Chapter Text
Name: Ryomen Sukuna
Age: 21
Type: Alpha
Describe your scent: Strong
Explain the purpose of your visit: I want to make my scent milder if possible.
Two things strike Megumi as odd about the application in his hand. First of all, it is rare for an alpha this young to seek out his services. Secondly, an alpha asking to mellow their scent is even less common. Typically, they want it to be richer. Enhancing it, in hopes of becoming irresistible for a certain someone, or to omegas in general. Megumi’s most typical clients are alphas with scents that are more typical for betas or even omegas.
Therefore, Megumi is highly curious about this man already. Ryomen’s appointment is set to 10:00, making him the first client this day. Megumi has prepared everything. The consulting room contains two robust armchairs facing each other, and next to those, a side table with a dozen glass vials, all marked with a scent. On handwritten notes, one can read coffee, vanilla, caramel, grapefruit, licorice, among others.
One wall in the room is covered with glass shelves with perfume bottles in various sizes and shapes in neat rows. Every bottle has a description of the scent on a handwritten card next to it. The room in itself doesn’t smell much, as Megumi covers it with a scent-neutralising spray between every client.
Megumi is covered by strong blockers, making his scent undetectable, which is highly necessary for his line of work. Some would call him an expert sniffer. Megumi himself prefers to call it being a pheromone specialist. Same thing, different name.
Megumi reads Ryomen’s application again. Saying that a scent is Strong doesn’t mean anything at all. He should clarify on the application form that he wants a description of the smell in itself.
At two minutes to ten, the door leading into his shop opens, the bell hanging above it giving a soft, welcoming ding. The small waiting room and the consultation room are separated by a curtain, and Megumi slides that aside to meet his new client.
His first thought is: oh.
The man in the middle of closing the door behind him after stepping inside is an alpha, alright. Tall, broad shoulders, and the open leather jacket don’t hide that the man is packed with muscles. Big, for someone in his early twenties. Not even alphas are usually so bearish until they are closer to their thirties. What Megumi is even more curious about is the man’s cotton candy pink hair with a dark undercut and the tattoos on his face. His neck is covered with blockers, but Megumi can still smell traces of what his scent is like on his clothes. Lavender is the first thing that comes to mind.
The man’s eyes find Megumi’s. He doesn’t slouch, yet there’s something hesitant to his demeanour. It’s not unusual for some of the clients to act like so; some are so nervous when stepping inside his little shop, they look to be seconds from passing out, but there’s something different about the hesitant glint in those brown eyes.
“Good morning,” Megumi says. “Mr. Ryomen?”
“Yes,” the man replies. “Morning.”
“I’m Fushiguro Megumi. Welcome. You can leave your jacket here, and I’ll show you inside. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water…”
“No, thank you.” Ryomen removes his jacket. Underneath, he wears a long-sleeved, white shirt. Through the sheer fabric, more tattoos on his arms and chest can be seen.
Megumi leads the way to the consultation room and gestures for Ryomen to sit. With the alpha in front of him, Megumi takes his notepad, which he has prepared with what little he got to know about the man through the application he sent in. Ryomen’s eyes move over the bottles on the small side table before landing on Megumi.
He sits with his legs spread wide, alpha-style, resting his forearms on his knees. Hunched forward, fingers interlaced. His nails are painted, Megumi notices. Curious. Young alphas choose to dress quite differently from how they used to. He can practically hear his father’s voice in his head. Kids these days.
“Since this is your first appointment, I thought I would begin by describing my services,” Megumi offers. Ryomen nods. “What I do is pair up natural scents with perfumes. It could be to match the scent of a mate better, to bring harmony to a home. It could be to enhance a mild scent, to make it come off as stronger.”
“What about dulling them?” Ryomen asks.
“That as well. It’s common in certain lines of work, for example. I am convinced that I can help you with what you are looking for. The way it works is that we mix your natural scent with one of the fragrances I have here.” Megumi makes a gesture to the wall behind him. Ryomen’s eyes dart up to the shelves filled with bottles. ”I examine you, and we go with trial and error until we find the desired effect. If I can’t find a good match, I will take a sample of your scent, and I will create a new one to match you specifically.”
Ryomen listens intently to Megumi’s explanation, shifting to stroke a thumb along his jaw, tilting his chin up with a low hum. He did state his age to be twenty-one in the application, but his mature features almost make that hard to believe.
“I’ve tried similar services before, but it has never worked. You’ll have to excuse me for not being very optimistic.”
“All of these fragrances are ones that I’ve handmade, and they are therefore quite different from the usual pheromone perfumes you can find in a regular store.”
“Meaning that they are better?”
“I’d like to believe so, yes. Could you tell me why you are looking to have your scent mildened?”
Ryomen shifts in his seat. Leaning back, he folds his arms over his chest and lifts his foot to rest on the opposite leg’s knee. His face doesn’t reveal anything, but his body language speaks volumes. Shying away. A strange thing to see on such a handsome, young alpha. Ryomen’s voice is, however, still steady when he speaks.
“My scent is too strong. And when I say strong, I mean way too strong. I’ve tried every lotion there is on the market, but it only makes me smell odd. Regular pheromone perfumes, as you call them, are even worse. The only thing I can do is use blockers, but it makes me nauseous when I wear them for too many hours.”
Megumi scribbles down a couple of short notes in his pad. The troubles Ryomen describes are not unheard of; the scent you are born with can be a make-or-break in many ways. Jobs, friends, love life. It will all be affected by it.
“How long have you had troubles with this?” Megumi asks.
“As long as I can remember. It got worse the older I got.”
“Your scent got stronger in your teens.”
“A lot.”
“You’ll have to excuse me for being straightforward, but is the problem that your scent is unpleasant?”
Ryomen shakes his head, “No. That’s not the problem. The problem is how people react to it.”
“I understand. So, is it safe to assume that it has affected your relationships?”
The alpha averts his gaze, looking to the side, a ghost of something Megumi swears is shame brushing past his face. “I’ve never had a relationship. I can’t see omegas, and I’ve tried to see betas, but it never clicked.”
“How does your scent affect omegas?”
Ryomen’s eyes find Megumi’s again. A pause follows before he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. “They go into heat.”
Megumi frowns. Now, an alpha’s pheromones can have quite an effect on omegas, but triggering a heat? That’s almost unheard of. “All of them?”
“More or less. I can’t be close to them. You. Because you are an omega, aren’t you? Even though you come off as a beta.”
Megumi nods. He rarely states whether he’s an omega or a beta, but most people assume the latter because of his build and the expert covering of his scent.
“I am. But you don’t have to worry. I am not any omega.”
“Now it’s your turn to excuse me, but what is that supposed to mean?”
Megumi rests the notepad on his legs and interlaces his fingers on top of it. Ryomen’s doubt is understandable, since what Megumi is about to tell him is also unheard of.
“No alpha scent has ever had any effect on me, and I’ve been doing this for well over ten years now. Fifteen, almost. And I’ll also tell you something personal, that I hope might convince you even more.”
“Which is?”
“I’ve never had a heat.”
Ryomen’s brows shoot up at this statement. “Never?”
“Never. I won’t go into details about it, but rest assured. Your scent is strong; you have come to learn to always avoid omegas, but you’ve never met one like me.”
“Fair enough,” Ryomen says. He takes his foot down from his knee again and leans forward the way he did earlier. There’s now a glint of something hopeful in his eyes. “So you think you can help me?”
“I will do my very best.” Megumi sets the notepad aside and scoots further out on the edge of the armchair. “The first thing I would like to do is to get to feel your scent. You can remove one of your blockers on your wrist, if that feels better for you, even though the one on your neck is preferable.”
That idea is clearly not appealing to Ryomen. He shakes his head, tugs the sleeve up on his right arm, extending it towards Megumi. There are two black lines inked on his skin, leaping around his wrist. A blocker covers his scent gland.
“What do I do in case I affect you?” Ryomen asks. “What if?”
“Don’t worry,” Megumi says. “I’m a professional.”
Despite his assurance, Ryomen is stiff when Megumi takes his hand in both of his and tugs him closer. If his scent is strong enough to lure omegas in heat that easily, he can’t be blamed for being cautious. If anything, it shows that he is a good man. He could easily have chosen to use that to his benefit instead of choosing to protect omegas from the effects.
Should something happen here in Megumi’s consultation room, they would both end up in a highly uncomfortable situation. He is, however, convinced it will not happen. Over the years, he has met hundreds, perhaps even thousands of alphas, and not one time have their pheromones caused him to as much as stir.
Megumi apologises under his breath when removing the blocker from Ryomen’s arm, but the man doesn’t as much as wince. Megumi takes hold of his wrist and gently rubs his thumbs over the slightly reddened skin. Even though the man is relaxed, Megumi can feel the strength that resides in his body.
Usually, it takes a minute or two for the scent to find its way back after being suppressed under blockers, but within seconds, Ryomen’s scent begins to fill the air. Megumi stops massaging, but not because he is finished.
He is paralysed.
Ryomen’s scent is not to be described as strong, because that’s the understatement of the century. The lavender is so potent, so heavy, that it burns Megumi’s sensitive nose. A large, scorching hot fist wraps around his entire lower body and squeezes. Megumi’s mouth waters, and whatever happens with his own scent when smelling Ryomen’s is covered by his blockers, thank the heavens, but he can’t hide that his pupils widen, nor stop the purrs that begin to vibrate in his throat.
Megumi never purrs. Never. That is sheer unprofessionalism. It’s thankfully very low, a mere tickle in his chest, so Ryomen shouldn’t even notice. Megumi looks up into brown eyes, and something moves in his chest, fluttering around, bouncing and clawing, calling for his attention.
Alpha.
Be good.
Megumi leans back in his seat, careful not to move too fast, alerting Ryomen of the battle that is raging inside him. Never in his forty-year-long life has he felt something even remotely like this.
Ever.
“Are you… okay?” Ryomen asks.
“I’m alright.” Megumi keeps his voice steady. After the initial shock has passed, his purrs ebb away. Whatever he is feeling about what just happened has to wait until later. The most important thing now is to remain professional. “Your scent is indeed strong. I can understand how it may have caused you some problems.”
“You’re the first to have ever…” Ryomen’s words trail, fascination, and disbelief in his tone. A smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “You truly aren’t any omega.”
“Indeed. Now. I can already tell that I will not be able to do what you’re asking with one of the fragrances I already have. I’ll have to take a sample of your scent and make a special one for you. I’ll have to warn you. It’s not a pleasant procedure. It will hurt. A whole lot.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes,” Ryomen says. “I read on your home page what the whole thing is about, and I don’t care if it hurts. I just want to have this fixed.”
Megumi nods. It shouldn’t come to this, but in Ryomen’s case, it can’t be helped. He is already wondering if he might have promised too much. This alpha’s scent is unlike anything he has ever had to work with. How is he supposed to make something that matches and dulls something this potent?
Megumi is resilient, however, so he is determined to at least try. He wants to help this man in any way that he can. He always wants to help his clients, more or less, but there’s something about this young man that he… well, he supposes that he has taken a shine to him somehow.
“Wait here for just a moment, please.”
Megumi rises from the armchair and moves to the room adjacent to the consultation room. Behind the door, there is what could be closest described as an examination room. There, things are more sterile. An examination chair, stainless steel counters, and a trolley with various instruments, all carefully washed.
Megumi brings out test tubes that he places in a rack on the trolley, and a new needle. The procedure of retrieving someone’s scent in its purest form is, as he said to Ryomen, painful at best. More so for alphas than omegas, simply because they aren’t born to tolerate pain in the same way omegas are.
With everything set up, Megumi returns to fetch Ryomen. The alpha looks around as he gets comfortable in the examination chair. When Megumi brings out the strap he will use to keep him in place, he shows a healthy dose of hesitation.
“Is that necessary?” he asks.
“It is,” Megumi confirms. He urges Ryomen to lean back and wraps the broad strap over the alpha’s chest. The leather sinks into his meaty muscles, and Ryomen grunts. It’s a tight fit thanks to his size. Megumi wraps two more straps around his wrists once his upper body is secured. “I’d rather avoid being bitten by those fangs of yours.”
“I’d never bite.”
“You’ll want to.”
At this, Ryomen makes a small hum, and he flashes his fangs in a teasing grin. “You’re almost making me think you are flirting with me, Mr. Fushiguro.”
Megumi scoffs. Ryomen is nervous. If joking about it helps him, he’ll let it slide.
With the alpha secured in place, Megumi takes hold of Ryomen’s jaw, leans his head to the side, and rips the blocker off his neck. Even stronger pulses of the lavender scent wash through the air as soon as it’s gone. Megumi tries to be discreet when he breathes through his mouth. He brings yet another strap and secures Ryomen’s head with it, leaping over his forehead. This time, Ryomen grimaces. His hands curl into fists, and the muscles in his arms swell when he gives a trying tug. He isn’t going anywhere.
“Does it really hurt that bad?”
“Just try and relax.” Megumi fetches a wooden stick, which he holds in front of the man’s mouth. Primal, but highly effective. Especially on alphas. It’s in their nature. “Bite.”
Without protesting, Sukuna takes the stick in his mouth, much like an obedient dog would. Megumi suppresses the smile that threatens to spread on his lips at that thought. Focus. Ryomen’s fangs are large, much bigger than one normally sees, even for an alpha. His eyes find Megumi’s, and when he speaks, his voice is muffled.
“This is crazy.”
“Mhm.”
Megumi slides his hands into a new pair of gloves and puts on his protective glasses. He tries to work as fast as he can so that the alpha won’t fully come to terms with exactly how crazy it is, strapped down in a chair with a stranger in the room.
“I’ll try to be quick. Now, I want you to focus your eyes on the painting that’s on the ceiling.”
Ryomen’s eyes move there, finding the painting with different colored bubbles, just like one would find at the dentist to give the patients something to look at and distract themselves with. Megumi opens the wrapper to the needle, which he is going to insert into the man’s scent gland. He makes sure Ryomen doesn’t see the length and width of it. More than once has a client freaked out because of that, which they can’t be blamed for. It’s a damn big needle.
“I want you to count the red bubbles,” Megumi continues. He strokes an alcohol wipe over Ryomen’s neck, then taps the scent gland with the tip of his fingers. “Should be fourteen.”
“Thirteen,” Ryomen grunts around the stick.
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure it’s fourteen.”
Megumi lines the needle right by the gland, quickly looking at Ryomen’s eyes. As he had hoped, the man is fully occupied to count and prove Megumi wrong, and he seizes the opportunity. The needle slides in swiftly, buried right into the gland. Ryomen’s entire body stiffens, his eyes widening.
The howl of pain comes along with trashing against the straps; he kicks his legs out, and saliva sprays through his mouth. The wood in the stick cracks when he bites into it with a loud growl, a sound that makes the warm fist that is still holding Megumi’s abdomen tighten again.
“Breathe,” Megumi reminds him.
“F-fuck… Oh fuck, make it stop, make it st- ghh…”
“Just breathe now, Ryomen. Try not to move around too much. You’ll hurt yourself.”
“T-trying…”
Much to Megumi’s relief, getting a sample from the man is easy. Within a minute, three test tubes are filled with a clear substance, and the needle can be retrieved again. A drop of sweat races down Ryomen’s forehead, over his temple, and disappears into his hair. The shirt is sticking to his body, so damp that the fabric has turned nearly translucent. Each of his breaths comes out with a small groan, growl, or whimper.
Megumi gently pulls the stick from the alpha’s mouth. Ryomen coughs, wetting his lips with his tongue. Having to see a client in pain is never easy, and there’s something extra distressing about doing it to this man. Perhaps because he is so young. Or, possibly, because Megumi’s omega wants to please him. Megumi wouldn’t know what that feels like.
“Oh my fucking hell,” Ryomen grunts. “That was a lot worse than I thought. Good thing you strapped me down.”
“I told you so.”
Megumi unbuckles the strap that kept Ryomen’s head in place, and he can now turn it to see the test tubes filled with the clear liquid, and also the needle that Megumi just had in his neck. He grimaces at the sight.
“That thing was inside me? No wonder it fucking hurt.”
You’d know about big things hurting someone, wouldn’t you?
“Mhm.” Megumi swiftly gets rid of the rest of the straps, and once Ryomen is free from them, he sits up. He rests a hand over his swollen scent gland. “Try not to touch it. You’ll be sore for a couple of hours, and touching it will make it worse. I’ll get you a new blocker to cover it.”
“It’s alright, I always carry extra with me. Are you sure this will work?” Ryomen nods in the direction of the samples of his scent.
“I’m going to try my best.” Megumi rips the gloves off his hands with two small snaps. “I will be honest with you, though. I have never met anyone with a scent this strong, so I won’t make a promise I’m not sure if I can keep. Usually, it takes me about a week to make the fragrance. I might need more time.”
“I’m in no rush.”
Ryomen gets out of the chair. As he rolls his shoulders with a soft grunt, Megumi’s eyes linger on the way it makes his pectoral muscles move. How can a twenty-one-year-old pup be so big? Realising that he is actually ogling his client, he hurriedly snaps his eyes up. Ryomen’s lips curl to a knowing smile when their gazes meet. Megumi turns away as his cheeks start to feel awfully warm.
Focus.
“I’ll see you out,” Megumi says.
The alpha obediently trails after him when Megumi gestures at him to follow along, and he brings him back to the small waiting room. Megumi steps in behind the counter there, and while he prepares the payment, Ryomen digs out new blockers that he attaches over his scent glands. He slides the jacket back on and then approaches the counter right in time for Megumi to have set up the card machine.
“Do you have any questions right now?”
“I don’t think so.” Ryomen taps his card on the machine. It beeps, and he enters his code.
“Okay. I will contact you in about a week, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you feel the need.”
“Does that mean I get to ask for your number?” The suggestive smirk Ryomen flashes him almost makes Megumi’s cheeks burn again. Almost. He does, however, take great pride in his ability to stay professional. Not to mention that this young alpha is just a pup. Megumi knows better than to indulge in something like that either way. It doesn’t matter that this young alpha’s scent is the first to have ever made him feel…
... like that.
“You’ll find it on the website.” Megumi’s tone is drier than he had intended, but the alpha doesn’t take it to heart. Instead, his brows twitch, and his lips curl in amusement.
“Right. Gotcha. Well then, thank you for this, Mr. Fushiguro. I’m feeling rather hopeful. I’ll be looking forward to hearing from you.” Ryomen takes two steps back, one hand raised in the air. The biggest hand Megumi has ever seen. “Bye.”
“Bye, Mr. Ryomen. Have a nice day.”
The bell dings above Ryomen when he heads out, throwing one last look over his shoulder before disappearing. The second the door shuts, Megumi walks back to his consultation room with hurried steps.
Something takes over Megumi then and there. It’s unlike anything he has ever felt before, and whether he likes it or not, he is going to have to accept where he is taken.
Megumi’s eyes find the bin where he threw Ryomen’s scent blocker earlier. His pulse beats hard in his ears when he throws it open and digs out the small patch that had been attached to the man’s wrist. Megumi presses his nose to it, inhales. Grimaces, because what the fuck is he doing, sniffing a man’s used blocker like that? But he must. He can’t help it, he can’t help it.
The neutralising effect of the blocker is barely doing anything at all to even out the potent lavender. Saliva pools in Megumi’s mouth, and he doesn’t even realise that he has snuck a hand down his clothes before his fingers reach his swollen cunt. Soaked, throbbing.
Alpha.
Megumi sinks to his knees, cheek leaning against the cool leather of the armchair, sniffing the patch like a rabid dog, whimpers and moans spilling from his parted lips. It’s spinning. The room, the world, it spins, his cunt aches so badly it hurts, and the fingers he fucks himself with aren’t remotely enough to satisfy the hunger that has been awakened in his core.
“Ryo-mmh,” he slurs. “Alpha, please, p-please, oh fuck fuck fuck…”
Megumi comes so hard his ears ring, and a loud whimper rises in his throat. His body convulses, the pleasure so strong it is barely enjoyable. His muscles melt, body sliding off the armchair, and he collapses on the floor, curled on his side. He is still gulping for air when he retrieves his hand from his pants. It’s glistening wet, soaked with his slick.
“Oh no.” Megumi’s mouth is suddenly dry, and he sits up so fast he makes himself dizzy. “No. What?”
Is he out of his mind? Why on earth would he do such a thing? What if someone had come in? What if Ryomen had returned, coming back to ask him a question, and found Megumi howling his name while sniffing his blocker?
Megumi still can’t properly feel his legs when he gets up to yank the neutralising spray from the shelf. He sprays, and sprays, and sprays, chasing all of the scent away from the room, but no matter what, he can still feel it. The lavender burns his throat, tickles his sinuses, and he can taste it when he moves his tongue inside his mouth.
He collapses on the armchair once the spray bottle is empty, only making little hisses when he tries to pump out more.
So, Fushiguro Megumi might not be any other omega. But Ryomen Sukuna isn’t any other alpha, and the upcoming week of working with his scent to create a fragrance…
… it’s going to be a long one.