Malevolent Pleasure

by Yas_k_una

Summary:

“Would you look at that,” Sukuna purred, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Your cursed energy flares up so beautifully the more frustrated you get. Maybe that’s all you needed, hm? A firm hand to teach that lovely body of yours how it’s truly meant to be handled.”

Bewitched, his red eyes gleamed in the dim light.

“Don’t worry. I’ll fulfill all those filthy little desires you keep buried so deep.”

With Gojo out of town, Sukuna finally has his way with Megumi - just like he always wanted.

How is the boy supposed to move on after such a violation?

Notes:

• A translation of Pandämonische Qual by Yas_k_una

Finally got around to translating the very first story I uploaded here into English—after some much-needed revisions to the first chapter...😅

This one still holds a special place in my heart. It may not be perfect, but oh boy was it fun to write!

Now, all that's left is to hope it's just as fun to read. Enjoy~ 💕

Chapter 1

Dull. Charmless. Boring. These were the words that shot through Sukuna's mind as he rotted away atop his mountain of skulls.

The first few weeks since his reincarnation had proven kinda amusing as he had embarrassed that annoying brat with some lewd commentary in serious situations, but rather sooner than later, Yuji Itadori had learned to ignore the constant remarks on his daily life. A shame, really, since it seemed to have been the only high-quality input to his miserable excuse of a life.

The boy had grown far too adept at ignoring the second presence inside him, and as time went on, the King of Curses found himself growing restless. There was only so much pleasure to gain from bathing in hot springs or skipping stones across the red water. Now it was time for something to happen.

He didn’t expect much as he decided to eavesdrop on his vessel’s life. And still, that useless boy never ceased to disappoint him. As usual, the curse found little enjoyment in the poorly produced game shows that the brat spent so much time watching. As if there could be anything worse than stupid people making a fool of themselves on national television for some lousy pocket money. Sukuna couldn’t wait to rid the world of their existence once he finally found back to his older glory.

He was about to give in to his boredom again, stretching out over bones and staring at the endless ceiling, when suddenly there was a knock on Yuji's door.

"Oh, Fushiguro," the brat greeted his friend, and instantly Sukuna's interest was piqued.
"What's up? Is there a new mission Gojo-sensei needs us to handle?"

Dismissively, Megumi shook his head. "He's out of town, probably buying cream puffs again or some such nonsense. But that’s not why I’m here. I was thinking about training, so do you want to join in?"

Alert, Sukuna lifted his head. Ever since the incident at the juvenile detention center, that obnoxious sorcerer Gojo Satoru had been all over his beloved students, never letting them out of sight for too long. What an opportunity. The annoying killjoy of a teacher was finally out of the picture.

Maybe this day wasn’t a total loss after all. Weighing his options, Sukuna felt a low chuckle rumbling deep in his throat, growing into a loud, evil laugh.

"Megumi-chan wants to train, huh? Why not offer him a worthy sparring partner then?" Quickly, he straightened up and brushed the hair from his forehead. Then he raised his voice.

"Enchain."

The word echoed loud and deep under the massive arch of bones and as Megumi walked ahead, Yuji's consciousness was suddenly overcome by an immense power that pushed him out entirely. Black marks stretched across his skin, and Sukuna flexed his hand experimentally. Perfect. He was in control. This was almost too easy. Still, time was ticking.

1, 2, 3. Out of nowhere, an uneasy feeling washed over Megumi's body, raising the hairs on his skin. “Yuji-” he whispered with a sense of foreboding before turning around hesitantly.

“Wanna try again?” a far too deep voice cackled and the sight that met Megumi made him instinctively cross his arms over his chest, stumbling back as his eyes widened in panic. Gone was his friend, only leaving a monster in his tracks.

"I'm so very sorry to disappoint, but the brat’s on timeout. You'll have to entertain yourself with me for now, Fushiguro Megumi."
The aura around him had fundamentally changed, and if the devilish grin on the usually friendly face wasn’t uncharacteristic enough, the dark tattoos on his skin revealed who truly stood before Megumi now.

But why had Yuji suddenly lost control? How had Sukuna taken over his body? What the hell was going on here? He had no time to keep pondering.

10, 11. Without hesitation, Megumi's body sprang into action, forming the hand sign for his Divine Dogs mid-sprint, and accompanied by the wolfish howl of his Shikigami, his arm gained momentum for the first strike.

29, 30, 31. Sukuna dodged the attacks effortlessly, a charming smile grazing his lips as he basked in the anger on his opponent's face. Megumi poured all his strength into his punches - such a diligent little boy - only to strike nothing but air. Casually, Sukuna pulled his hands out of his pockets and, with the next attack, lightly tapped Megumi's forehead with his index finger.

Startled by the overwhelming force behind what was only a gentle push, Megumi stumbled back before landing hard on the ground.

48, 49. "I’d love to play tag a little longer," the curse mocked. "But unfortunately, my time here is somewhat limited. How about a little change of scenery?"
Terror flashed in Megumi's eyes as he recognized the curse's sharp hand sign. His heartbeat pounded in his ears, and icy panic washed over his skin.
"Get out of here!" it shot through his mind and panting, he scrambled to his feet. Casting a last glance over his shoulder, he leaped further down the hallway - but it was already too late. Red eyes bore into his, and the deep, threatening words echoed ominously.

"Domain Expansion - Malevolent Shrine."

A sudden shockwave sent Megumi reeling as he was inevitably pulled into the King of Curses's inner domain.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

It was hot, dark, and red water stood up to his ankles. The stench of blood and decaying flesh was overwhelming, making Megumi question the fluid that swirled in restless circles around his feet.

Panicked, his gaze darted around, taking in the mountains of animal skulls, the enormous rib bones arching high above his head, and the deep, black void in the distance. An eternal prison. There was no escape from here. And perched high atop the mountain of skulls, he saw him—Ryomen Sukuna, the double-faced specter - whose mere presence proved justice to his title as the "King of Curses."

Gazing down at his guest with an elitist air, the curse casually rested his head on his fist, a victorious smile playing on his lips that made the boy instinctively recoil. Trembling, Megumi's hands interlocked in his most familiar sign, yet he hesitated when Sukuna didn’t even attempt to interfere with his actions. The curse’s teeth gleamed in the dim red light as he merely leaned forward.

"Don't hold back, knock yourself out. It would surely be amusing to see how long your Shikigami can last in my domain," he chuckled, causing Megumi to pause.

Even outside, in the normal world, he and his Shikigami barely stood a chance against Sukuna. When he thought back to how many of his shadow companions had been obliterated during their last encounter, his heart grew heavy once more. But this battle right here had been decided the moment he was pulled into Sukuna's inner domain. Here, where every attack would land without fail. If the curse had intended to, his body would already be lying on the ground, cut in even pieces. Megumi knew that. And he knew that Sukuna knew as well. So what in hell was the curse up to? What was he plotting? Why had he dragged him into his domain only to observe him with those predatory eyes?
The longer he thought about it, the more nervous he became.

Slowly, Megumi's stiff fingers unclenched from the hand sign. It was the wrong approach. First, he had to find an escape from this damned domain – something that seemed impossible enough on its own and would surely cost him a lot of cursed energy. Better to save it for now than to waste it on some sorry attempt of a fight.
“Think!” his thoughts screamed. “There must be something - anything - you can do so just- think of a goddamn plan!”

A breakthrough from within the barrier seemed hopeless, given the curse's overwhelming power. Maybe his own domain could…- No. Impossible. He hadn’t even mastered it yet.

In the back of his mind, he recalled Sukuna's words before he had expanded his domain, claiming his time was running out. Surely that meant Yuji had regained control of his body by now, and help was on the way. But would Megumi even survive long enough for that? And what kind of jujutsu sorcerer would helplessly sit out the situation at hand without it gnawing on his useless pride?

A movement high atop the mountain of skulls snapped Megumi from his racing thoughts. With horror in his eyes, he watched as the curse rose from his throne. Graceful, the white robe hugged his godlike silhouette before he suddenly leaped forward.

Red water splashed from the impact of his feet, and Megumi hesitantly wiped the droplets from his cheek before realization hit him. He was standing right in front of him, suddenly so fucking close. Too close.

And if his presence had been overwhelming from a distance, it now punched the air from Megumi’s lungs, making him stumble backward in panic.

Amused, Sukuna’s lips curled upward, the eager anticipation in his eyes sending a shiver down Megumi’s spine. How could this face, capable of the warmest smile he had ever seen, be the same one now looking at him with such devilish intent?
Sukuna took another step toward him, and desperate, Megumi raised his arms in defense.

“Come on now~” Sukunas voice echoed through the domain.
“Don’t be shy, show me what you’ve learned, Fushiguro Megumi.” Mockingly, the curse grabbed his hands and placed his knuckles on top of each other. For a moment, blue cursed energy flickered around the boy's hands before he turned his head with a bitter hiss, his arms falling discouraged to his sides.

With a knowing smile, Sukuna leaned closer, his lips almost brushing the sorcerer’s ear as he whispered, "You may have grown stronger since our last encounter, but when it comes to a real fight, you still run away like some foolish little rabbit."

Intimidated, Megumi’s eyes bore into the ground. Silent anger and frustration gnawed at him. As if he hadn’t known that already. Megumi wasn’t a fool; he just knew to pick his battles – With the slightest chance of victory, he would fight to his death. No hesitation, no second thoughts.

Once again, Gojo’s words echoed in his mind. “Dying to win and risking death to win are two completely different things,” he had said. But what oh-so-valuable advice would he give him now? Now that everything seemed so fucking useless, he could scream! Was there a point to a battle that was hopeless from the start, against an opponent not even Gojo-sensei himself could defeat without a doubt?

The realization was painful and humiliating, but equally obvious. Here, any effort was in vain. Megumi could send his Shikigami to certain death and emerge from the inevitable defeat even weaker than he already was. He was completely, utterly powerless, and that was exactly what the curse wanted to make abundantly clear when he placed Megumi's hands in the sign for his own domain expansion. If Malevolent Shrine was on equal terms with Gojo’s Infinite Void, then Megumi’s own imperfect, ugly technique could only shatter miserably, draining him of immense amounts of cursed energy.

"Going on like this, you'll never reach your true potential," Sukuna mused briefly, his voice dripping with feigned pity.
"Perhaps I should give you a little push. Let me demonstrate the true power of jujutsu..."

A diabolical gleam flickered in his eyes, and with elegance, Sukuna’s fingers sliced through the air. A single, swift motion, so small and casual that Megumi barely registered the extent of its impact as the ripping sound of fabric echoed in his ears.

Perplexed, he lowered his gaze. Dark shreds of cloth fluttered down his body, no longer recognizable as what had once been his jujutsu uniform, revealing the delicate, white skin beneath—skin that bore not the slightest scratch, serving as a clear testament to the precision and control the curse wielded over his powers.

“What the—” Megumi’s voice faltered, panic tightening his throat. His hands flew to his chest and groin, trembling as they tried to shield his exposed skin.
His breath came in quick, shallow gasps, the air suddenly too thin, too suffocating as he felt his heart hammering against his ribs, each beat loud and frantic in his ears.

Never in his life had he imagined himself shuddering before a curse, had always judged other sorcerers for breaking in the face of danger, for letting fear override their skills. But now—now the cold, creeping terror was inescapable, paralyzing. All he could do was stare at Sukuna, who loomed over him like death itself. It was so easy, terrifyingly easy, to imagine his own blood soaking the ground, to see himself torn apart, powerless to stop it.

Sukuna on the other hand seemed the very picture of composure as he let his piercing gaze take in Megumi's naked body, inch by inch, across every centimeter of his skin. Only when his eyes settled on the sorcerer's face did his twitching mouth reveal how much he enjoyed himself.
It was far too easy to see through the boy, his body language and expressions as readable as an open book. Oh, how desperately he tried to hide his fear, struggling so delicately to hold his stand. And yet, he was only just a student.

"Why are you doing this?" Megumi stammered.
“What- What do you even gain from this?” Even to his own ears, the miserable sound of his voice felt so very different from his usual tone.

Eager, Sukuna licked his lips. "Why? Well, I suppose you could call it... boredom. I was so fucking bored. But you, boy… Somehow never cease to excite me," Slowly, his index finger traced along Megumi's jawline.
"You're not exactly the talkative type, are you? Heh~, don’t worry. I’ll have that beautiful voice of yours whimper and moan for me in no time."

With a snip of his fingers, heavy iron chains suddenly clung around Megumis wrists, and yelping in panic, the boy's feet dangled in the air as Sukuna grabbed him by the hips, roughly throwing him over his broad shoulder.

"Fuck- Put me down!" Pounding against Sukuna’s back, Megumi tried to wriggle free from his firm grip, but to no avail. He was feather-light over Sukuna's strong shoulder, and as his nails dug deep into the curse’s skin, his feet kicked Sukuna's ribs with all his might, the curse could only chuckle.

"So weak, so helpless... It’s almost endearing," he thought, his lips curling into a smirk as he carried the struggling boy up the mound of skulls. With every step, bones cracked and shifted under his feet, until he reached his throne atop the grotesque mountain.

Slowly, the King of Curses settled onto his throne, transforming the smallest of movements into an exhibition of royal grace, which remained unblemished even by the forceful air kicks from the body over his shoulder. Ceremonially, he lowered the helpless sorcerer into his lap before slipping his head between Megumi's bound arms, the chains rustling behind his neck, and forcing his face so close that he could have counted every beautifully swung eyelash.

Sukuna’s gaze lingered, his greedy eyes tracing the line of Megumi’s nervously swallowing throat, his pale skin and delicate physique that seemed almost fragile next to Sukuna’s own muscular body. His pink, vulnerable nipples stood from his chest, almost begging to be touched, and a flicker of hunger passed over Sukuna’s face as he wet his lips.

“Don’t do this,” Megumi’s voice broke the spell.
“Don’t- don’t hurt me…”

Cooing, Sukuna caressed his cheek. “Hurt you? Oh no, little blessing”, he whispered, his voice laced with a cruel gentleness.
“This isn’t about pain. It’s all about pleasure… After all, we are here to enjoy ourselves, don’t you think?”

Intimidated, Megumi shook his head but Sukuna’s hand only tightened its grip, locking him in a one-sided embrace before traveling over his back, so painstakingly slowly, that Megumi felt his seething touch on each and every rib. Reaching his butt, the huge hand finally came to a halt.

“I could never harm what’s mine.” Sukuna’s voice was a whisper in his ear, a twisted parody of affection as he began to knead the plush flesh, and yanking at the tight chains around his wrists, Megumi began to struggle once more.

“Stop-“, he growled, but Sukuna’s hand moved faster than he could react, slamming down on his ass. Burning pain forced a hiss from Megumi’s lips, as tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

He did not allow himself such shame. Not when tears were fucking useless. As useless as every training session of the past, every single one of his Shikigami.

“Would you look at that,” Sukuna purred, his voice dripping with mockery.
“Your cursed energy flares up so beautifully the more frustrated you get. Maybe that’s all you needed, hm? A firm hand to teach that lovely body of yours how it’s truly meant to be handled.” Bewitched, his red eyes gleamed in the dim light.
“Don’t worry. I’ll fulfill all those filthy little desires you keep buried so deep.”

His fingers roamed over Megumi’s skin with possessive ease, savoring the first, almost imperceptible signs of arousal while the boy chafed his wrists against his chains until they burned and bled.

“What fucking desire- I don’t want this,” he spat, his glare sharp and defiant.
“I would never want any of this, you sick bastard!”

The curse merely chuckled. “Surely you wouldn’t. And surely you would love for me to gush my claws inside your tender skin, to inflict pain and torture. At least then, you’d have someone to blame for the weakness you feel.”

Megumi’s eyes blazed with defiance, but there was no denying the truth in Sukuna’s words. Why hadn’t he killed him already? Why drag him through this twisted torment before the inevitable end – the certain death sentence that hung over his head like the blade of a guillotine? No doubt it was pure sadism and as Sukuna’s motives became clearer and clearer, his hungry gaze zeroing in on Megumi’s exposed crotch, a freezing shudder left the boy fighting for air – panic constricting his chest and a tremble shaking his helpless frame.

“Don’t- Don’t you dare fucking touch me-“ Megumi’s voice wavered, his attempted threat falling flat with the growing smirk on Sukuna’s lips.

“What an enticing little thought. I might do just that. See how you’ll hang on my every move, so desperate for my guidance.”

Slowly, his cursed fingers neared Megumi’s private parts and there was nothing the boy could do to stop him- a helpless little toy in the claws of a monster, unable to do anything but endure the poisonous touch forced upon him.

A desperate whimper escaped Megumi’s lips as the curse’s hand gently, almost lovingly, caressed his limp penis. With light strokes across his sensitive skin, Sukuna made sure to let him grow accustomed to the intimate nature of his touch before closing his fingers around the hardening length.

“That’s right~” he purred in a tone of sinister satisfaction.
“Just like that.” Slowly, he began to move his hand—not out of fondness no less affection, but as an assertion of dominance. Sukuna had always been strong enough to physically overpower Megumi and leave him to his wretched fate, but there was no art in breaking his bones by sheer force. It was his mind that Sukuna sought to conquer.

With a sharp yelp, Megumi flinched as a sudden warm, wet sensation encircled his growing erection.
“No,” he gasped in panic, struggling fiercely against the chains binding his wrists. The brutal contrast between Sukuna’s cruel mindfuck and his gentle stroking made the stimulation all the more intense. Still, Megumi kept on fighting, refusing to succumb to the sensation overwhelming his body as the tongue emerging from Sukuna’s palm licked along his shaft, while his fingers kept on massaging him with practiced precision.

“Shhh,” the curse whispered soothingly, but Megumi only shook his head in a frantic attempt to escape his voice’s dark influence. He couldn’t allow himself to feel any pleasure from these forced touches; loathed how the curse took control of his body with every fiber of his being. And yet, most of his hatred was reserved for his own traitorous flesh - his body that betrayed him, prickling with arousal under every touch, his erection growing against his will. He despised how his breath deepened with lust, how he grew in Sukuna’s palm and began to leak precum. He hated how his lips trembled as the curse’s other hand now reached for his face, brushing his thumb over Megumi’s lips. And tense, he clenched his teeth, meeting Sukuna’s sadistic gaze with stubborn eyes.

"You'll hurt yourself, Megumi-chan," Sukuna murmured, his voice soft yet laced with a clear warning, offering one last, generous chance. The sickening sound of his belittled name sent a wave of nausea through Megumi’s stomach, his face contorting in disgust. Yet there was nothing he could do. Slowly, almost mechanically, his mouth opened, making way as two long fingers invaded his mouth. Cold at first, they warmed on Megumi’s tongue, bathing in the saliva behind his teeth and leaving a rotten taste of decay in their wake. Then they pressed deeper, rubbing against the back of his throat until a violent gag reflex overtook the boy.

Trembling under his body's resistance, Megumi tried to pull away, but the curse’s fingers just fucked deeper down his throat. Only when Sukuna had savored the pathetic sight to his heart's content did he finally withdraw his fingers, allowing Megumi to take in a gasping breath of air.

Strings of saliva clung between Sukuna’s fingers as he spread them, watching them glim and glisten in the dim light. Then his gaze flicked back to Megumi.
Panicking, the boy flinched. A soft, broken whimper escaped him as he shook his head ever so slightly, but Sukuna’s grin only widened.

Reaching around the boy, the curse's hand slid downward, fingers creeping toward Megumi’s entrance. At first, they merely stroked the shy little hole, ensuring the area was well-lubricated before he deemed the preparation sufficient. Then, for the first time, he pressed down.

Megumi’s entire body seized, muscles locking up the moment Sukuna’s finger slipped inside him. Even as he bit down on his lip hard enough to draw blood, he couldn’t suppress the involuntary shudder that passed through his body.
The sharp taste of iron filled his mouth, accompanied by a grounding pain that reminded him of his resistance—that he wasn’t submitting, that despite the reactions of his treacherous body, he was suffering. The pain serving as a small anchor, tethering him to the fact that he loathed every moment of his abuse, this cruel torment - a last straw to cling to sanity.

Always one to notice, Sukuna merely clicked his tongue. “Now, now. None of that,” he growled, his thumb brushing across Megumi's mouth before prying his bloodied lip from between his teeth.
"You’ll feel pain when I give you pain. And you’ll feel pleasure when I give you pleasure."

Carefully, he pushed his finger deeper, as if proving his words with a shiver of unwanted lust that made Megumi tremble in his lap. Without mercy, Sukuna added a second finger and soon his efforts seemed to pay off as the muscle slowly softened under his persistent touch.

“Good… That’s it,” he purred, his voice filled with excitement as hot fluid trickled down his hand, slicking his skin.

“N-No… that’s-“ Megumi gasped, feeling each and every touch straight to the core - Sukuna’s long fingers moving smoothly in and out, each motion sparking an intoxicating sensation deep within—a sensation Megumi despised, hated, couldn’t endure for a second longer, and yet it felt so unbearably good it was driving him fucking mad. Shame flushed his face as he buried it against Sukuna’s neck, desperate for this humiliation to end. Yet his labored breath only grew shallower, teetering on the edge of frantic, thin gasps.

Sukuna’s fingers delved even deeper, feeling the place he intended to claim fully by the end of the night, when he would stretch it, mold it into the shape of his hardening dick like no other had before.

Fighting to resist the sensations overwhelming his body, Megumi tried desperately to convince himself that he wasn’t feeling good, that disgust should rise like bile in his throat while he endured the most excruciating, degrading torture imaginable – when in reality, deep down he was tormented by the undeniable truth: That he wasn’t suffering as much as he ought to. Because fuck- it felt good. So good, in fact, that he didn’t even notice his hips subtly moving on their own.

Sukuna hesitated for a brief moment, bewitched by the unexpected display unfolding before his very eyes. Oh, what an unforeseen, yet welcome twist. Curious, he decided to let the boy take the lead for a moment, fiery arousal stirring in his loins. Relaxed, he leaned back, savoring the sight of his favorite little sorcerer slowly and gently fingering himself on Sukuna’s hand. There Megumi was, hips rising and falling in rhythmic waves, and with each soft moan, his head lolled back in submission.

Pleased, Sukuna wet his lips. It was such a precious moment. Far too valuable to disturb – and so he made sure not to shatter the boy’s trance, not wanting to drag him back into reality. The cruel reality that Megumi was taking pleasure in this, in touching himself against a curse’s body.

Panting, he moved his hips faster, sinking deeper onto Sukuna’s fingers, desperate for more – more intensity, more sensation, his mind blank except for the eager anticipation to reach the peak of his lust. A quiet sigh escaped Megumi’s lips. It felt so unbearably good.

Desperation tingled through his body as his bound hands fumbled against their restraints, searching for anything solid to hold onto, grasping at nothing but empty air - until Sukuna noticed. With a sly smirk, he gently guided Megumi’s hands from behind his neck down to where his own neglected erection stood from between his white kimono, offering the support the boy so desperately longed for. Trembling, Megumi’s hands wrapped around his hard dick, feeling every vein beneath his fingers. And with each thrust of his hips, his hands rubbed over the throbbing flesh.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a delighted smirk. What had begun as a mere game to stave off boredom now stirred real excitement. Sure, he had always intended to break the boy and take what he wanted, but the ease of Megumi’s submission genuinely surprised him.

He was so unaware yet helplessly succumbing to his fate, all it took was a subtle curl of Sukuna’s fingers and the boy’s body arched above him. Lust contorted Megumi’s face as he tried to stifle a moan and then, with a shudder, he came. Hot semen soaked Sukuna’s robe and dripped down his exposed chest - an oh-so-beautiful view against his tan skin.

Blinking in a daze, Megumi struggled to steady his breathing. Slowly, his brain began to process the last few minutes, and with a jolt, he pulled his hands from Sukuna’s crotch. Horror widened his eyes as he saw the cum on Sukuna’s skin. His cum. He stared, lips quivering as the weight of it all crashed down on him. He could no longer hold back the burning tears—tears full of regret, guilt, confusion, and above all - self-loathing.

Carefully, he tried to slide off the curse’s lap, desperate to put distance between them, to hide his pathetic sobs by turning his face aside. But it was a futile attempt. Sukuna’s hand was quick to catch a stray tear sliding down Megumi’s cheek.

“Aww, look at you,” he sneered.
“You tried so hard to keep yourself together, didn’t you?” Leisurely, he licked the sticky, white fluid from his wrist, savoring every second of Megumi’s misery.
“But we’ve only just begun—show me more, Fushiguro Megumi,”

“Let go,” Megumi’s frail voice whispered as he tried to evade further touches, but Sukuna didn’t give him the chance to cool off. Not now, when their little game had only just begun.

“It’s time you learned what it truly means to serve a curse,” Sukuna declared, his rough hand once again reaching for Megumi’s softening cock. Sensually, his thumb circled over the slick, glistening tip.

“Mh~” Megumi whimpered, unable to stop the tortured sound as the curse drove him into a state of cruel overstimulation.

“More,” Sukuna demanded, his voice quivering with raw, untamed desire. As he rose to his feet, Megumi’s body fell onto the hard skulls beneath them, but before he could recover, Sukuna had already yanked him up, pressing his face against the cold backrest of his throne. Without mercy, he bent the boy’s body into submission.

The soft rustle of falling fabric made Megumi’s head snap around in terror, his tear-streaked gaze darting over his shoulder. And then he realized what was coming. Sukuna had undone the knot on his robe, and even through the blur of salty tears, what Megumi saw was terrifyingly massive. A body that seemed almost godlike in its perfection—so sculpted, so monstrous—that the mere sight of it made his breath hitch.

“No,” he whispered, a soft, broken plea barely audible in the charged air. For a fleeting moment, Sukuna paused. Gently, he ran his hand through Megumi’s hair, caressing him almost tenderly. But then, in an instant, his fingers tightened and yanked Megumi’s head back, eliciting a sharp cry from the boy.

“Why not?” Sukuna purred into his ear, his voice thick with sadistic amusement.
“Is it really disgust you feel for me… or are you just scared it’ll feel even better than riding my fingers?”

“As if anything with you could ever feel good,” Megumi stammered, but the curse only rolled his eyes at the blatant lie. His grip on Megumi’s waist tightened, holding him in place as his tip teasingly nudged against Megumi’s loosened hole.

“In that case, you should thank me. I’m giving you the perfect reason to hate me. It might even make it easier for you when the brat has to pay the price for his recklessness.”

Megumi's scream echoed through the domain as Sukuna pushed inside him, the pain unbearable – sharp, searing, tearing through his body. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and the raw, tortured sounds escaping his throat were so alien, so unfamiliar, that he hardly recognized them as his own. He wanted to flee, to escape Sukuna’s grasp, but there was no way out. He was trapped, overpowered by the curse’s sheer strength, as massive hands left dark bruises on his hips.

Crying out with every thrust, his shaking legs gave out beneath him, but he fell softly into strong, tattooed arms that pulled him even deeper onto Sukuna’s throbbing cock. Whimpering, Megumi gasped. His skin tingled, overrun by the maddening mix of pain and pleasure. Every touch sent sharp, electric jolts through his veins, and with each deep, brutal thrust, a helpless moan was ripped from his trembling lips. He felt everything—every little movement, every caress, the rhythmic pulsating deep inside him—so intense, unlike anything he had ever felt before.

Like a symphony to his ears, Sukuna reveled in the lewd sounds of Megumi’s unraveling. The boy, always so controlled, so careful, was now reduced to raw, desperate moans and cries under Sukuna’s very touch and it was only right that he was the one to break Megumi, to draw out these uncontrolled, primal sounds.

Shuddering from the relentless pressure inside him, Megumi’s fingers dug into the cold stone of the throne, the sharp pain of his bleeding nails barely registering. His neglected cock hung stiff and dripping between his legs, painfully throbbing under the onslaught of overstimulation and yet again twitching as Sukuna sank his teeth into the tender flesh of Megumi’s neck, then licking at the bloody marks he’d left behind.

With a predatory grin, Sukuna pulled the boy even closer until he felt every inch of his dick buried deep within Megumi's trembling body. The sight—Megumi, submissive beneath him, supported only by Sukuna’s strong arms, his face flushed all the way to the tips of his ears, body shaking with unchecked sobs – made his blood boil with lust. Megumi was so tight, so hot and welcoming, yet with every thrust, Sukuna craved even more—more of those pitiful moans, more tears, more of the raging desire that, despite it all, made Megumi push his hips back, offering himself willingly.

“I… I can’t take it anymore,” the sorcerer stuttered, his voice trembling between ragged sobs.
“It hurts-” Attentive, Sukuna slowed his pace without easing the force of his thrusts, drawing a frustrated cry from Megumi’s lips.
“Just- let me come.” It was barely more than a breath, each word laced with shame and self-loathing.

Triumph danced in Sukuna’s laughter as he kept up his slow, torturous rhythm. Leisurely, he leaned down, his lips brushing against Megumi’s ear.

“Now, now, is that how you ask a favor? I know you can do better than that. If you want it - beg for it,” he whispered, licking a tear from Megumi’s flushed cheek. Exhausted, Megumi shook his head. If he had any scrap of dignity, any shred of pride left, he swore he would hold onto it. Never would he beg a curse for anything.

And yet, his blood still roared hot in his veins. The bite marks on his skin still stung, and with each agonizingly slow thrust, precum dripped from his painfully hard cock, pooling on the ground between his feet. Sukuna’s movements were too deliberate, too controlled—just enough to keep Megumi teetering on the edge, trapped between pleasure and agony, but never allowing the release he so desperately craved.

With firm control, Sukuna grabbed Megumi’s chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. He wanted to see it—the exact moment when lust would completely consume him. That moment when Megumi would finally submit to his every word. Sukuna could feel it coming closer and closer. Any second now, Megumi would crumble, becoming malleable, nothing but a pliable plaything in his hands.

Already, those deep blue eyes, swollen and glassy from crying, blinked up at him weakly. Tears clung to his long lashes, and Sukuna’s gaze dropped to Megumi’s quivering lips.

He looked utterly broken—desperate, exhausted, weak—and Sukuna had never desired him more.

A low growl rumbled in Sukuna’s throat as he drove into Megumi harder, reveling in the way the boy’s features twisted in despair. Megumi struggled so delicately to suppress the moans that tore from his throat, his body betraying him as fresh tears streamed down his cheeks. And with this picture of utter beauty right in front of him, Sukuna had no intention of granting mercy.

Slowly, his fingers inched closer to Megumi’s lovely little cock, teasing the release the sorcerer longed for and making him writhe in helpless anticipation. Closer… closer… and then, Sukuna’s fingers trailed back down Megumi’s thigh, leaving behind nothing but the sting of unmet desire.

Frustrated, Megumi clenched his teeth. Was there nothing he could do to ease the aching throb in his cock? With legs too weak to support him, he still tried to grind against Sukuna’s hand, seeking any kind of release - but no matter how much he writhed, he just couldn’t reach it.

Sukuna watched him with predatory amusement, eager to see how far he could push this game. Again, his fingers traced the inside of Megumi’s thigh, remaining nothing more than a tantalizing provocation that sneaked closer and closer to the very spot where Megumi longed for him to touch.

And then – finally – Sukuna granted a flicker of relief. With just a single finger, he grazed over Megumi’s erect cock. Such a reserved little touch, yet enough to make the boy gasp, pressing his hips back in desperation.

“More,” Megumi’s mind screamed. He needed more—rougher, harder. Sukuna’s touches were too soft, too fleeting, enough to stoke the flames of his desire, only to leave him starving in its wake. It was driving him fucking insane.

Elegantly, one by one, Sukuna's long fingers finally wrapped around Megumi’s length, enclosing it in a firm grip. Then he began to move his hand, stroking slowly at first before the pace quickened and Megumi found himself increasingly lost in the sensation. The sync of Sukuna’s hand movements and his lazy thrusts had him moaning in bliss as he felt the heat within him build, ready to explode.

Lust throbbed between Sukuna’s fingers, and just as Megumi was on the brink of release, the curse tightened his grip around the base of his cock, cutting off his relief. Megumi let out a desperate, heartbreaking sob.

"You haven’t forgotten our little condition, hm?" Sukuna taunted and Megumi, too drained to resist, turned to face him.

Tears flowed freely now, and through his blurred vision, he barely made out Sukuna’s wicked grin mere inches away. Trembling, he parted his lips – only to whisper one single, broken word.

A dark, triumphant laugh rumbled deep in Sukuna’s throat.
"Louder, Fushiguro Megumi!" he demanded, and another gut-wrenching sob shook the young sorcerer’s body as he shuddered in Sukuna’s supportive grip.

“Please-” he whimpered, choking back tears.
“Fuck me… properly.”

Pleased, Sukuna ruffled his sweat-dampened hair. “Good boy,” he purred. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

With a swift motion, he hoisted Megumi’s hips higher, angling himself to thrust even deeper, and plunged forward with brutal force. A howl of despair tore from Megumi’s throat as he felt the ground slipping from beneath his feet, now only held by Sukuna’s arms and pounding dick. His legs kicked helplessly, seeking any kind of stability, but he was utterly powerless against Sukuna’s brutal thrusts and the searing pleasure spreading through his body.

Sukuna, wholly absorbed in his own lust, no longer paid attention to the way the boy’s eyes widened, nor how his face slammed against the throne’s backrest with every thrust. And Megumi too barely registered the cold bones bruising his cheek or the air being brutally punched from his lungs with each impact. There were only loud, desperate moans that escaped him and the overwhelming pleasure in his loins. Long-suppressed arousal crackled across every inch of his skin, finally on the verge of erupting into a searing inferno of ecstasy.

Heat coiled tighter in his belly, pulsating through his veins, and at last, Sukuna’s grip around his cock loosened. A loud, unrestrained moan ripped from Megumi’s throat, his voice cracking from overuse. His body convulsed uncontrollably as the long-awaited release hit him, pleasure spilling from him in hot, powerful spurts.

Sukuna growled as he felt the sorcerer’s insides tighten and pulse around his cock. With one final, violent thrust, he yanked Megumi’s body closer, holding him tight, as if he never planned to let go, before he reached his own climax deep within the boy’s quivering form.

Breathing heavily, Sukuna released his grip on the sorcerer.

All the tension slowly drained from Megumi’s exhausted muscles, his eyelids fluttering weakly before his vision faded to black. His body collapsed to the ground, unimpeded by the King of Curses, finally overtaken by bone-deep exhaustion.

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, disdain flickering across his face, as he nudged the unconscious boy with his foot. But soon, his expression softened, his gaze trailing over Megumi’s limp form. He surveyed his handiwork with satisfaction—green and blue bruises blooming on pale skin, deep bite marks, scratches, and drying blood. Megumi’s black hair lay disheveled, and his body was smeared with the aftermath of their union. The slow rise and fall of his chest, driven by the deep sleep of pure exhaustion, and the tired but oddly content expression etched across his features, brought Sukuna a sense of pride.

For a brief moment, his thoughts flickered to Gojo Satoru. He imagined the look on the foolish teacher’s face when he learned of the traumatizing fate that had befallen his beloved student. How he would lose control, fall apart—and Sukuna, ever the sadist, could only wish for a chance to witness that moment of delicious devastation himself…

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. 💕
The second chapter will dive deeper into the aftermath, so I hope you'll stay tuned.

And as always: Kudos and comments give me life~ 😇

Chapter 2

The call came unexpectedly.

A cheerful melody trilled through the foggy evening streets of Sendai, prompting Gojo to finally deliver the killing blow to the whining curse at his feet after his attempts to interrogate it about the vengeful spirit he was hunting had failed miserably.

At first, Gojo had been delighted to see the name of his newest protégé pop up on the screen. He had answered with his usual banter, teasing Yuji about missing him after only a few days apart. But then, he heard the boy’s voice. Its sound made Gojo freeze.

With a tightened grip around the small device in his hand, his carefree demeanor dissolved in an instant.

“Yuji… Yuji, calm down. I can’t understand a word,” he tried to cut through the panicked rush of words.
“Breathe with me, come on. In… and out… nice and slow.” His voice remained steady, and as he guided Yuji through deep breaths, the boy’s frantic sobs gradually quieted until only trembling gasps were heard.

Running a hand through his hair, Gojo frowned. What on earth had shaken the boy so badly? Yuji was completely distraught, in pieces, yet he was doing his best to gather himself and confide in his mentor.

“Sensei-” Yuji choked out. “I- I don’t know what to do. Please come back to Tokyo… Please! – As fast as you can-” he begged, his voice breaking. The sound was heartbreaking, deeply concerning, and it took all of Gojo’s self-control to stay composed.

“Tell me what happened, Yuji,” he demanded, bracing himself for whatever terrible news was about to hit him.

“I don’t know, I… I’m not sure. But Fushiguro, he…” Yuji broke off into a sob, and Gojo felt a cold shiver creep down his spine.

“What about Megumi?” he pressed, his voice harder now, and when Yuji could only sniffle in response, unable to form a coherent answer, Gojo’s frustration mounted. He wanted to shake the truth out of the boy, shout at him to just spit it out, but losing his temper now would only scare Yuji even more. All Gojo could do was wait - constantly reminding Yuji to breathe calmly until, at last, the boy spoke again. This time a bit stronger, still shaky and brief, but clear enough for Gojo to follow his words from the beginning.

"We were about to train together, but then... I don’t know, I suddenly felt such an overwhelming heat. Everything went black. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t hear anything, couldn’t see anything. It was just... black. And then, when I finally came to... he- he was gone. I searched everywhere—his room, the school, the training grounds—and maybe I’m just overreacting but… I’m so scared, Sensei."

Gojo’s grip on his phone tightened, his knuckles going white as his mind raced. Yuji didn’t have to finish his thought. They both feared the same thing. They both recognized the pattern. And if their suspicions were correct, then every second Gojo wasted standing here was one too many.

The vengeful spirit that had lured him away from Tokyo was powerful, wreaking havoc and leaving only a trail of bodies in its wake. Even now, it was surely feeding on helpless civilians, unaware of the danger they were in.

The choice for Gojo was clear.

“Yuji. I’m teleporting to you right now. This mission can wait,” he declared, not wanting to alarm the already distraught boy with the suddenness of his arrival. The people of Sendai needed him -desperately. There was no question about that. It was selfish—perhaps even cruel—to prioritize the mere suspicion that one boy’s life was in danger over the lives of many. The higher-ups would reprimand him for it, drown him in accusations, and for once, their anger would be justified. But as always, Gojo couldn’t care less about those old fucks.

He would never forgive himself if anything happened to Megumi—the student he’d practically raised himself, whom he loved like his own son.

In the blink of an eye, Gojo severed all ties to Sendai and, in an instant, found himself back in the familiar halls of the Jujutsu Academy in Tokyo.

 

Yuji paced anxiously in his room, wringing his hands as fear twisted his pale face. The moment he saw Gojo, fresh tears welled in his already swollen eyes. With a comforting gesture, Gojo beckoned him closer, and Yuji rushed forward, throwing his arms around him in a desperate embrace.

Gently, Gojo stroked Yuji’s disheveled hair, pulling the boy’s head closer to his chest.

“I can feel Sukuna’s energy inside you, clear as day,” Gojo stated.
“There’s something else too, maybe another presence… Though the cursed energy is so faint, I can’t be sure.”

Yuji looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, the hope in them fragile.
“What do we do now?” he asked, his voice small and shaky.

Freeing one arm from the boy’s desperate grip, Gojo lowered his blindfold, revealing his piercing blue eyes. He forced a smile, one that was meant to reassure his student that everything would be fine.

After all, Gojo Satoru—The Strongest—would never let anything happen to his students.

Yuji seemed to buy it, his trembling easing a little under Gojo’s confident gaze. If only Gojo himself felt so sure. Deep down, he harbored an underlying fear that they might already be too late. The faint trace of cursed energy, barely detectable, made his heart sink. He could only pray to be mistaken because if Megumi was truly trapped inside Sukuna’s domain, then the boy must be dangerously weakened. So much so, that his presence barely registered.

“Let me into your mind, Yuji,” Gojo said softly. A flicker of confusion crossed Yuji’s face, but it was quickly replaced by determination as he nodded. He trusted his teacher completely.

Gojo would do whatever it took. And Yuji was ready to help—no matter the cost.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

It was unbearably hot, suffocating, and dark. In short, Sukuna’s inner domain was a living nightmare—not just because of the reeking stench of decay, the carcasses of dead animals, and the excess of blood that flooded wherever the eye wandered—but more so because of the curse himself.

Sukuna was in no way a pleasant companion, and even if he hadn’t been a thousand-year-old curse with a kill count that defied imagination, Gojo was certain that he and Sukuna would never have gotten along. Two utterly self-assured geniuses, each convinced they were the crown of creation, left no room for another of their kind. It was as simple as that: Two of them were one too many.

"Gojo Satoru. I’ve been expecting your visit," the King of Curses called from his throne.

In any other situation, he would have diced an unwelcome intruder into tiny pieces without the slightest hesitation - especially one with the naive audacity to meet his gaze, instead of falling to their knees and lowering their head in submission. But for the first time in a long – very long – while, Sukuna felt satisfied and thoroughly entertained. Simply put, he was in a fucking good mood. And so, he allowed the sorcerer his trespass—just this once.

To his added amusement, Gojo paid no heed to the imposing figure atop the mountain of skulls. His sharp eyes scanned the domain, tense and searching, seeing nothing but red, blood, and death.

"Ohh~ this will be fun," Sukuna thought, just before he lazily nudged the small heap at his feet. It was only then that Gojo recognized the frail, naked body, and his eyes widened in shock.

"Megumi!" he yelled, a mix of panic and burning rage in his voice. His heart pounded violently in his chest. His student wasn’t moving. He wasn’t fucking moving! Why the hell wasn’t he reacting at all? It couldn’t be… he couldn’t be too late. He was Gojo Satoru, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, gifted with the Six Eyes—he simply could not be too late.

"I'm so very sorry, but it seems our little treasure here can’t hear you right now," Sukuna mocked. "He might have hit his head a couple of times. Maybe I was a little too rough… What do you think? It was his first time, after all. Oh, but surely one to remember…”

With a satisfied grin, Sukuna gazed down at Megumi’s unconscious face, a rare warmth glimmering in his otherwise deadly eyes, making Gojo sick to his core. Still, a part of his tension began to ebb away. As much as the curse’s words fueled his fury, there was a small relief hidden in them: Megumi was alive. Merely unconscious, but not dead. And as his fear subsided, Gojo felt his seething hatred rise to new heights.

“You dared to touch my student?”, he growled, and Sukuna merely laughed.

“Oh no, not just touched. I fucked that little one silly – and he begged for it so nicely, too. You should have heard him, all sobs and moans.” Smug, he watched Gojo’s jaw tighten, the way the tension in his hands snapped under his skin, restraining himself with all his might not to lunge at the curse.

“I’ll kill you,” Gojo promised in a low, deadly tone, but Sukuna could only roll his eyes. How unserious. Sure, in his weakened state, Gojo would have the upper hand in a fight - no doubt. And still, for this very moment, his words were nothing more than an empty threat spit out in anger.

“Go ahead,” Sukuna invited, completely indifferent. “But let’s not forget that if you do, you’ll kill that obnoxious brat too, Sensei.” The last word dripped with such sarcasm and mockery that Gojo clenched his teeth in anger.

“You’re all smug and clever now, but be sure that I’ll never forget what you did. And once the day arrives, I’ll love to have you on your knees, hearing you beg for mercy"

“Oh~” Sukuna mused. “You mean just like Megumi when he begged for my cock?”

Gojo’s breath hitched, his expression twisting into something even darker. “No,” he spat. “More like the piece of dirt I’ll grind beneath my feet once I’m done with you.” Every fiber in his body screamed for revenge, his fist more than ready to lunge forward, but when his glance returned to his boy’s weakened frame, he was reminded of what was more important right now.

As much as it pained him to leave this vile creature unpunished, Megumi’s safety would always come first. He hadn’t yet been able to assess the boy’s exact condition. He needed to get him out of here and ensure he received medical attention. Sukuna’s punishment would have to wait.

“You better enjoy this moment, Sukuna…” Never once taking his eyes off the curse, Gojo approached the throne. “For it will be your last.”

“Big talk from The Strongest, but right now, all I see is a broken teacher trying to hold back his rage. It’s cute, really.”

Sukuna didn’t stop Gojo. Resting his head on his hand, the King of Curses only smiled, a cruel grin widening with every step Gojo took. And when Gojo cautiously slipped his arms under Megumi, lifting his unconscious student into his arms, Sukuna merely watched. Silent, but with a predatory gleam in his crimson eyes.

In a swift motion, Gojo put several meters of distance between himself and the throne. Only once he was sure that Sukuna had no intention of stopping him did he dare to turn his back on the curse.

“Be sure to tell him,” Sukuna’s voice rang out once more, “that I’m looking forward to our next training session. There’s still so much I have to teach him.”

Gojo froze mid-step. His grip around Megumi’s unconscious body tightening, and his breath trembling with barely contained fury. “You better not try that again,” he warned, his voice low and menacing.

Sukuna’s laughter echoed dangerously from the void. “Oh, but I will. Every chance I get. Again and again - until he’s mine.”

For a heartbeat, the world around them stilled. Cold, murderous intent glinted in the infinite blue of Gojo’s eyes, and his hands trembled with the sheer effort it took not to obliterate Sukuna then and there. His eyes flicked down to Megumi, fragile and defenseless in his arms, and his rage deepened. Then he shot one last, warning glance over his shoulder, shielding Megumi behind his body.

“You’ll curse the day you laid a hand on my boy,” Gojo declared. “I’ll tear you apart, no matter the cost. I’ll rip you to pieces—slowly. And I’ll enjoy every. Single. Second.” His face twisted into a maniacal grin as he tilted his head slightly. “There might have been a time when you were the most powerful curse,” he laughed, a hint of madness in his voice. “But in this time and age, I am the King.”

Finally, Gojo turned away, Sukuna’s mocking laughter echoing behind him, and in the blink of an eye, he shattered the cursed domain.

The suffocating atmosphere of Sukuna’s inner world vanished, replaced by the dark, still room of the Jujutsu Academy. For a moment, Gojo stood still, cradling Megumi tightly against him. The air was thick with silence, the once bright sun long swallowed by the deep shadows of night.

With sharp, restless movements, Gojo pulled his blindfold back over his eyes. This time not to shield them, but to hide the furious burn that scorched within. His body trembled, and his hands clutched Megumi’s small frame like a lifeline. The emotions swirling inside him—rage, sorrow, a fading pulse of fear—left him feeling empty and hollow inside.

He couldn’t even remember the last time he had lost control like this. Perhaps it was a few years ago, during his fight against Toji Fushiguro— the moment that had marked the beginning of his guardianship over a stubborn seven-year-old boy with messy black hair and boundless potential.

With Yuji still unconscious on the bed, Gojo grabbed an extra blanket and gently wrapped it around Megumi’s battered body. His technique must have taken quite a toll on Sukuna’s vessel, so Gojo let Yuji rest, carrying Megumi to the infirmary.

One heavy step after the other.

 

Shoko wore an expression rarely ever seen on her: a deep frown, pursed lips, and eyes brimming with saddened sympathy. In her line of work, treating injured sorcerers and victims of curses mutilated beyond recognition, there was hardly anything she hadn’t come by already. She had grown tough, perhaps even detached, yet this day was different.

The tenderness with which Gojo laid his unconscious student on the examination table somehow tugged on her heartstrings. Softly, his thumb stroked Megumi’s cheek, before he unwrapped him from the linen with careful hands. Only then did he step back, casting Shoko an expectant look.

Perhaps it was because she knew the boy, having patched him up with bandages and plasters from a young age whenever Gojo had pushed their training too far. Or maybe it was the state of her former, usually sharp-tongued teammate. She couldn’t say for sure. Either way, there was a dreary feeling weighing down her chest.

As Shoko rubbed biting disinfectant into her hands, she took a closer look at her patient. It didn’t take much to understand what he had endured. The bruises circling his wrists, the bloody indentations of jagged teeth in his skin, and the sticky body fluids drying on his stomach and between his legs told the story.

As much as she wanted to ask Gojo who was responsible for this, she didn’t dare. His worry was evident, even through the mask, as he slumped into a chair against the wall.

“Don’t worry, Satoru. Fushiguro’s in good hands,” Shoko reassured him, dipping a cloth into warm water and gently beginning to clean Megumi’s skin of dirt, dried blood, and other remains.

“I know. It’s nothing personal,” Gojo replied, his voice serious as he leaned forward, dropping his head into his hands.

Concerned, Shoko cast a glance over her shoulder. “Satoru, this is going to be a very… personal examination. You should wait outside. Fushiguro-kun would probably appreciate a little privacy,” she tried once more. Gojo just bounced his leg restlessly.

“If he asks me to leave, I’ll be right outside,” he replied. Shoko raised a skeptical eyebrow.

“That’s ridiculous—he’s unconscious, how is he supposed to-“

“Why don’t you just do your fucking job?” Gojo cut her off, his tone harsh and startled, the doctor turned to face him.

“Understood…” In all the years she had known Gojo, she had never seen him this shaken. Sure, he had been angry before, sometimes reckless or unpredictable—like the day the higher ups had declared Itadori Yuji dead. Or back when Geto had left them, defecting to the curse users. But even when Gojo was forced to kill his One and Only during the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, he had remained eerily calm, never unraveling like this.

From the corner of her eye, Shoko noticed the sorcerer’s trembling hands fumbling for his phone in his pockets before she turned her attention back to her patient.

“Nanami?” Gojo’s voice sounded surprised, as though he hadn’t expected the other man to pick up at the very first ring. “Listen up, I need your help,” he began, keeping his explanation short. “I need someone to keep an eye on Yuji. It seems he can’t contain Sukuna as easily as we thought. It would be best if we moved him to another room for a while—somewhere far from Megumi. And not a word to the higher-ups. Just keep the boy busy and don’t make him panic. I’ll handle it as soon as I can. It's just that right now, I have… more pressing matters.”

He paused, presumably listening to Nanami’s response. Given the rare seriousness in Gojo’s voice, it was hard to imagine Nanami refusing and after a brief silence, Gojo ended the call with a tired sigh.

“What’s your plan for the boy?” Shoko asked casually as she opened Megumi’s eyelid, shining a small light into his eye to check his pupil’s reaction to brightness.

“Yuji? If only I knew…” Gojo muttered, pressing his palms against his eyes. “Is there anything you can tell yet?”

Tilting her head, Shoko clicked her tongue. “I’m still in the middle of my exam, but he likely has a concussion. Lots of scrapes, bruises, and there’s some internal tearing—a few centimeters, though nothing in need of stitches. But… to be honest with you, his physical injuries might be the least of it. I’m more concerned about his mental state.”

Gojo nodded, his expression pained. “That’s what I was thinking too,” he whispered.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

Megumi's eyelids felt like lead as he tried to blink. Pain throbbed in his skull, and when he was greeted by harsh, bright light, it only intensified the overwhelming urge to slip back into comforting unconsciousness.

He didn’t know where he was, what had happened, or how he’d ended up here. Everything seemed so out of place, his senses completely disoriented.

He could neither see nor hear clearly. All he saw was light. All he heard was muffled noise, as if he were submerged underwater. Maybe voices? He couldn’t quite make sense of it, nor did he care to try. There was only this unbearable headache, pounding and pounding away at his brain. He was tired, utterly exhausted, and it wasn’t until a cool hand rested on his forehead that he began to grasp at the reality around him.

“Megumi.” A familiar voice reached out to him, soft but filled with concern—a tone that didn’t quite fit the person speaking. Confused, Megumi blinked again, fighting to lift his eyelids, and through his half-open eyes, he caught sight of a shadow looming over him. Slowly, the blurry patches in his vision began to sharpen, and he vaguely recognized a pair of bright blue eyes staring down at him from behind dark-tinted glasses.

“Shoko, he’s waking up,” Gojo said quietly, motioning for the doctor to come over. His voice, though gentle, felt like a drumbeat in Megumi’s aching head.

He wished for the muffled, cotton-like sound to return, but the numb peace of unconsciousness was slipping further away with each passing second as his vision cleared.

Defeated, Megumi tried to push himself up in the stark white bed. He was in the infirmary at Jujutsu High. His body ached, every muscle protesting in pain, and he felt unbearably hot. His parched throat screamed for a glass of cold water, yet he couldn’t remember how he had ended up here.

Shoko began examining him, listening to his breathing and administering something to ease the pain. He had a fever and a concussion, and while these diagnoses explained his physical symptoms, what unnerved him the most were the unreadable looks passing between Gojo and the doctor. They seemed hesitant, almost distant. And after what felt like an eternity of uncomfortable silence, Gojo finally spoke.

"Megumi, do you remember what happened yesterday?" he asked, his tone cautious. Confused, Megumi tilted his head. Gojo’s serious demeanor, the way he chose his words carefully, and the intensity of his gaze began to make him anxious. Slowly, it dawned on him that something worse must have happened—something much more serious than an injury during training or a simple defeat by an underestimated curse. Something truly terrible.

Straining, he tried to force his mind back, digging through the throbbing fog clouding his memory, while Gojo watched him patiently.

“I was… going to train. Yuji was there… I think.” Slowly, fragments of memory resurfaced as he squinted through the pain, trying to concentrate. His thoughts felt so distant, somehow out of reach and buried behind a wall of throbbing agony. Exhausted, he let his head droop, but when he opened his eyes again, they locked onto his chest – a sliver of skin exposed as the blanket slid down. In an instant, his body froze.

His eyes widened in shock as a wave of cold dread washed over him. Staring at the rope-like marks around his wrists, he suddenly felt them—cold iron chains tightening around his wrists, a massive, claw-like hand wrapping around his throat, forcing him to choke on long fingers as he gasped for air. Sharp teeth sinking into his skin, the helplessness, the humiliation, the pain - and the twisted pleasure. A chaotic storm of sensations crashed over him as something large and veiny pressed against his backside, mercilessly tearing him apart.

“Megumi?” Gojo’s voice pierced through the fog of memories and startled, Megumi looked up. When he met the worried gaze of his teacher, he found himself back in the infirmary.

“I don’t remember,” he finally answered, though Gojo’s skeptical eyes didn’t waver. He didn’t buy a single word.

“Damn,” Megumi chuckled weakly. “I’m turning into a regular here. How pathetic. Next curse that crosses my path—I’ll exorcise it. No problem.” Gojo’s piercing gaze lingered a moment longer before his features softened, and he fell back into his chair.

“Of course you will. After all, you’re not just a Zenin—you’re a student of the great Gojo Satoru,” he winked, just as Shoko laid a hand on his shoulder.

“That’s enough for now. Fushiguro needs rest. Let him sleep for a while,” she said, the firmness of a doctor shining through. Gojo hesitated, casting an unreadable glance at his student, but Megumi gave him a small, reassuring smile, signaling that he’d be fine on his own for a few hours. Besides, the painkillers would soon kick in, leaving him weak and drowsy in no time.

“Well, alright then,” Gojo murmured as he got to his feet. “Sweet dreams, my little Megumin. I’ll be back in a few hours. Don’t hesitate to call if you need anything.”

Megumi watched them leave, a faint smile on his face as the door closed with a soft click. But the moment they were gone, his expression shattered.

Nausea churned in his stomach, bile rising in his throat as he fought back tears. His chest tightened— constricted. He couldn’t breathe. With trembling hands, he fumbled for the plastic bin next to his bed, and before he could stop it, everything came spilling out. Disgust, horror, revulsion. The sour taste lingered on his tongue as he gripped the bucket with clenched fists, knuckles turning white as he held onto it like it was his last anchor.

Just when he thought there was nothing left in him, another wave of nausea hit, and he buried his head even deeper into the bucket.

After several minutes, the bucket slipped from his numb, shaking fingers. Exhausted, he collapsed back into the pillows. His entire body trembled, his cheeks streaked with tears, and even after vomiting, he still felt unbearably filthy, disgusted with himself. Slowly, he pulled the blanket up to his nose, covering the bruises glistening on his pale skin. Curling up under the warmth of the covers, he shrank into a small, whimpering ball of misery.

And then, he cried.

 

With a light skip in her steps, Shoko walked down the hallway beside Gojo.

“Well, seems like we lucked out—if he doesn’t remember, he won’t have to deal with the aftermath either,” she chirped, twisting a frayed strand of brown hair around her finger. “The rare perks of a concussion, don’t you think?”

“Not a chance,” Gojo muttered. Surprised, Shoko stopped. There lay a sharp bitterness in Gojo’s voice as he spoke. “He remembers. All of it.”

✴︎✴︎✴︎

Time heals all wounds - an old saying. Surely one made by hypocrites, too. Megumi had heard it so many times he’d lost count, and he couldn’t put into words how much he hated it. Especially now, as the last few days had proven how much of a lie it was.

He sat upright in his hospital bed, burdened with nothing but time—time to think. Time to fall back into his memories. Time to relive his torment - feel the fear, the humiliation, the ache - over and over again. Until eventually, he felt… nothing.

Numb, he stared at the cold, white wall opposite his bed. Gojo was talking. Probably trying to cheer him up with some idiotic joke. His words didn’t reach Megumi. They were muffled, distant, and couldn’t interest him any less.

He was thinking. Again. Thinking back to that night. Again. He heard the sickening sounds of bodies moving against each other, felt hot breath against his neck, an unrelenting grip, the unbearable fullness that was tearing him apart, the helplessness. Again.

He almost laughed as he recalled the fear that had paralyzed him, the pain that had made him scream, the emotions that had shattered him.

Now, he felt nothing.

“Come on, Megumin~ You have to eat something,” Gojo cheered, trying once more to catch his student’s attention. “Open up now, just a little bit?” He waved a spoonful of warm porridge in front of Megumi’s closed mouth, his playful tone doing quite a job of masking his gnawing worry.

It unsettled Gojo—the boy’s silence, how composed he seemed on the outside. No tears, no visible despair, just an empty, hollow look in his eyes. As if life itself had drained from him.

“Here comes the airplane!” Gojo sang again, this time lightly tapping the cold metal of the spoon against Megumi’s lips. The gesture finally drew a reaction. In a sudden motion, Megumi’s hand shot up, slapping Gojo’s arm away. The sudden force sent Gojo stumbling, and the porridge splattered across his Infinity, sliding down his barrier in sticky, steaming clumps.

“I’m not hungry.” Megumi’s voice was firm and with a soft sigh, Gojo rubbed his neck.

“Megumi… We need to talk about this,” he tried carefully, but Megumi blocked up immediately, his eyes narrowing in anger.

“I don’t want to eat. I don’t want to talk. And I don’t want you here!” His breathing grew heavy, his hands trembling, though he didn’t fully understand the sudden surge of rage that filled him. He didn’t care to, either. He just wanted it gone, to return to the numbness. Leaving him empty and dull again. It was easier that way.

But of course, Gojo, being Gojo, wasn’t about to back down so easily.

“You can’t keep bottling everything up. You’ve got to let your emotions—”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” Megumi snapped, cutting him off with a burst of fury. “Stop telling me what to do! Stop acting like you’re some kind of savior! You’re not a hero. And you’re sure as hell not my fucking Dad so stop fucking acting like it!”

Surprised, Gojo flinched, his usual composure faltering.

Scrambling for words he opened his mouth - only to close it again. It wasn’t often he found himself speechless, but now he truly struggled to find the right thing to say. Of course, he wasn’t Megumi’s father. He knew that and still… the boy was important to him—far more than any other student at the academy. He was family. And for some reason, those words stung. They cut deeper than Gojo cared to admit, like a dagger to the heart. Swallowing hard, he tried to gather himself.

“I just want to help you-”

“Then go!”

For a moment, there was silence. Anger flashed in Megumi’s eyes, and finally, Gojo relented.

“Alright…” he whispered, nodding slowly. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you tomorrow,” His voice was soft, a faint trace of hurt slipping through. Almost reluctantly, he stood up, his gaze lingering on Megumi for a second longer. As if harboring the hope, he might change his mind and stop him at the very last moment. But Megumi’s eyes were already back on the white wall, distant and empty once more.

 

Gojo’s hand trembled as he pulled the door closed behind him. His legs buckled, and he slowly slid down to the floor.

This was his fault.

He hadn’t protected his student, hadn’t taken Sukuna’s unsettling interest in the boy seriously enough, hadn’t been there when Megumi had needed him most. He had failed him. And now, sitting outside, banished from Megumi’s side, there was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Helpless, he sighed, pressing his shaking hands to his face as he remembered the emptiness in Megumi’s eyes. Sukuna’s mocking laughter echoed in his mind.

Every chance I get. Again and again. Until he’s mine.

Gojo’s teeth ground together, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached. He would stay here, sitting by the door. Day and night, he would guard it. It wasn’t much, but it was the only thing he could do for Megumi now.

Notes:

From here on out, things can only get better… or can they? 😬
Guess you’ll have to find out in the next chapter~

Thank you so much for reading! I’m always thrilled to read your comments and I truly appreciate every single kudos 💕

Hope I see you soon! 😊

Chapter 3

Megumi stared blankly at his reflection as he fastened the last buttons on his Jujutsu Sorcerer uniform. A week had passed since his release from the infirmary, and despite his objections, he’d been forced to bow to Gojo’s iron will, resting in his room for a few more days.

But today, the waiting game was over. Finally. This was the day his life would return to normal. Normalcy, routine—things he had craved so desperately these last few days.

Nothing had felt normal. The pitying glances people shot him. The way Gojo tiptoed around him as if he was seconds away from shattering. The heavy silence from the neighboring room since Yuji had moved out of the ward. He hated it all with a passion.

Even his reflection looked unfamiliar - Like a stranger wearing his old clothes. The deep shadows under his eyes were new, along with the emptiness in his gaze. But none of that mattered anymore.

Today – today – he would finally sleep again. He couldn’t wait to throw himself into training, push his limits until he collapsed into bed, exhausted to the point where he could sleep through the night without jolting awake in a cold sweat, gasping for air.

On some nights, when the memories became too vivid, too real, he had summoned his Shikigami, burying his tear-streaked face in its soft fur, listening to the soothing hum of his shadow dog’s breathing. It was comforting, warm—even if only for a moment. And still, he felt stuck, walking in place.

Nothing was getting better.

With a soft click, he turned the key in his door, stepping into the hallway. Then, he froze.

Suddenly, his heart pounded in his throat, an icy shiver crawling up his spine as his paranoid eyes scanned the corridor. There was nothing. He was alone. And yet, the scene felt too much like that one day—the day his whole life was thrown into chaos. Shivering, he sucked in a shaky breath and forced his feet to move, dragging himself through the long corridor until he reached the door to the courtyard.

The crisp air hit his face, snapping him out of his daze, and he quickly made his way to the training grounds.

Gojo’s tall, lanky figure was already leaning against a fence, a brown paper bag dangling from his hand. Panting, Megumi came to a stop in front of him. His stamina had clearly taken a hit during his recovery. Fucking great.

“Megumi!” Gojo greeted him cheerfully, ruffling the black mess of hair atop his head. The strange tension that had lingered between them after Megumi’s outburst in the infirmary had thankfully faded quite quickly. Gojo hadn’t brought it up again, pretending nothing had happened. And Megumi was perfectly fine with that.

“Finally, some one-on-one training with my favorite student! Oh, but don't tell Yuji or Nobara I said that,” Gojo teased. “These two might end up all jealous~”

Even though Megumi couldn’t see the playful wink behind the blindfold, the words alone were enough to make him roll his eyes.

“Let’s just get started,” he muttered curtly, rotating his shoulder in preparation.

“My diligent little student, as motivated as ever,” Gojo quipped, adding another unnecessary comment that Megumi ignored.

With a quiet rustle, the man raised the paper bag in his hand, a wide grin spreading across his face – way too smug for Megumi’s liking.

“I brought you Kikufuku from Shinjuku! The ones with green bean paste—you love those, right?” Gojo sang, overly enthusiastic. But before he had even opened his mouth, Megumi had already seen through his nonsense. Irritated, he clicked his tongue. Not only did he have zero interest in sweets, but they both knew full well the round desserts weren’t Megumi’s favorite—they were Gojo’s.

“Quit messing around and start the damn training,” Megumi snapped, crossing his arms tightly over his chest.

Gojo silently studied his student, eyes narrowed in suspicion. Was it just his imagination, or did the blue training jacket seem baggier on the boy than usual? He looked a little small in his uniform – although it had always fitted as if tailored directly onto his body. Now that he thought about it, Gojo couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d seen Megumi eat anything. And now he rejected the dessert too, only feeding into Gojo’s suspicions.

“But this is training!” the teacher chirped, his tone far too cheerful. “Training includes both active practice and phases for relaxation. You’ve been excelling on that practice part these past few weeks, so today is all about resting.”

“What are you even talking about? I’ve been lying around uselessly for days!” Megumi snapped, turning away in anger. “Where’s Yuji? If you’re not going to train me, I’ll just practice with him.”

Gojo's goofy expression darkened in surprise. “Megumi,” he said, his voice serious. “You’re still hurt.”

“No, I’m not?” To make his point, Megumi shoved up his sleeves, exposing his perfectly healed arms. All white skin, not a single trace left to see. “My injuries healed ages ago.”

Gojo didn’t even glance at Megumi’s wrists. His stern expression remained locked on the boy’s trembling face, completely unmoved.

“Those aren’t the injuries I’m talking about. And you know it.”

Megumi froze, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. Those words alone were enough to make it clear: Gojo knew everything. He knew that Megumi hadn’t forgotten. And now, he was pushing, getting bolder, chipping away at the iron wall of denial Megumi had painstakingly built around himself with bleeding hands. Sooner or later, Gojo would break through that wall, and when he did, Megumi would have nowhere left to hide. Gojo would make him talk. He wouldn’t just remind him—he would force him to relive it. From beginning to end. He would drag him back through that humiliating hell, all while giving him that look. That look Megumi despised. That look full of concern and pity.

Until Gojo learned the truth.

Until he realized how Megumi had reacted in that moment—that someone as filthy as him, who hadn’t screamed in pain but had instead…

He wasn’t deserving of Gojo’s sympathy. And then, that unbearable look of pity would morph into something even worse. Disgust. Hatred. Regret - for all the years Gojo had spent raising him like his own, cared for him like a son. And Megumi was terrified. As annoying and childish as Gojo could be, as much as he sometimes wished the man would just leave him alone, stop meddling in his business like some disease without a cure, seeing that expression on his face would shatter Megumi’s soul – the soul he was barely holding together with all his might - into a thousand tiny pieces no one could ever put back together.

“I am fine,” he said at last, his voice frail and quiet. He blinked at Gojo, trying to pour every ounce of conviction into those three simple words. Gojo had to stop worrying about him. What had happened, had happened. Not even someone like Gojo Satoru, a god in his own right, could turn back time.

“I don’t believe you,” Gojo simply replied. “Maybe when you stop flinching at the thought of being touched, or when you stop zoning out for minutes at a time. But until you talk to me, I’m not going to train you. And I’m definitely not sending you on any missions.”

“What?” Megumi gasped, panic creeping into his voice. “No- no you don’t understand, I- I need that!”

He felt it again—that familiar sensation crawling over him, starting with the trembling in his fingers. Gojo had to train him. He had to get stronger, as quickly as possible. Strong enough to fight off the suffocating darkness that seemed to reach its claws for him from every shadow. He didn’t want to keep crying himself to sleep at night, or flinching at every little sound, paranoid and scared. He was tired of feeling so utterly helpless.

But Gojo had made up his mind, completely oblivious to Megumi’s situation- as usual.

Megumi hated how easy Gojo made everything seem when there was nothing easy about this. Not a single fucking thing. But there was nothing he could do. And before his frustration could break into childish tears, strengthening Gojo’s point even more, Megumi turned on his heel and walked away, straight back the way he’d come, filled with hope just moments before. Hope that lay in pieces now. Trampled over by none other than Gojo Satoru – The Strongest.

Normalcy? Yeah, right. Even for that, it seemed, Gojo held him for too weak.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

Yuji tried to keep himself distracted. He trained from morning till night, pushing his body to the limit to drown out the thoughts, the questions, the worries through sheer physical exhaustion.

It had been a little over two weeks since he’d called Gojo back to Tokyo, and since then, he hadn’t seen the teacher – or his best friend. Gojo had only passed on a message through Nanami, assuring him there was nothing to worry about - that Megumi was fine. But even someone as trusting as Yuji found it hard to believe when the information was that vague and second-hand. Especially when it came right along with the order to move into the abandoned wing of the school.

Now, he was completely alone in the rundown dorms, cut off from any social contact. And the worst part? He had no idea why.

He didn’t know what had happened that day two weeks ago, what he’d done wrong, nor how to make it right – and it seemed impossible to get answers to even one of those questions. He was alone.

Nobara, Maki, Toge, Panda—he hadn’t seen any of them in weeks, hadn’t even been able to contact Todo. And he missed them. He missed them all.

The only one who stuck by him, day and night, was Nanami. And while Yuji appreciated how much effort the man put into coaching his training, with such meticulous planning and dedication, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that hung over him. Like he was being watched. A prisoner under the constant gaze of a guard – A dangerous criminal, who couldn’t be trusted out of sight for even a second.

At this point, Yuji wouldn’t have been surprised if Nanami started following him to the bathroom - though it seemed even Nanami’s sense of duty stopped short of that particular invasion of privacy. Still, his around-the-clock service was unsettling enough, especially since Nanami had always been so strict about clocking out on time. Yet here he was, weeks into constant overtime without a single complaint.

It was clear how hard he was trying to keep Yuji busy, occupied, to take his mind off things. He would even make an effort to make Yuji laugh, despite humor not being his strong suit. His jokes were, at best, second-rate.

And Yuji was incredibly grateful.

As the sun began to set, painting the sky in warm shades of orange and pink, Yuji climbed out of Nanami’s car in the Jujutsu Tech parking lot. They had just come back from dinner, their new daily routine of picking up takeout from different restaurants. Though no one had said it outright, Yuji was pretty sure the reason they didn’t eat in the school cafeteria was because he wasn’t welcome there anymore – even by the old lunch lady who had always greeted him with a warm smile.

“Hey, Nanami,” Yuji called out, a strained smile tugging at his lips. “How about we train a little more?”

It was a smile that had grown smaller with each passing day, losing the warmth it once held. These days, he was proud if he could manage to lift the corners of his mouth just a few millimeters, managing to hold them there without a tremble.

Nanami frowned. “We’ve been training all day. You’re still a student; you shouldn’t overdo it. Let’s call it for today.”

“Please, Nanamin!” Yuji urged, ignoring the irritated glare Nanami shot him for the deformation to his name.

“I’m not even tired yet, and it’s not like there’s anything else for us to do anyway.”
He looked up at Nanami with wide, pleading eyes. As much as he tried to act carefree, the thought of going back to his empty, silent room filled him with dread. He wasn’t tired—not tired enough to escape the nagging questions in his head. He needed to work off the frustration, even if it was only by beating the shit out of wooden dummies. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to sleep at all tonight. And Nanami must have sensed that too.

After a defeated sigh, he relented.

“Fine… But only two more hours. After that, we’re done.”

Yuji nodded eagerly, relief flooding through him.

The cursed energy was already tingling at his fingertips as he walked alongside Nanami across the school grounds. After all this time, they had run out of things to talk about, and Nanami had never been much of a conversationalist to begin with, unlike Gojo. But it was a comfortable silence—one Yuji didn’t feel the need to break with pointless small talk. He just walked, listening to the crunch of gravel beneath his feet and enjoying the cool evening air filling his lungs.

Then, in the distance, he saw someone step out from behind a building ahead. He froze. Almost instinctively, his hand lifted in a tentative wave.

"Megumi!" Yuji called across the courtyard, taking a hesitant step toward his friend. The sound of his voice had Megumi flinch, his head snapping up. For a moment, he just stood there, their gazes locked in silence. His eyes were wide and trembling.

With a sinking heart, Yuji lowered his arm. Even from so far away, he could see the sheer panic in Megumi’s eyes. The way his whole body tensed and shook before he tore his eyes away. And then he ran.

Megumi was running away. From Yuji. Without looking back.

It was like he was fleeing from something. And all Yuji could do was watch, helpless, as his friend disappeared around the corner.

Only then did Yuji feel Nanami stepping up beside him, a firm hand resting on his shoulder, as if to keep him from chasing after Megumi. The whole situation—Megumi's fear, Yuji's confusion, Nanami’s unspoken distrust—it hit Yuji like a punch to the gut.

"I've done something awful, right?" Yuji whispered, struggling to keep the corners of his mouth from twitching, forcing himself not to blink so the burning tears in his eyes wouldn’t spill over. He kept his gaze fixed on the spot where Megumi had stood. As if he still saw him. His fearful expression carved into Yuji’s memory. There to stay for a lifetime.

"It’s not your fault, Itadori-kun," Nanami said gently, giving Yuji’s shoulder one more reassuring pat before letting go.

"Please… tell me the truth. Gojo-sensei told you what happened, didn’t he?"

A heavy silence hung between them before Nanami sighed, defeated.
"I’m not allowed to tell you," he finally said. "And even if I could, I don’t think I would. Don’t torment yourself over this. Your friend just needs some time right now. Satoru’s handling it."

With that, Nanami turned and started walking toward the isolated training field, where Yuji had been honing his Black Flash technique for the past few weeks.

Yuji stayed behind for a moment, unable to move, his body trembling as he stood frozen in place. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. Every part of him ached with the uncertainty, the guilt for something he didn’t even know about gnawing at his insides.

What had he done? What had he fucking done to make Megumi look at him like that? Like he was something to fear-

Then, suddenly, a second mouth burst from his cheek, its sharp teeth gleaming as it twisted into a mocking grin.

“You know, brat,” Sukuna’s voice slithered out, dripping with amusement, “if you’re that desperate to know, you could always just ask me. Who knows, I might even indulge you… if I feel generous.” His grin widened as his voice turned darker, more menacing. “I’ll paint you a vivid picture— every filthy little detail, without leaving a single thing out.” He chuckled. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Without even acknowledging the offer, Yuji raised his hand and slapped his own cheek, hard. The sharp sting left his face flushed and tingling, but he finally managed to move, following Nanami to the training ground.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

Megumi slammed his bedroom door shut behind him, chest heaving, breath ragged and uneven. His pulse roared in his ears, his mind spinning in chaos. Confusion, fear, panic – leaving him nauseous. Finally, he had come face-to-face with Yuji - just like he had asked Gojo for earlier that morning. He had been convinced, no – had desperately tried to convince himself – that he was ready. Because Yuji wasn’t Sukuna. Because it was supposed to feel normal. Because he was okay, just as he kept insisting over and over again.

He wanted to be okay.

So why had his reaction been anything but? The second Yuji’s cautious smile met his eyes, something had snapped. Icy dread had gripped him, his skin prickling as his heart pounded against his ribs so violently it hurt. He had frozen. And then, before he could even think, he had run. Not because of the flashbacks of Sukuna’s domain, and not because of the panic clouding his mind – but because of something far worse.

It was his body’s primal reaction— flight, triggered by his physical response to their reunion. The numbness in his fingers, the strange fluttering in his abdomen, the heat rising as his sex pressed painfully against the fabric of his pants.

He felt sick. Ashamed. Disgusted with himself for feeling that way.

And it terrified him. It terrified him because – had it really been Yuji, who had triggered it…?

Now, alone in the darkness of his silent room, the weight of it all came crashing down on him. His legs felt weak, barely holding him up as his eyes drifted down to the evidence of his body’s betrayal. His groin throbbed, aching, desperate for release. Panic left Megumi restless with no fucking idea of what to do. He wanted to wait, sit it out, give his body whatever time it needed to cool off, but the heat blazed in his veins. It ached, his skin too hot, his breath coming faster and faster. Restlessly, he kneaded his hands, trying to distract himself with something - anything, but with each passing second, he grew more uncomfortable, his sense of shame rising until he couldn’t take it anymore.

Trembling, Megumi’s hands tugged at the collar of his jacket, his fingers clumsy and frantic as they fumbled over the buttons, desperately yanking them open. Cold air sent a goosebump over his skin as the fabric parted over his chest, and with a hurried throw, the uniform jacket landed on the floor. Oh, how proud he once was of his jujutsu uniform – everything it stood for – just for it to lie crumpled between dust, yet it was still better than staining the fine material during the shameful act that was about to come.

Reluctantly, he sucked in the cool air as his hands moved toward the waistband of his pants. He didn’t want to do this. He never wanted any of this.

He felt dirty, disgusted with himself, knowing there was no way he could ever look Yuji in the eye again. But what other choice did he have? He couldn’t bear it any longer. This overwhelming frustration, it gnawed on him, made it hard to breathe; he needed to release the pressure - as quickly as possible - so that he could shove it from his mind and forget it ever happened. A pathetic little sob escaped his trembling lips as he tugged his pants down, along with his boxers, down to his knees.

The sight made him flinch. He hadn’t even touched himself yet, hadn’t entertained any erotic thoughts, yet his cock was already hard, leaking so much precum that dark, sticky spots soaked his underwear. Clenching his eyes shut, Megumi’s trembling hand reached for his erection. His breath hitched as his fingers made contact. Slowly, he brushed over the skin. It felt more sensitive than it had ever before. Almost as sensitive as the moment when he’d sobbed under Sukuna’s torment, the curse’s iron grip denying him the relieving climax.

Disgusted by the wet fabric rubbing against his leg, Megumi let his boxers fall completely to the ground. As much as he hated it, at least he wouldn’t last long in this state.

A choked gasp tore from his throat as he wrapped his fingers around his shaft, tentatively stroking it. His hand moved slowly at first, hesitant, almost as if he was scared of his own body. But then, the desperate urge to get this over with overtook him. His movements sped up, and with a groan Megumi squeezed his eyes shut. His mind was spinning, his breath coming in shallow pants as he tried to focus on anything other than the overwhelming shame.

Every touch sent waves of sensation rippling through his body, but it still wasn’t enough. His frustration grew with every stroke, and soon his grip tightened, his hand moving more aggressively. He was panting now, his teeth grinding together as his thumb rubbed over the slit of his cock, trying desperately to bring himself to the edge. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t reach that peak. Struggling, he tried to force himself to relax – in vain.

Helpless, Megumi opened his eyes as an utterly ridiculous idea crossed his mind. He hesitated for a moment.

Then, he stumbled to his bed, never stopping the frantic movement of his hand. The mattress dipped slightly beneath his weight as he knelt on it and for a second he just breathed. He couldn’t believe what he was about to do. He loathed himself for even thinking of it—but it was the only idea that came to mind. Slowly, his free hand trailed behind him, fingers ghosting over the curve of his raised ass. He swallowed hard. And then his fingertips hovered over his entrance.

He felt his muscles clench beneath his own touch, a shudder passing through him - but with a bit more courage, he pressed a finger against his hole. The feeling was strange, foreign, and, to his dismay, nowhere near as satisfying as Sukuna’s touch had been. He forced himself to believe that the initial burn would give way to pleasure – if only he could figure out how to handle his own body.

Experimenting, he moved his finger back and forth, brows furrowed in concentration as he tried to push it in deeper. Why did it feel so frustrating, so unbearably uncomfortable? There was not a trace of pleasure he felt.

Adding a second finger, he whimpered - probing, pressing, curling his fingers, but all he felt was a burning pain. Why? Just why did Sukuna seem to know his body better than he did? Why did Sukuna know exactly where to touch, how to make him feel good when Megumi couldn’t even manage himself? It was so frustrating that he sobbed.

His fingers moved faster, thrusting in and out, trying to mimic Sukuna’s relentless pace. His body trembled violently, causing him to lose balance and fall forward, face buried into the pillows. His other hand jerked over his erection, his arm trembling with the strain, aching as he desperately sought release. He had to finish this—end this humiliating ordeal. But no matter how hard he tried, the fingers inside him still didn’t ignite the thrilling euphoria he so desperately craved.

Clenching his jaw, he pressed his chin deeper into the mattress, his face twisted in anguish as his fingers searched aimlessly for his prostate. He just couldn’t find it, no matter how hard he tried. A frustrated sob tore from his throat as he attempted to push his slender fingers even deeper. They weren’t as long, as thick, or as hot as Sukuna’s had been. They weren’t enough. How could anything ever be enough again?

With growing urgency, his fingers jabbed deeper, more ruthlessly. His other hand tightened painfully around his cock, pumping faster, his body heaving with sobs as he choked on salty tears. His breath hitched in a ragged cough.

“What a pathetic sight.”

Megumi froze. That voice – low, menacing, unmistakable. His entire body tensed as he tried to sit up, his fingers withdrawing, but before he could move, a hand clamped down on the back of his neck, keeping him pinned against the mattress.

“Why stop now?” The hot breath rasped against his ear, voice deep and intoxicating. “Don’t be shy. I’ve already seen everything.”
Megumi whimpered softly, his face buried deeper into the pillow.

“Come on, give it your best shot…” The voice commanded, dripping with desire.

Megumi didn’t move, his body rigid. It wasn’t the voice itself that left him paralyzed—not the deep, penetrating tone, nor the arrogant, dismissive words. Not even the grip around the back of his neck that held him down so effortlessly, stripping him of any sense of control. No. It was his reaction to the sudden intruder.

He could’ve panicked, burst into tears, or screamed for help, thrashing out in blind fury. His arousal should’ve died instantly under the weight of the threat that loomed over him. But he didn’t cry. He didn’t scream. And his body didn’t falter. Instead, he was eerily calm.

It was none other than… relief, that washed over him. A twisted sense of comfort in the curse’s presence. He was no longer alone. No, he was – safe.

Sukuna’s crimson eyes latched onto him, burning with a hunger impossible to match and Megumi knew with a strange certainty that nothing—no human, no sorcerer, no curse—could ever harm him again. Not while Sukuna’s eyes were on him. The King of Curses would never let anyone else lay a finger on him. No one, except Sukuna himself.

But growing greedy, Megumi craved more than just safety. He wanted to feel the full heat of Sukuna’s presence, that perverse comfort wrapping around him like a vice. During these last two weeks he had endured it all – the pain, the gazes, the questions. He had suffered through it all, so brave, so good. Now he wanted more, he – he deserved more. More than just the weight of those crimson eyes on his bare skin. He longed for praise, approval—something that would ground him—preferably in the form of Sukuna’s strong body pressed against his.

Or even just the graze of his fingers on Megumi’s skin would be enough, just something. Anything. He needed it. Desperately. He needed attention, the kind only Sukuna could provide. And with that craving gnawing at him, Megumi arched his hips further back, hoping to feel the curse’s firm body, but all he found was the cold, empty air.

“Ah-ah.” Sukuna clicked his tongue in a mocking reprimand. “You’ll have to earn my help, little blessing. Show me why I should waste my time on a pathetic, wretched sorcerer like you.”

Despair clawed at Megumi’s throat, and a quiet, needy whimper escaped him. Sukuna’s words cut through him like a blade. Rejection instead of reassurance, humiliation in place of praise. The exact opposite of what he craved. His mind raced, foggy with desperation, as he tried to think of how to meet the curse’s expectations.

And then it hit him. Sukuna wanted him to degrade himself.

Shame washed over Megumi, burning his cheeks a delicious crimson that spread all the way to the tips of his ears. He hesitated, feeling his hands tremble. He needed this release, he needed Sukuna’s validation, it was overpowering. There was no other way. His mind swirled with memories of how Sukuna had made his body sing with pleasure, and he was so fucking close to being able to savor that feeling once more.

Slowly, seductively, Megumi slid two fingers into his mouth, tasting the strange but arousing flavor of his own body as he shyly started to suck on them. With the taste of skin on his tongue his mind started to drift and suddenly he started imagining that it wasn’t his fingers, but Sukuna’s cock he was pleasuring. The image formed so vividly, it made his eyelids flutter and his breath catch in his throat. The fantasy alone had him moaning softly against his fingers, and at that moment, he wanted nothing more than to someday earn the privilege of tasting Sukuna for real – licking, kissing, sucking him until he coaxed even the faintest sound of pleasure from the curse’s lips.

His arousal surged, his cock throbbing with need as his fingers slipped from his mouth. There was a gleaming string of saliva connecting his fingertips with his plump lips and for a moment, he hesitated.

Shame burned through him at the thought of what he was about to do.

Even though Sukuna had seen him naked before, had watched him with those devouring eyes, Megumi felt utterly exposed. This wasn’t just his body—he was laying his soul bare, submitting entirely as his trembling hands moved behind him.

With shaky fingers, he spread himself open, revealing his sensitive, twitching hole for only Sukuna to see. His breath hitched as he rubbed his slick fingers over the entrance in slow, teasing strokes. The saliva-slick skin gleamed in the dim light, painting an image so lewd, so drenched in eroticism, but it still wasn’t enough to provoke Sukuna into action. He needed to offer more—show more of himself.

Biting down on his lip, Megumi tried to stifle the needy whimpers that escaped as his fingers breached the tight resistance and slid inside him.

Suddenly, knowing Sukuna’s hungry eyes were watching his every move, Megumi’s frantic pace from before slowed. The haste that had driven him – aching, needy – faded the moment the curse had revealed himself. Now, he reveled in the sensation of his fingers exploring his body, stretching himself open with slow, deliberate strokes. Every rub, every push of his fingers felt so much better, he couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped into the pillow beneath him.

“Deeper,” came Sukuna’s low, tremulous command. “Push your fingers deeper. For me.”

Megumi’s breath hitched. There was such hunger, such raw possession in Sukuna’s voice, the sound of it sending a shiver down his spine.

For me – it echoed in his mind and with a quick, submissive nod, he buried his fingers as deep as they could go, his breath coming in ragged gasps. His body trembled, his lips parting in a silent scream of pleasure that left him reeling. He wanted more—needed more—but the sensation of Sukuna’s gaze burning into his skin was almost enough to push him over the edge. Maybe, just maybe, the weight of those crimson eyes alone would be enough to make him come.

His fingers moved faster, more frantic now, as lust clouded his vision and tears welled at the corners of his eyes. He was so close—until Sukuna’s large, warm hand wrapped around his, stopping him cold.

Megumi’s heart hammered in his chest, the disappointment of his halted fingers clashing with the exhilarating promise of what was to come. Not even daring to breathe he hung on the curse’s every move, every word. Desperate to be so very good for him.

“Well done,” Sukuna murmured, his hand lazily stroking over Megumi’s ass as it pressed helplessly back against him. “You’ve earned yourself a reward. Now tell me, Fushiguro Megumi… what will make you happy?”
His voice dripped with provocation, daring the boy to admit the truth, and Megumi knew exactly what Sukuna wanted to hear.

“You,” Megumi gasped. “I only need… you.”
As if to emphasize his need, his hips bucked, grinding against Sukuna with an urgency that bordered on frantic.

A deep laugh rumbled from Sukuna’s throat as he ruffled Megumi’s hair. The sound sang in Megumi’s ears, and he couldn’t help his heart swelling with pride. Pride because it was him – the one who amused the King of Curses. The one who aroused Ryoumen Sukuna. It made it almost impossible to hold onto himself.

“P-please-“ he sobbed.

“Such refreshing honesty,” Sukuna purred, his voice like molten sin. “I suppose I should give you what you’re begging for.”

Megumi’s pulse quickened, his face buried in the pillows as he whimpered in anticipation. His entire body ached for Sukuna, every nerve on edge as he waited, craving the curse’s touch. And then, finally, he felt Sukuna’s firm hands around his hips, holding him in place with an iron grip that allowed no escape. He felt so safe, so secure, so completely at Sukuna’s mercy and when Sukuna nudged his cock teasingly against his waiting hole, Megumi gasped, trying his best to arch into it.

“Remember this feeling,” Sukuna rasped, deep and seductive. “This hunger, this desperation.”

Megumi let out a broken, needy whine, his fingers clawing into the sheets. Why – just why was Sukuna still holding back? What was he waiting for, why-

“I’m the only one who can give you what you crave,” Sukuna growled, his voice low, dripping with possessiveness. The sharp press of his claws digging into Megumi’s hips only heightened the tension, and despite the threat in his words, Megumi nodded eagerly. He had already surrendered—Sukuna owned him. Every part of him.

Finally, the pressure increased. Sukuna’s cock pushed into him, slowly, stretching him open so perfectly. Moaning in bliss, Megumi felt his whole body trembling. This - this was it - what he had missed, what he had needed. The overwhelming fullness, the all-consuming sensation that only Sukuna could provide.

He had tried so hard to fight it, to erase the memories of being bedded by the King of Curses, to banish the mere thought of Sukuna from his mind. But now, it seemed so foolish. Why had he resisted? Why had he denied himself to feel so fucking good? What did it matter if he spread his legs for a human or a curse, when only the latter could bring him to this height of ecstasy? It was the most beautiful feeling he had ever experienced. Why had he ever tried to forget?

“You can’t forget me,” Sukuna’s deep voice whispered, his breath hot against Megumi’s ear, as if he could read every thought racing through the boy’s mind. “And do you know why? Because I’m already a part of you. A part that you’ll never reach true satisfaction without.”

Whimpering, Megumi’s eyes fluttered shut, not noticing the drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. All that mattered was Sukuna’s cock inside him, thick and unrelenting, filling him to the brim. It pulsed within him, a perfect fit, and the deeper Sukuna pushed, the more complete Megumi felt. He had no choice but to believe, to cling to every word Sukuna whispered, to revel in this twisted, undeniable connection.

And although Sukuna was huge - devastatingly so – there was no pain this time. No burning, no agony as the curse stretched him open. It just felt… right. Perfect. Because Sukuna was perfect. Because between his legs, Sukuna carried the ultimate key to unlocking his body’s deepest needs, playing him like a finely tuned instrument, knowing exactly how to draw out the sweet, lovely sounds he wanted to hear.

Sukuna wasn’t just good for him. Sukuna was the best.

Restlessly, Megumi arched his back, trying to take more of his cock and momentarily forgetting that it wasn’t him who called the shots. The curse – and only he – would decide how much Megumi could take. With a rough tug on his hair, Sukuna yanked his head back, pulling a hoarse cry from the boy’s throat.

“Not so greedy, little blessing,” Sukuna purred “Savor it. I’ll make sure you enjoy every single second.”

Warmth spread through Megumi’s chest, a soft little “More-“ slipping from his trembling lips. That was all it took. Sukuna’s grip on his hair loosened, a satisfied smirk curling his lips as he began to move—agonizingly slow, each thrust deliberate.

A soft moan escaped Megumi, his expression twisting in pleasure.

The way Sukuna moved - slow and deep - stoked a fluttering warmth inside him, a gentle heat that spread through his body with every touch. There was only an intoxicating, familiar bliss. It felt intimate, almost soft, in stark contrast to the raw brutality of their past encounter. Sukuna wasn’t just claiming him; he was savoring him, taking his time as if Megumi was something too precious to rush.

Sensually, he let his hands stroke through black strands, exposing the tender skin of Megumi’s nape before his lips pressed soft, lingering kisses to the spot. It tickled a little and Megumi couldn’t contain the smile tugging on his lips. Sukuna’s gentle caress, the softness of his touches – it was all so tender, so disarmingly affectionate. The hand traced further down Megumi’s spine, his skin tingling in its wake, until Sukuna’s fingers reached his waist, sliding lower to pull the boy closer to his warmth and Megumi relaxed, sinking into his embrace.

He felt so safe – protected, as if the curse’s body wrapped around him like a shield. As if nothing in the world could touch him as long as Sukuna held him.

His heart fluttered in his chest, a sensation that only intensified when Sukuna’s other hand found his, their fingers intertwining, locking tightly. The gesture sent a rush of affection surging through Megumi, so powerful it left him breathless.

“You like that?” Sukuna whispered, his voice a molten caress against Megumi’s ear as his hips continued their slow, torturous rhythm. Megumi gave a shy nod. “Like” was an understatement. He loved it.

“Then this is enough for you?” The question came as a challenge, and Megumi stilled for a moment before quickly shaking his head. Sukuna chuckled. A sound so warm, so genuine it made Megumi’s heart skip a beat. It wasn’t the mocking, arrogant laughter he had come to expect; it was softer. More human and... intimate. As if he alone was worthy of seeing this side of Sukuna.

“I see,” the curse murmured. “Then I suppose I should start putting in a little more effort…”

His hand continued its slow, tender journey down Megumi’s body, and the boy gasped as it slipped lower, fingers brushing over his stomach with deliberate care. Sukuna began to move faster, his hips thrusting deeper, his rhythm increasing. Every movement hit his prostate so perfectly, each stroke precise, drawing out gasps and moans that echoed in the room, each one louder than the last.

Arching into every thrust, Megumi held on to Sukuna’s fingers entwined with his own, so grateful for the offered stability, while the tension inside him coiled tighter with every passing second. The pleasure wasn’t just building anymore – it was burning, consuming him whole and even Sukuna’s breathing grew a little ragged as he drove into the sorcerer, again and again. Fast and deep, yet oh so filled with care and tenderness.

Sukuna’s hand slid further, wrapping around Megumi’s aching cock and stroking him with slow, gentle touches. Megumi bit down on his lip, desperate to hold back the cries that spilled from his throat. Sukuna’s hands were so big, so warm, and they moved with a tenderness that made Megumi’s heart ache. Sukuna wasn’t just teasing him; he was loving him. Worshiping him. And Megumi knew - he was special.

This was something Sukuna would give to no one else. This was only for him.

His pleasure spiraled higher, teetering on the edge of unbearable, and Megumi moved with Sukuna, their bodies perfectly in sync. His moans grew louder, needier, barely muffled by the pillow beneath him and each thrust, every brush of Sukuna’s fingers, sent him closer to his orgasm. He clung tighter to Sukuna’s hand, fingers gripping his like a lifeline as he rode the waves of pleasure, his body trembling with every deep, precise thrust.

“Don’t— don’t stop,” Megumi begged, his voice breaking. He was so close, his entire being on the verge of unraveling, his heart pounding as Sukuna drove him right to the edge. Sukuna’s soft laugh vibrated through him, the sound both teasing and indulgent.

“Don’t worry. This time, I’m just going to spoil you, so…” Affectionately, he nuzzled his nose through soft, black strands, the warmth of his breath teasing Megumi’s scalp. He leaned closer, lips brushing against the trembling boy’s ear.

“Come.”

As if on command, Megumi felt his entire body seize up, muscles locking tight as an overwhelming wave of pleasure tore him apart. His eyes rolled back, mouth open in a silent scream, as his cum soaked the sheets.

Gasping, he collapsed, his shaking body sinking into the wet bed. His breath came in ragged bursts, and his eyes fell to his hand where his release dripped from his palm, sliding between his knuckles. His mind felt in a fog, utterly disjointed as he raised his head to look around the room.

It was quiet, dark. He was alone.

Had always been alone.

The realization came crashing down on him, chest tightening until he could barely breathe. Just him – trapped with the weight of his own sick and twisted fantasies.

His legs curled toward his chest instinctively, arms wrapping around them in a feeble attempt to hold himself together. He feared he might break, scattering in the wake of his own disgust. A broken sob tore from his parched throat while tears spilled down his cheeks. He was crying. Again. Pathetic.

The cold of the room clung to his skin, drawing out goosebumps as he buried his face in his knees, rocking back and forth. The tremors didn’t stop. His body kept shaking, the sobs kept coming, and no matter how tightly he clung to himself, there was no one to console him. He was hopelessly alone. Abandoned. As powerless and alone as he had felt in Sukuna’s domain. And just like then, no one was coming to save him.

A hero – he had believed in heroes once. Hell, only a few weeks ago, he had been convinced he had one of his own. Someone who would watch over him, protect him when things got bad. Now he knew better. Heroes belonged in stories told to fools, and he had been the biggest fool of them all.

He was on his own.

The thought cut deeper than he cared to admit, a sharp, agonizing pain in his chest. And yet it was enough to force him into motion. He had to move. Had to strip the sheets, get rid of the evidence of his depraved thoughts – He had to cleanse himself.

Quickly, his hands clawed at the soaked sheets, wiping themselves clean on the fabric as he ripped it off the bed, stuffing it into the laundry basket, hidden between his dirty clothes as if it somehow disappeared if he only shoved it deep enough.

Then, he grabbed a fresh, white, clean sheet and fumbled with it, struggling to stretch it over the mattress. His hands trembled too much to keep the corners in place. There was no time to think. The second the sheet was on, he bolted to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

And then, he saw it. His reflection – in the mirror. He froze.

His pupils were blown wide, swallowing up the deep blue of his red-rimmed, hollowed eyes. Black strands of hair stuck out in tangled knots, wild and unkempt. And while he had always been pale, now his skin looked almost translucent, drawn tight over the sharp bones of his gaunt face. The once lean muscles of his body had withered away, leaving behind nothing but skin over bone. He was a ghost of himself, a broken, trembling thing barely holding together.

His eyes trailed downward. There was still some cum smeared across his stomach and with each step, he felt a raw ache between his legs, a brutal reminder of what he had done. It was disgusting. He was disgusting.

Because back then in Sukuna’s domain, he hadn’t had a choice. But this – this had been all him. No one else to blame. No one else to shoulder the guilt. Just him and his sick, twisted mind.

Frantically, he stumbled into the shower and wrenched the handle on. He flinched as icy cold water hit him - like a thousand needles prickling his skin. Megumi hissed through clenched teeth, the cold making him shiver, and although the pain came welcomed – deserved – it wasn’t nearly enough. The filth sat too deep, rooted in the very core of him, and the cold wasn’t enough to wash it away.

He turned the water hotter.

His breath came in ragged gasps, eyes fixed on the floor as droplets fell between his feet, sliding off his skin but taking none of the dirt with them.

Hotter.

He cranked the handle again, the warmth shifting to heat, and he could feel his skin tightening under the temperature, but it still wasn’t enough.

Hotter.

The scalding water burned, turning his skin red, leaving angry welts in its wake, but it still wasn’t enough. He rubbed at his arms, his movements growing frantic, desperate, but no matter how hard he scrubbed, the filth was still there.

Hotter.

With a sharp hiss, Megumi turned the lever until it hit its limit. His body was screaming now, the water so hot it felt like fire, searing his skin, but the filth was still there.

Frantically, he grabbed the soap, lathering it across his body in thick, foamy layers, scrubbing at himself like he could tear the dirt out with his bare hands. For a moment, the white foam covered his skin and his movements subsided slightly. But as the water washed it away, his red, raw skin was exposed again. The filth was still there.

Desperately, Megumi let out a broken sob. His gaze darted around, frantically scanning his entire body, but all he could see was filth. Why wouldn’t it come off? Why couldn’t he make it go away? Why – why was he still so dirty?

In a last, desperate attempt, he grabbed the peeling glove Nobara had once given him as a present and began scrubbing his skin with all the force he could muster. Over and over, the coarse material scraped over the same few inches of his arm, peeling away thin layers of skin but never the dirt Megumi saw clinging to his flesh.

He sobbed and cried, his scrubbing growing more violent with each pass. It hurt. The water was far too hot. He wept, his tears mixing with the scalding shower water as the glove moved in frantic, brutal circles across his body, his hands pressing harder with each stroke. Clear water mixed with dark red as it swirled down the drain, but Megumi didn’t care about his skin tearing under the relentless heat and rough abuse. All he saw was dirt.

Shaking with sobs, he screamed until his voice gave out, hoarse and ragged. And eventually, he collapsed to his knees, arms hanging limp by his sides. The glove slipped from his numb fingers, useless, as the scorching water continued to rain down on him.

Megumi didn’t know how long he had been huddled in the fogged-up shower when he registered a hand reaching past him. The burning downpour stopped. A soft silk cloth landed on his head, fluttering over his eyes before it quickly clung to him, soaked and heavy.

Gentle hands slid under his knees and around his back, lifting him oh so carefully. Blinking, he peered out from under the drenched cloth. Although the blindfold hid most of Gojo’s face, there was a seriousness etched into his features—one Megumi couldn’t place, one that didn’t suit his sensei. But Megumi was too exhausted to think about it any further.

Gojo stared straight ahead, not daring to look down at the boy cradled in his arms as he carried him toward the infirmary. Again.

Neither of them said a word.

 

Gojo gently set his student down on the infirmary bed. Then he turned away in silence, rummaging through the medicine cabinet. He came back with a small jar in hand. Carefully, he applied a generous layer of ointment to Megumi’s scalded shoulders, but even the lightest touch had the boy flinching, a sharp hiss escaping through his clenched teeth.

Gojo still didn’t say a word, and the silence was starting to unsettle Megumi. At that moment, he would have welcomed his teacher’s usual silly antics. How he wished for it – craved one of Gojo’s stupid jokes, a lecture on his reckless behavior or at least one of those questionable pieces of advice the teacher was so fond of throwing around.

Anything would be better than this crushing silence. But Gojo didn’t say a word.

Why couldn’t he see that all Megumi longed for was just a little bit of normalcy?

The clock ticked with each passing second and once he was finished with Megumi’s shoulders, Gojo moved on to his burned arms, intending to work his way down the boy’s chest. But the moment his fingers brushed against Megumi’s chest, a jolt of shock shot through him.

"Don't touch me!" he screamed, eyes wide in panic as he pressed himself back against the wall. His whole body trembled, stinging tears welling up as he bit down hard on his lip, trying to stop its pathetic quiver.

Gojo backed off instantly, raising his hands in a gesture of peace and giving him the space he so desperately needed.

"It's okay, Megumi," Gojo spoke softly, his voice a soothing murmur. "I’m not going to hurt you. You're safe."

Safe.

The word hit Megumi with a wave of cold indifference, dulling his senses. His body stilled, his muscles no longer trembling, his breath evening out. He stared up at Gojo through hollow, empty eyes.

What did he know? How could he say something so naive—so thoughtless? How could Gojo promise safety when Megumi wasn’t even safe from the monsters lurking in his own mind? He wasn’t safe. Not anywhere. He had learned that much after tonight.

Gojo’s voice continued, gentle and kind, maintaining a respectful distance, never once daring to touch him again. But Megumi wasn’t listening. He didn’t want to be soothed or pitied. He didn’t care about the burns on his skin, didn’t want the treatment for his wounds. He felt dead inside, and all he craved was sleep. Peaceful unconsciousness, a break from his thoughts and feelings.

He just wanted everything to end.

✴︎✴︎✴︎

Since the incident, Megumi had become even more distant than before.

The burns on his skin had healed, the bloody wounds now covered with scabs, but he didn’t feel any better since the day of his shower. Guilt gnawed at him, exhaustion weighed heavily on his body, and he could no longer bring himself to meet Gojo’s all-knowing eyes. He avoided him on every occasion.

Now, he spent his days in the darkened refuge of his room, buried under his blanket. Even when his stomach growled, begging for food, the mere thought of eating made him so nauseous that he would gag on sour bile. He’d given up trying. No appetite at all. All he wanted was sleep. Deep, dreamless sleep.

Sometimes Gojo would knock on his door, asking to be let in, but Megumi never responded. After a few minutes of persistent knocking, there would always come that worried sigh, sometimes followed by a defeated, "I’ll come back later…", other times by a restless rattling of the squeaky doorknob. On some rare days, there would be the sad sound of someone sliding down the door, as if slumping against it. Megumi was too exhausted to care.

He lay there, wrapped in his blanket, listening to the rhythmic ticking of his wall clock, turning away from the tiny slivers of light fighting their way through the closed blinds. Sometimes, there would be hot tears running down his cheeks and he would wonder why he had started to cry. Sometimes, the ticking wasn’t enough to drown out the deafening silence, and he would turn on the TV, not paying attention to whatever was playing. Other times, he would summon his shadow dog, clinging to it like a lifeline. But most of the time, he just stared at the blank wall.

There was a knock at the door. Again. He didn’t answer.

"Hey, Megumi! Come on, open up! You’ve been hiding away for way too long already!" Maki’s loud voice came through the wood. Megumi didn’t react. He should’ve been surprised that it wasn’t Gojo this time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

The knocking grew louder, the demands more insistent. Then, he heard a soft rustling.

"Hold this, Panda. That door won’t stop me," Maki announced, and alarmed, Megumi’s head shot up. But before he could get a word out to stop her, the door slammed to the floor with a loud crash.

He flinched at the noise, his eyes squinting against the blinding light coming from the hallway. All the second years, minus Yuta, who was probably off on another mission, crowded into his tiny dorm room. While Toge muttered an apologetic "Bonito flakes," and Panda asked how he was feeling, Maki marched straight to his bed, yanking the blanket off Megumi’s head with a firm tug.

"Get your ass out of bed. Your oh-so-wonderful senpais came all this way to cheer you up. Show a little gratitude, would ya?" she demanded. As harsh as her words were, Megumi knew she meant well.

"Gojo-sensei sent you, didn’t he?" he guessed, voice tired. Maki averted her gaze, a little embarrassed they got caught, while Panda gave a barely noticeable nod. "Salmon," Toge confirmed quietly, and Megumi let out a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

"We’ve got a mission to drag you out of your cave, and missions have to be completed," Maki added, defensively. Knowing full well she wouldn’t give up, Megumi slowly sat up.

"And now what?" he asked, unenthused.

"We’re just going for a little walk. Enjoy the nice weather," Panda replied gently. Megumi frowned, but he couldn’t really blame them for the ambush. He was sure they didn’t know a thing about his encounter with Sukuna, and they had probably started worrying about him on their own, even without Gojo's "mission", considering they hadn’t seen him around school in weeks.

Even before he’d officially enrolled as a first-year sorcerer, the three of them had often trained with him. They had told him stories about their missions, about particularly terrifying curses, and Megumi had been eager for the day when he too could finally do more than just run mundane errands. But of course, Gojo had always kept an eye on him, never allowing him to join any missions - no matter how skilled he was with his cursed techniques.

At school, he had attracted nothing but constant fights instead of friendships. While it never really bothered him, he couldn’t deny that he had felt lonely after Tsumiki fell victim to her curse. Not only Gojo, but also Maki, Yuta, Panda, and Toge had been there for him during that time.

And now, they wouldn’t let him rot away on his own either. Not matter how much he wished for it.

Maki roughly pulled him out of bed, while Panda grabbed his jacket from the coat rack, offering it to him, and Toge stood by the door, giving him an encouraging smile.

 

It really was a beautiful day. The sun was bright and warm, birds were chirping, and every now and then the breeze would catch a few leaves, sending them dancing through the air. It was idyllic, and it should have lifted Megumi’s spirits, but the exhaustion weighing down his body overshadowed the moment’s beauty after only a few steps in fresh air. He had completely underestimated how weak his body had become, how much energy it took to keep up with the others and socialize. Still, he forced himself to give a strained smile and throw in a few short replies, trying to at least pretend he was interested in their conversation.

"I heard Gojo-sensei clashed with the elders again. Something about him bailing on that last mission in Sendai. Like the principal’s lectures are gonna change a thing," Maki shared the latest gossip.

"Yeah, Gojo-sensei is impossible," Panda chuckled, and Toge nodded along with a simple "Salmon."

"I’m sure he had his reasons though. Even Gojo-sensei wouldn’t just leave a vengeful spirit to terrorize an entire district," Panda added thoughtfully, to which Maki clicked her tongue.

"True. Hey, Megumi, you know anything about it? That blind clown would tell you just about everything," she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

Tired, Megumi glanced at her, then at Toge and Panda. The curiosity in their gazes was suffocating.

"Uh… No. I don’t think… I know anything," he stammered.

"Rice balls," Toge commented, and Maki and Panda burst into laughter. Meanwhile, Megumi tried harder to keep up with the group. He forced himself to focus on their words, forcing one foot in front of the other, but the voices around him blurred into a distant chorus. All he could hear was his own ragged breathing. A strange numbness began spreading through his fingers and toes, spreading throughout his body. Panic set in as he looked around, confused.

The worried faces of his friends swam before his eyes, everything feeling so unreal. When had they stopped walking?

He tried to lift his arm, reaching out for support in Panda’s soft fur, but his fingers grasped at nothing but air. Slowly, his vision was overtaken by small, dark dots.

He didn’t feel his body hit the ground.

Everything went black.

 

When Megumi woke up, he found himself back in his bed. Snug and warm. He felt a bit dazed, blinking slowly, but he was certain he hadn’t been out for long. Maki, Toge, and Panda were gone. Instead, Gojo sat by his bedside. He had his arms crossed, and there was no blindfold, no glasses hiding his face. Just icy blue eyes, utterly unreadable. The sight made Megumi shiver, and instinctively, he pulled the soft blanket closer. He had never seen his teacher like this.

“You’re awake. Good,” Gojo said, his voice low and even. “Now you’re going to eat. And don’t even think about moving a muscle until you’ve finished.” His tone was cold, almost mechanical, and Megumi’s gaze shifted uneasily between his teacher's stony face and the small tray on the bedside table.

A bowl of steaming broth sat next to a slice of bread and a spoon. Clearly a light meal, meant to ease his starved stomach back into handling food—just enough to ensure he could keep it down. But Megumi had no appetite, and the idea of forcing it down under Gojo’s icy gaze made his skin crawl.

"I'm full," he said flatly, three simple words to which Gojo didn’t so much as blink.

“Then we’ll be sitting here until you’re not,” he replied. There would be no easy way out of this.

“Look, Satoru,” Megumi fidgeted under the blanket, forcing a weak smile. “I’m sorry if I made you worry. I guess I was just a bit exhausted-”

“Eat,” Gojo commanded sharply. The smell of the soup made Megumi’s stomach churn, and the mere thought of eating even a spoonful filled him with stress until his hands began trembling too much to hold the bowl steady.

"I can stand. I’m fine," he insisted, his voice dry as he tried to lift himself on shaky legs, as if to prove his point. Gojo stood as well, his jaw clenched with barely restrained frustration, fists trembling with tension as a dangerous glint flashed in his eyes.

"Sit down," he ordered, his voice deceptively calm, but Megumi didn’t obey.

“This whole thing is ridiculous. I can take care of myself, everything’s fine,” he argued weakly, lacking any real conviction, and Gojo just shook his head in disbelief.

“Stop fucking lying!” he snapped, and startled, Megumi flinched. “I’m not an idiot, Megumi. I have eyes - I can see that you’re anything but fine, so stop this shit, open your mouth, and talk!”

Gojo knew anger wasn’t the solution. He needed to be gentle, patient—he knew. This had to be so much worse for Megumi than it was for him—but fuck. What was he supposed to do?

For weeks now, he had been watching helplessly as Megumi slipped further and further away, how he punished himself for something that wasn’t his fault. He’d seen him withdraw, grow thinner, trying so hard to pretend everything was normal. But nothing was fucking normal, and Gojo couldn’t play along with this charade any longer. He was fucking desperate. For the first time in his life, he felt truly powerless, and it was time to stop letting the boy slip through his fingers at every confrontation.

“Why don’t you trust me, Megumi? Why won’t you just talk to me? I’m only trying to help you.” Silence stretched between them, and Megumi stared blankly at the floor.

"Don’t worry. I’m the Strongest," Megumi whispered with a bitter laugh. When he finally looked up, Gojo froze at the sight of his lifeless, glassy eyes. A trembling, manic smile spread across Megumi’s face.

"Those are your words. I’ve heard you say them a thousand times. And every single time, you protect everyone around you."

Cautiously, Gojo tried to step toward him, reaching out hesitantly, but Megumi flinched away, and Gojo halted, his hand falling limply to his side, his gaze fixed on the boy’s desperate, blinking eyes.

“You always save everyone. So where were you?” His voice trembled now. “Where were you when I needed you? Why didn’t you help me?”

Gojo’s heart sank. There they were. The words he had feared so much, the ones that had haunted him over and over - but hearing them from Megumi’s mouth made them cut so much deeper. Tears streamed down the boy’s cheeks, and Gojo longed to wipe them away, to pull him into a tender embrace, to protect him from the cruelty of this world. But it was too late. He had been too late. Had failed, and never had failure hurt as much as it did in this moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, broken, hating himself for being unable to do anything more than offer such a pitiful apology.
“I know I can’t undo what happened, but I can help you. I- I can listen, I can understand, I…” – “Understand?” Megumi interrupted with a laugh, bitter and cold.

“You have no idea how I felt. You don’t know what it’s like to be weak. You’ve never been so helpless that your own body wouldn’t obey you. You’re Gojo Satoru, the Strongest. But me? I-” His voice cracked, and he wiped his eyes, fingers tangling into his hair.

"I was scared. I was so fucking scared, and it was humiliating, and it hurt, and it just wouldn’t stop… but do you know the worst part?" Sobbing, he gasped for air.

“I liked it.”

He spat out the words in disgust, his hand clenching into a trembling fist in his hair, tugging and pulling, but not hard enough to wake him from this endless nightmare.

“Megumi… I don’t believe that,” Gojo’s voice was soft.

“It’s true!” Megumi screamed, louder than Gojo had ever heard him. “It felt good! It… it must have felt good because I… I moaned, and- and I was hard, and two times I- I…”

His voice broke, and desperation overwhelmed him as he stumbled from side to side. His trembling hand pressed over his mouth, trying to blink his tear-filled eyes into focus until finally, he collapsed to his knees.

And just as he felt himself teetering on the edge of breaking apart completely, loving arms wrapped around his body and held him together, pulling him against a warm chest. There was a quick, anxious heartbeat thudding underneath his ear, and a gentle hand carefully pried his fingers from his hair, beginning to stroke his dark locks soothingly.

“It’s okay,” Gojo whispered, though his voice was just a shadow of its usual confident self. It was thin, trembling, and for a moment, Megumi thought maybe Gojo’s face was wet with tears too. But he quickly dismissed that thought. Gojo Satoru didn’t cry. And yet, his words shook as he spoke again.

“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be alright. You did nothing wrong. You have no reason to hate yourself like this.” He held Megumi even tighter. “You’ve been through a terrible trauma, and your reactions were a natural, physical response. It doesn’t change the cruelty of what was done to you.”

Megumi gasped, struggling for breath, stunned by his teacher’s lack of judgment, by the understanding in his words—even more stunned by the effect they had on him. The tight knot in his chest slowly loosened, and slowly he felt… lighter.

Desperately seeking comfort, his fingers gripped the soft fabric of Gojo’s uniform. Gojo’s warmth was so calming, so comforting.

“I’ll make you the strongest sorcerer who’s ever lived. No one will ever lay a hand on you again. You’ll never have to be scared again, okay? You have the potential.”

Megumi’s eyes widened, and he nodded slowly, sniffling as he clung to Gojo.

And then he cried. He sobbed and screamed, and let the flood of emotions he had bottled up for so long wash over him. It would be hard, it would take time, but maybe, just maybe, he could heal one day. Because he knew Gojo was holding him, and through his own loud sobbing, he could hear the quiet whisper of warm, comforting reassurances.

And for the very first time, he had the faint feeling, the slightest glimmer of hope, that everything might be okay again.

Notes:

Thank you so much for reading this little story! 💕 It was so much fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it till the very last line.

I've actually toyed with the idea of writing a continuation for quite some time, but I kinda like the hopeful note it ends on, so I guess I'll leave it be for now.

If you enjoyed it, I would be more than grateful if you could leave a kudos or a comment. That shit gives me life~