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Megumi finds himself stumbling into Toji’s bedroom, flipping through papers haphazardly. The gun safe in his closet the only other thing to enter his thoughts since Yuuji broke up with him. Deranged and low on sleep, it’s been barely a week since Yuuji has last spoken to him. A week since Yuuji has called him to hurl insults at him for being a sleazy, abusive piece of shit only to send him a text message that he wanted to see him later that night. Yuuji hasn’t said a word back to him since that final conversation.
Megumi thought Yuuji would always stay by his side no matter how many times he kicked him when he was down. Megumi assumed Yuuji’s loyalty was unwavering even when he Megumi would say cruel words to him over the phone as he was screaming and begging Megumi to just please listen to him.
Yuuji’s voice would be raw, broken and just a slew of insults by the time Megumi would hop into his truck and pick him up from his house. He’d be overwhelming sweet to him, carry his spend-the-night bags into the cab, open the door for Yuuji who wouldn’t look his way the entire ride. Megumi remembers Yuuji wouldn’t ever put on his seatbelt when he was pissed at him. His knees scrunched to his chest, glaring at him passively in the reflection in the tinted windows. He’d never think he’d ever had the chance to miss the fiery hated in Yuuji’s eyes. Yuuji always came back. Always.
The fact that he is living in a day and age where Yuuji doesn’t come crawling back to him with his tail tucked between his legs is unbelievable. If someone asked him after any major fight he and Yuuji had, he’d tell them, “Yuuji will call me in two days time. He just needs to cool off.” He wasn’t the type of guy to get stood up, not the type of guy you just ignore. So, when it actually happened, Yuuji didn’t even text him so much as a creative string of words all meaning ‘fuck you.’, ‘die.’, ‘I know that bitch isn’t better than me.’ Megumi doesn’t know what to do with himself.
It makes him feel sick to his very core. He can’t eat, sleep, or function without Yuuji in his life. He feels empty, dull. So much for Yuuji being the pathetic one. It was always him who was the worthless one in the relationship, and Yuuji was finally smart enough to open his eyes and see that. Megumi couldn’t be without Yuuji’s warmth this long. He just toyed with Yuuji enough so he’d never realize that and realize he has all the power. It was never Megumi.
He just needs to prove to Yuuji that they’re meant to be. Yuuji’s just confused about it all. That realization becomes clear as day the moment the cool metal of his father’s gun is in his hand. He slips it into his hoodie pocket, putting on a tattered baseball cap as he walks out of his empty home. Yuuji will understand what Megumi is feeling soon enough too. He just needs to show Yuuji they’re soulmates. Even if it’ll scare him a little, Yuuji will find it in his heart to forgive Megumi. He always does. This time he’s just being stubborn. He just needs a little push.
The entire car ride was a daze to Megumi, parking in some side street a block from Yuuji’s house. He’d recognize his truck from just a glance. He’s been in it more times than anyone else, fuck, he was there when he got it for his birthday. The memory sits bitterly in Megumi’s throat. He has all the harmful quirks of Yuuji’s shitty old house memorized. Late nights sneaking in when Yuuji’s mom had an odd night off and didn’t want Yuuji bringing megumi over. He walks to the side of the home where Yuuji’s bedroom window is. The frame in the screen broken from how many times they’ve popped it off.
He usually would be gentle about it, setting it on the hedges that surround Yuuji’s home. This time he just rips it straight off, breaking it for good. He presses a large palm against glass covered in stickers and random doodles, sliding it open with ease. Typical, Yuuji was always a bit of an airhead when it came to safety no matter how much Megumi would scold him about it. That’s why Yuuji needs Megumi back in his life. Who would be there to guide him, remind him about these mundane tasks. What if Megumi was a bad guy? Yuuji would get hurt.
He clambers over the neglected hedges through the less than ideal gap in the window for him to crawl through. He falls onto Yuuji’s bedroom floor with a thud, knocking the wind out of him from his less than graceful fall to not knock anything over Yuuji’s desk. It’s empty. Yuuji’s not here, not in the shower. He flings his bedroom door open and rushes into the living room. Yuuji’s not there either. Maybe it’s a good thing Yuuji’s not home right now, but holy fuck, who is he with if he’s not with Megumi. He was always with Megumi, or he’d be home with his friends if Megumi was busy.
Panic begins to rise in his chest, trudging back into Yuuji’s room, he closes the door and sits at the edge of the bed he missed oh-so-much. Yuuji’s outline still visible from where he lounged around till he’d have to leave, crumpled messy sheets that smelled so wonderfully like him. It’s the same, maybe messier than he remembers. Did Yuuji really not miss him that bad?
All that Megumi can focus on despite all the negative emotions brewing in his head is Yuuji— Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji. Why isn’t he home? Where the fuck is he? Why doesn’t Megumi know? He pulls the gun out of his pocket. It’s a heavy, tangible weight that wonders how it’d feel to really shoot. He knows better than to do this— Toji taught him better— Megumi still finds his finger itching to curl around the trigger. Instead, he lays it horizontal to it. He methodically taps on it to the tune of a song Yuuji often sang to him. His voice hoarse trying to replicate the softness in Yuuji’s.
He could walk away from this, bury it deep, pretend that nothing ever happened. Except, Megumi has never been like that to begin with. He isn’t the type to forget or forgive easily. He needs to see why Yuuji’s ignoring him. He needs to see that fuck he’s been seeing on the side since he’s too busy to even text megumi ‘fuck you’. He needs to see the panic and horror in both their faces when Megumi points the barrel down at them.
He acts the scene out in his head, point his gun at the door. The tattered band poster on the back his mark, shutting one eye to look down the iron sight. He wonders if Yuuji is really seeing some other guy. He would point the gun at him first, hoping Yuuji wouldn’t react poorly. He doesn’t want to see him freak out— or god forbid cry— over someone other than him. “Bang.” He mouths, flicking his wrist up as if the kick back of the gun rang through his body.
Yuuji opens the door at the same time he mouths the words, alone. He’s holding a plastic bag in his right hand, a lollipop hanging in the corner of his lips. The smile wiped clean off his face as he shrieked. The bag dropped with a loud thud, drinks and snacks spilling onto the floor without any care for a mess. He doesn’t know how to handle the situation, neither of them do.
“Hey, sweetheart.” Megumi breaks the silence first.
Yuuji’s bottom lip shivers. He looks behind him, trying to take a step back. Megumi’s itchy forefinger finally curled around the thin metal trigger. “Aht, Aht, don’t think about running.” He coos, sickeningly sweet. “C’mere, sit down.” Yuuji jolts, eyes squeezed shut muttering some incoherent prayer to himself. His hands brought up to his chest.
He’s shaking so sweetly. Megumi can feel a part of him wanting to soothe Yuuji, press kisses along his teary face. Tell him that it’s gonna be alright, he’s not going to hurt him. He wants to, but he doesn’t. He swallows the words creeping up his throat, watching every little step that Yuuji takes towards him. It’s not the stride that he’s used to seeing. It’s not his Yuuji who is so eager to kneel between his spread thighs and palm at his hardened cock through his sweats. It’s not his sweet Yuuji who is squealing and running over to him for a hug after he’s spoiled him rotten.
Everything about the Yuuji approaching him is different, beyond different. It feels strange to Megumi, but he likes it— hell, maybe even adores how utterly weak Yuuji looks right now. He drags his eyes up to his face, master bulging on the side of his face from how hard he’s clenching down. Each step is careful, meek. So unlike Yuuji, his Yuuji, it pisses Megumi off. Why was he acting like they’re so estranged? It’s only been a week.
Megumi wasn’t going to actually hurt him. Yuuji should know that. “Why are you doing this…?” Yuuji finally manages to squeak out. Voice small and quiet, “Just, put the gun down and let’s talk. Please. Please, Megumi.” Every word Yuuji speaks dripping with desperation. Megumi smiles, cocking his head to the side. His smile bored, mocking Yuuji’s fear. Yuuji’s very real fear that he is starting to find annoying— Yuuji should know better.
“We are talking, sweetheart. Dunno why you’re getting your panties in a twist. Does this thing really scare you?” Megumi raises the gun, aiming at Yuuji. Hearing him squeak in fear, his hands shaking with how his whole body flinches back but he keeps stepping closer to Megumi. Agonizingly slow. “I love you… I love you, please… Please— Put it down— I lo— love you so much…” The words fly out of Yuuji’s mouth so fast Megumi can’t help but laugh. Yuuji’s so cute when he’s scared shitless.
“You would’ve called me.” Megumi stops laughing, “If you really meant that— really, really meant it— you would’ve fuckin’ called me.” Megumi swallows, voice cracking. He glances up at Yuuji who’s now standing in front of him. Yuuji’s focused on the gun instead of the pathetic display of a man Megumi is right now. He’s too scared to realize Megumi’s finger is back to being parallel with the trigger instead of directly on it.
Megumi presses the barrel into his stomach, inciting another high-pitched squeal from Yuuji through his clenched teeth. He can see the tears freely falling down his cheeks, another prayer leaving his lips as he squeezes his eyes shut.
“Come closer, yeah?” Megumi opens his thighs, spreading them wide while he lazily leaned back onto his elbows. He observes Yuuji like a predator watches his prey. He finds joy in the pink haired teen’s shaky movements. Yuuji’s knees wobbled like a fawns, each step even more hesitant than before. He acts like his feet are glued to several tons of cement. It hurts Megumi.
“Why are you so scared? You know I’d never hurt you baby…” Megumi runs the muzzle along Yuuji’s stomach, watching as it drags the thin fabric of his shirt to expose a bit of the belly he adored pressing kisses to. He rakes it all the way up to the underside of his chin, the coolness of the metal eliciting a shriek from his core. He’s not even trying to cutely hold back his tears anymore. He’s blubbering “No, No, No…” through hiccups, snot starting to leak down his nose and meet at the tip of his chin with tears.
Yuuji looks divine like this to Megumi. Undone and at his mercy, where he has always belonged, “I don’t know that, Megumi, Please…” He manages to just barely choke out, “Put it down. We’ll talk. I won’t tell anyone, just— fuck— please, put it away. For me, please— honey, please…” Yuuji is pleading for his life, voice dripping with desperation. Megumi only presses the muzzle hard into his jaw at the stupid attempt to use that pet-name with him to ease his actions.
He hushes Yuuji, “You’re not in the position to be makin’ demands, sweetheart.” Megumi reminds him, gently tapping the side of the gun against his cheek.
“Didn’t I tell you, I wouldn’t ever, ever hurt you. Do you really thing I’d throw my life away by shooting you? Use your fucking head Yuuji. Christ.” He bumps his head gently with the gun, mindful of the strength he puts in it despite the cruelty interlaced of his words.
Yuuji is sniffling— loud. He’s breaking down more and more. Hands held tight to his chest in full surrender, not even daring to try and take the weapon from him, Yuuji’s will fractured beyond repair. Just the way Megumi likes Yuuji.
“You look so pretty like this, you know?” Megumi coos, pulling the gun away from Yuuji’s temple. A sharp inhale leaves Yuuji’s lips, relief washing over him not to have it so close to his face anymore.
“Remember when you’d climb onto my lap? C’mon, I said sit not stand.” Megumi adjusts himself, making a perfectly spot for Yuuji to perch himself onto. He points the gun at Yuuji, lazy, and hyperaware of how scared the teen was when it came to it.
Even when Megumi’s finger isn’t fiddling with the trigger, Yuuji acts like it is. He lowers his hands onto Megumi’s shoulders— a flash of a foreign emotion that Megumi isn’t used to seeing in Yuuji’s eyes— fingernails trying to dig into bones through the thick fabric of his hoodie. Yuuji looks down at him with humiliation and fear in his eyes, trying to hold back the never-ending sobs that snake their way out of his throat.
He’s seconds away from a complete nervous breakdown where no reason or words will make him act rationally, but the adrenaline keeps Yuuji together. It keeps his mind sounds enough to not push Megumi closer to the edge by acting more terrified than Megumi sees feasible.
Yuuji settled onto Megumi’s lap, ass feeling softer than Megumi remembers on the tops of his thighs. His hand goes to his hip, kneading the flesh as if it would do anything to console Yuuji for being so terrifying. Megumi is starting to feel a little bad, but the humiliation etched into Yuuji’s features make him excited more than anything. “Missed seeing you like this, baby.” He says against his neck, nosing at the the sweat sheened skin. Cute.
“Fucking liar.” Yuuji spits, unable to bite his tongue anymore.
Megumi makes quick work to press the barrel into Yuuji side, hard. Reminding him who has all the power here before he lets his mouth get the best of him, “What was that?”
He quiets down, hissing through his teeth. “That’s what I thought…”
Megumi leans in to kiss Yuuji but he instinctively jerked back. He was truly, really scared of Megumi in this moment. It should bring shame over him, deep disgust should be sprouting from his lower gut and threaten to crawl out his throat in the form of nasty bile. That’s what should happen, but instead, Megumi’s cock jumps in his jeans. Yuuji was delectable like this, God, too fucking sweet for Megumi to know what to do with.
He presses the gun to his temple again, a threat, finger laced back around the trigger. Yuuji leans forward this time instead, kisses Megumi back like he should have earlier. It’s desperate in a way that’s unfamiliar. He’s not kissing Megumi like he’s eager to fuck, he’s kissing him like he needs to perform to stay alive. How sweet.
Megumi reciprocates, almost bored. Lets Yuuji continue wasting his time, feeling him push his tongue into his mouth. Lapping at it like some untrained mutt, he was nervous. It was affecting his performance more than being nervous ever has affected Yuuji in the past. At least it was amusing, and Yuuji’s fear was doing more to Megumi’s dick than his pathetic excuse for a kiss was.
He pulls back, hearing the wet smack of lips separating. Yuuji’s tongue tasted like tears and the sweet, hard candy he was sucking on before he walked in. “Go on your knees.” Megumi hums, letting go of his waist to let him sink down onto the shaggy carpet. Yuuji glares at him, but he obeys without another word. He slides himself down between his thighs, wincing at how hard Megumi is. It’s a blow to his ego, but he knows better than to think that it’s because of something superficial like his size. He knows it’s the gun, but without it, they wouldn’t be here.
“You know what to do, baby.” Megumi pushes the barrel into his cheek, hearing the strangled noise leave his lips. “Why are you doing this to me?” Yuuji spits out finally. His fingers shaking while he fiddles with the button of Megumi’s jeans.
“Simple, ‘cause I love you, Yuuji.” Megumi says as if it were basic, common knowledge for anyone to know. In a way, it is something everyone knows. Megumi loves Yuuji. He would do anything for Yuuji. He has done some disgusting things just to keep Yuuji his property. Everyone knows but Yuuji— apparently.
Yuuji finally manages to undo Megumi’s jeans, sliding the zipper down. Cold, shaky fingers pulling back cotton boxes with a practiced motion but failing the execution. He tries again. Megumi’s cock springs out to flop against his abdomen. “You look so pretty like this, you know that, baby? On your knees… crying your little heart out thinking that it’s gonna make me think twice about doing this… Go on.” Megumi encourages.
Yuuji flinches as the gun drags up to his temple, feeling Megumi drive it just enough to make sure Yuuji is aware of its presence like there is any way he could not be. Yuuji’s sniffles can barely be contained as he opens his mouth to take the head of Megumi’s cock into his mouth. He wraps his warm, wet lips around the leaking tip. It’s been so long Megumi feels an unwanted whine leave his lips. He’s seen this sight a hundreds of times, but Yuuji with snot running down his face is a new one to add to his list. The hatred, how his brows furrow, how tightly he is grabbing at his thighs hoping his fingers can somehow break through fabric to tear into his flesh.
“Good boy, Yuu— fuck— you look s’fucking good like this…” Megumi praises, rolling his hips up to give Yuuji the hint to go deeper. He obliges, gagging from how hard he’s crying rather than Megumi’s cock hitting the back of his throat. Yuuji’s throat flutters so deliciously around Megumi sending a shock through his body once he’s nestled deep inside. He can’t help himself.
His free hand cards into Yuuji’s sweat dampened pink curls, pushing Yuuji down till his nose his buried in a bush of black hair. He can feel the vibrations of his protests snug around him, but he doesn’t dare hit Megumi. He just scratches at his thighs harder hoping that maybe the pain will make Megumi let go of his hair.
It fails, miserably. Of course it does and Yuuji is so cute for not understanding why while he tries everything to get his head back up without outright punching Megumi. He pulls back his head, seeing his forehead wrinkle in pain from the pulling of his scalp. Megumi thrusts in deeper, in time with how he uses Yuuji’s throat like a fuck toy. Gross, disgusting wet squelches filling the room with Megumi’s soft grunts. His little praise like it was just another day of them fucking after school, “So tight f’me, huh?”, “Like when I use you like the slut you are?”, “I’m better than the last guy, aren’t I? I can see how wet you are.” Megumi taunts, nudging tip of his foot against Yuuji’s clothed pussy.
Yuuji twitches, struggling a little more. His face going red with how Megumi disregards his need for air. Fat globs of tears rolling down his cheeks to meet with the sticky spit and snot dripping down his chin, Megumi was never a fan of messy blowjobs. Even in the shitty porn films he’s seen in his dad’s office, he could never get the appeal of seeing someone so destroyed… Not until he got to see his Yuuji utterly destroyed like that just for him. All of it was for Megumi and no one else to see. The meticulous Yuuji who fucked like he was constantly being scored on everything he’s done using too much teeth and not swallowing down his spit. Not looking up at him like with sweet, ‘am I doing good?’ eyes awaiting any sort of praise.
Even though Yuuji looks like he’d pull the trigger without hesitation if he was the one wielding it, Megumi still gives him that sweet praise he used to preen under. “S’like you were made to suck my cock, baby.” Megumi purrs, letting go of Yuuji’s scalp to let him breathe the moment his face gets a concerning shade. He pops off Megumi’s cock, sputtering up spit and precum onto himself and Megumi’s thighs. The sight alone should make Megumi sneer but he rubs some of the residue off the corners of Yuuji’s lips.
“Could use less teeth next time though.” Megumi chuckles, low and deep in his chest. Admiring Yuuji like a predator admires its next meal, “Fuck you.” Yuuji’s voice chock-full of hatred, spitting and emphasizing each syllable that he can.
Megumi finds himself amused by Yuuji’s little burst of energy. His sudden will to fight back. A part of Megumi is angry because he knows Yuuji is calling his bluff. He knows that Yuuji knows deep down he’d never pull the trigger on him, but Yuuji doesn’t know one more thing about Megumi. He’s got tricks up his sleeve too.
“Stop talking stupid.” Megumi keeps his tone cold. “Get on my lap again, this time without your shorts on.” Megumi draws the gun back, leaning onto his elbows again. It takes Yuuji a second to rise to his feet, thumbs hooking into the waistband after he fiddles the button and fly open. He drops them down to his ankles, staring at Megumi with a variating of emotions— anger, hatred, pain, hurt, betrayal.
It stings Megumi more than he should. He’s provoking it, now more than ever, but it doesn’t make it any better to Megumi to see Yuuji stare at him like that. He lets his eyes travel further south to between Yuuji’s thighs. “Never seen those before…” Megumi lies as Yuuji take his place straddling Megumi’s lap. His clothed cunt rubbing against Megumi’s bare cock. He twitches.
“You have.” Yuuji says, short and as sweet as he can muster.
“Okay, sure.” Megumi agrees just to give Yuuji a sense of control for a little.
“You’re wet. I can feel it.” Megumi’s hand wraps around Yuuji’s fat hip, kneading it. Nails digging into the tanned, freckled flesh, “You missed me. Didn’t you, baby?” He coos, tone saccharine and almost sarcastic given their circumstances.
“Shut up.” Yuuji pipes up, hips canting forward with Megumi’s influence. He’s all bark and no bite. Adorable.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just hurry the fuck up and cum already.” Yuuji keeps his hands planted firm on Megumi’s shoulders, shakily gliding his pussy against Megumi’s clothed cock. .
“Your shit blowjob is barely enough to keep me hard,” Megumi’s lets go of Yuuji’s side to grip into messy curls again, forcing Yuuji to tilt his head back and expose his neck. He’s lying through his teeth. He has never been harder before in his life, “Using your teeth like some fuckin’ amateur like I wasn’t the one to teach you how to do it properly. Now your pussy is slobbering all over me, beggin’ for a taste despite your subpar job. Since when did my boyfriend become such a slut, huh Yuuji?”
Yuuji yelps like a scrappy dog when Megumi tugs at his scalp— hard. Neck craning back to show ridges of his throat so well, a throat Megumi has seen stuffed with his cock at this very same angle more times than he can count on his fingers. A shame Yuuji was too fussy to give him that lovely scene one last time.
Megumi pulls back the hammer, distinct click echoing between them. Yuuji nearly shouts his eardrum out, tensing as if Megumi pulled the trigger. A warmth spreading on his thighs followed by a soft wet sound of liquid spatting against Yuuji’s once prim, proper panties. The warmth envelops Megumi’s cock. He even swears that he can feel the stream as Yuuji trembles with tears reforming in his eyes. A sputter trying to explain himself but too mortified to even move or speak properly.
“Yuuji— Yuuji, baby— fuckin’ hell—” Megumi barely even forms a sentence himself. Keeping Yuuji put with his fingers pulling at his scalp, “You’re such a puppy, baby. Look at the mess you made and I didn’t even pull the trigger.” Megumi taunts, his finger curling back around it. Yuuji closes his eyes and squeals.
Megumi pulls hard, yanking Yuuji to look at him properly. He’s treating Yuuji more like a rag doll than a human at this point. He should feel disgusted with himself for treating his Yuuji like this back he can feel is his cock throb against Yuuji’s piss-soaked panty. “Look at me— Yuuji, Yuuji, doll— look at me…” Megumi coos so Yuuji opens his eyes, crying so hard over himself he can’t catch his breath. Hiccuping between sobs, tears and snot rolling down his face pooling at the tip of his chin, such a sight Megumi wishes he could capture it forever and frame it in the depths of his mind.
Megumi smiles— sadistic— and full of faux sweetness. The barrel pressed against his head, tightly on his temple. “Bang!” He grins toothily. The gun goes off with an empty click, just a puff of air pushed into tufts of black hair. Yuuji doesn’t seem to register that with the way Megumi feels warmth run over his lap again.
“Told you I’d never hurt you, baby. How fuckin’ stupid do you think I am? Waving a loaded gun around like it’s some toy… If you thought about how much I really love you Yuuji, you’d know this gun was a mere prop…” Megumi partially lies. The gun is more than a prop but he knew it wasn’t loaded the moment it was in his hands. He also knows Toji is smart enough not to keep the chamber loaded, but just in case, he’d rather his brains be splattered than Yuuji’s.
Yuuji is docile at this point, boneless in Megumi’s hold. Slumped against his chest and clinging to his neck like he didn’t push him to this point, Yuuji won’t stop muttering about how happy he is that Megumi isn’t dead and that he’s so, so sorry about all of this as if he didn’t hear what Megumi said early.
“So you forgive me, baby? Promise you won’t leave me for scrap anymore… promise we won’t fight like this again?”
Yuuji nods profusely, nails digging into megumi’s exposed bits of flesh where they can snag. Yuuji’s sobbing too hard to bring out a coherent slew of words out of his mouth, but it’s okay. Megumi understands him just fine.