Chapter Text
“Yoga? Shouldn’t you pick something you can actually do?” Uraume asks with a frown, trailing after their best friend.
The pair are in bustling downtown Ubud, putting up posters in the sweltering heat advertising ‘authentic one-on-one’ yoga classes. Thanks to Uraume’s graphic design skills, the posters don’t actually look half-bad.
“I’ve done this a couple of times before.” Sukuna shrugs, cocksure as always. “Most tourists don’t know any better. Don’t care, either. They just wanna say they did yoga in Bali, not actually do it.”
“Not that they end up doing much yoga, anyway.” Uraume sighs.
Sukuna grins wolfishly. “True. It’s more like a Kama Sutra class.”
Uraume rolls their eyes, taping up another flyer. They can’t believe they’re enabling this bullshit (they can. If Uraume had a penny for every time they’d gone along with these morally ambiguous shenanigans, maybe they’d be able to book a sex worker for Sukuna instead of resorting to shit like this).
“So what, you act like a yogi and then miraculously get into these people’s pants?”
“Who needs miracles when you look this good?” Sukuna asks, flexing in broad daylight like the gym rat dickhead that he is. “C’mon, have ya seen me?”
“Unfortunately.” Uraume grumbles, swatting his arm. At six-foot-five and built like a model from a Men’s Health magazine cover, Sukuna isn’t exactly inconspicuous and Uraume would rather keep a low profile. Especially for this sort of thing. “Knock it off, please.”
Sukuna acquiesces and the two walk in silence for a few minutes, off to the next coffee shop. There’s an art, apparently, to dispersing the flyers- Sukuna only puts them up in and around the more expensive cafés, the ones that are always bustling with foreigners and close to the sights. It’s literally free advertising, too; Sukuna sweet-talks the lady who runs the post office while Uraume hurriedly makes copies on the side.
“Plus,” Sukuna says after a beat. “I haven’t fucked all of them.”
Uraume pauses. “Oh?”
Sukuna shudders, thinking back to summer of last year. An attractive man with thick thighs and dark hair falling past his shoulders had walked though the door… along with his blue-eyed, white-blonde companion.
“Sorry,” Suguru, the dark-haired man who booked the class, had apologized. “My boyfriend wanted to tag along.”
Said boyfriend drove Sukuna absolutely nuts. The bright blue-eyed freak didn’t partake in the ‘class’, only wanted to observe; observing apparently involved asking Sukuna a million questions about the history of Bali -expecting Sukuna to spout information like a goddamn tour guide- tutting when he didn’t know the answers. He also insisted on commenting on Suguru’s ass every time they changed positions.
The blonde also had the nerve to give Sukuna’s arm a squeeze before he left.
“Sick gains, bro!” He’d offered with an obnoxious grin, ducking out to leave before Sukuna could deck him. “We’ll be back!”
“I’m booked out for the summer!” Sukuna yelled back, gritting his teeth. Good riddance.
“Plus,” Sukuna continues, shaking his head to forget. “I need the money.”
Now that makes Uraume laugh. Sukuna’s a hotel heir, something of a lesser Paris Hilton- his family owns holiday resorts all over the region. He lives in the boutique vacation home his grandfather raised him in. For reasons unbeknownst to Uraume, their best friend had never wanted to tap into his inheritance, instead resorting to harebrained schemes like this one to pay the bills.
“Just say you’re a nymphomaniac and be done with it.” They say, shaking their head. Sukuna laughs beside them, dragging them to the next café.
***
Megumi collapses into a rattan chair, right under the ceiling fan in the coffee shop they’ve stopped to rest in. Somehow, the humidity has gotten worse throughout the day- he makes a face as he feels sweat dripping down his back, sticking to the cotton of his t-shirt. Pushing the unruly hair off his forehead with a groan, he grabs a menu off the table and starts fanning himself with it.
Satoru Gojo, his senior and teaching assistant at college, is the one who’d recommended Bali to Megumi and his friends. Gojo had taken his boyfriend there to celebrate their anniversary last year and described it as beautiful and serene, talking non-stop about how they’d relaxed on the beach, got massages every day, ate delicious seafood, made love under the stars (Megumi did not want to hear that bit but Gojo insisted), and did yoga while apparently making friends with a buff, tatted local. Megumi doubts this last part, because Gojo is not the type of man you become friends with right off the bat, but the rest of it sounds like exactly the break Megumi needs from his full-on veterinary science degree.
Unfortunately, he feels the same about the friends he came on this trip with right now. He needs a break.
“Nobara, I’m gonna lose it if I have to visit another tourist trap with you guys.” Megumi groans. “Can’t we do normal vacation stuff?”
Nobara levels him with a glare from across the table. “And what is normal vacation stuff to you? Sleeping in till noon?”
Megumi opens and closes his mouth like an idiot. Nobara knows him way too well. It’s not that he doesn’t enjoy physical exertion, Megumi is a keen runner himself; he just doesn’t want it to conflict with the ten hours of sleep that he wanted to get per night on this trip. He also doesn’t enjoy going to places swarming with people, it makes him anxious.
“Why don’t we have a day to ourselves tomorrow?” Megumi suggests.
“But we were supposed to do that sunrise hike tomorrow.” Maki pouts from her own seat.
A sunrise hike means getting up before daybreak. “Yeah, I’m good.” Megumi makes a face. “You guys can go ahead.”
“Are you really gonna spend your day in bed?” Nobara asks, sounding genuinely disappointed. There’s something about that tone that makes him feel inexplicably guilty, for no reason at all- she’s mastered the art of manipulation. Or maybe Megumi’s just easy.
“No, of course not. I’ll-” Megumi looks around the cafe for inspiration and a poster catches his eye, showcasing tasteful graphic design and an activity he can get behind. “I’ll go for a yoga class.”
Thankfully, that seems to placate Nobara. The three of them proceed to order shaved ice, grateful for the sweet, cold treats in this heat.
***
Sukuna created a fake Instagram account for his shady yoga business- nothing too elaborate, just a couple of pictures of sunsets, a few pictures of him doing some basic yoga poses (shirtless, of course), a zen quote or two. It doesn’t take much to convince most (white) tourists, who probably wouldn’t know spirituality if it pissed in their faces.
Speaking of Instagram, Sukuna has a direct message. He unlocks his phone with a grin- would ya look at that, the posters are already working.
Megumi:
Hi, I saw your flyer in a cafe and would like to book a yoga class. Do you have any slots available tomorrow?
Megumi. What a pretty name. Sukuna immediately clicks on the profile icon: @megumi_f, he/him, a picture of two huskies as his display picture. The guy has to be a foreigner- Sukuna’s never seen huskies in Bali. That’s the most important part about selecting these suckers- making sure they aren’t locals like himself.
Sukuna starts to do his customary stalk. It’s a public profile with barely anything on it; thumb scrolling down the screen, all Sukuna can see is a plethora of nature shots and dog pictures. Nothing with a glimpse of the owner of the account. He’s about to give up, before finally spying something of interest posted two years ago.
It’s not much, but it’s something- Megumi’s back is to the camera and unsurprisingly, he’s walking one of the dogs. Sukuna’s eyes go straight to his legs. Clad in slim-fitting sweat pants, they go on forever- and he’s got a nice ass too. Yeah, Sukuna’s game. What Megumi’s face looks like isn’t of particular significance- any hole’s a goal, he always says (much to Uraume’s displeasure). Worst case scenario, he’ll just make a quick buck out of the encounter.
Going back to the direct message, Sukuna starts drafting a response- I should be able to squeeze you in tomorrow :). He’s heard somewhere that dog-crazy bitches are freaks in bed and is keen to test that theory. He briefly wonders if Megumi enjoys doggystyle too- maybe petplay? Sukuna chuckles to himself at the terrible joke, and hits send on his reply.
***
The ‘yoga studio’ Sukuna uses is essentially the private guest quarters on the property Sukuna lives in. It's a little away from the main house, equipped with its own kitchenette and bathroom. His grandfather had designed the villa with the intent of it becoming a boutique hotel, but had ended up liking it so much upon completion that he chose to use it as his residence instead. Sukuna grew up here, making mischief along the lush paddy-fields and greenery. The rest of his family chose to move back to Tokyo after a while, but Sukuna stayed put, unable to leave this slice of paradise.
A soft knock sounds on the door when Sukuna’s laying the mats down. He checks the clock in the corner of the room and sees it's 11:30AM- right on time. Giving himself a quick once-over in the mirror, he spritzes around some room fragrance before heading to the bamboo-enclosed entrance.
Sukuna’s jaw almost hits the ground when he opens the door.
“Hi. Is this the yoga class?” Green eyes and pouty lips ask, shifting underneath Sukuna’s intent gaze.
Sukuna snaps out of it, trying to get his shit together. “Sure is. You must be Megumi.” He smiles, holding the door open. “Name’s Sukuna. Come on in.”
Megumi hums in reply, brushing past him. He's a little taller than Sukuna expected, and just as pretty as his name. Fuck, he even smells good.
For a guy who never posts his face on his Instagram, Sukuna was expecting a five to walk through the door. Megumi’s a fucking twenty in his books. It’s been all of ten seconds, but Sukuna already knows- this is the most attractive person he’s ever laid eyes on. Every single preference of his taken shape in the form of @megumi_f. With great difficulty, he picks his jaw off the floor and turns.
“Here on holiday?” Sukuna asks casually, moving to light some incense.
“How did you know?”
“You’re too pale to be a local.” Sukuna laughs. “Besides, I’d remember a face like yours.”
Surprise looks pretty on Megumi. Long lashes blink over wide eyes before he schools his face into something more blank. “I’m visiting from Japan.” He says, tone impassive.
“My family’s Japanese too. Dad moved here for business.” Sukuna offers.
Megumi nods in response, taking out a mat from his bag and laying it down on the hardwood floor. Sukuna watches the way his ass threatens to spill out of the tiny gym shorts he has on and tears his eyes away. It wouldn’t do for Megumi to catch him ogling so early on. He decides to light a few candles around the room, have some ambience going for when Megumi succumbs to Sukuna’s charms and is spread out under him, moaning and begging and-
“Where’s your accreditation?”
Sukuna’s head jerks up, fantasy interrupted.
“Huh?”
“Your teaching accreditation certificate.” Megumi repeats, crossing his arms. “Most people have it on display. Where’s yours?”
“Oh, that old thing.” No one’s ever asked Sukuna for any kind of proof that he’s a yogi- it’s a good thing he’s got a silver tongue. “A client knocked it over and the glass shattered so I had to get it re-framed. Should be getting it back tomorrow, if you wanted to pay me a visit then too.” He says with a wink.
Megumi rolls his eyes, but has the faintest blush at the top of his high little cheekbones. “Are we going to get started soon or what?” He sulks, hands on his hips.
Bratty little thing. Sukuna likes that.
“Of course.”
Sukuna sits cross-legged on his mat and Megumi does the same. He’s seated right opposite, and Sukuna can see blue patterned underwear peeking out from behind the thin material of his shorts. God, Sukuna’s down bad.
“Let’s begin with a few breathing exercises.”