Chapter Text
The world had never been kind to subs.
From the moment a person graduated from school, they were assigned a classification—Dom, Sub, or, in rare cases, a Switch.
For most, it determined the course of their lives.
Doms were given leadership positions, entrusted with power, and taught that their instincts would always guide them to do what was best. Subs, on the other hand, were expected to be obedient, to follow orders, to submit.
It wasn’t law, exactly—at least, not anymore.
In more modern parts of society, the divide was fading, and younger generations pushed for equality, questioning a system that had existed for centuries.
But tradition was slow to die, and in many places, the old ways still reigned.
It was why most subs took suppressants.
The small, unassuming pills dulled a sub’s scent, masking them from the world and making it harder for doms to tell what they were.
More importantly, suppressants made them immune to Commands.
Commands were a dom’s natural ability to control a sub’s actions through the use of direct orders.
A simple word, spoken with enough intent, could force a sub to comply against their will.
It was instinctual, ingrained in doms as naturally as breathing.
Some barely used it, while others wielded it like a weapon.
A sub on suppressants could resist—but without them, disobedience wasn’t an option.
Megumi, like anyone else, had hoped and prayed that he'd get a dom assignment.
He'd hoped that he could be one of those lucky sorcerers who were not only powerful, but also at the top of the social hierarchy.
Someone like Gojo.
But Megumi should've known better, because he was almost never lucky enough to get what he wanted.
*
Their first mission as full-fledged sorcerers wasn’t what Megumi had expected.
When he imagined graduation from Jujutsu High, he had thought about the weight of responsibility, the pressure of living up to his potential.
He had pictured himself, Yuji, and Nobara stepping into the world as equals, proving that their generation would change things.
Instead, they were here.
Undercover at a couples retreat for traditionalist doms and subs.
Megumi sat in the passenger seat of the car, watching the forest pass by through the window.
The retreat was nestled deep in the woods, far from any city, surrounded by nothing but trees and the occasional glimmer of the lake peeking through the gaps in the foliage.
It required driving to a small train station, and then taking that train to the campground where cabins and even more trees awaited them.
Gojo was driving, one hand on the wheel, the other draped lazily over the console between them. He looked as relaxed as ever, sunglasses perched on his nose, humming some obnoxious song under his breath.
“This is your last chance to back out, you know,” Gojo said, flicking a glance in Megumi’s direction. “I could tell the higher-ups you got sick. Food poisoning, maybe.”
Megumi snorted. “You think that’s going to work on Ijichi?”
Gojo grinned. “Okay, fair. But you can’t blame me for trying.”
Megumi didn’t respond, his gaze drifting back to the road. He wasn’t backing out of his first real mission.
There had been reports—rumors that something wasn’t right at this retreat. People came back different, their personalities altered, their relationships suddenly changed forever.
Cursed energy had been detected in the area, but no one had been able to pinpoint the source. Their job was to blend in, observe, and figure out what was happening.
Unfortunately, that meant pretending to be part of the system they hated.
For the next week, they would have to obey all the traditional standards. The subs would wear the collars and ditch their suppressants, follow the schedules, and immerse themselves in the retreat’s culture—all while keeping their cover intact.
Megumi clenched his hands into fists in his lap.
It would be fine. Since yesterday's graduation party, he'd basically just accepted his fate as a sub. Nothing he could do about it now.
One week without suppressants wouldn’t change anything.
…Right?
His gaze flickered toward Gojo.
It was stupid. He knew it was stupid.
But since his assignment, something about Gojo—his confidence, his strength, his presence—was starting to feel different.
Not as his ex-teacher. Not as an annoyance.
Something else.
He turned back to the window, willing the thought away.
It didn’t matter.
All that mattered was the mission.
*
The rhythmic clatter of the train on the tracks filled the silence as the group traveled toward their mission.
The setting sun cast warm orange light through the windows, illuminating the four of them in a cozy, golden glow.
Yuji was fast asleep, his head resting heavily on Megumi’s shoulder, breathing deep and even.
Megumi had given up trying to shove him off an hour ago—it was useless. Yuji slept like a rock, and every time Megumi tried to nudge him upright, he only mumbled something incoherent and snuggled closer.
Megumi let out a quiet sigh, staring absently out the window.
Behind them, however, peace was a foreign concept.
“I refuse,” Nobara hissed, voice low but filled with absolute conviction. "Just because you think you know him better doesn't mean he wants to be your fake sub."
Gojo, naturally, was unfazed. He chuckled, shifting comfortably in his seat. “Aw, Nobu... You sound jealous.”
Nobara scoffed. “Jealous? Of you? Please. I just don't trust you not to piss him off."
Gojo placed a hand over his heart, gasping in mock offense. “What? You wound me. I'd never--"
“Bullshit.”
“Okay, maybe sometimes,” Gojo admitted, flashing a smirk. “But it's usually not my fault."
“I swear—” Nobara started, but Megumi had had enough.
Carefully, he nudged Yuji upright—not that it did much. Yuji groaned in his sleep but barely stirred.
Megumi pushed him to stand up. "Come on, big guy. Let me out."
Once Yuji was standing in the aisle, Megumi slid out of the seat to turn to Nobara with a sharp glare. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"
She blinked, momentarily surprised by his tone. Then, after exchanging a quick glance with Gojo, she shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”
Yuji immediately took her seat with a grin, and leaned on Gojo's shoulder before shutting his eyes once again.
Gojo threw an arm over his shoulders, leaning back in his chair to stare out the window.
The other pair moved to a couple of empty seats at the back of the train, away from prying ears. The hum of the train and the distant chatter of passengers filled the silence between them.
Nobara sat cross-legged, resting an elbow on her knee as she gave him a curious look.
“So… what’s up?”
Megumi exhaled, looking down at his hands. He was already regretting this, but it was better to get it over with. His face felt warm, and he hated that.
"I can't be Gojo's sub. I'm sorry if you wanted to be Yuji's partner, but I-- I need you to do me a solid, okay?"
"Okay." She responded too easily, before smirking. "But only if you'll tell me why."
"Well that's--"
"Is it because of his height? His clothes? His hair?" Nobara gasped. "Is he a pervert when I'm not around?"
"No." Megumi snapped. "Can you chill out? It's not a big deal."
"I'm not agreeing to this until you tell me."
Megumi rolled his eyes, but figured he should just come clean. “I think I'm falling for him,” he muttered.
Silence.
Then—
“Oh my god,” Nobara whispered, eyes wide with glee. “That’s adorable.”
Megumi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not. It’s a problem.”
“Why?” she asked, genuinely confused. “We’re all adults now. Who even cares?"
Megumi shook his head. “It’s not that simple. It’s Gojo.”
“…And?”
Megumi ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “And, I don’t want to be his sub for this mission. It’ll just… make things worse.”
Nobara leaned back, considering this. For all her teasing, she was his friend.
She knew how Megumi worked—how much he hated feeling vulnerable, how hard he worked to keep people at arm’s length.
And Gojo? Gojo didn’t do arm’s length.
After a moment, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll be your dom for the mission.”
Relief flooded Megumi so fast that his shoulders actually relaxed. “Thank you.”
Nobara smirked. “Don’t mention it. But you owe me for this.”
Before Megumi could ask what she meant by that, she was already striding back toward the others.
They returned to find Yuji still half-asleep, now drooling on Gojo’s sleeve.
Gojo, for his part, looked both amused and mildly inconvenienced. “Hey, Fushiguro, your human heater ditched you, and now I’m suffering for it.”
Before Megumi could respond, Nobara clapped her hands together.
“Alright, it's decided. Yuji, you’re my sub. Megumi’s with Gojo.”
Megumi froze.
Yuji, still groggy, lifted his head just enough to grin. “Oh, sweet!” He held up his hand for a high five, which Nobara returned without hesitation.
Meanwhile, Megumi just stared at her in utter betrayal.
“You—”
Nobara winked. “Have fun.”
Gojo’s smirk was slow, lazy, and infuriating.
Megumi gritted his teeth, already regretting everything.
Gojo simply stretched, looking out the train window as the scenery blurred past them.
He hadn’t said a word about Nobara’s sudden change of plans—but something about the way he smiled to himself made Megumi very aware that he had noticed.
And he wasn’t going to let Megumi forget it.
Nobara sat down in the seats in front of Gojo and Yuji, looking down at her nails.
Megumi quickly sat down beside her with a glare. "So, fuck you. First of all."
"You're welcome, sweetheart." Nobara grinned, before lowering her voice a little. "So how long have you known?"
"Oh, you think I'm going to sit here and gossip with you after you just stabbed me in the back?"
Nobara shrugged. "Yeah, maybe. Nothing else to do."
Megumi sighed loudly, and looked away from her.
It was quiet between them for a few seconds, before Megumi finally grumbled, "Graduation."
*
The graduation party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter, music, and the scent of grilled food and alcohol.
The main hall of Jujutsu High had been transformed into a lively celebration, glowing lanterns strung up in every corner, casting a warm, flickering light over the scene.
Students, faculty, and alumni alike were gathered, toasting the accomplishments of the newly graduated sorcerers.
Yuji, Nobara, and Megumi were at the center of the festivities, the stars of the night.
Nobara, dressed in a sleek black dress, was soaking up the attention, a proud smirk on her face as she chatted animatedly with Maki and Panda.
Yuji, ever the social butterfly, was bouncing from group to group, accepting congratulations and cracking jokes in between bites of whatever food he could grab.
Megumi, however, had been noticeably quieter, lingering at the edge of conversations, nodding when appropriate but mostly keeping to himself.
He wanted to be excited that school was finally over, but he couldn't find it in himself.
Gojo Satoru wove through the crowd with ease, his usual playful energy making the rounds feel effortless.
He greeted old colleagues and teased the younger students, congratulating the graduates in his own exaggerated way. It wasn’t long before he spotted Yuji and Nobara by one of the snack tables, laughing over some inside joke.
“Yo!” Gojo greeted, sliding up beside them. “You guys should be so proud. How’s it feel to be officially assigned?”
Nobara practically beamed. “Like I was born for it. They told me I'm a dom, obviously,” she said, flipping her hair over her shoulder with a confident grin. "Just like you, Satoru."
"Are we on a first name basis now?" Gojo teased, before looking to Yuji. "How about you, Pinky?"
Yuji chuckled, rubbing the back of his head. “Well… they told me I’m a switch. But they want me to come back next year for retesting.”
Gojo raised an eyebrow. “A switch, huh? Interesting.” He ruffled Yuji’s hair before leaning back with a grin. “Congrats to both of you.”
Nobara playfully nudged Yuji. “I've been telling you for years that you're too confusing."
Gojo laughed, then glanced around. “Oh, hey… where’s Megs?”
Yuji tilted his head, thinking for a moment before a lopsided grin spread across his face. “Last I saw him, he was heading to the bathroom.”
Gojo gave a nod before excusing himself, weaving through the party once more.
The music thumped against the walls, and the energy in the room was electric, but Gojo had a bad feeling.
Something was off.
As he approached the bathroom, he slowed his steps, hearing the muffled sound of someone crying from inside one of the stalls.
Gojo sighed softly, already certain of who it was.
With careful steps, he knocked lightly on the stall door. “Hey, Meggie. You okay in there?”
The crying stopped abruptly, followed by a sharp, “Fuck off.”
Gojo smirked but didn’t budge. He leaned against the door, arms crossed. “Not gonna happen, you brat.”
Megumi didn't answer.
Gojo's voice was softer now, serious. “I’ll wait here all night if I have to.”
There was a pause before the lock clicked, and the stall door creaked open.
Megumi stood there, eyes red and puffy, his usual composed demeanor shattered.
He barely had time to react before Gojo slipped into the stall with him and shut the door behind him.
Without hesitation, Gojo pulled Megumi into a firm hug.
Megumi stiffened, struggling for a moment, hands pressing against Gojo’s chest, but the older man held on, unwavering.
Eventually, the fight left him, and he clutched fistfuls of Gojo’s shirt as he buried his face into his mentor’s shoulder.
Gojo let him cry, rubbing slow, soothing circles against Megumi’s back. “Talk to me, Megs.”
A deep, shuddering breath. "I--I can't." Then, barely above a whisper, Megumi said, “I can't be here right now."
Gojo nodded instantly. “Done. This party's lame anyway, let's get outta here."
Megumi tensed again. “You should stay. This is for you too. You helped all of us get here.”
Gojo sighed, tilting his head. “You really think a party matters more to me than you do?” He gave a small chuckle, ruffling Megumi’s hair gently. “You could have called me from the middle of a war zone, and I’d still drop everything to be there. You’re stuck with me.”
*
Gojo guided Megumi through the party with ease, keeping his head low as they made their way to the exit.
Just as they stepped outside, the cool night air hitting their skin, the doors burst open behind them.
Yuji and Nobara rushed forward, concern written all over their faces. “Gumi, are you okay?” Nobara asked, her brows furrowed.
Gojo took control immediately, pulling Megumi into his chest and shielding his face from view. “He had a little too much to drink,” Gojo said smoothly. “I’m walking him home.”
Nobara crossed her arms but sighed, relenting. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”
Yuji gave Gojo a small smile. “Take care of our little party animal.”
Gojo grinned. “You have my word.”
With that, Gojo turned them around and started walking away, his arm still wrapped protectively around Megumi’s shoulders.
Once they were far enough from the party, he glanced down at him. “Alright. Where’s your new place?”
Megumi hesitated before muttering an address.
Gojo nodded, adjusting his grip slightly to make sure Megumi stayed close as they headed off into the night.
When they finally arrived at Megumi’s apartment, they were met with scattered boxes, the small studio still mostly unpacked.
Despite the mess, Megumi let out a quiet sigh of relief, visibly relaxing.
Gojo glanced around and smirked. “Cozy. Need anything before I head out?”
Megumi hesitated before softly muttering, “Don’t leave.”
Gojo’s usual teasing remarks died on his lips. Instead, he nodded. “Alright. Want me to grab some food? You barely ate at the party.”
Megumi shook his head, waving him off. “Just… sit with me for a while.”
Without hesitation, Gojo flopped down onto the couch beside him.
He didn’t press for answers, didn’t demand Megumi talk—he simply stayed.
After a moment, Megumi hesitantly leaned against Gojo’s side, and Gojo, understanding without words, draped an arm around his shoulders.
Megumi didn't say a word, but was still suddenly met with some of Gojo's advice. "There's nothing wrong with being a sub, Meggie. Some of my favorite people in the world are subs."
"I don't know what you're talking about." Megumi muttered.
Gojo smiled and took a deep breath before speaking again. "My best friend in the entire universe was a sub. And it didn't make him any less strong, y'know? He was powerful, and wonderful and... He thought it was fuckin' hilarious when people underestimated him just because he was a sub."
"Okay, whatever, can you shut up now? I've got a headache."
Thinking back... Megumi wished he would've listened.
*
The group settled onto the couch of the cabin, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension.
Gojo sat on the coffee table in front of them, his knees bumping against Megumi’s.
Megumi felt his face heat up at the contact, but Gojo didn’t seem to notice.
Instead, his expression was uncharacteristically serious as he addressed them.
“Alright,” Gojo began, his voice softer than usual. “Based on what I gathered from the front office, this retreat is very heavily rooted in traditional dom/sub roles. That means Yuji and Megumi need to practice responding to Commands because it’ll be expected of you to listen without hesitation. We can’t risk blowing our cover.”
Megumi tensed at the idea, his fingers curling slightly against his thigh, but he nodded along with Yuji.
Nobara smirked at Gojo. "That's easy. Yuji is hella obedient. You're the one with a brat."
"Die." Megumi snapped at her, without even glancing in her direction.
Gojo sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “There’s another thing.” His lips pressed into a thin line before continuing. “I might need to sneak out and buy some collars.”
“Collars?” Yuji echoed, eyes widening slightly.
Gojo nodded, his expression grim. “The front desk mentioned that there are certain events where a collar is required for subs."
There was a beat of silence before Yuji suddenly raised his hand. “Can I get a pink one?”
Gojo blinked before breaking into a small, amused smile. “You can have anything you want.”
"Score." Yuji responded, maintaining his positive attitude.
Despite the levity of the moment, Gojo’s face soon hardened again.
He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly uneasy. “I don’t like treating you two this way. This whole structure, this view of our society—it’s not right. But I’m just trying to do what’s necessary for the mission.”
Yuji, ever the optimist, waved a hand dismissively. “It’s okay. We know it’s just for the mission. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”
Gojo exhaled, clearly relieved, before his gaze drifted toward Megumi, who had been uncharacteristically quiet throughout the conversation.
He reached out and set a gentle hand on Megumi’s knee, his voice even softer than before. “Meggie, I’m sorry.”
Megumi stiffened at the touch, his heart pounding.
He shrugged quickly, trying to make it seem like it didn’t bother him. “It’s fine.” Then, in a flash, he pushed himself up from the couch. “Can we relax now? And stop talking about this?”
Gojo’s brows furrowed slightly, surprised at how fast Megumi had jumped up. But after a moment, he simply nodded. “Yeah, of course.”
*
The morning air was crisp, filled with the distant chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves swaying in the breeze.
The wooden walls of the cabin were thin, and Megumi’s sleep had been light, as always. But this time, it wasn’t the unfamiliar setting or the quiet tension of an undercover mission that woke him—it was the raised voices just outside his bedroom door.
Gojo was arguing with someone.
Megumi sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.
His dark hair was messy, sticking up in all directions, but he didn’t care.
He listened for a moment, already knowing that Gojo could hold his own in a verbal spar, but something in the conversation made his stomach twist.
“It’s part of the experience,” a woman was insisting, her tone overly patient, as if explaining something obvious to a particularly stubborn child. “Subs should embrace who they are. Surrendering suppressants allows for a more authentic experience between couples. This retreat is about honesty and self-acceptance.”
“Oh, cut the crap,” Gojo snapped. His voice was sharp, but not playful the way it usually was. He was genuinely irritated. “If he wants to keep his suppressants, then he should keep them. You don’t get to dictate his choices.”
Megumi tensed. He should have expected this.
A camp like this, built around the idea of deepening connections between doms and subs, was bound to have some outdated, traditionalist views.
And even though Gojo was being, well, Gojo, he was technically right. No one should force him to give up his suppressants.
But it wasn’t worth the fight.
Megumi sighed and swung his legs out of bed, reaching for the duffel bag he’d stuffed under the wooden bed frame.
His fingers found the familiar small box inside, the label worn from weeks of being carried everywhere. He exhaled through his nose, pushed himself to his feet, and crossed the room.
Opening the door, he stepped out into the main area of the cabin.
Gojo and the retreat staff member—a woman in her early forties with perfectly styled hair and a polite but insistent expression—both turned to look at him.
“It’s fine,” Megumi said, voice quiet but firm. He walked over and held out the box of suppressants. “It’s not a big deal.”
The woman smiled in satisfaction, reaching out to accept the box. “Thank you for your cooperation, Sub. You’re helping create a more open and honest environment for everyone here.”
Gojo scoffed. He didn’t say anything else, but the way his jaw clenched spoke volumes.
“We’ll be serving breakfast in an hour at the dining hall,” the woman added. “Make sure you and your partner arrive together—it’s important for couples to be seen interacting naturally. Have a lovely morning.”
She turned and left immediately.
Gojo stood still for a moment, then sighed loudly before practically slamming the door shut with more force than necessary.
He turned to Megumi, expression a mix of frustration and concern. “I can’t believe you just—”
“It’s not a big deal,” Megumi repeated, running a hand through his hair.
Gojo narrowed his eyes. “Of course it’s a big deal. That means your hormones are gonna be all over the place, your mood swings are gonna suck, you're gonna have to obey Commands, and—”
“I can handle it,” Megumi cut in smoothly, crossing his arms. He tilted his head, eyes half-lidded with something that wasn’t quite amusement. “You're the one you should be worried about. You’ll have to keep your hands to yourself, since doms tend to get a little… Flustered.”
"Flustered, huh?" Gojo blinked at him, then his lips curled into a grin. “You think the strongest sorcerer alive can't handle being a little flustered?"
Before Megumi could react, Gojo reached out, catching the front of his shirt and tugging him a step closer. It wasn’t aggressive, just an easy pull, but it was enough to make Megumi’s breath hitch slightly.
He barely had time to process it before Gojo leaned in, pressing his nose into Megumi’s shoulder and inhaling deeply.
The action sent a strange shiver down Megumi’s spine. His face warmed against his will.
Gojo pulled back just slightly, eyes half-lidded, looking uncharacteristically thoughtful.
Then he sighed dramatically. “Damn. You do smell pretty good.”
Megumi shoved at his chest with a scowl, stepping back quickly. “Idiot.”
Gojo just grinned, but the teasing faded a little as he sighed. “Am I gonna have to fight other doms just to keep you?"
Megumi rolled his eyes, trying to ignore the heat still lingering in his face. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“Oh, baby,” Gojo drawled, reaching up to adjust his sunglasses as he stretched. “Dramatic is my middle name.”
Megumi turned away, ignoring the way his heart felt like it had skipped a beat somewhere in that exchange.
The retreat had barely started, and he already knew this was going to be a long week.
*
The morning sun filtered through the trees, casting golden light over the long wooden picnic tables arranged outside the dining hall.
It was a picturesque setting—calm, peaceful, and utterly deceptive.
Megumi sat stiffly beside Gojo, a tray of food in front of him that he had barely touched.
Across from them, Yuji and Nobara were eating more normally, though Yuji’s fingers kept scratching at the bare skin of his arms between bites.
Gojo’s arm draped casually over Megumi’s shoulders, his long fingers resting lightly against the side of Megumi’s upper arm. It was an easy, relaxed touch—one that added to the illusion they were supposed to maintain, but it didn’t make Megumi feel any less aware of it.
He resisted the urge to shift under the weight. Instead, he focused on the quiet murmur of conversations surrounding them.
From their table, they could hear snippets of discussion from the other couples.
Some spoke about their routines, their dynamic shifts, how wonderful it was to "live freely" at the retreat.
Others made casual jokes about the expectations put on subs to be obedient, pliant, eager to please. It was difficult to listen to without rolling his eyes.
Another group was deep in a discussion about proper discipline techniques.
Megumi felt his stomach twist.
Yuji was still scratching at his arms when Nobara huffed softly, pulling a small bottle of lotion from her purse and setting it on the table in front of him.
She raised an eyebrow expectantly, and Yuji grinned sheepishly before holding his arms out toward her.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “Some kinda withdrawal, I think. I feel itchy all over.”
“Don’t apologize,” Nobara said, unscrewing the cap and squirting some lotion onto her hands before rubbing it into Yuji’s arms with practiced ease. Her voice was quiet, almost tender. “I’m sorry they took your suppressants away.”
Yuji shrugged, watching as her fingers smoothed the lotion into his skin. “It’s fine. It’s just weird, you know? I never thought going off them would actually, like, do anything noticeable right away.”
Megumi glanced at him, feeling something similar.
He’d been taking suppressants so long that he wasn’t sure what his natural scent was supposed to be like. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Doms could be dicks sometimes, and Megumi wasn't really in the mood for that.
Yuji, seemingly unfazed by his predicament, turned his attention to Gojo with a bright smile. “Hey, did you get the collars yet?”
Gojo had been scanning the crowd, squinting slightly behind his sunglasses as he studied the clusters of couples mingling near the picnic tables. He didn’t seem particularly impressed by anything he saw, but at least he hadn’t gotten a bad vibe yet.
At Yuji’s question, Gojo slowly shook his head. “Nah, I’ll grab them after dinner.”
That earned a small groan from Yuji. “Lame."
“You’ll live,” Gojo replied dryly, only half paying attention.
His focus remained on the people walking around, greeting each other with exaggerated smiles and overly familiar touches.
Megumi followed his gaze, scanning for anything that might seem off. But for now, it just looked like a typical gathering of overenthusiastic traditionalists.
A couple approached Yuji and Nobara’s side of the table, their smiles warm and welcoming.
The man, a tall guy with a neatly trimmed beard and an air of casual authority, glanced at Yuji before nodding approvingly at Nobara.
“What an adorable sub you have,” the man commented, his voice laced with polite condescension.
Nobara, ever the actress, smiled and nodded graciously. “Thank you.”
Yuji, on the other hand, absolutely beamed. “Oh, thanks! That’s really nice of you to say.”
The man’s face faltered slightly as he glanced at the woman beside him, clearly confused by Yuji’s enthusiasm.
Nobara briefly wondered if Yuji wasn't supposed to address a dom that didn't address him first. But she wasn't going to try to tell Yuji that.
She was honestly a little worried that some of this subordinate stuff would go to his head and force him to question who he is. And that would be a real tragedy, because Yuji was such a gem.
Gojo choked back a laugh, tilting his head as he watched the interaction.
Before the couple could say anything else, one of the camp counselors approached their table, her gaze fixed on Gojo.
“Sir, does your sub want anything else to drink?” she asked sweetly.
Gojo raised an eyebrow, glancing lazily at Megumi before looking back at the woman. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”
The counselor’s smile stiffened. “The retreat doesn’t subscribe to those new social movements,” she said carefully. “We believe in fostering the proper balance of authority and submission within partnerships. It’s more respectful for a dom to speak for their sub.”
Gojo scoffed loudly, and before he could open his mouth and say something he shouldn’t, Megumi kicked him under the table.
Hard.
Gojo barely flinched, but he turned his head slightly to see Megumi glaring at him, eyes sharp with warning.
Gojo exhaled through his nose and forced a smile. “No, thanks. He doesn’t need anything else.”
The counselor’s posture relaxed slightly. “Wonderful. Enjoy your breakfast.” She gave Megumi one last fleeting glance before walking away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Megumi leaned toward Gojo, his voice low. “Cool it, you idiot.”
Gojo turned his head toward him, lips twitching. “What, you don’t like me standing up for you? It doesn't make you tingle a little?"
“We’re supposed to blend in, not make ourselves a target,” Megumi hissed. “If you don’t start acting like an asshole dom like the rest of these people, we’re going to get caught.”
Gojo smirked. “Oh, my little shadow, I am an asshole. I just happen to be an asshole in favor of human rights.”
Megumi shot him a look that promised violence.
Gojo chuckled, ruffling his hair playfully.
“Fine, fine,” Gojo relented. “I’ll play nice. But if one more person tells me what my sub should or shouldn’t do, I might just have to start throwing hands.”
*
The large cabin in the center of the retreat grounds had been set up like a town hall meeting space.
Rows of wooden chairs were arranged facing a makeshift stage at the front, where a tall man in his fifties stood, speaking into a microphone with the ease of someone who was used to being listened to.
Gojo leaned back in his chair, one arm lazily slung over the back of Megumi’s seat as he casually scanned the room.
From what he could count, there were around thirty attendees, a mix of doms and subs paired off in varying degrees of affection.
Some subs sat at their doms’ feet, resting their heads against their knees, while others sat side by side, hands clasped in their doms’ grip.
A few looked entirely comfortable, but others… less so.
There were about ten camp counselors spread throughout the room, identifiable by their matching navy blue polo shirts with the retreat’s logo embroidered over the chest. Their presence felt like that of silent overseers, watching to make sure things went according to their "traditional" standards.
“Throughout the week,” the leading man was saying, his voice rich and authoritative, “you’ll have access to a variety of scheduled activities. You may attend as many or as few as you wish, though we encourage full participation to get the most out of your experience.”
Gojo barely listened as the man rattled off a list of events: communication exercises, trust-building games, guided meditation, and something called Surrender and Acceptance, which he was sure Megumi would rather die than attend.
“Since we’re near the lake,” the man continued, “we also offer water activities—canoeing, swimming, paddleboarding. Bonfires will be held at designated times in the evenings. Meals will be served three times a day in the dining hall, and there will be a strict curfew at ten p.m. to ensure that everyone gets a proper night’s rest.”
Gojo was doing his best to feign polite interest, but his focus wavered when Megumi shifted against him, subtly leaning into his arm.
Gojo turned his head slightly, a teasing comment already forming—Aw, Fushiguro, getting comfy with me already?—but it died on his tongue when he followed Megumi’s gaze.
The man sitting on Megumi’s other side, a broad-shouldered dom in his early thirties with sharp features and an overly confident smirk, was blatantly checking Megumi out.
He wasn’t even trying to hide it. His gaze trailed down Megumi’s form, lingering a beat too long before flicking up to meet Megumi’s eyes.
Megumi, ever composed, kept his expression unreadable, but the way his fingers subtly curled into his pant leg was enough for Gojo to pick up on the discomfort.
Gojo clenched his jaw, schooling his expression into something neutral.
He was trying to be good. Trying to stay undercover and not make a scene.
But he wasn’t about to sit here and let some asshole undress Megumi with his eyes.
Leaning in slightly, Gojo brought his lips close to Megumi’s ear, his voice dropping into something smoother, softer—something that carried weight.
He hadn't meant to use a Command, but it slipped out. “Move.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
At the exact moment that Gojo rose to his feet, Megumi moved.
Smooth, seamless, like it had been his own decision, but they both knew it wasn’t.
He quickly switched seats, sliding between Yuji and Gojo without hesitation.
Yuji, oblivious to the tension, glanced at him in mild confusion.
Gojo turned to the dom Megumi had vacated his seat from, flashing him a wide, saccharine grin as he dropped heavily into the empty chair beside him.
The dom barely hid his irritation at being so blatantly interrupted, but Gojo wasn’t finished.
With exaggerated casualness, he reached down and placed a firm, possessive hand on Megumi’s knee, just enough to make a point.
His grin didn’t falter.
He just wanted to make sure everyone around them knew that Megumi belonged to someone.
Or… fake belonged to someone, he reminded himself.
For the mission.
Just for the mission.
***