Chapter Text
Prologue
The weight of the collar in Megumi’s hands made him shiver. There was a small silver buckle clasping together the heavy leather, and he could just make out the embossed shapes reminiscent of Sukuna’s tattoos.
Sukuna’s breath was hot on his neck, quickly replaced by warm lips on his throat, a tongue gathering up little droplets of sweat along Megumi’s skin. His words reverberated through the thin skin there as Sukuna murmured, “Do you like it, angel?”
There should have been some hesitation. A year ago, there maybe would have been. But that was then, and now Sukuna’s hands gently cupped his hips in a familiar, comfortable way. Now, Megumi loved him. Now, he had settled into this dynamic so thoroughly, the edges warn off time and time again, it was almost like breathing.
Megumi turned within the circle of Sukuna’s arms, and the phrase, once impossible, tripped off his tongue like instinct, “Yes, thank you, daddy.”
Chapter One
Itadori Yuuji had all but glued himself to Megumi their first day of middle school. His light pink hair stood out among a sea of black and brown as he barreled towards the boy hesitating on the edge of the crowd. Megumi’s grandfather had left before he had even made it through the door so there was no where to go even if he turned back. The crowd was overwhelming already, and Megumi found himself ready to turn around and take his chances when Yuuji’s face appeared inches from his.
“Hi! I’m Itadori Yuuji. Who are you?”
Megumi blinked, his eyes searching Itadori’s, looking for the trick or the joke. Earnest brown eyes gazed back at him, warm and inviting and before Megumi even knew what he was doing he was introducing himself.
“I’m Fushiguro Megumi, but you can call me Megumi.”
Itadori beamed. “You can call me Yuuji! Let’s be friends, okay?”
Nodding reluctantly, he let Yuuji grab his hand and bring him over to a small table with two people already seated. Yuuji proudly introduced Junpei and Nobara as his friends.
“They’ll be your friends now, too!”
Megumi half expected the other two to protest, but they both waved at him easily.
“Don’t worry, Yuuji adopted us the same way. The stunned look will leave your face in about a week or so,” Nobara assured him when Megumi took the seat at her side.
As it turned out, Nobara had been right. It quickly became second nature to have Yuuji at his side, to look to his left in the middle of a fight and to find Yuuji there, knuckles just as bloodied, a grin on his face.
It was after their second fight that they went back to Yuuji’s house after school, cleaning up their cuts and digging around for snacks in the kitchen.
One day, after this had all become routine, Yuuji finally asked him over rubbing alcohol and cold leftover rice, “Why don’t we ever go to your place?”
It wasn’t an accusatory question, Megumi could tell that. Yuuji was just curious, criminally so most of the time.
When he shrugged and said, “It’s not fun there,” he knew Yuuji would get it though.
Grandpa Itadori walked in right then, his voice gruff when he asked, “Do you want to stay over?”
Megumi nodded silently and gratefully accepted the way Grandpa Itadori ruffled his hair.
If it had been anyone else, Megumi might have worried that he was overstepping, but when he glanced at Yuuji it was obvious his friend was overjoyed.
“You have to stay over a lot, okay?” Yuuji beamed, pulling him along after their snack so they could see what spare things Yuuji had for Megumi to borrow tonight.
When they walked down the hall, Megumi glanced at all the photos lining wall. Megumi had always known that Yuuji had an older brother, but it was an abstract thing. He had seen the photos, heard Yuuji mention Sukuna every now and then, but the reality had never felt, well, real to him. Sukuna was ten years older than them, and off somewhere at college (if you asked Yuuji’s grandfather), or working for the mob (if you asked Yuuji).
As much time as Megumi spent at the Itadori household even before the whole sleep over thing had started, he never once saw Sukuna Itadori beyond the photos hanging there on the wall. There was an even spread between Yuuji and Sukuna, but while the photos of Yuuji were from picnics, track competitions, and family gatherings, all the photos of Sukuna were from either his high school graduation or baseball games with his face obscured by a helmet or hat.
In the few photos where Sukuna’s eyes were visible, they held Megumi still. Sukuna’s eyes were red, unlike Yuuji’s, and something in the gaze, even filtered through the photo, sent a shiver down Megumi’s spine.
Yuuji realized quickly that Megumi wasn’t behind him and doubled back to see what he was looking at. When he followed Megumi’s gaze to Sukuna’s baseball all-stars photo, he sighed.
“He was an accident,” Yuuji whispered conspiratorially, the first hints of irritation Megumi had ever heard creeping into Yuuji’s voice.
Megumi thought about asking more, but the annoyance written so plainly across Yuuji’s face stopped him. He did his best to put Sukuna out of his mind, but every time he walked through the hall he was sure he felt piercing red eyes on the back of his neck.
They fell into a routine quickly after that. Megumi spent more time at Yuuji’s than he did at home. As far as he could tell, no one from his family noticed or cared. After a month Grandpa Itadori moved a bigger dresser set into Yuuji’s room so that Megumi could keep his things in a drawer and not crumpled up in a duffle bag.
Megumi had started to ask why, but the look Grandpa Itadori shot him shut Megumi up before he could speak. “This is your home now, kid. Don’t forget that.”
Megumi never did.
--
Megumi met Sukuna for the first time when he was fourteen.
It was his second summer at the Itadori’s. There was a permanent second bed in Yuuji’s room now and their clothes were all mixed up in the drawers and closet. Half the time when Megumi looked up Yuuji was wearing one of his shirts, or he was holding Yuuji’s pants to put on for the day. He couldn’t remember the last time he had gone home for more than ten minutes.
Yuuji was at track practice that afternoon, so it was just Megumi and Grandpa Itadori in the house. Megumi was folding his clean clothes and thinking if he had time to wash another load before the rain hit when he heard the door open.
It was early for Yuuji to be home, but maybe the rain had started already. Megumi started to call out when he heard an unfamiliar voice at the front of the house.
“Whose shoes are those?” the voice asked, deep and reverberating throughout the house and definitely not Yuuji.
“That’s the first thing you say to me? No, “hello, gramps” or “let me explain the tattoos on my face, gramps” or “I’m glad to see you’re not dead, gramps”?” Grandpa Itadori sounded fondly exasperated, a tone Megumi was used to hearing directed at Yuuji or even himself.
It wasn’t a tone Megumi had ever heard him use with anyone else, and it perked Megumi’s interest immediately.
The voice chuckled warmly and Megumi felt himself flush. “I’m sorry, hello, gramps. I’m glad you aren’t dead.”
“And the tattoos?” Grandpa Itadori pushed, but Megumi only heard him sigh and say his name, “Megumi Fushiguro.”
“What?”
“The shoes. Those are Megumi Fushiguro’s. He’s a friend of Yuuji’s that lives with us.” There was another long pause then, “He’s a good kid. Be nice.”
“Me? I’m always nice.” The voice said, and something in Megumi pinged that as a lie.
When he peaked his head out from their room, he quickly spotted the owner of the voice standing at the end on the hall. He was looking away, so Megumi felt confident to openly stare. He looked like Yuuji, but there were so many obvious differences. He was older, Megumi knew that, but he hadn’t expected it to show so dramatically. He was taller, broader, and there really were tattoos crawling up the side and across his face.
It was a familiar face, not just because of the resemblance to Yuuji, but because Megumi had gazed at the photos in the hall more often than he cared to admit.
When Sukuna turned and stared him down, red eyes cold and piercing, Megumi felt that same shiver he had every time he looked at the photos. He ducked back into his room, but not quick enough to miss the smirk curling the edges of Sukuna’s mouth.
Sukuna didn’t stay long, and was already long gone by the time Yuuji made it home.
“You missed your bother,” Grandpa Itadori pointed out and Yuuji just hummed as he took a bite of soup.
“What did you think of him?” Yuuji asked Megumi instead.
He thought for a second about the way their gazes had met, how Sukuna had sent an electric spark down his spine, how he had smirked at Megumi like he knew every single one of his secrets.
“I didn’t meet him. I was doing laundry.”
“Lucky,” Yuuji huffed before offering Megumi more tea.
--
When Megumi was 16 he had his first wet dream. He knew it was late compared to other teens, how could he not, sharing a room with Yuuji all these years. He hadn’t bothered much about missing out though. He knew enough at least to find the whole thing categorically embarrassing. At least once a week Yuuji woke him up with a loud moan followed by an embarrassed squeak of a curse.
Yuuji always looked so awkward when he glanced over to see Megumi awake. Every time he shuffled out of the room with cherry red cheeks, pillow held tight in front of his lap.
“Don’t say anything,” Yuuji whined every time, and Megumi always just rolled his eyes, pulled the covers over his head, and went back to sleep.
He never said anything, but he always thought himself above wet dreams. Wet dreams were for the weak. Megumi was too disciplined to have his brain run off on some tangent that would only lead to his own embarrassment.
When he woke up, briefs sticky in between his legs, his breathing heavy in his chest, it took him a while to realize what had happened. In a parody of their usual routine, Megumi glanced over to find Yuuji awake and gaping at him from his own bed.
“Did you…”
“Shut up!” Megumi hissed, angry beyond reason to be caught like this.
This didn’t happen to him. Except it clearly had. Megumi was still struggling to push aside the hazy dream of deep red eyes, tattoos, and long fingers going somewhere even Megumi had never gone before.
He did the only thing he could do and followed Yuuji’s many examples and shuffled to the bathroom with a pillow over his lap.
Yuuji’s laughter was audible even through their closed bedroom door. Megumi gritted his teeth and waddled to the bathroom at the end of the hall. He was startled to see the light on under the door, and even more surprised when the object of his dream opened the door and exited into the hall in a billow of steam.
Megumi was sure when had fallen asleep that Sukuna was not there, and yet, here he was exactly as if he had stepped directly out of Megumi's head. He had a towel slung low around his hips and for the first time Megumi realized the tattoos creeped further down than just has face. Thick black lines curved around Sukuna’s muscles, drawing Megumi’s eye in unwanted ways.
“Hey,” Sukuna threw his way, barely glancing up from the phone he held loosely in one hand.
It only just occurred to Megumi that there was an early light creeping in through the windows, and that Sukuna was probably getting ready for the day. Megumi cringed away from Sukuna, trying to position himself more in the shadow of the hall despite how blatant he was being. He prayed that Sukuna would walk away and not say a word, but he seemed eternally glued to the space in front of the bathroom door with no intention of moving any time soon.
“Can you move?” Megumi asked, impatience sending his voice sharp and high.
It was the exact wrong thing to say as Sukuna grinned and drew his gaze directly from his phone screen to the pillow Megumi held in front of him.
“Oh?” Sukuna’s voice was always deep, but that one little sound seemed dropped an octave lower directly into Megumi's gut.
Megumi could feel his eyes raking across every inch of his body, lingering lower and lower.
“Did you need in here?”
Gritting his teeth, Megumi gave him a single sharp nod. He half expected Sukuna to yank his pillow away, but he only shrugged and moved. The towel around Sukuna’s hips dipped just a little further, but Megumi wrenched his gaze quickly away.
He darted into the bathroom and was sure he was in the clear when just before he closed the door he heard Sukuna say, “I used up all the hot water, not that that’ll be an issue for you.”
Mortified, Megumi slammed the door. Despite being brothers, Sukuna’s laugh was nothing like Yuuji’s. When he heard it filter through the door it tingled through his bones.