Chapter Text
“Be sure to take your neutralizers, dear.”
The young omega lays his cheek on his palm and sips the orange juice.
“I did.”
“Have you heard lately?” His stepmother ignores him, filing down her soft-pink nails and smiling at passing chefs. Yes, his mother is so rich that she owns personal chefs. They are currently making Megumi a spicy, cheesy eggs benedict. “There has been a recent influx in ruts. You need to be careful walking to and from home.”
“I will.”
“Remind Toji to meet me at Tiffany’s tonight, as well,” His stepmother giggles. “We’ll be dancing. It’s been such a long time…” Megumi scowls. His orange juice is getting warm. When will they be done cooking breakfast? “…we’ve been thinking about trying for a child again. Hopefully, we’ll get lucky.”
“Gross?”
Alright, he’s had it.
Megumi pushes his seat away and catches his mother’s whiny glance. She sets the nail file down and pouts.
“Don’t be like that. You’d love a sibling!” She shouts as he walks upstairs, breakfast forgone. “And don’t forget your neutralizers! They need time to kick in before tomorrow.” Megumi doesn’t even bother to reply. He slams his door closed and lays stomach first on his bed, groaning.
Tomorrow, Megumi will host a musical event at church. He’s been practicing night and day, mainly because his stepmother demeans him if he doesn’t. She’s been so controlling lately, or maybe, Megumi has tasted freedom and unconsciously decided he was done with being overtly “religious.”
Faith isn’t a bad thing, but it is when it doesn’t take into consideration Megumi’s life as a dynamic. As an omega. Bible scriptures say nothing about how an omega should exist. He’s living in someone else’s shoes, hoping it fits no matter how it bruises his toes.
But it’s partially Sukuna’s fault that Megumi is having these thoughts. After months upon months of revisiting, getting new piercings and even a few tattoos, they’ve become friends. A friend he fucks. A friend who probably knows Megumi more than anyone in the world, simply because he’s seen him without the rose-colored glasses.
Megumi talks about his life, and Sukuna gives him advice like a father would. It should be concerning. Why does Megumi like the thought of Sukuna taking care of him, coddling him, as an alpha would? Realistically, it’s a bad habit to force alpha characteristics on a human; it’s unfair and they’d never satisfy an omega like an alpha would.
Sukuna. He’s different. Megumi has a good feeling every time he sees him. It’s like a pillow for his heart and soul to rest on, which is jarring to say considering Sukuna isn’t the most kind-hearted and comforting person. But that’s exactly what Megumi needs. A grungy taste—the bittersweetness of loving a person who is hard to know and wishing you could be as cavalier as them.
Sukuna is just cool. He’s the type of guy Megumi fawned over in rock band magazines. The style, the piercings, the motorcycle, the indifferent demeanor. “That’s so cool, I want to know someone like that,” Megumi would think to himself in middle school, prancing around in his school’s boring, most modest uniform.
Now, Megumi does know someone like that. And he’s head-over-heels.
Thankfully, the omega has been so busy practicing for his performance that he hasn’t had time to visit. For about a month, to be exact. Megumi usually must gather the choir and various other members for practice. It’s a bitch and a half, so after classes and work, he passes out.
It’ll be over soon. He just needs to get through the year. He’ll have enough saved to move out by then.
Stuffed into uncomfortable pants and a skin-tight button-up, Megumi does the final touches to his outfit before stepping onto the stage. He isn’t performing in front of hundreds of people. They are only his neighbors, typical believers, old family friends, and more. From here, Megumi can see Toji looking bored as he yawns, dozing off here and there while his stepmother rants and gossips.
One minute before he steps onto the stage, Megumi decides to place his hair into a high bun. Performance jitters had him sweaty, and he couldn’t focus on his breathing with hair tickling his face.
He steps onto the small stage saying his rehearsed lines and imagining everyone in their underpants. Rather immaturely, Megumi hides his amusement behind a warm, hearty smile.
He plays the piano beautifully. The choir singer blows his mind away, far more into it now that she’s front and center. The young omega ends the performance proudly, bowing and giving a soulful speech about God’s glory. The words don’t fill his bones with pride to stand tall anymore, but for his family, he’ll fake it.
“Did you like it?” Megumi asks Tsumiki when he sees her finish speaking to her uncle. She has a modest dress on, make-up done lightly, and hair styled in a sophisticated manner.
“It was beautiful!” She swoons. “It was worth driving you to late practice. I managed to record it for you, too—”
“Megumi, my dear,” His stepmother has that half-assed smile on her face. She interrupts his sister and waves her hands. “Let’s have a word.”
Considering the response lacked a compliment, Megumi already knows he’s done something wrong. She tugs him closer to a corner, ignoring people who compliment Megumi or attempt to pull him into a conversation. Toji stands there with his hands in his pockets, smelling of harsh incense.
Megumi wiggles his nose. “What?”
“What is this?” His stepmother points to her ear. Oblivious, Megumi looks, eyebrows furrowing at the 14k gold earrings.
“Earrings.”
“Don’t get smart with me. Your father is standing right here,” She crosses her arms. “Since when did you have your ears pierced, Megumi Fushiguro? I don’t remember saying you can wear that, especially at a session like this.” Notably, the omega has three lobe piercings and three cartilage piercings in each ear. All the jewelry matches, represented by emerald-colored hoops, chosen and designed by yours truly: Sukuna.
With his hair up and out of the way, he can’t hide it. He forgot all about them during his backstage jitters. Megumi pauses, takes a deep breath, and centers himself.
“I don’t remember needing permission,” says the omega. “They aren’t that noticeable.”
“Well, do whatever you please, but don’t wear them here. You look unsightly. I hope you are not hanging around the wrong crowd. When you do things like that to your body, I start thinking you need more guidance from Pastor Shiu,” She touches his ear as if it’s poison, jerking her wrist back dramatically.
“You’ll take them out.”
“What?” Megumi pulls away. “No, I’m not. It’s my body.”
“It is a silly phase. You’ll thank me later. I couldn’t even record you, my love,” She scoffs, her tone dripping from the usual passive aggression. “You’ve embarrassed yourself enough. Let down your hair and cover it, at least.”
It’s baffling that Megumi hadn’t noticed how ignorant his stepmother could be. He followed her, listening to her every word because his own father was rarely a positive figure. Not only that, as a dynamic, it’s smart to follow a beta. It has social advantages.
But Megumi is tired. He wants to explore the new identity dangling before him. Bitterly, the omega sneers at his father. “Are you going to say anything?”
Toji shrugs. It wouldn’t matter to him. As long as Megumi is breathing, he could care less about meticulous things like emotions.
“You heard her,” he replies. Megumi spins his eyes.
“Yeah, be her fucking lap dog, why don’t you?” He growls. Toji’s eyes widen a smidge (maybe a hint of pride behind such a gaze) and his stepmother gasps. A few nearby churchgoers glance over, catching the vulgar profanity.
“Megumi!” His mother whisper-shouts. Instead of staying and changing everyone’s changing opinion of him, Megumi runs out of the church. It’s only a few blocks away from home; he decides to take a stray path elsewhere, hoping to stop by a few corner shops to get snacks and talk to strangers so he can have a conversation without putting on a front.
Getting on the train wasn’t the plan. He bypasses the ticket grabber, a grubby old man who can’t see out his left eye, and sits on a nearby seat. Megumi judges his reflection in the glass, picking at every flaw and pointing out what makes him unworthy. Rain patters onto the train’s windows and distorts the view. That is a good thing, he supposes.
After stopping at his destination, the omega grabs three thick magazines and covers his head. Megumi runs down the sidewalk, skipping over cracks and litter, landing on thick puddles of water that drench his socks. The magazine falls apart the faster he runs; watered pages wave in the wind behind him.
The tattoo shop’s lights are off. Currently, they are closed. Megumi hides under the shop’s awning and settles the slippery magazines at his side. Curving a hand sideways on his forehead, he plasters against the glass and looks inside. He can hardly see due to the ‘closed’ sign placement, but the longer he stares, a passing glimpse of skin appears with tattoos mirroring the man he wants to see.
Megumi knocks on the window several times. He stands there patiently, looking like a wet dog. Ironically.
The shop door opens—the heavenly gates.
“Hey.”
“Hey,” Sukuna surveys the omega. “Need a towel?”
Megumi bottom lip puffs up. “…maybe.”
The man brings him a fluffy one. As Megumi twirls in a stool, he wrestles the cloth through his hair. He leaves it on, the entire towel draping over his head as he noses into Sukuna’s space.
Though it’s been a month since they’ve seen each other, Sukuna sips his whiskey, as always, and continues sketching a tattoo for a client in a waiting area. He’s working overtime—something he does frequently. As a shop that doesn’t get many customers and has a bad reputation, it makes sense.
Megumi tugs his stool closer to Sukuna. Their arms touch, the omega angling elbows on the counter and overseeing the art.
“Amazing,” He whispers. “Your drawing is amazing.”
“Is that the only word you can say?” Sukuna mutters. Megumi shrugs.
“I’m a dumb omega. What do I know?”
“You’d admit that?”
“I was joking…”
“Actually, you’re quite smart—” The edge of his mouth curls. “—just very needy.” Megumi pushes his shoulder. Sukuna sways from the force, nose wiggling back and forth like he must sneeze. The omega sighs.
“Do you really think I’m…or wait,” He rests. “Do you dislike who I am?” Sukuna draws a clean swirl, the simple action turning the stencil into perfection.
“It depends. Who are you?”
“Megumi Fushiguro. I go to church every Sunday, but I keep gay magazines under my mattress.”
Sukuna’s crimson-hued orbs blink. Megumi hides his face in his palms, realizing he had said his thoughts out loud again. A dwelling sip echoes the shop. Lately, when Megumi is around him, Sukuna smells how whiskey tastes: woody, spicy, and malty with a drop of vanilla.
“The daddy kink made that plenty obvious,” Sukuna deadpans.
“That’s not fair. It’s a sexual fantasy,” Megumi’s jaw drops. “I wouldn’t judge your kinks. I’d do them, too.”
“Oh?” Sukuna laughs passively. “You’re asking for trouble. Shouldn’t you be hurrying home after deepthroating God’s loaded fat cock?” Swallowing the chortle from such a statement, Megumi keeps his composure. He crosses his legs.
“Sounds like you’re jealous.”
“Well, of course.”
“Have a better reaction to that, thank you,” The omega snarls. “You’re annoying. You do everything so fucking indifferently and it’s so, so annoying.”
“It must be so…” Sukuna leans closer, subduing such petulance through the curiosity in his eyes. He furrows his eyebrows, thinking until he settles on Megumi’s wet lips. “…annoying, right? That’s what you were going to say,” He hums. “Your lips are turning blue. You should warm yourself.”
Megumi scowls. A moody little thing, he is.
“I don’t want to go home yet.”
“And?”
“My stepmom is controlling,” He confesses. Laying his head in his arms, he stares at the decorations on the wall and continues. “She thinks she’s my owner or something. I’m not her little pet. She isn’t even my real mom.”
“You sure you don’t hate her and you’re convincing yourself otherwise?” Sukuna starts using a machine to print out the official stencil. The sound is relaxing, reminiscent of many of their past late conversations.
Megumi exhales. “I don’t hate her. I don’t want to be around her anymore, that’s all.”
“I’d call you a child,” The man murmurs. “You’re too old to be worried about what other people think.”
“I’m not old,” Bitterly, the omega bites back. Sukuna chuckles.
“That’s fair.”
The silence is soft. Had Megumi been impatient, he’d ruin it with pointless banter. The rain reminds him of a soothing white noise pushing against the shop’s old brick building.
“You’re being kind to me tonight,” Megumi whispers. Usually, Sukuna would be pestering Megumi to leave, claiming Hakari could smell him in the walls and sofa the next morning. “Did something happen?”
Sukuna holds the stencil up. It’s the drawing of a dragon and tiger, intertwined by hydrangea petals and stems. He’s judging it.
“No,” he says. “I feel relaxed. I can’t describe it.”
“You just did…”
The older man rolls his eyes.
“Don’t be annoying.”
“Annoying? So annoying. You’re annoying, too. Am I annoying you yet?” Sukuna pauses. He doesn’t spare a glance.
“No.”
“‘A guy who doesn’t get tired of me,’” Megumi taps his fingers absentmindedly on the counter. “Sounds like a bad rom-com.”
“It probably is,” Sukuna starts collecting his items. “I have a heater upstairs.”
The Heian Tattoo Shop is placed under a series of apartments. The older man lives in the master suite, which Megumi figured out later is because Sukuna owns the entire complex. A family inheritance, he says. No wonder he can get away with declining a few hungry customers.
Megumi waits patiently, swaying back and forth, as Sukuna stuffs his key in the door. Shamelessly, the omega ogles his backside, vision redder the more he admires the Adonis-shaped shoulders and shapely bottom. Sukuna turns around, and Megumi corrects himself, whistling as if it were a regular morning.
“Stop staring,” He holds the door open for the omega. Megumi slips in, nose flaring at the smell of Sukuna’s ‘den.’ It’s fresh yet woody. The interior design is pretty…simple and clean. There aren’t flayed skulls hanging from the walls or hideous, tacky ranges of décor. The omega might’ve been overreacting, assuming Sukuna’s home would reflect the shop’s grungy edginess.
This is nice, too. It makes Sukuna seem less abrasive and stand-off-ish. From what Megumi can see, Sukuna likes rose-scented candles (there are plenty in his kitchen) and hanging pictures of his family on the wall—a sign of a traditional man. Megumi ignores Sukuna's comments about getting the omega some dry clothing and doesn’t hide his nosiness.
One picture in particular draws his attention.
A younger Sukuna (a handsome man, even with the baby cheeks) stood cocked against a black Cadillac, leather jacket sucked to his arms and his jeans baggier than an insomniac’s eyes. His hair was spiked and flared by gel, and he has that cocky, sure-as-hell grin Sukuna shows him once in a blue moon.
Next to him stands his polar opposite. His smile is wide and teethy, but it looks unnatural on Sukuna’s face. He’s posed by the other wearing a hoodie and shorts, both obviously excited by and proud of the sexy Cadillac, reasonably so. Toji would kill for that. Leaning closer, Megumi inspects; in the corner of his eye, he notices Sukuna walk back into the room with a folded shirt and sweatpants.
“Who is this?” He asks. Sukuna stares at the wall, stands still for a few important seconds, and wanders over. He hands Megumi the clothing with an impassive expression. The young omega wishes he were easier to understand, but Sukuna’s possessiveness over his privacy is understandable.
“My brother.”
“Twin? It has to be,” Megumi’s hands are warm from the clothing. Did he place them in the dryer? “It’s uncanny and disturbing. This is what you would look like if you smiled?”
“Shut up.”
“He’s a beta, right?”
“No.”
Megumi chokes. “Huh?” Sukuna sits on his sofa and messes with his stencil again. He starts erasing and fixing, feet kicked up onto a nearby table. “An alpha?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re kidding. That’s actually a bad joke…” He ceases overanalyzing the pictures and holds hands tight behind his back. “You might be a late bloomer. Only one twin being a dynamic is kind of odd.”
Sukuna furrows his eyebrows. “I’m in my thirties.”
“True, but you’ve always given off that vibe. Very alpha, even though you don’t smell like one.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“It’s not an insult,” Megumi scowls. “You harbor a hatred for dynamics that bleeds into your shop. It threatens business. You’d get more customers if Hakari wasn’t a douche.”
Sukuna doesn’t reply. He’s sketching another piece. This time, a pin-up woman dressed as a firefighter, holding a phallic water hose in a suggestive position. It’s funny; Megumi clenches his cheeks to prevent a smirk.
“Why do you hate alphas? Your brother is one, you surely don’t hate him.”
“I do.”
Megumi blinks several times. Innocently, he points. “Then, why do you have this picture up?” Normally, Sukuna makes sense, but it seems like he’s finally found a thread to tug and pull. The older man sketches the woman’s hips. Sighing, he holds up the drawing and points.
“Does she look like a fucking grasshopper or am I tripping?” Sukuna turns the paper sideways; both their heads turn clockwise, alike to curious puppies. Still standing, Megumi leans onto Sukuna’s shoulder and gestures to the art.
“Not a grasshopper. Maybe a dragonfly. Why’s her head so big?”
Bitterly, Sukuna begins erasing, muttering under his breath: “You could be nicer about that.”
“Okay, alpha,” Megumi turns away, stomach bubbling in giddiness when the vein in Sukuna’s forehead pops. The older man slams the stencil down, vibrating an adjacent ashtray, and glares daggers into Megumi’s soul.
“Don’t fucking call me that.”
Untouched, his anger is burning, fierily hot. Megumi regrets it as soon as the air changes. Instead of apologizing, the omega steps backward, propping along the wall to give him space.
“Why do you hate alphas?” Megumi asks again thirty seconds later, unwilling to let the tense moment be a distant memory. Sukuna loathes this decision, evidenced by the way he runs a palm down his face.
“My dad was one,” says the older man. “He was an abusive asshole. Back then, breeding to make twin alphas was common. I wasn’t one, and he didn’t like that.”
Oh.
Megumi fiddles with his fingers, cursing himself for his stupidity. As an older generation, it makes perfect sense that Sukuna has outdated views of dynamics. He was probably raised by egocentric parents who only believed in purebreds.
Long story short, many older generations believed families should only give birth to one race—Alpha, Omega, or Beta. Deviations (which can occur at any time, since there is no such thing as “pure” blood) are ostracized, whether they are late bloomers or just a kid who was unlucky enough to develop different genes.
These family dynamics died out, especially once society learned the benefits of mixing and dating outside of normality. It creates stronger children and brings about community, and results in extra money from the government. Because, well, dynamics aren’t normal, and they need accommodations, which in return—for some families—is just an extra check to cash.
Alas, old-school ideals don’t disappear. It’s rather drastic, and Megumi would prefer to not fall in love with a guy who despises dynamics, but he can’t help but feel like Sukuna doesn’t always say what he does, nor does what he says.
“Sounds like an excuse.”
Megumi challenges him.
The hand delicately adding details to the pin-up woman’s hair freezes. No matter how much Sukuna hides it behind nonchalance, he’s quite short-tempered. Nothing makes him angrier than: one, having the shop’s air conditioner above seventy degrees; two, customers who do their own piercings and come to him to fix the bloody mess; and three, a dynamic—an omega, worse yet—giving him unsolicited advice or demands.
“What did you say?” His items pile onto the table. Sukuna stands tall, chin cocked to the ceiling and beats Megumi with a fixed glare. The omega dilutes his nervousness by responding swiftly, not giving him a second to back down to the man.
“I’m sure you heard me just fine,” Megumi says. “Treating dynamics unjustly because your father hurt you? They aren’t him, and you have a long life to live if you think being a jackass to random people is the best way for you to find some semblance of wholeness and self-worth. It’s quite sad, and I thought your reasoning would be more ambitious—"
All at once, Sukuna slams a heavy palm on the wall behind him, caging the omega in. It’s an intimidating position, the man’s shadow swallowing him whole. Megumi rubs his lips together, reluctance on his tongue, and cranes his neck back to match Sukuna’s mean look.
“Someone’s mad,” Megumi whispers.
Underneath such dim lighting, the older man’s orbs remind Megumi of a tiger’s eye, the usual blazing inferno metamorphizing into caramel, red-golden luster. Sukuna stares deep into his soul; perhaps, he’d rip Megumi to shreds if he uttered another word. The ruminations pass by the omega’s mind, placed on indefinite hold when a spicy, potent scent hits his nose.
Megumi recoils: the feeling is reminiscent of one overly sniffing a perfume bottle. It tickles his nose hairs, making him want to sneeze. He places a palm on Sukuna’s chest to push him away; the smell gets suffocating, but the man doesn’t move an inch. His body is immovable.
A shutter vibrates along his calves and to his thighs, up his hips, and settling at his navel. He drops the folded clothing and struggles to breathe. He shies away, pushing Sukuna once more, and the man comes closer. The scent is overwhelming—he can’t handle it anymore. Megumi lets out a frustrated whine, relying on primal instincts since his head is too foggy to speak.
Rough, impatient hands pry open the first few buttons of his shirt. Sukuna’s fingers are heated icicles on his skin—hot and cold. While the smell drives him to insanity, the satin silk of his buttoned shirt peels off his shoulder, revealing the erected, throbbing scent gland on his neck. It’s flushed bubble-gum pink; the glossiness indicates sexual arousal, sticky and wet with the scent humans hate the most.
Lustful, Sukuna grabs his hips to pull him closer and tilts his head, fitting perfectly between Megumi’s neck as he sucks the gland. Megumi doesn’t understand what he gets out of doing such a thing, since only alphas get aroused from tasting their omega’s scent right from the pot. It results in Megumi’s cunt blossoming, regardless of the strong smell damaging his nose hairs.
Sukuna rubs the valley between his legs, cuffing his groin and then patting gently. He continues doing so as he devours Megumi’s neck whole, leaving red marks and a swollen scent gland. He can smell himself on Sukuna’s lips—a floral, fresh outdoor scent. Ironically, it meshes well with the wafting strange odor, lifting the heavy spiciness and perfuming something more bearable. Megumi doesn’t know what candle or incense Sukuna has lit in his apartment, but he’s glad for it now.
He's never smelled anything more perfect than this.
“A-Ah…” Drunk on it, Megumi’s body relaxes; he becomes limp enough that Sukuna must hold him up, the heavy palm rubbing his covered pussy cuffing harder to keep him standing. “Touch me more. Please.”
An uncharacteristic, guttural growl erupts from Sukuna’s throat; Megumi takes it as sexual excitement. He yelps happily as the man forces his pants below his ass, squeezing the peachy cute globes. He touches his taint, teasingly applying pressure, and dips farther to spread the sticky, stringy slick coming out of his cunt.
Between sucking on his scent gland, the teasing foreplay, and the mysterious meshing scents, Megumi feels like he could explode. Sukuna gets greedier, saliva running down the younger’s neck due to his desire for Megumi’s scent oil. He has no sense of smell; doesn’t that mean his taste isn’t all too good either? Why does it seem like Sukuna is trying to eat him?
“Sukuna, stop,” He whines. The gland hurts; it isn’t supposed to be messed around with like this. “It hurts, you’re not supposed to—”
“Be quiet.”
Eyes rolling back, Megumi wonders what the hell happened to Sukuna in the manner of five minutes for him to sound so debauched. He sounds like he does whenever he’s just finished fucking Megumi into bed for hours; tired but the engine is on—and he’d be willing to keep going if Megumi didn’t tap out so soon.
Age forgotten, Sukuna’s stamina is concerning, and if he were an alpha, the chances of Megumi having a pup would have been set in stone. He’d be pregnant already. Honestly, his stepmother should be grateful that Megumi usually has a clear head and does his dangerous activities smartly. If such an oxymoron exists…
Finally, he gives Megumi’s gland one last suck and releases, a string of spit catching the omega’s attention. The pink-haired man bends his back and picks Megumi up, traveling a few feet before throwing him onto the bed and wrestling off their clothing. His legs rise to the ceiling, kissing Heaven, and Sukuna pauses in his haste.
He gazes, eyes radiant. Blushing, Megumi covers his private, especially the gold jewelry sitting atop his clit.
“What?” He asks. “Don’t just stop like that.”
Sukuna hums. “I’m looking at you.”
“I would have never thought…” says the omega sarcastically.
“You were gorgeous before all of this,” He thumbs the belly button ring, flickering the dangling jewelry up and down. “But nowadays, I don’t know how to act around you anymore. It’s stressful.”
“I make you nervous?” Megumi asks. Letting out a shaky, hot breath, Sukuna leans in. He kisses him. It’s soft and delicate, the touch of a rose petal.
“Yeah,” he whispers. Megumi grins and kisses him again, their lips separating with a juicy, wet squelch.
“Really? You don’t show it,” Megumi cocks an amused eyebrow. Just as Sukuna kisses down his abdomen and bites the small fat jiggling on his thighs, his fingers tease his entrance, working overtime to drench him to the knuckle and mess up the bedsheets.
“Good,” Sukuna replies. “Ignorance is bliss.”
Sukuna’s cock is cut and heavy, long enough that it curves when he’s hard and reaches the deepest parts inside of him when he’s in his heat. Megumi gazes longingly, wishing he could make love to such a beautiful thing, but the impatient look in Sukuna’s eyes (and movements) tell that once Megumi is stretched, he wants to end the night deep inside of him, sucked into the warm honey pot that is his sticky, sensitive pussy.
How flattering. Sukuna is a hard man to read, but once Megumi has the rope around his neck, he’ll pull and pull until Sukuna can’t deny it anymore. ‘I’m in love with an omega,’ I’ll make you say, Megumi thinks, biting his lip as Sukuna’s dick pushes between his pussy lips, sliding back and forth yet never entering.
“Fuck, that feels so good,” He moans, legs shaking. Sukuna slaps his cock on his throbbing clit, rubbing precum into the jewelry, a different flavor of ownership. Megumi sighs breathlessly; the pleasure is accumulating too quickly, and he hasn’t even been fucked.
The teasing and edging lasts for minutes upon minutes. Close to his orgasm, Megumi rocks his hips, head thrown back onto pillows and he mewls to the sky: “Daddy, please, put it in…” He doesn’t know when he started to become so filthy. Sukuna brings a desperate part of him out, willing to beg and whimper for the littlest attention.
Megumi wants Sukuna to take care of him—to give him all the affection he desires, this tainted love that his family and friends would see as disastrous and foreboding. When he’s thrusting into the omega like this, hips slamming and Megumi’s smaller body pushing up the bed, he can’t help it. He wants Sukuna to fuck him. To cum inside him, to fill him until it drips out, leaking down his legs and to his ankle. And he’d want to lick it clean, like the good boy he is.
Sukuna must’ve read his mind.
“You love that, don’t you, baby?” His cock is covered in slick. “Keep moving your hips…yeah, there you go, baby…just like that…”
Pulling away, he fists his dick and spreads the wetness, and slides back between his pink pussy lips. The head nudges his clit and pushes the jewelry roughly, eliciting a sharp, unnatural squeal from the omega. Megumi sucks in the drool leaking down his lip. The articles online really weren’t lying about a clit piercing making him more sensitive.
Without warning, Sukuna holds his dick steady and glides inside. The slow stretch is heavenly; Megumi’s back straightens, and he runs hands down his stomach, laying on the pouch above his cunt. Calloused fingers hold his legs hostage; Sukuna’s hair is damp from sweat, strands of hair hanging as he cocks his head to the ceiling in beyond-belief pleasure.
“Fuck,” He grinds out. “I miss your pussy, shit—”
“Oh my god,” Megumi mewls; Sukuna’s matching desperation and yearning—it’s turning him on. “Harder, please. Don’t go slow.”
“I know what you want,” Sukuna places a pillow underneath the omega’s hips, a subtle action that alleviates a pain in his back that he hadn’t noticed. Soon, Megumi is imprisoned underneath him, thick forearms caging him in. He grabs Sukuna’s jaw and pulls him closer. The sloppy, uncoordinated kiss isn’t perfect, but the taste of Sukuna is different today. It’s less of something Megumi something likes and wants and more of something Megumi needs.
The bedframe shakes and shutters. Trapped and drowning in Sukuna’s bedsheets, sweat, and body heat, Megumi is coming immediately, eyes crossing as the man pounds into him relentlessly. A tiny squirt erupts—a cute geyser—and Sukuna curses, fucking into the drenched wetland without remorse. Megumi’s legs try to close, the pressure becoming far too overwhelming for him to hold the position, but Sukuna pries them open.
“Yes, yes,” The omega wails, voice trembling and bouncing between octaves. “Don’t stop. Make me take it, Daddy, yesssss…”
His lewd words fall off into a high-pitched keen; Sukuna’s thrust grows wild and uncentered. He’s never fucked Megumi in such a primal way, uncaring if the omega orgasms or not. Megumi has cum twice already, and the third is peeking behind the corner, spitting in his mouth and ruining his insides for anyone else.
Sukuna hides his head in Megumi’s neck. Touched by the intimacy, the younger wraps his arms around his sweaty shoulders and moans into his ear. He whispers sweet nothings, telling Sukuna that he belongs to him and that he’d never fuck anyone else for as long as he lived. They are, in fact, sweet nothings—but the dangerous part of Megumi’s mind wants it to be true.
Come inside me. Give me a pup. I’m yours. I belong to you.
His omega is crazy. But Megumi is crazier because he agrees with him.
“Don’t pull out,” He gasps in Sukuna’s ear. “Come inside.” Sukuna grunts, grinding into Megumi’s pussy hungrily and continuing the long, deep strokes. The omega part of Megumi is going crazy, bouncing on walls, yearning for a clear reply.
Will you? Will you give it to me? Don’t waste a drop, alpha. I want your pups so bad.
Suddenly, Sukuna stiffens and his thrusts slow. His cunt grips the man’s cock in a certain vice, but as Sukuna continues thrusting, the pressure increases to painful levels. Megumi whimpers, right leg crunching. He places his palms on Sukuna’s abdomen, stopping him.
“Ah, too much!”
“Just a little more,” His words vibrate Megumi’s throat. “Stay right there, don’t fucking move.” The pressure pops. Or, the young omega hears and feels it, and his scream is ear-shattering. It’s reminiscent of his first time with Sukuna. It took an hour before Megumi could take him; his tight virgin cunt was unready for what Sukuna offered him.
Cum floods into him. The first drop sends signals flaring in Megumi’s brain. Sukuna grinds against his pussy, moans tickling the omega’s neck and shoulders, and comes for what feels like minutes. That heavy, potent scent comes back and stuffs itself into Megumi’s nose. Except, this time, he doesn’t mind it, and it smells less jarring than before.
...that was the best sex of my life...
Granted, Megumi doesn’t have much to compare to, but his legs are shaking, and his omega is fulfilled and serene. Beforehand, he struggled to feel satisfied, desiring sex constantly until he couldn’t take it anymore. In this instance, the omega could sleep for several days and still wake up satisfied. It’s perfect. He’s perfect.
Megumi traces the tattoo of a tiger on Sukuna’s back. The man is slumped on him—a dead man resting. The brain fog allows Megumi to say his next words fearlessly since his omega has already been imprinted; there is no point in ignoring it.
Dynamics only imprint on each other.
“Sukuna.”
The sound of someone riding a motorcycle roars by the shop. It’s obnoxious but allows Megumi to begin the conversation with ease, rather than rushing into the fact. The younger runs his finger up Sukuna’s spine to the back of his neck, messing with thin pink baby hairs.
“You just knotted me.”
The older man doesn’t react. Instead, after a few seconds, he moves his head to speak. His breath is hot and warm on Megumi’s cheek.
“How long?”
Megumi’s eyebrows rise. “Huh?”
Sukuna scoffs.
“How long does it last?”
“Oh,” The omega blinks innocently. “It depends. Thirty minutes is a good start.” In response, he nods and settles back into Megumi’s neck like a baby dove. He’s heavy, so heavy. Megumi likes feeling suffocated by him. Unfortunately, Sukuna notices his scrunched features and falls to the side, tugging the omega’s hips with him. He breathes in the open air.
“…”
“I’ve been able to smell you for a month now.”
Megumi freezes. He may be knot-drunk, but such a confession is a still source of amazement. Sukuna’s skin is warm. Suddenly desiring his touch, Megumi holds his hand and listens.
“I guess this is the reason why—” Sukuna continues.
“—what do I smell like?”
Megumi helps him. By the look on Sukuna’s features and his inner omega’s sour whines, Sukuna doesn’t want to talk about it yet. They just had sex. Let them enjoy the waves and figure out the pointless things later. Thus, Sukuna pauses mid-sentence.
He exhales. “You think I have anything to compare it to?”
“Be creative.” Ah, how Megumi loves challenging the man who hates to be challenged at all. Sukuna stalls for a passing moment.
“Calming,” he says while staring at a small section of Megumi’s face. “You smell very calming.”
“When two dynamics have compatible scents, they always feel relaxed around each other,” The omega swipes a lock of hair out of Sukuna’s eye. “So, that means you’re a—”
“Beta.”
Pushing a stubborn hair strand behind Sukuna’s ear, Megumi reveals a tiger’s eye gazing back at him. They are hypnotic, borderline psychedelic by how the young omega can get lost in the irises’ amber swirls and crimson hues. If Heaven was illustrated with such electrifying and stunning colors, Megumi might just clean up his act and die on purpose for the view.
“Yeah,” Megumi chuckles lowly. Sukuna sulks, the ghost of mirth on his face. “My beta.”