Chapter Text
Sukuna couldn't sleep. He never could after shows. Tonight was worse than most, though, and he hadn't even bothered to try. Simply changed out of his costume and took to the streets. He slipped into Jogo’s bar, hiding at the far end of the row of seats.
It wasn't Uraume's fault, the stage hand dropped their fucking guitar, sniveling beast. Forced into using their backup, one they didn't play with the dedication of a religion itself, flustered them enough that notes were missed and timing went off the rails. The crowd didn't notice, but Sukuna strived for unquestionable perfection. Anything less wouldn't do.
Gojo had covered any messes with ease, adding little flares into his drum work that easily drew the attention away from Uraume when they fumbled. Geto followed him perfectly, so entwined with his fiancé that even synchronicity had lost its novelty.
The guitarist had been devastated. Both for the damage to their precious eight string guitar and in the aftermath of performing without it for the first time in years. They cried frustrated tears when the band returned to the green room after their second encore, collapsing into Sukuna’s side like they used to when the duo were barely teens.
Sukuna held them, whispered comforts and pressed a kiss to their forehead once the tears subsided into quiet sniffles.
Gojo and Geto had both offered soft encouragements. Gojo reminded Uraume of the forbidden incident of Sukuna’s severe voice crack during the first show of their second tour and Sukuna didn't bother to go after him for it. The giggle that escaped from the little creature curled into his side was worth the cringe-inducing memory.
Uraume took perfection just as seriously as Sukuna. Gojo and Geto less so, but even still they remained as devoted to the band as they had been a decade ago, agreeing that the way the four of them played together surpassed any bitterness of their teen years.
Sukuna slouched further in his seat as the door swung open, a chill blast of outside air invading the small warm corner he'd possessed.
Two guys came in, younger than him by quite a few years. Sukuna watched them with idle interest as the first one started looking around for a seat. He realized with a minor frisson of frustration that the only available spots were the seats next to him. The first guy spotted the empty stools, yanking the other to follow him.
He was cute, pink hair and a million watt smile adorned with two little rings on each side of his lower lip. He was like bottled sunshine. The other guy, however, had nearly all of Sukuna’s attention. Dark, spiky hair, mossy green eyes, a tiny little grimace on his face that was more likely than not just his relaxed expression. He was beautiful, in the way that dark twisted creatures were, and Sukuna was enraptured by the little angel who just stole the seat next to him. But the dual piercing through his eyebrow, the septum ring, the ring through his lip, and smattering of dark tattoos up along his forearms made him snicker softly. He reminded Sukuna of his early scene phase. Little fucking emo fucker. Where his friend was cute, he was gorgeous. Sukuna was in danger.
A loud whoop dragged his attention from the boy beside him to his friend again. Sunshine was crouched on top of the bar stool, arms dangling down below his feet. He was chattering so wildly Sukuna couldn't even begin to understand.
“Sit down, you oversized toad.” Emo hissed and pulled Sunshine's leg until his ass hit the seat.
“Mean!” Sunshine bemoaned, flopping against the bartop in a way that would make Sukuna think he was already drunk if not for the clarity in his eyes.
Emo turned to him then, mouth open to speak, but for just a moment he paused and his eyes widened, flickering over Sukuna's face. The older grinned, friendly, open, and not at all threatening, no sir.
Emo looked away, cheeks flushing pink. “Sorry,” he muttered, cuffing Sunshine over his head. “We just left a show, he’s a little hyper.”
“What show?” He asked, like it wasn't obvious. Sunshine was wearing their opening band's shirt and Emo had an old, old tee from their first tour.
“Malevolent Shrine,” Sunshine said, pointing at Emo with a jut of his chin. “His favorite.”
“Best band to ever exist. Not just my favorite.” Emo's eyes were a little wild, that sharp glimmer of passion Sukuna loved to see lighting up his audience. “It was their hometown show tonight, I can't believe that someone like Ryomen lives here of all places.”
Sunshine slapped his hand on the bartop, eyes wide and curious, “You're right! I wonder if we've ever seen him and just never knew it. He's so good at keeping his identity a secret we've probably been in the same place a dozen times around here!”
Like right now. But I'm not telling you that.
The bartender approached them and he gestured for the two to order their drinks first. Emo ordered a strawberry cider, surprising. Sunshine ordered a piña colada, not surprising. The bartender turned to Sukuna next and he got another IPA. Emo crinkled his nose in his peripheral vision.
“You have bad taste in beer,” he sneered, lip curling in disgust.
“Says Mr. Strawberry Go Go,” Sukuna taunted right back.
“The name is stupid but at least it tastes good. IPAs just taste like a depressed straight man.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Of tasting a depressed straight man? Unfortunately.” Sunshine choked on a giggle and nudged his friend roughly with his elbow. Sukuna’s eyebrow quirked up as Emo stifled a grin.
They started murmuring between them, Sukuna pretty much forgotten beside them, and he found that he kind of, sort of, really wanted Emo’s attention back on him.
“So who's Ryomen?”
The two swiveled on their stools to face him, identical, incredulous looks that looked like they belonged on Emo’s face but not Sunshine’s.
“If you don't know who he is then I no longer want to talk to you.” Sukuna almost laughed but the kid looked serious, swiveling in his seat away from him.
“Megumiiiii,” Sunshine whined. “Be nice to our nice new friend.”
Pretty emo boy's name was Megumi, then.
“Megumi,” he tasted his name for the first time and found he enjoyed it, far too much. “Why don't you enlighten me?”
“Ryomen The Cursed. He's Malevolent Shrine's frontman.” Straight to the point, sounding reverent.
“Love of Megumi’s tragic life,” Sunshine added. “His red plumeria, his dying star.”
“Shut the fuck up, Yuuji. Not every stranger needs to know all that shit.” Megumi shoved Sunshine, Yuuji, so hard that he pitched off his seat and nearly hit the sticky floor.
“Well, you're kind of obsessed, dude. Like those fangirls, you even call him Malevolent Da-”
Megumi physically pinched Yuuji's mouth shut. “Don't say it. Do not say it.”
Yuuji's face fell and he pouted even after Megumi pulled his hand away. His lips curled in a stupid, boyish grin as he shouted, “Malevolent Daddy!” before Megumi could slap a hand over his mouth.
Sukuna choked on his beer. Malevolent Daddy? Really? He'd heard a lot of nicknames for his alter ego, but not that one.
Megumi blushed a little but stared at him defiantly. “I like what I like.”
“And what do you like, Megumi?” Sukuna purred, way too forward. “What do you want him to do to you?”
“What I want from Malevolent Daddy is my business-”
“And mine, since you've told me everything you want to do to him.” Megumi swiped at Sunshine's grinning face and the kid dodged it easily. “Harlot.”
“Shut up already or I'll tell him what you think of The Servant.”
Yuuji turned bright red, eyes on his lap as he relented, Sukuna barely heard him mutter “Talented fingers…” He wanted to laugh, the kid had no idea.
“Anyway,” Megumi jabbed at Yuuji with his elbow. “Ryomen has the most insane voice I’ve ever heard. His vocal range is massive, I’ve never heard anyone else who could sing so high then drop so low without any warning. I know his voice instantly, any time I hear it, because it’s so fucking unique. How can you not know him? Have you just never listened to decent music in your life? Did you grow up in the town from Footloose? Malevolent Shrine is everywhere.”
Sukuna shrugged, polishing off his drink and owning up to his little fib. “I know who he is, but watching you sputter was fun.” Megumi glared at him, annoyance writ in every inch of his face. But when Yuuji laughed he softened, if only a little. Sukuna was infatuated with this little spitfire.
“You’re an asshole,” Megumi grumbled, flicking a napkin towards Sukuna.
“So I’ve been told.”
Sukuna looked at the bartender as he approached with their drinks, eyes darting over to the two with a nod. Jogo nodded with a smirk, adding their order to his tab without a word.
“Well, as an apology for offending your delicate sensibilities, I'm going to buy your drinks. And I assume that will only offend them even more.”
Sunshine broke out in a grin worthy of his (Sukuna assigned) nickname and thanked him profusely. Megumi certainly did not smile. Instead he looked at him like Sukuna had just spit in his fruity little beer before he'd gotten a chance to take a sip. “How dare you.”
Sukuna smirked, fought hard to not let it morph into a genuine smile, and Megumi’s adorable little grimace grew wider.
Yuuji had felt no such offense towards Sukuna, smiling wide. “Thank you so much, uh-”
“Sukuna,” he offered easily. Like it was something he did all the time instead of never.
“Thank you, Sukuna! That's a neat name, I like it.” Yuuji chattered on but Sukuna was focused on the curve of Megumi’s lips as he mouthed his name soundlessly. He could nearly dare call it a smile on his face.
“Anytime for good company.” Megumi’s eyes flashed to his, startling and looking away instantly when he realized Sukuna was already watching.
Megumi picked at the napkin under his drink, turning his head towards Sukuna but not lifting his eyes. “So what do you do?”
Sukuna's lie rolled easily off of his tongue, “Sound and lighting tech.”
“Oh, so you were at the show then?” Yuuji asked.
“Who says I do concerts? I could be working on musicals, operas, you don't know!”
Megumi's eyes flickered over his face then up and down his body. Sukuna felt every place his eyes rested like brands on his skin and shifted under the scrutiny. “Uh huh, you absolutely work sound and lighting for Madame Butterfly looking like that.”
Sukuna laughed, kicking at Megumi's crossed ankles lightly. “Okay fine, yeah I was at the show. I'm at every show.” Megumi cocked an eyebrow and Sukuna suddenly knew the answer to keeping his entire attention for as long as he wanted it. He smirked as he disclosed, “I work with the band.”
Two pairs of hands slammed onto the bar with a loud slap. Megumi glared at him, betrayed, like Sukuna should have told him that the minute the pair arrived.
“You-”
“Work with the band. Five words, Megumi, they're easy ones too.”
“Shut up, so you-” Megumi’s pretty face was flushed a pretty red. “You know them?”
“Pretty well yeah. Been touring with them since Worship Me.”
“So the whole time then?” Yuuji stared up at him with eyes wide in wonder. “How is-“
“What's Ryomen like?” Megumi interrupted, eyes sharp and wild.
Sukuna pondered the question, wondering how much he could give away without making it sound like he either knew everything about himself or that he didn't know him at all.
“He’s…just a guy.” He shrugged, playing unimpressed. “He keeps to himself, I don’t see him much, he's nice though. Everyone on the crew seems to like him.”
“Have you seen him unmasked?”
“No,” Sukuna shook his head, really trying to sell the mystery. “Never. The only ones who have are his bandmates, I know he takes it off when it’s just them. But I’ve never seen Ryomen without it. Well,” Sukuna smiled to himself, “If I have, I didn’t know it.”
“So he really does go into the crowd unmasked?”
“Dunno,” he lied, “Like I said, wouldn’t know it if I saw him.”
“But the tattoos?” Yuuji asked, eyebrows knit together. “They’re pretty recognizable as Ryomen’s, even just the arms.”
“You think he’s the only guy to have those tattoos anymore? I saw like three people with ‘em at the show.”
“I think he did it tonight,” Megumi said, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. “We tried to catch a glimpse of him when they left, but I only counted three people and none of them were as tall as Ryomen. Yuuji swears he was disguising himself as a security guard so he didn't have to wear the mask outside.”
I'm stealing that one.
Sukuna had indeed taken to some clever presses of luck before and after shows. Dressed in street clothes he would smoke a cigarette outside, observing the line of people waiting to get inside to see him. Adorned in Nanami’s suit jacket and sunglasses while his manager chased after him through the crowd at the merch table. His favorite, however, was swapping clothes with the tour bus driver, Ino, laying on the horn and smiling devilishly as Nanami stared at him, then whipped his head around to glare at Ino who ducked the cuff coming to the back of his head and smiled sheepishly behind Ryomen’s mask.
“I left way before the band did, I have no clue.” Sukuna sort of found it fun, to dangle this idea of forbidden knowledge in front of the two. They were listening to his every word, desperate for any bit of information he’d drop that wasn’t common knowledge.
Conversation came easy with the two. When they weren’t fawning about Malevolent Shrine they were bickering and playful and actually shared a lot of Sukuna’s interests. Yuuji loved to eat, and was also an elitist when it came to curry, and Megumi liked to read the same authors that he did. They both liked horror movies and loved Sukuna’s favorites. Despite being a number of years younger than him, Sukuna found he really enjoyed their company. He bought more rounds, split some fries, and just…appreciated people spending time with him because they liked being around him.
It was nice to be unknown.
“Look the Human Earthworm 2 wasn’ bad. The rest,” Yuuji paused, blurry eyes bounced around the room for the word he was looking for. “Were fiiiiine, too.” The brat was definitely more affected by his drinks than the other two, mumbling and losing his train of thought with ease. He swayed slightly in his seat.
“You’re really drunk,” Megumi observed, a smirk curling his lips. He wasn’t far off himself, giggly and with a pretty face flushed pink.
“Yep,” Yuuji agreed, popping the P.
“Home time for Yuuji,” Megumi sang. Yuuji drunkenly sang along, a stupid smile on his face. Sukuna motioned to Jogo to close his tab as he watched the two prepare to leave.
“You gonna get him home alright?”
“S'not the first time, I'll be fine.” Yuuji was slumped over his shoulder so heavily now that it was pitching Megumi sideways.
“Can I walk with you?”
Megumi glared at him, it almost felt like it was out of self-preservation than of true dislike of the idea. “We can manage.”
“I don’t doubt that, but it’s late and you’ve got a handful with him.” Sukuna nodded to the pink haired kid still singing his little jingle of ‘home time for Yuuji’ with a drunken grin. “It would make me feel a lot better to know both of you got home safe, considering I’m the one who ordered you the last however the fuck many drinks.” In truth, he just didn’t want to let Megumi go. If it was only for tonight, he wanted as much time as possible. Even if Megumi wasn’t interested in hooking up, even if he walked him home and the pair went straight inside. Every extra second counted to Sukuna.
Megumi considered him for a moment before his shoulders relaxed and he rolled his eyes. “Fine, but you get to make sure he doesn’t eat shit the second we get outside.”
Sukuna smiled, “Deal.”
They managed to get Yuuji outside with only a handful of trips and stumbles, but the kid was absolutely too far gone at the moment to walk a straight line by himself. Sukuna steered him with an arm over his shoulders, but the brat only sunk into his side and shuffled slowly along. It would take them ages to walk with him like that.
“Alright, time to fly, Yuuji.” He hoisted the limp brat over his shoulder and he giggled in response, wriggling in his arms.
“That's seriously not a problem for you?” Megumi raised his eyebrow, watching Sukuna wrestle with the squirming mass until he settled with another giggle.
“Nah, I lift shit twice as heavy at work. He's like an oversized stuffed animal.” Megumi chuckled, falling into step beside him as they crossed the street. They walked in comfortable quiet for another block or so before Megumi veered to the right and walked up the steps of a little ground floor apartment. Sukuna deposited a slightly more sober and significantly more tired Yuuji on his feet and shooed him inside.
“Go to bed. I'll be back in a minute.”
“Kay,” Yuuji mumbled, “G’night Sukuna. Nice meeting.”
Sukuna chuckled, “Nice meeting, Yuuji.” The door closed behind him and Megumi leaned against it, regarding Sukuna with unreadable eyes.
He didn't say anything, neither did Sukuna. A breeze fluttered by the pair and a strand of jet black hair fell across Megumi’s forehead. To fight the urge to brush it away from that pretty face, Sukuna pawed for his cigarettes. He palmed the pack and slid one between his lips, lighting it with a sigh and focusing on the burning orange cherry.
“What's on your mind, Megumi?”
“That,” Megumi nodded towards him, eyes locked on Sukuna's lips. His brain lagged, spinning in a slow circle until the boy continued. “Have a spare I could bum?” Oh, the cigarette.
Idiot.
In lieu of an answer Sukuna pulled the cigarette from between his teeth and held the filter up to pretty pink lips. Something of a challenge swept through meadow green eyes as Megumi leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Sukuna's fingers as he inhaled. Neither looked away, unwilling to back down, even as an electric shock jolted through his limbs when Sukuna felt a whisper of a tongue ghost over his skin.
Sukuna needed him. Needed to feel him underneath him, needed to drown in him. This kid was nothing but a stranger and yet Sukuna wanted nothing more than to worship him, be worshiped by him. A flash of a memory from an old interview hit him in that moment, when asked about Worship Me and the meaning behind the album title.
Imagine the power flowing through your veins as you demand to be honored. Think about the thrill and honor of hastening to obey it. How right it feels to have that much trust in each other, how sinful it is to become God for someone.
On an abstract level, Sukuna knew how that desire would feel. But now that he was experiencing it? He'd never spoken truer words than in that interview. He had never wanted another human being as much as he wanted this enigmatic man in front of him.
Worship Me was their first full length album, it thrust them soundly into the spotlight and into Mahito's masterful, creepy hands. With his label, Imperfect Records, behind them and Nanami's careful management they produced two more albums in just as many years; Obsession and King of Curses topped the charts in their respective years and now Sukuna's little garage band was selling out amphitheaters. He had more money than he had time to spend it and while Ryomen had millions of people screaming his name, the only people that knew Sukuna were his bandmates and crew. A genuinely secret identity that consumed nearly every moment of his waking life left very little room for any developing relationship whether platonic or…not.
So Sukuna kept to one night stands, faceless, nameless men in dirty bathrooms and shadowy alleys. Megumi didn't deserve that. He deserved something more, something softer, something worthy of such a blessing. Sukuna never brought anyone home. Mahito still hadn't been inside despite working with Malevolent for over three years at this point. The only people allowed within his domain were also the few that knew his true self. Uraume, Gojo, and Geto were the three souls allowed to enter and exit in one piece.
And yet.
Sukuna was absolutely considering inviting Megumi home.
Just learned his name a few hours ago and already falling in love with the kid. Pathetic.
Megumi's lips pressed against his fingers again, finishing the cigarette that had been burning off between them without Sukuna's notice. Megumi plucked the filter from his fingers and flicked it into the bushes, he hadn't looked away for a moment.
“Sukuna?”
“Mm?”
Megumi worried his lip for a moment, as if he was nervous, as if Sukuna wouldn't agree to anything he had to say. “Can I get your number?”
“After,” Sukuna's inner self was beating on his ribcage, berating him and pleading with him to stop, to take Megumi into the alleyway, fuck him stupid, and leave it at that. He wasn't listening.
“After what?”
Sukuna leaned over, close enough to hear Megumi's breath hitch when his lips brushed against his ear. “After you worship me.”
Pulling back, he hoped to see an agreeable expression, eager, aroused, something. Something that said that Megumi was down for a good fuck. What he did not expect was the petulant, challenging hunger in his eyes, so intense Sukuna would better call it starvation.
Delicate hands shoved at his chest, pushing him to start walking. Megumi's face was beautifully rose pink, flustered despite his confident behavior.
“Fucking go, you stupid fuck. Take me home.”