Work Header

heaven in our headlights.

Work Text:


Megumi Fushiguro has never been the type of boy to actively strive towards being photographed or the centre of attention, much preferring to go alone other than being accompanied by his two best friends but one day, a man with long black hair pulled into a bun and a tacky set of tattooed stitches across his forehead, had grabbed him by the wrist in a bar - usually a good step to getting your nose broken by Fushiguro - and said, You need money, kid? Here. 

He had handed him a business card that had 'Suguru Getou' sprawled across the front in loopy, silver handwriting that put knots in Megumi's stomach and Megumi had almost tossed it as Nobara Kugisaki and Yuuji Itadori prodded about whether or not he was flirting with him. He had been openly pansexual since he was fifteen, telling them in a stiltedly awkward conversation, huddled on his bed before they had exchanged looks and laughed, saying, You think we care, Fushiguro? We love you no matter what. 

( It didn't feel coincidental when Nobara began to date his aunt, Maki Zenin, four months later. )

He had been out to them for almost six years at this point but something about Getou makes him nervous and shaky, like he's six years old meeting Satoru Gojou again and he can't even imagine being close with the other man. Even currently, he can't imagine being physically close to the other man and it's been a year since he started modelling, the tick of money decreasing in his bank account a major influence as he strives to be better than this; he, unlike many of the other boys he's worked with, will not be satisfied showing off until the day their face gets old and unloved. 

Megumi Fushiguro had sold out, in a lot of ways, but he had started for the money. He just hadn't known how popular he would become. 



Ryoumen Sukuna has been shooting brats since time began, he assumes, but in his better judgement, he knows it's likely only been a few years since he began the job, a clear intention to show his parole officer just how good of a citizen he could be, but that didn't mean he didn't hate his job. 

No, Sukuna, adorned in his black inkings and his brilliant eyes, had no soft spots for boys like this - the boys who wander around their studios barely dressed or dressed just enough that Sukuna feels annoyance build just looking at them, he's met a good majority of them who just brush him off as staff or the other percentage who don't even talk to him, treating him as one would treat a fly they were swatting away. He assumes it's decent revenge that he's never remembered one of their names before. 

"Fushiguro, Megumi," a short and stout man named Jogo pushes into his arms, clipboard heavy but he's more distracted by the way that his hair combs over the shiny bald spot on his head and Sukuna could almost laugh at how unfortunate age makes some people look - sometimes, with age, serenity comes over their features, creating a softer and kinder angle of their face but time has done nothing for Jogo in the years he's worked for him. "His buddies'll be here the whole time. Rowdy bunch but the actual brat's fine." 

Oh great, he groans mentally, he hates the ones that bring their friends along and sometimes, if they're just rowdy enough, he'll comment how young and childish they must be to need their friends to tag along but when he walks through the door to discuss the staging and the shoot, he feels a thrill of desire run through him where it mixes with surprise. 

The boy is pretty in a way that doesn't feel artificial - he's seen so many people come and go, faces full of botox or bodies an unnatural stack of rippling muscles but truly pretty feels rare to him: his piercing forest green eyes stare through Sukuna for a moment while his hands fiddle nervously in front of him, bony and long in a way people call 'piano hands' and if he wasn't so goddamn pretty, Sukuna would suggest hand modeling. He can see why the boy belongs behind a camera lens face-first though, features sharp and youthful while still being mature; with his lip pulled between his front teeth, he looks downright naughty.

What was his name again? Sukuna thinks, fumbling for the clipboard Jogo had shoved at him and hates how nervous he feels in front of such a stupid natural beauty - he wonders, vaguely annoyed, if any of the makeup artists will put too much layering on that dark crease around his eye; he thinks about telling Uraume not to. 

"Fushiguro!" One of his friends whines out, an annoying-looking boy with an undercut and pink hair, his camera getting a little too close to the pretty boy's face and that...that must be his name. "Shake his hand!" 

It takes him glancing from the other boy to Fushiguro to realize that the boy hasn't moved either, staring at Sukuna with those intense eyes that he faintly is reminded of the scent of spearmint and forests after a downpour and Sukuna wants to cup his pretty face in his hand and ask how he ended up in a place like this. It makes him smirk, realizing his beauty is just as flustered as he is. 

A hand, knobbly and lithe with prominently small wrists, pushes out in front of him and Fushiguro introduces, "Fushiguro, Megumi. Hi." 

Megumi, he thinks, means 'blessing' and since Sukuna was a child, born to an alcoholic mother and an angrier father, he had been called a curse. Maybe, that fits perfectly - a blessing and a curse. 

"Sukuna," He grins, taking Megumi's hand with a leer over the boy's frame - tall, skinny, clothes too loose to be that typical influencer who is overly obsessed with himself; Sukuna craves to know what he looks like underneath all of them - and it makes the girl he's with, scoff. Her orange hair's cut into a bob, a delicate, little upturned nose on her face and attractive enough; he wonders if she does modeling as well. 

She doesn't compare, looking at Megumi though, he thinks, perhaps rudely. 

"Kugisaki," He scolds softly, voice both soft and kind while having a young, distinctly masculine undertones in his voice and Sukuna could get lost in it. "Please be nice." 

He wonders how often the other boy does this by how tired his tone sounds but he seems intrigued, green eyes alight with something special lurking in his eyes. 

How interesting. 



By the end of the shoot, he has Megumi Fushiguro's phone number. 

This may go better than expected.