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Gojo finds him easily.
He knew that it was time for his favorite song and dance when Megumi hadn’t showed up to dinner—even after Yuuji had texted in the group chat that he made his renowned ginger chicken meatballs—nor did he catch the boy sneakily trying to grab a leftover portion from the tupperware in the fridge in the hours that followed.
Yuuji and Nobara were still playing games on the console in the common room when Gojo slipped by to put that container of leftovers into the microwave. “Midnight snack, Gojo-sensei?” Yuuji asked, without looking away from the screen.
“No, no,” Gojo shook his head. “Going to bring this to Megumi-chan. He must be hungry.”
Yuuji had turned to look at him then, with an unreadable expression on his face. Gojo stared back through the blindfold, waiting for the boy to reply. He had to admit that it was a bit amusing to see his student grappling over his words. Yuuji may be naive and selectively unobservant, but he wasn’t stupid. He had known Gojo and Megumi for almost a year at this point, yet it’s only in the quiet months that followed Shinjuku where he finally started to get some inklings over how deep the relationship between his best friend and sensei ran. And he wasn’t sure how he felt about it at all.
“Okay,” was what Yuuji had settled on. A smile grew on Gojo’s face. Today wasn’t the day for it, it seems. “Make sure he eats well.”
“When do I not?”
And Gojo only feels elation when he walks into his bedroom with the heated food and finds Megumi laying in his bed facing the wall, motionless and tangled in the sheets, even though Gojo knew he was wide awake. Just where he knew he was going to be, even though they hadn’t spoken to one another all day.
It was Megumi’s fault, as it usually was. They had gotten into an argument that morning before Gojo had left for an investigation downtown.
“We should stop,” Megumi had said to him earlier. “Stop this. This is wrong.”
Gojo had a real, genuine laugh. “Why?” He looked up from where he was lounging in bed to Megumi’s gaze as the younger boy was hunched over him, covered in bites and marks of Gojo’s doing. Nothing that could be seen the moment Megumi puts his tech uniform on. “You were so okay with it before. Now you’re acting as if this is only a casual fling. Is that all I am to you, Megumi?”
“Of—of course not, Sato—Gojo-sensei.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Megumi had some new apprehensions about their relationship. Is all. Nothing that Gojo couldn’t mend with just a little bit of sweet talk.
“All of a sudden you want to be right the minute the world isn’t crashing down on us?”
“It’s just—”
“Megumi just has a few screws loose from Sukuna, hm? Don’t worry. I’m here to fix up that pretty little head.”
Megumi doesn’t react when Gojo slides the door shut, or when the older man puts the food on the nightstand. Gojo sits at the corner of the bed and tactlessly grabs the younger boy's shoulder so that he's forcibly turned towards him.
A red-eyed, teary pout is what meets him. Oh, so cute.
“Didn’t eat today again?” Gojo puts on a faux-frown. He doesn’t have it in him to ever really be mad at him. “That’s not good, Megumi-chan. It’s like when you were younger. Still holding on to such bad habits.”
“I’m sorry,” Megumi whispers, voice hoarse from crying the whole day. He extends his arms out in invitation and Gojo wastes no time to gather the boy into his arms.
He coos as he places a large, scarred hand to caress the expanse of his back. “What is Megumi sorry for?”
“What I said earlier, I didn’t mean it like that,” Megumi sniffles, “I was just thinking, you know. The others are starting to catch on and they don't approve… I don't want us to stain your reputation. We rely so much on you now. I don’t want it to cause more trouble than it already has— ”
“When did you ever know me to care about things like that?” Gojo muses, pulls Megumi away slightly so he can take a good look at his boy. He trails his hands through Megumi’s spiky hair, a thumb tracing the two new scars that slash across the right side of Megumi’s face. “I’m not the strongest for no reason. It doesn’t matter what they think, because you’re mine. Aren’t you?”
“I—I am.”
“You’ve been mine since I took you in,” Gojo heaves the boy up, the blanket falling from Megumi’s body to reveal that he isn’t wearing anything but a ragged pair of boxers. He admires his handiwork on Megumi’s skin—the bruises more purple than it had been earlier—as he positions the boy to sit on his lap with his back to Gojo’s chest. “And I don’t like it when things that are mine don’t take care of themselves. Do I really have to do this again? It’s been so long, too. I guess it can’t be helped.”
Megumi only begins to struggle when he feels Gojo's hand slide up from his chest to the base of his throat, applying just enough force so that he can't move without substantial effort. His other hand goes to grab a piece of meat with chopsticks.
He holds it against Megumi’s lips. “Eat.”
Megumi doesn’t move an inch.
“Take a fucking bite, Megumi.”
At that, Megumi starts to really thrash under his grasp. “I don’t want to. M’not hungry.”
And Gojo can’t have that. He immediately triggers a wave of Infinity to keep Megumi in place. Megumi screeches under the pressure.
“Do you enjoy me pushing you down like this?” Gojo asks, Megumi doesn’t respond. “Is that why you were trying to get a rile out of me earlier? And here I thought you’d be a good boy for me. You usually are.”
The hand on Megumi’s throat moves up to his jaw as Gojo forces his mouth open. The older man leans into his space, until his lips touch Megumi’s ear. His own voice reverberates straight into his bones when he speaks again. He finds so much fun in having Megumi this way. “Open up, baby.”
Gojo forces the food into Megumi’s mouth, and the younger boy gags at the contact, but finally starts to chew.
“Now, swallow,” he orders, and moves his hand down back to Megumi’s throat so he can feel the bump that travels down as Megumi does. “Good, good boy.”
He slowly eases his technique up as he sees that Megumi is beginning to cooperate. Unsurprisingly, Gojo feels himself grow harder with each bite, chew, swallow, bite, chew, swallow, as Megumi slowly makes his way through the dish. There’s just something about the way that the boy, always so aloof and closed-off, relents his control over himself to him and only him, with minimal resistance. A grin grows on his face again. Even back then, when this was a regular occurence in their household, he never hid his arousal. Had no reason to.
“You’re sick, Satoru-nii,” Megumi had said then, the first time it had happened, before his voice had dropped.
But now, things are different.
Megumi doesn't call him that name anymore, hadn't ever since he started learning under Gojo’s unorthodox tutelage at the school. It’s all Gojo-sensei this, Gojo-sensei that. Gojo had hoped that it would change as their relationship became more reciprocal over the years, but Megumi was still trying to keep himself at a distance in that way.
Yet, the boy starts to move on his own accord. Dragging his hips back and forth on Gojo’s cock as Megumi’s tattered underwear grows damp enough for Gojo to feel through his own. Gojo has to sneer through his nose at the motions. Megumi has no clue what he does to him. How equal their hold on each other is.
Before he knew it, the container was empty. “I finished, sensei,” Megumi whispers quietly, voice shaky. His breath hitching as the tip of Gojo’s cock bumps his clit. “Are you proud of me?”
“I always am, Megumi-chan,” Gojo sighs, putting the chopsticks down. His technique’s hold is fully lifted. “You missed this, haven't you?”
He nods wordlessly. Gojo coos once again, grabbing his waist to maneuver him back onto the bed so he’s on his knees in front of him. Megumi grabs the pillows as Gojo sits back to drag his underwear down and off of him. He hisses when the cool air of the room makes contact with his damp skin, clenching involuntarily. The action makes a dribble of cum seep out of his pussy and into the sheets. Gojo’s work from earlier in the morning.
Gojo groans at the sight, making quick work of his clothes as Megumi writhes from the cold. Only when he himself is fully bare minus the blindfold does he profess his admiration. “Such a good boy, saving all of me in there for the whole day. Keeping it safe.”
“I wanna be good,” Megumi mumbles in the sheets. “I wanna be so good. It hurts.”
“Why does it hurt, baby?” Gojo asks, concern spreading through his features. Regardless, he takes a hold of his leaking cock and presses its length against Megumi’s hole. “Tell me. I’ll make everything better.”
He starts to rut his cock across Megumi’s folds, coating himself in a perverted mix of slick and cum. The younger boy cries at the slow pace.
“I want more,” Megumi gasps, taking a deep breath like he’s been holding it in for quite some time. “I want to be your boy.”
“You are my boy, Megumi. My good boy. You know that.”
“Not like that. Not as a student or a little brother,” Megumi gasps, reaching a hand behind him to grab Gojo’s cock to align it to his pussy, before pushing himself back and in. It makes both of them cry out. But Megumi pushes through to finish his sentence. “Not-not like that, Daddy.”
Gojo stills at the name. Looks down at Megumi with dark eyes, something terrible coiling at the bottom of his stomach when the boy meets his gaze with one equally as devastating.
He continues. “Y—you killed him, didn’t you? To take his place?”
It was a shortcoming on Gojo’s end that he still hasn’t really shared any details of what conspired between him and Fushiguro Toji. Never seemed to find the right time or the words. But maybe it was fate, for this perfect, perfect moment to have been built up between him and the only thing he truly gets to call his.
Gojo leans down, just to get a bit closer. He finally tears off his blindfold with his free hand, exposing blue irises that glow in the low light, illuminating the light scars that were cleaved all along his complexion. He feels like his Six Eyes have been brought to life again, as it did when he woke up to a new wave of cursed energy in the aftermath of Shinjuku.
“And if I did, Megumi?” He asks with bated breath. Slowly pushes his cock in until he feels himself touch the barrier of Megumi’s cervix.
Megumi tightens his fist at the stretch. “Then y-you should take responsibility.”
“Is that so?”
Gojo’s thrusts are rough and hard off the bat, and Megumi doesn’t hold back for once as he wails and screams loudly enough for it to carry over into the hallway. “Have I not been doing that over the last ten years? Have I not put a roof over your head and food on your plate? Straight down your mouth when you refused it? Given you everything you’ve ever asked for? Have I not fucking spoiled you enough?”
“F-fuck, Daddy, please—”
Gojo’s manic, now. Determined to push the boy over the edge for his incorrect assumptions. “You need to talk to me, baby. I can't believe you went on for so long thinking otherwise.”
He pulls out momentarily, only to hear Megumi’s confused cry before the crack of a slap to Megumi’s pussy rings throughout the room. It makes the boy’s legs shake and give out under him, and Gojo takes the opportunity to push him down into the mattress before bullying his way into that tight heat again.
“I-I’m sorry, I’m sososo sorry,” Megumi sobs, hiccuping from the bounce of the mattress beneath and the pressure of his full stomach. “You’re my everything. W-was just scared. My everything, Daddy—”
The way that Megumi gasps out in those punctured, short breaths lets Gojo know that the boy is close. “You know why that is, Megumi? It’s because I took away everything else.”
And does that bring Gojo a sick, sheer thrill. Years to get to this point where he’s made this boy pliant and open and vulnerable. For his taking.
He snakes a hand to Megumi’s front until his fingers find the nub of his clit, pressing painful, hard circles around it until he feels the Megumi tighten up so hard that it brings Gojo to the brink as well.
“And you want me to keep you like that, right baby? So come.”
At command, Megumi tenses, words all dried up as his mouth opens in a silent cry as his body begins to shake in climax. Gojo feels fluid beginning to hit his pelvis and leak onto the duvet as he continues to fuck Megumi through his orgasm.
His boy’s eyes open as a crystalline tear slips out, and the picture is what finally sends himself over the edge. He coats the walls of Megumi’s womb in his spend, refusing to let up even when Megumi’s voice comes back to him and tells him to Daddy please, stop, it hurts— because he just has to lay his claim. He'd never thought that killing Fushiguro Toji would lead to this, but he knew after it all to never question the blessings that he got.
Only when Gojo completely drains himself does he finally lay down on his side to face Megumi. The boy was looking back in a daze, flushed and fucked out.
“Kiss me?” He asks in a soft voice, still shy after everything.
Gojo purrs at how adorable he is, and obliges in his request as he gathers him into his arms and laces him into a languid open-mouth kiss.
When he pulls away, Gojo cups the palm of his hand on Megumi’s cheek. “I better do something. Brand you or have you leashed, so everyone knows who you belong to.”
And he knows he truly owns Megumi and everything that he is when he only nods and nuzzles into his touch without protest.
His perfect little boy.