Archive of Our Own

Perhaps Megumi should feel guilty for doing this. And he does, actually. He feels immensely guilty. But probably not as guilty as he should feel.

There’s a sort of clarity that washes over him when he’s done, feeling drenched in an uncanny state of self-consciousness, like he’s looking down on himself from above instead of actually being inside his own body. He stares at his hands, his fingers that are sticky with his own cum, the bruises on his legs, and he lets out a soft sigh, ashamed of himself and of his lack of control.

This is the last time, he tells himself. Seriously. Never again.

And yet. After nearly every training session with Yuji, Megumi finds himself pent up in ways that he definitely shouldn’t be after already getting his energy out during exercise. When he gets back to his room, he locks the door and breathes deeply, in and out, trying so damn hard to get Yuji’s stupid face off his mind.

He showers with the lights turned off, avoids the mirror—anything to not have to look at the scratches and bruises that Yuji has left behind on his body. And it works, until he’s toweling himself off, and then he simply cannot ignore it no matter how hard he tries. He dries off his legs and the fibers of the towel catch on an abrasion, makes him hiss with pain and forces him to relive the friction burn all over again.

And it’s as if he’s still there, still in the gym or out in the field, and he can feel the warmth of Yuji’s palm as he’s helping him up off the floor. And he can almost smell Yuji, his sweat, the faint scent of that deodorant he wears. Feel his chest pressed up against him, hear him panting, and that look in his eyes that he gets in the middle of a fight—all focused and determined, and so fucking hot.

Megumi knows that he pushes himself too hard during practice, and Yuji knows it, too. He thinks that Megumi is doing it to prove something to himself, or to get stronger, or whatever bullshit reason he’s made up in his mind. But no. Megumi does it simply because Yuji hurting him makes him horny.

Like, impossibly horny. Like his dick is already straining against the fabric of his shorts by the end of each session, and he sprints the fuck out of the gym before anyone notices. He pointedly ignores the amused expression that Kugisaki always gives him, her knowing eyes following him out of the room. She’s too goddamn smart.

And it ends the same way every time. Megumi lies down on the bed, splayed out on his back with one hand shoved down his shorts and the other pressing down on his abdominal bruises. His palm is slick, pre-cum dripping from his slit at just the slight brush of pain that wracks his body, at the thought of Yuji gripping his hips with no restraint, using his full weight to pin Megumi down to the mattress and make him hurt all over.

He turns his head to bury his face in the pillow as he whines, rolls his hips up into his fist, that obscene wet sound getting louder and faster the more his dick keeps leaking. He trails his other hand down to the bruise on the outside of his thigh—that one is particularly big and has been there for about a week now, but it’s slowly fading away. He had fallen on his side, landed awkwardly on his leg, and the genuine look of concern on Yuji’s face is something he’ll never forget.

Perhaps it’s just that—the intense juxtaposition between Yuji’s raw strength and the fact that he’d never actually want to hurt Megumi. Something is so fucking erotic about how Yuji can quite literally break Megumi, and yet, he would never do such a thing.

Still. He could.

Megumi imagines it’s Yuji’s fingers as he presses down hard on his bruise, a pulsing throb spreading throughout his body, reaching out, and sinking its teeth into his heart. His breath catches in his throat and he lets out a pathetic little whimper, because for just a second it’s too much, but then immediately after that it’s not enough, and he wants more. More pain, more marks on his body, more evidence of Yuji. He twists his hand around his cock just the way he likes it and cranes his neck to turn his face back into his pillow, mouth falling open to let out soft, trembling pants into the cushioned fabric.

He is dirty. Filthy. He reminds himself of this even as he’s desperately fucking his own fist, hips thrusting up into the tight hold he has on his cock. He thinks about how perverted and disgusting it is to be digging his fingernails into his abrasions to try and draw blood, fantasizing that Yuji really did fuck him up this time, instead of the reality which is that Megumi is the one who is worsening his own condition. He’s turning superficial wounds into cuts that won’t heal just for the sake of his own pleasure, and yet it feels so fucking good that he can’t even bring himself to care.

Even as he does think about how horrible of a friend he must be for doing this, he still doesn’t lose momentum. Because then he goes down the thought pattern of Yuji finding out what he’s been doing and beating him up for it, wrapping his fingers around Megumi’s throat and choking him out until he sees stars.

Yuji would never do that, though. Yuji is too good to Megumi. The more likely reality is that Yuji would be extremely uncomfortable, yet pretend like he wasn’t, even though he’s never been very good at pretending. And then Kugisaki would find out somehow, because again, she’s just too damn smart, and soon enough everyone in Jujutsu High would know how much of a fucking freak Megumi is. Yuji would probably joke about it as an attempt to act normal, but the joke would undoubtably fall flat, and then Megumi would have to move halfway across the world, change his name, and adopt a whole new identity.

But that’s not sexy. Reality is not sexy. What is sexy to Megumi is thinking about Yuji beating him half to death. He wants to see his own blood drip from Yuji’s fists, wants bruises in the shapes of Yuji’s fingers on his waist, his thighs, his neck. He wants to look in the mirror and admire the mess Yuji has made of his body, feel that he’s marked him as his territory.

He wants Yuji to fuck him up so badly until all of the other scars Megumi has accumulated over the years become completely overshadowed by Yuji’s rough, perfect hands. And then, he’ll cover it all up beneath multiple layers of clothing, so that nobody ever finds out how pathetic Megumi truly is.

Megumi uses his free hand to wrap his fingers around his neck, squeezing at the sides, gasping as he arches his back off the bed. Yuji’s name is caught in the depths of his throat, but it comes out more like a strangled wheeze, and his eyes are rolled shut when he spills all over his own fist, ruining the inside of his underwear and his shorts.

Fuck. There goes that feeling. It sinks in immediately—a mixture of shame, disgust, fear. He’d like to say he won’t do it again, but he knows himself better than that.

The next time Megumi sees Yuji, it’s way too obvious how much worse his injuries have gotten. Yuji thinks it’s his fault—because of course he does—so he insists on examining them, even though he has no actual medical knowledge. And Megumi makes sure to tell him that.

“You don’t even know what you’re doing,” Megumi says. “I know you feel bad, but it’s not your fault.”

Yuji looks up from his position on the floor. Megumi is sitting on his bed and Yuji is on his knees in front of him, where he’s pouting at Megumi, concern written all over his pretty face.

“But it is. I need to get a better grip on my own strength,” he mumbles as he looks back at the bruise on Megumi’s thigh. “I just don’t understand how this one isn’t getting any better. It’s been over a week, and it almost looks worse than it did yesterday.”

He lightly trails his fingertips over the green and yellow splotches, and Megumi has to suppress a shiver. Yuji looks back up at him, eyes wide, and god, he looks so fucking good from that angle.

“I think you need more iron, Fushiguro,” Yuji says. “Are you anemic?”

Megumi sighs. “No, I’m not anemic. And I get plenty of iron. Where did you even learn this?”

Yuji frowns. “Hey, I’m not stupid. I have access to the internet just like everybody else.”

Megumi hangs his head with shame. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I’m just frustrated.”

“I would be too if I were you. You look like you got hit by a car,” Yuji says, then bites his bottom lip as he rakes his eyes over Megumi’s figure.

Megumi really wishes that Yuji would stop staring at him like that. He feels naked—even though he’s fully clothed, and only one leg of his pants is hiked up enough to reveal the outside of his thigh. Still, he never shows this much skin around other people. Especially not around Yuji.

“Have you been using an ice pack on this one?” Yuji asks, then gently presses his finger into the bruise.

Megumi’s breath hitches, and Yuji looks up at him worriedly.

“Sorry! Did I hurt you?”

Megumi shakes his head. “No, no. I mean– yes, it hurt. But it’s okay. And no, I’m not using any ice packs.”

Yuji clicks his teeth in disappointment. “Well, you should!” he says. “I’ll go get one. Stay here.”

“No, Itadori, don’t,” Megumi tries, but Yuji is already leaving.

He places his head in the palms of his hands and lets out a groan. Damn Yuji and damn how caring he is. And damn his stupid face and how cute it is and the way he just touches Megumi so casually like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Like his dick isn’t twitching in his pants and his heart isn’t beating out of his chest just from Yuji’s featherlight fingertips brushing softly against his skin. How fucking pathetic is he.

Yuji returns quickly with an icepack wrapped in a paper towel, and kneels back down in front of Megumi.

“Will you let me help you with this?” Yuji asks as he stares up at Megumi with those big brown eyes of his.

Megumi just nods, untrusting of himself to actually speak. Yuji beams as if he has just given him the greatest honor known to man.

“Oh, good. I was afraid you’d say no,” he says, and then he brings his hands up to Megumi’s thigh and rolls his pant leg further up. Yuji’s fingers are cold, likely from handling the icepack, as he pokes and prods at the bruise. “Okay, so where does it hurt the most?” he asks, before he starts pressing down in various different spots.

“Uh– uhm…” Megumi stutters, shuts his eyes and begs his dick to chill the fuck out. Yuji then touches a particularly tender spot, and Megumi gasps, jerks his leg a little and says, “Th- There. Right there.”

Yuji nods and gently places the icepack down, then looks up at Megumi with a soft smile, a hint of guilt hidden underneath.

“I really am sorry, Fushiguro,” he says. He’s gently rubbing Megumi’s bare calf with his free hand, and he’s doing it so lightly that Megumi’s not even sure if it’s a conscious act. “I just wish you wouldn’t push yourself so hard. I like sparring with you, but it’s not fun if I just end up hurting you all the time.”

His hand goes up higher, caressing the backside of Megumi’s calf, then cupping under his knee for a brief moment before he strokes back down to his ankle, all the while staring at Megumi in silence.

Right. Probably waiting for a response.

“It– It’s fine,” he breathes out. Fuck, he can already feel himself getting hard in his pants. “I can’t get stronger if I don’t… I mean, if I go easy on myself, then nothing– nothing will change.”

Yuji hums absentmindedly as he observes his face. His eyebrows start to knit together at Megumi’s intense reactions.

“Am I hurting you?” Yuji asks. He takes the icepack off and presses his palm back over the bruise, and Megumi feels his own breath hitch. “Oh wow, that’s cold. I think that’s enough for this one. Let me see your other bruises.”

Megumi blinks. “What?”

“Lift up your shirt,” Yuji says, and he’s nodding his head at Megumi’s shirt as if to emphasize his point. “Come on! The least I can do is help.”

“Itadori– I don’t–” Megumi shakes his head. “You really don’t have to do this.”

“I just don’t think you’ll do it yourself,” Yuji says with a shrug. “I mean, you haven’t been so far. Can you blame me for being worried about you?”

Megumi huffs, and he feels his face heat up with embarrassment. Yuji boosts himself up onto the bed and sits down next to Megumi. He nudges him with his elbow.

“Hey, Fushiguro. I’ll take my shirt off too if you’re shy.”

“What?” he says again, stupidly.

Yuji grins. “If you’re shy. We can both be shirtless. You know, so you won’t be uncomfortable.” He shrugs.

Megumi huffs out a small laugh, despite his anxiety. “Itadori… I’m not shy.”

But Yuji is already taking his shirt off, and Megumi is only human, so his eyes instantly trail down his torso before quickly snapping back up to Yuji’s face. Hot. He’s so fucking hot. Does he even know how hot he is? Megumi’s not sure. He’s sitting there all casual and relaxed like he has no idea that his body and his face are a fucking dream come true to Megumi. A wet dream. Damn, Megumi feels like such a pervert right now.

“You’re not?” Yuji says. “Well, come on then! Take it off. I’ll play doctor and you be my patient.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, but he feels a smile creeping up, threatening to lift the corners of his lips. He pulls his shirt over his head and looks back over at Yuji, who is now raking his eyes over the bruises on his abdomen.

“It’s very unprofessional for a doctor to be shirtless, isn’t it,” Megumi tries to joke, and Yuji laughs a little.

“Yeah,” he says, but he’s still looking at Megumi’s torso. “Yeah, it is. Hah. So, um. Probably– you should lean against the headboard, right?”

Megumi squints his eyes at Yuji. Still, he listens, shifting backward until he’s propped up against the headboard. Yuji crawls over to him until he’s practically kneeling in between Megumi’s legs, and Megumi spreads them open just a bit more to give him access. Yuji looks down at his thighs for a brief second, his lips parted around a sigh.

“Itadori. What is it?”

He looks back up at Megumi’s face.

“Nothing. You’re just– Wow. I really messed you up, didn’t I.” He gives a nervous laugh, eyes scanning over Megumi’s bruises. “Damn, Fushiguro. I didn’t know I was that hard on you. I’m sorry.”

Megumi shrugs, feeling a bit shy from all of the attention. “It’s just as much my fault as it is yours. I know my own limits, and I never once told you to stop.”

“No, I know, but…” he trails off, starts chewing on his lower lip as he stares at Megumi’s chest. Okay, now Megumi is really starting to feel self-conscious. “Yeah. You’re right,” Yuji says, and then he just leaves it at that.

He gently lifts his hand up to the bruise on Megumi’s lower abdomen, right above his Adonis belt, where Yuji had kneed him the other day. The rest of the bruise disappears beneath his waistband, and Megumi’s not entirely sure why Yuji is starting out on that one when there are far more accessible bruises that litter his torso.

But still, Yuji splays his fingers over Megumi’s skin, all hesitant and unsure. He hooks his thumb underneath the waistband of Megumi’s pants, and Megumi instantly wraps his hand around Yuji’s wrist.

“What are you doing–”

He cuts himself off when he notices the way Yuji is staring at him. His lips are parted, allowing soft breaths to escape. His pupils are dilated, and if Megumi didn’t know any better, he’d say that those big eyes of his are almost innocent. But he’s never seen Yuji look like this before—not this intense, as if he’s struggling with something within him, like he’s trying his absolute hardest to hold himself back.

“Itadori,” Megumi says, and he tries to keep his voice as even as possible, but it still wavers just slightly.

“Megumi,” Yuji responds, almost like a silent plea. His name sounds so fucking perfect coming from Yuji’s mouth.

Megumi knows what Yuji wants without him having to say it. So, he gives it to him. He whispers, “Yuji,” and watches carefully as something in Yuji’s eyes lights up from the use of his given name.

His thumb is still just barely beneath Megumi’s waistband, and Megumi’s fingers are still wrapped tightly around his wrist. He slowly releases his grip once he realizes, but Yuji’s hand remains unmoving.

“I really hate hurting you,” he finally says. “I can’t stand seeing you in pain.”

“I know–” Megumi starts.

“No. Just let me finish,” Yuji interrupts. “I hate hurting you, Megumi. But…” he inhales deeply before continuing, “I like… leaving my mark on you. Is that wrong?”

The only sound that Megumi can hear is his own rapidly increasing breathing, as well as his heartbeat that seems to echo inside of his skull. He thinks he might also be able to hear some sort of faint ringing in his ears, but it’s all reduced to background noise as he stares at Yuji wordlessly, with his mouth open in a dumb expression of shock.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji says, and then he pulls his hand away, and now Megumi feels unbearably cold without Yuji there to warm him. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

Yuji stares at Megumi for a few seconds until he starts to get up, but Megumi grabs his arm before he’s able to leave.

“Yuji,” Megumi says, and he savors the way his lips curve around the shape of his name, how Yuji’s entire body visibly relaxes when Megumi says it. “Yuji, stop. It’s not– it’s not wrong to feel that way.”

“You don’t think it is?” Yuji says, his tone hopeful, the light behind his eyes flickering back to life for just a mere second.

“I’m telling you it’s not.” Megumi takes a deep breath, feeling the anxiety building up in his chest. It starts in his sternum and spreads out toward the pit of his stomach, his bones shivering with fearful anticipation. He thinks he might vomit. “Come here,” he finally says.

Yuji shifts forward slowly, all nervous and shy, as he keeps his eyes stuck on Megumi’s face.

“…Here?” he asks.

“Closer,” Megumi says, but it comes out much quieter than he intends.

Yuji gulps, but obliges, and he gets so close that Megumi can once again feel how warm he is, and the core of his chest blooms with a sense of comfort. He can smell Yuji just barely, the stuff he puts in his hair and this faint scent of body spray, and he wants to bury his face in the crook of his neck and inhale every odor that Yuji’s body has to offer.

Yuji instinctively places his hands on Megumi’s thighs, spreads them apart and shifts his body further up until they’re so close that if they both lean in less than an inch, their lips might touch. He brings his fingers back up to that same bruise, traces it carefully, before pressing down with his thumb. Megumi gasps, shuts his eyes and leans into the touch.

Yuji sounds like he’s in awe when he whispers, “Do you.. Do you like that?”

Megumi can only nod, feeling lost for words as Yuji presses down harder, and this time he can’t hold back the small whimper that leaves his lips. Yuji’s hands trail further up his torso, exploring each injury he left behind. He scrapes his nails lightly against Megumi’s skin and brushes his fingers over every bruise, pushing down experimentally and paying close attention to Megumi’s reactions.

“Megumi,” Yuji breathes out, and Megumi opens his eyes to look at him. “I think you’re so beautiful, Megumi. I don’t know if I can explain how it feels to see you like this. But it’s like… it’s like I’m imprinted on you, or something.”

“Yes.” Megumi nods, excited and breathless. “Yes, yes– that’s it. That’s exactly what it is.”

“I want to kiss you so bad right now,” Yuji admits, staring at Megumi’s lips with eyes shaped around a deep longing, a craving that won’t go away until it’s fulfilled. He swallows hard, like he’s pushing down his desire. “You’re so pretty. I want it– I want you. I want to know what you taste like.”

His eyes flick back up to Megumi’s, and Megumi thinks he might be able to cry just from how genuine Yuji’s facial expression is. He openly displays everything to Megumi, shows him his heart like he trusts him to keep it safe more than anyone else in the world. Megumi nearly feels sick from how intense his own emotions are, and how he can almost physically feel Yuji’s emotions radiating off of his body.

Warmth. Yuji is the physical embodiment of warmth and light. He’s like the sun.

Everything envelopes Megumi’s skull like a fog, and it’s suffocating and all-consuming, but at the same time, it feels so, so good to lose his breath to a man like Yuji. Someone he knows he can trust—even if he’s drowning, even if his lungs collapse, he knows Yuji will be there. He’ll be the first person Megumi sees when he regains consciousness. And Yuji is the only person that Megumi ever wants to save him.

“Can I?” Yuji whispers, and Megumi only just now realizes that he’s been staring in silence. “Can I kiss you?”

A nod is all that Megumi is able to muster right now. His heart aches, beating inside his chest so fast that he’s afraid that Yuji might be able to hear it.

“Tell me…” Yuji starts as he leans in, his breath ghosting over Megumi’s lips, “…if you want me to stop.”

He won’t do that. He never could. He wants Yuji so fucking bad that he’s physically ill with it. His body cannot contain the amount of desire that he holds for this man. It bleeds out in the strangest ways possible, makes him feel insane and nearly inhuman at times.

Yuji presses his lips to Megumi’s gently, almost experimentally, like he’s afraid that if he goes too fast, he will run away. Everything Megumi was feeling beforehand melts into a blur—his anxiety, his rapid heartbeat, the sickness and nausea—all of it becomes worthless under Yuji’s lips, dies a silent death beneath the hands that cradle his jaw so sweetly.

Megumi sighs into Yuji’s lips and pulls him closer by his shoulders, and Yuji responds by cupping his face with both hands and opening his mouth, running his tongue over Megumi’s bottom lip. He allows him access, and Yuji moans softly when their tongues finally touch. A moan of relief, like he’s glad he doesn’t have to hold back anymore, like this is the only thing he’s ever wanted in the world. He licks into Megumi’s mouth slowly, tasting him, savoring the flavor, to the point where it’s nearly excruciating. Megumi has to physically restrain himself from flipping them over and sucking Yuji’s face off like he’s been poisoned and the antidote is hidden at the back of Yuji’s throat.

Yuji straddles Megumi’s lap without breaking the kiss, and Megumi pulls him in by his waist, incidentally grinding him down onto his clothed erection. Yuji lets out a surprised sound, then pulls away and looks at him with wide eyes. Megumi nearly moans just from the sight—his face all flushed a pretty pink, lips glistening with spit, bare chest heaving up and down. God, Yuji is fucking divine. He’s so gorgeous, Megumi is practically drunk on it.

“Come back,” Megumi pleads, and his fingers clench where they have a hold on Yuji’s hips, trying so hard to stop himself from closing that distance, making it so there’s nothing but molecules separating their skin. He can barely even think right now. Not with Yuji on top of him, not now that he knows what Yuji’s lips feel like, what he sounds like moaning into his mouth.

Yuji just stares at him wordlessly, before he lowers his hand down to the bulge in Megumi’s pants and just feels it. Megumi closes his eyes and sighs, hips twitching up in an attempt to get closer. Yuji runs his thumb down the clothed length with curiosity, like he’s trying to figure out how big it is through the fabric.

“You’re hard,” Yuji mumbles, nearly dumbstruck. “Are you hard because of me?”

Megumi frowns. “Of course I am. What else could it be?”

His hand leaves Megumi’s sweatpants and trails back up to his torso, finding each bruise and pressing down forcefully. He’s not gentle anymore. He wants a reaction out of Megumi, treating his wounds like unlabeled buttons and switches, tinkering with them, fucking around just to see what the hell they even do. Yuji observes Megumi’s face intently, watches his eyes flutter and his lips part around soft, pathetic moans.

“I want to give you more of these,” Yuji whispers. “But I don’t want to hurt you. I want to mark you in places that nobody else will see, and I want to do it while I’m making you feel good. With my mouth and with my hands.”

His palm caresses Megumi’s chest. He brushes lightly over his nipples, dances around his collarbones, before tenderly touching his throat. Megumi tilts his head back, baring his neck to give Yuji access, and Yuji’s thumb traces over his Adam’s apple, feeling the way it bulges as he swallows.

He chases Megumi’s reactions with an expression of greed that he’s never seen on Yuji before. Megumi is naturally responsive and vocal to an extent, so he gives Yuji what he wants, not withholding his soft moans and sighs at the touch of Yuji’s insistent hands. It’s worth it just to see the look on Yuji’s face.

“Your neck is so pretty,” Yuji murmurs, and Megumi shivers from the way his fingers explore the expanse of his throat, almost ticklish. “I think your uniform would hide it if I bruised you right here. Do you think so?”

Megumi immediately nods. He doesn’t even fully register the question. He just wants Yuji to choke him, wants to feel his teeth sinking into him, wants Yuji to make him bleed. He’s so fucking desperate, he’s nauseous with want, head dizzy with such thick desire. He can’t even focus on anything except for Yuji’s hand on his neck and his weight on his lap. And his scent. Yuji smells so fucking good.

“I want your hands around my throat,” Megumi speaks without much thought. “Choking me. I want you to hurt me, Yuji.”

Yuji wraps his fingers around his neck lightly. He doesn’t press down, but hovers, as if he’s just estimating the circumference of Megumi’s throat.

“I would never do that to you,” he says.

“I know,” Megumi responds. “You’re too good.”

“But you want me to be bad.”

Megumi looks up at Yuji with pleading eyes and shakes his head almost frantically. No. He doesn’t want that.

“I just want you,” he says. And he hopes that Yuji can read the plea on his face, the unspoken request that reads, Please, please kiss me again.

Yuji keeps his fingers loose around Megumi’s neck as he leans forward and opens his mouth over his lips, presses his tongue inside and runs it along the edge of his teeth, over the roof of his mouth, entangling with Megumi’s tongue. Yuji is so warm, and he tastes so fucking good, and Megumi feels feral, like a starving wild animal.

He grabs his jaw and kisses him slowly, almost lazily, but he’s far from gentle with it. He kisses like he wants to consume Megumi’s entire body at a cellular level, lets spit drip from his mouth and into Megumi’s as he draws a map of him with his tongue. His grip is firm, and Megumi feels helpless as he whimpers against his lips, the taste of Yuji settles on every corner of his body, and he swallows down his saliva just to keep him inside.

Yuji rocks his hips against his lap, grinding steadily, and Megumi’s hands fly up to his waist for leverage as he thrusts up into Yuji’s ass like he just can’t help himself. A sharp gasp tears itself from his throat as Yuji’s clothed bulge rubs against Megumi’s bare abdomen, and he has to pull away from the kiss before he literally passes out from the onslaught of such overwhelming sensations.

They’re both breathing hard against each other’s lips, and Yuji grinds down on Megumi’s cock once more as he dips his head down and leaves a trail of kisses on his neck, all wet and messy, traces of spit left behind as his tongue darts out on occasion, tasting the sheen of sweat that has condensed onto Megumi’s skin. Megumi feels like he’s being feasted on. Warm lines of saliva are drawn into the hollow of his throat, and Yuji savors him like this is just the precursor to the main dish, teasing the anticipation of the true meal that he’ll make out of Megumi later on.

He groans lowly against his neck, sending vibrations down Megumi’s spine, and then the sloppy kisses quickly turn into bites, scraping his teeth along the sensitive skin, making Megumi jolt where he’s sitting in bed. Yuji latches onto his throat and starts sucking hard enough to bruise, blood clotting underneath his skin and turning ivory into spots of cherry red. He does that over and over again, staking his claim, leaving behind bruises as evidence of the hold Yuji has over him. Megumi grabs the hair on the back of his head and holds him close to his neck, panting into the open air and basking in the feeling of Yuji’s bulge pressed up against his torso.

Yuji pulls away from Megumi’s neck to admire his work. A faint smile blesses his face as he traces his fingers over the hickeys, pushing down on them just the way he knows Megumi likes, serving as a conduit for that dull, pulsing pain that he’s been obsessing over for so long.

“Yeah.” Yuji breathes a satisfied sigh. “That’s much better. Before, it felt like something was missing. But you look so good like this, all marked up.”

“By you,” Megumi says. And Yuji beams, like he’s proud of what he’s done.

“By me,” he says, still grinning.

He’s so beautiful. Megumi wants to tell him how beautiful he is and tell him how badly he wants him. How he’s wanted him for so fucking long. But he doesn’t know how to say it. Instead, what leaves his mouth is perhaps the stupidest thing that he ever could say.

He tells Yuji, “I purposely let you injure me during practice and then I jerk off to the thought of you hurting me. The reason why my wounds never heal is because I’m constantly fucking with them. I don’t know why, but I like the pain.”

At first, Yuji says nothing, only staring at Megumi for what feels like a lifetime. Then, he laughs. The laugh is breathy at first, almost silent, until it builds up into full on giggling, and he tips his head down and rests it on Megumi’s shoulder, using it to muffle his uncontrollable fit of laughter.

“You’re laughing at me,” Megumi groans, covers his eyes with his hand. “I don’t even know why I said that. This is so fucking embarrassing.”

“It’s cute,” Yuji mumbles into his skin. “You’re so cute.”

“It’s not cute. It’s perverted. And it’s pathetic.”

Yuji lifts his head back up and looks at Megumi.

“It is perverted,” he agrees. “Maybe it’s a little pathetic.”

Megumi smacks him on the arm, and Yuji yelps.

“Hey! You didn’t let me finish.”

Megumi waits for him to speak, but Yuji takes his sweet time as he first decides to place his thumb over Megumi’s bottom lip, pulling it down and exposing his gums. Almost instinctively, Megumi opens his mouth and allows Yuji to press his thumb inside. He hears Yuji’s breath hitch, and watches the way his eyes are glued to Megumi’s mouth as he closes his lips around his finger and sucks on it lightly.

“Fuck,” Yuji breathes. “Megumi. You’re so pretty.”

Megumi opens his mouth back up to let Yuji take his thumb out, because he really wants to know what he was going to say, but then Yuji lowers his spit-slicked finger down to one of Megumi’s nipples and circles over it teasingly, and now he’s gasping and grinding his cock against Yuji’s ass again, and he can’t think of anything at all anymore.

“Pretty,” Yuji murmurs. “You’re so fucking pretty. Thinking about you jerking off to me is the hottest thing in the world. I feel like I just won the lottery.”

“It’s–” Megumi stutters as Yuji pinches his nipple. “Fuck, Itadori. It’s so bad. Don’t enable me. I feel horrible for doing it.”

“Stop.” Yuji looks him in the eye now. “I’m so hard, I can barely even think. Can you feel how hard I am?”

Megumi slowly nods.

“It’s because of you,” he says. “Do you want to touch it?”

Another nod, faster this time, and he nearly whimpers just at the suggestion.

Yuji gets off the bed to remove his pants as Megumi anxiously watches. He’s now left standing in his underwear, and Megumi presses his lips into a thin line at the sight of them.

“Jesus fucking christ.”

Yuji raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Take those off,” Megumi mumbles, turning his face away. “I don’t even want to look at them.”

Yuji smirks. “I think you just wanna see my dick.”

“No. They’re killing the mood.”

Yuji tips his head back, laughs loudly. “What?! It’s just Spiderman! You don’t like Spiderman?”

“Not when I’m horny. How long have you even had those? They look way too small for you.”

Yuji shrugs as he pulls them down, and now Megumi can’t even make fun of him, because his dick is out and all he can do is just stare. Megumi feels a bit indignant that there doesn’t seem to be a single part of Yuji’s body that’s not undeniably perfect. A trail of hair starts from his navel and reaches down to the base of his cock, where it sits nestled in a bush of pink curls. His cock hangs heavy in the air, twitching underneath Megumi’s focused attention.

Megumi can bet that Yuji is probably blushing right now, but all he’s able to focus on is the way his foreskin stretches over his tip, which is all swollen and flushed red, begging to be touched. Actually, he wants to suck it. He’s fucking aching to taste that slick string of desperation that leaks out from his slit, and he wants to feel Yuji stretch open his mouth, fuck his throat until he’s gagging and drooling all over his cock, saliva dripping down to his balls. Holy shit. He wants to suck Yuji off so fucking badly.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Yuji says, and he sounds unusually shy.

“Sorry.” Megumi coughs. “Your pubes are pink.”

Yuji blushes, grins sheepishly. God, he’s so fucking cute.

“I mean, yeah. Why? What were you imagining?”

Megumi scoffs, feeling his own face heat up. “I wasn’t. I mean– I don’t. I do not imagine what your dick looks like. I’ve never imagined.”

Yuji’s nervous grin turns into a smirk. There he is. That’s more like it.

He doesn’t respond, just crawls back onto Megumi’s lap and gives him another searing kiss. His cock rubs up against his abdomen, and Megumi can feel the way Yuji starts to tremble from such featherlight contact.

“Can I..” Yuji whispers against his lips, as his fingers find his way beneath Megumi’s waistband, pulling down just slightly.

Megumi nods, and Yuji pulls both his boxers and his pants down just enough to free his erection, a string of pre-cum connecting the tip to the fabric before his cock bounces up onto his stomach. Yuji lets out a shaky exhale at the sight of it, then reaches out and swipes his thumb over Megumi’s slit, spreading his pre-cum down his shaft.

He whispers, “Shit. You’re so wet.”

Megumi whines in embarrassment, grabs the pillow beside him and covers his face with it. Still, he can’t help the way his hips stutter and buck up into Yuji’s touch. His palm is so warm and his fingers are long and slender, fitting perfectly around his cock. Yuji uses his free hand to take the pillow off Megumi’s face as he continues stroking him slowly.

“What’s wrong?” he asks him, and his face is so sincere, and somehow that makes Megumi feel even more shy. He’d know how to handle it if Yuji was making fun of him, but he’s a bit unsure of how to respond to such pure authenticity.

“D- Don’t say things like that.”

“Why not? You are,” he says. His hand glides up and down easily, the obscene amount of pre-cum serving as a makeshift lube, and Megumi cannot contain the moans that dare to emerge from the back of his throat. “You’re leaking. It’s so fucking hot.”

He pulls his hand away and starts stroking himself instead, spreading Megumi’s pre-cum over his own cock, and Megumi just looks at him with his mouth fallen open, watching in awe of how Yuji’s dick is now glistening with his own fluid. Something about that makes it perhaps the most erotic sight Megumi has ever seen in his entire life. He’s never once thought of himself as possessive, or even jealous, but for some reason, that sight triggers a strange feeling that’s been hiding dormant within him for god knows how long. He finds himself feeling a strong sense of greed and territorial instinct just from seeing Yuji’s cock covered in his pre-cum. He wonders what Yuji would look like with his cum painted all over his pretty face.

Yuji’s got his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and he’s fisting his own cock nice and slow, looking up at Megumi through half-lidded eyes. He then leans forward and brushes his cock up against Megumi’s, and Megumi lets out a choked whine as he feels how hard Yuji is, how wet Megumi has made him, and how warm he feels sliding up on him like that.

“Oh my god,” Megumi breathes out, his eyes fluttering shut. “Yuji, fuck.”

“I know,” Yuji whispers.

He takes hold of both of their cocks and presses them flush against each other, with Megumi’s dick trapped between the solid heat of Yuji’s own cock and the gentle yet firm enclosure of his fingers. He starts stroking them both at the same time, and Megumi whimpers as he watches the way Yuji’s fist envelops them, how he’s rolling his hips up to rub against Megumi at the same time that he’s twisting his hand. It feels like nothing Megumi has ever experienced before.

“That’s so good,” Yuji chokes out. “That feels so fucking good, Megumi.”

Yuji angles his dick so that both of their tips are rubbing together, at that spot just underneath it that’s the most sensitive. Megumi cries out and grabs onto Yuji’s waist to help grind him down on his lap at the same time that he lifts his own hips up, creating a delicious friction, to which Yuji bows his head and moans all low and breathy. Fuck, just the sound of that alone drives Megumi up the wall.

“Itadori,” he starts to plead, but he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for. “Yuji– Yuji, please.”

“I love how you say my name,” Yuji says, and he jerks them off faster, and Megumi’s thighs are now trembling underneath him. He’s so damn sensitive, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep this up before he comes. “Your voice. It’s everything. Keep saying my name, just like that Megumi, please.”

“I can’t– Yuji,” he whines high-pitched, arches his back off the bed as he grips Yuji’s thighs, fingers digging into his firm muscles. “Please, Yuji, I’m going to come– I can’t hold back..”

“Don’t hold back,” Yuji says. “I want you to come all over me. Make a mess.”

Megumi isn’t thinking very clearly when he grabs Yuji’s arm and guides his hand over to his neck, closing his fingers around his throat.

“Choke me,” he begs. “Please.”

Yuji’s fingers hesitate before they flex, squeezing just barely, as if testing the waters. “Do you really trust me that much?” he says.

Megumi nods. “Of course I do. I trust you with my whole life, Yuji.” He presses down harder on Yuji’s hand, gasping as his fingers close fully around his neck. “Please,” he says, all whiny and desperate.

Yuji’s eyes are impossibly gentle as he’s gazing down at Megumi, an expression that he can only describe as sheer adoration. Although it’s bittersweet in a way, knowing that Yuji has to let go of his principles in order to give Megumi what he so desires, but he hopes that with this gesture he can show Yuji that he’s willing to place his entire life in the palm of his hand. There is nowhere on earth that feels safer for Megumi than Yuji.

He presses his fingertips down on the sides of Megumi’s throat, causing him to moan, his breath stuttering, and he exposes his neck further so that Yuji can get a better grip. The sensation is like nothing he’s ever felt before—his own hand doesn’t even begin to compare. It’s as if Yuji’s fingers around his neck have opened up a dream-like haze that he never wants to escape.

“Harder,” Megumi gasps, and Yuji obeys. “Just like that. You’re doing so good, Yuji. You’re so good to me.”

Yuji’s face softens at the exact same time that he starts choking Megumi out in earnest, and the composition of such a rough action directly contrasted against Yuji’s sincere display of affection makes Megumi feel more loved and cared for than he ever has in his life. It should be unfathomable how he feels more secure at Yuji’s mercy than he does with anybody else. But it’s not. It’s the most sensible thing in Megumi’s life. Nothing has ever felt more right than this.

Megumi starts to feel lightheaded, and his moans begin to sound more like strangled gasps for air, his heart picking up its pace as he grabs at Yuji’s wrist, scraping his fingernails down his forearm. Yuji takes it as a sign to loosen his grip, but Megumi quickly shakes his head.

“Don’t stop,” he pants. “I’m so close. Feels so fucking good, Yuji.”

He stares up at Yuji with heavy eyelids, and in his oxygen-deprived vision, Yuji appears to him more like an angel rather than a human being. The wet and firm warmth grinding up against his cock is more of an afterthought by now, his main focus surrounding the pressure built up around his neck. Megumi feels faint, a heady sensation that he chases like a drug, wishing to balance right on that line of unconsciousness, but never fully tip over into the dark. He wants to tease a state of stupor, feel every warning sign in his body light up red as his mind desperately clings onto awareness. And Yuji gives it to him so good, better than he could have ever imagined.

Megumi’s mouth falls open to let out a silent moan as he suddenly comes all over his abdomen and Yuji’s fingers. He swears he can feel it throughout his entire body, electricity coursing from his veins as the lightbulb in his brain flickers between on and off, stuck in a sort of limbo. It’s so damn intense, he almost thinks he dies for a moment, until the weight around his neck is gone in an instant and the sensation fades away just as quickly as it first came on. Megumi opens his eyes to find Yuji’s worried face staring down at him.

“Oh my god. Are you okay?” Yuji asks.

“Yes,” Megumi’s voice is a bit hoarse when he speaks. “That was so good. So fucking good. I’ve never came so hard in my life.”

Yuji lets out a breath of relief, and he leans down and kisses Megumi gently.

“I was worried.”

“Don’t be. That was everything I’ve ever wanted.”

Yuji peppers soft kisses all over Megumi’s neck as if in apology for the damage that he’s done, and it’s so fucking cute, Megumi feels his heart swell. He smiles and holds Yuji close, feeling blissful, and perhaps still a little lightheaded, but mostly just exhausted.

Yuji pulls away and shifts up further on Megumi’s lap so that he can continue to stroke himself over his chest, using his free hand to gingerly trace the hickeys he left on Megumi’s neck. His hand on his cock gets faster, more frantic, as his eyes flutter shut and he tips his head back with a low groan, fucking into his fist over and over again before he’s cursing under his breath and spilling white, covering Megumi’s bare chest in his cum.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, and his body finally relaxes where he’s seated on top of Megumi, letting his full weight rest on his lap, and damn, Yuji is heavier than he thought. “Holy fuck.” He looks down at the mess he’s made of Megumi’s body and quietly whines. “Shit. You’re unreal.”

“You should take a picture while you have the chance,” Megumi jokes.

Yuji laughs, then shakes his head. “Don’t tempt me. I’d probably make it my lock-screen. Or I’d just print it out and hang it up all over my bedroom wall. I’d worship that fucking picture until the day I die.”

Megumi’s nose scrunches up with disgust, but he can’t hold back the smallest smile as he slaps Yuji on the chest. Yuji leans over to pick up his shirt from where it was abandoned and forgotten at the edge of the bed, then flops onto his back next to Megumi. He takes his time wiping Megumi down, making sure there’s no cum left behind, then wipes his own dick off before throwing his shirt onto the floor.

“You did not just throw your cum-soaked shirt on my bedroom floor,” Megumi deadpans. “That’s disgusting.”

“It’s your cum too,” Yuji retorts. “Actually, it’s mostly yours. I don’t think I’ve ever seen that much cum before in my life.”

Megumi blushes and turns away, but Yuji just laughs softly. He pulls Megumi’s face back toward him and gives him a kiss on the lips. He keeps him there for a moment, cradling his cheek, as he lets his eyes roam all over his face and his neck.

“Did I do good?” he whispers. “I know I already said it, but I was really worried, Megumi. I was so scared that I would go too hard and you’d pass out underneath me.”

Megumi places his palm over Yuji’s hand and strokes him tenderly. He nods.

“You did. You were perfect,” he says. “You’re so good to me, Yuji. You gave me exactly what I wanted. You always do.”

Yuji beams at the praise, then leans over to nuzzle Megumi’s temple with his face. He places a kiss near his hairline, where it’s all sweaty and messy, then inhales deeply, pressing his whole face into Megumi’s skin. He stays there for a moment before Megumi decides he’s finally had enough and pushes Yuji’s head away.

“You’re so weird,” Megumi says, because Yuji is weird. But it’s endearing, and it’s more of a compliment than anything.

“Sorry. You just smell so fucking good,” he mumbles. “And you’re so beautiful. I’ve really never seen you look that vulnerable before. With my hand around your neck, it all just felt so… intimate.”

Megumi sighs and places his palm over Yuji’s heart, basking in the warmth of his skin. “You’re the only one who’s ever seen me that way.”

“Good,” Yuji instantly responds. “That’s exactly what I want. To be the only one.”

“Well you don’t have to worry about that. You already left your mark on me,” Megumi says. “You claimed me like a dog. Nobody else can have me now.”

Yuji smiles fondly as he trails his fingers over the bruises on Megumi’s neck. “I really did, didn’t I.”

“Oh, you’re proud of that, aren’t you.”

Yuji nods. “Well, duh. I mean, you’re unbelievable. You’re like a dream. I guess I don’t have the right words to describe it, I’m not as articulate as I wish I was. But you’re everything to me, Megumi.”

Megumi’s not sure how to respond to that. He returns Yuji’s feelings tenfold, but he doesn’t think there are words strong enough to convey it. And if there are, he has yet to find them.

He traces his thumb over the scar on Yuji’s lip before he leans in to give him a soft kiss, desperately hoping that everything he feels for Yuji can be sensed through such a simple touch. He can feel the way Yuji smiles against his lips, and Megumi trusts that Yuji knows him well enough to know exactly what he’s thinking.