own brows creasing, and his gaze fixed on the way Megumi’s eyes checked over his entire face over and over again, until he finally came to a stop. 

“What’s your colour, Sukuna?” Megumi whispered. There wasn’t any of the usual heat in his voice that Sukuna had grown accustomed to. 

Those four words were a simple caress of breath across Sukuna’s lips that had pleasant warmth stirring in his stomach with a comforting safety. “Green,” Sukuna whispered, his voice equally as quiet, shoulders sagging as he uttered out an even quieter, “Sir.” 

A thought crossed Megumi’s face. Another thought flickered through those green eyes, then Megumi shoved Sukuna’s face away to lay his palm flat against Sukuna’s chest. There was almost no weight within the touch, and Sukuna’s attention fell to Megumi’s pale hand, trying to figure out what was going through Megumi’s mind. 

“Don’t move.” 

Confusion blossomed within Sukuna’s mind. Where had the insults disappeared to? Where was the mockery that Sukuna was all talk and nothing else? That he was pathetic? Disgusting? Stupid? It made something ache within his chest and he pursed his lips, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants with agitation. 

Megumi dropped into a crouch over his bag, and Sukuna followed him with his gaze as he came back with the blindfold they’d used the first time Megumi was here. Green eyes fixed on him with a silent command and Sukuna swallowed, leaning his head forward so that Megumi could reach him better. Megumi’s warm thumbs guided the fabric across Sukuna’s eyes, around his head, and to the back, making Megumi lean into Sukuna’s frame to tie it off. This close, Sukuna could smell the faint scent of mint and eucalyptus that he knew belonged to Megumi. Warm, earthy, comforting. It seemed fitting, and he idly wondered if it was shampoo, body wash, cologne, or if Megumi naturally smelled so fresh. 

“Can you see?” Megumi’s voice was still quiet, a gentle whisper against his cheek.

Sukuna inched forward into Megumi’s space, enjoying the subtle warmth that washed over him with it. He shook his head, darted his tongue out to wet his lips, and cleared his throat. “No, Sir.” 

“Good.” 

He held his breath, still aware that Megumi was merely inches from him, waiting for it all to disappear and to be left with the cold heat of loneliness. It made his mouth run dry, made his breathing hitch, and made him screw his fingers tightly into the fabric of his pants. The longer they stood there, silently, waiting, the more Sukuna’s thoughts started to turn over. The tension from today crept back in, wormed its way underneath his skin and scratched at his muscles with irritation. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and Sukuna ground his teeth together, feeling his knuckles turn white as he screwed his hands into tighter fists. 

His throat itched with the creeping need to whisper yellow. The last thing he needed after the past couple of days, after the migraines he’d been nurturing today alone, was complete darkness. He needed to let off some steam, let off some of this pent up energy that brewed in his veins. He needed something he could sink his teeth into, sustenance, a bite, a snark, something that was more than the quiet stillness that surrounded them, more than the company of his thoughts that wouldn’t shut up.

Gentle fingers wrapped around his wrist, the touch giving him something to focus on, and Sukuna followed the soft tugs, warily stepping across his apartment. He knew the path was clear, there was little in the way of clutter across his floor, but being blindfolded made him a little unsure of his own confidence in that thought. There was no urgency from Megumi, no desperation to have Sukuna moving as quickly as possible. Nothing, but a slight pull on his wrist, until Megumi finally released him and only then did Sukuna stop walking, arms falling by his side. 

“What’s your colour, Sukuna?” 

It took Sukuna a moment to answer Megumi’s question, and he slowly mumbled out, “Green, Sir.” He listened carefully to Megumi’s slight steps that barely covered a rustle of fabric, something hit the floor by his feet. Megumi’s body heat was back in front of him, cutting off Sukuna’s next breath just by being there, and Sukuna took in a slow, deep breath, trying to keep his agitation at bay.

Sukuna almost jumped when Megumi settled both palms across the front of his shirt, his thumbs tracing the line of buttons up and down the centre. Those fingers stopped at his stomach, right above his belly button, danced up, stopped in the centre of his chest, down, up, and Megumi splayed his hands wide across Sukuna’s pecs. They felt almost comically small against Sukuna’s frame, and he could feel the subtle press of fingertips into his muscles. “Enjoying yourself?” he muttered, a smirk tickling the corners of his lips. 

A harsh pinch to one of his nipples made Sukuna hiss and the huff in Megumi’s voice was clear, “Hardly. What?” Megumi squeezed Sukuna’s pecs with both hands, “Do you really think these impress me?” Megumi scoffed and suddenly one hand cupped the front of Sukuna’s pants, the heel of his hand digging into Sukuna’s trapped cock. “Your pecs make up for how shit you are at using this ,” Megumi emphasised his meaning with a firm squeeze that had Sukuna hunching over, mouth falling open, and a shiver running through him. 

There Megumi was. The cruelness he’d been waiting for, the anger, hatred, belittling. It soothed the soreness of his exhausted mind, eased the mental ache of his muscles, and had him slowly forgetting about work. 

“I’ve seen the way you try to fuck and I’m far from fucking impressed. In fact, I’m disappointed.” Megumi released Sukuna’s cock and a firm hand wrapped around Sukuna’s loosened tie, pulling hard until Sukuna’s head met that of Megumi’s with an audible thud. “I thought you’d be different to the other assholes I meet up with.” 

Sukuna groaned. 

Heat rose to his cheeks from where Megumi’s breath fanned across his skin. His cock ached in his pants and he nodded at Megumi’s words. “I am,” he croaked out, “I’m different.” 

Megumi sneered and Sukuna could feel every ounce of venom in that noise, the disbelief, distrust. “I doubt it.” He tugged at Sukuna’s tie before he ripped the fabric away with a sharp thwip that had Sukuna sinking his teeth into his bottom lip. His mind flashed with the image of Megumi using that same tie on him. Whipping the backs of his legs, his ass, even the base of his spine, to leave angry red marks across his body that would sting for days. 

Fuck. He needed that and Sukuna opened his mouth, the question on the tip of his tongue.

“Shut up,” Megumi hissed and Sukuna clamped his lips shut in an instant. “I don’t want to hear it unless it’s to tell me, ‘Red’ or ‘Yellow.’” Sukuna nodded, a creeping of fear crawling down his spine from the chill in Megumi’s tone. Maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t had time to cancel this session. Maybe Megumi could send him far enough under, he’d forget what day of the week it was for a few hours. 

Megumi’s hands were on his shirt, unfastening the buttons and letting the warm air of his apartment pebble goosebumps across his flesh. He listened to Megumi’s footsteps, and listened to the whispers of air, as Megumi stepped behind him to tug his shirt off his arms, fold it, and set it down. Megumi remained behind him and Sukuna inhaled sharply at the press of a firm chest to his back, at the reaching of arms around his waist and grabbing at his belt. There was a quip on Sukuna’s tongue, a mockery to tease Megumi with, asking him if the blindfold was an excuse to hide what Sukuna’s body did to him, but he held it down. It wasn’t often he’d had doms strip him down themselves, and Sukuna was more than curious to see where this was going. 

His pants were pushed down his legs, Megumi’s hands following their path, palms a whisper away from his skin, until they pooled around Sukuna’s ankles. Megumi guided him to step out of them, one hand always pressed against a calf or wrapped gently around an ankle. Sukuna swallowed down a deep breath as he straightened whilst Megumi folded his pants. 

Megumi was in front of him again, sliding his hands onto Sukuna’s hips, thumbs inching underneath the band of his boxers. Sukuna raised a questioning brow at Megumi, his same joke coming to the front of his mind, and Megumi responded by snapping the elastic against his skin. It drove Sukuna’s grin from his face and he glared the best he could whilst Megumi tugged the fabric down, down, down, and down until Megumi encouraged Sukuna to step out of those too. He tugged off Sukuna’s socks and then he was alone. 

Sukuna could do nothing, but listen to Megumi shuffle across the floor and rattle around in his bag. Several clinks of metal filled the air and he frowned, listening to it all fall onto the floor in front of him, as a shimmer of nervous apprehension wormed its way into his muscles. It sounded as though Megumi had brought plenty of things with him, and Sukuna wanted to lift the blindfold up to see what was in store for him, ruin the surprise and ease whatever fresh tension was creeping through him. 

There was a soft hum and then he could feel Megumi in front of him. Something else hit the floor with a soft thud, and Megumi ordered in a low, demanding, “ Kneel .” 

The heat in that single command went straight through Sukuna, his stomach twisting with a warm knot, knocking more thoughts of work and family from his mind. He fell to his knees in an instant, a surprised grunt resonating when he landed on a cushion. Having something soft for his knees didn’t make him feel like Megumi cared. No. All Sukuna could think was that Megumi planned to have Sukuna on his knees for an indefinite amount of time, probably for as long as they had left together and it instilled a need within him. Sukuna tilted his head up, trying to gauge where Megumi’s face would be from this angle. The thought of having those green eyes looking down at him, towering over him, making him feel small and insignificant, made his cock twitch. 

Megumi picked something up from his pile of tools, and Sukuna felt anticipation light up his nerves. Quiet footsteps sounded behind him and Sukuna turned his head to follow the noise, desperate to know what Megumi was doing. “Face forward,” Megumi demanded and Sukuna obeyed. He swallowed down a lump in his throat and steeled himself for whatever Megumi-

Something clicked around his left ankle and Sukuna frowned. Something else clicked around his right ankle and his frown deepened. “The hell?”

Megumi grabbed a harsh fistful of his hair and Sukuna hissed at the sudden pull on his roots. At the same time, long fingers wrapped around his throat and dragged his head back, making him arch his chest out, and Megumi pressed his cheek to Sukuna’s own. There was a subtle squeeze of those fingers around his throat, pinching the air from him. Megumi’s breath was hot against the shell of his ear, his voice a rumbling hum laced with disdain, “Did I fucking say you could talk?” 

Sukuna opened his mouth but choked on his words as Megumi squeezed. Instead, he settled for a shake of his head. 

Megumi pulled harder on his hair and Sukuna’s body shuddered at the wash of pain that verged on the edge of too much. “And why the fuck do you so often forget what to call me? It’s one little syllable that even a well trained monkey can say. Are you trying to make me punish you?” 

Was he? The thought had crossed his mind. What did Megumi consider a punishment? What would it take for Sukuna to push Megumi over that edge? Where was the line? What was too much for him to handle? Did he want to find out today? Did he want to know what Megumi would do to him for stepping out of line? 

He tried to swallow, tried to coax some saliva into his dry mouth, but nothing worked. The grip on his throat was too tight and Sukuna debated nodding his head for a fraction of a second, debated incurring Megumi’s wrath just to see what the worst side of Megumi looked like. He wanted to know if Megumi would bruise him in purple welts, mark his skin up in angry red lines that would linger for weeks , if Megumi would torture him until Sukuna had no choice but to cry and plead for forgiveness. 

The choice was made for him, when all of a sudden he swallowed a large rush of air and choked on his next breath. Megumi’s hands were gone from him, and Sukuna almost missed the weight of them on him. Another breath made him shudder and Megumi grabbed one of his wrists, pulling it behind him. Sukuna turned his head, darkened gaze falling to where Megumi had captured his hand, when something clicked around his wrist. His confusion blossomed when Megumi grabbed his other wrist and locked something around it, pulling Sukuna back into a permanent arch. With a small grunt, Sukuna tugged on one wrist only to come to a sharp stop when he pulled at whatever was bound around his ankle. 

He paused and tested the straps again, confirming that yes, his wrists were bound and connected to whatever Megumi had wrapped around his ankles. It left his entire front exposed, left him arching, his abs straining from the stretch of it all, and his chest heaving with deep breaths as Sukuna painted that image in his mind. 

Maybe this was the punishment. Tie Sukuna up to leave him completely exposed and at Megumi’s mercy. Sukuna was a strong guy but even he didn’t think he’d be able to break free from the binds, and the very idea of being trapped, forced to take whatever Megumi was going to give him, made him extremely glad he didn’t cancel. Like this, Sukuna had no control, had no means of controlling what was going to happen next, and it soothed the ache that had grown in his mind. 

Megumi was in full control tonight, pulling the strings, and making Sukuna his own personal doll. It enthralled him. 

Sukuna was pulled from his thoughts by Megumi’s footsteps that were loud and purposeful, drawing Sukuna’s attention in, as he rounded to Sukuna’s front. It had him freezing, waiting, chest rising and falling with each shuddering breath as he felt Megumi’s eyes on him, his entire body tense from the strain and anticipation. There was another clatter of items by his knees and Sukuna wondered what else Megumi could possibly have in store for him. What more could he possibly do to Sukuna? 

The more he tried to think about the what if’s, the maybes, the possibilities, the more his mind swam with curiosity and blindness. So many had tied him up before, strapped him to wooden crosses, fastened spreader bars between his appendages, wrapped his entire body up in pretty lines of rope that left soft indents behind in his skin. He’d had his wrists strapped to his ankles before, had them clasped and connected, leaving him unable to move, but usually he was face down for that. Usually his cock was pressed between the sheets and his stomach, dampening the sheets. 

Like this, he was bare and on full display. 

Megumi had a view of every inch of his body that had been pulled taut, and it had Sukuna almost wanting to puff his chest out with pride, wanting to make sure Megumi caught every angle he had to offer. 

It seemed like forever he sat like that, poised, shoulders pulled back, fingertips scraping across the surface of the floor, his toes trying to push himself up to find some purchase, but everything was just out of reach. Whatever bindings Megumi had used, he made sure they left him unable to grab anything without fear of toppling over. He made sure that Sukuna had to remain almost exactly as he was, purely by his own body strength alone.

He felt the brush of one shoe against the outside of his thigh and Sukuna stilled, breath halting in his throat as he listened carefully. Megumi’s other foot nudged the side of his other thigh and Sukuna couldn’t help the shaky breath he took at the image he painted in his own head; Megumi towering over him, boxing Sukuna in between his legs, and Sukuna arched back, straining to keep himself up, chin tilted back as he tried to imagine where Megumi’s face would be. 

“I’ve been doing some thinking,” Megumi said, his voice calm and at ease, as if he were discussing the latest film with a friend. Yet, there was something more to his voice, something dark and dangerous laced under that flat tone. It had Sukuna swallowing, his stomach flaring with heat. “And I think you need a reminder on how to use some basic manners. I’m sure even a halfwit such as yourself can remember how to ask for things like a civilised person.”

Sukuna frowned, thinking over the meaning of Megumi’s words. Had Sukuna already crossed that line? Was this some form of punishment? And manners? He snorted. The noise left him before he could stop it and Sukuna followed it up with a bite of words, “What? Going to make me say ‘please’ like some school boy?” 

“Yes.”

He stilled. He hadn’t uttered that word in any correct context in years. Even Uraume hadn’t heard that word from him, and Megumi thought he was going to start now? He barked a laugh. “ Please ,” he mocked, every inch of his voice dripping in sarcasm as he pulled himself up as far as he could, “don’t make me say it.” 

Megumi knocked the toe of his shoe against his thigh and Sukuna’s grin wavered a fraction before a wall of heat hit Sukuna. He could feel Megumi’s breath fan hotly across his face, could feel the burning rage aimed at him, the fury in those green eyes as they pierced into him with murderous intent. “I,” Megumi whispered, “am going to break you, Sukuna.” 

A smirk curled across Sukuna’s face before he could stop it. He leaned closer, until he felt the tip of Megumi’s nose brush the top of his cheek, and Sukuna let out a slow breath before he said, “I can’t wait to see you tr-” Something was shoved between his lips and Sukuna grunted at the sudden intrusion. It was solid and thick, and when he pressed his tongue against it he felt the familiar texture of silicone that belonged to some kind of gag. He screwed his face up with a grunt, but Megumi only pressed it further against his mouth, until Sukuna had to open his mouth wider and bite into the thick central bar of it. Only then did Megumi stop pushing so that he could grab the straps and fasten it off behind his head. Sukuna huffed behind it, feeling the corners of the gag bulge with extra weight, and he wracked his brain, trying to figure out what kind of gag Megumi had dressed him up in. 

The heat of Megumi’s body disappeared as he stepped back, and Sukuna gave his head a single shake, discerning that the gag was fastened in good to his face. It didn’t budge, not even when he pushed his tongue against it, and the straps dug in a little too tightly into his skin. Something was shoved into his hand, and Sukuna tried to turn his head over his shoulder, trying to give Megumi a look, his fingers dancing over the item he’d been given. 

“It’s a buzzer.” 

Sukuna followed Megumi’s slow steps with his own slow turn of his head, fingers finally finding a button. He gave it an experimental push and a loud buzz filled the air. 

“At least you know how to press a button,” Megumi shot out. Sukuna glared and his finger tensed over the button, almost daring Megumi to say another word so that he could unleash the annoying buzz for both of them to hear. “I only want you to use it in one circumstance, and that’s to tell me to stop.” There was a rustle of something as Megumi grabbed another item and Sukuna’s entire body itched. Just how much did Megumi bring with him? Was restricting his vision, taking away his movement, and shutting his voice up not enough? “When you press it, I’ll stop all activities and I’ll wait for you to tell me the following; three quick buzzes to stop, a symbol for red, two buzzes for yellow, or one buzz for green, which is when I’ll remove the gag and you’ll ask me nicely , to let you come.” 

Sukuna tilted his head to one side, brows creasing further, his heart hammering anxiously inside of his chest. He scoffed behind the gag and shook his head. As if that would ever happen. He’d take his own pleasure long before he succumbed to Megumi’s wishes. 

Another soft thud in front of him had Sukuna stilling, breaths coming out in low, shallow pants, as he waited. Then, one finger traced the entire length of his cock, from bottom to top, tapping against every piercing in the ladder he had there. It sent little shots of electricity running through him, had his breath hitching with each knock. Megumi reached the tip of his dampened cockhead and Sukuna tensed, body arching up, as he pinched it between his fingers.

“You,” Megumi continued, a warning whispered low in his voice, “will not come, until you’ve said ‘Please.’ One buzz for green, two for yellow, and three for red. What’s your colour, Sukuna?” 

He pressed his finger down for one long buzz and released it, his shoulders trembling under the tension Megumi was weaving into his muscles.

“ Good boy ,” Megumi whispered and Sukuna flushed. It wasn’t fair how easily Megumi could switch between disparagement, and praise. How easily he could ignite Sukuna’s entire body on fire with burning heat, and warm him slowly with the same voice, no matter the choice of words he used. 

A gentle buzzing that didn’t belong to the button in his hand dragged him out of his thoughts and Sukuna tensed. What was- A muffled, deep, full body groan was ripped from his body as the vibrating head of a wand settled across the base of his cock. His hips came up and he almost toppled over at the surprise. He threw his head back with another stifled groan as Megumi worked it down over the swell of his balls, circled them, and slowly dragged that wand up his length. 

Sukuna shook, and his cock shook with him. Beads of pre leaked from the tip, and the knot in his stomach tightened. He screwed his eyes shut, those grinding vibrations taking up every inch of thought inside of his mind. 

Megumi was cruel with his weapon, holding the wand over every piercing to send the vibrations through him, pressing hard, and then pulling back to whisper the vibrations against him, before he moved to the next piercing to send that little piece of metal shaking inside of him. It touched his nerves in ways others hadn’t before. It had him pulling at the restraints that bound him to his ankles, digging his teeth into the gag, the beginnings of drool gathering at the corners of his lips, toes curling tightly, fingers biting at his own palms. 

The wand dragged further up his length, and Sukuna jumped when Megumi settled it against the underside of his cockhead. He writhed whilst the vibrations ground against the sensitive nerves there, unconsciously pulling harder at the restraints, digging the bindings into his skin, a series of slurred noises gathering in the back of his throat. 

And then it all stopped. 

His chest heaved with each panting breath he dragged in around the gag. His body sagged as the pressure that had been building within his stomach slowly slid away. The ache in his cock hurt and he groaned at the realisation that he’d been so fucking close.

“Well?” 

Sukuna swallowed down a few more deep breaths, lifted his head up, battling the heaviness of a hazy fog, and fixed Megumi with a smirk and raised brows. Two could play at this game, and Sukuna had been a stubborn bastard since the day he was born. He shook his head, rolled one shoulder about the joint, and stared Megumi down. Or, at least he stared at the spot where he was sure Megumi was, challenging him. 

He’d already decided that if Megumi wasn’t going to give him his pleasure, he would take his own. With the way Megumi teased his cock, and rode his nerves, Sukuna would have no trouble with doing just that. He smirked wider around the gag, shifted his weight across his knees, and tilted his head to one side in a silent echo of Megumi’s sentence, “Well?” 

Besides Sukuna’s laboured breathing, his lungs still slowly coming to a steady rhythm, the only thing he could hear was quiet. It made him curious to know what face Megumi was pulling. How hotly did those emerald eyes of his burn into Sukuna? How dark could his expression turn? How murderous a look could Megumi pull? Each thought made Sukuna’s grin widen, and he could only imagine the absolute wrath Megumi would embody in the next minutes. 

He stewed in those thoughts, let them fester and grow. Imagining Megumi curling his fingers into tight fists, shaking with the temptation to finally lay a hand across Sukuna’s skin and strike him, to mark him, brand him, print his hand into his skin. It made him dizzy and Sukuna only wished he could feel Megumi’s palm strike his skin, feel the sting of his muscles turning red, feel the force he hid away beneath the finely tailored layers of his suit. He knew there was a hidden strength there. He’d felt it in the way Megumi pulled at his hair, pinched his throat, and when he’d pressed up against Sukuna’s back. Firm muscles bitterly hidden away from sight, their full strength held back. Sukuna wasn’t stupid. The series of fights he’d had throughout his teenage years had taught how to tell when somebody was holding back and Megumi was holding back on him. 

One day, Sukuna vowed he would pull Megumi out of his own reservations. Sukuna wasn’t made of glass and he thrived on somebody giving it their all. He enjoyed knowing that his partner, in whatever aspect of his life, was putting their all into it. He would feel all of what Megumi had to offer, he was sure of it. 

Just as he was sure that he would see Megumi naked. He needed to see what he was hiding, what he kept secret from the world. Sukuna needed to be the one exception, to be able to complete the picture of Megumi he’d been building in his head. Would he have tattoos too? What about piercings? The idea of Megumi being marked by scars had Sukuna’s cock twitching. What he wouldn’t give to trace his tongue over every blemish of Megumi’s skin, to hear his voice waver, to hear him stutter and pant, and moan, and whine, and-

A sharp flick to the top piercing in his cock had Sukuna reeling, throwing his head back with a hiss, flashes of pain-pleasure seeping into his muscles. He growled behind his gag and slowly dragged his head up to glare in Megumi’s vague direction. 

“You need to watch your fucking mouth-” Megumi wrapped a gloved hand, Sukuna wondered when he’d put gloves on, around the head of Sukuna’s cock and squeezed almost too much. It had Sukuna rocking, unsure if he wanted to fuck Megumi’s hand or get away from the tightening pressure that grew with each word that Megumi spat at him. “-and remember your place, you filthy, arrogant, disgusting, untrained, pathetic excuse for a mutt.”

A warm flush rolled through Sukuna and he shook his head. Was he daring Megumi to go harder? Or asking him to ease his grip? Sukuna didn’t know and he swallowed down any gulp of air he could take around the gag. 

“What’s your colour, Sukuna? One for green, remember.” 

He pressed the buzzer once, the noise sending a shiver running down his spine. Megumi’s hand disappeared and the wand was back, pressed underneath the head of his cock and dragging him head first into a wave of pleasure that rocked through him. Sukuna groaned loudly, the noise barely contained by the gag in his mouth, and he sunk his teeth into the rubber for purchase. His muscles trembled as Megumi pushed the wand up, over the head of his cock, and held it against his slit, making Sukuna shrink away from it. But Megumi chased him. Increased the speed and trailed one gloved finger down his length, between each piercing, until he reached the base of Sukuna’s cock, and he pressed against the twitching nerves there. 

A few drops of drool finally started to slide down his chin and Sukuna keened as Megumi eased up his assault on the head of his cock, tracing it back down until it was pressed against as many piercings as he could reach with it. The vibrations grew, slowed, increased, decreased, and pulsed, pulsed, pulsed in time with the rapid staccato of his heartbeat. His hips bucked up, chasing Megumi this time, chasing that cresting wave of ecstasy he could feel down to his fingertips. 

Only for Megumi to rip it all away again with nothing but empty air and a rumbling, frustrated whine in Sukuna’s chest. 

“This is your choice,” Megumi said, “you know what you have to say, what I want to hear.” He tapped the wand against the underside of Sukuna’s cock and Sukuna flinched with another noise. “I can do this all night.” 

He flicked the wand on and Sukuna writhed at the sudden pressure. 

Megumi turned it off and Sukuna sagged, a dry sob getting caught in his throat. 

On it went again, and Sukuna jerked up, or tried to. The bindings kept him pinned into place, his only option to arch harder, fold himself further in half. A whimper echoed behind the gag as Megumi ran the wand up, down, up, down, up, down, only to turn it off all over again and leave Sukuna panting desperately around the slick gag, coated in his drool. 

This had to be a punishment of some kind. If Megumi didn’t class this as some kind of penance for his attitude, his back chat, his lack of respect, then Sukuna feared what Megumi truly did call torture. This was bad enough. Sweat dripped off of his body, his skin was far too hot and flushed. He couldn’t stop the trails of drool from leaving the corners of his mouth, a few drops even sliding over his chin and down his neck. A drop here and there splattered onto his chest. Every muscle in his body ached from how tense he was, from the strain of stressing them too taut, to letting them sag moments later. His cock throbbed with a need he hadn’t felt in a long time, far too full, heavy, and leaking thick drops of pre down his length, and Sukuna’s throat felt raw and dry from how many noises he’d been forced to choke back down. 

Please . 

That was all Megumi wanted to hear. 

One word. 

One. Tiny. Little. Word. 

He shook his head, a soft noise dancing across his tongue. He refused to say it. Megumi would have to wrench it from him, drag it beating and bleeding from Sukuna’s lungs and even then, Sukuna doubted he would say it so willingly. 

“Suit yourself,” Megumi said. 

Sukuna braced himself, muscles stiffening in expectation. It never came and his face slowly morphed into a frown the longer the unfilled seconds dragged on. He strained his ears, listening for any kind of movement, for any noise that wasn’t his own, any sign of life from Megumi and what he was doing this time. But silence greeted him and Sukuna made a frustrated noise behind the gag. Why wasn’t Megumi pushing him? What was he waiting for? 

The tension in his body didn’t ease. It grew in anxiety, desperation making him eager to know where Megumi was, what he was going to do next, when he was going to do something. He listened carefully for any subtle noise that would give Megumi away and he heard nothing. 

But he felt it. A presence skirting along the edges of his body, down, over his stomach, past his cock, past his heavy sat balls, and stopping just before it reached his ass. The sound of vibrations filled the air and a new chill swept through Sukuna. He could feel the air between the wand and his skin move, could feel it teasing any fine hairs onto their ends in expectation. 

Megumi held him there like that, waiting and waiting for a touch, a press of pleasure to rock through him. It made Sukuna wriggle, unable to stay still, needing that slide of friction over his skin, needing that presence firmly digging into his muscles. Sukuna tried to count how long Megumi stayed like that, each second longer than the last, until finally Megumi pressed the bulbous, pulsating head against his perineum, and Sukuna almost saw white. 

He trembled like he hadn’t before, rocked forward, rolled back, writhed on his knees as Megumi pressed and pressed, following Sukuna’s every movement with the wand. He alternated the frequency, flicked it off, on, off, on, burning Sukuna’s nerves alive with a fresh fire that was burning him from the inside out. 

Too much. 

Too much. 

Too much.

Sukuna’s thumb hovered over the button for the buzzer, that word, please , caressing his tongue. Megumi would stop the torture if he said it, would let Sukuna finally have his release, let him relax and ease the tight strain being wrought through his muscles. He would be able to bask in the afterglow of an orgasm so intense Sukuna was almost certain there was a chance he would black out. 

Everything stopped again, and Sukuna let out a low, long breath through his nose, squinting through the fabric of the blindfold. Everything ached and his muscles cried with misery at being denied the one thing he wanted the most. He could chase his own release the next time Megumi pressed that wand to him, could find his own ecstasy, but that would put an end to this entire thing and it would be almost the same as admitting defeat, that he couldn’t handle it.

Gentle fingers worked over his wrist and Sukuna made a small noise, surprised that Megumi had moved without him realising it. 

“What’s your colour, Sukuna?” Megumi whispered, his voice soft. He almost sounded concerned that he’d pushed Sukuna too much, that this was too far, and Sukuna snorted, pressing the buzzer once. 

He was good. This was great. Everything was fantastic. He’d wanted a dom that pushed him to his limits, who didn’t hold back out of fear of breaking him. He’d wanted to feel his mind succumb to that familiar hazy fog of subspace where nothing mattered but him and Megumi. 

The fingers around his wrist disappeared and he felt the tap of the wand against his heavy, leaking cock. “Have you learnt anything yet?” 

Sukuna jumped at the knock and worked on controlling his breathing again. He stretched his neck about his shoulders, let out a noise through his nose, straightened up, and lifted his head up to try to fix Megumi with a certain look. He shook his head, inhaled another shuddering breath, and slowly released it with a full body tremble. 

“Are you sure ?” 

Sukuna huffed around his gag, narrowed his eyes and nodded. He wanted to know how far Megumi would take this, how far he himself could take this. It had been a long time since his limits had been tested like this and Sukuna was enjoying the rush of it all. Testing that thin line between just enough and too much, feeling the threatening break of tears behind his eyes as he succumbed to whatever his dom wanted was exhilarating. He welcomed that feeling, wanted to feel it all over again and more, and he prepared himself for whatever trick Megumi had this time. 

He felt the air move with Megumi’s movements, and felt the shadow of Megumi’s heat fall across his body. Then, there was a hand around his throat, finger and thumb digging into the sides of his throat, applying pressure in just the right spot that had his breath curling back into his lungs. Megumi’s other hand pressed the wand to the head of Sukuna’s cock and he flicked it onto one of the lowest settings that rumbled quietly against him. 

“You’re insufferable,” Megumi whispered, the usual heat in his tone almost nonexistent. Sukuna choked on a noise as Megumi tightened his hold on his throat. “One of the most hopeless cases I’ve ever met,” Sukuna flushed at those words, his stomach knotting dangerously. He was on the precipice of his orgasm. It was just out of reach, but everything wasn’t enough. Megumi turned the wand down until Sukuna could hardly feel it, and he whined noiselessly, feeling every breath Megumi let out kiss his dry lips.

Megumi’s nose brushed his and Sukuna tried to peer through any gap in the blindfold for Megumi’s form. They were so close that Sukuna could picture where his eyes were, where his lips creased his features into a frown, and just how far down his face those loose strands of black hair came. How those green eyes would be perfectly framed by long black locks, and surrounded by long lashes. Megumi was pretty and Sukuna clung to that image in his mind, pairing it with the way that he knew he took up the entirety of Megumi’s vision like this. 

Megumi was the only thing on his mind, the only thing he could think about, and he was all Megumi could see, could focus on. 

“I find you so fucking unbearable,” Sukuna whimpered, but Megumi ignored it and pinched Sukuna’s throat a little harder. “It almost makes me want to bite that stupid mouth of yours until it fucking. Bleeds. ”

He didn’t need Megumi’s fingers to chase his breath away. Those words did it for him, making Sukuna’s mouth fall slack. He slammed his thumb against the button, arching closer into Megumi’s space in the same instant, almost thrusting his mouth against Megumi’s. Yes. Please. Fuck. Megumi. Please. Give me that. I need that. The mantra wouldn’t stop running in rapid circles in his head, and Sukuna couldn’t contain the harsh breaths he struggled to swallow down as he fought the binds around his wrist. He needed that. He wanted so badly to feel Megumi’s teeth sinking into his lip, to see Megumi’s lips stained red with his blood, smearing it across both of their mouths until they wore it like lipstick. He needed everything that Megumi’s promise entailed. 

The wand disappeared. Megumi released his throat and Sukuna wheezed through his next breaths, but he didn’t dare move, teeth biting harder into the gag. He stayed as close as he could get to Megumi like this, wanting to keep him here, a few inches apart, so that the moment they could follow through with it, they could. 

Megumi fumbled with the strap of the gag and the moment Sukuna felt it loosen he spat it out, ignoring the clatter it made as it hit the floor. “Please ,” Sukuna rushed out, voice hoarse and breathless. “Megumi. Sir. Fuck. I’m green, I’m green. Bite me, mark me, make me bleed, please, please, pleas-”

He was silenced by the harsh bite of teeth into his bottom lip. Sukuna’s mouth fell open with a raw, throaty groan, and he leaned into the bite, pushing himself harder against Megumi’s mouth, demanding more, more, more . He whined louder and Megumi reciprocated his thoughts. Pain flared across his bottom lip, and then he felt it, fresh, hot, metallic wetness that had him leaking desperately, had him rutting his hips up against nothing. 

Megumi drew away and Sukuna tried to chase him with his mouth, moaning when the restraints held him back. A thumb brushed across his bottom lip, smearing the few drops of blood across it, and Sukuna almost flicked his tongue out to taste it in full. Megumi tugged Sukuna’s bottom lip down with that same thumb and his breath was hot against Sukuna’s bitten lip as Megumi whispered, “Ask nicely for your reward.”

Heat flared through him and he didn’t think twice about it. The rapid beat of his heart, the pounding of his blood in his ears, the heat of Megumi’s body so close to him, the soft swells of pain that flared with every subtle dig of Megumi’s thumb into his lip. It all drowned out his earlier promise to take what he wanted. “Please, may I come, Sir?” 

There was an audible, pleased hum from Megumi. “I knew you still had manners.” The small lilt of praise had no right to make Sukuna’s chest swell with pride. “You may.” 

A gloved hand slid over his cock and Sukuna tensed, an open mouthed groan reverberating through him as Megumi squeezed him once, twice, and he came. His mind blacked out to the white noise of pleasure and he trembled. Thick strips of his release painted his stomach and chest, and all the while he could feel Megumi watching him, hovering just above him, his face inches away from Sukuna’s own, one thumb still hooked into his mouth. 

Megumi slowly dragged his hand up, pulling pitiful whimpers from Sukuna’s throat, and equally pitiful strips of cum from his cock, completely working him dry until Sukuna’s lips quivered and he had to shake his head. “S-stop, Sir, fuck, I’m-” 

Megumi squeezed his cock again and Sukuna writhed at the pressure that swirled within him. Those fingers dragged up, pinched at his cockhead, worked their way back down and nudged at his piercings, ripping fresh whimpers from Sukuna’s throat. “Not yet.” 

“Fu-ck,” Sukuna hissed and he tried to pull away, tried to draw back, but Megumi chased him. Pulled more cum from his cock until Sukuna’s head fell back, until he shook his head desperately, a wretched, “Stop ,” on his lips. That did the trick and Megumi let go. Sukuna sagged, fresh curses falling from his mouth. 

“What’s your colour?” Megumi whispered. 

Sukuna hummed, licked his dry lips, the taste of blood splashing across his tongue, and cleared his throat, “I’m green, Sir.”

The heat of Megumi’s body disappeared and then his fingers were wrapped around Sukuna’s wrists. He listened to the click of one lock, then three more, and the bindings around his wrists and ankles disappeared. “Fuck,” he mumbled, pulling himself up to hunch forward. His muscles screamed at the sudden change and Sukuna hissed, running one hand over his aching abs to try to soothe them. 

Behind him, Megumi rubbed his fingers over Sukuna’s ankles, thumbs digging into tender muscles to loosen up the knots he’d put there. “Do you need anything?” Megumi asked. 

Sukuna shrugged one shoulder and lifted a hand up to his head, fingers struggling to follow the fabric of the blindfold. 

“Let me,” Megumi said, and Sukuna dropped his hands to let Megumi unfasten the knot and tug the material off of his face. 

The sudden bright spots of light had Sukuna blinking rapidly and scrubbing one hand across his face with a grunt. When he was sure he could open them again within wincing, he eyed the space where the binds used to be wrapped around his wrists. There was a little redness to them that looked as though it might linger into tomorrow, and it made him smile. He lifted one hand up to trace the lines, wishing that they were deeper, that they would last longer than a few hours. “I’m good,” he mumbled, and he slowly cleared his throat, rolling his wrists in circles to tease circulation back into them. 

“Don’t move.” 

That had Sukuna raising his brows and he lifted his head to watch Megumi stalk across the room to his kitchen. He hummed to himself and worked on bringing his legs forward to give his knees a rest. His muscles croaked with the stiff movements and he let out another hiss as he sat back on his ass. 

Megumi was back a moment later, glass of water in one hand and a towel in the other. He fell onto his knees between Sukuna’s legs, pushing the glass into his hand. Sukuna took it without argument, gulping down the delicious liquid that soothed his raw throat. He watched Megumi work on wiping his stomach and chest down, hands gentle in their touches to make sure they got every drop he’d wrung from Sukuna’s body. When he finished his drink, he set the glass to one side, ignoring the red print of his lips across the rim. 

A hand underneath his chin tugged Sukuna’s attention around, and he blinked at the view of Megumi right in front of him. Green eyes were fixed on his lips, and Sukuna opened his mouth to say something, what exactly he didn’t know, but Megumi shut him up with a stern look and pursed lips. Sukuna simply watched Megumi lift a damp wipe to Sukuna’s bottom lip and wipe at the blood he’d pierced from his skin. Every touch was gentle, barely there, making sure he didn’t do any more harm, and Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat the longer Megumi tenderly worked on cleaning his mouth up. 

Not a single word passed between them and Sukuna didn’t mind it. He could spend hours sitting like this, with Megumi seeing to his grazes, and warm fingers cradling his chin. 

Megumi gave his lip one final wipe, brushed his thumb across it, and let out a breath. Slowly, he brought his gaze up to meet Sukuna’s. There was something in those green eyes that had Sukuna stilling, and he tried to put a name to it. Worry? Concern? Pity? Regret? 

He couldn’t tell which emotion Megumi was trying to hide and before he knew it Sukuna reached a hand out to hold onto Megumi’s wrist. “I enjoyed tonight,” he said, trying to see the usual flicker of light in those emeralds. There was clear hesitation on Megumi’s face and Sukuna squeezed Megumi’s wrist, “It was everything I could want. I’m fine. You didn’t cross any line I wouldn’t have wanted you to cross.” 

That seemed to do the trick and Megumi’s eyes narrowed, a glimmer of satisfaction creeping in instead. “We really should discuss things like that beforehand.” 

“Why? It wasn’t on my list of no’s and I asked for it.” 

Megumi flicked Sukuna’s nose and shuffled closer until Sukuna’s chin was nestled against Megumi’s chest. He slid one arm around Sukuna’s neck and tangled his fingers in pink hair. “You’re an idiot,” Megumi whispered, none of his usual heat behind the words. 

Sukuna scowled and huffed, “Let me get up.” 

“No.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“No.”

“Megumi.” 

“Shut up,” Megumi breathed, and Sukuna glared into Megumi’s chest as Megumi nestled his chin atop his head. “We’re going to discuss doing something like that before we do it in the future.” 

Sukuna blew a puff of air out and pushed a little more against Megumi’s hip, hoping it would entice him to let Sukuna get up. “Why? You already know I don’t mind anything.” 

Megumi jabbed a sharp finger into the back of Sukuna’s shoulder, “It’s the thing to do.” 

Sukuna snorted, “Yeah, maybe if you could hurt me.” 

“I can hurt you doing this, that’s the point.”

“Are you talking about sub drop? I’m familiar with what that is. Trust me, I’m fine and I know what to look out for.” 

Megumi let out a breath, “God you’re so fucking annoying.”

Sukuna chuckled, “So you’ve told me.” 

There was another jab of a finger into his shoulder and Sukuna’s grin didn’t waver. As much as he enjoyed the actual dom part of their session, he enjoyed this part almost as much. Megumi was easy to talk to and fun to chat with. Sukuna found conversation, even as short as it was, easy to do. Like this, a little bit of Megumi’s personality crept out and Sukuna was allowed the honour to witness this small part of Megumi’s true nature. 

He was somebody who clearly didn’t let anybody get the last word in, who didn’t let anybody get away with anything, and Sukuna admired that about him. It meant that Megumi had a strong character outside of this job. Anything within the dom scene felt like an extension of Megumi’s identity, and Sukuna wondered, if they’d met another way, how well they’d have gotten along. He snorted. In another life they would’ve more likely been at each other’s throats with the way they clashed. The two of them would’ve butted heads, too stubborn to let the other get their way. 

Sukuna pushed against Megumi’s side until he was forced to sit back on his knees, and Sukuna made sure he had Megumi’s attention before he said, “I assure you, Megumi. I’m fine. I just want to get dressed, grab a shower, and crawl into bed. You can pack up and head home.” 

There was a hint of something lurking in the corners of Megumi’s eyes as he studied Sukuna for several, long, silent seconds, the muscles of his brows twitching into a glare. “Okay,” he whispered eventually.

Megumi stood up and Sukuna followed him with his eyes, accepting the offered hand with a grin. Megumi didn’t say much else as he handed Sukuna his clothes and set about tidying up his tools. Sukuna threaded one foot through his boxers, set his foot down, and kicked something across the floor. He stopped, peered down to see what he’d just kicked, and stared at the gag Megumi had chosen for him; a piece of rubber shaped like a bone. He slowly flicked his gaze to Megumi who scooped it up with a shrug, “I’m trying to teach an old dog new tricks.”

“I’m not that old.” 

Megumi only hummed and carried on throwing his things into his bag. 

Sukuna frowned in Megumi’s direction and finished throwing enough clothes on so that he was decent enough to see Megumi out. He brushed his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back with a grimace at how gross it, and everything else about him, felt. A hot shower was definitely in order and he stretched his muscles out, enjoying the audible pop some of them gave. When he glanced over, Megumi had his bag on his shoulder and a dark frown taking up residence on his face. 

Sukunat let him be. 

If Megumi wasn’t scowling then Sukuna was sure he had something to worry about. Megumi would let him know if something was wrong, or if he had something to say. So, Sukuna let him be, and left him to it. If Megumi wasn’t going to say anything then neither was Sukuna. 

For now, he gestured to the door and let Megumi walk himself out into the hallway. “You’re still getting the train?” 

Megumi nodded. “I prefer it.” 

Sukuna pursed his lips, a comment on the tip of his tongue. Public transport only got more dangerous the later into the night it was, and, well, Sukuna didn’t want Megumi to be bothered by that kind of thing, to have any issues or anything to worry about. But Megumi was resolute in his stance, and Sukuna shrugged a shoulder. “You ever change your mind, I can have a taxi ready and waiting for you.” 

“Thanks,” and Megumi left. 

It took a moment for Sukuna to let out a breath, and close the door, running a hand over his face as he tried to stifle a yawn. Ultimately, he was glad he hadn’t cancelled. That had been the perfect stress relief and he knew the moment his head hit the pillow, he’d be out like a light. A smile tugged at his lips and Sukuna grabbed the rest of his clothes that had been abandoned earlier. He tossed them into the dirty hamper, and grabbed the glass he’d set aside earlier. 

The red lip stain stared up at him and Sukuna darted his tongue out over the bite Megumi had torn into his lip. It stung as he pressed over it, stung as he sucked his bottom in to tease that same pain to the surface so that he could savour it once more, almost imagining Megumi biting at his lip all over again. 

His cock twitched at the thought and Sukuna tried to will it away, his mind already mulling over several thoughts. Megumi had it in him to go the extra mile, to step outside the standard comfort zones subs usually had. And he’d enjoyed himself tonight, he must’ve with the way he’d willingly given in to Sukuna’s request. Nobody proposed that kind of idea unless it turned them on to some degree, and Sukuna wondered just how much Megumi was holding back on him? He’d already told them when he’d signed up that he was down for almost anything, that there was very little he wouldn’t do. 

So, if tonight was an indication of how Megumi preferred to play, why was he holding back on a guy like Sukuna? Why was he not enjoying the little limits Sukuna had put into place? Was he trying to pretend to be something he wasn’t? Was he hiding something from Sukuna by playing it safe? What was it then, that he was trying to hide? Should Sukuna be worried by the kind of person Megumi really was? 

Chapter Text

Nobara’s fingers were a warm weight. The soft pads of her fingertips were gentle against his scalp as she carded them through Megumi’s hair, her other hand settled on his shoulder. Megumi let himself sink into the repetitive motions, melting against her soft thighs, and further into her lap. All, as he tried to push away the awful churning of his stomach that left a sour taste in the back of his throat. 

It had been four days since he’d last seen Sukuna. Four days since he’d tasted Sukuna’s blood on his lips, since he’d almost considered breaking his own rules, since his heart had hammered painfully heavy in his chest with a need he hadn’t felt in so long. 

And he’d had four days of feeling something shadow his every step. It dulled every flicker of heat in his eyes, and curled something ugly within the darkened recesses of his mind. In the middle of a session with another client, it hit him what exactly was going on. Why he didn’t want to be there, why he wanted to tell Mei Mei he quit, to go home, curl up under the sheets, and bury himself in the shadows of his bed and the darker shadows of his apartment until he forgot what day of the week it was. He wanted to run away from it all and never look back. 

He’d gone too far. 

He’d let his own fantasies bleed into the session, into Sukuna’s time and money. He’d forgotten that he was there as part of his job, that this was about Sukuna, not him, and he’d let his mouth and brain both run wild of their own accord. But the words he’d uttered at the time had been nothing compared to the image he’d had in his head at the time, and he’d been unable to shake it ever since. 

Sukuna bound, unable to stop Megumi as he left one vicious bite mark after another in his skin, as he branded a new band of tattoos with his teeth. Over and over, until they would be damn near permanent, a constant reminder of who had been there and who had marked Sukuna, claimed him for everyone to see. Sukuna writhing, panting his name, asking for more, more, more . And Megumi’s fingers pressing against those marks, darkening them, making them bleed. Sliding his fingers up to curl them around Sukuna’s neck, pressing his thumbs against the apple of his throat, feeling Sukuna’s pulse race underneath his fingertips, watching the colour in his lips steadily melt away as Megumi squeezed and Sukuna slowly struggled for breath. 

Gasping. 

Choking. 

Bucking desperately. 

Only for Megumi to rip his fingers away at the last moment, granting Sukuna the breath of life. 

That image had plagued his mind, infected his thoughts, and it was responsible for more than one inappropriate boner that hadn’t gone down on its own. It was inappropriate for him to think of Sukuna in such a way, to blur that line between professional and personal just to sate his own fantasy, to consider crossing a line there was no coming back from. 

A swift flick to his ear brought him back to the present and Megumi rolled back to stare up at Nobara’s angry, honeyed gaze. “Stop it,” she said. 

“I’m not doing anything.” 

Her glare darkened and she pinched his cheek between a finger and thumb, tugging on it until she almost lifted his head up from her lap. “I can hear you thinking stupid things, Fushiguro.” 

Megumi reached up to tug her hand away with a groan. “I’m not wrong.” 

She pinched harder at his face until Megumi was forced to twist away from her fingers, snatching his face free from her hold. But Nobara was relentless. She pressed a palm across his cheek and shoved his face back into her lap. “Listen to me.” Megumi stared at their reflection in the tall mirror hooked onto the far wall. They looked a sight on the not quite big enough couch with one of Megumi’s legs hanging over the edge, the other awkwardly curled towards his chest. He had one hand tucked underneath his head, the other laying limply over his waist, and he watched as Nobara lifted one hand up, flicking a single finger up. “You spoke to Sukuna about it afterwards and he said he was fine.” A second finger joined the first, “It’s not on his list of no’s and he said he wanted it, didn’t he?” 

“Yeah, but-” 

A third finger went up. “You both enjoyed it and why the hell would you do this kind of job if you weren’t allowed to enjoy it?” 

“Nobara-”

“Shush!” He clamped his lips shut and sighed silently, eyes tracing the lines of lockers along one wall of the staff room. They were all neatly labelled with their names on white stickers, each one eloquently scrawled by Mei Mei herself. Nobara’s locker was currently open, a handbag on the floor next to a set of high stiletto heels. Her coat was strung over the open locker door and her over shirt had been hastily thrown inside. Nobara loved her layers and Megumi understood it only after he’d seen her perform. 

That morning, he’d gotten halfway through his usual walk with his dogs when his mind reminded him of what he’d done. The thoughts had started swirling instantly, bringing back the same abyssal well that he was sure he’d already climbed out of. 

Sukuna lied when he’d said he wanted it, did you see the way he wanted you out of his place? He practically chased you out of the door. You’re supposed to give your subs aftercare and what aftercare have you given him? What aftercare did you give him on that day? Nothing. He didn’t want it, not from you. He probably threw himself head first into a bottle of whiskey, and chain smoked his way through two full boxes of cigarettes because that was better than dealing with you . 

You need to break Sukuna’s contract, give him another dom. You’re terrible at your job, absolutely awful. This isn’t supposed to be about you, it’s about them. It’s about Sukuna. 

Remember the last time you started to get carried away? Do you remember how that ended?

He’d found a bench, collapsed onto it, hunched his shoulders up to his chin, and tapped out a short, “Chat?” with shaking fingers to Nobara. She told him to simply get his ass to the club two hours before her first show started and she would help him out. 

By the time he’d taken the dogs home, grabbed his keys, wallet and left, his heart pounded painfully in his chest. He could feel his chest rising and falling with each breath he struggled to swallow down, could feel his throat dry up, feel his muscles grow heavier and heavier in each step he took. He kept his hands buried in his pockets, chin tucked to his chest, and his focused more on the ground than where he was going. 

The moment he’d slipped through the employee entrance door, Nobara was there, promptly snatching one hand around his wrist and dragging him over to one of the staff only couches. She proceeded to make herself comfortable before she’d tugged him down and forced him to lay his head in her lap. 

“You’re a good dom, Megumi,” Nobara whispered, and the words flared cold warmth inside Megumi's chest. If he was good he wouldn’t- “Tell your brain to shut the fuck up and listen to me! You didn’t attack Sukuna because your dick was hard, you told him what you wanted to do and he asked for it. He wanted it as much as you wanted it. He told you he was fine, and you said it yourself, he looked fine.” She blew out a puff of air and Megumi tensed, feeling a berating on the horizon. “But you , you idiot, clearly weren’t fine! Do I need to remind you why the hell aftercare exists?” 

Megumi rolled his eyes and closed them with a soft shake of his head. It wasn’t just to sate the sub afterwards, to tend to their emotional and physical wellbeing. It served as a way for the dom to cool down afterwards, to come to their own terms with whatever scenario they’d just run, to find their own comfort in the basic form of another being, to know that they weren’t cruel for the sake of being cruel.

“So why didn’t you push it?” 

Megumi shrugged again. He’d tried to make Sukuna sit down for a little longer, tried to cling to him and seek some kind of comfort in him. When Sukuna had insisted on Megumi leaving, when Sukuna had pushed him away, Megumi had just… let him. He’d never been one to force his presence onto other people, to make them put up with him longer than necessary, to cause a fuss. If somebody wanted him to leave, he did just that. Even if they didn’t, Megumi never wanted to outstay his welcome, no matter how friendly it was. 

He didn’t want to be a burden. 

Normally, Megumi didn’t need to chase anybody down for the aftercare. Normally it was his subs that clung to him, asked him to stay a little longer, hold them, pet their hair, asking him if they did good, if everything was to his liking. They sought his validation, his gentle hands, his comfort. They asked him for help, and in helping them, he helped himself. It worked just fine for him like that. The soft threading of fingers through their hair, the wiping of tears, holding their cheeks, telling them they were perfect and that their happiness is important to him. The soft arms wrapped tightly around him, clinging to him as he whispered all kinds of praises and affirmations. 

It. Worked. 

But Sukuna never sought him out, ever. Even in the forms he’d initially filled out, the aftercare section had been left blank and on that first night, Megumi had wondered if he’d forgotten to fill it in. Then he’d learnt that Sukuna was happy to breathe, stretch his legs, chat for a couple of minutes, and call it a day. Normally, Megumi wouldn’t mind this. 

Except he’d needed something this time. He’d gone further than he’d intended. Pushed his boundaries, and tested Sukuna’s as he’d given in to the dark thoughts that filtered through from the primal part of his brain he normally had full control over. He’d let those thoughts consume him, and forgotten his personal promise to never tread that path again, no matter how much somebody wanted him to. 

Nobara flicked his ear, dragging him back to the present. “Oi!” 

He flinched and dared a look back up at her. Her brows were drawn deep in the centre, and, despite the frown that pinched her lips into a thin line, her eyes were warm, homely, and nothing but reassuring. “What?” he mumbled. 

She huffed, closed her eyes for a moment, and slowly opened them before she settled her fingers back into his hair. “Cancel your next session with him, have a break, and then try again.” 

“Nobara-”

“Megumi.” 

He let out a breath and melted further into Nobara’s lap. She was right. If he went ahead and struck Sukuna off as a client, he’d probably, and most likely, regret it later on. Not for the fact that Mei Mei, as part of policy to keep a safe and comfortable work environment for her staff, would blacklist Sukuna from the club, permanently, through no fault of Sukuna’s own. Nor for the simple, conceited and shallow fact that Sukuna was the perfect eye candy with a brilliant, bratty personality that Megumi rarely got to taste. 

No, he’d regret it for the simple fact that he’d have run away from something that was a small and relatively easy fix. 

“Fine,” he mumbled, and he could hear the grin she wore. “Shut up,” he whispered, hating the way his own lips curled up. 

“You love me.” 

He snorted and closed his eyes again, letting himself sink into the warm cherry rose scent that encapsulated Nobara. “How long before you’re on stage?” 

She hummed and relaxed into her seat. “A little over an hour, you gonna nap?” He made a noise of confirmation, his breath already slowing with each slow inhale. “Just don’t drool on me.” Megumi snorted again and nuzzled against her thigh, the weight he’d been dragging behind him slowly lifting. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, but he was damned near close to it and it was bliss. The tension that had been wound tightly in his shoulders was loosened by Nobara as she worked her fingers through his hair, over and over again. There was a low hum in her throat, some popular song he’d heard on the radio recently, that helped to keep his thoughts from kicking themselves back to life. Behind it was the general buzz of the club; low thumping music from the main stage room next door, the opening and closing of the door between that and the staff room, the back entrance, lockers clicking shut, the shuffling of clothes, quiet murmured voices. 

It was oddly familiar and comforting, despite how little time Megumi spent here. 

Texting Nobara had been the best decision he’d made in a long time. When she gave him a short prod in the shoulder, telling him his time was up, he sat up with a grunt, stretching the fresh kinks out of his shoulders. He felt better. Not perfect, but better. The dark cloud that had been hanging over his head was nothing more than a ball of grey fluff he could almost shake away with a wave of his hand. “Thanks,” he mumbled, pulling himself to his feet and holding a hand out to Nobara. 

She took it, smoothed down the short skirt she was wearing, and snatched his arm up with one of her own, keeping him there a little longer. “Anytime, Gumi. Just don’t forget again or I will kick your ass. Even if you have to make them sit there, you-”

“Make them sit there,” he finished, offering her a small smile. Sometimes, a second opinion, or somebody telling him he was an idiot, helped to soothe his mental aches, helped him to realise he didn’t quite have to do everything alone. “I will.” 

Nobara lifted a hand up with an extended pinky, “You promise?” 

Megumi eyed that finger with one raised brow before he sighed and wrapped his own pinky around it, “Promise.” 

“Good.” She stepped away and grabbed the hem of her shirt, tugging it over her head. “Now go cancel, go home,” she tossed her shirt into her locker and reached for the clothes she was going to wear on stage. “Have a bubble bath, let your dogs smother you in your sleep, play your stupid games or some shit, and just relax.” 

“Yes, mom.” 

She stuck her tongue out at that and Megumi chuckled before he made his way towards the door that separated the back rooms from the main area of the building. The change in atmosphere was instant. From the back rooms that were well lit and quiet, thanks to the soundproof walls that separated them, Megumi was greeted by dimmed overhead lights and single lines of runner lights that lit up the thin footways between tables and alcoves.

In terms of physical space, it wasn’t one of the biggest clubs in the city, not by a long shot. The main room was dominated by a stage with small clusters of tables and chairs facing it, with a few little alcoves etched out along the walls, whilst a door on the left side of the stage led to the back rooms where private shows and sessions happened. Megumi skirted past a table that hollered at the current show happening on stage; Kokichi and Miwa were a regular duo that left a lot of their audience wet in their pants. There were bets going on with the other staff members if they were in a relationship already or about to confess to one another. 

Nobara was sure they were married. 

Megumi was just glad they were happy and he watched Miwa, with thick ropes of red fastened around her chest and arms, ask Kokichi if they could have an assistant tonight. The crowd went wild and Megumi smiled as Kokichi gave in to her. She had him wrapped around her finger and everybody knew it. 

He made his way past the crowd, past the servers who refilled people’s drinks, and headed towards the main reception by the front exit. Inside the booth sat Mei Mei, the owner of Chimera Shadow Gardens, and her little brother Ui Ui. He’d long stopped asking what the situation was between them and had grown accustomed to whatever they were. The fewer questions he asked, the better. 

“Megumi, darling,” Mei Mei purred the moment she clocked him. “How’s one of my most popular staff members doing tonight?” 

He understood the subtle meaning behind her words. Each member of staff had an electronic keycard to get them through the staff entrance which Mei Mei kept a log of, to make sure nobody was doing anything they shouldn’t. She would’ve clocked his name logging into the system a while ago, and if he was still here, she had a few questions on her mind. What was he doing at the club? What’s gone wrong? Did she need to worry? They both knew Megumi avoided the club as much as possible, that he took clients strictly within their own homes and they both knew Megumi spent at most fifteen minutes on the premises at a time. 

Megumi shrugged off her compliment. He didn’t mind being popular, but he was surprised considering the basic criteria he met and the higher rates he charged to accommodate transport costs. “Can you cancel my next session with Ryomen Sukuna.” 

That had Mei Mei raising a brow. Megumi had cancelled entire clients before, was the sole reason their blacklisted client list was so long, but he’d never cancelled single sessions. “Just the one?” she asked, clearly uncertain in his request. “I can assign him to another partner if you’d prefer.” And there was the subtle question, what happened? 

He shook his head. He needed a small break from him, a chance to breathe without his senses being clogged by everything that was Sukuna . “No, no. Just the one is fine.” 

She paused, settled one elbow onto the counter, and cupped her chin in her hand, eyes fixed pointedly on Megumi. “Should I be worried? We can blacklist him, no matter how much he wants to pay for your services.” 

The implication there had Megumi frowning even harder. As far as he knew there were set rates across the board with a maximum number of hours to fill, no matter how popular somebody was. People always wanted to pay less and Mei Mei put her foot down each and every time, but it was incredibly rare that anybody wanted to pay more. The longer he stared at Mei Mei the harder it was for him to tell which side of the coin she was talking about and Megumi didn’t want to think about it. 

“He’s fine,” he said. 

“But you’re not.” 

“I’m fine.” 

Mei Mei hummed, a clear disbelieving look crossing her features. From her side, Ui Ui piped up as he tapped away on the keyboard of the computer, responding to an enquiry by the looks of it, “You know the customer isn’t always right. Mei Mei taught you and everyone else that because she knows best. If you’re not fine-”

He was interrupted by Mei Mei’s soft chuckle and she threaded her fingers through Ui Ui’s hair. “Now, now darling brother. We’ll let Megumi make the decision for himself. If he says we’re cancelling the one session, then we’ll cancel the one. Bring up Megumi’s schedule will you?” Her eyes cut back to Megumi, sharp and demanding. “But Megumi? Don’t get yourself hurt.” 

There was something on the tip of his tongue, a remark, a comment that he’d been doing this long enough to know better, that he knew what was too far, hence why he was cancelling in the first place. But he never got a chance to utter any of thoughts, a sharp, high, sing-song voice shattering every single fibre of his being. 

“Megumin!” 

He froze, fingers curling into a fist, and he clamped his mouth shut, grinding his teeth together to hold back the immediate word vomit that clawed its way up his throat. A large hand slid over his shoulder and he felt the weight of the other person sidle up next to him, getting far too into his personal space, their body doing their best to completely crowd Megumi against the desk Mei Mei was currently sitting behind. 

“Have you been avoiding me? Again ?” 

Megumi scoffed and finally turned a glare onto shaded eyes beneath bangs of white hair. “I’m always avoiding you , Satoru.” 

Satoru barked a laugh, pearly white teeth standing out under the dim lights of the club. A low, sickly sweet hum echoed in his chest and against Megumi’s side. “I’ve missed your sense of humour.” 

“I haven’t missed you.” The fingers still hooked over his shoulder squeezed a little too tightly, and Megumi refused to look away. If anything his glare darkened and the muscles of his jaw worked as he clenched it tightly. Another subtle pinch of those digits into his shoulder almost had Megumi hissing. “What do you want?”

Those obnoxiously slick lips of Satoru’s widened into a sickening leer that pierced into Megumi with the same annoying intensity as Satoru’s personality. “You, Megumi. It’s been far too long.” 

Megumi turned his attention away from Satoru and onto Mei Mei’s perfectly arched brow. She was the one to speak next, her voice sweet and silky smooth, “Satoru, I hope you’re not antagonising my staff.” 

“Mei Mei, my sweetest darling, you know Megumi and I go way back.”

Megumi and Satoru did go back, but so did Mei Mei and Satoru, and Megumi wasn’t entirely certain he wanted to know how those two went back. He couldn’t imagine anything good coming from those two being together in any sense of the word. “You forget,” Mei Mei said, “I know you, Satoru. Megumi,” she turned her attention back to him, “I have no issues with banning Satoru from the club.” 

Satoru whined, whined , and pulled Megumi further into his side. “There’s no need to be like that. I just wanted to treat him to some food and catch up. What do you say, Megumi, hungry?” 

Tonight was the wrong night to be dealing with Satoru. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong everything. But he was here and had clearly been waiting for him if his attitude and grip was anything to go by. It meant that Megumi was going to go home with a headache, no, a migraine, because Gojo Satoru was somebody who didn’t know the meaning of the word, “No.” 

“I’ll make it my treat,” Satoru teased, every lilt of his voice more annoying than the last. The hand on Megumi’s shoulder eased its grip, giving Megumi the slightest bit of breathing room, and Satoru traced it down his back to rest it against the small of Megumi’s back. “I’ll even buy you dessert.” That last word was said with something dark curling the edges, a demand that only Megumi understood, only Megumi would understand. 

There was no room for argument in Satoru’s words, no complaint would be heard, and Satoru demanded his attention. He wanted a meal with Megumi, and a meal Megumi was going to give him. He sighed, the tension Nobara had worked so hard to ease from his muscles already slinking back, worming its way underneath his skin. He’d take a week of second guessing himself around Sukuna and anybody else over a few house with Satoru, but Megumi couldn’t say no, not that Satoru would listen even if he did. “They better have mizu yokan.”

“Anything for you, Megumin.” 

He sneered at that and ignored whatever curious look Mei Mei gave him. She wouldn’t dream of asking him about his frown or his pout, she was too professional to truly become that invested in her employees lives and as she put it once, “People are messy. Chock full of complicated emotions that change in an instant. It’s tiring. The fewer people I deal with the better.” 

One day, Megumi was going to adopt that practice. Today, he turned without another word and made a start for the exit, knowing full well that Satoru was right on his heels. Within seconds the older man was by his side, slinging one arm over Megumi’s shoulders and tugging him back against his side as if they were friends catching up after months apart. 

It was quiet between them, neither of them uttering a word, the hum of music muffling their footsteps, and Megumi refused to look in Satoru’s general direction. Once they were outside the bass of the music was much quieter, almost non-existent, and Megumi’s eyes zeroed in on the waiting limo, another glare crackling across his features. Satoru never did anything in half measures and Megumi made a point of walking around the front of the vehicle to take the only passenger seat next to the driver. 

All, with Satoru’s eyes on him, piercing him with every step he took, and Megumi shrugged it off as he buckled himself in. 

Even the ride to Satoru’s restaurant of choice was met in relative silence, save for the quiet droll of the radio, a classic station. Megumi spent the down time fiddling with his phone, doing his best to distract himself from the inevitable, from whatever hell he’d have to suffer through. He opened up one of his favourite chatting apps and opened up the most recent window with one of his long time friends, NotaBrat . 

TenShadows: If I give you my number can you call me in forty with an emergency?

He stared at the text window, willing his friend to be online, to see his desperate plea for help. NotaBrat was somebody Megumi had met during one of his online gaming sessions years ago. When he’d finally been able to buy a better laptop than the rundown, third hand wreck he’d bought at a pawn shop, he’d found an online game and had thrown his spare time into it. The break from everything; trying to get into school, job hunting, couch surfing, had been wonderful and the game helped ease his growing stress.

In one online lobby, in the middle of the night, during spring, he’d met NotaBrat . They played through several rounds together, even decided to play through a campaign together on a harder difficulty, before they’d sent each other friend requests on the game and agreed to keep in touch. They regularly sent each other messages, asking when they were available, or simply to just chat. 

After a while, Megumi had felt comfortable enough to trust the guy and call him a friend, to an extent. They’d never met face to face or even sent each other pictures of themselves. For all Megumi knew, NotaBrat was a fifty year old cat fisher waiting for the right time for them to meet up. But they spoke, and Megumi trusted him enough to exchange enough information to feel as though he knew him. They’d learnt they in fact lived just a few hours away from one another, each other’s name, jobs, and a basic number of siblings. NotaBrat , or Yuuji, as Megumi had learnt at one point, was a chef who’d recently opened his own restaurant with a little financial help from his family. “I’m going to pay them back, I promise!” 

It had made Megumi grin and almost envy him. But he was glad. Yuuji extended an open invitation to Megumi, telling him that if he ever found himself within Shibuya city, to let him know and he’ll have a table free for him anytime. 

Yuuji on the other hand, knew that Megumi had recently become a student who worked a side gig that just about paid the bills. He didn’t know the details of everything , he knew that Megumi had two dogs, a sister and that there was a lot of tension within his family, but Yuuji was content with what little Megumi did give him. He never pushed for more and it made Megumi feel content. 

They got on enough to talk at all hours of the day and night, and Yuuji was a great impartial judge of character who seemed to see the best in everyone whilst Megumi had his reservations. Megumi couldn’t count the number of times he’d thrown “hypothetical” situations at Yuuji. Be them the cliff notes of something inappropriate a client had done, or the way somebody gave Nobara’s ass an unsolicited slap in a night club and she’d slapped them back, straight across the face. And each time, Yuuji provided his opinion as a third party, somebody from the outside looking in, and it was nice to hear what he had to say. 

Three dots popped up at the bottom of the screen. 

NotaBrat: Are you okay?

TenShadows: Please?

NotaBrat: Okay! Okay! Fine. I guess I can do that. What kind of emergency?

Megumi already had the perfect excuse.

TenShadows: Tell me one of my dogs is sick. They collapsed and won’t get back up.

NotaBrat: 👍👍 You got it! But I gotta warn you, I don’t think I’m that good of a liar.

Megumi couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his face. 

TenShadows: It’ll be enough .

He sent Yuuji his number, shoved his phone away, and sat back, eyes fixed on the window as he watched the scene of the city move along. No matter what emergency Megumi invented, Satoru would see through the lie. There was no doubt in his mind that he’d see through this lie too, but Satoru wouldn’t cause a scene in public. Megumi could count on that little fact to aid in his exit. 

He stole a glance at the rear view mirror and clocked shaded eyes staring straight back at him with a sly, almost knowing smirk. Megumi glared at him. Satoru’s grin widened, showing off a row of neatly set teeth, and Megumi turned his gaze back to the window. The last thing he wanted to do today after the moods he’d swung through, after admitting to Nobara he’d been stupid, after having his pride hurt slightly by said confession, was sit across from Satoru in a four star restaurant and pretend to enjoy his company. 

But Megumi couldn’t just kick Satoru out of his life. 

It was… complicated.

He’d met Satoru early on in his couch surfing days, through an ad in the paper that had caught his attention. It said there was a room available, bills included in the very small, nearly non existent rent, with only one requirement from the potential renter; “must have dark hair.” Megumi was apprehensive of that strange and odd condition, but he’d been itching to move on from Maki’s couch, feeling terrible for having crashed there for the best part of eight months. He’d bounced from one job to another, had managed to put a little bit of money away for savings, but not nearly enough to cover a full month’s rent or a deposit. The ad was extremely enticing with a promise that the cheap rent would not increase for the foreseeable future and a deposit wasn’t needed. 

Megumi picked up the phone and called the number, wondering what the hidden hitch was.

Satoru introduced himself with a flair in his tone that almost had Megumi hanging up. But when he’d provided the very short cliff notes about his situation, Satoru had asked him one question; “What colour’s your hair?” 

“Black?” 

A pause. “Perfect! Let’s meet!” 

They did. Megumi set the location, a quiet little coffee shop close to the address of the room, somewhere familiar to him. He sent a quick message to Maki, telling her that if she didn't hear from him within three hours to be worried, and waited. 

The moment Satoru sat down opposite him, the older man took one look at Megumi said asked if he wanted to see the room, before he finished his words with, “It’s yours if you want it.” 

Megumi was the one to raise questions about deposits, which days Satoru wanted payments on, references, what rules Satoru had in place, and anything else Megumi thought landlords were supposed to ask, anything else he’d seen as an issue when he had looked through listings. In the end, Satoru told him he didn’t, “need any of that. You fit the bill I’m looking for and you seem like a good kid. If the room suits your needs, it’s a win-win! Who cares about the details?” And he invited Megumi to come take a look. 

Desperate for a new couch to sleep on, or a cheap room that wouldn’t eat away at all of his earnings, Megumi had agreed to see the room on offer. 

The limo came to a stop and Megumi eyed the place Satoru had chosen for their meal. It was familiar, somewhere they’d been a dozen times before, and Megumi turned his nose up with a darker frown. He didn’t bother waiting for Satoru to open his door, the guy loved his gentlemanly theatrics, or for any comment from him. Megumi showed himself out of the vehicle, brushed his clothes down, and barely waited for Satoru to clamber out before he made a start towards the front door. 

“Somebody’s eager,” Satoru teased. 

“To get this over with.” 

He could hear the pout in the older man’s next words, “Don’t be like that. I happen to think I treat you nicely, you know.”

Megumi snorted, and only slowed his pace at the doors to allow Satoru to open them for him. He didn’t give Satoru the courtesy of an answer, simply let the silence speak for him, and followed after him. He barely listened as Satoru asked for a table for two, flashed a business card, and had them being led across the room. It was the same as any other fancy restaurant Megumi had been to or seen; gaudy table centres, too many glasses per seat with too much cutlery, a large, oversized chandelier, dimmed lights, “chic” decor, and this place even had its own indoor water feature that lit up after seven. 

They were shown to their table and asked if they wanted to try their wine of the evening. Megumi threw himself into his seat and stared across the room at the water feature, keeping his expression as bored as he felt, letting Satoru take care of everything. Satoru ordered the house special wine, a rich, grape-red, fruity drink that was made specifically for that place, and placed in their food order at the same time. This was one of Satoru’s favourite places to bring Megumi, and his choices in food hadn’t changed since their first visit. 

The waiter disappeared briefly and the silence at their table was deafening. Megumi could feel Satoru’s gaze on him, could hear the subtle drum of his fingers across the table, and he tried to ignore him. The waiter shattered whatever bubble they’d wrapped themselves in with a bottle of the wine Satoru had ordered. He poured them both a glass and set the bottle onto the table, just off to one side so their view of one another was unobstructed. He took their orders from Satoru’s lips before he left again, telling them to please let him know if there was anything he could do for them. 

Megumi looked across to Satoru then, narrowing his eyes at the mischievous grin he wore, and waited. It was a matter of time before Satoru opened his mouth, desperate to hear his own voice, and prodded Megumi with a dozen questions and more. Megumi wished that moment would never arrive. 

But it was inevitable. 

Satoru reached for his wine, swirled it around the glass, and took a quick inhale of it before he tilted his head to one side. “Please, drink up. You know I only buy this one for you.”

“Are you going to take them off? Or do you enjoy looking like an obnoxious asshole?”

A face splitting grin met Megumi’s frown and Satoru’s shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Alright, you win.” He reached up and plucked the shades off of his nose, revealing bright, crystal clear blue eyes. There was a day that Megumi had found them entrancing, electric, and beautiful. Now, they were nothing but ugly and disgusting. Satoru made a show of folding his shades and setting them on the table next to his cutlery before he propped one elbow on the table and stared at Megumi with that same, infuriating grin, “Better?” 

Megumi snorted and reached for the wine that had been poured. Whilst he was here he might as well indulge a little. It was what Satoru wanted after all, and placating him a little came second to the need to not deal with tonight completely sober. He refused to say anything, refused to initiate any kind of conversation, and let the stifled silence fill the air for him as he took a swig. 

“Soooo,” Satoru dragged out, “you found anybody else you like to hit yet?”

Megumi almost choked on his next gulp of wine and he coughed to clear his throat, brows furrowed into a deep glare. Satoru was the picture of innocence and Megumi almost reared his foot back to kick the bastard underneath the table. Instead, he settled for a seethed, “Shut. Up,” through clenched teeth. 

“You find somebody who wants you to make them bleed again?” 

He pursed his lips tightly and stared, hating all of the shitty memories Satoru dragged to the surface, all of the things Satoru put him through just to get his dick wet. It wasn’t entirely the older man’s fault, but Megumi had been young, naive, and had gotten sucked in far deeper than he’d realised. Satoru had simply pushed and pushed and pushed until Megumi was pulling his own strings, singing his own tune, and making himself dance to every idea Satoru wanted. 

The waiter came back with their starters, but Megumi’s gaze was fixed solely on Satoru and his shit eating smirk. Their waiter quickly got the message, hoped they enjoyed their food, and promised to be back shortly with the main course. 

“I don’t want to hear it,” Megumi said the moment they were alone.

Satoru leaned forward in his seat, propped both elbows onto the table, threaded his fingers together, and settled his chin on the back of them. “I miss you, Megumi. Is that such a crime?” He swallowed, his grip on his wine glass tightening. “You know, my door’s always open. I don’t play by any rules and, last time I checked, you preferred it that way. No rules. No limits. Just senseless, raw, lust.”

Megumi sneered, willing the lump in his throat back down, “Shut up, and eat.” 

“Yes Sir .” Satoru hummed as he set about placing his napkin in his lap and finally grabbed his fork. 

Megumi glared harder and did his best to ignore the anger that swirled within his chest. He hated how right the other man was. Megumi had spent his life constrained by rules and regulations, had been limited in what he could and couldn’t do by a bunch of arbitrary guidelines and conventions other people had put into place for their own convenience. He couldn’t rent an apartment without a full month's deposit. He couldn't rent without a two month’s deposit and a signed reference. He couldn’t ever dream of finishing his course without some stupid electives that were unrelated to his field of study. He couldn’t spoil himself on anything fancy, trivial, or “wasteful” because of his father. He couldn’t have a job that paid well because that was just the way it was. 

He couldn’t. 

He couldn’t.

He. Couldn’t.

Satoru had shown him that he could. That he could make his own rules, his own demands. Satoru had thrown Megumi into a brand new world and he’d thrown him in hard, and deep. He’d convinced Megumi to chase every carnal desire, follow every horrid beat of his heart, take everything he wanted, to be selfish, fulfil every fantasy he could possibly have, he showed Megumi that for once, he could . 

In a way, Megumi owed Satoru for where he was now. Without him, Megumi wouldn’t have this job, would never have met Mei Mei or become employed as a dom on Satoru’s word. Without Satoru, Megumi would never have been able to find his own shitty, run down place to call his own, wouldn’t have been able to sign the lease, or finally find a way onto his own two feet. 

Without Satoru, Megumi was afraid of where he would’ve ended up. 

More than that however, Megumi was afraid of where he’d be if he’d stayed with Satoru.

Satoru was the reason that Megumi had hated who he’d become, the reason for every single rule Megumi laid down in his life, both personal and professional. Satoru was the reason for Megumi’s self doubt, his disgust at seeing his own reflection, his fear of what he would do if he didn’t stop himself. Satoru was the reason for the lowest point of Megumi’s life. 

And he was responsible for the highest points of his life too. 

He hated him. So. Fucking. Much. 

It didn’t take long for Satoru to open his mouth and start to regale Megumi about how his business was doing, about how they were entering a “boom” period, and of course, he turned it around to wishing Megumi was there with him. “There’s always an open position for you.” 

“In an office or behind closed doors?” 

“Both, if you want.” 

Megumi fixed him with a tired glare and huffed. 

Satoru whined, “You used to be so much fun, you know that right?” 

“And you used me.” 

“Tell me you didn’t enjoy it.” 

“Satoru.” 

“Megumi.” 

Silence erupted between them and Megumi could feel the rage burning in his veins, thumping loudly in his ears, the tension creeping back into his shoulders with each sing-song syllable Satoru uttered. Giving Satoru a reaction was everything the guy wanted, but it was almost impossible not to with the way Satoru dug his way underneath Megumi’s skin and scratched at his nerves until they were raw. 

He took a slow breath, exhaled through his nose, and went back to his food without another word. 

“You never answered my question?” 

“Which one?” 

“You find somebody new?” 

Megumi paused, a freshly caught green bean slipping from his chopsticks, and stared at Satoru. One name flashed through his mind, one face stood out against all the others. Megumi refused to utter his name, refused to admit that he was something Megumi craved in a sub, something that he didn’t know he needed, something that complimented his own hidden desires. 

Satoru saw through it, and he let Megumi know as much with the face splitting grin that spread across his lips. “You have! Naughty, naughty, Megumin. I can’t believe you moved on from me already. What’s their name?” 

“Drop it.” 

“You’re not on the clock, you can tell me. Is it one of your clients? Ooh, wait, lemme guess.” The waiter came back to ask if they were done and Megumi pushed his plate to one side, thanking the guy for his work and time. All the while Satoru hadn’t shut up, “They have to  be tall, and you like them with muscles.” Satoru chuckled as he wagged a finger at Megumi, “You do have a thing about putting strong men on their knees.”

“Are you calling yourself strong?” 

“Am I not?”

“No.” 

The waiter left then and Satoru paused, hand drooping mid air, stared, and clicked his tongue. His grin was back in the next moment and he folded both arms onto the table. “I forget how mean you can be. Any chance you can show me again? For old time’s sake?” 

“No.”

“ Please , Megumin?” 

“Fuck yourself.” 

“If that’s what gets you off.”

Megumi rolled his eyes and thanked the waiter that returned with their main courses. It was a welcome distraction, even if it did only last a matter of seconds before Satoru was back on him. 

“Tall, muscular, hmmm, does he bite? I bet he’s a biter.” 

Megumi turned to the waiter, “I apologise for his behaviour. Please, if you need us to leave, let us know.” 

“You know, there was a time you loved it when I misbehaved. Have you gotten soft on me, Megumin?” 

Their water quickly disappeared after that and Megumi refused to dignify Satoru with a response. He didn’t want to trigger another crude comment, and didn't want to hear what other vulgar thoughts Satoru had. Instead he settled for picking his chopsticks up and eyed the food that had been placed in front of him. Tempura. At least Satoru remembered what he liked, and if his memory served him right, the tempura here was amazing. It would probably be the only part of the meal Megumi would enjoy and he settled into his food, ignoring the obvious pout directed his way.

A third of the way through his food Megumi stopped. Something tapped against the inside of his leg and when Megumi looked up he was met with a salacious grin. The muscles of Megumi’s jaw worked as he clenched them. It only seemed to serve as an invitation for Satoru to slide the toes of his shoes up his leg and nudge at the inside of his knee. 

“You know, I’m great friends with the owner of this place.” Satoru tapped his foot against Megumi’s thigh and dug the toe in ever so slightly, “He wouldn’t mind if we borrowed a supply closet or ruined a bathroom.” 

“I told you,” Megumi mumbled, “when I walked out, we were through. I’m not your toy anymore.”

“I never considered you a toy.” 

Megumi set his chopsticks down, “You’re right. I wasn’t a toy. I was a tool you used, over and over again.” Until you broke me . He managed to stifle those four words back before he could give them weight. The last thing he needed to do was admit that Satoru had been his undoing to the very same man in question. 

Satoru was silent, impassive gaze locked on Megumi’s fiery one. The only noise Megumi could hear over the droning dill of scattered conversations and forced bouts of friendly laughter, was that of his own rapidly beating heart, and the thunderous rushing of blood through his veins. It drowned everything out into a low crescendo that set his breathing to the same tumultuous rhythm.

Somebody’s phone cut through the building static in his mind and Megumi blinked as the quiet tune continued to ring. Satoru blinked at him, his smile creeping away and letting something dark fester in the corners of blue eyes. He reached for his wine and snatched it up with a firm grip. “Are you going to get that?”

It took Megumi another couple of moments to realise that yes, that was his phone, and he blew a puff of air between thin lips. He sunk his hand into his pocket and stared at the unfamiliar number that lit the screen up, a frown creasing his face. A beat passed and he remembered who it was that was calling him. Without another look to Satoru, Megumi answered it, blurting out a quick, “Hello?” 

“Oh, umm, hey, Megumi. It’s Yuuji. Wow, you- you sound nothing like I imagined, not that that’s a bad thing! I was just expecting… I don’t know actually.” Yuuji cleared his throat and Megumi wondered how much Satoru could hear. The restaurant was busy and there was ample noise clamouring from all sides of their table, but Satoru had a knack of just knowing . More than once Megumi had been creeped out by the secrets Satoru seemed to know. “Do I really- ” Yuuji started in a whisper, “I mean- it sounds busy? Do I really have to lie? I feel like I’m interrupting something.” 

Megumi creased his brows and forced his lips into a frown. “Yeah, I’m still eating. Sorry. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, oh okay, sure. Erm.” Yuuji hummed and he took a few seconds to collect himself before he spoke again, his voice much louder than last time. “So I popped round with the spare key like you asked? I swear I left them alone for like two minutes whilst I went to the bathroom. Okay, maybe I got distracted with facebook or something.” Yuuji’s voice petered out into a low, distracted mumble. My cousin sent me a really funny meme about my brother actually. Remind me to send it to you, it’s hilarious .”

Megumi stood up, shoving his chair back with the motion, “Is he okay?” Across the table, that caught Satoru’s expression. He peered up, one brow raised and a curious pout thinning his lips.

“My broth- OH SHIT! Right! Sorry! Fuck! No! He’s not. He won’t open his eyes and it looks like he’s struggling to breathe? I don’t know if he ate something or what ‘cause I don’t see anything and I don’t know what to do.” 

“Okay, okay,” Megumi started and he made a show of patting his pockets down, “I’ll- I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just make sure he doesn’t stop breathing and put Shiro in the other room. Please.”

The line cut out and Megumi looked up to Satoru, “I have to go.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” 

Megumi narrowed his eyes. “Since you insisted on dragging me out unannounced, I asked a friend to check in on my dogs. Kuro collapsed and is struggling to breathe.” 

“That’s not good.” 

There wasn’t a hint of concern in Satoru’s tone and Megumi did his best to ignore how clear it was that Satoru didn’t believe him. He didn’t care. Satoru couldn’t argue against it, and wouldn't dare to cause a scene on the off chance Megumi wasn’t lying. If he tried to stop him, all Megumi needed to do was remember some of the shittier memories that made him cry every time and people would be looking at Satoru with disdain. Two could play this game of cat and mouse. “It’s not.” 

“Let me call my driver, have him take you home. It’ll be quicker than calling a cab.” 

“Please ,” he whispered through gritted teeth. 

Satoru’s lips curled up and he reached for his phone, eyes locked on Megumi the entire time he hit his speed dial. “Ijichi, can you bring the car up front? Our darling Megumi has to leave for an emergency. One of his little puppies is ill.” 

If Megumi could reach across the table and throttle Satoru without any repercussions, he’d do so in a heartbeat. 

At least Satoru remained behind. Megumi was thankful for that much and he kept one hand wrapped tightly around his phone, settled against his impatiently bouncing leg, willing the ride to be over already. Even if Satoru wasn’t here, Megumi still felt suffocated by his presence. He was in Satoru’s car, being driven by Satoru’s driver, with Satoru no doubt thinking up a way to finish their meal and worm whatever answers he wanted out of Megumi the next time they met. 

“I hope your dog’s alright,” Ijichi said the moment they pulled up to Megumi’s apartment complex. 

Megumi at least offered him a smile. “Thank you. I’m hoping it’s nothing serious.” He climbed out, thanked Ijichi for his time, and rushed into the building and up the initial steps until he was out of sight. The moment he rounded the first corner, Megumi was pulling his phone back out and sending off a quick text. 

TenShadows: Thanks for that. 

NotaBrat: Sorry I wasn’t more convincing! 

TenShadows: It was fine.

NotaBrat: Cool! So… is everything okay? It sounded like you were out or something?

Megumi smiled. He’d never understood how Yuuji coud always be worried about Megumi. No matter how bad of a time Yuuji seemed to be having with work or whatever stress he was going through, he always seemed to want to know that Megumi was fine and if there was anything he needed to worry about. 

TenShadows: Everything’s fine. I needed an excuse to ditch on a family dinner. 

NotaBrat: Oooh that bad? 

TenShadows: My Dad’s side is something special . 

He wasn’t lying. He’d met his father’s side of the family a handful of times and each time had left a sour taste in the back of his throat. Never. Again. Ever. The only good thing to come out of that was him meeting Maki and her sister, Mai. 

NotaBrat: Damn. Sorry about that dude.

TenShaddws: It’s fine. I hope I didn’t interrupt anything. 

NotaBrat: It’s film night! But it’s fine! Totally fine! Don’t worry about it. 

TenShadows: I’ll let you get back to your films.

NotaBrat: You sure you don’t need anything? 

TenShadows: You did enough. Thanks, Yuuji. 

NotaBrat: You got it :D 

Megumi finally stepped into his apartment, locked the door, and was greeted by both of his dogs. He let them jump up at him, ask him for belly rubs and demand food from him before he grabbed a beer from the fridge. He dragged himself over to the couch, stuck a random film on, and was eventually joined by Kuro and Shiro crawling all over him until they were a messy pile of fur and limbs. Megumi smiled, happy with where he was, and he tried to let the film drown out the rest of his thoughts for the day. 

There was a hint of nervousness running through Megumi as he made the short walk from the elevator to Sukuna’s front door, gloved hand wringing the strap of his bag tightly between white knuckled fingers. On one hand, he’d never cancelled a session before, at least, not before it had started. Ever. Sure, he’d called plenty off in the middle of them. Sometimes his clients had forgotten that Megumi wasn’t a boyfriend, or had started to think of him as something less than a person, other times he’d called them when he was worried it was too much, when he was sure the sub couldn’t handle what they were asking for. But never before it had a chance to start. 

Then again, Megumi had never experienced a dom drop quite like the one Sukuna had wrung him through. Any time Megumi had thought about him, about their last conversation, the last touches against one another, his mind had swam with a horrid black cloud that refused to budge. Everything became jaded in the ugliest way and a fear had bubbled in the back of his mind that Sukuna was going to turn him away at the door, that he had every right to, that Megumi wasn’t worth Sukuna’s time. 

It had taken everything within him to drag himself onto the train, keep himself seated until the stop that dropped him off nearest to Sukuna’s apartment, and pull himself along until he was here. He’d even pulled his gloves on beforehand to further convince himself that yes, he was going to go through with this. He was going to turn up and do his job. 

Staring at Sukuna’s door, his heart beat heavily in his chest, pounded against his ribs and made him doubt himself all over again. Nobara’s words came back to mind, reminding him that he was decent at this job, that he knew what he was doing, that Sukuna had asked for everything last week. That Megumi had done nothing wrong except ruin his own aftercare.

He clung to those words; I assure you, Megumi. I’m fine, and finally raised his hand to knock abruptly on the wooden door. A moment passed and Megumi remembered the frown he was known for, the scowl that people were familiar with. Only this time, the muscles of his jaw worked to keep that look in place, to keep it firm and sharp, unmarred by worry and fear. The door opened and Megumi tipped his head up a fraction, fixing Sukuna with whatever darkened glare he could muster. 

“Feeling better?”

Megumi froze at the tone of Sukuna’s voice. It was something mixed between disdain, disappointment, something shallow that sparked a new fire within Megumi’s chest. Multiple emotions flashed through his mind; hurt, apologetic, shame, guilt, and anger, and Megumi clung to that final one, letting it fuel him. There was no, “Is everything okay?” or, “Did something happen?” Just contempt that Megumi had dared to ditch him once. Nothing but selfish greed stood in front of him and it reminded Megumi of another man, somebody else that had sent his emotions on a roller coaster ride to leave him high and dry in the end. 

He’s not Satoru . 

With another tilt of his chin, Megumi marched past Sukuna and fixed his gaze forward. He stopped only when his back was to the other man and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath. Slowly, he exhaled, and reminded himself of those three words. 

He’s not Satoru.

Sukuna snorted, “Hello to you too. This better be worth the fucking wait.” 

Megumi snapped his eyes open at that, dropped his bag to the floor and stared at the room where his chair had been set up for him. A brief thought flickered through his mind to the tools he’d brought with him tonight, to the plan he’d created when he’d prepared his bag, and he threw all of those ideas out of the metaphorical window. Megumi had missed one session, and Sukuna was being a petulant brat about it. Muttering under his breath like an ungrateful child who’d been told he had to wait for dessert. Megumi lifted a hand up and loosened the knot of his tie, a new plan already formulating in his mind. Tonight, he was going to tease Sukuna with something he’d clearly wanted since day one;

A punishment. 

He’d seen that need plenty of times in the way Sukuna hesitated with his answers, pondered his choice of words, talked back with venom and malice, the way he pushed and pushed and pushed, stubbornly refusing to yield to Megumi so easily. It was clear to anybody that Sukuna wanted to know what Megumi would do to him for stepping out of line, so, Megumi was going to give him a taste. A slither of what he could really wring him through if he wanted to. 

He let his tie hang loosely around his neck and darkened the look on his face as he strode over to the chair, turned and sat down. The look on Sukuna’s face was interesting; curiosity mixed with the hesitant frown he was still trying to keep there. There was only one reason why Megumi was here and he could visibly see Sukuna fighting with himself to keep his pout on his face or follow the strings Megumi pulled. 

“I had an emergency,” Megumi started, his voice flat and emotionless despite the scowl fixed to his features. “Emergencies can never be planned for. If that’s an issue for you I can leave.” Megumi settled the palms of his hands on the tops of his thighs, and slowly spread his legs until they were hooked on either side of the chair. 

The effect was instant. 

Sukuna’s eyes dropped to Megumi’s lap and the scorn Sukuna had been wearing disappeared. Mostly. There was still a small sign of it in the furrow to his brows and the way he pressed his lips together, fingers curling into loose fists by his side, and the way his body swayed forward, almost wanting to give in to Megumi’s hint . Megumi slid his thumbs down the crease of his pants, framing his groin in the v’s of his hands to guide Sukuna’s attention even further. The frown completely disappeared and Sukuna’s throat bobbed with a swallow, his lips parting a fraction on what Megumi knew was a slow exhale. 

Hook. 

Line. 

Sinker . 

Whatever previous doubts Megumi had were slowly dissipating, the familiarity of his role coming back to him and filling him with comfort. He could do this. He knew how to make men drool, how to make them keen and kneel for him, how to make them follow his every order. Sukuna was just another man Megumi could manipulate into being his perfect little puppet. Megumi gave his thighs a subtle squeeze, bunching the fabric up between his fingers, and Sukuna’s fingers twitched. 

He had him. 

“If you’re done thinking the world revolves around you ,” Megumi spat out, “strip.” 

Sukuna blinked, finally lifted his gaze up to meet Megumi’s eyes, and pressed his lips back together. “What?”

Megumi dragged his thumbs back up, tilted his head to one side, and glared dangerously dark. “I don’t like repeating myself.”

Sukuna didn’t move. Megumi pursed his lips together, waiting. When it became clear that Sukuna wasn’t going to budge, Megumi raised one brow. Had Sukuna really not heard him? Was this a genuine act of naive ignorance on his behalf? Or- Sukuna’s eyes narrowed and he folded his arms over his chest, lips turned up unimpressed. He leaned back against the kitchen island and fixed Megumi with a sneer. 

Was this an act of defiance?

“Really?” Sukuna snorted. 

Megumi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth to hold back any initial reaction, traced his piercing across the soft ridges, and tapped it against the back of his teeth with a soft click that was muffled in his mouth. He tilted his head to one side, drummed his fingers against his thighs, and didn’t miss the way Sukuna’s eyes danced down before he forced his gaze back up. “I’m giving you this one chance to speak freely,” Megumi whispered, “use it wisely .” 

Sukuna blew out a huff and muttered, every word dripping with too much sarcasm, “Thanks, you’re so kind.” 

Megumi glared, hard. “ Sukuna .” 

“ Megumi ,” Sukuna hissed, his own voice a low warning. A snort left his throat and Sukuna relaxed further against the island, every picture of frustrated, barely contained anger. “When I make an appointment,” Sukuna started, that same dangerous tone seeping from every syllable, “I keep them. Is it really too much to ask that you do the same?” 

Of course that’s what this was about. Of course that’s what was annoying him. Sukuna, it appeared, was a guy who held grudges. Apparently he was a creature of habit, resolute in his decisions and plans, and didn't like his routine changing. People worked at his pace, to his schedule. Sukuna was a guy who cancelled on people, not the other way around, and Megumi never received that memo. Megumi couldn’t say that he was surprised, far from it in fact. Sukuna had that aura about him, a self-important asshole who put himself above everybody else. 

“As I said,” Megumi started, no hint of remorse in his tone, “I had an emergency. Are you telling me you’ve never had an emergency?” 

The muscles of Sukuna’s jaw tightened. Even from here Megumi could see them tense and the way Sukuna’s fingers dug into firm biceps. “At least I have the courtesy of letting somebody know the day before they’re expecting me and not the day of.” 

Megumi snorted. He threw out any preamble of pretending, and let his own look of dissatisfaction cross his features. “And why do I find that so hard to believe?”

“It’s the truth.” 

“Really?” Megumi climbed to his feet, fury seeping into every muscle, every fibre of his being as he stalked across the room. “I know you, Sukuna. I can read you like a fucking book. You’re arrogant, you’re self centred,” each step brought him closer to the guy who was paying him to be here, to degrade him, to call him pathetic and worthless, and Megumi’s anger flared in his chest the more he spoke. Sukuna deserved every venomous word Megumi spat at him, deserved to be blue balled for the next year if this was how he treated people. “You’re egotistical, you’re selfish and an asshole.” He stopped in front of Sukuna and jabbed a sharp finger into the centre of his chest. “You deserve to be alone because you are nothing but a pathetic loser who will never have anybody looking twice at him. You think you have a shining personality? Dog shit smells better than it. You think buying your way through whores and hookers will change that?”

“I buy you !” 

Megumi froze, his momentary rage fleeing at those three words. “Excuse me?” 

Sukuna leaned forward, further and further until he was crossing into Megumi’s personal space. This close up, Megumi could see faint freckles across the tops of Sukuna’s cheeks, the type to come out during summer when Sukuna had been out in the heat for a few hours. It almost made him want to admire the subtle beauty hidden beneath the raw attractiveness of him. But any image Megumi’s mind could create was tarnished before it was finished, before it could even start to form, with the spitting of Sukuna’s next words. “I buy you, don’t I? So what are you? A whore? Or a hooker?” 

Slap . 

The burning sting of the smack echoed in the tips of Megumi’s fingers and he blinked, realisation dawning on him that he’d just slapped Sukuna. Shock coursed through him and for a few, painfully quiet moments, everything was still. Sukuna’s head was tipped to one side, Megumi’s hand still hovered in the air, and Megumi stared at Sukuna’s face, an apology bubbling in his throat. He hadn’t meant to strike Sukuna so hard, or at all in fact. It was one of the things he avoided , purposefully never delved into with how manic it set his heart racing, with how carried away he could easily get with it. It always left him with a giddy thrill, desperate to be fulfilled harder and deeper than before, a palpitating euphoria Megumi was scared to sink into again. He’d set out that night with the intention of reining in his own urges, dialling it back on his own instincts to put his hands all over Sukuna. 

He wanted to be the dom he’d promised himself he would be and here he was, breaking one of the biggest rules he’d never come close to thinking about for years. 

All because of Sukuna and his sharp, filthy, and disgusting tongue. 

Slowly, Sukuna turned to face Megumi. Wide red eyes met his own widening green. There was a hint of red to Sukuna’s bottom lip and fresh heat curled in those ruby eyes. The corner’s of Sukuna’s lips twitched up and the look of hunger that leered down at him swallowed up whatever excuse Megumi had on his mind. 

The stinging in his fingers rang louder, reminding him of just how little he’d held back with his strike. He let out a slow breath through his nose. His heart thudded heavily against his ribs. His stomach twisted itself into painful knots. Slowly, Megumi eased his hand back. 

“A whore then,” Sukuna whispered, burning Megumi with a look that was almost too hot for him to withstand. It almost bubbled a groan from the depths of his stomach, an honest to god groan he hadn’t uttered in months, no, years . 

“Don’t,” Megumi whispered, almost afraid of how close his voice sounded to breaking.

Sukuna didn’t listen, or refused to listen to him, as he took a step towards Megumi, his arms falling to his sides. “Don’t what, Megumi ?” Sukuna took another step, pulling himself up to his full height to tower over him. Megumi pursed his lips together and forced a thunderous glare onto his features. Those red eyes of Sukuna’s devoured him whole, hungry as they scoured a path all across Megumi’s face, landed on his lips, and finally met Megumi’s gaze. A smirk slowly etched its way up Sukuna’s cheeks. He leered down at Megumi with a predatory look, flicked his tongue out and swiped up the small drops of blood Megumi had cut open on his bottom lip. “Don’t. What? Call you what you are? I can read people too, Megumi , and I know a whore when I see one. Or did you prefer I call you a hooker?” 

Slap . 

Megumi didn’t feel guilty with his next strike. He didn’t feel ashamed of the echo that rang out in the quiet of the room, and he certainly didn’t regret it or the rising imprint of his hand across Sukuna’s cheek. The only thing he did regret was letting Sukuna open his mouth. “Knees ,” Megumi growled. 

Sukuna fell to his knees in an instant, mouth clamped shut and unwavering, even as he thudded painfully against the floor. It was impressive that he didn’t flinch or hiss from the ache that had jostled through him. But Megumi didn’t tell him anything of the sort, didn’t praise him for his pain tolerance or for putting on a brave face. He stepped forward until Sukuna tipped his head back, throat straining at the angle. Megumi grabbed a sharp fistful of pink hair, pulling on it until Sukuna’s lips parted with a low moan. 

“Green, Sir,” Sukuna whispered brokenly without prompting. 

Megumi’s fingers itched to darken the mark on Sukuna’s flesh, to turn it a deeper red until he was sure it would last for days. He wanted to mark him, brand him, make sure everybody knew that Sukuna was his to do with as he pleased, his to control and use. Megumi slowly offered Sukuna’s face a real look, and he didn’t miss the waiting anticipation, the waiting expectation. It was written clearly across his face and Megumi snatched his hand out of Sukuna’s hair. Sukuna wanted this, he wanted Megumi to get physical with him, to push his limits, to do worse, to leave lasting marks.

Megumi dragged in a deep breath, exhaled, and took a single step back, watching the way Sukuna shivered under his look. “Don’t, fucking , move.” 

Sukuna nodded, and Megumi delivered one final sneer before he turned on the heels of his feet. He strode across the room, loosened the knot of his tie until the two ends hung flatly against his chest, threw himself back into his seat, legs shoulder width apart, and glared furiously at Sukuna. Yes, Sukuna paid for Megumi’s time. Yes, they partook in sexual activities. But that did not mean that Sukuna was allowed to disrespect Megumi in such a manner, that he was allowed to run his mouth without any consequences. 

Megumi was going to let him know exactly what disappointment felt like. 

He pointed to the space between his legs and was almost surprised by the way Sukuna reached down to lay his palms across the floor without any other prompting. All the while, those red eyes remained fixed on him, a pink tongue darting out every now and again to lap at the small cut Megumi had smacked across his lip. Sukuna made for one hell of an image as he crawled his way towards Megumi. Despite the fact that Sukuna was still fully clothed, Megumi found his cock beginning to swell with a rush of blood. There was something almost primal about having Sukuna eager to crawl to him, something alluring about having Sukuna’s undivided attention with barely a word. One gesture was all it had taken to pull Sukuna in, and it made Megumi’s stomach coil with fresh heat. 

If it wasn’t for the compression shorts he was wearing, Megumi was certain Sukuna wouldn’t miss the half hard erection he’d be sporting, and he was certain that Sukuna would’ve opened his mouth about it too. It wasn’t the first time Megumi had gotten hard from a client, not by a long shot, but it was the first time he’d gotten hard so soon into a session. How long had it been since he’d walked through the door? Three minutes? Five?

Either way, it was a damned crime that his fingers prickled with the desire to slide into the band of his pants, push them down, and wrap his hand around his cock. 

The image of Sukuna peering up at him from between his legs brought Megumi back and he glared down at him, enticing every flicker of heat into his gaze that he could. “Stand up,” Megumi ordered with nothing but ice in his words. “You’re going to strip your pants and boxers off, then lay across my lap with your hands on your back.” 

The look that flashed across Sukuna’s face told Megumi everything. Sukuna thought he was going to get the spanking he’d wanted since day one. He thought he was going to get Megumi’s hands on him again. He thought he was going to get Megumi flexing his strength across Sukuna’s skin, and that he’d finally convinced Megumi to snap.

Megumi almost snorted. Sukuna was so simple sometimes it hurt, so easy . Instead, he tilted his head up and watched Sukuna climb to his feet, watched him shove his clothes down in haste. He hesitated with the clothes in his hands before he folded them up and set them down. When he straightened back up he paused, eyes falling uncertainly to Megumi’s lap. 

“Well?” Megumi snapped.

Sukuna stared at Megumi’s thighs a little longer, curled his fingers into tight fists by his sides, and pressed his lips into a thin line. There were definitely some interesting thoughts happening behind those eyes, and Megumi wondered what. Was he sceptical of how they’d gone from Sukuna questioning his absence, to Sukuna getting ready to lay himself out for Megumi? Or was he doubting his own ability to fully relinquish his control to Megumi after such an explosive argument? Maybe he wasn’t ready for Megumi to see him in such a state, or maybe it was something else. Did Sukuna have bad memories associated with spanking? Bad experiences? Was he scared? 

A glimmer of concern filtered in and out of Megumi’s brain in an instant. He hadn’t spanked yet, but then again, the two slaps across his face seemed to have been in good faith. That wasn’t a look of a man scared to get hit. 

Megumi watched Sukuna, the worry disappearing as Sukuna awkwardly stepped around Megumi’s legs and perched one hand on Megumi’s thighs. He eased himself down, and watching Sukuna slowly submit was fun. Tantalising. Breathtaking. Megumi didn’t need to force him to do anything, Sukuna was doing this, agreeing to this, of his volition, and it made Megumi’s stomach warm. 

But there was only so much patience Megumi had, so much leeway he could give the man before he had to take it into his own hands. He grabbed a handful of hair and shoved Sukuna across his lap. There was a grunt from Sukuna, and Megumi ignored it in favour of wriggling Sukuna into position wherein Sukuna’s cock, which Megumi noted was hard, was wedged between his thighs. Megumi closed his legs loosely around it, settled one hand across the bare skin of Sukuna’s ass, and waited for those hands. 

A few moments passed whilst Sukuna found his balance. When he finally lifted his hands up, laid them into the small of his back, one wrist over the other, Megumi wrapped his fingers around them and pressed them down, eliciting a small arch across Sukuna’s back. 

Megumi drummed the fingers of his other hand across Sukuna’s ass, enjoying the little, expectant tremors that rocked through him and the way Sukuna rolled his hips back into his touch. He was being needy, and Megumi couldn’t wait to see how desperate he could become. Megumi stilled his hands and held Sukuna there, motionless and quiet, filling the air with the metallic tapping of his tongue piercing against the back of his teeth. 

Tap. 

Tap.

Tap. 

The fourth tap had Sukuna’s breath hitching. Megumi felt it against his thighs, in the small shudder Sukuna tried to repress, and he tilted his head to one side, eyes fixed on the side of Sukuna’s face. He lifted his hand up an inch from Sukuna’s skin and swiftly tapped the tips of his fingers in a barely there touch against Sukuna’s left cheek. Sukuna grunted, his fingers curling into tight fists, and he sucked in a sharp breath. Megumi lifted his fingers up again, watched Sukuna tense, and waited until he inevitably relaxed, and he waited further. 

When he could feel the restlessness grow, Megumi brought his hand down in a mediocre impression of a slap that barely made a noise. And he carried on like that, alternating which cheek he struck, where he hit; high on the top of each curve, or low, right above where his thighs started to crease. Each strike was soft, almost weightless, and most importantly almost non-existent. 

Megumi wanted Sukuna to want more, to expect more, and he could feel the strain building in the muscles of Sukuna’s wrists, could feel the pressure mounting as Sukuna wriggled after each touch, almost backing himself into Megumi’s hand, silently demanding more from him, trying to find more himself. 

He wasn’t going to give him more. No. Megumi didn’t want to give Sukuna the satisfaction, he wanted to give him a lesson and remind him of one very important fact. 

Sukuna huffed and wriggled his wrists in Megumi’s hold. He turned his head over one shoulder and glared up at Megumi. “Can you-” Megumi raised his brows and Sukuna clamped his mouth shut, expression darkening with the simple gesture. Here it was, the fight Megumi had been waiting for, the request to fulfil Sukuna’s needs, the selfish desires being laid bare for Megumi to read with ease. 

“What?” Megumi said, his tone flat as he kneaded one palm across Sukuna’s left cheek and tapped his fingertips over his right cheek. “Did you want something?” 

Sukuna narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth at him. “I want you to hit me.” 

Megumi paused and met Sukuna’s impatient scowl with his own glower. He held Sukuna’s gaze firmly, counted to fifteen in his head, brought his hand up, and swiftly brought it down, hard, roughly jerking Sukuna forward in his lap. A groan echoed in the room and Sukuna snapped his head forward once more, the muscles of his shoulders rippling as he sucked down a deep breath. 

“Is that what you wanted?” Megumi said. 

“Yes .”

Megumi lifted his hand up again and smacked Sukuna hard enough to leave a red mark behind, punching another wanton noise from Sukuna’s throat.

“Fuck,” Sukuna moaned. 

As tempted as Megumi was to deliver a third swift smack, he settled instead for laying his hand across Sukuna’s cheek. He pressed his fingers into smarted skin, harshly massaged the flesh underneath his palm, and drummed his fingers over the curve of Sukuna’s ass. But he didn’t strike him again, didn’t even lift his hand an inch, making sure that his hand was always in contact with Sukuna’s skin. 

The seconds dragged into minutes, and eventually, Sukuna squirmed once more, casting a look back to Megumi with a confused frown. “What?” Sukuna grunted. 

Megumi raised his brows at that and he pinched Sukuna’s skin until he hissed. “What?” Megumi mocked. “You,” he started, and he drummed his fingers across Sukuna’s warm skin. “Why the fuck do you deserve anything? Ever since we started, it’s been all about you . Tell me, Sukuna, do you even think about anybody else?” He pinched at Sukuna’s hip until he tried to get away from him, and Megumi chased him with a scoff. “Of course you don’t. You’re selfish to the fucking bone.” He tensed his own thighs, squeezing Sukuna’s cock until Sukuna hissed, and Megumi dug the heel of a palm into the muscles of Sukuna’s ass. 

“I’ve given to you over and over. Given you pleasure, and desire, and a climax each and every time I’ve turned up.” Megumi slid his thumb between Sukuna’s cheeks and pushed at the dry ring of muscles, forcing Sukuna to try to shy away from him. The fingers Megumi had wrapped around Sukuna’s wrists tightened and Sukuna tensed from head to toe as Megumi kept pushing at his rim. “What do I get in return? Not even a simple fucking ‘thank you’. Do you have any idea how ungrateful you are?” 

A whine slipped through Sukuna’s lips and Megumi pulled his thumb away to deliver a soft tap of fingers to Sukuna’s cheeks. It knocked a noise from Sukuna and Megumi watched his hips rock back, watched him duck his head a fraction, and watched those lips part. 

“Perhaps for once,” Megumi carried on, “ I should be allowed to have what I want. Maybe for once you should stop thinking the world revolves around your pathetic life. Not everybody cares about you Sukuna, and not everybody wants to care about you.” Megumi scoffed and lightly tapped his fingers in three short bursts across the top of his ass. “What? Do you really think people care about who you yelled at today? Who you made cry? About your fancy dinners where you play a game to see who can splash the most amount of cash? About your suits that clearly tell people you’re trying too hard to impress them?” 

Megumi snorted and smacked his fingers across the underside of Sukuna’s left cheek. It sent a shockwave running through Sukuna that had him stuttering on a breath and melting further into Megumi’s lap. 

“What do you want?” Sukuna whispered, his voice barely audible. There was genuine intrigue there, a genuine curiosity beneath the huskiness of his voice that spoke of nothing but a primal need. Sukuna wanted to know what Megumi wanted, what he desired, what his fantasies were, what truly drove him over the edge. 

And Megumi wanted to tell him. 

I want to throw you face first onto your couch and fuck you until you stain it with your cum twice over. I want to sit on your face and make you choke on my cock until you cry. I want to tie your hands to the bed and fuck you stupid, over and over, until we both forget how to breathe. I want to put my hands around your throat and ride your cock until even I forget what day of the week it is. I want you to slam me against the wall, lift me up, and bounce me on your cock against the plaster until my entire back is bruised. 

I want you. 

“I want-” Megumi started, forcing his voice to be level, forcing those thoughts away. He wasn’t here as a fuck buddy, he wasn’t here for a simple romp in the sheets. He was here for a job, to be a professional. To be a dom . “-you to learn how to say please, and thank you. I want you to respect me. I want you, Sukuna , to behave yourself for one night, to stop being such a brat with the back chat and the attitude. I want you to realise that I’m the one in charge here, I’m the one who tells you whether you’ve earned the right to come or not. I want you to fucking remember that when I’m here, when it’s just the two of us? I’m the one holding the power. Not. You .” He emphasised the last word with the harshest slap of the night, the noise echoing in Megumi’s ear alongside the guttural moan that rumbled throughout Sukuna’s entire body. 

There would be a filthy red mark there. Sukuna would feel the sting of that slap for days with every seat he took, hell, there was a chance it would still be there the next time Megumi visited. That thought warmed Megumi’s body from the inside out, pleased him, and had him itching to fulfil every fantasy his brain fed him. Those images replayed themselves, each one filled with Sukuna whining his name, panting breathlessly, asking for more, more, more , and each one had Megumi swallowing thickly. 

“ Yes, Sir ,” Sukuna breathed, voice raspy, and gone. 

Megumi hummed, lifted his hand up, and watched the muscles of Sukuna’s back roll as he tensed. “Respect,” Megumi said, “starts when I walk through that door. Not halfway through a scene, not after I ask for it. I demand it from the start, from the moment I arrive to the moment I leave.” He brought the tips of his fingers down for a gentle tap and Sukuna whined, teeth bared and his body rocking against Megumi’s thighs. “I shouldn’t have to ask for common decency.” He knocked the heel of his palm against the top of Sukuna’s thigh. “I’m not something to be used, a toy to be thrown away and forgotten about. I’m a person.” Megumi snorted and pinched the back of Sukuna’s thigh. “Although I should’ve known better for an old dog like you. You really need to be shown how to be a basic human being, don’t you?” 

Megumi danced his fingers across Sukuna’s hips, listening to the hitch in his breath, and flicked his thumb across the mark he’d created earlier. “Tell me, Sukuna, when’s the last time you said please? When’s the last time you treated anybody as an equal? Do you have a family? Do you treat them like disposable tools too? Do you toss them to the side when you don’t need them?” Megumi huffed and rubbed his thighs together, grinding his muscles against Sukuna’s still trapped cock. “I feel sorry for anybody who would ever think of wanting to be like you.” Sukuna made a choked noise and Megumi drummed his fingers across his ass, paying special attention to skirt around the area he’d marked with his hand, prodding at the edges to give Sukuna some sensation but not enough. “They have no idea how lonely and pathetic you really are, do they?” 

Through the fabric of his pants, Megumi felt something wet slide down his leg and he thumped his fingers in four quick, short smacks that had almost no strength to them. Sukuna made another noise and Megumi settled his palm across the small of Sukuna’s back. 

“Tell me, Sukuna. I’m right aren’t I? You’re truly nothing more than the size of your bank account. Nobody likes you and nobody will ever fucking love you.” 

A new noise greeted Megumi’s ears, something close to a sob, and Megumi’s thoughts paused for a moment. He stared at Sukuna’s body, at the way his muscles rippled with humble tremors, the way Sukuna rocked back and forth in Megumi’s lap, and the way he let his head drop until he was almost limp, lips parted with breathy pants. Another trail of wetness slid down Megumi’s pants and he pressed his thighs together a fraction, dragging a cry from Sukuna’s lips. 

“Sukuna,” Megumi whispered.

“Shut up,” Sukuna hissed, and Megumi did. 

He pursed his lips together and held still, letting Sukuna have whatever moment he needed whilst his own thoughts circled his mind. Megumi was glad he always brought a change of clothes with him, but the evidence seeping into his pants, coupled with Sukuna’s suddenly snappish attitude, had Megumi wondering if he’d finally found Sukuna’s breaking point. Was it shame that crept colour up the back of Sukuna’s neck? Or was it a cold harsh truth that Megumi had hit too close to home with? Or were Megumi’s words more effective than he’d thought they could ever be? 

Megumi had met plenty of people who enjoyed being told they were worthless, pathetic, and good for nothing. He’d met plenty of people who wanted Megumi to bad mouth them, but none of them had ever wanted it at the same level as Sukuna. Most people asked Megumi to stop a long time ago, most of them asked him to ease up, and told him when it was too far. 

But Sukuna? He’d said there were no lines, and every word Megumi had spat at him had only made him shiver with want, silently had him asking Megumi for more, for worse. For the most part, Megumi had hardly touched Sukuna. He’d teased featherlight brushes of his fingers here and there, taunted Sukuna’s nerves with barely there touches. It almost astounded him that his words affected a person so much, and Megumi couldn’t help but to glance at Sukuna’s cheek. There was a hint of red to it from where he’d struck him earlier, the mark reaching the edges of Sukuna’s jaw. 

It should disappear by morning.

The split lip would stay however.

A hint of shame washed across Megumi’s skin. He shouldn’t have hit Sukuna, not like that, even if it was clear that Sukuna had enjoyed it, that they both had, he shouldn’t have done it. He’d let his emotions take control of him, let himself slip on that tightly wound promise he’d been sticking to for years. He’d been so careful, knowing exactly where his own line was, how much he could push himself, and Sukuna had dragged him across it in a few short weeks. 

A fresh apology bubbled up inside of Megumi’s throat the longer he stared. He should’ve been able to control his own actions, should’ve done better. 

Megumi eased his grip on Sukuna’s wrists and brushed a thumb across tense knuckles and equally as tense wrists, trying to ease some of the tension he’d wound into Sukuna’s muscles. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, eyes fixed on anywhere but Sukuna’s face. “I had an emergency that needed to be dealt with, hence the short notice of my cancellation.” He could feel a new, different kind of tension running through Sukuna, and Megumi parted his legs enough to give Sukuna’s cock some breathing room. “And for slapping you. I should’ve asked you if that was-”

Sukuna interrupted with a snort, “I deserved that. Both of them.”

Megumi’s eyes cut across his lap and Sukuna wasn’t looking at him. He was still spread across Megumi’s thighs, but his gaze was focused elsewhere. “Sukuna-”

“Shut up,” Sukuna muttered, “and don’t apologise. It makes you look weak.” 

Megumi pinched the back of Sukuna’s thigh. “Apologising does not make you look weak.” 

“Sure,” Sukuna huffed, “whatever you say.” 

Megumi pinched a fresh bruise into Sukuna’s skin and ignored any words of resistance from him. “Whoever taught you that was an idiot. There’s nothing wrong with admitting you’re sorry for being wrong, or making a mistake.” 

“I don’t make mistakes.” 

“You’ve made plenty with me.” 

That had Sukuna looking back at him, a dark glare forming across those red eyes. “Name three.” 

Megumi couldn’t help his smirk. “At least you admit I can name two.”

Pink rushed to Sukuna’s cheeks and Megumi’s smile softened. Whatever previous fears he’d had slowly slipped away the more he sat there and spoke, the more he let his tongue fly. The facade of his dom visage slowly ebbed away as he sunk into the familiar teasing and prodding he was used to with Sukuna. He almost felt like himself and Megumi turned his gaze down to Sukuna’s ass. There was a deep pink settling into his skin, the edges stippling with a soft purple. Gingerly, he traced the outline with the tip of a finger, sucking down a deep breath when Sukuna shivered underneath his touch. It wasn’t much but it was beautiful and Megumi only had slight regret that he hadn’t tried to colour it darker, hadn’t spread the mark further. 

“Tonight,” Megumi whispered, pressing his lips together and swallowing. Shouldn’t have happened. 

But it was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. 

Sukuna let out a breath. “If you’re gonna tell me that we need to discuss things again, I’m going to kick you out.” Megumi stilled, eyes flicking up to the back of Sukuna’s head. The man still wasn’t looking at him, and he was yet to make a move to leave Megumi’s lap. Sukuna let out a small sigh and finally uncurled his hands from his back. Megumi didn’t stop him, only settled his hand further across Sukuna’s back to help him balance as he pulled his arms forward and circled his wrists about the joint. It was another few quiet seconds before Sukuna slid back and off Megumi’s lap to sit on his knees again. 

Megumi simply watched him rub thick fingers over taut muscles and he held his breath, feeling words on Sukuna’s tongue, waiting for their turn to speak.

Slowly, red eyes cut up towards him and Megumi swallowed at the heated look in them. “In case you hadn’t noticed,” Sukuna finally said, “I like our sessions together.” Megumi narrowed his eyes, his own quip on the tip of his tongue, but Sukuna cut him off, interrupting him before he could start. “Most dom’s I’ve hired are predictable, almost like they have the same script to run through, but you’re spontaneous. I like that, Megumi.” 

Megumi’s mouth ran dry, and he blinked over at Sukuna as the guy casually climbed to his feet, reached for his boxers, and started to pull them on. His ribs felt tight as his heart pounded away and Megumi had to dig his fingers into his thighs to try to bring himself back to the present. “I like our sessions too,” he admitted, his voice much quieter than he intended. 

Something was different with Sukuna at that moment. His voice was softer, the usual rumble of his chest a quiet murmur, and his eyes seemed honest yet unsure. It was telling in the creases at the corners of his gaze, at the slight frown that couldn’t be forced away from his lips, and the way Sukuna only stole short glances in Megumi’s direction. “Good,” Sukuna mumbled, and he cleared his throat, eyes falling to Megumi’s legs. “Did you bring a spare pair with you?” 

He nodded and slowly climbed to his feet, “Always do, just in case.” 

Sukuna tipped his head towards the hallway, “There’s a bathroom, first door on the right. You can use it and leave your pants in there. I’ll get them dry cleaned for you.” 

That had Megumi blinking, “The club has facilities for that.” 

Colour crept up Sukuna’s neck and Megumi pressed his lips together. “You’re back here in a few days, just- let me. As- as- fuck , as an apology.” 

Heat crawled across Megumi’s cheeks and he simply stared up at Sukuna, gaze widening. Did- Did Sukuna really just say that? The guy who had never apologised for anything? Who just moments ago had said apologising was weak? Megumi’s stomach knotted itself tightly, and the thick silence that surrounded them stifled the air into an uncomfortable breath. Maybe Sukuna was finally taking heed of Megumi’s words? Maybe he did pay attention to what Megumi said and not just what he did with his hands. Megumi thought he knew Sukuna, thought he was too stubborn to really care all that much what happened afterwards, about what Megumi really did think of him. Megumi thought Sukuna was too arrogant to even consider apologising to Megumi for anything. 

“Apology for what?” he blurted without thought. 

Sukuna struggled to look at Megumi after that and his expression turned sheepish. The usual confidence he wore was dented in his hunched shoulders and the way he couldn’t decide what to do with his hands. “You’re right,” Sukuna breathed and he rolled his shoulders back, “emergencies happen. I hope whatever came up isn’t affecting you any more.” A lump wormed its way into Megumi’s throat and he struggled to swallow it down as Sukuna finally met his gaze, ruby eyes full of embarrassment. “If… If you ever need time, or anything then please, let me know if there’s anything I can do to help. I enjoy our arrangements and would hate to jeopardise it.” 

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Megumi forced out between pursed lips. It took every ounce of control in Megumi’s being to keep any kind of comment to himself. It was the last thing Sukuna needed after… that change of tune. What it was that had made Sukuna change his mind or why he’d suddenly decide to become more amiable, Megumi didn’t know, couldn’t think about where to begin looking for that answer. It seemed that Sukuna was full of surprises and it left Megumi speechless. It took several mental kicks for Megumi to clear his throat and gesture vaguely towards his bag. “I’m going to go get changed.” 

Sukuna nodded, looked anywhere but at Megumi, and eventually shuffled away to his kitchen. Megumi followed him with his gaze for a moment before he reached his bag and grabbed the pants he’d brought with him. He couldn't look at Sukuna either, didn’t want to feel that heat creep further up his skin, and he made his way to the bathroom, his pace a little faster than intended and his racing heart following his every step. Once he was inside the bathroom he locked the door and simply fell against the wood, mind whirling with a thousand thoughts. 

Every time he tried to articulate a thought, another came crashing through and left him a muddle of questions he couldn’t differentiate from one another. It wasn’t the first time a sub had offered to clean his clothes for him, or ask him to leave things behind for next time. Megumi hadn’t wanted to before simply because he liked being able to keep track of his things, not to mention the clean up. But it was the first time somebody had been sheepish in their question, unsure of themselves, treading a line they clearly hadn’t touched before. 

Slowly, Megumi peeled himself away from the door and toed his shoes off. He popped the button on his pants and shimmied them down. With another breath he lifted them up to see how bad the damage was and raised his brows at the clear streak of drying cum that stained almost the entire length. It reminded him of what he’d said to Sukuna, how truthful Megumi had felt with his words. 

You’re truly nothing more than the size of your bank account. Nobody likes you and nobody will ever fucking love you .

Mortificating shame crept up Megumi’s spine and wrapped itself tightly around his throat. It had been years since he’d spat such cruel venom, years since he’d felt the wrath in his voice echo in his muscles. Sukuna liked it when Megumi talked shit about him, that much was clear, but nobody deserved to be told that , and Megumi hurried to pull his clean pants on. 

He was the one that needed to apologise and he needed to make good on his promise to Nobara that he would make Sukuna talk with him. Megumi needed a line drawn in the metaphorical sand for himself, he needed to know what his boundaries were to keep himself grounded, to keep him from doing or saying something else he’d regret. 

You’re spontaneous. I like that . 

I like our sessions too . 

Megumi scrubbed a hand over his face, fastened his pants up and quickly tugged his shoes on. He snatched up his dirtied pants and left, a small sheen of sweat dampening his palms. He needed to talk to Sukuna before he left, needed to go over a few things about what was really okay. Needed to make it clear that something needed to change if they were going to continue with this contract, this job, with this relationship.

When he came back to the living room, Sukuna was perched on the couch, a drink in one hand and his phone in the other. He looked up at Megumi and Megumi let a frown crease his features. “We’re talking before I leave,” he said. 

Sukuna blinked at him and straightened up, his own brows furrowing between his eyes. “About what?” 

Megumi grabbed his chair from before, turned it around, and sat down, settling his dirty pants over one leg. “Boundaries. I- I need boundaries.” 

“I told you, I’m fine-”

“I’m not.” Sukuna shut his mouth and a stony expression crossed his face. Megumi swallowed, tried to keep his gaze level with Sukuna as he spoke, and tried to keep any wavering out of his voice. “In this kind of relationship, boundaries are important. For both of us, not just you. You keep saying I can’t hurt you, and I accept that. You seem to take everything I give you without issue.”

“I could take more-” 

Megumi cut off Sukuna’s thoughts with a glare. “For my own personal reasons, I need there to be a line that I can’t cross. I need to know that there is a limit.” Megumi inhaled a deep breath and buried his fingers in the fabric of his pants, curled his toes in his shoes and swallowed down the growing lump in his throat. “I don’t want things to get out of hand, for either of us. Tonight for example, I slapped you, and some of the things I said were unnecessary and hurtful. I wasn’t thinking and I apologise.”

Sukuna lifted a hand and Megumi froze, mouth open, tongue poised with fresh words. He closed his mouth and watched Sukuna fall back onto the couch, watched him scowl before he let out a long breath. “I know you don’t mean any of the things you say.” Megumi blinked and felt some of the tension melt from his shoulders. “You don’t know me for one so you’re making a lot of assumptions based upon a few hours. I’ve heard so much over the years, Megumi, and if I were to believe everything everybody ever said about me, well, I don’t think I’d be in the position I am today.” Sukuna offered him a small smile that warmed his chest. “And, I called you some unsavoury things myself. We’re both square on that front.” Sukuna pointed a finger in Megumi’s direction, “For the record, I don’t think you’re a whore.” Megumi snorted at that and his lips cracked into the start of a grin. “I meant it,” Sukuna carried on and Megumi felt at ease as he met intense ruby eyes, “when I said I enjoy our sessions. I do. You-” Sukuna stopped, pursed his lips and pondered his next set of words before he seemed to think otherwise. “What do you need from me?” 

Megumi blinked and paused. He needed limits, but Sukuna didn’t have any. He needed a line that he couldn’t cross, but Sukuna encouraged Megumi’s cruel streak. He needed something to keep him grounded, to stop him from getting lost in the moment, to stop him from repeating history. He needed… 

He needed… 

To let go. To feel content in everything he did, comfortable with his own capabilities. A drive to keep going, to keep giving and giving, to push his own boundaries, his own limits and find that new threshold he was happy with. 

He wanted to change nothing. 

“Megumi?” 

He focused his attention on Sukuna’s concerned face and rushed out a quick, “I’m sorry. I’ll send you an email.” There was nothing he could say to Sukuna in this moment that would help either of them. 

Something flickered across Sukuna’s gaze and he nodded his head after several silent moments. “Understood.” Megumi swallowed, trying to coax some saliva back into his otherwise dry mouth. “Is there anything else you wish to discuss right now?”

Everything . “No.” 

“Okay.”

Megumi nodded and climbed to his feet. He brushed a hand down the front of his suit and stared at the pants in his other hand, at the stain that glimmered under the lights. There was something in him that hesitated to part with his own property and leave it in somebody else’s place. But another part of him wanted to trust Sukuna, did trust him. The guy didn’t balk at Megumi’s talk, didn’t mock him or make fun of his request. 

And everything in this job was about trust. Sukuna trusting Megumi with the most vulnerable side to him, and Megumi trusting Sukuna with some of the rawest emotions he usually kept at bay. 

The thudding of his heart in his chest was a painful weight and Megumi held the pants out to Sukuna. “Thank you. For offering to wash them.” 

Sukuna stood and took the offered garment with a small nod. “I assure you, Megumi. I’m not as selfish as you might think me to be.” 

“I’m getting that,” Megumi whispered and he ignored the surprised look that crossed Sukuna’s features. Instead, he fastened his tie back into place in a loose knot, grabbed his back, and slung it over his shoulder. Every step felt heavy and his stomach fluttered with tighter and tighter knots the closer he made it to the front door. The weight of Sukuna’s gaze on his back was deafening, suffocating, and Megumi was glad for the cool rush of air from the hallway outside. He enjoyed the sweet taste of it for another second before he offered Sukuna another nod. 

“Thank you. For listening to me, and-” he gestured to the pants clutched between large fingers. 

Sukuna tipped his head once and curled his lips into a soft smile. “No thanks necessary.” 

He left then, a faint tremor running through his muscles, and Megumi screwed his fingers tightly around the strap of his bag. His mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, but all he could think about was Sukuna’s words. 

I’m not as selfish as you might think me to be.

The elevator doors opened and Megumi stepped inside, inhaling another gulp of fresh air.

Maybe he really had misjudged Sukuna.

Chapter Text

It was supposed to be a good day. 

Sukuna’s week had started out great. One little inquiry had slid across, an open question about what his business could offer to someone looking to change things up a little. After several phone calls, virtual and face to face meetings, and even two dinners that he’d paid for, Sukuna had received news that morning that he’d secured a brand new contract. With it, came a whole slew of businesses that added easily six figures to the companies revenue. It was great news that should’ve left him with an irreversible high that nothing could shake, when was the last time somebody had brought in that kind of business? 

And yet…

Here he was, huddled in his office, dragging the nail of his thumb across the still healing split lip. It should’ve closed up days again, and it should’ve been nothing more than a faint mark if anybody looked close enough. Instead, he’d poked at it, sucked it between his teeth, and teased the sensitive flesh to ignite a fresh tingle of pain across his lips. He couldn’t help it. It was addictive, trying to chase that same high Megumi had wrung through him, trying to subtly recreate that feeling of hunger, lust, and desire. Each new press of a finger to his lip had fresh heat curling in his stomach, had him itching for more of the same and different. 

Sukuna wanted more . 

But Megumi didn’t. 

In their last session Megumi had mentioned sending Sukuna an email, and said email sat in front of Sukuna, staring at him from the computer screen. It did nothing but irk him with every passing second. It irritated him, vexed him. He wondered if it was somebody else that was talking to him and not Megumi as it had been signed. He read the email again, a third, and a fourth time, before he sighed, threw himself back in his seat, and reached for his pack of smokes. 

Eight cigarettes stood in a neat row and Sukuna frowned. It had been a week since he’d last lit one, a week since he’d let the smell of nicotine curl through the air and into his senses. One. Whole. Week. And now he needed one, or two, or three. He tapped a finger against the open packet, contemplating the desire creeping through his veins, before he tugged one free, lit it, and inhaled the sharp sting of nicotine as it filled his lungs. With another sigh, he sagged further into his seat and glanced back at the email still open on his screen. 

Good afternoon, Sukuna, 

I hope this email finds you well. 

As per our conversation during your last session, I feel there needs to be a few simple ground rules put into place before we continue. I believe it would be in both of our best interests if we try our best to follow three new rules. 

If you disagree or find that it interrupts our partnership too much, we can come to some form of compromise or discuss termination of your contract. 

Please see below:

• I require a list of things that are off limits, things that I am not allowed to talk about, bring up, or discuss during my verbal assaults. 

• Any physical violence, such as slapping your face or biting you, anything that may cause you to bleed or to be marked for a prolonged period of time, is banned unless you request it at least forty eight hours in advance. 

• Proper aftercare. You will allow me to do what I need to do after a scene is finished. 

Thank you for your time,

Megumi

Sukuna snorted. Where was the same guy who had taken one look at him and sneered? The guy who initiated the bite, who Sukuna goaded, successfully, into slapping him a second time? “Fuck,” he mumbled around his smoke, truly believing that things had been too good to be true. Sukuna had thought Megumi was somebody who thrived on the lack of limits that Sukuna had, on the few restrictions that had been laid out between them. He’d certainly given Sukuna that impression with how confidently he’d held himself up, how bold his assumptions about Sukuna had been, and with how little words had needed to pass between them. 

Now that he thought about it, Sukuna kicked himself for being an idiot. It was a fantastic sales pitch. Hook Sukuna in on the first few weeks, make sure he’s invested in an all out deal, before laying down the ground rules. It was the perfect way to lure him, or anyone, in and make sure they truly believed Megumi was the best in the business before he yanked it away with fasci-rules that stripped that previous hope away. 

A knock on his door dragged his attention up and Sukuna didn’t bother to close the email. “What?” he said, red eyes snapping equally as hard up to Uraume’s impassive face. 

They didn’t bat an eye at his attitude. Instead, Uraume dropped a small, opened envelope onto Sukuna’s desk and straightened up, a tablet curled protectively in one hand. “You have a charity function tonight. It’s black tie. I’ll be picking your tuxedo up from the dry cleaners this afternoon. Do you require a date?” 

He scoffed and tugged the cigarette from his mouth. 

He wasn’t in the mood to play nice, not when he’d just figured out he’d fallen for one of the easiest sales pitches to ever exist. He didn’t feel like socialising or mingling with strangers, pretending to care as he listened to everyone rattle off their charitable successes, each one trying to outdo the other. Everybody liked to brag about the size of their donations and few actually had hands-on experience with giving charity. Sukuna couldn’t say much himself, he was just as bad as the rest of them. The most charitable thing he’d ever done in his life was give his baby brother money to open a restaurant. 

“Cancel it.

“It’s been scheduled for six months.” 

“And I said cancel it.” 

“No.” 

Sukuna ground his teeth together with a flare of his nostrils. “Uraume.”

“You’re going.”

“Cancel it or you’re fired.” 

Uraume didn’t blink as they said, “You’re not going to fire me. Now, do you require a date?” 

Sukuna stared at them in silence, his anger boiling in his veins, and his temple beginning to throb. Uraume was the last person Sukuna would ever consider firing. Without Uraume he would sink, hard and fast. He broke the quiet first, settling with a sigh as he closed his eyes and pressed his free fingers across his head, trying to physically soothe the growing headache. “Do whatever you want.” 

The only noise to pierce the air was a few quiet taps and Uraume broke that spell soon after, “There’s a gentlemen’s club a fifteen minute walk from your hotel that night, female staff. Or, there’s another one a thirty minute drive with male staff.”

He cracked his eyes open at that, hearing the implication loud and clear. Blow off some steam. Get his frustrations out and get over whatever funk he’d found himself in. He blew out a huff of air and narrowed his gaze at Uraume. They merely raised a brow in a silent question and he let out a long, withering breath. It had been a while since he’d taken his tie off and let loose all on his own, since he’d indulged in his own personal pleasure without the need for appointments or card details. 

Sure, Yuuji and Choso had dragged him out into the night plenty of times, moreso Yuuji then their cousin, and the office was always eager to throw functions here and there to bring the teams closer and raise people’s morale. But going out alone was vastly different to being made to go out in a group. Going on his own gave him a sense of freedom and a relief that he didn’t have to entertain anybody but himself and whoever he picked up, if he decided to pick somebody up. 

Maybe it would be nice to enjoy himself a little, to unwind, to forget about pseudo rules and false manners. The more he considered it the more he missed his younger days where he brought somebody back to his place, or took them back to their place, almost every weekend, sometimes twice a week. He missed the sound of hearing somebody come undone underneath him, of feeling somebody clench around his cock, whining his name and digging their nails into his skin. 

Maybe a little fun would help shift the tension that had crept back into his body. 

“Fine. Women.” Sukuna waved a dismissive hand and closed his eyes again, shoving his cigarette between his lips once more. “Whatever.” 

“I’ll let the event know you won’t be bringing a date. I’ll pick up your tuxedo after lunch and don’t forget your eleven o’clock meeting, it’s with the Kamo corporation. I’ll forward the rest of today’s schedule to you and make sure your driver is waiting for you downstairs at five, sharp. Don’t be late. I’ll also order you food before you leave as dinner isn’t until nine. We’ll drop you off at the venue for six and I’ll drop your bags off at the hotel and check you in.” 

 He waved his hand again and slowly focused his attention back onto his computer. A few pop ups appeared in the bottom corner of his screen, all from Uraume, and he flicked his eyes up to their retreating form. They turned at the door, took their bow, and left, leaving Sukuna alone with his thoughts once again. 

Two more pop ups appeared and Sukuna stared at them until they disappeared and he finally looked back to Megumi’s email. 

He read the three points once more and another scoff bubbled in his chest. When he’d first signed up, he thought he’d made it clear he wanted spontaneous fun that pushed boundaries, that made him consider chiming ‘yellow’ or ‘red.’ He didn’t want to plan those kinds of nights in advance, it ruined the fun for him. 

His mobile rang and Sukuna glanced at the name and number. It was one of the few clients who had him on speed dial and a moment of dread washed over him. He really hoped it was a social call and not to be told that somebody somewhere had fucked up. This client was too big for them to lose. Shoving another sigh back down his throat, Sukuna answered the call with forced optimism, “Okkotsu! I hope you’re calling with an invite to dinner that you’re paying for this time.” He propped his phone between his shoulder and cheek and settled both hands across his keyboard. 

On the other end of the line was a quiet chuckle. “I do owe you dinner. Rika wanted me to thank you for the little hamper you sent us by the way. She loved it.” 

Sukuna hummed, unaware of exactly what it was Okkotsu was talking about. More than likely Uraume had arranged something to keep them sweet. “I’m glad your wife enjoyed it. How are things? All good I hope.” He re-read Megumi’s email and started to type out his reply as Okkotsu rambled on about how Rika was planning some dinner that weekend with some old school friends, followed by a party for somebody’s fortieth. 

Megumi, 

I am a little disappointed by your email, however I do not wish to terminate our contract. I’m willing to compromise and play by your new rules on the condition you continue to provide the same services you have done so far. 

• Family is off limits. 

• I’m willing to accept the consequences if you allow me to request the potential for physical harm in each of our sessions.

• Fine.

Sukuna

He hit send, closed his emails, and leaned back in his chair, listening to Okkotsu rattle on about some recent work event that his company insisted on hosting, and how it was the last thing he wanted to be doing. Sukuna chuckled and stood up from his seat to pace about his office as he finished talking, thankful that at least it was a social call and not a complaint. He watched the clock as they spoke, aware that if he missed his eleven o’clock meeting Uraume would murder him. They’d been trying for months to set up this meeting and they’d finally persuaded the Kamo corporation to hear them out. If he fucked it up now he might as well not bother coming into work tomorrow. 

Okkotsu took the hint well, wished Sukuna good luck on that night’s charity event, and promised to invite him to the next function that his company arranged. 

Sukuna hung up, let out a breath, and prepared himself for a meeting he couldn’t afford to screw up. 

In his hotel room, Sukuna tugged his bow loose. He tossed it atop his bag and unfastened the top button of his shirt, letting out a heavy breath with the motion. He ran his fingers through his hair, musing it back to its usual mess, and threw his jacket on top of his bag too. The charity function had gone just as he’d expected; he’d turned up, shook hands, made small talk, exchanged false pleasantries, listened to person after person brag about their charitable efforts that year, what their plans were, and how much they’d all donated to charity. 

It bored him. 

Sure, it was nice to give back, great to support people and charities alike. But he hated how many people used it as a gesture that they were doing good things, how they showed it off like some trophy as they waited for their pat on the back. He snorted. He could name at least six of the companies in attendance tonight who used questionable, overseas employment opportunities, all whilst they supported children in need and sponsored their local school. 

When he’d been asked about his own efforts he rattled off the spiel Uraume had prepared for him. Something about their own donations that year, their aim to use labour from their own cities, to give local people employment, paying above the minimum wages. 

Yada. Fucking. Yada. 

It was all publicity that Sukuna didn’t care about. Their company was good at what they did and that was all he cared about. He didn’t need to know the details, the fine workings from the bottom to the top. He came in, got on with his work, put in the hours, and went home. For years he’d tried to get somebody else to be the spokesperson at events, had even tried to put Uraume forward as a point of contact to represent the company, but it was always thrown back on his desk, telling him that people liked him. 

That garnered another scoff from him. 

He hated people, and he loathed the company he had to keep during networking events. At least he’d mastered the art of leaving early without people batting an eye. 

With another sigh, Sukuan kicked his shoes off, swapping the nicely polished, pristine pair, for some that were slightly scuffed and far more comfortable, the shine dulled considerably. He rolled the sleeves of his shirt up over his elbows, and finished off the serving of whiskey he’d bought from the hotel’s bar downstairs. It was going to take a lot more than a quick fuck to ease the pent up tension that was spread over his shoulders. 

As he looked up the address Uraume had given him for the club, he grabbed his wallet and double checked the room was tidy before he left and made his way downstairs. It would’ve been quicker for him to call a taxi but the fresh air was a nice change to the stuffy atmosphere he’d had to endure for four hours. It gave him a chance to breathe and relax, enjoying every minute of his walk. He was a guy who liked to take long walks at night, sue him. 

The place Uraume had pointed out to him wasn’t subtle with its advertising, but only if you knew to look for it. He was sure he could’ve walked down this street any other day and not know about it unless somebody had told him what it was. He grinned, already shoving his phone away. It looked gaudy, filthy, dingy, and perfect. At the door he listened to the rules, agreed to obey them, and was let inside to see that the night was in full swing. Scantily clad women danced on stages, served drinks, and provided lap dances for paying patrons. Some were escorting others to the curtained doorways, no doubt for a more private show, and Sukuna took a deep breath, inhaling the deep scent of pure heat . 

Most would call him tasteless for deciding to occupy himself with something so “tacky” but for him, it was a great relief from the everyday. No obligations. No remorse or shame for eye fucking somebody. It was nothing more than a perfect excuse for him to leer at people with pure need. 

He made his way to the bar, ordered a drink, and eyed the many seats that were already taken. It was too late in the night for him to find an empty seat and he shrugged it off, more than happy to stand close to the bar and watch the room. At least from here he had a great view of everything and any of the girls that were serving drinks had to walk past him to take their next orders to their table. 

He ran a hand through his hair and sipped on his drink, eyes transfixed on the current act on stage. She was gorgeous and she knew it, arching her back out to present her perfectly round ass out to the crowd, one hand running over barely contained breasts, hips sashaying in time to the music, four inch heels making her legs look impossibly long. And she was a tease, running her fingers over the edges of her bra, teasing her thumbs into the elastic of her thong, snapping it against her skin.

The more he watched the more he felt sated.

Just about. 

It was nice to pretend that he didn’t have work tomorrow, that he was here on nothing but pleasure, that he had all the time in the world to waste here, ogling the various levels of undress on display for him to enjoy. He sipped on his drink, gaze flitting around the room to the obvious groups of people that had arrived together, some encouraging their friends to slide bills into waistbands, others whispering to the acts, pointing out their friends. 

But there was something missing, something not quite right. 

He licked at suddenly dry lips and turned back to the bar, finishing his first drink of the night before he ordered his second. He openly stared at the chest of the barmaid, willing himself to enjoy it, and it was a delicious view, but his body wasn’t cooperating tonight. Sukuna huffed and ducked his head to stare at his drink, his throat feeling thick with an awkward lump. 

There was the noise of somebody ordering a drink and glanced up at the male voice. The guy looked almost average, with dark hair, darker eyes, and a thin excuse for a moustache. Most importantly he seemed only half interested in the shows going on, unphased by the barely dressed women that surrounded them. Instead, his attention was focused on the cigarette that burned away in his hand. 

Sukuna’s next drink was set in front of him and he just about had the glass to his lips when one of the waitresses asked if he wanted to try something a little more private. Sukuna’s eyes danced up to whoever that stranger was at the other end of the bar, and something itched in his fingers. All of a sudden he couldn’t care less about the wave of women who would happily take up his time and spend his money. Suddenly, he didn’t care about seeking second hand enjoyment from a “no-touch” atmosphere. He wanted to indulge, to enjoy everything, to get his dick wet and remember what it was like to fuck somebody well and truly into the bed. 

“I’m good, thanks.” 

The stranger lifted his head up curiously, and Sukuna met his gaze with raised brows and a subtle tip of his glass. The waitress let Sukuna know that if he changed his mind, to ask for Amethyst, before she sauntered off, being sure to sway her hips. 

Sukuna followed her for a single moment, letting his eyes rake over the nice piece of meat she showed off to him, before he snapped his gaze back to the stranger. There was a curious look in those dark eyes and Sukuna knew he had his interest. He slid his way over to the stranger until there was only a few inches of space between them, and nodded to the cigarette in his hand. “Mind if I share one with you?” 

The guy raised a single brow, gave Sukuna a very obvious once over, and curled the corner of his lips up. “Depends on who I’m sharing it with.”

“Sukuna.” 

“Shiu.” He reached into his pocket, eyes fixed on Sukuna, and pulled out his box of smokes, extending it out to Sukuna. “This doesn’t seem like your usual crowd.” 

Sukuna took the offered box, snatched a cigarette free, and handed the box back. “Coming from the guy hiding out at the bar.” 

“Look who’s talking.” 

Sukuna grinned, already liking Shiu’s attitude. He stared at the unlit end of his cigarette and flicked his eyes up to Shiu’s mouth, to those lips wrapped perfectly around his own smoke. He let his gaze linger for a moment before he looked further up, not perturbed by how deeply Shiu was staring at him. “I thought I wanted-” he tipped his head behind them to the crowds of horny, rowdy men, littered with a few groups of women who were also enjoying themselves, “this. But…” He turned back to Shiu, slid the filtered end of his cigarette into his mouth, and leaned into Shiu’s space. With firm fingers, he grabbed Shiu’s chin, tipped his head up a fraction, and leaned further forward, pressing the ends together. Slowly, with his eyes fixed on Shiu’s dark gaze, he inhaled until a whisper of smoke ignited between them, until a glimmer of red blinked into life. Only then did Sukuna release Shiu’s chin with a lingering touch across his skin, and he tugged his cigarette free to blow a long puff of smoke into the air between them. Sukuna licked his lips and curled the corners of his lips up with a smirk, “Now I’m thinking I want something else.” 

Shiu inhaled his own drag of his cigarette and settled his gaze on Sukuna’s mouth. “That so?”

Sukuna shrugged, “Depends on what you’re here for.” 

Shiu lifted his gaze and nodded towards a group of men wherein two of them were currently being entertained with lap dances. “Birthday boy over there.” 

“You the odd one out?” 

Shiu chuckled, something warm and heavy, “That’s one way of putting it.” 

Sukuna hummed at that, threw back the rest of his drink, and took one more drag of his cigarette, raising his brows in Shiu’s direction. “Wanna get outta here?” 

The tip of Shiu’s cigarette burned brightly as he inhaled sharply, before Shiu dropped the end into Sukuna’s empty glass. “We’re going back to your place.”

“Works for me.” 

One quick taxi journey later and Sukuna was pulling Shiu into his hotel room by his tie, mouth pressed firmly to Shiu’s. He tasted of ash and musk, and Sukuna savoured every panting breath Shiu let out. He shoved Shiu against the closed down and worked his hands down the front of his shirt, admiring the surprisingly lean muscles underneath. Whilst Shiu worked messily on unbuttoning the front of Sukuna’s pants, Sukuna popped the buttons of Shiu’s shirt, wanting to feel the warm skin under his fingertips, wanting to feel the dips and divots of those muscles. 

“You bring a lot of strangers back to your hotel rooms?” 

Sukuna chuckled, sucking Shiu’s bottom lip between his teeth. “Perhaps.” 

“Whore.” 

“You’re about to get fucked by this whore, so what does that say about you?” 

A sharp tug to his hair had Sukuna canting his head back, his mouth being captured by a firm nip of teeth to his lips. He closed his eyes and groaned, wrapping his hands under the swell of Shiu’s ass. It felt good, nice, great , and he lifted Shiu up to drop him onto the bed, following after him to crowd over him, lips leaving a hot trail down Shiu’s neck as Sukuna bit soft marks into pristine skin. He cracked his eyes open to peer at his handiwork, something warm stirring in his stomach. At least one of them would have evidence come tomorrow and it spurred Sukuna on, wondering if he could get Shiu to leave a mark on his own skin, maybe a bite against his throat, a bruise around his wrist. 

Sukuna worked fervently on unbuttoning Shiu’s pants before he sat back up onto his knees and tugged his shirt off, tossing the material to one side without care. For a few silent moments, he looked over Shiu, enjoying the sight of having somebody under him and the knowledge that at that very second, nothing else mattered. 

He shoved his pants halfway down his thighs and Shiu got the message loud and clear, matching Sukuna’s state of undress before he reached for his wallet to throw a condom and lube packet in Sukuna’s direction. 

“You always this prepared?” Sukuna teased as he tore the packets open. 

“Are you always so obnoxious?” 

Sukuna chuckled, wasting little time in rolling the condom on before he squeezed the lube onto one of his hands. He curled himself back over Shiu, lips meeting lips in a series of harsh bites. “M’not complaining,” he mumbled, working his hand between them to press at Shiu’s entrance. Shiu’s mouth fell open with a grunt and Sukuna swallowed that noise down, swiping his tongue into Shiu’s mouth just as he crooked one finger into his tight heat. The effect was instantaneous, a small arch of his body that had Shiu’s hips rocking down against Sukuna’s finger. 

It had been too long since Sukuna had indulged like this, since he’d thought with his cock and not his brain, since he’d let his own desire take the lead. He groaned at the feeling of clenching muscles and worked his finger slowly until he could easily slide a second and a third in. 

“I’m not some girl about to lose her virginity,” Shiu chided as he wrapped his legs around Sukuna’s waist and twisted one hand into pink hair. “So get on with it.”

Sukuna groaned, shoved his fingers hard into Shiu’s heat, and knocked a moan from the man underneath him. He teased his fingers up, searching, until he found that one spot that had Shiu’s entire body tensing around him, and Sukuna grinned as he ground his fingers across that same spot, over and over again, until a small pool of pre collected in the dip of Shiu’s stomach, until Shiu screwed his eyes shut with a low hiss, his entire face twisted in pleasure, his mouth slack, and his fingers digging harshly into Sukuna’s shoulders. 

Only then did Sukuna pull his fingers out, smearing the excess lube down his cock and sit back up onto his knees. He slid his hands down the inside of Shiu’s thighs, spreading them wider, and grabbed a hold of his cock to line it up with Shiu’s entrance. He tipped his chin to his chest to watch the muscles flutter in anticipation, watch them clench around nothing but the phantom feeling of what used to be there, and finally, Sukuna pressed into him. 

A loud groan rocked through Sukuna at the tightness that enveloped him, the heat that felt stifling. It was wonderful, delicious, and Sukuna pressed his hands into the sheets on either side of Shiu’s head. He screwed his fingers tightly into the fabric and rolled his hips experimentally, trying to find the right angle that had him sliding further in. 

“Shit,” Sukuna groaned, and he let his thoughts wander to how delectable this was, to how much he’d missed this feeling. He rocked his hips harder, enjoying the way he sunk further into that heat, and brought them back to snap forward, fully seating himself within Shiu with a deep, chest rumbling groan. 

That. Felt. Amazing . 

He groaned, burying his face in the crook of Shiu’s shoulder, and dragged his hips back to slam forward again. He enjoyed the noise of the bed knocking against the wall, the way Shiu tensed around him, the smell of sex that lingered in the air, the feeling of trembling muscles against his chest, the pressure of fingernails digging into his shoulders, and the feeling of Shiu’s breath against his neck. The reins he had on any self restraint started to slip as Shiu rocked up into Sukuna’s thrusts, as Shiu fisted one hand painfully into his hair and pulled him down to bite at his neck. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he moaned, hips working faster, knees digging harder into the sheets as Sukuna chased Shiu’s rocking body with his own, trying to pull him down into each thrust. He groaned, wanting to drown out anything but the noises of their skin slapping against each other, their whines filing the air, their gasps and grunts. Sukuna wanted to forget about the world for these few minutes. 

He snapped forward harder than before, punching a surprised noise from Shiu’s throat, and Sukuan chased that noise, wanting to hear more. He wanted to hear Shiu whine and whimper, wanted to hear him gasp and choke on every breath as Sukuna fucked him with the intent to bruise him from the inside out. He fucked Shiu harder and harder, enjoying the bite of nails across his skin, the digging of heels into his back, the deep earthy scent that enveloped Shiu. 

It was warm, comforting. 

Megumi . 

Shiu froze, and it took Sukuna’s sex addled brain a few seconds to realise Shiu had suddenly stopped fucking back onto him. He slowed, brows furrowing between his eyes, and lifted his head up. 

“Who’s Megumi?” 

Now it was Sukuna’s turn to freeze and he clamped suddenly dry lips together as red eyes widened. He could feel the panic creeping across his face the longer he stared. “Nobody,” he tried, knowing the lie wasn’t going to land. 

Shiu looked unimpressed and he thumped his head back onto the pillow with a sigh, eyes looking anywhere but at Sukuna. “I don’t appreciate being some rebound-”

“You’re not.” 

“Or stand in then.” Dark eyes cut down to Sukuna and he closed his mouth again, stopping any words before they could form. 

He wanted to say that that statement wasn’t true either, that Shiu wasn’t a stand-in for Megumi, that it was impossible to be a stand-in when he and Megumi weren’t a thing. They were… nothing. A means to an end. A professional relationship. A transaction. Megumi was there to fulfil a service that Sukuna was paying for. It wasn’t possible for Shiu to be a rebound either when there wasn’t anything to rebound from. 

But Sukuna didn’t feel confident in his answer, and he couldn’t place why. Everything in his mind screamed that Shiu was right, but that he was so, so, so wrong too. 

Shiu let out another breath and knocked a palm against Sukuna’s shoulder. “I think I’ve outstayed my welcome.” 

Sukuna didn’t argue with him. He swallowed down his pride, gingerly pulled out of Shiu, and shuffled over to one side. The bed dipped as Shiu climbed to his feet, and Sukuna refused to meet his eyes. Instead, he listened to the sound of clothes being pulled into place and Sukuna pulled his own pants up to metaphorically hide his own shame. He didn’t dare to meet Shiu’s gaze when Sukuna had done the one thing you shouldn’t do with hookups, didn’t want to find a pitiful expression being thrown his way. He deserved it and so much more, but he settled for glaring at his luggage bag and the clothes he’d thrown there from the event earlier. He willed his bag to burn into flames and swallow him up to save him the matter of trying to salvage anything. 

There wasn’t another word spared for him from the other man, just the slamming of the door that left Sukuna alone with his thoughts. He curled his lips up into a snarl and threw himself forward to settle his head in his hands, fingers buried deep in his hair, tugging at the roots. 

Why? 

Why the hell had he said Megumi’s name? He didn’t care about him. He didn’t. He couldn’t. Megumi was nothing but a good time for a few hours and that was it. Megumi had made that fact very clear with his email, reminding Sukuna that they needed rules in order for their arrangement to work. That’s all it was, an arrangement where Sukuna benefitted with pleasure and Megumi benefitted with money. 

Megumi had done his part. He’d played the pretty boy who bent to Sukuna’s needs and desires, and now he could ease up on his job, take it easy and let himself coast on Sukuna’s wallet and desperation. 

Sukuna groaned, marched to the bathroom, cleaned himself up, threw away any evidence that he’d tried something tonight, and tugged his clothes back on. He snatched his wallet up and stormed his way downstairs to the hotel’s bar, intending to drown himself in whiskey until he forgot his own name. 

It was in the elevator on the ride down that Sukuna couldn’t help himself. He pulled his phone out and stared at Megumi’s email all over again, brows pinched into a tight frown. He should tell Megumi to fuck off. If he couldn’t be bothered to give Sukuna what he paid for, what he asked for, a night without limits, then why should Sukuna bother with him. There were plenty of other doms out there he was sure of it. Uraume had found Megumi and they could find somebody else. 

He glared at his phone a while longer and forced himself to close the email before he caught up on what he’d missed from work. There was nothing that screamed for his attention, nothing that stood out as urgent, and Sukuna sent Uraume a quick message, telling them that the club had been a bust. 

The elevator came to a stop and Sukuna strode to the bar, sitting himself in the first empty stool he could find. Once his drink was in front of him Sukuna quickly threw it back and asked for another, his mind whirling with stupid thoughts he really didn’t want. 

A rebound. A stand in. 

He scrubbed a hand over his face. The more he replayed Shiu’s words the more he wondered if he really had sought Shiu out for that reason. Dark hair, dark eyes, and a lean figure. Maybe Sukuna had been thinking of Megumi, maybe he had let Megumi get underneath his skin in ways he really shouldn’t have. The email Megumi had sent had been on his mind all day. Every time he’d found himself alone or with five minutes spare, his thoughts had circled back to Megumi’s requests, to the new rules and demands, and it soured his mood a fraction the more he thought about them. 

But why in the middle of fucking some complete stranger did he open his mouth and-

Earthy. Warm. Comforting . 

The smell that enveloped Shiu underneath the nicotine reminded him of Megumi. It was a familiar mix of scents that had invaded his senses every time Megumi had pushed his way into Sukuna’s personal space, every time he’d gotten too close. No matter how many times Sukuna had been wrapped up in that scent, it left Sukuna feeling the same; reassured, content, safe, glad. 

In that one moment, with himself seven inches deep in another guy, Sukuna had smelt that same thing on somebody else and his brain had supplied the wrong name. 

Sukuna held his head in his hand again and quickly polished off his drink. How? How the hell had his thoughts become so enraptured with somebody he had no right to care about, somebody who wouldn’t care about what he did in his spare time, who he did? Nothing could ever happen between them. Sukuna knew that, and after years of flitting from one dom to the next, he knew how to keep his distance, how to stop his thoughts from straying to where they shouldn’t, how to remain indifferent to what Megumi thought of him. 

Megumi. 

“Fuck,” Sukuna whispered to himself, and he pulled his phone out to check his emails again. There was no response from Megumi, and he wasn’t sure if he liked or hated that fact. Megumi didn’t owe him a response. Sukuna had given him his answers and that was it. So why? Why did Sukuna feel like he was waiting for something? Why did he feel on edge that Megumi wasn’t at the very least acknowledging his petulant remarks?

He let his phone clatter across the bar top and ordered a third drink, forcing himself to nurture it, eyes staring blankly at the line of spirits across the back shelves of the bar. It had been years since he’d felt this unnerved and he couldn’t place why. 

It couldn’t have just been the lack of an answer from Megumi. Sukuna had sent thousands of emails in his career and at least a thousand hadn’t been returned. In the world of business, not everything needed a, “Thank you for your response,” and Sukuna’s email certainly didn’t classify a response. If anything, Sukuna’s email was the entire reason why Sukuan didn’t deserve a response. 

Whenever they did start a session, Megumi pulled Sukuna under his spell in an instant and everything after that was great. Sukuna enjoyed every second of it, no matter what happened, what Megumi said, or what he did to him. He meant it when he said Megumi surprised him. No matter how much Sukuna tried to read the room or study his expressions, he was always at a loss to what exactly Megumi was thinking, to what was going on behind those wonderfully bright, green eyes of his. 

Sukuna swallowed thickly, lifting a thumb up to trace his bottom lip, right where Megumi had split it open. A thrill shuddered through him and he let out a long breath through his nose. He could still remember the shock that echoed in Megumi’s eyes, the surprise as his hand hung mid air, still wondering if he’d really done that. Sukuna had loved it and he wanted nothing more than to see what else Megumi would do to him, see how he’d surprise them both again. 

But he remembered Megumi’s second rule, about needing to plan for such activities before Megumi even walked through the door. He didn’t want to know what was going to happen. He didn’t want a play by play itinerary of how their night was going to. He wanted Megumi to turn up, command the air, demand from Sukuna, and surprise both of them with what he did next. 

Sukuna wanted that same, unknown, cautious thrill that Megumi had brought with him from day one. He’d asked for somebody who didn’t care about limits, about lines being crossed. He wanted his boundaries to be pushed, wanted to feel like there might actually be something that was too much and too far. 

He pinched at the bridge of his nose and inhaled a gulp of his drink, swirling the rest of the liquid around the glass. It almost felt as if Megumi was looking for a way to pull away from him, to withdraw what he’d previously put on the table. It almost felt as if Megumi was reminding Sukuna that they were nothing but an employee and a paying customer, caught in the moment of the night for only a few hours, before they parted ways again without another thought. 

It left an awful twisting of knots in Sukuna’s stomach that he couldn’t put a name to. It had another lump crawling up his throat, had his mouth running dry, and had him holding his glass a little too tightly. It shouldn’t matter to him if Megumi gave two shits about him or not. Sukuna was paying for a service and Megumi was delivering said service. 

That was it. 

Nothing more, nothing less. 

A faint headache lingered in the back of Sukuna’s skull, gently grating across his nerves with every passing second. It had made itself apparent on his way into the office that morning, and no amount of painkillers or water had shifted the niggling ache. He wanted to go back in time and kick his past self for drinking so much. Uraume had been a godsend, screening most of his calls, rearranging any meetings that weren’t necessary, and trying to make the day a little less miserable for Sukuna. 

He appreciated it, just as he appreciated it when Uraume told him they’d cleared his schedule for the rest of the day and to go home already. “You’re making everyone feel how you look,” they said. 

“You’re too kind,” he sneered. 

But he wasn’t about to turn his back on a good thing, and he took the afternoon off just as advised. He was thankful to get home, close the curtains, and change into the softest pair of sweats he owned along with an oversized tee. He settled down onto the couch with a bottle of water, an ashtray, and his cigarettes, chain smoking his way through half of the pack. Ever since he’d had a taste again in that club, Sukuna had felt the itch come back in full force, had felt it claw at his skin until he sated it with a fresh taste of nicotine. It felt as though his body was doing its best to make up for lost time and Sukuna had no intention of stopping it. 

Absently, he brushed a finger over his neck, over the soft bruise that lingered. When he’d woken up that morning, one look at it had forced his brain to remember the shame that had welled up inside him, inviting regret into his thoughts too. 

Something roiled unpleasantly in his stomach and Sukuna didn’t have a chance to think much more into it when his phone buzzed. He stared at the alarm he’d set, reminding him that Megumi would be here in fifteen minutes. 

Megumi. 

There was a niggling doubt in the back of his mind that Megumi wouldn’t show up, and he wouldn’t blame him. His email had been short, snippy, and rude in every way Sukuna hated. If Sukuna had received that same message he would have told the client to get lost and check their attitude before he even considered entertaining them again. There was another thought that perhaps he should’ve cancelled, that he should’ve sent another email yesterday asking to skip this session. 

The restlessness that drummed through his body begged for Sukuna to relieve some of the tension, but the easiest way he had to ease that stress was the reason for it. 

He let out a breath and forced himself to his feet. It was his fault that he hadn’t cancelled, that he hadn’t called that night off, and Sukuna was not about to tell Megumi to go home when he’d chewed Megumi out not too long ago for missing one week. With his cigarette perched between his lips, Sukuna set the room up to Megumi’s usual specifications and tossed his box of smokes onto the counter. He still had a few minutes left and Sukuna stretched his arms above his head, working out any kinks in his shoulders, and blew out soft puffs of smoke from his lips, enjoying the familiar scent of it all. 

There was a knock at the door and Sukuna spared it a look, let out a breath around his cigarette, and slowly padded his way down the short hall. He tugged the smoke from his lips and opened the door to see Megumi on the other side, brows creased darkly and his entire frame alight with something sharp and dangerous. When Sukuna met his gaze he stilled at the absolute fury that burnt in those green eyes. 

He thought he’d seen anger before but this looked like something new, something darker, and it had Sukuna’s stomach fluttering. Any previous nerves he’d had before were chased away in an instant. He blinked and stepped back, lips parted in a silent exhale. Megumi followed him with his gaze, expression darkening still, and Sukuna swallowed. 

Maybe his shitty email with his shitty attitude had been worth it. 

All of a sudden Megumi ripped the cigarette from Sukuna’s hand and Sukuna couldn’t find it within him to fight him. He could only watch as Megumi stormed across the room, all but threw his bag onto the floor, and tossed the cigarette into the sink. Megumi turned, lips twisted into a silent snarl, and he spotted the pack Sukuna had left lying out. He was snatching them up in the next instant and Sukuna pressed his lips together with another swallow. Slowly he pushed the closed door as his mind wondered what the hell Megumi was going to do next. 

Megumi shoved the packet into his own pocket, stalked across the room until he was in front of Sukuna, and glared up at him. If looks could kill Sukua would be dead three times already. His mouth ran dry and his fingers twitched nervously by his side, a sense of fear ebbing its way into his muscles. 

“Turn around,” Megumi whispered, voice deadly and venomous.

Sukuna didn’t even think twice. He turned his back on Megumi and stared at the wooden surface of his front door, a lump forming in his throat again. There was a rustle of fabric, something clinked, and then Sukuna felt the heat of Megumi’s body behind him. Megumi snatched his wrists up and there was a snap of metal around his wrists followed by another click as Megumi tightened the handcuffs. There was none of the usual padding or fluff Sukuna expected from the standard set of kinky cuffs, no softness, just the harsh bite of metal into his skin if he moved his wrists the wrong way. 

Were these real handcuffs? 

Megumi fisted a hand in the back of Sukuna’s shirt and turned him on the balls of his feet. “Walk.” Sukuna did. He let Megumi march him across his room and over to his couch where he was turned and shoved back onto it by two harsh hands across his chest. Sukuna stared up at Megumi, lips parted, and eyes widening at the shadow that crossed Megumi’s face. 

Fuck. Megumi looked ready to break his nose with one solid punch to his face, ready to slit his throat without breathing a single word, and Sukuna could only think about how much he wanted that. He wanted to feel the drip of blood down his face, the flare of pain across his cheeks, the ache with every miniscule twitch of his muscles. He shifted in his seat, hating the way his cock responded to his depraved thoughts. 

Megumi scoffed and none too gently threw himself into Sukuna’s lap with a small grunt, lips turned down and furrowed brows twitching. With one knee settled on either side of Sukuna, Megumi said, “I thought I told you I hate cigarettes.” 

Sukuna opened his mouth, unable to stop the next flow of words that fell from his lips. “That’s not my problem.” There was a stillness in the air that followed and Sukuna couldn’t help the flicker of a smile at the corners of his lips. He wanted a fight and Megumi had walked in here looking ready to fight back. A part of Sukuna just wanted to see if Megumi really was willing to stick to his little rules, or if that was some farce he put on for show. He needed to know what pushed Megumi, what the final straw was, and he leaned forward, cuffs clinking behind him. “ You do not dictate my life.”

A thought crossed Megumi’s face, disappearing as quickly as it had formed, and Sukuna watched, waiting for Megumi’s play. “You’re right,” Megumi said, and Sukuna blinked with fresh confusion. “I don’t.” 

“Huh?” 

The anger Megumi had been carrying melted away in an instant. It was replaced by something more subtle that tainted the air with a dangerous crackle of electricity. It lifted the hairs on the back of Sukuna’s neck and made his heart pound heavily in his chest. Megumi leaned back on Sukuna’s thighs and he almost missed the faintest of tremors that ran through Megumi. As quickly as the thought had entered his mind it was gone again, his eyes glued to Megumi’s hands as he lifted the box of cigarettes up for Sukuna to see. He flicked the lid open, tapped one out into his hand, and slid the filtered tip between his lips. Sukuna’s mouth fell open as Megumi tugged the lighter free and tossed the box over his shoulder without care. The sound of it clattering across the floor was too loud above their silence, but Sukuna couldn’t tear his gaze away from Megumi. He was far too focused on the intense, green stare Megumi fixed him with. 

Megumi flicked his thumb across the lighter, bringing a single, flickering flame to life, and he brought it up to the end of the cigarette. Sukuna watched his cheeks hollow out as he inhaled gently, watched those eyes narrow at him, and watched a thin stream of smoke blur the small space between them. 

Out of the corner of his eyes, Sukuna could see the end glow red with Megumi’s inhale, could see the paper burn away, but right in front of him, Megumi was demanding his full attention as he pulled the cigarette from his mouth. Sukuna gave it to him willingly, his back arching up to try to get closer, to close that distance between them, to silently tell Megumi that he was watching and waiting for his next instruction. 

Megumi fisted one hand into the hair at the nape of Sukuna’s neck and pulled him closer until their noses barely brushed. Sukuna’s mouth fell wider open and he stared at Megumi, breath caught in his throat, afraid to miss a single second. Megumi flicked his attention down and a smug smirk crawled up his face. Slowly, he blew the smoke from his mouth directly between Sukuna’s parted lips, leaning closer and closer with each long second until Sukuna could swear he could feel Megumi’s lips, until Sukuna’s breath hitched and a quiet gasp rattled across his tongue. 

“You,” Megumi whispered, nicotine laced air fanning across Sukuna’s cheeks, “are absolutely vile and disgusting.” Megumi hummed, tilted his head to one side, and screwed his face up into cruel malice. “And I hate everything about you.” 

Sukuna moaned, his gaze glossing over ever so slightly, eyes falling half closed. He nodded once, forgetting how to breathe as he struggled to swallow down a gulp of fresh air. All he could smell was the burning of paper and tobacco, and all he could taste was nicotine, smoke, and the glimmer of hope that he’d feel Megumi’s mouth on his. 

“From the way you dress, to your filthy habits,” Megumi cast one look down Sukuna’s front, “to the way you look. You disgust me and I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing here.” 

“Fuck,” Sukuna whispered, unconsciously leaning forward in his seat, willing more filth from Megumi’s lips, wanting to taste every repulsive word as it filled the air. 

Megumi sneered, released his hair, and tilted his head to one side to eye the still burning cigarette. He cut across to Sukuna and his look darkened, whatever smirk he’d been wearing gone. “You like these so much?” He reached forward with his free hand and hooked two fingers in the front of Sukuna’s shirt, tugging the collar down until the tops of Sukuna’s pecs were greeted by the cool air. “What’s your fucking colour?” 

Sukuna’s entire body flushed as he whispered, “Green, Sir.” He’d barely gotten the words out when Megumi pressed the lit end of the cigarette to his skin and twisted. It ignited a flurry of pain throughout him that only had Sukuna arching up into the touch, had his mouth falling slack, and had him moaning with another nod. Megumi pulled away, moved his fingers along the collar to expose another part of Sukuna’s chest, and inhaled on the cigarette to bring fresh heat to the end. Sukuna didn’t wait for the next question, beating Megumi to the punch with a firm, “Green.” 

Another stab of pain washed over him and Sukuna groaned loudly, a small tremor working through him. All as he struggled to tear his eyes away from Megumi, gaze locked on the sadistic glee that echoed in the back of Megumi’s stare. 

This was what he wanted, what he’d been craving for so long. The twisted edge of cruelty, of torture, that fine line between psychotic and crazy. 

Fresh heat curled in Sukuna’s stomach the longer he stared into that swirling emerald fire behind Megumi’s eyes. Sukuna sucked in a shaky breath as Megumi twisted the cigarette against his skin once more, and all he could fathom, all he could imagine, was that Megumi was enjoying this too. He could see it in the glee that coloured the edges of Megumi’s vision, in the surety of his movements, the lack of hesitation and care. He wanted this just as much as Sukuna did and Sukuna groaned as Megumi pulled away, the cool air painfully dancing over the fresh mark. 

The burns were going to linger for a few days at the very least and Sukuna almost wanted to ask Megumi for another. There was a small, rational part of his mind that questioned his own sanity, his own desire to be hurt, branded, and burnt. But after his failure to pick somebody up, his failure to keep his thoughts together for one fucking night? He wanted to hurt, needed the pain to ground his straying thoughts, to help him reach heights he couldn’t normally obtain on his own, to grasp emotions that a stranger couldn’t encourage from him in a quick fuck. 

Megumi shoved a hand against Sukuna’s throat, slamming his head back against the couch, and Sukuna grunted, cock swelling in his pants. Megumi tilted his head to one side and brought the filtered end of the cigarette back to his lips to take another long drag. A small shiver rolled through Megumi as he straightened up onto his knees, and he pinched Sukuna’s throat between his fingers before he threw himself forward with another grunt, his face huddled over Sukuna’s, leering down at him with blazing demand. “Open,” he said, a waft of smoke escaping the corners of his mouth. 

Sukuna parted his lips willingly, choking on his next breath as Megumi squeezed a fraction harder, and Megumi leaned further over him. Chest pressed to chest and fingers digging dangerously into the tendons of Sukuna’s neck. Slowly, Megumi exhaled, eyes almost falling closed the entire way, a slither of colour barely visible between long lashes, and Sukuna stared, his mind swirling with nothing but the thought of Megumi . 

He was pretty from a distance and up close, he was gorgeous. Long, delicate lashes perfectly framed his eyes and the odd, stray strand of hair that eclipsed Megumi’s vision only made the mess of his “just rolled out of bed” hair look calculated and purposeful. Megumi’s weight in his lap felt right, the perfect pressure across his thighs, and with the way Megumi pressed against him, letting Sukuna feel the firm, lean planes of his figure, Sukuna desperately wanted to wrap his hands around Megumi’s waist and never let him go. 

He wanted so badly to put his hands on him, to feel the smoothness underneath, witness the difference between Sukuna’s tanned fingers and Megumi’s pale hips, to pull Megumi down into his lap until it was difficult to tell where-

The sound of spit filled the air and suddenly a thick, wet drop landed across Sukuna’s tongue. He blinked, eyes widening, and the adam of his throat bobbed as Megumi eased his grip a fraction. 

“Swallow .” 

Sukuna closed his mouth and swallowed, heat flaring across every nerve. 

Megumi made a noise of approval and released his throat, both arms coming up to box Sukuna’s head between them. “Colour?” 

“Green,” Sukuna whispered, transfixed by how close Megumi was to him, how little space existed between them, and how he had to force deep breaths in and out of his nose, his wrists pulling at the cuffs that dug painfully into his skin.

“Good. Boy .” 

Something akin to pride crashed into Sukuna’s mind and he opened his mouth with vague words on his tongue, a quip that almost had a voice, only for it to get lost when Megumi leaned back. Whatever Sukuna had prepared died as Megumi brought his hand up, pinched the end of the cigarette out between his fingers, climbed awkwardly to his feet, and dropped the stubbed end on Sukuna’s coffee table.

Sukuna followed Megumi’s every step with his gaze, ignoring the throbbing across his chest, attentively watching Megumi for any sign or indication for what he had planned. Instead of going to his bag as Sukuna expected, Megumi walked around the end of the couch, reminding Sukuna of their first session together. As Sukuna tried to turn his head to follow, Megumi slid one hand into his hair and nudged his face forward again. He listened to Megumi stop behind him, listened to the swish of fabric, and all of a sudden Sukuna’s world descended into darkness. He couldn’t stop the huff he let out as Megumi fastened the blindfold off, and he felt Megumi’s hesitation in those fingers. 

“Problem?” 

Wriggling in his seat, Sukuna frowned, stretching his fingers the best that he could from his position, making sure he could still feel them. Yes, he had a problem. As much as he enjoyed the thrill of not being able to see what Megumi was doing, the anticipation of not knowing where the next touch was coming from, he wanted to see Megumi’s reactions. He wanted to see what effect he had on Megumi, and more than anything he wanted to see that Megumi enjoyed every part of the night just as Sukuna did. 

It was one of thoughts that Sukuna hadn’t been able to kick from his mind, that Megumi really didn’t enjoy this, that the only kick he got out of any of this, was taking Sukuna’s money. After Megumi had sent that email, Sukuna couldn’t stop thinking about the reason why Megumi blindfolded Sukuna each session. Was it so that he could stop pretending to look interested, so that he could really look how he felt? Bored? 

Sure, Megumi had looked captivated before, as if he was in his element, but there was a niggling doubt that Megumi was that great of an actor. Sukuna knew that he was paying Megumi for a service, technically Megumi didn’t have to enjoy this, but Sukuna always thrived best when he knew others were enjoying it too. 

“Sukuna?” 

“Nothing,” he snapped, pressing his lips into a firm line. Maybe he was looking too much into it. Maybe it was some weird kink Megumi had for all of his clients. It could be that simple. Sukuna shuffled in his seat, wriggling his wrists in the cuffs again, and rolled one shoulder about the joint. “Let’s get on with it.” 

It was quiet for a few still seconds and Sukuna tilted his head to one side, trying to gauge if he’d ruined the mood. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d accidentally caused a dom to lose interest. 

A hand settled in his hair and Sukuna froze. Then, in the next moment, Megumi wrenched Sukuna’s head back until his face was pointed towards the ceiling. Megumi tightened his hold on Sukuna’s hair and Sukuna felt a wash of hot breath over his face. “Unless you want to tell me your colour is red, don’t fucking interrupt me again.” 

“Fuck off.” He couldn’t help the snarl of his lips, couldn’t help the bite that fell from his throat, and Sukuna willingly accepted whatever punishment Megumi wanted to throw his way. 

“Excuse me?” 

Sukuna snorted, “You’re fucking excused.” 

“Jesus fucking christ,” Megumi hissed and he shoved Sukuna’s head away from him. “The fuck is your problem?” Megumi’s feet were heavy as he marched across the room, each footstep echoing too loudly in the room. 

Sukuna frowned behind his blindfold and scoffed. The anger he’d been riding for the past couple of days couldn’t be shoved down any further. He couldn’t control it and he couldn’t explain why. Megumi had been rational in his requests. Sukuna had told himself so many times that Megumi deserved those boundaries, that as Megumi had said in their last session, “I’m a person .” Sukuna had no right to be pissed about something that was perfectly normal. 

So why was he snapping now? Why was he acting out like a spoiled child? He gritted his teeth and worked the muscles of his jaw. He should be happy Megumi was as good as he was, happy that Megumi was willing to push the limits of what most doms considered too much, happy that Megumi could deliver what most others feared to try. 

Megumi’s steps were brazen as he came back to Sukuna, and Sukuna couldn’t stop his glare from darkening. He screwed a growl onto his lips as Megumi all but tore Sukuna’s pants and boxers down his thighs, almost ripping the fabric as he forced it down to his knees. Sukuna’s cock slapped  against his stomach and Sukuna’s face twitched as Megumi roughly threw himself back into Sukuna’s lap with another grunt. 

“ You ,” Megumi started, his voice dangerous and cold, sending nothing but chills running through Sukuna’s veins, “are so fucking ungrateful.” Megumi tore something open and Sukuna hissed at the cold wetness that dripped onto the head of his cock. Fingers dug into his cheeks and Megumi dragged his face up again until Sukuna felt their hot breaths mixing. “I should leave you like this,” Megumi whispered. “Half naked. Desperate and pathetic. Let everybody know that behind closed doors, you’re just as obnoxious as you are in your office.”

It felt like a switch had been flicked for Megumi, and it flicked Sukuna’s own switch as his mouth fell open, an unwanted groan rumbling in his chest. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” 

Sukuna nodded. He didn’t know if he believed his own confirmation, but hearing that image fall from Megumi’s mouth had him wanting it, craving it. Maybe he really was desperate, especially if it took so little to twist him into an obedient little dog that nodded along to whatever fantasy Megumi painted for him. He was supposed to be pissed, angry and biting. 

“You’re nothing but a sad, little attention whore,” Megumi whispered and Sukuna’s breath caught in his throat with a strangled noise. A huff fanned across Sukuna’s face and Megumi said, “You don’t deserve pity, you deserve every ounce of misfortune that comes your way.” Those words wrangled another noise from Sukuna’s chest, and he straightened up, almost wanting to hear more. 

Megumi lifted himself up, and Sukuna held his breath. Their chests brushed across one another as Megumi climbed up onto his knees, invading every inch of Sukuna’s space, and Sukuna tensed. Anticipation had him waiting, preparing himself for something , and he rubbed his wrists painfully against the cuffs as Megumi held him taut like that. 

Something soft and slick nudged at the head of Sukuna’s cock, drawing a crease across his brows, and then Megumi fell back down into Sukuna’s lap, capturing Sukuna’s cock in a firm softness that had his mouth falling slack and his fingers biting into the palms of his hands. Megumi swallowed down an audible, shaky breath, lifted himself up, and that heat around Sukuna’s cock slid up with him. Was Megumi- Tightness enveloped the head of his cock, pinching, pinching, pinching , until Sukuna threw his head back with a whine, and Megumi fell. 

Heat shrouded Sukuna’s cock and squeezed, the pressure building and building the longer it squeezed. 

It was heavenly, divine, and almost perfect. 

“Megumi,” he breathed. 

His next breath stilled in his throat as Megumi wrapped his fingers around his neck. “How many times-” Megumi started, lifting himself up in Sukuna’s lap before he fell again, bringing with him that slick, wet, tightness that had Sukuna curling his toes against the floor. “-Do I have to tell you, that I don’t want to hear my name coming from your disgusting mouth? I don’t deserve to hear you say it.” 

Sukuna’s lips struggled and he arched hard. His lungs clawed at the back of his throat for relief, for a slither of oxygen, blood pounded in his ears, and heat swirled painfully within his stomach. 

Megumi either didn’t notice or care that Sukuna was on the verge of gasping for breath. He carried on, riding Sukuna’s cock with his own little grunts that was nothing but music to Sukuna’s ears. Was this what Megumi sounded like in the midst of pleasure? Was this the side of Megumi that Sukuna wasn’t allowed to see? He wanted to hear more of those noises, wanted to lean forward and feel those gasp against his skin. Suddenly Sukuna couldn’t care less about having air. If he couldn’t breathe or make a sound, then he couldn’t mask whatever noises Megumi made. 

Up Megumi lifted himself, the heat of his body hunching over Sukuna, before he fell, slapping roughly against Sukuna’s thighs, making Sukuna’s muscles shake from the harshness of it all. For a moment, Megumi stopped, and the sound of snapping fabric was astronomical before he was back to that same rhythm, a painfully slow drag up and a heavy collapse into Sukuna’s lap.

When Sukuna let his mind wander enough, he could almost pretend he wasn’t wearing the blindfold. He could picture Megumi in his lap, dark eyes glaring down at him, chest puffed out, a few beads of sweat dripping down his cheeks, skin flushed, and his own mouth parted in a silent whisper of Sukuna’s name. 

He’d seen Megumi up close and personal enough times to be able to slide that image to the front of his mind, and he clung to it as Megumi bounced in his lap. He grabbed onto it with both hands as he sunk further and further into the cushions, hands growing stiffer with each passing minute. Every time that pressure squeezed his cock on the way down, Sukuna pulled at the cuffs, wanting desperately to grab Megumi’s waist and pull him down on the next fall, lift him up, and find out if Megumi really was as weightless as he looked.  

It was torture that Megumi was this close and Sukuna couldn’t touch him, cruel that he could hear Megumi’s laboured breaths, small, little hisses, short winded grunts, and he couldn’t see what pretty faces he was pulling. Was he still wearing his tie? Had he popped the top button on his suit, shoved his hair out of his back, and let himself go to town on Sukuna’s cock? Or was he still the image of perfection with a pressed suit that refused to wrinkle.

Up, down, up, down. Over and over, and just as Sukuna could hear his own heartbeat slow, just as a high pitched ringing started to sound, just as his mind started to dust itself in a heavy fog from the lack of oxygen, Megumi collapsed against his front, fingers slipping from Sukuna’s throat. 

“Shit,” Megumi whispered. 

Sukuna barely heard it over his own, laboured breaths, his body rocking up into that heat wrapped around his cock, his chest heaving with new air. “Megumi,” he mumbled, lips falling slack. 

Megumi pressed a palm against Sukuna’s chest, pushing him back into the cushions, and Sukuna felt it, the roll of Megumi’s hips and the grinding against his cock. It was slow, and it brought Sukuna back to what was going on, to where he was. “What’s my name, Sukuna?” 

Without thought Sukuna mumbled, “Megumi.” 

A hiss was wrenched from him as Megumi squeezed around his cock, and dug a thumb into one of the burns on Sukuna’s chest. “Try again.” 

“M-Megumi,” he rushed out, almost willing Megumi to punish him more. 

Everything came to a stop and Sukuna sagged with a shaky breath as Megumi stilled in his lap. He licked at dry lips and swallowed thickly as he waited, the racing beat of his heart slowly petering out to a calm rhythm. The seconds ticked by and Megumi didn’t budge. There was a creeping numbness seeping into Sukuna’s thighs and he lifted his head up to look in Megumi’s vague direction. 

Megumi slammed a hand into the cushion by Sukuna’s head, and Sukuna froze. He felt the growing heat of Megumi’s body as he inched closer and closer. There was a brush of noses, a gentle breath across Sukuna’s lips, and then Megumi hovered, a hair's breadth away from Sukuna’s mouth. Sukuna could feel the air move with each word Megumi whispered, so close that Sukuna could almost taste Megumi’s lips. “ Never , say my name, when we’re in the middle of a scene.” 

Sukuna couldn’t help the way he leaned forward, chasing after Megumi’s lips. He needed to know what they tasted like, needed to know how soft they were, what they felt like against his own. But Megumi pulled away, keeping Sukuna at that same distance, making Sukuna’s mouth dance at the teasing touch that was just out of reach. 

“You call me, Sir.” Megumi snorted and there was a gently growing pressure around Sukuna’s cock. It had his body trembling, had him arching up into the touch and his mouth falling further open. “You’re lucky I don’t make you call me Master. It would be more fitting for a mutt like you.” 

“Master,” Sukuna echoed without thought, and that word hung heavy on his tongue. A silence pervaded the air and Sukuna could hear the echo of his voice in his head, hear the whine in his tone, and the desperate inclination in each syllable. A wave of shame washed through him at the idea that he wouldn’t wholly mind and the longer Megumi made them sit there in silence, the hotter the back of his neck turned.

“Say that again,” Megumi whispered, and he sounded almost breathless. 

Sukuna licked his lips, almost certain he’d caught the edge of Megumi’s mouth with the movement, and he sucked down a deep breath, steeling himself for the single word he’d never used for anybody else. He opened his mouth, exhaled, and slowly whispered, “Master.” Megumi groaned, and Sukuna matched that noise with his own version. “Master,” he said again, more urgency slipping into his voice. 

Megumi fell against him, head nestled in the crook of Sukuna’s neck, and Sukuna’s eyes widened. He couldn’t see anything from behind the blindfold, but he could hear the wheezing breaths Megumi tried to catch, melting into little gasps and grunts as Megumi rocked against him. 

“Shit,” Sukuna said as Megumi worked that pleasure into him. Every breath was wrung from Sukuna’s body as Megumi worked his cock harder and faster, squeezed and pinched, before he relaxed only to repeat every subtle inclination that had Sukuna rutting up against him. “Fuuuuck!” He threw his head back and rolled it to settle his cheek against the top of Megumi’s head and he heard it, a subtle, barely there rasp that rattled from Megumi’s throat. 

Megumi sounded exactly how Sukuna felt. 

One more squeeze and Sukuna came with a grunt, thrusting his hips up to meet Megumi’s own, toes digging into the floor of his apartment for purchase and every inch of his body tense.

And then he sagged. Sukuna fell into the cushions and Megumi didn’t move. He trembled gently in Sukuna’s laps, breaths ragged in Sukuna’s ear, and his body tense in Sukuna’s lap. There was something about it that had the coherent part of Sukuna’s brain clouding with questions. Finally Megumi wriggled, gasped, and sat up, hisses following him the entire way that brought a fresh frown to Sukuna’s face. 

Light invaded his eyes as Megumi ripped the blindfold away and when Sukuna blinked away the sudden spots, he was met with Megumi still seated in his lap. His tie hung halfway down his chest and there was a very noticeable sheen of sweat decorating Megumi’s skin. 

Any other day and Sukuna might’ve enjoyed the sight a little bit more, but there was something off about the way Megumi was hunched with his body leaning to one side, something questionable about the half hooded gaze Megumi wore. Sukuna opened his mouth, a word of concern on the tip of his tongue, only for Megumi to swipe a thumb across the head of Sukuna’s cock, halting any and all words he had. 

Megumi smirked down at him, sucked down a deep breath, shifted his weight to one side, and grabbed the back of the couch again to lean over Sukuna. “Open.” Sukuna let his mouth fall open, and Megumi pushed a thumb between his lips. “Swallow.” He did, the flush on the back of his neck creeping over his shoulders and up his cheeks. Megumi fixed him with a look that was heated and hungry, and Sukuna moaned around that single digit, unable to look away. “ Good boy ,” Megumi whispered and Sukuna’s chest blossomed in praise. 

When Megumi tugged his thumb free, a drop of spit landed on Sukuna’s bottom lip and he exhaled slowly. Silently, he watched Megumi lean back again, the muscles of his face twitching in a way that had questions rising in Sukuna’s mind again. Megumi reached between them, and Sukuna followed his hand. His thoughts once again distracted by the sight of a sleeve wrapped snugly around his cock, and both of them covered in his release. He swallowed down another breath. That explained why it hadn’t quite felt right, why it wasn’t quite perfect. 

But it worked wonders. 

It was a shame that it wasn’t quite Megumi himself settled around him, Megumi’s heat encapsulating him, but the image Megumi painted in Sukuna’s mind had been almost just as good as the real thing. Almost. He would give almost anything for a taste of the real thing, to know what Megumi really did sound like as he rode Sukuna, what his muscles felt like as they fluttered and clenched around him. 

“Hang on,” Megumi said. He climbed off Sukuna’s lap less than gracefully, once again bringing questions to Sukuna’s mind, and left him to go over to his bag. He came back with a few wipes and he took the toy from Sukuna’s lap, giving it a quick clean before he disappeared to Sukuna’s kitchen. Sukuna watched him rinse it under a stream of hot water before he left it on the side and came back to Sukuna, grabbing more wipes on his way. It was a quiet affair as he worked on cleaning Sukuna up, eyes focused on anywhere but Sukuna’s face. Even as he tugged the front of Sukuna’s down, used a fresh wipe on the small burns, and stuck small bandages over them, he refused to meet Sukuna’s gaze. Once he was finished and he started to tug Sukuna’s pants up, he finally spoke in a low whisper, “What’s your colour?” 

“Green,” said just as quietly. He twisted in his seat and lifted his arms the best that he could, making the cuffs clink against one another. 

“Shit,” Megumi hissed and he fished a key out of his pocket, unlocked the cuffs, and shoved them into his pockets. “How are your hands?” 

Sukuna brought them in front of him, rubbed his thumbs over the red marks, and hummed, “They’re fine.” He reached out for Megumi’s wrist, and he couldn’t shift the slight frown that twisted his face. Gently, Sukuna tugged until Megumi finally fell back onto Sukuna’s lap, gentler than last time, and settled his hands around Sukuna’s neck. Sukuna took that as an open invitation to press his palms to Megumi’s waist and brush his thumbs up and down, pulling Megumi closer until he fell against him. For a brief moment Megumi tensed, slowly unwinding as Sukuna kept up the gentle strokes of his thumbs. 

The silence felt pervasive, but it gave Sukuna space to try and figure out what was itching at him. Megumi looked a mess. Sukuna had never seen him look so drained before, almost paler than normal, and there was something off about the odd rattles of every breath Megumi took. Slowly, Sukuna let out a breath, his body sagging into the cushions. 

“What?” Megumi mumbled from where his head was still buried against Sukuna’s neck. 

“What’s your colour, Megumi?” 

Megumi stilled and slowly pulled away from Sukuna, eyes widening ever so slightly. If Sukuna looked close enough, he almost wanted to call Megumi’s expression panicked. “What?” Megumi said. 

“You heard me.” 

Megumi opened his mouth, worked his lips for a moment, and clamped it shut again, a glare creeping back into his features. Sukuna’s chest ached at the sight, and his worry darkened. He refused to break the new silence or give Megumi an out. He wanted to hear from Meguimi what was really going on and why he looked… off . 

“Megumi,” Sukuna whispered, squeezing Megumi’s sides ever so slightly. 

A hiss rocked through Megumi and had him stilling again, wrapping a hand around one of Sukuna’s wrists. “Don’t,” he said, “I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.” 

“That’s what I’m telling you.” He pushed at Sukuna’s hand, the corners of his eyes twitching with unsaid words. 

Sukuna couldn’t budge his scowl and he eased his grip on Megumi’s waist, letting his hands settle on the couch next to him. “Something’s wrong.” It was obvious and a big part of Sukuna wanted to help. Whatever it was, however big or small it was, Sukuna wanted to help because he didn’t like seeing Megumi look hurt. It hurt him to see Megumi obviously pushing himself. Maybe that was why he’d blindfolded Sukuna today, to hide what was really going on, to hide the truth.

“Nothing’s wrong.” 

“Megumi,” Sukuna whispered, “you told me last week how you’re always giving to me, so let me give to you.” Megumi opened his mouth and it was Sukuna’s turn to cut him off. Gingerly he lifted a hand up and brushed a few sweat stained bangs from Megumi’s eyes, tucking a few looser ones behind his ear. There was an urge to completely drag his fingers through dark hair and brush everything back, but Sukuna held back, settling instead for dragging a thumb down Megumi’s cheek to wipe away a fresh drop of sweat. 

There was a look in those widening green eyes of Megumi’s that had Sukuna’s heart swelling with pride, telling him that he’d said the right thing. He wanted nothing more than to see the beautiful smile he knew lit up Megumi’s entire face. Sukuna didn’t realise how much he missed it in their aftercare sessions until now. “You don’t have to tell me what’s going on. It might be something personal, and I get that. But you’re taking a taxi home tonight at the very least. No questions about it.” 

Megumi lifted his shoulders up, lips parting, only for him to drop his shoulders again and to lean into Sukuna’s hand. “Thank you,” Megumi whispered. “I’d like that.” 

“Good,” Sukuna said, and he brushed a thumb over the clammy skin of Megumi’s cheek. He wanted to ask more, to know more, but he would take what he could get for now. He let out a breath and offered the kindest smile he could muster. “I’d hate for my favourite dom to back out on me now.” 

“You have other doms?” For several moments, Megumi looked as serious as his tone, then his face cracked with a small grin and familiar warmth crept into Megumi’s gaze.

Sukuna snorted and he was glad that Megumi could still crack a joke. “Nobody else excites me like you do. Here.” He nudged gently at Megumi’s lap until he shifted onto the couch and Sukuna stood up, “Wait here.” There was no argument from Megumi and Sukuna made his way into the kitchen, snagging two water bottles, an open packet of cookies, and a couple of protein bars. Megumi looked like he needed feeding, looked as though he needed something inside of him and Sukuna refused to send Megumi away without some kind of comfort. He sat back down next to Megumi, passed over one of the bottles, and held out the food to him. “Pick.” 

Megumi took two cookies from the packet with a frown and Sukuna settled the rest of the pack in Megumi’s lap. “I’m supposed to be the one looking after you,” Megumi mumbled. 

Sukuna made a noise and tore open one of the protein bars. “You looked like you needed something.” He wasn’t new to the basic needs people had in these situations, and Sukuna might not know what Megumi’s specific aftercare requirements were, but he figured food and drink was a good start. He turned his head to give Megumi his full attention and shrugged, “Even doms need looking after sometimes.” Megumi blinked at him, a splash of colour rising to his cheeks, and Sukuna looked away. “So shut up and eat already.” 

He took a large bite of his bar and sagged into his seat, eyes closing as he enjoyed the simple pleasure of eating. After spending most of his day riled up with a storm brewing behind his eyes, Sukuna had forgotten the basics in looking after himself. He’d eaten lunch, but he’d barely eaten anything since he’d gotten home. It was another few moments before he heard Megumi start to eat and Sukuna smiled. 

In all honesty, the more Sukuna looked at Megumi, the more he looked like shit. His clothes hung awkwardly off him, there was a definite, subtle rasp under every breath, and if looked close enough he could see a few tremors in Megumi’s fingers. Was it a health thing? Was Megumi sick and still working? Sukuna frowned at that thought and he turned his head again to look at Megumi again. “Are you sick?” 

Megumi almost jumped at the sudden question and he swallowed the bite of cookie in his mouth before he struggled through a dry, “What?” 

“Are you sick? Is that why you look like shit?” 

Megumi froze with one hand on his water, and he rolled his eyes with a scoff, turning his gaze away from Sukuna. “I can see why you never went into medicine.”

“I’m an honest guy.” 

“Sometimes lying can be good for you.” 

Sukuna took another bite of his bar and watched Megumi swallow down several gulps of water, face scrunching up with each swig before he went back to his cookie. Megumi was lying to him now, he could see it. Something was definitely wrong and it left a bad taste in the back of Sukuna’s mouth. “You should take a break from work if you’re not well. It does nobody any good to run themselves into the ground.”

Megumi snorted and snapped his next cookie in half as he swallowed the last of his first one. “Not all of us can afford sick days.” 

Sukuna pursed his lips. 

It had never occurred to him that people couldn’t not take a sick day. Uraume had sent him home early today simply because he looked miserable. Sukuna knew when to call in sick, when to let his body rest and call it a day. But Megumi… This was one of those things he shouldn’t poke his nose into, that he had no business talking about. It was clear from those eight words that they came from very different worlds and Sukuna almost regretted mentioning anything. The very idea of working sick had always been a foreign concept to him and now, as he stared at Megumi, he wondered exactly what it was that Megumi was going through that meant he couldn’t stop this gig for a few days.

He turned back to face the wall and quietly worked his way through the rest of his bar. He reached for his phone and sent Uraume a message to have a taxi waiting in the lobby in thirty minutes, and he added a note to make sure the fare came from his account. Uraume told him it wouldn’t be a problem and that they would pass along the information of the car to Sukuna. 

With that out of the way Sukuna polished off his water and climbed to his feet again. He could feel Megumi’s gaze on him the entire way and he let it linger between his shoulders as he made his way to the spare bedroom and grabbed the pants he’d dry cleaned for Megumi. When he came back, Megumi was hunched over the edge of the couch, one arm curled under his stomach and his brows furrowed. “You okay?” Sukuna said. 

Megumi snapped his head up and straightened up with a strained smile. “I’m fine.” 

“Megumi.” 

“I mean it.” He stood up and finished off his bottle of water. “I’m fine. Please, don’t worry about me.” 

His smile wasn’t convincing but Sukuna let him have it with a small nod. “Okay.” 

“Thank you.” 

Sukuna held out the pants to him and offered his own unconvinced smile. “As I promised, they’re clean and pressed.”

Megumi took them with a soft smile that did reach his eyes this time. “Thank you.” He met Sukuna’s gaze and there was something else there, something that almost wanted to be said. Sukuna almost reached out for those words, almost asked Megumi to spill whatever secret he was holding on to. 

Instead, he stepped back to the couch and snatched up a cookie from the packet. At least it looked like Megumi had eaten a good handful, and Sukuna watched Megumi shove the pants into his bag before he went into the kitchen to finish cleaning his toy down. He shoved it into a plastic zip lock bag and gave Sukuna a sheepish look. “I’ll clean it properly when I get home.”

Sukuna shrugged, “I’m not judging.” 

“You can’t judge.” 

Sukuna chuckled, “No, I can’t.” There was a little colour in Megumi’s face but he still looked rough and Sukuna watched Megumi tug his tie off and shove it into his bag with everything else. A thought occurred to him as he eyed the stains that coloured the front of Megumi’s shirt. “Do you want to borrow a shirt?” 

Megumi jerked up at that, “What?” 

Sukuna shrugged, “You look stifling in your suit. Do you want to borrow a shirt from me? It’s at the very least clean.” 

Another splash of colour crept across Megumi’s skin and he nodded, dropping his gaze away from Sukuna’s face, “If you’re sure.” 

“Wouldn’t offer it if I wasn’t.” Sukuna disappeared back into his bedroom and shoved open the closet, trying to find the smallest shirt he owned. He found something in the back, an old thing from back when he attempted college. He’d dropped out in his first year after knowing it wasn’t for him and hadn’t looked back since. The shirt was an old rock band tee, black in colour with a faded white logo. It was before Sukuna had money to feed himself properly, before he cooked his meals and knew how to eat the right things. He remembered wearing it far too often to be sanitary. But there were a lot of memories attached to that shirt and some days he found himself putting it back on simply for the comfort it brought him. 

He pulled it out and carried it back out to Megumi, passing it to him without a thought. Megumi took it, thanked Sukuna again, and slunk off to the bathroom. Sukuna’s eyes drifted to Megumi’s open bag and Sukuna glanced at the half eaten pack of cookies. There was another need surging through him as he grabbed the packet and shoved it into Megumi’s bag. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t fathom why he was doing it except that he wanted to give Megumi something that he could take away and enjoy, something that would remind him of Sukuna. He wanted Megumi to have something. 

Nor could he explain the satisfaction he felt at seeing Megumi in his clothes. He looked good. It was only a shirt which looked out of place against pressed pants and dress shoes, but it still had Sukuna’s mouth running dry and a flicker of a thought danced through his mind that he should’ve chosen something a little larger. It was still too long on Megumi, the sleeves a touch too baggy, but knowing that it was Sukuna’s shirt he was wearing made the sight all the better. 

“Thanks,” Megumi said again, his shirt and jacket folded into a neat pile and following his other stuff into his bag. “I’ll clean it before I bring it back.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Sukuna said. His phone buzzed and he stared at Uraume’s message. “If you’re ready to leave, there’s a taxi waiting in the lobby for you.” Sukuna forwarded the details in an email and Megumi confirmed that he had it. He followed Megumi to the door, side eyeing the way Megumi picked his back up and the way he hefted it heavily to one side. Fresh nervousness running through him as he scoured every inch of Megumi’s back with his eyes, almost looking for another sign that something-

There was the hint of colour peeking out from the back of one of the sleeves and Sukuna stared at it with deep scrutiny. It was purple with a hint of green around the edges and it hit him that he was staring at a bruise. A long, thin bruise, and Sukuna had gotten into enough fights in his childhood to know that it was a few days old, still effectively fresh. 

Megumi opened the door, stepped out into the hall, and turned, hiding the bruise from Sukuna’s view. “Thank you again,” Megumi said, “for- for everything. I appreciate it.” 

“As I said,” Sukuna said, “even doms need looking after.”

There was a glimmer of warmth in Megumi’s expression and he nodded his head, “I’ll get going.”

Sukuna watched him turn and he couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward, “Megumi?” 

“Yeah?” Megumi turned with a curious look on his face and either consciously or subconsciously, tugged the sleeves on the shirt down. 

Sukuna’s lips worked soundlessly as he tried to say something. What’s really going on? Are you hurt? Is someone hurting you? You’re not well, talk to me. Please, take a break. If you need anything let me know. What did leave his lips was a soft, “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Hesitation crossed Megumi’s features next, and if Sukuna wanted to put a name to the next flash of emotions he saw, it would be to class them all as vulnerable. He wrung his hand around the strap of his bag, shifted his weight from one foot to the other, and pressed his lips into a firm line with an equally firm, short nod. “I’m fine. Thank you.” 

Sukuna let him go, eyes fixed on him, watching him walk away. He watched him all the way to the elevator, and watched him lift a hand up to his face before he hit the button. Megumi threw a wary look over his shoulder and Sukuna offered him a small wave before he dipped back inside of his apartment, closed the door, and stood there, one hand still pressed against the wood. 

He felt guilty. 

He felt bad for letting Megumi leave and Sukuna pulled himself away, forced his legs to move, and dragged himself over to his couch. He fell onto it and let his head hang across the back of it, eyes fixed on the ceiling, as he tried to make sense of all of the thoughts running through his mind. No matter what question came to the front, no matter how many times he mentally argued with himself, no matter how many times he convinced himself that Megumi was an adult who could make his own choices, there were two questions that wouldn’t go away. 

What was going on with Megumi?

And why did he care so much? 

Chapter Text

Come to my office. 2pm.  

Those five words struck fear into Megumi’s gut. In the few years that he’d worked for Mei Mei, people being called into her office was a rarity. Those who went in were shortly escorted off the premises and never seen from again. It was a death sentence signalling that you’d screwed up, big time. To Megumi’s knowledge there was one person who had ever made it out of Mei Mei’s office alive, and that was Miwa. She’d exited Mei Mei’s office shaking, cheeks stained with still damp tears, fresh ones already welling in the corners of her eyes, and lips soundlessly moving as she shuffled her way back to the locker room. 

Megumi’s grip on his phone tightened, fingers threatening to snap the device in two, and his gaze was glued to the email, willing it to be some kind of joke, that he’d misread it, that there was something more to it. He racked his brain for any instance he’d stepped out of line, broken a rule, or brought harm to his clients. Perhaps somebody had raised a formal complaint against him? Did somebody feel so uncomfortable with Megumi in a previous session that they couldn’t talk to him directly? The frustration only mounted the more he thought about it. He groaned and dug the heel of his hand against his eyes, chasing away the exhaustion that had slowly crept into his bones. 

The past few weeks had been hell for him. 

A persistent ache lingered in his ribs, the pain reminding him of the debt his father, now Megumi, still owed. It had made things extremely uncomfortable, awkward, and painful for him. He’d been forced to take things easy with his clients, perform less strenuous scenarios and activities that allowed him some semblance of control still. If any of them noticed him asking them to do the work, to put in a little more effort than normal, none of them had said anything. If he had a way to completely stop working, he’d have taken it. The small saving grace, coupled with an unexpected hospital bill, was the reassurance that nothing was broken. His ribs were mostly better now, nothing more than a dull ache that throbbed once or twice a day. 

But between the agony in his chest, and his scheduled appointments, he’d used whatever remaining energy he’d had to speak to Tsumiki. Trying to arrange a time to visit her and her mother, when everybody was free, was draining in itself. On top of that Megumi had crammed for the exam he’d taken last week, that alone stripped him of whatever little sanity he had left.

And now Mei Mei demanded his attention. He wasn’t ready for whatever conversation she wanted to have with him, or for the consequences she had in store for him. 

He spent his time that morning going over every interaction he’d had with his clients, every far fetched visit he’d made to the club, every email he sent, every conversation he’d had with anybody. He even pondered over the times he and Nobara grabbed lunch together, went to the movies, visited each other's apartments, or had a few drinks with other friends. Nothing stuck out and it only stirred more fear inside of him. What had he done to instigate Mei Mei’s wrath?

Megumi let out a long breath and finally closed the email. There was no use trying to figure out the impossible without any hint of a clue to what he’d done. He’d spent long enough staring into space that morning, messaging Nobara and asking if she’d heard anything. Nothing. Not a shred. So he’d tried to get on with his morning. He walked the dogs, studied some of his syllabus for his next exam, pre-cooked his meal for the night, took out the trash, and treated himself to one episode of the latest crime drama he’d gotten invested in before he needed to leave for his unofficial meeting, when his phone buzzed. 

It was a new message from his sister, and a new wave of anxiety settled in his bones. If he turned up late that afternoon, or into the early hours of the evening, then he’d get a chance to talk to Tsumiki and her mother. That was something Megumi was desperate to do, something that needed to happen for his own sanity and health. With another breath he scrubbed a hand over his eyes and fired off a quick message to her, that he’d be over some time after three. With any hope Mei Mei didn’t want to drag out their time together. She never did like meetings, always preferring casual conversations at the front desk or in the staff rooms to discuss anything with her employees. 

It took a concentrated effort from Megumi to shove thoughts of his family to the back of his mind and prepare himself for Mei Mei. He could worry about that later. For now, his concerns were with making it to the club early , Mei Mei hated perfect punctuality almost as much as lateness. With any hope, he could at the very least wind together one erratic string of thoughts before he dared to think about tackling another. 

Despite it being two in the afternoon, the club wasn’t quiet. There was an interactive show happening on stage that involved bringing different members of the audience up to test a new range of floggers and restraints Mei Mei had purchased. These shows always went down a treat and helped the club to make a little extra money. Right now, Nobara cooed smugly down at some poor sod who happened to have found himself strapped to a bench, arms fastened behind his back, and his pants pulled down to reveal his boxer clad ass. Nobara crouched in front of him, fingers curled expertly underneath his chin, asking if he wanted Mommy to show him how much of a bad boy he’d been. 

It baffled Megumi just how well she could play the disappointed mother role so many people enjoyed. It wasn’t Nobara’s favourite role to step into but, in her words; it brought in the saps who filled her pockets with overly generous tips. It wasn’t her fault they were easy to play.

He shook his head, unable to hold back the tiny smile that flickered across his lips. Nobara looked so confident on stage and Megumi wished he could have that too. She took everything in stride. Insults rolled off her shoulders, she looked down at everybody, refused to back down, and gave it all back, all whilst looking good doing it too. The very idea of standing on stage in front of a bunch of strangers had Megumi internally recoiling. 

With another soft shake of his head, Megumi turned his attention to where Mei Mei’s office sat and steeled himself to make the final few strides across the room. Nobara had given him a fantastic confidence boost before she’d made her onto the stage, telling him it had been nice knowing him and she’d personally help to clear his locker out when he left. It pulled a short, tired laugh from his chest at the very least before he’d grumbled a frown onto his face. 

He stared at the “MANAGEMENT ONLY. KNOCK FIRST” sign that glared down at and knocked gently against the door. 

“Enter!” 

The inside of Mei Mei’s office was a stark contrast to the room behind Megumi. For one, it was adored with a lavish and expensive taste. She had a throne chair that was the plushest thing Megumi had ever laid eyes on, and he’d seen a lot thanks to Gojo. There were two pieces of personalised art, the first showed a crow mid-flight and the second was a close up of the crow’s eye that hung on the walls behind her. Mei Mei’s desk was clear of any clutter except for a laptop, a desk lamp, and her choice of drink; a bloody mary, in a tall glass etched with the picture of a crow. 

She drummed her fingers across the smooth, pristine white desk and gestured to the spare chair, a fickle thing that was softly cushioned with only half a back to make anybody feel uncomfortable. 

Megumi closed the door behind him and took a seat, hands settled awkwardly in his lap as he struggled to know what to do with them. Nobody said anything and Megumi chanced a look at his boss. She simply stared at him, lips pulled back into a thin smile, eyes narrowed dangerously, fingers stilling across the desk, and her other hand nestled neatly around the arm of her chair. Everything about her rigid poise made Megumi shrink in his seat and snap his gaze away. He swallowed thickly and stared at her shoes, a shining pair of blak louboutins that shimmered under the light, not a single scuff to be seen, and one leg folded neatly over the other. 

With the foot that hung in the air, Mei Mei gently bobbed it along to some rhythm that only she was privy to. Without thinking Megumi watched it bounce, the light swimming back and forth over the topline of the shoe in time her movements. 

“My darling, Megumi,” Mei Mei purred and Megumi froze. She sounded sickly sweet and her voice was edged with something sharp and twisted. It sent a chill racing down Megumi’s spine and settled ice within his veins. “Is there something you want to tell me?” 

Was there? He’d already trudged through his memories earlier and nothing stood out. He shook his head once, eyes still fixated on her feet and his mouth running dry. “I don’t think so.” 

Mei Mei unfolded her legs, set both feet on the floor, perched her elbows atop her knees and leaned forward. The heavy scent of vanilla invaded Megumi’s senses and he wrinkled his nose at the sudden onslaught. Mei Mei cupped his chin in slender, soft fingers, and tilted his head up until he was forced to find her face, hidden behind one thick, silver braid. “Megumi,” she whispered, drawing his face up and forcing him to straighten up in his seat, “you’re my best employee. Your clients pay the most amount of money for your time. I could up your rates and none of them would bat an eye. You’re important to me and my business.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Thank you?”

A hum filled the air and Mei Mei’s gaze darkened a fraction, pinning Megumi into whatever unknown trap she’d set out for him. She brushed a manicured thumb across his cheek, the nail grazing his skin almost too sharply. “But, at the end of the day, this is my business and I have to do what’s best for it.” 

Shame washed over Megumi and a heavy weight dropped into his stomach. If he felt small earlier he felt even smaller now and he wanted to do nothing but curl up and hide from whatever verdict Mei Mei had already given him. His heart pounded in his chest and he screwed his fingers into the fabric of his pants. Was he about to be let go? Was that it? He was done? Fired? Over what? Confusion chased the fear that blossomed across his body and he waited anxiously for Mei Mei’s next words. 

“It’s why I pay such careful attention to everything.” Her eyes shifted to follow the path of her thumb, the nail dragging closely to the corner of his mouth, almost pulling at his lip. “I run quick background checks on our repeat customers, especially ones that request in home sessions.” Her gaze cut up to meet his own. “Before you protest they all signed contracts giving me permission to do just this. I want to make sure you, and every other employee I have here, are safe. Last thing I want to do is send you out to somebody who’ll make sure you don’t make it home that night.” She made another noise and leaned back in her chair, dragging her fingers up his chin as she went, leaving Megumi to hang in the air, too afraid to move. Her eyes were glued to Megumi as she reached for her glass and stirred the celery stick within it, clinking a few ice cubes against the glass. “I also keep track of my employees, to make sure they’re not going to be trouble for me. For example, I keep a very close eye on their schedules; how often they’re hired by the same client, if they run over their scheduled times, by how long and how often, and how many times a client cancels .”

Sukuna . 

Megumi pursed his lips and shrunk back into his seat. 

Mei Mei thinned her lips into a tighter smile and tapped a finger against the rim of her glass. “Yes, Megumi. You see, in a typical month a client may cancel once or twice. Perhaps a family emergency pops, maybe they overran at work, or they’ve suddenly realised they don’t have the money until their next payday and thus, have to wait. Every single one of them has a reason, an excuse, and I’ve noticed something odd with your schedule.”

“I-” Megumi started. 

“I’m talking. Wait your turn.” He clamped his mouth shut and nodded, tightening his fingers into the fabric of his jeans even more. “Wonderful,” Mei Mei said, and she carried on with a content smile perched upon her lips. “At the moment you have Mr Ryomen scheduled into your timetable twice a week. For the past three weeks, he has cancelled within the hour of when you’re supposed to turn up. It doesn’t provide us with enough time to inform your other clients there’s a sudden opening, or any time in fact to wait for a response.” 

She dropped a hand to her desk and tapped one purple painted nail against the surface. The noise echoed in the otherwise silent room and it made Megumi flinch underneath his skin. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. He swallowed another lump down his throat and refused to look away. It was Mei Mei who broke the quiet first and she propped her chin up on one fisted hand. “Despite what people may think and what rumours you may hear, I acquired this business through hard work. Everything is by the books and most assuredly it is legal. I pay my taxes, ensure our health codes are to the highest standards, our emergency protocols are up to date, and all of that other legal stuff that would bore you and anybody else who works here. I take care of all of the necessities so you don’t have to even think about it.” She fixed him with a stern gaze, the smile on her lips finally dropping for the first time that afternoon “But it is legal.” 

Fresh confusion crept its way into Megumi’s throat and made it run dry. “Okay?” 

Mei Mei arched one perfectly sculpted brow at him. “I find it rather odd that Mr Ryomen either doesn’t seem to have great time management or any organisational skills. Perhaps it’s a commitment issue. Maybe he’s bored or tired of seeing only the singular dom, we do have those that prefer a new face each time. Or maybe something has happened that I should be aware of. I don’t know. Personally, I have never spoken to the man. On the other hand, you have, Megumi.” 

There was something underneath Mei Mei’s words, something that stabbed at his gut and made guilt crawl across his skin. “When I left our last session he seemed happy.” The words felt robotic and autonomous on his tongue, and Megumi wished he had a little bit of heart in his voice. “He hasn’t said he’s not enjoying anything I’ve done. Hasn’t told me he’s upset or disappointed. I don’t know why he’s cancelling.” 

“You know,” Mei Mei said, “there are ways people use businesses to make their own money on the side. Mr Ryomen has now cancelled six sessions in three weeks, all within the hour before you were supposed to arrive. As is protocol, I’m assuming you’ve informed him of our rules and procedures about cancellations. He’s also signed documents agreeing to our terms.” She levelled a darkening look at him. “Megumi, darling, I know how to read the signs. When you’re employed with me you have to earn your money for the work you do for me . I don’t take too kindly to people using my company for their personal, extracurricular activities.”

The puzzle pieces Mei Mei dangled in front of Megumi finally clicked together and the look of shock on his face was honest. “I’m not doing anything for him. I haven’t seen or spoken to him in three weeks and I have no idea what he’s doing.” 

“I don’t like liars.” Mei Mei’s voice was cold, dark, threatening, and suddenly Megumi was terrified. 

“I’m not lying,” he half pleaded, almost ready to beg her to trust him. “I wouldn’t dream of doing anything like that. You know that I’m not in a situation to even consider things like that.” 

The corners of Mei Mei’s lips twisted up and Megumi felt caught. “But your position is exactly why you would do something like that.” Megumi froze. Mei Mei had a point. Over the few years he’d been working for her, she’d politely asked him curious questions about what he did in his spare time, about his family, friends and life outside of work. He’d freely admitted his wages were mostly split between veterinary school and helped his sister and step mother out. Another time he’d let it slip they were in some sort of financial difficulty and he was helping them out of it. He hadn’t spilt that much, but it was enough to give Mei Mei the image that Megumi had no money to spend on small luxuries. It was gone before he even had a chance to spend it. 

At the time, she had called him generous, kind, selfless, and a hopeful kid desperate for a bright future. “Nowadays it’s hard to find a person like you in this miserable world. I’d be careful if I were you. Sometimes it pays to be selfish, otherwise, in the end, you’re the one who’s going to lose, Megumi .” 

He pursed his lips together and allowed himself a few, long seconds to collect his thoughts, to construct his next sentence. In Megumi’s situation, he had every desire to clear that financial burden as quickly as possible. If was any less sane he would be desperate to ease that headache from his life. But he didn’t have the time nor the energy to even think about taking on a second job for anybody. With the mess his family was in, the heavy burden the Fushiguro name brought with it because of one mistake from his father, Megumi wouldn’t dream of doing anything else to jeopardise what little remained of their pride. He would give almost anything to start afresh, to start anew. Travel to a new city with a new name, a new bank account, a new everything. 

But he wouldn’t ruin his own reputation for it. 

“The only contact I’ve had with Sukuna is through the company’s emails.” He reached into his pocket, dug out his phone and keys, and held them out to her. “You’re free to check my phone and my place if that’ll help ease your mind. But I assure you, I’m not doing anything criminal.” 

It was quiet, Mei Mei’s eyes fixed on his outstretched hand, gaze narrowed ever so slightly. A tremor threatened to creep into his fingers the longer they sat like that. A soft hum broke the silence and Mei Mei reached for her glass with one hand, waving the other dismissively at him. Megumi brought his hand down to his lap and let it sit there, fingers wrapped protectively around his possessions. Mei Mei took a sip of her drink, set it back down onto her desk, and reclined in her seat, hands curled around the ends of the arm rests. She fixed Megumi with another sharp look and said, “I’ve worked hard for my business, Megumi, and I won’t see my reputation sullied by you or anybody else. Mr Ryomen has been informed via email that if he cancels another session on such short notice without a good enough reason, then he’s no longer welcome as a member of my club.” Her gaze darkened. “If I find out you’re lying to me, you won’t be finding work in this town or the next. Now,” she waved one hand at him, “leave. If I have to call you in here again it’ll be the last time we ever talk.” 

He wasted little time in standing from his seat, offering her a bow, and thanking her for her time before he scurried out of there. Once the door clicked shut behind him, Megumi stood there and let the heavy thudding of his heart rock him unsteadily on his feet. That tremor finally made itself known in the tips of his fingers and an ache settled quietly behind his eyes. The backs of his knees threatened to buckle and yet somehow, he forced one foot in front of the other, dragging himself back to the staff locker room. The moment he was inside that small sanctuary, he collapsed onto the couch, hung his head in his hands, and let a weighty sigh sag his frame into the cushions. 

He’d done everything right. He’d been careful with all of his rules, putting his life into neat little boxes to keep everything separated and together. He’d played by the club's rules, by Mei Mei’s rules, by life’s rules of right and wrong. Yet somebody else’s actions ruined it. Somebody else had given him a metaphorical slap in the face and left him to pick up the pieces. Somebody else had thrown him into a choppy ocean and left him to drown under the rising waves. 

A part of him wanted to scream, punch a dent in the front of his locker, or cry. At least he still had a job and that thought rattled a dry laugh from his equally dry throat. Megumi fell back onto the couch, feeling drained, and fixed his gaze on the ceiling. He still had a job, but he was on thin ice. One screw up, one mistake, and he was out of here and back to square one. He couldn’t let that happen to him. 

The door to the staff room snapped open and Megumi spared it a glance from the corner of his eyes to see Nobara flitting her head from side to side until she found him. She marched over to him, still dressed in her stage gear, and fell onto the couch in his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs. “You still have a job?” she said the moment she was settled into place. 

“Yeah,” he whispered through a breath, “for now.”

Nobara whistled and messed with a few loose strands of his hair, wiping them away from his face. “What’d you do?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Megumi.” 

He blew out another sigh and danced his gaze away from her. “Sukuna cancelled six appointments in the past three weeks. Mei Mei thinks it’s weird.”

There was a thoughtful hum from Nobara. “Somebody cancelling on you so much? That is weird. When did he cancel them and what was his excuse?”

“About an hour before they all started, and no.” 

Silence enveloped them and Megumi could hear Nobara’s brain thinking, could hear the cogs ticking away as she strung together the same thought Mei Mei had. “No wonder she called you in.”

Megumi snorted, “Yeah.”

“So, are you?” 

He cut his gaze across to her, “Am I what?” 

She gave him a look and grinned, “Doing anything on the side for him? It is pretty weird he’s basically giving you money for free.”

“No.” Nobara didn’t look away. She simply raised a brow at him and folded her arms over her chest. Megumi rolled his eyes, shoved at her side until she fell onto the couch next to him, and stood up, running one hand through his hair. “I’m not, you know I wouldn’t.” 

She held her hands up to him and blew a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Okay, okay. I get it. You somehow acquired a little sugar daddy who gives you money simply for looking pretty.” He gave her a withering look and she gave it away with a glimmer of a grin pulling at the corners of her lips. “Don’t look at me like that, you’re living a nice dream right now.” He darkened his glare at her and she rolled her eyes with a dramatic sigh. “Okay, jeez. You’re too serious. So, any idea what’s up with him?” 

Megumi shrugged and started to pace in front of her. He racked his brain over what happened in their last session, over what he’d done, how Sukuna had reacted. Sukuna had seemed to enjoy himself, and had even given him permission for what he’d done. It was a line Megumi regretted crossing that night, something he normally stayed away from, but Sukuna had revelled in it. 

After that, they’d sat, or rather Megumi had slumped against Sukuna as he’d tried to find his breath again. They’d talked, and Sukuna had asked of he was sick, going so far as telling Megumi he looked like shit. 

“You should take a break from work if you’re not well.”

“Not all of us can afford sick days.”

Megumi stopped his pacing and frowned. 

“Even doms need looking after.”

He could still hear Sukuna’s voice in his head, the sincerity, concern and genuine care wrapped around each syllable. Subconsciously, Megumi brushed a hand across his arm, to where bruises used to decorate his skin. Was this- Was Sukuna- The frown on Megumi’s face deepened and he stared at a spot of dirt on the floor. Sukuna couldn’t be giving Megumi a break. There was no way. Why would he? He gained nothing from it and after he’d laid into Megumi about cancelling on such short notice, why would he go ahead and do the same thing? He lost. No matter which way Megumi looked at it, Sukuna lost in some way. Maybe Megumi had missed something? He tried to think back to the expressions Sukuna had made, the words he’d said, the way he’d said them. There was nothing. Not a single hint that Sukuna wanted to stop or take a break. 

Why? 

Why? 

Why ?

“He said something, didn't he?” 

Megumi snapped his head up to Nobara and shook his head. “No.”

Nobara crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed by his lie. “Please don’t tell me he’s getting personal with you. You know the rules.” 

He did. He knew them better than anybody else, and enforced them harshly with his clients. But Sukuna didn’t seem like the type to get attached. He didn’t seem like the type of person to care too much about some stranger whose only job was to get his dick wet. Was it a power trip thing? Did it give him some sort of enjoyment to feel like he was doing Megumi a favour? Was he trying to paint himself as a knight in shining armour? It wouldn’t be the first time one of his clients had stepped out of line with his “best intentions in mind.” 

Or was it pity? Megumi knew what pity looked like. He’d seen it thrown his way countless times over the years. He knew what it looked, sounded, and felt like, no matter how pretty people tried to dress it up, he recognised it. The more Megumi thought about it the more he couldn’t be certain what Sukuna’s goal was. He remembered the look Sukuna threw his way when he’d mentioned he was unable to take a day off. There was something odd in it, something hidden in the tone of his voice and the words he’d used, but Megumi couldn’t quite place his finger on what was going through Sukuna’s head at the time. Perhaps Sukuna was great at hiding his emotions, maybe he was a fantastic liar. After all, Megumi was yet to meet somebody who came into the kind of money Sukuna had without lying here and there, without pretending to be a decent human being for a few minutes.

“He’s not,” Megumi said.

“Then what is it?”

He shrugged. He wished he had an answer for Nobara, for Mei Mei, and for himself, but he had nothing but guesses and it riled him. Frustration swirled within his veins and annoyance festered at the back of his mind. If Sukuna was doing this out of the goodness of his heart, then why? He didn’t know Megumi, and didn't need to care or think twice about him. If he was doing this out of kindness, then what? He thought Megumi couldn’t take care of himself? That he was helpless? Megumi scoffed at the very idea. The last time Megumi had asked for help it kicked him in the teeth, knocked him to his knees, and left him at the bottom of the barrel. He didn’t need help, hadn’t needed help for years, he had everything under control. His mind circled back to pity. Sukuna felt sorry for Megumi because he looked sick the last time they’d met. It had to be that. He couldn’t imagine any other reason. 

“I don’t know,” Megumi said, a web of uncertainty clawing at his conclusion, “but he’s not cancelling again. Mei Mei won’t allow it.” 

Nobara kicked her feet up onto the couch, tipped her head to one side and propped her head up on a closed fist. “Okay, but maybe you should black list him, at least as a client. He’s giving you a headache without even being there. Get rid of him, get somebody else who’ll actually turn up. You and I both know you’d fill those spots in no time.” 

She was right. Megumi had a waiting list. He wasn’t ignorant to that fact, and she was right about dropping Sukuna as a client. If he was able to make things troublesome for him without being present, then how much worse could it be if he actually was there. Megumi had already broken his own limits when it came to his clients and Sukuna always seemed to test his boundaries with each session. How much further would he push Megumi, how far could he make him go?

Sukuna was bad news.

But a small part of Megumi screamed that he couldn’t let Sukuna go. He was a breath of fresh air. It wasn’t often the club had a client with so few limits, with so much creative freedom to allow the doms to do whatever they wanted. It made Sukuna different. So many of Megumi’s other clients were so eager and willing to drop to their knees, fighting him with the only goal to be punished, without any real heat or venom behind their words. 

Sukuna meant every heated comment that fell from his tongue, every jab and bard. He fought Megumi with the simple intention to fight. If Megumi didn’t know any better he’d say Sukuna enjoyed their verbal wars as much as he enjoyed their physical activities. And Megumi enjoyed it too. He didn’t have to think, tip toe around a myriad of edges. He could let loose, unwind, and vent out his own frustrations. 

He didn’t want to let that go. 

“I’ll see how this next session goes. If I sense something’s off I’ll blacklist from my own clientele list.”

Nobara whistled. “Are you going soft?”

He glared at her. “Shut up.” 

She chuckled. “I’m just saying. I remember the old you who blacklisted everyone who even looked at you funny. Somebody so much as blinked at you wrong and you never wanted to see them again. Now you’ve got a guy acting beyond strange and you’re going to see how it goes?” She snorted and put her feet back onto the floor. She leaned forward in her seat, elbows on the tops of her knees, and peered up at him. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing.” 

“You’re a terrible liar.” 

“No I’m not.” 

“Are too.” 

“Am not.” 

“Fushiguro Megumi, you’re a shitty liar.” She climbed to her feet, stepped into his space and wrapped her arms around him, pressing her cheek to his chest with a heavy sigh. “You know if something’s up you can tell me right? I’m always here if you need it.” 

For the briefest of moments, Megumi considered telling Nobara everything. The bruises, the debt, Gojo, his sister, his father, his step mother, the weird chemistry he had with Sukuna, his friend Yuuji, everything. But he caught himself, shook his head and wrapped his arms around Nobara’s shoulders. It was his burden, not hers. These were all his problems to deal with and Nobara had her own troubles at hand. Her mother was sick, her father was in and out of the picture, always away on work, and her girlfriend was having issues with family that drove Nobara up the wall. She had her own headaches and Megumi didn’t want to be the cause for another. He’d managed before, he’d dragged himself up from the lowest point of his life, he could figure this out too. 

He let out a soft breath and kissed the crown of her head. “I’ll call you if I need anything.” It was a lie, one he hoped Nobara would let slide. She was going through enough, she didn’t need more.

Nobara tilted her head up, put her chin on his chest, and studied his face for a full minute before she stepped back and nodded. “You better.” The door behind them opened and somebody called for Nobara. She waved them off with a sigh and looked back at Megumi. With another small smile she cupped his face and brushed his cheek with her thumb. He lifted a hand up and wrapped his fingers around her wrist, giving it a gentle squeeze as he matched her smile with his own. A moment passed and her smile twisted into a glare. She pinched cruelly at his cheek until he was forced to bend down to her level. “I mean it, Megumi! You better call me if you need me! No more of this going solo crap! You remember what happened last time?”

Last time happened to be before they were a strictly one email only kind of club, back when they handed out phone numbers and talked to their clients off the clock, before Megumi blacklisted his clients for any tiny indiscretion. “Okay, okay! Ow! Let go!” 

Nobara released him, huffed, and stomped past him towards the door. She stopped on the threshold, one hand holding the door open so that she could point two fingers at her eyes before she pointed them in Megumi’s direction. He chuckled at that and nodded his head to the door. “I’ll call you.”

A bad habit Megumi had picked up over the years was the incessant need to pinch the tip of his tongue between his teeth, and rock his tongue piercing against the backs of his teeth. Especially when he was tense or nervous. He did that now as he marched his way to his step mother’s house, the small tapping of the metal the only thing to ease the stress that bubbled quietly beneath his skin. 

The moment he’d left the club his mind was plagued with the thousands of ways his next conversation was going to go. He could already envision how badly the reaction was going to be, from everyone. The last time Megumi had been ‘home’ he’d practically been chased out the door by silent daggers, tightly pursed lips, the coldest of shoulders Megumi had ever had the honour of feeling, and a slam of the door in the frame. 

He came to a stop in front of his childhood home and stared at the town house. There was nothing outstanding about it. A tiny, fenced in garden at the front surrounded by barely trimmed hedges. The paint on the window frames was starting to peel and Megumi made a mental note to come back and give them a fresh lick of paint. The broken path of mismatched tiles with weeds growing between the cracks. A few flower pots decorated the front step, brightening the place up with life in the colourful array of pinks and golds that blinked under the low sun. They were Tsumiki’s doing, they had to be, and Megumi allowed himself a small smile before he dared to look at the door. 

With a deep breath, he marched down the path, stopped in front of the door, and stared at the fading number plaques screwed into the wood. That was something else he added to the growing list inside of his mind. He lifted a hand and knocked, ignoring the doorbell that had been broken for years now. As he waited for somebody to answer, he tried his best to wipe the frown from his face, to remove all traces of the grimace that wanted to break free. This was the last place he wanted to be. Very few happy memories surrounded this place, any he did have were filled with Tsumiki, but this was a much needed conversation and Megumi couldn’t wait for it to be over. 

Soft footsteps sounded behind the door and when it opened Tsumiki stood there, a grin igniting her features with warmth the moment she saw him. “You came,” she said. 

Megumi caught her as she threw herself at him, arms wrapped tightly around his neck and her face buried in the crook. He hugged her back, enjoying the soft vanilla and honey that was her. This small comfort was the one thing he allowed himself to indulge, the one thing that he would dare to call home. But he broke it to ask, “Is she home?” 

Tsumiki tensed and slowly peeled herself away from him. Carefully she looked up at him, hesitation creeping over her skin. “She is.” Guilt made itself at home within Megumi’s stomach. He felt terrible for not having told her why he suddenly wanted to talk to her mother. In truth he was afraid if he had told her, she would’ve tried to have the conversation without him, blowing up any chances Megumi had to say anything. “What are you going to talk about?” Tsumiki said. 

He let out a long breath and grabbed her wrists with his hands. As he gathered his thoughts and chased away the simmering anger, he brushed his thumbs across the backs of her wrists and watched the slow motion of his fingers. Meeting Tsumiki’s gaze was out of the question as he said, “Did she tell you what she did with my payment last month?” 

“She said she didn’t get one.” 

The snort Megumi let out couldn’t be stopped and he gave his sister a withering look. “Tsumiki.” 

Her face fell and Tsumiki shook her head. “What did she do?” 

“That’s what I want to know.” 

Silence settled between them and Megumi held his breath, watching Tsumiki intently. She was thinking hard, brows scrunching in the centre of her face, lips turned down, eyes narrowed. Slowly she looked over him, darting her gaze across every inch of his body until they finally landed back on his face. “Something happened, didn’t it?” It was a statement, not a question, and Megumi almost regretted the way he didn’t answer her. Fire burnt in her eyes and she snatched her hands away to storm into the house. “Mom! Mom! Come here!” 

It was another moment before Megumi blew a puff of air out and followed Tsumiki inside. He closed the door gently behind him, toed his shoes off in the entryway, and finally stepped into the main hall. The few pictures that hung on the wall grabbed his attention and Megumi looked over them, spotting a few new ones mixed in with the old. Tsumiki and her mother. Tsumiki and Megumi from when he was eight. Tsumiki, Megumi and her mother when he was five. Tsumiki and Megumi from just before his father had left. Tsumiki. Tsumiki. Tsumiki and her mother. Tsumiki.

At least Tsumiki was well loved by the woman. 

“Tsumiki?”

Megumi lifted his head up to that voice and he pursed his lips, waiting. The one thing he’d almost begged Tsumiki before he came over, was that she didn’t tell her mother he was coming. If he knew the woman as well as he thought he did, she would’ve found any excuse to leave before he arrived. Hearing her voice now sent fresh anxiety running through him. 

On the right hand side, just inside of the entranceway, was an opening that led to the kitchen. Tsumiki stood at that opening, and from here, Megumi could see the open arch at the back that led directly into a sitting room. He stared at that arch, at where her mother finally shuffled into view. She was an inch taller than Tsumiki, and her usually long, brown hair had been trimmed to brush across her shoulders. A single wire clip, shaped into that of a butterfly, clipped her hair to one side. She loved butterflies, Megumi remembered that much. There was an entire book collection dedicated to the various species with locations, ideal environments, descriptions, and history for each one. She was dressed in a soft cotton pull over and a pencil skirt that stopped just above her knees. 

The moment she entered the kitchen she sought Tsumiki out with her eyes, then she caught him standing just behind her and her gaze darkened. “I didn’t know you were coming.” 

“Surprise,” he deadpanned. 

“Mother,” Tsumiki interrupted before the woman could get another word out, dragging her attention back to Tsumiki. “You told me Megumi didn’t send any money last month.” 

Cold eyes snapped to Megumi and he straightened up, tipping his chin up in defiance, ready for the fight to start. “Is that what you told her?” 

“It’s the truth.” 

She scoffed and turned her back on them to set about fussing at the kitchen counter. Small fingers worked on straightening up already straight items, wiping invisible crumbs from the surface, and making sure everything was turned the right way. “Now I’m a liar and a she-devil.”

“I never-”

She went on, speaking over him, “You come in here looking all high and mighty. What are you really here for? Hmm? You left us once already. Cussing and hollering on your way that I’m not fit to be a mother, to anybody.” A dark chuckle rocked through her and she slammed her palms onto the counter. “You have no idea what hell I’ve been through boy! What I’ve had to put up with! First your father and now you- You have the cheek to come in here and plant these- these- these- ideas into my darling Tsumiki’s head. After everything your father did to us? To me ?” 

Megumi bit his tongue at that remark. He wasn’t stupid. He was well aware his father used Tsumiki’s mother, Emi, as a means to put a roof over both of their heads and as a quick cash grab. A few sweet words, a few less than quiet nights as Megumi and Tsumiki hid under blankets, and stuffed pillows over their heads, and his father had Emi wrapped around his finger. It hurt Megumi that his father was like that, that he’d unwillingly become a tool used against her and Tsumiki. If he’d had any power Megumi would’ve liked to think he would’ve done something. 

“Mom!” Tsumiki stormed around the island in the centre of the kitchen and grabbed Emi’s arm, twisting her around to face them. “You lied to me .” 

Emi let out a breath, the anger she’d been wearing melting away in an instant, and she cupped Tsumiki’s face between worn hands. “Tsumiki, my darling-”

Tsumiki shook her hands off of her. “Mom, please, just, stop.” She reached for her hands and took them in her own. “Just, talk to me. What happened?”

Megumi pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, using the piercing against the soft ridges as a way to keep his nerves calm and in check. By his sides, his fingers itched with a need to grab something and he settled for hooking his thumbs into the pockets of his pants, tugging gently at the fabric. He could already see the fight bubbling underneath Emi’s skin, the tension growing within the room the longer the seconds dragged on. The moment Tsumiki had put her foot down, the explosive argument was in sight. It wasn’t going to be pretty, for anyone, and Megumi didn’t want it to be either. Emi had spent far too many years hiding behind Tsumiki, using her own daughter as a deterrent against Megumi to hold him back. 

Emi peered over at Megumi again and tutted, a new rigidness straightening up her spine. “It is your debt after all and you’re the one who suggested we tell them to go directly to you.” She shrugged and crossed her arms over chest, curling her hands around her elbows. “So that’s what I did.” 

Megumi sneered and took a step forward. “Where did the money go, Emi?”

“You have no right to say my name, you bastard child.” 

“Sorry,” Megumi uttered, sickly sweet with every ounce of sarcasm he could muster. He stepped forward, placed his hands onto the kitchen island, emerald eyes burning, and said, “Where did the money go, mom ?” 

“ You ,” Emi started.

Megumi slapped a hand against the counter and let rage fuel the glare he delivered across the kitchen. “Do you have any idea what kind of people they are? What they do to people who don’t pay?” Emi’s lips moved as she spluttered on a thought and Megumi saved her the trouble of thinking. He hooked a thumb underneath the edge of his shirt and lifted it up to show the splattering of faded green and yellow that decorated over half of his ribs. Tsumiki’s immediate gasp filled the room and Megumi wished he’d been able to save her the trouble of knowing. It was a miracle nothing was broken, a bigger miracle they’d hit him where nobody would immediately see. 

Megumi stared Emi down, chest heaving with each rapid breath he took, watching as she finally took stock of the damage she’d caused him. She almost looked sheepish as she pursed her lips, eyes still scanning across the bruises. When she finally looked away, the darkened creases of her eyes smoothing into almost apologetic lines, Megumi dropped his shirt back into place, unable to shift the fury that twisted every inch of his face. “Maybe next time they’ll actually break something or worse.

It was Tsumiki who broke the tense silence with a whispered, “Megumi.”

Her plea fell on dear eyes as Megumi opened his mouth again. The blood was pumping in his veins and his hands itched with a need to break something before he himself broke. “Where did it go, Emi? Cause I sure as shit didn’t spend it!” She refused to look at him. A pained expression crept into her muscles, fingers wrung the edges of her blouse, lips twisted into a scowl, and her brows furrowed deeply. Every inch of her was warring and an ounce of guilt welled up within Megumi, a small, tiny, barely there ounce. He understood this wasn’t her fault, it wasn’t any of their faults, and it wasn’t easy to deal with. But Megumi was trying, and he needed her help to do that. 

If only his father had chosen nicer loan sharks to borrow money from. 

Emi ushered a faint whisper into the air and Tsumiki leaned closer. “What?”

“I-” She glanced over at Megumi and quickly looked away again. “I spent it.” 

It was silent for too long before Tsumiki whispered a weak, “Mom.” 

“I didn’t think-” she gestured vaguely in Megumi’s direction, sparing him a scornful look. “They never said they would-” 

“What did you expect?!” Tsumiki threw an arm into the air with the outburst. “You’ve seen them before! They do not look like the kind of people who politely tell you that it’s fine, that they can pick it up next time! For one moment did it ever cross your mind that they look like the kind of people to let something go?” She waved at Megumi. “Look at what they did to him!” 

Emi refused to look at Megumi, but he could see the wavering in her expression. There really was true regret there, a hint of self hatred, self loathing, and a slither of care directed towards Megumi, but it was all fighting with other emotions Megumi couldn’t name. “I thought I could make it back.” 

An exasperated laugh echoed from Tsumiki. “Make it back. Oh please do not tell me that you- you’re not- we talked about this! You do not gamble! You do not set foot in a plinko arcade ever again!”

Whatever Emi had been warring with won and she put her hands on her hips, a frown aimed at her own daughter. “As if this isn’t his fault to begin with!” 

“It isn’t.” 

“If it wasn’t for him we wouldn’t be in this mess.” 

“No, mom.” 

“Emi,” Megumi said. 

The older woman scoffed and turned a cruel gaze towards Megumi. “I never asked for you,” Emi shouted. “Not once did Toji mention he had a mutt of a son until you were standing on my doorstep with your bags already packed. If he’d have told me before you can be certain you would never have been welcome in my life. Letting you and your father into my life was the worst mistake of my life and now, what do I have? Nothing but a brat pretending to be my son. I never wanted a son and you deserve everything that comes your way.”

SLAP . 

Megumi stilled at the new noise, eyes wide and whatever frown he’d been wearing was gone in an instant. Slowly he blinked over to Tsumiki and her still outstretched hand that shook gently in the air. 

“Don’t,” Tsumiki started, her voice cracking, “you dare .” 

Emi’s head was still snapped to one side, a soft pink mark beginning to blossom across her cheek. She blinked, raised a shaky hand to her cheek, and slowly turned back to face the room. “Tsumiki.” 

“No,” she said with a shake of her head. “Don’t. Megumi has done nothing but help. Even when he was younger he helped with the house. When you’re not here he comes round and fixes the things that he can. Broken shelves, rickety cupboards. He helps and he tries his best. Do not blame him for his father’s mistakes.”

“Tsumiki,” Emi whispered again, and Megumi could see the clear hurt in her eyes. She glanced over towards Megumi, for backup, or help, but she looked back to Tsumiki with shame. “If I could turn back the clock and change things.”

“I don’t want you to,” Tsumiki whispered, her voice wet and dry. She was cracking. 

Megumi could hear the tears and he finally blinked out of his stupor to take a step in her direction. “Tsumiki,” he whispered. It didn’t matter to him what was said by Emi. He’d heard a lot from her over the years, and he’d heard more from others. It didn’t bother him but seeing Tsumiki breaking? For him? 

“He’s the best damned brother I could ever want and you should be proud of him.” A sob echoed and Tsumiki turned on the balls of her feet. She rushed past Megumi and when he tried to reach out for her she shook him off with a sharp, “Don’t,” before she snatched her shoes up and stormed her way out the front door. 

The door slammed behind her, rattling the frame in its place, and Megumi steeled his expression into a frown. He snapped his attention to Emi and glared, hard. The woman matched his glare in a silent stand off, but she turned away first, hiking her shoulders up as she shrunk, twisting her lips into a worried frown. 

Megumi let out a tired sigh and turned his back on the woman. “Tsumiki’s the only decent thing between us,” he mumbled, loud enough for her to hear. “You should treat her with the respect she deserves. God knows we don’t deserve her.” There was a sharp jolt in the air and Megumi knew his point had been made. He didn’t utter another word as he grabbed his shoes, slipped them back on and opened the door, intent to follow after Tsumiki. 

“You’re right, Megumi.”

He froze, those words echoing in his head, and tightened his grip on the door. 

“I’m sorry,” Emi said, so quietly Megumi almost missed it. “She’s r-right. About everything. I’m- I’m sorry. I can’t-” Her feet shuffled away and Megumi spared her one final look over his shoulder before he stepped out into the fresh air, closing the door behind him. 

He allowed himself a few moments to force deep breaths into his lungs, force his chest to expand, force the guilt back down to somewhere he couldn’t even taste. That could all wait. Right now, he needed to find Tsumiki and help her. She needed him more than he needed himself and he shook the past few minutes off, swallowed down an awkward lump, and hurried down the broken path. He looked left, right, left, and whispered his sister’s name as he finally saw her storming her way down the path. 

“Tsumiki!” She didn’t miss a step at the sound of her name. If anything she put her head further down and hurried up with her pace. Megumi rushed after her with a mumbled curse. “Hey! Tsumiki, wait-” She didn’t hear him or chose to ignore him and Megumi huffed as he finally caught up to her and snatched a hand around her wrist. 

She snapped around to stare at him, her face full of thunder and rage, the corners of her eyes damp, and her lips twisted into a frown. “What?”

Slowly, Megumi exhaled and let his shoulders with it. “Miki,” he said. 

Tsumiki sucked in a sharp breath and screwed her eyes shut. “Don’t.” 

He took a step towards her and tugged gently on her wrist. “Miki,” he repeated, remembering the childhood nickname he reserved for days like today. Days when they were hurting, when the tears wanted to flow freely, when their voices hurt and throats were sore, when they felt at the lowest of the low and incapable of saying anything more than a few syllables. “Miki,” he whispered.

She sniffled, brought a hand up and wiped at her face before she dared to look at him. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. 

“Come here.” He pulled her towards him and she easily fell against his chest, cheek pressed to him and arms wrapped tightly around his chest. Megumi laced his own arms around her shoulders. He ignored the ache she squeezed into still tender muscles, pressed a kiss to her temple, and rubbed his hands in gentle circles across her back. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again, tightening her grip on him. 

Megumi snorted. “Stop apologising.”

“But you’re hurt! Because of her .” 

He hummed and gently pushed on her shoulders until his sister was looking up at him. He tried for the warmest smile he could find and shrugged a shoulder. “But it’s not your fault. You didn’t cause this.” She opened her mouth with another argument on her tongue and Megumi lifted a hand up to brush away salty tears. “Stop.” For a moment, they stood there in that moment, Megumi wiping fresh tears away, Tsumiki quietly sniffling, and a thought struck Megumi. He snatched up her wrist again. “Come on.” Before she could stop him he tugged her gently down the sidewalk with him. 

“Where are we going?” 

He threw a small smile over his shoulder and slid his hand down until he could lace their fingers together. It reminded him of a time long ago, of past habits when things were just as bad, and it brought him a little comfort. It was a small taste of something nice in an otherwise shitty world. “You remember when our parents used to argue?” 

She nodded, finally falling in step with him. “Yeah. We used to hide under your bed because it was quieter.”

“Then the closet.” 

Tsumiki snorted. “Then the closet. And then the bathroom.” 

“But,” he said, “do you remember when you were eight, I was seven, and we’d just gotten home from school? We’d taken one step inside and your mom threw a plate at my dad.” 

Tsumiki’s fingers tensed in his own. “Yeah. The pieces almost hit us. Mom was yelling about how he’d come home smelling of cheap perfume. Again.” 

A grimace curled Megumi’s face at that thought. His dad was an asshole through and through and sadly, nobody was saved by the grace of secrecy with that man. He had no shame and no thoughts for anybody but himself. It was impossible to remember exactly how many times his father had come home smelling of another woman. “Yeah. They hadn’t even noticed us. You grabbed my hand and turned us around.”

A noise echoed from Tsumiki’s mouth. “I marched us into town, telling you it would be fine.”

A lump formed at the back of Megumi’s throat and he swallowed it down with a shrug. “You were trying so hard not to cry.” 

“It was all I wanted to do.” 

“I hated that they did that to you,” Megumi said. “But I didn’t care. About dad. He didn’t really mean anything to me and once we moved in I never saw him that much anyway. All I remember of him is the shit he put you and Emi through.” 

“He was a dick.” Megumi stopped for a moment, catching Tsumiki unawares as she jerked her hand in his. “What?” she said. 

Megumi laughed and carried on walking, 

lightly swinging their arms like they used to when they were young. “When’s the last time you swore?” 

“You’re not home often enough to hear me.” 

He side eyed her with a tight smile. “You swear when I’m not here?” 

“All the time.” 

“Maybe I should come home more.” Megumi snorted.

Tsumiki bumped her shoulder against him, a smile finally creeping onto her face. “I keep telling you.”

“Yeah,” he breathed, unable to shift the smile on his face. He stopped outside the window of a shop, waiting for Tsumiki to look up and notice where they were. When she did clock on, her eyes lit up with a mixture of wonder, warmth, and sorrow and Megumi almost regretted bringing her back here. “We use to come here-”

“-when things were bad.” 

He hummed and tugged her towards the front door, ignoring the pain in her words. A little bell above the door chimed as they entered and Megumi scanned the seats until he found a small booth in the corner, away from the majority of the crowd. He let go of Tsumiki’s wrist and nodded to it, already patting his pockets down for his wallet. “Go sit down, I’ll be right back.” 

For a moment Tsumiki wavered, hesitating on leaving him alone, before she nodded and slinked off to the seats he’d motioned to. Megumi held his breath as he watched her sit down, hunching her shoulders up to her chin and propping her head in her hands. Neither of them were having a good time and out of everybody Megumi knew, she deserved happiness the most. With another sigh he ordered their traditional single, unlimited refill bowl with two spoons, ignored the strange look he was given, and made his way to the ice cream machine. He filled it almost to the brim with ice cream and mindlessly shoved as many toppings as he could fit into the bowl, drizzled it with two different flavours of syrup, and made his way back to Tsumiki, taking a seat across from her. 

The moment he set the bowl down in front of her she blinked, blinked again, and her smile warmly cracked her lips. “Really?” 

Megumi offered her a grin and held a spoon out to her. “Complaining?” 

She took the spoon. “We can afford two bowls now.” 

He shrugged and sunk his spoon into one side of the sugary monstrosity. It wasn’t about what they could afford, or about what was reasonable. It didn’t matter that nobody in their right mind would make the awful concoction laid out before them. The ice cream parlour was their little sanctuary away from the world, their little reprieve from all of the terrible memories that filled their home. 

It was their escape from reality. 

Anytime an argument broke out at home they’d share a single look, dig deep for any loose change rattling around in their rooms, and march down to this store with enough scraped together for one bowl. They topped it with everything they could get their hands on and carried the precarious tower carefully to a booth where they sat and quietly chipped away at their dessert. Nothing much was ever eaten, and it was nothing more than a means to simply pass the time until it was safe to return home. But it was away from there and from everything. 

Megumi shoved a spoonful into his mouth, crunching his way through hard candy pebbles and colourful strands of sugar. It was much too sweet for him, and he was glad they no longer made a regular habit of it. Across from him Tsumiki ate small spoonfuls too, letting a strained silence settle between them. He could see it in the stiffness of her shoulders, the tightness at the corners of her lips, and the way she refused to look at him. 

Looking at him meant acknowledging what had happened. Looking at him meant dealing with the storm within them, and it meant unleashing whatever raw emotions clawed behind pursed lips. 

He let the quiet stew for two more mouthfuls of grimace and regret before he reached across the table and wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “It’s okay,” he said and he brushed the pad of his thumb over the backs of her knuckles. 

She looked up at him, dug her spoon into the ice cream, and snatched her wrist back to fold her arms on the table. “It’s not.” 

“Tsumiki.”

“It’s not! She shouldn’t- She knows what that money means, she knows she’s not supposed to touch it, or- or- spend it or-”

“Hey,” he whispered, “I know.” He sighed, slouched in his seat, and dragged the side of his spoon across the edge of the ice cream, knocking some of the toppings onto the table. “I know. She shouldn’t have spent it, but-”

“It’s not even about the money.” Megumi paused and watched her shrink into her seat. “What she said was absolutely disgusting and vile.”

He shrugged. “I don’t care.” He’d been called a lot worse. 

“I care and you should too.” 

“Tsumiki.” 

She scoffed and shook her head, fingers twisting into the fabric of her sweater. “No, Megumi. She shouldn’t be saying any of that.” Slowly she lifted her head up and met his gaze. “You don’t deserve it. She should be lucky to have you in her life.” Megumi snorted and ducked his gaze. “I mean it!”

“Stop,” he said. “Stop apologising for her mistakes. They’re hers, not yours. You shouldn’t be the one feeling guilty for what comes out of her mouth.” 

It was Tsumiki’s turn to snort. “I’m the one living with her.” Megumi furrowed his brows at that and his mouth fell open. Tsumiki scoffed and settled her arms onto the edge of the table. “I have to live with her, Megumi. You don’t. I see the fallout of her arguments, her mistakes, her… fuck ups.” A sigh sagged Tsumiki’s frame and she fell back into her seat. “I’m the one who has to make sure she gets up in the morning to go to work. I’m the one who has to make her dinner, sets her a curfew, and controls her bank account. I’m the one who makes sure she gets to her appointments, who fusses over her and tries to make sure she doesn’t fuck up again.” 

Megumi dropped his spoon into his bowl, his stomach suddenly feeling heavy with guilt. “You could leave,” he suggested quietly. 

Tsumiki’s bottom lip wobbled and she shook her head. “I can’t .”

“You can.” 

She scoffed. “You don’t think I’ve thought about it?” Megumi clamped his mouth shut and stared at his sister. She looked dejected, beaten, downtrodden and miserable. Eventually she released a breath and hung her head as she spoke. “I want to, Megumi. I don’t enjoy having to be my mother’s caregiver because she can’t control herself. I don’t enjoy checking in on her every hour to make sure she is where she’s supposed to be. I have to drive her to work to make sure she makes it through the front door and then I pick her up after work because I can’t trust her.” She sighed and fiddled with a loose strand on the hem of her shirt. “I want a career Megumi, I want a life that doesn’t revolve around her just because she has an addiction. Do you know what it’s like living with an addict?” 

He had to think about that question. He’d lived with a lot of characters, some saner than others, but could he classify any of them as an addict? Slowly he shook his head and stared down at where his spoon was wedged into the ice cream. A few drops started to trickle down the side of the still solid lump and he watched the melted drops disappear into the bottom of the bowl. “Not easy?” 

“It’s fucking difficult. I can’t-” she choked on a noise and Megumi looked up then, his heart going out to his sister. “You know,” she sniffled and wiped at her face, “I’ve been seeing someone. At the office. He’s sweet, a total gentleman, and I can’t bring him home because I’m ashamed of my own mother. I can’t tell him that I have to clock watch my messages to make sure my mother is where she is when she’s meant to be.” 

Megumi pursed his lips and watched Tsumiki shake her head, watched her shoulders rock with silent tears, and watched her wipe furiously at damp eyes. He knew Emi wasn’t the best role model in the world, knew that there was a reason their parents had been attracted to one another in the first place, or at least had one thing in common. But he hadn’t quite stopped to think about what hell Tsumiki was going through simply by still being at home, what trouble awaited her on a daily basis. 

It made him feel awful for leaving, terrible for never coming home, and horrible for distancing himself from it all. He should’ve been there for her, should’ve tried, reached out, called more, visited more, something . 

Instead he’d run away and tried his best not to look back, to ignore it and hope it went away. 

“What’s he like?” Megumi whispered after an eternity.

“Hmm?”

Gingerly he glanced up at her and grabbed his spoon, idly twisting the end in the melting ice cream. “The guy you’re seeing. What’s he like?”

“Oh,” a soft smile broke up the tears in her eyes and warmth fluttered into Megumi’s chest. She did need to say more. That smile spoke wonders and shame crawled its way into Megumi’s gut. He’d turned his back so far on his own sister that a complete stranger was her only solace from everything, a stranger who knew nothing, who simply existed within one part of her world. “He’s lovely,” Tsumiki said, “an absolute sweetheart. He always sits with me when our lunches line up, and he knows when I’m having a bad day. I don’t know how but he does, and he’ll come over to my desk, drop a mini bamkuchen milk cake on my desk, kiss my cheek, and ask if I want to spend some time after work with him.”

“What flavour cake?”

Tsumiki’s face lit up. “Honey.” 

“Your favourite flavour.” 

Her smile widened, “Yeah. I told him once and he never forgot.” 

“Does he know you love lilies but only in the winter?”

A chuckle escaped Tsumiki’s lips as she nodded. “And that I love tulips the rest of the time, preferably in yellow? Yes.” 

Her smile was infectious and Megumi grinned. “Yeah?”

She nodded again. “He’s also unbelievably kind to everyone with enough patience to rival a priest. Ridiculously optimistic, and he wants to help anyone he can. Not to mention he’s so humble it’s almost sickening.” 

Megumi chuckled at that. “Gross.” 

She reached her foot out underneath the table to nudge his shin with her toe and grinned with a happy hum. “I like him.” 

“A lot?” 

Tsumiki nodded. “Yeah. A lot.” 

“Good,” Megumi said, “I’m glad you’ve got someone.” 

“Thanks. He helps, in ways he doesn’t know.” Megumi’s grin widened, genuinely pleased that she had somebody in her life who could bring a smile to his sister’s face. Tsumiki settled her hands onto the table and drummed her fingers once. “What about you?”

Megumi blinked. “Me?”

She gave him a look and picked up her spoon again to swipe it through the ice cream, mushing some of the toppings into the melting dessert. “Yeah. Do you have someone? I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“I’ve got the dogs.” 

This time when she kicked him there was more force behind her swing and Megumi frowned at her with a hiss. “You know what I mean, Megumi. And don’t tell me nobody’s interested. I remember in school when people used to ask me if you were seeing anyone. I know people like you.” 

He swallowed thickly and straightened up, dropping his gaze to the few drops of ice cream that dripped over the edge of the bowl and onto the table. “There’s nobody.” 

“But there was?” 

Megumi shrugged and twisted his spoon into the ice cream. “Not really.” 

“Megumi?” 

It was his turn to lean back in his seat and he cleared his throat. “It wasn’t anything. Just a-” he struggled for words. How the hell was he supposed to describe Gojo fucking Satoru. It wasn’t a relationship, it was barely a friendship. A means to an end from both parties that ended in catastrophe. They barely even constituted as acquaintances in Megumi’s eyes. More like associates who knew too much about the other. Lying to his sister and calling it a fling felt as though he was sullying that word and he shrugged his shoulders. “A benefits only thing.” 

It was quiet for a long time and when Megumi finally chanced a look up at Tsumiki she was giving him a weird look. He raised his brows at her and she opened her mouth, “You whore.” 

It was another few moments before a chuckle bubbled inside of Megumi’s chest. Tsumiki’s lips twisted into a grin and they both laughed at the insult. “Thanks,” Megumi said between chuckles, “love you too.” 

“Shut up,” she said. “At least I’m not horrified or disgusted.” 

He tipped his head to one side with a hum. “I guess.” 

“I’m just- surprised . I don’t know, I didn’t think you were the type to have a-” she made a gesture with her hand, rolling it in the air before she shrugged. “I always thought you were the type to settle down is all.”

Megumi laughed again and leaned forward in his seat, settling both arms on the table. “Been a little busy for that.” 

“You can find time, Megumi. Anyone has time for one other person in their life. Especially if that person can make them happy.” She reached out and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it ever so slightly. “Are you telling me there isn’t one person who makes you happy? Outside of family and work? Just one person.” 

His mind worked through the list of people he knew, the ones he could call friends, and the ones whose company irritated him the least. 

Nobara. Yuuji. Maki. Noritoshi. Miwa. Kokichi. Sukuna . 

That last name made him straighten up in his seat with a blink. It hit him out of nowhere and scowl crossed his face. The other names on the list he could understand; work colleagues who he could share a meal or a night out with, friends who he’d wasted plenty of hours with doing nothing and everything. But Sukuna? Sukuna was a client, a part of his job. They had a professional relationship and nothing more. 

“What is it?”

Tsumiki’s question rocked him out of his thoughts and Megumi sighed, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. “Just, remembering some work thing.” It wasn’t a whole lie and Megumi put it down to that. A small part of him hadn’t fully shook off Mei Mei’s threats from earlier that day and another part of him was anxiously waiting to see if Sukuna would cancel again. Megumi attributed the stray thought to that because if Sukuna did cancel then Megumi was out of a job and everything would come crashing down around him. 

“That bad?” 

Megumi shrugged. “Hopefully not.” A worried frown crept across Tsumiki’s face and Megumi gave her a look. “It’s fine, nothing to worry about.” It didn’t ease the concern and Megumi let out another breath. “There- there was a small slip up is all. My boss gave me an official warning, that’s it. My job isn’t in jeopardy.” He would find another one, or beg Mei Mei to let him keep his current one. “I’m not about to get fired.” He hoped. “It’s nothing.” 

Tsumiki didn’t look convinced and Megumi didn’t blame her. Even he wasn’t convinced by his lie. “Are you sure?”

He smiled and nodded. “I’m sure.” 

A strange silence settled over them and Tsumiki busied herself with twisting her spoon into the melting mush of ice cream and toppings. Megumi stared at the growing pool, mind awash with thoughts and emotions. Another wave of guilt hit him as he flicked his attention up to his sister. When she wasn’t at home, she was happy. When she didn’t have to worry about her mother, she was content. When she was joyous, she looked radiant, and Megumi wanted nothing more than for her to have the happiness she deserved in life. Perhaps he should’ve stayed, kept her company, shared in her suffering. Or maybe he should’ve kicked her out the door instead and told her to live the life she truly wanted. 

Tsumiki dropped her spoon into the bowl and fell back in her seat. “I should apologise to mom.” Megumi snorted and dropped his spoon beside hers. Another swift kick to his shin had him jumping in his seat and wiping whatever grin he’d had on his face away. “I mean it,” Tsumiki said. “I shouldn’t have hit her.” 

He pursed his lips for a moment and thought it over. Slowly he nodded once. “You shouldn’t have.” She gave him a look and Megumi straightened up in his seat. “You don’t have to defend me from her. It doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“She shouldn’t be saying it in the first place.”

Megumi shrugged, a newfound favourite emotion to portray. “She has a point. My dad was an ass for what he did and I’m-”

“Nothing like him,” Tsumiki interrupted. Megumi paused and stared at his sister. “You are nothing like him and she needs to realise that difference.” There were no words in Megumi’s throat, no thoughts to share except for a single nod with firmly shut lips. For years Megumi had looked in the mirror and seen the reflection of his father staring back at him. Some nights he still saw that man and not himself. Megumi understood, and with the mood swings he could have, the temper that brewed within him, some days, it was hard even for him to discern who was who. But Tsumiki was resolute in her words, and when she was in one of those moods there was no arguing with her.

“Okay,” she said eventually, “we should go.” 

“I’ll walk you home.”

“Thanks.”

They abandoned the melted bowl of mush, Megumi trailing behind Tsumiki out the door and back onto the sidewalk. He easily kept pace with her, the walk filled once again with an all too familiar tense silence that itched at the back of his neck. There were so many unsaid things, so many harsh truths they’d laid bare, and so much more they were keeping from one another. He yearned for the days where they were each other’s diary, when they slipped into the back garden in the dead of night, huddled behind the dying rose bush that had come with the house, and admitted to that week's worries. 

His mind whirled back to the honesty they had laid out for each other tonight, the harsh truth that Tsumiki had put onto the table for him to finally see. Everything was shit. Tsumiki wanted out, she was reaching her breaking point, and Megumi couldn’t help. Nausea crept up his throat as he remembered a pinky promise they’d made a week before Megumi had moved out; that no matter what they would stick together. 

When the path to their childhood came into view Megumi's pace slowed to match that of his sister’s. Neither of them wanted to go home just yet and break the warm spell they’d cast over an otherwise grey afternoon. 

At the top of the path they stopped. Both of them stared at the house they’d spent their younger years in, the place where they’d grown up and were forced to form firm outer shells of their hearts thanks to their parents. Shells that for years, the other knew how to crack.

Now, Megumi was sure he’d never find a way back into hers and she couldn’t even see where his shell began. 

The words fell from his lips before he could help it, getting caught in his throat on the way up. “If you could leave mom, would you?” 

Tsumiki blinked at him. “What?” 

He cleared his throat, dampened his lips with the tip of his tongue, and hunched his shoulders up, refusing to look at her. The idea was already forming before he whispered his next words. “If you had the chance to leave mom, to move out, stay with your new boyfriend, start over, would you take it?” 

It was quiet for a long time. The tiny hairs on the back of Megumi’s neck started to rise, sweat gathered on the palm of his hands, his heart ached in his chest with each new pound against his ribs, and Tsumiki’s gaze felt heavier with each passing second. He could do it, make a deal with the devil, give everybody and her a fresh start. He could give Tsumiki anything she could possibly want. 

A gentle hand cupped his cheek and dragged his attention to Tsumiki and the concerned look she wore. “Whatever you’re thinking, Megumi,” she whispered, “don’t.”

“I just want you to be happy,” he whispered, his voice finally cracking on that final word. “You deserve it.” 

A thin smile spread across her lips, tight and strained, and unshed tears threatened to spill from the corners of Tsumiki’s eyes. “I’m already happy,” she mumbled. It was a filthy lie that hitched Megumi’s breath in his throat and left a foul taste across his tongue. Even as she brushed a thumb over his cheek and repeated those words back to him, he wondered who she was trying to convince. Him, or her? “I’m happy,” she choked out. 

He swallowed thickly and nodded, letting her believe the lie. “Okay.” 

Tsumiki hesitated with a longing look, hand pausing against his cheek, and finally pulled away from him, gaze burning with indecision. She wanted what he offered, he could see it so clearly it made his fingers inch towards his phone. When she turned her back on him, rolled her shoulders back and tilted her chin up, Megumi let his hand rest by his side again. He watched her march proudly down the cracked path, and he waited whilst she unlocked the front door, stepped inside, offered him a small wave, and finally closed him out of her world. 

After giving it to a count of five, Megumi took his leave, biting back the awful lump that wouldn’t budge from his throat. It was an effort to drag his feet down the sidewalk, a bigger effort to keep his thoughts at bay. They sat there in the back of his mind, simmering and whispering, telling him this was his fault, that Tsumiki was miserable because of him. Those thoughts took him through everything he could’ve done to stop things from getting this far, how easily this could all be over if Megumi just forfeited his pride for a little while. 

The train journey back to his place was spent with every muscle of his body tense, clinging to that mental dam, begging the cracks to stop growing with each passing second. Every step felt like another vice around his throat, another squeeze of his lungs, and it hurt. Everything hurt in ways bruises never could.

His phone buzzed just as he’d stepped out of the station and when Megumi looked at the screen it was to see a new email waiting for him. He moved to one side to let people pass and stared at the sender and title of the email. It was his school with the result of his most recent exam. A dryness scorched his mouth, his heart thumped painfully in his chest, and fresh sweat decorated the palms of his hands. Megumi considered waiting until he was home, until he was back in the sanctuary of the four familiar walls of his home, but he was opening the message before he could help it, scanning it desperately to see how he’d-

Failed. 

By three points. 

Megumi’s heart sank and he propped his shoulder against the wall, finally reading the message in full from start to finish. There were plenty of opportunities to make up the lost marks with other modules, through other coursework, he could retake the exam at a later date, and that it wasn’t the end of the world. 

But he’d failed. 

He’d slipped up on his studies, let things get on top of him, and failed in doing the one thing he promised he would do. It felt like another notch in the invisible noose that tightened around his throat. Another punch to the gut, reminding him that he couldn’t do something. 

He couldn’t clear the debt. 

He couldn’t have a relationship with his step-mother. 

He couldn’t make Tsumiki happy. 

He couldn’t confidently say he still had a job. 

He couldn’t pass one fucking. Test. 

His next steps felt sluggish. Each one filled with dread and shame. It took all of his energy to pull himself along, push his way through the crowds, and force himself in the direction of home. All whilst his phone weighed heavily in his pocket, burning a hole in the fabric and in his mind. 

Failure. Failure. Failure. 

The first sniffle left his lips outside of his apartment complex. The second sounded after the first flight of stairs. The third he managed to wipe away before he could make a noise, shoving his keys a little too hard into the lock and slamming the door behind him to drown out the noise. 

The ringing echo of the wood slowly quietened, and when the silence surrounded him, everything hit him. Megumi dropped his keys to the floor and finally let out a single, loud, ugly sob. It was enough to rock him back onto the heels of his feet, forcing him to stumble against the front door. He slid to the floor, the strength in his knees gone and salty tears staining his cheeks. He buried his face in his hands, letting the sobs wrack through him, letting them shake his shoulders and shudder unsteady breaths from his lungs.

“Fuck!” he shouted into the air, hating how the only noise to greet him was the soft whine of his dogs. He loved them, he truly did, and he adored the way Shiro settled a paw in Megumi’s lap whilst Kuro nudged at the back of his hands with his nose. But Megumi needed more, something that was more human. He needed somebody to rub soothing circles across his shoulders, brush the hair out of his eyes, tell him it’s okay. He wanted so desperately to feel any kind of human connection that wasn’t laced in pity, pain, or money. He wanted to feel safe, warm, and worthy. 

Nobara . 

Megumi cracked his eyes open and wiped furiously at damp tears. She’d been an anchor during his stormy thoughts more times than she knew and she told him to call right? If he needed anything? He swallowed several deep breaths, willing each one to stop quivering, willing his chest to calm itself into a steady rhythm. He begged his throat to stop hurting and his eyes to stop stinging. With shaky hands he fumbled with his phone in his pocket and slumped further against the wooden door behind him. He stretched one hand out and dragged his fingers through Shiro’s fur, a few quiet sobs still threatening to bubble in his chest. 

“Stop,” he said to himself, “stop crying.” He tugged the collar of his shirt across his eyes and rubbed frantically until he was sure they were red and too dry to dampen anymore. He sucked in a deep breath, cursed how wet it sounded, sniffled loudly, and let Kuro bury his face underneath Megumi’s chin. It brought a glimmer of a smile to his lips, barely. 

He stumbled his way through his contacts and dialled Nobara’s number the moment his thumb stopped shaking. Another series of shuddering breaths, laced with waiting tears, made him wither further into himself, and he almost hung up before she eventually picked up. “Nobara,” he said the moment the call connected. 

“Megumi, hey.” 

She sounded distracted. Megumi wiped at his face again and quietly thumped his head back against the door, willing the tears to stop. “You got a few minutes?” he mumbled, forcing false confidence behind his words. 

He heard her mouth open but an argument broke out somewhere on her end of the line and she sighed. “I am so sorry, Megumi, not right now.” Tears fought against Megumi’s lashes, begging to fall as his hope for help slid away. “Maki!” Nobara shouted, mouth turned away from the phone. 

“Busy?” Megumi whispered and if he sounded broken he hoped Nobara didn’t notice. 

“Yeah, sorry! Her sister invited us over and-” something broke in the background and Megumi flinched as the yelling escalated. “I’m really sorry, Megumi.” 

“It’s fine.” It was, and it wasn’t. “Rain check.” Nobara didn’t even say goodbye. The only indication she’d left was the gentle click of the line, and Megumi knocked his head against the wood once. 

Of course Nobara was busy. He’d met Maki’s family once and that was more than enough for his taste and he’d vowed to never meet them again. A part of him shuddered to think what Nobara was currently going through. As Megumi idly dragged his fingers through Shiro’s fur, he tightened his grip on his phone, mind whirling with thoughts on how he could distract himself. There was no way he could focus his scattered thoughts on reading, booting up his laptop to play a game was out of the question. He needed somebody, anybody. He wanted to talk and hear the voice of another human being, someone who wouldn’t pity him for what he was going through. 

He tapped across the screen before he knew it, another name coming to mind. Before he could talk himself out of it and convince himself this was a bad idea, he called Yuuji’s number. Maybe he could finally take Yuuji up on that offer of a free meal and the chance to finally meet him face to face. Maybe his radiant, happy go lucky personality could rub off on Megumi enough to brighten his evening. 

After the fourth ring Yuuji picked up and Megumi’s heart sank at the clutter of noise in the background. Yuuji was in the restaurant, and by the sounds of it it was a hectic night. “Megumi?” 

“Hey… Yuuji.” Now that he heard Yuuji’s voice Megumi felt stupid. Was he really about to cry into Yuuji’s shoulder? Did he really want to unload everything onto him? Why? Yuuji would feel bad for Megumi and do everything in his power to perk Megumi’s mood up. Megumi was sure Yuuji would feel guilty if he told him the truth, especially when he sounded busy. “I was just-” his tongue fumbled in his mouth and Megumi struggled against the cotton that filled his senses and the tears that threatened to crawl down his cheeks. “Social call.” 

“Ahhh I’d love to! But I’m- hey! Get that pan! Get that pan! I’m two chefs down and the restaurant is fully booked out! Can I call you tomorrow? I promise I’ll call you and we can talk until our ears bleed.” 

That made Megumi snort and he wiped at his face once more, clearing away a few fresh tears that coloured the corners of his eyes. “Sure. Sounds good.” 

“Everything okay?” 

Megumi hummed and nodded, his stomach twisting with painful knots at the obvious lie. “Yeah, I’m good.” 

“Okay.” Somebody shouted for Yuuji and he made a pained noise. “Ahh, I’m sorry, Megumi. Tomorrow!” 

The line cut out and Megumi stared at the lit background of his phone. It was a picture of him and Nobara from when he’d bunked on her couch for three months. She’d insisted on having a stay at home spa day and had all but forced Megumi into one, trying a face mask on, and two, doing his makeup. The moment she set her brushes down she’d pouted with instant regret, telling him he was far too pretty. Then she’d cleaned his face, shoved popcorn into his lap, and forced him into the third rewatch of her favourite film for that week. 

The picture was of them, clad in ugly facemasks; hers was a panda and his was a koala, the faces of the animals terribly distorted across their human features. 

But he liked it. 

It usually made him smile, made him remember that he did have friends, that he could make friends, and that people did care about him and his happiness. 

He swallowed and fresh tears finally broke free. Slowly they dripped down his face, traced the line of his chin, and dropped into his lap, seeping into the fabric to leave a damp patch on his skin. He didn’t stop them. He couldn’t. He hurt. He didn’t need bloodied fists against his ribs to hurt, his heart was doing enough for him, twisting painfully within his chest, making him struggle with every breath, clouding every thought with a darker thought that he would always be alone. 

Megumi inhaled sharply and opened up his contact list. 

With one thumb he swiped up and down the list, mindlessly reading every name, numbly counting how few people he could confess to, how few people knew anything about him, and how few names were merely listed for courtesy. One name caught his attention and Megumi stopped, tapping on it to open up the information page. There was no contact picture and the only information for the name was simply; “G. S.” 

Megumi sniffled wetly, screwed his face up at the feeling of snot in his nose, and wiped at his eyes, blinking through stray tears at those two letters. 

G.S.

A nervous flutter settled in Megumi’s stomach. Gojo could help him, would help him. With a sleazy smile and a questionable clause. But at least Megumi wouldn’t have to worry about getting fired, balancing work and his studies, about anything. He wouldn’t need to pay loan sharks off every month, he could get it done in one lump sum, and Tsumiki could do whatever she wanted, she could be happy . She could go wherever she wanted to go.

Megumi ground his teeth together as he pressed the number. 

One phone call and Megumi’s life would feel that much easier. The only thing he would have to worry about would be leering eyes, itching fingers, and a sly mouth that spewed annoying drivil every second they were together. Compared to today? To the constant worry that scratched at the back of his mind? The chilling fear he’d dragged behind him? It could almost be worth it, right? He scanned over the digits, thumb hovering over the call button.

That bedroom will always be yours, Megi-chan and my offer will never expire. I can give you everything you could ever need. You only need to call me and ask.

Could he really call Gojo and beg him for help? Had he really sunk that low? 

Another watery noise bubbled in Megumi’s throat and fresh tears threatened to spill. Yes, he had sunk so low. It wasn’t meant to go so wrong. He was supposed to be in control, handle it. Life had thrown him curveballs before and he’d managed. He’d done just fine before he met Gojo and he’d been doing just fine without him. 

He didn’t need help.

The screen changed with a press of his thumb and Megumi watched as the call started to ring. He pinched the tip of his tongue between his teeth and bit down until it hurt. He did need help. He needed a way out. He needed security. He needed hope. He needed to look forward to tomorrow, the day after that, and the day after that. He needed everything to be better. 

A notification popped up across the top of his screen, an email from the club. Megumi blinked, listening to the quiet echo of the line ringing. He blinked again, inhaled a deep breath, and ended the call, thumb immediately moving to open the email. 

It was a forwarded email from Sukuna and a flare of heat twisted in his chest. Sukuna. The asshole who was so close to getting Megumi fired. The asshole who wouldn’t say no to anything. The asshole- 

We’re on for tonight. 7pm sharp. 

There was nothing else to the email and Megumi scoffed at the blunt curtness of it all. “Sharp.” As if Sukuna had more important things to be doing at seven on a Thursday evening. As if he’d pencilled Megumi in between oh so important meetings. As if Megumi was nothing more than another client looking to secure business with him. “Sharp.” He ground his teeth together and read over the very short message, again and again. It did nothing to soothe the agony of fear he’d been harbouring since his meeting with Mei Mei that morning, nothing to ease the dread he’d been forced to endure because this… this… asshole … thought Megumi was…was… beneath him? Nobody important? Insignificant? A puppet at his command?

A new rage slowly thundered underneath Megumi’s skin as he read the message again, fresh anger burning within him each time he read it. It made his blood boil. If Sukuna refused to have limits then fine, Megumi would show him why they were important. 

The blood in Megumi’s ears pounded in time with each heavy step he took. The sour glare he wore didn’t need to be forced or faked. He felt every ounce of it in every bone of his body and he didn’t want to let go of it. The only thought circling Megumi’s mind was that tonight, he wanted to break Sukuna. He wanted to see what was the final straw, wanted to hear him sob, see him cry, hear him apologise for the shit storm he put Megumi through. 

Throughout his entire journey to Sukuna’s apartment, Megumi had done nothing but imagine what twisted expressions he could force Sukuna to make, what disgusting noises he could wrench from his throat, and what pleads he would hear him make. Each new thought thundered underneath Megumi’s skin, and each new thought reminded him of the tools he’d hastily thrown into his back before he’d left. His fingers itched with a need he hadn’t felt in years. 

When he reached Sukuna’s apartment, he pounded a gloved fist against the door with the intent of breaking through the wood. Megumi only let up with his banging when he heard Sukuna yelling from the other side, telling him to calm down already. It stoked the flames within him further, and Megumi huffed a breath through his nose. He curled his hand tighter around the strap of his bag, feeling the knuckles turn white underneath the leather, feeling the tension snap through his muscles until he tipped his chin up and waited. There was the familiar twist of a lock, the handle moved, and the door finally cracked open. 

Megumi shoved it open. The sound of the wood bouncing off the wall was soothing, but Megumi’s gaze honed in on Sukuna, on surprised red eyes underneath furrowed brows and a mouth ready to protest. Megumi narrowed his eyes, and reached blindly for the door to slam it shut behind him. With his gaze locked on Sukuna he stalked forward. Not a single word passed his lips as he snatched the front of Sukuna’s shirt up, as he marched him backwards to the living room, dropped his bag unceremoniously, letting it hit the floor with a heavy thud. And Megumi still didn’t say a word as Sukuna’s footing slipped beneath him, dragging them both to the floor. 

Pain echoed in Megumi’s knees, but it was ignored in favour of throwing his weight across Sukuna’s waist, thighs pressed on either side of him. The moment Sukuna lifted his head up, lips parted with some remark on his tongue, Megumi wrapped his fingers around Sukuna’s throat and squeezed. He tilted his head to one side and slowly leaned down. He inched closer and closer into Sukuna’s space, until he could see black pupils expand, until he could see the soft flush creeping up Sukuna’s neck and crawling over his cheeks, until he could hear the short wheezes Sukuna took as he struggled for breath past Megumi’s fingers. 

Megumi held him there, eyes fixed on Sukuna’s face, brushing the tips of their noses together. “I–” Megumi whispered, finally breaking the silence. He leaned further forward until each syllable had his lips grazing across Sukuna’s mouth. It was soft, warm, almost inviting. “–am going to fucking break you tonight.” Sukuna’s lips parted and his chest shuddered with another strangled breath that was trapped in his throat. “I don’t want to hear a single word from your pathetic, disgusting mouth.” 

There was a small, subtle, barely there nod from Sukuna along with a raspy gasp, and the reds of Sukuna’s eyes were nothing but thin halos of fire, burning the edges of infinite darkness. 

It stirred heat within Megumi’s stomach. He twisted his lips into a snarl and held onto that burning fire as he whispered, “And if you even think of disobeying me at all?” Megumi let out a short chuckle and squeezed his fingers a little bit more, angling Sukuna’s chin up in the same motion. Sukuna’s lips parted further, eyes glazing over as Megumi refused to grant him the simple gift of air, of even one gulp of oxygen. Megumi hummed. He’d forgotten how good Sukuna looked beneath him, how pretty his skin could flush, how the soft splattering of freckles across high cheekbones looked illegal on him. Under his fingertips, even through the gloves, Megumi could feel Sukuna’s pulse thunder, could feel the bob of his throat at the whine Sukuna couldn’t voice. “Open,” Megumi said, voice lowered another octave, barely audible in the silent room. 

Another gaspy, noise sounded and Sukuna cracked his lips open wider. Megumi reached into the pocket of his pants and snatched up the gag he’d placed there in the elevator ride up. With no finesse or care, he shoved the ball between Sukuna’s lips. He carried on pushing and pushing until he knocked Sukuna’s head against the floor again. A groan reverberated through Sukuna’s chest, rattling underneath Megumi’s fingers, and Sukuna’s eyes widened with open want, lust, desire and heat aimed directly at Megumi. 

“You’re fucking dispicable,” Megumi snapped and he finally released Sukuna’s throat. Sukuna’s chest expanded with the sudden, noisy breath he inhaled through his nose and he worked his mouth further around the gag in his mouth. The tips of his teeth peeked out from gently snarling lips and Megumi huffed. “I said I don’t want to hear a fucking word.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes but Megumi could see it in the way his chest rose and fell rapidly, in the way his nostrils flared and he tipped his chin up, brows falling towards the centre of his face. Sukuna was enjoying this. He wanted this, wanted more , and Megumi hoped he had too much in store for him. He stared down at Sukuna for another moment, replaying his plan back through his mind. If this didn’t break Sukuna then maybe he had one more thing in store for him. 

With another huff Megumi shoved himself to his feet, being sure to dig his knees into Sukuna’s chest on the way up, and stood over him, feet positioned just underneath Sukuna’s shoulders. He slid his hands into his pants pockets and lifted one foot, settling it in the centre of Sukuna’s chest, the heel of his shoe digging gently into firm muscles. 

It would be so easy to bury a bruise into Sukuna’s muscles, leaven in an imprint behind that would last for days, perhaps weeks if Megumi dug hard enough. Everytime Sukuna unbuttoned a shirt, caught himself in the mirror, or took a shower, he’d see it and remember that Megumi had been there, that Megumi had been the one to lay him out as nothing more than a filthy doormat for him to use. A reminder that Megumi owned his ass and Sukuna’s body was his to use. 

Sukuna belonged to him. 

A warmth flooded through Megumi at that thought and he twisted his heel, adding the slightest pressure until the muscles of Sukuna’s face twitched. “You’re right where you belong,” Megumi said, voice void of any emotion and his eyes dark. “Beneath my foot where I can squash you like an insignificant bug.” Megumi rocked his weight onto the toe of his foot and enjoyed the way Sukuna reacted, muscles tensing, fingertips pressing harshly into the wooden floor beneath them. “I could,” Megumi said, and he dropped the ball of his foot onto Sukuna’s chest with a little added weight. Sukuna shivered, eyes glued to Megumi, a hint of drool twinkling under the lights from Sukuna’s apartment. 

The guy was enjoying this. 

Thriving off of it. 

And Megumi was too. 

But Megumi needed to see more, do more, make Sukuna hurt, make him finally scream and beg Megumi to stop. He dug his heel into Sukuna’s chest until he finally dragged a stifled noise from him. “You mean nothing to me,” Megumi said, tone flat, apathetic. “I could lose you as a client and have three more taking your place.” He lifted his foot up an inch and dropped it harshly against Sukuna’s chest. “You are nothing .” Megumi tilted his head to one side and couldn’t stop the smug, sly grin that slid over his lips. “Tell me, Sukuna,” the words fell from Megumi’s lips before he could stop them, dripping with full intentioned venom, “does anybody really care about you in your shitty life? Or do you wish they did? Do you sit up here all alone, scrolling through their pictures, seeing everybody else having fun, together… without… you ?”

Red eyes peered up at Megumi from beneath tousled pink hair and Megumi could see a dozen thoughts cross through Sukuna’s mind. Could almost hear the clutter of words behind the gag, keeping whatever quip Sukuna had trapped in his mouth. Sukuna dug fingertips into the hardwood floor and his chest heaved with deep breaths, a garbled noise getting lost in his occupied mouth. The next thought to crawl through Sukuna’s brain didn’t need to be said. Megumi could see it in the way Sukuna curled the corners of his lips up, the way he raised his brows at Megumi and all but smirked up at him. 

Megumi scoffed and moved his foot up, nudging the toe of his shoe against Sukuna’s chin. He pushed until Sukuna finally tipped his head up, exposing his throat to Megumi, and up further, until he had to look down the bridge of his nose at Megumi and over the curve of his chin. 

“You’re pathetic,” Megumi said matter of fact, tracing the tip of his shoe down the line of Sukuna’s throat. “Nothing but a waste of time and space.” A shiver rolled through Sukuna’s body and Megumi shook his head, inching the heel of his shoe down until he could feel the bob of Sukuna’s throat. Red eyes widened and Megumi grinned. “You’re stupid too. I could snap your neck right here, right now, and nobody would care, would they?” 

A whine bubbled up Sukuna’s throat and he shook his head once. 

Megumi tutted. “Fucking worthless.” He stepped back and slammed his foot against the floor, enjoying the echoing noise it made, and turned his back on Sukuna. “By the time I’m back you better be naked, on your knees, and facing away from me, hands behind your back. After the shit you’ve pulled you don’t get the honour of looking at me unless I let you.” Megumi snorted and started across the room to where he’d discarded his bag. “You should be lucky if you ever look at my face again.”

Behind him, he heard the rustle of fabric, and the thudding of clothes as Sukuna tossed each article to the floor. “And fold them up!” Megumi shouted over his shoulder. “Unless you really are an animal.” There was a grumble of noise and Megumi narrowed his eyes. Sukuna had no right to complain about anything, no reason to complain. Megumi was the one with everything to lose, who almost had lost everything because of Sukuna’s actions. A scowl darkened Megumi’s features and he finally reached his bag. 

He snatched it up and paused at the awkward bulge of his phone in his pants. Normally he’d shove it into the pocket of his bag before he knocked on the front door, and this time he’d forgotten. He’d been too caught up in his own thoughts, own needs and desires, replaying his plan over and over, imagining all of the ways Sukuna would whine and whimper. 

Megumi huffed, turned on the heels of his feet, and looked over to see what Sukuna had left him to work with. The guy could be obedient when he wanted to be; sitting proudly on his knees, facing away from Megumi, hands tucked into the small of his back, and head tilted up. As Megumi came to a stop, inches away from Sukuna, he dropped his bag to the floor, letting it thud loudly. A small jump rolled through Sukuna’s body and Megumi enjoyed that reaction. He dropped his phone onto the coffee table that had been pushed to one side, took one step towards Sukuna, and clicked his tongue, piercing clacking against his teeth. 

He needed Sukuna to cry. 

He needed Sukuna to tremble, and shake, unable to stop each new tremor that wracked through him. 

He needed Sukuna to break. 

Megumi crouched by his bag and pulled out the longest item he’d brought with him, an adjustable spreader bar with thick cuffs. The bar hung by his side as he stepped between Sukuna’s legs and reached down with his free hand to fist a hand in Sukuna’s hair. Megumi screwed his fingers tightly into pink strands, wrenching Sukuna’s head back until his throat was exposed to the room and Megumi could talk directly down to Sukuna’s face. 

Red eyes immediately found his face, wide, and silently asking what his next command was. Megumi screwed his face up, annoyed he was letting Sukuna see his face already. He wasn’t thinking straight, wasn’t holding himself to his own rules. Sukuna did that to him, made him forget, made him want to give in and go with whatever instinct burnt through his veins. He hated him for that. 

With another twist of his fingers, Megumi pulled Sukuna’s head further back, until he was staring at the tip of Sukuna’s nose. Without wasting another breath Megumi opened his mouth and spat a thick wad of spit directly onto Sukuna’s cheek. “Who do you think you are?” Megumi hissed quietly, eyes fixed on one particular drop of spit that crept its way over Sukuna’s face, angling towards the corner of his mouth. “How dare you think you get to look at me tonight. Did I say you could? Did I give you permission to open your eyes and gawk at me like some lost child? Your face belongs on the floor, where nobody has to see how hideous you really are. I don’t want you lifting your head up an inch, you hear me?”

From here, Megumi could see Sukuna’s bob, and he could see the speckles of drool the man spat around the edges of the gag. Megumi snorted. The idiot either hadn’t noticed Megumi hadn’t fastened it or didn’t care. Either conclusion only solidified Megumi’s thoughts about Sukuna; he was desperate for attention, desperate for somebody to give him some sort of physical affirmation. Nobody else filled the void like Megumi did and Megumi felt the very idea of it go to his head. He was certain he could do anything and Sukuna would let him, would ask him for more in fact. 

In his grip Sukuna nodded, and when Megumi looked past his chin, past the heaving chest of firm, full muscles, he noticed the way Sukuna’s cock was already hard. 

Megumi’s thoughts danced towards the array of items he’d brought with him. He’d have to fix that problem of Sukuna’s before he truly wrung Sukuna dry. 

A scoff crackled across Megumi’s lips. He shoved Sukuna forward, hard, tucked the bar underneath his arm, and grabbed the ends of the gag to finally secure it into place. Once the straps dug into Sukuna’s skin a little too hard, Megumi stepped back, grabbed the bar, and pressed one end of it into the space between Sukuna’s shoulders. “Face, floor, now .” 

It was almost impressive with how fast Sukuna threw himself down, hands cushioning his fall. Almost. Megumi didn’t care. He took another step back and fell gently to his own knees by Sukuna’s feet. He positioned the bar between Sukuna’s ankles, fastened the cuffs around each limb, and made them both one notch too tight. Happy, Megumi reached for the centre of the bar, his eyes fixed on where Sukuna’s thighs met at his hips. He pushed down the small spring lock and extended the polse to the next notch, then the next, and the next. 

For a few moments Megumi stopped to stare at how far Sukuna’s legs were spread. There were still three notches left on the bar and Megumi contemplated it for all of two seconds. Then he shoved the poles as far apart as he could, grinning at the way Sukuna fumbled on his knees at the sudden spread. Sukuna wriggled his hips and adjusted his knees to the new position, a newfound tension running through his shoulders. Slowly, Sukuna started to lift his head up and Megumi watched him pause, consider it, and drop his face back to the floor. 

“So you can fucking listen,” Megumi chided and he wrapped one hand around the centre of the bar to push it forward, forcing Sukuna to drag his knees across the floor, forcing himself to present himself further to Megumi. Happy with Sukuna’s new position, Megumi reached for his bag and grabbed the next items of the night; wrist to thigh cuffs. “Hands,” Megumi snapped. There was a glimmer of hesitation in Sukuna’s form before he adjusted his weight across his knees, wriggled until his chest and shoulders were pressed against the floor, and threw his arms back. 

Megumi snatched one wrist up, fastened a cuff to it, and attached the other end around Sukuna’s thigh, repeating the motion on his other wrist. Again, Megumi fastened each cuff one notch too tight and sat back to admire the simple form of Sukuna laid out for him. It was beautiful to see him unable to resist Megumi, unable to fight back or stop him. Megumi was free to do anything and Sukuna could do nothing to stop him. 

It was perfect. 

He went back to his bag, grabbed one of the packets of lube he’d brought with him, tore it open, and squeezed the packet onto his gloved fingers. Megumi tossed the empty packet to one side, grabbed the thick prostate massager he’d packed earlier, and positioned himself back between Sukuna’s thighs, feet hooked over the bar between Sukuna’s ankles. “You,” Megumi said, dropping the massager between his legs for now, “are an asshole. He grabbed a handful of Sukuna’s ass with his unslicked hand, pulling his cheeks apart to give himself better access, and unceremoniously shoved one finger into Sukuna’s tight heat. 

The sudden intrusion made Sukuna jump, grunt, and tense, only filling Megumi with pride. Sukuna screwed his fingers into tight fists by his sides and tugged at the restraints. Megumi only clicked his tongue, roughly working a second finger into Sukuna much sooner than he should have. 

“I don’t care,” Megumi said, “if it hurts. I don’t care,” he twisted his fingers and spread them, taking delight in the noises Sukuna shouted behind his gag, “if you bleed .” He was ruthless as he speared his fingers into Sukuna, stabbing against sensitive nerves, hitting his prostate with abandon. “You’re lucky I even used lube,” Megumi hissed and he wrapped his other hand around Sukuna’s waist, pinning him in place as Megumi callously pressed a third finger into Sukuna, aware it was too tight. “You don’t deserve it, not one bit.” 

Sukuna twisted underneath him. His thighs trembled and Megumi could feel the way he tried to close his knees, tried to pull forward and push back at the same time. It was so abhorrent how much Sukuna enjoyed this, the way he sought more with the heavy moans that were too much on the side of pleasure. Megumi snorted. It was pathetic, almost pitible, how desperate Sukuna was for this. For a brief moment, Megumi almost felt sorry for him. Almost wondered what could drive a man in Sukuna’s position to a place of complete obedience by Megumi’s feet. Stress? Most people were content with a quick fuck to de-stress, or alcohol, or cigarettes. Did Sukuna have some self esteem issues? Is that why he got off on Megumi spitting venom at him? Or was this kind of physical and verbal interaction all that he had known? All that he thought was normal and natural human behaviour? Or was it as simple as Sukuna was so unfulfilled in his life that anything would suffice? 

Megumi doubted that point. Sukuna was a man who looked as though he could have anyone or anything he wanted. 

Mei Mei’s words echoed in the back of his mind; the threat of losing his job, of getting run out of town, and whatever short lived pity Megumi had gathered for Sukuna with his previous thoughts, disappeared. Sukuna was so self absorbed, so self centred, so selfish, that he’d put Megumi’s job at risk. And why? For three weeks Sukuna had cancelled on him without so much as a reason. He’d seen the emails, they were blunt and short; I need to cancel tonight’s session. Nothing else and not one single apology. Not. One. There was no thought to Megumi, no consideration to repercussions. Sukuna expected the world to revolve around him, forgetting that other people lived in the same world. 

Without thinking Megumi wrenched his fingers free from Sukuna’s heat and struck them hard across Sukuna’s skin. The resounding slap echoed wonderfully and forced Sukuna to rock forward on his knees and shoulders with a guttural noise. There was a pleasant stinging across the palm of Megumi’s hand and he went in for a second strike, harder this time, forcing the first blossom of pink to bloom.  

He wanted to keep going, to hit him again. To see how red he could turn his skin, to see who broke first; Sukuna’s ass or Megumi’s hand. He wanted to strike Sukuna until he trembled and sobbed, until he furiously shook his head and begged Megumi, “No more.” 

Megumi grabbed the massager, slathered it with whatever lube remained on his fingers, and lined the head up with Sukuna’s muscles. It was thick, and when Megumi started to push it in, he felt the first hint of resistance, letting him know he hadn’t quite prepped Sukuna enough. He didn’t care. Sukuna wanted to hurt and Megumi wanted to hurt him. They were made for each other. Megumi pulled Sukuna’s waist towards himself and pushed on the massager, eyes fixed on that ring of muscles, watching them stretch around the tip, clench, and unclench with each new press. 

There was a loud, muffled groan from Sukuna and Megumi scowled at how tense Sukuna was. He dragged his free hand down, pulling at Sukuna’s cheeks to help open him up more, easing the slide of the massager a fraction. “I should cancel,” Megumi said, grunting the moment the thick head popped inside of Sukuna. There was no pause or hesitation from Megumi, no letting Sukuna get used to the new weight. He twisted the massager one way, then the other, angled it down, pushed it up, and made Sukuna’s muscles work. 

“I should blacklist you from the club and from every other club in the city.” On a sharp exhale, Megumi shoved the massager roughly into Sukuna, sinking it up to the hilt and jerking Sukuna forward on his knees. It was almost fun to see Sukuna stumble to hold himself up on his shoulders, to see him wriggle and squirm to right his frame and spread his weight across his knees again. 

Almost. 

Megumi pushed the massager as far as he could reach and flicked it on to the highest setting. The effect was instant. Sukuna almost fell forward and Megumi had to catch him with both hands, pulling him back onto his knees. The brief interlude didn’t stop Sukuna from writhing and pulling at his restraints. Sukuna pressed his face harder against the floor with a groan, choked on another noise, and huffed deeply through his nose. 

Happy that Sukuna wasn’t about to fall over again, Megumi grabbed the base of the massager and moved it up, down, left, right, twisted it, pushed and pulled. Over and over, wrenching fresh noises from Sukuna’s throat with each new touch. “The last thing I should be doing,” Megumi said, “is letting you enjoy anything.” 

The only answer Megumi received was another drawn out groan. In response he ground the massager against Sukuna’s prostate, turned the speed down, and back up again. With his other hand Megumi reached between Sukuna’s legs and curled his fingers around Sukuna’s leaking length. It earned him a whine, and Megumi roughly pumped Sukuna in time with each twist or push of the massager, stoking Sukuna’s nerves inside and out. He pushed, pulled, and twisted the massager, angling it up, down, searching everywhere with it, his other hand fisted tightly around Sukuna’s cock. 

Megumi repeated his motions over and over, dragging across every sensitive nerve he could find, making Sukuna shudder and tremble on each new touch. Until Sukuna’s next whine was high pitched and loud, until Sukuna shuddered and curled in on himself, every muscle of his body straining at the sudden tenseness that snapped through him, until Sukuna’s cock twitched in his grasp, drops of cum painting Megumi’s hand. Sukuna pulled at the restraints, wringing his wrists against the cuffs, more guttural noises filling his throat. 

Another jostle of the massager made Sukuna whimper and Megumi hummed, bumping the massager against Sukuna’s prostate until Sukuna thunked his head against the floor with a pitiful whine. It was truly pathetic and it only served to stoke the burning fire within Megumi’s stomach. He eased up with his weapon, turned the vibrations down to the lowest setting. The gentle buzzing was almost impossible to hear over Sukuna’s soft noises, and Megumi wiped his cum soiled hand across Sukuna’s back and trailed a finger from the massager down his crease. He followed the swell of Sukuna’s balls, watched them tremble from his touch, and tracked his finger further down, tracing the length of Sukuna’s cock. Megumi tapped each piercing on his way, taking pleasure in the tiny shivers that rocked through Sukuna, until he reached the head and pinched at the sensitive tip. 

“This is the last thing you’re going to enjoy tonight,” Megumi whispered. He released Sukuna’s cock with a hum, reached for his bag and dragged it closer. From within he pulled out a metal cock cage. It was one of the larger ones Megumi owned and he’d at least been considerate enough to think about the piercings Sukuna had before he’d packed his bag. He grabbed another packet of lube, tore it open, and dribbled it over the metal rings. He tossed the now empty packet to one side, mentally promising to make Sukuna clean up later, and shuffled forward on until his knees were propped against Sukuna’s knees, keeping them spread wide.

Sukuna flinched when Megumi grabbed his softening cock and Megumi ignored it, along with any confused noises Sukuna made, in order to fasten the cage around Sukuna’s cock, locking it in place with a resounding click. They were both still, and the moment it sunk in for Sukuna what happened, he thrashed. Behind the gag he spat wordless venom, and Megumi slid the key into his pocket.

Ignoring every new fit Sukuna threw, Megumi calmly reached for the final item of the night, a riding crop that just about fit inside of his bag. It wasn’t often Megumi used such an item, restricting it more for those who had been clients of his for years, for those who asked and prepared for it beforehand. Never had he turned up with it unannounced. The same could be said of the cage he’d fastened around Sukuna. They were two things he normally talked about before he even considered using them. 

It was another one of his carefully created rules he’d followed religiously, until tonight, until Sukuna. 

Megumi stood up, stretched the kinks out of his legs, and made his way to where Sukuna lay, where his cheek was pressed firmly against the floor. To his delight, Sukuna’s eyes were closed and he huffed on deep breaths. Megumi stopped with his feet in front of Sukuna’s face and tapped the leathered, paddled end of the crop to Sukuna’s cheek. It stilled him to attention. A smirk threatened the corners of Megumi’s lips up and he traced the crop down Sukuna’s cheek, teased his chin, and tapped twice until Sukuna awkwardly lifted his head up off the floor to peer up at Megumi. 

That look cracked a sly, dark grin across Megumi’s face. He fell to his knees in front of Sukuna, fisted a hand into pink hair, and dragged Sukuna’s face further up until Sukuna’s neck strained from the angle, until Sukuna rasped on each breath he could drag into his lungs. Megumi tapped the crop against Sukuna’s cheek, snapping red eyes to his face in an instant. “‘When I make an appointment, I keep them. Is it really too much to ask that you do the same?’” Megumi hunched forward, leaning further into Sukuna’s space with each word he spoke. “That’s what you said to me, remember?” Sukuna swallowed and nodded. Megumi hummed and pressed the tip of the crop underneath Sukuna’s chin, digging it into the muscle there. Satisfied that there would be a mar, Megumi dropped the crop to the floor with an obnoxious clatter, reached for the gag, and tugged it from between Sukuna’s lips, letting it settle against his chin. “And you also mentioned something about courtesy. Do you recall what you said?” 

Sukuna blinked, swallowed noisily, licked his lips, and nodded once. “I- I- I said I have the courtesy to tell someone the day- the day before that I need to cancel. Not the day of.” 

Megumi whistled lowly, and lightly slapped Sukuna’s cheek with a condescending grin. “Wow, I guess some old dogs aren’t as stupid as they look. Lucky you.” He leaned further into Sukuna’s space, until their noses brushed, until he could hear Sukuna’s ragged breaths, until Megumi could count the subtle freckles across Sukuna’s cheeks. Quietly, with his voice barely above a whisper, Megumi said, “So that makes you a liar and a hypocrite.” 

Red eyes widened and Sukuna tensed, body freezing at the awful truth Megumi brought to life. Megumi’s grin crackled wider and he slapped Sukuna’s cheek once, twice, thrice, each smack harder than the last, until a soft pink imprint of his hand remained. Sukuna groaned, a lust filled haziness beginning to cloud his gaze. 

“You want this,” Megumi grabbed the crop again, brandishing it in front of Sukuna’s eyes in the small space between them, “don’t you?”

Sukuna nodded with a noise, alertness clawing its way back into his gaze. “ Yes .”

Megumi scoffed, released Sukuna’s hair, and hurriedly shoved the gag back between Sukuna’s teeth. “Even when I give you the honour of speaking you still forget how to address me.” He climbed to his feet and slapped the cane in one gloved hand, the noise reverberating in teh calm air. His steps echoed behind him, and Megumi tapped his tongue piercing against the backs of his teeth. 

Step. Slap. Tap. Step. Slap. Tap. 

Each noise had the muscles of Sukuna’s back subtly twitching, fingers tensing, and feet curling against the floor. When Megumi made it to Sukuna’s feet he stopped walking and slapped the cane straight across the backs of Sukuna’s thighs, igniting a heady, shocked noise from Sukuna’s throat. Megumi wasted little time in delivering a second strike, directly across both cheeks, catching the underside of the massager. Sukuna groaned with a full body quiver, a sharp tautness quickly following suit, wrists pulling at the restraints all over again. 

Megumi eyed the thin red lines and narrowed his eyes. They weren’t dark enough. He grabbed the end of the crop in his hand, settled his feet on either side of Sukuna’s thighs, and flicked the tip of the crop against Sukuna’s skin. The dark bruise was instant and he prodded at it with the crop, enjoying the way Sukuna canted forward, moaning as Megumi twisted the crop into the mark until he was sure there was a bruise underneath that one. 

“You still want this?” Megumi whispered, dragging the flat edge of the crop over Sukuna’s skin, pebbling goosebumps across his flesh. “You want me to hit you again?” Sukuna nodded his head with a quiet noise and Megumi lightly tapped the crop against the side of Sukuna’s thigh. “You want me to hit you harder?” Another nod. Megumi hummed and hit Sukuna with the same strength against his other thigh. “Why?” 

Sukuna froze and Megumi tilted his head to one side as he nudged the end of the massager with the crop, wriggling it in Sukuna’s heat. 

“You lied to me,” Megumi said, “you’re a hypocrite. And you want me to give you what you want?” Megumi scoffed and traced the crop down Sukuna’s ass, down his perineum, and over the swell of his balls. “Why?” There was no weight in his swing when Megumi flicked the crop up against his balls, making Sukuna flinch and whine. Megumi chuckled and reached further down to strike the cage that encased Sukuna’s cock with more force, fully rocking Sukuna on his knees. “Why should I give you anything?”

He drew his arm back and cracked the crop across Sukuna’s skin, leaving a thin, deep red line in its wake. Sukuna yelled, head jerking up, his body sliding forward on his shoulders several inches. Megumi struck Sukuna again, sending a full body shuddering roll through him, forcing Sukuna to press his forehead to the floor with a deep noise from the depths of his lungs. Megumi felt that noise in his own bones, the raw sound of too much, of not enough, the scream one made when they danced along that dangerous edge between sanity and insanity. 

Megumi wanted to push him over that edge, wanted Sukuna to drown in that insanity until he couldn’t remember which way was up and what colour the sky was. 

For now, he allowed Sukuna a brief respite in order to crouch over him, one hand splayed across Sukuna’s back, pinning the crop between his hand and Sukuna’s muscles. With his other hand, Megumi turned the speed of the massager up, twisted it inside of Sukuna, and traced his fingers over the fresh marks. He dug into the skin with sharp fingertips until Sukuna whimpered, desperately pitching forward on every touch, whining as he tried in vain to close his legs, and rocked back and forth on his knees. 

“What?” Megumi snapped, and he slapped the palm of his hand across Sukuna’s thighs, over the marks he’d already pressed into the skin. He struck Sukuna four more times, each smack growing heavier and louder, until his fourth hit caught the top of the massager and Sukuna’s body tensed with a fresh, long whine. Fresh trembles shook through Sukuna and Megumi paused to slide a thumb between Sukuna’s cheeks, tracing it down. When he met Sukuna’s balls he flicked a finger against them, delighted in the shocked cry he let out, and carried on until he could poke at Sukuna’s stifled cock inside of the cage. 

“Oh,” Megumi mocked, pushing a finger through one of the metal rings by the tip. Even through the glove Megumi could tell Sukuna was wet, that his cock was leaking. Judging by the noises Sukuna no longer seemed able to control, the constant tremors that shook him down to his knees, Sukuna was close to cumming again and it hurt him. Good. The cage was doing its job. “What?” he sneered. “You want to come again? Already?” He prodded his finger through the rings again, nudging at Sukuna’s piercings, taking too much pleasure in the noises that fell from Sukuna’s throat. “I’m not stopping you, Sukuna.” 

Out of the corner of his eyes Sukuna lifted his head up and tried to look over his shoulder. Megumi could feel the frustration radiating from Sukuna’s skin, the tension drumming through his veins the longer this went on. He didn’t care. This was exactly what he wanted; Sukuna suffering. Megumi lifted his hand up and struck Sukuna square across his ass, over and over, unrelenting, until he finally heard the first crack of a sob. The muscles of Sukuna’s thighs gave way and he fell forward across the floor, legs twisting awkwardly at the new angle, and small shudders practically making Sukuna’s skin vibrate. 

Megumi paused, hand stilling in mid air, and tilted his head to one side. He leaned back onto his ankles and looked down at the space between Sukuna’s legs. A small puddle was forming and thick drops of cum oozed from the tip of Sukuna’s trapped cock. A grin crawled across Megumi’s face and he fixed his gaze on that trail, grabbed the massager, and ground it against Sukuna’s walls. The man writhed, noises stifled in his throat as he yelled behind the gag, nose bubbling with more wet noises. But more cum leaked from Sukuna’s cock and pooled against the floor the more Megumi teased his muscles. 

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Megumi teased, twisting the massager and turning the speed up, up, up , until Sukuna slumped further onto his shoulders. The sound of Sukuna’s ragged breaths filled the air and it was only then that Megumi finally turned the speed down, letting go of the massager to let it rest within Sukuna’s twitching muscles. 

Megumi hummed and circled a finger around the puckered muscles, admiring the tender redness that was enveloping them and the way they twitched under his touch. He reached into his bag and grabbed another packet of lube to dribble over Sukuna and the toy. With that out of the way Megumi grabbed Sukuna’s ass in both hands, crop still balanced between his palm and Sukuna’s skin, and squeezed, digging his nails into the firm muscles. “I want to bruise you,” he muttered, and he skimmed one hand across Sukuna’s muscles, stopping here and there to poke at the blemishes he’d drummed into him. Tiny hairs prickled up from his touch and Megumi brought his hand down in a swift strike against Sukuna’s skin. 

Another noise rattled roughly from Sukuna’s throat and his body jerked from the touch. Megumi hit him again, and again, each strike rising in intensity, landing harder and heavier each time until Megumi’s skin sang from the slaps, until his own muscles tingled with pain. “I want you to look in the mirror,” Megumi said, punctuating each word with another smack, “see these marks, feel them whenever you sit down, and remember it was me who hurt you. And you were powerless to stop me.” The final strike landed square across the massager and Sukuna howled, muscles tensing, toes slipping across the floor, chest sliding the other way, thighs pressing hard against Megumi’s own. 

Everything was quiet except for Sukuna’s heavy breaths as Megumi admired his handy work. The red of Sukuna’s skin almost matched that of his eyes, and when Megumi pressed against the lines he’d imprinted with the crop, he could make out the start of purpling bruises. Soft whimpers filled the air and Sukuna shivered from each touch. Megumi dug a little harder into a mark on the very curve of Sukuna’s ass and the man beneath him moaned. 

It was Megumi’s turn to freeze. Sukuna was still enjoying himself, and was still finding some form of pleasure from it all. The start of a red mist descended over Megumi’s gaze. He grabbed Sukuna’s waist in both hands, held him steady, and snapped his own hips forward, thrusting against the massager. Sukuna shook with a drowning whimper, and Megumi bucked his hips again, and again, and again, aiming to strike the massager and rock it harder against Sukuna’s prostate. 

Each thrust greeted Megumi with the sight of Sukuna visibly shaking, the sounds of whimpering, and the restraints rattling with each new swathe of tension Megumi punched into him. It was going to stain his pants, again, and possibly his shirt, but Megumi didn’t care. He wanted Sukuna to suffer, and he remembered the last time they’d done this, how Sukuna had lamented at the fact Megumi was refusing to fuck him with his cock. He wanted Sukuna to remember that feeling, that disappointment that Megumi refused to give him the real thing. 

Between thrusts Megumi brought his hand down to redden already red marks, pinched at the sides of Sukuna’s thighs, and even brought the crop down across the delicious curve of Sukuna’s spine. Thin red lines decorated the skin and Megumi snapped the crop two more times across Sukuna until tiny droplets of red seeped to the surface. Only then did Megumi stop, his own chest heaving, the knuckles of his hands sure to be white behind the gloves, and his mind narrowed on the deep, steady groans Sukuna slurred into the open air. 

Megumi snapped his head up at those noises, eyes narrowed, brows drawn deep. The last thing Sukuna was supposed to be doing was enjoying himself, enjoying this in the slightest. Megumi had gone through shit because of him, and had almost lost his job. He’d most definitely lost part of his pride and dignity because Sukuna– didn’t– he– 

A frustrated noise crept up Megumi’s throat and he threw himself over Sukuna’s frame, abandoning the crop for now. He fisted one hand tightly into pink hair and pulled Sukuna’s head up until he could wrap his other hand around Sukuna’s throat. Megumi was less than gentle as he hauled Sukuna up, pulled him onto his knees, and drew him against Megumi’s chest, head tipped back to nestle against his shoulder. 

“You,” Megumi spat, “have no care for the consequences of others.” He squeezed his fingers an inch and Sukuna’s throat bobbed in his grip, struggling for a breath. Megumi sneered and rocked his hips forward, aiming for the massager. Sukuna arched, back coming away from Megumi’s chest with a throaty groan that resonated through him and echoed in Megumi’s fingers. “Considering you spoke such a big game about the right thing , about communicating, about politeness, you lack that very foundation yourself.” 

Megumi let go of Sukuna’s hair to grab the base of the massager and rip it from Sukuna with a little care. There was a strained grunt from Sukuna, Megumi tsked him, and pressed the still vibrating head against Sukuna’s cock cage. Sukuna shuddered, hips bucking wildly up, and groaned deeply, shaking underneath Megumi’s touch. “You have no regard for how your actions affect others, do you?” He tightened his fingers around Sukuna’s throat and pressed the massager harder against the cage until Sukuna bucked again, thrashed, and shook his head with pitiful whimpers. 

The sounds of the rattling restraints overpowered that of Sukuna’s noises and Megumi held the massager there, tracing each ring of the cage. It slid and slipped, Sukuna’s dripping cum making it difficult to keep in place, and Megumi reaffirmed his grip to glide it down. He pressed it against Sukuna’s balls, igniting a new flurry of noises, forcing Sukuna to writhe and shiver, garbled, slurred noises holding no coherent thoughts. He arched up and up, throwing his head further back against Megumi’s shoulder, twisting his head to press his nose to Megumi’s cheek. Deep, heavy breaths fanned across Megumi’s skin, and Megumi refused to look at him, ignoring the way Sukuna accidentally pressed drool to his cheek, the way he shook his head from side to side, and the way Sukuna’s whines sounded hoarse and raw. 

Sukuna slumped, rolling his head across Megumi’s shoulder and Megumi finally glanced at him. 

He froze. 

Sukuna’s eyes were half lidded. Dried tears decorated his cheeks and lashes, his skin was completely flushed, and drool was drying down his chin. 

Flicking the massager off Megumi whispered, “Sukuna?” and dropped the toy to the floor in a loud clatter. Now that the noise of vibrations was gone, Megumi could more clearly hear the raspy breaths Sukuna struggled to take. He loosened his grip on Sukuna’s throat and listened to the deep, shaking breaths that rattled through Sukuna’s frame on each gasp. “Sukuna?” Megumi tried again, voice louder. 

Sukuna didn’t look at him. His gaze was unfocused, fixed on a random point and Megumi swallowed thickly. He lifted a shaking hand up to the back of Sukuna’s head and fumbled with the strap of the gag, regretting the last ten minutes of the night. Once he managed to loosen it, it fell to the floor and Sukuna’s voice was nothing but deep, ragged breaths. A thick wad of drool dangled from his chin and between choked breaths, Sukuna whispered, “ Megumi . Please, I– I–” Sukuna shook his head with a low whine, brows creasing and face scrunching up. 

A lump formed in the back of Megumi’s throat and he struggled to swallow it down. He loosened his grip on Sukuna’s neck until he was supporting his head, and he brushed a thumb along Sukuna’s jaw. Every inch of Sukuna’s body shuddered, each muscle trembled to its own tune, and Sukuna gasped throatily on each breath. More drool dripped onto Megumi’s hand and Sukuna pressed his face into the crook of Megumi’s shoulder with another, slurred murmur of his name. 

It took Megumi a little jostling to reach down and fumble with the cuffs around Sukuna’s ankles, the older man all but leaning all of his weight on to Megumi. He was out of it, and Megumi kicked himself before finally shoving the cuffs away from Sukuna’s ankles. It took more manhandling in order for him to put himself on his knees in front of Sukuna, one hand on Sukuna’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck. 

From here, Megumi could see just how out of it Sukuna was. Pupils blown wide, red irises barely visible through the fog that clouded his vision, the inability to focus his attention on anything, and Sukuna struggling to stay upright without Megumi’s assistance. “Shit,” Megumi whispered, guilt dropping into his stomach like a lead weight. Words clawed at his throat, each one laced with acid, and as much as Megumi wanted to bring them to life, he couldn’t. Not like this. Sukuna wouldn’t hear him properly and Megumi would only need to repeat himself again once Sukuna had fully come down. 

With one hand he held Sukuna up whilst he worked on unlocking the cock cage. Megumi let it fall to the ground, fully aware of the low moan Sukuna let out, and he wrapped his arm around Sukuna’s waist, pulling his face back to the crook of his neck. In his ear Sukuna struggled for even breaths, each one just as ragged as the last, and the guilt within Megumi’s stomach twisted violently. “Sukuna?” he whispered, testing the waters. 

“Mmhmm,” Sukuna slurred. “Mo-more.” 

“No,” Megumi whispered, “no more.” A sob sounded and Megumi screwed his eyes shut with his own regret. “Sukuna-”

“O-one, one more.” 

“I shouldn’t-”

“Please.” 

Megumi tightened his hold on Sukuna and let out a withering breath. “One more,” he mumbled. The least he could do was give Sukuna one pleasant orgasm of the night, one round of euphoria that was meant for his enjoyment. Gingerly he eased a free hand between them and took Sukuna’s cock between his fingers. The response was instant, Sukuna sagging further against him, mouth muttering incoherent words, cock leaking heavily across his fingers. “I shouldn’t-” Megumi started, talking more to himself than Sukuna. “I fucked up,” he confessed, squeezing his fingers ever so slightly. Sukuna whined in his ear, the noise tapering off into a sob, and Megumi turned his head to bury his nose in the crook of Sukuna’s neck, feigning some sort of comfort. “I fucked up big time,” he mumbled against Sukuna’s skin, fully inhaling the deep, warm, earthy scent of Sukuna.

Subspace.

It was something Megumi discussed with his clients long before he sent them there. It was something he talked to them about before he tipped them over that edge into it. Sometimes he’d break a scene in the middle to let his clients know about his concerns, asking them if they wanted to continue. Other times Megumi would ease up and pull back, dialling the session down to avoid it. It was a selfish thing to go out of his way to avoid it as often as he could, he knew that, but subspace meant extended hours, extended aftercare, extended work. It meant Megumi had to give more, and had to want to be more for his clients. It was difficult, for anyone, and it was one thing Megumi found the hardest thing to care for. 

Considering everything in his life, every obstacle that had been thrown his way, every bump in the road he’d had to endure, Megumi very much felt as though there were plenty of days where he was still fighting. Trying to give that extra level of support to other people, to strangers , when he didn’t have his own? When he felt as though he was barely swimming above the surface? He couldn’t do it. Not comfortable, and not as well as he hoped he would. 

Slowly Megumi pumped his fingers up and down Sukuna’s length. He owed Sukuna one easy orgasm of the night, one that wasn’t drenched with pain or cruelty. After this? Megumi cracked his eyes open and stared down at the thin red lines across Sukuna’s back. Internally he winced. It had been years since he’d drawn blood so willingly and openly, years since he’d intentionally caused physical damage that would last for weeks, that may even never quite fade if they were unlucky. 

After Gojo he’d said no more. 

He’d drawn a line in the sand and forced himself to remain on the right side of it, the safe side, the side with all of his little rules and promises. 

Sukuna trembled and Megumi rubbed a gentle hand up and down Sukuna’s back, being careful of every tender mark. He curled his hand into a soft fist and twisted it around the head of Sukuna’s cock, dragging a shaky whimper from him. 

There was no fanfare as Sukuna came this time. No tension drawing him taut, no guttural cry as he quivered and shook. It was a quiet affair. A soft, long, noise that echoed deep within Megumi’s core, a slight shiver, and another torn off whine, cock weakly throbbing between Megumi’s fingers, before Sukuna fell further against Megumi, covering his hand in his release. 

“I got you,” Megumi whispered with his own shaking breath, “I got you.” He didn’t know what he was going to do. Sukuna was almost limp, barely responsive, his hands still bound. For a full minute Megumi was silent as he squashed his own guilt down and tried to approach this methodically. He needed to free Sukuna from the restraints. That was first and foremost, and Megumi handled Sukuna against him as he fumbled to unlock the first restraint with one hand. He wished he hadn’t fastened them so tightly and frustration ran through his fingers, making them shake all the more. 

When the first cuff finally unlocked, letting Sukuna’s wrist fall limp by his side, Megumi let out a sigh of relief and worked on unfastening the cuff from his thigh. He tossed them across the floor, and wriggled to Sukuna’s other side to free him there too. It took him less time to unlock Sukuna’s wrist this time and Megumi reached blindly for Sukuna’s wrists with his hands, being sure to keep Sukuna’s chin propped atop his shoulder. “I got you,” he mumbled, trying to convince himself and Sukuna, running the pads of his thumbs gently over Sukuna’s wrists. 

An ache settled in Megumi’s knees and he glanced down at their position, mentally figuring out how best to move Sukuna after this point. Getting him to stand was out of the question until Sukuna was a little more coherent. Megumi didn’t want to accidentally hurt him or do the wrong thing whilst Sukuna was in this state. For now, Megumi worked on wrapping his arms around Sukuna and awkwardly bringing his feet underneath him. It took him a lot of wriggling and huffing, but Megumi managed to sit himself on the floor. Slowly he started to lean back, intent to lay down, and pulled Sukuna with him, keeping his face nestled against Megumi’s chest. 

It took the wind out of his lungs once Sukuna was settled, but Megumi closed his eyes and carded his fingers gently through sweat-dampened pink hair, his other hand working in small circles across Sukuna’s shoulders. 

The only noises to fill the air were Sukuna’s still shaky breaths, the odd, barely coherent word he mumbled, and the twitching of his muscles as reality started to come back to him. Meanwhile Megumi stared at the ceiling, a permanent frown etched into his features, the top ball bearing from his tongue piercing nestled between his teeth, tapping it incessantly against them. 

He’d lost his cool, lost his temper. Forgotten about the basic rules of etiquette and the basic necessities that were a must. He’d completely removed Sukuna’s ability to inform him about his state of mind, about his well being. Hell, Sukuna had no way of telling Megumi he wasn’t enjoying anything. Megumi had done everything wrong because he was in a bad mood. 

Because Tsumiki was suffering. 

Because his step mom was insufferable. 

Because Mei Mei had threatened to fire him. 

Because Sukuna had cancelled on him. 

Megumi stilled his fingers, his brain caught on that last thought. Sukuna had cancelled on him six times in a row, far too late into the day when it would be too late to recoup any money or for Megumi to arrange for a session with somebody else. Sukuna knew their policies. Megumi had told him in their first session the very basics about payment and cancellations. His brain cycled back to the last time they’d been together, the last time they’d spoken. It made Megumi’s ribs ache at the thought. He’d been riddled with bruises, aches and pains. He’d all but collapsed on top of Sukuna, unable to hold himself up any longer, strength drained from his body. Sukuna had given him the wonderful compliment that he looked like shit. He’d looked like shit and felt even because just two days before that session, Megumi’s ribs had been kicked in. 

Something else niggled at his mind and absentmindedly Megumi tapped a finger against Sukuna’s shoulder. “Take a break.” Megumi stilled his hands and sucked in a shallow breath. He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled, forcing his hand to work in circles across Sukuna’s shoulders again, his expression softening. When Sukuna had said that, Megumi didn’t think Sukuna would force him to take one at the expense of his own bank account. 

“I get it,” Megumi whispered, the pieces clicking together. “I guess I would’ve done the same,” he mumbled and he finally glanced down to see Sukuna with his eyes half closed, fingers gingerly twitching into a loose fist. “You don’t have to worry about me,” Megumi carried on, unsure if Sukuna could even hear him in this state. “I don’t want you to worry about me. It’s not your job to.” That felt like a weak excuse, even to Megumi’s ears and he pursed his lips. Sukuna was just being a decent human being, going out of his way to give a little bit of a shit about Megumi when he needed it, even if he hadn’t asked for the help. 

“I’m not as selfish as you might think me to be .”

Those words echoed in Megumi’s mind, and it made something warm in his chest. Megumi fought to beat it away, a dry chuckle shaking his lungs as Sukuna was proving himself right, if Megumi’s assumption was true. “Fuck. You–” he started, almost in disbelief, lips twisted into a smile. He tilted his head to see the look in Sukuna’s eyes slowly starting to clear and Megumi brushed pink hair away from his face. He sighed. “And look what I did to you.” 

He was going to assign Sukuna another dom. And afterwards he was going to apologise, beg on his knees for Sukuna not to report him to Mei Mei, plead for forgiveness and promise Sukuna that he’ll never lay another finger on him. Maybe Sukuna didn’t have limits, but it was clear Megumi had found some kind of limit, some sort of edge to Sukuna’s conscious thoughts. Megumi found the line and crossed it without consent, without checking that it was okay and that Sukuna was happy to take his hand and follow him into the unknown. 

Megumi fucked up. 

Again. 

It made his mouth run dry and had him swallowing thickly, forcing his fingers to work over Sukuna’s skin and through his hair. This job was meant to be the one thing in his life he could control, the one thing he was utterly careful about because it wasn’t just about him, it was about his partners and their needs too. People relied on him to have a steady head, to be smart and have a level of dissociation to help keep them both grounded. Yet, here he was, sending Sukuna into a subspace he hadn’t asked for. Megumi didn’t even know if he’d wanted it and he forced his gaze back to the ceiling, trying to quieten the rapid thoughts of his brain that pounded against the walls. 

It was an eternity of silence before Sukuna rolled his head to the other side and smacked his lips together with a murmur. Megumi stopped his fingers and focused all of his attention on his client, studying him carefully. 

“Me- gumi?” Sukuna mumbled, voice hoarse and laced with a hint of slurriness.

“Right here,” Megumi whispered, tracing his fingers down Sukuna’s cheek and gently tipping his head up. Glimmers of red glinted up at him. They were still tired, and slightly off centre, but there was more alertness to them, more awareness, and Megumi clung to that little fact. “Wanna stay here a little longer?” 

There was a small cloud of confusion lingering in Sukuna’s gaze and he darted his tongue out to wet dry lips, eyes scanning everywhere that he could see without turning his head too much. It was a long few seconds before Sukuna shook his head, gaze fixed on one red wrist. 

“Okay,” Megumi said and he brushed both of his hands over Sukuna’s shoulders. “Do you want me to help you to bed?” 

Sukuna nodded, the movement sluggish and making him think hard. 

Another lump crawled into Megumi’s throat and he forced it back down to focus on this new task at hand. Sukuna was answering questions, which was a good thing. Megumi curled his hands underneath Sukuna’s shoulders and gently pushed. “Come on,” he said, “onto your knees first.” Sukuna grunted, awkwardly pressing his hands into the floor on either side of Megumi. He was slow as he dragged himself back to sit on his haunches, hisses making him twitch in his place, palms flat to the floor, eyes focused on his knees, lips twisted into a frown. 

Megumi winced again, aware of how much effort it must be taking Sukuna to steady himself, both from exhaustion and the marks Megumi had branded him with. Megumi quickly pulled himself to his feet and crouched down in front of Sukuna, brushing pink hair out of his face again. “Do you want me to help you into pyjamas or–”

“No,” Sukuna muttered, frown darkening, “no clothes. Too much.” 

That was another black mark for Megumi, another sign that he’d gone too far. “No clothes. Let’s get you to bed then.” He held his arms out and let Sukuna fully lean on him to pull himself up, his movements unsteady and his voice filled with grunts and unpleasant groans. Once he was on his feet, Megumi pulled one arm over his shoulder and helped Sukuna to find his balance. “There we go,” Megumi whispered, trying his best to force a small smile onto his face. 

It was a slow process, each step taking the same amount of time as three, to make their way to Sukuna’s bedroom. “Once I get you in bed,” Megumi said, eyes fixed on Sukuna’s feet to make sure he wasn’t dragging them, “I’ll clean you up, grab you a drink and we’ll try to get a little food into you.” 

Sukuna groaned and shook his head once. “Tired.” 

Megumi bit back his grin. “I know, I know.” They stopped at an open door and Megumi peered into it and at the neat, barely lived in room. 

“Guest room,” Sukuna mumbled and he gestured vaguely down the corridor. 

With a nod Megumi continued their walking, guiding Sukuna along the way. “You need something to eat,” Megumi pleaded, “please.” Sukuna only made a noise and Megumi tried to keep his sigh to himself. They came to another open door and this room was clearly lived in. A hamper was set up in the corner, a shirt half hanging out of it. A row of shoes were neatly lined up by the side of a dresser, a jewellery box sat closed atop the dresser, surrounded by a comb, a couple of bottles of products, and a small stack of books. 

Megumi turned his attention to the unmade bed and coaxed Sukuna in that direction. Once they were close enough he eased Sukuna’s arm from off his shoulders and helped him face first onto the bed. “Okay, come on, Sukuna, lift your head for me.” Sukuna grunted, but obeys, eyes half closed. He allowed Megumi to tug and pull him onto the bed until his head was nestled neatly into a pillow. “I’ll be right back,” Megumi whispered, a smile tugging at his lips, fingers dragging through Sukuna’s hair. It was almost mesmerising how soft Sukuna looked, how at ease his entire body seemed, the tension hard to spot in his muscles. 

His gaze caught the marks he’d left earlier and his smile disappeared. Pursing his lips, Megumi hurried from the room and rushed to his bag. Inside it was an emergency aftercare kit, which he grabbed, alongside the bottle of water he always brought with him and a couple of snack bars that followed him too. He snatched up some tissues from the kitchen and made his way back to the kitchen, dumping everything onto the nightstand and taking a seat on the edge of the bed. 

A small swell of panic fluttered inside of Megumi’s chest as he grabbed the water bottle and twisted the cap off. There was the possibility that Sukuna might drop after this. Maybe tomorrow or the next day it would hit him and Megumi sincerely hoped it wouldn’t happen. He didn’t want to think about how that would affect Sukuna. 

He pushed that thought to the side for now and reached for Sukuna’s chin. “Come on, Sukuna, lift your head for me. I need you to drink a little water for me please.” Sukuna grunted but parted his lips willingly, a few drops grazing the corners of his mouth and dripping onto the sheets. It brought a small smile to Megumi’s face. At least Sukuna wasn’t fighting him. When Sukuna had had several gulps Megumi thanked him, set the bottle down, and unwrapped one of the bars, holding it up. “Okay, just one bite for me now.” Briefly Sukuna cracked his eyes open and glared up at Megumi. A hint of the Sukuna Megumi recognised was there and he took that as a good sign. An even better sign was when Sukuna opened his mouth, leaned forward, and took a large bite of the bar. Once he closed his mouth again Sukuna dropped his face back into the sheets and grunted, cheeks working as he ever so slowly chewed. 

With him distracted Megumi opened the aftercare kit up on the bed beside himself. Inside was a series of antibacterial wipes, plasters, bandages, pain killers, and other bits Mei Mei thought her staff may need. Megumi opened the wipes first and set about carefully wiping down every inch of Sukuna’s skin. He started with between his legs, apologising as he nudged at Sukuna’s soft cock, worked his way to Sukuna’s ass, and used more wipes to drag across the thin lines he’d cut into Sukuna’s back. 

Sukuna winced with each touch and Megumi apologised each time, rubbing circles into free skin as he dabbed gently at the marks. He grabbed some of the tissues and patted Sukuna’s back dry to thoroughly assess how bad the damage was. It wasn’t as bad as he thought it might’ve been. They didn’t seem to be bleeding and there was hope that in a few days they would be nothing more than soft blemishes across Sukuna’s skin. A few points had opened up and Megumi slid some plasters across those parts, securing the plasters down with skin safe tape. 

Satisfied, Megumi took another wipe, and went over Sukuna’s skin once more. He dried it all off and threw all of the soiled pieces into the throwaway bag that came with the kit. Next on his agenda was getting some pain killers into Sukuna’s system to ease the pain a little. Trying to encourage Sukuna to lift his head again was proving difficult and Megumi was satisfied when Sukuna finally gave in and swallowed the pills down around more mouthfuls of water. 

Megumi tugged the sheets gently over Sukuna’s body whilst Sukuna dropped his face back into the pillow, curling his arms around it. He took that moment to thread his hand through Sukuna’s hair, soothing his fingers over Sukuna’s scalp. Right now, Sukuna looked out of it, almost fast asleep. If Megumi didn’t know any better he would’ve just assumed that Sukuna had just returned from a night out. Fresh drool was already gathering at the corners of his mouth and Megumi wiped it away with a gentle thumb. 

For a full minute Megumi sat there and watched Sukuna, wanting to make sure he seemed relaxed and okay. His mind was already thinking about his next step for the night as he stood up, tugging the sheets further up until they were nestled around Sukuna’s chin. He would write Sukuna a note, a list of things to look out for in the morning along with the procedure the club had in place should he drop tomorrow. 

A thought briefly rattled through Megumi’s brain for a second, an idea that perhaps he should give Sukuna his personal number, letting Sukuna call him if he needed help. It would be Megumi’s fault after all, and if something did happen, Megumi didn’t want Mei Mei to find out he’d tarnished his great record. 

He gave Sukuna another look and reached for the kit along with his other items. He’d just about zipped it up when a hand snatched his wrist up. Megumi almost jumped at the sudden grip that ensnared him and his eyes darted over to see Sukuna staring up at him. 

There was something almost lost in that bright and suddenly alert look. It made Sukuna look small, almost vulnerable, and Megumi’s heart twisted tightly in his chest. It was yet another reminder that this was all his fault, that he’d reduced Sukuna to this state. 

“Stay.” 

Megumi blinked at the quiet demand and darted his tongue out to dampen dry lips. 

“ Please ,” Sukuna urged. 

He shouldn’t. The last thing Megumi should ever do is stay the night with a client. It was forbidden, for everyone. Mei Mei refused to allow such a thing to happen. 

But Sukuna was almost pleading with Megumi. He’d vocalised his desires, made Megumi aware of what he needed and Megumi’s job was to cater to those needs, give his clients the care they knew was right for them, that was necessary. 

And it was his fault that Sukuna needed to ask in the first place. 

“Okay,” Megumi said, ignoring the strange fluttering in his chest and the anxiety that twisted his stomach into knots. He tightened his grip on the kit, another strange feeling settling into his stomach as a smile greeted him from underneath the sheets. Sukna let him go and rolled onto his side with a grunt, eyes closed once more. 

There was a soft tremor working its way through Megumi’s muscles as he turned and made his way back to the living room. He dropped the kit on top of his bag. Before he could even consider getting comfortable he needed to message his neighbour and ask them to check in on his dogs. It was with shaking fingers that he managed to send them a message, his words full of errors and apologies that he’ll make it up to them. 

With that sorted, Megumi set his phone back down and toed his shoes off. He shook his tie loose and pulled it up over his head, dropping it onto his shoes that he knocked into a neat pile by his bag. He tore his socks from his feet and forced deep breaths into his own lungs, the hammering of his heart making it harder to breathe.

Hesitation had him shuffling his way back to the bedroom and pausing at the door, eyes fixed on Sukuna’s form. He shouldn’t be agreeing to this, shouldn’t be unbuckling his pants and shoving them down. He shouldn’t be unbuttoning the top of his shirt and the sleeves, and he most certainly shouldn’t be lifting the sheets up to crawl into bed besides Sukuna. 

But it was what Sukuna needed. 

And it was what Megumi owed him. 

The small voice at the back of Megumi’s mind reminded him that Megumi needed this too. Earlier today he’d sobbed to himself, almost begging somebody to be available. He’d craved some form of human companionship, some form of human contact to soothe the emotional anguish that had wrought through him.

Megumi swallowed thickly and shuffled into the bed until he was somewhat comfortable, doing his best to ignore the racing beat of his pulse. Sukuna rolled back onto his stomach and threw an arm over Megumi’s waist, nestling his cheek against Megumi’s shoulder. 

“Thank you,” Sukuna breathed. 

A quick glance down at Sukuna brought a smile to his face that was cosy and genuine, matching the heat that filled his cheeks. It was odd to feel the warmth of another person next to him, their hot breath against his neck, the weight of their body over him. It was even odder to feel himself relax, sinking into the sheets, as if this were normal. He should be tense, hyper aware of every inch where their bodies met. He should be feeling awkward, and wanting to get as far away as possible. 

Instead, Megumi slowly closed his eyes. He let out a deep breath, tension melting away. 

His own unconsciousness was already there, waiting to drag him under, and with the last vestiges of consciousness, he tried to put his finger on why it felt good. Was it Sukuna? He was a guy who pushed Megumi’s limits, grated against every nerve in his body, asking him to loosen up and give in to his own desires. 

It had been a long time since Megumi could simply give in, and the fact that he didn’t have to hold back helped to soothe whatever erratic thoughts he’d had earlier. Sukuna was easy to work with, and Megumi honestly enjoyed his time with Sukuna, even if it was paid for, even if tonight he’d start off pissed and wanting to do nothing more than to hurt him. Sukuna thrived on Megumi’s temper and it seemed to work. 

Or was the stress of the day finally catching up to him? Was the mental acrobatics he’d swung through today finally exhausting his body and corrupting the logical parts of his brain? Or was it something else? 

He hummed as he settled back into the soft pillow, taking note of how safe everything felt around him. 

Tomorrow. 

He could find out the answers tomorrow. 

Chapter Text

A gentle nudge to Sukuna’s arm stirred him from his slumber. The fogginess of deep sleep clung to him as he cracked his eyes open and scowled at the very idea of consciousness. The first thing to greet him when his vision finally focused, was Uraume. The passive expression on their face almost resembled that of a scowl. They pressed a finger to their lips, halting Sukuna’s question before it could start, and pointed to the other side of Sukuna’s bed. He grunted, lifted his face from the pillow, and pulled his arm up from where it hung over the edge of the bed. Slowly he pushed himself up onto his elbows, turned his head. He froze at the sight of a badly wrinkled white shirt and mused black hair. 

Megumi. 

Oh. 

“I’ve cleared your schedule for the rest of the day,” Uraume whispered. 

Sukuna swallowed and turned back to face Uraume, heart thudding in his chest. “Thank you,” he mumbled, being careful to keep his voice low whilst simultaneously ignoring the hoarseness that edged his words. 

“There’s coffee brewing in the kitchen. I can order breakfast if you’d like. Do you know what Mr Fushiguro would like?” 

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Do you want me to stay?” 

“No,” he said again. He hung his head, screwed his eyes shut, and groaned quietly at the stiffness that lingered in his muscles. “Just, take the day off.” 

“Thank you, Sir.” 

Their retreating footsteps were quiet and once Sukuna heard the gentle click of his front door, he dared another look at his companion, at Megumi. The guy was curled into himself a little more, still facing away from him, and if Sukuna listened hard enough he could make out a small mumble of noises now and again. A frown creased his brows and Sukuna scrambled through his thoughts, trying to figure out how they’d ended up like this. Images and memories trickled back into his mind and, after he muddled his way through the sleep that still lingered in the corners of his brain, a warmth blossomed in Sukuna’s chest and he smiled. 

As he swung his legs over the side of the bed, his smile grew. Flashes of full, throbbing pain raced up his body and it only softened his smile a fraction. It was exactly what he’d been missing. The pain, the discomfort, the aches the morning after, and the pushing of his limits. He stretched his arms over his head, rolled the kinks out of his muscles, and stamped down any grunts that rumbled in his throat to allow Megumi a little longer in bed. 

The lack of clothes didn’t faze Sukuna one bit. He took it as a sign that Megumi had truly wrung him through. The only times Sukuna went to bed naked was on the nights he had no strength or energy to dress himself. He hummed under his breath to himself and climbed to his feet. Balancing steadily on his feet took a few seconds before Sukuna was confident he could walk without waddling. Fresh clothes were his first order of business; clean boxers, loose sweats, and one of his softer tees that was worn from years of use. 

He padded gingerly out of the bedroom, only pausing in the doorway to look back at Megumi. Sukuna froze, blinking at the wonderful view he was greeted with. The lines of the sheets followed the curve of Megumi’s body, knees tucked up ever so slightly, shoulders hunched by his chin, face tipped down towards his chest. Megumi looked peaceful and calm, his usual scowl nowhere to be seen. The brief thought crossed Sukuna’s mind that Megumi looked so much better like this, happier, prettier, and far more beautiful. 

Another frown creased Sukuna’s brows that morning as he shook that thought away. 

Sukuna pulled the door to and made his way towards the kitchen, suddenly aware of his incredibly dry throat. In the living room, Sukuna stopped in his tracks again, eyes dancing over the abandoned tools from last night’s adventures. 

The hum settled back in his throat as he turned towards the kitchen. True to Uraume’s words, there was fresh coffee ready and waiting for him. His hum turned into a familiar tune that he’d been hearing on the radio all week as Sukuna poured himself a drink. Now that he was still he noticed the ache throbbing against the back of his thighs and a smile curled his lips up, his mind replaying everything that Megumi had done to him. It was one hell of a night. A wonderful set of memories Sukuna was going to recall often. It was the best night he’d had in a long time, organised or otherwise, and Sukuna hoped they could get a repeat of that at some point. 

It was everything he’d been wanting for years. 

The first sip of coffee was a delight against Sukuna’s parched throat and he groaned into his drink, swallowing down delicious gulp after delicious gulp. He regretted not taking up Megumi’s offer of water last night. 

Something buzzed quietly and Sukuna froze on his next sip, cup halfway to his lips. It buzzed again, and he turned to face his apartment. It sounded like a phone, and when it buzzed a third time Sukuna was certain it was a phone. “Shit,” he mumbled, taking his coffee with him as he followed the sound of the vibrations that refused to stop. Uraume may have cleared his schedule for the day, but there were still some clients that demanded his attention when it pleased them and some of them didn’t take no for an answer. 

The noise led him to the coffee table, to a phone that wasn’t his. With a curious scowl Sukuna picked up the device and stared at the two letters that lit up the screen; G.S . He arched a brow at that and watched it continue to ring until it eventually stopped. He pursed his lips and glanced up in the general direction of his bedroom, tapping an absentminded thumb against the phone. It started ringing again and Sukuna snapped his attention to it, watching it ring out until it stopped once more. Whoever ‘G.S’ was, rang a third time and Sukuna let out a sigh. Whoever it was, they really wanted Megumi’s attention. 

Sukuna set his cup down on the coffee table and turned towards the bedroom, feeling the call end before it started for a fourth time. He nudged the door open and stared at a still sleeping Megumi. He looked content still, cheek nuzzled into the pillow, lips parted ever so slightly, every inch of his body relaxed. It felt like a crime to disturb him, but the insistent calling felt urgent and Sukuna carefully set Megumi’s phone down on the bedside table, doing his best not to answer the call. He crouched by the side of the bed and peeled back the sheets just enough to give him a clearer view from the chest up of Megumi’s frame. “Hey,” he whispered, laying a hand against Megumi’s shoulder, “Megumi?”

Megumi made a noise, shuffled in place, and buried his face further into the pillow. It made Sukuna’s lips twitch and he forced the growing smirk back down. He shouldn’t be thinking that Megumi looked cute or adorable bundled up like this. 

Clearing his throat, Sukuna forced a crease between his brows and shook Megumi a little harder, “Megumi?”

“Hmm?”

“Your phone?” There was a wrinkle across Megumi’s face and slowly he cracked his eyes open. Long lashes fluttered against his cheeks and another noise grumbled in Megumi’s throat. The sleep slowly faded from green eyes and panic quickly settled in as they locked onto Sukuna. He drew his hand back and held it up with a tight smile. “Your phone,” Sukuna repeated, tipping his head towards the nightstand, “I’ll give you some privacy.”

He stood and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind him. Outside of the door, Sukuna stood there, hand still wrapped around the handle, trying his best to decipher the way Megumi had bolted up in bed, eyes wide and afraid the moment they landed on the phone screen. The vibrations of the phone rattling across the nightstand echoed quietly before Megumi’s whispered, muffled voice sounded, and Sukuna waited another minute before he backed up. 

He ran a hand through his hair and scratched at the back of his neck, rolling his shoulders about their joints and groaning at the stiffness that lingered deep within his muscles. That image of Megumi’s face was still stuck in his mind, a look of regret that Sukuna had seen before. It was hard to shake the dread that it filled Sukuna with, the slight pang of misery that perhaps Megumi didn’t want last night, or that he’d made a huge mistake. 

In the living room Sukuna stopped again, eyes catching on the abandoned toys still strewn about the room. He let out a low breath and figured the least he could do was make a start on cleaning up. The cuffs were grabbed first, bundled together and set atop the coffee table. The spreader bar was next, and he shortened it down to the smallest setting it could go to before placing that next to the cuffs. Sukuna reached for the gag, pulling a face at the dried spit on it, and he marched over to the kitchen with it. He ran it under the water, wiping his fingers across the surface until it looked clear, and dried it off with a clean towel. 

He made it back to the small pile when the pad of footsteps grabbed his attention. Laying it next to the neat pile he’d arranged, Sukuna turned to see Megumi standing awkwardly on the threshold, an unreadable expression marring his face. “Hi,” Sukuna said. 

Megumi visibly swallowed, nervousness surrounding him. “Hi.”

Now it was Sukuna’s turn to feel awkward. He couldn’t remember the last time he had to greet the face of the person from the night before, the last time he’d had to see them in the morning sunlight instead of under the glimmer of moonlight. It was… strange. It almost made Sukuna’s heart squeeze when he realised his apartment wasn’t so big with another body in it. He cleared his throat and tipped his head towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

“I prefer tea.”

“All out.” 

It was Megumi’s turn to clear his throat and he eyed the neat pile Sukuna had started. “I should clean up,” he mumbled.

“Right,” Sukuna said, and he stepped back, watching as Megumi reached for his bag first and the wipes he’d brought with him. He felt like a stranger in his own place as he stood by and let Megumi do what needed to be done, and he felt awful for not knowing what to do to help. With a nervous rumble of noises, he turned, managed two steps towards the kitchen, and turned back to face Megumi. “Hungry?”

Megumi had his back to Sukuna, hands working on giving everything a wipe down, and he shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Megumi, let me get you some breakfast.”

Green eyes peered at Sukuna from over Megumi’s shoulder. “You don’t have to.”

“Yes, I do,” Sukuna said. Flashes of last night came back to him as his gaze flitted around the room, and slowly settled back onto Megumi’s face. There were vague memories of Megumi telling him something, confessing almost, and that part of Sukuna’s brain was still scrambled, the fog not fully lifted from those thoughts. “There’s a cafe just down the road. I’ll get you tea and breakfast, whatever you want, and we can talk.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” 

“Yes-”

“I’m going to have Mei Mei assign you another-”

“Don’t you dare.” Megumi stilled at the sudden rise of Sukuna’s voice and Sukuna sucked a low breath in, kicking himself for the rise in his voice. Slowly, he let that same breath out through his nose, entire frame deflating with it, and he shook a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I-” he sighed, screwed his eyes shut, counted to five, and opened them again. “I think we need to talk before you make any decisions for me, for us .”

Megumi’s throat bobbed with a swallow before he looked away from Sukuna, a tiny, barely there nod of his head following suit. “Okay.”

Sukune released another breath. “Okay.” He dampened dry lips with the tip of his tongue and ignored the racing beat of his heart. The room felt charged, and his skin felt electric. He couldn’t place the strange feeling and passed a quick look over Megumi’s frame still dressed in the clothes from last night. “I’ll be right back,” he mumbled, and Sukuna disappeared into the bathroom for a quick stop and brushed his teeth. 

He went back to the bedroom, changed his sweats for dark pants, and grabbed a spare set of clothes for Megumi. It was something simple that Yuuji had left the last time he’d stayed over for the weekend. Dark jeans with a brightly coloured tee displaying some obscure movie reference on it. Sukuna took them with him to the living room to find Megumi zipping his bag up. “Here,” he said, “figured you’d want something comfortable or at the very least clean.”

Megumi blinked at the clothes and then up at him. “I- You don’t-” He paused, lips still parted, and let out a sigh that had Sukuna pursing his lips tightly. The corners of Megumi’s mouth twitched and the tightness in Sukuna’s chest eased. “Thank you.” Megumi grabbed his bag and took it with him to the bathroom. 

“There should be a spare toothbrush under the sink if you want,” Sukuna shouted after Megumi. Once he was out of sight Sukuna let out a long breath and searched for his phone, wallet, and keys. Breakfast was the least he could owe Megumi after last night. His skin danced excitedly at the very thought of how deep Megumi had taken him, how far under Sukuna had gone. He only wished Megumi would send him there again. It was bliss, perfect bliss. 

However, a small part of Sukuna’s brain nagged at him, nibbled at whatever pleasant thoughts he’d had and wormed the negativity there. Megumi was uncomfortable and Sukuna wanted to know why. Was it his cancellations? Had they spent too much time away that a session that intense had thrown Megumi over the edge? Sukuna remembered from one of their previous conversations that Megumi enjoyed their sessions, enjoyed their time together, unless he’d been lying. Was it the fact that he’d stayed the night? Sukuna was fully aware that it wasn’t the most common of practices, and that nightly stays usually meant additional payments. Or was it the phone call he’d received early that morning from G.S? Whoever they were, they definitely seemed important to Megumi. Nobody called somebody four times in a row unless it was important or desperate. Perhaps G.S was somebody close to Megumi, somebody special, and by staying the night Megumi had needed to explain himself? 

Sukuna scrubbed a hand over his face and tried to quell the racing thoughts that focused on nothing but Megumi. Every cog that made up his brain was filled with Megumi, with the desire to figure out what the problem was and to solve it. Sukuna couldn’t lose Megumi, not after experiencing so much disappointment. He was one of the few good things Sukuna actually had going for him and the one person who helped him to feel less lonely in a big and empty world. 

The only thing that distracted him was another series of steps and when Sukuna looked up he stared at Megumi dressed in Sukuna’s shirt, not Yuuji’s. It was the black band shirt Sukuna had given him so long ago to go home in. “Is this-” Megumi started down at himself, “the other one wasn’t my thing.”

“That’s fine,” Sukuna said, and it was. There was no getting over how it felt to see Megumi in his shirt, even if it was only temporary. “You got everything?” Megumi nodded and Sukuna gestured to the door.

He locked the apartment up behind them and followed Megumi to the elevator. It was quiet between them as they waited, quiet as they avoided looking at one another, and Sukuna busied himself with his phone, checking that there wasn’t anything urgent that needed his immediate attention. He could always open his laptop and spend a few hours catching up tonight if needed. The doors to the elevator opened, Sukuna followed Megumi in, hit the ground floor, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. 

“You invite a lot of your overnights out for breakfast?”

Sukuna raised his brows at the question and looked over at Megumi. “I don’t have a lot of overnights.” 

Megumi snorted, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Why?”

Megumi shot him a look, opened his mouth, and colour rose to his cheeks before he snapped his attention away and pursed his lips. “Nothing.” 

Sukuna hummed, leaned back against the wall of the elevator, and watched the numbers slowly tick down. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“Nobody waiting at home for you? Wondering where you were?”

The muscles of Megumi’s jaw worked for a moment before he admitted, “No.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he teased. 

Megumi rolled his eyes, creases forming in his cheeks from a small smile, “And why’s that?” 

The words slid easily over Sukuna’s tongue and fell from his lips before he could think twice about it, “You’re delightful to have around.” 

Megumi blinked up at him, smile slipping into shock, and Sukuna stored that image into his memories. The soft parting of his lips, the blush that decorated the tops of his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. The way his throat bobbed from a stolen breath, and the way those emerald eyes of his glinted with something new in them. 

The doors opened and Sukuna forced himself to look away as strangers climbed in with them, somebody hitting the ground floor once more. 

For the rest of the ride down, he and Megumi were quiet, letting the noise of those around them fill the air between them. If Sukuna stole glances at Megumi every few seconds to see if his blush was still there, well, that was his business. If anybody happened to catch him doing it, then that was their fault for watching. 

The numbers changed to a “G,” the doors opened, and Sukuna swallowed a gulp of fresh air once he stepped out from those four walls. He made a start for the front doors, and once he was outside he turned right, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Megumi was still following him.

The cafe Sukuna had in mind was a small hole in the wall place that was easy to miss. The front of the building was only a door and one small window, the main part stretching back into the building it was set into. Once inside, the only source of light was the overhead lamps with their soft glows, helping to lose several hours of the day without even realising it. He hadn’t noticed it until five years after moving into his current apartment and after, it became his favourite home away from home when he needed a little bit of space from life itself. When Gramps had passed Sukuna spent much of his free time here, wallowing into coffee and spiced apple muffins, picking at the treat and letting his drinks go cold. It was a great escape when going home had felt like a chore, the emptiness reminding him of who he no longer had. 

Sukuna opened the door for Megumi and nodded to one of the small tables squirrelled away in a corner that he loved to use. It gave them enough space from the general hubbub of the cafe, giving them a semblance of privacy. “What tea would you like?”

Megumi glanced at the menu board behind the counter and said, “Ginger or jasmine.”

Sukuna nodded and watched Megumi leave before he stepped up to the counter. The barista wasted little time in asking Sukuna if he wanted his regular and Sukuna grinned, adding Megumi’s drink to the order. He eyed the line of pastries and ordered a few different ones, asking them to be warmed up for them. Once he’d paid it grabbed the tray it was all on, alongside a few packets of sugar, and carried it to where Megumi sat. 

“Thanks,” Megumi muttered, taking his drink and two packets of sugar.

Sukuna hummed, took his own drink, and grabbed one of the pastries before offering the others to Megumi to choose. For several long minutes they ate and drank in a comfortable silence, and Sukuna let the quiet settle between them as he gathered his thoughts. That was the nice thing about Megumi, he didn’t demand conversation, he didn’t need to fill that void. The quiet was enough for him and it didn’t make Sukuna feel awkward or out of place to sit in it with him. 

Once his pastry was gone, once Megumi’s plate was empty, and their drinks half gone, Sukuna stole a glance over his shoulder to make sure they were alone. He turned back to Megumi, let out a slow breath and caught Megumi staring at him. The guy straightened up in his seat, flicked his attention over Sukuna’s shoulder, back to his face, and nodded, “Talk.” 

“I don’t want another dom,” Sukuna said matter of fact. “Last night? Best night of my life.”

Megumi leaned forward in his chair, arms folded atop the table, and hushed lowly, “I broke the basic rules of etiquette, Sukuna. I- I took away your ability to say no, I forced you into whatever happened. I didn’t even ask .” Megumi blew a puff of air between his lips, cradled his chin in one hand, and glared out towards the room behind Sukuna’s back. He wasn’t wrong. There was no way for Sukuna to fight whatever Megumi had done to him last night, no escaping whatever torture Megumi wanted to put him through. The more Sukuna scratched at his brain, the more certain he was that he didn't have a chance to get a single word in before Megumi had stormed his way inside and shut Sukuna up. Eventually Megumi looked back at Sukuna and soothed the scowl on his face. “Why did you cancel so many sessions?”

The sudden change in the air made Sukuna freeze for a moment, and once he’d blinked he shrugged a shoulder, gaze fixed on Megumi’s face, intent to read every expression that he could. “You weren’t well.” He wasn’t stupid or blind. He knew something was wrong with Megumi that night and the best thing Megumi needed was rest. There was no guarantee that Megumi could cancel his other sessions, or that he’d catch a break with his other clients, but Sukuna at least wanted to give Megumi some breathing room. It was the least he could do after everything Megumi had given him. “It’s your business,” Sukuna said, “whatever that is. I’m not asking you to tell me about it or anything. But you weren’t well, and having you work under those conditions wouldn’t have been beneficial. To either of us.”

Megumi pursed his lips into a thin line and Sukuna sipped his drink. “Next time you want to cancel six sessions in a row, don’t,” Megumi said. “It doesn’t look good. For either of us.” 

“Noted,” Sukuna said with a single nod, biting down on the tip of his tongue at those words.

“Good,” Megumi said, and he turned his gaze down to what remained of his drink. With another heavy sigh he fell back into his chair, cradled his cup between both hands, and met Sukuna’s eyes once more. “Last night shouldn’t have happened.” Sukuna opened his mouth to protest but Megumi raised a hand, silencing him. “I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to be conducting a session. I should have cancelled it and rearranged it for another time. Not to mention what I did. I didn’t check with you that it was okay. I didn’t ask about your colour. There were a lot of things I didn’t do and a lot of things I did wrong. I-” Megumi fumbled for words and Sukuna pressed his lips together, willing himself to wait for whatever thoughts Megumi was desperately stringing together. “You’re dangerous,” Megumi whispered, almost in disbelief, a slight crease forming between his eyes. Those two words made Sukuna freeze, lips parting and shock decorating his face. “You make me cross lines I shouldn’t, you push my buttons and my limits and I let you.” Megumi paused, mouth agape, brows furrowed deeply, and Sukuna held his breath. “Everything,” Megumi said, “is telling me to strike you off my client list, to never work with you again.”

“Megumi,” Sukuna whispered, his chest tight and throat dry. That was the very last thing he wanted, the last thing he needed.

“But you need this,” Megumi whispered, “don’t you?”

Sukuna paused. Whatever plea he had on his tongue disappeared, and he stared at Megumi, trying and failing to assess what look that green eyes were giving him. Sukuna thought about it. About the hours they’d spent together, warmth filling Sukuna’s body, muscles relaxed and a smile fixed to his lips in afterthought. Compared to the nights where he’d cancelled and the only company he’d had was himself. The way he’d stared mindlessly at his TV or scrolled without reason through his phone, regret making him ache. He’d wished to see Megumi again, feel those hands strike his skin, hear those words stab at his ego, feel his thighs tremble and knees buckle. He did need this. It was for a lot more than simple stress relief, for more than that boost of serotonin or that high feeling at the end of the night. The nights he spent with Megumi balanced the stress of his life out and screwed his head on straighter than it had been before. No more distractions, no more stressful migraines or shortened fuses. 

“What about you?”

Megumi’s expression twisted into confusion. “What about me?”

“You need this too.” Megumi stared him down, pursed his lips, and slowly looked away, sliding down in his seat a fraction, shoulders hunching up to his chin. Sukuna finished his drink and set the cup back onto the tray. “So where does that put us?”

Not a word passed between them for almost two full minutes. Underneath the table Sukuna bounced his leg, anxiously waiting for his thoughts to settle or for Megumi to speak, whichever came first. Fear curled within his chest and rattled against his ribs. He was afraid that Megumi would still follow through with his threat, his half baked promise to assign Sukuna to somebody else. 

The minutes dragged on and Sukuna cracked first. “You do enjoy it, don’t you?”

Megumi nodded. “I do.”

“But?” 

Megumi swallowed again. “Doms have limits for reasons, Sukuna. Without them, we can lose track of what the whole point is. Without them we can accidentally do things we shouldn’t, hurt our subs, hurt ourselves, or… or…” 

Sukuna held a hand up, stopping him. “I get it, but Megumi-”

Megumi snorted, “If you’re going to tell me, again , that you don’t-”

“Let me say it again. Last night was the best night I’ve had in a long time.” Megumi opened his mouth and it was Sukuna’s turn to cut him off. “Do you want to know the last time I entered subspace that deep?” Megumi nodded his head once. “I was… twenty. At the time I was extremely stupid, but twenty. It’s been years , Megumi. Years since I felt that great. I haven’t been able to let go that easily or trust those that have tried before you. But I trust you, Megumi. I’ve never been terrified of what you might do to me, not once, and last night was no different. I wasn’t afraid of you. I trust you to know when it is too far, and I trust you to trust me to tell you when it is too much.” Sukuna swallowed a gulp of air and laid the rest of his confession on the table. “I don’t want another dom, Megumi. I don’t want somebody else who half asses it and follows the same script with their other clients. I don’t want somebody to stop every thirty seconds to see if I’m okay. I want somebody who will know, who can tell, who I don’t have to give specific instructions on what I want and when I want it. I don’t want to walk anybody through it.”

“You’re insulting a lot of my colleagues right now.”

“You know that’s not what I mean.” Megumi levelled a look with him and Sukuna greeted it with his own. “I want us to work. I don’t want to give up on us, and I want you to want this as much as I do.”

“I-I do,” Megumi whispered, eyes looking anywhere but at Sukuna. “I like what we have. It’s… it’s good.”

“Good?”

Megumi peered up at him from underneath dark bangs. “I-” he paused, tucked his bottom lip between his teeth and frowned, gaze drifting away. “I want that too, what you said,” he muttered, “I- it’s just…” 

Sukuna raised his brows, “Just what?”

Megumi pulled a face. “Difficult.”

Sukuna paused. “Difficult?” 

A hum rattled in Megumi’s throat as he nodded. “Yeah.”

Sukuna frowned at the finality of Megumi’s confirmation and nodded once himself. “Okay. Is there, can we make it any less difficult? Is there anything I can do?”

Megumi snorted. “If it was that simple I would’ve sorted it a long time ago.”

“Megumi.”

It was quiet for a long time, Megumi’s fingers mindlessly tearing the empty sugar packet into tiny pieces and scattering them across the tray. His lips worked silently, throat bobbing and brows crinkling in thought. There was more he wanted to say, more he wanted to admit, and more he wanted to talk about. Sukuna was tempted to coax them out and beg Megumi to share his thoughts. Instead, Megumi shook his head and reached for his bag. Sukuna didn’t miss the way Megumi refused to look at him. “I need to go.”

“Wait, Megumi-”

He still wouldn’t look at Sukuna as he tugged his bag onto his shoulder. “I won’t- I won’t quit on us. But I can’t lose control again.” There was an ache in those words that squeezed Sukuna’s chest and he nodded, throat running throat and eyes fixed on the regret that etched itself into every inch of Megumi’s face. “I’ll-” he briefly looked up to meet Sukuna’s gaze and he inhaled a sharp breath that had his shoulders straightening. “Thanks for the tea and breakfast, but this can’t and won’t happen again.” 

And with that Megumi turned and left, sparing Sukuna not a single look over his shoulder. Sukuna watched him until the door closed behind him, and he sighed, turning back in his seat to stare at the empty chair across from him. The frown on his face wouldn’t budge as he swallowed thick at the idea that Megumi was stuck on whatever dilemma he was in. In some shape or form, something held Megumi back, and Sukuna wanted so badly to fix it.

He grabbed his cup, stared at the empty contents, and set it back down with another sigh before he scrubbed a hand over his face. 

He shouldn’t want to help Megumi with his burden. 

He shouldn’t be letting the man fill the corners of his brain. 

He shouldn’t be thinking twice about him. 

He shouldn’t care if Megumi walked away from him, if Megumi didn’t look at him ever again. 

So why was Sukuna trying so hard to keep Megumi within his grasp?

It was three difficult and long days before Megumi invaded Sukuna’s thoughts once more. Three days of chasing a never ending stream of emails, trying his best to curtail another disaster that someone had fucked up in his absence, joining meetings that bored him too quickly, listening to the board of directors assess where the business was up to and what direction they wanted to go in, more meetings, and clearing his schedule to meet a new client their sales team had been buttering up for months. On top of all of that, Sukuna had been trying to rearrange his private life to fulfil Yuuji’s demands of a brotherly bonding night that was long overdue. A night of alcohol, take out, and Sukuna needing to clear his schedule for the two days after to recover from that hell. Neither of them could drink like they used to in college but damn did they regretfully try to. 

To top Sukuna’s week off, he’d been trying to deal with his own personal and private pent up frustrations in the sanctuary of his bedroom. He’d been getting in so late from work the past few days that the idea of going out again was nothing but sour. So, he dragged himself to the bedroom, stripped down, and entertained himself to various degrees. 

Nothing sated him long enough. 

Nothing felt satisfying. 

In the past, a quick jerk of his hands was enough to relieve some tension that flowed through him, but as it stood he could hardly find an ounce of pleasure in it all. Using his hand felt redundant and he grew tired of it moments later, cock beginning to soften in his hands. Raiding his drawers of the limited toys he did have did little to help and only left him more frustrated than before. On day three it hit him that nothing was enough . It was good, but it didn’t hit the right chords or give him that same feeling of ecstasy from the night that Megumi wrung him dry. 

Sukuna wanted to feel that high again, wanted to float on whatever endorphins Megumi rocked through his body. He’d grabbed his wallet late one night and made a visit to one of the local sex shops, buying everything he could find that Megumi had used on him. Back home, he stripped down and did his best to make himself comfortable. He took his time in tracing the lines of muscles, dragging fingernails over sensitive spots that usually hitched his breath in his throat, and teasing his cock and nipples over and over. 

It took a little fumbling to set himself up the same way Megumi had laid him out; ankles spread wide and face buried in the pillow, but once Sukuna was in position on his knees, he let out a deep breath. He worked two lubed fingers into himself before he dared to press the head of the massager to his entrance. It burnt just right, almost in the same way Megumi had managed, and as he pushed it in and in, until there was more give in his muscles, Sukuna groaned. He felt the noise deep in his stomach, felt the heat of it warm him from his toes up. Turning his face into the sheets, he rolled his hips back onto the massager and twisted it within himself until he found that one spot that made him gasp. Sukuna flicked it on then, buried the vibrating head against that sensitive spot, and rocked back and forth onto it, nailing himself with it on each thrust of his hips. 

Any attempt to close his thighs was met with resistance and between his legs, his cock ached with a desperate need to be touched. Sukuna couldn’t help himself. He shifted his weight around until he was resting across his shoulders, and wriggled a hand underneath himself until he could easily wrap his fingers around his cock. Another groan rolled through him and slowly, Sukuna pumped himself in time with each thrust of the massager. 

It slackened his jaw, made him screw his shut and gasp into the cotton sheets. 

It was good . 

“Fuck,” Sukuna whispered. He squeezed his cock, twisted his fingers around the head, and crooked the massager into himself with the same motion. It took him a moment to find the buttons, and another to figure out which one increased the speed, a whine being wrenched from him the moment he found it. Sukuna set himself a new rhythm; rocked forward into his hand, back onto the massager, forward, back, forward back, until it was all that he could think about, until nothing else mattered but chasing that high that was so close. 

He buried his face further into the sheets, curled his toes into the fabric. He  worked himself faster, harder, breaths ragged in his chest, until he finally came with a keen. His muscles snapped taut and Sukuna spilt over his hands, ass clenching around the massager as it continued to grind against his prostate, scattering trembles throughout him. 

It took Sukuna’s addled brain too long to find some common sense, fingers finally scrambling for the buttons on the massager, fumbling until he found the one that turned it off. The moment the vibrations stopped he groaned, taking several deep breaths. Slowly he tugged the massager free, let it drop onto the bed, and collapsed onto the sheets, spent. 

The seconds ticked by into minutes, filled with nothing but Sukuna’s ragged breaths. He cracked his eyes open to be greeted with nothing but an empty bed and twisted sheets. He reached a hand out and patted the side of the bed that he almost never used. A quiet sigh climbed up his throat and he swallowed it back down, the gratification he’d been rolling in moments ago turning cold. 

It was good. 

But it wasn’t great. 

That was the same conclusion Sukuna came to everyday after work. No matter how hard he tried to distract himself, to ease whatever tension wound his muscles tight, nothing cleared it, and a deep dissatisfaction filled him each time. 

And it built. 

It grew into clear frustration that ventured into his professional life. Uraume noticed it and delivered Sukuna with a curt and simple threat, “If you can’t remember what being a professional means, I’ll raise the matter to the board of directors.” Nothing sobered him up quite so fast and he grumbled his way through his days. 

The only exception to his mood swings were the meetings with their clients, new and old. He had a business to run and an image to preserve after all. As long as he didn’t upset their customers and turn them away, everything else didn’t matter in his eyes. But now, as he stared down the meeting blocked into his schedule that afternoon, he wished he was anywhere else but here. It was to finally have a face to face with the client his sales team had been raving about for the past few months, the person they’d been buttering up for weeks, sweetening the deal over and over again to finally grab their business. 

Sukuna wasn’t in the mood for half a day’s meeting. He wasn’t in the mood to make nice for hours on end, all for a handshake and a signature at the end of it all. He wished he could throw somebody else into that meeting for him, but ultimately, everything came through him and he gave the final say on the matter. Any potential deals this big needed his hands on attention, especially if they had the potential to give them a delicious finish to their financial year.

The meeting glared at him from the digital calendar. 

It was due to start in two hours. Uraume was with their sales rep, compiling all of the finer details Sukuna might need to know or have to hand for the meeting. It wasn’t as if he’d spent the past two days looking the company up, reading about their current political and social affairs, trawling through their social media pages, looking up any information about their listed directors, or looking through the market they worked in to make sure this was the right decision for them. He was tired of research, and was more than happy to let the rest of the research come to  him with cliff notes attached. 

A knock at the door was a small saving grace of a distraction. Sukuna hummed, not even glancing away from his computer, as he closed the calendar and momentarily stared at the fresh pile of emails that awaited his attention. He just about managed to stamp down the grimace that crossed his lips when he read the preview lines of a few emails, and finally looked up to see who had broken his silence. 

He froze. 

Blood ran cold in his veins and for a moment, Sukuna swore his heart stopped beating. 

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”

A lump wedged its way into Sukuna’s throat. He stared, trying his damndest to swallow it back down and coax some saliva into his suddenly dry mouth. The guy standing in the doorway to Sukuna’s office was the very definition of smug. Dressed in a tailored, and clearly expensive suit, dark hair neatly trimmed and in its proper place, face clear of any wrinkle from what Sukuna could only guess was subtle cosmetic work. His slim frame looked far too thin, but Sukuna knew underneath the layers of silk and pure cotton were firm muscles with a hidden strength. 

“Kenjaku.” Sukuna finally found his voice and worked the muscles of his jaw to avoid giving any inflections in his voice, keeping it flat, monotone, and hopefully uninterested. “To what do I owe this displeasure?” 

The guy chuckled and took a step over the threshold of the door, eyes gleaming over the pieces of artwork that hung across one wall. They were auction pieces produced by local artists, some charity his company had stuck their nose into for the positive press it would give them. Another wall was lined with several files and folders, relating to various accounts, customers, departments, and important paperwork that was useful to keep around. Sukuna was too old school and those files would go with him to his grave.

“You look good, Sukuna.”

“Don’t,” Sukuna whispered, sitting back in his chair and stretching one finger out into the air. “What are you doing here?”

Sharp eyes found Sukuna and instinctively he shrunk under the quietly brimming fire behind them. Another lump formed in his throat and Sukuna pressed his lips together. Kenjaku either didn’t notice or chose to ignore Sukuna’s reaction. He walked around the room with practised ease that dragged all of the attention to himself. “I’m here for that famous meeting you have this afternoon. A little early mind you but,” he came to a stop by the corner of Sukuna’s desk closest to Sukuna, “I wanted to see if you had time to catch up.” He perched one hip atop the corner of the desk, bringing one knee up, and leaned forward. His gaze was fixed on Sukuna’s face, unwavering in its intensity before he languidly let it roll over Sukuna’s frame in an appreciative stroll before he snapped them back up to red. “For old times sake.”

Sukuna held back a withering look. Kenjaku was nothing but bad memories and worse nightmares. A swell of anxiety grew within Sukuna’s chest and he stared the man down, refusing to budge. There was nothing worse in Sukuna’s mind than revisiting what used to be and how they used to slot into each other’s lives. Those memories were long buried under layers of cobwebs and dust, and Sukuna wanted them to stay that way. 

That meeting suddenly looked extremely inviting. 

Until he remembered that was why Kenjaku was here and Sukuna’s mood soured further. 

Any words Sukuna tried to form were beaten back down by Kenjaku’s next sentence. “Tell me, Sukuna,” and he hated the way his stomach twisted with familiarity at the sultry roll of his name, “and please, be honest with me. Do you miss it?” 

Sukuna blinked. His mouth ran dry and he stared. 

Kenajku gave him another once over and made himself more comfortable atop Sukuna’s desk, even going so far as to lift one leg up and press a foot in the space between Sukuna’s thighs. He used his toes to turn Sukuna’s chair until they were face to face. “I miss you,” Kenjaku said, voice low, just above a whisper, laced with heat that had no right to knot Sukuna’s stomach all over again, “oh so terribly. Nobody’s yet to reach the same high standards you set you know, and believe me I’ve tried.”

Sukuna snorted. “Not hard enough.” 

A brief look crossed Kenjaku’s eyes, smile slipping a fraction, before he tilted his head and leaned forward, twisting his lips further up his face. “You were the best.” A swell of pride bloomed in Sukuna’s chest and he tried his best to stamp it back down. It was disgusting how easily his body warmed at the praise, how easily his thighs trembled from the looks Kenjaku gave him. “You still are the best I’ve ever had.” 

“I-” Sukuna started, failing to find the right words. He wanted to be meaningful in his next sentence, eloquent and more mature than simply telling Kenjaku to fuck off and never come back. But even finding those two words was a struggle. His mouth stuffed with cotton, heart pounding in his chest, toes curling in his shoes, gaze fixed to that slimy, knowing expression, and a need to obey filling him up. 

Kenajku was in his space before Sukuna could take his next breath, cold fingers cupping Sukuna’s chin and tipped his head up until they were eye level. Everything around them stopped, and Sukuna didn’t have room to think about anything else but the man in front of him. The way those dark eyes danced across Sukuna’s face, taking note of every line of muscle, and every subtle twitch of his eyes. Long days spent together had given Kenjaku the upper hand in knowing exactly how to read Sukuna. “You poor, poor thing,” Kenjaku whispered, voice poised with a hint of sincerity, warm breath kissing Sukuna’s parted lips. “Nobody’s managed to tame you yet, have they?” Dark eyes flicked to Sukuna’s neck and back. “Has nobody been worthy enough to collar you? Reign you in and have you begging at their feet?” As impossible as it felt, Kenjaku crept further into Sukuna’s space, leaving just enough air between them to make Sukuna gasp for breath. “Am I still the only one to hold that privilege?” 

A whine wanted to bubble up in the back of his throat. His knees itched with a familiarity to hit the floor, tilt his head up, and wait eagerly for his next command. It was unfair how much Kenjaku still affected him. Sukuna had spent years building up hatred towards him, a residual loathing of the man that followed every step he took and backed every decision he made. And yet, Sukuna couldn’t help but to recall how easy things had been with Kenjaku. His mind had been the clearest it had been in a long time. There wasn’t a need to think much more than work, anything that wasn’t “necessary” was taken care of for him, those decisions made for him. 

Until Kenjaku pushed and pushed and pushed. 

Until he pushed too much and Sukuna’s life was almost torn into ruin.

Sukuna shook those thoughts away. They were behind him, locked behind a metaphorical door and the key long gone and buried. He couldn’t go down that route, not again. Twisting his lips into a snarl Sukuna snatched his chin back, pushed his chair back two inches, forcing Kenajku’s foot to slide free, and glared up at him. “What I do in my personal time does not concern you, or anyone else for that matter.”

Something lit up in those thin eyes of his and Kenjaku beamed. “So there is someone.”

“No,” Sukuna said far too eagerly, earning nothing but a raised brow from the other man. There wasn’t someone. There couldn’t be. The only people who had consistently been in and out of Sukuna’s life and behind closed doors were the ones he paid for. The only person who’d managed to pass the test and come back time and time again was Megumi, and as much as Sukuna enjoyed his company, nothing more could come out of it. 

The very thought furrowed a deeper frown between Sukuna’s eyes and made him tightly purse his lips.

Kenjaku hummed and leaned back on Sukuna’s desk, pushing a few stacks of papers to one side. “Must be something special if he’s making you blush like that.” 

It was only then Sukuna noticed the heat creeping up his neck, the way his heart danced erratically underneath his skin, and the way the room felt three degrees too warm. He forced a darker scowl onto his face and stood from his chair, needing a change of air and a change of scenery. Having that same smug expression constantly looking down on him was tiring. “Your meeting isn’t for another hour,” Sukuna said, daring to turn his back on Kenjaku and look out of office windows towards the streets below. “You should be with your colleague, preparing for it.”

The sound of soft footsteps across the carpet captured Sukuna’s attention and he turned to find Kenjaku inches from him. “Sukuna.” That same leer was back on his face as he gave Sukuna’s body a very obvious once over, gaze lingering below his belt line. He stepped closed and finally looked up, expression softening with a subtle heat. “I came to your office,” he whispered, “to talk pleasure.” 

“And in here,” Sukuna said, trying his best not to take a step back, “I talk about business. I do not mix the two.”

“You used to.”

Sukuna pressed his lips into a thin line, hating the truth in those three words. He did. He used to mix them almost every single day and it was not a good thing. He’d blurred those lines too much, forgot where one ended and another began, and almost cost his career in the process. All for some stupid endorphin based high that left him feeling giddy for a few hours. 

Just as he opened his  mouth, another voice interrupted them, breaking the air and drawing both of their attention to Uarume’s form in the doorway to Sukuna’s office. “Out,” Uraume said, face full of thunder and rage. It terrified Sukuna a fraction. There was only one other time in Sukuna’s life he’d seen Uraume look that pissed off, and they’d been moments away from stringing Sukuna up by his balls. “Before I have security escort you out.” 

Kenjaku turned away from Sukuna and said, voice full of jovial spirit, “Uraume! It’s been a long time. I see you’re still here to help keep Sukuna in check.”

“ Leave .”

The smile Kenjaku wore strained and Sukuna glared at him as the guy tried to offer him another warm grin, silently asking if he could stay a little longer. Sukuna forced his gaze away and Kenjaku finally started to leave. Sukuna couldn’t help but to look after him, making sure he did leave. At the door, Kenjaku paused, turned towards Uraume, shared a look with them, and left, disappearing from view. Once Sukuna was sure he was gone he let out a breath and fell into his chair with a huff.

“I’m sorry, Sukuna,” Uraume said. “If I had known he was-”

He waved them off. “It’s fine. He’s here for the meeting we have with sales in an hour.” 

“Wonderful,” Uraume said, and Sukuna smirked tightly at the evident sarcasm in their voice. Uraume enjoyed Kejaku’s company as much as Sukuna enjoyed long walks on the beach, which was never. “Do you want me to cancel the meeting and decline their presence? I can tell them a family emergency has cropped up and you are indefinitely unavailable.”

Sukuna considered it. 

The last thing he wanted to do was sit in an enclosed space with Kenjaku and feel that silent grin prickling across his skin. It made his skin crawl just thinking about it and Sukuna closed his eyes, a heavy sigh rolling through him. He could cancel the meeting and demand no questions be asked, but the directors above Sukuna were fully aware of it and what kind of business they wanted from it. 

If he did cancel, after their sales rep had spent months securing it, bending over backwards to even get them to contemplate being in the same building as them, Sukuna would need a damned good explanation. Everybody would be asking the question of what happened, and if anybody had clocked onto Kenjaku leaving Sukuna’s office, the rumours would start. 

If Sukuna ruined all of the hard work put into this because of his own personal business, he could see a demotion in his future or worse.

“No,” he said. “Leave it, we’ll- we’ll deal with it.” He shook his head and took a deep breath. “We’ll deal with it,” he repeated, trying to convince himself that it would be fine, that both he and Kenjaku could be professional for a few short hours. 

Uraume made a noise and laid a file on his desk. “The basics you’ll need for the meeting. I only just found out that Kenjaku's name is listed only as a colleague. I’m not sure why they brought him along.”

Sukuna hummed and flipped the first page over. “He has his ways.”

“As I discovered.” 

He glanced up at them with a frown, ignored the pointed look thrown his way, and focused back on the cliff notes prepared for him. As long as he could direct his questions and conversations to somebody else, then all would be well. “Thank you,” he flitted a piece of paper in his  hand, “for this.” Uraume bowed, and took their leave, closing the door on their way out to give Sukuna some time alone with his thoughts. He flicked his eyes up once the latch clicked, sighed, hung his head, and threw himself back into his seat, running one hand through his hair. He wasn’t in the mood to read or do anything. A dark cloud hung over his head, and his mind was intent to replay the hell he’d gone through and remind him of the guilt he’d only recently started to shed from his shoulders. 

He tried to shake it all away by forcing himself to read the note, tried to ignore the heavy weight of shame in his gut as he did one final check of the company online. 

He tried. 

But even as he closed the file, tucked it underneath his arm, and left his office, those thoughts lingered and prodded at his mind. Even as Uraume followed him, one cup of coffee held out to him, another cup of chamomile tea tucked to their chest, Sukuna struggled to keep his mouth damp with saliva, fingers dampening with sweat around his cup. Even as he entered the meeting room first, dry hand outstretched and a wide grin on his face, Sukuna wanted to run back to his office, put his head on his desk, and forget today even existed. 

At least he had Megumi to look forward to tonight. 

That thought almost cut Sukuna’s working brain cells short, and as he took a seat he couldn’t help but to steal a look in Kenjaku’s direction. There was something on the guy’s face, almost sly, and knowing, that made Sukuna question if he’d said those words out loud. Clearing his throat and smoothing his tie down his front, he hoped to chase away the pounding of his heart and the new heat that lingered just behind his cheeks. He set the file in front of him, opened it, pulled a pen out of his pocket, and forced his attention back to their main client. “Shall we begin?”

One hour stretched into two, then three, and Sukuna felt rinsed as hour four crawled on by. His original plan to ignore Kenjaku as much as possible proved futile and useless when their main client informed him that he and Kenjaku were partners. If they were to have any conversations going forward it would involve the both of them. “Not a problem,” Sukuna remarked, his smile too tight across his lips and the muscles of his jaw working to keep his face pleasant. On top of that information, Kenjaku had felt the need to interject every now and again, addressing any questions or lines of enquiries directly to Sukuna, forcing them to talk, be nice, and play friends in front of other people. 

He poked at Sukuna. Crawled underneath his skin in ways only them and Uraume understood. He reminded Sukuna that they once were a thing, going so far as to mention to their unknowing work partners, “We’ve been in business before and unfortunately, work schedules and commitments took us in separate directions.” If they were alone Sukuna wasn’t sure who would have climbed over the table between them and throttled Kenjaku first, Uraume or himself. 

Instead, Sukuna had polished his smile and offered an empty chuckle, “Well it looks like we’re going to be able to spend plenty of time getting to know one another all over again.” 

“I’d love to catch up with you over drinks one day, Sukuna. For old time’s sake.” 

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” 

The words felt like venom in Sukuna’s throat when he’d mumbled them, turned his own blood cold as he nodded in agreement, and fuelled that hatred within his veins all over again. 

By the time the meeting finished, Sukuna was ready to scrub his body clean under scalding water until he bled, until he could no longer feel his skin. He wanted to hide in the darkness of his apartment until everybody forgot about the meeting and everybody went their separate ways. 

They all shook hands, walking one another towards the elevators, Sukuna’s sales rep talking a mile a minute about how they would each benefit from this agreement. Even as they waved their guests off, promising to write up those contracts and work up the finer details, the rep kept talking, listing everything that was still to be done. He followed Sukuna to his office and Sukuna listened, nodded, barely looked at the over excited guy who’d potentially hit his sales target for the next three years in one meeting, and mindlessly stared at his computer.

It wasn’t until there was a soft click of Sukuna’s door that he looked up. Uraume dimmed the lights, silently made their way to Sukuna until they were in front of him, and they crouched before him. It was with Uraume’s next words that Sukuna realised how tense, pent up and frustrated he was. “Go home,” they said. “Take the afternoon off. We can cover for you.” 

“I’m fine,” Sukuna said, trying his best to convince himself. He was fine. If he stayed and threw himself into work, he was fine. Stopping to allow his mind to drift, leaving any kind of space empty enough to let thoughts of Kenjaku to crawl back in, was not allowed. If he stayed, Sukuna could force all of his energy into work, focus on pushing their numbers up, crossing the t’s and dotting his i’s. Hell, he’d even read the reports and fill out the paperwork that had been waiting close to eight months for his final approval and finally get them squared away. 

Going home would not help. Not right now. He wanted the distraction of work, needed it. 

“You’re not fine.”

“Uraume.” 

“Sukuna.” 

He chewed on the tip of his tongue, huffed a breath through his nose, and turned his gaze out of his window. “I need to work,” he said, tone flat and unwavering. Slowly, he looked back to Uraume with a raised brow. “I have too much paperwork to catch up on to take the afternoon off.” It wasn’t a total lie. Usually Uraume handled much of his paperwork for him, and he knew that taking it back for one day would stop any possibility of his thoughts drifting. 

Uraume studied him for several quiet moments, and Sukuna knew they were coming to the same conclusion when they narrowed their eyes. They stood up with a soft exhale and nodded once. “Okay. I’ll reschedule your three o’clock meeting for Monday at the same time. There was a telephone conference that you missed which I’ve pencilled in for first thing tomorrow morning. You can not miss it again.” He gave them a look at that implication, pulled a face at the scowl Uraume gave him, mumbled underneath his breath, and looked away. “There’s a backlog of employee evaluations that require your approval. The bi annual discussion for company wide raises is here and needs to be looked at ASAP. The deadline to get them in is Tuesday at month end. Accounts have compiled the numbers and figures for you so once I’m back at my desk I’ll forward over to you. Finally you still need to send a condolence card and flowers to Kyoto industries.” 

“Fuck,” Sukuna scrubbed a hand over his face, “I forgot Gakuganji kicked it. Who’s in charge now?”

“Iori. You have a meeting with her next week actually, Thursday afternoon. You’re also buying dinner for her. You’ll like her.” 

Sukuna raised a brow at that and grinned, understanding what Uraume meant by that comment. The one thing he couldn’t understand was wet wipes for directors who got by on doing the bare minimum, didn’t get their hands dirty, and had lacklustre personalities to boot. If Sukuna was going to like Iori, then he knew she didn’t take anything from anyone, and would be more than happy to kick his ass if need be. “Can’t wait. What does she drink?” 

“Beer.”

He nodded. “We’ll send her a case of her favourite brand-”

“Already arranged, sir.” There was a moment of hesitation before Uraume tipped their chin forward. “Are you sure you wish to stay this afternoon?” 

Another twist of painful knots in Sukuna’s stomach made him want to take up Uraume’s offer. “I need to be busy,” he settled for, letting the soft quietness that followed speak for him. 

“Okay. I’ll be outside if you need anything. Door open or closed?”

“Closed.”

“Yes, sir.” 

Uraume left and Sukuna pursed his lips, fully aware of the silence left in their wake. He tapped his fingers against his desk, eyes fixed on his growing email inbox, at the dozens of emails that awaited his attention and the flashing calendar reminders. A few minutes passed and a flood of three dozen more emails came through, all from Uraume. Sukuna smiled, and promised to give them another pay raise, maybe their own assistant if this kept up. He reached for the freshly brewed cup of coffee on his desk, settled into his seat, and started from the bottom up, mind easily slipping into work mode. 

By the time Sukuna exited the elevator to his floor and dragged himself to his apartment, it was late. Takeaways were open, the sun was set, and the streets were flooded with street lamps that flickered into life. He wasn’t aware of how much he’d thrown himself into work mode, how long he was staying after everybody had left. It was only when Uraume had attempted to kick him out three times before they turned his computer monitor off and physically pulled his chair away from  his desk that Sukuna stopped. Uraume reminded him that he didn’t live in his office, that had a perfectly functioning bed back home, and that he had another, more personal appointment to make that night with Megumi.

Sukuna sighed, a dozen thank you’s thrown Uraume’s way and a dozen more promises that he owed them for keeping him on track. He tugged at his tie and draped it over his suit jacket that hung over his arm. He unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, ruffled a hand through his hair, and hummed. 

His mind still swam with the list of evaluations sitting at the top of his to-do list tomorrow morning, and he grabbed at the box of smokes from his pocket. The building had a no smoking policy in the main halls, but right now, Sukuna needed something to quell the racing thoughts in his mind that addressed the next thing on his itinerary, and the thing after that and after that. He stuck one cigarette between his lips, fished his keys out with one hand, and a lighter with the other. As he opened the door he brought a flame to life and lit the cigarette as he crossed the threshold to his apartment. 

Sukuna took several deep puffs, enjoying the familiar taste of nicotine that invaded his mouth and the way his mind instantly relaxed. ith a new satisfaction settling into his bones, Sukuna kicked his shoes off, took another drag of his cigarette, and let the smoke billow around him. He made his way into his apartment, shook his jacket and tie into his hand, ready to toss them onto the counter, and froze, eyes fixed on the counter itself. 

Sukuna stared, whatever easiness he’d managed to wrangle into his muscles gone in an instant.

The cigarette hung from parted lips, threatening to fall onto the floor. His heart thudded painfully against his ribs, sweat gathered across his palms, and a chill swept through his body. Slowly he stepped forward, set his tie and jacket down with care, and listened carefully to the silence that surrounded him. 

In front of him, staring him straight in the face, was a tidy bunch of flowers placed in a vase that he did not own, carefully arranged to bring out the most colour from them. He swallowed thickly and glanced down at the bottle of whiskey that stood next to them. It was his favourite brand, an expensive one that he rarely bought for himself and one he reserved when he wanted to indulge himself on particularly good days, or when he wanted to sweeten a new client up. Propped against the vase was the final item; a crisp, white envelope with his name scrawled neatly across it in familiar handwriting. 

He didn’t like it. 

It made his stomach queasy and Sukuna turned to survey his apartment. He glanced across every surface he could see, eyed every corner of every wall. Nothing looked out of place. There were no strange clothes, no other phantom gifts, and nobody sat out in the open waiting for him. The jack hammering of his heart didn’t settle and Sukuna stormed through his apartment, peering into every room, closet, and cupboard, looking behind every door, and curtain, coming back to the kitchen once he was done searching, certain that he was in fact alone. 

Slowly, he turned his attention back to the flowers, whiskey, and card, swallowing again. Burnt ash fell from the tip of his cigarette and Sukuna couldn’t care less at that moment where it ended up or what it stained. There was only one person with that handwriting, one person who knew if Sukuna had to have any kind of flower in his apartment, it would be peonies, his mother’s favourite. He chewed on the filtered end of the cigarette. His eyes twitched. He drew his brows into a deep frown and stepped towards the arrangement, gaze fixed on the envelope, almost afraid it would jump up and bite him itself. 

He should burn it. Rip it up and throw it in the bin. Trash the flowers and pour the whiskey down the drain. But there was one small part, that shouted far too loudly in his mind, that needed to know. What was so important that breaking into Sukuna’s apartment, with a key he’d trusted them with so long ago, was worth it. 

He held his breath as he picked the envelope up, flipped it over, and tore it open. Inside was a single sheet of folded paper and Sukuna opened it between his fingers, sucking desperately on his cigarette for some kind of sanity. The handwriting inside was the same as that on the envelope, and as he started to read something inside of Sukuna twisted painfully. 

My dearest Sukuna,

I’m not sure where to start other than to tell you that I still think about you every day. The joys we had and the happy memories we made together can never be forgotten. At least, I hope you can see some good in our relationship as I do. It wasn’t perfect, not by society's standards, but I like to imagine it was perfect for us. 

With every passing day I am filled with more and more regrets for how things ended. The distance between us became immeasurable, and the more I think about it the more painful it becomes. Even now as I write this confession to you, my heart aches for what we had. Within me there is a growing sadness that nothing has been able to fix. 

I admit that I have my faults, as we all do, and I recognise the steps I myself took to push you away from me. For that, from the depths of my heart, I apologise. I know forgiveness will not come easy from you and I accept that fact. I deserve nothing but resentment for the emotional pain and conflict I caused. 

But I want you to know, after seeing you again today, after forgetting what your voice sounds like and struggling to remember how brightly a smile lit your face up, I realised I had to tell you. I needed to confess; I cannot get you off my mind. I go crazy thinking about you and I have come to the beautiful realisation that there is nobody quite like yourself, Sukuna. 

You truly are beautiful in ways words cannot describe. 

If you ever find it within your heart to reach out so that we may either begin anew or try to soothe the wounds of our past, then I will always be ready and waiting for you. I promise to do what is right by you, Sukuna. If you give me the second chance I am on my knees asking you for, I promise to make it up to you, in whatever manner you deem fit. 

Please, consider it. I don’t want to lose you again. 

Yours forever, 

Kenjaku

Sukuna read the letter again, his breathing growing heavier, heart racing faster, and knuckles turning whiter. He read it a third time, a grimace twisting his lips, a look of murder crossing his features, and a growl bubbling in the back of his throat. They weren’t perfect. Far from it. They were destructive. More accurately, Kenjaku was destructive with Sukuna and Sukuna was stupid. Rage boiled within him at the very idea of the guy waltzing into Sukuna’s apartment like he owned the place, as if he, and his apology, were still welcome. 

He’d made it very clear when he’d shoved him through that door all those years ago to never return if he knew what was good for him. 

Anger burnt through Sukuna’s veins and he ground his teeth together with a new fury, one he hadn’t felt since that day almost five years ago. With that fury came the guilt and stupidity, the painful reminder of everything Sukuna almost lost. Because of Kenjaku he’d almost lost Yuuji. Sukuna had gotten himself so wound up in Kenjaku’s world he couldn’t think about anything but that guy. He’d commandeered every inch of Sukuna’s life until there was nothing without Kenjaku, until any space where he wasn’t, felt wrong. 

Sukuna had grovelled at Yuuji’s feet for forgiveness once. Even then he wasn’t certain Yuuji had completely forgiven him, no matter how many times he told him that he did. The money for the restaurant had been given to help soothe Sukuna’s guilty conscience that little bit more. 

Love does stupid things to us all , Yuuji had said. 

But it wasn’t love. It was thickheadedness. Sukuna screwed the letter into a tight ball with a frustrated groan and slammed it onto the counter. He glared at the flowers and whiskey next, half a mind to toss the bottle into the sink and hear the glass shatter. If he cut his hand later on when he picked the pieces out well, he deserved it after all. 

Sukuna had been stupid to think Kenjaku would easily let that kind of power trip go. Stupid to think that Sukuna was anything more than a simple puppet to be used for Kenjaku’s own amusement. Stupid to think Kenjaki cared about Sukuna’s feelings when he’d uttered worries and fears in the first few moths, only to have them all chased away with sweet words and empty promises. Stupid to think he’d gotten over it all. Stupid to ever given in to such a dangerous ride, no matter how great it had made him feel at the time, blissed out almost twenty four hours a day. It was wrong, and Sukuna was stupid to think otherwise. Even more stupid was the fact he’d never gotten the locks changed after kicking Kenjaku out, with mis placed hope that Kenjaku would never come back. 

Stupid. 

Stupid. 

Stupid . 

He lifted a hand up, chest heaving, blood boiling, ready to slam the flowers across the kitchen, when a knock on the door stilled him in place. He blinked, and swallowed down a deep ragged breath, the ashen tip of his cigarette fluttering to the floor in the corners of his gaze. Another knock rattled the door in its frame and whatever anger had been burning inside of Sukuna’s chest twisted and poked painfully at his chest. 

Megumi . 

Snatching the cigarette from his lips, Sukuna dropped it into the vase of flowers and gritted his teeth. A third, heavier, harder, knock shook Sukuna in his shoes. He stormed over with a snarl on his lips, blood still rushing through his veins, fingers itching to grab something, do something, and yanked the door open. The look of fury he was met with matched how Sukuna felt and all of a sudden, he wanted a fight. 

He wanted his bones to ache. Wanted to put a bandage on that invisible, inner turmoil, and replace it with something physical, something he could see, poke at and push, that would heal and disappear in a few days. “What?” he snapped, knowing that if he pushed Megumi enough, perhaps he would be given just that. If there was somebody who could distract him, change the focus of his attention and thoughts, clear his mind, it was Megumi. 

Megumi. 

Megumi. 

Megumi. 

Fuck. 

Sukuna inhaled deeply, snorted, offered Megumi a sneer, and turned on the balls of his feet. The tiny hairs on the back of Sukuna’s neck bristled as he left the door open for Megumi to make his own entrance, feeling the weight of Megumi’s gaze follow him. It was suffocating and not enough. By his side, his fingers twitched again, that same fury still burning through his veins, making his muscles tremble from the inside out. He needed to get it out, vent it, right now, but the last thing Sukuna wanted to do was start a physical brawl with Megumi for the sake of it.

No. 

He needed Megumi to strike first, to break something, make him bleed. Grinding his teeth together, Sukuna waited for the familiar noise of the door to slam, and curled his hands into tighter fists. Another snarl threatened to let loose on his lips, and Sukuna turned. Megumi dropped his bag to the floor with a resounding thud, his own furious look thrown at Sukuna, and Sukuna closed the gap between them. He raised his hands, slammed them against the door on either side of Megumi’s head, leaned into his space, and scowled deeply. “Hit me.” 

A momentary look of surprise flickered across Megumi’s face before he frowned. “What?”

Sukuna leaned down until he was nose to nose with Megumi, until he could count the lashes framing soft, barely there flecks of blue in green eyes. “ Hit. Me .” 

There was no shift of emotion across Megumi’s face. He didn’t back down, falter, or flinch from Sukuna’s attitude. He simply blinked, tilted his head to one side, and scoffed, looking uninterested if anything. “No.” 

A growl resonated in Sukuna’s throat and he shoved himself back a step. “I’m paying you-”

“And I’m not about to assault you!” 

Sukuna jabbed a finger in Megumi’s direction. “You’re here because I have needs I’m paying you to fulfil. I ask you to do what I want, and I am telling you that tonight, I want you to hit me.” 

Megumi stepped forward, encroaching on Sukuna’s space this time. “Asking me to punch you is not the same as me spanking you, edging you, or putting you on your knees. My contract with you is about satisfaction-”

“And I’ll be fucking satisfied when you fucking hit me. So-” He stepped closer to Megumi, toes almost touching, his chest heaving all over again, mind focused on nothing but the need to feel his skin burn and pulse and ache. In a low, dangerous voice, Sukuna whispered, “Fucking hit me like you want to break my nose.”

“I’m not punching-”

“I’m willing to accept the consequences if you allow me to request the potential for physical harm in each of our sessions.” Sukuna let out a deep breath through his nose. “That’s what I put. That’s what you agreed to. I accept the consequences and I take full responsibility. So fucking hit-” 

SLAP

There was a tingle across Sukuna’s cheek, a faint twinge lingered underneath his skin, but it didn’t ache. The faint impression of Megumi’s fingers still whispered across Sukuna’s cheek from where he’d been slapped, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t what he wanted. Slowly, he turned his head to look at Megumi, and Sukuna’s expression darkened. The growl he let out couldn’t be controlled and he couldn’t stop himself from twisting his fingers in the front of Megumi’s shirt. He marched him back until he slammed Megumi against the wall and a grunt rattled from his chet. Sukuna ignored it in favour of pressing Megumi further up against the plaster, gathering more fabric between white knuckles, and leaning his full weight onto Megumi. 

“Megumi,” he whispered, lips close to Megumi’s ear, breath tickling the shell, voice even lower than before. “The next punch you throw better make me fucking bleed. Otherwise, I’m terminating this contract.” 

His heart thumped painfully against his ribs at those words. It was a bluff. A huge, stupid bluff that he was willing to risk. If Megumi quit, took Sukuna’s threat at face value, told Sukuna fine, he was out, then Sukuna would kick his own ass to the streets and back. Hell, he’d fall to his knees, kiss Megumi’s feet, the ground he walked on, and grovel apologies until his throat bled because he had no intention of letting Megumi go. He was the best thing to walk into his life since Kenjaku, since Sukuna tried to do the right thing. 

But he needed Megumi to think he was serious, that he was desperate for this.

“You won’t,” Megumi said, and Sukuna tried to read his eyes. Confusion? Disbelief? Fear? He couldn’t put a finger on what he was seeing. 

“You’re here to fulfil my demands.” 

“That is not-”

Sukuna finally released his hold on Megumi’s shirt and straightened up, keeping his own face stoic and unreadable.”I will find somebody else.”

There was a moment where Megumi stared up at him, mouth parting ever so slightly, as if he were trying to understand what Sukuna was saying. “No,” Megumi said eventually, “you won’t,” and a hint of confidence inched back into his voice.

Sukuna snorted. “There’s always somebody else.”

It was Megumi’s turn to scowl darkly. If looks could kill Sukuna would be buried twelve feet under now. “Not like me.” 

Sukuna chuckled, one brow arched at Megumi. “Someone pretending to know what they’re doing? Someone who can sure as shit talk but when it comes to actually performing? Actually following through with their agreement? I’ve met dozens like you, Megumi. You ,” he gave Megumi a once over with judgmental eyes, “are nothing-” Megumi shoved him back hard enough to make him stumble and Sukuna blinked, his tongue working faster than his brain. “Nothing, Fushiguro! You think you’re special?” Sukuna barked an empty laugh. “You’re not the only one around here with eyes. You’re not the only one who can see people, and I see you . What?” Sukuna stepped forward, enjoying the way every muscle of Megumi’s face twitched. “Did daddy never give you enough praise?” Megumi straightened up, chin tipping up a fraction and Sukuna’s heart pounded against his chest. He could taste the electricity in the air, feel the thin veil of control that Megumi was quickly losing control of. He shoved Megumi back, ignoring the taste of venom in the air and the brewing storm of thunder in Megumi’s face. “Did mommy never put your finger painting on the fridge? You’re so desperate to be something, to be seen, to be told what a good little boy you are. You’re so desperate to be somebody, but you are nothing and out of the two of us? You’re the real nobody here, Megumi. Fucking. Nobody .” 

CRACK

Sukuna stumbled back from the force of the punch. The noise still echoed in the room, and it rang sharply in Sukuna’s ears. A warmth settled deep in his stomach, rolling through him in one overwhelming wave. It almost felt like Megumi had broken his nose, thick drops of blood starting to drip onto his top lip. He parted his lips with a soft noise, halfway to a moan, and flicked his gaze in Megumi’s direction.

Nothing but pure, unadulterated hate was aimed at him, and Sukuna finally moaned, a shiver running down his spine. 

Not a single word passed Megumi’s lips. He didn’t open his mouth in the slightest. Soft lips remained pressed into a thin line and he stared Sukuna down, gaze unwavering, as he shook his jacket off. It fell to the floor, and Sukuna swallowed under that ever present glare. Megumi reached for his tie, snapped the fabric from around his neck without flinching, and marched forward. Sukuna was too afraid to move, too scared to even breathe. All he could do was hold his breath, watch, and wait for the inevitable. 

Even as Megumi wrapped the tie around Sukuna’s neck, he didn’t look away. He fastened a firm knot onto it, tightened it until the fabric dug into Sukuna’s skin and muscles, and wrapped the other end around his hand, creating a makeshift, very short leash. 

Sukuna moaned. 

It felt good to have something around his throat, to have that restraint and constriction. 

Megumi scoffed, the first sound he’d made since he’d punched Sukuna, and tugged hard on the tie so that he could reach for his previously discarded bag. Sukuna had no choice but to follow, neck dragged down, following every twist of Megumi’s wrist, body bent into an awkward half crouch. Even as Megumi all but dragged him across the room, tie held firmly by his side, Sukuna was forced to follow in that same clumsy stance, almost tripping over his own feet on the way. 

They were barely in the living room when Megumi yanked hard, pulled Sukuna roughly against him, and shoved a shoulder into him until he fell into an unceremonious heap on the floor. Sukuna scrambled to put his hands behind him, twisting himself into a sitting position, eyes tracking Megumi’s every step across the room. 

Megumi didn’t return that simple favour. Not once did he glance or flick his eyes in Sukuna’s direction. He ignored him as he walked over the chair Sukuna didn’t have time to set up for them. Sukuna could feel the anger in Megumi’s body as he kicked the chair into place, refusing to apologise when one leg knocked against Sukuna’s thigh. “Knees,” was the only command Megumi uttered and Sukuna rushed to sit onto his knees, throat running dry, heart racing a mile a minute. 

Megumi dropped his bag by the side of the chair, threw himself into it, and reached for the tie wrapped tightly around Sukuna’s throat. It looked effortless when Megumi pulled him up, almost dragging Sukuna off of his knees in the process, and Sukuna grunted, gaze clouding with lust, heat flooding his entire body, and his mind screaming yes . 

“You,” Megumi started, “are nothing more than a filthy bitch in heat.” Sukuna groaned. “You don’t give a shit about me, about anyone, but yourself.” Sukuna nodded, mouth falling open. “Did somebody have a bad day? Did somebody upset you? Are your poor widdle feelings hurt?” Sukuna almost choked on a noise. Hearing Megumi belittle him in such a ridiculous voice should have infuriated him and made him want to force Megumi to eat his words. Instead, Sukuna nodded, eyes almost falling closed, cock twitching in his pants, and his skin itching with the need for fresh cool air, too many layers restricting him. “Who cares?” Megumi snapped, the tie around Sukuna’s throat shifted in tandem with Megumi’s body, and Sukuna’s eyes widened at the sudan weight that pressed against his clothed cock. “What?” Megumi scoffed. “Am I supposed to care?” Soundlessly Sukuna’s mouth worked, but Megumi tsked, cutting off whatever words Sukuna had before they could form. “I fucking don’t. You are nothing, Sukuna. Nothing but a tiny blip in my life. A tiny, insignificant smudge that means nothing. You are so tiny compared to everything else, so unsubstantial I don’t think about you once I leave.” Megumu tutted, and Sukuna was witness to a look so condescending it made him tremble. “I barely think about you when I am here, you mean so little to me.” 

“Megumi,” Sukuna whined. The moment Megumi pressed harder against his cock Sukuna gasp, entire body quivering at the pressure, his lungs struggling for fresh air against the tie that cut into his neck. 

“Dogs don’t fucking talk.” 

Sukuna found Megumi’s face then and there was a new light in those eyes, a new fire that instilled fear into Sukuna.

“No matter how desperate and needy for attention you are, you are nothing more than a bitch. Then my bitch. What? Did mommy not kiss you goodnight enough? Did daddy never teach you how to ride a fucking bike?” A thick wad of spit landed on Sukuna’s cheek and he melted, eyes falling closed, hips rocking forward, lips working noiselessly as Megumi pulled him further up. “You’re the one so desperate to be seen, to be heard, that you’ll do and say anything .” Sukuna tried to swallow, the bobbing of his throat catching against the tie, and he choked on a stilled breath. Slowly, Megumi pulled their faces closer and when Sukuna cracked his eyes open he swore he was staring at the devil himself. If he was afraid before, he was terrified now. “Tell me Sukuna,” Megumi whispered, voice low, barely above a whisper, and only just louder than the painful thumping of Sukuna’s heart in his ears, “does anybody actually care about you? You act so pompous, so self righteous and self assured, yet all I see is a lonely, pathetic boy in an empty room. Am I wrong?”

For a few slow seconds, everything froze. 

The impassive look Megumi wore peered down at Sukuna and he simply stared, the cogs of his brain working against the fog Megumi was breathing into life. In the back of his mind was a small voice screaming that this was too much, they’d gone too far, crossed yet another line. Sukuna had slandered Megumi’s family and in return Megumi had done the same. 

And yet, Sukuna arched in ways he never had before. He parted his lips with a soft noise and shook his head, ashamed of how right Megumi was. Sukuna was lonely. His apartment was too empty. People cared about him, he was certain of it, but a slither of doubt told him they’d be better off without him, that if he left and never spoke to them again, nobody would care. They’d all get on without him. 

The thought squeezed his chest and pulled another whimper from Sukuna’s throat. 

The smirk that curled the corners of Megumi’s lips dragged Sukuna to the present, and Megumi huffed. “That’s what I thought.” There was another squeeze to Sukuna’s ribs and he pressed his lips together to hold back another whimper. Megumi drew him closer, closing the gap between them until Sukuna felt every shift of air as Megumi spoke. “You have no idea who I am, Sukuna. You know nothing about me, and it would be wise for you not to pretend otherwise.” 

Sukuna groaned, eyelids flickering, a small patch of drool beginning to gather at the corner of his mouth. He nodded mindlessly. Megumi was right. Sukuna didn’t know anything about him.

That foot against his cock pressed harder and Sukuna bucked against it, enjoying the delicious friction that came with it, wanting desperately to give in to that electric pulse of pleasure that begged for more. 

“Tonight,” Megumi whispered, “you’re going to listen to me very carefully. You think I punish my subs by spanking them? Hitting them until they bruise?” He laughed hollowly once. “You think I like to wrench moan after moan from your body until you’re begging me to stop and begging for more in the same breath?” Sukuna nodded. Yes. He did. He hoped. It’s all he’d been hoping for, all he’d wanted. Hurt me. Hurt me. Hurt me. “Too bad.” He shoved Sukuna back down onto the floor, tie dropping from his hand to land across Sukuna’s chest. He turned to the bag he dropped earlier and reached into it. From within he pulled out a blindfold. Megumi spread his thighs wide, clicked his fingers and pointed to the space between them, giving Sukuna a look that gave no room for argument. 

He considered grumbling, throwing a fit and running his mouth. But another look at Megumi’s face stopped all of that before it could start. He shuffled up onto his knees and into the spot Megumi had gestured. There was no kindness as Megumi fastened the blindfold roughly into place, catching a few of Sukuna’s hairs in the too tight knot. 

“Open,” Megumi said. 

A flush warmed Sukuna’s skin and he let his mouth hang open, unsure exactly what it was Megumi wanted from him. As the seconds ticked by there was a rustle in a bag, and the air in front of Sukuna shifted as Megumi came back. One hand grabbed his chin, fingers digging into the grooves of his cheeks, and forced his head up a fraction. Something warm, and softly rigid slid across his tongue. As much as Sukuna wanted to draw back and spit out whatever it was, Megumi dug his nails into his skin and held him there, foot pressing harder against his cock as a silent warning. 

Sukuna screwed his face up and wriggled on the spot, brain finally catching up with what Megumi was sliding into his mouth. It took up all the room, followed the line of his tongue, and touched the back of his throat until something pressed against his bottom lip. Even then Megumi kept pushing, and Sukuna made a muffled noise of protest, brows drawn deep, scowl etched into his muscles, and his throat spasming around the intrusion. 

“Dogs don’t talk, and I know how awful you are at following instructions without assistance,” Megumi chided. Sukuna huffed, body tensing when the muscle of his throat fluttered around the silicone dildo Megumi had wedged into his mouth. “Better dogs,” Megumi carried on, and the warmth of Megumi’s body in front of him disappeared. He met the cool air of his apartment and the waning scent of peppermint and eucalyptus. For a brief moment, Megumi removed his foot from Sukuna’s clothed cock, but it was back in an instant. He worked the heel up and down Sukuna’s length, and toed at where the head pressed desperately against tight fabric. “Better dogs listen to their masters and do as they’re told. They follow their masters orders and commands like the obedient bitch they are. Are you my obedient bitch, Sukuna?” 

He hesitated to answer. 

A painful war tugged inside of Sukuna and eventually, reluctantly, he nodded once, a barely there gesture. 

“Am I your master?”

Sukuna shifted his weight across his knees, irritation beginning to seep into his muscles. But he nodded again, chest tightening at the admission.

“So you’re not stupid.” He twisted his lips into a snarl the best he could manage around the toy in his mouth and Megumi tsked. “Or maybe you are.” The sound of Megumi shuffling filled the air, followed by the noise of him dropping his bag. His foot hovered over Sukuna’s cock again, a subtle reminder that he could be the difference between pain and pleasure. “You’re going to stay there.” With the slightest hint of pressure Megumi pressed down. “And you’re not going to move. You’re not going to react. You’re not going to make a sound. And you most definitely,” Megumi dug his heel into the spot at the base of Sukuna’s cock, dragging a guttural cry from him, “do not come. Do you understand, dog?”

Slowly Sukuna nodded, muscles trembling as Megumi twisted his foot against the swell of his balls before he eased off. Sukuna sucked a deep breath in, shivered again, and exhaled, trying his best to force his muscles to relax. 

“You’re moving.” 

A frown creased Sukuna’s brows and there was the sudden sharp dig of a heel into his thigh. He grunted, and lifted his head up to glare in Megumi’s general direction. 

“What?” Megumi scoffed. “You’re mad at me because you can’t listen to instructions?” He tutted. “Typical. It’s never your fault is it, Sukuna? It’s always somebody else’s.” Megumi let out a sigh and shoved the toe of his foot into Sukuna’s stomach, right above the band of his pants. “This is why nobody likes you, why nobody would miss you.” He trailed that foot up and Sukuna stilled, resisting the urge to arch up into it, to follow it with a puff of his chest. He screwed his fingers into the fabric of his pants and tried to keep as still as possible. Underneath his shirt his muscles twitched as Megumi dragged his foot higher and higher, until he stopped with his toe pressed just underneath Sukuna’s pecs. “Maybe you can learn after all.”

A rush of air dropped in front of him, and the floor underneath his knees shook as a thud echoed in the room, making him jump. 

“Or not,” Megumi deadpanned.

Sukuna dug his teeth into the silicone cock in his mouth. He let out a slow breath through his nose and paused, muscles wound tight and ears finely tuned to every subtle movement in the room. It was silent, the only noise being his own almost steady breathing through his nose, the slight puff of air between his lips and the toy, and the noise of traffic from outside. 

It was almost unbearable and Sukuna had half a mind to rip the toy from his throat and tell Megumi that this was not what he wanted. 

Tap . 

Tap.

Tap. 

Tap.

A rhythmic tap of metal had Sukuna’s full attention, and as he listened to the small noise echo in his apartment, he realised the tapping was coming from Megumi. 

Tap. 

Tap. 

It set him on edge and rattled the ends of his nerves. He could picture it; Megumi sat in the chair, eyes fixed on Sukuna, entire body still, and whatever that incessant tapping was. It was small, tinny, just loud enough to itch at Sukuna’s skin and make goosebumps break out. 

Tap . 

He wanted to know what it was. Had Megumi grabbed something without Sukuna hearing? He couldn’t place his finger on what it might be. It sounded small in size, and there was a faint echo behind each tap, almost muffled by wherever it was coming from. 

Tap. 

Tap . 

It set him on edge and Sukuna’s face twitched with each new noise. It was the only sound to be vocalised, the only noise to invade the air and Sukuna needed to know what it was Megumi was doing, how was he making that noise. 

Tap . 

A growl bubbled up Sukuna’s throat and suddenly silence descended on them. He held his breath, arched one brow, and suddenly there was the thud of a heel against his side. He grunted as he tried to keep his balance, jutting his chin up to glower at Megumi from under the blindfold. 

“I thought that’s what you wanted.”

Sukuna froze. 

The ache in his side jumped to the front of his mind and the warmth that blossomed alongside it had him flushing. He did want to hurt, he wanted the flash of pain, the gathering of bruises, the perpetual ache come tomorrow. He never thought it would come like this. Sukuna made another noise and the quiet came back. Megumi dragged his toe down Sukuna’s chest and halted, heel hovering over his crotch. “If you’re going to keep acting like a disobedient dog, perhaps I should treat you like one.” The soft creak of the chair and the soft click of Megumi’s shoes against the floor as he stood up made Sukuna frown. “I need to borrow a couple of ties, do you mind if I grab some?” Another flash of confusion fluttered in Sukuna’s mind and he shook his head. “Good. Don’t move.”

Megumi’s footsteps retreated in the vague direction of the bedroom and Sukuna’s breath hitched in his throat. He wanted to lick at dry lips, breathe easily, get up off sore knees, but he stayed where he was. He listened to Megumi and obeyed this one command, swallowing around the toy still pressed between his teeth. The best he could to alleviate some of the pain creeping into his knees was to shuffle his weight from one knee to the next. He wiped sweat-dampened palms across his pants, and, now that Megumi wasn’t here, Sukuna ran his hands through his hair, brushing away the fine hairs that had fallen across his face and tickled his skin. 

Footsteps echoed and Sukuna dropped his arms back to his sides. There was the snap of fabric and he straightened up in his position. Megumi’s steps clicked across the floor and the closer Megumi got, the faster Sukuna’s heart raced. He swallowed again, hating how heavy and thick the gulp was, the way it sunk into his stomach uneasily. The quiet was back and Sukuna almost tipped his head back to look up at Megumi. 

Almost. 

The tie around Sukuna’s neck moved and suddenly his head was wrenched up. A hand in his hair tilted his head back and Sukuna coughed, the angle forcing his throat to spasm uncomfortably around the intrusion within it. He could feel Megumi’s eyes on him, assessing him, and it sent a shiver running through Sukuna. 

“You moved,” Megumi said, and he scoffed, pulling harder on the tie until Sukuna made a garbled noise. With a sigh Megumi released him, easing the pain across Sukuna’s scalp and throat. “I guess it’s time to teach an old dog new tricks.” Sukuna followed Megumi’s footsteps, turning his head in tandem until Megumi stopped behind him. “Lift your arms up.” He did as he was told with a confused frown, and Megumi fastened something around his waist. It was thin, and Megumi tugged whatever it was against Sukuna’s waist over and over until he fastened a tight knot. There was a little more tugging, and Sukuna felt it. A weight fastened to whatever Megumi had wrapped around his waist. That weight, whatever it was, hung between his legs and only caused more confusion to flow through Sukuna’s veins. 

The dildo was wriggled in Sukuna’s mouth, and he grunted at the way it was twisted into his throat before Megumi pulled it free. The moment it was gone Sukuna inhaled a sharp, deep gulp of air, and groaned loudly, body shuddering as he remembered how to breathe again. 

Megumi traced light fingertips through Sukuna’s hair before the tie around his neck shifted again. “You’re my unruly mutt who needs to remember how to follow orders, so I’ll start with a few simple ones. Walk with me.” There was a tug, Megumi stepped away, and Sukuna was forced to follow or be dragged along.

Sukuna froze and turned his head to stare in Megumi’s vague direction, skin ablaze with shame. Crawl. Megumi wanted Sukuna to crawl after him. And not for some show, or as part of a sexual fantasy. It was simply to make him crawl for the sake of it. Sukuna darted his tongue out to dampen his lips. With a nervous swallow he sank back to his hands and knees. The last time he’d crawled was with the hope of being between Megumi’s legs, with some ulterior motive in mind. 

This time? He couldn’t see what he had to gain from this. Yet, when Megumi said, “Good boy,” Sukuna preened with a rush of pride. Megumi tugged on the tie again until Sukuna moved, and the moment he put one hand in front of himself, Megumi said, “That’s a good start.” 

Sukuna’s pride hurt as he followed each pull of the tie, even more so when every foot he crawled made that weight Megumi fastened to him swing between his legs. Coupled with the makeshift leash around his throat, the commands Megumi used, and how Megumi referred to him as a dog, Sukuna couldn’t help but to imagine a tail swinging in time with his movements. He felt true shame now as Megumi walked him back and forth across his apartment, head sinking lower and lower on each lap, a small trembling beginning to settle into his muscles. He had no choice but to blindly follow Megumi, teeth grinding together, skin ablaze with mortification. He hadn’t even had time to change out of his suit. He could feel his pants strain at the bends and his shirt pulling at his shoulders. His shoes dragged behind him across the floor, either tapping or scraping across the surface, and every now and again his own tie got caught underneath a hand as it trailed underneath him. 

“Good boy,” Megumi purred as if he really were talking to a dog, and the humiliation only wormed its way deeper into Sukuna’s bones. 

Underneath all of that however, was a muddle of thoughts and emotions he couldn’t name. There was a constant frown etched across his brows, and the aching in his cock only confused him further. 

This was new to him. 

He’d been called a dog, or mutt before, been collared and leashed, but never like this. Never with such disregard to himself as a person, and never with the utmost fear that this might be all Megumi wanted of him tonight. That there might be nothing else for Sukuna once he’d performed his little tricks.

On one hand, he wanted to see where this went, what the outcome was going to be. Would Megumi actually reward him for doing as he was told, or if this really was it? On the other hand, Sukuna wanted the ground to swallow him up whole. 

It was a perfect balance he’d never experienced before that sent his mind reeling. 

“Stop.” Sukuna did. “Sit.” He pulled a face at that, top lip curling into a grimace, before Sukuna sat down onto his knees and stared straight ahead of him, refusing to look at Megumi. “Good boy,” Megumi praised, and it was disgusting how Sukuna’s heart clenched at those two words, far too pleased with the light, babyish tone of Megumi’s voice. “How about a little fetch?”

Sukuna tilted his head up with a narrowing glare, the blindfold doing little to hide that emotion. “Megumi,” he hissed. 

“Dog’s don’t talk,” Megumi said firmly, “they bark.”

“No.”

“Sukuna.”

“Megumi.”

“ Ryomen Sukuna .” He clamped his mouth shut at his full name being hissed with venom. “You will bark for me.” 

For the second time that night, time stopped, and Sukuna dug his fingers into his thighs, fabric gathered between white knuckles, threatening to tear it asunder. His lips quivered, a snarl threatened to break loose, and that earlier bubble of anger raced back through his nerves. 

“Bark ,” Megumi reiterated. 

Slowly, Sukuna opened his mouth, in disbelief at the level of obedience he was going to, and said, “Woof.” 

“There’s a good boy.” Sukuna’s stomach twisted sickeningly at those words, far too excited with the response, and he hung his head in fresh shame. “Now,” Megumi said, “we’re going to play fetch. Give me your phone.”

“Excuse me?” 

“Do I have to remind you already what dogs do?” 

Sukuna pressed his lips together with a sour look and quietly mumbled, “Woof?” 

“Good. Now, give me your phone. I’m assuming anything important is backed up in emails.” Sukuna nodded reluctantly and fumbled with his phone from his pocket. He hesitated before he held it up, his mouth falling open the moment Megumi took it. There was a protest on his tongue, an argument that this should be off limits, that this was too far. It was Sukuna’s property and whatever he had in mind could break it. “Bark once for green, two for red. What’s your colour, Sukuna?” 

It was a long moment filled with silent debates with himself before Sukuna ground out, “Woof.”

“Okay,” Megumi said, and a clatter sounded across the room. The tie Megumi had been using as a leash fell slack and Sukuna glanced in the direction the clatter had come from.  “Now fetch.” A full minute passed before Megumi nudged the side of his foot to Sukuna’s waist, “Go on, fetch.” 

A new flavour of humiliation washed through Sukuna as he put his hands down and slowly crawled across his floor. There was a constant, embarrassed heat burning his skin, topped by the weight of Megumi’s eyes following his every move, makeshift tail swinging behind him. There were words in the back of his throat, a threat hanging from his tongue, yet he swallowed it all down and played along with whatever stupid game this was, whatever stupid role Megumi wanted him to play. 

“Left a little!” Sukuna lifted his head up to acknowledge he’d heard, and shifted in the direction Megumi mentioned, hands stretched out in front of him, palms gingerly patting at the floor. “Little more left.” He blew a puff of air out through his nose, turned a fraction, and shuffled forward again. The mix of emotions that swirled in his stomach left him feeling anxious and still very unsure of this entire thing. His hand finally hit something and he grabbed the phone in his fingers. “Good boy. Now,” there was the soft creak of a chair, “bring it to me,” and Megumi clicked his fingers. 

Sukuna’s skin flushed at the idea of being at Megumi’s beck and call, and being treated like a literal dog. He should get up, snatch the blindfold off, and tell Megumi that he’d rather get his nose broken on the next punch the guy threw. 

Instead, however, Sukuna crawled. 

He managed to make his way to where Megumi sat and clumsily shoved the phone into Megumi’s lap. “Good boy,” Megumi purred and soft fingers tousled Sukuna’s hair before Megumi scratched at his scalp. It was… soothing. And nice. A gentle, reassuring touch that Sukuna hadn’t felt in years. He almost melted into it. 

“Ready to go again?” When Sukuna didn’t immediately answer, Megumi stroked his fingers down Sukuna’s face until he cupped his chin and tilted his head up. It should have been demeaning, ridiculous, obscene. This entire situation shouldn’t be making Sukuna sigh into Megumi’s hand and nuzzle the palm of his hand with a nod. Megumi gave his chin a soft squeeze, “I didn’t quite hear that.” 

Sukuna made a noise, screwed his face up, and mumbled, “Woof.” 

“Good boy.” Across his apartment his phone clattered noisily and Sukuna froze. “Fetch.” 

Begrudgingly he obeyed. Turned away from Megumi and crawled across the floor, knees aching, palms sore, dignity nonexistent by this point. Over and over it went, a continuous cycle that left Sukuna needing to hear more praises, feel more of those kind fingers through his hair, and do his best to please Megumi. With each new return of his phone, Megumi’s voice softened and the praises were longer. “You’re so good for me.” “Well aren’t you just the best boy I’ve ever had.” “Who’s my good boy? Who’s my best boy?” With each new praise Sukuna slowly forgot how this night started.

It was almost cathartic. 

He lost count of how many times he retrieved his phone, but when Megumi left a hand settled in Sukuna’s hair, fingers idly scratching at his scalp, a hum in the back of his throat, Sukuna knew the fetching was over. There was a strange flicker of disappointment within him, overshadowed by the continuous dancing over fingers through his hair. It made Sukuna melt into the touch, lay his head against Megumi’s thigh with his eyes closed, his own mind drifting towards a happiness that was void of emotions and thoughts. 

“Sukuna,” Megumi whispered, gently interrupting the spell he was under. Sukuna lifted his head up, still blind to the world and to whatever expression Megumi was pulling. “I want you to sit back a little for me. Please?” He pulled a face at being disturbed before he did as Megumi asked, shuffling back on his knees until he no longer felt the warmth of Megumi’s body. “Good, you’re such a good boy for me. Always doing as you’re told.” Sukuna nodded once, shoulders instinctively rolling back, chest puffing out at the praise. “Turn around, please.” It confused him but again, Sukuna did as he was told and turned his back on Megumi. “Good, now, present yourself for me.” 

That command cut Sukuna’s thinking short and he looked over his shoulder with a frown. 

The raise of Megumi’s brows was clear in his voice as he said, “Present yourself, Sukuna.” There was a hint of disappointment creeping into Megumi’s voice that made him regret not doing as asked the first time around. “I thought you were a desperate, greedy bitch in heat.” His stomach flared with fire at those words and the soft fog in his mind turned into heavy cotton in the back of his throat. “So show me what you want. Show me what greedy bitches need ,” a noise echoed in his throat, “and I’ll think about your reward for such good behaviour.” 

If Sukuna didn’t have dignity before he certainly had none now, not with the way his stomach twisted from Megumi’s words, the way his heart raced, or his toes curled in his shoes. Fresh sweat gathered across his palm and Sukuna licked at dry lips as he considered the situation in front of him. 

Present himself. For a reward.

He had been good for Megumi all night, right? He’d gone the extra mile to please him. Surely there was no denying a reward after this? It was the argument he waged with himself as he turned to face forward again, each breath rattling his lungs and his frame. Was he really going to do this? He swallowed thickly, mind narrowing to the tightness of his pants. Through all of his crawling and fetching, he’d been vaguely aware of it, but he wasn’t entirely certain it was what it was or simply a case of twisted fabric around his hips. 

He lifted a hand to the front of his pants and dragged a palm over the bulge, a shaky breath shuddering through him. 

Fuck. This was definitely new territory for him and it almost scared him. 

“Sukuna?” Megumi warned. 

He pressed his lips into a thin line and mulled over the command again. There was no doubt in his mind that the night wasn’t over, that Megumi had more in store for him, something unexpected and would rock his world in unfamiliar and exciting ways. He had that effect on Sukuna, and Sukuna was almost certain that Megumi wouldn’t stoke that fire in his stomach, pork and prod at his desires, and degrade him so much without giving a little something back. 

After all of that humiliation, he had to humble Sukuna in some fashion. 

With his heart racing in his ears and his skin burning up, Sukuna leaned forward and pressed his hands to the floor. He lowered himself onto his elbows and rocked his hips back to present his ass to Megumi. 

“Not bad, but I think you can do better than that, Sukuna. You are my obedient bitch remember.” 

He groaned. It was stupid the way he ached at those words, the way they made his nerves dance with fresh electricity and made him want more. Without another noise, Sukuna moved his arms in front of him, pressed his cheek to the floor, and spread his knees slightly wider. He held his breath and waited for Megumi’s approval. 

It was forever before Megumi nudged a foot against Sukuna’s ankle. “Show it off for me, Sukuna. I want to see you shake it.”

“Fuck,” he breathed into the floor. 

“What was that?” 

Sukuna bit his tongue and frowned. Pushing his weight onto his fingertips, he swayed his hips from side to side, rocked them back and forth, and pressed his forehead to the floor. With gritted teeth he mumbled, “Woof.” 

“Again.” 

“Woof.” 

“ Again .” 

Sukuna glared at the floor, wriggled his hips again, and spread his knees even wider. “Woof, woof, woof .” 

It was quiet. The only noise Sukuna could hear was his own heavy breathing. He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth and chewed on it hard, anxiousness welling up inside of him, shame hitting his pride all over again at what he’d just done. 

A soft exhale that wasn’t his own filled the air and Sukuna stilled, listening carefully for another noise. There was a subtle grunt, the dragging of a hand over fabric, and a barely there muttered curse that Sukuna almost missed. “Good,” Megumi said, voice strained, “Good boy.” Sukuna relaxed instantly, stopped arching his back out, and climbed up onto his elbows. “Come here,” and there was no mistaking the noise of Megumi patting his lap. Gathering up his self esteem, Sukuna turned on his hands and knees and crawled his way back to Megumi. “Good boy, such a good boy,” Megumi whispered, both hands ruffling Sukuna’s hair, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “You are my good boy aren’t you, aren’t you? Do you want a reward? Hmm? Think you’ve earned a prize?”

“Woof,” Sukuna said, ears perking up at the sound of that. 

Megumi made a pleased noise, hummed, and Sukuna felt him shift forward in his seat. “Yeah, I think you have too,” he whispered, almost breathless in his agreement. His foot was back, heel dragging up and down Sukuna’s clothed cock, and Sukuna dug his fingers into the fabric of Megumi’s pants as he hunched over Megumi’s lap. “Mmm, good right?” Sukuna nodded once, lips falling open as Megumi added just the right amount of pressure to dampen his boxers. “I know, I know. It’s been a long night and you’ve done what I asked of you so well. Here,” he moved his foot down and hooked it between Sukuna’s legs. As he pulled Sukuna forward by his foot, he tugged on the tie still wrapped around Sukuna’s throat, pulling him closer. “Go on,” Megumi whispered, voice sweet, and soft, “you can have it.” 

Mortification slapped Sukuna in the face. He bit down on his tongue to quell the whine that bubbled in his throat when Megumi pressed his leg up, slow and obnoxious in his movements. 

“You misbehaved when I first arrived,” Megumi said, voice gentle with no manner of ill content. As he continued to speak, he rubbed his leg up and down, grinding his calf against Sukuna’s trapped cock. “You spoke out of line and even went so far as to manhandle me.” It was aggravating the way Megumi spoke kindly with him whilst simultaneously stirring up every single one of Sukuna’s nerves. It made Sukuna clung to Megumi, hips bucking forward to chase each retreat. “Under normal circumstances, I would have walked out of here and never returned.”

“I’m sorry,” Sukuna blurted, the apology making him gasp and groan. His mind was an awful mix of thoughts and emotions. Regret chased waves of pleasure as Megumi continued to rock his leg against Sukuna. 

“It’s okay,” Megumi cooed, one hand carding through his hair, and his tone helped to soothe Sukuna’s bruised and burned ego. “It’s okay, Sukuna. We all have our moments.” 

“Megumi,” he choked on a whimper. 

Those fingers in his hair traced the lines of his face until Megumi cupped his chin and tilted Sukuna’s head up. “You’ve learnt your lesson. For now,” he pressed harder against Sukuna’s cock with his leg, “this is all you’re getting. When you start the night on a good foot, you can have a bigger reward. Agreed?” 

“Yes, yes,” Sukuna mumbled, head nodding wildly in agreement. “Please, yes.” 

Megumi brushed a thumb over Sukuna’s bottom lip. “Then enjoy yourself. I won’t take this away from you, not tonight. You can have it as long as you need it.” 

A whine fell from his mouth and Sukuna fell forward, almost burying his face in Megumi’s crotch as he rolled his hips once. Intense pleasure swept through him and he screwed his eyes shut, chasing that same wave with another rock of his hips. Above him, Megumi threaded his fingers through Sukuna’s hair, followed the curve of his neck, and top of his spine, palm pressing against his tense muscles and easing the stress buried within them. Sukuna shuffled forward on his knees, laid his arms over Megumi’s thighs, and ground his hips forward. 

“Good,” Megumi said, “that’s it.” 

Sukuna groaned, heat washing through him. He rolled his hips again, cock twitching painfully in his pants, and sank lower into Megumi’s lap. He needed to get off so badly. Nothing else mattered. There wasn’t another single, coherent thought in his brain, everything focused on that point where Sukuna’s groin met Megumi’s leg, and the building of friction as he moved back and forth. Later on, when he was alone, he’ll realise how pathetic he looked in this moment, how utterly desperate he was, but right now, he didn’t care. 

He needed a release. 

Now. 

He moaned, entire frame trembling with the noise, fingers digging into Megumi’s thighs, face falling further into Megumi’s lap. Megumi’s hands roved over Sukuna’s head, adding small increments of pressure, subtly pushing Sukuna further down. His mouth fell open and Sukuna sank the rest of the way without assistance, nose pressing against Megumi’s belt, mouth framing the fold of his pants where he imagined Megumi’s own cock lay hidden away. 

Sukuna shifted on his knees until his nose was settled underneath the belt, and he inhaled deeply. A whine shot out from his throat. Megumi smelt different down here. Stronger, heavier, thicker. No amount of cologne or shower gels could mask what was Megumi and Sukuna nuzzled against it, hips still bucking against Megumi’s leg. He didn’t want to pull away. He wanted to bury himself further into that smell, until he could smell nothing else, until it followed him everywhere. 

Another groan shook through him as he ground against Megumi’s leg, dragged his hips up and down, bucked widely and desperately. He mouthed at Megumi’s groin, keened and writhed, losing himself to it all, mind swimming in thoughts of Megumi. 

“Such a good boy,” Megumi mumbled, voice full of adoration and reverence. Still he racked his fingers through Sukuna’s hair, and still he helped Sukuna in rocking his leg against him. “You’re my good boy, aren’t you, Sukuna?” 

He nodded eagerly, fingers grasping at Megumi, burying his face further and further into Megumi’s crotch, mouthing at the fabric of his pants, wishing there were no layers between them. Wishing he could taste Megumi in full. A frustrated noise rumbled through Sukuna at that idea, of being denied something so sweet by a few layers of fabric. 

Megumi chuckled. “You want something?” Sukuna nodded again, almost feeling like a petulant child as he tugged at Megumi’s pants. It was almost tender in the way Megumi caressed Sukuna’s cheek and scratched at the nape of Sukuna’s neck. “Perhaps another time. You haven’t earned that right tonight.” 

Eventually. 

Sukuna would have it eventually.

That’s what his brain picked up from that. 

But he whined at being refused it now, the only thing spurring him was that small slither of hope. He bucked harder and faster, wrapped one arm around Megumi’s leg, and held it there, fucking against it in madness. He clung to the idea of being able to smell Megumi in full, feel his weight in his mouth, taste him on his tongue, swallow him down until Megumi moaned his name. It made Sukuna ache and throb, cock straining against his pants impossibly hard, fabric dampening with each passing second. 

“That’s it,” Megumi murmured, still stroking Sukuna’s hair. “Good boy, good boy, good boy.” 

Sukuna wrenched a cry from his own throat as he came to those two words echoing in his mind, filling his head with cotton stuffed warmth. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before. Even as he kept rocking against Megumi’s leg, nose buried in the deep folds of his pants, lips mouthing through breathy gasps against the vague outline of Megumi’s cock, Sukuna came. He dragged everything he could out of his own cock, rubbing himself until he cried again, until he couldn’t stop the tremors in his shoulders and the trembling of his breath. 

He sagged into Megumi’s lap, face buried, the scent of Megumi clouding every single one of Sukuna’s senses. All the while Megumi whispered sweet praises into his ear, stroked his fingers through his hair and rubbed a soothing hand across Sukuna’s shoulders. It was forever Sukuna sat there on his knees, boxers and pants soiled, breathing ragged, one hand still white knuckling Megumi’s pants as the man himself whispered to Sukuna that he’d done well, excellent in fact. 

It took even longer for Sukuna to realise the full events of the night and he hesitated in dragging himself from Megumi’s lap. A hand was on his face in an instant, thumb gently caressing his cheek, catching the bottom of the blindfold on each pass. “You okay?” Megumi whispered. 

Sukuna licked his lips, cleared his throat, and nodded. “I’m fine,” he croaked out. 

The edges of the blindfold were nudged up bit by bit, and Sukuna blinked at the light that started to invade his eyes. He shied away with a groan and screwed his eyes shut as Megumi pulled the blindfold off. It took Sukuna several quick blinks of his eyes to stop seeing dots in his vision and he was dragged to attention by warm hands cupping his face, bringing him up to see Megumi’s face inches away from own. 

Sukuna grinned. 

He’d forgotten how cute Megumi looked when he wasn’t frowning, how beautiful his eyes were when he wasn’t promising violence within them. “Hi,” Sukuna said, still riding the high of endorphins that hadn’t left his system yet.

Megumi smiled. “Hey there. Did you enjoy your bone, pet? ”

“Fuck off,” Sukuna mumbled, the grin on his face smothering any heat in his words. 

A chuckle shook Megumi’s frame. Slowly his eyes darted to the space between Sukuna’s and a concerned frown started to creep back in. 

The next smile Megumi forced onto his face didn’t quite reach his eyes and it was Sukuna’s turn to frown. He wrapped a hand around Megumi’s wrist, and in the same motion twisted his head to get out of Megumi’s hold. “What?” 

“Nothing.” 

“It’s something.” 

Megumi sighed and gingerly lifted his free hand towards Sukuna’s face. Sukuna pulled back an inch, Megumi raised a brow, and Sukuna let him drag a thumb up the length of his nose. At the bridge Megumi stopped and pressed ever so slightly. Sukuna flinched away with a hiss and ignored the pointed look Megumi gave him. “Do you have ice and a towel?”

“Top drawer of the freezer, and the drawer on the left of the sink.”

“I’ll be right back.” 

Sukuna leaned back to give Megumi room and when he was alone he let out a disgruntled noise. His knees hurt . His hands were covered in a thin layer of dust and dirt, his pants were gross, inside and out, and his boxers were worse. That was going to be disgusting later. Sukuna could already feel it cooling and drying in the worst way possible. The moment Megumi left Sukuna was going to grab shower and clean everywhere, twice. 

He lifted his head up to see where Megumi was and stilled when he caught Megumi staring at the flowers Sukuna hadn’t had time to throw away. The note Kenjaku had written still sat there, screwed up into a loose ball. Sukuna snapped his eyes away, a new kind of shame creeping up his spine. He wished he’d had five more minutes before Megumi arrived, even two would have been good enough. 

An exasperated sigh couldn’t be stopped and Sukuna kicked himself for being so stupid. He pulled himself to his feet, tugged at the front of his pants, wiped his hands across the fabric, and paused at the sight of two ties fastened around his waist. With a frown he twisted them until he found a knot, unfastened it, and held it up to see a small butt plug tied to the end of a third tie. That explained the weight he’d felt as he’d crawled, and Sukuna dropped it onto Megumi’s chair before he took a seat on the couch. Without thinking he dragged his hands through his hair, musing it into all kinds of directions, realised dirt still clung to his skin, and let another breath sag his shoulders. Tomorrow he’d get Uraume to book in a locksmith to change the locks and get fresh keys cut for anybody that needed it. 

A noise dragged across the floor and Sukuna jerked up to see Megumi setting his chair down in front of Sukuna. Megumi offered him a tight smile as he sat down, pulled the chair closer, and held out Sukuna’s phone to him. “Here.”

“Thanks.” 

“You okay?” Megumi whispered, and he held out a glass of water to Sukuna. 

Sukuna nodded, took the glass, and swallowed half of the contents down before he set it on the floor. “I’m fine.” 

Megumi didn’t say another word. He simply reached up with both hands and unfastened the tie from around Sukuna’s neck, stuffing it into his pocket afterwards. From his lap he grabbed a towel, cupped Sukuna’s chin with one hand, and silently pressed the ice filled towel to Sukuna’s left eye. As Sukuna stared at Megumi, he noticed that Megumi refused to meet his gaze. Something was mulling through his mind, the muscles of his jaw working, forming words across his tongue before he swallowed them down. Eventually, Megumi glanced at Sukuna and hushed, “Why?” 

Sukuna frowned, “Why what?” 

“Why’d you get me to punch you?”

Sukuna parted his lips, struggling to find the quickest, bluntest, and vaguest way to put everything into words. The years of control he’d endured, the emotional and psychological manipulation, the way he’d almost lost Yuuji, the only family he had, his career, everything.

“Met with an ex. Stirred up some feelings.”

The words felt as stupid as they sounded. It was clear Megumi didn’t believe them, not entirely, even if they happened to be true. “Do you always treat your feelings with violence?” 

“I’ve never been the best at expressing myself.”

“I figured that much out.” They both fell silent at that and Sukuna let Megumi continue to hold the towel to his face. The cold was soothing and kind to his sore muscles, and it was a nice distraction from the strange tightening of his chest. Megumi turned Sukuna’s face to one side, pulled the towel away, and pressed it back into place. Eventually he found Sukuna’s gaze again and he let out another breath. “Next time you’re having a bad day, do not use me like that again.”

Pursing his lips Sukuna nodded, feeling very much scolded for his behaviour. In a quiet voice he mumbled, “You could’ve said no.”

“You’re paying me to fulfil your needs.” Sukuna looked away, ashamed by the echoing of his own words. “Until you stop paying me, I’m here for your demands.” He gave Sukuna a stern look, “Within reason.” 

“Right.” 

“I mean it.” 

“Of course.”

“I’m not punching you again.” 

“Not even if I double your rate?” 

Megumi stilled at that, eyes widening and hand slowly dropping the towel back into his lap. “Sukuna,” he breathed. 

With a shake of his head Sukuna sat back, fixing his eyes on his phone still in his hands. “I’m kidding.” He turned the device in his hand, twisted it through his fingers and cleared his throat. “I- I won’t ask you to do that. I shouldn’t- I shouldn’t have asked.” 

It was a long time before Megumi broke the quiet. “I know you said you accept the consequences, but you also have to be in the right frame of mind. Just because you had a bad day doesn’t mean you’re allowed to goad me into losing my cool. You can’t.” 

Sukuna chanced a sheepish look up with a nod. “You’re right, and I’m sorry for what I said. You’re right. I don’t know you or your circumstances. I’ve got no right to make any sort of comments on your life, and I’m in no position to try to force you into hurting me.” 

He couldn’t tell if Megumi was happy with his apology or not. He still looked unsure, wary, and ready to bolt. Like he wanted to say a thousand things and as though he wanted to say nothing more. It almost made Sukuna feel bad. He was the reason for that look of uncertainty on Megumi’s face, it was his fault Megumi looked so unsure about what to do or say next. 

“I’m sorry too,” Megumi whispered. “I said some unsavoury things and acted without thinking. I shouldn’t have lost my temper like I did.”

Sukuna settled a hand on Megumi’s knee and squeezed, encouraging him to meet his gaze. “For the record, I enjoyed every second of it.” 

“It’s still not right.” 

Sukuna shrugged. “Maybe not for other people-”

“Sukuna I can’t just start hitting my clients.” 

“No, but I think our fight was a perfect build up to it.”

“ Don’t .”

“What?” 

“There is a difference between physical harm in a scene , and physical harm for the sake of it.” Sukuna opened his mouth, closed it again. “If you’re ever having a bad day again, I want you to tell me before we do anything. I want to make sure you’re in the correct frame of mind. I’ve seen people use these sessions for all kinds of wrong reasons and it’s never ended pretty.” 

“What about you?” 

Megumi pinched his brows together. “What about me?” 

Sukuna shrugged a shoulder. “What are you using these sessions for?”

“It’s- It’s my job?” 

“Do you enjoy it?” A tense silence followed and Sukuna pursed his lips, eyes fixed resolutely on Megumi’s face. 

“Yes,” Megumi said, “I do.” 

“All of it?” 

“Why do you care?” 

Sukuna pulled a face. “Can I not?” 

Megumi frowned harder at him, “These sessions are about your enjoyment.” 

Sukuna snorted. “And yours.” 

“What?”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and scooted forward on his seat, inching closer into Megumi’s space. “If you’re not enjoying this, then I can’t either. In my experience, these kinds of activities are better experienced when both parties are enjoying themselves. So I’ll ask you again, Megumi. Is there any part of our sessions together you don’t enjoy?” Megumi didn’t need to answer for Sukuna to see it. There was something. There was a part of this entire exchange, this agreement, that Megumi didn’t like. “What is it?” 

Suddenly Megumi stood, dropped the ice wrapped towel into Sukuna’s lap, and turned his back on Sukuna. “There’s nothing.” 

He grabbed the back of the chair and moved it away from Sukuna to give him space but Sukuna followed him. “Megumi.” 

The other man shook his head, reached for his bag and snatched it up. “There is nothing . So stop asking.” 

He wouldn’t look Sukuna in the eyes and Sukuna trailed after Megumi, ignoring whatever mess was growing worse in his pants. “Hey,” Sukuna grabbed Megumi’s shoulder, “can you stop for a second?” 

Megumi shook Sukuna’s hand off of him and continued walking, only stopping when he reached the door where he finally gave Sukuna a blank look. It was unreadable, making Sukuna stop and simply stare. “What I want,” Megumi said quietly, “is for things to be simple, and not complicated.” 

“What are you-”

Megumi glanced towards the flowers that still stood too proudly on Sukuna’s counter. “Don’t use me as a stand in for somebody.” 

“That’s not- those are not-” Megumi arched one brow at him and Sukuna blew a puff of air through his nose. He understood where Megumi was coming from. He’d heard stories from past doms whose clients used them to get over exes, to fill the void their spouses couldn’t or didn’t. Marriages had broken down because of them, through no fault of those who were hired to deliver a service. 

In Megumi’s eyes it probably looked like another one of those cases. Sukuna wanted desperately to explain it wasn’t like that, it couldn’t be anything like that. He wanted to list the thousand reasons why it would never be like that. “I assure you, there’s nothing there.” Sukuna took slow, careful, measured steps towards Megumi, shrinking the distance between them. “He hopes I’m still going to go crawling back to him. Megumi, he’s the reason I was in a mood. He’s the reason I'm not very good at expressing myself.” 

Megumi flicked his attention to the flowers and back to Sukuna. “They look expensive,” he spat. “The kind you get when somebody’s begging.” 

“And you’d know all about begging,” Sukuna teased, feeling his anxiety fall a few notches. He cleared his throat and simmered the grin on his face. “He is begging, but he did things I can never forgive. Ever.” He couldn’t help the need to reach out and cup Megumi’s chin, tilting his head back so that they could truly see one another’s eyes. “Please, trust me when I tell you this isn’t complicated. It’s the simplest and easiest decision I’ll ever make.” A sudden dryness gathered in Sukuna’s throat and he swallowed to dampen his own vocal chords. Something in the air shifted, the tiny hairs along his arms rising, and his heart thudded heavily in his chest. He let out a slow breath and tried his damndest to look away but he couldn’t. Megumi pulled him in, drew him closer into his space. “If I had to choose, it’ll always be you.” 

Colour rose to Megumi’s cheeks and he sucked in a deep breath. Sukuna’s grin widened and the space between them shrunk a little more. There wasn’t a name for it or a word, just a feeling, and it pulled Sukuna closer and closer. 

“I have to go,” Megumi whispered, suddenly breaking the spell. He stepped back and forcibly turned away from Sukuna, refusing to look at him once more. “No complications, Sukuna. That’s the promise.”

He watched the way Megumi swallowed, the cruel bob of his throat as he struggled to speak. With his lips pursed tightly together, chest tightening, and palms sweating, Sukuna could only manage a small nod as he mumbled, “Promise.” 

And Megumi left. 

The click of the door was quiet and the silence of Sukuna’s lonely apartment was too loud. He stared at the door, at where Megumi had been just moments ago, and his chest ached. A crease formed in Sukuna’s brows and it took him almost a full minute to slowly turn and drag himself to where the flowers were still sitting. He stared at them, at the beautiful arrangement, mind scrabbling at those last few moments he and Megumi had shared. 

It left Sukuna feeling strange, almost off balance. He grabbed the vase of flowers and walked them over to the sink. Just as he started to pour the water away he stopped, stared at them , and felt bad for ruining them despite who they were from. Sukuna scrubbed a hand over his face and decided he would give them to Uraume. They adored flowers. Their entire apartment was decorated in an array of colours and species of plants. On the few rare occasions Sukuna had needed to go in their place, he felt like he was anywhere else but the middle of the city. Uraume would at the very least give the flowers the proper love and attention Sukuna never could. 

He set them back down and reached for the note he’d abandoned earlier. Without hesitation he tossed it into the trash, stared at the where it sat on top of everything, and pulled himself away with a glare. 

He trudged through his apartment, scratched a hand through his hair, phone still in his other hand. It was only once he made it to the bedroom and tossed his phone onto the bed that he noticed the small crack in the corner of the screen. “Shit,” he whispered, unlocking the screen to see if it still worked. It did, and Sukuna dropped onto the edge of his bed with a thankful sigh. He stared at the crack, ran a thumb over it, and smiled. 

No complications .

Sukuna snorted through a grin. He didn’t like complications himself either, preferring things to be simple. Megumi was all of that. He turned up, rocked Sukuna’s world for the night, and left. Simple. No romantic dinners. No dates. No lavish drinks or nights out. 

Just them and nothing but their simple desires. 

Sukuna loved simple, and he liked Megumi. He meant it when he’d said it; he would choose Megumi over anybody else every single time.

Chapter Text

It was hopeless.

Fucking hopeless. 

A heavy sigh heaved through Megumi’s shoulders and he stared at the littering of papers, textbooks, and letters that decorated his desk. His gaze stopped on the current reason for his headache; an eviction notice with thirty days notice. The building manager had supposedly sold the entire place to some developers who intended to tear the apartments down and replace them with “something for the whole community.” It wasn’t a new block of apartments that was for certain. 

It had been a crappy way for Megumi to start his week, and that didn’t include the recent stack of bills that had made its way into his mail either. 

Thirty measly days. It didn’t feel long enough for Megumi to find somewhere that was within his budget range, within the local area, and accepted pets. The letter mocked him every single day and forced every spare minute he had to himself to be wrought in worry about the possibility of- of- He scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t want to think about the alternatives if he couldn’t find somewhere. Crawl back to Satoru and beg him to take him back, or go back home to live under the roof of Emi. 

He wasn’t sure which option was worse. 

Whatever time he didn’t spend studying, working, or worrying about where he was going to live in a month's time, was spent looking. And Megumi looked hard. He scrubbed a hand over his face and moved the cursor on his laptop, bringing the darkened screen to life. Several internet tabs were open for various listings within the local area. All of them were within budget and passable in terms of living quarters, but most of them accepted exactly zero pets, or strictly prohibited cats and dogs. 

He could lie. Pretend he didn’t have two huge dogs that shedded fur like there was no tomorrow if he didn’t brush them. Smuggle them through the back door and pray he never crossed paths with the building manager. But he couldn’t guarantee any neighbours wouldn’t go running the moment they clocked him in his deceit. 

He’d been refreshing the pages for days, hoping and praying something suitable would pop in. Out of desperation he’d emailed a few places, explaining he would happily pay an extra fee and cover the cost of any damages in full, if they allowed him to bring his dogs. But his pleas were all refused. 

Which left him at square one. 

Wallowing in misery and wishing for a miracle. It was yet another stress he didn’t need in his life right now. Another weight on top of his shoulders making it harder for him to get out of bed in the mornings. He was still tip-toeing around Mei-Mei. Some of his clients were leaving the scene due to various reasons; they’d fallen out of love with it, wanted to dedicate more time to their families, lost some of their income, or a dozen other reasons. Sure he had a waiting list, but it was always slow to get started with new clients. Not to mention there were some he simply didn’t like and didn’t want to entertain. On top of that Nobara was pestering him to make time for some dinner, and he had Yuuji asking when they were going to get back to playing games again. He was certain he was failing both of them as friends at the moment, and he couldn’t shake the weight of shame from around his neck. 

At least school was going well. The result of his last assignment was a glowing pass with a gentle reminder that  hand-on experience was going to become a regular thing in the next semester. Something else Megumi had to make room for in his life. Something else he had to look into if he wanted any hope of getting anywhere. 

Megumi let out another sigh and slammed the lid of his laptop shut. He pushed it across the dining table and slouched for a moment, eyes surveying the chaos of papers and pens he’d been promising to tidy for the last month. Every ounce of his body wanted to curl up and sleep indefinitely, hibernate until everything was over. For now, he tried to make an effort to rearrange the clutter, even if it was simply shoving things into similar piles. He made another effort to grab one of the open textbooks, some paper, and hunch over the table to try to get some studying in. 

Studying would be a good distraction right now. He still had three weeks to worry about a new apartment. Mei Mei would find him more work. And the school would list places offering volunteering experience, at least, he hoped they would. In theory, he would be okay. It would all work out. 

He simply needed to step back and take a breath. 

It would be fine. 

With that mantra running through his mind, Megumi forced himself to read and take notes. Every now and again Shiro laid his head across Megumi’s knee and Megumi smiled, dropped his hand into his lap, and scratched Shiro behind his ears. Before he knew it Megumi found himself in a new rhythm, a steady peace settling over him. 

A ping from his phone commanded his attention and Megumi hesitated, scribbling a few final notes down from the section he was reading. Another ping went off and Megumi frowned. “Just a minute,” he muttered. He wrote two more lines before he blindly reached for his phone, eyes scanning the words he’d just written. 

He grabbed his phone, mouthed the words to himself, and finally looked at the preview of the message. His frown deepened and Megumi looked at the sender of the message, his entire frame wilting the moment he read it. G.S. “Fuck,” he mumbled, and he let out a long, slow breath. Satoru was another issue he didn’t want to address right now. He had to if he ever wanted any hope of shutting the door to that part of his life, and he was hoping to address it later that same day. 

But he wasn’t sure it would happen. 

Satoru had never been good at letting go and it showed. The first two months after Megumi walked out of his life had been hell. Every week Satoru turned up at Chimera Shadow Gardens and occupied the same seat until Megumi finally joined  him. He left Megumi gifts, had them delivered to his home and work, and bombarded Megumi’s phone with messages and voicemails. It only stopped when Megumi picked up one call, blew up at Satoru, and threatened to move out of the city and never speak to Satoru again if he dared to send him one more message, call him one more time, or send him one more gift. 

Things stopped. 

Satoru dropped into the club once a month, every other month. No gifts were ever left for him again and there were no surprise parcels on his doorstep. Megumi changed his number and apartment anyway, giving himself a little extra distance from the man just in case. Satoru only questioned Megumi once about those changes. A number that no longer connected and an apartment that was lived in by a young, freshly married couple. 

The only reason Megumi had dared to keep Satoru’s number on his new phone was just in case. If things went wrong. If he had no other choice, no other way out. If he was at his wits end and desperate enough to go back into the hands of the devil himself. 

Megumi still wondered how he made it out of that conversation without Satoru cornering him until Megumi confessed with his new information. Shaking that thought away, Megumi pursed his lips and opened the message. It was a simple message, a confirmation from Satoru that Megumi was still visiting him that afternoon. “I’ve cleared my schedule just for you, Gumi. You won’t be late will you?”

Ever since Megumi’s small melt down, when he’d almost thrown himself back into Satoru’s life, the man had been a persistent thought in the back of Megumi’s mind. A small text was thrown Megumi’s way, telling Megumi Satoru still worried about him. He thought about him. If anything was wrong then Satoru would listen without judgement. “I’ve always wanted what’s best for you, megumi. Always.”

It wasn’t a complete lie. He did care. Satoru had always been eager to make sure Megumi’s needs were met. But everything came with a catch. Satoru expected to be paid back for his kindness. No matter how small the favour was, Megumi would always owe him one little thing in return. 

Megumi stared at Satoru’s message, knowing full well he should leave it alone. He shouldn’t be considering entertaining Satoru in any shape or form. He should get a new number again, move and leave no forwarding address. Instead, he started to tap across the screen a very short, “I’ll be there.” Afterwards, he dropped his phone onto the table and let out another long breath. There was a noise from his feet and Shiro stuck his nose into Megumi’s lap. It made Megumi smile and he scratched his fingers through Shiro’s fur. “We’ll be fine,” he promised quietly. “I’ll figure it out. 

Shiro made another noise, a small huff, and nuzzled into Megumi’s hand. 

Megumi grinned and let his hand stay there, fingers scratching back and forth over Shiro’s skin and fur. One fleeting thought crossed his mind; if the worst was to happen, if he had no other choice, no other option at his disposal, he would give Kuro and Shiro up. It was the one worry that ached his heart the most; they had to be okay. They had to have a roof over their heads and a warm room to sleep in. He dismissed the thought as soon as it appeared, but the feeling of dread remained. 

He vowed to find a place for all three of them so that he wouldn’t have to part with them. 

A knock on his front door stopped his thoughts in their tracks. Megumi lifted his head up at the same time as his dogs did to stare at the offending wood. There was a second series of knocks and Megumi frowned. He worked through the very short list of people who had his address and who would possibly visit him. Nobara didn’t have a reason to visit him so early in the day, unless she’d had a fight with Maki and wanted to vent. Even then she would always message him first and never surprise him. Mei Mei and Ui Ui never made house calls. 

The only other option was… Tsumiki. Megumi shot to his feet and hurried to the door as a third round of knocks sounded. When he wrenched the door open Tsumiki was on the other side, corners of her lips pulled up into a tight smile. “Hi,” she said. 

“Hi,” Megumi said. He did a once over with his eyes to see if there was anything evidently wrong. Nothing was out of place but Tsumiki looked uncomfortable and awkward as she shifted from one foot to the other. But underneath it all she was sheepish. Megumi stepped to one side and let her in. “Are you okay?” 

“What?”

He closed the door and waved a hand to the couch. “You don’t normally visit. Drink?”

“No thanks, I’m just passing by.” 

Kuro was up the moment Tsumiki sat down, nosing his way into her lap. His front paws came up and reached for her shoulders, his nose immediately sniffing at her face. A moment passed before Kuro barked happily and licked at her face. He jumped into Tsumiki’s lap with another happy bark, almost toppling Tsumiki over in the process. It made Megumi’s chest warm. Tsumiki had always been Kuro’s favourite and he had yet to learn he wasn’t as small as he used to be. Seeing his sister grin and laugh as she cradled the oversized dog in her lap made Megumi grin too. 

“Hey, boy,” Tsumiki cooed, nuzzling her cheek against Kuro’s head. 

Shiro trotted over to Megumi, and Megumi gave Shiro his own attention as he sat on the opposite end of the couch to Tsumiki. “So you’re okay?”

She hesitated, and there was a small sigh before she wriggled in her spot. It was a balancing act to keep Kuro in her lap, but when she stopped moving, she held a crumpled letter out in Megumi’s direction. “This arrived for you today.”

Megumi blinked, stared at the letter, and finally took it. When he turned it over, it simply said his name. There was no address, no return address, no stamp, nothing significant. Just his name scrawled neatly across the front. He turned it over again and looked at the torn seal, arching one brow with silent curiosity. 

“Mom might have gotten to it first.” A scoff bubbled in Megumi’s throat before he could stop it. Tsumiki snorted and nuzzled her face against Kuro’s fur once more. “She was trying to throw it away when I caught her with it.”

“Why?”

Tsumiki opened her mouth, closed it, slumped and refused to look at him. “You’ll know when you see who it’s from.”

The confusion deepened within Megumi and he almost didn’t want to open it. The list of people who knew he used to live with Emi and Tsumiki was very, very limited. Maybe his first job at the small cafe around the corner from her house had it. His school, old doctors. But other than that… he looked at the envelope again and realised that whoever had sent it had hand delivered it themselves. That made him worry. The list of people shrunk infinitely. 

“Who’s it from?”

“Read it,” Tsumiki said. “I didn’t see much when I grabbed it from mom. Only that it was addressed to you and who it was from.”

“Should I be worried?”

Tsumiki shrugged and refused to answer him further. Pursing his lips, Megumi opened the torn end and eyed the folded paper inside. He pulled it out, flipped it open, and darted his eyes to the name at the bottom of the handwritten letter. 

Dad . 

“Dad?”

Tsumiki hummed. Megumi gave her a look but she didn’t look at him. He shifted in his seat, leaned forward, propped his elbows onto his knees, and finally started reading the letter from the top. 

Megumi,

I don’t know where to start, kid. Apologising’s probably a good start, right? Yeah. It is. 

I’m sorry. 

It doesn’t change anything, I know that. I still fucked up and I’m never gonna be father of the year, but I am sorry. I really am. I’ve been thinking of all the things I want to say to you. I’ve tried to explain it so many times, tell you why, but nothing felt good enough, ya know?

I still think about you. All the time. And your mom. I miss you both. Maybe that’s why I left. You looked so much like her. In fact, you probably still do. After we lost her, everytime I looked at you I saw her, and I was happy. There was still a piece of her here, in you. I thought it would be okay, that I could be happy as long as you were around, but I couldn’t do it alone. 

Dumpling. I tried. I promise you I fucking tried. I couldn’t do it though. I didn’t know what I was doing. Your mom was always the one who did all those things cause I never could do them right. The one thing I did do right was take her name though. I never told you that did I? Fushiguro sounds so much better than Zenin. Fuck I hope you didn’t go back to them. You never liked it when we visited your grandparents. You hated every minute of it and I’m sorry for that too. I should never have introduced you to them. 

They’re horrible people, all of them. They still stick to stupid old traditions and all that crap. I… I can’t begin to explain how much they hurt me, how many bruises they caused. They should’ve been arrested for the punishments they brewed up. I’m sorry you ever met them. 

I tried to be better than them, I really did. But I remember when you were… what? Four? Five? We were late getting somewhere and you stopped outside the pet store. Heh. You had a big thing for rabbits. I don’t know if you still have that grey stuffed bunny your mom bought for you before you were even born. You were cute. You refused to go anywhere unless it came with you. I think you called it Hops. 

Anyway, you wouldn’t move. I asked you to come along, that we were already late, and I pulled on your tiny arm a little too hard. I hurt you. You cried. That night there was a bruise and I… I was scared. 

I don’t know if you remember me that much, Megumi, but I’m not exactly a small guy. I was terrified to touch you after that. I couldn’t hold you, pick you up, grab you or anything. I’ve never been so terrified before. What if I hurt you again? What if the next time I touched you I broke a bone or worse? Jesus. When I put it like that I feel like a coward. Me, a grown ass man, scared of his own son. Well don’t I look pathetic. You must be real proud.

I tried to visit. Tried to come home so many times. I watched you walk home from school, telling myself to just suck it up, stop being a coward and get it over with. You were just a child, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t, Megumi. I was too scared to hurt you all over again, and hurting you felt like hurting your mom. 

I thought leaving you with Emi was the best thing I could do for you. She was great with you and Tsumiki was a real sweetheart. You were in good hands, with better people than anything I could ever hope to be. If you never want to see me again I understand. If  you never want to hear from me I understand. I wouldn’t want anything to do with me either. 

I’m not asking for forgiveness.

I’m not asking you to accept my apology. I really needed to tell you. Even if I couldn’t do it in person, you deserved something. You mean the world to me dumpling, and I hope you’re doing good.

If you want to find me and make me talk to you in person, you can do, here. 

Megumi stared at the phone number, his mouth running dry and his heart hammering away in his chest. He swallowed down an awkward lump, blinked furiously at the slip of paper, and tried to carry on reading.

If I don’t hear from you, I won’t hold it against you, ever. You’ll still be my dumpling no matter what. 

Oh, I borrowed a few thousand yen from Emi when I left to get me started. You’ll find it in here. Paid in full with a little extra. Give it to Emi for me, will ya? 

See you around, kiddo. 

Or not. It’s your choice. 

Love, 

Dad.

Megumi sat in silence. He stared at the letter, mind caught up in the words. He read it again, twice, and finally swallowed a shaky breath. Something wet trickled down his cheek and when he wiped at his face, Megumi realised he’d been crying. 

“Megumi?”

“Hmmm?”

“Hey,” Tsumiki was in his space a moment later and he let her pull him against her side, squashing Kuro between them. “Hey, hey, hey, you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he whispered, and he wiped at his face again, ignoring the cracks in his wavering voice. He was fine, and he wasn’t. He didn’t know what he was. When Toji walked out of his life, Megumi thought that was it, he’d never hear from him again and never have the opportunity to speak to him. It was something he’d come to terms with so long ago. But this? What was he supposed to do with this information? This revelation that his father had  been torn for years, that he still thought about Megumi, and he regretted everything. The guy had given Megumi a direct hotline to him. Megumi could pick up the phone and call whenever he wanted. He could yell at Toji if he really felt like it. “Why now?” 

“What?”

Megumi inhaled a sharp breath and shook his head. He wiped furiously at his tear stained eyes and slowly pulled himself away from Tsumiki. “Nothing.” With another shuddering breath, he buried a hand in Shiro’s fur, trying to soothe the gentle whining from the dog by his feet. “Nothing,” he repeated. 

Tsumiki wasn’t convinced. Megumi wasn’t convinced by his own lie either, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to talk about it. Where would he start? Every time he scrambled for a thought, it ran away from him, another thought took its place and Megumi had yet another question with no clear answer.

“Dumpling.” The name warmed Megumi’s heart and he wanted to smile. Toji was still calling him it, and he could almost hear it in his voice all over again, “Dumpling.” Low, quiet, rumbling, soft. It almost felt like home and it made his chest ache. 

“Megumi,” Tsumiki whispered, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder, “you’re not okay.”

“I’m fine,” he mumbled and he wiped at his face once more, trying to rid the last traces of tears away. 

“Please stop lying to me.”

“What do you want me to say?” Megumi shouted.

Silence erupted around them, and even the dogs sensed Megumi’s snap. He clamped his lips shut, shame immediately washing over him. With a heavy sigh, he screwed his eyes shut and hung his head. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Fuck, I’m-” he scrubbed the heel of his hand against his eyes and huffed. “Stressed? I don’t…” He turned his head to look at his sister and blew another breath out. Gingerly, he reached a hand out and cupped her knee, giving it a small squeeze. There was no excuse for his outburst. Nothing. Tsumiki was the last person who deserved any of his anger, ever. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have shouted at you.”

She studied him for a moment, brows knitted together, lips pursed tightly, and eventually she let out her own breath. “Do you want to talk about it?”

A shallow laugh bubbled in his throat. “Not really.”

“ Should you talk about it?”

He threw himself back into the couch with a groan, letting his body lean into her space until he pressed his cheek to her shoulder. “I’m just… a little stressed. I think.”

“You said that.”

“I’m saying it again.”

“Talk to me.”

Megumi shrugged again. The thoughts crawling through his mind were muddled, and he tried to wade through them, tried to put them into some sort of order. It was difficult to pinpoint which thought was heavier than the rest, which one caused his chest to squeeze too painfully. “Where do you want me to start?”

Tsumiki wrapped an arm around his shoulders with a hum. “Work?”

“That’s fine.” And it was. Mei Mei was off his back. Megumi got along just fine with everybody else from the club. His clients were fine. In terms of work, nobody was giving him a hard time. A drifting thought about Sukuna nudged at his brain, but Megumi waved it, and the fluttering butterflies in his stomach, away. Their last interaction was stuck in his mind, playing on repeat the moment Megumi let his thoughts drift too far. The way Sukuna held his chin, looked at him as if he was the entire world, whispering a promise; if he had to choose, it would always be Megumi. 

A fresh frown decorated his face and Megumi swallowed thickly. Maybe he should take a step back from Sukuna. Put some distance between them, maybe even warn him. It felt like they were walking a dangerous line and Megumi couldn’t afford to cross it. 

“Okay,” Tsumiki said, “friends?”

Megumi worked through the short list of friends he did have. He was due to visit Nobara and Maki’s place next week so all three of them could blow off some steam and decompress. Things were on the up for them it seemed, things with Maki’s family having finally settled down. Megumi had also given in to Yuuji’s pleading demands of a free meal to finally meet in person to goof off and get to know one another a little more. It made Megumi nervous to think about. It wasn’t until next week but Megumi had never met an online friend in real life before. Then again, he hadn’t made many friends online and he was terrified he might not be what Yuuji expected. Satoru didn’t count as a friend. He was more in line with a nuisance, an annoyance Megumi had learnt to deal with. Anybody else Megumi could think of were nothing but positive thoughts and emotions. 

“All good,” he said. 

Tsumiki pressed a kiss to Megumi’s temple. “Okay. What about mom? You heard anything from her?”

Megumi snorted. “Really?”

“What? I’m not with her all the time.”

“I haven’t heard anything.”

“Alright. So, it’s not work, friends, or mom. Are the dogs okay?”

Megumi hummed and stroked his fingers through Shiro’s hair. “They’re fine. The vet gave them both a clean bill of health a few days ago actually.” A smile flickered the corners of his lips up and he ruffled a hand through Shiro’s fur. 

“That’s because they’re good boys, aren’t you?” Tsumiki abandoned Megumi for a moment to give Kuro a mess of scratches, head rubs and kisses. “Yes you are. Such a good boy. Who’s a good boy?” Kuro barked and Megumi chuckled. With one raised brow he turned his head to look at Shiro, who in turn tilted his head to one side, made a noise, and put his head back into Megumi’s lap. “You’re a good boy, you’re a good boy,” Tsumiki carried on. After a few more minutes of rough housed strokes, she sat back in her seat and looked back to Megumi. “What about your bills? You’re still fine with them?”

“Yes, mom,” Megumi whined.

Tsumiki pinched his arm for that comment and Megumi chuckled. “Well,” Tsumiki said, “I'm running out of ideas here and you’re not helping.”

He let out a heavy breath. “I know. I’m- sorry. The landlord’s selling the building.”

“Okay?”

“To a developer.”

There was a moment of silence. “They’re not keeping the apartments.”

“Nope. Tearing them down in just over a month.”

“Shit.”

“You know how many other places offer cheap rent and allows animals within the city?”

“Not many?”

“None.”

“Fuck.” 

Megumi snorted and straightened up in his seat, finally sitting up once again. “I’ve still got just under three weeks to find somewhere but nobody wants to hear that news.”

Tsumiki scooted forward in her seat, doing her best to balance Kuro in her lap. A feat in itself with how large Kuro was in her lap, sprawling across almost the entire length of the couch. “What are you going to do if you can’t find a place? Move back home?”

“God I hope not.”

“Love you too.”

Megumi nudged his shoulder against Tsumiki’s, a grin burning his lips. “You know it’s not you.”

“Yeah,” Tsumiki breathed out, “I know. Still.” She pressed a kiss to Kuro’s head. “Would be nice to see the dogs every day.”

“Doesn’t Emi hate dogs?”

Tsumiki shrugged and beamed at Megumi. “She’s outvoted two to one,” and she stuck her tongue out. It made Megumi laugh and he couldn’t contain the large smile that cracked his face. “She’d prefer cats but even she’s not cruel enough to hurt the dogs.”

“Right.”

“How’s school?”

Unconsciously, Megumi eyed the littered desk. “It’s fine. I’m passing, I think. I’ve only failed one module so far and I can make it up with other results.”

“You got this.”

He let out a breath and nodded. “Just about.” He really did feel as though he was one step away from the edge, one wrong move from crumbling. It was that moment in which his brain decided to remind him of his scheduled meeting with Satoru later and Megumi wanted to curl in on himself all over again. He’d almost broken once, and he was certain it could just as easily happen again.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to meet Satoru today after… he glanced down at the letter still clutched in his hand and slowly read it all over again. 

It still made his chest ache and made him purse his lips. There were a thousand thoughts running through his mind, a dozen more questions with no hope of being answered. A frown settled across his features as he worked his way through his father’s admission of guilt. It was going to take a lot of unpacking and a lot of time to do so, but Megumi’s attention caught on Toji’s final words before he said his goodbyes; “ Oh, I borrowed a few thousand yen from Emi when I left to get me started. You’ll find it in here. Paid in full with a little extra. Give it to Emi for me, will ya?”

“Was there anything else in the envelope?” Megumi said, peeking back into said envelope to see nothing. 

“I don’t- I don’t know. Why?”

Just as Megumi contemplated holding the letter out to Tsumiki, he stopped, and folded it back over itself. “Thought there was more to it.” There was. Missing money. And Toji’s last words didn’t match the figure Megumi expected about money. He said he borrowed a few thousand from Emi. There was no mention of a loan, or loan sharks, or anything apart from his personal guilt. Something was off and didn’t match the story he’d had in his head for years. As much as Megumi wanted to share it with Tsumiki, to try to find the truth, Tsumiki already had enough issues with her mother. 

The last thing he wanted to do was ruin their relationship any further, or whatever was left of it. Growing up, Tsumiki had always been a sucker for happy endings and she’d been filled with hope that people could change. Now however, he was certain her views had changed, but he wasn’t ready to be the one to completely shatter what remained of her hope. 

Maybe he’d find a time when Tsumiki was out before he confronted Emi, alone. Or maybe he’d only bring the subject up to Tsumiki once she did move out. Or perhaps he’d keep the information all to himself. He wanted to do the right thing, but he couldn’t decide what was ultimately the correct decision. One thing was certain, and that was that he had to be certain before he dragged Tsumiki further into his mess. 

“Megumi?”

“S’nothing.” He stuffed the paper roughly back into the envelope with another sniffle. “Don’t worry about it.”

She gave him a look and nodded towards the letter. “You wanna talk about that, or…?”

He shook his head. “No, I- don’t.” He blew out a breath. “He gave me his number so that I could call him, if I wanted to.” 

“Oh that’s-”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

“Yep.”

“You gonna?”

Megumi shrugged and stood up, stretching a kink out of his shoulders. “I don’t know. Maybe. Maybe not. I’m going to think about it.”

“Okay.” A quiet filled the air and Megumi walked over to the table he was working at earlier. He tossed the letter on top of the eviction notice and scrubbed a hand through his hair. Behind him, there was a noise as Tsumiki quietly shooed Kuro off her lap. He turned to see her standing and he returned the tight smile she delivered. “Come here,” she said, and Megumi did. He stepped across the room and welcomed the tight hug she wrapped him in. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the small comfort for a few seconds. “You know you can call me anytime you need me.”

“I know.” She pinched his side and Megumi chuckled as he jumped. “You know I hate that.”

Tsumiki pulled away, her own grin lifting her lips up. “Yet you’re still smiling.”

“Jerk.” 

“Brat.” Megumi stuck his tongue out, enjoying the subtle jab at the childish arguments they used to have before they hit double digits. Tsumiki broke the stand off first with another laugh and she shoved lightly at Megumi’s shoulder. “I’m gonna head off. I’m supposed to be meeting Rin for lunch.”

Megumi stopped at that. “Rin?”

“Yeah, Rin.”

A few moments passed before Megumi made a face. “The guy from work?”

Colour decorated Tsumiki’s cheeks and she nodded, suddenly turning sheepish. “Yeah, him. He’s treating me to sushi today.”

“Good,” Megumi said, and his grin returned. His sister seemed happy, and he wanted to keep her that way. She deserved it. “I’m glad he’s good for you.”

“Thanks. He erm… he wants to meet you by the way. When you’re less stressed though. I don’t want you snapping at him.”

A short laugh echoed in Megumi’s chest. “Yeah, when I’m less stressed.” He opened the door for her and hugged her once more. “As long as he doesn’t hurt you, I won’t have a problem with him.” He kissed her cheek and stifled her giggle. “Thanks for coming over.”

“Please, look after yourself, Megumi. I worry about you sometimes.”

“And I’ve told you,” he said, pulling away, “you really don’t need to.”

“It’s the big sister in me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rolled his eyes and waved her off as she finally left. He closed the door, let out a breath, and sighed as he turned back to his apartment and to the two waiting dogs by his feet. He raised a brow, looked towards the clock, and back down at them. “Alright, I guess I can feed you.” Shiro barked happily at that and Megumi laughed. “Yeah, yeah. And afterwards we’ll go for a quick walk.”

Kuro bounced to his feet and looped himself around Megumi’s legs, clearly too eager to wait. “Food first,” Megumi said, shuffling towards the kitchen and to the cupboard where their food was kept, “walk after.”

Nerves wreaked havoc inside of Megumi’s chest. Sweat dampened his palms and the tiny hairs on the back of his neck scratched at his skin. He stared at the corporate building in front of him and his mouth ran dry. There was only one other time he’d ever visited this building, back in the early days of his and Satoru’s relationship , before he’d known better. It made his skin crawl just to look at and he struggled to swallow back the lump in his throat. He tightened his grip on the paper coffee cup in his hand, tapped a finger against the side, and finally moved away from the coffee shop he’d been hiding in across the street. 

Satoru was waiting. 

And the guy didn’t have a patient bone in his body. 

With his ginger tea in his grasp, Megumi stepped through the front door and did his best not to linger and admire the high ceiling of the lobby. Marble walls and ceiling high windows surrounded him, whilst fake potted plants decorated the corners. The place was busy. The clicking of shoes across the immaculate floor couldn’t be ignored, yet somehow, the noise wasn’t deafening. It was almost too quiet in fact. 

Megumi locked his gaze on the receptionist and offered the warmest grin he could muster. “Hi,” he said. 

“Good afternoon. Welcome to Gojo Industries, how can I help you?”

“I’m here to see Gojo Satoru. I have an appointment at one.”

She gave him a doubtful look with a quirk of her lips and turned her attention to her computer screen. Megumi wasn’t surprised. He was certain a lot of people had walked in here only to pretend they had an appointment with the big boss himself. She’d probably heard the same song and dance a thousand times. It didn’t help that Megumi had dressed down for this occasion. Whilst most of the people around him wore tailored suits and business attire, Megumi wore a slate jumper with a collared white shirt underneath, the top two buttons clearly unfastened. He’d contemplated meeting up in his suit, but that would give Satoru the wrong impression and derail the tough conversation that was going to happen. “What’s your name please?”

“Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Fushiguro,” she whispered to herself, fingers clicking at keys, and he saw it. The momentary surprise in her face. “Megumi. One o’clock. You’re right there.”

Megumi smiled brightly at her, “Thank you.” 

“It looks like he’s personally booked you in for the rest of the afternoon.” 

There were a thousand words Megumi wanted to say about that little slip of information. What did he expect? Of course Satoru had actually cleared his schedule. It was the entire reason why Megumi refused to wear his suit whenever he knew Satoru and he were to cross paths. The image of Megumi dressed in a suit gave the man a one track mind on what was going to happen next, and the less Megumi could distract Satoru, the better. 

He had no plans of staying longer than an hour. 

The receptionist slid a visitor’s book in Megumi’s direction. “Fill that in please, I’ll grab you a pass.”  He grabbed the pen and started to fill in the paperwork. A visitor badge was set on the counter and the receptionist spoke again. “If you can wait just a couple of minutes, I’ll escort you to his office.”

“Of course.” He pushed the book back in her direction, grabbed the badge, and clipped it to the collar of his jumper as he stepped away. The ginger tea was still warm and he sipped it as he waited, taking the time to look around the place again. The security guard at the door peered at Megumi curiously, and he returned the sentiment. With the mood he was in, Megumi almost wanted him to say something, start a scene, anything, that would distract Megumi from the hell he was about to willingly walk into. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the receptionist make a call and cast him a wary look. Something wasn’t adding up in her mind, but if the great Gojo Satoru had cleared his schedule for Megumi, then she had little choice but to give Megumi his meeting. He tried to look uninterested and bored, even if his heart clawed at his chest, desperate for fresh air, for Megumi to turn around and leave. It wasn’t too late. 

Two minutes later somebody stepped behind the desk and the two of them exchanged words. More looks were thrown Megumi’s way and he offered them both a small smile and a tilt of his head. More words were passed before the original receptionist stepped out and made her way towards Megumi. 

“If you’ll follow me please,” she said. Megumi trailed behind her to the elevators, quietly looking over the people that passed by them, all dressed in expensive suits and haircuts. There was a certainty, if he’d worn his suit, freshly washed, dried, and pressed, he’d still feel out of place. A metaphorical sheep in wolf’s clothing, pretending to be something he wasn’t. The corporate world was not a place for Megumi, a guy who grew up on the wrong side of the poverty line and danced with the wrong crowds every step of his life. He hid his discomfort in his tea, sipping on tea that was slightly too warm still. 

The elevators opened, people stepped out, and the receptionist gestured for him to step in first before she followed him. When he tried to look for a name tag he noted there wasn’t one and he reminded himself to at least be courteous and ask. She inserted a key into the button panel, told others to catch the next lift, and hit the button for the top floor. 

The doors slid shut, and they were alone between four lavishly decorated walls. Despite how much room there was between them and the walls, Megumi felt cramped. The air was too thin, too stifling, and his skin prickled uncomfortably with the feeling of being judged. 

“Please forgive me.” The words were a welcome distraction and Megumi glanced over to the receptionist with a raised brow. “I’m used to Mr Gojo’s appointments being older.”

He arched a brow at that and tried to suppress his grin. The corners of his lips twitched and he wanted to tell her, “If only you knew.” The people Gojo dealt with on a regular basis were one of the many reasons the guy welcomed regular distractions in any form. “They’re all too old and too boring.” 

“Maybe you’re too young.” 

“Tell my father that.” 

“I’m used to it,” Megumi lied, “Miss…?” 

“Saito,” she said, shooting him a shy look from the corner of her eyes. There was another question brewing, another notch to her curiosity that needed to be filled in. “Where are you from?”

“Tokyo.”

It was her turn to twitch her lips. “Apologies, Mr Fushiguro, I meant which company. Usually when Mr Gojo has a scheduled appointment it comes with a note of which company he’s meeting with and who. It helps us on the front desk give each guest a more personal touch to their visit.”

He hummed. “That’s a nice touch.” 

She smiled sweetly and in another life Megumi might admire how pretty she looked with soft dimpled cheeks and bright eyes. “Thank you. It was my idea when I first joined the company eight years ago. It seems to have gone down well.”

“I can imagine.” 

“Sometimes we also leave little notes in the schedules about people’s preferred beverage, where they’re from, or if they’ve recently had a holiday. There was however, no company or note next to your name.”

“Nothing?” 

“Nothing.”

“Interesting.”

It wasn’t. There was no sense for Satoru to give anybody any information about him. If he put Megumi’s workplace as the company people would look it up and talk. The chatter would get back to the board of directors and there would be questions. If Satoru left any notes about Megumi’s favourite drink, the questions would still trickle back to him about why nobody else in the company knows a damned thing about him. Who was this stranger and why was the head of the company scheduling work time to meet with him?

Even as Miss Saito raised a brow at his silence, Megumi pursed his lips and refused to elaborate. Any answer he gave would lead to somebody trying to dig up information on him, or more digging. He was certain there would be some searches once he left the premises. Curiosity or not, Megumi really didn’t want to give these people more than was necessary. He was here for one reason; to close the door on Satoru, sever ties and call it quits once and for all. 

The rest of the journey was met with silence, the noise to fill the air being the number of each floor they passed. Megumi sipped on his tea quietly, vaguely aware of a warm scent of honey wafting into his nose every now and again. “Nice perfume,” he said. 

“Oh,” Miss Saito beamed, “thank you.” 

The elevator came to a stop and the doors slid open slowly. Megumi inhaled a long breath and followed Miss Saito out. It was one step, but Megumi felt like he was falling, and he steadied himself on his feet for a moment, swallowed another gulp of air, and trailed behind Miss Saito. They turned around a corner and came face to face with a single door at the end of the short hallway. Two thin, frosted windows boxed the door in on either side. It was just as he remembered it, and Megumi’s memories started to dance and remind him of what happened last time he was here. 

Satoru bent over his desk. Moaning. Breathing Megumi’s name. Hands fastened behind his back. Megumi with one hand fisted in Satoru’s hair. 

He shook his head and willed those thoughts away. He was a different person then, more vulnerable, and less aware of consequences. If memory served him correctly however, the door opened to a small entry, and the main chamber of Satoru’s office was around the corner to the right. They came to a stop and Miss Saito knocked against the wood. 

Megumi held his breath. He almost hoped Satoru had forgotten. 

“It’s open!” 

Of course that was unrealistic. Nothing could prevent Satoru from meeting with Megumi today. 

Miss Saito smiled widely at Megumi, opened the door for him, and led the way inside. Megumi stepped in line with her and turned the corner with her to see Satoru slouched in his seat. A mobile cradled precariously in one hand, and his expression etched with boredom as he stared at the computer. Miss Saito cleared her throat and Satoru only tipped his head in her direction, eyes glued to the screen. “Mr Gojo, your one o’clock is here. Mr Fushiguro?”

Satoru’s head snapped up and Megumi glared at the sudden interest Satoru had. “Megumi!” 

“Satoru.” he mumbled.”

“You made it!” Satoru stood from behind his desk and stepped around it, one hand shooing Miss Saito away without a care. “You can leave.” 

“Yes, sir.”

Megumi sighed and turned a softened smile to the receptionist. “Thank you, Miss Saito. Enjoy your afternoon.” She beamed at him, nodded, bowed, and left them to it. The moment the door clicked shut Megumi snapped a glare in Satoru’s direction. “Stop,” he said. 

Satoru froze, a few feet away from Megumi, back straightening him up to his full height. “Megumin.”

He sneered at Satory and took a step back. Space was good if he wanted to make it out of here in one piece. “I’m not here for any screwing around or pleasure. It is strictly business.” He turned away from Satoru and made his way towards the desk, perching himself on the edge of it. With his tea cradled in his lap, Megumi let out a slow breath and levelled Satoru with a look. “I’m here to say goodbye. Permanently.” 

Despite the fact Satoru was wearing tinted glasses inside, Megumi could feel the look he was giving him. Knew the exact shape those gorgeous blue eyes were making. Wide with shock, staring, unable to look away. Fixated on Megumi as his mind processed the words Megumi had just spoken. There would be a silent pleading in them, a worry etching the edges, a fear backdropping it all. Megumi sipped his drink, and waited for Satoru to move. 

Another moment passed. 

A full minute of silence. 

And Satoru fell to his knees. A soft noise visibly resonated through Satoru’s chest and his lips fell open with a quiet, “Megumi, please.”

He shook his head and set the paper cup down onto the desk. The next words he chose needed to be carefully selected and constructed. Leaving any wriggle room, any hint that Megumi would go back on his words, was out of the question. This had to be final, and Satoru had to understand that. 

“You called me,” Satoru whispered and he shuffled closer on his knees. Megumi held his breath and refused to rise to the bait. He had. In a moment of weakness, of stupidity, he’d called Satoru’s number and opened the floodgates of twisted emotions. And Megumi had gotten insistent calls the next morning until Megumi picked up. Badgering texts telling Megumi there must be something still there if he’d saved Satoru’s number, that he would do anything Megumi asked of him, anything. 

“I meant it.” Satoru came to a stop between Megumi’s legs. “Everything I said to you, Megumi. I meant it. I’m yours. You tell me to jump and I’ll ask how high. You tell me to crawl, I’ll crawl. Tell me to bark and I’ll woof. Megumi.” He slid long fingers onto Megumi’s thighs and leaned forward to perch a cheek against the inside of Megumi’s knee. “Please don’t leave me. You know how I feel.” 

Satoru was right. On every account. He would do anything Megumi asked, no matter what it was, how shameful, degrading, or outright ridiculous. He was so wrapped around the idea of pleasing Megumi, of being whatever Megumi wanted him to be, and that was the problem. Satoru didn’t know how to say, “No,” to Megumi, didn’t know what “Red” meant, or what was too far. Nothing was off limits. Nothing was off the table and everything was a possibility. 

And that was the problem. 

So long ago, Satoru exploited Megumi’s naivety to satiate his own stupid, lustful needs. When Megumi didn’t know what was appropriate or what was the correct etiquette, Satoru pushed Megumi further and further into the path of wrongness until Megumi was drowning. He swallowed down a long, deep breath, closed his eyes, counted to five, and opened them again. In front of him, Satoru was stock still, gaze fixed on Megumi, body unmoving. If anything, he seemed closer, lips turned up into a pout that at one point in Megumi’s life, looked cute. 

“It’s not me,” Megumi started. He let out a sigh, entire frame deflating with the noise, and hesitantly lifted a hand to Satoru’s cheek. “It isn’t me you want..”

“That’s not tru-”

“Suguru.” Satoru clamped his lips shut so hard Megumi could see every muscle of his face tense with the motion. “It’s always been about Suguru.”

“Megumi.”

“Tell me I’m wrong.” 

It was quiet, neither of them willing to speak nor look away from one another. Both of them still. Inside of his chest Megumi’s heart raced, the blood pounding in his ears and his chest aching with each carefully measured breath he forced himself to take. One minute stretched into two, and as the third started to tick by, Satoru whispered, “You’re wrong.” 

“Satoru.”

Satoru huffed with all of the attitude of a petulant child. Twisted his lips into a pout, and shook his head free from Megumi’s hand. He shuffled closer and threw his face into Megumi’s lap, refusing to look at him for another second. “It used to be about him,” Satoru mumbled.

“I know,” Megumi said. 

It was an ugly truth he’d learnt one night during one of their more intense scenes. It was dark. Satoru loved playing in the dark, which, in hindsight, Megumi completely understood now. But it was dark, black out curtains drawn tight, Satoru’s hands roughly bound behind his back a little too tightly. Blinded by a tie Megumi had dug from Satoru’s wardrobe. Cock covered in layers of drying cum. Knees reddened and bruised from how long he’d been kneeling. Ass turned several shades of red. More bruises decorating Satoru’s arms, thighs and back, and slithers of red marking his otherwise beautifully pale skin.

Satoru was a mess of blubbering noises, barely coherent words that now and again resembled a plea, a quiet begging. Underneath it all, above the whisper of Megumi cracking the paddle against Satoru’s abused skin, was a broken, desperate, wet cry of, “Suguru.” 

Everything came to a sudden stop and Megumi’s entire body ran cold. The thoughts in his mind crashed into one another, and panic swelled within his chest. “Who’s Suguru?” 

Satoru found his voice far too quickly, body sobering up in an instant. Any sign of his previous endorphin based high was gone. The rawness of his throat echoed in his words, but nobody would think he’d been seconds away from blowing his load for the eighth time that night. “Nobody. Sorry. We can carry on. You were just getting to the good part too. Come on, Megumi. I’m so close it hurts .” 

He couldn’t.

Megumi couldn’t continue. Something was so very, very wrong. In that moment, it hit him. All of the little things Satoru did. The way his gaze always lingered on Megumi when he was fresh from a shower, hair damp and flat, missing its usual height. Comments about growing his hair out. At first, Satoru slid his hands onto Megumi’s waist from behind, refusing to initiate anything from the front unless Satoru was blindfolded. Then it was with the lights off, always with the lights off. “What colour’s your hair?” The question was a red flag and now, Megumi understood why. 

He stopped, refused to carry on, untied Satoru and refused to say anything until Satoru explained himself. It wasn’t difficult. Silence was Satoru’s worst nightmare and Megumi learnt the longer Satoru spent in it, the more he spoke. 

It worked after thirty eight seconds. Satoru spilled every detail about Suguru that came to mind in that instant. An old childhood friend who was roughly Megumi’s height, with dark hair and pale skin, just like Megumi. The inevitable happened; they fell in love. Moved in together, and made promises about their future together. Suguru was the best thing to have ever happened to Satoru, until one day he didn’t come home. 

An accident tore him away from Satoru. Ripped up their plans and ruined their future. Satoru had never gotten the chance to give Suguru the ring he’d bought him. It was still sitting in the original box, hidden at the back in one of his drawers. When he’d tried to pay Suguru’s family a visit, pass on his condolences and try to gather any information about the funeral, they shut him down and pushed him away. “You will have nothing to do with our son. You’ve tainted him enough. The least you can do is let him rest with some dignity.” 

Satoru confessed to Megumi it wasn’t the first time he’d placed such an ad in the papers before. Megumi wasn’t the first to take up room in an otherwise empty space. There were others. A small handful of others who fit the same rough description; Megumi’s height, dark hair, pale skin. It was the same song and dance for all of them and Megumi was another notch in Satoru’s bedpost. Another pretty face Satoru used to bandage over that ache in his chest.

“You’re not the first,” he whispered into the still air between them, “but I want you to be the last.” 

It was the most honest Satoru had been since Megumi first moved in, the most emotional and broken he’d ever sounded. One more confession was spilt from Satoru’s lips; he’d started to like Megumi. Just like the rest he’d offered the room to Megumi at an almost free rate, wanting nothing more than a brief companionship that always fizzled out when Satoru grew bored. But Megumi was anything but boring. He was exciting, exhilarating, fun, and chaotic. Satoru never knew what side of Megumi he was going to get and he wanted all of it. Every single fibre of Megumi, Satoru wanted it for himself and he didn’t want to let it go. 

“Forgive my dishonesty,” he said, “but please, will you stay?” 

Megumi felt sorry for him. 

Even if Satoru’s words were true, if he meant the promise that quickly followed; “I’ve moved on. With you, I don’t think about Suguru. With you, Megumi, I feel like the old me.” Megumi couldn’t stay. Any relationship that started with deceit and lies, was surely doomed to fail, and Megumi didn’t want to be a reminder to Satoru of what he used to have. He made the decision that night he would move out. Find a job, another place, and give Satoru the space he needed to truly grieve. 

“But you make it so much less empty. Please stay.” 

Megumi had when he couldn’t find a new place. And he’d stayed when he struggled to find a job that paid better than the bare minimum, part time wages he was currently on. He needed enough for a deposit, monthly rent, groceries, to pay back the loan sharks, and maybe enough to put the lights on. 

So he’d stayed, mind twisting over every interaction he and Satoru had ever had. The longer he stayed the more he realised Satoru was wrong. They were wrong. His hands were stained with all of the wrong things he’d done with Satoru, to Satoru. A few quick searches let him know he’d crossed lines that never should’ve been crossed and as the facts stacked up against him, as they weighed heavily on his shoulders, his thoughts drifted. 

He was stupid to think somebody would look twice at him. Stupid to think he could do anything good with his hands. How many times had he broken Satoru’s skin? Left him bruises and welts lasting days with enough wait to look abusive? Dragged himself through a frustrated cycle of emotions the next day, the next week, because something felt wrong? Drops he’d learnt. He’d gone through so many of them with Satoru and not once did the man offer to lift a finger and brighten Megumi’s miserable days. 

The days dragged into weeks, and the weeks trickled into months. Megumi’s frustrations with everything grew, and grew. It was clear he was struggling to get out from Satoru, to put his own foot out into the world. It was clearer still that he was going to be stuck with Satoru unless something changed. 

In another act of stupidity, Megumi cracked open Satoru’s personal stash of alcohol one night and drank himself stupider. He’d taken the first sip with the thought that he could knock himself out before Satoru came home and the guy would be none the wiser. Fate, or bad luck, had other ideas in mind. 

Satoru came home early to find Megumi glaring at the TV. A trash reality show was playing, partway through episode eight. The only reason Megumi was watching it was he’d forgotten where the remote was and had lost the will to look for it. 

It became Satoru’s turn to poke and prod, ask Megumi what was going on, if he was okay. Why was he so upset? He could talk to him. And Megumi spilt his own secrets; his father, the loan, Emi, the reason he’d hastily moved out, the reason he needed more money, all that was wrong with Satoru, every reason as to why he needed to leave. Everything. He laid out every single short end of the stick he’d ever gotten with disdain and disgust. 

It was quiet save for the chatter of voices from the TV. Megumi stewed in his own incompetence whilst Satoru thought. 

To this day, Megumi was certain he’d lost several brain cells in that one night alone. In his drunken stupor, desperate, ready to call it quits and succumb to his fate as Satoru’s free loading roommate, Satoru offered him a deal. If Megumi was sober, he would’ve told Satoru to shove his deal, packed his bags, and left there and then. But drunk Megumi, with red, tear stained eyes, blood pounding through his veins, mind full of guilty fog, with a headache beginning to brew and his heart aching for all sorts of reasons, agreed. 

Once a month, Megumi would allow Satoru to take him out. They were to spend one day together and Megumi could utter not a single complaint. Satoru would make a single deposit into Megumi’s bank account to help cover some of his expenses. “Just a little something to make it easier for you.”

He’d tried, pitifully, to decline, telling Satoru he didn’t want his pity or his money. “I’m ‘posed ta be lea’in.” 

“Then how about I find you a job. I know someone who’s hiring and you’d be perfect for her.” 

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you helping me?”

He grinned slyly at Megumi, prodded a sharp finger into his chest, and leaned into his space to whisper in his ear, “Don’t bite the hand that feeds you, Megumi. You want to leave that badly? I’ll help you leave.”

Except he hadn’t. Not completely. He’d helped Megumi get his with Mei Mei where she taught him the finer rules that helped him to keep his head steady. He’d helped Megumi find his current place. But he hadn’t let Megumi leave. He visited the club once every other month, not the original month he’d suggested, and every visit came with small reminders. Satoru was still waiting to hear a proper thank you from Megumi for helping him with his troubles. There wasn’t much Satoru was asking for, just a little attention every now and then to make up for the money he still sent to Megumi. 

A date. No kissing. No fucking. No sex. No feelings. Just them, food, moderate alcohol consumption, and conversation. 

Now, Megumi pitied Satoru. The guy was lonely, seeking solace in the closest thing he’d had to company for years in Megumi. 

Yet no matter how many times Megumi accepted his invitations for dates, humoured him at the club when their paths happened to cross and sat at his table to keep him company, it was never enough. It was always just one more. One more date. One more dinner. One more conversation. One more night. “After all I’ve done for you, Megumin?” 

Megumi learnt that Satoru was sly and played on Megumi’s guilty conscience without a care in the world. He had no intention of letting Megumi go so easily. 

“Satoru,” Megumi whispered, bringing them both back to their current position. He needed Satoru to let him go, to let Megumi live without one extra guilt dragging behind him. “I can’t keep doing this.” 

The pout on Satoru’s face twisted into a forum and Megumi saw the familiar flip of emotions as the true Satoru came out. “Just like that you’re going to leave?”

“Yes.”

“After everything.”

“Don’t,” Megumi snapped, gaze darkening. “Don’t you dare start that again.”

Satoru’s lips twisted into a grin and he slumped further into Megumi’s lap, hands creeping up Megumi’s thighs. “Or what, Megu-chan? Hmmm? Will you punish me?”

“Satoru.”

The pout was back, but Megumi could see the true colour behind it. “You know I can’t just forget about you. You’re special, have I told you that? I don’t want you to say goodbye. I won’t accept it.”

“Well I am saying goodbye, and you will accept it.”

“You’re forgetting,” Satoru purred, “I was the one who got you your job. I know where you live and I even put my name on the lease. I can take it all away and make you come crawling back to me.”

Megumi glared, grabbed a fistful of white hair, and yanked Satoru’s face from his lap. “Don’t even think about it.”

“Thinking!” Satoru sang and he beamed. “I’m also thinking about poor Tsumiki. Hmmm? How will she feel when she finds out her baby brother whores himself out for money? Would she be able to look at you if I told you about all the nasty, disgusting things you did to me? How many times did you make me bleed, Megumi? How many times did you get off on seeing me cry?” 

A dark urge crept underneath Megumi’s skin and anger started to boil in his veins. This was what he couldn’t do anymore; the rage, the need to hurt, to shut Satoru up, to vent his frustrations in all of the worst ways imaginable. Satoru wanted this, wanted Megumi to give in, to lose his temper and to fall back on old ways. He wanted Megumi to snap, call him names, slap his skin, turn it red, and bruise him until even his bones were coloured blue and red. 

“You’ve taken enough from me,” he said through a measured breath. He let go of Satoru’s hair and wriggled free from his grasp to step away. Megumi snatched his tea up and swirled the contents in the paper cup. It was barely warm, but Megumi curled his fingers tightly around it to try to ease his anger. “I won’t allow you to take any more.” 

“But-”

“I’m leaving Satoru, and you’re going to let me go. You are not going to get me fired, you will not get me evicted, and you most certainly will not talk to Tsumiki.”

There was a sneer. “Or what?”

Megumi paused, and turned to face Satoru. The guy hadn’t moved an inch from where Megumi had left him, and he let a grin crawl up his face. He took slow measured steps towards Satoru and made sure he had his full attention as he spoke. “I’m not afraid of you Satoru, not anymore. Don’t forget, I know your demons too.”

Satoru stared up at him and Megumi could feel the disappointment filling the air, the nervousness ticking into Satoru’s blood as it became clear Megumi meant his words. “I’ll do anything,” Satoru whispered, voice quiet, almost afraid. “I meant it when I sent those messages, Megumi. I’ll do whatever you want.” 

He took the final few steps between them and stopped in front of Satoru. He waited until Satoru shuffled around on his knees to face Megumi, and he leaned down, grin curling wider across his lips. “I-” he reached a hand out and cupped Satoru’s chin. “-want-” tipped it up so their eyes met, “-to-” Megumi set his abandoned tea down onto the desk behind Satoru and plucked those stupid shades from his face to see those dangerous pools of icy blue. “Leave.”

“Megumi,” Satoru breathed, and Megumi felt the exhale on his lips, tasted the desperation in his voice. 

“Please, let me go.” Satoru closed his mouth and Megumi took that as his victory. If Satoru had nothing to say then Megumi had won. He held the glasses back out to Satoru and waited for the man to take them before he straightened up. “I don’t need your money anymore so please, look after yourself, Satoru,” he said and Megumi spared his cold drink a forlorn look before he met Satoru’s expectant gaze. “I won’t see you again.”

He turned his back to Satoru again, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and opened his eyes. The weight of Satoru’s gaze followed him all the way to the door, and it wasn’t until Megumi had his fingers around the handle that Satoru spoke. “Please. Don’t go.”

The guilt ebbed in his gut and made Megumi hesitate. It made him contemplate giving Satoru one more chance, but he’d already given him plenty of chances, plenty of opportunities to not do what he does best; make things worse. 

“I’m sorry,” Megumi whispered, and he meant it, the words weighing heavily in his chest. He was sorry he was leaving Satoru like this, sorry he committed to Satoru’s plans and ideas, sorry he fell further and further into whatever pit Satoru dug for him, sorry that he accepted the room under such odd circumstances, sorry they ever crossed paths. He was sorry. 

He closed the door behind him, held his breath, and waited for the inevitable. A few seconds passed and he heard it, the slam of something being thrown across the room and Megumi flinched. It was another unsavoury trait he’d learnt about during his time as Satoru’s roommate; his anger. Something else bounced across the floor and Megumi screwed his eyes shut, trying his best to resist the urge to storm back in there and tell Satoru to stop being childish. It took immeasurable willpower to put one foot in front of the other, ignore Satoru’s cursed ramblings from the other side of the door, and hit the call button for the elevator. 

It didn’t come quick enough and once Megumi was inside he fell against the back wall, panic welling up inside of his chest. There was only one time Satoru had directed his anger at Megumi, but one time was too many and it stuck with Megumi. Despite the numerous occasions he’d put Satoru on his knees, bent him over his lap, and spanked the stupid out of him, there was a small part of Satoru that Megumi was afraid of, that he never wanted to see again. 

It had come as one quick strike to his cheek that stung more than anything. There wasn’t even a mark or a bruise. It only happened once, but Megumi hadn’t asked for it. From that point on, outside of a scene, Megumi was wary of Satoru.

The rapid rise of his breaths grew louder and Megumi slammed a hand against the buttons, fully aware he hit several of them before he finally pressed the button for the lobby. It was only once the doors closed that he let out a shaky, drawn out breath, and curled his hands tightly around the thin railing behind him. He tried his best to shake away the thoughts of Satoru following up on his threat, turning up at Megumi’s apartment in the middle of the night, or cornering Megumi outside of work. He tried to shoo away the fear that he’d made a mistake, that he’d never get another night’s sleep as long as Satoru knew where to find Megumi. 

The rational part of Megumi’s brain knew that Satoru wouldn’t dare to do any of that. It would drive Megumi away permanently. It would make people ask questions with dark answers Megumi could use to ruin his reputation. It was one large game of chicken and Megumi hoped Satoru would play along to finally give Megumi some space. Only time would tell if Satoru was willing to truly let Megumi go. 

The elevator slowed to a stop and Megumi snapped to attention. He did his best to wipe any panic off his face as people crowded into the small space before it set off again. Megumi closed his eyes and focused on keeping his breathing level, chasing any errant thoughts from his mind, and focused on anything but the past hour of his life. The elevator slowed again, people climbed off, more stepped on, and Megumi stared at the numbers, praying the lobby would arrive sooner rather than later. 

Eventually they came to a final stop at the very bottom of the building and Megumi filed out with the remaining people into the lobby. He cleared his throat, smoothed the front of his jumper down, and quietly made his way to the reception desk to hand back the visitor badge and sign out. He offered Miss Saito a quick wave, a wry smile, and a hurried exit to the front doors. 

Throughout his entire journey home his heart wouldn’t stop racing and his thoughts wouldn’t sit still. Sweat coated his palms, the collar of his shirt was too tight, and the air was stifling. Breathing was difficult and Megumi anxiously waited for the perpetual buzzing of his phone that never came. 

He only breathed a moment of relief when he was home, the door closed firmly shut behind him and the lock engaged. He pressed his warm forehead to the cool wood and inhaled several long, deep breaths. In the sanctity of his apartment, he finally started to relax. The air was still too warm. Megumi pulled his jumper off, tossed it onto the nearest surface, and crawled onto his couch. He tugged one of the cushions to his chest, closed his eyes, and tried to think of anything but Satoru. 

The dogs helped. Kuro curled up across his feet and Shiro pressed his nose against Megumi’s cheek with a soft whine. It brought a smile to Megumi’s face and he reached out to stroke Shiro’s fur. “Hey boy. I’m okay.” Shiro barked and licked at Megumi’s cheek, causing him to laugh and twist away with a grin. “I mean it! I’m fine! Shiro!” 

It took Megumi’s phone buzzing to interrupt them and he sighed, fearing what he was going to see when he looked at the screen. It took him a full minute to work up the courage to pull it out of his pocket and look. It was an email from the club, a reminder about his session with Sukuna tonight. 

Sukuna. 

Megumi let out a slow breath and tapped a thumb against the screen. It was a welcomed distraction and he rolled onto his back, swinging one over Kuro and propping it on the back of the couch as he thought. What did he want to do tonight? What was he in the mood for? He searched through his thoughts for how their last session went and he swallowed thickly. Every memory he had of those few hours was hot. Seeing Sukuna crawl around at his command? Fetch his own phone? And grind against his leg like a pathetic dog? 

Fuck. Megumi dug the heel of his hand into the front of his pants and screwed his eyes shut. He hadn’t expected Sukuna to obey him so easily. He’d expected a fight, some sort of rebuttal, yet he got the very thing he demanded; obedience. 

Sukuna deserved some kind of reward for doing that , right? 

He hummed and chewed on his bottom lip, an idea coming to mind. 

It would be perfect. 

By the time Megumi made it to Sukuna’s building that night, he was exhausted. Despite what Megumi had asked of Satoru, the man had only given Megumi two hours of respite before blowing his phone up with message after message, pleading with Megumi to come back. He was sorry. He could do better. Please, give him one more chance. Megumi’s voicemail was full with countless ramblings and the only peace he gained from it all was when he turned his phone off when he left. 

He didn’t know it was possible to tire from simply listening to his phone buzz over and over again. It drained him, and as tempting as it was to cancel tonight, curl up on his couch for the rest of the night, and work his way through an entire tub of ice cream whilst watching shitty reruns, he needed this. He needed a distraction, a physical tiredness, a perpetual ache that left him wanting more. 

He needed Sukuna. 

So, he’d dressed, packed, double checked he had everything for tonight, and left towards the train station. 

When he stepped out of the elevator, Megumi tugged his gloves on and prodded at the edges of his pants to make sure everything was set for tonight. Outside of Sukuna’s door, Megumi stalled to give himself enough time to bring to life his signature glare. He tightened one hand around the strap of his bag, lifted a gloved hand, and pounded against the door. 

There was a gruff voice from the other side, it sounded like Sukuna, and the door flew open. Megumi was greeted by somebody that wasn’t Sukuna and he froze. Did Sukuna forget what day it was? What time it was? Had Megumi timed it wrong? He was sure the clock in the station said it was close to seven when he disembarked his train. Who was this? 

Whoever he was huffed, dark eyes giving Megumi a cruel and filthy once over before they snapped up to his face with a sneer. “So this is the new little boy toy you’re too busy with.”

It wasn’t a question, and anger burnt in Megumi’s veins. “Boy toy?” 

The guy quirked his lips up, a low chuckle echoing in his throat. “He’s just your type.”

Megumi glared, trying to figure out what those words meant. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh,” he said, “I was talking to Kuna.”

“And you were just leaving,” Sukuna said. The guy Megumi had come to visit finally appeared, pulling the door the rest of the way to see who was standing there. His gaze softened a fraction and he looked apologetic in the moment their eyes met, before he stared murder at his guest. “So leave.”

The stranger hummed again and delivered Megumi another look filled with disdain. “He looks so breakable.”

“ Leave !” 

Megumi bit down on his tongue at Sukuna’s outburst. There was something primal and desperate in that one word, an order to not be disobeyed. There would be consequences and the back of Megumi’s neck flushed at the very idea of Sukuna and consequences. 

The guy looked disappointed, blew a puff of air between his lips and sneered as he gave Megumi one last look. “Enjoy whatever this is,” he said, and he knocked past Megumi, purposely bumping into his shoulder on the way out. 

An insult on the tip of his tongue wanted to make itself known and Megumi swallowed those words down before they could form. He watched the guy walk down the hall and casually wait for the elevator doors to open. Once they slid shut and the numbers started to change, Megumi snapped cruel eyes in Sukuna’s direction. “I thought I said no complications.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and stepped back. “And I told you it’s not complicated.”

Megumi didn’t budge from the boundary of the door. Something ugly twisted in his stomach and he wrung his hand around the strap of his back. It all made his throat run dry and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat back down. “You said there was nobody else.”

The muscles of Sukuna’s face twitched and he gestured to his apartment, inviting Megumi in. “There isn’t. Can you- can you just- get in here?” Megumi raised one brow and Sukuna’s petulance softened. “Please?”

Blowing a puff of air out, Megumi finally stepped past Sukuna and into the apartment. The familiar click of the door sounded behind him and Megumi stayed where he was, listening to Sukuna move around him. “Who was that?” Megumi said, trying to keep his voice even. There was a tightness growing in Megumi’s chest and he tried to chase away whatever strange feeling this was. He shouldn’t care that there were other people in Sukuna’s life, other people with nicknames for him. He shouldn’t feel so worked up over seeing Sukuna spend any amount of time with anybody else, even if they seemed to be somewhat of an asshole.

“Kuna .” Megumi wanted to test it on his tongue to see if it felt as soft as it sounded, and wanted to know what expression Sukuna would make if he was the one to whisper that nickname. 

“Nobody,” Sukuna mumbled without hesitation and Megumi tilted his head to watch Sukuna come to a stop in front of him. There was nervousness there, an itch drumming underneath Sukuna’s skin. Whatever conversation had happened had left Sukuna uneasy, off balance, and Megumi let out a slow breath. It was complicated, and it was a long story. 

He decided to prod Sukuna one last time, doing his best to ignore the racing beat of his heart. “He looked like a somebody to me.”

Sukuna stilled, neck flushing with heat? Shame? Fear? Megumi couldn’t quite pick one and he regretted the sentence as soon as he said it. He wasn’t supposed to be picking a fight, he was supposed to be decompressing from his own tension. But Sukuna spoke before Megumi could take those words back, “He’s an old colleague who should know better than to visit me at home and out of hours. I assure you,” Sukuna squared his shoulder, resolute pulling his muscles taut, and Megumi straightened up at the sureness of it all, “there is nobody else.”

The knot in Megumi’s stomach tightened and he held his breath. He liked the sound of that. “Noone?”

Sukuna shook his head once, gaze unwavering. “Nobody.”

Relief eased the tension in Megumi’s chest and he took a step in Sukuna’s direction. Sukuna didn’t back down and Megumi lowered his voice, eyes openly trailing over Sukuna’s body. “So I have you all to myself.” 

This close, Megumi could hear the sharp breath Sukuna took. “Yes,” Sukuna whispered. 

That single word warmed Megumi and he clicked his tongue. He inched closer and dragged his eyes back up to meet Sukuna’s gaze. He watched Sukuna’s throat bob, watched those eyes widen, fixated on Megumi and nothing else. “You’re mine,” Megumi muttered, voice barely there.

Sukuna’s groan wasn’t subtle, but it wasn’t loud either. If Megumi wasn’t stood inches from him he would've missed it. “Yes, sir.”

Meguimi’s heart swelled at those two words and he tilted his head to one side. The corner of his lips twitched up and he clung to those words, to the meaning behind it. Carefully catalogued the heavy, hazy look Sukuna fixed him with, lips parted a fraction, chest rising and falling in quick succession. “You belong to me.”

“Yes, sir,” Sukuna said with a nod and Megumi watched Sukuna’s eyes scour every inch of his face. Cheeks, chin, lips, neck. Everywhere Sukuna could see without moving, he looked, and he lingered, gaze burning Megumi’s skin. It almost made him consider letting him have a taste. Having Sukuna wrapped so well around his finger that Megumi thought about breaking his own rules was enthralling. When was the last time he wanted to crack his own armour? 

Megumi hummed and narrowed his eyes a fraction, daring to test the waters they were in. He wanted, no, needed , to know if Sukuna was willing to agree to Megumi’s own little fantasy. “Tell me,” he said slowly, letting the air slip between each word, “who’s your master?”

Another swallow of Sukuna’s throat, another tiny noise, and the rings of red thinning even further. “You, sir.” 

“So why are you looking down on me?” 

Sukuna fell to his knees in an instant, unperturbed by the thudding in his limbs as he hit the floor hard, and Megumi’s chest swelled with pride. “I’m sorry, sir.”

A sharp breath caught in Megumi’s throat and it was a struggle to hold the noise down. Out of every reaction he could’ve imagined from Sukuna, that wasn’t one of them. And an apology on top of that. He couldn’t lose Sukuna. He had to hold onto him as long as possible. How did he ever get so lucky with someone so abrasive? “Good boy,” Megumi whispered, eyes fixed on Sukuna, watching his reaction carefully. 

His lips parted further, his chest expanded with another breath, and his throat bobbed with a silent whine. Before Megumi knew it he reached a hand out and threaded slender fingers through Sukuna’s hair. It was beautiful to watch Sukuna’s eyelids flutter as he leaned into the touch, and Megumi allowed a small smile to creep up his face. 

This was perfect. 

Sukuna was perfect. 

And Sukuna was his. 

It was a shame to pull away and ruin the image, but Megumi had plans, ones he was sure Sukuna would enjoy. “Come,” he said, voice soft and tender, hand dropping by his side. Sukuna blinked, looked around the room and seemed to remember where he was and why Megumi was here. A sheepish look overtook his features and he set one foot on the floor. Megumi raised his brows and stared Sukuna down. For several seconds they stared each other down, Megumi fully aware he was pushing all of his luck before they’d even started. If Sukuna didn’t want to fall in line, Megumi wouldn’t hold it against him, not tonight. But if Sukuna did as Megumi wanted, if he read Megumi’s mind and followed silent orders, well, Megumi wasn’t sure he’d be able to hold back. 

Finally Sukuna whined, put his knee back onto the floor, and slowly leaned over to plant his hands onto the wooden floor too. “Good boy,” Megumi said, and he ruffled a hand through Sukuna’s hair, trying to control himself. He had it, Sukuna’s obedience. He’d broken him in and made him his. 

Trying to put one steady foot in front of the other was difficult, but Megumi managed it. Quietly rattling his tongue piercing behind his teeth until they made it to the living room. He peered down at Sukuna and gestured to the couch. “Take a seat, Sukuna.”

“O-kay?” There was an awkwardness to Sukuna’s form as he lifted himself into the couch, trying his best not to stand to his full height. 

It endeared Megumi’s heart and he had to fight to keep the smile from his face. He waited until Sukuna was seated; one arm thrown over the back of the couch, the other settled in his lap, legs spread wide, and shoulders stiff. “Please, try to relax,” Megumi said, and the words had the opposite effect. Sukuna lifted his shoulders up a fraction, tensed that little bit more, and dug his fingers into the couch fabric. In due time Sukuna would relax and be put at ease. For now, Megumi lowered himself into the familiar chair that had already been set up for him, and dropped his bag by the side of it. Silently he folded one leg over the other, clasped his palms in his lap, and offered Sukuna a soft smile. “I want tonight to be about you,” he said. 

A look of disbelief washed across Sukuna’s features and he arched one brow. A chuckle was buried in Megumi’s throat and he stamped it down. Even he would be doubtful of Megumi’s words considering he’d already made Sukuna crawl once tonight. Not to mention the last time he was here Sukuna was crawling around on all fours for almost the entire time Megumi was here. On top of that he told Sukuna he didn’t care about him or his enjoyment of their sessions together. The moment Megumi walked out that door Sukuna was nothing more than a fleeting annoyance Megumi batted away with ease. 

It was so far from the truth. 

Megumi did care if Sukuna enjoyed their time together. He cared if Sukuna was in the right frame of mind before, during, and after he walked through that door. He cared if Sukuna was given the proper aftercare after each session. He cared enough to make sure Sukuna didn’t spiral into a drop. 

He cared. 

“It’s come to my attention,” Megumi said, “that since we first met, I haven’t once personally asked you how you like something. I’ve always taken the lead and assumed you’d enjoy doing something my way. After what I put you through last week, losing my temper, punching you, and causing you to bleed, I figured you deserved to enjoy yourself in a more relaxed manner.”

The more Megumi spoke the further Sukuna drew his brows down. Once Megumi finished Sukuna tilted his head to one side with an uncertain, “Thank you?”

Megumi smiled gently at him. “Touch yourself.”

“What?”

“Consider it a learning experience for our future sessions together. I want to see how you pleasure yourself, what your preferences are, and what you enjoy when you’re on your own. Please,” he waved a hand in Sukuna’s general direction, “allow me to watch and learn.” 

From where Megumi sat he could see the way Sukuna licked his bottom lip, watched him lift a hand to wipe at his face, watched  his throat bob as he cleared his throat and shifted in his seat. He shrugged and straightened up. “I don’t have any complaints about what you’re doing, Megu– sir .” Megumi’s lips twisted up at the correction and he admired Sukuna’s ability to learn and remember. “Or what you’ve done so far. You know damned well I like it when you touch me, however you do it.”

With a soft noise Megumi nodded. “I’m sure you do, but I want to see you enjoy yourself in ways I haven’t fulfilled yet.” He swept his eyes over Sukuna’s frame and stopped at the hand that still hung between Sukuna’s legs. “If you give me a good show,” Megumi darted his gaze up to meet curious red eyes. He took a slow breath, unfolded his legs, and spread his thighs. Sukuna’s attention dropped in an instant to the new space and Megumi hummed. “I’ll let you ride me.”

Sukuna visibly swallowed, gaze still transfixed on Megumi’s crotch. 

Megumi almost felt bad for teasing Sukuna with the idea that he’d get to feel his cock. Not a single client has ever seen his cock, never mind have it inside of them. It was a personal rule he followed in order to maintain some modicum of control, to keep him from regretting anything. It was a rule he wasn’t willing to break just yet. Over time he’d learnt it served as a powerful persuasive tool and Sukuna was just as much of a sucker for it as the rest of Megumi’s clients. 

“Well?” Megumi said. 

“How?”

"I’m sorry?”

Sukuna finally looked up and there was a new seriousness to his expression, a new determination that burnt hot. He shifted in his seat, tugging subconsciously at his pants. “How do you- he lifted a hand up and pulled a face, “-want me to…” 

Megumi shrugged, “However you want to. Whatever makes you comfortable.”

Quiet followed Megumi’s statement, and during the quiet Sukuna studied him, refusing to look away. He was resolute, thinking, making a decision, and Megumi wanted to hurry this along, just a little. He blinked slowly, kept the soft smile across his lips, and brushed a thumb across the seam of his pants. In the motion Megumi lifted his hips up an inch and let them fall back onto the chair without so much as a whisper. 

It had the desired effect. 

Sukuna stared at his crotch, swallowed yet again, and shuffled in his seat to sit up even straighter. “Okay,” Sukuna muttered. He cleared his throat, sat forward, dragged his palms up and down his thighs, and flicked his attention back up. It was almost cute how nervous Sukuna was. The change of pace was clearly unsettling for him in comparison to the brash demands Megumi brought with him. 

“Do you need help?”

Sukuna had the heart to look offended at the question and he scoffed, hands immediately jumping to his shirt. “No,” he snapped, and in one fluid motion he tore his shirt over his head and tossed it to one side. This time, Megumi didn’t berate him for not folding it, for making a mess. Tonight was about letting Sukuna unwind without the presence of persistent little rules. “Ya know,” Sukuna said, smirk beginning to curl the corners of his lips, “we both know you don’t need to see shit.”

“That so?”

“Yeah.” Sukuna snorted and stood up. He shot his hands to his belt and unbuckled it with a series of short snaps of leather. A thought crosses Megumi’s mind that Sukuna could make a great dom, if he ever wanted to learn. “You already know what I like and how I like it.” He dropped his belt to the floor with a thud and pressed the button of his pants open. “I think,” Sukuna said, hooking his thumbs in the band of his pants, “you just want an excuse to do nothing today.”

“Really?”

“Am I wrong?”

Megumi hummed and followed the motion of Sukuna’s hands shoving his pants and boxers down in one well practised motion, before he stepped out of them and kicked them to one side. “Very,” Megumi said, eyes fixed on Sukuna’s half hard cock as he stood up. Each piercing shone brightly underneath the lights and Megumi slowly trailed his eyes up Sukuna’s frame. Over the firm planes of muscles, following every dip and peak, the lines of black ink, and finally the chiselled cheeks of his face. 

“Enjoying the view?” Sukuna mocked.

Coming to a stop in front of him, Megumi grinned sweetly up at Sukuna and wrapped one hand around Sukuna’s wrist. The smirk Sukuna wore faltered and Megumi enjoyed the shock that crossed his features when Megumi pressed the palm of Sukuna’s hand to the front of his own pants. Soft looking lips parted and Sukuna dropped his chin to his chest to stare at where they connected. “I want to see,” Megumi whispered, inching closer, pressing himself further into Sukuna’s hand. If he didn’t wear compression shorts he was certain Sukuna would be copping a feel of an erection beginning to grow. It was hard not to when Sukuna looked delectable and divine. “If you,” Megumi carried on, rubbing Sukuna’s hand up and down the front of his pants, over the mound of fabric that hid all of Megumi’s dirty secrets, “interest me at all.”

“You want me to interest you?” Sukuna whispered, lifting his head up. He curled his fingers into Megumi’s pants, doing his best to cup anything, and leaned further into Megumi’s space. 

“Yes,” Megumi said, letting Sukuna hold him a moment longer. He let Sukuna give an experimental squeeze, another fondle as he tried to trace ridges and lines, before he lifted a free hand up. He pushed against Sukuna’s chest. Walked him back the single foot it took to reach the couch and continued to push until Sukuna fell onto the cushions, cock bouncing between his legs. “Interest me, Sukuna.” 

A grin crawled back across Sukuna’s lips and he darted a tongue out to wet them. “You’re going to forget everybody else by the time I’m done.” 

With a smirk, Megumi stepped between Sukuna’s legs. Knocked a foot against the inside of Sukuna’s knee, and gently dug the heel of his shoe to the inside of Sukuna’s thigh, keeping his legs spread. “I’m watching.”

“Watch closely.”

Megumi raised a brow, tilted his head, put more pressure against Sukuna’s thigh, and watched. With his gaze fixed on Megumi, Sukuna wrapped a hand around his cock and quickly pumped himself. Until he shivered, chest shuddering with a heavy breath and his eyelids fluttering, a soft gasp leaving his parted lips. He chewed on his bottom lip, slid his hand back down his length, and moved his fingers at a crawl. Up, up, up, and up until he pushed a thick bead of pre from the tip. And he slid his thumb up, circled it around the head, dragged the pad over the slit before he gently traced it with the edge of his nail. His body trembled, and Megumi darted the tip of his tongue out, almost able to taste Sukuna’s moan. 

Megumi made a noise, unable to help his own short inhale. Green locked on red, unable to look away as Sukuna arched up into his hand, squeezed his fingers, and twisted them around the flushed head. On the drag back down, Megumi heard every bump of each piercing Sukuna passed over. He could almost feel them tingle against his own skin and he shivered instinctively. 

A single thought crashed into Megumi’s mind; they would feel fantastic against his skin. Dragging over his muscles, each ball bearing popping into him one at a time. Pulling at his muscles on the way out, each small tug of his skin more satisfying than the last. 

He quickly batted that image away. He pursed his lips tightly and dug the heel of his shoe ever so slightly into Sukuna’s skin to distract himself. Those thoughts were not allowed to happen, they couldn’t happen. Sukuna was a client, nothing more, and Megumi needed to remember that. 

“I’m getting bored,” Megumi mumbled, and he straightened up. He dropped his foot back to the floor and turned to make his way to the chair, throwing himself into it with a sigh. Sukuna’s eyes were on him, his hand frozen in place around his cock, lips parted with a silent question. Megumi spread his thighs wide, canted his hips up and dragged a hand over the front of his pants. “Entertain me, Sukuna.” 

There was a sharp inhale of air from Sukuna, a moment of silence, and Sukuna barked a scoff at him. He narrowed his eyes at Megumi, a new challenge dancing in those red eyes. “I’ll do you one better.”

“What’s that?”

“Enchant you.”

You already do . 

“And how are you going to do that?” Megumi said instead. He let his own hand sit still against his front. Slowly he dragged his thumb over up and down, caught the belt buckle and tapped against the metal twice. 

They were at a standstill again, neither of them budging once more and Megumi used the quiet to study Sukuna carefully. There was a cautiousness to the way he looked at Megumi, a silent debate happening in his mind as he weighed up whatever idea he’d originally had. It made Megumi curious. After all they’d done already, and the lack of “no’s” from Sukuna, he didn’t think there would be something to make him stumble over his own thoughts. Yet here Sukuna sat, contemplating whatever it was. Nothing was off the table. Megumi hadn’t said Sukuna couldn’t do something and he’d left it open to Sukuna’s own imagination. With the limited supplies Megumi had brought with him, he wondered what Sukuna had in his own bedroom to cause this sort of reaction.

Sukuna moved first. He licked his lips, squeezed his cock, and released a slow breath that sent his entire body shuddering. “Stay there,” he mumbled.

Megumi blinked and Sukuna was up, moving past him without another word. Megumi turned in his seat, following Sukuna with his gaze. Confusion grew as he watched Sukuna disappear out of sight. At least his ass was good to look at. 

He stared at the now empty corridor for a moment before he turned back in his seat and stared at the empty couch. Despite how hard he listened, he couldn’t hear a sound and it piqued Megumi’s curiosity all the more. Perhaps he’d given Sukuna too much free reign. Maybe he should’ve been more specific with his wording.

Open yourself up for me nice and slow. I want to see you fuck yourself on your fingers, spread yourself open. Stuff yourself full until you feel like you’re about to break. Moan my name, beg for my cock until all you can think about is me. 

As the seconds ticked by Megumi’s patience started to wane. He wanted to jump to his feet, corner Sukuna in whatever room he was in, and demand the show he wanted. But he reminded himself that Sukuna was paying by the hour. Whatever he was doing was on Sukuna’s money and Megumi tapped an impatient finger against his thigh. The longer he waited the more his legs threatened to bounce on the spot, needing to occupy his growing restlessness somehow. 

Soft footfalls sounded and Megumi just about resisted the urge to turn around. He didn’t want Sukuna to know he was eager or desperate to see what was so important Megumi had to be kept waiting. So he waited. The footsteps slowed and Megumi tasted the hesitation in the air, the last minute argument Sukuna had with himself, holding onto that last opportunity to turn back and pretend he had nothing. 

He made his mind up and crossed the periphery of Megumi’s vision. Megumi side eyed him and finally turned to stare, lips parting at what he was seeing. 

Lacy, black stockings, complete with frills that stopped mid thigh, were wrapped snugly around Sukuna’s legs. The only thing holding them up were the tiny clip-on suspenders which crawled up the rest of Sukuna’s thighs and disappeared under a plaid pink skirt which covered nearly nothing. Every inch of Sukuna’s ass was visible from underneath the fabric, and when Sukuna turned to throw himself back onto the couch, legs spread wide, it was difficult to miss the curve of Sukuna’s erection bunching the fabric around his waist. What completed the look was the thick black choker nestled around Sukuna’s throat, complete with a small silver ring on the front which only had one purpose in Megumi’s mind. 

“Somebody’s enjoying the view.” 

Megumi snapped his eyes up and clamped his mouth shut the moment he met Sukuna’s gaze. This was the last thing he expected from a guy like Sukuna. It wasn’t the first time Megumi had seen a guy Sukuna’s size in such clothes before, but somehow, it never crossed his mind Sukuna would be interested in it without being prompted. It was a delicious view, one that made his mouth run dry and contemplate once more breaking every single rule he’d ever put down. His mind turned into a series of scatterbrained thoughts about Sukuna, dressed exactly like this. Snapping the suspenders against his skin until it blushed. Shoving the skirt over the swell of Sukuna’s hips to admire his ass. Making him hold the front of it up between two fingers. The fabric stained with his and Sukuna’s drying cum. 

Sukuna moved again. He lifted one leg up, propped his foot on the edge of the couch and sunk two fingers between his lips. All with his eyes fixed on Megumi. 

He was losing control. Megumi could feel it slip between his fingers, feel his cock twitch and ache in his pants. A line was going to be crossed tonight, he was certain of it, and it only made him crave more of whatever this was. Made him want to see how far they could take this song and dance, to see who backed out first, who cracked first. 

“Are you clutching at straws now?” Megumi spat out. 

Sukuna’s face darkened and he popped his fingers free, a drop of spit clinging to his bottom lip. “Says the guy who was caught gawking.” 

“Pink’s not your colour.”

With a snort Sukuna eased one hand behind his thigh. Megumi watched Sukuna curl his fingers up, watched Sukuna shift to lean his weight to one side, watched him prod at muscles until he found the entrance, and slowly slid the first finger in. Megumi held his breath, enraptured by the subtle flutter of muscles and twitching of Sukuna’s thighs as that finger sank further in. “What colour would you prefer, sir ?” 

Sweat danced across Megumi’s palms and his heart pounded in his chest as he forced himself to meet Sukuna’s gaze. Any colour would suit Sukuna, in fact Sukuna could pull off anything, but what did Megumi prefer? “Green,” he said, leaving no room for argument. 

A groan rumbled in Sukuna’s chest and he moaned, teasing a second finger around his rim. “I think I’d like that.” 

The image that sprung to mind had Megumi’s mouth running dry. He pressed his lips into a firm line to stifle any more noises he wanted to make. Sukuna dressed in green. An undeniable moniker he belonged to Megumi, he was Megumi’s. His pants felt too tight and Megumi chewed on the tip of his tongue, rocking his piercing against the back of his teeth, trying to ground himself and his thoughts. 

A green collar. A green skirt. Green. Green. Green. Megumi’s. Megumi’s. His. His. His. “Mine.”

Either Sukuna didn’t notice Megumi’s sudden quietness, or he chose to ignore it. Attention focused instead on dipping the tip of his second finger into himself. He prodded and poked at his muscles and slowly rolled his hips down. The second digit slipped in and Megumi stared, breath caught in his throat. It was sinful how easily Sukuna slid up and down his fingers, how he crooked them, knuckles turning white. The  gasp he let out on the way down had Megumi gasping with him, and Sukuna thrusted into the air, cock jumping, skirt fluttering around his thighs. 

“Three,” Megumi said, “if you want a chance at taking me.” 

Sukuna paused. When Megumi paid careful attention to his gaze, he struggled to see any colour except for the pink of Sukuna’s cheeks. “Three?” Sukuna echoed in a low whisper. 

“Three.” 

The confirmation stoked a new heat in Sukuna’s gaze, and a smirk curled his lips up. “If you’re lying to me,” Sukuna warned and Megumi arched a brow at the tone in his voice, “I’m going to be disappointed.”

Megumi snorted and finally unbuckled his belt. The movement caught Sukuna’s attention and it was a battle to keep the grin from his face as he snapped the leather from the buckle. “The only one being disappointed so far is me.” He popped the button of his pants, pulled the zipper down, and rested one hand in the front of his pants. Every now and again Megumi moved his fingers up and down, idly stroking himself. Through the compression shorts Megumi barely felt a thing and a brief pang of regret slammed through him before he shoved it away and focused on Sukuna. 

The guy was a sucker for the little white lie Megumi was drawing him into. 

At least Megumi wasn’t lying about the size. Underneath his pants and over his shorts was a subtle harness fitted with an o-ring, perfectly suited for the slightly larger strap currently hidden in his bag. Sukuna did need at least three fingers for it. The only reason Megumi chose one that size was to watch Sukuna squirm, fully aware the guy always wanted. So Megumi was giving him more. 

“Fuck,” Sukuna whispered. He pulled his fingers free, spat on them, and slid them back in. There was an urgency to his movement now, a hurriedness to wriggle a third finger against his muscles. He stumbled in his rhythm and even had to press his chest closer to the couch, slid his ass forward, and present himself further to Megumi, in order to reach underneath himself properly. 

“Need a little help there?” Megumi teased. 

“Shut up,” Sukuna huffed as he shifted again.

“That’s not very nice.” 

Sukuna climbed onto his knees, pressed his cheek into the cushions, and turned his head to face Megumi. “Shut up, sir ,” he snapped, searching with his fingers for the right angle once again. 

“Watch your mouth, Sukuna. Or do you need a reminder of last week’s lesson?”

A whimper tore from Sukuna’s throat and he clamped his mouth shut with a muffled huff. His hips began a new rhythm, rolling back onto the tips of three fingers and Megumi let out a breath. He reached into his bag for a packet of lube and the strap he’d brought with him. Under Sukuna’s watchful gaze he stood and walked across the room, fully aware of Sukuna slowing his fingers down, their pace stuttering. Megumi cut his gaze to Sukuna’s face and narrowed his eyes. “If I’d have known you’d be useless at preparing yourself, I would’ve done it myself.”

Sukuna opened his mouth, a scowl on his face, but one sharp look from Megumi and he clamped his lips shut again. 

“Good boy,” Megumi said. He pressed one knee between Sukuna’s legs, dropped the strap onto the couch, and tore the corner of the lube packet. “Open,” he said. A whisper reluctance had Megumi bringing a hand down against Sukuna’s cheeks, rocking the man on his knees. “I won’t ask a second time.” 

Sukuna grunted, settled back into position, and pulled his fingers free. He spread both hands across his cheeks and pulled. Megumi hummed and held the open end of the packet over Sukuna’s entrance. Without wasting another second he squeezed the liquid directly into Sukuna, enjoying the hiss he let out as the cold liquid hit his hot insides. 

Once he was done, Megumi shoved the empty packet into his pockets, propped one elbow on the back of the couch, and rubbed one hand over Sukuna’s muscles. “Continue.” 

Three fingers immediately dipped inside of Sukuna and Megumi’s breath hitched silently in his throat. Lube squeezed out around Sukuna’s fingers. Thick drops smeared across his skin with each thrust of his fingers, giving Sukuna’s skin a wonderful glisten. But Megumi’s eyes were fixed on where Sukuna slid his fingers in, on the space Sukuna created before Megumi’s hungry gaze. It was enthralling to watch this close up. 

The rippling muscles of Sukuna’s back. Tense arms whose veins popped and disappeared as he fucked himself open. Muscles clenching and relaxing around those three fingers. Growing looser and looser the more Sukuna fingered himself. Sukuna rocking his hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion. The sound of slick lube squelching around his fingers were just about drowned out by the breathless gasps Sukuna made, a groan bubbling up whenever he twisted his fingers deeper into himself. 

Megumi dragged a finger down Sukuna’s skin and traced the heavy swell of Sukuna’s balls. “Do you often get off like this?” 

It took Sukuna a moment to answer with a shake of his head. 

“But you like to do this?”

Sukuna nodded. 

“How often?” 

Sukuna gasped on a dry breath, cleared his throat, and sunk back onto three fingers. “Not often.”

“No?” He shook his head again and Megumi hummed. He climbed to his feet and turned to face Sukuna, waiting until the other man finally cracked his eyes open. Those fingers slowed again and Megumi narrowed his eyes. “Did I give you permission to stop?” Sukuna shook his head and Megumi scoffed. “I expect you to answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“N-no, Sir,” and Sukuna sped his fingers up. He twisted them faster into himself, rocked harder on his knees and groaned louder. 

“Good boy.” Sukuna keened and Megumi reached for the band of his pants. He made sure Sukuna was watching before he pushed them down, letting them drop and pool around his ankles before he kicked them off and away with his shoes. Sukuna stared, and Megumi traced gloved fingers over the lines of the leather harness he wore over his shorts. “Enjoying the view?” 

Pupil blown red snapped up to him and Sukuna stilled for a single breath, cheeks darkening in colour. He was enjoying the view. 

Megumi hooked a finger underneath one of the straps and followed it to where it disappeared under the hem of his shirt. He lifted the fabric with that same finger, giving Sukuna a sneak peek of his waist, and snapped the leather against the skin. Sukuna jumped with the noise, another whine ratting in his throat, and Megumi snapped it a second time, running a shiver through Sukuna’s body. “You’ve stopped moving.”

Almost immediately Sukuna moved, fingers hurriedly fucking into himself, spread more lube across his skin. Megumi knelt behind Sukuna again, close enough that on every rock back of his hips, the back of Sukuna’s hand grazed Megumi’s front. He watched the view with a hum, soothed a hand over one of Sukuna’s cheeks, and spread him open a fraction more. Sukuna paused. Megumi laid his other hand on the small of Sukuna’s back, puckered his lips together, and let a slow drop of spit slide from his lips directly into Sukuna’s hole. The effect was instant. Sukuna groaned openly, rocking his hips back even harder, and drove his fingers deeper into himself, mixing Megumi’s spit with the lube. 

“You liked that,” Megumi said. 

“Yes,sir,” Sukuna choked out and Megumi licked his lips. 

He shuffled back onto the couch, grabbed Sukuna’s ass in both hands, and crowded over him. Traced the tip of nose along Sukuna’s skin, pebbling goosebumps over his flesh, and whispered his breath across those same lines, lips grazing Sukuna’s skin. “You want me to-”

“ Yes .”

Megumi licked his lips again, tip of his tongue catching Sukuna’s skin. He pulled harder at Sukuna’s cheeks, knocked a thumb against his fingers, and waited until Sukuna was out of the way before dropping another thick wad of spit between Sukuna’s waiting muscles. If he leaned down another fraction Megumi could press his tongue directly to Sukuna’s entrance. Flick his tongue in and out until Sukuna rocked back against his face of his own volition. He could mouth at Sukuna’s rim, suck on sensitive muscles and curl his tongue into that delicious heat, finally getting a taste of Sukuna . 

“Fuck,” Sukuna mumbled and Megumi moved a fraction so that Sukuna could spear two fingers into himself. They were cruel, uncaring, desperate to bury Megumi as deep as he could, and Megumi’s skin flushed at the idea. 

The more Sukuna worked himself open again, the more lube he pushed from his own hole until Megumi watched a single, thick drop slide free. Down his taint, over the swell of clenching balls, and drip onto the towel covered couch beneath them. Megumi groaned. He couldn’t stop it, wanted Sukuna to hear him, and dipped a thumb between the spaces of Sukuna’s fingers. The space was tight and even through the glove he could feel the heat of Sukuna. 

“Come for me,” Megumi whispered, pressing his thumb further into Sukuna, stretching him that little bit more. Sukuna’s hips trembled and he couldn’t decide between rocking forward or back. “Let me watch you come undone.” 

Sukuna shot his other hand up. From this angle, Megumi could just about make out the way Sukuna hurriedly pumped himself in time to the rapid thrusts of his fingers. His moans grew louder and his muscles clenched tightly around Sukuna’s fingers, trapping Megumi’s thumb between them all. 

And he felt it. The quiver. The tightening suction of heat. The sudden tenseness that shot through Sukuna coupled with a trembling. Sukuna stuttered through gasps and groans, hands stilling, freezing, before he relaxed and Sukuna slumped forward on the couch. His ass was still pointed towards the ceiling and Megumi nudged his thumb further into Sukuna’s heat, earning a soft noise. He crooked his thumb, stroked Sukuna’s inner walls, and retracted it with one final whimper from Sukuna. 

“Good,” Megumi whispered, wiping the excess lube across Sukuna’s skin. “You’ve been so good for me.” 

Without moving from his spot behind Sukuna, Megumi reached for the strap he’d dropped earlier. He shifted in his seat to get it pushed through the o-ring at the front, gave it a quick pull, and confident it was firmly in position, he reached a hand towards Sukuna’s ass. He dipped two fingers into Sukuna’s loose hole, twisted them around, ignoring Sukuna’s whines and the stuttering of his hips. Happy, he pulled out and slid those same two fingers down the strap, smearing it with whatever lube he’d been able to grab. 

“You’ve earned a treat,” Megumi said, and he finally disappeared from between Sukuna’s legs to sit on the couch. With the dry glove, he carded fingers through his hair, knocked the loose strands away from his eyes, and patted his lap once. “Whenever you’re ready.”

There was a muffled grumble from Sukuna, a lethargic shifting of his limbs, before he finally pushed himself up onto his knees. He grabbed the back of the couch for purchase, turned on the spot, and stopped. His eyes finally landed on Megumi and more importantly, Megumi’s lap. “The fuck is that?” 

Megumi soured his expression, wrapped one hand around the strap, and stroked it slowly. “Do you want to ride me?” 

Sukuna scoffed. “I thought you mean-”

“What?” Megumi snapped, his usual glare falling easily back into position. He reached underneath the skirt with his free hand and prodded roughly at Sukuna’s stretched muscles. “You thought I’d want to feel this-” he speared two fingers sharply into Sukuna. It shoved a hiss from his throat and almost toppled him onto Megumi’s lap. “-around my cock? You think I want to let you see my cock? Be anywhere close to this filth?” He twisted his fingers cruelly, delighting in the wince he tore from Sukuna and how Sukuna tightened his hold on the couch, an imperceptible roll of his hips telling Megumi he was enjoying this just as much. “How many times do I have to teach you this lesson?” Megumi snatched his fingers free and wiped them down Sukuna’s thigh. “And you did so well last week showing me you could learn some new tricks.”

Sukuna peered darkly from underneath loose pink strands and Megumi schooled his features unimpressed. It was diabolical how hot Sukuna burnt his skin, how he made Meguim’s blood simmer with fire from that one, murderous look. 

“It is not my fault if you assume the wrong things. This,” Megumi stroked the strap once more, “is the closest you’re going to get to me fucking you. So get on or I walk out that door.” 

A war waged on Sukuna’s face, eyes flicking from the strap, to Megumi’s face, and back. Megumi refused to stop stroking the strap, refused to let go of it, even as the seconds ticked by. This was just as exciting as watching Sukuna come undone, just as enthralling as having Sukuna moan his name. Seeing Sukuna struggle against his base desires, fighting with his innermost primal needs, was beautiful. 

“Well?” Megumi snapped. 

Sukuna’s lips twisted into the start of a snarl. He shook a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, and shuffled closer to Megumi on his knees. There was another internal war before Sukuna threw one leg over Megumi’s thighs. He pressed his other hand into the cushion behind Megumi’s head, and shifted his weight around on his knees until he was comfortable. Megumi brought his hands up, laid them against Sukuna’s thighs, and dragged them up, pads of his fingers ghosting across his warmed skin. 

Whatever frown Sukuna had been wearing simmered, almost disappeared, and his lips parted with a soft exhale. There was something new in the air. It tingled Megumi’s skin and made him forgo the usual stoic expression he tried to feign. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d had a sub in his lap, ready to ride his strap and lose themselves to it, but Sukuna was different. He couldn’t put his finger on why. Why did Sukuna muddle his thoughts? Make him want to tear the rulebook to shreds and throw it out? Why did Megumi spend so many countless hours thinking about him in other sessions? Comparing him to his other clients? Regretfully thinking Sukuna would prefer it harder? Would want Megumi to bruise that little bit deeper? Why did Megumi want to hold on to him so much and never let go? 

Maybe inviting Sukuna into his lap was a mistake. Maybe having Sukuna take up every inch of his personal space was too far. 

But he’d already slept in Sukuna’s bed. Worn his clothes. Spent the night and had breakfast with him, paid for by Sukuna himself. He’d already done so many things he shouldn’t and he wanted to do more things he shouldn’t. It sent his heart racing, sent his mind reeling with thoughts about giving in to Sukuna’s demands, giving him what he wanted. He wondered if it was too late to remove the harness, shove the shorts down, and give them both something different to enjoy.

There was a subtle tremor in Sukuna’s muscles as Megumi guided his hands further up, curling them over Sukuna’s firm ass. “Ride me,” he whispered, unable to put any more heat into his words, unable to demand. It was a plea, a silent “please” he couldn’t bring to life. Not if he wanted to continue this charade of a service, of a paying customer, a client. 

This was a new spell twining itself around them, bringing them closer. Megumi wanted to hold onto it a little longer, sink into it, and feel it gather in his bones. 

“Yeah,” Sukuna whispered and slowly he sank down. 

Megumi grabbed Sukuna’s cheeks in both hands and gently held him open, easing Sukuna down to where the strap waited. When Sukuna came to a stop, Megumi let go with one hand and reached for the strap. He dragged it over Sukuna’s muscles, letting it catch on his loose rim, tapped it against his hole, and finally lined it up with Sukuna’s slicked entrance. 

Only when Sukuna started to push down did Megumi wrap both of his hands around Sukuna’s hips. He dragged his hands up, pushing the skirt up with the motion and gathering it around Sukuna’s waist. Sukuna’s mouth fell open and Megumi averted his attention to watch the space between them shrink. 

Shrink. 

Shrink. 

Shrink. 

The moment Sukuna was fully seated, the warm weight of his body settled across Megumi’s thighs, Megumi moaned. It was perfect. Sukuna’s soft cock visibly twitched, drops of drying cum ginting underneath the lights, and Megumi lifted his head up to meet Sukuna’s eyes. There was no hint of red in them. A swirling pool of black from blow pupils. It was mesmerising, sucking Megumi in, pulling him further into Sukuna , until they darted to Megumi’s mouth. Megumi flicked his tongue out to dampen dry lips and squeezed Sukuna’s waist. His voice was quiet when he spoke, a fraction away from being hoarse. “Get moving. I want an encore.” 

He heard the fabric twist under Sukuna’s grasp by his head, heard the couch give a little as Sukuna lifted himself up, and Megumi followed him as he dropped back down with a thud. It sent them both shaking, rocked the couch, and slacked Sukuna’s lips with a quiet groan. He rolled his hips in Megumi’s lap, back arched beautifully towards Megumi’s mouth. If he leaned forward a few inches Megumi was certain he could capture a nipple between his teeth. 

It was tempting. 

With each roll of Sukuna’s hips, as he ground against the strap and boxed Megumi in with fresh heat, Sukuna fell further into Megumi’s air. Megumi didn’t notice until every breath he took was filled with Sukuna, until Sukuna clouded his senses and knocked all other thoughts loose. 

This close, Megumi could easily watch every muscle ripple through Sukuna’s body. Watch the tension gather in every nerve before it slipped away, only to come together once more. Droplets of sweat glistened across Sukuna’s skin, dripping slowly down the creases of his chest, flowing in tandem with the lines of muscles. The heat of Sukuna’s body, the feeling of being boxed in by him, reminded Megumi of just how strong Sukuna was if he glanced left or right. 

The muscles weren’t just for show. A part of Megumi’s mind wondered what it would be like to feel Sukuna flip them over and take whatever he wanted from Megumi. Pin him to the cushions, chest to Megumi’s back, and hold him down by the back of his neck as he fucked him until Megumi blacked out. 

A sense of euphoria washed over Megumi, a sense of power that Sukuna was willingly doing this, giving up whatever restraint or control he had. He was giving to Megumi what he wanted, following the whims and desires Megumi wanted from him. At least the ones Megumi allowed him to see. If it wasn’t for the compression shorts Megumi was certain Sukuan would feel and see Megumi’s own erection tenting his shorts. 

He brushed his thumbs across the skirt, pulling the material taught across Sukuna’s waist. The pink suited him. Looked fantastic on him, and Megumi wanted to see it from behind all over again. “You always unwind like this?” Megumi whispered, tugging gently at the fabric. “Dress up so pretty when nobody’s around?” 

Sukuna managed a short, breathless laugh and tipped his head forward, hooded eyes catching Megumi’s attention. “You think I’m pretty.”

“Only when you listen to me.”

Sukuna hummed and grabbed Megumi’s shoulder with one hand. He leaned back in his position, placed his other hand on Megumi’s other shoulder, and lifted himself up. “I don’t,” he mumbled, the tip of the strap still wrapped between tense muscles. He let himself fall, punching a moan from his throat, “wear this that often.” 

“No?”

“No.”

It was Megumi’s turn to hum and he traced one hand down Sukuna’s side. Over his hips, and down his thigh to snap the elastic of the suspenders against Sukuna’s skin. “Why tonight?” 

A chuckle reverberated through Sukuna and his pacing faltered a fraction as he rode Megumi. Up, down. Grind forward, back. Up, down. “I told you, I’m going to enchant you.” He fucked himself harder on Megumi’s strap, faster, breath beginning to catch in his throat on each thrust, fingers biting into Megumi’s shoulder. 

He hoped there would be marks when he made it home later. Half moon crescents that matched Sukuna’s nails. “You did,” Megumi breathed out. And he had. Megumi was enchanted, enraptured, caught in whatever trap Sukuna had spun. There was no rational explanation for the spell Megumi was under. The only irrational thought Megumi could conjure was having Sukuna in his lap was just right. It was almost like he belonged there.

Sukuna slowed his pace for a moment, a happy noise trilling in his throat. When Sukuna cupped Megumi’s chin, Megumi stilled, afraid he’d said any of that out loud. “Did what, sir? Enchant you?”

Megumi stared a second too long. He knew that. Knew that Sukuna saw the truth in Megumi’s face, but instead Megumi shook his head once and squeezed Sukuna’s ass. “Tell me you were going to enchant me.” 

Sukuna groaned and slammed down onto Megumi, rocking the entire couch with it. “Did it work?”

He snorted and delivered a firm swat to Sukuna’s ass. “Hardly.” He knocked Sukuna’s hand away from  his chin and leaned back into the cushions with a click of his tongue. The space was good. It gave him a little room to think, to breathe, and Megumi cast his eyes over Sukuna’s body. There was another falter in Sukuna’s rhythm, a slight halt Megumi almost missed. “You know, I’ve seen virgins ride cocks better than you.” Megumi scoffed and snapped the band of the stockings against Sukuna’s thigh, the thwack far too satisfying. “The least you could do is pretend to enjoy my reward.”

Another groan reverberated through Sukuna and he leaned forward, elbows propped on the cushions either side of Megumi’s head. He let out a long, deep breath that rumbled in Megumi’s chest, and moaned as he ground against the strap. “I’m enjoying this,” Sukuna whispered, “more than you can imagine.” 

“I can’t tell.” 

Before Megumi could stop him Sukuna grabbed one of Megumi’s hands and shoved it against Sukuna’s cock. It was hard. Again. And leaking. “Can you tell now?”

There was a moan desperate to be heard in Megumi’s chest. A whine threatening to claw up his throat. He could tell. Sukuna was enjoying this so much, and with the look the other man gave him, the heated expression in his eyes, the lust, desire, want, and need that suffocated Megumi in every breath he took, Megumi was drowning. Fast. And hard. 

He curled his fingers around Sukuna’s cock. Traced a thumb over the line of piercings and squeezed. He wished he wasn’t wearing his gloves.

Sukuna rocked into Megumi’s hand with a groan and his lips fell slacker. When Megumi darted his attention to Sukuna’s mouth, a spot of drool glistened across his lips. Another temptation he added to the list. Every inch of Sukuna was one temptation after the other and he questioned how he’d made it so far without touching, without kissing, without tasting. 

“Perhaps,” Megumi whispered, loosening his fist a fraction whilst Sukuna leaned back. As Sukuna fucked forward, Megumi squeezed, and the head of Sukuna’s leaking cock brushed against Megumi’s tie. That was going to stain. 

“Sir,” Sukuna whispered, voice breaking. He was gone. Sukuna was a victim to the pleasure that washed through him. Megumi snapped his eyes up to see Sukuna staring at his lips. Not his eyes, his face, his nose or cheeks. His lips. No matter how high he lifted himself, how fast he fell, how hard he ground against Megumi’s strap, his eyes were fixed on Megumi’s mouth. Megumi watched every hitch of Sukuna’s breath, saw the flush spread further across his skin, heard the scrunch of fabric between Sukuna’s white knuckled fingers behind his head. 

“Sukuna,” Megumi breathed, his own voice cracking, his own chest rising and falling in quick succession.  

A quiet whine echoed in Sukuna’s throat and his body teetered forward. Megumi had the briefest of seconds to slap his palm across Sukuna’s mouth, the backs of his knuckles pressing firmly against Megumi’s mouth as Sukuna continued to fall against him. Their noses brushed, eyes met, breaths mingled. 

Sukuna pressed an open mouthed kiss to his palm and Megumi wanted to groan, heat curling in his stomach. He opened his own mouth and dragged his lips up the back of his hand. Higher and higher, green eyes fixed on black consumed red. When his top lip reached the edge of his hand, Megumi pressed an obvious kiss against the backs of his fingers, just below where the tip of Sukuna’s nose sat. His heart hammered in his chest as he stared at Sukuna’s widening stare, as he waited to see who would make the next move, afraid to break this new enchantment. 

It was Megumi who moved first. He closed his mouth in a second kiss and nipped at his glove. Pinched the fabric between his teeth and coaxed Sukuna’s gaze to follow every movement. 

Sukuna moaned, shuddered, and screwed his eyes shut, mouth working against Megumi’s palm. A part of Megumi considered pulling his hand down, letting their lips crash, letting them taste each other in earnest. Savour every inch of each other’s mouth until they couldn’t tell one breath from the next, until they lost sense of where they were, what they were supposed to be. 

He almost supplied his own moan at the thought and barely caught himself. It came out as a choked noise instead and Sukuna worked up his palm. Megumi let him reach the top, let him start to lean forward, over Megumi’s hand, before Megumi turned his fingers around and slid them into Sukuna’s waiting mouth. 

Sukuna faltered. His brows twitched and he slid further onto Megumi’s fingers, hips suddenly snapping down onto the strap. Tilting his head to one side, Megumi traced his fingers over Sukuna’s tongue. With his thumb tucked neatly underneath Sukuna’s chin, keeping his lips wrapped around Megumi’s fingers, he inched his way to the back of his throat, teasing his knuckles across the roof of his mouth. 

Megumi jumped when Sukuna slammed a hand into the cushions by his head, a determined look filling his features. It flooded Megumi with a new heat, a new desire, and he curled his toes in his shoes. There was meaning in Sukuna’s eyes, a demand Megumi had seen before, one he knew how to ready so easily; “Fuck me for real.” 

It’s tempting. Very tempting. To throw Sukuna off his lap, flip him onto all fours, rip the strap from his hips, and fuck him over and over until Sukuna can no longer hold himself up. To fuck Sukuna until he’s an incoherent mess of noises, cock unable to get hard anymore. Drag his head up by the choker and make Sukuna beg him to finish inside of him. Tell him to say please if he wants any hope of having Megumi’s cock inside of him another day.

There’s another slam of Sukuna’s hand into the cushions, a whimper, a ruthless snap of hips, and Sukuna leaned further into Megumi’s space. He pushed those fingers further into his mouth and stared harder at Megumi. 

He gets it. 

He does. 

Megumi gets it so much. The temptation, the impulse, the urge to take what one wants when they want it. But temptation has led Megumi down a darkened path before and he promised he’d never walk it again, no matter how delicious something or somebody was. Sukuna tested his patience, his resolve, every time they met, and every time Megumi felt his walls crumbling. His own desires breaking through that carefully constructed wall. 

Ultimately, Megumi was afraid. Terrified to find out if Sukuna was the next devil to walk into his life. The next regret that followed in his shadows. The next reason for his bitterness. 

He tilted his head back, away from his hand, and narrowed his eyes. This needed to end, it had been going on long enough. He gave Sukuna the smallest of bucks of his hips and delivered his own silent demand to finish this show. 

Whatever space was between them, Sukuna narrowed it. He forced Megumi’s hand back against his mouth, forced their noses to touch, forced Megumi to see nothing but the want, the need, the carnal desires swirling within Sukuna’s eyes. It was alluring and Megumi could taste it on his tongue. 

He swallowed back the rising saliva in his mouth and forced his attention down the bridge of Sukuna’s nose. Over the tip and to where Sukuna’s mouth was still wrapped around his fingers. The corners glistened with gathering drool. When Megumi slid his fingers in and out of Sukuna’s mouth, the leather shone up at him, covered in the same substance. Megumi hummed, welcoming the press of Sukuna’s tongue against his fingers. He was fully aware of Sukuna tracing the length of his digits, a new fervent energy running through him as he licked, swallowed, and sucked desperately, as if Megumi would give him more if he did a good enough job. 

Megumi lifted his other hand up, cupped Sukuna’s chin, and pushed him back a fraction. A pitiful whine echoed in the room and Megumi quietly shushed him as he drew his fingers from Sukuna’s mouth. They dripped onto Megumi’s shirt, and he made sure to watch Sukuna, matching green to red. He waited until Sukuna slowed a fraction in his movements before Megumi moved. He turned his hand around, tipped his own chin up so he could peer down the bridge of his nose at Sukuna, and slid those slickened fingers between his own lips. 

Sukuna stopped completely. His eyes widened and he gasped on a guttural moan. 

Megumi closed his mouth around his fingers, showed off the adam of his throat, and swallowed the taste of Sukuna twice. 

There was another whimper from Sukuna, the sound of couch fabric twisting in fingers, and Sukuna rocking forward on his knees in Megumi’s lap. Megumi slowly dragged his fingers from his mouth and swiped his tongue over the tips of them. Delivering Sukuna his own heated look, Megumi dropped his hand between them and grabbed Sukuna’s cock. The man jumped. Hips instinctively rutted into Megumi’s hand, and Megumi squeezed, smearing his saliva down Sukuna’s length.

“Move,” Megumi breathed heavily. 

Sukuna nodded, body shuddering as he lifted himself up on shaky knees. He almost closed his eyes, and Megumi squeezed his cock harder, enjoying the fresh whine he dragged from him. Sukuna fell, and clumsily stumbled into a new rhythm, slower, but harder. Each drop of his hips, each grind, each roll, purposeful and precise. Even through the strap Megumi knew Sukuna was clenching on each rock of his hips, knew that if he pressed a finger there and followed Sukuna’s movements, he’d feel fluttering muscles, tightening around his fingertip, daring to trap him there for eternity. And he’d feel them loosen, sliding further down to suck more of him in before they squeezed once more. 

It took Megumi’s breath away and he stared, completely enamoured in watching every muscle in Sukuna’s body ripple all over again. It was a sight he would never tire of seeing. Watching the man shake and quiver. Listening to him shudder on a gasp, a quiet groan, a grunt, and a mumble of Megumi’s name or, “Sir.” 

With each rock Sukuna sank closer to Megumi, leaned further into his space. Megumi slowly slid his hand back up Sukuna’s chin to cover his mouth again and they were back to their previous position. Megumi’s knuckles pressed between his lips, and Sukuna’s open mouth nipped at the leather glove on the other side. 

Megumi managed to push his hand back a fraction, just enough to mumble, “Come,” into the air.

Sukuna groaned. His hips stuttered and a look cut through his eyes. He slammed down hard, ground his hips forward, thumped his knees into the cushions, and pressed his forehead to Megumi’s. A wavering breath rocked through him, made him quiver in Megumi’s lap, and he refused to look away. Refused to close his eyes as he came for the second time that night, making Megumi watch him intently throughout every second of it. He painted the front of Megumi’s shirt and tie in his release and Megumi couldn’t care less. All that mattered was this moment, him and Sukuna staring one another down, focused on nothing but the other. 

It was Sukuna who broke away first, eyes finally flickering shut. He twisted away to pull himself free from Megumi’s hand and pressed his face into the crook of Megumi’s neck. Megumi took this moment to close his eyes and feel. Sukuna’s hot breath against his neck. The rapid dancing of his pulse underneath his skin. The tightness in his shorts. The dampness seeping into his shirt and pants. His own sweat gathering across his back. The weight of Sukuna in his lap. Sukuna’s arms still bracketing him in on either side. Sukuna’s thighs trembling against his own. 

And Sukuna’s teeth. They hovered mere inches from his skin. Megumi turned his head to the side, away from Sukuna, a coil of yearning lust washing through him. A moment of weakness took advantage of his otherwise preoccupied mind. Do it. Bite me. Please. Make me hurt, make me feel more. Mark me. Make me yours. 

Megumi held his breath. Craned his neck up a fraction to play yet another silent game of chicken with Sukuna. Would he take the bait? Did he want Sukuna to take the bait? His mouth ran dry and he cracked his eyes open to stare at the wall opposite them. He did. He wanted it. Craved it. The feeling of Sukuna’s canines sliding across his skin. Feeling his flesh pebble with goosebumps as Sukuna chose the right place to bite. Feel the bruise begin to ache in his muscles as Sukuna dug deep. 

He wanted it so bad. 

His fingers twitched, ready to fist into Sukuna’s hair and shove his mouth against his neck, ready to take matters into his own hands. 

Sukuna breathed against his neck and Megumi stilled. There was a whispered whine of his name and Sukuna turned his head away from Megumi. 

Megumi swallowed a quiet gulp of air and tried to claw his way through the fog clouding his mind with disappointment. “Good boy,” he whispered, the words hollow and empty on his tongue. They made his chest ache painfully and made regret twist in his gut. Taking his own shuddering breath, Megumi lifted a hand and stroked his fingers through Sukuna’s hair. “Good boy.”

A few moments passed, the air filled with nothing but their heavy breaths, until Sukuna’s arms fell to Megumi’s sides. Megumi raised his brows as Sukuna grabbed his waist and squeezed, thumbs pressing into his muscles ever so slightly. Megumi closed his eyes again and hummed, settling his own hands on the small of Sukuna’s back. He brushed them up and down, trying to soothe the shivering that slowly started to overtake Sukuna. 

It was quiet. 

They were quiet. 

And Megumi let them be. Let that quiet settle beside them, senses slowly coming back to him. Sukuna. Sukuna. Sukuna . Megumi took a deep breath, released it, and cut his eyes across to the other man still slumped in his lap. There was something about him. A reason why he invaded his thoughts when Megumi was anywhere but here. Sukuna was everywhere Megumi went. With friends, Tsumiki, whilst he studied, and whilst he was with other clients.

That was another comparison Megumi was constantly making between them all. With Sukuna, Megumi knew . Sukuna didn’t need to tell Megumi what he wanted this week and Megumi didn’t need to ask over every little detail. Whilst others had promised their complete trust to Megumi, they’d crumbled when Megumi tried to test their promise. They’d shaken him off and told him that wasn’t what they meant, that they weren’t ready. Sukuna consistently displayed his utmost trust in Megumi’s decisions. Sukuna willingly gave it, albeit sometimes with a disgruntled bite in his words, but he always gave it to Megumi. Always trusted him to make it right and make Sukuna enjoy it. 

Sukuna . 

Megumi trailed a hand up the curve of Sukuna’s spine, a soft smile curling his lips as Sukuna shivered under his touch. Sukuna was perfect. He took everything in stride, pushed Megumi, and asked for more. 

What are you using these sessions for?

As great as Megumi was at reading Sukuna, the guy was fantastic at reading him too. Somehow, Megumi’s walls slipped and cracked just enough for Sukuna to get a peek at the real Megumi, at his inner turmoil. Others had asked if Megumi was enjoying his sessions with them, but none had wanted to make sure Megumi enjoyed every aspect of it. None had been so concerned about his own pleasure to go out of their way and ask, repeatedly, what he didn’t enjoy with an intention they’ll change something about it. 

For Megumi. 

Sukuna was right. Megumi did need these sessions. He had his own steam to blow off, his own frustrations to vent, his own problems that needed some sort of physical outlet. These sessions, with all of his clients, worked perfectly for him. The one good thing Satoru did for him was get him this job. 

But something was different. 

Since Megumi had stayed the night at Sukuna’s, something had changed. He could feel it digging into his skin, feeling it gnawing at the back of his mind. 

“You’re thinking too loud.”

Megumi blinked. “Huh?”

Sukuna made a noise, shifted in Megumi’s lap, winced, and slowly pushed himself up. He straightened up, muscles flowing with his movements. When he brought a hand up to push the hair from his face, Megumi’s eyes were caught on the beads of sweat the decorated Sukuna’s left pec. “I can hear you thinking,” Sukuna mumbled, voice almost back to normal and eyes less clouded than before. 

“And what am I thinking?” Megumi huffed, pinching his fingers into Sukuna’s waist. 

The muscles of his face twitched and Sukuna settled a hand on Megumi’s shoulder to steady himself. A wolfish grin crawled up his face, smugness crowded across every feature, and Sukuna said, “That that was one hell of a show.”

The quiet was back and Megumi let Sukuna stew in it a moment too long before he shrugged a shoulder. “I’ve seen better.”

“Fuck off.” 

“Excuse me?”

Sukuna snorted and Megumi almost missed the way Sukuna brushed a thumb across Megumi’s shoulder, the padded tip grazing his neck. “You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

“That’s your job.” Megumi shrugged his shoulder again, unable to stop his lips from twitching up. A short laugh rumbled Sukuna’s frame and he slid his other hand onto the couch by Megumi’s head, leaned down until there was a slither of space between them, and said, “Admit it, Megumi , that was one of the best shows you’ve ever seen.”

Megumi leaned up until their noses brushed. “If it’ll make you feel better.” Kiss me and bruise my lips . Megumi slumped back into his seat before he could let that thought get away from him, smile slipping down his face. 

Sukuna’s own smile fell and there was a look of worry. “What? What’s wrong?” 

Megumi swallowed, dragging metaphorical fingers through his thoughts for something that wasn’t the muddle of emotions overtaking him. “You ruined my suit.” 

Now it was Sukuna’s turn to blink and he looked down at the space between them. He blinked again and pushed himself back an inch, clicking his tongue on the way. “Do you want me to dry clean it?”

With a snort, Megumi dragged his hands down Sukuna’s side and let them rest across meaty thighs. He wondered how often Sukuna went to the gym, if he needed one of those special protein filled diets to be bulked up so much, or if he was naturally this thick. “We have our own dry cleaners in house.”

“Oh. Makes sense.”

“Considering our line of work and all.”

“Considering,” Sukuna whispered. A new quiet snuck into the room with them and made itself comfortable in the air they breathed. For the longest time, neither of them spoke, or moved. Content with their own thoughts, whatever they were. Fingers gingerly squeezed and pinched, thumbs brushed across skin, and they remained where they were. 

It wasn’t until numbness started to creep into Megumi’s leg that he thought about moving, but it was Sukuna who moved first again. He shifted his weight from knee to knee, face twisting into a wince as he slowly pulled himself up to his full height on his knees. 

Megumi’s eyes zeroed in on the lube covered strap that glistened under the lights of Sukuna’s apartment. A drop of lube dripped from Sukuna’s hole, past the strap, and landed on Megumi’s thigh, catching his breath in his throat. His cock twitched, and a fresh flush crept over his own skin. More regret swirled within him at the missed opportunity to fill Sukuna with his own cock. To fill Sukuna with his own cum and watch it drop from his used hole. To fuck Sukuna until he cried for Megumi to stop. 

“You good?” Megumi whispered, afraid to raise his voice any higher as he tried to battle away the new mental images. 

Sukuna grunted, pulled one leg over Megumi’s thighs, and collapsed into the seat next to him with a heavy sigh. “Yeah,” he mumbled. There was no shame in him as he sat there, still dressed in stockings, skirt, and a choker. No shame as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, either blissfully unaware or ignorant to Megumi’s staring. 

Sukuna had been right, again. It was one of the best shows he’d ever seen. There’d been a few clients who dressed up over the years, one current regular who enjoyed wearing heels and thongs every chance he could. But they were people who detailed to Megumi exactly what they wanted before Megumi arrived. Sukuna had surprised Megumi tonight. There was no warning, no indication of his motives until he’d happily strode past Megumi like it was nothing at all. 

It was an image Megumi wouldn’t be forgetting anytime soon. 

He stared at Sukuna, eyes dancing over his body. Eyeing the places where elastic dug into skin. Where cotton stopped and skin started. Where soft imprints of Megumi’s fingers still lingered up Sukuna’s side. Where the tip of his softening cock peeked out from under the edge of the skirt. 

He wanted Sukuna to wear it all again, dress up for him once more. He wondered what else Sukuna would wear if Megumi asked. What if Megumi asked him to dress in a rabbit suit, complete with fluffy tail and large, obnoxious ears. Or what if he asked Sukuna to don heels, thin red stilettos that clicked as he walked. Or perhaps he could ask Sukuna to wear full fishnet stockings and a corset. Megumi still had a couple lying around somewhere in his closet. One of them would fit Sukuna, he was sure of it. 

He cleared his throat, trying to shake away those images, and pinched his tongue between his teeth. He scrambled through his thoughts, and in the end, Megumi said, “You said you don’t wear this often.” 

Sukuna hummed and rolled his head in Megumi’s direction, eyes lazily opening. “What?”

Twisting in his seat Megumi drew one knee up onto the cushions, propped an elbow onto the back, and rested his cheek on a fist. “This,” he waved his other hand in Sukuna’s direction. “You said you don’t wear it often.”

Slowly Sukuna blinked at him and finally it hit him what Megumi was referring to. He cleared his throat and sat up, a hint of colour creeping up his neck. “No, I don’t.”

“So how do you decide who gets to see you in it?”

Sukuna made a noise and it was his turn to shrug a shoulder. “I just… do.” 

Warmth blossomed in Megumi’s chest and he pressed his lips into a firm line. He was almost afraid to ask his next question, but a part of him needed to know. “And how many have seen this?”

Sukuna side eyed him. “Other than you?”

“Sure.”

“One.”

Megumi stilled. His heart pounded in his chest and he stared. One. One other person besides him had seen Sukuna like this. One other person had witnessed Sukuna giving his all to them. Somebody else had been privy to this clearly, safely guarded secret. A hint of jealousy stabbed Megumi's stomach and he shifted in his seat. “Oh,” he said, and he looked over Sukuna once more. “It looks good on you.”

Cockiness surged through Sukuna and he stretched his body out, highlighting every plane of his body. He winked at Megumi and said, “I know.”

Megumi rolled his eyes and failed to stifle the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips. “Modest much.”

“Don’t know her.”

“Clearly.” Sukuna chuckled and Megumi offered his own laugh, eyes scanning over Sukuna’s frame some more. “Have you ever worn something else?”

Sukuna perked up at the question, one brow raised, and alertness flitting into his eyes. He woke up, sat up, and turned to face Megumi, elbow propped on the couch, chin cradled in his hand, mirroring Megumi’s position. “I can be convinced.”

Megumi’s mouth ran dry. Sukuna was giving him an opportunity to bring those images to life, to hold those fantasies in his hands. “How?” 

Sukuna tilted forward in his seat, flicked his tongue out to lick his lips, and let his gaze wander over Megumi’s body without a care in the world. Red eyes settled on Megumi’s lips and Megumi held his breath, inching forward without thinking. The air was thick, palpable, and his skin danced with new electricity. Sukuna finally looked up at him, and from here, Megumi could see his pupils expand, see the rings of red shrink as fresh heat burnt away. “Kiss me.”

In his chest Megumi’s heart thundered away. He glanced at Sukuna’s mouth and fell forward a fraction. Sukuna’s lips looked dry and slightly chapped, yet Megumi wanted to taste him. Slide his tongue over his bottom lip and suck it between his teeth. Plump it with fresh warmth. 

Their noses brushed. 

Megumi parted his lips. 

His eyes started to slide closed. 

He exhaled.

Felt Sukuna’s breath slide over his lips.

And his mind finally fought its way through the fog in his mind. What was he doing? He flicked his eyes up to see Sukuna’s own ones closed, every muscle of his face relaxed as he continued to inch closer. Megumi’s heart rattled his ribs, for an entirely different reason, and he froze. 

“Why do I want to kiss you?” he whispered. 

Red snapped open and Sukuna stilled. “What?” Sukuna whispered, brows pinching between his eyes. 

Megumi pursed his lips, a frown creasing his features. He never kissed his subs. Never allowed them to get so close. “Why do I want to kiss you?” he repeated, trying his best to find the answer to that question himself, racking his brain for an answer that felt just out of reach. 

“I- I thought-” Sukuna started, “you- you said-” 

“Are you good if I clean up?” Megumi interrupted.

Sukuna closed his mouth with an audible snap and stared. Megumi felt bad, wanted to apologise for whatever caused that look of confusion on his features, but the need to be away from Sukuna was stronger. He needed space to think, to breathe, and he needed it now. Sukuna nodded slowly, and Megumi climbed to his feet, snatching his bag and pants up on the way to the bathroom. 

The moment the door was closed, Megumi pressed his back to it and slapped a hand over his face. What was he doing? He never kissed his subs. Ever. He never contemplated it or leaned in to do just that. So why? Why did he want to kiss Sukuna? Why did he want to break his own rules? For Sukuna? 

He dragged his hand down his face and stepped away from the door, a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Why? Why? Why? He set his bag onto the counter, looked up, and stared at his reflection. He reached up and brushed his fingers across his neck, right where Sukun’s face had been buried not too long again. He remembered Sukuna’s hot breath against his skin and how Megumi wanted Sukuna to bite him. That was another rule he held strongly onto. No marks on him. No bruises. No bites. For the most part, Megumi was supposed to keep his clothes on, stay almost fully dressed. He wasn’t supposed to fantasise about his subs biting him, branding him, marking him. 

He wasn’t supposed to be the one being owned. 

Megumi sucked his bottom lip between his teeth with a shaky breath and turned his chin down, hiding his neck from his own view. Something’s changed. There was something new between him and Sukuna, and whatever it was, Megumi needed to keep it in check. Mixing pleasure and work wasn’t possible. He had to be professional, had to be able to keep his distance. He couldn’t be an idiot. He couldn’t be having any of those thoughts.  

He fiddled with the strap and harness until they were both scattered on the floor by his feet and stared at the drying lube on the strap. The night was still clear in Megumi’s mind; the way Sukuna looked riding the strap, the rippling of muscles as he moved, the heady look Sukuna gave him, the demand in those ruby eyes. 

He was simply meant to ride the strap and enjoy it. 

But instead… 

Megumi turned the cold tap on and splashed his face with cool water, willing the fresh flush to go away. He had to take control, tone back whatever this entire thing was, and remind the both of them what this relationship was supposed to be, what it couldn’t become. 

With a sigh, he dried his face off. Set about cleaning things down and changing. It was a steady and methodical process that let him go through several well practised steps with ease. Once he was done he smoothed his fresh clothes down, shoved everything into his bag, and eyed his reflection one last time. He looked okay. There was no sign of a flush, a blush, or otherwise. There was no indication he’d been doing anything sexual at all, clothes clean of any stains. He’d even swapped out the sweat dampened compression shorts for fresh ones.

Happy that everything was in place again, Megumi allowed himself a few deep breaths, reminded himself that he was supposed to be professional, and unlocked the door. When he made it back to the living room Sukuna was sitting there, skirt and stockings replaced by grey sweatpants and a black tank top. He swallowed. There was little room left for the imagination and when Megumi tried to meet Sukuna’s face, his eyes caught on the choker still wrapped around his throat. 

“Hey,” Sukuna said. 

Megumi cleared his throat and slowly walked across the room to him, trying his best to offer a calm smile. “Hey,” he said, feeling every bit as awkward as he sounded. “You erm…” he gestured vaguely to Sukuna’s neck as he stopped in front of him, “you forgot something.” 

Sukuna frowned and lifted a hand up to his neck, stilling when his fingers connected with the slip of material. “Oh.”

“Here,” Megumi said. He dropped his bag by his feet, stepped between Sukuna’s legs, and lifted both hands to the clasp at the back. Sukuna peered up at him as he worked, neither of them making a noise. Megumi couldn’t look away and for the faintest of moments, he considered giving in to Sukuna’s earlier demands. He unfastened it and pulled it back with him, fingertips tracing the curve of Sukuna’s neck as he went. It looked empty without something there and the question was spoken before Megumi could stop it. “Have you worn a collar before?”

Sukuna took the choker from Megumi’s hand without tearing his eyes away from him, “Once.”

Megumi swallowed. “Did you like it?”

“I think it was with the wrong person.”

“Do you think you can ever wear one again?”

Longing flickered in those red eyes. “Maybe for the right person.”

For the right person.  Megumi’s breath caught in his throat. So badly he wanted to be that person. Wanted Sukuna’s all, the final act of submission from a guy who was used to taking from the world. He wanted Sukuna to give him every single part of him, complete obedience. Collars, in Megumi’s opinion, were great for just that. He’d used them only twice before in his time; once on Satoru and on another sub last year who threw himself at Megumi’s feet from the start. 

He held his fingers up to Sukuna’s neck and tipped his chin up until Megumi could see tanned skin over thick muscles. He wondered if Sukuna would consider being ready and willing for him every time he turned up. Stripped down, sitting neatly on his knees in the middle of the room, collar fixed around his neck. 

There was a desperate groan ready to make itself known in Megumi’s chest. That image of pure devotion had his cock twitching all over again and he flicked his eyes up to see Sukuna silently studying him, waiting. Almost as if he was waiting for Megumi to ask, to demand it, and Megumi almost wanted to. 

He snatched his fingers away, stepped back, and reached for his bag. 

Sukuna opened his mouth, worked his bottom lip for a moment, and closed his mouth again. 

Megumi’s chest tightened at the disappointment that slipped over Sukuna’s face for a brief moment before the man hardened his features and simply looked at Megumi. Sukuna had every right to be disappointed in him. Megumi was giving him mixed signals, saying one thing and doing another, struggling to keep things professional. 

“I can’t be that person,” Megumi whispered, hating how much those words hurt him. “I can’t be the person you want me to be. I’m here to deliver a service.” It pained him to say it but it was the truth, a reminder for himself as much as it was for Sukuna. “At the end of the day,” Megumi said, “I will always walk out of that door and carry on my life. Without you.”

Sukuna stared at him, lips pressed firmly shut, but Megumi could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the flaring of his nostrils as he swallowed deep breaths. 

“You understand what I’m saying,” Megumi said, voice small, tiny, and barely there. Tell me you don’t. Show me you don’t understand. Please, tell me I’m wrong . 

“I do,” Sukuna eventually said, his voice equally small. 

“Good.” 

“Okay.”

Megumi’s throat tightened and he struggled to swallow the fresh lump wedged there. Why did it feel so wrong? Why did he want to claw those words back and pretend it never happened? He struggled to find his voice, to find words, and settled for a simple nod. He tightened his fingers around the strap of his bag and took another step back, heart thundering in his ears. “I’ll see you next time.” 

Sukuna hummed, and he didn’t rise from the couch. His shoulders slumped, the hope in his eyes disappeared and he finally looked down at his feet. 

I’m sorry , Megumi wanted to say. I’m so sorry . 

Instead he turned on his heels and shuffled his way towards the door, his own head hung in shame. He saw himself out, closed the door quietly behind himself, and let the empty corridor outside keep his racing thoughts company all the way to the elevator. It was only once those doors slid shut behind him that Megumi slumped against the wall, dug the heel of his hand against his eyes, and asked himself what the hell was he doing?

Chapter Text

A stray thought lingered in the back of Sukuna’s mind. A wayward feeling he couldn’t quite place. It tickled and nagged at him, elusively out of his reach, knocking against the inside of his skull. There was a name for it which Sukuna couldn’t recall and a thin ebb of fear crept into his bones. 

Whatever it was needed to go away. No matter how uncertain he was about what exactly it was, there was one certainty Sukuna did know. If he grabbed it with both hands, touched whatever swirl of darkness that thing was, he would be in trouble. He would sink and tread his head above the crashing waves it would bring with it. So he tried to distract himself by intently staring at the lines of suits on the rails in front of him. They were suit shopping for Choso who, in Sukuna’s opinion, had the worst taste in fashion he had the unfortunate luck to witness. His normal attire consisted of sweats and hoodies in gaudy colours and mismatched patterns. Onesies were another favourite if Choso didn’t need to leave the house. 

Each to their own, but Sukuna was certain the only reason Choso didn’t look like a racoon freshly dragged out of the trash every day was because of Yuki. 

Sukuna shook his head and stared at the clothes in front of him, slowly working his way towards one end. Yuuji and Choso were on the other side of the rails, their fingers slower, eyes half heartedly taking everything in. They were both out of their comfort zone and Sukuna blew a small breath through his nose, knowing full well he’d have to guide them both towards something appropriate. 

“Things still good at work?” Yuuji asked, throwing a look in Sukuna’s direction. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “it’s good.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Business was steadily growing. One of their competitors had recently gone into administration and so their customers were slowly finding their way to Sukuna’s place of work. Things were busy and hectic. Everybody was readjusting their schedules and making room with time they didn’t have to make good on new promises with almost unreachable goals.  

With every hour of noise that filled phone lines, emails, and the offices, there came moments of quiet. Gentle lulls that for most were spent stretching out kinks in shoulders, grabbing fresh coffee or finding a quick bite to eat. But for Sukuna those moments of calm were terror. Underneath that stillness, masked beneath the quiet surrounding him, that feeling was there and desperate to greet him with open arms. 

A part of him wanted to reach out, touch it, find out what it truly was. Every time he thought about it, considered giving in to temptation, life pulled him back and it was left to fester in the corner of his mind like an uncomfortable guest. It became a pressing weight inside of his chest, tapping away at his ribs and knocking against his lungs anytime he thought he was alone. 

“Did you guys really get all that new business?” 

“Yeah,” Sukuna mumbled, only half listening. The knocking was there again, making him ache from the inside out, making him glare at rows of wool, twill, tweed, cotton, silk, satin and velvet. The suits were arranged by colour, filled mostly with darks, greys, blues, and greens, petering down into the browns, beiges, purples, and even a flicker of orange and red here and there. Sukuna even spotted a handful of pink suits at the opposite end. Despite how much he looked, how many sleeves he dragged his fingers down, assessing the material itself, it all did little to sway his mind. He licked his lips, cleared his throat, and cast a look towards Yuuji. At least he would be a great distraction. “How’s the restaurant going?” 

A look crossed Yuuji’s face before his expression turned sheepish. “We’re just about managing. Everything’s finally in the green, which is something. I thought we’d never make it.” A nervous chuckle shook Yuuji’s shoulder and whatever grin he had on his face disappeared. “We still might not actually.” 

“Shut your dumb face,” Sukuna snapped. “You’ve got a great staff and an even better accountant, who happens to be your boyfriend, who won’t let that happen.” 

Another look flitted across Yuuji’s face and Sukuna frowned at the pensive expression his brother wore. “Yeah,” Yuuji finally said, “he’s great.”

“What’s that look?” 

“What look?” 

“That look!” Sukuna jabbed a finger in Yuuji’s direction. “That stupid–” 

“I’m just thinking!” 

Sukuna snorted. “Don’t hurt yourself.” 

Yuuji flipped him off with a glare. “I think… I think after Choso’s wedding and everything else, I’m gonna ask Kento to marry me.” 

“Gross,” Sukuna mumbled, hating the curl of envy that punched at his chest. “I hope he says no.” 

Yuuji snorted. “No you don’t.” 

“Whatever,” Sukuna whispered and he took a step away to look at another row of suits. 

Yuuji followed him down. “What’s up with you?” 

Sukuna chanced a look up at him. “What?”

Yuuji paused, folded his arms atop the rails, and stared at Sukuna, brows drawn deep and bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “You seem off.”

A moment passed, a second, and Sukuna shrugged Yuuji off, dropping his attention back to the suits. “It’s just a work thing.” If it was the truth or not, Sukuna couldn’t tell. He couldn’t place where this thing had started, what exactly sparked this descent into misery. Maybe it was work. Things were stressful, tensions running high, new customers needing to be kept happy whilst their old customers were kept happier. Even Sukuna was feeling the pressure of it all start to weigh heavily on his shoulders. 

Uraume spent more hours of their day interrupting Sukuna’s; making sure he didn’t skip more meals, turning his monitors off to give him an actual break, and shoving him out of the office to attend overdue meetings. In their words, Sukuna seemed distracted, and Sukuna simply gestured to the fresh stack of papers on his desk which normally wasn’t there. 

“Just work?” 

He shrugged. “Yeah. Work. What else would it be?” What else could it be? He didn’t have a personal life, not like Yuuji or Choso did. He wasn’t in a committed relationship and he didn’t have kids running around his ankles like other work colleagues. He had his apartment all to himself to do with whatever he wanted when he wanted. 

Yuuji hummed, contemplation twisting his features. When Sukuna spared him a sharp glance it was to see him snap his mouth shut. “Oh,” Yuuji said instead, “speaking of weddings. Choso!” 

“Yeah?” 

Sukuna glanced over to the other two and he listened to Yuuji spout the words, “I’ve got a friend,” before his mind zoned out. Friend. It felt like another punch to the gut. Another sting to his ego. Why? Why? Why ? He pressed his lips into a thin line and glared at the rows of suits. Why did he suddenly want to leave? Be anywhere but here? He shoved one suit across the railing and stared at the next with venom. 

Perhaps it was the implications of everything. Choso was settling down. Yuuji wanted to settle down. Next thing he knew, Sukuna would hear about them both wanting children and he would be hearing the word “Uncle,” spouted his way. 

And yet, here he was. Getting paid better than the two of them combined with his own personal assistant to boot. Able to call his own shots at work, make overarching decisions that affected the entire company. Wear lavish clothes and dine in fancy restaurants on the dime of his company. Attend fancy galas and events where he didn’t need to open his wallet for a single drink. He answered toa almost nobody and owned a penthouse suite most people would die for. 

He was living a lot of people’s dreams. 

The high life. 

So why did he suddenly hate it? He’d never cared about partners before. Never thought twice about how empty his bed was or how quiet his place sounded. So why? Why was he doing it now? Why did it feel like he was the worst off out of the three of them? 

Sukuna had friends outside of work. Hakari and Kirara were always a fun pair he enjoyed the company of. They were a perfect distraction who had every connection to every club anybody could ever want. He was yet to find out how they had access to every VIP section they came across. Masamichi was another friend Sukuna enjoyed the company of. The guy had a level head and a temper to match Sukuna’s, but he was fantastic when Sukuna wanted a calm night with calmer company. 

He had hobbies too. On Sundays he enjoyed rock climbing, the company there pleasant enough to not make him regret attending it just yet. Whenever hockey was on Sukuna watched it with rapt attention. There were days he had reruns going in the background in his office as he worked. 

He had his own life, one he should have been satisfied with, one he was satisfied with. 

So why did it not feel enough? 

What was he missing? 

Megumi . 

He paused at the thought, gaze unfocusing on the line of suits. Ever since their last session, Megumi had been a constant in his mind. A constant niggling in the back of his thoughts, a warring storm of emotions he couldn’t unravel. Why Why? Why couldn’t  he shake the guy? It was a stupid question with a stupider answer. Megumi had left him out in the cold. After Sukuna tried , after he pushed his own boundaries and tiptoed across eggshells, his inner demons biting at his ankles and screaming doubt into his ears, after he showed Megumi a side of him only one other person had seen, after he’d all but confessed to Megumi that he was the perfect fit for him. What was Megumi’s response? 

Sukuna scoffed and roughly shoved a few suits across the rails. Megumi shot him down and told him in no uncertain terms the answer was hell no. 

The rational part of Sukuna’s brain reminded him it wasn’t Megumi’s fault, not entirely. The blame lay on Sukuna’s shoulders. It was Sukuna who thought there could be anything more between them than a transaction paid for with Sukuna’s wallet. He spent the spare seconds of his day chastising himself for that stupid and hopeful belief. Of course Megumi didn’t see him as anything more than a paycheck. Of course Sukuna meant nothing to him. He was simply a toy to be played with, one that kept coming back for more to feed Megumi’s bank account. 

Nothing more. 

Nothing less. 

And Sukuna…

He sucked in a sharp breath and paused, fingers pressed to the lapels of a dark, navy suit. Sukuna was… he was… he swallowed down a shuddering breath and felt a familiar tremble rock behind his ribs. He ached. Deep down within him he ached and it hurt. He shifted his weight across the balls of his feet, narrowed his eyes at the satin beneath his fingertips, and tried to find a way through the new muddle in his brain. 

He was dumb. It was a harsh but simple truth. An idiot who deserved to never see Megumi again. Of course nothing could come of them. Of course Megumi turned him down. Sukuna was unlikeable. Megumi had told him as much since day one. Why in the hell would Megumi ever want to kiss a guy like him? Megumi saw him for who he really was; a selfish, rich, arrogant bastard who wanted the world to bend to his whims. Nobody gave two true shits about him, only his wallet and what was in his pants. There were a thousand people Megumi could and should have over him. 

Chewing on the inside of his cheek Sukuna pushed the next suit across the rail, his glare darkening. His heart pounded painfully in his chest and his blood thudded in his veins. Every assumption Megumi had of him was correct. Sukuna was an asshole and nothing but a disappointment. 

Another rattling breath rocked Sukuna on his heels and he closed his eyes, trying to steady himself and calm the rushing gasps threatening to drown his lungs. Another tremble ran through him, clawed at his throat and a gasp hitched his next breath. Sukuna stepped back. He needed space, air, something, and instinctively he reached into the inner pocket of his coat. Yuuji and Choso’s eyes pierced into him as he marched past them, his own eyes fixated on the exit. “Smoke break,” he mumbled without another look. 

Everything became a blur as he dodged other customers, excused himself as he passed staff members, and shoved the door open a little harder than he intended. The shop they’d chosen was some boutique that specialised in suits, a recommendation from Yuki’s brother who’d shopped there for his wedding before Choso was in the picture. It was inside of a small strip of ships and Sukuna darted his eyes around for the nearest exit. He dodged more strangers and once he was outside, once he found a small section of unoccupied wall, he sagged against it with a heavy sigh. 

Fresh air felt great in his lungs and he hurried to knock a cigarette  loose from its box, shove it between his lips and light it. The first few drags were laced in desperation, needing to get that kick of soothing nicotine going through his body yesterday. It took almost an entire cigarette before the shaking in his fingers stopped and Sukuna eagerly lit up a second one. As that fresh wave of smoke slid down his throat he closed his eyes and gently knocked his head against the wall, another sigh making his entire body shudder. 

Tiredness crept into his bone and Sukuna blew a lazy puff of smoke out around the cigarette hanging between his lips. He was exhausted. That’s what all of this was. He’d been getting to the office earlier, leaving later, skipping breakfast, sometimes lunch. Worked himself through all hours of the day trying to catch up and get back on track, doing his best to stop their department from sinking under the fresh mountain of work. 

So he blamed the fatigue on that and scratched a thumb across one brow, letting out another sigh. Maybe they should look into hiring more people. If Sukuna was stressed everybody else was sure to be tearing their hair out. How hard could it be to hire two new people and train up on the basics to free everybody else up to handle the difficult stuff until things calmed down? He let out another breath and shook his head. He needed a break. Maybe he should book a holiday. Get out of the country for a few weeks or even just to the other side of the country. Their gramps loved taking them to a beautiful cottage on the edge of the lakes, away from the noise of society. Maybe that’s what he needed, a break from civilisation, technology, and quiet. 

Loneliness. 

His next breath caught in his throat and all of a sudden Sukuna didn’t want to go home. He didn’t want to leave Yuuji or Choso. Wanted to distract himself as long as he could so that he didn’t have to step through that door and find himself alone. Fuck. His place was too big, the walls too tall, everything too neatly put away. Everything screamed that one person lived there, a single, solitary, lonely person. It was all too fucking quiet and empty and lonely and- and- and-

“Sukuna?”

The careful whisper of his name jerked his head up to see Yuuji staring at him, concern etched into every fibre of his being. “What?” Sukuna snapped, the hairs at the nape of his neck bristling at having been found. Could Yuuji tell he was spiralling? Could he see the panic dancing through his veins? The look of surprise that crossed Yuuji’s face made Sukuna sigh and he hung his head, pointedly looking in any direction but Yuuji’s. “Sorry,” he mumbled and quickly finished off the cigarette in his mouth. He threw the butt to the floor and ground his heel into it. If Yuuji wasn’t sure before something was up, he would sure as shit know now. Sukuna didn’t snap unless he was strung out. “What do you want?” 

“Are you okay?” 

Sukuna looked up then, doing his best to control the flare of anger licking along his nerves. “I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.”

“ I’m. Fine .” 

“Choso won’t mind if we do this another day. Or if you need to go home, we can-”

“I said I’m fine!” The air stilled between them and a few passerby’s gave Sukuna a filthy look. He delivered one straight back, blew an irritated huff out through his nose, and stomped across the few feet between Yuuji and himself. The very idea of going home right now felt wrong. Sukuna needed to stay, needed to distract himself and remember how to shove those ugly thoughts back down. He brushed past Yuuji, knocking his shoulder on the way, and mumbled, “Has he chosen anything yet?” 

There was a hurried clutter of footsteps as Yuuji rushed to catch up with him. “He’s picked a few out,” Yuuji’s words trailed off and he grabbed Sukuna’s arm, stopping them both in their tracks. “Hey, Kuna, talk to me. What’s going on? You’ve been weird all morning.” 

“Work.”

Yuuji snorted. “I’ve never seen you this frazzled from work.” He narrowed his eyes at Sukuna and managed to wrangle them into a quiet corner. “Dude, talk to me.”

Sukuna shook Yuuji’s arm off of him and stepped back. “I said I’m fine, brat. Why the hell do you have to keep pushing?” 

“Cause you’re my brother!” 

It was Sukuna’s turn to snort and he shook his head. “We used to kick the shit out of each other during school and tell each other to get hit by a bus on the way home.”

Yuuji let out a short laugh. “Yeah. Gramps near enough killed us every other week.”

“Knocked our heads together, told us to quit it or get out.”

“ I’m tired of listening to you two runts complain about one another. Argue when I’m dead .” 

Sukuna chuckled at the impression. “Now take those damn shoes off, clean your ugly faces up, and get in that damned kitchen and make dinner already.”

Yuuji laughed, shoved his hands into his pockets, and rocked on the balls of his feet. Sukuna had to admit, he felt a little lighter talking to Yuuji like this, whatever invisible weight across his shoulders lifting just enough to let him breathe without shaking. “I miss him,” Yuuji whispered after a moment. 

The comment sobered Sukuna up and he sighed. “Yeah. Bastard was stubborn ‘til the end.”

“Tell me about it.” Yuuji snorted. “He never wanted us to visit.” 

“And cursed the nurses for ever checking on him.”

“Man, do you think we’ll end up like that?”

Without thinking, Sukuna ruffled a hand through Yuuji’s hair. A warmth blossomed in his chest and his lips twitched whilst colour dusted Yuuji’s cheeks. The handful of years between them made it easy to forget there once was a period in their lives where Sukuna was both a brother and father figure to Yuuji. Once their gramps’ health started to decline it fell to Sukuna to find a wage, bring money into the house, and pay for the groceries. When gramps was hospitalised it was Sukuna who arranged for the bills to be put into his name and arranged the paperwork for what would eventually come to be. When gramps finally passed, it was Sukuna who held Yuuji as he cried, who signed the dotted lines, spoke to the funeral directors, arranged everything and anything, whilst Yuuji finished up in school and attended his clubs. 

Ruffling Yuuji’s hair became a habit Sukuna picked up when he had no time to talk to Yuuji in the mornings. Breakfast would be made and Sukuna was already out the door when Yuuji finally appeared, still dressed in pyjamas. They had time for one hair ruffle, a brief, “See you later,” and Sukuna was on his way to work. It was the same at night. Once Yuuji came home from his clubs, Sukuna settled a plate of food in front of him, crossed his t’s and dotted his i’s on any outstanding paperwork, ruffled Yuuji’s hair, told him, “Night, brat. Don’t stay up too late,” and made his own way to bed. 

If they were lucky Yuuji could drag Sukuna onto the couch for a movie. Only for Sukuna to fall asleep halfway through the film and wake up with a blanket wrapped snugly around his shoulders, his own hair mused from Yuuji’s fingers. 

Yuuji peered up at him now from under a fringe of pink hair, eyes wide and a long hidden childlike innocence creeping into those hazel eyes. “Kuna,” he whispered. 

“You need a haircut,” Sukuna said, tugging on a few strands and ruining the moment. 

“Ow! Hey!” 

He let Yuuji go then and nodded over to the shop they’d left Choso in. “Come on. Let’s get back before he chickens out.”

“I think Yuki will kill him, and us, if we don’t order the suits today.”

“His funeral.” 

Yuuji punched Sukuna’s arm. “ Our funeral.”

When they made it back to where they’d left Choso, it was to find him balancing four different suits on his fingers by the hangers. Two of them were white, Yuki insisted Choso wore white with her, and one of them was embellished with black accents, giving it an edge. Sukuna pointed to the latter and Yuuji agreed with him. The other two suits Choso held up were charcoal grey, and a navy, almost black suit. “Grey,” both he and Yuuji said at the same time. 

The next twenty minutes kept Sukuna’s mind perfectly occupied as they found the closest sizes to their frames and each took the changing room one at a time. Yuuji went first, and as they waited for him to change Sukuna glanced through his phone to see what his work emails looked like, wanting anything to keep his mind busy and distracted. 

“You know,” Choso said, “shutting off for a few hours does you a world of good.” 

Sukuna hummed. “Not this week it won’t.” 

“If you say so.” 

Sukuna pursed his lips and stopped reading the email he was halfway through. He pondered Choso’s words for a moment, a second moment, and locked the screen. He twisted his lips into a pout, shoved the phone back into his pocket, propped his chin onto one hand, and refused to look at Choso. 

It was quiet for a few minutes, the low music of the shop covering the sounds of conversations between other customers, before Choso spoke again. “Do you have a friend you wish to bring to the wedding?” 

That gathered Sukuna’s full attention and he looked up with knitted brows. “Excuse me?” 

  Choso shrugged. “Yuuji asked if he could bring a friend earlier, and I thought you might want to bring somebody too. I know weddings can be boring when you don’t know a lot of people.”

Sukuna snorted. “Weddings are meant to be about the couple getting married.”

“Yuki’s family is much bigger than ours and she won’t mind two extra people. Especially if it’s for you and Yuuji.”

He stared at Choso, another flare of warmth curling inside of his gut. It was a wonderful gesture. Out of the few weddings Sukuna had attended, he’d always been the one to stand near the bar, alone, nursing his nth drink of the night as he waited for a reasonable time to leave. So many times he’d been that odd stranger who was close enough to the bride or groom to be invited, but not close enough to know anybody else. “Thanks,” he mumbled, mulling the offer over in his mind. 

The curtain to the changing room opened and Yuuji stood there, proudly showing off the suit. Sukuna pulled a face. He climbed to his feet, adjusted the collar, pulled at the sleeves, and finally let go of him to stand back and admire the finished product. “Who taught you how to dress?” 

“Not all of us wear suits for a living.”

“You can tell.”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you too.”

“Guys,” Choso sighed, and he looked at Yuuji. “Does it fit?” 

Yuuji nodded and looked at his reflection. “Yeah, it does actually.” The attendant who had been assisting them gave Yuuji their own look, eyed the cuffs, the length of the jacket, the matching trousers, and took some measurements with their tape measure. They made a comment that a few minor alterations would be needed but to leave it with them. 

Sukuna took his own suit into the changing room and started to undress, eyes catching his reflection in the thin slither of a mirror inside every time he moved. There was another itch at the back of his mind and it was only after he pulled the jacket on, tugged at the lapels and canted his chin up a fraction to draw himself to his full height that Sukuna paused. His gaze strayed to his neck, to the expanse of bare, unmarked skin. 

For the right person . 

He blinked, darted his tongue out to wet his lips, and stepped closer to the mirror to get a better view. In his chest his heart pounded and Sukuna’s breath slowed as he lifted a tentative hand up, fingers stretched wide. With a thick swallow he slowly pressed his fingers to his throat, adding just enough pressure for him to feel them there, for his muscles to twitch a fraction with the feeling of what was to come. He tapped his fingertips across his skin, teasing himself with what could be, drumming the weight of them against his muscles. He closed his eyes and imagined it was a thin strap of leather pressing against his throat. A quiet voice in his ear, hot breath tickling his neck, telling him he looked perfect, like he finally found the place where he belonged. 

His mouth fell open with a soft noise and for a few moments, Sukuna forgot how to breathe. With a hum he dragged the curve of his fingers across his throat, tilting his head up as he imagined how high the collar would sit, imagining where the leather would catch across his skin with every breath he took, with every movement of his head. It made a wave of heat flicker in his stomach and a small gasp slipped from his lips. He never thought he’d miss the feeling of being owned or crave that need once more. 

When he cracked his eyes open he found himself alone in the changing rooms and a fleeting wave of disappointment sobered his thoughts up. Sukuna dropped his hand to his side as though he’d been burnt and he pursed his lips with a scowl. 

He couldn’t have that. 

He wouldn’t have that. 

Not again. 

Sukuna wasn’t good enough for anybody, wasn’t perfect enough. Too brash. Too rude. Too arrogant. Too pathetic. Too everything nobody wanted. He snapped his eyes away and down, needing to look anywhere but at his face, only to still again. The small tent at the front of his pants stared desperately up at him, telling a different story altogether and Sukuna gritted his teeth together with a hiss. “Fuck.” He screwed his fingers into tight fists and forced a slow breath out through his nose. Now was not the time to be popping boners over stupid fantasies, over stupid ideas that would never happen. “Fucking asshole,” he whispered to himself, trying to think of anything to immediately ruin his boner. Anything. 

One minute passed. Then two. Then five. 

“Sukuna?” 

“What?”

Yuuji cleared his throat. “Everything okay in there?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” 

“You’re taking a long time is all.”

“Go away.” 

“Okay, jeez, what crawled up your ass today?” 

“You apparently!” As he listened to Yuuji mumble under his breath, Sukuna turned to glare at his reflection. The feeling that had been prodding at his mind all week, the thought lingering in the dark? He could taste it souring on his tongue and he begged it to go away. Whatever it was, he wasn’t ready. Whatever it wanted, Sukuna didn’t want to give. 

It was a struggle to ignore his reflection and finish getting dressed. Another struggle to rearrange himself so nobody would notice a damned thing and ask any more questions. He wasn’t sure how many he could take before he broke and he didn’t want to find out. Not yet at least. 

Another. Fucking. Function. 

Sukuna would rather the ground swallow him up and spit him out again. Another function meant more mingling with strangers, more playing nice, more trying to remember names and faces he couldn’t give two shits about. No matter how much he tried to hand it off to somebody else, nobody was free. They were all wrapped up with pre-made plans, family, or had run out of overtime to give, which left Sukuna being the only higher up within the company able to make the time to go. 

One upside was he wouldn’t be alone. He could take somebody else from the company with him, somebody with enough knowledge and know how to adequately represent the company of Sukuna abandoned them for his own sanity. The other upside was he had his own room. He didn’t have to share and pretend to be civil at every hour of the day. Just enough space to glare at everything in sight before he forced a smile onto his face. 

Sukuna had been hoping having somebody else accompany him would be enough of a distraction for his frazzled mind. And, for a while, it worked. He was able to follow Akari around like a warm shadow, interject where needed, answer questions she couldn’t, and even introduced her to some of the friendly faces Sukuna did remember. For a while, he didn’t have to think about his own shadow lurking too close and too cold, whispering against the back of his neck and clawing at his wrists. 

But the world liked to remind Sukuna it wasn’t so kind. It was cruel. Mean. Nothing could ever be so simple. 

It had barely been two hours of mingling before Akari noticed a familiar face across the room. The client Sukuna’s sales team had badgered and begged to join their company. It was easy to offer the guy a friendly smile, but the moment Sukuna clocked who happened to be by his side, his smile twisted. He strained to hold it steady across his lips, wanting instead to grimace and scowl. 

Kenjaku beamed brightly, as if a storm hadn’t turned violent inside of Sukuna’s mind. “Mr Ryomen, and Miss Nitta, I believe?” 

Akari grinned, eating up the false niceties Kenjaku offered alongside his hand. “It is a pleasure to meet you again, Kenjaku. You and your client left quite the impression.” The muscles of Sukuna’s jaw twitched and it took him a surmountable effort to keep his smile. 

A chuckle rocked through Kenjaku and he waved a warm hand at her. “Oh please, it’s me who was left impressed. You and your colleague are all exceptional people.” 

“We employ only the best,” Sukuna said simply. 

“I expect nothing less from you.” 

Sukuna let out a slow breath, pressed his lips into a firm line, and narrowed his eyes a fraction. He could taste the undertone to Kenjaku’s words, the insinuation nobody would pick up and it made his stomach writhe. Tonight was a mistake. The cloud in his mind grew, pressed against the inside of his skull and made Sukuna acutely aware his drink was empty. With a struggling grin he turned to Akari and asked, “I’m going to get a refill. Would you like one?” 

“Oh, please.”

“Same?” 

“Yes, please.”

“It’s my pleasure. I’ll be right back.” 

“You know,” Kenjaku said, “I think we could do with another drink ourselves.” After a quick confirmation with his colleague he took their empty glasses and fell into step by Sukuna’s side all the way to the bar. It wasn’t until after the bartender took their orders, other patrons having slid away back to their conversations, and the two of them relatively alone, that Kenjaku finally spoke to Sukuna. “Did you reconsider our last conversation?” 

Sukuna let out a snort and knocked two knuckles against the bartop, eyes fixed on a few drops of water. “I thought I made it clear when I kicked you out. We’re done. There is nothing to reconsider.” 

“You don’t miss it?” 

“Miss what?” 

“Us.” 

Sukuna rounded on Kenjaku with a glare. “There wasn’t an us . It was you. It was always about you .” 

A grimace flitted across Kenjaku’s face and he nodded solemnly once. “And it was far too late before I recognised my mistake. I messed up. I acknowledge that and I sincerely apologise. I was wrong for what I did to you and how I treated you. I want to make it right, Sukuna. I want us to part on good terms.” 

“No.”

“Sukuna.” 

“ No .” 

“It wasn’t all bad was it? There were good times too.” 

Sukuna pursed his lips, hard, and looked away. There were good times, and that was the problem. Kenjaku was the first person to completely tear Sukuna apart from the inside out just as he’d always wanted. Kenjaku was the first to introduce him to some of his harder kinks and the one who helped broaden his horizons so to speak. Sukuna had fallen so hard into deep subspace with Kenjaku time and time again, something he barely brushed with others. He forgot how to breathe, how to think, how to function without those carefully poised hands guiding him further into that bliss, gently whispering words keeping that high cresting through his body until Sukuna forgot when one ended and the next began. 

But the aftermath? When it finally clicked within Sukuna’s mind that everything else was bad news? Was wrong? Sukuna fell. Hard. He lifted Sukuna up so high and let him fall on his own with nothing to cushion his spiralling thoughts afterwards.Kenjaku pushed and pushed his boundaries until Sukuna forgot the word “no” existed, until Sukuna was afraid to whisper it. He tested Sukuna’s limits until Sukuna forgot he was supposed to have limits. And whatever play they had going, whatever scene Kenjaku forced Sukuna to perform, trickled from the bedroom into Sukuna’s personal life. Kenjaku started to make decisions for him. Took control of the little things at first; when Sukuna was allowed to talk to him, small comments about Sukuna’s choice of clothing, ensuring Kenjaku knew who Sukuna was messaging and talking to. 

And it grew. 

What Sukuna shouldn’t be eating. How many drinks he should drink on a night out. What time he should be home by. A prod when Sukuna’s hair was a fraction too long. A nudge when Sukuna hadn’t visited a gym in a week. Telling Sukuna what he couldn’t wear and who he couldn’t talk to on a night out. Using Sukuna’s card to buy a few things here and there, “for the both of us,” that Sukuna never used. What he should be saying to Yuuji. When he was allowed to see his family. When he was allowed to spend his own money. When he was allowed his own card back. 

Questioning what Sukuna was putting into their relationship .

“I thought you loved me, Kuna.” 
“Do I not mean anything to you?” 
“I only say the things I do because I want the best for you, Sukuna.”
“I care so much for you, more than anybody else will.”
“Who picks you up when you’re having a bad day? Who knows how to make you forget about your day and how to make you feel better?”
“Who’s always there when you come home? Who always kisses you in the mornings and at night?”
“You love me, don’t you?” 

He almost lost Yuuji. 

He almost lost his job. 

He almost crashed out of life in the most stupidest of ways. 

The nights when Kenjaku put Sukuna on cloud nine, blissed his mind out beyond belief, had marred Sukuna’s vision of what kind of person Kenjaku was. He’d rationalised it all. Kenjaku was right. Sukuna needed to keep in shape. Half of his shirts were hideous. His hair was too long. Getting drunk for the sake of it wasn’t worth the hangover. Those people would’ve bored him anyway. 

Excuse after excuse for everything. 

Sukuna had been so starved for that kind of attention he’d clung desperately to it the moment it was presented to him. He tried his best to appear Kenjaku every step of the way so he could feel that elation a while longer, so he could pretend he was happy. 

“I’m leaving.” 

Sukuna blinked and turned his head up to meet Kenjaku’s pensive expression. “Excuse me?”

Kenjaku blew a puff of air out and glanced over the bridge of his nose at Sukuna. “I’m leaving the city next week, to Sendai. New business opportunities up there with a brighter future.” 

A thick lump wedged itself in his throat and Sukuna struggled to swallow it down. Sukuna hated the rapid thump, thump, thump of his heart which made his chest ache. The guy was leaving. He would be out of his life. Gone. Tonight would be it. He would never have to see him again. Never have to think about him again. 

“Sukuna.” 

“Hmm?”

The look Sukuna met was the softest he’d ever seen Kenjaku wear. “I know I’m asking for a lot, but can we have one last night together? I don’t have any plans to come back to Tokyo after this move and I want us to leave on the right foot. Please, let me show you I’ve changed. Let me prove to you I’m a better man than I used to be.” 

He started to shake his head, throat struggling to find his voice. A tiny, desperate part of his mind wanted to scream, reach out, and grab whatever Kenjaku was offering. Let the man tear him down one last time because Sukuna needed to be torn apart. He wanted to feel something, anything , that wasn’t the current misery hanging over his head. 

The brush of soft fingers across the back of his hand dragged Sukuna back to the function to find Kenjaku eying him carefully from beneath dark bangs. “Think about it. I’m staying in room 712 if you wish to see proof of my change.” Kenjaku squeezed Sukuna’s fingers gently, offered him one small smile, and grabbed his drinks to make his way back to their colleagues. 

The moment he was gone Sukuna swallowed down a shuddering breath and curled one hand into a fist, knocking it against the bartop a few times. Room 712. An open invitation. The decision was his. If wanted to see if Kenjaku was right, all  he had to do was take the offer. He closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten, lungs protesting each breath he took. At four his heart started to pound harder against his chest and he cracked his eyes open to glare at the drinks still on the bar. A few drops of melting ice water dripped down the sides of the glasses and he shook his head. He didn’t have the headspace nor time to breathe. Not right now. 

With pursed lips he picked the glasses up and took them back to Akari. She was still talking to her new friend and Sukuna didn’t say anything to interrupt them. He didn’t trust his voice. Instead, he simply handed her the freshly filled glass, offered them both a tight smile, and sipped on his drink, half listening to the conversation. All whilst he did his damndest to ignore the curious looks Kenjaku pinned him with. 

By the time dinner was announced Sukuna was on his fifth drink of the night, his head feeling buzzed and his blood too hot beneath his skin. He excused himself to grab a sixth, asking Akari if she required a new drink. The few minutes of space was nice, and Sukuna enjoyed the quietening air before he braced himself for the busy dining room. Thankfully their table was located along the edges and Sukuna’s chair was blissfully on the outside of the room. If he needed to escape, it would be easy. 

During the speech Sukuna couldn’t stop the bouncing of his knee, fresh anxiety twisting painfully into his limbs. Throughout the second speech Sukuna reached for his drink more than once. It was unhealthy, god he knew it was unhealthy just how much he was putting away, but he couldn’t smoke and he needed one vice to keep him going. When the third speech started up Sukuna stared at the table, the corner of a napkin curled between his fingers. Everything was too loud and too quiet. Too much and not enough. He ached and he didn’t. Fuck he couldn’t figure out if he wanted to smile wider to force it all down, or escape to his room. 

When food was finally served Sukuna pushed more of it around his plate than he ate, giving the impression he’d eaten enough to be filling. But he wasn’t hungry. His stomach was already full of nervous flutters and nausea. Sukuna managed to stumble his way through small talk when the other guests on their table introduced themselves, advised what it was they did, who they worked for, what their achievements were and what they hoped for from this entire shindig. Cotton stuffed his mouth by the end of it and he was glad Akari took the initiative to take over for him. 

The rest of dinner passed in a blur and before Sukuna knew it they were on the final stretch of the night. People were left to do whatever they wanted and he couldn’t help the wondering look he threw to the room. His gaze stopped when a familiar pair of dark eyes snapped to him. The glimmer of a knowing smile made Sukuna swallow before he watched Kenjaku slip away with a soft excuse. 

The pounding in his chest was back. His left knee threatened to give out and Sukuna forced his gaze away to linger behind Akari. She seemed to be doing just fine, easily interjecting her into fresh circles with new strangers, introducing herself and Sukuna with ease, before she slipped a large friendly grin into place and even garnered a few laughs. 

After the third group of strangers, Sukuna gently grabbed her elbow and bent down to whisper, “I’m turning in early. Call me if you need anything.”  It was a courtesy more than anything. Uraume would have his ass if they knew he was leaving Akari alone for the night, but Sukuna couldn’t stand another minute in that stifling room. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. Long day.” 

“Well I hope you feel better in the morning. You should see if you can catch a later flight and get plenty of sleep.” 

He stared at her. “I said I’m fine.” 

She shrugged one shoulder at him. “Okay. If you say so.” 

“Akari.” 

“Sukuna,” she said, taking a slow sip of her wine. “Look, it’s none of my business, but you kinda look like crap. I see you everyday I work so I know when you’re not… you.” 

“Whatever,” he huffed, “just call if you need anything.” And with that he turned on the balls of his feet and marched his way through the crowd. The elevator’s weren’t as quiet as he’d hoped and he was squashed into one corner as many other slightly tipsy attendees climbed in. He thunked his head against the mirrored wall and stared at the ceiling of the elevator, glaring at the fancy mosaics and patterns. Out of the corner of his eye he glanced at the rising numbers. Each time it stopped and people stepped off, he breathed a sigh of relief, enjoying the growing space. When they hit the seventh floor three other people climbed off with him. 

Sukuna dragged his feet behind him, hands stuffed into his pockets and eyes fixed on their backs. He counted the doors as he went, stopping when a freshly polished 712 stared back at him. The noises of the other people still echoed down the corridor and Sukuna glanced down it, waiting until they finally disappeared from view, the slam of a door signalling the end to their night. Then he was alone with the quiet and his thudding heart. He swallowed another shaky breath and turned back to those numbers and everything they meant. 

One more night. 

He could do it. Let Kenjaku remind him of the filthy fantasies they used to play. Let Kenjaku remind Sukuna all the ways he used to bruise him, all the ways his hands danced across his skin, marking it, staining it, and remind him how it felt to moan somebody else’s name as they tore him apart. 

Remind Sukuna of how far down the food chain he really was. 

He reasoned with himself he deserved it. He wasn’t a likeable guy. Nobody would really care if he stepped away from life for a bit and slinked off to the shadows. He was replaceable at work. Uraume could run his job if they really wanted to. They knew the ins and outs and knew Sukuna’s diary better than himself. Nobody would look twice if he quit because at the end of the day, he didn’t matter. His circle of close friends was so small he could almost count them on one hand. He’d given Yuuji so much grief over the years it was a wonder the guy hadn’t disowned him already. Sukuna belittled people, embarrassed them and tore them down in meetings. He’d stepped on so many toes to get as high as he was on the career ladder. 

Fuck. 

Megumi was right. 

Megumi . 

Sukuna’s mouth ran dry. Blood pounded in his ears. Sweat dampened his palms. His heart raced. His knees shook. His lungs ached. His chest was tight. His throat tightened. A breath rocked him on the balls of his feet and Sukuna audibly shuddered. Another breath made him reach for his chest, fingers twisting in the front of his shirt. A third breath made his bottom lip quiver and Sukuna stepped back until he hit the wall. A gasp rolled through him and he hunched over, trying to find his next breath. It hurt to breathe. His chest hurt. His body felt too heavy. And Sukuna… he… fuck. 

He couldn’t breathe . 

He turned towards the elevator, hand still clutched to his chest and a shiver settling into his bones. Buried his teeth in his bottom lip and slammed a haphazard hand onto the button, quietly begging the elevator to hurry the fuck up. When it did arrive it was thankfully empty and Sukuna stumbled inside, hit the button for the fourth floor, and propped himself up in the corner, trying his best to keep his breaths steady. 

The heavy beating of his heart in his ears was too loud. It drowned out every thought except one: he deserved this. He deserved whatever hell rolled through him on every wave of each sharp breath. He. Deserved. Everything. 

You deserve every ounce of misfortune that comes your way. 

Megumi’s words thundered in Sukuna’s ears and he just about managed to bite back his whimper. Megumi was right. Sukuna was an asshole. An undeserving asshole who had done nothing right to earn anything good in his life. He had this coming, this misery and wallowing. It wouldn’t be fair if Sukuna breezed through life without a little suffering, it wouldn’t be right. 

The doors opened on the fourth floor and Sukuna struggled to put one foot in front of the other. Another shiver wracked through him and he clamped his teeth together, willing the chattering to wait until he was in the sanctuary of his room. He fumbled to get his key card out, fumbled to get it in the lock, and once he was through the door he slammed it behind him and slid down the thin wood, card dropping to the floor beside him. 

Another whimper tore from his throat and Sukuna pressed his head to his knees, curling his arms around them as he rocked himself back and forth. 

Kenjaku. Yuuji. Choso. Megumi. Uraume. Work. Everything circled his brain. Everything crashed together at the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t remember what kind of person he was supposed to be. He couldn’t remember whose voice was who’s as the same mantra rattled in his mind;

He was an ass. A terrible human being. A fuck up. A mess. A disgrace. 

This was his fault. 

It was always his fault. 

He deserved this.

He deserved this . 

He didn’t know how long he sat there, back pressed to the door, arms growing numb from how tightly he clung to himself, ass starting to prickle with pins and needles from how long he’d been sat on the floor. But eventually he stopped rocking. Eventually his chest stopped rattling with every breath he took. Eventually his lungs stopped burning and the threatening cascade of tears in his eyes disappeared. 

His throat hurt and Sukuna felt raw. 

Slowly he pulled his head up and eyed the darkness of his hotel room. Through all of his stumbling he never turned the light on and he didn’t feel an urge to do so. He didn’t want to see the wreck he was, didn’t want to capture a glance of himself in the mirror. 

It was an effort to untangle himself from his own limbs, stretch his fingers and appendages out, let the blood flow naturally back into them. It took him a bigger effort to pull himself to his feet, head feeling full and heavy with cotton. He swayed on the spot for a moment and caught a hand against the nearest wall to steady himself. Fuck, he was exhausted. Drained. Running on fumes. The air was suffocating and he reached his free hand up to his neck to tug and pull at his tie until the fabric snapped around the collar. He dropped it to the floor, wavered on his feet as he toed his shoes off, and blindly patted a hand against the wall to guide him towards the bathroom. 

One blind piss break later and he carefully shuffled his way through the room to the dark shape of the bed. He shoved the sheets to one side and threw himself onto the mattress, not even bothering to push his head onto a pillow. Instead, he dragged a pillow to him and pressed his cheek into it. He reached for a second one and pulled it to his chest, burying his nose in the thin cotton with a heavy sigh. 

He wanted to sleep. 

He wanted the ground to swallow him up and never spit him out again. 

He wanted peace. 

He wanted…

Company. 

To not be alone. 

Sukuna screwed his eyes shut and tightened his grip around the pillow, burying his face further into the fabric. Since when did he become so pathetic and needy? Since when had he relied on other people? Since when did he want company? He didn’t need somebody, didn’t want to need someone. 

And yet…

For the right person . 

The right person was impossible, a figment of his imagination, a fantasy. Who even was the right person for a guy like him? He thought he’d met it in Kenjaku, thought he’d found the bottom of the barrel alongside himself, but the opposite was true. Kenjaku was worse than Sukuna and he managed to drag Sukuna down to that same depraved, disgusting level. 

He snorted into the pillow. Maybe that’s why they lasted as long as they did. Birds of a feather and all that shit. 

Every single emotion rattled inside of his chest and he couldn’t put his finger on one, couldn’t fathom what sense his mind was trying to make. Every time he grabbed onto something it slipped through his fingers and a dozen more feelings and thoughts covered his hand. Another shiver rocked through him and Sukuna groaned in frustration. He was cold. He could fathom that much and he struggled to pull the sheets over himself, fabric bundled tightly around his shoulders. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so terrible. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. 

It. Hurt . 

With a full body sigh he tried to relax, tried to ease the tension in his shoulders and drag himself into the land of sleep. He tossed. Turned. Sighed. Huffed. Threw an arm over his face. Kicked the sheets away. Pulled them back up. Visited the bathroom again. Counted sheep. Contemplated calling Yuuji. Contemplated getting up and using up the room’s complimentary mini bar. Contemplated going back down to the main bar and drinking himself into a stupor. 

Morning came before Sukuna knew it. The alarm on his phone cut through whatever little sleep he’d managed to snatch up. It wasn’t much and it certainly wasn’t restful. It would’ve been more refreshing if he hadn’t slept and for the first ten minutes of his morning he simply stared up at the ceiling. He willed himself to move, at least change into clean clothes, maybe even brush his teeth, anything but make shapes out of the marks on the ceiling. The longer he laid there however, the less inviting it was to move. Staying in bed until the sun rose once more sounded fantastic and he wondered if he could do just that. 

It was the sound of an incoming call to his work phone that finally got him to move. He rolled over, snatched it up, and pressed it to his ears with a bleary, almost slurred, “Sukuna.” 

“It’s Akari.” 

Whatever thoughts of misery Sukuna had quietened down into a muted mumble and he sat up straighter at the sound of her voice. “Everything okay?” As her superior he was in part responsible for her and ensuring she made it back home safely.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Honestly. But ummm, our taxi’s here. For the airport? And you’re not.” 

Panic thudded inside of Sukuna’s chest and he pulled his phone away to stare at the time. He’d spent close to two hours moping. “Shit,” he mumbled. “What time’s our flight?” 

“In three hours.”

Sukuna shot to his feet and ran one hand through matted and messed up hair. Fuck. If he threw everything haphazardly into his bag and changed his shirt, he might be able to get downstairs and check out in time for them to still reach the airport with enough time to withstand checking in. 

Maybe. 

How long would it take him? 

As he stared about his room and ran his tongue over his teeth, he admitted defeat. “Go,” he said, sitting himself back down on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Don’t- don’t miss the flight. I’ll see you back in the office tomorrow.” 

“That bad?” 

“Don’t,” he warned. 

“Okay, I won’t, I’m going. Get home safely, sir.”

“Yeah.” Akari hung up for him and Sukuna closed his eyes, counted to ten, and called Uraume. As expected they chewed him out. Called him a moron and told him to give them thirty minutes. Sukuna used his time to shower, scrubbing his skin until it matched the colour of his hair. He cleaned himself up, threw on fresh clothes, cleaned his teeth, and packed everything. It was a wonder what a set of clean clothes and hot water could do for a guy. He still felt like shit, entire body teetering on some invisible edge, and he was sure he was one inconvenience away from cracking. Sukuna contemplated running a bath when he finally made it home. Maybe use some of those stupid bath salts Yuuji bought him as a joke one year that smelt of roses and honey. 

He’d just finished giving the room a once over when Uraume called him back. His flight had been rearranged to leave in five hours with new tickets sitting already in his emails. “Sir,” Uraume said, “get some food down while you wait. There’ll be a taxi ready for you at the airport when you land. Go home and do not even think about coming into the office tomorrow. If I see you, I will escort you off the premises myself.”  

“Yeah,” Sukuna whispered, “thank you, Uraume.” 

“Firstly you thank me by doing as I ask. Secondly, I’ll accept a vacation to the alps as thanks.”

Sukuna chuckled and promised both of them. Uraume deserved everything for picking up after Sukuna’s ass so much. He checked out, found somewhere to get food in him, appetite returning a fraction, and finally arrived at the airport. When he landed, there was a taxi waiting for him as Uraume had promised, his home address already keyed into the sat nav. 

The journey home was uneventful and Sukuna dropped the driver a tip before he carried his suitcase into a familiar lobby, into a familiar elevator, and down a familiar corridor. He entered his home, closed the door behind him, and sighed, pressing his head to the cool wood.

He was home. 

Sukuna let himself have a few moments to simply breathe and take in and adjust to the quiet. Once he was a little steadier on his feet he pushed himself away and moved through the motions. Changed into something more comfortable. Unpacked his bag. Sorted the clothes into whites and darks. Threw a load of laundry on. Prepared himself a simple lunch. Grabbed a fresh cup of coffee and finally curled up on the couch, one of his favourite movies lined up on the screen for him. 

The thought of grabbing the company issued laptop and trying to catch up on emails felt too much and instead Sukuna sunk into film after film. He ordered take away, something sweet and incredibly unhealthy, his go to snack when he needed a quick pick me up. There was a cute bakery just down the street that made delicious waffles slathered in strawberries, honey, and a dash of chocolate sprinkles on top. 

Sukuna would rather die than admit to Yuuji he indulged in something so sweet and sugary. The guy would try to get Sukuna to taste test every new creation he wanted to try and Sukuna could only stomach so much sugar. 

He pushed his fork through the mess, managing almost half of it. It looked hideous now that he’d combined everything and he pulled a face as he set it to one side, mentally promising to clean it up later. He glanced at the small collection of water bottles and food wrappers piled on the couch next to him and scrubbed a hand over his face. He would clean that up later too. Or maybe tomorrow when hopefully the grey cloud above his head was retreating, when he was less inclined to simply exist and more inclined to feel a little more human. 

Somebody cleared their throat. Sukuna jumped in his seat and twisted on the spot to see Uraume with one brow arched, staring past him to the pile of rubbish beside him. But Sukuna’s gaze was locked on surprised green he didn’t expect to see. “Megumi,” he whispered,a shaky breath shuddering in his chest with the soft mumble. 

“Fix it,” Uraume demanded before they left, the door closing behind them a little too loudly.

Sukuna’s mouth wavered as he tried to find his voice, tried to find words to excuse himself, to apologise. Fuck was Megumi tonight? Had he lost track of time that much? He thought… “Megumi,” he said again. 

Megumi’s entire frame sagged and he gently dropped his bag to the floor. “Hey,” he said, just as softly as Sukuna had spoken. He swept his gaze over Sukuna’s frame, past him to the shame Sukuna was yet to clear up, and he finally met Sukuna’s gaze. 

Something within Sukuna broke at the regret he witnessed in them.  “I’m sorry,” Sukuna blurted before he could stop it. 

Megumi blinked at him. “What?” 

Sukuna’s mouth worked again and he snapped his eyes away as he cleared his throat. He was embarrassed for how he’d been found. Sukuna was supposed to be put together, have his shit all squared away, and have a modicum of sanity to him. He probably resembled some sort of teenager who’d just experienced their first break up. “I’ll- I’ll just-” he hurriedly grabbed as much of the rubbish he could, all whilst avoiding meeting Megumi’s gaze. “I forgot,” he mumbled, trying to find an excuse that sounded better then, I’m just being stupid . “I’ve been distracted,” he managed to scramble, his voice wavering a fraction, “and things have been hectic.” The moment his hands were full Sukuna started towards the kitchen, only to have Megumi step in the way, concern crawling into the corner of his eyes. Sukuna didn’t need to be a psychic to hear the question on the tip of Megumi’s tongue. “I’m fine , just-” frustration made him huff. “Move. Please .”

He didn’t want pity. Didn’t want anybody, especially Megumi, to be concerned about him. Sukuna was fine. He was always fine. Had always been fine and he would always be fine. That was how it was. Fine. He was fine. He didn’t need anything and Megumi needed to let him-

“Let me.” 

“You’re a guest,” Sukuna whined. The walls he’d managed to build since he’d gotten home were cracking, threatening to tumble, and a new tremble started in his muscles. 

But Megumi wrapped his hands around Sukuna’s. He noticed there wasn’t a lick of leather glove in sight and he slowly inhaled a shaky breath as he marvelled at the simple touch of skin against skin. Megumi’s fingers were warm, firm, sturdy, and soft. Megumi dragged his fingers over Sukuna’s in a silent motion to hand the rubbish over. “ Sit down ,” Megumi whispered. 

The silent command echoed behind those two words, the order to obey, and Sukuna pursed his lips with a shallow swallow. He nodded once, looked away, and let Megumi handle the rubbish. It took Sukuna several awkward seconds of looking about himself before he finally fell back onto the couch, elbows propped on his knees and chin resting atop clasped fingers. Subconsciously, he started a soft rock on his feet, body teetering gently back and forth, eyes fixated on a stray crumb a few feet away. 

He was aware of the noises in his apartment of Megumi tidying. Throwing stuff away, collecting more rubbish, or leaving cutlery in the sink. But his mind spiralled away, cataloguing a list of things that he’d been lacking on. The place needed a mop. A hoover. A dusting. He should change the sheets in the bedroom. He was almost out of toothpaste. In fact his toothbrush could do with being replaced. And that one pair of brown shoes he owned were starting to look a littl-

Soft fingers pulled him out of his thoughts and Sukuna let Megumi tilt his chin up. He let Megumi smile tightly down at him, brush fingers over the lines of Sukuna’s jaw, trace fingers down the side of his neck and over his shoulders. Sukuna sat back when Megumi pressed one knee onto the couch and his breath hitched in his throat when Megumi settled the other knee on his other side, bracketing him in. 

“You can touch,” Megumi said, voice barely above a whisper. 

Sukuna darted his eyes up, seeking another form of permission, and when Megumi nodded Sukuna stared at Megumi’s waist. He licked his lips and lifted shaky hands up to lay clammy palms against Megumi’s side. The fabric of his suit was coarse from years of use and washes, but it was warm. And Sukuna took his time as he slid his hands up and forward, brushing his fingertips from suit jacket to white shirt. He traced lean muscles through Megumi’s shirt with his thumbs and hummed. Closing his eyes, he let his hands explore. Slowly spread them across the small of Megumi’s back and enjoyed how tiny Megumi seemed beneath his fingers. Could he join his fingers together? Completely wrap his hands around Megumi like he was nothing but a doll? “Can I-” Sukuna licked his lips again, mouth running dry, throat feeling too tight, and cracked his eyes open to meet Megumi’s gentle gaze. He felt very much like a child asking a parent for permission. “Can I hold you?” 

There was no shame on Megumi’s face. No look of disgust or disdain. How many times had Sukuna asked that same question and been scoffed at, ridiculed, mocked, and insulted. You’re a big boy. What am I? Your mommy ? 

“Of course,” Megumi said.

Those two words felt so earnest, so honest, Sukuna whined. He wrapped his arms around Megumi’s waist, pulled him flush against his chest, and buried his face in the crook of his neck. It felt nice. Warm. Safe. Having the weight of somebody in his lap. Warm legs over his. Long, soft fingers carding through his hair, a cheek pressed to his head. Sukuna squeezed, doing his best to sink further into that scent of mint, eucalyptus and something new. Jasmine. It felt right, as if it was meant to be Megumi’s and Sukuna smiled, taking a deep breath to let it fill his senses. 

They stayed like that for a while, Sukuna’s face buried in the crook of Megumi’s neck, arms wrapped firmly around his waist, holding him close to his chest. Quietness filled the air around them, Megumi’s fingers gently carding through his hair, nails scratching lightly across Sukuna’s scalp. He wasn’t sure when Megumi had turned the film off, but he was glad for it.  It would have been an unwanted distraction and Sukuna hummed, enjoying the warmth of it all. 

The longer they sat like that however, the more Sukuna’s mind worked and the more he realised he’d fucked up. He wasn’t supposed to be the clingy type, wasn’t supposed to desperately hold onto Megumi like he was a man starved of everything. He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice all over again, and opened his eyes, peering over Megumi’s shoulder at the wall opposite him. “I’m sorry,” Sukuna whispered, body shaking at the admission. “I know I shouldn’t be needy,” he carried on, shame creeping up his spine. He was pathetic. Why was Megumi still here? Why was Megumi even entertaining him? A frown pinched at his brows and Sukuna tightened his hold on Megumi, silently begging him to not leave, not yet. “I can handle this on my own. I know I can, and- and I should. I- I will.” 

“Sukuna.” He froze at the firmness in Megumi’s tone. “Look at me.” 

He buried himself further in Megumi’s neck. “No.” 

“ Please ?”

Another whine fell from his lips and slowly Sukuna pulled himself up. When there was enough space between them, Megumi cupped his face in both hands and forced Sukuna’s face up to meet apologetic eyes. 

“The only one who should be apologising is me,” Megumi said. 

“But-” 

Megumi pressed a finger to Sukuna’s lips. “Let me finish.” A moment passed before Sukuna pressed his lips together and nodded. “Thank you,” Megumi smiled and  brushed a thumb across Sukuna’s cheek, letting out his own quiet sigh. His gaze didn’t waver and he dragged his finger from Sukuna’s mouth to cup his face again. “I’m the one who should apologise. I should be the one begging for your forgiveness. The last time I was here you opened up to me. I- I led you on. And after? Shit, Sukuna I left. Just like that I left. I didn’t take the time to check on you like I should have. I thought you would be fine. You always seemed to be fine with everything we’d done so I thought you might be okay. But you weren’t.” 

Sukuna whimpered. “I’m fine,” he choked out, unsure who he was trying to convince.

“You’re not.” Megumi let out a breath and pressed their heads together. “I don’t think I realised just how much I’d fucked up until I saw you tonight, until your aide met me outside your door and told me to make it right.”

“I am right,” Sukuna pleaded. 

Megumi offered him a tight smile, “Sukuna.”

“Megumi.” 

“I should’ve stayed,” Megumi carried on. “I should’ve talked to you, listened to you. I shouldn’t have left when I did or how I did. I was wrong and I fucked up. You can find somebody else-”

“No!”

“-who won’t fuck up.”

“I don’t want anybody else.” A look crossed Megumi’s face and Sukuna pulled Megumi tighter against his chest. “I want you .” 

Another breath fanned across Sukuna’s cheeks as Megumi smiled tightly at him. “Okay. I’m here.” 

“Good.”

“But I need you to talk to me.” 

Sukuna pursed his lips, brows knitting together a fraction.

“Please tell me, Sukuna. What do you need from me? What can I do to make you better? To make this right between us? What do you need right now?” 

Mortification crawled up Sukuna’s spine and he shook his head. “N-nothing,” he mumbled, forcibly looking away from Megumi’s face. 

“Sukuna.” 

He shook his head again and leaned forward, pressing his head to Megumi’s chest to speak into his shirt. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to pretend to give a shit.”

“Hey!”

Good boys don’t get my attention by crying and whining like babies. If you want me, Sukuna? Then fucking act like an adult. I don’t have time to deal with whatever tantrum you’re throwing. You do not need me to pat your head, wrap you in a blanket and tell you you’re my good boy. You earn it. Have you earned it? 

N-no.

I didn’t think so. Get out of my sight and don’t even think about disturbing me unless it’s to apologise and-

“Hey!” 

Sukuna blinked as his face pulled up again. Green eyes stared worriedly down at him and Sukuna made a noise in his throat. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I can be good, I promise. I’m fine. Please, Megumi. I’m fine .” 

“If you tell me you’re fine one more time,” Megumi shook his head with a soft breath and he brushed his thumbs across Sukuna’s cheeks. “Stop saying you’re fine when you’re not. Please, Sukuna, talk to me. What are you thinking? There is no wrong answer, I just want to know.”

For several moments Sukuna’s mouth worked, Kenjaku’s old words punching at his gut every now and again. It made him claw back whatever words he’d managed to find and he settled for a small shrug of his shoulder. “I don’t- I don’t know.” 

“Okay. That’s fine. Let’s start with what would make you feel better. What can I do for you?”

Fresh panic settled into Sukuuna’s stomach and he tried to pull away. With every inch Sukuna pulled back Megumi followed him that same distance and Sukuna snapped a short, “What?”

“What can I do for you? What would make you feel better?” 

“Why?” 

“A frown formed between Megumi’s brows. “Why what?” 

“Why do you care?” 

“Because this is my fault.”

Sukuna shook his head. “No it’s not.” 

Another sigh rattled through Megumi and he seemed to study Sukuna for a moment, eyes jumping across every inch of his skin, looking. Calculating. Thinking. “Who told you that?” 

“Wh-what?” 

Megumi’s lips formed a thin line and he surged forward to press their heads together with a soft thunk. Their noses brushed one another and every breath Megumi exhaled kissed Sukuna’s lips. “You think it’s your fault?” Sukuna nodded, fingers tightening their hold on Megumi’s waist. “You think you have to lie to me?” 

“M’not-”

“Look at me, Sukuna,” Megumi whispered and Sukuna let out a shaky breath. He swallowed another down and slowly looked up. Deep green stared down at him, determined intent behind them, and regret pinning Sukuna in place. “I don’t know what you’ve been through,” Megumi said, each word carefully measured, “but trust me when I tell you this is not your fault.”

“But-”

Megumi slapped a palm across Sukuna’s mouth and Sukuna whined against his skin. “Listen to me,” Megumi said. “The last time I was here you opened up to me. You were honest with me about what you liked. You’d only ever dressed up like that for one other person, right?” Sukuna nodded and Megumi smiled gently at him. “I liked it. You looked amazing, no, you looked fantastic.I appreciate you feeling comfortable enough to show me that. Thank you, Sukuna. I am honoured and I am so fucking lucky.”

Sukuna made another noise against Megumi’s palm, something close to a moan, and he pressed his palms to the small of Megumi’s back, pulling him closer. 

“And the collar,” Megumi carried on, breath catching in his throat. “Fuck Sukuna I haven’t had a sub in a collar in years.”

Sukuna groaned. 

Megumi rocked in Sukuna’s lap with a chuckle and he slowly slid his hand away from Sukuna’s mouth to trace his fingers down Sukuna’s throat. “You opened up to me. You told me you want to wear it again, for me?” 

“Yeah,” Sukuna nodded. “For you.” 

Lower Megumi’s fingers danced and Sukuna tilted his head up when those fingers traced his throat. “Yeah,” Megumi echoed, skirting his fingers across thick tendons to cup the back of Sukuna’s neck. “You tried to give me everything, you did offer me everything. I even teased you with the prospect of a kiss. I didn’t say no when you asked for it. I let you get so close and I fucking took it away without an apology or an explanation. I told you I couldn’t be the one and I left without looking back, without thinking about you and your feelings in this. For that, I am sorry. For that I was the one who fucked up. I’m the one who should be on his knees asking for your forgiveness, not that I deserve it.”

“Megumi,” Sukuna whispered, unable to find a full breath. 

“I’m supposed to wind you down for the night.” Megumi laid a hand across Sukuna’s chest. “Calm that racing heart of yours. Ease your thoughts from whatever high I’ve put you through and instead I left. I gave you the cold shoulder and I ran. I ran Sukuna. Like a fucking coward and you’re the one who paid the price. Shit, I’m so fucking sorry.” 

“No-”

“Yes.”

“It’s not related.” 

Megumi let out another breath. “Drops can happen days later. They don’t always start on the same day.”

“Drop,” Sukuna echoed. 

“Sub drop,” Megumi said with a nod. “They can take a few days to begin. Mood swings?” Sukuna nodded. “And sudden shivers or coldness maybe?” Nod. “Loss of appetite?” Nod. “Thinking you’re worthless?” Sukuna whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should’ve stayed and talked to you. I should’ve made sure you were fine before I left. But I’m here now. I’m here and I want to make it better. Please, tell me what to do Sukuna. What do you need from me?”

One thing stood out to Sukuna. One thought which had chased the endless bouts of misery grabbing at his ankles and he licked his lips, trying to find his voice all over again. His heart hammered in his chest and he whispered, “Kiss me,” barely recognising his own voice. 

“No, Sukuna. I can’t do that.” 

“You asked what I-”

“I don’t kiss my subs.”

“Megumi,” he whined. 

“I can’t!” 

“Why not?” 

Megumi let out a slow breath and made sure he had Sukuna’s attention before he spoke. “To me, kissing is personal and intimate. It crosses lines and boundaries that shouldn’t be crossed. I don’t kiss my subs because I want to keep that separation.” 

“So you fuck my ass, jerk my cock off, strip me down and ruin me but you won’t fucking kiss me?” 

A chuckle shook Megumi’s shoulders and he nodded. “Yeah, it sounds dumb when you say it like that.”

“Just a little.” 

Megumi hummed. “What else can I do for you?” 

“Let me know you.”

There was a pause in the air, a stilling of muscles, before Megumi shifted in Sukuna’s lap and sat up a little straighter. “Okay. What do you want to know?” 

Sukuna blinked, mind suddenly going blank, and he darted his gaze away, trying to find inspiration, before he looked back to Megumi. “What’s your favourite colour?” 

The tips of Megumi’s fingers grazed through the short strands at the back of Sukuna’s neck as he brushed a thumb up and down. “Yellow.” 

“Why?” 

“It reminds me of my sister.”

“You have a sister?” 

Megumi smiled and nodded. “Yeah, step sister technically, and she’s older than me by a year.”

“Any brothers?” 

He shook his head. “It’s just us.” 

A frown twisted Sukuna’s features. “No parents?” 

Megumi snorted. “That’s complicated. I have a dad, she has a mom.” He shrugged. “Doesn’t mean get along.”

“Okay, ouch.” 

“What about you?” 

Sukuna blinked. “What about me?”

Megumi grinned and wriggled in Sukuna’s lap. “Any siblings? Parents?” 

Clearing his throat Sukuna straightened up, heat creeping up his skin. “A brother. No parents. They died when we were young.” 

“Oh,” Megumi’s smile dropped. “I’m- I’m sorry.” 

“Shit happens,” Sukuna shrugged and he slowly breathed in, the rattling of his chest easing with it. “Do you… have any pets?” 

“Two dogs. I found them abandoned and thrown out amongst the trash a few years back. It was torrential rain and if I didn’t take them with me they’d have probably drowned.”

“Assholes,” Sukuna hissed.

Megumi chuckled. “If I ever find out who threw them out I’ll pass on the sentiment.” 

A smile started to claw its way up Sukuna’s face, the first smile all week that felt genuine and true. “Kick their ass too?” 

Megumi snorted. “Without a doubt.”

The weight which had been dragging Sukuna’s shoulders down eased a fraction, their conversation warming him in ways he didn’t know was possible. There was something pleasant about talking about mundane things, discussing unimportant things, learning small little details about the other. He shifted in his seat and felt the numbness in his limbs turn into painful pins and needles. His neck started to ache from looking  up at Megumi so much and he side eyed the couch. “Can we-” he tilted his head towards the free cushions and when Megumi nodded once, Sukuna pulled him down with him until they were sprawled across the couch. 

It took them several seconds to sort their limbs out, Sukuna wrapped both of his legs around one of Megumi, settling an arm under his waist and pulled him close. The other cupped Megumi’s neck, thumb brushing across the smooth plane of his jaw. “Better?” Megumi whispered, one hand pressed flat to Sukuna’s chest. 

“Yeah.”

“Okay. Did you have any other questions?” 

Sukuna thought about it. What else did he want to know? What other questions could he get away with asking? Was there a limit to what Megumi would answer? Were there certain subjects which were off limits? He pursed his lips and thought about a question he’d been curious about for a while. “Why’d you get into this kind of thing?” 

A look crossed Megumi’s face. He parted his lips a fraction before he pursed them and seemed to think it over, brows pinching between his eyes. Eventually he said, “Money.” 

A snort rumbled in Sukuna’s chest before he could help it. “You could take any job to make money. Why this one? Why-” He gestured between them and tugged gently at the tie Megumi still wore. “Why this?” 

It was quiet again whilst Megumi stared at Sukuna’s chest. He watched Megumi tease his bottom lip between his teeth, expression shifting with every thought that danced through Megumi’s mind. “Somebody,” Megumi started slowly, “said I would be good at it.” 

Those words stabbed at Sukuna’s gut and he swallowed whatever feeling came with it. “They’re not wrong.” Green eyes darted up to meet his and Sukuna smiled warmly. “You’re the best I’ve ever met.” 

Heat prickled Megumi’s cheeks and he ducked his head with a shy grin. “Thank you.”

“Do you enjoy it?” 

Megumi nodded slowly, sheepish smile widening. “Yeah. I do.” 

Sukuna grinned and brushed a hand up Megumi’s side. “Yeah? Why’s that?” 

Megumi shrugged. “It’s… fun?” He let out a breath. “I enjoy having that little bit of control. I like knowing I can give satisfaction to others, can help you and others live out their fantasies to some degree. There’s something… nice? That feels like the wrong word, but it is nice to know that I’ve made somebody else happy for a few hours. Meeting all of the different people and seeing the different ways you all react is exciting, and… and thrilling.” Gingerly Megumi peered up at him. “I don’t… I don’t know if that’s what you were expecting or if that explains it-”

“I get it.” 

“You do?” 

Sukuna hummed. “Yeah.” And he did get it. The next question rolled off his tongue before he could help it. ”How many subs do you have?” 

“Including you?” Megumi thought it over for a moment. “Four regulars. There’s a few one offs or those that come and go once a month maybe, but at least once a week, I see four of you.” 

“Four?” Sukuna whistled. “How to make a guy feel less special.” 

Megumi pulled a face and prodded Sukuna’s side. “Shut up. You’re all special, hence why I don’t see more people.” 

Sukuna stuck his bottom lip out and held a hand up to his chest. “Awww, you think I’m special?”

“Watch it, Ryomen.” 

“Or what, Fushiguro?” 

“Or I’ll have to demote you to second place.” 

Sukuna’s stomach flipped and heat danced beneath his skin. He swallowed nervously, trying to contain the grin that wanted to break out. “Is that so?” he whispered. 

“It is.” 

With a hum Sukuna settled his hand back onto Megumi’s waist, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were, how intertwined their limbs were, and how each breath they took mixed with the others. 

The smile on Megumi’s face faltered and he cleared his throat. “Can- Can I ask you some questions?”

Something told Sukuna he wasn’t going to enjoy these next few minutes and he held his breath as he nodded. “Sure.” 

Megumi seemed to think over his words, brows knitted together, lips pressed into a firm line, before he said, “When’s the last time you had a permanent and repetitive dom?” 

“It’s been a few years,” Sukuna mumbled quietly. 

“Are they- Were they the one who convinced you your comfort doesn’t matter? That you don’t need reassurances like everyone else? That reaching out is the equivalent of you being  needy?” Sukuna opened his mouth but nothing came out. Those words circled his mind all over again, weighing him down with guilt and shame. Pathetic. Cry baby. Needy. Whiny. Nobody wants a grown ass man who can’t even handle a little spanking. Have you seen yourself? Ugh. Gross. “Sukuna? Hey, hey, I’m here. I’m right here, look at me.” Sukuna blinked and peered up at Megumi with a lump in his throat. “Hey. There’s nothing wrong with experiencing a drop. Nothing wrong with needing a little extra care. What is wrong is a dom of any kind convincing you it’s your fault. If you experience a drop, especially one that’s so severe, that’s on me, and the dom that caused it or anyone who leaves you to deal with it on your own. Us. Me. Not you. Sukuna, there’s no shame in admitting you need a little help.”

“But-”

Megumi shook his head and brushed a few strands of pink hair from Sukuna’s eyes. “But nothing. Everybody should be able to ask for help when they need it, no matter what it’s for. This is no different.” 

Sukuna stared, his own brows pinched together. Everything in his body told him Megumi was right. He relied on Uraume to help him out with work, manage his meetings and remember to actually eat or leave his desk. He relied on Yuuji when he wanted a touch of familiarity and home comfort, reaching out when he needed help forgetting about work. He relied on his friends to distract him. He relied on so many others for so many other needs, that relying on Megumi for this one thing made sense. There was nobody else who would know how to help, how to comfort. 

Yet, a small part of his brain refused to give in to that thought so easily. “I know,” he whispered, voice barely there. He knew. He knew . He. Knew . His throat ran dry and he wanted to change the subject, push the attention from himself. He needed a distraction, another train of thoughts, and a question jumped to the front of his mind. It was another question he’d been curious about for a long time and one that would help Sukuna understand Megumi more, learn more about him and even perhaps put him on the spot. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course.” 

“Do these sessions ever turn you on?” 

Megumi froze and made a noise. His face turned a cute shade of pink. “I- I mean- you- want to know… that?” 

Sukuna nodded and squeezed Megumi’s waist. “I know I said I wanted you to enjoy our sessions together, but there’s a difference between enjoying them, and getting turned on by them.”

Megumi cleared his throat, shifted in his position and avoided Sukuna’s gaze. “Sometimes?” 

“Sometimes?” 

“Yeah, sometimes. I enjoy everything I do and everything you all want, but sometimes I’m turned on, sometimes I’m not.” 

Sukuna swallowed and gently drummed his fingers up Megumi’s side. “What about our sessions?”

Megumi took a sharp breath. “Every time.” 

Skirting his hand higher, Sukuna settled it in the space between Megumi’s shoulders. A breath deflated his shoulder and he said, “What do you do about it?”

Megumi darted his tongue out to wet his lips and Sukuna’s eyes followed the motion carefully, gaze locked on the way Megumi’s lips shone brightly up at him. His mouth looked so inviting and he wanted to know what Megumi tasted like. Would his lips be soft? Chapped? Warm? Slightly cold? Sukuna continued to stare, even as Megumi began to speak. “It depends. If I have enough time I might touch myself in your bathroom and clean up. You’re never the wiser.” 

A groan rolled through Sukuna’s body at the admission. It painted a wonderful image in his mind of Megumi hunched over his toilet, one hand fisting his cock, the other braced against the wall, cheeks ruddy and flushed, mouth agape as a small drop of drool started to slide down his chin. “And if you don’t have enough time?” 

“Then I wait until I get home.” 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” 

“Sukuna-”

“Megumi.” 

Megumi worked his mouth open and closed several times, wide eyes fixed on Sukuna, bottom lip quivering with unsaid words. Without thinking Sukuna held his breath. He could already see the truth laid out before him, could hear the confession in the quiet between them. “What about you?” Megumi croaked out. 

Sukuna chuckled and raced his fingers up the curve of Megumi’s spine, fingertips brushing the nape of his neck. “I asked first.” 

Slowly Megumi shook his head. He ducked his gaze and fisted one hand in the front of Sukuna’s shirt. “You’re getting off topic.” 

“You said I could ask you anything.” 

“You wanted to get to know me.” 

“And I am getting to know you. I’m beginning to learn a lot about you, Megumi.” 

Against his chest Megumi shuddered as he took a sharp breath, body deflating on his next exhale, and Sukuna let him have his quiet. He already knew his answer, knew the truth Megumi couldn’t speak unless he wanted to blur that line between professional and personal. No matter how much Sukuna needed to hear it, he wouldn’t push it. If Megumi knew when to back off with his prodding, so did Sukuna. 

By now the dark cloud hanging over his head was nothing more than a few stray gatherings of fluff. Something was still there, tickling the ends of his nerves, but Sukuna could breathe easier, he felt lighter. He didn’t feel as though he was walking on eggshells anymore and he watched Megumi carefully, enjoying this new side of him. Soft. Gentle. Embarrassed. Sweet. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” 

The sudden change in topic caught Sukuna off guard for a second and a soft smile tucked the corners of his lips into the dimples of his cheeks. “Blue,” he said. “It reminds me of my gramps.”

Megumi cleared his throat but he still refused to meet Sukuna’s eyes. “What was he like?”

Sukuna snorted. “Arrogant. Bitter. A hardass. Grumpy. Stubborn.” He closed his eyes and remembered the soft smiles he caught his gramps wearing when he thought neither of his grandsons were watching. The gentle hands that picked them up when they’d fallen and scraped their knees. The kind words he whispered to them under the cover of night, reassuring them that they could do anything they put their minds to, reminding them that whilst he might not always be around, he’d still be proud of them, no matter who they became. 

“Sukuna?” 

“Hmmm?” He peered down to find Megumi staring up at him. There was another one of those strange looks in his eyes, as if he knew what Sukuna was thinking, as if he’d heard everything Sukuna hadn’t said. 

“Sounds like a lovely guy.”

“He was.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry.” 

Sukuna shrugged. “Don’t be.” 

He scratched his fingers lightly across Megumi’s neck, the corners of his mouth twitching as Megumi shivered beneath him. “When you were little and our teachers always asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, what was your answer?” 

Megumi snorted, “Easy. A vet.” 

“Now the dogs make sense.” 

Megumi chuckled and Sukuna was greeted with bright green eyes. “I’ve always found people much harder to talk to.” 

That made Sukuna arch a brow and he couldn’t contain his smirk. “That explains the whole command thing.” A sharp jab to Sukuna’s side made him burst out with a chuckle. A second jab followed the first, then a third, and Sukuna wriggled away from Megumi for the fourth jab, trying to swipe his hand away from him. “Hey, hey! Stop that!” 

“Why? Are you ticklish?” 

“No!” 

“No yes, or no no?” 

“No no. ”

Megumi hummed. Narrowed his eyes, stared him down for a full minute, and relented, relaxing against the cushions once more. “I will find out if you’re lying to me.” 

“I have no doubt about it.” 

Their combined chuckles slowly died down into nothing but breathless grins and Sukuna replaced his hand on Megumi’s waist. He dared himself to brush a padded thumb underneath the hem of shirt and he let out a slow breath. Megumi’s skin was surprisingly cool, smooth, and soft. His muscles twitched beneath Sukuna’s touch and Sukuna splayed his fingers across Megumi’s back once more, palm pressed to his skin. 

“I have a serious question,” Megumi mumbled, “and I would like an honest answer.”

Sukuna froze, blinked, all sense of his previous smile gone. “Okay.”

“If it were up to you, which it is, how would you like to unwind from a scene? If the need arises in the future, should you want me to do more to bring you back down, I want to make sure I know what would be best. What makes you relax and feel at ease? What makes you happy and comfortable?”

Instant denial danced across Sukuna’s tongue and he stilled, battling those words back down. Megumi wanted the truth and honesty and he tried to find it. He hadn’t thought about the answer to Megumi’s question in years. The previous doms he’d paid didn’t do a good enough job for him to need aftercare and Kenjaku didn’t provide any. Sukuna dug into his memories, went back years, trying to remember what he craved when Kenjaku did send him under. The one thing his mind begged for once everything was over and they were finished with their scenes. 

He wanted… his bed. Gentle touches. The warmth of a body. His weight in somebody else’s lap. Fingers carding through his hair, running circles across his back. His blanket that still smelt of his childhood home. Sukuna went out of his way to wash it separately to everything else, using the same stuff his gramps had used. Reassurances he wasn’t a terrible person and promises that everything was fine. 

“I-” he started, trying to figure out how to put it into words. It was his best kept secret and revealing it felt so burdensome, so troubling. “I-”

A hand on his cheek pulled his face back to Megumi’s. “Do you trust me?” Sukuna nodded without missing a beat and Megumi’s smile widened. “ Then please, will you show me what makes you feel better?” 

Sukuna swallowed. Not even Uraume knew about this little detail of his life. As far as he knew, Uraume hadn’t caught even a glimpse of his favourite blanket. Nobody else knew about it either, not even Yuuji. Sukuna had crawled into laps plenty of times, talked about so much, and this had never come up. He scanned Megumi’s  face for any signs of deceit, or lies, but there was nothing but trust and devotion in his chest. Pressing his lips together, Sukuna nodded once and nervously looked about him. “O-okay,” he said, and he hesitated another fraction before he started to sit up.

It took a little doing to untangle himself from Megumi, a wash of heat racing up his neck as he realised just how close they’d gotten. When he had his feet on the floor he grabbed Megumi’s hand and pulled him up with him. He didn’t let go as he pulled Megumi behind him, chin tucked towards his chest, uncertainty threatening to make his knees buckle. Neither of them whispered a word as they made their way to Sukuna’s bedroom and it was only at the doorway he released Megumi’s hand. As Sukuna moved to a set of drawers, he felt Megumi watching him. Green eyes pierced into him, mentally taking note of everything whilst Sukuna reached for the bottom drawer. Sukuna pulled out the faded blue blanket with frayed edges, decorated in white stars and moons, and reached for Megumi’s hand again. 

Without a word he pulled Megumi towards the bed, pushed him onto it, and silently guided him to sit up against the headboard. Once Sukuna was happy with Megumi’s position he climbed onto the bed, knees on either side of Megumi’s thighs. Before he settled down he reached for Megumi’s jacket. Shucked it off his shoulders and tossed it onto the empty side of the bed. The next thing to catch Sukuna’s attention was the tie. He loosened the knot with two fingers, popped the top button of Megumi’s shirt, and finally shuffled forward. He pressed his cheek to Megumi’s shoulder, face pressed into the crook of his neck once more, and closed his eyes, pulling the blanket over his shoulders. 

All at once he was assaulted by the scent of home. Freshly cooked meals under a warm spring sky. The old worn couch with his favourite spot on the left, the arm rest perfectly shaped to his arm. The echoing noises of his gramps and Yuuji in some idle conversation. And Megumi. Mint. Eucalyptus. Jasmine. 

“This,” Sukuna whispered after a full minute of silence. 

Megumi circled him with his arms and Sukuna hummed as they traced the curve of his back. Followed the planes of his muscles up and down until Megumi clasped his fingers at the base of Sukuna’s spine. And Megumi simply held him in silence. The seconds ticked by into minutes. There was little embarrassment in Sukuna’s chest and it was another full minute before he felt Megumi brush his nose across Sukuna’s temple. 

Sukuna smiled, body relaxing instantly, sagging further into Megumi’s lap. 

“I’ve got it,” Megumi whispered, “and I’ve got you.”

A shaky smile twisted Sukuna’s lips up and he nuzzled into Megumi’s neck. He felt safe. Warm. Cosy. Right. Perfect . “Thank you.” It was the best he’d felt in days and he wanted to indulge in it. Wrap himself so tightly around Megumi there was no chance he could leave. Cling to this little moment for as long as he could. Fuck. He’d forgotten how nice it was to simply be held. Have hands smoothing the fabric of his shirt down, fingertips pressing ever so slightly into his muscles to make him aware of the subtle weight of company. 

Sukuna lost track of time, of how long he laid there, no doubt turning Megumi’s legs numb. His own thighs began to tingle from the notion of staying in one spot too long, but it was a wonderful bliss and Sukuna felt sated. The thick mud of thoughts in his mind started to clear, his shoulders no longer ached with high strung tension, and his thoughts felt sane enough to listen to them once more. 

Sukuna cracked his eyes open, meeting the soft skin of Megumi’s neck. From this close up, Sukuna could see a few tiny whispers of hair Megumi had missed the last time he shaved. He could see the slightly irritated patch Megumi scratched behind his ear. The haphazard flicks of hair that peeked over the edges of Megumi’s ear and the tiny, barely there, star-shaped scar that peeked out from underneath his collar. He tilted his head back a fraction, dragging his gaze up to take in more of Megumi from this angle and he paused at the tiny hole in Megumi’s ear. “You have your ears pierced.” 

“Yeah,” Megumi chuckled. “It’s been years since I wore anything though.” 

“Why don’t you?” 

Megumi shrugged beneath Sukuna’s cheek. “I just… don’t.” 

“You should.” 

“Maybe I will.” 

A question crashed into Sukuna’s mind. It was another question he’d been curious about ever since he’d asked Megumi what he wanted. He’d heard the hesitation in Megumi’s voice before he spoke, the carefully curated words that were a little too forced. Just like anybody else, Megumi had thoughts, needs, and desires, and Sukuna wasn’t blind. The guy did a lot of things unprompted. Set the scene without even speaking to Sukuna about it. Every action of his was laced with unsaid words, untamed ideas just out of reach, being pushed down for Sukuna’s benefit. 

Since Megumi avoided the question the first time around, Sukuna had wanted to know what they were all the more.

“Can I ask you something else?” 

Megumi nodded. “Sure.” 

“What are some of your fantasies?” 

Beneath him Megumi stilled and Sukuna waited. As the seconds ticked by and Megumi still didn’t speak nor move, Sukuna lifted his head away from Megumi’s shoulder and tried to find his face. It was when Megumi finally met his gaze with muted quiet that he spoke. “Fantasies?” 

“Yeah.” Sukuna nodded and he scooted closer with a whisper. “What things do you want to try out?”

“I’m not- That isn’t-”

“What?” 

Megumi let out a breath. “I’m here for your fantasies.” 

“And what if I have the same fantasies as you?” 

He watched Megumi’s entire body inflate with a sharp breath before he slowly exhaled. “I-”

“Please,” Sukuna whispered, and he cupped Megumi’s face in both hands. “Tell me.” 

Warm air kissed his bottom lip and Sukuna swore he could taste the coffee Megumi had on the way over. He could feel the lingering staleness that came with cheaply bought, button pressed caffeine. It was there underneath the mint Megumi tried to mask it with and Sukuna leaned closer, mouth aching to taste how sweet Megumi had his coffee.

Megumi pressed his lips together and Sukuna watched indecision dance in his eyes. Watched him flick his gaze across every inch of Sukuna’s face and linger a fraction too long on Sukuna’s own mouth. Sukuna darted the tip of his tongue out to dampen them, almost preparing himself. “It’s unprofessional,” Megumi breathed. 

“I won’t tell.” 

“Sukuna.” 

He inched closer, sliding his fingers forward to cup the back of Megumi’s neck. “It’ll be our little secret.”

Megumi lifted his hands up and cupped Sukuna’s face. Slowly he shook his head, the side of his mouth twitching painfully up with a strained smile. “I shouldn’t. It’ll give you ideas.” 

“Just one then. One fantasy. I don’t care how simple or elaborate it is. Just… tell me one thing you’d love to have done to you. Or one thing you’d love to do to me. One thing Megumi. Just one.” 

“One thing?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I-” Megumi paused, lips parted, breath shuddering as he thought it over. “C- car sex.” 

Sukuna raised his brows at that. “Car sex?” 

A blush crawled up Megumi’s neck as he looked away. “It’s probably no surprise to you a lot of my clients are rich, lonely businessmen.” 

Sukuna snorted. “No shit.” 

“Which usually means fancy cars and limos.” 

“You wanna do it in a limo?” 

Megumi shrugged. “Maybe.”

Sukuna’s heart fluttered with hope. He could give Megumi that. A thousand times over he could give that to Megumi. “Bottom or top?” 

Another shrug. “Either. Both.” 

“Greedy.” 

A grin curled Megumi’s lips up, any hints of shyness slipping from his in an instant. “I’ve been told that before.” 

A laugh bubbled in Sukuna’s chest and he brushed a thumb up the column of Megumi’s neck. “Nothing wrong with being greedy every now and again.”

“Been told that too.” 

“Is there anything you haven’t been told?”

Megumi clicked his tongue, a challenging look crossing his features. “I can think of a few things.” 

Something inside of Sukuna stirred with heat and he shuffled closer to Megumi. “Name one.”

Inching closer Megumi tilted his head to one side. He brushed his cheek alongside Sukuna’s until his breath tickled the shell of Sukuna’s ear and Sukuna held his breath as he waited for Megumi to speak. 

“Daddy .”

The cogs inside of Sukuna’s brain stopped working. His smile fell from his lips and he reared his head back to stare at Megumi wide eyed. “You’ve never-”

“I’m not the type ,” Megumi said. “Had plenty of people ask for it the other way around.”

Sukuna swallowed. “Do you want to be called that?” 

It was a few moments of silence as Megumi let out a slow breath before he said, “No more questions.”

“Excuse me?” 

  Megumi brushed his hands down Sukuna’s back and over his side, squeezing ever so slightly. “I have to go.” 

Sukuna’s entire frame tensed and he darted his attention to the clock on the wall. They’d overran by twenty minutes. He sat back onto his knees with a sigh, trying to not let the disappointment slip into his voice. “Oh.” 

Warm fingers on his chin dragged his attention back to Megumi and the warm smile he wore “How are you feeling?” 

Sukuna thought it over a moment and nodded. “Better.” 

“Is that the truth?”

“Yeah.” 

Megumi stared up at him, assessing him, carefully studying every inch of Sukuna’s face for any hint of a lie. Once he was happy he nodded. “Okay.” He dragged his hands over the tops of Sukuna’s thighs and squeezed his muscles again. “If you’re happy-”

“Be happier if you stayed.” 

“Don’t be a brat.” 

“Or what? You’ll punish me? Daddy ?” The pinch to his side was worth it to see Megumi flush with instant heat and listen to the small gasp that hitched in his throat. Sukuna filed that information away for a rainy day and climbed to his feet. He shook the blanket from his shoulders and folded it onto the bed whilst Megumi grabbed his things and headed back to the living room. 

Sukuna trailed after him, a pang of regret creeping into his bones. He wanted Megumi to stay. Wanted to talk more, learn more things, listen to him laugh more, see his smile more. There was so much more he wanted and so much he couldn’t fit into their sessions. They weren’t long enough and Sukuna wished there was a way he could have Megumi’s attention for one day. 

“Can I grab a glass of water before I leave?” 

“Yeah, sure.” Sukuna gestured to the kitchen and turned to face where he’d been sitting when Megumi first arrived. His phone stared up at him and Sukuna made a mental note to crack on with his emails tomorrow. During lunch tomorrow he’d call Yuuji and apologise for being an ass. Maybe he’ll arrange for another one of their nights together to truly say he was sorry. 

The shuffle of feet behind him grabbed his attention and Sukuna turned to see Megumi pulling his bag over his shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?” 

Sukuna smiled and it was genuine. The muscles of his face didn’t hurt from the force and he didn’t feel an ache in his stomach as he spoke. “Yes, I’m fine and I will be just as fine when you leave. Thank you. For tonight.” 

Megumi returned his smile and started towards the door. It was when he was on the boundary, half in and half out of Sukuna’s apartment, he turned and tilted his head up to meet Sukuna’s gaze. “Am I forgiven for fucking up?” 

It took everything within Sukuna to resist the urge to reach out and cup Megumi’s face. If he did, he was certain he wouldn’t let go this time. He’d pull Megumi back in, draw him against his chest, peer down at him, lick his lips, and- and-  “You’re forgiven.” He chased those thoughts away and swallowed thickly, hating the heavy lead that landed in his stomach. 

“Thank you, Sukuna. I’ll see you next time.” 

“Next time.” 

He watched Megumi walk away, watched him wait for the elevator, and only stepped back inside when the doors sealed Megumi away from him. Sukuna locked the door behind him, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. He did feel better, not perfect, but better. At least now he could cope a little better, could string his thoughts together without them crashing into one another in a muddle. 

The new ache within his chest was there for an entirely different reason now and Sukuna tried to chase it away. 

With another shuddering breath, Sukuna cleared his throat, straightened up, and turned to face his apartment. Where would he start? Should he go straight to bed and start again tomorrow? Get a few emails out of the way now? Stay up and watch something to clear his mind a little? Or… his eyes landed on the seat he’d spent most the day in. There were still a few scraps of trash he’d missed and he sighed, marching over to gather it up. 

He carried it to the kitchen, threw it away, and pulled a fresh bottle of water from the fridge. As he was about to step away he stopped and stared at the stray piece of paper on the kitchen counter. It hadn’t been there before. He couldn’t recall putting anything there to account for that paper. With a curious frown he picked it up and stared at unfamiliar writing. 

If you ever feel like that again, call me. But only in an emergency . 

It took Sukuna several minutes to realise who would leave him such a message. He curled his fingers protectively around the paper and listened to the thundering of his heart in his chest. 

He had Megumi’s number. 

Chapter Text

The noise of the movie did little to drown out the swirling thoughts racing through Megumi’s mind. No matter how hard he tried to focus on the plot, the characters, the twists and turns of the story, his attention wandered. Perhaps it was because the film was Nobara’s choice, something he normally avoided, or maybe it was the anxiety in his stomach. 

Nobara had turned up on his doorstep with spare boxes she and Maki had left over from their move. After helping Megumi to pack them  up, she made herself at home on Megumi’s couch, Kuro balanced precariously in her lap, dwarfing Nobara’s frame. Anything and everything which came to her mind she spoke, easily creating a conversation Megumi struggled to find. He learnt a lot during their one-sided talk. Things were still tense with Maki’s family and it had almost blown up again, but it seemed to be okay for the time being. Nobara still hated visiting them. Nobara’s grandmother was in the hospital, so his best friend was splitting her time around the hospital’s visiting hours. Work was still great for Nobara, nothing too out of the ordinary, and at the end of the month she was accompanying Maki across the country to some sort of fighting competition to support her. 

Megumi tried to talk, tried to respond enthusiastically or empathetically. He tried. But he hadn’t been able to stop his thoughts. About his last session with Sukuna. Tsumiki had called him two days ago to let him know she’d reached her limit. That was it. She was going to look into moving out. He still hadn’t found a new place to move into, the boxes were so he could be prepared to move. To top it all off he’d agreed to meet his father at a location of Megumi’s choosing in a couple of hours. 

It had been a short and abrupt conversation. Megumi typed Toji’s number in but hesitated to actually send the call through. He spent hours of his time typing those numbers in, staring at the screen, wondering what he wanted to say. There were a thousand things he wanted to ask, a thousand more he wanted to say, and no way of stringing it all into a tangible string of words. He’d even gone so far as to write down a list of what was and wasn’t important for him to know. In the end, he settled for a text. 

You should be dead to me . 

He’d sent the message before he could talk himself out of it. Two minutes after sending it Megumi read it back to himself and realised how bitter and cruel the words sounded. 

But the response somehow brought a small smile to his face;

I deserve that, dumpling . 

After he’d thought about it a little more, Megumi managed to give Toji a time and a place. Be there or don’t. It’s your choice. He was biding his time to organise his thoughts and feelings, but the time to address it all was now, or in a few hours time. A list of questions scribbled onto a scrap of paper in his pocket. Single words with a hundred thoughts behind each one scattered in the empty spaces. There was so much he wanted to know and find out in the little time he and Toji would have together. 

The film paused. Megumi blinked and the cushions shifted as Nobara turned in her seat to stare at him with one raised brow. Kuro barely acknowledged Nobara’s movements. “Talk, Fushiguro.” 

He arched one brow back at her in response. “Hi.” 

She huffed and reached a hand out and swiped at his arm with the back of her hand. “You’re moping and it’s stinking the place up.” 

With a sigh Megumi sank into the cushions. Shiro made a noise from Megumi’s feet and pressed his head into Megumi’s lap. “Just thinking,” Megumi mumbled, giving in to Shiro’s silent demand for head scratches. 

It was quiet for almost a full minute whilst Nobara contemplated his words before she said, “Is it the moving thing?” 

Megumi shrugged one shoulder. “Sort of. I mean, yeah that does suck.” 

“But?” 

He pressed his lips into a thin line and narrowed his eyes at the small stack of boxes they’d packed up earlier. They were filled with stuff he wouldn’t immediately need, things he could do without until he was settled somewhere new. Maki had offered to take some of the boxes back with her when she picked Nobara up later to clear up some room in Megumi’s current place. It would also mean when he eventually did move, it was less to move and the day would run that much smoother. 

“I’m meeting my dad later.” 

“Oh shit.” Nobara straightened up in her seat. Kuro made a noise, shuffled in Nobara’s lap, and settled back down again. “Seriously?” 

He nodded. “Seriously.” 

“How’d you get in touch with him?” Megumi explained briefly about the letter Tsumiki brought him, supplying the cliff notes of what was inside. His dad wanted to stay but some family issues and personal, internal emotional bullshit he needed to see a therapist for made him run away. He couldn’t handle it ever since Megumi’s mom died, he thought Emi was good, he wanted to come back, but at the end of it all, he was a coward. His words . “You should get a free pass to punch him in the dick.” 

A snort bubbled in Megumi’s throat before he could stop it and he side eyed Nobara. “Really?” 

“What?” She shrugged. “He abandoned you because he was too chicken shit to be a dad. Is some stupid letter saying he’s sorry supposed to make up for it all?” 

Megumi shook his head, smile stuck to his lips, fingers mindlessly running through Shiro’s fur. He let out a breath, the small details his father had left in about Megumi’s grandparents coming back to the front of his mind. They weren’t the most comforting of details, even if they were vague and left out a lot of information. “He was scared he’d turn out to be like his folks.” 

“Oh,” Nobara said. He hummed at the realisation in her voice. With her dating Maki she’d met Megumi’s grandparents, albeit begrudgingly. Maki’s family were reluctant to let her back into the family fold ever since she had brought home her first girlfriend. A few years down the line she did her best to please them with a boyfriend, but it didn’t work out and Maki stopped lying to herself before she found Nobara. It was only recently that Maki’s twin sister, Mai, had worked on convincing the family to allow Maki back in. Trying to convince them to change their outdated viewpoints on family and “tradition.” 

“Yeah,” Megumi said, “somehow I don’t think my dad’s lying about them being horrible people. It takes a special kind of assholery to take your wife’s name.” 

“There is that.” Silence filled the air between them again. “You should still punch him in the dick.” 

“Nobara!” 

“I’m just saying! Emi was a bitch and he left you with her. It’s justified.”

Megumi chuckled and shook his head again. “Sorry to disappoint you but I’m not going to punch him in the dick. I’m not feeling the vibe.” 

“Fine.” Nobara blew a breath out and shifted on the couch until she could rest her head on his shoulder. Kuro made another noise, stood up, circled Nobara’s lap, and sat back down again. “You’re right. You should get paid to do that shit.” 

A grin twisted Megumi’s lips up. “I know a couple of people who would be into it.” 

She clicked her fingers. “Catharticsm and money. It’s a win-win.” He hummed and Nobara peered up at him with a frown. “What?” 

“What?” 

“You hummed.” 

“So?” 

“It was your “yes but no” hum. What is it? Was it the dick punching?” 

Megumi groaned and shook her off his shoulder so he could sit up. “Please stop talking about punching people in the dick.” 

“Something else is bothering you.” 

He let out a sigh and slunk further down into his seat, gaze fixed on the TV. “I fucked up,” he whispered. “I let somebody drop. I-” the words stumbled over his tongue as he tried to unravel the tangled web of thoughts he’d been unable to shake since his last session with Sukuna. “I wasn’t there . I didn’t stop before it happened or- or help when I should’ve.” An ache started in his chest the more he thought about it and with each passing word across his lips. “The signs were there, Nobara. I should’ve seen it but I just- I left and they dropped and they were a mess .” He chewed on the inside of his cheek, a self hating glare darkening his features. “I’ve never-” 

“Megumi.” 

“-let somebody drop like that. Not that hard and not alone.” 

“Megumi.” 

“He was so broken and it was my fault.”

“Megumi!” He clamped his mouth shut with an audible click. He looked up to see Nobara staring at him, brows drawn to the centre of her face and her lips pressed into a thin line. “Hey,” she said, voice quiet and gentle, “it’s okay.” 

“I’ve never let somebody-” 

“There’s a first for everything.” 

“Nobara.” 

She sighed and did the unthinkable; shooed Kuro from her lap. “Sorry boy,” she mumbled and she sat up onto her knees, palms pressed to her thighs. “Everybody fucks up from time to time, Megumi. It’s a given. Nobody is perfect and in this line of work, it’s easy to overlook and miss things.” 

“But he was so messed up, Nobara. It wasn’t like him.”

“You’ve learnt haven’t you?” Slowly he nodded, still not entirely convinced. “So you know what not to do next time?” He nodded again, edging his gaze away from her eyes. He knew what to avoid and what to look out for now. He knew how to properly take care of Sukuna if they played that hard or deep again. “You’ve talked to your client about this.” 

Did it count when Sukuna was in a shitty headspace? They had talked but Megumi wasn’t certain how much of it really sank in. How much did Sukuna understand of his words and their meanings when he was still battling himself and his inner demons? 

“Megumi,” Nobara whispered, “just because you made one mistake does not mean you’re a bad person. Yes, your client ended up hurt, but you’re going to try to make sure it doesn’t happen again. You’re going to do your best to be better, to learn and improve, and that makes you a good person.”

If you knew half of the stuff I’ve done with Satoru, you wouldn’t be saying that . “Nobara,” he whispered.

“It’s the truth.” She grabbed his arm with both of hers and snuggled into his side. “Please stop beating yourself up over it.” 

He made a noncommittal noise and laid his cheek against her head. She may have had several very good points, but there was that niggling part of his brain that wouldn’t listen to reason. He fucked up, plain and simple. He fucked up so much Sukuna was too disorientated to remember their meeting that night. If it wasn’t for Sukuna’s personal assistant, Megumi wasn’t certain he’d have seen Sukuna at all. It was almost as bad as it got and Nobara was unaware of the whole truth. 

A small buzz in his pocket grabbed his attention and Megumi shuffled to pull his phone out. It was a message from an unknown number; Can we pretend last week didn’t happen and go back to normal?

‘Sukuna,’ he thought to himself. 

“Anything important?” Nobara asked. 

“No,” he lied. Technically it was and wasn’t important. He wasn’t on the clock and so wasn’t required to reply to Sukuna’s question, but he had given Sukuna his number to contact him in an emergency. He read over Sukuna’s message again and frowned. It wasn’t an immediate emergency, but it sounded as though Sukuna was embarrassed. Or as if he wanted Megumi to pretend it didn’t happen. Either way, it was clear last week still affected Sukuna and Megumi couldn’t just ignore it. Sukuna came across as the type of guy to hide his insecurities until they bit him in the ass, which was exactly why neither of them could pretend nothing was wrong. 

Megumi used one free hand, the other still secure in Nobara’s grasp, to slowly type a response. We can’t pretend it didn’t happen but I can be prepared for different levels of intensity to match how you feel when I arrive. 

I want normal. 

We’ll decide when I arrive.

I’ve already decided, I want normal.

Megumi sucked in a deep breath, scowled at his phone, and locked it, letting it fall between the cushions. Normal. There wasn’t anything normal about Sukuna and their sessions together. Despite his reputation as a hard ass who didn’t screw around, he didn’t regularly belittle his clients, not to the same extent that Sukuna enjoyed. And he couldn’t recall the last time he split somebody’s lip or put cigarettes out on their skin during a scene. There wasn’t anything normal about their time together, about anything they did, and Megumi pressed his lips together, thinking. 

All of his toys were still unpacked and sat in their respectful drawers. He needed them for his job and they would be one of the last things to be packed away. Megumi worked through a mental list of what he owned, putting various items together, and creating different scenarios in his head for what could happen later on. He wanted to ease Sukuna back into it at the very least, let him slowly find his way to a stable footing. In his opinion, jumping straight back in at the deep end was the very wrong choice to make, but then again, Sukuna wasn’t a normal client. 

He chewed on the inside of his cheek as he stared at the TV. He only paid half of his attention to it and Nobara’s running commentary, the other half of his attention caught instead by Sukuna, wondering what exactly he was going to do to him. 

At first, Megumi considered meeting Toji at a cafe. Let the noises of the room fill the quiet air and use their mugs as suitable distractions when things become too awkward. But the idea of talking in a room where chairs almost touched one another and you could hear stranger’s conversations didn’t appeal to him. Not considering everything. Instead, he opted for the park, the same park he brought his dogs to. They could burn some energy off whilst Megumi talked to his father. 

Two birds, one stone. 

It was where he currently found himself, settled on a bench with ginger tea in one hand and his phone in the other. He’d sent directions to Toji’s phone with instructions on where he sat so all Megumi had to do was wait. If his father turned up, well, they would cross that bridge. If he didn’t show up, Megumi might consider never speaking to him again. Block his number and go about his life the same as he had been doing before that letter; as if Toji wasn’t there. 

For now, he sipped on his drink, watched his dogs, and tried to enjoy the weather whilst he tried to chase away the anxiety knotting his stomach. 

Ten minutes had barely passed before Megumi’s peace was interrupted by somebody sitting on the bench next to him. He side eyed the strange, only to immediately freeze and stare. Toji was taller than Megumi expected. He always thought the obscene height he remembered his father having was because Megumi had been so little, but no, the guy was tall . He bent his legs awkwardly as he sat, the bench a little too low and small for him. But he looked the same, or similar. A few more wrinkles then Megumi remembered and slithers of grey crept through Toji’s hair. But it was undeniably him. “You came,” Megumi said, turning to look back for his dogs, ignoring the tension strumming Toji’s shoulders high. 

“You got my letter.” 

Megumi snorted, unable to contain the noise. “Yeah, I got it. I moved out by the way.” 

Toji hummed. “I figured, but I didn’t exactly have your new address.” 

“Not sure you’ll get that address either.” 

Out of the corner of his eye Megumi watched Toji nod with a slow breath. “I won’t hold it against you, dumpling.” 

Silence took over then, neither of them quite able to find the right words to carry on talking. Megumi’s left leg started to bounce as nerves crept into his muscles, mind struggling to hold onto one single string of coherent thought. What was he supposed to say? Where did he start? How much did he say? How much did he keep close to his chest for another? Would there even be another time? As the seconds dragged on into minutes, Megumi stole glances in Toji’s direction and back to the park, trying his best to keep track of his dogs. They were still enjoying themselves across the way; Kuro had a stick in his mouth and Shiro chased him in circles for the same stick. Eventually Shiro caught up and they wrestled across the grass before Shiro snatched the stick and made a run for it. 

They were going to need baths after this, which would be hell. Shiro loved baths whilst Kuro hated them. 

“You look good.” 

Megumi bit the tip of his tongue and looked to Toji with one raised brow. “You look old.”

A short laugh rumbled through Toji’s chest and he shook his head. “Ouch. Alright, anything else you wanna add in there?” 

“I could think of a few.” 

“Well-” and Toji turned his head to meet Megumi’s gaze. He saw himself in his father’s face, saw the  resemblance clear as day, and it hurt. When he was young he remembered looking up to Toji and thinking the world of him. There was a memory somewhere about the time Megumi asked how he grew up to be just as big and brave as his daddy. Another memory crashed into his mind about wanting to dress up like daddy one halloween, scribbling a pen across his mouth to imitate the scar Toji had. Vague recollections of being tucked in at night, kisses to his forehead, and a “Love you, dumpling,” filled his head. 

But so did other memories. 

Toji hesitating to pick him up when Megumi demanded it. The reluctance to wipe away his tears when he’d fallen over and scraped his knees. The second glances and pained looks he thought Megumi wouldn’t notice. The nights where he sent Megumi off to bed on his own, to tuck himself in and chase the dark shadows away himself with fear in his heart and shaking hands. The mornings where he saw Megumi to the school gates without so much as a wave or a smile. And the evenings where Megumi crept to his father’s room to find him hunched over the edge of the bed, a picture of Megumi’s mother in hand, and a whispered confession that he can’t do this without her. 

What hurt Megumi the most perhaps however, was the pained expression Toji wore right now. The pursed lips as he told Megumi, “-don’t hold back.” 

Toji was hurting. 

This entire thing was painful for the both of them and Megumi inched closer along the bench, trying to physically close some of that gap that lingered between them. He gave the park a cursory look, wanting to ensure they had some semblance of privacy, before he said, “How’d you meet, Emi?” 

“That’s what you want to start with?” 

Subconsciously Megumi cut a glare across to him. “Where do you want to start then?” 

Toji opened his mouth, closed it, and looked away. He clicked his tongue, sighed and shrugged a shoulder, throwing one arm over the back of the bench. “Yeah, okay. Got me there. Emi though?” 

“You liked her at one point right?” 

“Yeah.” Toji blew a breath through his lips. “Yeah, I did. I think.” 

Megumi shook his head. “Really selling it there.” 

“Know what? You lose your wife and see how you feel about other women after that.” 

Megumi held his tongue. His father had a point. If Megumi lost the love of his life and was left to bring up a child under five on his own, he wasn’t sure how well he’d do moving on, if he would at all. “Sorry.” 

With a sigh, Toji scrubbed a hand over his face and turned away from Megumi to stare across the park again. “No, it’s- I’m the one who should be sorry.” He let out another breath and sunk his hands into the pockets of his coat, eyes lazily taking in the scenery. “We met at a casino. Not a secret I like to gamble. Your mother kicked me outta the habit but when she- I went back. Met Emi at the roulette table, we flirted, hit it off, fucked around, and, well, ya know.” He shot Megumi a curious look.”She adored you when she first met you by the way. Called you cute and everything.” He let out a small laugh. “You hated it  but it’s why I knew you would be in good hands.”

“Well, the woman hates me now. Pretty certain if she could get away with it she’d kill me too.” 

“Since when?” 

“Since you left.” 

Toji clicked his tongue and quiet lingered after it. “She say why?” he mumbled eventually. 

“Did you take a loan out under her name?” 

He snapped around to face him. “What?” 

Megumi stared him down. “Did you?” 

Toji at the very least looked insulted by the question. “Megumi,” he started slowly, “I may be stupid, but I’m not that stupid. I borrowed, took , a few thousand from Emi’s purse but that’s it. I didn’t-” Toji groaned, slumped forward in his seat and settled his weight on his elbows across his knees. Megumi watched him tap his thumbs together as he stared out across the park, thinking. “I felt like shit walking away from you. The last thing I would’ve done is bring trouble to your doorstep.” A small smile flickered across his lips. “‘Sides, I’m certain your mother would’ve come back from the dead and killed me if I did anything like that.” A frown creased his brows as he tilted his head to look at Megumi. “Why would you-” realisation dawned on him. “Fuck.” 

A sharp laugh rocked Megumi in his seat. “You can say that again.” He lifted his paper cup to his lips and sipped on his cooling drink. There was hardly any warmth left in it but he didn’t feel like wasting it. “She convinced me and Tsumiki it was yours.” 

“I told you, I’m not that stupid.”

“I heard you the first time around.” 

A moment passed, then another. “How is Tsumiki?” 

“Ready to jump ship. Emi was gambling again and Tsumiki’s having to babysit her like a child. She’s tired of it all and wants out.” He tapped a finger against the side of his cup. “She’s going to talk to Emi about moving out.” A sigh sagged his shoulders and Megumi shrugged. “Other than that she’s got a boyfriend who seems nice. Stable job. She’s healthy. She’s good. Just stuck with Emi.” Megumi side eyed Toji, finished his drink, and turned in his seat to give his father his full attention. “When you left, where did you go?” 

There was clear hesitation as Toji’s lips wavered. A heavy reluctance to answer Megumi’s question. It seemed to be forever before Toji sat back up in his seat, propped one arm on the back of the bench, and matched Megumi’s stare with his own. “Home.” 

“Home…” Megumi echoed, “as in…” he frowned, “your parents?” 

“Yeah.” 

Confusion twisted Megumi’s features. “Why? I thought you said they were horrible people?” 

“That’s exactly why.” Toji let out a breath and looked at a spot just past Megumi’s left shoulder as he spoke. “I know I fucked up by leaving like that, without saying anything or trying to explain myself. I took the coward's way out and I’m not proud of it, not by a long shot.” Slowly he looked back to Megumi. “It wasn’t your fault, dumpling. You did nothing wrong. I’m the one who was scared I’d turn out like my parents. It’s their fault, and, by default mine. I needed them to know what they’d done and I guess I wanted to ask my own question. Why? Why did they-” 

Toji swallowed thickly and his gaze wavered away from Megumi all over again. 

When Toji next spoke it was in a low voice, almost a whisper. “They almost killed me when I was fifteen. I wasn’t quite living up to the family expectations. So one night they blindfolded me. Drove me out into the middle of the forest that backs up onto their property, you saw it once right?” Megumi nodded, throat already running dry. His grandparents estate was massive and the plot of thick trees, shrubbery and foliage behind their immediate house was impressive. “They left me there. No water, no food, no torch. Nothing. It was the middle of autumn, it was cold, it was wet, it was dark. They told me if I made it home they’d reconsider my position and my usefulness. If I didn’t, they wouldn’t miss me.” 

Megumi blinked. Blinked again, and a third time before he shook his head. “The fuck?” He could vaguely remember his grandparents' faces and he tried to picture them saying all of this to their fifteen year old. Tried to imagine their expression as they instilled such hatred into their own child. 

A tight grimace clouded Toji’s face. “I ended up crawling through the front door with a broken wrist and an infection that almost killed me. Passed out in the doorway and everything. Real kicker? They didn’t even take me to the hospital.” Toji chuckled darkly to himself and slowly shook his head. “Reset the bone, gave me some herbal, crap tasting shit, and told me to suck it up.” 

“Were they-” Megumi swallowed thickly. Maki’s story about why she was kicked out of the family felt tame in comparison to a near death experience. “Did they do that to anyone else?” 

“Oh all of us. Different things too.” Toji let out a defeated breath and ran a hand through his hair. “The moment I could leave I did. Didn’t have a penny to my name so I bummed around a lot. Ended up doing some not so great things, then I found your mom and things were good for a while.” He seemed to contemplate his words before he carried on, voice lower than before. Quieter, almost sadder. “I wanted to know why they were so cruel without reason. I thought- maybe if I knew how not to be like them, how not to think like them, I could go back to and do better.” 

“You did do better,” Megumi whispered. 

A flicker of a smile caught Toji’s lips. “It’s easy to forget kids bruise easily when you’re used to having bruises beaten into you, dumpling.”

“Dad,” Megumi mumbled, the name almost foreign on his lips. Hearing the nickname only Toji used for him made him feel like a child all over and he certainly felt it as he looked up at his father with pain in his chest. 

“Did Emi ever touch you?” 

“No,” he started to shake his head and stopped, a thought creasing his brows. “Well, actually she slapped me. Twice I think? But no, nothing like- like that. Usually she tells me I’m a good for nothing bastard mutt of her child. I’m the biggest mistake in her life and deserve all of the bad things that come my way.” Betrayal screamed from Toji’s face and Megumi shrugged as he looked away from his father, throat feeling too tight. “It doesn’t bother me anymore.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he’d simply learnt to accept Emi’s hatred and not allow it to burrow underneath his skin. 

Across the park, Shiro rolled over for a group of children whilst Kuro busied  himself with rolling in the grass. Megumi was going to need to buy some treats on the way home to make bath time a more pleasant experience for everyone later on. He wasn’t in the mood to clean up puddles from his bathroom floor. 

A sigh rolled through him as he remembered he would be moving. There was one listing he’d found which accepted pets and was perhaps just about in his budget. The only issue he’d seen with it was the fact that it was smaller than his current place, which, with two large dogs, would make the place feel almost claustrophobic. He’d put his name down already, but he was holding out hope something else would pop up in the meantime. If it was all he could find however then he would take. The good news was it was closer to the train station so at least his journey would be slightly quicker. 

And at least he’d have a roof over his head. 

The more he thought about it the more he realised he’d gotten incredibly lucky with his current place. Cheap rent in a central location with pets allowed. Maintenance was pretty much non-existent with Megumi having learnt to manage on his own. Google was a fantastic tool for solving a lot of problems in a pinch. 

He would miss it. It was never meant to be his forever home, but it was a home, even if it was only temporary. He missed it already. 

“Why the park?” 

“Huh?” 

Toji nodded to the greenery that surrounded them. “You could’ve picked anywhere, why here?” 

“You told me I could pick.” Toji gave him a look, feeling as though there was more to Megumi’s choice, and Megumi rolled his eyes. As he sat forward in his seat, he lifted two fingers to his lips and whistled. In an instant both Kuro and Shiro stopped what they were doing, looked at Megumi, and ran across the park towards him. When they were close Toji scooted away from them, pointedly giving them more than enough room to sit by Megumi’s feet. With a raised brow, Megumi rewarded both dogs with head scratches and soft, cooing praises of, “Good boy,” before he looked to Toji. “What’s the matter? Scared of dogs?” 

Toji glared at him. “Everybody’s scared of something.” 

The grin across Megumi’s lips couldn’t be helped and he chuckled, pointing at his feet, silently commanding both dogs to lie down and behave. “They’re good dogs. They don’t bite unless I ask them to.” When Toji relaxed a fraction, Megumi gave him another look and sat back in his seat. “Why reach out now? You said you went home to talk but that was years ago. What have you been doing since? You’ve had all these years but you waited until now.” 

A look met Megumi’s eyes that told him Toji’s heart was heavy with guilt. “I meant it when I said I was scared. I didn’t know how to come back. I left without a word, without saying anything, and I never knew how to come back and explain myself to you. There were just some things you don’t tell an eight year old.” 

“It’s been almost twenty years.” 

“Eighteen years and three months. I’m aware.” 

“It’s still a long time.” 

“Yeah,” Toji mumbled, tipping his head back to look at the sky. “I know. I don’t know what you want me to say, Gumi. I was terrified to come back. Terrified to look Emi, you, or even Tsumiki in the eyes. It wasn’t like I could just rock up like nothing happened.” He blew a puff of air between his lips. “I didn’t get the answer I wanted by the way. My dad passed away the year before I went home and nobody told me. Not like they could. But I had no idea until I rocked up asking questions and he was the one who called most of the shots. Can’t really get an answer from a dead guy, ya know?” 

“But grandma?” 

Toji shrugged. “She wouldn’t say.” 

“So what have you been doing all this time?” 

“Working.” Toji righted his head and looked out across the park again. “Saving up. Trying to work up the courage to see you. I tried to visit when you would’ve been nineteen but you’d moved out by then. I didn’t know where and I was too chicken shit to knock on and tell Emi to her face I wasn’t there for her.” With another breath he reached into his jacket pocket to pull out a cigarette box and lighter. “You mind if I smoke?” 

“I do, actually.”

There was a pause as Toji stared at Megumi  before he shook his head and lit one up anyway. “I’m in security now for some hot shot company down in Yokohama. The pay is decent.” He blew a puff of smoke out and Megumi waved it away. “I was saving up enough to give some to you and Tsumiki, started a couple of bank accounts for you both actually. If you guys want it, it’s there. But if you don’t I get it and my feelings won’t be hurt.” 

“You feel that bad?” 

“Yeah.” Toji snorted and took another drag of his cigarette. “Despite appearances, I’m a very guilty man with a heavy conscious, dumpling. I feel like shit and I don’t know how to apologise. Never really been my forte. Hell kid, I don’t know if anything will make it right or if I can.”

Megumi didn’t have any words to fight that. Even he wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. There wasn’t exactly a handbook for deadbeat dads who came grovelling back to their adult kids. Were they supposed to play catch up every week? Call every Sunday for a chat? Accept the apology and pretend everything was fine? Play pretend at happy families? Continue to fuel the spiteful fire burning in his chest? It was abundantly clear they had varying viewpoints of the world, witnessed it through different lenses, and treated far differently from each other. 

But they were also the same in so many other ways. 

Whilst Toji had suffered physically from his parents, Megumi suffered emotionally the night Toji left. He’d woken the next day to find out Toji was nowhere to be seen and there wasn’t a single word explaining his disappearance. His little eight year old heart broke and he wondered if he’d done something wrong. Emi was a changed woman once they all realised Toji wasn’t coming back and Megumi’s view of the world was forever skewed from that point onwards. Whilst Toji had his body littered with bruises, Megumi had to construct a mental wall to deal with the psychological barrage Emi unleashed on him. 

They were both suffering and desperately wanted to heal. 

How do you fix someone when you yourself are broken? 

The question pulled at Megumi’s thoughts and taunted him. What was the right thing to do at this moment? Did Megumi unleash the barrage of questions clawing at his mind? Did you ever settle down with somebody else? Did you not see any red flags with Emi? Not even one? Are you going to apologise to Tsumiki too? Are you going to let her get in touch with you if she wants to? What are you expecting from this? Why didn’t you say something sooner? Why didn’t you come back? Why did you leave me with that woman? Why didn’t you say anything when you left? Why didn’t you give me an answer before today? Why? Why? Why? 

“Why now?” 

Silence. 

When it became obvious Toji wasn’t going to tell him, Megumi repeated his question. “You’ve had eighteen years. Why now? Do you want something?” 

Megumi struggled to read Toji’s face. The guy stared at his feet, expression blank except for the tiny strain of muscles along his jaw. If Megumi’s job wasn’t about watching people and studying their reactions, he might’ve missed it. But it was there. An answer. A painful one. Something that weighed heavily in Toji’s mind and chest, asking if he really wanted to part with it and include Megumi in on his secret. 

"No,” Toji said eventually.

Megumi wasn’t convinced. “You sure?” 

Toji looked up at him and this time it was Megumi’s turn to be scrutinised. He let out a slow breath and Megumi held his. Toji finished his cigarette, blew a puff of smoke from his lips, and flicked the spent butt to the ground. He stood up from the bench and rolled his shoulders about their joints before shoving one hand into his coat pocket. There was a moment of hesitation before he took a short step in Megumi’s direction and Megumi stared him down. He refused to budge as the guy lifted a hand, paused, and finally pressed it to Megumi’s head to ruffle his hair. “I needed to know you were okay,” Toji whispered. 

“And if I’m not?” 

A strained smile twisted at Toji’s lips. “Then feel free to punish me for my mistakes.” 

Megumi blinked at those words and struggled to find his voice. What was that supposed to mean? Did Toji want him to belittle and insult him? Give him the cold shoulder? Set him up with new meetings only to ghost him? Kick him out of his life for good and never look back? Call him the worst thing to ever exist? Why? Why did Toji want Megumi to punish him? Why was he ready to let Megumi do whatever he wanted to him if it made Megumi feel better? 

“What happened?” Megumi whispered as Toji’s hand slipped away from his hair. 

The smile Toji wore was sad and he shrugged one shoulder, burying his fist in his pocket all over again. “A lot, kiddo. You’ve got my number if you-” He trailed off with a tilt of his head, cleared his throat and nodded before he turned his back on Megumi and walked away.

Megumi let him go. He watched his father leave, watched him hunch his shoulders up to his chin and not even throw a look back to Megumi. A painful pang in his heart hitched Megumi’s breath and he pressed his lips into a firm line, refusing to let his eyes sting. He thought he’d get something from this little shindig, but instead all he received was more questions, and one clawed desperately at his mind. 

What wasn’t Toji telling him? 

Normal . 

The word danced in the back of Megumi’s mind ever since he tried to pack his bag for tonight’s session with Sukuna. After their last meeting he didn’t want to push it, not too much. He wanted to reintroduce Sukuna to the same levels of intensity their sessions were before everything. Yet Sukuna wanted to jump right now, which… sounded exactly like him. 

The little grin crawling up Megumi’s face couldn’t be helped and he ran his fingers over the few items he laid out whilst he pondered various scenarios. It was infuriating. A part of Megumi knew Sukuna could handle jumping back in at the deep end with his eyes closed. With his head held high Sukuna would and could take everything Megumi gave him. But the niggling voice of doubt in the back of his mind kept Megumi second guessing himself. 

With a shake of his head Megumi packed everything into his bag. He could make a final decision when he arrived and saw Sukuna for himself. As he threw the last item in and grabbed the zip, he paused, gaze lingering on a deep green collar with the tags still attached to it. 

Two days ago a pretty display caught his attention and without thinking Megumi wandered into the store to look around. His eyes landed on the green leather thing in an instant. One and a half inches thick, lined with a thin trail of metal studs. A tiny loop adorned the front, perfect for a name tag. Without thinking about it Megumi took it to the counter, paid for it, and slid it into his pocket along with the receipt. 

It wasn’t until he was home with the proof in his very hands that he realised what he’d done. 

Now it sat in the same box as his toys, taunting him, mocking him for his mindless action. But it was also a reminder that Megumi had spent money he didn’t really have to burn. What was more was the frivolous idea of why he’d purchased it, an idea which shouldn’t be anywhere close to entertained. Megumi pulled a face and shoved it towards the bottom of the box. It was a step too much, a line he’d confessed to not wanting to cross again. A concept that meant so much more to him than any session ever could. He should return it and get his money. 

But every time he picked it up and put it back in his pocket, every time he made it to the front door, he stopped. He turned back, threw it back into the box, and he was forced to push it, unsuccessfully, to the back of his mind all over again. 

Megumi tossed the collar back into the box, pulled his bag over his shoulder, and stepped out of his apartment before he could change his mind and pick it up again. 

His journey was just as problematic. With plenty of time to sit and think, that’s exactly what Megumi did. About Tsumiki’s recent announcement that she was going to sit down with Emi and discuss her plans to move out. Toji and potentially meeting him again. His mother and when the last time he visited her grave was. He should visit it again real soon. Moving out. Satoru. Work. Sukuna. Everything. 

He was so absorbed in his thoughts he almost missed his stop and when Megumi stepped onto the platform he needed a few minutes to himself to put his thoughts together. He hunched under the awning of a closed little coffee stand and simply breathed. Tried to force his thought away, tried to calm the swirling rush of anxiety that threatened to spill into his limbs. He tried to reach for one thought, the only one he needed tonight; Sukuna. That was all he needed to worry about right now. Sukuna. Making sure he was fine, making sure he didn’t let Sukuna drop again, and making sure they were in agreement on how they were going to proceed. 

The next train arrived, stopped, and went again. Megumi tightened his hold around his bag with another slow breath as the small crowd of people started to disperse in the direction of the stairs. He stole another minute to himself, waited for a calm to wash over the platform, and finally strode towards the exit. As he walked to Sukuna’s place, he worked through the mental catalogue of what was in his bag and the various scenes he could conduct with them. 

It was enough of a distraction that he found himself in front of Sukuna’s door before he realised it. Another bout of nerves fluttered in his stomach and Megumi did his best to school his features into a familiar and comfortable scowl. He raised a hand, paused, and sighed, frown slipping from his features, before he knocked against the wood. 

A minute passed and Sukuna opened the door. A look crossed his face and in the next moment Megumi witnessed disappointment creep into his features before it disappeared. “Hi,” Sukuna said. 

“Hey,” Megumi whispered. He cleared his throat, shook himself out of whatever trance he was in, and stepped in without waiting for permission. The door closed behind him with a soft click and Megumi gingerly set his bag down. “Look, Sukuna-” 

“This isn’t what I asked for.” 

Megumi turned on the balls of his feet and stared at Sukuna. He hadn’t had a chance to say or do anything. “What?” 

Sukuna’s mouth worked silently as he tried to find his words. He settled for running a hand through his hair and looked back at Megumi with a small frown. “Whatever you’re about to do, it isn’t what I asked for.” 

“It’s necessary,” Megumi ground out, hating how easily Sukuna read him, a small wave of anger flashing through him. “After what happened last time and how-” 

“I’m fine! I’m over it already and you should be too.” 

A war started within Megumi’s mind and eventually he sagged on the spot. He got it. Sukuna wasn’t somebody who dwelled too much on the past. He picked himself up. He wanted to put it behind him and move as if it never happened. He liked how things were before his drop and he wanted to stick to that mindset. He wanted to enjoy himself without Megumi stepping on eggshells around him. Normally, Megumi would agree. Normally, he’d want to move on, get his head back in the game, and act as if there wasn’t a thing wrong. 

But in this sort of relationship he needed to be sure before he moved on. They both needed to be ready. “I can’t be over it and you know that.” 

“Then what the fuck am I paying you for?” 

A muscle behind Megumi’s eye twitched and he pressed his lips together, a glare naturally slipping onto his face. There was no urge to chase this one away and instead, Megumi took a step in Sukuna’s direction. “To take care of you.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “I pay you to give me a good time.” 

“Why are you doing this?”