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It’s for research, Yuuji repeats to himself as a mantra. More importantly, if he doesn’t, he’s going to be taking a very long walk off a very short pier, because one does not say no to Ryoumen Sukuna.
Especially when one is a grad student who has infiltrated the yakuza to write his thesis.
Especially when Ryoumen Sukuna is the head of the particular branch of the Gumi that one has infiltrated.
Sukuna snaps the black nitrile gloves against his wrist once, like it satisfies him. “Pick,” he says, swivelling to face Yuuji from where he’s been sorting through hollow tubed needles, sterilising his piercing tools with iodine wipes.
“My eyebrow,” Yuuji says, “a bar?” His voice is way too high, like he still hasn’t gone through puberty.
Sukuna makes an expression as if to say ‘not bad’.
It makes Yuuji anxious, in the same way that having Sukuna in his apartment makes him anxious. Yuuji has no idea how, or why Sukuna found his apartment, and he has no intention of asking.
Yuuji’s just a low level member of the family; he’s made enough of a name for himself that he’s seen Sukuna before, and can connect his name to his face. But Yuuji isn’t important enough to have the boss in his apartment, clearly giving Yuuji his first piercing. This is a very bad advancement in Yuuji’s research.
Yuuji really needs to buy a burner phone and call Geto, and maybe call off this whole process, because this is really rapidly spiralling out of control.
“Close your eyes then, the fumes can sting.” Sukuna sets aside a piercing needle, letting it rest on the sterile bandages Sukuna’s laid out on Yuuji’s bathroom counter in an impromptu piercing station. His height causes him to loom over Yuuji, shoulders blocking any vision which isn’t Sukuna.
Yuuji, sitting on the lid of his toilet, and already overwhelmed by how much Sukuna dwarfs him regularly, shuts his eyes obediently.
Yuuji forces himself to inhale deeply through his nose, meditatively like the hospital counsellor taught him after Gramps passed, and exhales slowly.
This is so Yuuji will blend in. He doesn’t have tattoos, just bleached and dyed hair, so this is all to look more the part of a yakuza.
That Yuuji picked his eyebrow in a clear imitation to the shaved streak in Sukuna’s own brow hopefully goes unnoticed.
Yuuji can’t help but admire Sukuna, who seems more a force of nature than a man sometimes. It’s a bad impression to have when Yuuji knows Sukuna’s a career criminal, who Yuuji is actively deceiving for academic purposes.
“Good obedience, boy,” Sukuna rumbles, and grabs Yuuji’s face in one palm.
His hand spans from ear to ear along Yuuji’s jaw, the first knuckle of his index finger pressing tightly to the soft skin under Yuuji’s chin. Yuuji swallows, and tries not to focus on the way sweat is starting to drip down the small of his back.
Sukuna’s thumb and fingers dig into Yuuji’s cheeks, and pry his jaw open.
Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow, and he starts to open his eyes.
“Don’t think about it, close them.” Sukuna says, and despite how conversational he sounds, Yuuji knows it’s an order, with consequences if it is not heeded.
So he keeps his eyes closed, and opens his mouth, hesitantly.
Sukuna lets go of his jaw, and pinches Yuuji’s tongue, pulling it out of his mouth.
Yuuji’s brain scratches against his skull, his hands curling into fists where they rest on his thighs. He feels sweat beginning to bead at his temple, and wishes he could wipe it away.
There’s no way Sukuna can’t see how nervous Yuuji is, with the way he’s sweating like a stuck pig.
Hopefully the flush spreading up Yuuji’s neck is less visible.
“First time? No matter, there’ll be more,” Sukuna croons, and jabs the needle lightning fast through Yuuji’s tongue, right below where Sukuna’s pinching it with his thumb.
Yuuji squeaks, as his body rushes hot and cold with the shock of the needle passing through his skin, the hollow body sliding through to guide the piercing into place. The nitrile gloves drag against Yuuji’s throbbing tongue while Sukuna holds the piercing to screw the ball on to secure it.
Yuuji’s mouth tastes like Sukuna’s gloves and blood when Sukuna pulls his fingers back out, letting go of Yuuji’s tongue.
“You can open your eyes,” Sukuna smiles meanly at Yuuji when he does.
Yuuji feels faint, and his ears are ringing, body completely unprepared for the shock of a piercing in his mouth when he expected it in his eyebrow . Yuuji swallows, and the minute movement of his tongue hurts.
“Wha?” Yuuji slurs, and it hurts to talk.
Sukuna tuts at him, and straightens up without moving away from where he was leaning over Yuuji to pierce him. Yuuji’s still not convinced Sukuna is entirely human, and the occasion of being in Sukuna’s shadow is a mixed blessing of arousal and fear.
Sukuna’s wiping his tools down again, popping the needle into a container for disposal. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He doesn’t wait for Yuuji to reply, “Don’t speak too much, stick to softer foods for a couple days, no curry or hot drinks. Rinse your mouth with saline after you eat and before you sleep.”
Yuuji nods, blinking rapidly to try and shake off his shock.
Sukuna grabs him by the front of his shirt, and hauls Yuuji to his feet.
Yuuji stumbles, and has to steady himself with his palms against Sukuna’s chest, and tries not to be too intimidated by how much broader than him Sukuna is. It’s not effective. Sukuna is some kind of monster, built like a professional boxer, and at least six and half feet tall.
Yuuji silently notes to himself to add that he knows Sukuna often ‘ gets his hands dirty ’, to his mantra, and that it’s entirely inappropriate to be attracted to a literal murderer.
“Are you going to pass out?” Sukuna asks.
Yuuji shakes his head no once he stops feeling like he’s going to pass out.
He hates needles so much.
Sukuna nods at him, and pushes Yuuji back out of the bathroom before slapping Yuuji’s ass.
Yuuji jumps, mortified and thrilled in equal parts.
“Get me something to drink, would you?” Sukuna commands, leisurely, and goes back to cleaning up his piercing supplies, leaving a bottle of saline in Yuuji’s bathroom by his toothbrush.
Yuuji presses his lips together, and goes. He has beer, but he definitely isn’t going to offer Sukuna a cheap domestic when he knows, exactly, the sort of beer Sukuna usually drinks at his nightclubs. Not because Yuuji has served him, but because he’s been trying to creep on Sukuna every time they’re in the same building.
There’s an old bottle of scotch that was Gramps’ that Yuuji has been keeping for a special occasion, and getting a tongue piercing he doesn’t want by a mobster wasn’t what he had in mind, but it certainly qualifies. Yuuji decides that’ll be good enough.
“Do you understand why I did that?” Sukuna asks as he strolls out into Yuuji’s living room, a judgemental gaze on Yuuji’s mismatched decorations and movie posters.
Yuuji’s never been more glad he doesn’t keep any of his university paraphernalia lying around, and sold his textbooks for extra rent money. He pours Sukuna a glass of scotch before following him and setting it on a coaster as Sukuna sinks into Yuuji’s couch like it’s a throne.
Sukuna throws an arm over the back, and pats his thigh, grinning up at Yuuji.
There is only so much mockery Yuuji can take, however, and he presses his lips together and shakes his head before sitting a respectable distance from Sukuna on the couch.
“I don’t,” Yuuji’s words are still slurring, and it stings to talk, but he doesn’t know what the rules are. If there’s anything he’s learned since accidentally attracting Sukuna’s attention, it's that there are no rules, and everything is decided by Sukuna’s whims.
In hindsight, Yuuji can see why people call Sukuna ‘ The King’ .
“You had the audacity to think you had a choice,” Sukuna scuffs Yuuji’s chin with a knuckle before pressing it into Yuuji’s chest until he straightens where he was slumping against the back of his couch.
“That spirit’s cute with others. Not with me.” Sukuna finishes, and takes a sip of his scotch. He seems surprised by it. “Decent,” is what he says before turning to face Yuuji, crossing one leg to rest his ankle on his knee.
“Tongue out,” Sukuna commands.
Yuuji winces, but tilts his face up to Sukuna’s to stick his tongue out again. Yuuji’s eyes slide away from Sukuna’s, unable to focus on Sukuna’s face while Yuuji’s got his tongue stuck out like he’s starring in a porn.
Sukuna’s pale eyes narrow momentarily. “Look at me.”
Yuuji does, and resists the urge to fidget.
“That’ll take a few weeks to heal. If you take it out, I’ll know. If you lose it, I’ll know. Understand? Have Uraume check it for you if you think something’s wrong.” Sukuna takes another drink.
He doesn’t tell Yuuji to put his tongue back into his mouth, and Yuuji’s mouth starts to water badly. If he doesn’t close it soon, he’ll be drooling all over his face, or worse, his couch.
Sukuna doesn’t seem keen on telling him to put his tongue back in his mouth, just watching, drinking Yuuji’s scotch.
A spark of arousal flares low in Yuuji’s gut, warring with the impending embarrassment of drooling all over himself like an animal. Oddly, that thought only spurs him on, the humiliation adding to the pyre.
Yuuji’s spared from the impending indignity of slobbering everywhere when Sukuna’s phone rings and he sighs, “Put that back in your mouth. Call Jogo tomorrow morning, he’s got something for you. Wear a mouthguard when you work.” Sukuna stands, taking his glass with him.
When he answers his phone, he answers in Mandarin, and Yuuji doesn’t even have to pretend not to understand, rapidly swallowing to get all the spit out of his mouth, and the nasty dryness off his tongue.
When Sukuna leaves, he takes his glass and the bottle of scotch.
Asshole.
However, the issue is that he was in Yuuji’s apartment, despite the fact that they’ve only formally met once. Yuuji has never had a conversation with Sukuna one on one like this, being relegated to either second hand exposure when Sukuna orders Yuuji’s bosses around, or to watching Sukuna when he’s around.
Clearly, Sukuna noticed Yuuji watching.
Hopefully, he’s taken Yuuji’s interest (correctly) to be of a more intimate nature, and is not at all aware of or suspicious of any secondary interests of Yuuji’s. Like the plethora of journals Yuuji has hidden in his desk with all the notes from his fieldwork. Fieldwork which just so happens to cover a fair amount of Sukuna’s criminal enterprises, which Yuuji could technically bring to the police.
He won’t, because it would hurt his credibility as a researcher. Yuuji isn’t sure what the etiquette of not spoiling the field for other researchers of yakuza families is, but reporting Sukuna’s operation to the police seems like it would certainly qualify as ‘rude’, and ‘a life threatening idea’.
Yuuji considers skipping getting a burner phone to talk to Geto about abandoning his thesis completely, and just moving out of the country entirely instead. Yuuji speaks decent English, he could move to LA and become a movie star.
With Sukuna’s appearance in his apartment, Yuuji doesn’t think he can get away with that. He’s stricken, abruptly, with the mental image of himself in a nice apartment in Beverly Hills, while Sukuna winds a garrote wire around Yuuji’s neck. It shouldn’t be hot, but it is.
The piercing needle, in its disposal container, sits on the edge of Yuuji’s bathroom sink like a reminder that he might be in too deep.
The thought isn’t as disturbing as it should be.
Yuuji taps the ball of the piercing against his palate, and tries to decide if he likes the sensation, beyond the pain. He might. He’s not ready to break down why Sukuna’s the one who pierced his tongue instead of any of the piercers who work with the Gumi.
Yuuji doesn’t end up calling Geto, even though he really should.
It’s only because of Geto that Yuuji’s doing his thesis on the Ryoumen Gumi. It was a favour to make up for all the times Geto let Yuuji crash his office hours when Yuuji was doing his undergrad to gush about the formation of microcultures, and countercultural links to the normatively illicit.
Yuuji hadn’t originally even intended to pursue graduate studies, but Geto convinced him, and he’s not even sure how Geto got approval for a masters student to do field work like this.
Yuuji’s already got six months of research in, and with only six months left, it feels like it would be a waste if Yuuji pulled out now. It would feel like running away when he’s finally starting getting access to how things tick behind the scene.
His justifications only feel a bit like hollow excuses, and Yuuji pushes away the thought that he might just like the danger.
It all started with Yuuji fighting in a ring run by one of the lower level supervisors, Hakari, at one of the gyms Sukuna owns. Yuuji’s fit, he’s taken a smattering of martial arts classes throughout the years, and used to fight a lot of bullies in highschool. Being a ring fighter seemed like a good enough cover. The gym itself is legal, the fights and the betting that Hakari runs are not so much.
Hakari and Yuuji get on, and so Yuuji got the honour of being picked to fight in some of Hakari’s scripted fights.
Which went great until Yuuji did too well , and got noticed by Hakari’s boss, Jogo, who in turn pointed him out to Uraume, who brought Sukuna down on him, as Yuuji has come to suspect.
Which is not great.
It is also fantastic, at least according to Yuuji’s entirely inappropriate crush, which has somehow not flagged despite Sukuna modifying Yuuji’s face as he pleased.
The tongue piercing has, at least, grown on Yuuji. So that is a silver lining in his book.
Yuuji’s actual work with the Gumi remains to be in the ring, and some territory fighting for Jogo with other families, but the amount of time he spends getting moved to rings he’s unfamiliar with, in buildings he knows Sukuna is frequenting, points to Yuuji either being favoured or watched.
The impromptu visit to his apartment for an impromptu piercing session only compounds that belief.
Yuuji’s gotten by so far without getting any tattoos by arguing that he’d be more memorable with them, in consideration of his pink dyed hair. It helps that Hoshi, Hakari’s girlfriend, thinks he’s cute and keeps defending him.
The primary reason Yuuji hasn’t taken the leap of getting a small tattoo is that he still profoundly dislikes needles. Any reasons beyond that are mostly to do with the fact that tattoos are very permanent, and Yuuji very much does not want to be a permanent fixture in the Ryoumen Gumi.
Unfortunately, the more Sukuna is interested in him, the more other members of the Gumi seem comfortable being interested in Yuuji; inviting him out for drinks, karaoke, and spontaneous ‘family’ dinners. So, Yuuji’s notes are flourishing. His prospects of leaving the Gumi wilt. Yuuji’s life expectancy keeps plummeting everytime Sukuna watches him too long.
But Yuuji's adaptable. He’ll roll with it. The leader of the Ryoumen Gumi wants to slap his ass, pierce his tongue and steal his Gramps’ good bottle of scotch? Yuuji won’t stop him, because the alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.
It does take about a month for Yuuji’s tongue piercing to heal, and Hakari scripts him easy fights where he doesn’t get punched in the head in the meantime. Uraume drops in more than they used to, and Yuuji knows it’s because of him, even if they never talk to him directly, vacillating between Jogo and Hakari’s offices.
They usually bring food they made for the boys, anyway, so their presence is always welcome in Yuuji’s books. Yuuji suspects that they must have gone to culinary school, but he’s never worked up the nerve to ask. Despite being a natural social butterfly, there’s something about Uraume that has Yuuji holding his tongue most days.
Today is actually one of those days, and Yuuji prepares to keep holding his tongue, until they commandeer Yuuji’s assistance in bringing leftovers from their car into the gym.
“Eh? Is this unagi don?” Yuuji sniffs one of the bento, resisting the urge to open it to peek inside. Yuuji counts his blessings, because he loves unagi don.
Uraume watches him impassively. “Yes, there’s also salmon onigiri.” They answer, tapping one of the other stacks of boxes before pushing it toward Yuuji. Yuuji grins, elated. Free food is never a questionable gift, as far as Yuuji’s concerned.
“Is your tongue healed?” Uraume asks, watching as Yuuji balances the two stacks on his right arm before going for two more for the left. Yuuji counts his blessings for his job experience waiting tables during his undergrad. Being able to carry lots of food is a far more applicable skill than most give it credit for.
“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Yuuji beams.“I got a new ball for it, it looks like one of the coal sprites from Spirited Away , wanna see?”
Uraume doesn’t react, just swings the heavy metal shipping doors of the gym open for Yuuji. “No, that’s fine.”
Nothing phases them. Yuuji kind of respects the whole ‘icy-composure’ thing they have going on. They also have cool plum blossom coloured contacts that Yuuji wants. “Itadori.” Uraume says as Yuuji passes them on his way through the door, their cold fingers lingering at his elbow.
It’s enough to give Yuuji pause. “Yeah?” He never knows if he should call Uraume aniki the way he does with Hakari, so he just never does, skipping titles entirely if he can manage it.
“Get a new lock for your apartment.” Uraume smiles, vaguely.
Uraume only smiles for Sukuna.
Yuuji nods once, and forces a smile back at them. “Sure thing, is there another family in my neighbourhood?”
“Don’t worry, it’s a problem beyond you,” Uraume gets the door into the staff room for Yuuji too, and takes the top half of each stack of bento to lighten Yuuji’s load and set them down.
“Alright! Thanks for the heads up,” Yuuji chirps and tries not to dwell on how his stomach has dropped. Nerves are only going to impact his performance in the ring.
Food and warning delivered, Uraume doesn’t linger long. Yuuji hates it, a bit, that they clearly only came by to talk to him, confirming his earlier suspicions that Sukuna is watching Yuuji through them.
Regardless, when Yuuji gets home, he calls a locksmith, and gets an appointment to put a new lock and a deadbolt on his door. He isn’t about to question advice which comes from Sukuna’s second in command.
Yuuji’s woken, rudely, by getting sprayed in the face by cold water.
After the initial shock wears off, Yuuji’s jolting up, realising he’s been moved into a bathtub, and is not, in fact, still in university, sleeping in his dorm bed and getting pranked by his suitemate like he thought he was.
Yuuji’s arms yank painfully as he tries to jerk away, one handcuffed to the faucet above his head, and the other locked in the vice-like grip of a massive hand. Which just so happens to have very memorable banded tattoos on the wrist.
Sukuna sits on the lip of the tub, by Yuuji’s knee, one hand on Yuuji, while Yuuji’s showerhead is cradled in his other palm.
Yuuji slumps, adrenaline surging in his body for no reason now, and takes several deep breaths. He flexes his fingers, and starts taking stock of his body as he blinks up at the ceiling. Nothing is missing, and his shirt is very cold where it sticks to his skin.
“Hi,” Yuuji croaks, and clears the sleep from his throat.
Sukuna’s broken into his apartment again, so it seems.
Both his wrists are immobilised, and his ankles are bound. However, Yuuji’s in his own bathtub, and Sukuna’s wearing a dress shirt that looks expensive, so he’s probably not going to butcher Yuuji while he’s wearing it.
“You sleep deeply,” Sukuna remarks, “that isn’t a compliment.”
Yuuji sucks on his teeth and blinks water out of his eyes. “Yeah, I can see why not.”
Why is he chained up in his bathroom with Sukuna?
“Can I ask what’s happening?” Yuuji chances another peek at Sukuna, and notices for the first time Sukuna has a small cart with him, covered in small pots and what looks like… bamboo? Yuuji can’t see it well from his angle. It might be a bamboo handle. Yuuji hopes that it isn’t the handle of a knife.
Yuuji doesn’t want to test if Sukuna’s reputation as a butcher is literal, metaphorical, or entirely rumour.
Sukuna hangs up the showerhead, and smiles that mean smile of his. “You’ve committed a crime,” he answers.
Yuuji’s heart stops.
The likelihood of that handle belonging to a knife inches upward.
“What?” He asks, “Did I do something I wasn’t supposed to? I really didn’t mean to, I swear,” Yuuji’s rambling trying to sit up in the tub, partially hoisting himself by hauling on the arm Sukuna’s gripping.
Sukuna shoves him back, and lets go of Yuuji’s arm long enough to snap on another pair of sterile black gloves. Yuuji stops his struggling, and furrows his eyebrows. “Oh, am I getting another piercing?” Yuuji asks.
It might be a stupid question, Sukuna might just be gloving up so that he can kill Yuuji without leaving prints, but it’s probable that Sukuna’s prints are in Yuuji’s apartment already. He might also be preparing to cut off one of Yuuji’s fingers. Jury’s still out.
“Thievery,” Is Sukuna’s non-sequitur, “is your crime.”
“I stole something?” Yuuji’s genuinely bewildered, “Did someone put something in my bag? Oh, shit, did I put something in my bag? I’m really sorry,” Yuuji’s throat catches on Sukuna’s title, ‘ Father ’. Yuuji’s never been able to say it without being vaguely uncomfortable. Yuuji doesn’t know if that’s because he’s lying, or if he has some latent daddy issues.
Sukuna brandishes a traditional tattooing needle in his gloved hands, and sits on the edge of the tub, leaning over Yuuji’s extended arm. The handle is made of bamboo. “You stole time, boy.” Sukuna examines Yuuji’s unblemished skin, grey-blue eyes tracking like he’s looking for a weak spot or an opening.
“I stole time?” Yuuji doesn’t understand, he half expects Sukuna to catch him for writing notes, but stealing Sukuna’s time?
Sukuna locks his grip on Yuuji’s arm again.
“The deadbolt,” Sukuna choses a spot most of the way down to Yuuji’s wrist, and jabs the needle into the thin skin on the inside of Yuuji’s arm in quick, darting, repetitive motions. The shck of the needle as it punctures Yuuji’s skin is morbid, echoing loud and wet in his bathroom.
It hurts, like sponging up glass by rubbing his skin across it. Yuuji’s had worse pain, but it’s making his palms sweaty to have a needle shoved repetitively into tender skin. Yuuji still hates needles. The piercing was better, by far, if slightly more painful.
Yuuji makes the executive decision not to watch, less he faint.
“Uraume told me to change my locks,” Yuuji has been putting off his initiation tattoo, and clearly, that was a mistake. Sukuna’s taking matters into his own hands, and branding Yuuji as a thief of all things.
Sukuna’s interest in Yuuji continues to be exceptional and deeply concerning. Also deeply flattering.
Yuuji’s head drops against the ceramic of his tub, and he stares at the ceiling, counting stains, counting breaths as Sukuna works on his arm, passing the needle over and over the same spots, thickening and darkening the stain in Yuuji’s skin.
He’ll never be able to get rid of it.
Yuuji wonders, somewhat deliriously, if the university will pay to get a laser removal done, because his research caused harm that could severely impact his ability to work legally in Japan.
“Uraume told you to change your lock, not add a deadbolt. I wanted a new challenge, not a frustration.” Sukuna is methodically working outwards from the centre of Yuuji’s arm, freehanded, but grip unshaking on Yuuji, who’s flinching and twitching occasionally.
The strength with which Sukuna grips Yuuji keeps his arm from moving too badly and ruining Sukuna’s hard work.
“I’ll always let you in, you don’t have to break in,” Yuuji aims for submissiveness and hopes it is the right choice.
“I go where I please, regardless of your permission. You chose to bar me, regardless of what you might be stealing from me in the process.” Sukuna wipes the tattoo periodically with a wipe that is blessedly cold against the hot sting of Yuuji’s skin. When he lets go of Yuuji’s arm to do this, there’s the clear imprint of his palm wrapping around Yuuji’s arm. That’ll leave an interesting bruise.
Yuuji nods, accepting the reprimand for what it is, because he’s expected to.
The hardest part of this whole experience is navigating Sukuna, who Yuuji should never have met at all.
“Please forgive me,” Yuuji asks as politely as he can, while he’s handcuffed to the faucet of his own bathtub, being tattooed like a criminal, by a murderer.
Maybe Yuuji should drop the thesis and write an autobiography.
“I can be convinced to. Later. After your punishment,” Sukuna falls silent until he begins to turn Yuuji’s arm to wrap the nara black band around the front of Yuuji’s forearm. “Do you know how severity was marked by irezumi kei ?” Sukuna asks.
Yuuji feels a bit light headed and his shirt is freezing against his skin. His arm burns where Sukuna methodically injects ink into his skin. It’s altogether a deeply unpleasant feeling that has black spots swimming in the corners of Yuuji’s vision. “No, Father.”
Sukuna hums, and the next swipe of his cloth is exceptionally gentle. A reward.
“A prisoner is marked by how often they’ve committed a particular crime, and where. Branded like a dog, one stroke at a time. A murder is marked by a tattoo on their face.”
Yuuji forces himself to look at the curved bows of nara ink below Sukuna’s eyes, striped down to his jaw, three lines on each high cheekbone. “Once the condemned is tattooed thrice, they face capital punishment.”
“So I shouldn’t steal from you again?” Yuuji says without thinking.
Sukuna, luckily, laughs. When he looks at Yuuji, he favours him with a hooded look that lights a coil of heat in Yuuji’s gut. “You shouldn’t have in the first place.”
Yuuji feels the need to argue that he hadn’t intended to steal from Sukuna in the first place, but what he wants is neither here nor there.
Ryoumen Sukuna condemned Yuuji as a thief, so a thief he is.
The irony that Yuuji is stealing information on false pretences isn’t lost on him, and keeps him quiet and still under Sukuna’s hands as he works.
It takes far longer than Yuuji expects it to for Sukuna to tattoo the thick black band around his arm. By the end, Yuuji is soaked with cold sweat and shivering, his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks where he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.
Yuuji can practically feel the pasty pallor of his skin.
Wrapped around his arm is a neat nara black ribbon, spots beading with dainty drops of blood, the skin puffy and red at the edges.
It feels like his nose is bleeding, but Yuuji knows it isn’t, it’s just a symptom of the head rush he started getting about half an hour into the process which never went away. The fingers on each of his hands are completely numb, and his feet are filled with pins and needles where they press into the wall of his tub.
Sukuna isn’t gentle when he applies the bandaging to Yuuji’s arm, sealing the wrapping with large hands which grip too firmly. Yuuji bites back a hiss, chewing the inside of his cheek to stop his voice from leaking out.
“Can you stand?” Sukuna’s cleaning up his tools, snapping off his gloves before untying Yuuji’s arm, and uncuffing him. Yuuji’s ankles remain bound.
“Not tied?” Yuuji tries, and is rewarded with another of Sukuna’s grins. His ankles are going to stay tied, then, Yuuji summises.
“Maybe? I feel really lightheaded,” Yuuji knows for a fact that tattooing someone who’s been shocked awake in their bathtub, and trussed up like a hog is bad tattoo etiquette, but so is tattooing someone like a criminal against their will.
That they are criminals is irrelevant, as far as Yuuji’s concerned.
Sukuna hums, “Alright, I’ll carry you then.” He winds his arm under Yuuji’s, and huffs a laugh into Yuuji’s hair when Yuuji groans at his new tattoo being irritated as his arm bangs off of Sukuna’s shoulders.
It’s alarming when Sukuna hauls Yuuji up into his arms as he stands from the edge of Yuuji’s tub, like Yuuji doesn’t weigh more than a child might. Yuuji knows he’s not small, and not light, but Sukuna lifts him like he’s weightless.
Yuuji stays quiet, and docile, despite feeling a bit emasculated at being princess carried in his own apartment. He wonders if Sukuna’s hauled corpses who weigh more than Yuuji around. Yuuji doesn’t ask.
Sukuna leaves his tattooing tools in the bathroom, and walks Yuuji out into his own bedroom. When Sukuna sets him on his feet, he holds Yuuji steady with a hand at his waist.
Yuuji’s bed is still mussed from where Sukuna must have pulled him out while he was sleeping. The light’s off in Yuuji’s room, and it’s a struggle to adjust to the moonlight coming in from the cracked blinds of his window. Trapped in the dark, immobilised, with Sukuna, is not how Yuuji wants to end his night.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time,” Yuuji tries again, trying to make out Sukuna’s expression in the dark.
Sukuna grunts, and takes something out of his pocket.
The distinctive flick and click of a switchblade is loud.
Yuuji grits his teeth and lifts his chin. He won’t be intimidated. He’s still making money for Sukuna, and Sukuna wouldn’t tattoo him just to kill him.
Yuuji’s bravery is rewarded when Sukuna cuts his soaked sleep shirt off his chest, the ripping of the fabric loud in the dark.
“Pull that off, and if you fuck up your tattoo, know that I’m branding you next,” Sukuna rubs the thumb of the hand he still has on Yuuji’s waist in circles against Yuuji’s bared skin.
“Is this part of my punishment?” Yuuji’s voice is tight, but doesn’t waver. Is Sukuna going to carve a mark into Yuuji?
Sukuna breathes through his nose, thoughtful. “Think of it more as my reward,” he answers.
Yuuji pulls his wet shirt off, and stays very, very, still as the tip of Sukuna’s switchblade traces through the trail of hair on Yuuji’s lower stomach, toward the waistline of his sweats.
Sukuna pulls the knife away, snaps it shut and slips it back to wherever it came from in the dark before grabbing Yuuji, and bodily throwing him onto his bed.
Yuuji bounces, once, his arm zinging with pain before Sukuna’s on him, yanking Yuuji’s sweats down and slotting one massive thigh between Yuuji’s, pressed intimately into Yuuji’s balls and his flaccid dick.
Sukuna leans over Yuuji, and Yuuji catches the shoulder of Sukuna’s dress shirt in his good hand, “I — didn’t know you swung this way,” Yuuji says, lamely.
Evidently Sukuna has noticed the staring.
Sukuna’s breath puffs over Yuuji’s wrist as he turns to regard Yuuji’s hand on his shirt. Yuuji lets go, feeling the weight of that gaze. “I swing wherever I like, boy.”
Yuuji nods, and decides it’s for the best if he decides to be enthusiastic in this arrangement.
Yuuji reaches down to stroke his own cock to coax it into hardness, trying to ignore the general malaise settling over his body post tattooing.
It stays stubbornly limp.
Yuuji’s anxiety spikes, and his cock wilts further in his grip.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, trying not to look up at Sukuna. “I don’t think I can,”
“No, I figured that would be how this goes. Good effort, boy. Get my belt, would you?” Sukuna tilts his hips down toward Yuuji’s hands, seemingly content to let Yuuji do all the work.
It’s impossible to tell for certain using just his eyes, but Yuuji’s decently sure Sukuna’s at least started to get hard, wrecking the line of his slacks. His belt is some imported leather that feels soft and supple under Yuuji’s fingers, but he doesn’t even have the time to appreciate that before he’s popping the button of Sukuna’s trousers.
When Yuuji eases Sukuna out of his (nice, silk) briefs, he nearly cries.
Sukuna’s hard, and he’s huge. “I really want to, Father,” Yuuji babbles, and feels the way Sukuna twitches at the title. “But I’d need a lot of prep, and I haven’t done any, and it’s been awhile, and,” Yuuji trails off, trying to get his stress to a manageable level.
Sukuna just waits until Yuuji runs out of babbling. “I’m aware,” he moves a palm and squeezes Yuuji’s cock too hard, where it’s still limp on his stomach.
Yuuji’s not small, but the process humiliates him as if he is.
This has not, ever, happened before. Even during parties where Yuuji drank too much to function.
“I’d intended for this to go another way, but I can’t always have what I like, now can I?” Sukuna’s smiling meanly again, and Yuuji’s feeling more humiliated by the second.
It’s only made worse when Sukuna kneels fully between Yuuji’s thighs, manhandling Yuuji until their cocks are lined up, Yuuji’s dwarfed by Sukuna’s erection.
Yuuji’s heart’s in his throat, and he knows his dick is officially doing its best to get hard, but all he can muster is a few twitches of interest. Yuuji curses it.
“Come on, boy, are you just going to lie there? Please your Father.” Sukuna rolls his hips over Yuuji’s, the pressure curling Yuuji’s toes in pleasure that promises no release.
Yuuji glances at his bedside table, where he knows there’s lube, and opens his mouth to ask.
“No, it’s fine without.” Sukuna grabs Yuuji’s good arm, and drags his hand down to Sukuna’s length.
Yuuji circles his fingers around Sukuna and teases him, testing to see what he likes, what has his hips twitching into Yuuji’s grip. Over Yuuji’s useless cock. The brushing of his own fingers is insulting, and it should be pleasurable, but his dick just lays inert.
It makes him want to cry, or beg for forgiveness.
Yuuji strokes Sukuna a few times before he can’t take it, “I’m sorry, I really am, I promise this hasn’t happened before,”
Sukuna grabs his jaw, and Yuuji freezes. “Pathetic,” Sukuna groans, his teeth white in the moonlight, “You can’t even jerk off successfully?”
Yuuji flinches, miserable. There must be something in his expression, because Yuuji feels Sukuna throb from root to tip before precum drips onto Yuuji’s stomach from the bulbous head of Sukuna’s cock.
Galvanised, Yuuji tries to press his hips up into Sukuna’s weight, smearing the gathering wetness down the rest of Sukuna’s cock. “I can, I’ll do better,” Yuuji’s face is burning with shame.
Sukuna clicks his tongue, rocking his cock into Yuuji’s palm. The springs of Yuuji’s bed creak under their weight. “Such a disappointment,” Sukuna sighs, “All my work cultivating you, gifting you with my favour, and this is all you can offer me?”
Yuuji does tear up then, desperate with the need to be praised, rather than degraded.
He twists his fist over the head of Sukuna’s cock, drawing precum around the glans before reaching down with his tattooed arm to work the parts of Sukuna’s shaft that don’t fit in Yuuji’s hand. “I’ll pay you back, I promise, I’ll be good,” Yuuji almost wishes he could slap his dick and make it work.
His arm burns every time he moves it, but it’s worth it.
“Will you?” Sukuna’s weight on top of Yuuji almost throws him into an animal panic as Sukuna settles down, crushing them together. He’s still fully dressed, and Yuuji’s immobilised under him.
Yuuji’s dick twitches, leaking a drop of precum where it lies placid between them.
Sukuna groans, “You might as well be castrated,” his shirt dragged against Yuuji’s nipples as he thrusts into the rhythm of Yuuji’s hands. “For all the good you do me.”
“Please don’t,” Yuuji whines, gripping tighter, fucking his fists harder over Sukuna’s cock. He’s rewarded by Sukuna moaning, more precum leaking out of his cock onto Yuuji’s skin.
“That isn’t how you beg,” Sukuna cups Yuuji’s jaw with one hand, mouthing a kiss over Yuuji’s damp brow.
Yuuji burns, and throws his hips against Sukuna’s, relishing the pressure on his balls, because it was better than the nothing in his cock. “Please, Father, I can make you cum, d-don’t castrate me,” Yuuji begs, eyes closed against the shame of what he’s saying.
It’s hotter than it has any right to be.
Yuuji lets his mouth fall open, pushes his tongue against the back of his teeth and hopes that Sukuna can see the piercing he put in Yuuji’s mouth.
Sukuna groans, the pump of his hips faltering. “And?” He prompts.
Yuuji keens, and turns his face away, he has no idea what Sukuna wants to hear.
“I’ll be a good boy next time, I’ll get hard, I promise, I’ll make you cum however you want me to, Father.” He spits out, trying to ignore the way the humiliation both turns him on and makes him want to crawl in a hole and die.
Sukuna stills, his climax pumping out onto Yuuji’s fingers, Yuuji’s limp dick and their chests, staining Sukuna’s expensive dress shirt.
Yuuji’s stomach drops, and he’s hit with the acrid taste of failure on his tongue, and absurdly wishes that he had asked Sukuna to castrate him.
Sukuna groans, and sits back on his haunches after catching his breath, Yuuji’s fingers slipping from his length as he softens. “You catch on quick, when motivated.” The corners of Sukuna’s mouth are lifted, his eyes creasing with mirth. His teeth are very white in the dim light.
Yuuji covers his face, and tries to beat down the feeling of utter shame welling up like blood under his tongue. Some of Sukuna’s cum sticks to his cheek. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t…” Yuuji can’t even finish his sentence. How can he even apologise for having an acute case of erectile dysfunction?
The bed creaks as Sukuna tucks himself back into his slacks, pulling off his dress shirt and tossing it to Yuuji’s bed, leaving him in his undershirt. “Have that dry cleaned, would you?” Sukuna drawls, ignoring Yuuji’s apologies. He’s doing his belt back up when Yuuji finally uncovers his face, and tries to squint at Sukuna in the dark.
It feels a bit like someone’s ripped the rug out from under Yuuji, his head still fuzzy from arousal and pain, with his ankles still bound, and the head of the yakuza family he is infiltrating doing his belt up above Yuuji.
“...Can I ask what just happened?” Yuuji’s still turned on, and his arm still burns, and he’s still light headed. He thinks the three might be intertwined.
Sukuna huffs, and shifts his weight off of Yuuji’s mattress, standing in the dark. “Maybe I should pull you from the ring,” he sounds like he’s talking to himself, and Yuuji can barely see him in the dark, but it looks like Sukuna’s turned away thoughtfully. “You can’t take any more head trauma.”
“I… actually agree with that, but Hakari doesn’t script me to get my head kicked in. It’s mostly Jogo’s fault.” Yuuji protests, and tries to resist the urge to crawl after Sukuna, desperate to be assured he didn’t do anything wrong.
Distantly, he starts to recall that Sukuna said he’d expected Yuuji to be incapable of getting an erection, but the memory isn’t much of a comfort when Yuuji feels like an impotent loser.
Sukuna just snorts at Yuuji, and pads on near silent feet toward Yuuji’s bedroom door.
It becomes immediately clear that he’s done, and isn’t interested in chatting about whatever just happens.
Yuuji can’t handle it, and something in him breaks with a feeling like his world is dropping out from under him. “Please, don’t go, I - I don’t know how to take care of the tattoo,” is Yuuji’s first attempt at a plea, “and my ankles are tied,” he continues, voice hitching up, cracking, “I couldn’t even have sex the way you wanted to!” Yuuji finishes in a rush.
It’s like he’s having an adrenal surge and getting broken up with at the same time, and Sukuna doesn’t say anything at all, just pauses by the ajar door of Yuuji’s bedroom, vaguely illuminated by the dim light from the hallway. Yuuji can barely see the way Sukuna’s lips curve into a pleased smile before he’s striding back to Yuuji’s bed.
Sukuna sits at the end of Yuuji’s bed, and puts his hand over the ropes on Yuuji’s ankles. “Do something about these,” he pats them once, and then puts his hands into his pockets, expression indiscernible in the dark.
Yuuji sits up, wincing when the skin on his arm pulls as he moves. He quietly sets to getting the rope off of his legs, Sukuna’s commands easing the screeching in his skin a bit.
The university owed him so much trauma counselling after this.
Sukuna waits while Yuuji works, and Yuuji thinks he might watch, but he isn’t sure. Sukuna’s cum is drying, tacky, on Yuuji’s stomach, and where it’s dripped down his groin. Yuuji’s still pent up, but his body seems to have no way of expressing it other than nervous energy.
“Leave the bandages on until tomorrow evening, then soak them off,” Sukuna’s voice startles Yuuji almost as badly as the cool knuckle that runs down the outside of Yuuji’s arm as Sukuna strokes him like a preferred dog.
Yuuji wants to turn himself into that kind touch and let Sukuna do whatever he wants to him.
He really needs to call Geto, and get out of this. For real this time.
“Once they’re off, don’t even think about scratching it, and keep it moisturised. Use something unscented, preferably a cream, not a lotion. When it flakes, don’t pick. Like I said, if this heals poorly, I’m branding you next.” Sukuna’s tone is easy, and he shifts to lightly holding Yuuji’s arm in his hand, just above the tattoo.
Where there’s going to be a bruise in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, if there isn’t one already.
His fingers touch on either side of Yuuji’s forearm.
“How would you brand me?” Yuuji doesn’t want to know, but he’s asking anyway, desperate for Sukuna not to leave him, and comfort him that Yuuji did fine.
The anxious tightness is winding out of Yuuji’s throat, but he still feels twitchy, like there’s some sort of dread lingering under his skin. He knows something’s wrong, and he shouldn’t feel like this after sex when he didn’t even get off, but it’s like the world has narrowed to what Sukuna wants from him, what Sukuna tells him to do.
Yuuji hasn’t even yanked his sweats back up, because Sukuna hasn’t told him to.
Sukuna cups Yuuji’s cheek in one large palm, and it’s the greatest reward Yuuji’s ever received. “Are you asking for one?” He asks.
Yuuji knows that whatever he says is a trap; if he agrees, Sukuna will brand him as a reward. If he disagrees, Sukuna will brand him for the audacity of denying him.
Yuuji says nothing, and presses his cheek more firmly into Sukuna’s palm.
Sukuna chuckles, “Good boy,” he brushes a thumb along Yuuji’s eyebrow. “If you behave, I won’t have to brand you. Just know that I have more than one option. Punishments must always fit the crime, no?”
Yuuji nods, his focus narrowing to the sting of his forearm momentarily.
“I’m leaving,” Sukuna lets go of Yuuji slowly, letting his hands drag. The pressure and heat of contact over the bandages on Yuuji’s arm is a subtle torture - the pain like dragging nails over a sunburn. “Get that shirt cleaned, and fuck off with the deadbolt.”
Yuuji nods,and feels a bit like a robot, going through the motions as Sukuna inputs his code. “Are you going to come back?” Yuuji feels like a child, and knows the answer already, seeing as Sukuna’s leaving a shirt which might cost more than Yuuji’s rent with him, but he has to ask anyway.
“Yes,” Sukuna rolls his shoulders as he stands. “That cock of yours is mine to do with as I like.”
Yuuji blanches, embarrassed. “Even though I…”
“You’ll just have to work twice as hard next time, boy.” Sukuna doesn’t wait for Yuuji to say anything more, tucking his hands back into his pockets to stroll out of Yuuji’s room. In the light Yuuji can see the bands on Sukuna’s arms which match Yuuji’s, and the rings on his shoulders which are only partially covered by his undershirt.
He doesn’t go to collect his tattooing equipment from Yuuji’s bathroom.
Yuuji wonders if that means Sukuna will be tattooing him again.
It’s midnight, Yuuji’s nose is broken, and he just wants to sleep. When he gets back to his apartment, the door is unlocked. He lets his forehead drop against the door and considers walking away.
Sukuna’s dress shirt is pressed and cleaned in Yuuji’s closet, and Yuuji has been expecting Sukuna to show up for a couple weeks now. Sukuna’s just picked an awful day to do it - Yuuji’s been working for Jogo all day, chasing off an upstart new family from the fringes of the Ryoumen Gumi’s territory.
It’s probably why Sukuna chose today to invade Yuuji’s apartment; he would know that Yuuji’s exhausted and bruised.
Yuuji lets himself in, and manages a smile when Sukuna toasts him over his shoulder from where he’s sitting on Yuuji’s couch. He should be angry, but isn’t.
The glass Sukuna’s holding is the one he stole from Yuuji’s apartment when he pierced Yuuji’s tongue.
“There’s a drink for you on the counter, then c’mere.” Sukuna doesn’t look over at Yuuji, or even greet him properly.
He’s just made himself at home in Yuuji’s apartment. It’s more flattering than it should be.
Yuuji ducks into his kitchen and groans. What was once the full bottle of scotch Sukuna stole is also sitting on the counter, with a glass for Yuuji, which is clearly holding the last of the liquor. At least Yuuji’s getting to have some. “Did you like it, at least?” Yuuji calls, grabbing his glass and taking a bracing sip.
He’s sweaty and disgusting, and Sukuna’s probably here to have sex again. Yuuji tries not to be turned on that there’s just another thing for Sukuna to degrade him about. He’s not entirely successful.
Sukuna’s head is leaning on the back of the couch when Yuuji leaves the kitchen to join him, watching Yuuji with a sly grin. He has his arm stretched across the back of the couch, and Yuuji can see there’s something on his lap.
“It was as interesting as the rest of you,” Sukuna answers.
When Yuuji steps close enough to the couch to step around it, and join Sukuna, he catches sight of a very familiar journal in Sukuna’s lap.
It’s open.
There’s a stack of other notebooks on the coffee table, strategically placed so Sukuna’s shoulders block Yuuji’s sightline to them until he is nearly on top of them and Sukuna.
Yuuji blanches, and swallows thickly.
Sukuna snaps the notebook shut, and plops it on the table with the rest, the angle just skewed enough that it hangs, precarious.
He pats his thigh at Yuuji, inviting him to sit.
Yuuji sets his glass on the table, deciding not to worry about leaving marks on the wood, and perches on Sukuna’s knee. Yuuji turns inward to face Sukuna, and sets his gaze firmly below Sukuna’s neck.
“So, you found them.” Yuuji whispers when the silence stretches for too long. He can feel Sukuna watching him, and watches the bob of his throat when Sukuna takes sips from his scotch.
He hasn’t laid a finger on Yuuji.
He doesn’t have to.
Yuuji’s positive he’s going to die here tonight, and crawled into Sukuna’s lap willingly to do so.
There was something fundamentally wrong with Yuuji.
“Like I said, interesting as the rest of you,” Sukuna moves his arm from the back of the couch to wrap it around Yuuji’s waist, sliding him upward along his thigh until Yuuji’s pressed into his chest, and is forced to throw his legs over Sukuna’s other leg so he doesn’t accidentally knee him in the groin.
“You’re somehow both smarter, and far more stupid, than I was giving you credit for.” Sukuna presses a kiss to the side of Yuuji’s neck, just above the dip of his clavicle.
Yuuji doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t.
“Did you think you’d be able to slip away after seducing me?” Sukuna strokes his palm down Yuuji’s flank, and slips it up under Yuuji’s shirt to pinch at his side.
Yuuji jumps, and glances up at Sukuna through his eyelashes, wincing. “I didn’t intend to seduce you?” He wasn’t even aware that’s how Sukuna felt about it. “I just made a really, really bad call.”
He hopes acting contrite is the correct course of action.
Maybe calling Sukuna a bad call isn’t a good course of action.
Yuuji internally panics some more.
Yuuji jolts, and remembers belatedly, that elbowing Sukuna in the ribs is probably not going to get him any bonus points, so he keeps his flailing to a minimum. “I’m definitely not going to the police! I can’t believe I didn’t start there - and, uh, I know this isn’t really how it’s supposed to go, but I can… debrief you? On my thesis? That’s… what… we’re supposed to do?” Yuuji loses steam as he goes, and chances another look at Sukuna’s face.
Sukuna looks entirely unmoved, almost bored with Yuuji’s explanation. “I’m aware you’re not going to the police, boy, because otherwise you’ll be losing your capacity to use those pretty legs.”
Yuuji winces, and nods. This whole experience is aggravating the throbbing headache behind his eyes, courtesy of his broken nose.
“I want to see it when you’re done. I get to omit any information I don’t want in there.” Sukuna jostles Yuuji when he squeezes him, like he’s making sure Yuuji is listening. It makes Yuuji want to laugh, as if he would be doing anything other than hanging on Sukuna’s every word. “You don’t do shit until I clear it.”
Yuuji inhales sharply, and can’t resist looking up at Sukuna’s face. “You’re… not going to kill me?” he asks, stupidly, and then regrets it immediately.
Sukuna blinks at him, and then laughs. “Not yet, I’m not. Should I?” he polishes off the glass of scotch he poured himself. “This,” he tilts the glass toward the leaning stack of notebooks. “Just confirms to me that you’re not going anywhere.”
“Are you going to tattoo me again, Father?” Yuuji really hopes not, though he’s figuring he’s earned band number two. The tattooing needles and ink have long since disappeared from Yuuji’s apartment, but Yuuji’s under no impressions that Sukuna has nothing planned for him.
Sukuna strokes his hand along Yuuji’s side, finding the tender bruise left by a bat hitting him in the kidney a few hours earlier. He presses his fingers over the heated skin, but not enough to hurt.
Just enough for a threat.
Just enough to soothe.
“Naturally,” Sukuna presses another dry kiss to the side of Yuuji’s neck. “Not today, though. I decided how I want to brand you.”
Another kiss, accompanied by the soft scrape of Sukuna’s teeth.
Yuuji shudders. “Okay.” There’s no point in resisting. It’s better than being killed.
“Good boy,” Sukuna praises. “Now, decide, do you want me to fuck you before or after I mark you as mine?”
Yuuji laughs, abruptly, and then covers his mouth. “Uhm, sorry. I just. You already have marked me?” Yuuji wiggles his tattooed arm, and opens mouth enough to show off the piercing on his tongue.
Sukuna catches Yuuji’s jaw, and tilts his head to get a better look. He smirks briefly before leaning up to lick into Yuuji’s open mouth, humming approvingly as he does. “More than I have. You won’t ever be able to see it without thinking of me. No one’s ever going to be able to pull me from your skin, even if you do manage to squirm away.”
Yuuji thinks, briefly, about how that counsellor at the hospital told him, softly, gently, that he relied too much on other people for feeling worthy, and validated, and that it could get him into sticky situations of codependency.
When Yuuji wraps his arms around Sukuna’s neck, heavy with tired weight, and kisses him in earnest, making sure to knock the prickly black ball on his tongue into Sukuna’s, Yuuji considers he’s the only one who’s going to end up dependent in this relationship.
Sukuna exhales through his nose, and shifts Yuuji so he’s properly straddling Sukuna’s lap, Yuuji’s ass resting at the crux of Sukuna’s hips. “Sex first then,” Sukuna pulls away long enough to yank off Yuuji’s shirt, stretching the fabric intentionally when he does so.
Once his shirt’s off, Sukuna leans back, cradling Yuuji’s hips in his palms, eyeing his bruises appreciatively. Yuuji forces down his nervousness. “Do you like it better when it hurts?” he asks.
Sukuna sucks his teeth, and gives Yuuji an appraising look. “I like it when I decide how I change you.” He leans forward to bite at Yuuji’s chest, groaning at Yuuji’s hiss.
This time, Yuuji’s dick is behaving, and has sprung up, hard, against the fly of his jeans in a way two shades shy of pleasant.
Sukuna’s burgeoning erection is still huge underneath him, but Yuuji’s taken to working himself open on a plug when he gets home, just in case.
It’ll still be a struggle, but hopefully a manageable one.
“Bedroom?” Yuuji asks.
Sukuna pops off of Yuuji’s chest where he was biting him. “No, go put your hands on the window. Lose the jeans.”
Yuuji stills, and looks over at the window of his apartment. He doesn’t live anywhere near the ground floor, but the balconies of the next building over face straight into Yuuji’s living room window.
It’s past midnight. Maybe his neighbours will all be asleep.
He nods, regardless, and gets up when Sukuna lets him go.
Yuuji drops his jeans, and his boxers, and takes a deep breath before going to brace his palms against the cool glass. He can see his reflection, backlit from the light in his apartment. There’s no way at least one person isn’t going to see them.
Yuuji closes his eyes, and leans his forehead against the glass, trying to cool the way his face is flaming. He hopes it’s not one of his direct neighbours who gets an eye-full, because Yuuji will never be able to live with dignity if that happens.
Sukuna slides up behind him, and rubs both hands over the globes of Yuuji’s ass, grabbing at them appreciatively. Yuuji can’t make out his expression in the reflection, he can only see how much larger than him Sukuna is.
Yuuji groans, and presses his hips back into Sukuna’s grip.
Sukuna pulls away long enough to get his zipper down, and tear open a packet of something. Yuuji’s hoping lube, maybe a condom.
When a slick finger presses against Yuuji’s rim, circling it, Yuuji figures it was lube.
Sukuna sinks his finger into Yuuji all the way in one push, and makes an inquisitive noise. “Have you been fucking yourself for me?”
Yuuji nods, then tacks on, “Yes, Father.”
Sukuna slides in the next finger, and curls them until Yuuji’s gasping out as Sukuna hits his prostate. Sukuna grabs Yuuji’s hip to hold him steady, scissoring his fingers. Just two of them burn pleasantly.
“I dunno how you’re gonna fit,” Yuuji’s panting is fogging the glass, and it’s impossible to breathe through his nose. Spit slicks his lips, threatening to fall. His breathing is overloud against the wet sounds of Sukuna fingering him.
“I’ll put my fist in if I have to,” Sukuna replies cheerfully. “Stop moving so much, I’ll be gentle.”
Yuuji could cry, both from how much he wants, and doesn’t want Sukuna’s entire fist in him.
When Sukuna works in a third finger, Yuuji does cry out, and gets spanked for his efforts. The way Sukuna grinds his fingers over Yuuji’s prostate is more overstimulating than pleasurable, but Yuuji’s guts are still winding tighter and tighter.
“I’m gonna cum if you keep doing that,” Yuuji’s trying hard not to slide down the glass, his muscles going lax and limp the longer Sukuna works him over.
Sukuna’s pinkie brushes over Yuuji’s rim and Yuuji freezes. “Please don’t,” he whispers.
Sukuna laughs again, and pulls his fingers out completely. Yuuji whines at the loss, and tries to chase the feeling.
There’s a slick sound as Sukuna uses the last of the lube to slick himself up, and press the crown of his cock against Yuuji.
The tip slips in easy, but when Sukuna begins to rock his hips into Yuuji, he does so painfully slowly, so Yuuji feels every single inch of him spearing Yuuji open. Yuuji’s plastered against the window, arching away from Sukuna, shifting his weight from foot to foot by the time that Sukuna’s fully seated inside him.
Sukuna holds both of Yuuji’s hips in his palm and lets out a low sigh, his thumbs meeting in the dimples at the small of Yuuji’s back. “Good boy.” His fingers press into Yuuji’s stomach where they wrap around his front.
Yuuji glances down, and keens, high in his throat. His dick throbs between his legs. There’s a small, but noticeable, curve to Yuuji’s stomach, the imprint of Sukuna inside him, bracketed by Sukuna’s fingers on Yuuji’s skin.
Yuuji can’t watch as Sukuna rolls back on his heels, setting a slow rhythm to work Yuuji open on his cock. Sukuna’s easily the biggest Yuuji’s been with, ever, and the grind is more painful than pleasurable at first.
When Sukuna adjusts his aim to consistently brush Yuuji’s prostate just enough , Yuuji’s mindless in the way he starts begging for Sukuna to fuck him harder, faster.
“Such a whore for me, aren’t you?” Sukuna praises, meeting Yuuji’s demands and quickening his pace. “Letting me fuck you like this, where anyone can look up and see you.”
Yuuji nods, frantic, and barely even reacts when his forehead bounces off the glass of his windowpane.
Sukuna reaches out to grab a handful of Yuuji’s hair, holding his head firmly in place, with his cheek smashed to the glass. “Enough of that, don’t want you to knock yourself out,” Sukuna adjusts his grip, and lightly kicks out one of Yuuji’s ankles so he’s sinking back harder onto Sukuna.
“Father, Father,” Yuuji chants Sukuna’s title, trying desperately to get more of the burning friction of Sukuna’s cock splitting him open. When he reaches down for his own cock, Sukuna doesn’t stop him, and lets out a pleased hum as Yuuji starts to clench onto him when Yuuji wraps his fist around his dick.
“You’re fucking filthy, you know that?” Sukuna’s breathless, but Yuuji can hear the smile in his voice. “You look like you’ve been rolling around on the fucking ground all day. What the fuck does Jogo have you doing? Fighting in trash heaps?”
Yuuji sighs as the expected humiliation hits him, his balls tucking tighter to his body as he squeezes his dick harder in time with Sukuna’s next thrust in. Sukuna’s rhythm’s breaking, so Yuuji takes pleasure in the fact that Sukuna likes humiliating Yuuji as much as Yuuji clearly likes being humiliated.
“‘M sorry, Father,” Yuuji slurs, “I’ll be good next time.”
Sukuna’s breathing stutters, and his next thrust is shallow, like he can’t bear to pull out of Yuuji.
Yuuji keeps rambling, emboldened. “I’ll let you do whatever you want, you can brand me first, you can spank me, I’ve been so bad for you, I promise I’ll be better,” the thought of being better is what gets Yuuji off, wrapped in the memory and promise of Sukuna altering Yuuji’s body as he sees fit as a reward.
Sukuna jerks as Yuuji clamps down on him, and stills. His palm rests heavily enough on Yuuji’s head that it’s uncomfortable, crushing his cheek into the glass until his teeth cut into his skin.
When Sukuna pulls himself free of Yuuji, dampness drips down Yuuji’s thighs, and he doesn’t resist when Sukuna grabs his wrists and pulls him to the bathroom, and pushes at his shoulders until Yuuji sits on the tile.
Sukuna’s cum drips out of Yuuji to the tiles below him. Yuuji kneels obediently, and waits with bated breath for Sukuna to come back.
When Sukuna does return, it’s with a small blowtorch – the sort Yuuji’s seen used in kitchens for things like crème brûlée – and an iron brand shaped like a small crescent moon. Yuuji squeezes his eyes shut, and takes bracing breaths, trying to shake off the anxiety.
He had the opportunity to leave, multiple times.
He had the thought to.
Now Yuuji has to deal with the consequences that he didn’t really want to leave.
“You had this ready,” Yuuji mumbles as Sukuna blasts the metal with the bright flare of the torch. It hurts to look at, so Yuuji doesn’t.
He vaguely recalls some safety lessons from his high school tech classes, something about never looking at the flames of a torch directly.
Sukuna cocks an eyebrow, and smiles. “I’ve been planning this since I found those notebooks.”
Yuuji worries his tongue piercing with his teeth. “When’d you find them?” He isn’t sure he wants to know.
The clunk of the torch on the sink is overloud in the wake of its loud flame cutting out. “When I decided I liked the look of Hakari’s new little firecracker,” Sukuna’s still smiling when he cups Yuuji’s jaw.
It’s an echo of when he pierced Yuuji’s tongue. “Close your eyes,” Sukuna pauses, and Yuuji watches as the recognition hits him, and Sukuna’s smile widens with teeth. “The heat can sting.”
Yuuji manages to hold still when the brand hits his cheekbone, under his right eye, but can’t hold back the way he screams out. Tears immediately roll down his cheeks when the heated brand lifts off, feeling like it’s ripping the top few layers of skin with it.
Yuuji sobs, and the tears flowing over the brand are excruciating, but he doesn’t flinch away when Sukuna lets go to reheat the brand.
“One down, good boy.” Sukuna’s jeering, but if Yuuji doesn’t take the praise seriously, he’s going to pass out.
It’s impossible not to tense when Sukuna gestures for Yuuji to close his eyes again. But there’s no meeting of the brand to Yuuji’s skin. “Did you change your mind?” Yuuji asks as the seconds tick by. His voice cracks.
Sukuna hums, and strokes his thumb over Yuuji’s jaw. “It’s a shame to mark this pretty face,” The stroking soothes Yuuji and he relaxes incrementally, until only his brows are furrowed. “There we are, you can relax.” Sukuna croons.
The brand hits the skin under his left eye, viper quick, marking the skin there in a facsimile of Sukuna’s nara bows. Yuuji swallows his sobs, suffocating on blood and mucus from his broken nose until Sukuna fully pulls the brand away, and whistles low at his work.
“Those should heal up nicely,” Sukuna tilts Yuuji’s chin to and fro, admiring his work as Yuuji cries through the pain, his face streaky and sticky with blood, snot, tears and spit. “Quit crying into them, I’ll clean them for you.”
Yuuji hiccups, “I’ll get right on that,” slips out before he can wrangle his tongue into obedience.
Luckily, Sukuna just snorts, fond, and presses a kiss to Yuuji’s forehead. He holds the brand crooked high in the air, far away from either of their skin. “Now, no one can look at you without thinking of me,” Sukuna murmurs into Yuuji’s hair.
Yuuji pants, and nods, sitting patiently while Sukuna sweeps off with the brand and the torch. Yuuji has no idea where Sukuna puts them, and with every second that passes, his body grows colder as the adrenaline leeches from his muscles into bone deep weariness. His head is slumping like he’s going to pass out when Sukuna comes back for him, and wraps him in a jacket and nothing else.
When Sukuna hauls him up, Yuuji doesn’t protest, and lets his head loll back, paranoid of catching his cheeks on anything.
Sukuna kisses his throat, and licks a broad swipe up the salty skin to Yuuji’s chin. “I’ll send someone for your things, at some point.”
Yuuji just closes his eyes and passes out as Sukuna carries him out of his apartment like a debauched trophy.