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Megumi was wide awake when Sukuna quietly pushed his bedroom door open. It creaked but not loud enough for anyone to hear but them. He knew Megumi was listening to his hushed footsteps entering his room, followed by the clicking sound of the lock.
Soon after, the lightbulbs flickered on and Megumi groaned at the brightness, putting his forearm over his eyes to block out the light and earning a chuckle from Sukuna.
Sukuna didn’t enjoy sex in the dark. He liked to consume Megumi with his eyes as much as he liked to consume him with his mouth, his hands, his cock—if not more.
It always took the bare minimum to have Megumi all spread open and wrecked underneath Sukuna. He was so pliant under Sukuna’s rough hands. So obscenely needy and vocal for him. A feast for Sukuna’s toxic ego.
“Aren’t you the perfect slut?” Sukuna would ask, expecting no answer and losing himself to the heat of Megumi’s tight, young body. Sometimes he was gentle, but most of the time, he wasn't. Megumi didn’t like gentle.
“Just made for fucking, aren’t you? No roses or kisses. Only need a hard cock rearranging your insides,” he would say but he would kiss Megumi anyway because it was impossible not to.
Megumi tasted like red wine and an agglomeration of every sin mentioned in the bible. And it made him wonder what he tasted like to Megumi. Was he merely the lingering taste of cigarette smoke or could Megumi taste his impure thoughts?
“You feel so fucking good. God knows you’ll never know what it’s like to fuck someone with this tiny ass dick of yours,” Sukuna would grunt, taking Megumi in his hand while his hips would start to lose their methodical pace, becoming more erratic as if they were independent of Sukuna. Megumi could do nothing but sob, body absorbing the impact of each hard thrust and begging for more. “But that doesn’t matter now, does it? You are the happiest with my dick deep in your ass, aren't you?”
Megumi was dangerously addictive. It was so satisfying to watch him unfold and break when he would come with the softest whines and the prettiest tears. It would then become a challenge for Sukuna to last any longer after witnessing that sight.
“You were great as always,” he would say after regaining his senses. He would brush the sweaty bangs off Megumi’s face–almost affectionately–and tuck him in under the blanket despite his body being drenched in sweat. “Catch some sleep, and I will drop you off to your class in the morning.”
With that he would walk back to the balcony for another quick smoke before going back to the guest room. He had been spending more nights there than he had anticipated when he agreed to stay behind at his girlfriend’s place due to a heavy storm. But once her son had snuck into his bed in the middle of the night, Sukuna knew he was doomed.
***
There was seduction and there was seduction by Fushiguro Megumi—a poisonous, lethal weapon that could kill any opponent no matter how strong or weak. Fushiguro Megumi was all ‘fuck me’ eyes and mischievous smirks across dinner table with a press of his foot on Sukuna’s crotch. And when Sukuna had put his dick into Fushiguro Megumi for the very first time, he truly believed that the boy was made for Sukuna and Sukuna alone. And although nothing was certain in this world, Sukuna was certain he wasn’t Fushiguro Megumi’s first prey to have believed in that lie and that specifically was what made Fushiguro Megumi quite the dangerous predator he was.
So it didn’t surprise Sukuna one bit when Megumi had confessed to fucking all of his mother’s boyfriends in the past—his eyelids fluttering cutely and delicate fingers drawing wiggly lines on Sukuna’s chest. He was a much younger and prettier version of his mother after all, and Sukuna knew that was the only thing middle-aged men cared about. What did make his stomach churn was the realization that Megumi’s parents got divorced when he was only fifteen.
“I did tell her, but she didn’t believe me,” Megumi had explained. “She thought I was making it up this time.”
“This time?”
Megumi gave him a look, and Sukuna’s throat constricted, already regretting he even asked. Some secrets should remain as secrets for selfish reasons.
“She believed me when I told her my dad did that, but she didn’t believe me again when I told her that her new boyfriend was doing it, too. At that point, she started to doubt if I was making it all up, including everything I told her about my dad, which led to their divorce by the way.”
Sukuna always knew his moral compass was broken. It had to be or else he wouldn’t be fucking his divorcee girlfriend’s 21-year-old son as a 45-year-old man.
But that was the thing. His moral compass was broken, but it existed nonetheless, and it made him feel sick to his stomach to know he was fucking a kid who only wanted Sukuna (and other men like Sukuna) not because he truly wanted him (or any of them) but because he was too broken to know what he wanted.
It was pretty obvious to him from the very beginning that Megumi had daddy issues from the way he begged to be used like a cheap, useless slut to the way he loved to soak in praise when he did something well. Those were only some of the telltale signs. There was also the fact that Megumi was already calling him daddy the moment Sukuna had pressed him into the mattress for the very first time. Sukuna had rationalized that it stemmed from his parents divorce and left it at that. But it now all made sense.
Too much sense for his liking.
Sukuna used to think that maybe Megumi was poison ivy–beautiful and unassumingly deadly–that simply existed to mess with other living creatures in nature. But he wasn’t. He was just a kid who had his innocence stripped away from him by the dirty hands of his own fucking piece-of-shit father and other piece-of-shit men who warped reality for him. He wasn’t obsessed with stealing every ounce of happiness from his mother who broke his trust. Partly, maybe, but mostly because he was lost and scrambling, holding onto anything and everything. And Sukuna had to get out before he became part of that anything and everything.
“I will take my leave now,” Sukuna announced, got up and put his clothes back on. Megumi watched him quietly and carefully as he remained seated on his bed, back resting against the same headboard that was banging against the wall just minutes ago, but was completely still now.
“I’m never going to see you again, am I?”
“Probably not,” Sukuna replied with a shrug and reached for his phone on the nightstand. That was when Megumi grabbed his wrist.
“Stay. Please.”
And for the first time, Sukuna saw something in Megumi that he had never seen before: vulnerability. Vulnerability itself was already beautiful but it looked so much better on Megumi. It was raw and bleeding out of his big, green eyes. And Sukuna wanted to press on his wounds and watch him wither and bleed and bruise and bleed again until he was drained and even more beautiful than he ever had been.
“I’m not your guy, Megumi. Find someone your own age. Find something healthier.”
“But I don’t want something healthier, daddy,” Megumi said, shifting in bed to be on his knees and pulling Sukuna closer by his belt. The beautiful vulnerability was now all gone with no trace of it left behind. Megumi was back to his usual self; the one that wasn’t him, but he had fabricated so meticulously. The one that scared Sukuna when he first laid eyes on him and he once foolishly thought of as a predator that wanted to devour him.
It was impressive how quickly Megumi could snap in and out of who he was and who he created. But despite his sultry voice and unabashed attitude, Sukuna saw the broken kid within him. He knew it was too late to go back to what they used to be. Used to have.
He wasn’t a saint by any means. He wanted to cut Megumi off for his own sake, not Megumi’s. He was afraid of the kind of disgusting, terrible things he could do to him, knowing what he now knew about him. Men were disgusting, terrible creatures and Sukuna was a man after all. He wanted to spare himself of whatever guilt his broken moral compass would allow him to feel in the aftermath of his actions.
“Goodbye, Megumi.”
***
Except it wasn’t a real goodbye. They both knew that.
What Sukuna didn’t know was how fast he was bound to crack.
He had successfully ignored the countless texts from Megumi throughout the day over the first two days. As much as Megumi’s desperation and clinginess drove Sukuna insane, he managed to hold himself back by burying himself in work.
On the third day, Megumi stopped flooding his phone with texts, and Sukuna thought maybe he finally got the message. That was until Sukuna received a single picture and a text that read ‘Come pick me up after class? :)’. It wasn’t the sexiest picture by any means. He received far worse images from Megumi before.
This picture was just Megumi standing in front of the grey, boring bathroom stalls of his university. His face was mostly covered by his phone. All Sukuna could see was the relatively see-through white dress shirt he was wearing, with a few buttons left enticingly open. But the worst part was when Sukuna zoomed in, he could see the subtle outline of a bra underneath. The strap matched the pink of Sukuna’s own hair, and Sukuna felt himself snap at that very moment.
He really was such a simple man, he bitterly thought to himself as he waited inside his car, parked somewhere on Megumi’s campus.
“Can’t get rid of me,” Megumi had told him with a victorious smirk, pressed against the leather seats while Sukuna’s mouth marked the soft skin in the dip of his collarbone.
“Maybe not now,” Sukuna had replied, hand grasping his jaw tightly enough to bruise. “But there will come a day when you will no longer be this young and pretty little thing, and I won’t think twice before throwing you out like the used up trash that you will become.”
Megumi had simply looked back, unafraid and unfazed, as if he expected nothing less from a disgusting, selfish man like Sukuna. And for some reason, that didn’t settle well with him, but at the same time, he wasn’t going to do anything about it either.
On the drive back to his apartment, Sukuna wondered if the words he told Megumi were completely true. Was he going to discard Megumi after he was done using him or was he someone he could keep around for things beyond sex? Did Megumi have other redeemable qualities that he was overlooking because he refused to look at Megumi as something more than a blowup doll with a pulse?
***
Sukuna tried to get rid of him, again. This time it worked and Megumi didn’t fight back.
No more ‘Daddy, I miss you’ or ‘Daddy, I want you’ or ‘ Please, please, take me back, Daddy. I promise I will be good’ texts. No more lewd photos or videos filmed in front of his bedroom mirror to lure Sukuna in. Nothing. Exactly what Sukuna had wanted, but not what he needed.
Truth to be told, Sukuna always had a thirst for broken sluts. They had these empty, soulless eyes and they submitted so beautifully. They let him do whatever the fuck he wanted to do to them in exchange of a little affection. Megumi was at the pinnacle of it. The most broken and the most beautiful. And Sukuna wanted him.
Maybe Sukuna didn’t have a moral compass at all, broken or not. But that realization didn’t bother him as much as he hoped it would. Not when Megumi’s mouth was wrapped so prettily around him, forest green eyes looking up at him as if Sukuna was his God and he was at his mercy.
Sukuna didn’t mind playing God. Maybe he was the closest thing to God Megumi ever had and he needed this more than Sukuna himself.
“You’re doing so well, babygirl,” Sukuna said, voice velvety and hand gentle in Megumi’s hair, just the way Megumi liked it when he was about to cry.
Morality was in fact a human construct. Why should he subject himself to the standards other flawed humans established? He shouldn’t and he wouldn’t. That was why he had brought Megumi into his apartment—something he never done before with anyone—and fucked him against every possible surface until Megumi was permanently etched into his thoughts. Until he could no longer look anywhere in his own home without remembering Megumi’s cries and the way felt. Until he could never get rid of Megumi.
“Do you want to be mine?” Sukuna asked, voice raspy and scratchy from the decades of smoking, not because of the words he uttered. “Why?” he asked again when Megumi had eagerly nodded. He couldn’t understand why Megumi wanted him so desperately after Sukuna treated him like complete, subhuman trash. Could it be that others treated him worse?
“I don’t know. I can’t explain it. I just do.”
Sukuna took a drag of his cigarette before pressing the blazing end against the porcelain skin of Megumi’s inner thigh, making him hiss in pain and dig his fingers into the couch to keep himself still.
“Even now?”
“More than ever.”
***
After being a bachelor for his entire life, he had no expectations for whatever relationship he embarked on with Megumi. He thought it would go nowhere, and eventually, Megumi would get bored of him and run away. But it never happened and he had never been so happy to be wrong.
It was a foreign feeling, caring for someone other than himself, but Sukuna couldn’t deny that he enjoyed it. He realized he preferred Megumi’s genuine smiles over his cries, and that building Megumi back up was much more fulfilling than breaking him down. And Megumi did have a lot of redeemable qualities. Too many for Sukuna to name them all. And they rubbed off on Sukuna.
Sometime, in the midst of being the reason behind Megumi’s smile, Sukuna had stopped hating himself for all he was and for what he couldn’t be.
“You never asked to see what present I got you,” Megumi had commented on the night of their first anniversary. They were home from their dinner date, all tangled up in each other’s limbs on the couch.
“What do you mean? I’m already looking at it,” Sukuna replied, taking Megumi’s hand and placing a kiss on the back of his palm.
Megumi only shoved his face away with a smile and stood up. “Close your eyes,” he demanded, and Sukuna obliged. “Okay, now open your eyes.”
And when Sukuna did, he gasped.
There it was, in beautiful cursive writing, permanently inked on Megumi’s body: Sukuna’s.
That night when he made love to Megumi, his thrusts were deep and slow because he couldn’t help but trace his shaky fingers across the tattoo right between Megumi’s hipbones and below his belly button.
Damn fucking right. Sukuna’s and always will be.