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The Shape of a Heart

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This isn’t the first tattoo Megumi has given Sukuna, nor is it his first session.

It’s the tenth. He’s come in every two weeks over the past forty to have his tattoos done. He doesn’t want too much detail and the design is simple overall. Creating perfect shapes and curves, dips, and grooves on the body are somewhat difficult but are a little tougher on a body with so much muscle definition. Like, a lot of muscle definition, a distracting amount of muscle definition. 

That’s probably why he’s come to Megumi’s shop in the first place. His walls are covered in a broad range of his pieces, from the most heavily intricate line work to simple and flat colors that require painstaking attention, Fushiguro Ink is home to a well-known and sought-after independent tattoo artist. At only twenty-one years old, he has two years booked up and an enormous waiting list of people desperate to get some of his art on their bodies.

Megumi only takes piece proposals that interest him and from those that are capable of affording his work upfront, there’s always been something unique about Sukuna and how he approached him. His message said, he refused to have each tattoo done by different artists, and he’s willing to pay double the rate per hour to have Megumi do all of them.

After showing the email to fellow tattoo artist, cousin, and friend, Maki, she shrugged her shoulders.

“It’s enough to pay my rent for a year and then some. I’d take it.”

So he did.


Megumi clicks a pen absentmindedly while hovering over the iPad at his little check-in countertop. He looks up through his long eyelashes to the glass front door and hits the buzzer to unlock it.

Sukuna is his first client for the day and as usual, the man comes strolling in wearing a leather biker jacket and holding a motorcycle helmet in his right hand. Their eyes meet and the corner of his lip quirks up in the beginnings of a smile just as the door locks shut behind him.

“We’re starting your leg pieces today,” Megumi says, not lifting the cheek he’s propped on his palm.

Sukuna makes a sound of agreement and Megumi straightens up. He leads him into the next room where his tattoo gun is set up beside a leather chair. Megumi plops onto his worn-down stool and reaches for the black latex gloves waiting on the tray beside him.

“You know the drill, get comfortable.”

“You got it.” Sukuna slips off his jacket and hangs it on the coat rack by the door.

Megumi picks up a bottle of black ink and sets out half a dozen empty caps while Sukuna undoes his belt. He turns to him a second later and almost sighs. They are doing leg pieces today, he doesn’t have to take his shirt off, but he does take it off, and honestly, Megumi doesn’t mind the view. He can argue he’s taking a look at his own work on Sukuna’s chest but really he’s looking at how defined the lines of his abs are, how tight his waistline is, and how his shape rises into his broad, well-built shoulders that he’s sure can crush him if he ever gives him a hug.

A hug? Fuck.

It started building up since the first time they met. Megumi feels the attraction in his chest, then between his legs the first time Sukuna pulls up his sleeve to show his burly, naked bicep, and explains the rather simple concept of concentric circles to him. Megumi thinks he’s a bit of a smartass and very, very cocky, but he can also see why. When the sinews flex and his voice drops a touch, he sees images of himself getting railed against the counter. The nights after their sessions he lets his mind wander and sometimes has to take out his vibrator. The dirty fantasies at some point switch to smiles and kisses. Eventually, he accepts he has it bad for this client.

Megumi turns his attention to his needle gun and the caps of black ink he finishes preparing. He isn’t going to let his attraction compromise his work. Though it’s easier said than done.

Megumi glances up to see Sukuna dropping his pants and he tries not to gulp. Damn it, he has more composure than this. He’s tattooed almost every reachable part of the human body, he isn’t going to become flustered over this guy’s legs.

Well, maybe it isn’t his legs he’s particularly concerned about, as thick and muscular as they look. As soon as he’s brought his machine closer to Sukuna who seats himself in the chair, he notices his dark grey boxer briefs and their generous bulge. 

He’s seen dicks before. Okay. He’s seen naked dicks while doing really low abdomen tattoos and really high thigh pieces. He’s seen plenty of dicks.

But something about this one makes his pulse race, something about this man casually leaning back into the chair and placing both hands behind his head, as calm as a spring day, sends a little quiver of heat through his body.

This dick is huge.

Megumi is a professional though, he can handle it.

“I need to apply the stencil,” he says and Sukuna blinks like it hasn’t occurred to him.

And after how many sessions? Whenever this man comes to get his pieces worked on he always seems half-present and dare he think it, awkward? He notices the strangely timed stretches and the staring. God, this guy stares a lot, and Megumi always struggles with clients that feel the need to bore their eyes into him while he pierces ink into their skin.

Sukuna hops back to his feet and spreads them shoulder-width apart.

“Right there,” Megumi reaches out and touches him with his black-gloved fingertip. “It would be the smoothest here, but I can go a little lower or higher.”

“Higher, by half an inch.”

That’s getting close and part of him feels it’s deliberate. He doesn’t mean to put a bit of mocking in his tone, but he does.

“You got it.”

Does he notice it? Megumi realizes it after he’s said it, the twinge. He glances up and sees his eyes slightly squinted, but his client says nothing else.

Megumi ignores the pang of anxiety and pulls up the first simple stencil he’s prepped, lays it around his thigh, waits a few seconds for it to stick, then peels it away. He does the same with the second band then rolls out of the way so Sukuna can look at it in the wall-sized mirror behind him.




The rest he does with a rounded felt tip marker, he follows the slopes and rises of his thigh so the band when inked, looks as neat and natural as possible when he’s finished.

“Try not to smudge it, go ahead and lay down.” He pats the outside of his knee. “This side up.”

Megumi thinks he hears a faint “hmph” and he eyes his client who does as he’s asked.

Has he pissed him off?

Megumi takes a calming breath and rolls up the sleeves of his baggy black sweater. He’ll get over it. It’s time to work. The whir of the gun fills the quiet room and he leans over to start outlining the band. Then those eyes settle on him and it starts again, the staring. But at least this time he isn’t going to be inches away from his face. Not that he minds being an inch away from his handsome features.

During those sessions, he got a good look at his short pink lashes, at his killer bone structure, and his lips settled into a line. It’s the first time he’s seen a little break in his overconfident demeanor. His brow sometimes scrunched up, his mouth twitched, his fingers curled into fists atop his stomach. Anyone will wince when getting a face tattoo, but finally seeing some reaction after weeks of stone-faced needle stabbing, he thinks it's kind of cute. 

The first hour passes and he’s been working at a steady pace on the outlines, enough so he’s prepared to connect them around the inside of his thigh.

“How are you doing?”


“You okay to flip over?”


The corner of Megumi’s mouth hikes up in a grimace at the confidence in his tone and the words slip out before he can stop them.

“Do it then.”

He sees Sukuna’s brows perk like he doesn’t expect the little puppy in front of him to have much of a bite, much less any bark. Then he grins this big, snarky grin with noticeable canines and chuckles.

“You got it.”

This time he has a mocking voice and Megumi nips his own bottom lip. The tension in the room is strange and it sends a little heat between his legs. He can tell he isn’t irritated, no that grin is amusement. He’s very entertained for some reason.

Megumi can’t think about it very long because once he rolls around to match Sukuna’s new position he realizes there’s a great big distraction resting a little too close to his workspace. He looks away a little too suddenly and hears a snicker, prompting him to turn back to Sukuna’s smirking face.


And Sukuna speaks, without hesitation, and with the slightest husky purr.

“You can look.”

Megumi’s eyes narrow and he grips his needle gun.

“And you can move it if you need to,” Sukuna follows up casually.

Cocky bastard. Cocky fucking bastard. Two can play at this game.

“Thanks,” he snaps.

Megumi feigns he’s using it for balance and wraps his fingers around the meat of Sukuna’s muscular inner thigh, then squeezes.

He’s done it. He doesn’t even need to glance at it to know the dark grey fabric is stretching from the sudden change in blood flow. So he takes the needle to his skin again and catches a faint, barely held back groan. The fabric stretches faster and Megumi’s fingers start sweating within the gloves.

Oh, that’s good information.

He keeps at it, piercing the black ink along the marker strokes, and hears a gulp, the sound of the leather squeezing between clenching fingers. Every noise goes straight to his own groin.

Fuck, I’m wet.

He wipes some of the bleeding ink with a napkin and sees a dark spot appear at the head of his bulge. He’ll give anything to pull down his underwear and take it into his mouth right now.

Focus damn it.

Any chance of it is ruined when Sukuna, cheeks dusted with red and breathing a little heavy.

“At least buy me dinner first.”

Megumi ignores him even though saliva pools in his mouth and a swirl of heat works its way through his tense hips. He takes the gun to his thigh again, hears those words echo back and forth in his head, and realizes he has an opportunity.

He can’t pass it up.

“Shut up until I finish and I might.”

He doesn’t look up but he can hear the grin in his voice.


Or so he thinks it will be simple enough. He has to finish the tattoo and make plans for dinner, but throughout the rest of it Sukuna keeps making little sounds or wincing or twitching up. This is the first time he’s acted like this during one of their sessions. Has he always been like this but is just holding it in? Maybe that’s why he’s been subtly awkward since the beginning?

As he progresses and the tension piles on, Megumi decides he can’t wait and he isn’t going to let this man walk out of his studio without at least feeling his cock down his throat.

He’ll buy him dinner after.

Once finished, he sets the gun aside, takes off his gloves, and wipes his thigh clean then gives Sukuna a few seconds to look at his half-finished fresh ink in the mirror. He will get the rest of it filled in two weeks. It’s just part of the process, but Megumi isn’t about to wait another two weeks.

Sukuna turns back around, Megumi presses a hand against his abs to make him stand still. His client blinks in curiosity then tenses up when Megumi hooks two fingers in the hem of boxer briefs and pulls them down. His cock slips out and he lets out a sharp gasp. Megumi circles his thumb and pointer around the base and opens wide, taking him in until the hot, swelling tip hits the back of his throat and then some. His lips stretch obscenely along his shaft and he looks directly up at him. 

“Fuck,” Sukuna’s expression breaks, his brow knits and his head tilts back as one hand balances on the nearby leather chair and the other instinctively grabs onto his dark hair.

Megumi’s eyelids fall to half and Sukuna gets the message.

Both of his thin, pale-fingered hands brace against Sukuna’s hips and he slides back, leaving a glistening sheen across his thick and aching shaft, and just as he reaches the tip, he hits it with his tongue, dives back down all at once. The fingers in his hair grip tight enough to pull and the pelvis in his grip quivers. Another hissed “fuck,” and he can feel himself soaking into his underwear. 

He can barely remember the last time he had a cock stuffed down his throat and he almost forgot how good it feels, how it stretches his lips, how it makes his jaw ache, and how hot it is to see the effect his skilled mouth has on the lucky receiver.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy.”

Megumi’s eyelashes flicker a touch and he lets out a little moan that vibrates into Sukuna’s hips. The fingers in Megumi’s hair readjust to collect the strands falling over his glazing green eyes.

“You wanted it this whole time, didn’t you?”

Oh, fuck, he’s a-

“Couldn’t stop looking at it? Just have to have a taste, huh?” Sukna’s expression takes on a glow, enhanced by the angle of the light and the shadows it casts over his features. “How does it feel? You like having my cock in your throat?”

Megumi whines a little and his thighs press together. It’s so hot down there, it’s starting to throb. He blinks and sees Sukuna carve his teeth across his bottom lip.

“You want me to fuck your throat?”

He’s never nodded with his mouth filled like this, but now that it’s inside him he never wants it to leave. He relishes the growl, the tingles from Sukuna’s fingers scooping up his hair into a firm fist and braces for the onslaught.

It’s even better than he could have imagined. Sukuna pulls his hips back and thrusts forward once like he’s getting a feel for the layout, then sets into a series of hard snaps.

Megumi’s eyes roll up. It’s so good, the way it stabs at the wet, flesh hard enough to make his muscles convulse. Saliva dribbles out around the cock driving into his mouth with loud squelches. Every time the tip passes against the grooves on the roof of his mouth, tickles flutter through him and his brows tighten. When Sukuna yanks him off he sticks out his tongue to swipe at the tip before it’s out of range. His neck bows and he whimpers because he doesn’t want it to end so quickly, but Sukuna has other things in mind.

In the next second, Sukuna yanks him to his feet and into a kiss so forceful his mind goes blank. He’s so swallowed up in his hormones he forgot he wants this too.

Megumi sighs and earns one back that vibrates on the same frequency. He understands the tone, the heat, the taste of his lips and breath. It’s the same for him. He wants this too. They become a tangled mess of tongues and wandering hands, the tension from the pasty forty weeks culminating in bitten lips and hungry, loud sucks.

Megumi doesn’t get a chance to think or panic when one of Sukuna’s hands dips between his thighs because the moment he cups him, Sukuna breaks off from the kiss, skates up to his ear, and asks, “Where do you want it?”

Another needy whine slips from his scratched-out throat and he lightly scrapes his nails against the abs he’s been shamelessly rubbing.

“In my pussy.”

“You got it.”

There’s something carnal, almost feral about the way he lays Megumi back against the leather chair, yanks his jeans and underwear off, grasps the soft underside of both his thighs, then parts them to reveal how slick his puffy lips are. Sukuna lets out another heavy sigh like he’s enthralled by the sight, then buries his face without hesitation. Megumi’s hips raise with the wet muscle tracing up his slit, shivering when the tip grazes his clit.

He tries to buck against his tongue because finally, he’s getting the attention his body is desperate for, but Sukuna pulls his tongue back and chuckles. Megumi watches him wet his lips and he makes a face that screams, “please, fuck, please, just do it."

Another chuckle puffs across Megumi’s dripping entrance and his eyes go wide at the voracious sound Sukuna makes before diving back in.

Holy fuck- His body lights up like a flare. His tongue is huge.

The sounds don’t stop, vibrations from each hum and groan send more tingle through his abdomen. He slicks around Sukuna’s wiggling tongue, shivering whenever it strokes right up against his nerves. 

Megumi’s thighs squeeze around his head but it only makes him moan louder, not knowing that Sukuna is so aroused by his taste and the twitching of his walls that he’s leaking precum onto the tiled floor.

Megumi comes out of the building high when Sukuna’s tongue slips away and he looks down to watch teeth sinking into the tender flesh on his inner thigh. His juices leave a glossy sheen across the tattoos on Sukuna’s cheek and Megumi loses it.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to kill you.”

Sukuna’s eyes go wide and he grins with all his teeth against Megumi’s skin, but Megumi’s heart jumps in his chest, his fingers clench tight, his pulse skyrockets at a lightly pressed kiss to the same spot his client has been teething. Sukuna follows it with a smaller smile, one that fills his half-lidded eyes with smoldering embers whispering everything between them yet to be said. 

“As you wish,”

I’m going to fuck him so hard.

Megumi dreads it slow, he needs to be wrecked, ruined, slammed into until he sees stars and he can tell Sukuna’s a tease. He needs to take over immediately.

“Your thigh.” Megumi sits up. “Your thigh is gonna stretch and the ink will too.”

Sukuna’s expression drops and Megumi pats his chest.

“I’ll be on top.”

Before his grin comes back Megumi kisses him and they quickly switch places. Sukuna lays across the chair and Megumi climbs on top of him, reaching down between his legs, angling and sinking down on his length with a gasp and hips too eager not to take it all at once.


He should have gone slower because he’s huge. It hurts, but at the same time rubs the right spot and sends out a wave of fire that has him rising up with his back deeply arched. He goes back down just as slow, letting a short “uhhh,” from how much he stretches around it.

“Big huh?” Sukuna says breathlessly with just a bit of snark.

Megumi slaps a hand over his mouth as he rocks his hips.

“Biggest I’ve ever had,” he spits back with a smirk.

One hand balances atop his chest, his fingers spreading across the lines of one of the healed tattoos, and the second Sukuna’s tongue comes out to swipe the inside of his palm, he starts bouncing. He doesn’t mean to grip the sides of his cheeks but, fuck, he’s barely adjusted to the thick shaft he eagerly impales himself on.

Just as he’s finding the rhythm Megumi gasps. Sukuna sits up, catches him before he arches back, and is on his feet carrying him midair. There is no chance to think or argue because Sukuna slams up into him and sets a merciless pace. And then he's staring, always staring, always fucking staring at him like there's no other place in the world worth looking. Something about it is so intense, looking into his eyes while his body fills to the brim with molten lava while seeing his own work across Sukuna’s forehead and cheeks. He clenches two handfuls of his hair, leaning forward so their foreheads brush with every bounce, their open panting mouths centimeters away.

They don’t know but they share the same thought.

He’s so beautiful.

Then their mouths fall upon each other, Megumi wraps both skinny arms around his head and Sukuna brings him down to the hilt while digging his fingers into those tiny hips. They stay still for a few seconds, warmth rolling through them in waves, deep inside one another, shuddering while their lips sloppily knead.

Megumi trails off to gasp, “keep going,” and Sukuna does.

Each slap vibrates up through Megumi’s thighs and he digs his fingernails into thick shoulder muscles because somehow Sukuna hits it right every time. Harsh, tingly sparks have him clenching down around his pistoning shaft and he clings to Sukuna’s hard body in fear he’ll slip off, or away, or out of his grip somehow when he’s sinking so deep into sweet, numbing euphoria. 

When he sinks his teeth into the nearest flesh, his next whine pulsates into salty, sweaty skin carrying notes of musk and cheap cologne. His eyelashes flutter at the sound of a husky sigh coupled with longer strokes and no rest in his pace, his tight, slick hole accepting every inch of him over and over until he’s sure he’s embedded his shape into him.

Sukuna’s tip slips out on a particularly brave thrust and he nearly loses his balance but manages to sit back down on the leather seat behind him. For a second he tries to catch his breath, but Megumi is already lining him back up and dropping down onto him, keeping his grip around his shoulders for balance, but chasing the high with every rut of his greedy hips.

Megumi savors the hissed curses, the return of those large, rough hands to guide him, the look of ecstasy in Sukuna’s eyes as they move on instinct together toward the finish.

Megumi has no idea Sukuna has been on the edge since he yanked his mouth off his cock, that he got close twice while his tongue was shoved deep into his folds, that he’s barely able to hold it in against the force of his agile hips. Every move Megumi makes bursts stars across his vision and he’s hanging on by the thinnest, trembling thread.

Megumi mindlessly moans.


The thread snaps.

Megumi watches his head slowly tilt back, watches the lump in his throat hitch, hears the faint inward rush of air, sees his eyes finally close, and stops that endless staring. Nails dig into his skin, the pain, the final pass of his swollen tip and thick shaft against his overstimulated nerves along with the picture of Sukuna’s unravel shatters the glass at his threshold.

Their foreheads press again. Every inch of Megumi stiffens, all of him clenches, everything blanks out to a misty white, with nothing but stickiness, heat, and a wonderful fullness left. It’s unreasonably wet beneath him but he doesn’t want to move just yet.

Seconds pass with the glow starting to fade and Megumi’s thoughts start to flow again. They are going to slide apart, awkwardly put on their clothes, and sift through the ashen remains of their tattooist-client relationship, but as he sits there he feels Sukuna’s arms wrap tightly around him.

Oh, I was right, Megumi goes limp with his head resting on Sukuna’s shoulder to accommodate the embrace, his hugs are so good.

Strong, solid, comforting, and Megumi wonders if he’ll be lucky enough to feel it again someday.

“After our last session,” Sukuna starts.

He lifts his head, sliding his arms until only his hands cling around the back of his client’s neck.


For some reason, he doesn’t want to let go. Maybe it’s because of the hand in the small of his back or the cock still buried inside him.

“I was planning on asking you out for a drink.”

Megumi’s eyes widen slightly.

“So after you get off the clock,” Sukuna rests his lips on the younger man’s sweaty forehead and runs his hands up and down his hips. “I’m going to take you for that drink.”

Megumi’s heart leaps in his chest.

“And then,”


“I’m going to take you home and fuck you again.”

A laugh breaks from Megumi’s mouth and he plants a kiss across those smirking lips.

“Sounds good.”

Sukuna’s response is a pleased little purr and they’re mouth to mouth again, tightly intertwined, savoring the last radiance of their coupling. Freed and set back onto wobbling legs, the cleaning up and putting clothes back on is less awkward than he anticipates.

“At 6,” Megumi tells Sukuna before he strolls out the studio door.

He gets back a nod.

When the door swings shut Megumi goes into the restroom and turns on the faucet. He cups both hands beneath the stream of cool water and splashes his reddened cheeks.

C’mon, get it together.

He can still feel a fever between his thighs, a distinct emptiness, and lingering raw friction. He can feel how tightly Sukuna’s fingers had gripped his hips, the drag of his nails, the slap of their thighs, the way his heavy, hot breath rolled down the back of his neck. Megumi bites his lip and looks at the little clock hanging on the wall. 

40 minutes?

He huffs and wipes his hands.

No, I have to get ready for the next client. I can wait.

He walks back into the room, sees the stretched-out table, the streaks of sweat and drips of cum drying on the leather. After opening the window to let the room air out, he cleans thoroughly. 


That night, when Megumi locks the door to his studio and turns, he’s overwhelmed with a jittery, fluttery feeling like thousands of settled butterflies are breaking into swarms around him up towards the sky. He tucks his fingers almost bashfully into his jean pockets at the sight of Sukuna standing at the sidewalk’s edge, leaning against a motorcycle with his arms crossing over his chest.

Greet him again? He prepares to but Sukuna lifts a helmet from the seat and holds it out to him. He takes it with both hands and slides it over his head, his fingers struggle with tightening the strap beneath his chin. Sukuna takes over, brushing his hands over his and sending tingles through his skin. After a few seconds, it’s done and Sukuna puts on his own helmet with ease.

Megumi stops trying to think. He has to keep going, if he lets himself think, then he’ll let himself doubt, and he doesn’t want to let it in just yet. He climbs onto the seat after Sukuna and wraps both arms around his middle, then they speed off down the street.

He doesn’t know what kind of bar he expects to be taken to but is content to find it’s a little hole-in-the-wall place with tall circular booths and low lighting.

Privacy, that’s sexy.

They settle into their seat and in the quiet deliberation of their meals Megumi breaks the ice with the first question that comes to mind.

“Did you mean it?”


Megumi peeks at him over the edge of his laminated menu.

“That you were planning on asking me out after your last session.”

Sukuna smirks, “I’d been planning it since the first.”

There’s that rush of giddy again, the thudding of his heart in his chest, and he ducks behind his menu much to Sukuna’s amusement.

They order and Megumi passes on the alcoholic beverage because he has work the following morning again. While waiting for their food, Megumi has the chance to learn more about him, his job as a security guard and bouncer, and about his younger brother who he’s helping put through college. The aura around them is comfortable, they drift through conversation easily with the occasional pause and light banter. In every brief silence they both feel the tension return, they recall the morning’s glow, feel their skin flush, and crave the second round.

Their food comes, Sukuna’s is a burger, and Megumi’s is a chicken salad, but just as the waiter walks away, Megumi pouts at his plate. He pushes the pieces of crispy chicken toward the ceramic edge, then glances at Sukuna who’s watching him.

“I didn’t realize the chicken was fried,”

“Not a fan?”

“I like it but my stomach doesn’t. It gets upset pretty easily,” Megumi responds and for some reason keeps going. “I’ve had stomach issues since I was a kid. It’s a pain.”

Sukuna plucks a chunk of chicken from Megumi's plate and pops it into his mouth, then Megumi wonders why he hadn’t thought of that in the first place. He sees an opportunity so he stabs one of the pieces of meat when Sukuna swallows and holds it up with a hand cupping beneath in case it slips off.

Sukuna leans toward his offering, opening his mouth to partake, but Megumi pulls back just enough he misses.

He fell for it.

Megumi smirks and Sukuna frowns. After the second time, he can see Sukuna is getting a little irritated so he pushes it right against his lips and lets him take his bite.

The space between them closes significantly, he barely notices that their thighs are touching, because he’s too busy reaching up to thumb away the crumb that sticks to Sukuna’s bottom lip. Sukuna’s eyes flash wider, the corner of his mouth curls up, and his arm moves as smoothly as a serpent to wrap around Megumi’s shoulders.

Megumi mouths the tips of his fork, snatching a single look at an expectant expression before filling his mouth with a bite of salad. He has an inkling that Sukuna is thinking of grabbing him by the hair, wrenching his head back, and kissing him so hard he forgets where he is. He kind of wants him to, but both return to working through their meals. Toward the end, Megumi remembers something he’s been meaning to ask for a while.

“I have a question.”


“Why do you stare so much?” Megumi sees his eyebrow perk and he clicks his fingernails against his half-empty glass of water while looking away. “While I’m tattooing you.”

“Oh? That?” Sukuna’s shoulders relax and he goes slack against the booth. “Because you look sexy.”

Megumi’s cheeks turn red, his gaze darting up to his cool expression and back down to the table. He reflexively pulls the sleeves of his sweater back out and presses a clenched fist covered in the stretchy fabric against his mouth. Another little wave of giddy breaches in his chest.

The check arrives and Megumi puts some cash down before Sukuna has a chance to take out his wallet.

“I said I’d buy you dinner,” he says while sliding out of the booth. He tugs on Sukuna’s sleeve once he’s also standing. “Let’s go. I have one more place I want you to take me.”


Down by the shoreline, Megumi climbs off the back of the motorcycle and pops off the tight helmet. Both leave their headgear on the seat and they approach the edge of the grass where it breaks off into the darkened sand. Sukuna hovers close and when Megumi shivers from a blast of cold ocean air, Sukuna slides off his jacket and wraps it around his shoulders. He receives a grateful smile in response and they stand there, quietly.

Whatever conversations may come to mind, they never seem important enough to bring into existence. Megumi has always wanted to bring someone to the beach at night, it’s peaceful and he can listen to the crash of the waves against the soft sands without worrying about their rhythm being interrupted by human-made noise. 

It’s romantic. A grand display without the display and with all of the grandeur. There’s something about the way the moonlight shines across the swaying tide. Silver glints and wavers atop the churning black water, Megumi thinks it’s beautiful, strange, far away, and something he can never touch with his hands but given the chance, he can recreate with just the right amount of ink. He drifts out on the sea, for just a few moments, sinks into the feeling of weightlessness and awe, tastes the salt in the air on his tongue, blinks, and comes back.

Because he isn’t floating out into the abyss, he’s standing next to someone, somewhere by the beach, on the verge of something wonderfully brand new.

Of course, Sukuna has been staring, not at the ocean that holds Megumi’s attention, but at him. Sukuna watches him drift away and come back, and as a result, becomes more sure of this wonderful brand new thing than anything he’s ever been sure of before.

Megumi see’s it, the spark, the glint, the burst of flame in his eyes that makes this moment all too sure and he’s just as ready to sink in all the same. His teeth show when he smiles.

“Weren’t you going to take me home and fuck me again?”

He strikes the flints and earns a half-grin, a hand sliding around his waist, pulling him closer, a pause that almost asks for permission, and a press of warm lips that taste like the fresh air of a chilly night. They open and close in sync, spread more heat between each knead, lean into one another, sway with the current until out of breath, they pause with mouths open but lips pressed, looking into each other’s eyes again. 

Their hands find each other, skin grooved but soft and a little cold, smoothing midair beside them until their fingers slot comfortably together. Then Sukuna brings his thin knuckles up to his lips, stays for a moment to let his breath warm his skin, and says softly, sweetly:

“You got it.”

They’re carried the rest of the way home on the wind.

Finally, they settle back onto the king-sized bed in Megumi’s apartment where he watches Sukuna tilt his head to take his lips, then his neck, then everything else. He thrums and hums beneath his hands the way he’s done to him. He shivers and twitches, gasps and writhes, winces and moans from the nips, the licks.

They have all the time in the world, and at least two more tattoo sessions, to get to know each other. For the time being, they disappear back into one another, and into the glimmering sway of that moonlit ocean. 

Chapter Text

For the first time in a long time, Sukuna sleeps through the night without waking up once and when his eyes finally do open to the sight of an unfamiliar ceiling, the memories prior to rest come flooding back. The images flow, the sensations rush through his skin like burning stars falling through the night sky, and all at once, he’s melting. 

The sound of soft breathing floats to him and when he turns his head, the face only inches away appears like a painting, rendered with careful brushstrokes, a masterpiece laying across a blue sheeted bedspread. Precision for the curve of his long dark lashes, careful mixing of paint creating such a subtle pink across his lips, the shadows and thin streaks of light all across his bare shoulders and naked, tattooed back don’t come from the sliver in the window’s curtain but are careful selections made by a genius at his canvas overtaken by a muse.

Every dot of the painter's brush creates breathtaking imagery. Megumi’s tattoos weave across his skin, creatures burst out of shadows like they’ve been called forth from them, summoned to be his aids and protectors in every battle. Tiny rabbits spring from the dark patches along his upper arm into the highly detailed fur of a white wolf's head howling to a moonlit night sky. The opposite arm is similar but with green frogs leaping into action, blending into shadows that rise into a black wolf’s head.  A white serpent follows the dip of his spine, a bright pink elephant rears back his head and sprays water from its trunk, an owl sweeps up his shoulder blades and into a symbol of change and adaptation that sits at the base of his neck. 

And Sukuna stares. Just as before. Just as he will whenever he gets the chance, he studies every line, every shape, every inch of the man he lays beside and hopes to see him even when he closes his eyes. 

How long has he stared, and yet, it’s never enough? Walking out of his tattoo shop once every two weeks for the past forty, he returns home, argues with his brother, goes to work, wrangles the drunk one’s brawling atop the sidewalk, goes home when the sun comes up, and thinks of him. Only him. Always him. In bed after their sessions, he always recalls the ghost of his thin fingertips atop his skin, the stab of the needles, the pinching and relaxing of his dark brow as he concentrates to create the images on his skin. Sukuna has always looked through the dusty shutters of his tiny bedroom window, remembering the tattoo artist’s slight smile at the end of each meeting, and imagined waking up to that same smile beside him.

Today he has. Today he sees the serene expression stir with the coming of consciousness, the slight squeeze of his brow, and the slow flutter open of long black lashes over drowsy emerald eyes. Today he wants nothing more than to lean across the inches of pillow and mattress and cover those lips with his own, but the space sits like a canyon between them.

Two fucks, one date, all within 24 hours. Is that enough to take what he’s wanted for the past 40 weeks?

And then Megumi smiles, this slow, sleepy smile the moment their eyes meet, one so natural and familiar, Sukuna melts all over again.

“Mm, good morning,” Megumi mumbles.

He’s in the state of waking where he’s too comfortable to move but awake enough to speak. 

“Good morning,” Sukuna responds and considers leaping over the canyon, but then what if he’s misinterpreted every moment?

What if Megumi deep-throating him, riding him, taking him home was just an extended casual fuck thick with the tension of the previous months and there was nothing else to come of it? 

“Did you sleep okay?”

“Better than ever, you?”

“I was knocked out.” Megumi rises on his elbows with a little grunt, slides his knees up under him, and stretches like a cat.

Sukuna watches with rapt attention at the way his back curves, how the muscle in his thigh clenches as his leg stretches out and up into the air. Megumi looks at him, notices his stare, and downcasts his eyes in an almost bashful reaction. Did he remember why Sukuna stares?

“How's your thigh?” he asks.

Sukuna forgot about it. The pain is nothing, he’s used to it, but there’s the… he slides the thin navy sheets from his leg. The film Megumi wrapped around it after their last romp the previous night is still there, but out of the edges oozes a bit of ink and a bit of what looks like dried blood.

“I figured,” Megumi comments and slides off the bed, taking Sukuna’s gaze with him. He tosses back a glance as he ambles, naked, to the bathroom. “Aren’t you coming?”

Sukuna almost leaps from the bed and follows Megumi’s cute little ass through the door. Megumi bends over in front of him, halfway through a sliding glass attachment over a white tub, while turning on the faucet for the shower. Sukuna admires the view with his teeth set into his bottom lip, noting a little mole on the back of his thigh, a faded scar going down his calf and stopping at his ankle. 

Megumi straightens and spins back to him. A silence falls between them as the tattoo artist sinks to his knees in front of him. It reminds them of yesterday and they both realize it. His cheeks take on the slightest pink tinge but both of his fingers reach out and find the edge of the film around Sukuna’s thigh that he gently starts to pull.

“Is it sticking?” Megumi asks as he peels it away. 

“It’s not too bad,” he responds, eyes glued to the look of Megumi’s curled lashes falling with a slow, concentrated blink.

He’ll never get tired of it, the way his eyes focus, the way his lips form into a pout, the tiniest divot appearing between his brows. When Megumi disappears into his mind, Sukuna wonders where he goes, what he’s thinking, and when he'll come back. 

The film doesn’t cling to his skin, thankfully, and Megumi disposes of it in the bathroom trash can. 

Sukuna sees him stand, wanting to reach out and pull him against him just like the previous night, but he just gazes as he adjusts the temperature of the water. 

“Not too hot,” Megumi says and in the next second, Sukuna feels his fingers wrap around his wrist, guiding him closer to the tub until they step inside. 

“You okay?” Megumi finally asks because Sukuna has been so dazed since he woke up, Megumi’s starting to think he’s still asleep. 

At that moment, Sukuna snaps out of it. He’s in his tattooist’s apartment, in his bathroom, in his shower. He takes a breath, slowly comes back into himself as reality starts to sink in. His eyes trace Megumi’s body again, this time in the soft white light of his bathroom, as Megumi brings him toward the warm water running from the showerhead.

“I’m good, just sleepy,” 

“This is usually when you go to bed, huh?”

He remembers.

“Yeah,” Sukuna rinses his face and rubs his eyes.

“This’ll be quick,”

“Does it have to be?”

Sukuna savors the image of Megumi trying to hold back his grin, looking down, turning away to hide it, and reaching for a small white bottle from a shelf. Then he’s almost on his knees again, lathering his hands in a scentless soap and rubbing the two black bands in gentle circles. The dried ink and blood run down Sukuna’s leg, but he’s still barely paying attention to his own thigh. Those soft, skilled hands are on him again, and he wants them everywhere, just like last night.

Sukuna studies Megumi’s head, and wonders if it’d be too much to tell him how sexy he looks with his hair all wet. Though the spikes are too powerful, they sag under the weight of the water, but don’t flatten. 

He remains still as Megumi stands, setting the bottle aside and grabbing another, this one wider and dark blue. He fills his palm with some of the soap and Sukuna recognizes it immediately, a lovely mix of light musk, sandalwood, hints of amber, maybe a touch of lavender. 

It's Megumi, it's Megumi's scent.

His hands create another lather and he comes close again. 

“Hope you don’t mind my body wash,”

“Not at all." Sukuna sucks in a short breath when Megumi's soap-covered hands touch his chest. “I get to smell like you.”

They smooth across his pec's, down his abs, and it takes all he has not to pounce when Megumi cards his teeth over his bottom lip. 

Sukuna delights in the slide of his fingers back up his sides, the smoothing of his palms around his back, leaving trails of suds wherever he touches.

"This a new part of your service?" His voice grows husky as Megumi rubs back up his neck and across his shoulders.

"Mmhmm," Megumi responds.

He slows down, coming to a stop atop his chest again.

"I thought yesterday was a dream," Sukuna admits.

"This could all still be a dream." Megumi’s eyes take on a glimmer. 

"Then I don't want to wake up,"

"You don't have to,"

Sukuna can’t hold back anymore. He wraps his fingers around Megumi's neck, tilts him up, and kisses him while listening to the patter of warm water against the tub. A little hum ripples through their lips and Sukuna opens their mouths, deepens the kiss, finally taking what he’s been aching to since he opened his eyes that morning. They part with a soft wet smack and that smile returns to Megumi’s face.

“Those don’t feel like one night stand kisses,” Megumi murmurs.

“They aren’t,” Sukuna murmurs back.

They get lost, naked bodies leaning into each other like two pieces of a puzzle fitting into place. Sukuna can’t help it, with the grinds of slick skin to skin, his swelling cock brushes against Megumi’s stomach, making him pause.

“Is that for me?”

Sukuna grins.

“Every inch.”

They flow together into one, as easy and natural as a confluence, where Megumi has his hands against the wall and Sukuna admires the curve of his spine and the highly detailed illustrations on his skin as their hips greet in warm, heavenly waves. Megumi chuckles and rises on his toes, glaze-eyed with pleasure, reaching back to run his fingers through the short hairs at the back of Sukuna’s neck. 

“You’re gonna make me late for work,” he says and lets out what’s almost a giggle. 

And Sukuna drowns in him, the feel of himself hugged tight, the playful grind of his hips, the skin of his middle so soft between his fingers, his own short hungry grunts coupling with loud wet slaps.

“Oh, fuck, right there,”

“Right there?” he whispers near his ear. 

He already knows, but he wants that confirmation, he wants the helplessly whined “yeah” he discovered last night when he hit it just right. 

When he gets it, the lovely, sharp, “yeaaah,” he swallows his hunger and keeps the same pace until Megumi’s gasping and shuddering in his grip. He squeezes down so hard when he tenses, Sukuna barely slides out to cum between his thighs against the tiled wall.


Sukuna leaves kisses all over his shoulder and Megumi sighs as he straightens up and leans back against him. It’s Sukuna’s turn. He grabs the body wash and rubs it between his hands almost too eagerly, then runs them all over wherever he can, following every dip and curve, leisurely understanding his form while listening to his sighs and tiny gasps. 

Is it too much to say he wants to do this every day for the rest of his life? 

It has to be.

They spend more time laughing, talking, kissing, shampooing, rinsing and exit the shower before their skin wrinkles. Sukuna pats his new ink dry and Megumi applies some gentle, scentless moisturizer for him. He slides on his boxer briefs from the previous day while Megumi puts on a clean pair of underwear, a skin-tone binder, and a black t-shirt with a skull printed on top. 

Together they wander to the kitchen where Megumi prepares a pot of coffee and Sukuna takes a seat on a nearby stool with a backrest. He noticed the previous night, the tattoo artist’s one-bedroom apartment is nice and spacious. In comparison, his two-bedroom apartment has a tiny square kitchen where he can’t take a step without bumping into his brother, that is when they try to use it at the same time. 

After pressing the brew button Megumi goes right back to him and sits on his naked thigh. Both arms wrap around Sukuna’s neck and they get lost again in a series of slow, tender presses, lightly brushing tongues, a familiar feeling that they can’t seem to get enough of. 

"Why can't I stop kissing you?" Megumi’s voice sounds so strained and Sukuna’s heart thumps harder in his chest. 

"I don’t want you to," his voice is just as dreamy.

The fingers that rest on his cheek, trace the shape of his tattoo, and he loves it. He’s seen it all last night, all this morning, Megumi keeps looking at it, his work.

You’re covered in me.

I’m covered in you.

They understand in the lingering quiet aside from the sound of coffee pouring into a glass pot. His fingers stroke down to his chin, leaving warm tingles in their wake and Sukuna wants another kiss, an endless one, can he ask for such a thing?

“You’re a lot different than I expected,” Megumi breaks the silence.

“How so?” 

“Quieter,” Megumi’s gaze falls to his lips. “You look like you’re a talker.”

“I usually am,” Sukuna admits and his own gaze falls in the same way.

“Then why are you being so quiet with me?” 

“When you give a dog a bone.” He chuckles. "Or three."

"If we had time I'd make it four,” 

"You're trying to kill me." 


The coffee maker beeps and Megumi rises.

“Do you need any milk or sugar?”

“I’m not much of a coffee drinker and I’m probably going to sleep after this,” Sukuna responds. He wants him back in his lap, he wants to hold onto him for as long as he’s allowed. “How much longer until work?”

“I have to take a bus in about 45 minutes.” Megumi sips at his cup.

No, that’s not enough time.

“I can drop you off,” he tries.

“You don’t have to,”

Sukuna stands, touches Megumi’s hips, and brings him closer.

“I don’t mind,”

Let me savor this.


The rest of the morning is filled with whispers, long looks, quiet embraces. Beneath the surface they’re bubbling with words they’re too afraid to speak. It’s too soon, it’s too early. They’ve only just started.


Sukuna’s motorcycle comes to a stop outside Megumi's studio. Just seconds after Megumi’s off the bike he’s already missing the feel of his arms around his stomach. He doesn’t want to go home to a cold empty bed, but he’s already gotten so much so quickly. The chances of ruining this precious, fragile thing they’ve created are high. He’s not going to risk it. 

Just when he thinks Megumi is going to leave without a goodbye, he spins back around and grabs his hand.

“Are you free Friday night?”

Sukuna can hear the nerves shivering in the back of the tattoo artist’s throat. He’s just as nervous, just as anxious, and that eases Sukuna. 

“No,” he responds, and his thumb strokes across Megumi’s knuckles in slow, comforting circles. “I work in the afternoon until 3 a.m., Saturday and Sunday too.”

He sees the drop in his expression and tugs him closer so he’s almost straddling his leg. 

“What time’s your break on Friday?” Sukuna asks.

“Around 1.”

“I’ll bring lunch, just text me what you want,”



Sukuna perks an eyebrow. Megumi blinks and Sukuna sees the thought in his expression.

Right, I told him about that.

“I’ll text you,” Megumi says, inching toward him.

His brows pull in, his lips shape into a pout, but Sukuna quickly realizes, the almost pained look on his face is just a reaction to a feeling, a feeling too much to describe, too much to endure, but Sukuna understands it all too well. 

Both of Megumi’s slender arms slide over his shoulders and he leans right into him. The next kiss is long, a little bit needy. Sukuna’s big hands find his waist and this time, they melt together atop his motorcycle, savoring the soft texture, the tingle that comes from unhurried mouths, and no interruptions. 

Then they slip away, sharing a stare for a few seconds, stating their reluctant goodbyes, and Sukuna speeds down the street once Megumi is behind the glass door to his tattoo parlor. 

The drive home is never long and Sukuna is flying too high to register the trip. He arrives at his apartment, enters, notes that Yuuji’s shoes and coat are gone, and assumes his brother is attending his classes. He throws off his own boots and leather jacket, walks directly to his bedroom like he’s completing his daily routine, then flops onto his disheveled mattress. It’s time to sleep, but how does he expect to when his heart is galloping and he can still smell Megumi all over him, feel the hands on his abs, the lingering touch of his lips?

He looks at the blinds, tucks a hand behind his head, and shuts his eyes.



Friday midday comes and Megumi makes it through the session with his morning client without issue, but when he sits on the stool at his check-in counter and taps his phone, he’s tense. He sent a text yesterday night, telling Sukuna wherever he goes, a simple greens salad or some light noodle dish would be fine, but hasn’t gotten a response. 

Maybe he forgot? Or maybe he’s just not coming?

Megumi sets both elbows on the counter and cups over his face.

C’mon, don’t think that yet. He still has a tattoo appointment in a week. He’s not gonna bail.

He hopes.

Megumi goes back into the room and tosses out the used caps of ink, then wipes down the seat despite his next client not being scheduled for another two hours. He focuses so hard that when he hears his phone buzzing, he lurches up and finds himself rushing back out to the counter. He snatches it up to read the new message. 

Be there soon.

That’s it? He stares at Sukuna’s message, wonders why he didn’t respond last night in the first place, but a few seconds pass and he realizes, holy shit, he’s coming. He’s really coming.

While he sits on the stool, bouncing his knee, and hiding his mouth behind two loose fists, he’s not sure what to do. His eyes dart from one part of the marble counter to the other, every few seconds glancing up at the glass door as though Sukuna will appear only moments after sending his text.

Fuck, get it together.

Megumi hops off the stool and uses his nervous energy to tidy up his surroundings. He zooms through the studio, picking at tiny things, wiping down counters he’s already tended to that morning. He even heads towards the storage closet to grab the broom and do an extra sweep when he hears the much louder, much more jarring buzzer to the glass front door. 

He’s here. Fuck, he’s here.

He takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders, and walks out. It’s business as usual, click the button, unlock the door, and let him in. But when the glass door opens, the swarm of butterflies is back, they circle and flutter in every direction, his hands tremble at his sides, and he’s both sure and unsure of everything that’s happened up until this point, at least up until Sukuna’s smile and casual, “Hey.”

“Hey,” he replies, and a calm washes over him. 

Sukuna holds up a full plastic bag and Megumi motions to the counter where two stools are waiting. 

Megumi doesn’t know, the previous night at a bar Sukuna works as a bouncer at, a group of men got into a fight near the entrance and he had to get them out one by one, getting clocked in the stomach more than once. As soon as he got home at 5 a.m., he passed out on his bed atop an ice pack, forgetting to charge the dead battery on his phone. When he woke up six hours later he stuck his phone on the charger and started getting ready for his lunch date. It wasn’t until he was walking up to his motorcycle around noon that he saw Megumi’s message and immediately sped to the restaurant he’d already had in mind, before showing up at the studio door, fresh food in hand. 

The pair have a seat and Sukuna sets out each plastic packaged entree.

“Beef with broccoli and sesame ginger noodles,” he explains. “I also didn’t know what you’d like to drink so I got a couple things.”

The plastic bag crinkles and he pulls out some bottles.

“Black coffee, black tea, strawberry calpico, and water, take your pick,”

Megumi snatches the tea. He’s not sure what he expected from their little get-together but the sesame ginger noodles sound amazing and he wants to dig in right now. He’s delighted to find out Sukuna is a bit of a foodie, who in what little spare time he has, watches cooking and travel channels. 

“Can you cook?”

“I can make a thing or two, you?”

“I can boil an egg, and fry it, and scramble it,”

“All at once?” Sukuna teases.

“No,” Megumi frowns. “What would that even look like?”

“A mess,”

Megumi laughs once and swirls his fork in the noodles. 

“What’s your favorite dish to make?”

“Hayashi rice,”


“It’s easy and filling,”

“When are you gonna make it for me?” Megumi glances up from his bite. 

“Tuesday?” Sukuna smiles and Megumi nods. 

“After work,”


Why do things feel so easy? 

The conversation flows, they tease and laugh, talk about anything and everything that comes to mind, and simply get lost. Things hadn’t felt this easy before. Sukuna always had a tense aura about him whenever he came in for tattoos, but on their second date, he’s so loose and playful, smiling so much that Megumi wonders if beneath his rough exterior he’s always been a casual, easy-going person. 

This is nice. He’s not a lunatic. 

Megumi searches his eyes and studies his grin whenever it appears. 

He’s so fucking handsome.

He doesn’t know Sukuna is in the same space, savoring every second he gets to look at Megumi’s face up close since they last separated. The tattoo artist is more playful, a little bit needier than he initially expected, but he doesn’t mind it one bit. He’s always craved having someone to dote on, to share all that’s waiting with him, but time reminds him, it’s only their second date. 

Neither knows, they share the same thought. 

I’m being stupid, don’t go too fast.

And at the same time, the image of the black ocean flashes across Megumi’s mind and he reminds himself not to drift out too far just yet.

On coming back, Megumi asks for a bite of beef, and Sukuna, whose feet are touching the ground a little more than his, stabs a piece to feed it to him. 

Payback time, Sukuna thinks as he holds out the fork and Megumi leans toward it. Just before his lips touch it, he pulls it away. Megumi chases, both hands gripping his wrist and forcing him to stay still so he can take his bite. 


“That’s really really good,” Megumi covers his mouth, eyebrows rising in surprise. 

Fuck, but those eyes of his. 

“I’ve eaten at all the little hidden places in the area,” As they work through the last of their meal, Sukuna starts into another topic.


“After each tattoo, I pick a new place to try,”

“Any gems?” 

“There’s a really good pizza place a couple blocks over,”

Megumi pouts and Sukuna can’t help but reach up to brush some hair over his ear. His cheeks dust with pink and Sukuna wants to lean over and kiss them until they turn red.

“I can’t eat a lot of pizza,”

“They have a ginger chicken pizza,”

Megumi’s eyes go big and Sukuna grins with all his teeth. 

“I could try it,”

“I’ll take you at some point,” Sukuna replies. “Even if you can only have one slice. They have salads too.”

“Yeah, I can have a bite…” Megumi looks down, watches his own hand as it reaches out to find Sukuna’s. “You have to go to work after this?”

“Not for another hour or so, you?” Sukuna’s fingers wrap around his.

“I have a client coming soon,”

“I’ll have to head out then,” 

I don’t want you to.

Megumi helps him clear away the trash and looks right at him. He doesn’t realize the face he makes, the little furrow in his brow, the slight pout, turns Sukuna to putty right before him. He can see in his expression what he wants like a bright, flashing neon sign.

I want a hug.

So when Sukuna holds out his arms, offering without him having to ask, Megumi walks right into them, pressing fully against him, and sighing like it's been ages since he’s gotten to do such a thing.

He’s too rough around the edges to be a teddy bear. 

Megumi thinks while he squeezes as tight as he can around Sukuna’s waist.

His hugs are so awesome though.

When he looks up he sees Sukuna’s brow furrowed and his eyes shut tight.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Nothing.” He watches Sukuna force a calm expression. 

“You winced though,” Megumi frowns. “Did I squeeze too hard?”

“Not at all.” He pecks his forehead.

“Did you eat too much?”


He’s lying… But is it too early to push him, is it too early to be too concerned? Megumi’s chest tightens and he realizes just how many things he’s assumed, just how far in his mind he thinks they are, and he’s afraid while he’s halfway through this novel, Sukuna hasn’t even opened the cover yet.


Meanwhile, Sukuna has been floating in the simple pleasure of feeling Megumi’s warmth again and the way his body fits so perfectly against his. At the sound of his voice, he drifts back from the sweet, blank space his thoughts have gone.

“I’m not used to this,” Megumi says.

“What’s this?” Sukuna asks.

“This, you... an us,” he sees Sukuna’s blank expression and continues. “Don’t get me wrong, the sex is great, I’m just…”

“We’ll take it slow,” Sukuna smiles at how silly it sounds. 

“I don’t mind slow,” Megumi grins, feels assured, and takes the chance. “Though I like it when you’re rough.”

“Rough? You haven’t seen me rough, yet,”


“Tuesday after work, after I make you some dinner.” He rocks them side to side, breathing in his scent, feeling the special giddy that comes with holding something precious in one’s hands. “I’ll show you.”

“I’ll make sure to stretch,” Megumi says softly into Sukuna’s chest because the giddy wave hits him just the same.

Each kiss never feels like enough, every extra second with lips pressed together is a moment stolen back from the tension of their past. 

“See you Tuesday?” Sukuna says when they part, but Megumi doesn’t want to let go. 

He can’t remember the last time he hugged someone without fearing that when they walk away, they’ll never come back. There’s a twist in his chest again and his arms cling tighter around Sukuna’s waist.

Please be real.

The tips of his fingers dig into the leather and the dread rises slowly like water starting to boil. 

Fuck, please be real.

“Tuesday,” Sukuna repeats and finds his lips.

It’s different. He tastes the fear in the slight hesitation before Megumi returns the kiss and he cups the back of his head. Can he kiss him hard enough? Will he understand that he means every word and every word he still hasn’t had the chance to say? 

I’ve wanted you since the beginning. I’ve known since the first time we looked at each other, it couldn’t be anyone else but you. 

He’ll tell him. As they slide apart and Sukuna stares directly into his eyes. One day, he’ll say all the things he wants to, he’ll pull him in close and never let go again, he just needs enough time. 

He’ll wait as long as it takes.

Chapter Text

So they take it slow, as slow as two fools hopelessly head over heels for each other can. 

When Megumi wakes up early Tuesday morning his first thought is of a big grin and piercing red eyes, the memory of a musky teakwood scent, and the faded notes of gasoline and tobacco. 

Thankfully, it’s a short day, he has only two clients. The first is a new client wanting a koi fish to match her current koi fish tattoo. She explained in her request she got the first when her father passed away a couple of years ago and with the passing of her mother this last year, she felt it was time to complete the pair. It’s a story that melted his heart and though he was stone-faced during their meeting consultation, he did spend a few minutes in the evening thinking about his own parents and the few memories he has of them. 

But he definitely didn't dwell.

His second client is his friend and cousin Maki who’s getting a cover-up of a crappy illegal tattoo she got when she was rebelling in her teens. It’s a janky moon scribbled across her thigh and she’s asked to have it replaced with a grouping of barbed roses, surrounded with lush, vibrant green leaves, only slivers of a dagger visible through them. It’s a gorgeous piece she designed herself, and though Megumi has asked, she refuses to say where she got the inspiration from.

But as he rises from his mattress to stretch he’s hit square in the face with a bout of nausea so strong his head spins. It’s followed by aches and pains like someone is dragging a knife through his stomach and he lays back down, moaning softly into his pillow and letting a hand fall to helplessly caress his abdomen.

Not today, please.

He curls up and thinks of him again, the gentle smile, the soft, reassuring one that he saw before his lips rested against his forehead. When those large soothing hands smooth around his waist, he feels so secure. 

I wanna see him.

It’s only been four days, but four days feel like an eternity. 

Megumi stays still and keeps stroking over the pain in his abdomen. Minutes pass and he thinks he can stand, so he climbs to his feet and trudges to the bathroom to start his day. He skips coffee, takes some stomach medicine, and forces down a single slice of plain white bread alongside a cool glass of water. It should be enough to help him get through the morning. 

Megumi leaves his apartment in a navy sweater and black skinny jeans, a light, warm wind ruffling his messy hair as he walks to the bus stop. The sky above is a bright blue with only little wisps of white clouds, the sun is out, but not high enough to make it unbearable. He’s more prone to being cold anyway. 

The bus ride to his studio is smooth. The medicine is probably working because the nausea is just a faint memory. There’s still a bit of an ache in his abdomen, but not enough he won’t be able to bend and lean as he needs. 

The morning client is sweet, friendly, and very energetic. She chatters endlessly despite the pain of a needle stabbing into her flesh, she tells him story after story about her parents. 

Her mother and father were high school sweethearts who are survived by her and her older brother. Her mother was a florist who often did wedding arrangements and her father was a high school teacher. 

Megumi spends much of that morning, listening to her stories, feeling a gentle warm feeling in his chest, and trying with all his might to ignore nausea slowly rising back up from his aching stomach. 

The koi fish isn’t huge, it’s slightly more petite than the one she already has and he winds them around each other, fine-tuning the black lines of the older fish, applying vibrant orange and white colors to the many scales in a gentle gradient. Against her soothing light voice and the importance of the piece in mind, he works with all of his concentration, the pain falls away just long enough he finishes the final details and wipes her thigh clean of remaining bleeding ink. 

She stands and stares at the finished piece in the mirror and the tears that well up in her eyes make the pain worth it. 

He’s not one for hugs from strangers usually… usually, but he doesn’t stop her when she circles her arms around his neck and cries into his sweater shoulder. After, he cleans and wraps her new ink. With his focus dwindling and his client exiting through the glass front door, the pain surges back to the forefront. He waves goodbye, then braces against the counter, his knuckles turning almost as white as his face. A particularly disgusting acid-flavored burp rises up his throat and he shakes his head.

Megumi wipes the cold sweat from his forehead with his sweater sleeve while tapping out a number on his phone. He leans against the marble and takes slow, even breaths. After a couple of rings, a familiar voice comes over the speaker.


“Senpai, sorry, I don’t think-”

“Is it your stomach?”


“Do you need to go to the hospital?”

“No, I’m just gonna go home and rest,”

“I’ll give you a ride, I’m already on my way,”

Megumi goes about closing up his shop despite it only being midday, but he doesn’t want to chance throwing up in the middle of a session, or something even more humiliating. He waits on the stool by the front desk until Maki’s S.U.V. pulls up in front of the sidewalk. 

He locks the shutters to his studio and climbs into the car, slumping in the passenger seat while letting out a pained sigh.

“You sure you don’t need to go to the hospital?”

She’s obviously just come from the gym and still has her sweat towel hanging around her neck. 

She didn’t rush over, did she?

“I’m sure, just gonna sleep it off.”


The wheels turn and the car starts down the street. A few minutes in Megumi’s guilt rises alongside the next wave of nausea. 

“I’m sorry,”

“Don’t apologize, I can handle a couple more weeks with this crappy moon,” she snaps back.

“I can get you in earlier. Are you booked up on Friday?” He sits back up in his seat and hugs around his own stomach. 

“Until the late afternoon,”

“Evening then?”

“You don’t work in the evening,”

“It’s fine, I won’t have anything to do Friday night anyway,”


Megumi sees the doubt in her raised eyebrows and the tap of her fingers against the steering wheel. She glances at him from the corner of her eye and a sheepish smile rises to Megumi’s face.

“He works nights.”

“Ah,” I make it that obvious?

“Friday evening is fine,” he assures.


It falls silent between them for only a couple of minutes because Megumi’s mind wanders back to the design for Maki’s coverup, then he remembers.

There’s a new girl at Maki’s shop isn’t there? She had a sleeve… of roses. 

“How's the new piercer?” he asks.

“She’s fine,” Maki pauses and in those few seconds, Megumi hears a ding ding ding in the back of his head.  “She scares some clients, but she does her job well.”

“Been spending a lot of time with her?”

“Well she works there,”

“Talking to her a lot?”


“Have lunch together?”

The car halts at a stoplight and Maki turns to him, a hint of anger in her eyes, to which Megumi keeps a measured expression. Though inside he’s smirking. 

“It’s not like that,”

“If you say so.” Megumi finally lets an ounce of a smile slip through. “Who’s idea was the roses? Hers? You’ve never been into flower tattoos so I was surprised when you sent me the design.”

“It wasn’t hers,” Maki huffs. “I saw her sleeve and thought it looked good on her. Then the idea came to mind and I sketched it up.”


“We do roses all the time, it’s not that deep,”

He nods a bit, finally deciding to let it go. He’s seen the way they look at each other, the way they flirt without even realizing it.

Someday probably, I bet.

The drive home ends and Maki asks a final time if he needs any help, but he thanks her for the ride and heads back up to his apartment. As soon as he’s inside he goes straight to his bed to lay down and rest. The queasy feeling comes and goes every hour and a nap is starting to sound really good, but when he taps on his phone he sees a new text message.


His heart jumps in his chest and he hits the call button before thinking twice about it. After the first ring, he’s wondering if he’s being too forward, maybe even too annoying. Maybe he didn’t want to call and that’s why he texted instead. Maybe he’s busy, maybe-

“Hey,” Sukuna's voice is husky, deep like he's just been roused from sleep.

“Hey,” he responds. “Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah,” there’s a slight purr in the bass of it, and Megumi’s whole body lights on fire.

Damn it, if my stupid stomach wasn’t-

“I had a dream about you,” Sukuna starts.

The fire rises up to his cheeks.


“I dreamed you were in my bed,” Sukuna moans like he’s stretching and Megumi brings his thighs in together. 

He can almost feel the warmth and flow of his breath against his ear.

Now is not the time to be horny, but damn does he make it hard.

“On top of me, specifically,”

Damn it, I wanted to ride him today, fuck.

"Stop it," Megumi huffs. 

"What? You don't want to hear about my dream?"

"No," Megumi, still flushed, squirms a little. "Don't turn me on, my stomach is acting up today, I had to go home early.”

Megumi reaches up to his pillows and runs his hand over it, recalls Sukuna's head lying next to his after their first night together. 

"You okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm just resting in bed. I know we had plans today,"

"We can do another time,"

Damn it. Megumi goes silent.

“Or I can still stop by,” Sukuna’s voice is softer, soothing. The tone carries concern and Megumi’s heart bounces around in his chest.

“I probably won’t be any fun to be around,” he says, hoping Sukuna will hear what he wants without him saying it, the “but I want to see you,” hidden within the excuse.

“It’ll be quick,”

He muffles his excited response by burying his warm face into his pillow.

“What was that?” Sukuna asks with a playful tinge. “Didn’t quite catch it.”

“Okay,” Megumi says when he lifts his face. “If it's quick.”

It's giddy all over again, the thought of seeing him is worth it even if it’s only for a few precious minutes. 

“Be there in an hour,”


He drops his phone to the mattress and cuddles up with his pillow again, bunches his brow with the next swell of pain, but lets the thought of hearing his doorbell ring and seeing that face again block it out. 

Is it too much too soon to be hopeful, to want to think that his “boyfriend” is on the way. He isn’t sure yet, their conversations haven’t delved past the food and random. The space where the physical and emotional intimacy meet is like a loose seam. He wonders who will be the first to pull the string and bring them together.

Will he freak out if I tell him too much? Do I even want to tell him? It takes a few repetitions for him to accept. I do. I already do.

Megumi knows he’s never felt this all before, the excitement of wanting to see another person every day. It’s strange, new, and scary. 

His fingernails pick at the navy pillow cover edges, he mindlessly pinches and pulls like he’s trying to find something else to do aside from dwell on the pain and the natural rise of fright.

But when he looks at me I just…

Melt. The eyes staring at him for hours and hours, examining him with the slightest hint of interest, behind their gaze he's been thinking of asking him out. That’s what Sukuna said. Did Sukuna think of how he’d ask him out? Did he think it over and over, trying to find the perfect wording for when the day would finally come? How would he have said it? Would it have been some cheesy pickup line? Just straightforward? Irritating?

If Megumi hadn’t made the first move, would he have ever agreed to a date with his hot-headed and ridiculously attractive client?

He doesn’t know and after an hour of lounging in his bed, when the doorbell rings, he realizes he doesn’t care. 


Sukuna lets his eyes drift to the ceiling for a second while he waits. His excitement at seeing his pale face and rich green eyes mix with the concern for Megumi’s aching stomach. Hence why he has a plastic bag in his hand with a small package of uncooked rice, bullion cubes, fresh ginger root, and green onions. Sukuna said it will be a short visit, but he could tell, even by the sound of his voice, Megumi wants him there for longer.

It’s a skill he's picked up over years of dealing with his younger brother Yuuji. After their falling out, he’s learned whether his tone means " we can be in the same room today" or " if you even look at me I’ll punch you."

The door in front of Sukuna opens and even before he sees him he can feel the corners of his lips rising into a smile. A tired eye peeks at him through the crack in the door.


The door opens wider and Megumi matches his smile.


Sukuna barely gives him a chance to step out of the way before he’s entering his apartment again, into a wall of his scent, and he’s already starting to float. When the door to Megumi’s apartment closes, the rest of the world disappears. There’s nothing but this, there’s nothing but them, and he wants to be nowhere else. 

“What’s that?” Megumi’s eyes are on the plastic bag hanging loosely in Sukuna’s hand.

“Just some ingredients,”

“You’re not-”

“I said I was going to cook for you today,”

“I don’t think I can eat hayashi rice right now,” Megumi meets his eyes.

“I’ll make that another time.” Sukuna see’s his expression falling again and he can’t help but lean over to peck the tiny space of forehead not hidden by his messy black spikes. Megumi’s cheeks flush and Sukuna stays close, letting their noses touch as he continues, “You got a pot right?”

“Yeah…” Megumi’s voice is a touch fainter, his fingers squeezing and releasing the ends of his sweater sleeves. “How big?”

“Medium, deep preferably,” 

“Okay,” Megumi starts toward the kitchen, and Sukuna follows him but pauses from a thought he simply can’t ignore.



Sukuna brushes two fingers from the base of Megumi's earlobe to his chin, gently turning his head back until he can kiss him. He smiles into it when Megumi makes a tiny sound, the vibration touches his lips, runs across his tongue and he takes all his willpower not to push him against the wall to find out what other sounds he’s hiding. 

When they part and Sukuna opens his eyes again he notices how Megumi’s eyes are half-lidded, his cheeks pink, his mouth hanging slightly open, gazing up at him like he’s far far away. It’s silent, until Sukuna says, “So that pot.”

Megumi jolts. 

“Right.” He spins, his shoulders hunching up as he goes in search of the kitchenware. 

Cute. Sukuna hovers, watching him enter the kitchen,  crouch, and search the lowest shelf for a decent-sized pot. Megumi rises when he finds it and sets it on the stove.

“What are you making?” Megumi asks. 

“Rice porridge,”

Sukuna places his bag on the counter and pulls out the uncooked rice. He washes the rice until the water runs clear, feeling Megumi watching his back as he finishes up and leaves the pot on the unlit stove.

“It has to soak for thirty minutes,” he explains, but Megumi’s expression has changed from focused and curious to tightened brows and a frown.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just flaring up a little,”

“Need to lay down?”


Megumi’s hand reaches out, fingers pinching into the bottom of Sukuna’s white t-shirt and Sukuna follows the shy tug leading him toward the bedroom. 

"It’ll be quick" is just a little white lie, he wants him to stay, he wants to cuddle, and Sukuna follows along without an ounce of resistance.

Sukuna climbs into bed beside him, slinks an arm over Megumi’s waist as he hides beneath his chin. The soft spikes of black brush against his jaw, his cheeks and lips, and the scent of him that fills the apartment swells in his head. 

He missed this, after four days away, he missed being covered in his scent. 

Megumi’s head slides back to rest more comfortably on his pillows and he lets out a big yawn.

“Tired?” Sukuna asks.

“A little,”

“Sleep then,”

“Not while you’re here…” Megumi’s eyes shut as he wiggles into a comfy position. “What if I wake up and half my stuff is gone?”

Sukuna almost misses the jest because of the drowsy monotone, but when it clicks he plays along.

“Then you better stay awake,”

That damn smile. Sukuna watches again, dark brows relaxing, the muscles in his face loosening as his jaw eases, his lips parting. He fights it only a little, his eyelashes rising but after only a few minutes he's drifting off.

There it is, but Sukuna waits until his breath is even, he’s in deep sleep, and he thinks thirty minutes have passed before sliding off the bed and going back to the kitchen. He turns on the burner and adds the slices of fresh ginger, melts a couple of chicken stock cubes into the water, then brings it all to a boil. 

Leaving that to cook for another forty minutes on medium heat, he returns to Megumi’s bedroom and slides back onto his spot as smoothly as he can without disturbing him. He watches the ceiling, listens to his soft breathing, comes up with multiple joking excuses for never leaving again. Next time he’ll bring a toothbrush, really let Megumi know he means business.

Another twenty minutes of quiet pass without him doing much aside from admiring Megumi’s sleeping expression. 

I want this every damn day.

He sighs and Megumi stirs.


Megumi’s eyes open and he lets out another little yawn.

“You can go back to sleep, I’ll hang out,” Sukuna says casually. “I already sold the T.V.”

Megumi lightly slaps his bicep, then nuzzles into the thinly clothed muscle making Sukuna’s heart flutter, but he acts calm, keeps up the game.

“Got a couple hundred bucks for it. The couch I’ll maybe get forty-fifty.”

“Shut up.” Megumi wraps both arms around Sukuna’s arm laying flat on the bed and he squishes his cheek against it.

“There’s a perfectly good umbrella by the door, I can squeeze seven out of some kid on a rainy day with that.”


“Okay, five, but I’m a good haggler.”

Sukuna adores the grin that appears on Megumi’s face and watches the tips of his fingers trail down his arm to his own hand, tingling all the way, then slowly tangling with his. Sukuna’s heart flutters again and he hopes his palm isn’t sweaty. 

“Today,” Megumi starts.


Megumi strokes across the joints in Sukuna’s fingers like he’s examining the grooves and doesn’t know the man is smitten, completely, utterly, smitten with every little touch. 

“Today, my morning client, I got to give her another koi fish. She told me she got the first when her father passed away and she wanted me to do another one now, because her mom passed away. I did touch up the color of the older one so they matched,” Megumi explains and chuckles a little. “The whole time I wasn’t sure if I was going to cry because of my stomach or because I was thinking about how important they must be to her. For a bit, I was worried I was going to fuck it up.”

“And did you?”

“She started crying, when she got up to see the complete piece,” Megumi’s voice weakens like something is building up in the back of his throat. “And gave me a hug.”

“Sounds like a good reaction,”

“They must have meant a lot to her, her parents,”


“Did you-”

“Trying to get to know me?” Sukuna asks, meaning it playfully but seeing the flash of anxiety in Megumi’s eyes, he lowers his voice too. “My mom dipped when my brother was a baby, my dad disappeared at the same time. We were left with my grandpa but we were always butting heads. I was in and out of the house a lot.”

Sukuna pauses to glance at Megumi's face. He sees a calm but attentive expression, he's listening closely, hanging on to every word and it makes Sukuna's whole body warm through.

"My brother is a little brat," he continues. "But he'll be out of my hair once he finishes his firefighter program."

"You don't get along?"

Sukuna sees a pair of brightening curious eyes and he can't help but… melt. Has he ever felt this impulse before? Has he ever wanted to douse the wall of flames he keeps alive against all the people he's ever encountered?

"He's still angry at me," Sukuna pauses.

This is the only thing in his life, in his past, he’s sure will scare him away. If he says it now, maybe the stabs and slashes and heart-shattering that come as a result will eventually close up with only scars to remember him by. 

"I was in jail when our grandfather died… I beat a guy half to death and served a few months," he says, waiting for the grimace, the freeze, the touch to slip away.

The silence that follows is heavy, tense, but when Sukuna sees Megumi is still watching with such tender attention he just keeps going.

"While I was in there my grandfather had a heart attack, my brother was alone with him… he was just a teenager… I didn't know until after the funeral," he sighs, chest rising and falling. "Then I got out a month later, got a couple of jobs, all shitty. Can you believe I was a dishwasher?"

"You, in those little hair nets and giant gloves?"

"Can't picture it, can you?"

Megumi just smiles at him, imagining his grumpy face turned down at a sink, long gloves reaching all the way up to his elbows, a big white apron, his biceps peeking out of a too-tight t-shirt.

"I took over sorting through our grandfather's stuff, but Yuuji didn't really talk to me. Not for a while. He was pissed, if I hadn't gotten a job right away, I'm sure he would have punched me in the face or tried to kick me out… then I made us move out of the house and into an apartment. Cheaper rent, I couldn't pay for a damn house on the money I was making. And yeah, he got pissed at me for that too."

He waits again for some response, but Megumi absorbs the information without a word of judgment.

“That about sums up my story.” Sukuna sits up. “Think you can eat something?”

“Maybe a little.” 

So Sukuna follows the flow, the ease of everything that is and that he’s sure will continue to be. Inside there’s no storm, just sweet warm sunlight shining on a thin green forest. 

“Alright, c’mere,” he slides his arms under Megumi’s back and legs. “Sick boys get the royal treatment.”

Sukuna loves the gasp, the pair of thin hands hugging the back of his neck as he balances and carries him toward the kitchen. If he put his ear to his chest, he's sure he'd hear his heart racing, but that's what he wants, to keep giving him those butterflies until he's just as gone for him as he is. He sets Megumi on the kitchen stool, then serves him a small bowl of fresh, thickened porridge. Megumi takes his first bite.

“How is it? Not too strong?” 

It’s only rice porridge, but he’s eager, it’s the first meal he’s made for him.

“It’s delicious.” Megumi swallows another spoonful, licks the salt from his lips. “Is there ginger in it?”


“It’s subtle but it’s really good.”

The smile returns, Sukuna relishes every second before it disappears behind the spoon again. 

“There’s plenty more if you get hungry again,”

“I’ll save it for later, I don’t think I can finish this whole thing right now, but…” he rests the spoon against his bottom lip for a second, having a quiet moment to himself that Sukuna finds intriguing and ridiculously charming.

Where the hell does he go? And when the hell will he ever get to go there with him?

“It’s really good. Thank you,” Megumi finishes his thought.


Megumi only eats half the serving before tapping out and Sukuna packs the rest into a container, then puts it in the fridge.

“It’ll keep for a few days. If you want to save it for longer you can freeze it, but it’ll taste watery,” Sukuna explains. “There’s this show about terrible cooks, there was someone on there who tried to make a soup once and they just threw the chicken in the water and boiled it with some noodles thinking that’s what soup is. Added salt, but nothing else.”

“That’s something I’d do,”

Sukuna looks at him like he’s just betrayed his entire lineage, mouth slightly agape and Megumi flushes under that look.

“I don’t cook a lot,”

“I’ll teach you,” Sukuna's grinning again, he just can't seem to stop.


Megumi snatches him by the wrist as soon as he gets close and together they go to the living room couch where they sit cuddled with Megumi's head on Sukuna's shoulder. They turn the television on, flick through the channels until they find a cooking one decent enough to watch, but Megumi isn’t paying attention. The storm inside him is starting up again, the fear of things being too perfect welling like the before of a geyser. 

Sukuna told him so much so casually, he wants to do the same.

A commercial starts and Megumi does too.

“I didn’t really grow up with parents,”

Sukuna hums to indicate he's listening so Megumi continues.

“My mom passed away when I was really young, I can’t really remember her,” Megumi can’t describe the comfort he finds hugging onto just one of Sukuna’s big beefy arms. “My dad got married again, then disappeared along with my step mom. I was left alone with my older sister Tsumiki for a while, but…”

The pause is tense enough Sukuna squeezes his hand and Megumi squeezes back.

“She got into an accident and went into a coma… I got into contact with my cousins and I spent the rest of highschool with them,” he sighs. “And then… yeah I started working to pay the hospital bills because my uncle’s made it very clear they weren’t going to, but after a couple years… her heart stopped.”

Another heavy silence settles between them, but it’s all the same, no disturbances, nowhere else to be, nothing else to focus on. The seam, only centimeters apart slowly closes because Megumi finishes pulling the thread.

“I moved out when my cousin’s did and one of them, Maki, helped me get a job as a janitor at the tattoo shop she was apprenticing in. She basically convinced them to give me her old job, and yeah, eventually, I made it to where I am.”

Sukuna gives him the same, no comment, no judgment, just a single soft peck to his mouth and a never-ending smile. Just after, Megumi lets out another yawn, a longer one.

“Still tired?”


He hesitated, why the hell is he so fucking cute? Sukuna thinks as he says, “I can head out.”

Megumi clenches two handfuls of his shirt. 

“Do you have something to do?” he asks.

“Mm? No, not really,”

He sees Megumi struggling, there’s something he wants but can’t seem to say. Though Sukuna knows, he already understands.

“Not sick of me yet?”

Megumi shakes his head.

“Fine then,” Sukuna chuckles. “I’ll stay until you’re sick of me.”

He doesn’t know that Megumi’s first thought is, never. 

He doesn’t know Megumi's body floods with emotion while he cuddles against his chest, but he knows soon enough.

“Thank you for coming,”

A storm is brewing inside of Megumi, one that’s been on the horizon since their lips met and as he thinks the words over and over again, he realizes he has to take the leap, even if it results in him plummeting into a canyon.

"Is it too selfish for me to want you all to myself?" Megumi whispers.

His heart beats harder, his fingers squeeze the front of Sukuna’s shirt tight. He cyclones deep within, body tensing, cold with fear, it's too soon, it's too soon, it's just too soon to assume, to ask, to want this much. He's never let himself be selfish and needy, he's never let himself expect or hope.

And as the gusting wind and heavy rain splatter through his body, the sun breaks through the dark clouds in his consciousness.

Accompanied by a tender smile, he hears, "I'm already yours."

If only he could let himself cry, he hugs around Sukuna’s torso, buries his face in his chest, feels more words on his lips, but doesn't let them through.

No, not that yet. Too soon. Too soon for the next thing, those three little words that spill out when the storm clears and there's nothing but warm sunshine beating down on his face, it's much too soon.

Chapter Text

On a warm Friday evening, Megumi leans over Maki's thigh and steadily pierces ink into her skin.

“So he almost killed a guy,” she says after he relays a few details from his romantic and pleasant Tuesday.

Megumi lifts the needle and wipes a fresh napkin against the bubble of black ink. He wipes a couple more times, frowning as he thinks over Maki’s phrasing again.

“He said, ‘beat him half to death,’”

“That means he almost killed him,”

“It can’t be that bad,”

“He served time for it,”

“...maybe the guy did something really awful,”

“Sure.” Maki reaches for her giant green glass bottle of sparkling water and takes a sip. “You really know how to pick ‘em.”

He starts on the next line, but sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he does it. Is it really that weird for him not to be worried about it? 

“I’ll ask him about it,”

“Good luck,”

The conversation sticks with him all through the weekend and well into Tuesday morning. He arrives at his studio an hour earlier than he needs to so he walks a block over to a small coffee shop he’s frequented over the past year, makes a quick purchase, and returns with plenty of time to push aside the shutters before settling down at his stool.

Sukuna won’t arrive for another 20 minutes and he spends that time thinking of how he’ll eventually phrase the question, tapping his fingers atop the marble countertop, huffing at himself for overthinking it so much.

So what if it was for a stupid reason even? It happens, It’s not like I haven’t beaten up a few people over small things. 

His mind goes back to his middle school days and the copious soon-to-be-thugs that tried his patience day after day, but back then people should have known better than to act like tough shits in his presence. After a few knuckles to the face they weren’t as tough as they thought.

Megumi snaps back to the present when there’s a tap on the glass and Sukuna is standing there in cargo shorts and a tight-fitting green tank. It is an abnormally warm day, but to see Sukuna showing off all of his ink in anticipation of his final few sessions makes Megumi excited in many ways.

Why does he look sexy in everything?

A smile rises onto his face as he taps the button to let him in and before anything else he goes right up to him to get his, “I missed you,” kiss. The taste of toothpaste and just the slightest hint of orange juice reaches his tongue, so when Megumi leans back, he smacks his lips while grimacing.

“What?” Sukuna asks and reaches up to his mouth.

“You taste weird,”

“I just brushed my teeth,”

“You had orange juice after, didn't you?”

“Yeah, oh,”

“It doesn’t taste bad to you? After brushing your teeth?”

Sukuna shrugs and Megumi hooks a hand around the back of his neck again, he brings him down into another kiss, a light one, just a simple touch of their lips.

“Gross,” he says and smiles up at him again, earning one back.

"Yeah? Well you taste like coffee."

Megumi perks an eyebrow and Sukuna pecks his forehead.

"I really hate coffee,"

Megumi remembers how often they've kissed after he's had some and another warm tingle travels through his chest. 

They make their way to the leather chair waiting for them and Sukuna chucks off his cargo shorts without being prompted. Megumi tries to ignore his overeagerness and plops onto his rolling stool so he can prep Sukuna's muscular bare thigh by cleaning and then applying the stencil. 

After, he fills his caps of ink and makes eye contact with his grinning boyfriend lounging in the chair with his legs just a little too far apart.

Megumi knows exactly what he's thinking about and damn it, if remembering what they did only two weeks in this very room doesn't make him a little hot. But if he wants to keep his license he can't give in.

“Don’t give me that look, we’re never doing that again,”



“Worth a try.” Sukuna lays with his thigh in an easily accessible position. “It was the hottest thing ever.”

Megumi adjusts the chair and wills away the next rise of horniness in his gut. It was, and it has been awhile since he got to feel Sukuna’s bare skin against his own, the heat of his labored, blissed breath against his neck, the feel of his rough but gentle fingertips squeezing his hips to keep him from writhing to far away from the rhythm. 

Stop it, later.

There are other things on his mind he wants to tend to before they throw themselves back into heavy sweat and fiery tingles.

Megumi starts on the first band around Sukuna’s thigh, entertaining his recollection of the previous drunken antics of the patrons of the bar he bounces for.

“A couple of guys got into a fight over a girl. It sounded like the one guy was protecting his girlfriend from a creep, but they left before things turned bad,”

“Does that happen often?”


“Bar fights,”

“Not every time, but when people get a little liquor in them, they act a little too brave,”

Megumi hums and starts the next line. In his head, he circles back to the question he’s been sitting on for days.

“So… about the guy you beat up,” Megumi hesitates and his gaze drifts to Sukuna’s cotton shirt. 

Will this ruin things? Showing it made him more nervous than he originally thought?

“What about him?” Sukuna asks in a calm, measured tone.

Megumi pauses with the needle an inch from his skin and musters the courage to keep going.

"I just wanted to ask what happened," Megumi feels if that's okay, or if you want, on his lips, but wills them away. 

He can refuse without being prompted.

"It was a while ago,” Sukuna starts. “I was well out of high school, running around on my own with a shitty group of people. I was getting into fights left and right, but that one was different,"

Megumi focuses on keeping a straight line while he listens, but when his eyes track up to Sukuna's expression he sees how far away he is. The muscle beneath his hand tightens and he notices his hands squeezing into fists.

"It was some shithead from high school I came across while looking for some fun at a bar."

Megumi lifts the needle and realizes his hands are a little shaky.

“I guess I was going after the guy he had his eyes on, so we exchanged some… friendly greetings, but he didn't like that the guy was warming up to me more than him…"

Sukuna's tone changes and Megumi goes completely still, holds his breath, waits for it.

"He said, ‘I bet that brother of yours is a deadbeat just like you,’” 

Hearing it makes all the hairs on Megumi's arms stand up. 

“And I saw red, so I hit him and I kept hitting him... until someone pulled me off.”

Sukuna finally meets his eyes and Megumi exhales softly. His look is heavy and thick, filled with smoke, bricks are raining down through the riot, his fingers itch to swing.

That's probably how he felt, Megumi thinks as he watches the bricks crash and shatter from the height of their fall. It's a fire in a building with no windows or escape. It's the fury of violating something that should never ever be touched.

Megumi can see it still, it's a raw wound barely sealed over. The skin is thin and pink, weak to the slightest nick. It's the reason Sukuna lost almost a year of his life, lost the moment to be there when his brother needed him most, and lost his chance to make up with his grandfather. 

A moment lost can stretch much further, ruin every moment that follows, and yet here Sukuna lays beneath Megumi's gentle, understanding hands, cupping his fingers tenderly around a good moment he’s afraid will slip away.

Megumi wipes his thigh even though nothing is bleeding yet and smiles a little at Sukuna. He thinks of a thousand words of comfort, a thousand sermons about life and mistakes made in anger. He runs through the breadth of idioms and sayings spouted to him by half-present adults and temporary friends. He remembers them all and decides not a single sweet word matches this moment. Not a single one.

"What a piece of shit."

Megumi see’s a sparkle of white teeth, hears a tiny chuckle, and he rolls the stool up until he’s close enough to lean down for a kiss. They part with a wet smack of their lips and pause to stare with the tips of their noses brushing, sharing a couple more breathy understanding chuckles. Without another word, Megumi rolls back down and continues tattooing. 

A month and a half later, they've fallen into the ease of each other like perfectly fitted cogs. They rotate together at a steady pace, spend days apart and return together for calm, quiet dates started with or ended by lots of sex. 

It's summer, the days grow hotter and the cool ocean winds are far more appealing to the pair than the stagnant inland air of their apartments. So moisturized and sunscreened they visit the pier for a walk, food, and whatever else catches their attention. They nibble down hotdogs and share a soda, Megumi playfully smacking away Sukuna's hand whenever it creeps close to take his. 

There's a dingy looking arcade that Megumi refuses to enter, but Sukuna drags him in anyway for a rather competitive game of air hockey. Sukuna adores his boyfriend, but he isn't going to let him win without a fight, so when he does, Megumi demands a rematch. They go at it again, then again, then a few more times, until Megumi grumpily admits defeat.

"Alright I'll make it up to you," Sukuna says and takes him to a soft serve stand to treat him to some ice cream. 

Megumi savors the swirl of matcha and vanilla as they casually walk along the pier. His white shirt-sleeve brushes against Sukuna's arm with every step. Part of him wants to hook his arm through Sukuna's but whenever he imagines it, his face gets warm, he thinks of how many eyes will stare and he just can't do it. Instead, he savors the sweet and herbal taste coating his tongue, gaze drifting to a woman passing by with her tan poofy shiba trotting beside her.

“I’ve always wanted a dog,” Megumi says between licks and continues because he knows Sukuna is listening. “I just haven’t had the time… I’m also allergic.”

“Badly allergic?” Sukuna has already swallowed down his chocolate cone and expects he'll be finishing the remains of Megumi's treat soon.

“I don’t know, I’ve avoided them,”

“Then how do you know?”

“I just remember being told I was allergic when I was young,”

“Have you ever gotten tested?”


“Have you ever gone close to a dog to find out?”

“No, I don’t have any friends who have one,” Megumi stares at his melting ice cream cone. “Whenever I see a dog on the street I just watch from afar.”

“You should get tested, to be sure,” 

“I could schedule a doctor visit,” Megumi glances at Sukuna, not paying much attention to the oncoming pedestrian traffic, and a man walking directly towards them rams right into his shoulder, forcing him to take a couple steps back. The ice cream cone slips from his grip, splatters to the concrete, leaving white and green streaks across his shoes.

Megumi looks down stunned at the mess, though not too worried, because the shoes he’s wearing are pretty beat up anyway. He gently rubs his shoulder, while shifting his feet, but tenses up when he hears cursing behind him. 

When he turns he finds Sukuna with his fist curled in the man's shirt, lifting him so his heels are off the ground. Both of the man's hands grip at Sukuna's wrist, he's glaring back into a face that would make the most fearless piss themselves. 

"Get the fuck off me," the man snaps and yanks at Sukuna's iron grip.

"You want to watch where you’re fucking going?” Sukuna tugs harder on his shirt and shakes the man a bit. 

Megumi reaches for Sukuna’s arm and it’s like a switch. The touch of his fingers reminds Sukuna there’s a reason to think before his knuckles go crashing into this random rude person’s face. He looks at Megumi and immediately the harshness in his expression softens. 

"Let's go, he's not worth it," Megumi wraps a hand around a bulging bicep and tugs on his shirt. 

Please, I don't want you to get in trouble again, please.

Sukuna slowly lets go, turning his full attention to Megumi. 

“That’s fucking right,” the man snaps at them, while backing up a few steps to be just out of reach. 

Megumi squeezes Sukuna's shirt tighter, not to keep him in place, but to try to stall the anger swelling up in his own body. 

"You ain't shit." A string of spit hits the ground near Megumi's shoes. "Fucking morons."

He's had enough. Megumi's fingers slip off Sukuna's shirt and he swings his fist right into the jeering man's nose, sending him stumbling backward. Caught off guard, he lands right on his ass, clutching at his face just as blood runs down across his lips. 

Megumi watches his eyes widen in shock while casually cracking his knuckles.

"There's a limit to the things you can say to people before they lose their temper," Megumi states in a calm tone. "Now get out of here, before I lose mine."

The man scrambles back, still murmuring obscenities, but quickly rises to his feet and speeds down the pier.

With that Megumi turns back to Sukuna who's standing by, mouth in a big grin. Megumi grabs his wrist and leads him toward the parking lot, intent on heading home in case some nosy bystander decides to call the police. They slip between the arcade and multiple foodstands, avoiding the crowds, until Megumi’s sure enough anyone who may have been watching doesn’t know where they are. 

Then they pause to come down from the natural adrenaline of confrontation. 

"I got into a lot of fights in middle school," Megumi says and glares. "So I get it, but you. Do I have to put a leash on you to keep you from fighting people?"

Sukuna breathes in hard all of sudden, his eyes half-lidded and almost glazed. Megumi notices the look, that's the look he gives him when he's getting ready to bend him over and pound him into a mattress. 

"What?" Megumi can feel the heat rising to his face. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You're so fucking sexy,"

Megumi does flush this time.

"Do you need a muzzle too?" He asks on reflex and the next sigh Sukuna let's out sends a needy rush straight to between his own legs.

Oh god. Oh fuck, he's kinky.

"You like that?" Megumi asks.

Sukuna's hands find his waist and draw him close so he can kiss his lips. They don't break eye contact as Sukuna responds with a faint, "yeah."

Megumi, feeling daring despite how close they are to a busy public street, can't help but keep going.

"You wanna be my dog?"

Sukuna lets out the tiniest moan. Megumi’s hands slide up the muscles on his stomach, up his chest, neck, until his fingers curl into the back of his hair. 


Sukuna doesn’t answer but leans in for another kiss and Megumi stays just out of his reach, feels his breath across his lips, savors the needy look in his eyes. 

“Then be good until we get home.”

Megumi’s 100 percent sure, if Sukuna had a tail, it would be wagging. He finally gives him a deeper, luscious, tongue-filled kiss that makes them both sigh and moan against each other’s lips. Then they dash out, hand in hand, to the parking lot where Sukuna’s motorcycle is waiting for them.

Megumi yawns as they walk through the front door of his apartment, stretching his arms high over his head, his pale belly peeking out from under the bottom of his shirt. A hand comes out and rests flat against it, gently leaning him back into Sukuna’s chest and he turns into the oncoming soft kiss.

Another perfect, almost perfect, date. 

Sukuna’s hand comes up to join the other, still resting lightly on his stomach. His fingers lace together. 

Megumi heats up again, body flaring with tingles. Every lingering press against his warm cheeks, down his jaw, along the exposed line of his neck, sends an excited signal to his core. 

“It’s so hard to keep my hands off you,”

Megumi smiles a little and cups over the comforting hold, not sure of what to say he tucks his forehead against Sukuna’s chin, and they rock slowly from side to side. A deep sigh breezes through his hair and Megumi’s normally tense shoulders ease. He’s ready for another peaceful night watching cooking shows while cuddled up on his boyfriend’s chest. And then when they’ve relaxed enough, he hopes to get the mood back from earlier.

Sukuna’s phone starts ringing and he groans into his hair. 

He really doesn’t like being interrupted when it’s just the two of them. 

“Oh, it’s the brat,”

The hands slide off of Megumi’s abdomen and he heads toward the kitchen to grab some water while Sukuna takes his call, but before his foot crosses the threshold there’s a change in Sukuna’s voice.


Megumi stops with one hand on the frame leading into the kitchen and turns back around. Sukuna’s brow is furrowed. His fist hangs loose at his side, but the knuckles slowly are turning white. 

Oh no.

“I’m coming home right now,” Sukuna huffs. “I said, I’m coming home right now.”

Megumi waits in the kitchen doorway to be clued into what’s going on.


His whole body flushes at once. Okay, he never expected to like that nickname, but hell if his body doesn’t respond to it.


Sukuna takes one of his hands and plants a little kiss between his knuckles.

“Someone tried to break into our apartment, I gotta go back,”

“Oh shit, is your brother okay?”

“He sounded fine,” Sukuna replies but there’s little twitch in his eyelids.

If his little brother is as stubborn and hot-headed as he is, Megumi knows he’s probably acting tough.

“Sorry to cut our night short,”

“I’ll go with you.” Megumi takes his hand and squeezes it.

“It’s safer here,”

Megumi shakes his head, “I’m going with you.”

When he gets that look on his face, all serious and sure, Sukuna sighs. 

“Alright,” he turns, taking Megumi with him toward the door. “Can’t argue with that look.”

Megumi snatches his keys from the nightstand and his little backpack from their beach trip, noticing Sukuna’s hand is warm, a little sweaty. His shoulders are stiffer, his feet a little faster than a casual walk. 

He’s worried.

The trip down to his still warm motorcycle is quick and as they speed down multiple blocks, Megumi feels the muscles in his abdomen tense. The wheels scream with every turn. The engine roars every time he grips the throttle. The wind whips Megumi’s shirt around his torso hard enough to sting, but he hugs tighter around his stomach, reminding him that he’s there with him. 

They come to a screeching halt outside Sukuna’s apartment. It’s a small faded red-brick building tucked between two much larger apartment complexes. 

Sukuna turns his motorcycle off and goes to the rickety metal fence to push it open. He comes back, muscles the bike through and they enter over cracked cement walkways with weeds jutting out. They circle around the corner of the building and head straight for the back unit where Megumi spots a couple of people standing by the front door. 

One is a shorter old man looking frazzled, wiping sweat from his balding head, and the other looks… just like Sukuna. His hair is the same shock of pink, but his features are a little softer. He’s smiling and laughing, patting the old man on the shoulder and as they get close he hears a chipper voice say, “It’s all good. I doubt they’ll be back.”

The moment he turns and sees Sukuna still pushing his bike toward them, the smile drops from his face. 

Megumi stays a little to the side, watching Sukuna park the bike by a window and wrap a chain around a bar in the frame to a metal mailbox beside their front door. The door is open into the apartment, a big chunk of the wooden doorway where the lock mechanism sets is split open. On the door itself is the imprint of a dirty boot.

Damn, Megumi thinks, letting his gaze drift back up because he feels eyes on him.

Yuuji makes eye contact and smiles again, waving politely but finishing up his conversation with who Megumi assumes is the landlord first.

“I’ll be fine. I can just put something to block the door for the night.”

“They said they’ll come right away in the morning,”

“Sounds good,”

The landlord scutters away as soon as he sees Sukuna walking toward them. 

“What happened?”

“I already told you,” he replies and immediately shifts his attention. “You must be Megumi, right? I’m Yuuji.”

Megumi nods. Tension fills the air around them and he notices whenever the two tall pink-haired men look at each other, they’re both on edge. A thousand unexchanged words hang heavy in their silent glares, and Yuuji finally turns back toward the apartment.

“I don’t know why you came all the way over here, I said it was fine,” Yuuji walks into the open door, hands stuffed into his hoodie. “It’s not like anything bad happened.”

“You call this nothing happening?” Sukuna gestures to the hanging portion of the doorframe.

Yuuji doesn’t even look back when he says, “Chill out.”

“Little shit,”

Megumi knows Sukuna’s still jumpy from earlier so when he sees his big shoulders squaring up, he moves in close again. A door shuts somewhere inside the apartment and Megumi takes the chance to calm him down.

“Hey,” he speaks softly.

He’s reminding him he’s here again, with the rest of his hand to Sukuna’s abdomen and the tilt of his head to catch his line of sight.

“I know you’re just worried,” Megumi says. “But just take a deep breath, hug me for a second.”

Megumi thinks Sukuna’s hugs are awesome, but when Sukuna slides his arms around his back and rests his nose against the curve of a slender shoulder, he’s sure his boyfriend’s hugs could cure anything. He takes in a slow breath, letting the warm amber scent fill his nose and skull, then exhales. The anxiousness in his body lessens with every passing second, he can feel his muscles relaxing as he nuzzles into Megumi’s neck.

“You really even me out,” Sukuna whispers.



“Good,” Megumi cups his cheeks and brings him into a quick kiss. “Since we’re here, can I see your room?”

Sukuna’s all dreamy-eyed again, lost in the scent and feel of him within his arms.

“It’s a mess, but yeah,”

They take off their shoes in the genkan and Megumi scans the apartment while Sukuna places a piece of furniture in front of the broken door. After he’s finished and confident no one will be able to attempt to rob them without alerting him first, Sukuna gives Megumi a tour of the tiny apartment. There’s a scrunched-up living room on the left and tiny kitchen on the right. Down a short hallway are three doors, two leading to bedrooms and one leading to a restroom. Sukuna opens the door on the left and lets Megumi enter.

It’s also a very tight-spaced room, but Sukuna has only filled it with a full-sized bed covered in black sheets and a tiny three-drawer dresser. There’s space in the wall where more clothing is hung up. The ground is littered with dark-colored boxers and t-shirts. The window is barely a window, fitted with dusty plastic off-white blinds, that let in only slivers of light. 

Megumi expects no less, a bit of a mess, but not disgusting and unlivable. He kinda likes that the moment he enters the room he’s hit with the musky stink of a man. Not just the cleaned-up, cologne scent, but the sweat, the natural smell of him. 

Hands come around his waist again and Sukuna murmurs near his ear.

“I’ve thought about doing a lot of things to you in this bed,”

Megumi turns beet red and swats at the hands on his waist.

“Your brother is home,”

“He won’t hear it,”

“No fucking way,”

Sukuna shows off a little pout of his own and snatches a peck to Megumi’s cheek.

“Fine, but the moment he leaves,”

“We’ll see,” 

After Megumi’s short tour, they end up seated on the compact couch, flipping through static channels in a comfortable silence. Aside from Sukuna’s eyes darting to the part in the window whenever he thinks he sees a shadow or hears a sound, the evening progresses with little interruption. The sun starts to fall in the distance and enough time passes that the numerous cooking competition shows they’re watching result in rousing their appetites. 

“What’s for dinner?” Sukuna yawns and hugs his arm around Megumi’s shoulders.

An ad for pizza flicks across the screen. 

“Pizza?” Megumi proposes.

“Can you eat it?”

“Pizza places always have salads,”

“That’s fine with me then,”

“What do you want?”

“Meat and lots of it,”

“No veggies?”

“Sure, but lots of them,”

“That’s not helpful,”

“Just pick whatever, babe, I’ll eat it,”

Sukuna hops off the couch, mentioning going to the restroom. Megumi starts up an order on his phone then recalls his brother is home so he stands and goes to his door. He taps his knuckles against it, then steps back and waits for Yuuji’s to open it.

“I’m ordering pizza for us, do you want any?”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Yuuji replies, but as if on cue, his stomach growls.

His cheeks dust with pink and Megumi frowns.

“What toppings do you like?”

“I’ll eat anything,”

“Both you and your brother are not helpful,” Megumi sighs, and the smiles he earns ease some of the fears lingering in his head. 

They don’t actually hate each other, good. They’re just a couple of stubborn dummies.

“Is there anything you can’t eat?” Megumi asks.

“No, I can eat everything, but I really like sausage, bacon, ham,”

“Lots of meat?”


“Any veggies?”

“I’m fine with any. Mushrooms are really good,”

“Got it, I’ll let you know when it’s here,”

Yuuji flashes a big grin that’s so similar to Sukuna’s, he can’t help but smile back.

“Thank you!”


Megumi returns to the couch and when Sukuna comes back he lays on top of him with his head on his chest. He trails his fingers through the pink hairs, massaging up and down his scalp, earning a pleased moan. 

“Want to go home after you eat?” Sukuna asks.

“Do you want me to go home?”


“Then no,”

Their food arrives forty minutes later and Sukuna goes out to get it while Megumi approaches Yuuji’s door and lets him know the food is here.

When Sukuna returns with the pizza and salad, he glares at Yuuji as he comes out of his room like he’s a dog begging for scraps and Megumi lightly smacks his arm.

“Stop it, I offered it to him,”

“Fine,” Sukuna huffs and pulls some paper plates from the cabinet. He takes his heavily stacked plate to the couch. Megumi joins him with a big bowl of salad and they eat while Yuuji heads to his bedroom with his serving. By the end of their meal, Sukuna has finished half the pizza, but Megumi’s left a decent amount of the giant salad. 

“Are you done?” Sukuna asks while tossing their paper plates into a trash can. 

“I’m full,”

Just then Yuuji comes out to dispose of his own paper plate.

“Hey brat, help me finish this, Megumi can’t eat anymore,” Sukuna says.

“Why? Finish it yourself,”

“Shut up and take half,” Sukuna snaps. “There’s pizza left too, you take it.”

“I’m not your trash can,”

“You’re just gonna get hungry in the middle of the night and finish it anyway, so eat it now while it’s warm,”

Yuuji grumbles but takes the food into his bedroom anyway while Sukuna plops back onto the couch. His hands rest on Megumi’s hips and he slides him into his lap.

“You two are cute,” Megumi comments as he leans back into a strong embrace. 

“What? Us?”


“You’re the cutest one here,”

Megumi grimaces, “shut up.”

“But you are,” Sukuna coos.


Sukuna opens his mouth again and Megumi reaches up to cover it.

“You're going to piss me off,”

He feels a kiss to his palm and Sukuna snatches his hand off.

“I like you when you're feisty,”

He goes in for another kiss, but Megumi turns away.

“Stop it, I smell like dressing,”

“I smell like garlic,”

It doesn’t stop him from pressing against his lips once, twice, then cuddling to zone out to a random b-movie they found playing on the television. As the night continues and their food digests, they struggle to stay awake.

It’s Megumi who finally gets up and coaxes them to the bathroom to brush their teeth (thankfully there's a spare toothbrush) and they fall into Sukuna’s bed to properly go to sleep.

It was a long, eventful day. In seconds they're both knocked out, tangled up under a thin black sheet. 

Megumi awakens to nothing but Sukuna’s scent, arms wrapped around his torso. He’s never awoken so refreshed, so full of energy. The thin strips of sunlight coming through the blinds look gorgeous across the black. A shallow breath tickles the hairs on the back of his neck and Megumi’s entire core turns molten with want.

God he’s right here, I’m in his bed, I’m so fucking horny.

But he doesn’t want to wake him up, not yet, at least. When he wiggles to get his own arm out from under himself, he presses back and feels something hard in Sukuna’s shorts. 

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The touch of his little butt to Sukuna's crotch stirs him, he lets out a groan and then a big sigh.

“Are you awake?” Megumi asks, hoping for a yes.

Sukuna groans again and his arms cage Megumi in, squeezing him tight as he buries his face into his hair.

"No?" Megumi prompts and gets a grunt.

I guess that's a yes? A no?

He bumps his hips back against the bulge, gets more sleepy grunts, then grinds against him. 

"Not awake?"

Sukuna lifts his head and kisses the shell of his ear, causing a cascade of shivers down his neck.

"Yes," his voice is deep.

Megumi sticks his hand between them and gently cups his cock through his underwear.

“You want some help with this?”

“Mmm, hell yeah,” 

“You have to be quiet though,”

Sukuna murmurs his agreement and rolls onto his back. It takes a bit of maneuvering on a full-sized bed but he manages to slink down so he can get at Sukuna’s shorts. He tugs down the thin strip of elastic and watches the thick cock swing out. When his fingers circle around the base, he lets out a sigh.

God, I love this cock.

The slowly reddening bulbed tip looks so sexy to him, the way his shaft swells, the veins becoming more prominent makes his mouth water, and his clit twitch. 

It feels so damn good when he puts it in me.

Megumi flattens his tongue against the underside and slides it against each bulging vein as though he’s saying thanks for treating him so well. 

It’s not every day he gets to properly worship his boyfriend’s cock, because half of their sessions are spent with Sukuna between his legs, two fingers and tongue deep, moaning into him. 

Fuck, how did I get so lucky?

Megumi wraps his lips around the tip and gives a tender suck, feels a bit of precum land on his tongue and stifles the moan in his throat. Without realizing it, his hips hump the bed, a few vibrations of his withheld moan reach the skin of Sukuna's cock, and Megumi wonders if he can feel how much he loves sucking on it. 

I love making you feel good, he thinks as the tip presses into the back of his sensitive throat. Just like you make me feel good, damn it.

His eyes flick up to Sukuna’s drowsy, serene face. Eyes full of mirth, chest rising and falling with his quick, quiet pants, he can tell Sukuna’s already on the edge. He pulses his lips around the length as he rises and falls, drool leaving the flesh shiny. Transfixed by the split-second flutter of Sukuna’s eyelids and the sudden back tilt of his chin, he savors the effect, feeling his ego replenished and his own underwear incredibly damp. He keeps bobbing and bobbing until a warm load suddenly hits the back of his throat.

Megumi goes still, slipping off Sukuna’s cock with a gentle wet pop and swallows the cum. He studies the mess he’s made on the still hard length, then looks back up when he hears a sleepy, “Thank you, baby.”

Megumi almost laughs. Sukuna is so different after he’s orgasmed, like a bear with a full tummy curling up for a nap. 

Megumi climbs up the bed, excited to have his own ache taken care of, but when he balances on his palms, hovering over Sukuna, he quickly realizes the bear has already gone back to sleep. He looks like he's having the best possible dream, the corners of his mouth are curved enough to resemble a smile. Megumi can't help but think it's cute how content he looks, slumbering away after getting his dick sucked.

Wide awake, Megumi decides to start his day with a quick trip to the restroom. Afterward, he comes out to find Yuuji fully dressed, in the kitchen, reaching for a carton of milk from the fridge.

“Good morning,” Yuuji says.

“Good morning," Megumi replies, praying that Yuuji hasn’t heard anything of what just happened.

If he did, he shows no sign of it and Megumi tries to relax. It’s pretty easy when Yuuji is probably the most energetic and friendly person he’s ever met. He's the polar opposite of his impatient, combative older brother. 

It’s ridiculously early and Yuuji looks ready to conquer the day. He sets his carton of milk on the counter and reaches into the cabinet for a bowl.

“I know Sukuna said you like coffee, do you want some? We only have the instant kind though,”

“Instant is fine,”

A warm feeling rises into Megumi’s chest again. Sukuna talks about me? Really?

Yuuji puts a worn-down kettle onto the front burner of a tiny electric stove after filling it with water, then reaches atop the refrigerator for a box of cereal.

“Do you want something to eat?”

“I’m okay, I’ll wait until Sukuna wakes up,”

Yuuji fishes into the fridge for a bottle of milk and preps himself a bowl on the counter.

“How long have you been a tattoo artist?” He asks when he turns back.

“About four years,” 

Yuuji shovels a big spoonful into his mouth and smiles as he chews, he looks right at Megumi, and Megumi’s eyes shift around in search of something to focus on. 

“Sukuna said you’re in a firefighter program,” he prompts the next conversation.

“Yeah! I’m almost done actually,” Yuuji's mouth is full when he says it and he swallows dramatically before speaking again. “We started practical training a few weeks back, it’s going pretty well.”

The kettle starts to whistle and Yuuji snatches it off the burner so fast Megumi's sure he's worried about waking up his brother.

Does he do this every morning?

Megumi imagines him tiptoeing around the apartment while Sukuna's snores bounce off the walls. After his brother comes home from his night shifts, Yuuji makes sure to walk lightly, close cabinet's so every sound is muffled until he exits the apartment and shuts the front door with the slowest, most careful click. 

“Do you need milk or sugar?” Yuuji asks and breaks him out of his daydream.

“Black is fine,”

“Cool.” Yuuji hands him a ceramic white mug with a little chip in the rim. “Sorry, that’s the nicest mug we’ve got.”

“It’s fine,” Megumi watches the dark liquid swirl. “Thank you.”

They go quiet again while Megumi sips and Yuuji downs the last of his cereal. He spins without a word and washes his bowl in the sink before striding past Megumi to the door.

“I have to get going, it was nice meeting you,” Yuuji says while slinging his backpack over his shoulder.

“You too,” Megumi responds, watching him pick up the heavy-looking nightstand and set it aside without so much as a grunt.

Firefighter muscles, probably.

Yuuji pauses like he’s thinking of something and he turns back with an expression different from all the ones before. It’s gentler, less excited, but radiates so much warm friendly energy.

“Thanks for taking care of him,”

Megumi stares, stunned, silent.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy," Yuuji continues. "Honestly, he doesn’t shut up about you, it’s almost annoying, but… yeah, thanks.”

Megumi’s too bashful to reply with anything more than a whisper, "it's nothing."

“Can you put this back?” Yuuji points to the nightstand.

“Yeah,” he says just a tiny bit louder.

He’s still whirling from the comment, his heart is still slamming so hard into his ribs he’s sure it’s gonna burst right out of his chest. In the meantime, Yuuji exits with a final goodbye.

It takes a minute for him to snap out of it but when he does he sets his coffee aside and places both hands on either side of the nightstand. He tests the weight and decides it better not risk breaking his spine, so he pushes it trying not to scratch the floor while doing it. 

Once the task is complete Megumi lets out a laborious sigh then turns around intending on finishing his coffee, but Sukuna comes out into the hall only wearing a pair of tight red boxer briefs. He’s scratching the back of his head, yawning, stretching, and Megumi leans back against the nightstand to admire the view.

“Morning." Sukuna lumbers toward him the moment he spots him.


“I had an awesome dream,”

“Yeah? What about?”

“That you were on your knees, with my cock down your throat,”

Megumi glides both arms around Sukuna’s neck when he gets close, a grin rising to his lips. I guess since he was so sleepy during...

“Sounds like a good dream,”

“Mmhmm, but now I want my breakfast,”

He starts to ask what he wants, but Sukuna scoops him up by the waist and promptly sets him on the nightstand in front of the door. 

It’s the same each time, they dissolve into one living breathing creature, grinding and writhing to a rhythm their bodies have created together. Sukuna’s hands slip under his loose white t-shirt, his thumbs under the swells on his chest make Megumi gasp around an aggressive tongue. He sucks it and juts his chest forward, hungry for the pads of his fingers to reach his straining nipples.

Megumi hooks a leg around his waist and brings him closer to feel the bulge of his half-swollen cock against his throbbing heat. 

Fuck me right now, fuck me right here.

The demand rises from his chest, he’s readying himself to shout it as soon as their sloppy kneading mouths pause to take a breath.

Knock. Knock.


Megumi shoves his hands against Sukuna’s chest and leans his ear closer to the door.

“Heard there’s a door that needs to be repaired,”

Sukuna groans and Megumi covers his mouth. He gives his pectoral a quick pat.

“Go put on some clothes,”

He can see the whiny argument in his eyes but he stalks back to his bedroom to throw on the first thing he sees while Megumi tugs his t-shirt down and moves the nightstand.

“Sure, one second,” he calls out to the repairman. 

The needy aura lingers around him as he lets the man in to examine the doorframe and start his work.

“Is it going to take long?” he asks, trying his hardest to hide his impatient tone.

He’s been horny since yesterday’s kinky discovery. The tension in his body makes him irritable.

“Only the deadbolt catch wood is broken. It’ll take about twenty minutes, at most. It’s a pretty quick repair,” the man jiggles the doorknob, turns it, twists the lock. “Yeah the doorknob still works and it still locks, so I just have to replace this wood and put the metal plate back on and I’ll be out of your hair.”

“Great, thank you,”

It's the longest twenty minutes of his life. Though he does get to finish his coffee, he stands idle in the tiny kitchen while Sukuna hovers, squinting at the man just trying to do his job. 

"Once the glue is dry I can drill in the new spots for the metal plate," the man explains to Sukuna in hope that it'll be enough to encourage him to leave, but Sukuna stays nearby hovering even as the man starts to drill holes into the new strip of wood.

Megumi assumes the worker will be fine and goes into Sukuna's room to cuddle up in his bedsheets like a cat finding the perfect place for a nap. He can't sleep with the buzz of the drill, but he can bask in the scent of his boyfriend. 

I want to smell him when I get home from work.

Megumi buries his face in the pillow, keeping one eye to the bedroom door, anticipating Sukuna will come searching for him once he realizes he's no longer in the room.

It's not until the drilling stops, in exchange for a lighter drilling down, and eventually, a longer break of quiet does he start to feel excited again. The clatter of tools being collected and the door shutting has him squirming. 

Can we finally fuck now?

"There you are," Sukuna says when he enters. “I was wondering where you went.”

"I like your bed," Megumi replies and grabs the sheet to pull it up to his chin. 

“The repairman is gone.” Sukuna climbs onto the mattress, stretching out beside him. 

“Is the door fixed?”

“All fixed,”


Megumi doesn’t move or prompt, but his eyes are begging for it. Without a word, Sukuna grabs the bedsheet and throws it off of him. 

That’s one way to start, but he doesn’t let him get there that easily.

“I was comfortable,”

Sukuna pushes him flat on his back and Megumi sinks into the pillow, his temperature jumps, his frayed black strands rest around his head, making him so alluring to Sukuna he’s licking his lips.

“You look so sexy,” he purrs while climbing on top of him.

“I have bedhead,”

“I want to fuck you so bad right now,”

“You have to turn me on first,” Megumi replies, pretending his hole didn’t just pulse from the thought.

Sukuna sits back on his heels and throws off his shirt with one smooth motion, looking down at him with a confident smirk.

“How’s that?”

“Pretty okay,” Megumi’s eyes track up every muscle, taking it all in with a faint sigh.

God, I’m so horny. 

“Okay? With the way you’ve been looking at me all morning.” He lands on his elbows so their noses are close enough to touch. “You wanna act like you’re not thinking about fucking, right now?” 

Both sets of Megumi’s fingers skid up Sukuna’s abdomen to his chest, dipping into every line until he ghosts across his nipples. 

“Why are you sure I am?”

A hand cups him and Megumi throws his head back with a sharp gasp, his own wandering hands latching onto his pecs. Sukuna’s chuckle tickles his collarbone, the pressure on his crotch is so good his head starts to spin.

“You’re soaking through your shorts, baby,” Sukuna whispers against his ear, kissing the lobe gently. “Bet you’ve been dripping since you had my cock in your mouth.”

“That was a dream,” Megumi strains to keep his voice calm, but Sukuna’s fingers are already working at his clit through his clothes. His thighs spread apart like he can’t get enough and he moves with the slow circles.

“Sure, baby, sure,” 

Sukuna lays kisses all over his neck, savoring the short, quick gasps, the gradual flush of his pale skin to a delicious rosy color while Megumi watches his face. His pink lips stay open, he only breaks eye contact when a particularly strong wave of tingles washes over him and he has to close his eyes, open his mouth wider, buck a little more. But after each time, he looks at Sukuna again and loses himself in the adoration pouring from his unwavering gaze.

“Feel good?” Sukuna asks.


Does he know what the “yeah” even does to him? 

Megumi’s short hot breaths brush Sukuna’s lips when he leans in close.

“That’s what I like to hear,”

Sukuna kisses him and the sparks catch. A monsoon of fire licks out to Megumi’s finger and toe tips, he gasps so sharply against his lips it splits the air, and sears heat through Sukuna’s gut. 

Both of Megumi’s hands grasp helplessly at the thick black-banded wrist to stall the fingers still rubbing at his pulsing clit. It takes a few whining pleads for Sukuna’s hand to come to a stop, only gently cupping him as their mouths meet in wet, sloppy kisses. 

"Cum already? And you say you aren't horny?" Sukuna chuckles and gives Megumi an appreciative pat, jolting him. "You're all nice and slick now."

“Fuck me,” Megumi demands and grabs at Sukuna’s ass through his underwear. 

“Patience, baby." Sukuna pecks his flushed red cheek, then starts pushing up his shirt. "Let's get rid of all these clothes first."

"I've been waiting all morning," Megumi gripes while lifting his body to let his boyfriend pull off the white t-shirt he’s been sporting since yesterday’s beach outing.

"I bet you have,"

Yesterday evening, Megumi had wondered about whether he should take off his binder or not. In his own apartment, he’s comfortable going without, even when Sukuna is over. But he’s not in his own apartment. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he spent the night in someone else’s home. He and his cousins are close, but why would he stay too late when he has his very own comfortable space to himself. 

So Megumi stood in the middle of Sukuna’s room, hesitating and very sleepy, while Sukuna had thrown himself onto his bed. 

“What’s up?” he’d asked after scooting over to make room for him.

“I’m just thinking,” Megumi didn’t gesture but somehow Sukuna understood without him having to explain.

“You can lock the door,”

Megumi’s gaze fell to his feet and the shaggy, pressed-down carpet beneath it.

“He’s not gonna come in here, he never does,”

“I figured,” Megumi replied and made a decision.

Stop worrying about little things, it’s gonna be fine. He looked at Sukuna’s drowsy face. He patted the portion of the mattress specially designated for him and Megumi just wanted to cuddle.

“Just one second,” he said.


He turned away, pulled off his shirt, and then peeled away the binder. A sigh spilled from so deep within his chest, he lifted his arms to open his lungs and take in a freeing breath. He fingers the indent the elastic left on his skin, knowing it was itchy and red to touch.

“Do you have lotion?” he asked. “Unscented preferably.”

“There might be some in the top drawer,” Sukuna yawned.

The little plastic bottle of lotion was next to a box of condoms he’s sure is ancient and a bunch of raggedy-looking lube packets. Ignoring the other items, he sighed when the cool, soothing moisturizer hit the irritated skin, then threw his shirt back on and climbed into bed beside him.

“All good?”


“Goodnight baby,”


It was a nice moment for him and to now have his t-shirt pulled from his body, knowing the indents from the previous day have faded is a pretty pleasant feeling. 

It feels like we live together.

Sukuna cups the swells on his chest and kneads slowly like he’s savoring the feel of him, making Megumi melt atop the mattress.

I want to live together.

Sukuna’s touch has always felt worshipful, but today it’s like he’s truly taking his time, savoring every sip of fine wine, letting the taste of Megumi’s skin spread across his tongue at his leisure. 

I want to do this every day.

It’s another thought they both have at the time when Sukuna’s wandering mouth finally finds an already pointed pink nipple. His tongue circles first, then he breathes to cool the warm saliva and Megumi’s sure he can’t get any harder. It hurts almost and he’s short of begging for Sukuna to take it into his mouth and ease the pain.

It only takes a moment, Sukuna places his whole mouth around the tightened bud, swipes at it with the tip of his tongue and draws out a few wave-like movements from Megumi’s languid torso. 

He wants to enjoy Sukuna’s dawdling pace, but he’s throbbing. Things need to move forward, now.

“Hurry up,” he snaps.

Sukuna smiles with his mouth pressed to his ribcage. 

"Rushing me," he slinks down the bed, trailing his lips and dabbing out his tongue across Megumi's stomach to the hem of his shorts. He laps teasingly at his belly button.

Megumi wriggles and pushes him off by his head.

"Stop that tickles,"

Sukuna chooses to be merciful and Megumi is grateful when he finally pulls his shorts off and throws them to the carpet.

He knows how he probably looks, swollen, wet. Whatever his face and voice have tried to hide the tremble of his body when Sukuna's breath hits his core gives it all away. 

"Fucking gorgeous,"

This is the hard part for Megumi, the praise. It's like each syllable recognizes and caresses him wholly. The first kiss to his mound sends the tiniest bit of pressure to his swollen clit and he boils with heat.

Sukuna gets comfy and Megumi knows he's going to be there for a while, and just like every time before, Sukuna dives in with a ravenous groan. He goes right for the bud, wraps it in the heat of his mouth, and hums into him. 

"Oh fuck." Megumi clutches at the bedsheets.

Sukuna chuckles and moans around it, only darting his tongue out to circle before lightly sucking. 

Whenever his boyfriend eats him, it's messy and loud. The slippery give of his folds against the skilled waves of his muscle, reduces Megumi to a twitching mess. He creams all over his cheeks and gets another hungry sound.

Goooood, the way he growls inside of me, just-

Does he even know Sukuna growls because of the way his hips move, bucking up against his flickering tongue like he’s humping his face?

Sukuna doesn't let up until Megumi is full-blown quivering on his tongue, legs shaking, chest pumping from his heavy pants.

He rides out the latest orgasm, with a thin sheen of sweat coating his forehead. Stars blink in and out of his vision, he didn't bother to count how many times Sukuna had him lurching, pleasure washing down through his limbs from the back of his skull. 

“Oh my god," Megumi whines out each word because as much as he loves being eaten out by him, he just has one thing on his mind. "Fuck me."

“So needy,” Sukuna licks the juices from his lips. 

“You're a fucking tease." Megumi slaps his closest hand. 

Sukuna slinks off the bottom of the mattress and pulls down his underwear, stepping out and tossing it casually to another part of the room.

"This what you want?" Sukuna reaches down and lifts himself from the shaft.

Megumi studies how big it looks and the doubt comes. He's been inside him before, many times and in many holes, hell he just sucked him off a couple hours ago, but he's always so impressed by the sheer girth of his boyfriend's cock.

“Yes, you asshole,” he huffs, lifting his knees and spreading his legs apart like he’s on display. “Come here already.”

Megumi doesn’t know how long since they’ve started, but he’s relieved when Sukuna comes crawling up the bed to settle between legs. 

“Since you asked so nicely,”

“Fuck you,”

“You’re the one getting fucked today,”

“Shut up,” 

"Alright, alright, baby. Go ahead, guide me," Sukuna orders in a soft, sweet tone.

Megumi doesn't hesitate. He reaches down and aims the tip against his slick-covered lips. His other hand grabs Sukuna's waist and encourages him forward. 

"Put it in," Megumi fusses. 

He sucks in air as the cock tip presses against his inner lips, his walls flutter in excitement. 

"I need you," his voice weakens, more desperate and needy than before. 

Just as the words leave his mouth, he spreads open around the tip, crying out as the thickest part of Sukuna's cock slides right in. Sukuna curses, taking control again and sinking into Megumi inch by inch. 

"So damn ready for me."

Megumi's hands clamor around his boyfriend's neck and his legs hook around his hips, bringing him even further until their skin slaps together once. Both throw their heads back to moan, drink in the moment before looking at one another again.

"So big," Megumi whimpers, but he loves it. 

He's full, the pressure Sukuna's cock puts on his nerves feels like heaven. He grinds up against him, slicking more around his length and just drowning in the pleasure of being one again. 

Sukuna's out of breath, balancing on his elbows on either side of his narrow shoulders, moving with Megumi's instinctual friction-seeking bucks. 

"You like that?"

"Fuck yesss,"

"You're so sexy." Sukuna's voice is husky, just as pleasure-drunk. "Going crazy on my cock."

"Fuck me now,"

"So demanding,"

When his hips start moving, the world gets even smaller. There's only locked eyes and warmth, loving whispers between kisses, the soft slaps of skin to skin and the creak of mattress springs. 

"Feels so good," 

"So damn hot,"

"Nngh, right there,"

"Fuck baby,"

"Like that, fuck, like that,"

Fingers tangle into hair, teeth nip into skin, they pause only to adjust, to breathe, to share a few deeper, lingering kisses with lazily swiping tongues. The bitterness of coffee, the mint of toothpaste and the raw salty, sweet flavor of each other mixes on their taste buds.

It's in these moments Megumi's chest aches, he melts into his every touch, hopes that this time under Sukuna, engulfed in his scent, filled to the very brim, will last forever. 

Megumi rubs up and down Sukuna's biceps, sighing from the suckles against his neck. He winces when teeth skate across his vein leaving behind a brief painful sting.


"You always squeeze down when I bite you," Sukuna says. "Drives me fucking crazy."

"Cuz it fucking hurts," 

"You like it,"

Megumi smiles again, tilting his flushed face away from that cocky smirk.

"It's hot," he replies and wriggles his hips like he's reminding them both there's a cock still seated deep inside. "I like it hard."


"Make me feel it tomorrow," 

"I'll make you feel it 'til sunday,"



"Give it to me,"

Sukuna's knees spread and his hips lift, his cum-soaked shaft squelches loudly and the sound makes him growl with hunger. He grasps Megumi's waist, arches him and snaps in once.

A screech rips from Megumi's throat and they're gone. He jolts and twitches while Sukuna slams forward into him, hitting right against his g-spot each time. He curses with every stroke, his head and abdomen flood with heat so good, tears build at the corners of his eyes. 

But it's when the praise starts that Megumi really starts to drown.

"You feel so damn good,"


"You take my cock so well,"


And Sukuna is the same. He falls back down on him, wraps both arms around his back and buries his face in a pillow while driving his hips down. 

Snap. Snap. Snap. Each thrust has Megumi's core pulling tighter and tighter, his nails dig into the meat of Sukuna's shoulders, unrestrained "ah's" burst from his wide open mouth. 

With every rise and fall, their nerves sizzle and sweat mix, sharing the air and the aura of lovers in perfect sync. Their half-lidded eyes meet again and Megumi knows he's there, just on the cusp.

"Don't stop I'm gonna cum, fuck, fuck, I'm gonna cum,"

His knees fold, his toes curl, he's arched so high and clenched so tight around Sukuna's mercilessly pistoning shaft.

"Do it, baby,"

"Sukuna, I- I-"

"Cum on me, cum on this fucking cock,"

As if on command, he does. His head hits the pillows and the muscles in his throat cinch up like he's screaming but no sound comes out. 

And Sukuna pounds him all the way through, frying the last of his nerves until he's wrought with a sweet mix of pain and pleasure too much to endure.

Megumi breaks through the silent scream and dissolves into blissed whines and mindless muttering. He's too far gone to hear the words slip out of his own mouth. All he hears is Sukuna’s deep sigh, feeling the stutter of his hips as his cock twitches inside of him with his oncoming release. 

The warmth of his cum spilling inside is just the cherry on top for Megumi. They go mostly still, riddled with fiery tingles, both floating on a high so consuming they only lightly grind together. The colors swimming in Megumi’s vision start to settle and he nuzzles into the thick, strong shoulder he’s been pressed into for the past ten minutes.

The next hour feels like a dream. They cuddle for a bit, kiss softly, savor the lingering glow but say nothing of all that's been said or heard or unheard. 

The sun reaches full height outside and eventually, Sukuna will have to go to his shift. So they pry themselves from the comfort of soiled, sex-soaked bedsheets, dress, and head out the fixed front door.

The drive home is quiet, and when Megumi gets off Sukuna’s bike, they share a long, deep kiss and a “see you next time,” before leaving.

Finally, Megumi makes it behind his apartment door. The second the lock clicks into place he slumps like his puppet strings have been snipped. His shoulders land heavy against the wood and he slides down until he’s sitting in his genkan, staring out into his apartment, but not seeing anything.

I really fucking did that.

His hands come up to face and his knees rise as well. He curls into a ball atop the square of linoleum, face red, on the edge of, but not quite tipping over the edge into tears. It took him until he’d been walking out of Sukuna's apartment with him to realize that in the middle of the best orgasm of his life, he’d whined, from the very depths of his bones, heart, and soul, a desperate, wanting, “I love you.”

Chapter Text

Time moves in waves. Some waves barely kiss the height of the beach incline, others rear up and over, staining the untouched white sand, leaving trails of foam as it drags back into the vast ocean. 

The next time Megumi sees Sukuna, he's terrified, hands shaky, body wrought with jitters. But nothing has changed. Megumi starts to wonder if he even heard him say it. Neither says anything about it, but Sukuna doesn't act differently at all and after enough time passes, Megumi accepts, even if he did hear it, he probably isn’t ready to say it back. 

A couple of months go by and Megumi floats along, pushing the anxiousness and doubt to the back of his mind, and enjoying every day he gets to spend with Sukuna. 

On a regular Tuesday afternoon, Megumi returns home from leaning over a client’s back for six hours crafting an intricate jungle cat piece. His shoulders are aching and his lower back is tight. When he gets past the apartment front door, he groans and sets his little backpack by his feet. 

It’s a yoga type of day. He’s no professional, but he has a few videos he’ll turn on his laptop and go through some stretches to relieve the pain. He changes into leggings and a loose-fitting t-shirt, then comes out of his bedroom slightly refreshed and ready to loosen his muscles. While setting up the mat and waking up his laptop on the coffee table he does a simple toe-touch, then remembers to take out his phone and put it nearby beside his computer.

On Tuesdays, Sukuna usually messages him to say he’s coming over. It’s his only night off during most weeks and they like to spend it together. The video starts and Megumi follows along with the soothing voice of the yogi, letting the tension gradually drift with every deep exhale. Beneath his skin, the clenched muscles start to unfurl from the day's tension and he grows more and more relaxed. 

However, as the minute’s pass, he peeks at his phone, looking for the notification message and wondering why Sukuna hasn’t texted him yet. In a convenient position, he grabs his phone and checks. Seeing no new message, he pouts and opens his DMs, clicking over to Sukuna’s name.

Okay, so he’s a little bit bummed that Sukuna hasn’t texted him first, but Sukuna always texts him first. 

Get over it, it’s just a message, he snaps at himself and taps out a quick simple, “hello,” then sends it.

Wait, is that too monotone? Should he have added a heart? But then he doesn’t usually text with tons of emojis anyway, it would look even weirder if he suddenly started doing that.

Megumi shakes the flurry of thoughts away and continues his stretches. Another ten minutes pass and there’s no response.

Something probably happened... don’t worry about it, he tells himself and picks his phone up again. Just as he’s preparing to send another message one pops up. 

Sorry babe, I was taking a shower, what’s up?

Why do I always overthink things? 

Once he’s got his attention, the fire lights up inside of Megumi. He responds with the first thought that comes.

I need you

He’s already thinking about how good he smells fresh out of the shower, how much he wants to kiss him, run his hands all over him, and then be bent over and absolutely destroyed.

Everything okay?

I’m horny

It takes less than a second.

On my way

Megumi smiles and continues following along with the video, wondering how many red lights Sukuna is about to run on his way over. By the time he’s done with yoga, he’s considering putting on another one just to pass the time but decides against it. Instead, he flops onto the mat and takes up his phone, clicking through social media while waiting for his boyfriend to come fuck him.

After a while, he hears footsteps approaching the door. A few weeks ago he gave Sukuna a spare key, so he doesn’t bother to get up. Instead, Megumi flips over onto his hands and knees, pretending to be in the middle of stretching. The door opens and he really makes a show of it, sticking his ass in the air, still sounding calm and nonchalant when he greets him. 

Sukuna stands a few feet behind him, enjoying the very clear and very suggestive position. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a better greeting,” he comments, already imagining what he’s going to do to him. “You have such a tight little ass.”

Megumi lifts his head high enough Sukuna can hear his voice.

“Speaking of ass, you remember where the lube is, right?”

He’s never seen a man move that fast. He practically runs to Megumi's bedroom to grab the lube and comes zooming back just as quickly.

Sukuna drops onto his knees behind Megumi who's sitting on his heels after finishing his last stretch. Without another word, Sukuna yanks down his leggings and reveals the top of his pale, round cheeks, prompting him to grab at his overeager wrists. He sits his bare ass against the crotch of his boyfriend’s pants.

“Slow down,” he says and leans his head back so they can look at each other. 

“You got me all excited,”

“I can tell,”

Underneath him, Sukuna is already hard and straining against the zipper of his pants. 

Megumi cups Sukuna's cheek and slowly brings him into a kiss. It's a different kind of greeting and request that immediately collars the beast eager to be inside him. And when Megumi starts to grind on him, it's like he's tugging on the leash, testing his obedience, and earning the faintest whimper from Sukuna's lips. 

They separate with a moist little smack and Megumi orders, "Take it out."

Sukuna gulps and listens, stuffing his hands beneath Megumi's hips to undo his zipper, and pulls out his nearly fully hard cock. They settle into another slow grind, kissing and touching each other everywhere slowly.

It's not until Sukuna finds Megumi soaked and his own cock is leaking dribbles of precum onto Megumi's steadily grinding ass that they finally move forward. With a generous amount of lube, Sukuna sinks the head of his cock into Megumi's puckered hole. 

The stretch is always rough on Megumi at first. He spreads his thighs apart and is thankful the leggings he picked are his stretchiest. 

Sukuna's cock slides in deeper and deeper, and Megumi moans when his ass cheeks hit against a very toned abdomen. 

Fuck, he feels huge every damn time.

The pace they find is slow synced rotations, Sukuna so well hugged by his tight channel he struggles to pay attention to the circles he's trying to make against Megumi's clit. 

The pace slowly builds, but Megumi keeps control, rocking forward and back. By the end he's fucking himself on Sukuna's cock, bucking forward onto his steadily massaging fingers. His head falls back and a moan stalls in the base of his arching throat. 

"Cum inside," Megumi demands, scratched-out and desperate.

"You want my load?" Sukuna's voice sounds like a thick cream and dripping warm honey. 



"Yes, fuck, yes,"

It's still the best feeling in the world, Sukuna's cock twitching inside him, the warm, sticky cum painting his insides a milky white.

Despite how much Megumi has told himself not to worry, he thinks of his confession, remembers how his words hung alone in the air. He settles back against Sukuna and looks at him, searching his face for an inkling of that sentiment. But he can feel something stirring, deep in his chest.

That damn doubt, it’s back again.

As Sukuna is about to go in for the thank-you kiss, he catches a flicker in Megumi's eyes. It's a splash in dark water, a breach of something unacknowledged, his first mistake. 

The flicker is sadness.

And Sukuna feels it like a whirlpool, dragging him down, forcing his head under, filling his lungs with salty, ice-cold water.

Sukuna had heard him. He heard Megumi's desperate, "I love you," weeks and weeks ago, and was so shocked and thrilled he came. Then in the quiet afterglow and cuddling, he wondered if Megumi had even realized he'd said it. And if he replied, if he gave back the "I love you," would he have shocked and terrified him? Would he have ruined everything because he heard a confession during sex and assumed it was more than things said during sex?

Sukuna sees his first mistake in that flicker of sadness, but as they separate and Megumi cleans up in the bathroom, he sits on the couch staring at the black screen of a shut-off television. He realizes he has to fix it, he has to find the right moment. 

But as the night progresses, no moment is good enough. He waits and watches shows with Megumi, but something feels off, odd. There's a distance between them Sukuna just can't seem to cross. 

Every time he looks at him, he recalls the flicker of sadness, and his breath sticks in his throat. His feet are stuck ankle-deep in sand, his shoulders weighed down by the pressure of his depth. 

When night comes and Megumi has to sleep, Sukuna stays in the living room, watching reruns of cooking shows well into the early morning. The sun starts to rise and Sukuna finally feels tired, so he climbs into Megumi's bed without disturbing him, and falls asleep, restless, head still underwater.


In the morning, Megumi wakes up with Sukuna beside him, facing away. He gets out of his bed, careful not to wake him, and prepares for the day. When he comes out of the shower, Sukuna is still asleep and Megumi continues as usual. He spots Sukuna's phone on the nightstand with the red light indicating low battery, snatches it, and plugs it into a charger by the bed.

After, he leaves for work, makes it through without much issue, and comes home in the afternoon expecting to find Sukuna awake or having gone back to his own apartment to get ready for his next shift.

However, upon entering the bedroom he finds Sukuna still asleep, face buried in the pillows, back rising and falling with his shallow breaths.

Did he stay up really late or something? Megumi wonders. He goes into the kitchen to figure out what he'll be having for dinner.

He'll probably be hungry if he's just been sleeping this whole time. Fishing through the cupboards, he doesn't find much aside from spices and a jar of peanut butter. And doesn't he go to work earlier on Wednesdays? I can't remember what time though. 

Megumi goes back into his bedroom and takes Sukuna's phone off the charger. He finds his jeans thrown on the floor and folds them up before setting them on the edge of the bed. He feels a square, hard object in his pocket but doesn’t think much of it. Then he brings Sukuna’s phone to the living room to stuff it into his leather jacket pocket. 

Within the next few minutes, he decides to stock up his boyfriend's pockets with some much-needed meal bars and a vanilla-flavored protein shake. He even checks to make sure he has cash for his lunch break. Despite the doubts he had the previous evening, sleep helps, working helps, time to himself helps. He’s treading water, keeping his head above the flood, hoping something comes to prevent him from going under.

I don’t want to lose this.

So he fights. All in his own head, he fights to not let the feeling go.

Back in the kitchen, Megumi stands in front of the toaster with his hands balanced against the countertop, he lifts a slim leg and rests his heel against the sink, pointing his toes until he feels the stretch all the way down his thigh. A soft moan leaves his mouth and he counts the final sixty seconds until the toaster goes ding. He brings his leg to the floor, hears cursing and the ruffle of clothing coming from his bedroom while he spreads a thin layer of peanut butter on the still hot slice of toast. It stings the tips of his fingers, but he is quite determined to finish. 

A minute later Sukuna comes out of the bedroom rushing. He zips up his pants, walking quickly to the front door where his shoes and jacket are waiting for him. 

Megumi catches him right when he’s finishing putting on his shoes and cursing.

“Fuck, I forgot to charge my phone.”

“Here,” Megumi says and pops the slice of toast into Sukuna’s mouth. “I charged it for you while you were sleeping, it’s in your pocket. There’s also a couple granola bars and I know you hate them, but a meal shake to wash it down with, in the big pocket. Your wallet is in there too and some cash for when you get on your lunch break.”

Sukuna freezes, taking all that he’s said in, crunching into the slightly sweet toast, he takes it from his mouth and Megumi doesn’t realize it but the world is coming to a stop for him. Everything else fades away, there’s only his little encouraging smile and his hand patting a little dust on his jacket sleeve.

A moment has come, but it's not the moment. Not yet.

Megumi blinks, noticing Sukuna has stopped moving, and readies to urge him on but suddenly Sukuna speaks.

“I fucking love you,” 

Megumi blinks again. A warm wave crashes over him when the words sink in and he’s gently carried back to shore. He watches Sukuna’s eyes go half-lidded, so focused, so glossy, so deeply enamored. A grin comes over Megumi’s face, his skin flushes pink, and he kisses him, short, quick, because his boyfriend is still running late to work. 

“I love you too,” he whispers and wipes a bit of peanut butter from the corner of Sukuna’s mouth. “Now get going.”

He’s not leaving yet. Sukuna catches him in a big bear hug, smashing his lips to his, getting a surprised moan and two hands gently, but firmly pushing against his chest.

“You’re gonna be even later,”

Sukuna can hardly control himself, kissing between every few words and smearing another salty press to Megumi’s cheek when he turns his head.

“Stop it already,” he says. “Save it for when you get back.”

“I love you,”

“Okay okay,”

Megumi lets him have one last kiss before he pushes him to the door with most of his strength. Sukuna finally lets go and steps out, walking down the hall. When Megumi closes the door he rests the hot skin of his forehead against it. The repetition of those words like strong ripples on a calm ocean surface, the smallest rises of water rising up to his waist as he lays stretched out on the shore, watching the moon in the sky. 

For Sukuna, the evening flies by in a blur. He rides the high all through his shift, well into the early morning before the sun has even risen. When he climbs off his motorcycle outside Megumi’s apartment, he dashes up the stairs and down the hall to the door, pushing the spare key into the lock and rushing right in. 

Sukuna finds Megumi groggy, wincing and opening his long-lashed eyes from the sound of Sukuna’s storm through the apartment. He hops onto the bed and Megumi groans a little, though he doesn’t resist being drawn into his arms, bedsheet and all.

Sukuna is too excited, he hasn't taken off his leather jacket. 

“Mm, welcome back,” Megumi mumbles.


“How was work?”

No matter how tired or grumpy from being awoken, Megumi manages to ask him about his day, though he usually can’t remember what he’s said later. 

“I don’t remember, I was too busy thinking about you,”

Megumi moans, cuddling up to Sukuna’s chest like a pleased cat. They embrace in silence until Sukuna can’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” he whispers.


“I love you,”

Megumi tucks his face into Sukuna’s cotton shirt. It’s too early, he can’t handle it, though he’s not sure when or if he’ll be able to handle it. 

"I don't know if I'll ever get used to you," he mumbles sleepily.

"Good," Sukuna brushes his lips to the shell of Megumi’s ear. "Then I can keep making you fall in love with me, over and over.”

His first wrong fixed, Sukuna vows to never make the same mistake again.


Every day, every week, every month, whenever they see one another it’s like they’ve met all over again. It’s a lot of smiles, a lot of grins, a lot of snarky comments and then they fall into bed. On the other side of every fuck, they spend hours cuddling and talking, about their jobs, about their pasts, about their plans for the future, and soon enough one morning waking up with Sukuna’s face tucked into his neck Megumi makes a decision.

“Wanna move in?”

Sukuna’s lips curve into a smile against his skin and it sends a thousand excited flutters through his chest. They adjust so they can look into one another’s eyes.



“I can, after the brat graduates.”

Right, he forgot about Yuuji.

“Next year?”

“He finishes his training program in the spring and he’s mentioned wanting to live on his own anyway, I’m sure he’s saving up for it.”

Megumi nuzzles into the top of his hair and whispers, “You’re a good brother.”

He frowns when Sukuna grunts and pets the back of his head like he’s a disgruntled, moody dog. 

Without either of them fully realizing it, Sukuna has been steadily moving in. He has his very own toothbrush in Megumi’s bathroom, he’s left behind various articles of clothing on more than one occasion that Megumi has taken the time to launder, fold, and set them in a pile in his closet. The pile gets bigger and Megumi eventually shifts his clothing all to one side to make room. 

It progresses steadily over the last few months of Yuuji’s program. More and more of Sukuna’s belongings find a new home in Megumi’s apartment. Finally, Yuuji reveals he’s been looking at a few apartments with his friends who are also in the program and they’ve found one. 

Sukuna acts tough as usual, but when he crawls in Megumi’s arms the following morning he’s a little grumpy and pouty. 

Softy, Megumi thinks while kissing the top of his head. He really is a good brother.

Megumi goes with Sukuna to help Yuuji move, but he encounters two enormous guys who clearly have it handled. Enough so, Sukuna is sulkier and grumpier than ever. 

Megumi stands by, one hand on his boyfriend’s forearm, squeezing it tight and trying to soothe the emotional beast he knows is raging in Sukuna’s chest. 

Once Yuuji’s belongings are all loaded up in the moving truck, Yuuji asks the two large men, who Megumi eventually learned were named Todo and Choso, to wait for him by the truck. Megumi backs off of Sukuna a little and watches them stand awkwardly near each other. 

“I’ll see you soon,” Yuuji starts off and Sukuna crosses his arms over his chest, ready to grump his way through their goodbye, but he’s completely thrown off-kilter by Yuuji’s soft smile. “And thanks.”

Sukuna puts a hand over his face and Megumi watches his shoulders scrunch up like something is curling up tight in his chest.

Is he gonna cry? Megumi’s eyes go wide and Yuuji’s eyes also go wide.

“Don’t get all emotional on me all of sudden,”

“I’m not, damn brat,” Sukuna snaps, but suddenly he walks toward him and slings an arm around Yuuji. He cups the back of his head and brings him forward. “Don’t do anything stupid… you know where to find me.”

“Yeah, I know,” Yuuji’s surprised expression goes back to a sweet smile. “Same to you.”

Sukuna lets go and steps back, looking away. Yuuji catches Megumi’s stare and waves goodbye. Just as quickly, his attention goes back to his brother.

“Good luck,”

They separate and Sukuna doesn’t watch them leave. As soon as he’s within reach, Megumi grabs his wrist and brings him inside to the couch where Sukuna flops on top of him, face buried against his chest. He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t need to. He knows if he calls him a good brother again, he’ll probably shatter. So he just holds him tight to his chest and pets his head. 

Sukuna barely spends the last few weeks of his lease in his apartment, it feels too empty. So between shifts, he packs a box and brings it to Megumi’s, until there’s nothing left but a few pieces of furniture that he plans to leave for the next tenets. 

The move is mostly seamless and the year that follows him moving is full of adjustments. Eventually, they find their rhythm, conquer the toughest measures, and spend their time in the calm of each other's presence. 

Sukuna finds a day security job and takes weekends off to spend more time with his partner. They'd had enough of only seeing each other early morning and late afternoon briefly. The curse of different schedules kept them apart for long periods, having similar schedules brought new troubles but they work out some of the kinks. 

On a lazy, cold Saturday, while lounging on their couch, Sukuna rubs a hand up and down Megumi’s back, and images without sound seemingly from nowhere seep into Sukuna’s mind. Something like the crunch of snow, the spatter of rain across leaves, the squish of wet soil, the crackle of fire through underbrush, the whisper of a memory forgotten, the sinking of weight into sand, the dribble of something dark red across forgotten tatami mats. It's a moment of absence, one he shakes away by burying his nose into Megumi’s dark hair and letting the feel of his warm body bring him back to the present. In the next second, it’s blank, quiet, calm, and he comes to a realization as easy as drifting on a gentle ocean wave.

“You ever realize you want to spend the rest of your life with someone?” he says, without thinking, without needing to think. 

Megumi’s expression remains cool, but there’s the slightest pink rising to his pale cheeks, the edge of his lip threatens a smile 

“Oh yeah? What’s their name?” Megumi jokes. 

“Why do you wanna know?” Sukuna barely understands what he’s said, but he floats along.

“So I can find them and beat them up.” Megumi nuzzles into his chest. “You’re supposed to spend the rest of your life with me.”

"Guess I better tell them my future's set,"

"You better,"

Megumi washes warm again, he's submerged in a wave of sunlight, thriving on his boyfriend's tightening hug. There's another period of silence, where they float on the same gentle current, that's only broken by Sukuna speaking again.

"Are you sure?"

Megumi lifts his face to meet Sukuna's eyes again.

"I'm sure, are you sure?"

"I've never been more sure of anything."


What’s in a couple of years of harmony? The occasional tritone, a note too sharp, a belt gone flat, the crash of cymbals offbeat. 

In their darkest moments, when the threads weaving them together are pulling apart and fit to snap, something always happens. Amongst raised voices and burning frustration they part for a moment, a minute, but in the next second Sukuna returns. He always returns, takes Megumi into his arms, whispers an apology even when he's not wrong, then Megumi crumbles, into huffs, sometimes close to tears, leans his weight into him, and apologizes all the same. 

The taut strings loosen, the seams come together again. The pain of the rise dwindles as they work against the wild surges back toward the calm. Time passes and they revisit, they resolve and come out stronger, new stitches in their cloth, new notes on their music. 

They come together and all is right again.


On a typical Sunday morning only a couple of months later, they wake up and roll into each other's arms. Megumi stretches and arches with a loud whine, when he goes flat beside Sukuna he looks at him. There's a thought behind his eyes, he can see it. 


“I want to tattoo you.” 

Megumi follows the movement of Sukuna's hand down to hovering over his abdomen. He watches it land softly beneath his belly button and rub up and down soothingly.

“Right here.”

“Why there?”

“I want somewhere to aim while I’m fucking you,”

“Get out of my apartment,” 

“Our apartment,”

Megumi groans and covers his face. It's heating up again. Three years and the giddy that comes when he realizes how much Sukuna adores him still turns him into an embarrassed puddle.

“Do you even know how?” he asks from behind his hands.

“Nope, but I want to.”

Megumi feels him coming closer and uncovers his face to let him kiss his cheek. 

“What kind were you thinking of?” Megumi asks and feels his teeth against his skin when he grins.

“Something to match all of mine.”

He’s never disliked the tattoos he put on all of Sukuna’s body. In fact, he's proud of them. He’s never had a client ask for so much and seeing all of his work at once when Sukuna is naked is such a huge turn-on. Though he's never admitted it aloud.

In a way, he’s marked him, covered him, claimed ownership over him and Sukuna, when he leans back to smirk at him then goes in for another kiss, seems to be thinking the same thing.

He just wants things to be even and Megumi likes that idea. He likes it a lot.


Though he isn’t going to let Sukuna handle the gun. No way. He isn’t trained and he’ll sooner have someone fresh out of school than have his sometimes rambunctious boyfriend take a needle to his skin.

So he calls Maki.

And a couple of weeks later, Megumi is stretched across his studio lounge chair with his shirt pulled up to the edge of his binder. Sukuna sits on a stool beside him with the biggest smile he’s seen on him yet. 

Maki is on Megumi's rolling stool, pouring ink caps and gearing up to start a relatively short tattoo session. 

He's still not sure why Maki insisted on using his studio and not her shop on the other side of town.

"It's closer to where you live," she'd given as a reason, so he'd shrugged and agreed. 

It didn't matter that much anyway.

Maki starts and Megumi relaxes under her skilled hands. She’s responsible for his back piece and sleeves, he doesn’t doubt he’ll come out of this session with a good tattoo. He spends most of the time looking at Sukuna who’s staring back at him with a tender smile and an unwavering gaze. 

“Why are you so excited?” Megumi asks because the gleam in his eye is vibrant and noticeable.

“I get to watch you this time,” he says.

Oh, the roles are reversed somewhat and at the end of it, Sukuna gets to see a new tattoo on Megumi’s body that matches all of his. Makes sense.

Partway through the outline, Megumi has nearly fallen asleep. The buzz of the needle and the faint sound of the radio coming through the ceiling speakers are familiar. The scent of ink and the lavender aroma diffuser sitting on his marble check-in counter in the foyer mix. He sinks into the moment, lets his eyes close. He’s never had the opportunity to sit in his own studio like this and the longer his eyes remain shut, the further he dips. 

Megumi is so comfortable he expects sleep to finally take him, but there’s one thing keeping him afloat. Not a scent, not a sound, but an aura. Despite not being connected by touch, he knows Sukuna is there, beside him, watching and waiting. 

Will he always be there? Well fuck, he hopes so, he’s getting a damn tattoo for him. 

But if something happens, something that splits them apart like the red sea, with no chance of coming back together… 

Don’t think about it. Don’t worry about it. 

He doesn’t realize his brows are cinching together and his hands are curling into fists.

"Hurts?" Sukuna asks.

"Yeah.” Megumi slowly opens his eyes. "But I'm fine, I'm used to it."

Then he looks at him, really looks at him. The man sitting on a stool beside him is covered in intimidating black designs and has aggressive red eyes, but beneath the rough exterior is the man he’s come to know for the past three years. He sees the man who made him rice porridge when he wasn’t feeling well. He sees a man who cares about his younger brother so much that it hurts. He sees a man who loves so deeply and with everything he has he’ll throw himself aside to see a smile. 

I love him so much.

"Were you thinking I can't handle tattoos?" Megumi jokes to distract from the swell of emotion.

"No, not you,” 

"I was planning on getting more," Megumi explains. "I just hadn't decided what yet, this is an okay start."

His nonchalance must be doing something because Sukuna leans in and whispers.

"You look really sexy right now,"

"Shut it,"

"I mean it,"

Megumi wants to reach up and cover his mouth but he's trying not to move for the sake of being a good canvas. As he considers lifting his hand to do it anyway, he hears Maki clearing her throat.

“Don’t make me hurl on you." She's peeking up at them both from beneath her glasses, her hand stalled over the stencil on Megumi's abdomen.

“Sorry,” Megumi says, face flushing just a bit.

I knew he'd embarrass me.

Thankfully, she's nearly done with the outline and has started filling it in. She works at the thickest parts from the outside in and when there’s only a tiny bit of bare skin left, Maki leans back. She looks right at Sukuna.

"Alright, put on some gloves,"

Sukuna stares at her in some confusion.

"Megumi said you can fill in the last bit of ink," she explains. “Just the last bit, I’ll explain how, you just have to be careful.” 

Megumi has never seen Sukuna so concentrated, he’s listening so intently to his cousin that it’s almost cute. Feeling his hands pull on his skin lightly and aim against what he assumes is the last bit of clean skin is kind of a turn-on. Sukuna looks in his element, despite never having held a tattoo gun before. When he lifts it away, Maki wipes the last of the excess ink and finally, they’re done.

Megumi is stiff, but he climbs to his feet, stretching his arms over his head with a light yawn. He turns toward the mirror and sees that it’s covered in a cloth. When he goes to ask Maki why she walks out of the room. He hears the familiar buzz of the door opening and looks at Sukuna who doesn’t react.

Megumi realizes there is someone here and when he faces the door again, Yuuji is there. He's there and he's holding his phone up with both hands as though he's taking a video.

Before a single coherent thought can form, Megumi hears movement behind him and his name softly called.

He turns. 

Beside the chair he’s been laying in for the past hour, Sukuna is on one knee, holding up a tiny, open black box. In the center is a shiny white-gold ring. 

Megumi barely hears him, he barely sees him, it’s the moment the moonlight breaks through the clouds of a dark foreboding sky, casting its glow across the bobbing surface of the black ocean, giving it the slightest hints of blue and silver. 

Then there's just enough room in his whirling mind for him to see through the glassy tears in his eyes, to hear Sukuna finish what he’s been saying with the words "Will you marry me?" 

Megumi crosses his thin forearms in front of his face, tilts his head back because damn it, he doesn't want to cry right now, but every second he waits to let the answer out is just him holding in the sobs. 

Why can't he just let himself cry?

Why can’t he just let himself believe and trust?

He realizes he can. So he does. Because Sukuna is right here to wipe every tear away.

And he’ll be right here for the rest of his life. 

Megumi nods and gives his “yes,” and falls in Sukuna’s arms, sharing salty, wet kisses. He’s got enough sense to keep his hips bowed back and not let his fresh ink be touched by Sukuna’s belt buckle, but they’re attached at the lips, barely catching breaths between passionate kneads he never usually does in front of other people. But at this moment he’s swept up in the current, taken along with the tide. The touch of Sukuna’s hands to the sides of his face is melting, the pause to look into each other’s eyes just more confirmation. 

Sukuna thumbs away the last of the tears across Megumi’s flushed cheeks and memorizes the flash of his teeth in a big smile. Forehead to forehead for just a few seconds, they’re in a world of their own despite others being in the room.

But that’s where they’ve been since it began, a world separate from everyone else, a world few can even imagine, and so many hope to have. 

Sukuna slides the ring onto Megumi’s slender finger and gently guides him in a circle so he’s facing the now uncovered mirror. His shirt has slipped down a little, but he bunches it in his fingers to bring it up over his belly button. Megumi sees the ring in the mirror and another wave of giddy washes through his chest. Large hands cup over his own and a chin rests on his shoulder, but as much as Megumi wants to look at the new art on his body, he knows he’ll have the rest of his life to admire it. 

He leans his lips into Sukuna’s cheek and goes almost limp in his arms again. One hand slips free and finds its way into messy, pink hair, and Sukuna feels the slim gold band brush his ear. 

Then he just has to kiss him again. He just has to kiss his fiance again.

He’ll forever be grateful for it, meeting Sukuna in this studio, spending almost a year giving him his tattoos, and taking the horny-fueled leap into trying for something more. 

Now they match. And if anyone takes a glance at Megumi's stomach they might assume it's a simple black symbol tattoo, broken in parts, solid in others. But if they get a chance to look for longer than a second, they'll realize the shape, the curves and lines, the widening of the top, and tapering at the bottom, is the shape of a heart.

Chapter Text

Three years ago, Megumi said “I love you,” during sex. That day, after dropping Megumi off at his apartment, Sukuna lingered outside a storefront waiting for his younger brother to show up. 

Ten minutes later, Yuuji gets off a bus and walks down the street while staring at the text message detailing an address. Wednesday classes are short and he usually spends the afternoon with some of the other guys in his program. Todo and Choso always try to drag him around to stores, movies, and different restaurants. Since his program started, they took him under their wings, and over time, the anger lessened. 

The anger at his brother. 

Years of his brother working shit jobs to keep a roof over their heads and food in the fridge, making sure he always completed his homework, obnoxiously hovering over him when he reached the end of high school and was filling out papers to attempt college, the eventual blow-up between them when he told Sukuna he was going to drop out, and the unspoken resolution when he explained he wanted to become a firefighter, all slowly chipped at his frustration.

It didn’t mean he could always stand him, but the corners were smoothed out. The sound of him coming home early in the morning didn’t make him kick frustrated at his bedsheets anymore. He awoke, grumbled, and slid back into sleep eventually. 

Yuuji turns down one block and spots his older brother’s menacing silhouette in the distance. 

“So where’s the fire?” Yuuji asks, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he ambles to Sukuna who’s leaning against his motorcycle parked by the sidewalk. 

“I need a second opinion,”


Sukuna stands straight and motions toward the jewelry store he’s been waiting in front of for the past twenty minutes.

“Why are we here?” Yuuji asks, his usually bright voice apprehensive. He watches Sukuna walk straight toward the door.

"I'm buying a ring,"

Yuuji follows him inside and he quickly starts to realize what’s happening, but he needs to hear it out of his mouth.

“For what?”


“ it his birthday?”

“I’m gonna marry him.”


“Didn’t you just start dating him like… a couple months ago,”


“You’re out of your fucking mind,”

“Shut it,”

The woman behind the glass desk greets them politely and Sukuna asks to see their rings. Yuuji doesn’t interfere because he knows it’ll end up in a fight. Once Sukuna decides on something, getting him to change his mind is like pushing a boulder up a steep cliff. Not impossible, but damn difficult. 

Yuuji examines the wedding bands on display with him, not really looking because they’re all sparkly and expensive looking and he’s not really into things like this anyway. He honestly still can’t believe he’s in a jewelry store with his brother and his brother is picking out a fucking wedding ring, but he’s trying his best to go with the flow. 

“What kind of ring do you think he’d like?” Yuuji asks, glancing at his brother’s expression.

He hears him, but he doesn’t hear him. 

“I don’t think he’d want a diamond, he’d probably be annoyed if there was a diamond on it,” Sukuna mutters to himself. “He likes high quality things but nothing over the top.”

The clerk motions him to the wedding bands and explains the most subtle designs, from twists to infinite symbols to engraved to smooth. There are quite a few choices and Sukuna peers at them all, clearly overwhelmed by the selection, and Yuuji, despite the way it makes his chest tight with anxiety, points to a couple of rings in the corner. The clerk explains that they are white gold, though they tend to look silver to the naked eye, and these are the most subtle kind that they carry. 

“Well you said he wouldn’t like a flashy one,” Yuuji says. 

“Right, so something like this, he’d probably like this,” 

He sees the look on Sukuna’s face, there’s a besotted glint in his eye almost reflecting the shine on the small white-gold ring. Yep, there’s no stopping him now, but Yuuji has to give it one more try.

“Are you sure about this?”

Sukuna looks at him like he’s offended, like asking him multiple times is doubting the strength of his love and Yuuji knows he’s not understanding why he keeps asking anyway. 

"Okay, fine, buy it, but just…" Yuuji knows it won't matter what he says but he hopes the worry in his voice will reach him. "Wait for it."

Sukuna stares at him, for a long few seconds.

"Hold onto it. He already knows you're an asshole and he still likes you so that's good but wait until, you know, something happens, or just, you've seen his bad sides too."

He still doesn’t get it. So Yuuji keeps going, it’s all he can do.

"I'm not saying don't ever do it, I honestly think…" Yuuji looks away, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck. "I think he's really good for you. And he seems like a good person. I just think doing that now could mess it up."

It’s taken years to get to this point, but as much as they’ve butted heads throughout their lives, seeing Sukuna jump headfirst into the black ocean eager to swim, only to watch him drown, would kill him. So he has to throw him a life preserver or two, he just hopes he’ll grab on.

“Cuz what happens if he’s not ready? Getting rejected can really mess with your head about your feelings, right? And it’ll definitely mess with his.” It finally looks like Sukuna is listening, the glow of his excitement is still there, but he’s considering it all, thinking ahead, for once stopping the impulse, stopping himself from doing whatever he wants to not ruin something so good.

"Give it some time, and when the moment is right, I'm sure you'll know."

Wait for it.

It’s a slap and shake Sukuna needs. 

Over the next three years, it happens. An enormous black wave breaches, crashes down on a long worn sandbar, grips handfuls of its fragile, moving granules, and drags it all back into its unforgiving current. But as quick as it comes, it’s silent. The moonlight glitters over the gently rippling tides. 

When a wave comes they crash together, they scream, they claw, and in the whisper of the receding tide, Sukuna hugs Megumi to his chest and they remember to breathe in the ocean air. For Megumi, every time he comes and apologizes first, he’s soothed into calmer waters, grateful to have someone so willing to struggle, to fight, to keep him.

What Megumi doesn’t know is every time through those three years of ups and downs, when Sukuna was ready to walk out the door, he’d stand at the threshold and stick his hand in his pocket, hold onto the moment he knew it couldn’t be anyone else, then turn around to find him and hug him.

Wait for it.

Wait for the tides to come, to scrape at their sandy shores, drag handfuls of them away into its churning black. But no matter how violent the waves or how much is washed away in the torrent, the sand returns, layer upon layer, gently built back up by the very same water, ever resilient, never-reaching the furthest virgin stretches of the soft sandy beach.

Wait for it, just wait for it.

So he did.