Work Text:
Tohru knows, as Wakatoshi leads him to a mysterious building adjacent to the Ushijima estate’s main house, that he’s in trouble. He also knows why he’s in trouble. And, yes, it was immature to make such a scene at dinner, and that red wine probably ruined a wedding suit of eye-watering expense, given the money Wakatoshi’s family have spent on their little darling’s big day, but- but-
But Tohru couldn’t go into this meekly, like a bleating lamb to the slaughter. He had to claw back something, some act of rebellion to show these people that no matter what they do to him, they will never own him.
Wakatoshi’s family were horrified, but Ushiwaka himself didn’t look fazed. Then again, with his permanent resting bitch face, it’s kind of hard to tell what he’s thinking. He was probably expecting some kind of ‘childish outburst’ (as he would call it) from Tohru. When Tohru saw him speaking to his mother, he had assumed it was about getting the suit cleaned, but now, he’s not so sure. Wakatoshi’s face is giving nothing away.
“Is this some kind of weird family ritual, Ushiwaka-chan?” Tohru needles. “Are we going to be drinking blood or sacrificing a cow for our wedding night?”
“No,” Wakatoshi says, as he opens the door. He wouldn’t know the concept of a joke if it ran up and bit him on the ass. Tohru pouts at his back as they go through the door, but his new husband doesn’t see it. And then they’re in the room, and-
Holy gods above, that is a lot of sex equipment. Tohru stares around, open-mouthed, as Wakatoshi stops and turns to close - and, notably, lock - the door behind them. Tohru can’t help his flinch as the lock clicks shut.
He knew something like this was coming, obviously. This is the whole reason he’s marrying Wakatoshi: to get him paired up before his eighteenth birthday, before he becomes free game for every horny alpha in town.
(His eighteenth birthday is today, actually. It’s tradition; an omega can’t get married before they’re eighteen, but wait too much longer, and you risk someone else sneaking in to claim your ‘prize.’ The only acknowledgement of the date Tohru got was a text from Iwa-chan - everyone else was in a panicked frenzy, getting ready for the wedding.
How he wishes he was here with Iwa-chan now, not stupid Ushiwaka. He’d even take the sex dungeon, if Iwa-chan was by his side).
“I thought you said there was nothing weird in here, Ushiwaka,” Tohru whines. “You wouldn’t call a sex dungeon weird?” He makes a face as a realisation hits him. “Wait, is this a shared family sex dungeon?”
“It’s all cleaned daily,” Wakatoshi says.
“That’s still gross! I don’t want to be doing things in the same room where your grandparents-”
That thought is enough to break even Wakatoshi’s iron composure; he makes a disgusted face. “If I could trust you wouldn’t act up, we wouldn’t be here,” he snaps. “Take off your robe.”
Tohru hesitates. He’s only wearing one layer, a scandalous outfit reserved for an omega’s wedding day. “Right here?”
“It needs to be hung up properly. Preserved.” Wakatoshi’s stare and the note of irritation in his scent says he’s thinking about the wedding suit. Fuck past-Tohru in the ass for getting him into this, current-Tohru thinks as his hands move reluctantly to his belt. Wakatoshi is going to see everything one way or the other, he reasons, as his hands hesitate. Unless Tohru can manage to knock him over the head with one of these heavy sex toys- but then where will he go? An omega who won’t submit to his alpha’s authority is aberrant, strange, defective. They’ll probably lock him up in the depths of some high-security mental institution. Would that be better than the fate he’s about to be subjected to?
Wakatoshi steps toward him. “Do you need me to do it?”
Tohru’s hands flutter around his waist. He doesn’t want to say yes - he can dress (or undress, in this case) himself, goddammit - but he can’t make his hands move. It doesn’t matter, because after a second Wakatoshi does it for him anyway, untying the obi and slipping the silk robe off his shoulders, folding it with careful precision. It’s not the angry stripping Tohru feared, but neither is it the tender peeling back of fabric (usually followed by a trail of kisses) depicted in soppy romance movies. Wakatoshi’s touch has all the romance of the professional valet his family hired to dress Tohru earlier.
Tohru stands there, feeling like he should be shivering even though it’s comfortably warm in here, watching while Wakatoshi strips out of his own clothing. He’s lined with muscle from playing volleyball endlessly since he was a kid, but his tanned, fit body doesn’t inspire the heat his mother’s racy novels told Tohru he was supposed to feel in this moment. He just thinks, as Wakatoshi steps close to him again and grabs his arm, about what those muscles could do to him.
Wakatoshi leads him into the room, past the soft floor cushions and sex couches Tohru had been hoping they were here to use, right to the scary part of the dungeon where all the black-framed, red-leathered restraint benches and punishment chairs are waiting. Tohru can feel his hands shaking, even before Wakatoshi stops in front of something that looks like an oddly-shaped massage bench - if it was normal for the masseur to strap you down to the table, that is.
“You know, Ushiwaka, I think a- a bed would be fine,” Tohru says, hating the way his voice shakes a little. “You don’t have to go this far, you know? It was just a joke, earlier, just me being a little bratty, you know how I get-”
“This will be comfortable. My family only buys the highest quality,” Wakatoshi says. He tries to pull Tohru forward, but he digs in his heels. His brow furrows into a scowl. “Don’t cause more trouble,” he says, a warning emphasis on the word more.
Tohru knows, knows he’s dancing with disaster here, but he hates the idea of being strapped up, tied down like some kind of animal. “Ushiwa- Ushijima, please, could we just go to your bedroom, like normal-”
Wakatoshi moves, and suddenly he’s behind Tohru. Before he can react, his new husband - his alpha - has his arm held behind his back at an uncomfortable angle. From here, it’s impossible to ignore how much bigger Wakatoshi is, how he looms over him, pressing hot against his back. “You say you’ll behave, but you won’t even obey me,” he growls, right in Tohru’s ear. He has to bite his lip to hold in a squeak of fear. “My mother was right; you need to learn your place.”
Tohru shakes his head violently, letting out a panicked stream of, “No no no no-” as Wakatoshi pushes him closer to the breeding bench. But what can he do, though? With the angry, acrid flare of his scent hanging in the air, he wouldn’t put it past Wakatoshi to break his arm if he fights back too hard - and it’s with that sobering realisation that Tohru knows he can’t do anything to stop this. He can’t trust Wakatoshi not to hurt him, because as his alpha, that’s his right. He can’t stop his family from making his life hell if they want to, or stuffing him into some facility out of the light if he acts up too much - just like he couldn’t stop his parents from ignoring his sobbing protests that he hated Wakatoshi, their eyes blinded by Ushijima money.
Tohru promised himself that he wouldn’t cry, but a stifled, choked up sob escapes his lips as Wakatoshi pushes him down onto the breeding bench. The leather is smooth and padded, but cold under his chest and belly. The front half of the bench is exactly like a massage table, with a padded hole where he can put his face, and straps to hold his torso down. The bench stops at his hips, his knees resting on two lower, individual padded sections; two more padded platforms hold up his arms, complete with wrist and forearm straps. By the time he’s all strapped in, Tohru can barely wriggle an inch. With his butt in the air and his legs spread, he feels horribly, embarrassingly exposed.
Wakatoshi leaves him there for a few seconds, and Tohru can hear rustling behind him. Then Wakatoshi’s feet appear below his eyes. “Open your mouth,” he commands.
Tohru senses this is going to be nothing he’ll like - which is confirmed a moment later when Wakatoshi’s hands come into view, holding what looks very much like a bright pink dildo. “Ah, Ushiwa- alpha, I mean, I don’t-” But opening his mouth was the wrong move - it only gives Wakatoshi the opening to stuff the dildo into Tohru’s mouth. He protests, trying to wriggle away, but he can’t go anywhere. Wakatoshi shoves it in until it almost reaches the back of Tohru’s throat, and only then does he realise the damn thing is actually a gag, with long straps that Wakatoshi secures around the back of his head.
“You need to learn to hold your tongue,” Wakatoshi says, moving behind him again.
Fuck you, Ushiwaka! Tohru wants to yell - but all he can do is groan around the hefty piece of silicone in his mouth. It tastes unpleasantly plasticky, and it holds his jaw open at an angle that he just knows is quickly going to become uncomfortable.
Wakatoshi rustles with something else for a moment - then, completely without warning, he brings his hand down in a hard smack against Tohru’s ass. Tohru shrieks, the sound muffled, the gag almost popping out of his mouth even with the strap holding it in place. Wakatoshi smacks him again, this time laying a heavy hand down on the back of his neck, his fingers digging in in a way that makes something instinctual within Tohru shudder. “You’re a bad omega,” Wakatoshi tells him, and Tohru hates that something within him cringes at that disapproval. “You don’t obey-” smack “-but I am going to make you.”
Tohru hates that some weaselly little part of him wants to roll over and whimper yes alpha I’ll be good I promise I’ll be good like a pathetic little coward. He blinks hard, trying to hold back the tears as Wakatoshi’s hand falls again and again, making his ass sting and ache. The hand that usually sends balls rocketing across the court doesn’t go easy on him.
Finally, though, Wakatoshi gets bored of that, and Tohru has a few seconds to breathe while he rustles around for something else. Any relief he feels transforms into panic a few seconds later, though, when he hears the unmistakable buzzing start behind him. They’re about to move on to the main event, and Tohru is not ready-
Wakatoshi doesn’t make a beeline straight for his clit like Tohru expected a guy as straightforward as him would. Instead, he lays the vibrator on the outside of Tohru’s pussy, moving it in a gentle caress up the outer lips, rolling down and back up again. The buzz of it is muted but still achingly delicious against him. Tohru bites down on the dildo, desperate to not make a sound as Wakatoshi explores, gently dipping the rounded head of the toy in between Tohru’s pussy lips. He’s already a little bit slick, and he only gets wetter as the vibrator continues to move up and down, pressing down here and there as it slides easier and easier through his folds.
Tohru can’t stop the jolt when the toy finds his clit - and then Wakatoshi keeps returning to it, rubbing circles around it before pulling away, catching it for half a second as he slides the toy up and down, pressing against it for a few beautiful seconds before pulling away. A little moan slips out as Wakatoshi rolls the head of the vibrator around his clit, just brushing it again and again. This pleasurable torture goes on for what feels like hours, the vibrator humming over his skin until Tohru is so slick he can hear it moving, until he’s almost sure he’s about to come.
“That’s all it takes to tame you, is it?” Wakatoshi’s deep voice says, the flat palm of his hand still pressing heavy against the back of Tohru’s neck. Tohru would moan a protest, but the buzz of the vibrator is driving everything else out of his head. “That’s good - that’s how it’s supposed to be.” Wakatoshi’s hand shifts, rubbing down the centre of Tohru’s back, then his fingers dip experimentally inside him. He’s so wet that they slide right in, and worse than that, they actually feel good, as Wakatoshi curls them inside Tohru’s pussy. He slides them in and out, curling and separating them experimentally, and it takes everything in Tohru not to rock back against them.
Then they’re gone, and for several long seconds so is the vibrator, and Tohru just about has time to realise what’s about to happen before something blunt and much hotter than Wakatoshi’s fingers pushes at his entrance.
Tohru moans out a protest that goes ignored - a protest that sounds all too much like a moan of pleasure as Wakatoshi’s cock finally slides inside him. He’s big, but Tohru is slicker than he’s ever been, and he hates how fucking good it feels when Wakatoshi buries himself inside him. He can hear how slick and wet he is as Wakatoshi thrusts experimentally, seeing how deep he can go. Tohru is open for him, his traitorous omega pussy practically begging to be fucked. Every groan he makes, every ‘no’ he says, sounds like a pleased moan with this fucking dildo in his mouth. And as Wakatoshi grabs his hips and starts thrusting in earnest, Tohru hates that his cock keeps rubbing up against a spot inside him that feels just as good as the vibrator did against his clit, that’s making him leak slick like a flood. He’s been sold off like a broodmare, strapped down and bred against his will, and it should not feel this good.
Wakatoshi groans, moving faster, harder, rocking Tohru’s body forward against the skin-warm leather. “This is your place,” he growls, his hand pressing against the back of Tohru’s neck again. “Learn.”
Tohru’s mouth lets out something that should be a protest, but sounds horribly like mewling submission through the gag. It only makes Wakatoshi fuck him harder, the straps digging into Tohru’s skin as he gets rocked forward again and again. His thoughts feel clouded, like he’s drunk, his nose clogged with Wakatoshi’s overpowering alpha scent. Practically all he can think about is how much he wants to come, even if it is on Wakatoshi’s cock.
He starts to feel the swell of the knot bumping up against his outer lips right as Wakatoshi brings the vibrator back up to his clit. Tohru moans, all pretence of protest gone now. The knot presses forward, almost slipping in with Wakatoshi’s harsh thrusts, and he kicks the vibrator up a notch. Tohru moans again, begging and drooling pitifully into his gag-
Wakatoshi presses down hard against his clit right as his knot finally slips inside Tohru’s body, and Tohru locks up around it, falling into the most intense orgasm he’s ever had.
The knot is still inside him when the waves of pleasure finally subside. Tohru can feel his pussy walls fluttering around it, almost like they’re caressing it. Wakatoshi is bent over him, breathing hard; Tohru can feel the puffs of air on his shoulder blades. He groans, quietly, and the knot deflates a little, spilling a little more of its precious cargo into Tohru’s body.
Fuck. Wakatoshi distracted him so well with the vibrator and his stupidly big dick, Tohru completely forgot about the part where he was going to get knotted and filled up with come. The part where Wakatoshi, lucky bastard, will spend the next five minutes in an extended, slowly diminishing orgasm as his knot injects a fucking bucketload of come right into Tohru’s womb. And he just has to lie here and get bred.
It’s the longest five minutes of Tohru’s life. His ass is still sore, his pussy is starting to be, and the slick cooling on the inside of his thighs is going sticky and uncomfortable. Suddenly all he wants is to be in bed - but he won’t even get the comfort of his old, familiar room when he gets out of here, the room that was saturated with his scent, the room he’d been sleeping in since he was a child. Here, he’ll probably have to sleep in Wakatoshi’s bed. But when Wakatoshi pulls out, finally, Tohru thinks he’s exhausted enough that he’ll take that, if just for tonight.
Except, even though Tohru hears a lot of rustling behind him, the straps around him don’t move an inch. He makes a low, questioning sort of noise, and gets a pinch on his already abused ass for his trouble. “You’ll stay until you’re released,” Wakatoshi says.
Tohru suppresses the urge to snort. Okay, big guy. Something soft pushes into his pussy, the intrusion a little uncomfortable - a pussy plug, probably, to make sure none of Wakatoshi’s oh-so-precious seed gets lost. Tohru assumes the next thing will be the straps around his legs-
But then he hears Wakatoshi’s footsteps - walking away, as if he’s going toward the door.
Tohru makes a frantic noise, pulling against the restraints, which of course don’t budge. Wakatoshi’s footsteps recede, totally ignoring Tohru’s calls, until his voice suddenly floats back from the other side of the room. “You’ll stay until you’re released - you’ll do as you’re told.” And then the lights flick off, plunging the room into complete darkness.
That’s the final straw that makes Tohru lose the battle with tears. Alone, sweaty and sticky and disgusting, in the dark, some primitive part of him feels so utterly and totally abandoned, left behind by everyone he thought he could love and trust. Once the tears start they flow like they’re never going to stop, and Tohru is crying ugly sobs around the stupid gag in his mouth, his face covered in tears and snot and drool like a three year old. He thought Wakatoshi might be angry, but he never thought he’d be left behind in the dark like dirty laundry, like sweaty gym equipment he’s finished using for the day.
There are no windows. It feels like time doesn’t pass; he could have been here for days, for all he knows. The tears stop eventually, and then the dry, heaving sobs, until Tohru is still and gross and defeated, shivering now in the cold as the room cools. He tries to stop the intrusive thoughts, but they come anyway: of how pathetic he is, how disgusting, how pitiful, how worthless. His mind feeds him images of everyone he knows seeing him this way, of them sneering and turning away, of them looking with embarrassed disgust on the mess his own stupid antics have made of himself. He imagines all the people who told him constantly that he’s too loud for an omega, too confident, too disobedient, tutting to themselves and saying they hope this has taught him a lesson.
Finally, finally, light returns to the world. It’s so bright it stings Tohru’s eyes. His entire body aches from being pretzeled into this unnatural position for who knows how long. He smells Wakatoshi before he hears him, his scent like a cold wall; no trace of regret or softness, but only command. His footsteps stop next to the breeding bench, and something deep in Tohru’s gut twists with shame as he imagines those cold eyes roving over him.
Then, fingers release the strap holding his gag in place. Tohru opens his mouth and it falls away into Wakatoshi’s fingers, and Tohru groans in relief as he can finally fully close his aching jaw.
Wakatoshi’s hand is hard on the back of his head. “Did you learn your lesson?”
“Yes,” Tohru croaks out. His lips feel numb.
The fingers tighten. “Really?”
“Yes! Yes- alpha, please-”
The hard grip turns into a caress, and a whimper slips from Tohru’s mouth without permission. “Good,” is all Wakatoshi says - and then, like some kind of miracle, the straps holding him down finally loosen. Tohru almost cries again as he’s set free.
His legs are too shaky to stand on, so he has to let Wakatoshi carry him into the adjacent bathroom. Wakatoshi sits on the floor of the obnoxiously large shower with Tohru in his lap, silent as he washes away all the sweat and come and slick from Tohru’s skin. All Tohru can do is sit limply with his head lying against Wakatoshi’s shoulder, numbness spreading from somewhere deep within his core.
From his womb, maybe - the place where, even now, Wakatoshi’s child might be taking root.
Wakatoshi dries him, carries him upstairs, and wraps him up in the warmest, softest futon Tohru has ever known. He doesn’t know what time it is, but the barest hint of dawn is starting to stain the sky as Wakatoshi pulls the blinds closed. He presses a single kiss to Tohru’s temple as he settles down behind him, his chest pressed against Tohru’s back, his hand splayed across the slight softness of Tohru’s stomach.
Tohru has already cried himself out downstairs, so no more tears come. All he wants, with a desperate, aching fierceness, is to go home.