Archive of Our Own

The bass thumps in tandem with his footsteps as Sukuna weaves through the crowd. 

Dancefloor his runway, he slides through couples grinding against eachother, swerves the women that sway their hips in his direction with a flirtatious simper, narrowly avoids getting hip-checked by some fucking chump. Boring. They’re all so fucking boring. Posers that come in here in normie attire. 

Sukuna doesn’t wanna ogle men in Adidas joggers. He wants to see a nice ass in some skin-tight, leather pants– is that too much to ask for, anymore? What ever happened to dressing up like vampires? He looks the part himself. Sukuna has long since gotten used to the mildly sticky feeling of thick, white powder on his face and heavy eyeliner. Even his lips are colored black in celebration. Of what, he wasn’t fucking sure. Tonight just felt like a good night, despite all the boring folk crowding the joint. 

He glowers at some girl who gawks up at him as if he’s some circus display. Sukuna gives no verbal response, just a glare in disdain at her shirt which is clearly from some bogus store like Aerie. Whatever. 

Sukuna continues to make his way to the bar, leaning against the sleek black countertop of it. It feels cool through the thin sleeves of his mesh shirt. “What’s good, Cho?” 

His brother whips his head around to him, space buns bouncing in a comically cute manner. “Busy! I’m fucking tired!” The older has to yell over the deep bass. Sukuna doesn’t know this song, it must be something more modern.

“Too tired to get me a beer? Or, no, a rum and coke.” Sukuna decides, knocking his fist against the bar once. 

Choso rolls his eyes but pivots his body to get started on Sukuna’s drink. “Gotta keep those hands busy! Maybe I’ll even tip you.” Sukuna jokes. He’d never tip his older brother, even if he deserves it. Choso raised him and Yuuji once their grandfather unfortunately passed away suddenly. Sukuna will never forget the intercom announcement in kindergarten, requesting that both he and Yuuji head to the principal’s office. Choso stood with eyes rimmed red from tears and a solemn expression. Sukuna vaguely recalls Yuuji reaching for his hand, as if even at the young age of nine, he knew to brace himself. 

Life swiftly changed then. Choso sort of became a dad at the ripe age of twenty. Juggled online college courses and a full-time job, all while raising his two younger brothers. His job now, at the bar, is pretty cushiony due to tips. Sukuna always feels this weird little wave of delight when he overhears patrons complimenting his brother’s drink-mixing ability. Or his looks. He needs to hear shit like that, and the bashful expression Choso gets on his face after is truly a testament to that. 

“You’d never!” Choso calls before another patron captures his attention, saying something Sukuna cannot quite catch as Choso busies his hands with his brother’s drink.

Idly, Sukuna gives the club another once over. This place was fucking huge, a labyrinth. Red walls, but there were a few made of standard brick that acted as accents. Chandeliers on the ceiling, faux-candles in the center of every round, black table– any piece of furniture was black, honestly. Above the bar, mounted atop the wide display of glittering bottles of various types of alcohol, sat a statue of Baphomet. Sukuna almost wants to mutter a prayer to them so he’s bestowed with some pussy tonight. Slim pickings, though. 

Sukuna swivels his head to scan the other side of the club, and that prior thought of slim pickings promptly disintegrates. “Fuck.” Is all he manages to whisper. All he can think right now is who’s that ? Sukuna has never needed to know someone’s name so bad in his life, to hear their voice, to learn every little quirk, vice, and virtue about them. With haste he hauls himself off the bar, ignoring the disgruntled yell of Choso after him– some shit about how he requested a drink just to leave. 

How can Sukuna give a fuck about his drink when he just spotted a beauty ? It’s a little hard to make out the entirety of his features with the red, purple and blue strobe lights that bounced around the club. Or was it her? Fuck, Sukuna didn’t know, didn’t care. Black hair was done-up, spiky and cute. Sukuna wonders what product they use to keep it so perfect like that, fringe gorgeous across their forehead. He can see their feathery lashes from here, the way they’re lined with black and fluffed up with mascara. He’s breathless. 

Back to shoving his way through this obnoxious crowd. It’s even more amped up as “ Durdu Dunya” by She Past Away plays, electronic sound filling the building, makes Sukuna feel like his body is alight. He’s weightless despite the heavy boots strapped to his feet and his own hulking form. Beauty turns their head and their eyes meet as he gets close and Sukuna really fucking feels something. A sensation that starts from his chest and spreads to the rest of his too-big body. 

A little zap, too, or maybe that’s just his cock stirring in his pants. Still a reaction, though. 

“Hey, pretty thing.” It spills from his painted lips so easy. 

Beauty gives him an obvious once over and crosses their arms close to their chest. Flat, Sukuna remarks. That’s fine. Now that he’s closer, he can see the faint lines of abs on their torso, visible from the fact that they’re clad in a black crop top. “Hello.” They greet each other. Simple. Sweet. Sukuna wants to hear more. 

“You here alone?” Sukuna hits them with a classic. 

“No.” Beauty points to two other women that were stationed at a table in the corner of the room, sectioned away from the swaying dance floor, an amalgamation of posers, true goths, and middle aged dads just looking to hear some good eighties music. The ladies are dressed in all black, simple dresses. One has fishnets on and the other does not. They look near identical. Sukuna hates twins in humans, theyre fuckin’ freaks. But in animals, they’re sick. Ever seen a two-headed calf? 

“Two girls? You a pimp?” Sukuna grins, pearly white teeth glinting just right as the strobe lights flash to blue. He stands with a hand on his hip, stance casual. Not too close to Beauty, here. No need to spook him. 

Beauty looks at him with mild incredulousness and Sukuna gets the feeling that joke didn’t really land. “What the fuck?”

Sukuna sighs, letting his arm drop with over-dramaticized exasperation. “Don’t be a prude, hun. I was only jokin’. Can I get your name?” He tries. 

Beauty gives him another weary look before turning and promptly walking away. Sukuna casts one last look over at the two girls they supposedly came with, now busy chattering with some girl with a brown bob. Good– almost too good, he needs those two broads distracted so he can soften up their little friend here. Make it so they’ll not notice the lack of presence.

Sukuna can see those cute little tufts of black hair sticking out from the crowd as Beauty shoves through it, heading towards the back of the club to the bathrooms. Oh? Confirmation incoming. Sukuna is mildly stunned that this little dove hasn’t even bothered turning their head to check behind them— do they not expect to be pursued?

Into the men’s room they go, letting the door swing behind them dramatically. Sukuna is aware it has stalls, it’s not a singlet, so Beauty here couldn’t lock it if they— he tried. 

Like a total creep, Sukuna enters the bathroom as well. With the door shut, the music is muffled. It’s still pleasant, a bit of Bauhaus to excite the soul. It certainly gives Sukuna the confidence he needs. Beauty stands with his hands braced on the long sink to inspect his makeup in one of the mirrors. The lighting in here is pretty fucking shit, but now that there’s no obnoxious strobes, Sukuna can see him for who he truly is. A goddamned angel . 

“Long way from heaven.” Sukuna remarks, hip propped against the counter as he stares . Beauty here wears some loose pants— they look like Dickies, with a low hanging belt and chains. The buckle is thick and skull shaped. It catches the dingy bathroom light at every subtle movement made by Beauty’s hips. Sukuna wishes he could see his ass. Loose pants should be banned. 

“Didn’t think pimps went to heaven.” 

“Good thing you ain’t one, apparently.” Sukuna casts a glance at the stalls. They’re all empty, it seems. Looks like tonight truly is his night. The hunt is on. “So, can I get your name?” 

Radio silence save for the pop of Beauty’s mascara leaving its tube. 

“Shit, alright. Can I get you a drink, then? My brothers the bartender. I’ll getcha one of those drinks with the obnoxious liquid nitrogen. You know, the shit they put on the drink menu for normies and tourists to gawk over.” 

That at least has eyes shifting in his direction. Sukuna almost wants to sigh. Of course he’d have to open his wallet. Or, add onto his already hefty tab. 

“I’ll… pass. I honestly didn’t even want to be here tonight. This place is a little overstimulating.” Beauty says as he touches up his mascara with small strokes. His voice is so soft. Sukuna could sit for hours and listen to him read the most boring shit ever, like one of those Midwest recipe cookbooks with the most bogus dishes ever, a million different salads that didn’t contain a single fucking leaf of lettuce. 

“Yeah? You good, sweet thing? I know it can be a lot. All the lights, noise— people that don’t know jack about personal space. Gotta give me credit, I’ve been givin’ you a nice five feet, at least.” Sukuna points out.

Beauty seems to lose some tension in his shoulders and nods timidly. “Yeah, this isn’t my scene. Well, it is, but clubs aren’t. My cousins dragged me out.” He reveals, looking at his own expression solemnly in the mirror. “Actually, maybe I do need a drink.” Comes a rather swift backtrack. 

Sukuna watches in mild surprise as Beauty tucks his mascara into his bag and cleanly pivots, boots heavy against the tile floor as he walks out. A glance is thrown over his shoulder and Sukuna promptly gets the message. Buy me that drink. 

More annoying crowd-sifting ensues. Sukuna feels a twinge of irritation when some bitch totally shoulder checks Beauty. The little dove seems unbothered and continues back to the long bar. Choso runs one end whilst the other is managed by a charismatic man named Suguru. Sukuna didn’t know him that well, never really got around to chatting with him. He always had men and women alike giggling, though. 

Beauty sits at the end, hoisting himself into one of the tall, black stools. There’s none left, so Sukuna stands where the bar edges out. He actually prefers this, can keep other vultures from eyeing up his score of the evening. Even if he didn’t get some ass, a phone number would suffice. 

“This drink for your name?” Sukuna tries again. “Or else you’ll be called every pet-name under the sun tonight. Or, I suppose under the moon. ” He has to lean closer to Beauty now that they aren’t in the quietness of the bathroom, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

He’s got on a sexy studded collar. Sukuna is experiencing so many naughty thoughts it’s absurd. 

“It’s Megumi.” Beauty relents, briefly shutting his eyes in exasperation. Sukuna loves how his long lashes flutter. 

“Megumi? As in blessing ? There ain’t no blessings here. You really are out of place.” Sukuna remarks. Suguru politely holds up a finger in a one moment gesture to some other patron and walks over to them. 

“Evening. What can I get you both?” 

“What’s that corny drink with the liquid nitrogen? Wasn’t it called the cauldron , or something stupid?” Sukuna gestures to the menu board, which he absolutely didn’t bother reading. 

“I don’t actually want that. Sounds like a hassle and it’s too showy.” Megumi interjects, getting a little relieved sigh from Suguru. Okay, maybe Sukuna didn’t consider that they’re also likely a bitch to make, especially on evenings like tonight. 

“Two Black Widows, then.” Sukuna decides, holding up two ringed fingers. Suguru bobs his head in understanding. The movement makes all his piercings catch the light in a stunning fashion. He’s honestly pretty fucking cute, a bit big for Sukuna, though. And he’s also quite sure he’s seen Suguru furiously making out with some white-haired guy in the back on multiple occasions. Not his circus, not his monkeys. 

From the other end of the bar, Choso gives Sukuna a look that screams what the fuck? It prompts Sukuna to jerk his head in Megumi’s direction, a pointed movement.

Choso’s eyes flicker to Megumi and his mouth forms an ‘o’ shape in understanding before he’s turning his attention back to another customer. Yeah . Sukuna’s got a rabbit in his jaws, he’d be foolish to loosen his grip and let it hop away now. There is no safe haven.

“So, how old are you? Kinda hard to pinpoint.” Sukuna leans against the bar, but braces a hand on the back of Megumi’s stool. It’s a mildly protective stance. 

“Twenty-two. What… about you?” Megumi asking in turn honestly surprises Sukuna a bit. A pleasant surprise, though. And if he’s not mistaken, this little dove almost seems bashful . Could that be why he attempted to swerve him earlier? Sukuna hopes it’s that. Hopes he’s not feigning interest to kill time before his friends make their rounds to find him. 

“Twenty-five.” Sukuna replies. “You work or go to school?” 

“I’m in school.” Megumi replies simply. He doesn’t elaborate, which only piques Sukuna’s interest further. Does this little dove not understand that the more cryptic he is, the more he entices? It’s the equivalent of squirming when you’re caught in a trap and thus wedging yourself further into it. “What’s your name? If you don’t tell me, I’ll keep calling you the fifth unofficial Kiss member in my head.” 

Sukuna ignores that remark. It’s actually pretty funny, seems like they were both just about ready to give each other corny nicknames in place of their actual names.  Megumi is more abrasive with it, clearly. Sukuna likes ‘em a little feisty, so that’s not much of a deterrent. “Sukuna.” 

“Sukuna,” Megumi echoes with a little nod, seeming to test how Sukuna’s name sounds on his tongue. Sukuna wants to hear him scream it, gasp it in his ear. Every fucking syllable that comes out of this guy’s lips pushes Sukuna towards the precipice of overwhelming need . Scoring tonight wasn’t even on his radar, he was honestly just here to dance and watch drunkards make fools of themselves. Maybe loiter around the bar after closing and see whatever inebriated sucker dropped their wallet so he could sift through it and take their cash. But pussy is a much better prize than cash. Or ass, in Megumi’s case. 

“Like it?” Sukuna fishes for a compliment shamelessly. 

To his delight, Megumi gives another nod. “I’ve never met anyone with that name before. It suits you.” 

Suguru gives them one of those close lipped smiles as he sets their drinks down in front of them. It makes his eyes upturn and Sukuna can tell its genuine– such a stark contrast to Choso, who couldn’t be bothered to give even a ghost of a smile to patrons. “Enjoy.” His sweet voice all but purrs before he’s pivoting and getting back to his service. 

“Shoulda asked if you were allergic to blackberries or not. Sorry.” Sukuna realizes that all too late. Cue violent flashbacks to a nightmare date where he ordered her a Mai Tai and it ended up having pineapple juice in it, and she’d been allergic. Sukuna never wants to frantically have to ask for a goddamned epipen ever again. 

“I’m not, don’t worry,” Megumi’s voice is tinged with amusement as he uses delicate fingers to pull the blackberry of the skewer it’s on, popping it into his mouth. It briefly stains his lips a deep burgundy, all before his tongue swipes the juice away. Sukuna watches closely as he takes a tentative little sip. An appreciative hum follows. “It’s good. Guys usually order me shit drinks.” 

“I ain’t guys , sweet thing. I got taste.” Sukuna insists, picking up his own skewered berry and handing it to Megumi. Fuck blackberries. They were always so tart and had an abhorrent texture. 

“If you’ve got taste, why have you been pestering me so far tonight?” 

That question is unexpected. Sukuna blinks once, twice, even takes a sip of his drink before he replies. “It’s always the hot ones that can’t see it for themselves. You’re… look—” He pauses and sighs gently and runs his hand, cold from the condensation of his drink, through his hair. “You ever been to Herkimer? Hours upstate, right around Utica?”

Megumi looks at Sukuna with bewilderment and shakes his head no. 

“Well, up there, Herkimer diamonds grow. But the kicker is, they ain’t real diamonds. They’re quartz. And people go into bumfuck, on the side of slopes, mining for ‘em. Under the assumption they’re worth something. All these people here?” Sukuna gestures broadly to the swarm of people, “To me, they’re Herkimer diamonds. Someone like you? You’re a real diamond. All carbon, no silicon, baby.” 

“That’s the weirdest comparison I’ve ever heard. But I’m flattered. I still don’t quite know what makes me marginally better than anyone else here, though. You also just met me.” Megumi closes in on himself a little, chest pushed further against the edge of the bar as he grips his drink. 

“I can just tell. I’m a fuckin’ expert mineralogist and know an authentic diamond when I see one.” Sukuna has actually had very, very few occasions where someone has captivated him before even opening their mouth. This may be the first occasion, actually, now that he ponders it further. He thought having an odd gravitation towards someone was something that only existed in movies for the drama of it all. 

“Do you work? Or are you seriously a mineralogist?”  

Sukuna huffs out a little laugh. “I’m a chef. I went to culinary school, the whole nine yards.” Maybe he shouldn’t tell Megumi what restaurant just in case they fucked and had some absurd falling out. Sukuna does recall a hook-up storming into the back kitchen demanding why he’d left in the morning. Looking back, he’s gone out with some fucking crazies. It’s making him appreciate Megumi’s mellow nature all the more. 

“That’s interesting.” Megumi takes another slow sip of his drink. His body language is more lax now as he angles himself towards Sukuna a little more. “What’s so appealing about it? I feel like I would get stressed in such a fast-paced environment.” 

His voice is honey sweet. Sukuna feels like he’s getting drunk on it. He hangs onto every word and stares at Megumi with crimson eyes that are a bit more intense than he realizes. Bad habit. “I enjoy the pace. I can focus on what I have to do and it becomes auto-pilot. I care about the cooking, not about serving fuckin’ rich, pompous assholes, though. But the culinary world is so deeply rooted in that shit. No ones ever satisfied. They always need more. Steaks one degree off and I deserve to rot in a ditch,” Sukuna scoffs. The amount of times a waitress has come to the kitchen and delivered to him the most bogus complaint from a customer ever was absurd. “I’d love to be a musician.” 

“I assume you realized the chef life might not be for you.” Megumi remarks quietly. Didn’t take much to put two and two together there. 

“Yeah. Cause people expect shit from a musician in a… similar but different way than a chef. I’m on stage, authentically me. Not some grunt that’s shoved into a kitchen— can’t say shit when I’m ragged on, y’know? When you’re performing, you’re heard . And even the shitty little insults mean nothing.” Sukuna doesn’t know why he’s sort of pouring his heart out a little to this guy, but the tenseness in Megumi’s shoulders has fully disappeared.

“I get it. I’m getting clinic hours right now— to be a vet tech,” Megumi reveals then. That’s much better than I’m in school . Sukuna can see the fruits of his efforts blossoming before his very eyes. “It’s also thankless work. The animals literally can’t, and the owners usually can’t be bothered. So I understand you.” 

“You’ve got a good heart. I just prepare beef tartare for the fuckin’ shitty business men that have summer homes in the Hamptons and fuck their secretaries.” 

That gets a sputtered out laugh from Megumi as he goes to sip his drink, setting it down a bit too firmly in an effort to steel himself. That pink tongue swipes across his lips again. “It’s my passion. Don’t give me too much credit.”

“Something tells me you deserve it.” Sukuna can’t take his eyes off Megumi’s face. The cute way his cheekbones jut out, the line of his jaw, his button nose. Up close, Sukuna can see how naturally pale he is. Megumi’s lashes give a shadowy flutter at every flit of his eyes. He hasn’t really been looking at Sukuna during their conversation, but finally his gaze does sweep over, deep blue meeting crimson. 

Megumi promptly lifts his drink to his lips, downing the remainder of it. Next, he clamps his teeth around the skewered blackberry and slowly tugs it off the toothpick. Sukuna can see the way he crushes it, juice of the fruit staining his lips once more. It’s weirdly erotic because Megumi doesn’t look away— should he be hard right now? He kind of is. 

“I’m going somewhere quieter.” 

An announcement. An invitation. 

Sukuna watches as Megumi hops off his stool and disappears into the crowd once more. And it’s no matter, Sukuna already has tunnel vision for him. He can see exactly where Megumi weaves through the mass of people. Once you’re in Ryoumen Sukuna’s crosshairs, there’s truly absolutely no way to escape. Megumi’s a walking target waiting painstakingly for its promised arrow to hit it with a bullseye. Sukuna has excellent aim. 

Rapidly he chugs his drink, liquid confidence that he absolutely doesn’t need to fuel his already inflated ego. Suguru knows to put the drinks on his tab by now. Hopefully this is the last goddamned time he has to shove his way through this crowd. The air conditioner blasts inside the club, probably the only thing keeping Sukuna’s makeup intact, and it reeks of cigarettes. He’s promptly blasted with some woman’s heady rose perfume which causes him to grimace. It makes him wish he got even closer to Megumi to see what he smelled like, instead.

Sukuna hasn’t even been focused on the music tonight but instead on every heavenly word that left Megumi’s lips. Even the swears and subtle insults. 

Curiously, Megumi has made his way far into the back of the club. It’s marginally cooler now that there’s less bodies rubbing up against each other in vicious friction, generating far too much heat. Sectioned in the far left corner is a wide staircase, closed off by a measly rope. It’s enough to deter the drunks, though, who can hardly ever lift their knees high enough to step over the pathetic excuse for a barrier. 

Megumi steps over it with ease and ascends the red carpeted stairs. With the way he looks around it’s clear he doesn’t truly know exactly where he’s headed. Sukuna knows this club like the back of his hand, though. He’s been doubled over drunk on these exact stairs. They’re trauma bonded. It’s possible he’s even tumbled down them and fucking forgot. 

On this second story, there’s rooms. The club– Black Planet– is actually a re-renovated hotel.  The next three stories above them were dedicated to it, but only during the autumn season. The owner was honestly a bit of a weirdo and really wanted to lean into the aesthetic of fall and Halloween time. Tourists could visit New York City and stay in a “creepy”, not-quite goth hotel. Sukuna cannot imagine actually being able to fucking sleep with the music blaring but maybe that’s simply part of the charm. It’s not like he’s ever paid to fuck in those beds. 

It’s off limits the rest of the season, hence that shitty little rope closing it off. Sukuna knows people come up here to meddle, sometimes, including himself. 

“What’s up here? I got curious the moment I saw a staircase.” Megumi says as he ascends. Sukuna can see his ass better from this angle and does his best not to let his gaze linger. And promptly fails.

“Bedrooms. And some storage rooms, I think. Shits only open in autumn.” Sukuna replies. His boots are heavy as he steps over the rope himself and heads up the stairs. “Technically it’s a trap. What isn’t in this fuckin’ city?” 

Megumi gives a little hum, ascending the next little set of stairs before they reach the technical second story of the club. The music is muffled here and it appears as though it’s only the two of them. No couples making out against the black, ornate walls under the hanging candelabras. The little gargoyles that are perched between every other room door always make Sukuna want to cringe, because fuck , what a way to lean into the cliches. 

“What isn’t?” Megumi echoes then suddenly. The way he walks down the hallway is sinful. His hips fucking sway beautifully. It makes his ornate belt glisten. Every stud on his boots catches the bright light of the candelabras. “By that logic, am I a trap, too? You seem to be caught up in me.”  

Sukuna stops at the end of the hallway. He holds back a remark about how he meant tourist traps. Could be a genuine trap, though, this place is an absolute hazard that probably has lurkers sometimes, people with shit intentions.Questionable floorboards and some OSHA violations. “I ain’t in your trap.” 

“You’ve been following me all night, Sukuna.” 

“Putting it like that makes me sound like a creep.” Sukuna gives a terse smile as Megumi swivels his lithe body to face him. “And with the way you’d been acting it had me thinkin’ you didn’t have one set in the first place.” 

Maybe Megumi enjoys playing hard to get. He likes to dodge, weave his way out of the watchful gaze of men and wait to see who can really be patient enough for him. Sukuna knows, he’s a man himself. Knows plenty of men that get frustrated even after five minutes of the bait not being taken. 

“You’re genuine and I like that. There wasn’t a trap . You were interested in me, I was on guard because men tend to be creeps, and it turns out you’re half decent based on what I’ve heard so far.” 

It seems like pouring his heart out about his aspirations had Megumi feeling some type of way. Sukuna had been genuine with it all. He’s never one to not be his authentic self, because by then even pussy or ass isn’t worth all that. 

Megumi turns again and continues his slow trek down the hallway. It’s another silent urge to follow , so Sukuna does. He stays several feet behind Megumi, curious, as he no longer feels like the one calling the shots. Sukuna is used to girls giggling as he drags them into a room and essentially has his way with them, makes those rickety hotel beds creak. 

“I can cut to the chase, right? You want to fuck me.”

Sukuna blinks, painted lips briefly parted in surprise. “Well, fuck— yeah, of course. I ain’t gonna deny that.” 

Megumi abruptly stops and turns to look at Sukuna over his shoulder. His lashes are so heavy his eyes almost look shut. “Would you crawl for it?” 

“ Crawl? ” Sukuna repeats, dumbfounded. 

Megumi’s got a good read on him. It’s the same way that prey animals evolve and adapt to fool their natural predators. Sukuna has swagger, it oozes off of him and it permeates. He’s never been denied before and Megumi can detect that, and he also will not deny, but he can’t make it that easy. Sukuna is only mildly irritated by that fact, because he’s never wanted to fuck someone as bad as he wants to fuck Megumi. 

“Yes. Crawl.” 

Sukuna understands what’s being put down. He and Megumi had sort of been on a similar wavelength all night, after all. Slowly the larger gets onto his knees, cushioned by the obnoxious red carpet that lines the hallway. A blood river that he must wade through in order to reach his ultimate prize.

The hunter evolves all the same. They find a way to reach that sweet equilibrium that comes with capturing their prey, the necessary population control. 

Megumi seems pleased enough and continues to walk down the long hallway. Sukuna gives a quiet sigh and watches him, eyes dark, as he crawls. Long strides so his boots don’t uncomfortably knock against the floor. He’s smooth with it and stays low, truly getting into that hunter persona. 

“ Your Master is Calling ” by Pink Turns Blue filters in through the floor and Sukuna grits his teeth as the sheer fucking irony. 

Because his master— even just for the night—  truly was calling. Summoning, beckoning him to the end of the hallway. It was Sukuna’s metaphorical tomb, because this would truly cement him as someone so fucking pathetic he would crawl for some ass. The old him that would demand for it will die, and the new him, that chases it, would be born anew. 

Megumi is quiet as he swings open one of the doors at the end of the hall, skull shaped knob, and steps inside with a flourish. It was a safe bet to be a bedroom considering it’s at the end and would be fully windowed, giving those foolish tourists the best view of the New York City lights and bustle. Sukuna is sure it costs marginally more than the other rooms. 

Once Sukuna crawls into the room, where Megumi stands in front of the bed for him, he sits up and onto his knees. “Is this some obscure kink of yours? And you called me the weird one.” 

Two steps and Megumi is right in front of him, cupping his white cheek. Sukuna can feel his mouth go dry almost instantaneously. 

“You are weird. And I like that.” Megumi says softly. “You did it without much complaint, so are you not just as strange as me?” 

Sukuna doesn’t really have an answer for that. The more he thinks, it wasn’t all that different from what he had already been doing all night, pursuing Megumi, trailing behind him. This time, Megumi had a little more control. Sukuna would have followed him down the hallway anyways, so did it matter how he did it? 

In his silence, Megumi slowly swipes his thumb across Sukuna’s lipstick-clad bottom lip, tugging it down a bit in the process. Sukuna stares , watches as something in the little dove’s eyes shift. Megumi takes his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger and pulls it down fully, staring with a dumbfounded expression and furrowed brows. 

“Nevermind. You’re the weirder one. What the fuck is this?” Megumi asks. 

Sukuna already knows what Megumi is referring to, and does his best not to break out into a grin. “It was from a dare back when I went to community college before figuring out I wanted to go to culinary school.” His words are a bit slurred due to the grip on his lip. “But ‘s true.” 

Scrawled along the interior of Sukuna’s bottom lip, in thin, black lettering, there was a tattoo.

EATER .

 All capitals, shameless, but it’s obviously his hardest tattoo to spot. It was positioned so the reader, Megumi, could read it properly from left to right. 

It’s corny. It’s ridiculous. Sukuna finds that it suits him in an odd way, though. Raunchy tattoos didn’t find their way onto any other part of his body as he was more interested in blackouts and geometrics. So having a little something to pay homage to his… generous nature in bed was fun. Something he could chuckle at the memory of. Sukuna honestly didn’t expect Megumi to notice it. 

Megumi releases Sukuna’s bottom lip. “That’s the dumbest tattoo I have ever seen.” 

Sukuna shuffles closer, the studs on his boots knocking together and his necklaces clacking from the movement. He raises his hands to Megumi’s hips and rests his cheek against the male’s right thigh, face angled towards the median of his legs. “I really can eat it, though. Ass, in your case. Do I gotta prove the tattoos' authenticity?” 

Megumi stares down at him and Sukuna can feel his dick throb in his leather pants. Those eyes are fucking sinful.  “What do you mean, in my case?” 

“I mean, shit, I could suck dick.” Sukuna isn’t all that good at it. He’s sloppy and unrefined— usually doesn’t even go for dick-havers regardless, just out of happenstance.  

Megumi’s expression shifts and he tilts his head in an adorable manner. Mild confusion. “I don’t have a dick.”  

Sukuna is pretty sure he’s died and gone to heaven. Now, he isn’t picky— if you’re hot, you’re hot, and he’s gonna fuck whatever hole is available, but he does have a preference. He can just tell Megumi has an adorable pussy. Hasn’t seen it yet, doesn’t have to to draw that conclusion. “Really?” Is all he manages to breathe out. 

Megumi nods in confirmation and reaches up to unbuckle his belt, letting it slide to the floor with a too-loud clatter. He unzips his pants next and lets them slide off his long legs, clad now in only his crop top and a pair of black, cotton panties. No lace. They can work on that, Sukuna supposes. 

The smaller hooks his thumbs into his panties, ready to tug them down, but Sukuna braces a hand on his slim wrist. “Baby, I’m not eating it like this. Get on the bed. You’re gonna wanna lie down for the way ‘m gonna have you feeling.” 

Megumi stares at him with parted lips, brief surprise, before backing himself onto the bed. It’s a king sized bed, made for fucking, if you ask Sukuna. The mattress is as plush as ever and the duvet is a deep, blood red. Megumi’s pale skin is in stark contrast to it, looking almost ghostly white. He’s so fucking beautiful. 

Sukuna stands up and watches the younger shuffle further back, until he’s up against the fluffy pillows, before lying flat. Sukuna watches the way his faint abs rise and fall as he breathes heavily from apprehension. “Fuck, you’re a beauty. You get told that a lot, baby?” He asks and receives a shake of the head in response. Sukuna promptly loses some faith in humanity. How can you see someone as gorgeous as Megumi here and not want to worship him? 

Sukuna tugs his own ridiculous excuse for a shirt over his head, more mesh than anything, and tosses it aside. The white that paints his face is a stark contrast to the rest of his tanned body, lined with tattoos that stretch along his frame like a second set of veins. Megumi’s eyes flit along his body and it only fuels Sukuna further. It’s the silent compliments that get him going just as much as the verbal ones. Megumi can’t look away from him. 

The older unbuckles his belt and lets it drop similarly to Megumi’s, unzipping his leather pants and shucking them off. Better to do that now as opposed to later, the room is about to get fucking hot. 

Sukuna climbs onto the bed and slots his larger body over Megumi. It’s here he notices the true breadth of their size difference. Megumi isn’t all that short , but he’s got a small frame. “Can I kiss you, or do I gotta work for that?” 

“You’re gonna turn my lips black.” Megumi points out with a quirked brow. 

“So I can’t kiss these lips but I can kiss your other l-” Sukuna shuts up with a little ‘ oof’ when Megumi smacks his chest, briefly knocking the wind out of him. Feisty. It’s no matter, he’ll get that legitimate kiss sometime. If not tonight, then another night. Quickly he’s over it and instead ducks his head down, mouthing at Megumi’s pale neck, carefully avoiding the spiky studs of that collar. Sukuna wishes it had a leash attachment, so he could tug on it, yank Megumi back onto his cock. Unfortunately, it’s merely a regular little choker. Bummer. 

Large hands spread Megumi’s legs and squeeze his thighs, savoring the way the flesh of them spills between his fingers. He’s got extra fat in all the right fucking places and it’s driving Sukuna crazy. Megumi’s breath has quickened a little in this adorable manner. Sukuna can tell he’s not nervous, just feeling nice. 

“Is this comin’ off, too, sweet thing? I ain’t gonna, uh, force it.” Sukuna tugs the material of Megumi’s crop top and lets it snap back against his pale skin. If Megumi didn’t want to show his chest, that was all well and good. Sukuna was more than satisfied at the opportunity to admire his cute pussy. 

“It can come off.” Megumi nods his head and reaches up, tugging off the form-fitting shirt. It’s a miracle it doesn’t catch on his collar or any of his studded helix piercings. There’s only a small swell to his chest. If a size smaller than A-cup existed, Megumi would qualify. Not that it bothered Sukuna at all. 

The older takes a moment to admire Megumi now that they’re even closer. Every feather light breath he takes, the way the fluorescent lights of the businesses outside catch on his porcelain skin and make his eyes glint. Hands come up and squeeze the hardly-there mounds of flesh, watching it bunch up between ringed fingers.

“Aw, hell, baby.” Sukuna breathes. He ignores Megumi’s little whine of protest as he begins to mouth at his chest messily, leaving little smears of black lipstick, that look more grey than anything against Megumi’s porcelain skin. At such a close proximity, Sukuna can pick up the scent of the vanilla body wash Megumi uses. Sweet, but not to a sickening degree. 

He kisses all the way down, hot and open-mouthed, as Megumi whimpers and arches his back. Finally his bottom lip brushes against Megumi’s panties, and with a flourish, Sukuna tugs the fabric off. What greets him has him feeling like he just stepped into heaven as opposed to a seedy New York City hotel room. 

Megumi is, excitingly enough, not shaved. Sukuna glances up at him to gauge how he’s feeling, but the boy has his head turned to the side as he breathes slow and heavy. His clit peeks through black, wiry hair enticingly and his vulva is pomelo pink. 

“Beautiful, baby. Fuckin’ beautiful.” Sukuna murmurs the praise, idly rubbing Megumi’s puffy clit with his thumb. He only does this for a few seconds before moving his hands to Megumi’s hips and lowering his head, swiping his pierced tongue along the expanse of Megumi’s heat. 

“ Fuck.” The smaller breathes. Sukuna can hear a slight rustle and assumes Megumi must have thrown his head back.  against the pillows. Who knows what's touched that silky fabric, Sukuna doesn’t even want to know, it's not like they have a consistent cleaning crew coming up here. Megumi’s gonna have to take a good old everything shower once he gets home. 

But who cares about such trivialities when your mouth is filled with the sweetest pussy its ever tasted? Sukuna licks in firm, broad strokes, laving along Megumi’s vulva and up to his clit. Cutely, it pulsates under the warmth of his tongue. Sukuna sucks it into his mouth on his second swipe and revels in the way Megumi squeaks. 

He pulls off with a soft ‘pop’ and grins. “You like that?” 

“Uh, um…” Megumi’s reply is hardly much of one at all. The smaller stares up at the ceiling dazedly. Sukuna just chuckles low in his throat and returns to his meal. He’s ravenous with it, establishing a rhythm, swiping his tongue through Megumi’s scorching heat before dragging it up to his clit and sucking for a good ten seconds at a time. 

Megumi’s legs have fully spread and tensed up, his entire body far too strung at the moment. He’s whining and moaning incessantly. Heaven on the ears. Sukuna thinks he could handle never listening to music ever again, not a single guitar riff or banging of the drums if it meant hearing Megumi’s sweet sounds of pleasure every day. 

“ Fuck, fuck— Sukuna,” Megumi gasps, hands flying to Sukuna’s hair, gripping it tight. The way his name sounds coming from those lips truly seals the deal for Sukuna. He’s a goner when it comes to this guy. 

His incessant licking and sucking continues. Sukuna throws any semblance of technique or rhythm out the window in favor of swallowing down every drop of wetness Megumi’s body produces. His prominent nose is jammed against the smaller’s clit as he rapidly darts his tongue inside of him, lapping him up, eating him for everything he’s worth. 

“G’na— cum, fuck, gonna cum!” Megumi’s cry tapers off into a scandalized sound as Sukuna pulls away. 

“On my dick or not at all.” Sukuna grunts out. He shucks his tight briefs off, revealing a hard, pierced cock. A full Jacob’s ladder. Megumi blinks down at the girth before his gaze flickers back to Sukuna, who notices him visibly swallow. Then, he hooks his elbows under his knees, keeping himself spread open in an obscene manner. 

Right. Because he wanted this, too. Whore. 

“That wasn’t very nice.” Megumi whispers out. Sukuna wants to kiss him so badly at this moment. 

“Mm. I’ll fuck you so good, you’ll forgive me.” 

Foreheads pressed together, Sukuna leans in close, nudging Megumi’s entrance with his cock. Playfully he edges the tip inside, eliciting a whimper from the smaller, and he repeats this teasing action a few more times before finally sinking inside to the hilt. A throaty groan leaves his lips as poor Megumi wheezes. Ten inches is no joke. Sukuna had a feeling this little babe could handle it, though. 

“How you holdin’ up, baby bat?” Sukuna asks, red eyes lidded as he stares at Megumi’s lids, as his eyes had long since shut. 

“Fuck me.” Is Megumi’s whispered reply. 

Sukuna huffs and briefly flares his nostrils. Impressive. Megumi’s quiet and almost timid disposition didn’t exactly scream whore to him, but now he’s seeing Megumi’s innards. A conniving, but sexy, cock-lover. 

The pace he starts up is rather careless. Hard, punctual thrusts right into Megumi’s guts. The man in question clearly throws any decorum out the window, he’s moaning like they’re filming a raunchy porno. Christ. 

“ Fuck, fuck— mmmmh— fuck, right there, right there—” 

Sukuna laughs throatily, placing large hands on Megumi’s calves and splitting him open more as he hammers into his pussy. It squelches obscenely, glistening in a cacophony of reds and blues from the lights outside. Sukuna can’t stand to look at it for long, though, because the look on Megumi’s face is something that should not be missed. 

“Your— hah— piercings, I can feel them, ohmygod.” Megumi babbles. Sukuna grins down at him again. His earrings are starting to clack together, dangly crosses in one hole, swords in another, spikes along his conch. Megumi’s own accessory, his collar, glints beautifully. 

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Sukuna hums. “ Fuck, you’re tight as hell. You a virgin, lil bat?” 

“N- no—” Megumi replies shakily. 

“Course you ain’t. God, fuck the motherfucker that got to this pussy before me. Woulda loved to take your virginity, baby. Make your pussy bleed nice ‘n pretty all over me.” Sukuna has begun to pant. Sweat beads on his brow and his pink hair is disheveled. Megumi’s pussy is truly, truly incredible. It’s so tight and warm. How is Sukuna supposed to move on from this? He doesn’t even realize how incessantly he’s moaning himself. 

Megumi doesn’t answer that, just lets out a strangled moan. Sukuna has him bent nearly in half by now, their skin slapping together noisily as he pummels his pussy. It’s flushed a deeper pink, his clit fat and puffy from the abuse. 

“Cumming— cumming, I can’t—” Megumi wheezes. Sukuna laughs right in his face as he reaches his orgasm, small body seizing underneath him. He revels in the way Megumi clenches around his cock and fucks him through it unabashedly. He’s a creamer, it seems, Sukuna can feel the stickiness that’s begun to froth between them. Hot. 

“You’re so cute, you know that?” Sukuna comments. He picks up the pace, cruelly enough, jackhammering into Megumi hard enough to make the bed creak and slam into the wall. The shriek that earns him is beyond sexy. There’s nothing he loves more than making cute babes such as Megumi scream on his cock. “So fuckin’ cute, jus’ wanna keep you as a cocksleeve.” 

Messily his makeup has begun to run, tanned skin becoming visible now that white foundation is no longer there to cover it. It slides down his high cheekbones and gathers at his chin before splattering onto Megumi’s stomach messily in a milky puddle. He’ll apologize later. Fortunately Megumi is too far gone to care, moaning stupidly at every thrust. 

His pace grows sloppy, unrefined, as his own climax nears. Megumi’s just so goddamned perfect, a dream. Perhaps the best he’s ever had. The best little vixen that’s managed to get Sukuna into bed with him. 

This is pussy worth crawling for. 

Sukuna huffs, then groans as his orgasm slams into him. White behind his eyelids, fingers gripping onto Megumi’s legs tightly, pale flesh bunching between them. 

“Fuck!” Sukuna barks out, giving a few shallow thrusts to really drive himself home, balls tightened up as he empties his load. It seems like Megumi came one more time again, if his spasms and whimpers were anything to go by. 

A moment of silence save for heavy panting and the thumping of music through the floorboards. Megumi looks up at him, then gives a little chuckle. 

“Your makeup melted…” 

“Hell, I don’t like waterproof crap. It never comes off.” Sukuna looks down between them, then back up at Megumi. “How you doin’, baby?” 

“‘M okay. There’s not much better than good sex, after all.”  

Megumi does look sated. Sukuna mentally pats himself on the back over that fact. Slowly he pulls out, briefly mourning the loss of warmth around his cock. With a huff he flops down beside Megumi, arms behind his head. For such an old, crappy bed, it was awfully comfortable. 

Megumi wipes himself off with a grimace, using a portion of the comforter, before shuffling close and resting his head against Sukuna’s chest, much to his delight. 

“We probably shouldn’t sleep here. Rumors say this place is haunted.” Sukuna says. He’s itching for a cigarette.

“Mmh…” Megumi hums. When Sukuna glances down, he sees that his eyes have fluttered shut. When you fuck someone to sleep, that’s when you know you did a good job. 

He revels in his victory, eyes glued to the skyline of the city outside, blanketed by the milky moonlight. 

— 

Sukuna hadn't even realized he had fallen asleep. When he rouses, he’s alone. It isn’t an unsurprising development. 

It almost feels like a dream— having met someone as perfect as Megumi. An absolute angel. A glimmer of hope amongst a sea of people far too normal for Sukuna’s tastes. 

The hotel room has lost a bit of its gothic charm now that it’s alight with natural sunlight. Sukuna is half-wondering if Megumi snuck away with his phone or wallet. It’s happened before. 

He hauls himself out of the creaky bed and meanders over to his discarded pants, the pockets still bulge, an indication that his phone and wallet were still within them. 

What catches his eye as he looks down is something written in black, scrawled messily on his abdomen.

Sukuna grins with realization. 

Written upon his stomach in black lipstick, along with a heart, was a phone number. 

That’s what he thought. The hunter always wins in the end.