Archive of Our Own

It is on one singular offhanded comment that it starts. Insidious like a parasite, leucochloridium, here we go. Brain ate, replaced, hijacked by recurring thoughts.

He’s laying on the couch, popsicle in his hand, shirt glued to his skin. Hot summer days, July, his father’s open refusal to pay for a functioning air conditioner, you’re a man, act like one, at Yuuji’s complaints over the heat.

With the spring season over, practice days only restarting in a month or so, he’d have a million reasons not to be home, a million and one to be out with his friends, a million and two to be by the pool. Yet, Kugisaki knows how to run her mouth. She knows, so now, laying on the couch, long, defined legs on the backrest, Yuuji has to pretend it’s too hot outside to do anything but stay in and follow his dad’s peculiar choices in terms of television.

He has to pretend so he can stare, openly, when his dad isn’t looking. Hand around a cold bottle of beer, wedding ring shining a bright gold around his finger. The moisture, icy cold, dampening the tip of it. Yuuji’s gaze follows the trickle of every drop down to his wrist before they hit the floor, and then his eyes run up his arm, up his inked shoulders, a perfect face, full lips, before slipping down to the core of his very desires. Thick thighs, a thicker bulge.

His popsicle turns his fingers sticky cold, uncomfortable. It shakes him awake from the thought of his daddy’s cock. Disgusting, filthy freak. Like his hands. Like the sweat on pink hair.

✔

It’s entirely because of one single offhand comment.

Yuuji fucks. It’s not entirely a brag, more like stating a fact, more like I like girls, fat tits and a nice, round ass, and I want it, and I get it. A jock’s charm, same old story, Megumi’s jokes about him, the stereotype of the perfect dude who, somehow, never really lands a girlfriend, too busy trying out every hole available in the shape of a perfect, perfect pussy.

He’s been caught before, too, his dad’s only comment over dinner being, “Don’t bring a pregnant girl on my porch, I don’t wanna hear it”, fair, understandable. Megumi being a pretty boy with a pretty crush but Yuuji’s kind of open refusal to even think about sucking dick, even though they’ve kissed, spin the bottle, no homo. He feels like his dad would kill him, not because you can bring a pregnant boy home, but because you can bring a twink home and fuck him on the couch, pretty pink cock where his dad usually sits. Unbereable thought for a gruff, grumpy man over fifty with terrible table manners, so it doesn’t matter, really.

It’s an assumption, but Yuuji’s sure he’d be pretty much correct. His dad’s vulgar but a good father nonetheless, even after mom left, this life too much for her, dreams bigger, much bigger, like getting wasted in Vegas and forgetting about a way too talkative kid.

Point being, he hasn’t, ever, intentionally thought of his dad’s cock. Not that he can remember, at least. He’s seen him after his shower, thick between thicker thighs on the way to the bedroom, when he thought Yuuji wasn’t home from school yet, but it’s normal. Boys have that, they own it, they use it to piss and to fuck, so he had said.

He hasn’t, really, not intentionally, at least, but then spin the bottle, the bottle spins, he has to kiss Nobara and Nobara says wish it were your dad instead, but I’ll settle, and Yuuji’s mouth had parted on genuine surprise, pure shock. No one else in his circle of friend, sat on these couches, had even flinched, or said as much of a uuuh!, and Megumi hadn’t scolded her like he usually does, nothing at all.

“My dad?”, he had repeated, shocked. Everyone around him turning his face at him, some shrugs, Nobara’s eyes rolling to the back of her head.

“I understand it’s your dad”, she had said, “and that you don’t lust after your own blood like Megumi does, but are you, like, not aware?”

“Aware of…?”, he had tried, and Yuko had interjected, simply said, “Everyone in this godforsaken town would want a chance with your dad. He’s, like, hot, the face that would pop up if you looked up the word dilf online”.

Nobara had nodded, of course, looking exhasperated, and added, “Fushiguro’s daddy second, but we don’t mention him because Megumi's jealous or whatever”.

He had watched Megumi’s flushed face disappear behind the collar of his hoodie, a huff, a puff, his quiet fuck off, Kugisaki.

Point is he didn’t really know. That, with further investigating, everyone did indeed want to fuck his dad.

It wasn’t strange per se, he doesn’t like boys, men, his dad, of course. But to think it slipped under his nose that girls probably fucked him because he’s the closest they can get to a middle aged, unfunny man is humiliating, to say the least.

He starts looking, really looking, at first in the attempt to get as attractive, in his manners, in his ways… It’s a disaster, because thoughts start striving. It takes a completely different turn, Second Circle kind of turn, there with Semiramide, maybe standing right beside Achille’s boyfriend. Fuck does he know.

✔

It’s the entire reason, at dinner, he brings up the topic. Not the actual topic, just close enough, just can I ask a question?, his dad’s usual you already have, so why ask?, Yuuji’s awkward laugh.

He plays with the food in his plate for a few seconds, but he remembers his dad hates it, like, really hates it, so he stops.

“I…”, he starts, “Have you ever… let’s say, what would you… I don’t like boys, like genuinely, dad, I’m into girls, so into girls”, his dad’s eyebrow raising in question, “but have you ever… So what would you think if I liked boys?”.

Sukuna stares. He just stares, quiet, doesn’t even flinch. He clicks his tongue like something’s stuck in his teeth, and then simply says, “Nothing”.

Yuuji’s entire world sort of turns upside down. Nothing? No I’d kick you out of the house, no I’d break your nose?

“You’re nineteen”, he continues. He thinks he’s about to actually start a conversation, instead that’s where he stops. Like there’s nothing else to add, and technically, there really isn’t. He’s basically almost an adult, somewhere, still a teen, a stupid one, but big, capable of defending himself and a fountain of hormones working hard to give him several boners per week. It really doesn’t matter and it never really did.

However, Yuuji can’t help but push.

“But, like”, he hums, “Like… would you think I’m, like, less of a man?”

“You’re not a man”, he sighs, “You found out yesterday what pussy's like. It’s fine to think you’re above everything, but give it time, kid”.

He’s so crass, Yuuji realizes. He can tell all the people lusting after him don’t know him, because this man is vulgar, too straightforward, completely unable to actually deal with people like a socially aware person would. His dad is very aware, just not socially, and he wouldn’t trust him not to scare somebody off at the local bar he frequents just by being there.

He wonders if he has a lot of prejudice around his dad. Does he really know him, despite being a constant presence in his life, a kind, thoughtful and caring one, with just too many fuck offs reserved for people who drive too slow, and my kid’s fine, you dickhead to teachers trying to explain to him it’s a problem his kid can’t write a full sentence without spelling mistakes.

“Okay”, he tries, again, “But genuinely, doesn’t it throw you off to think of me, top athlete, remember? I’m, like, really good”, he laughs, awkward, “I don’t know, sleeping with Megumi?”.

Sukuna cuts into the steak in his plate, a sip of his beer.

“No”, he concludes, “I’m surprised you haven’t. Kid’s dying after you, it’s kind of depressing to see”.

Yuuji swallows, because really? So this means he doesn’t have an excuse for the way he’s been looking at his dad for the entire last week, doesn’t have an excuse for eavesdropping when he’s jerking off in his studio, too hot in there, his dad probably sweating with the effort, the muscles in his arm flexing with every stroke, teeth gritted not to let anybody hear. He doesn’t have an excuse for peeking when he’s showering, or when he’s sat and his shorts are too short and a little tight because it’s hot outside and he can see the way the thickness of him stares back, full.

“Listen”, Sukuna starts, “You’re a good kid, or at least, I think I’ve done a good job at raising you. We’re not in the 50s. Whoever you want to be, if reasonable, is fine by me. Whoever you want to fuck and marry, too. It’s not my business. You want boys? Get a boy. I like Megumi, if that’s why you ask. You can tell he’s a good kid, too. Do whatever you wish. Just make sure to clean the mess of your room instead. It stinks in there”.

The world ends, sipario!, his dad is not an homophobic prick. In the end, he has not even asked if he’s into men, too. Too? And why does he care?

He’s not sure.

But when he’s back in his room and thinks of the beer bottle and thinks of the popsicle, sticky in his hands, and thinks of Sukuna, sweaty and sat in his reclining chair, his tummy burns. It coils, builds, uncomfortable. He tries to ignore it, ignore it completely, but he dreams of whining daddy, Sukuna’s lustful eyes locked into his.

✔

Thing is, the world didn’t end. It didn’t, the light from Yuuji’s screen, hiding under the covers like when he was a kid, Super Mario’s volume down so his dad would not hear he was still awake past his bedtime.

The world didn’t end, Yuuji’s search, incognito, his own data in the case dad can dig and find he’s been searching up step-daddy fucks jock son, thick cocks masturbation, gay son blows dad, something of the sort, random words put together in the hope something would come up that gave him an idea of what could sex with his father possibly entail.

The absurdity of it doesn’t hit until a notification pops up, Dad, dinner’s ready. Dad, and his phone suddenly feels scorching hot, as he drops it on the mattress, leaves his bed like it’s physically hurting him to be there, the sound of loud smacking and men panting into each other’s wet mouth still playing in his headphones, a reminder of the revolting train of thoughts he’s been up to.

He’s not interested, really.

Watching gay porn was definitely the confirmation he’s not into it, that it’s just curiosity, fine, fine. But he can’t help but think of his dad’s mouth, his fingers preparing his virgin hole, cherry popped, for daddy’s cock, and he’s hard, half mast begging to be stroked and cum while imagining the men in the video is Sukuna, his hands, his tattoos.

He takes a deep breath and dinner’s uncharacteristically long, and Yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet. It starts building, the urge.

The actual end of the world, maybe.

✔

“What?”, they say in unison.

Yuuji has never turned down the offer to party. A Saturday night means the occasion to drink, smoke and have sex, regular weekend for somebody his age who’s socially active (and has to try not to think about his dad).

“I just…”, he tries. He doesn’t have an excuse. He just knows his dad will be home Saturday too, not busy with work. He doesn’t have to wait Sunday for a full day around him. He’ll find the most boring jobs around the house and get them done, too, if his father asks.

“My dad wants to watch a movie”, he lies, “I didn’t want to say no”.

Nobara stares at him like he’s grown two heads, no, five. Looking at Megumi's expression, actually, they might be six.

“Where is Yuuji?”, Nobara jokes, pretends not to see him, “Yuuuu! Fushiguro, they fucking kidnapped him. The aliens, and now he’s here, the doppelganger. I’m scared. It’s that fucking worm movie he’s obsessed with, I know it”.

Megumi’s mouth bends just slightly upward, a suppressed smile, his usual.

“Fine, dude”, she sighs, “Whatever. Can we hang on Sunday? I want to go shopping”.

“We’ll see”, he settles for. He’s so bad at lying, pretending. He wonders if Sukuna has already read right through his bullshit.

✔

He has. On the second weekend at home, his father catches something is just off. When Yuuji’s head finds his lap, such a huge frame feeling, looking so small. His dad’s closeness, the comfort.

“Yuuji”, he murmurs. Yuuji shivers, a long chill running through his body, because it feels so good, he has found. His father’s voice feels like tranquil waters, makes his tummy burn, ache, for something he can barely understand. Flows into his ears and makes him feel fuzzy, pathetically so, in a way he’s never experienced, not with any girl, not with any crush, ever.

An entirely different feeling he’s drunk on.

He hums, soft, hmm?, as he keeps looking at the tv, enjoying his father’s hand carding through his hair. It’s late, sun long gone.

“Why have you been staying home? Be honest, Yuuji. Did something happen?”, he asks.

Yuuji’s blood freezes in his veins, the warmth of his tummy turning into a churning feeling, because the truth is something he can’t tell. The truth would mean admitting there’s something rotten inside of him, a bad apple resting at the bottom of his soul. It would mean a father’s utter disgust, lost pride, dignity.

It would mean facing something he barely understands himself.

“Just wanted to spend more time with you, is all”, he settles for.

“You know that’s not the truth”, Sukuna murmurs. It’s soft, low, an entirely different tone, laced with something he can’t quite understand. His hand leaves his hair, a deep sigh, and Yuuji knows he doesn’t believe him. He sits up quicker than needed, a shaky exhale before speaking.

“If you don’t want me home, you can just say so”, he replies, childish. He makes a show to stand, take the remote, turn the lamp on the bedside table on, things clattering around loudly to get the point across, I’m mad, he’s not, just afraid, just ashamed. Here I am, a little freak! Time to send me to a psych ward, I want to fuck my dad.

“Yuuji”, it’s more stern, scaringly so, “Don’t piss me off. I wanna know what all that hugging bullshit is about”.

“Here we go”, Yuuji grits out, “I try to get closer to you and you push me away. Do you know it’s like, normal, for fathers to spend time with their kid and watch movies and fucking cuddle? It’s like one day I turned an hour too older and you didn’t want me around anymore!”

He’s such a good actor, no, the best actually. Even when he throws some clothes on, his father following, grabbing his wrist, uselessly. When he grabs his keys and leaves the house on a rush, just to cause a scene. Not to make him feel bad, just to escape the possibility of being caught. Caught doing what?

Wanting, the most ancient of sins.

✔

He doesn’t fuck. He smokes until he’s too high to even think, until his dad’s all that’s left in his brain, making him curl on the couch like the pathetic excuse of the reputation he’s built over years of pretending to be someone he isn’t just to keep up with the image.

That was a stupid show, an entirely idiotic decision. Well acted, sure, but now? He can’t disappear for two days and it’s at home he’s going to sleep.

“Jesus, Yuuji”, Megumi sighs, “I’m going to look for Kugisaki. Stay here, alright?”, not like you could go anywhere, he mutters as he leaves. Yuuji doesn’t care and he misses his daddy like a kid, Christmas day and the gifts under the tree.

When he gets home, courtesy of Nobara driving and Megumi following to avoid a charge for driving under the influence, Sukuna’s still on the couch. The television is on in the darkness of the living room.

His father doesn’t turn around, he doesn’t even move. Legs spread, cigar in hand, thick smoke filling the space with each hit before trickling out the window, like water, like the vodka shots Yuuji’s had.

The haze of a drunken hour making his head hurt, fuzzy his brain, his feelings. His heart leaps a bit in his chest when he takes a step forward, like it’d do with a teenage crush, with the first girl he’s gifted Valentine’s day chocolates to.

His dad is hot. Whatever people say around town, yeah, they’re completely right.

Sukuna is straight out of a dream, picture book man, attractive, charming, big. He wants him a ridiculous amount. He’s been wanting him for a month, been wanting him every weekend spent together, head on his lap, head on his shoulder, his dad’s arm around his waist, fuck, everywhere, everywhere.

Wants him everywhere like a parasite, poisoning his blood.

“Dad”, he mumbles. Sukuna doesn’t reply, eyes transfixed on the screen. Takes another drag of his cigar, lets it rest between his lips. Yuuji would let him blow it out on him if it meant being seen.

He takes his shoes off, a stumble, the door’s frame helping him stay up.

“Dad”, he repeats. Silence, not even a sigh, an exhale. Just the annoying sound of the television in the background, the ticking of the clock, way past two, too late, too late. He doesn’t really think, not like he can manage, when he takes his hoodie off, his pants, too hot in here, he mumbles. A trail of clothes up to the couch before he drops on daddy’s lap, heavy and light at the same time, pout on his face.

A fucking childish idiot, is what he is. A stupid kid, not a man, not a man. If any of the girls he’s laid with could see him like this it would be so over. Maybe they’d even slip a slur in.

“Dad”, he mutters. Sukuna’s eyes finally, fucking finally, find his. Dark, empty, expression flat. His hands don’t move on his hips and his arms don’t help him up, don’t wrap around his waist. Nothing, nothing. He misses the warmth like one would in the middle of the longest winter.

“I’m sorry”, he whispers, softly, “I’m a bit high, right now”.

Nothing, and he knows what daddy wants.

He knows silence is punishment, he knows Sukuna doesn’t shout, scream, cause a scene. Just goes quiet until Yuuji finally, finally speaks up, tells the truth. It was like this as a kid when stealing candy from the supermarket and nothing has changed now, when confessing what he has to say will damage irreparably the two of them, change the course of his life, their lives. Might be the last time he even sees his dad, might, might…

He can’t say it, so he does the next close thing. He finds his dad’s cigar, takes it from his mouth and kisses his lips, the taste of tobacco and mint when he licks his lips. He feels like giggling for a long second, as he kisses again, a soft, ridiculous peck, Sukuna’s still body under him.

He is high. Incredibly so, and when he'll wake up he'll want to die at the thought of having done this. Could have been easier speaking, but no, no.

“This is it, isn’t it?”, Sukuna speaks, finally, finally. His voice makes Yuuji’s thighs clench, warmth in his groin, “Think I haven’t noticed?”.

Yuuji looks down for a second, plays with the strings of his father’s shorts. He can’t bear the look on his face, no matter how high, how drunk, anything.

“Who put these ideas in your head?”, he continues.

“No one, dad”, he shakes his head, “No one, ‘s just… Everyone in town wants you and I don’t… I don’t want you to have someone else. Want your attentions for me, and that’s so pathetic, I know, daddy”, chewed words, shaky breaths, “But you… I’ve been having these thoughts ‘bout you… Filthy… I’m, fuck, I’m disgusting, you hate me now, right? You hate me?”

Sukuna shakes his head, inhales like there's not enough hair in the room. He is uncharacteristically gentle when he kisses the side of Yuuji's face, when he says alright, boy as he stands, hands under Yuuji’s thighs, holding and carrying him like he would years ago, Yuuji fast asleep on the couch while waiting for fairies to bring him gifts through the window, offers for them under the moonlight. Sweet.

“Let’s get you to bed”, he simply says, “We’ll talk about it in the morning. Just smoked too much, kid”.

He knows it has nothing to do with it, they both don’t.

✔

They don’t. Talk about it, that is.

Breakfast’s ready on the table, his father’s back to him, back muscles flexing under the effort of squeezing fresh oranges, Yuuji’s favorite, with a spoon of humiliation and fuzzy memories.

Just great, for a Sunday morning.

They don’t, no.

They talk about football, Yuuji’s plans for next year, Megumi’s father, the movie Sukuna has finished watching alone, gotta take trash outside tonight, nothing else, nothing else. Like it never happened, and another week goes by. Sukuna coming home later and later, leaving notes for Yuuji, dinner ready in the fridge. A stain in their relationship, a spreading disease taking over his father’s love, his respect, maybe.

He grips the phone tight, when he calls him at work. It’s ridiculous, he’s aware, but he’s sitting on the floor, long legs in front of him, lonely, upset, worried.

“Dad”, he starts. His tummy feels warm again when his dad's voice rings through the phone, a simple, “What happened?”

Yuuji doesn’t reply, at first. Plays with the hem of his shorts, shrugs like he can see him, before muttering, “It’s late. I miss you”.

It’s quiet on the other end. He can feel Sukuna’s pen, the frantic clicking, force of habit.

“I have to work”, he simply replies.

“But I miss you”, he mumbles, “You never come home, lately. Do you— you hate me, right? For what I did. I was just high and confused and I— you don’t have to pull away. You don’t have to… We'’re fine, we’re good. I promise we are. Aren’t we?”

Silence stretches again, Sukuna’s sigh, Yuuji’s heart pounding, nerves tight, buzzing.

“I can't, Yuuji, I’m sorry”, and the line cuts off.

✔

“What was the fight about?” Kugisaki asks.

I kissed my dad and he didn’t like that, he can’t say. He has to settle for a lie, half of it, if it even lands.

“Uh”, he tries, “Came home too high. He’s upset I never listen”.

Kugisaki doesn’t believe him, that much is obvious. Yuuji’s been way more wasted, drunk, way more stupid, his dad picking him up at four in the fucking morning, telling him to get in the car and grounding him for a week, never more than that, never a scene. It’s just not believable, he’s very aware — looks for Megumi’s eyes, for approval, maybe, but there is none.

This is such a blatant lie he corrects himself on his own, settles for half of it.

“Well, I was really high and told him some things I didn’t mean”.

“Like what?”

He thinks. That I don’t want him to fuck other people because I have a crush on my own father? Can’t say that, no. He’s pretty sure it’s a crime, too, to even express it out loud. Not sure.

“Regardless”, Megumi interjects. Oh, my knight, my savior, “The only thing you can do is stay up a little late and, like, trap him. He’ll be forced to talk to you, no?”

“He doesn’t speak when he doesn’t want to”, Yuuji retorts, “He’s out of the house before I wake up and comes home when I’m already asleep. It’s like, he’s purposely avoiding me. He doesn’t want to, it’s like, pretty clear”.

“Make him want to”, Megumi says. There’s something in blue eyes, a thin veil of certainty, of awareness.

Like he knows, and Yuuji knows, and like this isn’t something new to him.

Yuuji stares at him, Kugisaki’s thank fuck I don’t talk to my parents, mindless conclusion of the topic of conversation before they go shopping. Before Megumi makes it abundantly clear that it’s two of them, when he places one hand on his, Kugisaki already outside, and simply says trust me.

✔

He doesn’t find the courage, no. Stays in bed, eyes on his phone screen and ears on Sukuna’s movements around the house. His steps, the bathroom door, the clinking of his belt as he gets undressed, the running shower. He waits, and waits, and waits, fear building.

Fear of what? Rejection, something he’s never really faced before. It’d sting differently, his first time, his father’s disappointment, soulless eyes staring back. No chance to ever get close again.

This is stupid. He doesn’t even know what the plan is, just feels thirteen all over again, trying to muster up the courage to deliver a love letter to a classmate.

He thinks of the cheerleaders, of his teammates looking up on him, his perfect form out on the field. He thinks, and thinks, of what’s left of that when he’s around his father, a calming presence in a storm, turmoil, Adam’s son in the garden of original sin.

Time passes and the house turns quiet, dark. He doesn’t turn the lamp on when he stands, lets the moonlight filtering through the window guide him, an hiss when he hits the door’s frame with his elbow, stumbling in the dark to his father’s ajar door.

He swallows around sandpaper mouth before he’s inside, heart thundering and leaping and his stomach fucking burning, scorching hot. This is his only chance to fix it, fix what?

The consequences of uncovering a Pandora box — slow steps until he’s next to his father, big frame under thin sheets. One knee digs into the mattress, unsure, before he’s letting his body guide him, straddle his father’s lap, hands just as unsure until they land on his chest.

He doesn’t speak, just tries to make out the most he can in the dark of his father’s mesmerizing face. And then he hears it, finally, fuck, “Yuuji”.

“Dad”, he murmurs, quiet in the dark of this room, of his father’s voice.

“You can’t do this”, he continues. He can feel the slow, light rustling of sheets before his father’s arm falls on his own eyes, a deep, resigned inhale, as if he doesn’t want to look at his son, not even in the moonlight, not at all.

“Do what?”, he tries, “You keep— avoiding me. It hurts”.

“You don’t know what hurts, Yuuji”, he retorts, quiet, “You’re a kid. You don’t know what you want, what you need, nothing at all”.

“I do, though”, he replies, talks back, tone a little bolder, higher. He does, know. He knows he wants his father’s hands on him, his hips, his thighs, his back. He knows he wants him to give up and kiss him, show him what it’s like with a man, a real one, his father, the moving mountain.

Evergreen presence, something to rely on when it gets too loud outside to escape anywhere else.

“You do?”, Sukuna scoffs, “And what do you think you know?”.

Yuuji takes his sweet time.

There’s a hundred things running through his mind, guilt holding shame tight, but also need, want. The admission that I want to fuck my dad, plain and simple, a growing tumor in his core, begging to be rid of with his father inside him, knowing him best, better than anyone else.

He can’t think of girls, of spreading them open on a stranger’s bed, of the sound of shitty music from downstairs, a party he doesn’t care about, just sex and alcohol running through his veins.

It’s been long replaced with a craving entirely different, and maybe, maybe, he’s just so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants all the time, being the top athlete, reputation built on his physique, his brightness, the kindness in which he cares for everyone.

“I know”, he starts, “That… I miss you”.

“You’ve already said that”.

Yuuji’s tongue wets his lips, mouth dry.

“That I want you”, he whispers. It’s a quiet thing, could die in the hair, in the wind blowing out of the window, in this room, never to be mentioned again.

“And what does that mean, in that brain of yours? You know why this can’t happen, right?”

He thinks of the clips found online, of his father’s fingers around the bottle, of his cock resting against a thick thigh when he’s sat, legs spread, looking like the textbook definition of man.

“But I won’t tell—“

“That’s not it, Yuuji, Christ”, he grits out, “You’re my kid. I’m your father, I can’t, shouldn’t touch you like that. It can’t happen. Get off me”.

And Yuuji turns bratty, like some of the very wet girls he’s had.

Girls, girls, girls.

Did he even, ever, really like them? He’s unsure now. Was it a reflection of what he wished for himself? Was it the only way not to fall into the abyss inside of him, the sleeping dog waiting to lash out at the first bone thrown at him? Unsure, irrelevant, because he wants. Desires, burning, setting his heart on fire.

His palms rest on his father’s chest, a secure support as he grinds down, tasting the waters. His father’s hiss spurring him on, his hips swaying, slow, on his father’s crotch. He can feel him, thick, through the sheets — cock resting in his underwear, fat enough for Yuuji to feel regardless, scary, big. Not hard, yet, but maybe, maybe he can get him there.

“Yuuji”, Sukuna starts, a warning. His hand finds Yuuji’s hips, strong grip trying to get him to stop, not strong enough, no, somehow weak. Like he doesn’t believe in his own lie, and so Yuuji keeps rubbing, intentional at first and then driven by the feeling, balls tightening under the pleasure of the stimulation, his father’s length against his core, his taint, making him twitch in his undewear, making him whimper, itching the perfect spot when he grinds down and feels it, half hard.

“Yuuji, I won’t repeat myself. Get off me”.

His voice’s deeper, struggling through the words.

“Don’t make me hurt you”.

Yuuji shakes his head, quick. He shakes it fast, capricious, as his hands move from his chest to drop near his father’s head, encaging him, mimicking the guy in the video a slow, torturing rocking of his hips. It was meant to be teasing, a provocation, just to get a reaction out of him, but he can’t stop, he just can’t. Feels too good to, as he curls his fists into the fabric of the pillow, whimpers, “Dad”.

Sukuna could overpowerhim, he knows he could. Could have smacked his face with the back of his hand, bruise his cheek with the gold of his ring, push him off the bed, anything. He’s bigger, stronger, smarter. And on top of that, hard.

“You’re hard”, he says, “You want it”.

“That’s something I can’t control, Yuuji”, he croaks, voice gone. When Yuuji’s hand moves to the waistband of his father’s underwear, the world spins for a second before he’s on the mattress.

“What have I done for you to keep testing me?”, he seethes. His hand is wrapped around Yuuji’s neck, keeping him there, not choking yet, not pressing, but tight enough to make Yuuji wheeze, “You’ve been a fuckin’ tease for the past two weeks. What the fuck has gotten into you?”.

“I told you already”, Yuuji chokes out, eyes glassy, burning with the need building in his guts, his father’s big frame on him, his cock against the cleft of his ass without him even realizing, but Yuuji can feel it, thick. Wants it to fill his body, know how it’s like to be owned.

“What disgusting freak craves his father’s cock?”, he mutters, “You’re disgusting, Yuuji, you know that, right? It sickens me”.

“We’re the same, then”, he retorts, “You’re so fucking hard, dad. I can feel it pulsing”.

Sukuna quiets down, hand still pressed on his neck, Yuuji’s thick thighs around his hips, forcing him there.

“I don’t fucking know why it’s happening, but it is”, Yuuji mumbles, “If you want it even just a little, dad, I’m giving you my permission, I’m— I want you to— fuck, don’t make me say it”.

“Say it”.

Yuuji’s eyes fill with hot, frustrated tears. He wants so bad, it burns everywhere, a buzz in his nerves sending his body haywire, irrational thinking. He doesn’t think of anything, anyone, just his daddy, here with him, fucking him open in his bed, claiming him.

“Inside me”, he sobs, “I want you inside me, dad. Want you to— I don’t fucking know, I want your cock. I don’t even know how it fucking works, just— do something, please, please. It fuckin’ hurts”.

Sukuna’s hand leaves his throat, Yuuji’s hand flying to his wrist, scared he’ll leave. But Sukuna doesn’t, pulls back just slightly to turn the lamp on, observe.

Dull light hitting amber eyes, the flush high on golden skin, the mark of his fingers around his throat — down to his clothed middle, down to his own son’s hardness staring back at him, lustful, brazen. Like the rest of him, how he’s always been before, before what?

Before Yuuji turned out to be like him.

“You fucked other boys?”, and Yuuji shakes his head, frenzied, like he really wants him to believe it, “The truth, Yuuji”, too slutty on his lap not to know, but so clumsy, too.

“I didn’t”, he whimpers, “I didn’t even know I liked it, don’t even know if I do, ‘s just… you. I don’t know why, I just…”, he whines in protest, his father taking too long, too long, for the burning in his core.

“Thought I was going crazy”, he breathes, “Kept looking at me with those eyes, askin’ all those questions, clinging to me”, he continues, eyes dark, lustful, gone. Second Circle of Hell, befriending the devil, “I tried to be a good father, I did”, Yuuji’s whimpered you are, nothing more than an echo above Sukuna’s words, the trail of it stopping at Yuuji’s unabashed search for his lips.

He hesitates, just an instant.

Yuuji’s tongue licks at his lips, at his teeth when he hisses, when he tries, uselessly tries, to hold back, the tormenting sound of soft lips smacking, on his cheek, his jaw, pleading. He melts under his son’s touch, crushing, before he parts his mouth when Yuuji’s on it again, lets him claim it. Hands on the side of his father’s face, pushing, hungry, all devouring.

“Yuu”, he groans against starving lips, “Slow down”, useless.

Yuuji kisses him, hard, the wetness of his tongue filling his mouth, soft moans each time Sukuna kisses back. He lets himself be devoured, weak to his only son, the only one in the world that can and will reduce him like this — slowly pushed back on his knees, dug in the mattress as Yuuji falls on his lap again, holding his face, kissing like he’s never kissed before.

“Dad”, he wimpers, a trail of spit connecting their sickening bond, their lips. Yuuji’s hands frantic as they get rid of his father’s shirt, pulling it right off his head to stare at the expanse of his middle. So big, mouth watering, lips kissing the hair on his chest, mumbling, stupid, “Touch me, daddy, touch me. Fuckin’ do it, just—", and daddy does.

Big hands slip under the fabric of his underwear, cupping his ass, squeezing — pulling Yuuji further on his lap, mouths against each other’s when they moan at the feeling.

This secret shared into a night no one can look into, lamp putting light on the greatest of their sin, and they don’t care, no.

Yuuji doesn’t, when his hand dives into Sukuna’s underwear, needy, when his fingers find such a thick cock his head spins for a long second at the sole idea of having it inside, inside, only for him. His dad, his daddy, touching him everywhere, everywhere, fucking him stupid, rearranging a leaping heart.

“I don't think I can fuck you, kid”, he mutters, “It’s… ‘s not right. And you’ve never seen anything but pussy”, and Yuuji whimpers, “You don’t know what this is like”, but Yuuji shakes his head no, again, like a fucking child, pulls the head of his fat cock out, palm rolling on it and making his dad groan into his open mouth.

“Too big for you, ‘s too big, baby. You understand that?”

It’s true, Yuuji finds. Despite his size, taller, bigger than the boys his age, stronger, his fingers can barely wrap around his dad, no. Tips barely touch, cock filling the entirety of his fist, scary.

He wants it.

“Don't care. Make me take it, make me, fucking make me if you’re a man, dad, just give it to me, just—, and Sukuna has to kiss him again to shut him up, not to ram it in right now, fuck the thoughts out of him, claim him like a fucking animal, his forever.

“I can’t”, he tries again, but Yuuji isn’t listening.

He’s not, hand flying to the drawer, loud clanking around before he pulls Sukuna’s lube out of it, a known path, Yuuji’s borderline, possessive, “You fuck other boys with this? Or just jerk off?”.

There’s a look to his eyes Sukuna barely recognizes, obscurity. Yuuji doesn’t say it but it’s clear as the sun, as the moon hung in the sky, that he’s been peeking anytime, every time. He doesn’t care anymore, they’re too far gone.

“This is ridiculous”, Sukuna sighs, one hand rubbing on his face, “How long have you been stalking my every move, you fuckin’ freak?”

Yuuji looks away.

God, this is disgustingly embarrassing, but he’s so horny, and he wants this so bad, he can’t even care. Just pushes his shoulder, watches his dad’s back meet the headrest.

“Point being I know what to do”, he claims, “Saw videos online”.

Sukuna scoffs.

“Put on a show, then, pretty boy”, he says. His hands leave Yuuji's pretty body, one reaching for the cigar on his nightstand, smug, “Since you know so much”.

And Yuuji does.

It’s an embarrassing one, his father’s stare, the smoke on his face, clumsy, sticky fingers prodding at his entrance, ungodly amount of lubes and whines to make his fingers slide, one by one. Feels like endless minutes pass, maybe they do, of trying to stuff himself with enough fingers to compare with Sukuna’s fat, heavy, leaking cock before his very eyes like temptation, the apple in the garden of Eden, the east in which they’re condemned, smacking on his tummy at each roll of his hips, attempting to ride his own fingers, strong thighs made for running in a field, for impressing who’s watching, not for riding his own hand in the attempt to be ready to take his father’s cock.

He gets tired, quickly.

Childish little groans leaving his mouth, repeated stances of dad and Sukuna’s stern not enough, smugness painted on his face, so infuriating. Pretty pink cock Sukuna touches, fat finger running down the length of it, spreading his wetness.

Yuuji’s wet like all the girls he’s fucked.

“If you think you can take it”, Sukuna murmurs, “Take it. You’re a big boy”.

He is, he knows he is, and this scene is the filthiest Sukuna has ever witnessed. Debauched, his own son, fingers wet with lube, hole barely prepared enough to take him.

His thighs shake with fear, with the effort, as his hips lift just enough, hand lining his daddy up for his hole. He tries, really tries, sitting on it. An hiss through his teeth, tears stinging his eyes when the tip breaches his virgin hole, cherry almost popped, but can it even pop? He’s not sure anymore. Maybe his fingers aren’t as thick, maybe he really can’t take it, but he wants, God, he wants.

Sukuna’s cigar rests between his lips when his hand meet Yuuji’s waist to keep him still, his body shaking like a frail little thing, despite not being frail, despite not being little.

Yuuji’s gaze meets his, scared like a fawn, like his baby boy, just a baby, as Yuuji’s arms wrap instinctually around Sukuna’s neck and he mutters, shaky, “Dad”, again, again, and Sukuna doesn’t think, he doesn’t, as he drops a lit up cigar on the nighstand’s ashtray.

He doesn’t, because his hole is so tight and yet trying to suck him in rather than out, a tight, vicious grip making him grit his teeth and grunt, “Fuck, kid. ‘s tight”, which makes Yuuji whimper pathetically, more of the sticky fluid messing his father’s happy trail now that he’s so closed, cushioned against him.

Yuuji bites down on his dad’s shoulder when strong hands slam his hips down, when Sukuna’s buckle against a soft, perfect ass, Yuuji screaming into his skin, muffled.

Inside, bottomed out, deep inside, where he shouldn’t be.

Yuuji squeezes his eyes so tight. It hurts, burns, too thick, to full, almost suffocating. It’s slow, at first, just a gentle rocking of his dad’s hips to get him adjusted to the feeling. Not as easy as the videos online, no, entirely different. They stay like that for a few seconds, maybe endless minutes to Yuuji’s brain, before he finds the strenght to lift his head, find his father’s face.

“Dad”, he’s heard it so many times, so many, Yuuji’s pupils swallowing the sea of amber in them. And then Yuuji lifts himself up, a short, shaky thrust, Sukuna meeting him halfway.

“Dad, ‘s big…”, he wimpers, “Daddy, God, I’m too full. ‘s too big, it’s not gonna… Dad”, he sobs.

Sukuna’s cock pulses, engulfed by fleshy, scorching hot walls. He kisses the corner of Yuuji’s lips, down to his jaw, his neck, as Yuuji’s head falls back. He doesn’t even realize, how his hips are starting to rock on his own, grind down, taking him, lube trickling out in the filthy sound of wet skin meeting.

“C’mon”, Sukuna grunts, “You wanted it, take it, baby. Take your daddy, yeah? Make me proud”.

And Yuuji does.

Unwraps his arms from around Sukuna’s neck, finding purchase on his chest as he starts lifting his hips, up, down, strain in his trained thighs. Eyes squeezed shut, hot tears staining flushed cheeks, his cock leaking profusely, fucking pathetic. It feels like dying, like he’s actually in his lungs. Like this is much more difficult than just having sex half drunk with pretty faces, a wet cunt to slip into. Entirely different, but this feeling of fullness — he knows he’s chased after his entire life.

“Look at you”, Sukuna mutters, “So fucking pathetic. All that talk, for what?”, he chuckles. Yuuji would feel offended, he would retort, he would — but his dad’s hands find his ass, so big on his body, and then his cock starts slamming in, making Yuuji gasp, pant, choke on his own moans.

“D-dad, fuck!”, but dad isn’t listening anymore, no.

Dark eyes staring up, at his son’s debauched, pleasured face as he slams inside, thrust after thrust, balls smacking, loud, against young, unblemished skin. Yuuji knows he’s lost half of his control — he knows when he falls back, back hitting the mattress, and Sukuna’s hands find purchase on his thigh, bending him way past what he thought was possible, knocking the air right out of his lungs.

“Christ, Yuuji”, he groans, “Been driving me fucking insane. You’re so fucking tight, fuck— feels so fuckin’ good, baby, so fucking— tight”, and he’s abandoning himself, Yuuji too, maybe, in favor of pounding so hard inside of him he’s barely leaving him any time to think, to moan, to speak, words dying, croaked, in the back of Yuuji’s breathless mouth, the room full of the sounds of something way past sin.

Yuuji’s arms find support on his dad’s back, nails digging into the meat of it, his muscles, flexing with the effort — thighs shaking around his body as his dad slams inside of him, the thickness of his cock reaching spots he didn’t think possible, making his toes curl, head back on the mattress, open, parted mouth for his dad’s tongue to claim, and so he does, wet, drool down his chin, all over his dad’s lips, hungry like a parasite.

“Jesus, fucking, Christ”, daddy full on moans, every sound sent from Heaven making Yuuji twitch, cock bobbing on his stomach, fucking big and fucking useless — every sound punctuated by deeper thrusts, like he’s trying to fuck his son open on this bed, so he can never be anyone else’s again.

“You’re so big, dad— daddy, ‘s so fucking big, keep going, please, dad, don’t stop, don’t you fucking— don’t fucking stop”, he pants, words leaking from his mouth.

Possession, obsession, all of it. The entirety of Dante’s inferno on this bed, in his mind, everywhere.

So strong, Sukuna, his dad, pounding his cunt like a fucking slut, he tells him, you’re a fucking slut, and Yuuji can feel it coming way too late, cum hitting his chin in thick spurts, coating his chest, abs Sukuna himself has trained out in the garden, teaching him all about the sport that gave him the reputation he has.

“I know”, Sukuna pants, “Fuck— I’m gonna fucking breed this cunt, it’s mine, Yuuji, you’re mine, such a perfect fucking hole, tightest I’ve ever had, baby, Jesus Christ”.

He doesn’t care, he doesn’t, would trade this for the end of the fucking world if it’s what it took. Would trade everything to be able to keep watching his father’s face, golden skin turned a deep shade of red, eyes so glassy, so filled with lust he’s barely recognizable. Eyebrows knit, sweat adorning the beauty of his features, so stoic and now so weak, for his son’s hole, for his body, all of it. The words pouring from his mouth, talkative like never before, boom, a new whole version of daddy when he’s inside of him.

It feels so fucking good, past the initial pain, the burn, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t.

Because his dad’s balls are so heavy each time they smack against his ass, wet with the trickling of lube, of his own cum, of everything he’s leaked before like a pathetic excuse of a boy with too much of his daddy on his mind. He loves it, fucking loves it — loves how Sukuna’s hand find his tummy, how it presses down and makes Yuuji shiver, fucking shake, at the feeling of his dad’s cock being way past where it should be, slamming inside and then out of him again, mean and angry and filled with need, unbridled lust, wrong, wrong.

“Never gonna have enough”, Sukuna grunts, “Can never— gonna fuck you ‘til you know nothing but my cock, baby, gonna fuck you stupid, yeah, yeah?”, and Yuuji nods, frantic and stupid, “Fucking slut, made for daddy’s cock, aren’t you? Aren’t you?”, and Yuuji keeps nodding, long gone, his cock leaking spurts of nothing, oversensitive, coming again as Yuuji cries, weeps, deep sobs leaving his mouth.

Sukuna’s pace stutters, thrusts turning deep, slower.

Like he’s trying to push his cock as deep as it can go, rubbing over Yuuji’s so sensitive spot now, making his body shake with each move, hot flesh pulsing against his cock.

It stutters and his dad’s lips find his face, the side of his face, kiss, soft, open mouthed, caring, a dad’s love. Wetness between his legs when he cums on a long, dragged out hiss, moans and bad, bad words through gritted teeth as he slams in, rides his orgasm out, filling him with all he has. The sound of a wet, gushing hole, lube and cum spilling out, trickling down warm and tired thighs and to his dad’s sheets. 

Quiet as their breath evens out, Sukuna’s softening length pulling out, a disgusting sound that makes him wince. 

One, two. 

“Dad”, Yuuji whispers, “Dad— do you, like, are you into boys?”, and then, shy but not enough, “I’m, like… I’m hard again”.

Sipario.