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In the endless heat of the summer, somehow Megumi’s reached the second year of high school. It's not that Megumi hates going to school - as a matter of fact, he enjoys learning new things, he enjoys seeing his friends and getting out of that household once in a while. Toji Fushiguro makes the apartment unbearable sometimes, with the kind of company he brings over for mahjong, cigarette smoke so thick it settles like a haze in the tiny rooms.
Personally, Megumi’s taken it upon himself to make sure that he and Tsumiki spend as little time as possible in that hellhole, because he's noticed that Toji’s little friends sometimes eye them in a way that Megumi dislikes a lot, especially now that they're growing up.
“Can't you ever get a proper job, old man?” He’d shouted once at the laid back figure of his father, laying in front of their tiny television while munching on melon seeds. “Tsumiki could benefit from cram school-”
“Are you pulling my leg right now?” Toji Fushiguro rumbled from his position on the floor. “Cram school isn't even compulsory, for fuck’s sake - if you guys can't do well in school with the regular classes, then I’ll have to speak to your teachers; clearly they aren't doing enough.”
Megumi had wanted to yell something else, anything else, to get rid of the ugly feeling that began rising sharply in his chest, but Tsumiki chose that moment to appear and effectively diffuse the situation. She put a hand on Megumi’s arm, her expression gentle. “I'm doing alright in my studies now, there's no need for cram school.”
“Yeah?” Toji nodded like he’d been expecting her response, “I knew you would do well. You've always been a smart kid, Tsumiki. Same goes for you too Megumi - and I don't want to hear another complaint from your homeroom teacher this year about getting into fights anymore.”
That feeling that was building inside of him twisted into annoyance - Megumi was not even the instigator of those fights, most of the time. He shrugged off Tsumiki’s hand from his arm, ignoring the look on her face.
“You weren't any better when you were my age,” Megumi remarked, just to say something caustic, to get under Toji’s skin.
To his credit, Toji didn't react at all; he’d simply rubbed the back of his neck, shrugging as if Megumi's words were just another fact of life. “Yeah,” he said simply. “So don’t be like me.”
Megumi’s final reply to that particular conversation ended with him slamming the door.
It's not as though Megumi hates Toji or Tsumiki, or even their little shared apartment that the three of them live in, bereft of their late mother’s presence. It's not as though Megumi detests Toji’s friends, shady as they are. It's not as though Megumi is utterly and totally done with living his life, like some of the other delinquents that loiter around the corner store waiting to beat each other up because their lives have no other excitement.
It's the fact that Megumi’s just…a little tired of everything, that's all.
His fierce reputation in school was one that he’s never had any intention of building in the first place. It just so happened that on the first day of freshman year, a couple of upperclassmen had cornered Megumi for some reason he’d forgotten - probably seeing him as an easy target given his lithe frame - and then Megumi had pummeled them all into the ground, where they’d eaten dirt instead of lunch that day.
After that day, it seemed as though word had spread about him; and with all the delinquents in school sharing a collective brain cell, it was easy to see how they'd practically formed a queue to try and take down Megumi during every break he had.
Most of his teachers and some of his classmates looked at him warily; suddenly Megumi was the type of troubled student that nobody really wanted in their class, despite how well-behaved he was during lessons.
It wasn't until he made friends with Itadori and Kugisaki that school life became more bearable, and his classmates stopped treating him like a regular gangster to be avoided.
Still, as much as Megumi dislikes Toji’s bad habits - dislikes the kind of man he is - he ends up mimicking him more closely than he likes, in the ways he deals with other people sometimes, in things Toji does to decompress in his free time.
Megumi doesn't see himself as a delinquent; he's never been one for fighting or suffering from bad grades, but there's something about standing in an isolated corner of the school with other wannabe gangsters, lighting cigarettes in silence.
Today is even better because there's no one around, and Megumi takes a deep inhale of his cigarette in quiet relief. It's nice to hang out with Itadori and Kugisaki, but sometimes it's good to be alone too, with nothing on his mind except for concentrating on how the nicotine floods his system.
The area that Megumi tends to loiter is the corner where Jujutsu Tech is separated from its neighbouring school with just a simple, wired fence. It's thin and a little flimsy, green wire squares interlocking with each other, a pale imitation of any real attempt to form a proper border.
Everyone knows that one good fight between students from either side can rupture the fence, but no one's really incentivised to do so - the last group that tried needed to cough out actual money to help pay for the repair costs. That particular incident took months, and then suddenly no one felt like fighting in what the school delinquents termed as a “no-man's land”.
Sometimes delinquents from the other side stand there and glare at them; other times, some of the politer (smarter) ones ask if anyone has a spare cigarette.
It really depends on who, honestly.
A long shadow falls over Megumi, blocking out the harsh afternoon sunlight that’s casting over him.
There's a feeling like premonition in Megumi's heart, although he can't explain why; he turns sharply around to see a man, a few paces away.
But not just any man; the tallest man that Megumi’s seen so far is standing on the other end - he's almost two metres tall, if Megumi’s guessing right, his frame broad and solid.
“Boy,” the other man calls out. “Give me a light.”
Megumi resists the urge to stare blankly at the dyed hair, the tattoos, the way the guy doesn't even bother buttoning his shirt properly, with half of his sculpted chest exposed for all to see and gawk.
Even though the man is wearing a set of spectacles, they look more like fashion accessory than anything else. They look expensive, sleek and silver, and slide down a little on the man's high nose bridge when he gives Megumi an unimpressed look from his lack of reaction.
“You can't be a teacher,” Megumi finally says after an eternity. “And from Heian High-?”
“Don't make me repeat myself,” the man says, peering down at him, “I'm friends with teachers from your school.”
Megumi dumbly reaches into his blazer pocket and hands over the plastic lighter through the fence. Somehow, instinct is telling him that life would be much easier if he’d just go along with this bullshit for once.
No words are exchanged while the man concentrates on lighting his cigarette, and Megumi watches the way the man’s fingers flex around the white plastic of the lighter, large hands that will probably feel rough and calloused if he rubs them along the sides of Megumi’s body.
Inwardly, Megumi hopes that it'll be the end of it - but luck isn't on his side today.
“Fushiguro Megumi,” the man idly comments, after a brief exhalation of smoke. Somehow, the way his deep voice curls around the syllables of Megumi’s name makes him feel a little warm, all over. “Nice name.”
Megumi’s hand instinctively comes up to cover his name tag, although it's too late for anything. Shit. “What do you want?” He snarks, his age old habit of becoming defensive kicking in, the moment he feels threatened.
“Nothing,” the man replies, but his stare is a little too pointed, a little too sharp, for Megumi to feel anything but anxious. It feels as though he's a prey animal, being stared down by a hungry tiger.
“You'd better get to class soon.”
The lighter is tossed through the cracks of the fence, and Megumi catches it deftly. Annoyance brews inside of him for some reason, something that feels weirdly like disappointment after anticipating… something.
Megumi doesn't know what he was expecting, but he simply stands and walks quickly out of there, as though the encounter never happened. He purposely avoids looking at the man standing at a distance, even as he rounds the corner, to safety at last.
In the empty corridors of Jujutsu Tech, Megumi looks down and realises that he's been clutching his lighter so tightly that his palm has started to sweat.
…What a fucking weirdo. Megumi better not see him around again.
He finds out the name of that man, a few weeks later, to his great displeasure.
School girls talk, school boys talk, but delinquents love, love, love talking the most. Sometimes, Megumi wonders if this is another excuse for all the little bastards in the school to get together just because they're nosy little ladies in disguise.
Apparently, the man’s name was Ryomen Sukuna - he wasn't lying about being a teacher at Heian High at the very least, because the class 2A delinquent twins were all too happy to confirm it for him. Ryomen Sukuna was a history teacher, who was well-known to be a hard ass when it came to discipline, despite his looks.
But most importantly-
“Streets are saying that Ryomen Sukuna used to be yakuza.”
Megumi raises an eyebrow at the freshman punk in front of him. “He looks like a gangster, but I'm not sure if he's yakuza - how’d he get out, then?”
“Eh, I'm sure he's into some shady shit, Fushiguro! Look, the other day, Sachi and the boys saw him around Kabukicho district at night. He's definitely up to no good. You said you spoke to him the other day, right?”
“Yeah,” Megumi says, “but it wasn't anything much. I didn't even know it was him.”
Punk 1 scratches his cheek, “Yeah, yeah? Be careful, bro. He's nothing good. The other day, we saw him coming out of an alley, and when we peeked - I swear, I saw with my own two eyes, a group of punks all knocked out cold in the dirt. Granted, those were the punks from Serizawa Academy down the street, so we didn't really give a fuck, but…well. Y’know.”
Megumi drops the butt of his cigarette and crushes it with the heel of his shoe.
“Got it,” he mutters as he turns to leave. His instinct that day was mostly right, after all. “Anyway, we aren't even in the same school - there's nothing to fear as long as we don't provoke him.”
“You never know, Fushiguro!” The punk calls out to his retreating back. “A mad dog bites anyone, any time, yeah?”
Itadori’s waiting for him when he gets back, and he only wrinkles his nose a little at the stench of the lingering smoke on his uniform.
“Information gathering again?” Itadori jokes, grinning when Megumi gives an eye roll. He likes to joke that in spite of what Megumi says, Megumi actually likes hanging out with these punks in their deserted corner, munching snacks and smoking and gossiping - “It's like your weekly catch up with your friends! It's kinda cute, like those old ladies that like to gather at the cafe down the block for coffee and chit-chat.”
“It's about Ryomen Sukuna,” Megumi says, ignoring the jab. “They're saying he used to be yakuza. Thoughts?”
“He's hot,” Kugisaki chooses this moment to materialise, plonking her bag right on top of Megumi’s desk. “I've seen him before - the girls talk about him; he's real popular.”
Itadori tilts his head to the side like a bewildered puppy, like he's prone to do whenever there's an activity that involves actual thinking. “Is he? Do you have a picture?”
Kugisaki nods wisely, like a sage that was expecting this response. “C’mon, c’mon! I'm not Kugisaki Nobara for no goddamn reason…I've got an exclusive picture of him right here - look, I had to even trade some melonpan for him!”
All three of them peer closely at the image that Kugisaki whips out on her brightly pink mobile phone.
Megumi squints at the image.
It’s not a bad picture per se, in the sense that he can tell it's Sukuna in the frame, with his broad shoulders and head full of dyed hair. But the photographer only managed to catch his back view, and the photo itself is a little blurred, like their hand was trembling when they took it.
“Was this honestly worth one melonpan?” He asks Kugisaki.
Kugisaki flips him off with a loud, “Fuck off, Fushiguro! You don't understand anything about girls at all! And for your information - it was two melonpan that I gave up for this!”
Itadori, his bestest, sweetest friend, tries to diffuse the situation as always. “He looks great,” he says with a thumbs up that doesn't really help to emphasize his point in any way. “Like…big. That's your type, Kugisaki?”
Kugisaki’s face screws up in disgust. “Hell no,” she says, “I'm charging girls actual money to get this photograph - once I get more photos of him I'll sell it as an entire album for 2000 yen.”
There has to be something said about the way Megumi relaxes the same time Itadori slumps in relief after hearing those words, with him blurting out, “Oh, thank god the usual Kugisaki is back. For a second, I thought I lost you.”
“What the fuck did you just say?!”
And so with each passing day, Megumi learnt a little more about Ryomen Sukuna, against his will.
Megumi’s honestly not really bothered by the whole thing - he’s hardly spoken to the man after all, so there's no reason to fear of offending him - in fact, Megumi did him a favor, so there!
So, it's not until Megumi’s wandering around Kabukicho himself, that causes him to bump into Ryomen Sukuna again.
For all that he insists on not being a delinquent, Megumi allows himself to be dragged out for a night’s worth of underaged drinking and karaoke - and of course, clubbing with fake IDs provided to the bouncer.
The punks at Jujutsu Tech are normally pretty chummy with the bouncers of a few clubs, because they're usually someone’s cousin or older brother or uncle or whatever - in any case, they don't really encounter any problems when they decide to go drinking and clubbing.
Black Box is the usual spot that Megumi ends up going to; the music is usually bearable even if they slip in a little early before the DJ is fully warmed up, and the drinks are about 200 yen cheaper than the other bigger clubs.
Vodka shots burn down his throat when the other punks pass them to him, and in a flash, they've all disappeared into the crowd of dancing bodies, thumping along to the beat.
He bobs his head idly, following the music mindlessly as he grabs another tequila shot from the abandoned tray. It's therapeutic in a way, to come here with nothing but thoughts of enjoying the music, just freely letting go of himself.
Someone grabs a hold of his hips, grinding into him; Megumi can make out that it's a man, through the sheer height of him, as well as something hard that rubs against the cleft of his ass as the music pounds.
Megumi spins around; it's not that he doesn't like the idea of someone grinding on him - hell, the way the man’s hands dwarf his hips is starting to feel too good - but Megumi’s just not ready to lose his virginity in the middle of a shady club.
Hell, he's never even had a boyfriend before, not even Itadori or Kugisaki know that Megumi’s gay.
But when he finally faces the man properly, there's a moment where Megumi stills, looking at him in surprise. The club is dark, its dim with flashing lights, but Megumi can still make out that it's fucking Ryomen Sukuna in front of him.
It's him, it has to be him - Megumi knows that there's nobody else that is so tall, a monster of a man, towering over Megumi, his frame so broad and wide that Megumi cannot even peek over his shoulder to see where his friends are.
In the club, Ryomen Sukuna looks decidedly different from his teacher persona; he's not wearing his spectacles anymore, and the lack of glass on his face makes him look even more dangerous. Ryomen Sukuna is dressed to match the darkness of the club, all silky black, exposing a generous amount of skin on his chest, with the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms as well.
Him standing in front of Megumi makes Megumi feel horribly underdressed - like a boy playing dress up, and finally being caught in front of an actual adult. It would be so embarrassing if Sukuna looked at Megumi properly and realised he was the idiot that gave him a lighter, a few weeks ago.
Would Sukuna recognise Megumi as well…?
Streets are saying that Ryomen Sukuna used to be yakuza.
A mad dog bites anyone, any time, yeah?
Megumi takes a step back.
He doesn't know whether it's out of fear of being discovered that he's not supposed to be here, a minor in a club, or if it's the fact that all those little facts his delinquent friends have drilled into him have suddenly chosen this exact moment to flit through his mind, like a warning broadcast, flashing red alarms.
This was a bad idea, he needs to leave, now-
And then, Sukuna looks down, into his eyes, and Megumi feels like a rabbit that's been ensnared by a trap, metal teeth digging painfully into his leg. His heart feels like it's beating out of his chest for some reason, and Megumi-
Megumi runs.
There's no logical reason to do it - in fact, Megumi knows as he's pushing through the throng of people, that running away from Ryomen Sukuna is a monumentally bad idea; in the first place, Sukuna might not have even remembered him from their tiny little encounter.
And now he looks suspicious, or that he's doing something wrong, or whatever, but in any case Megumi’s flight instinct had been too strong to resist taking off immediately.
It's too late to second guess himself as he's peeling out of the doors of the club, trying to move as fast as possible without drawing the bouncer’s attention. It's around 2AM now, and the only people outside are drunkards wandering around in their own world, so Megumi isn't too worried about that.
His sneakers drag against the concrete as he rounds the corner into the alley behind the club, his chest heaving as though he’d just run a marathon. Megumi’s jewelry jingles softly as he moves to stand under a lamppost, fumbling for his cigarettes and lighter.
God, he needs a smoke.
Everything about him feels too stiff from the shock earlier; even his fingers take a few seconds to light up the cigarette properly, his hands shaking a little. Megumi doesn't understand why he's feeling so rattled just seeing Ryomen Sukuna again - it's not as if he's worried about getting complaints to his homeroom teacher or getting detention.
He exhales softly, the nicotine acting like a solvent to clear his muddled mind.
So what if he saw Ryomen Sukuna at the club? Megumi tries to reason with himself, staring at a grimy stain on the wall. Sukuna probably didn't even see him properly, probably thought he was someone else. Hell, he'd even tried grinding on Megumi, he definitely didn't know it was him-!
In any case, it wouldn't really matter-
“Fushiguro Megumi,” a voice calls out.
It's in the middle of summer, but all of a sudden it feels as cold as a winter's night, from the way Megumi recognises that deep timbre, the low smooth voice that he’s thought about more often than he should have, since that day.
Megumi turns around to see Ryomen Sukuna walking towards him, his gaze trained on him. Outside of the club, Ryomen Sukuna looks even more handsome, the warm lighting from lamp posts outlining his sharp features.
A few strides with his long legs cover the meagre distance between himself and Megumi; Ryomen Sukuna, rumoured yakuza, current Heian High teacher - stands and stares Megumi down.
Megumi swallows hard, trying to fight off his nervousness.
Does Sukuna want to scold him? Perhaps he’ll even beat Megumi up like how he did to those punks from Serizawa Academy.
But most importantly - how did Sukuna even remember Megumi, in the first place? They'd hardly spoken to one another.
“Fushiguro Megumi,” Ryomen Sukuna says again, and it's a little strange hearing his name pronounced in such a way, rolling off Sukuna’s tongue, like he's savouring it somehow. “Are you listening? What are you doing here? You're not supposed to be here.”
Megumi mentally flounders for a second, before deciding to lie - “I don't know who you're talking about, but please leave me alone.”
“Please,” Sukuna snorts, and then he pulls out a pack of his own cigarettes. “Light one for me.”
It's an order, not a request, and Megumi is hit with such a strong feeling of déjà vu that he bristles.
“Don't tell me what to do.”
Ryomen Sukuna moves faster than Megumi’s brain can process; the alcohol swirling in his brain is definitely not helping his reaction time, but before he knows it, there's a huge hand fisted in Megumi’s hair painfully, yanking up his head to meet Ryomen Sukuna’s glare.
“I told you before,” he says with a sort of slowness that emphasises the underlying current of danger, “I don't like to repeat myself.”
Megumi cannot turn away or even move his head - he opts to glare at Sukuna, though his eyes are starting to tear a little from the pain on his scalp.
“Get lost,” Megumi says, because he's not a fucking pussy, despite Sukuna being nearly twice of his width and height.
There's a moment of tense silence, and then Ryomen Sukuna finally releases him with a, “Belligerent brat,” and lights his own cigarette himself with a huff.
The smoke cascades over Megumi’s head, like a little cloud as Ryomen Sukuna exhales. “What would your family think if they see you here, eh? This isn't the place to be for young punks.”
Great, Megumi wants to roll his eyes. The big scary yakuza wants to go into teacher-mode and nag at Megumi now.
“It's none of your business,” Megumi says simply, watching the other man, “we don't know each other - you're not even a teacher at my school. We're strangers. Just leave me be.”
He waits for a round of scolding from Ryomen Sukuna, or even a threat to bash his head against the grimy stain on the wall, but nothing comes. The only thing that Ryomen Sukuna does is watch him silently, smoking his lit cigarette.
“Strangers?” Ryomen Sukuna echoes, and there's a glint in his eye that Megumi admittedly does not like. “I guess we could pretend we are strangers meeting at this club for the first time. What would you do to introduce yourself?”
Megumi shoots him a half-incredulous look. “I wouldn't introduce myself, and I'll be going, right now.”
He turns to walk away, but a hand shoots out and grabs his wrist firmly, an iron-clad grip.
“What are you-”
Ryomen Sukuna drops the cigarette butt on the ground, squashing it easily with his shoe, a practiced movement. His eyes look dark and predatory for the first time since Megumi’s spoken to him.
“That's a lie, isn't it?” His voice is soft, curling around the question. “You wanted to get to know me better.”
A harsh yank, and Megumi’s dragged in close suddenly, his shoulder hitting the firm chest of Ryomen Sukuna.
Up close, Megumi can smell the faint scent of his cologne, like bergamot with a mix of something spicy. It’s strangely intoxicating somehow, like Sukuna’s scent is making Megumi feel even more drunk than he currently is.
“...If you didn't, why'd you grind down on my cock like a little slut?”
A flush comes over Megumi’s face, like all the blood in his body is rushing to his face. “What, what the hell did you just say-”
“I'm saying,” Sukuna leers at him, “that you wanted it. You know that, and I know that, so why not let's get acquainted?”
Megumi can feel the hard line of Sukuna’s body flush against him, warm and firm, and there's something hard somewhere low as well, which Sukuna decides to shamelessly emphasise by grinding his hips against Megumi once more.
“Stop, stop that!” His voice is high and reedy like it's never been before, and for a moment, Megumi can't even tell that it's coming from himself.
But Ryomen Sukuna does not listen to Megumi’s weak protests, as he grabs the back of Megumi’s neck, and swallows all of his words, his mouth hot and insistent against Megumi’s lips.
There's someone moaning - and Megumi blearily realises that it's coming from him, soft obscene sounding noises as Sukuna’s tongue finds its way into his mouth, a warm intrusion, saliva escaping the sides of their mouths.
Every nerve in Megumi’s body feels like it's on fire, from the way Sukuna grabs a hold of him so tightly, as though he's afraid that Megumi will break free and run away. Ryomen Sukuna’s hands are as large and as calloused as Megumi had imagined them to be, like a hot brand against his skin, possessive somehow.
One hand roams against the side of Megumi’s torso, only to reach up and pinch his nipples, which have hardened from arousal.
“Sukuna-” Megumi tries to struggle, the pain mixing with the spike of pleasure in his body, but Sukuna’s grip prevents him from moving.
“Is that how you address your teachers, brat? I'm Ryomen-sensei to you,” Sukuna’s voice is hoarse next to his ear, and he begins to kiss and lick Megumi everywhere, tonguing him from the exposed flesh on Megumi’s neck to the sensitive area behind his ear.
Megumi twists around, just enough to make eye contact with Sukuna, “Sensei,” he whispers, “it's too much already.”
“Fuck,” Ryomen mumbles, his bottom lip glistening with the spit that came from Megumi’s mouth. Megumi thinks dazedly to himself, that probably no other student had ever had Ryomen Sukuna’s tongue so deep in their throat before.
There's a sound of a zipper being undone, and then Megumi’s hand is being guided to something hard and warm, something that feels way too big to be-
He tries not to audibly gasp when he looks down at what he's holding, Ryomen Sukuna’s cock, hard and leaking precum, almost as thick as Megumi’s own wrist. There's something glinting on the sides of the shaft, four silver little barbells embedded in a row, lined up neatly like a ladder.
Megumi blinks, as he runs his fingers along the piercings, marveling at the way he can feel the bumps along Sukuna’s hard cock. “Wow,” he says, forgetting himself for a moment. “I've never seen-”
Ryomen Sukuna’s hand reaches out and grabs a fistful of his hair, but his grip isn't too painful this time round. “Boy,” he says, his facial expression strained, “stop fucking around and get on your knees.”
He presses Megumi down, and for some reason, his body obediently goes along - Megumi doesn't know if it's the shock of holding a teacher's cock in his hand, or just a cock in general, or even a pierced one, that's making him strangely compliant.
The view of Ryomen Sukuna, towering over him, cock hard with the row of silver barbells glinting off from the lighting of the lamp post - Megumi will definitely remember this forever.
“Open your mouth,” Sukuna says, and Megumi obliges, his tongue sticking out hesitantly as it makes contact with a cock for the first time in Megumi's life.
“That's it, gently close your mouth and suck softly - you're almost a natural at this,” Ryomen says as he watches Megumi roll his tongue over the piercings, unable to help himself. Megumi can feel his drool getting everywhere on himself, on Ryomen Sukuna, but somehow he doesn't care about anything anymore, too fixated on exploring the taste of a man’s cock. “A real slutty boy.”
And then he's suddenly thrusting in, his cock not allowing Megumi to take another breath as it goes straight to his throat, the silver piercings bumpy against the sides and bottom of Megumi’s tongue, and-
“Fuck,” Sukuna says as he bottoms out in Megumi’s mouth, his cock as though prying open Megumi’s throat, like a hole meant to be used for this, like Megumi’s been saving himself to be used by Ryomen Sukuna, in the middle of a dirty alley deep in the night.
But Megumi’s never felt like this before - it feels as though his entire head is doused in a syrupy haze, his gaze unfocused even as he tries to look back up at Sukuna, his mouth and throat full of cock.
“You look good like this,” Ryomen Sukuna says, and there's something that looks like deep satisfaction in the way he looks at Megumi, even tilting his chin upwards to get a better look of his face. “Boys like you should always be on your hands and knees, receiving cock. That's what you're meant to do, always.”
He doesn't speak anymore, choosing to start thrusting deeply in Megumi's throat, like he wants Megumi to feel the sensation in the deepest parts of him, like he wants to bruise his throat from the inside out, to ruin it so that Megumi can't forget that his mouth and throat was used thoroughly tonight.
The little noises and sounds of exertion coming from Ryomen Sukuna, the face of concentration as he pumps into Megumi - everything feels overwhelming.
Megumi feels as though he's running out of air, even as much as he enjoys the feeling of Sukuna’s pierced shaft hot against the back of his throat, the taste of precum everywhere. He tries to grab the sides of Ryomen Sukuna’s legs, to try and signal that he's suffocating, but Sukuna doesn't appear to listen.
“Take it,” he says as he increases his pace, thoroughly throat-fucking Megumi, his voice deeper than usual. “I'm not stopping until I pour every last drop down your throat, so you'll take my cock even if you faint. Fuck - Fushiguro Megumi, I'll make sure you swallow all my come tonight.”
There's a moment where Ryomen Sukuna’s hips stutter a little, and then he's coming in Megumi’s throat, the cum all sticky and a little salty, staining him from the inside. He pulls his cock out of Megumi's mouth, watching as Megumi lifts a hand to try and wipe away some of the cum that's leaking out the side of his lips.
He rubs the pads of his fingertips against the corner of his mouth, which feels achy and stretched, and they come away with a white stickiness.
“Baby boy, you need to come too, don't you?” Sukuna says, looking down at the hardened tent between Megumi’s legs.
Megumi can feel the little wet patch between his legs, from where his own cock had rubbed its precum all over himself. He shifts a little, still feeling dazed from what he's just done - and to his surprise, Sukuna picks him up with ease off the ground, like he weighs nothing.
“Sensei,” Megumi begins to speak, but his voice sounds raspy, choked off. “I’m-”
Sukuna shushes him, rubbing his thumb against the side of Megumi’s cheek, his expression strangely fond as he stares at him, his gaze soft. “Have you ever done it before? You a virgin?”
Megumi just nods, not trusting his voice to speak.
“Here, brace your hands against the wall,” Sukuna’s voice is warm against his ear, a gentle instruction. “Unbutton your pants - that's right, good boy, and look, you're already so hard and leaking down there.”
There's a hand that comes in between Megumi's legs, engulfing his hard cock, the thumb rubbing in slow circles around the head of his shaft. “Are you about to come soon?” Sukuna asks him, as he pumps his hand in slow, deep movements.
“Mhm,” Megumi mumbles an assent, trying to stop himself from making too much noise, his cock head already too sensitive from Sukuna’s touch.
“Shit, I'm getting hard again; put your thighs together, I won't ruin your hole for now.”
…Thighs?
Megumi looks at Sukuna in confusion, as he presses them together. His legs still feel a little shaky, like a newborn fawn. “Like this?”
Sukuna hums as he runs a hand along Megumi’s sides. “Yeah, and push out your ass more - yeah, that's it, that's a good boy.”
Something hard and wet is pressed in between Megumi’s thighs, and he almost widens his stance again in surprise. “Ryomen-sensei-!”
Sukuna’s hand, the one curled around Megumi’s cock, suddenly begins to resume pumping up and down, increasing his pace.
“I'm going to fuck your thighs now, Megumi,” Sukuna says, as his cock begins to move in and out of the gap between Megumi’s legs. “Be good and hold your legs together - can you feel me moving against your hole and cock?”
Megumi shudders as he feels the hard wetness rub him everywhere below, the friction making him deliciously aroused. He doesn't know what he should do, so he ends up just bracing his weight against the wall as Sukuna starts fucking his thighs earnestly, the sloppy obscene wet noises echoing in the alley.
The sensation that's been building deep inside him ever since Ryomen Sukuna used his throat is starting to reach a peak; Megumi doesn't remember if he shouts or groans, as white-hot pleasure rushes all over him, riding out his orgasm on Sukuna’s hand, which has not stopped pumping him throughout.
There's a grunt and a shudder behind him; and then Sukuna is coming as well, wet and sticky and warm all over Megumi's thighs, dirtying his legs and dripping everywhere.
“You felt so good, baby,” Sukuna hums, trying to wipe Megumi the best he can, before helping to pull up his pants and underwear. “I knew you would feel good - saw your pretty lips wrapped around that cigarette, and I knew you'd be good at this.”
“Shut up,” Megumi does not whine, definitely not, and it's not because he's kind of irritated at himself for semi-losing his virginity in a dirty alley, or the fact that he's just plain exhausted after everything. “And give me a ride home, I can't move anymore.”
Still, Ryomen Sukuna must be in a splendid mood, because he doesn't even chastise Megumi for his tone or demand - he simply directs them to where his motorcycle is parked, a sleek black thing that gleams from a distance.
Megumi eyes the motorcycle, then glances back at Sukuna. Tattoos, piercings, a motorcycle - Tsumiki would gasp if she ever saw Ryomen Sukuna bringing Megumi home.
“What's that look for?” Sukuna asks, grinning. “Scared?”
“You can't let my sister see you,” Megumi says, “or my father. Or anyone, really - there could be problems.”
Ryomen Sukuna grabs two helmets and tosses one to Megumi, raising his eyebrow. “Why not? I'm just a teacher giving a ride to a student.”
Megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes, as he clicks the safety on, the helmet successfully fastened under his chin. “Now that we’re dating-”
“Who says we’re dating?”
Sukuna looks at Megumi as silence falls over the pair of them. His eyes rove over Megumi’s face, before lingering on the buckle of the helmet, and then making eye contact with Megumi again. “Did we say we were going out?”
“You - You bastard!” Megumi chokes out, his face quickly flushing from humiliation. “You made me lose my…it was my first…you need to take responsibility!”
He wants to spit out a few more insults, maybe curse out Sukuna more, but Megumi’s never been the kind of person to go on a rage-filled rant. The emotions churning inside his chest feel as though they've suddenly fallen down through his stomach, like a heavy stone, slightly nauseating.
“And I will,” Sukuna continues, like he hadn't noticed Megumi’s agitation. “But I don't date high schoolers.”
“But you fuck them,” Megumi gathers enough of himself just to snark back. “So where does that leave us, huh?”
Sukuna simply grabs the sides of Megumi’s body, lifting him easily onto the motorcycle, his own body bracketing Megumi from behind, warm and insistent. “I'll come back in a year’s time,” he says, as though everything’s already been agreed upon. “You best be prepared for me when I come for you, graduation day.”
Megumi twists around to make eye contact with Sukuna again, his brow furrowed. “I bet you say this to all the high schoolers you've been fucking, dirty old man.”
A hand comes up to squeeze Megumi’s cheeks, squishing them. “Cute. If you're trying to goad me into actual fucking you this time,” Sukuna drawls idly, “you're close to succeeding. But I still have a bottom line I won't touch.”
He moves around to sit in the front seat, wordlessly signalling to Megumi to hold onto him.
“How do I know you’ll keep your word?” Megumi shoots back, frustration in his voice. “We barely know each other. You'll just forget about me, like everyone does.”
Sukuna turns to look at him. Then he looks away.
“Fushiguro Megumi,” he says.
“Huh?”
“Born on 22 December. Current class in 2-C, grades are above average. Friends with Itadori Yuji and Kugisaki Nobara. Teachers generally note that he's well-behaved in class, but tends to demonstrate unruly behavior outside of school hours. Lack of parental support.”
Megumi feels his blood turning into ice. Was this a fucking report on him…?
“Everyone knows you, y’know,” Sukuna continues, “like, teachers love talking about their students the most. The problem child, the trouble-makers - those are their favorite topics. And I know very well because…your homeroom teacher actually reached out to me. They were worried about you, wanted to have a strong authority figure to guide you properly.
“And so I began to watch you. It wasn't anything much at first; I just needed to understand why were you even hanging out with all those little gangsters in the first place? I've seen you at all the regular hangout spots - I know where all the petty delinquents go. I've seen you at the clubs a few times; how’d you think I knew where to get you?”
Sukuna doesn't look at Megumi anymore. “I watched you, I watched you, and one day - I didn't want to stop.”
Megumi swallows, his throat dry. “And…And now?”
“I'll keep watching you,” Sukuna replies, easy on his tongue, “until the day you're mine to hold properly.”
The night is dark, and it's around 3AM, where only the stars overhead in the skies can hear their conversation.
It feels like Megumi’s heart suddenly remembers to beat again, fast and fluttering against his ribcage like a bird. “I don't know what to say,” Megumi admits, because he's too lost for words, breathless in a way. “This is all too much.”
“That's fine,” Ryomen Sukuna says, shrugging. “You have a year to think about it. Let's go home, yeah?”
Megumi places his arms around Sukuna’s middle, his hands grasping the sides of his shirt tightly. They are sitting so close to one another that he can feel the heat emitting from Sukuna, smell the spiced bergamot cologne that he wears.
“Okay,” Megumi whispers, and the engine starts with a rumble.
They have all the time in the world tonight, and then some more.