Work Text:
Itadori shouldn’t be as surprised as he is that Fushiguro smokes. After all, he was a delinquent in middle school. It’s not that big of a stretch from beating kids up to purchasing illegal drugs. But smelling the familiar pungent scent and seeing the dim fire burn on the end of Fushiguro’s joint made him do a double take.
He usually isn’t up right now, but his thoughts have been loud today, and the summer nights in Tokyo have been warm and soothing. The breeze coming from his window called him outside. To Fushiguro.
“Hey!” Itadori calls out to Fushiguro as he approaches him, the lanky dark-haired boy’s legs spread out in front of him as he exhales a long hit. “What are you doing up?”
That makes Fushiguro startle, and his eyes catch Itadori’s, his eyes looking properly glassy and red in the dark.
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m smoking. Want a hit?” Fushiguro’s glare is slightly softer as he holds out the joint, an offering in the darkness.
Itadori shuffles onto the concrete step Fushiguro’s sitting on, and takes him up on his offer.
“Thanks.” Itadori inhales inhales inhales, holds it, the smoke feeling hot in his chest before he exhales. He’s smoked before, but it’s been a while, it’s taking everything in him not to cough.
“It’s weed by the way. Should have told you that before you took a hit,” Fushiguro comments before taking the joint back.
“I know that. I could smell it as soon as I stepped outside. I’m not a dumbass.”
Fushiguro exhales, long and out his nose, and Itadori can’t help but notice how pretty he is like this. His body is miles and miles of smooth pale skin. He’s in what looks to be like athletic shorts, a real treat for him, as the whole school lives in their conservative uniforms all day. Itadori shakes himself out of it. He can’t start waxing poetic about Fushiguro’s cute knees after one hit.
“You’ve yet to prove to me you’re not a dumbass.” Fushiguro smirks, and Itadori has to look at him out of the corner of his eye as he takes his next drag so he doesn’t combust.
The crush is new. He tells himself this as if his first thought when he met Fushiguro at his high school wasn’t oh shit that man is hot .
They’ve just been training together more. Which means hand to hand combat, which means he’s been beating Fushiguro’s ass, so he knows what Fushiguro looks like underneath him, his hands pinned above his head as he groans in defeat. That’s his favorite part about sparring. It’s also coincidentally his dick’s favorite part too.
It keeps him motivated to train, so it can’t be a bad thing, is how he justifies it to himself. But as he sits here in the dark with Fushiguro, it feels not necessarily bad, but dangerous, tempting.
They continue to pass the joint back and forth and the worries about his crush fade. He’s floaty. Far away from Jujitsu High. He can almost forget there’s a cursed spirit living inside him. Wait, is Sukuna getting stoned too? He doesn’t want to know.
It’s affecting Fushiguro too, the weed loosening his tongue as he tells Itadori stories about the school before he joined, and how when Itadori was pretending to be dead Nobara was begging him to throw a “banger of a funeral” in honor of Itadori. He frowns when he says the word banger, making Itadori laugh out loud.
“You’re no fun Fushiguro.”
“Oh I’m not that fun? That’s the last time you get to smoke with me then.”
Itadori laughs again. Fushiguro is funny . He wonders if he even is trying to be. He blinks and blinks and blinks and then rubs his eyes, and when Fushiguro’s face comes back into focus he’s smiling, and a soft moment passes between them.
“I take it back. This has been a real banger. Just knock on the wall or text me or whatever and I'll come join you again.” Itadori not only would love the respite from all that’s going on, but also this has been a great way to get to pry open Fushiguro. He’s hard to read.
Fushiguro nods, puts out the roach on the concrete and stands up, stretching his arms up up up until his shirt rides up a little bit, and Itadori wishes he could take a photo of the pale abs that peak out. He offers Itadori a hand. He takes it, his rough hands meeting his smooth ones. Itadori knows he’s probably smiling like a dumbass right now but he can’t help it.
As they reach their dorms, they walk lightly, making sure not to wake anyone up. Itadori is fully on his tippy toes at one point, making Fushiguro roll his eyes. That’s the closest he’s gotten to a laugh all night, he’ll take it.
With a wave and a whispered goodnight, Itadori is alone in his room. What a nice night.
He’s puttering around, pulling open his drawers to search for any snacks in his dorm he has laying around when he hears the first noise. He freezes.
It was definitely a moan. Is Fushiguro in pain? Maybe he went too hard today sparring maybe — another moan breaches the silence and he can hear a soft rhythmic squeak of the cheap bed frames. He can’t justify the noises any other way now — Fushiguro is definitely getting himself off.
Itadori’s overactive imagination doesn’t fail him, his mind spinning with ideas of what his friend is doing just a thin layer of drywall away.
His cock swells in his sweatpants, uninhibited, as he does enjoy going commando when he’s sleeping. He presses down on his erection, willing it to go away, but his mind has other plans.
It conjures images of Fushiguro’s cute shorts pulled down, and it quickly extrapolates on how his creamy thighs would look. He’s laying on his back in his vision, stroking his cock lazily, occasionally thrusting up into his fist, creating the slow rocking sounds he’s hearing.
Itadori is now rock hard, and he can already see the precum forming spots on his grey sweatpants. He sighs, tries to talk himself out of perving on his friend, but after a particularly loud moan, so distinctly Fushiguro , all husky and low, he gives in, releasing the pressure on his dick, taking it in hand.
Itadori imagines he’s the one on top of him, jerking him off as he starts stroking his cock in time with the springs of Fushiguro’s bed. He imagines Fushiguro under him, desperate for release, trying to speed up his pace by thrusting upward.
Itadori’s quickly lost all control of this fantasy, letting himself freely lewd his best friend. He would hold Fushiguro down wouldn’t he? Yeah he would. He wouldn’t let him have free reign over his fist. He would make him beg for it, making that stupid annoyed face at Itadori’s request, but then Itadori would just slow down until he begged for it, admitted he’s wanted this for a while.
He would say his given name too, and the moans mixed with fantasy Fushiguro’s “faster Yuuji, faster” has him seeing stars.
That does it for Itadori, coming embarrassingly fast, with no warning, soiling the rug under his bed. Fuck.
He catches his breath, and curses himself for not being to restrain himself, but still, still he can faintly hear Fushiguro moaning in the background. Who would have thought? Stoic and cynical Fushiguro Megumi, turned into a horny mess after a few hits of weed.
Itadori talks himself out of trying to get it up again, not wanting to rub his dick raw like he unfortunately has before, shoving in headphones to drown out the rest of the moans, regardless how desperately he would like to know what Fushiguro sounds like when he cums.
He will save that mystery when he gets to fuck him, Itadori thinks, stupidly optimistic, before sinking into a dreamless, peaceful slumber.
On the other side of the wall, Fushiguro cums hard, thinking about how he could see Itadori’s cock through his dumb sexy grey sweatpants the whole fucking time they were smoking. He pulls the dildo out of his ass, scowling, as he cleans himself up. He vows to never jerk off to that stupid pink-haired boy again.
//
Over the course of the next week, Itadori has not stopped thinking about what the fuck happened that night. His interactions with Fushiguro in person don’t suffer, luckily being able to compartmentalize pretty well. Especially because distraction while they are exorcizing curses can mean death. Their teamwork is at an all time high, and they are too, Fushiguro keeping his promise to smoke a couple of times a week together.
But when he’s alone, especially while he’s in his room, the scene of the crime, his brain doesn’t let him rest.
Half of it is embarrassment, that he was weak enough to let himself benefit from Fushiguro’s over excited moans, but the other half is going to bed every night waiting to hear him again. Over the course of the week, he doesn’t hear a peep from his room. Maybe he was hallucinating, his high mind making things up in the silence.
But, he knows what he heard. It’s embedded in his long term memory for better or for worse. He’s fixated on it, jerking himself off in the shower one morning, thinking about how loud he could get Fushiguro to be for him, if only could get his mouth on him.
The way he’s so confident in his sexual prowess has very little basis in reality, the few hookups he had being fun, yes, but full of inexperience, the first girl he had fingered giggling at his first attempt before she guided him to her clit. Him gagging so hard on the first cock he sucked he had to grab some water so he wouldn’t throw up.
It makes him wonder about Fushiguro. They’re friends, they share personal stories, he’s gradually started to open up the can of worms that is his family life, but still, no mention ever of any sexual exploits. He doesn’t even know if Fushiguro likes men.
So he ends up asking, that night, as they smoke together, with very little tact due to the fact they are indeed stoned off their asses.
It’s a colder night than their first sesh. Fushiguro’s legs are unfortunately covered by what look to be soft, well-loved sweatpants. That doesn’t stop his heart from fluttering, committing this outfit to memory.
He asks while Fushiguro is taking a hit.
“Hey, Fushiguro, can I ask you something? Personal?” Itadori turns to face him, and Fushiguro’s eyebrows scrunch up in frustration as he blows out.
“Why do you need to ask to ask something? Just say it, dumbass.”
“Fine. Well, I was just curious if you were a virgin?” Itadori lets it out, processes what he said, and then tries to dig himself out of this hole. “Not that you look like one! Or don’t look like one! Fuck!”
Fushiguro just laughs in response, for a little bit too long, leaving Itadori’s face red hot in embarrassment. He’s always struggled to have a filter. Weed only makes it worse.
When the dark haired boy finally calms down, he takes an extra hit before he passes it over to Itadori, who is thankful he has something to do with his hands now.
“Yeah, I’ve had sex. I had a boyfriend in high school for a few months. Used to be my dealer actually. Free smoke and all that.”
Itadori is now very happy he asked. He tries not to smile, tries to play it cool. But internally, he’s screaming about it. Sorry Sukuna.
“Oh, nice. You know about the boyfriend thing, and uh- about the gay thing. Yeah. I’m bisexual actually. If you were wondering.” Itadori doesn’t even register what’s coming out of his mouth, his heart feels like it’s rolling down a grassy hill in bliss. Fushiguro’s gay!!!! He can’t suppress the smile anymore.
Fushiguro just raises his eyebrows in response, seemingly also interested in this conversation.
They chat more, Itadori giggling at things that clearly aren’t funny, but they seep out. He knows he’s probably being too earnest, listening too excitedly to him talking about sneaking around with his ex, but he feels like Fushiguro gets him now. Won’t judge him for the way he expresses himself.
This does lead to Itadori oversharing his first blowjob story because he’s never learned when to shut the fuck up. Fushiguro is a good listener, kind of intense for the lighthearted story he’s telling, his eyes drooping from the pot, with the corners of his mouth turning up in lieu of laughing, his dark eyes transfixed on Itadori.
Itadori wishes Fushiguro would swallow him so he could hear his thoughts. He can never get a proper read on him.
They return to the dorms as usual, whispered good nights in a hallway. But their eyes linger a little longer on each other before they retire to their rooms.
Primed with the new knowledge and also his brain hazy, a little higher than usual, Itadori has no qualms, no moral dilemma this time about jacking off while imagining himself sucking Fushiguro’s dick.
He was hard walking back to their rooms, his body already primed for the session, and pulls his cock out when the door is shut, the pace of his hand on his dick a little faster than he should probably start with, but he wanted to get going before the memory of Fushiguro looking at him, so intense but still soft, leaves his brain.
He would like to imagine that’s how Fushiguro would look down on him as he licks a stripe up his cock. Maybe he would tug on his hair a little. Boss him around. He loves the sound of his voice as is, but he hopes it gets lower, huskier in the bedroom. He would tell him to go faster, deeper. Fuck up into his throat maybe? His dick twitches at that thought.
As his fantasy continues, he almost doesn’t catch it. But on the other side of the wall, the moans are back. They sound less indulgent, more hurried this time.
Itadori could sob he’s so turned on, and this blessing once again falls into his lap, and he spits in his hand before continuing.
He’s so wrapped up in this fantasy, of imagining himself bobbing his head up and down Fushiguro’s cock, his mouth actually drooling at the thought, now complete with the man of his affection’s moans, he ends up letting some moans out himself. He gets a little loud, lets himself get lost in it. It’s been a while since he’s had jerk off material this good.
So when Itadori cums, he imagines Fushiguro on the other side of the wall cumming at the same time as him.
What he doesn’t know is that yes, Fushiguro does in fact cum with him. But he could also hear everything.
//
The next morning, Itadori wakes up disappointed in himself.
If the temptation of last week was bad, this week will be hell, he doesn’t know how he’s going to recover from this.
Why why why did he have to ask Fushiguro about being gay? It’s made him feel like maybe it’s plausible. And he really doesn’t need to complicate his time at Jujitsu High. Something about being a teen sorcerer being a hard enough reality.
Breakfast is fine, good. He can’t make eye contact with Fushiguro, who’s weird bed head thing he has going on seems to be looking extra rumpled today. Fushiguro also seems to be avoiding eye contact with him. Seems like he also had a rough morning.
Nobara, the nosy person she is, catches on to it right away. She corners him alone as they walk to the gym to get some sparring in with their classmates.
“What’s up with you two today?” Nobara nods her head toward Fushiguro, locked in a conversation with Panda.
Itadori blushes. He knows what’s up with him, but what’s Fushiguro’s problem?
“Uh, just some stuff. Some guy stuff.”
Nobara rolls her eyes at his half-assed explanation.
“Great, since you won’t be telling me. You two can deal with your shit in the gym. I won’t spar with you today, buddy.” She pats him hard on the back, and runs up behind Panda, linking her arm with his and dragging him off towards the gym. This leaves Fushiguro turning around in confusion, letting Itadori catch up with him.
“What the fuck was that for?” Fushiguro questions.
“Uh, Nobara said we need to be sparring partners today. Something about us acting weird.”
Fushiguro scoffs. “We’re not acting weird.” He says it without making eye contact with Itadori. They are acting weird.
Should be an interesting day of class.
//
Sparring rules are simple. First person to tap out loses.
Itadori faces Fushiguro in the gym like he has thousands of times but this time, the inch the black-haired boy has on him, feels like a mile.
When they make eye contact for the first time that day, Itadori braces himself for the guilt, but it doesn’t hit him. Fushiguro is full on blushing. He’s never seen him like this.
He doesn’t have time to think though, as Fushiguro lunges for his legs. Itadori barely shifts out of his way, now pulling his head out of his ass and squatting down slightly, in the ready position a few seconds too late.
“I wasn’t fucking ready!” Itadori didn’t appreciate that. They aren’t allowed to use their cursed techniques in sparring, which does leave Itadori at a heavy advantage.
He’s not one to brag too much. But he’s built. And fast. Which has led Fushiguro to get a little scrappier so he can keep up with Itadori when they spar.
He’s been getting super into Jujutsu, which involves lots of grappling on the floor, and not a lot of arm strength.
Itadori’s brain is still somewhere else when Fushiguro approaches him again, and he ends up landing a swift boney knee to the gut, before attempting to throw him on the ground. Itadori gets out of it, wincing in pain as they both circle each other once again.
“Get ready.” Fushiguro taunts him in response, and they go at it again. All embarrassment is lost for the moment, only quick kicks and dodges until Fushiguro does succeed in throwing Itadori to the ground.
And he’s choking him hard, fast between his two thighs, and Itadori’s brain goes two places: one, get air need air now, leading him to tap out, and two, wow he would like to live between these two thighs, doesn’t Fushiguro have nice legs. And now he’s sporting a half-chub.
Fushiguro releases him as he taps out, both of them panting heavily, and the black-haired boy smiling a little crazily, as this was the first time in weeks he got Itadori to tap out.
“That one doesn’t count. Need a do-over.” Itadori laughs out, not mad he lost. He’s always down to get stronger.
They start again, the noise of their classmates fighting falling away, and it’s just them, the two of them, like always. A pair. Out in Tokyo, fighting curses back to back, outside the school, smoking weed at obscene hours of the night, in the gym, happily beating the shit out of each other.
Itadori has the upper hand this time, but still lets Fushiguro throw him to the ground, fully aware of what his next move is, and counters it, leaving Itadori on top of a flushed, flustered Fushiguro. He relishes in the victory, not bothering to move off. Just sitting in his lap. And to his horror, not only is he hard. But Fushiguro is too.
His eyes widen in horror as he scrambles off Fushiguro’s lap, and yells a quick, “I’m going to go grab water,” at him before running off.
His mind races races races, and he’s back in showers, pacing and trying to figure out how he can face him again. He’s fucking confused. And based on the state of his dick, horny.
Fushiguro stalks in, and doesn’t give him a chance to run. He presses him up against the cold concrete wall, his thigh pressed directly between Itadori’s legs.
“What the fuck.” Fushiguro starts, “Don’t run away from me.”
Itadori’s mouth starts running, “Sorry, oh god I’m sorry, I think all the noise you were making and you just pressed up against me and fuck! Did you know the walls are thin in our rooms?”
Fushiguro is unphased. His expression unchanged.
“Yeah, I fucking know. Heard you jacking off last night.”
Itadori sputters— “I heard you jacking off last night! And last week? After we smoked? Fuck I’m so sorry I’m such a fucking perv —“
Fushiguro cuts him off with a kiss, a peck really. And Itadori’s eyes widen. He didn’t know where all this was going but oh, it’s very clear now.
“You talk way too much, has anyone ever told you that?”
Itadori smiles into the next press of their lips, letting himself enjoy this, the easy push and pull of their lips meeting each other. He gets confident and presses his tongue to the seam of Fushiguro’s lips, and he lets him in.
It’s like their sparring, Itadori thinking he has the upper hand with the way he’s taking apart Fushiguro, before Fushiguro flips things on him, moving his mouth down the column of Itadori’s neck. Nipping, sucking in ways that have his mind hazy and all the remaining blood left in his body rushing to his cock, rutting up slightly into Fushiguro’s thigh.
“God, yeah, so good with your mouth Megumi.”
Fushiguro doesn’t stop, but he works his way up to Itadori’s ear, laving his ear with attention, his hot hot hot breath getting Itadori so keyed up, before he moans. Moans. Into his ear.
Itadori keens, rutting up into Megumi’s thigh with no regard of how desperate he probably looks, losing it under the attention.
“Fuuuuuuck, so much hotter than through a wall. God, you’re going to make me cum in my pants if you keep this up.”
Fushiguro chuckles into his skin. Leaving a wet kiss under his ear.
“Good. That’s what I’m trying to do.”
Itadori knew that Fushiguro had more experience than him, but seeing it in action is a whole other thing. He’s confident in a way he didn’t expect. He’s so fucking sexy. They aren’t going to make it to the bedroom today, but the day Fushiguro rides his cock? He won’t survive it.
His train of thought is interrupted by Fushiguro palming his clothed cock. Slowly working his hand over it, and it twitches under his hot palm.
“I know you wanted me to hear you last night. Were you putting on a show for me? Thinking about me as you got off?”
Itadori shudders under Fushiguro’s touch, coming into his boxers, shattering completely with a loud moan, prompting Fushiguro to slap his hand over his mouth to keep him a little quieter.
“We are fucking in a locker room during class. You could be a little quieter.” He lifts the palm off Itadori’s mouth.
“Sorry, uh, that one caught me off guard.” Still boneless from his orgasm, he loops his arms around Fushiguro’s shoulders, “God, that was so hot. I already want to do it again.”
“Well why don’t you blow me? And we will see if it comes back up.”
Itadori laughs, peeks out the locker room door real quick to make sure everyone is in the throes of battle, and then sinks onto his knees.
“Deal.”
//
The next time they smoke together, they blow their hits into each other’s mouths, letting some of them turn into kisses, all starry-eyed about each other and drunk off all the sex they are having.