Chapter Text
“Megumi?”
“Um,” The young omega raises a shy finger. He glances along the waiting area packed with tattooed bandits and teenage dirtbags and clears his throat.
“That’s me.”
The entire room stares. Megumi pulls at his gray collared shirt, the fluster appearing on his cheeks as a strawberry-tinted blush.
He doesn’t fit in. This is Heian Tattoos & Piercings, a shop well-known for having multiple gang fights and shoot-outs around it weekly. The area is less than favorable, but it’s the only place in the city that takes walk-ins. It’s dangerous—but the reviews only discuss satisfaction.
The receptionist exhales. Megumi walks forward and notices their facial piercings. Silver gems are tucked into the corner of their mouth, and vibrant tattoos decorate their neck. Megumi is jealous; he wishes he could express himself so freely.
Toji remated when Megumi was around five years old. Beforehand, his father was a felon and spent time in and out of prison. Megumi’s mother straightened him up, but after her death, he went into depression. In comes Megumi’s pious stepmother to save the day, and ever since—Megumi has lived by the Church.
Don’t get him wrong; Toji isn’t a God-fearing priest now. He dabbles reasonably in religion and leaves the intense stuff to his wife, Megumi, and Tsumiki. In truth, he is the only one of them who doesn’t regularly attend Sunday prayer. Megumi’s religious upbringing is a result of wanting to please his stepmother, along with an intense yearning to assimilate at his faith-based schools.
He is a respectful and proper omega. His closet consists of expensive collared shirts, silk vests, slacks, knee-length skirts, and luxury watches. It isn’t a stretch to say he’s never owned a pair of jeans, either. It was okay when he was a teenager, but Megumi is an adult, and it’s time he takes a step out of his comfort zone.
The receptionist stops slouching to pull out an iridescent jewelry box. Megumi catches their nametag: ‘Kirara.’
“Pick a set. Your piercer will be out in a few minutes,” They blow gum and pop it. The omega sniffs for their scent, stopping as he notices their sharp glare. That’s rude, Megumi.
“Sorry,” He apologizes. “Um, I don’t know what I’m looking for?”
“What’ll look good on your tits. That’s it—” They look past Megumi. “—Nanako?” A teenager skips up and chatters away.
The omega bites his lip. He’s the only dynamic in the shop, too. No wonder they aren’t too kind. Determined, Megumi analyzes the jewelry and prays he picks a nice set.
The world is split between two races: dynamics and Betas. Dynamics are split into subgroups—Alpha and Omega; these are species born with vast carnal instincts, dating back to their ancestors.
For instance, Toji is an alpha whose instincts are procured from mammal carnivores. His stepmother is a Beta, or a human, hence the reason why she is more involved in man-made creations (i.e., religion) rather than Toji.
Like an animal, Toji is a simpleton. If he has beer, food, and a gym—he’ll do anything she says.
Expectedly, Beta and dynamics don’t get along. It usually isn’t a problem back at home, but Megumi is in a neighborhood he doesn’t know. For all he knows, they could all be complete idiots. It also doesn’t help that Megumi looks well off.
It isn’t his fault that his stepmother is rich…
“Do you have anything that dangles?” Megumi butts in once Kirara is done speaking to the teenager. The receptionist blinks, unimpressed.
“Dangles?”
“Yeah, maybe a charm…”
“It’s your first piercing. I can tell just by looking at you…” Kirara sighs. “You can change into that once it heals. For now, pick a gem and call it a day.”
In the back of his mind, Megumi wants to refute that fact. He’s paying! Why can’t he get the jewelry he desires? It would be hard to heal if he had complicated jewelry, but Megumi has been wanting this for so long.
“Okay.” With a sullen pout, Megumi cocks his hip and hoovers the jewelry. The receptionist bites.
“Don’t lean on the glass.”
“God fucking damn it!”
It is embarrassing how Megumi is the only one who jumps. A man slams open a nearby door, swaggering inside with a cheetah-print fur coat and oversized Jinco jeans. He looks like…
“…a pimp…?”
The omega nervously whispers under his breath. Unfortunately, Kirara hears him, and they belch a laugh louder than falling avalanches.
“Hahaha—“
“What’s funny!? I got tipped less than five percent,” The man swoops back highly styled, gelled hair. He ignores Megumi. “That’s the last time I serve a fucking dog.”
Kirara stops laughing. They gesture to Megumi. He stands out like a sore thumb, especially once his scent starts wafting. It’s strong and musky to humans—reminiscent of wet fur. To other dynamics, they say Megumi smells like roses and pine.
“You have company, Kin, but I’m sure he’ll pay nicely,” Kirara invades his privacy and flicks a finger on Megumi’s scent gland. It’s jetted out, flushed pink, and the size of a dime.
He crunches his neck. “Ouch.”
“He said you look like a pimp.”
“A pimp?” Kin, or by his name tag, Hakari, rubs his stubbled chin. Out of nowhere, Kirara hands the man a glass of whiskey.
Hakari sips it and laughs. Before he can reply, Megumi apologizes. “I’m sorry if you’re offended.”
The store grows silent save for the graphic, lewd music playing. They stare at him, befuddled. Alas, a mocking laugh aggregates.
Megumi frowns.
“Don’t be sorry, be careful. I’m tired of your presence. Dismissed,” Hakari mutters, the bitter smell of liquor hitting Megumi’s nose hairs. “You can lead a hoe to water, but ya can’t make her think, ya dig?”
Strangers from the neighborhood laugh and laugh, some even holding their stomachs. Megumi glances around, feeling like he’s in elementary school again.
That was funny?
“Am I missing something?” Rather quietly, he asks Kirara. “I don’t get it.”
They shake their head. “It’s from a movie, hun.”
A movie? What kind? Megumi thinks. He isn’t trying to come off ditzy. Really, he’s fascinated at how the cultures contrast between downtown and uptown. Megumi is an all-around private school, nepo-baby. Most people around here have either dropped out of high school, started a family too soon, or don’t care about the logistics of a “wealthy life.”
Megumi fiddles with his fingers. “What’s it called?” Hakari blinks into his glass. Slowly, the cold rim touches the glass counter, and Megumi watches the man stand tall.
“I’m not serving you,” he says. The young omega frowns.
“Why not?”
“I’m on break. I’ll do it in an hour,” Hakari yawns. “Order some pizza for lunch, babe.”
“Gotcha.”
“That’s unprofessional. I’ve been waiting for more than two hours. I’m probably the only one who…hasn’t…”
Gradually, Megumi learns that they were ignoring the omega on purpose. Customers who came after him were served first, but he thought it was because they booked appointments. So, they don’t like his kind. Good to know.
“It’s against the law to deny service to a dynamic.”
“Hah? You’re a dynamic?” He asks. “I would’ve never known.”
Megumi clenches his fist.
“You are very rude.”
“Very, very rude,” Hakari taunts while raising the pitch of his voice. Chuckles fill the store again. Just how many people are in the damn thing?
It’s on the tip of the omega’s tongue. He wants to brag. My mom is running for governor this year, and I’m sure I can get this place demolished in one word. Do you really want to test me?
Instead, Megumi crosses his arms and stands there. Waiting. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
“Just do it, Kin,” Kirara sighs. “You’ll get us in trouble again.”
“I don’t give a shit! My sister was mauled by one of those animals,” He sneers. “I’ll be damned if I can’t deny service when I feel like it.”
“Call Sukuna, then.”
“You call him.”
“Do you have to be so difficult?” Kirara yells. Automatically, the man straightens up. “You’re pissing me off!”
“Okay! Sorry, sorry…”
“Listen,” Megumi does his best to control his boiling temper. “I went to Tokyo’s top national technical school and graduated first of my class—“A teasing ‘ooo’ echoes around the room. Megumi redden and continues, “I’m not here to prove myself to you. I’ve done that enough myself. So, will you…”
The omega clears his throat. “…pierce my—”
Hakari takes a loud sip.
“Hm. Let me think…no.”
“I have the money!”
“I’ll call Sukuna,” Kirara resigns. They start dialing on the phone. Hakari moves behind the receptionist's desk and talks kindly to another customer. It burns Megumi’s skin hot.
In an act of boldness, as well as a fight against his normally composed and shy demeanor, Megumi slaps his palms onto the glass. The jewelry shelves shake. A moment of pure shock passes by all the inhabitants of the store.
Megumi lifts himself high and sits, ass first, on the glass. The workers gasp, unwilling to take their eyes off the precious jewelry and costly possibilities. The young omega crosses his legs. So much for not leaning on the glass. He’ll sit on it instead.
“I don’t know who this ‘Sukuna’ is, but he means nothing. I won’t be going anywhere until you pierce me! It is despicable that you get away with treating a dynamic so hatefully. You were raised without class. Shame on your parents! Now,” Megumi points a finger to a piece of jewelry set in the glass. “Give me the red gem with a gold bar. Thank you.”
The store radio blasts an intricate guitar solo. Megumi rocks his ankle back and forth, his peppiness is uncouth considering where he is sitting. Megumi looks at their dumbfounded faces.
“Well?”
Kirara only squeezes the space between their eyes.
“We are so dead.”
“Please don’t be cracked, please don’t be cracked, please don’t be cracked,” Hakari coalesces his fingers into a firm prayer grasp. Megumi blinks innocently. “I don’t need this taken out of my deposit. I have bills to pay—“
“Why the fuck are you sitting on my glass?”
That’s a monster.
They have monsters in this tiny tattoo shop; nobody knows, nobody cares. He’s hiding in the basement—a demonic lair. He probably has eyeballs in gooey preservative liquid and drinks blood like it’s juice.
Megumi shutters and cranes his neck as the figure draws closer. He’s big. Tall. Intimidating. Scary. Without hesitance, the omega slides off the glass counter and rubs dry lips together anxiously.
“Sukuna,” Kirara swipes a disinfectant wipe on fingerprint stains. “He needs to leave. He’s causing a disturbance.”
This Sukuna looks more like a guard dog than a coworker. Swallowing the thickening lump in his throat, Megumi’s emerald irises wind over the stranger’s appearance. If he thought Kirara had a lot of piercings, he clearly wasn’t ready for this.
His facial and ear piercings match in color, charcoal jewelry decorating tanned skin. The few that stand out to Megumi are the set on the nose bridge, and the solitary gem sticking out his left cheek, mimicking a diamond dimple.
One could say the man was born with tattoos and had plain skin added later. His fingers are bulked in stone skull rings, and his neck is accessorized with gold and silver necklaces. The outfit is the only boring factor; sweatpants and a tank top that fits far too tight.
Maybe that’s a good thing? When you have so much going on, it might be better to go the simple route with clothing.
“Are you deaf?” The man casts a creepy shadow upon Megumi’s entire body. The omega steps back. “I asked you a question.”
“I…I’m not. I can hear just fine,” Megumi stammers. “I want a piercing. I’ve been waiting for two hours.”
Hakari rushes over. “Boss, I told this guy—“
“Oh, it’s ‘guy’ now? I thought I was a dog?” Megumi says. A dark expression overtakes Hakari’s features. The young omega hums in satisfaction.
“We don’t serve puppies.”
Megumi gawks. The words process slowly. The burly man—Sukuna hangs his thumbs from his pockets. He gestures to the front door.
“Get out.”
“I’m over twenty-one?”
“Show me,” He curls his finger. “And you sit your ass on my glass again, I’ll personally deal with you myself. Do you understand, omega?” The nasty sneer sends goosebumps blossoming on Megumi’s forearms. He nods, blurting before he can stop it.
“Yes.”
For a split second, his instincts screamed: “Alpha.”
It’s ludicrous. The stranger has no scent whatsoever; he is a Beta. Could simply his demeanor send Megumi’s instincts haywire? It’s not an unfamiliar idea. Sukuna seizes his I.D. Contrasting from moments ago, the shop is dead silent.
“Um, can I ask who you are?” Megumi manages to whisper. Sukuna doesn’t spare him a glance.
“The owner.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Sukuna sways a ringed finger over the selection of jewelry. By chance, Kirara’s made another glass of whiskey, to which the man takes it in his wide palm. Sukuna leans against the very glass he complained about and mutters words deep enough to outclass molasses.
“Pick your jewelry.”
In the corner of Megumi’s eye, he sees the other two sighing and rolling their eyes. The omega smiles. He puckers up, lightly arching his feet instinctively when he speaks to Sukuna.
“I already have. The red one, please,” The owner sips the whiskey and grabs the jewelry set within minutes. Megumi glides closer to the dreaded glass (he may be terrified of it now) and gazes in awe.
“It’s gorgeous. Far better outside the glass. You should clean it more often.”
Megumi is currently falling down a set of steps.
No, a cliff.
With meteors and lava beside him.
His jaw freezes in the middle of talking, realizing a sad case of genetically-Toji’s-bluntness slipped out. Well, that’s what he calls it when he wants to blame his bad faith on his father, rather than admit that Megumi isn’t as honorable and charming as he looks.
Sukuna glares daggers as sharp as a butcher’s knife. “Are you calling my shop dirty?”
Megumi swallows. The large man places the jewelry in Kirara’s hands, who is assumed to ready it for sanitization. Suddenly nervous, the young omega uses the conversation to mend the jitters about getting a needle in him. His nipples, nonetheless. God, what are you thinking, Megumi? Are you sure about this?
“Not necessarily, but I hear that someone dies nearby here once a week. That’s unsettling,” Megumi blurts. “I wouldn’t doubt it’s your doing. You look like the type.”
“Ah!?” Hakari shouts from behind the desk. “What the hell did you just say to him, you brat?”
“You can be next, if you’d like. I’m always taking volunteers,” Sukuna says warmly; his tone isn’t menacing, yet that’s somehow more intimidating. He finishes the whiskey and grabs papers from Kirara.
“Sign this.”
Megumi smirks. He reads the health concerns, among other things, and signs his name. Sukuna tidies the papers by jabbing them against the table. As he does, he jerks his chin at Hakari: “Gimmie another.”
The other man doesn’t hesitate to pour him a glass.
The omega beholds Sukuna down the entire thing within a single second. A droplet of liquid trails onto his chin, swiped by his thumb as he pushes the whiskey glass away. Turning around, Sukuna beacons Megumi with the same finger and walks down a corridor.
Is he even sober enough to pierce me anymore?
Nevertheless, Megumi follows. He winks at the workers and shimmies away.
The two of them traverse through two hallways before reaching a door mirroring a shoji. Upon opening, Megumi is met with a gallery-like room full of grunge paintings and odd, edgy figurines. He sees a scary-looking human skull in the corner, and questions if his assumption about the eyeball preservatives could be true…
“I wanted to say that it is impolite to have workers who can decline a customer just because they are dynamic. It’s unethical, and frankly, reason enough to be shut down,” Megumi sees Sukuna lather his hands in soap and wash them in an adjacent sink.
He pays him no mind, so the omega scowls. “I understand it might be an inconvenience. After all, Beta think we are aggressive and smell bad. But I, for one, have always had faith in God and been kind. I am hygienic, as well.”
Sukuna dries his hands with a paper towel. He stares boredly. “Do you want them pierced or not?”
The omega bottom lip puckers.
“…yes.”
He pats the chair. “Sit.”
The nervousness is full force now. Megumi is seriously considering running for it. It’s embarrassing, and he won’t be able to show his face in public for weeks, but if that’s what it takes to get rid of this debilitating anxiety, so be it! The omega sits on the uncomfortable sanitary paper and pulls his fingers. He breathes shakily, his indecisiveness making the entire experience much worse.
Sukuna sits on a stool and scoots closer. He’s unwrapping needles and other miscellaneous items, connecting his eyes with Megumi every few movements. Soon enough, the older man notices Megumi’s troubles.
“Nervous?”
“No shit,” Megumi bursts; his eyebrows furrow. “Sorry. I am.”
The corner of Sukuna’s mouth turns. It’s small, but Megumi catches it quickly.
“Are you normally so two-faced?”
“Pardon?”
“Take off your shirt,” Sukuna exhales. He snaps on a pair of very, very tight black gloves. “No dinner first.”
“Haha, very funny…” Except, Megumi doesn’t take his shirt off. He clenches the rim. “…is it going to hurt? Like, bad?” Sukuna looks at the ceiling, daft in thought.
He shrugs.
“I’ll make sure it does.”
“W-What?”
The older man is unimpressed, “It’s a needle.”
“That’s a good point…” He begins revealing himself. A soft breeze sends a shiver along his pale spine. Folding the shirt, Megumi places palms on his thigh and straightens.
“Okay, I’m ready,” The omega clenches his eyes closed. His bottom lip tightens in an ugly fashion. When he feels nothing, he opens, vision now blurry. “What?”
Sukuna unwraps a square-shaped alcohol pad. He’s cocked back in a chair, stool begone, like he’s some big-shot CEO. Megumi wants to roll his eyes.
“I’m sanitizing,” The man defends. “I can’t have my new favorite client saying my shop is filthy, can I?” Sukuna says it so dryly, that it would be hard to convince a baby that he’s honest.
“Favorite client. Yeah, right,” Megumi mumbles through wet lips. Static flows into the young omega’s limbs; he feels Sukuna wipe the area clean. The alcohol pad is cold, enough to make his nipples erect. He tosses it into the trash and readies a scary-looking clamp in his hand.
The omega flinches.
“What is that?” He panics. Sukuna snaps the clamp several times menacingly. He grins, canines laying over his mulberry-tinted lips.
“Don’t worry about it.”
This is happening, Megumi fears. Sukuna tightens the clamp over the smaller’s right nipple. The pressure is painful and his eyes are watering. He’s never had a person even touch his chest before. What was he thinking, doing something so risky? At any rate, Megumi chooses matter over mind and watches horrifyingly as Sukuna holds a needle.
The owner clicks his tongue.
“Breath in,” he says.
Megumi does so.
“Breath out…”
As he does, a serrated-like, burning pain punctures his tissue. He grabs Sukuna’s tank (an embarrassing reaction) and well-nigh rips it. The larger man stares down, still reserved as he finishes screwing the sterling ball.
“There.”
Megumi sucks in a tight breath.
“I can’t do the other. I’m done! This is fine,” He’s trembling. The small omega covers his other nipple haphazardly. “I feel nauseous. Do you have a bathroom?”
Sukuna scratches his chin. His face flatlines. “Move your hand.”
“What? No, seriously. I’ll pass out!”
“I already sterilized.”
They glare each other down. Sukuna peels open a sanitizing pad, facet certain that he is going to finish. Megumi’s stubbornness rises and boils, frothing over in sudsy bubbles.
“You’re that desperate for my money?” He bites. Sukuna snorts.
“No. I just don’t want you back here anytime soon.”
“Why? I’m a great customer,” Megumi bends forward. “I’ll leave a good tip, too.” The owner exhales. He is calm and collected, even edging on presumptuous with the piqued glint in his eye.
“You’ll drive all my customers out.”
“Because I’m an omega?
Sukuna hums. “Allegedly, you stink.”
“I—” Megumi stammers. “I do not. Have you smelled me since I sat down? I took a scent neutralizer before I arrived to try and accommodate you Betas.”
“Good for you, but I don’t have a sense of smell.”
The omega’s jaw hangs. He flinches when Sukuna pinches his other nipple. The man’s eyebrows are furrowed in concentration; is something wrong? Megumi postures his chest forward and ignores the blossom along his lower stomach. The pinching hurts, but it’s more awkward because it doesn’t completely.
“Really? A Beta who can’t smell. Sounds boring,” A tiny grunt escapes his lips. Rather roughly, Sukuna squeezes his chest. Megumi winces.
“That hurts!”
“Shut up,” Sukuna rolls his eyes. How rude. “I can strap you down, you know.”
“…?” Megumi’s eyes widen. “You do that here? Is that legal?” He slants backward, far from the strange man. Sukuna eyes the omega jittery deposition. The jewelry shines lambent against pale, snowy skin; scarlet was a beautiful choice.
“You’re cute,” Sukuna says vaguely and smirks. “What’s your name?”
“Megumi,” Reluctantly, the young omega whispers. “You should know that already. No Beta has ever called me cute. Is that a joke?”
“If it is, it’s a poor one,” Megumi stares in suspicion. Sukuna jerks his head impatiently. “I don’t have all day.”
He allows the man to continue. The pierced nipple has finally cooled down, partially because of Sukuna’s roughness on the other side. Megumi manages to ask what the issue is, and Sukuna grumbles out:
“Your nipple isn’t erect enough.”
The omega covers his face and reddens. “That sentence shouldn’t exist.”
Sukuna ignores him and strangles the bud. Megumi looks away, gazing at a painting of tigers and dahlias. The style is inspired by Japanese antiques, and it distracts him for the time being. Suddenly, a moist feeling lathers his nipple, brutish and wet.
“There we go…”
Megumi’s jaw becomes a hanging pendant. It touches the floor, far too astonished to react, or even risk sacrificing such a touch. Without a moment’s silence, the needle goes through, and the pain doesn’t register whatsoever. Sukuna swipes saliva away from his chin and snaps off his gloves.
“Done,” he speaks. The omega’s mind is foggy; perhaps, he hadn’t seen or felt right. Sukuna cleans the jewelry with a saline solution.
“How much is my tip?” He mutters.
Megumi swallows.
He’s busy digging into his bag, but the ghost of Sukuna’s wet lip wrapped around his nipple, sucking, isn’t leaving his mind. This is illegal. This is unfathomable. He can’t believe he got caught up in the wrong crowd, in some unregistered piercing shop that has racists and sexist and serial killers as workers. A glorified prison—a gang-affiliated neighborhood.
The red sirens are screaming in Megumi’s consciousness. These are the places his stepmother told him to stay away from. They are full of bad people. Even the police don’t want to be around these parts. What are you thinking, Megumi? Don’t ever go there again, his mother would scream.
Megumi pulls out the $100 his mother gave him this morning. Flustered, he hands it over.
“Thank you very much,” He clears his throat. “Sukuna.”
And he might just come back tomorrow.
“I want another piercing,” Megumi states, rubbing his chin as he overlooks the selection of stomach jewelry. “Bellybutton. I even wore a short top.”
The omega steps back to show the skintight white shirt; he stole it from Tsumiki. His swollen nipple bars smile through the material.
The shop’s metalhead music is extremely loud; it nearly makes Megumi deaf. Only Kirara and Sukuna are here, save for a small number of customers. It’s a dead day, apparently.
Sukuna is holding a cup of ramen in his hand, chopsticks in the other. His pink hair is covered in a baggy hat, and his outfit isn’t much to talk about, representative of a lazy day. But his face is drop-dead gorgeous, and Megumi thinks with a little love and attention, he can make him dazzle. Starting with leather clothing, maybe?
The omega wiggles his nose and avoids staring at Sukuna’s legs. His imagination will run vividly.
“Will you?”
Sukuma slurps the noodles. Kirara is too busy on the phone with a customer.
“No,” He says between chewing. Megumi scrunches his face.
“Don’t speak while you eat.”
“It’s my store,” He rolls his eyes. Before uttering another word, he disappears into an adjacent room, coming out minutes later with the same familiar items from yesterday. He places it onto the glass counter.
Megumi blinks. “Wait…you aren’t going to do it right here, are you?”
“Yeah,” The large owner grumbles. “You need to leave. You stink…allegedly.” When he says this, he gives Megumi a condescending grin. The omega scoffs.
“You’re running an awful business.”
“It pays my bills. Sue me, sweetheart.”
“If I get infected, I surely will.”
Sukuna attaches the clamp on the upper skin of his bellybutton. They had been so busy talking, he hadn’t noticed Sukuna prepare. Megumi raises his forearms and tries to step back, only to be pulled forward by rough hands on his hip.
“Stand still.”
“You’re doing it now, seriously? In front of everyone?” He gapes. “Wait, I need to breathe—”
Sukuna pushes the needle through. Finally, instead of crying in pain, that same fluttering, blossoming feeling envelopes him whole. Megumi sucks in a wet breath and eyes flutter in pleasure. The man’s hands fiddle to place in a simple ring (a boring color and design, unfortunately), and Megumi rises on his tippy toes.
Their eyes meet. Gaze dipped in liquid sultry underneath curled lashes and hooded lids, Megumi spells it out. His pink tongue licks his lips, the curve in his spine bends. Ultimately, Sukuna takes in Megumi’s unusual reaction, and his face alters into something he cannot identify.
Stepping back, Sukuna oversees his work. A tiny droplet of blood trails down his navel. Wetting his thumb, Sukuna cleans it; the stain doesn’t last very long, shortly placed onto the man’s tongue as if it were a normal thing to do. Megumi thought last time shocked him enough, but tasting his blood is beyond what he dreamed of.
The young omega hands Sukuna a $300 tip,
—and bolts.
Following a week later, Megumi learns that he’s close to his heat.
As if it wasn’t becoming obvious enough.
The areas that were pierced are hot to the touch, but every time he feels that salient pain, it is matched with fine-drawn delight. He’s starting to think he’s going crazy, and that maybe his stepmother was right about nosing into places that aren’t meant for him.
The omega ends up finding Sukuna’s website later. He gets a full list of what piercings the man does and writes down each one to look up. In the midst, he sees Sukuna’s age and gasps. Thirty-eight? He looks so much younger. Megumi is only twenty-two.
He spends the entire night researching what he wants, and by the time the sun rises, he’s decided.
“I want another piercing.”
“Oh, really?” Sukuna is leaning on the glass counter again, shuffling cards with Hakari, Kirara, and a white-haired adult with mauve-pink eyes. He’s sipping whiskey and smoking a cigarette.
It’s 12 AM, and the only customers are the occasionally drunk teenagers looking for a flash tattoo. Megumi couldn’t sneak out earlier in the day since his mother had her friends over for scrapbooking.
“Yes. And you must do this one in private,” Megumi walks closer to the group. The cigarette smells sweet; he likes it. “I will pay you handsomely.”
“No one talks like that,” Hakari mutters. “Where are you from? The valley?”
Megumi sneers. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
“What is it?” Sukuna questions between his cigarette, words muffled. The omega shakes his head.
“I’ll tell you in private.”
That garners his attention. He told him twice.
Time seems to stand still. Sukuna shares a gaze that only he and Megumi seem to engage in. The others are too oblivious. Wetting his lips, Megumi surveys the man’s body without tact and smiles. Sukuna finishes his whiskey—reminiscent of the first day they met—and tosses his cards.
“Fuckin’ cheaters,” He curses and stubs the stick. “Come on.”
Megumi can barely contain his excitement. They enter the same room as before, and the omega doesn’t hesitate to sit on the loud sanitary paper. Sukuna is taking off his rings.
“I have my own jewelry, too. I bought it myself,” Pulling a small box out of his pocket, Megumi shows the man. “It’s real rose gold.”
“And give me less money?” Questions the man bitterly. Megumi rolls his eyes.
“You’re so bitter.”
“What do you want?”
Megumi smiles. He widens his thighs by a margin, bending back as he places a palm between his legs. He softly pats. The action was so risqué, he shocked himself seconds after.
“A VCH.”
In simple terms, a clit piercing.
Megumi might be insane.
Sukuna snorts. “You looked that up on your little tablet at home, didn’t you.”
“So what if I did?” Megumi blushes. It was a laptop, thank you very much. “I knew what I wanted. I didn’t know the name.”
“Surely.”
“Can you do it?”
“Tell me—” Sukuna snaps on the black gloves. He holds up the sterilized jewelry and nods. “—do you like a little pain?”
Megumi feels a cold breeze hit the back of his neck. He shudders, tensing his legs despite the fact he should surely start undressing. Right? The omega swallows, reluctant to answer.
Do I?
“I don’t know,” he says honestly. All at once, Sukuna reaches far enough onto one foot to lock the door. He rolls the jewelry in the middle of his fingers.
Sukuna fixates on the gem, seemingly with no end. “We can find out.”
“Sure.” He agrees too madly. A church boy going insane—it sounds like a fun poem.
Megumi isn’t doing too well.
He’s making jokes about it all now as if his stepmother and sister won’t blow a fuse once they find out. It’s already been a bitch hiding the regular flinches and yelps when Megumi accidentally brushes the wounds in public.
The omega peels off his underwear, extending a leg far enough that it brushes Sukuna’s hip. He stares, but not as hungrily as Megumi wants. He folds the thin cloth and looks around the room. “Where do I put my legs?”
Sukuna has the clamp again. It’s funny seeing him with it; Megumi was terrified of it a few days ago. Setting his thoughts ablaze and to dusty ash, the owner grabs the meat of his thigh and hoists. Leaning, Megumi reddens and pushes back.
“Hey—”
“Don’t have a holder. Legs up, princess,” He fails to even spare him a glance, far too interested in what is between his thighs. “Spread a little to the left.”
“This is so embarrassing.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted?” His tone is as molten and thick as magma. Megumi blinks to the gothic ceiling, cheeks heating when a touch brushes his sensitive navel. “Or are you going to continue coming back for the rest of my life? You’ll run out of places to poke a hole in.”
The omega clenches his eyes closed. “Just hurry up. I’m nervous.”
Instead of paying him any mind, Sukuna continues. “…though soon, I won’t be able to help myself. I do love a babe with a lot of piercings.”
Babe? A moment to question his wording passes by, waving. Fingers daintily touch his hole’s lips; it’s needy but overwhelming. Sukuna spreads him open, fleshy pink insides becoming glossy as air kisses it. His clit sits atop, enlarged and rosy, a fitting throne for attractive jewelry.
Megumi hides his shame as the man sanitizes, his cunt soon pulsing. It is shameful. He sees the needle and feels the clamp; the anxiety evaporates. He becomes restless—almost impatient to feel the sharp pain.
“Put it in,” Megumi grits, the euphemism flying over his dizzy head. He misses the way Sukuna’s eyes widen and brows furrow. The needle goes in. Head tilted back, the omega purrs, an all-consuming fire erupting along his skin.
His head falls off and dips in the ocean, drowning. Megumi’s pre-heat begins, unnoticed by the older man. What was normally an unpleasant scent to normal Beta has become rancid. To Alphas? A fresh smell of blooming roses and pine.
The jewelry is in. Sukuna straightens the barbel before trailing his fingers down. His gloves are rubbery against his skin.
“Right now?” The man whispers, touching the place where all the nectar is flowing. Megumi nods, far too buzzed about the pleasure and frustration strangling his body.
“God,” Sukuna utters. “You’re filthy. Where the hell did you come from?” Don’t use his name in vain, his stepmother would scold.
Megumi breathes. “You started my pre-heat… you can’t smell it?”
“Do I have to tell you a second time?” After peeling his gloves off, Sukuna pushes the omega into a mating press (he probably doesn’t even know it is one). His ankles are in the air as Sukuna hums.
“I was born without a sense of smell.”
A wet appendage slides from the bottom of his opening to kiss his throbbing, sore clit. Sukuna’s tongue is relentless, collecting slick and pushing it back into his hole. He sucks the omega’s swollen lips, releasing with a pop before diving in for more.
Megumi rolls his hips, shaking as the pleasure crosses zones of intolerable.
“Alpha…” He whines. The sounds are wet and noisy; he’s going to cum. “Don’t stop. I can take it…”
He’s being used. Sukuna doesn’t know—but he’s using him.
And Megumi fucking loves it.
There must be something broken about him, after all.
Omegas are downright horny for anybody when in heat. It’s why they are locked up during it, to prevent issues such as unwanted pregnancies or rape. Megumi loves God just as much as the church, but he’s always enjoyed his heat way more than the average omega.
He felt wrong. Dirty. But right now, even if Megumi woke up the next day with a clear mind, he’d miss this feeling. A man he barely knows is devouring him whole, and he’s never felt such pleasure in his life.
It’ll be hard to continue living like normal after this.
I’ll miss you, sweet serenity.
“I’m not an animal like you. Don’t call me an alpha.” The large man clenches his meaty thighs. Sukuna presses soft kisses on his glossy, weeping pussy; Megumi is infatuated.
“Put your tongue back inside, Daddy...” Megumi grinds into the man’s mouth and mewls. Sukuna blinks several times and then shakes out his stupor.
“You omega are something special…”
“Fuck me, fuck me—“ Impatient, Megumi snatches the man’s hair and pushes him between his thighs. “Stop talking, what the fuck?”
“Listen, you little fucking Devil,” Sukuna pushes his forearm away with the strength of a bull. Megumi gasped, another pulse gushing as the man grabbed him by the throat.
Sukuna sneers.
“I’m doing you a fucking favor. Keep mouthing off and I’ll fuck you in front of everybody. You think I won’t?”
The image runs rapidly in Megumi’s mind. Sukuna sucks his fingers and slides one into his sopping wet hole, thumb lightly grazing his sore clit. The rapture and sting drive the omega simply mad.
He fingers his cunt until the mess soaks the paper below. Slick gathers and creams; Sukuna pulls out and runs the honey along his thigh.
“I run this. You came to my shop, princess,” Sukuna bends closer and licks Megumi’s bottom lip for entrance. “I'm going to fucking ruin you.”
The kiss is minty. Megumi looks up at him, gaze pure and dramatic. “No, you’re going to complete me.” Sukuna’s expression is a deep-seated confusion; he hadn’t anticipated such a reply.
He rolls scarlet eyes.
“Whatever.”
His tongue wanders back into Megumi’s hot, warm cunt. The omega’s legs are cramping, but the way everything feels, he can’t move. Fuck. It’s so good. So explorative, so much, fuck—
“You’re amazing,” He’s drunk on it. It feels like a slippery, wet slide; Megumi rocks his pussy back and forth. “I’m so lucky. I feel you everywhere. I want you.”
Whether it’s a horny exaggeration or the truth, Sukuna pulls away and licks the spit pooling in his thigh’s crevices; he growls: “You need to leave.”
“But why?” Frustrated, Megumi clenches his chest, moaning at the soreness. “I’m nice to you.”
“Because you stink—“
“—‘allegedly’,” Megumi laughs. “You don’t suck me like I stink.” That manages to garner a smile out of the cold-stoned man. “Alphas say I smell like roses.”
“What do they say you taste like?”
“I don’t know,” Megumi hums. “No one ever tasted me.” Sukuna lifts the omega’s hips to a more comfortable position. He hovers over Megumi’s flower, his shadow laying claim and its aura oozing a scent of possessiveness.
“You’re perfect.”
He fucks holy fingers into the small omega’s hole, rapidly and skillfully. He ignores the piercing and rubs Megumi’s clit, drawing a sweet whine from the doll.
“You aren’t going to fuck me?” Megumi mewls, body jolting as Sukuna’s fingers explore deep into his womb. “I’m not a virgin. I promise.”
He’s lying.
“You’re messy,” Sukuna grunts. “Later.” He’s posturing his hips forward, hard-on mountainous in his pants. Megumi grabs his ankles and clenches, mouth gaping into a squeal as his cunt climaxes.
“Oh-Oh my-f-fuck!”
Later.
The possibilities ignite Megumi’s imagination to run wild, Sukuna’s fingers turning into his dick fucking him into the floor until he can’t breathe nor complain. His pussy would be sore—the piercing wouldn’t heal.
“Daddy…” The omega sucks in spit and catches his breath. “It hurts.”
It does hurt. Between the rough fingering and getting a needle in his precious clit, he’ll wake up tomorrow destroyed.
Megumi licks his wet, rosy lips and grins. Sukuna kisses him again, the man’s desperation conveying that he finds him irresistible. The omega chuckles.
“You have a bad mouth on you,” Sukuna mutters, unimpressed as he can be at a time like this. Drunk off his orgasm, Megumi hums and closes his legs tight, innocent eyelashes fluttering about.
“Do I?”
A day ago, Tsumiki found out about my piercings. She saw the jewelry on my nightstand, and was, unironically, jealous.
I was going to tell her that she should get them done too, but then I thought about Sukuna doing them, and I couldn’t help but have the urge to strangle an innocent bystander sitting next to me at Bible Study to premature death.
Living with my family is a piece of work. But if I lived alone, I might start doing bad stuff again. At church, I have to be sure to pray twice as hard. Because if God has seen everything I did, he might as well give me one ticket to Hell.
Sometimes, I wonder if I even want to go to Heaven.
I know the person that I am will burn to flames.
Why doesn't that scare me?
I guess Sukuna is right. I do like a little pain. Is this okay?
In His name and grace,
I hope He will forgive me,
M.F
(burn later)